So You Want to be Martyrs -
The brothers who coldbloodedly massacred the journalists and policemen and others in Paris on 6 January 2015 have expressed their desire to die as martyrs. Just a short note to them:
Someone has twisted your religion as surely as others twisted Christianity to birth the Inquisition. You are not going to be martyrs. You will be remembered as extremists who could not assimilate in the real world and who consequently poured yet more blood upon Islam, for which you will never be forgiven by the millions of Muslims who lead peaceful lives. They are going to suffer the backlash against Islam, not you - you will be dead, or incarcerated. And the rest of the world will revile you for the two-bit killers that you are. The two of you are on the run. Like the rest of the gutless wonders who are willing to "die for an idea" (as long as notoriety and plenty of virgins in Paradise are provided) - you are too cowardly.
The cartoonists and editors you murdered - they are the courageous ones. They did what you haven't the balls to do: they died for an idea. Which is bigger than yours, by the way. No matter how frequently governments or religions have tried to mold their subjects into obedient automatons, an idea has overturned their applecart. Sometimes it takes a bit longer. Other times it is swift and explosive. The idea?
That every individual has the right to freedom of thought and freedom of speech. You can't kill that idea. You thought you could squelch it by killing those who had dedicated their lives not just to the idea but to the expression of that idea. But the idea lives. The idea is growing stronger than ever, in part as a consequence of your stupid miscalculations.
Did the murders give you any peace of mind? Probably not: you are on the run.
For the sake of argument, let's say you die "a martyr's death" and you arrive at the gates to Paradise. What do you think Allah will say?
Allah: My misguided children, you are at the wrong gate. You need to go down.
The brothers: We want in, O Great One. Where are our virgins? We were promised much food and as many virgins as we can deflower. Don't you appreciate what we just did for you?
Allah: No I don't. You blacken my name with this intolerable killing. I have half a mind to return you to life so that you can warn off the others.
The brothers: But - but - and Mohammed - what about him, we did it for him, too! We avenged the slurs against the Prophet!
Allah: Moe can't come to the gates right now. He's busy. He's reading Charlie Hebdo - do you hear him laugh? He will be very upset that you tried to kill the magazine by killing its staff.
The brothers: Well - they're dead. You won't see the magazine again.
Allah: You fools. You can't kill an idea. How do you think we got Islam into so many people's heads? No. Time for you to go to Hell. And I have relieved you of your names. You don't deserve them. You are less than the dirt under your feet.
Je Suis Charlie:
Stéphane Charbonnier, aka Charb, 47 - “It might sound a bit pompous but I prefer to die standing than live on my knees.”
Jean Cabut, aka Cabu, 75 - formerly at Le Canard Enchaîné and Hara-Kiri.
Georges Wolinski, 80, Legion of Honour 2005.
Bernard Verlhac, aka Tignous, 58 - Five Years Under Sarkozy, 2011.
Bernard Maris, 68 - former scientific adviser to Attac, the international movement working for social, environmental and democratic alternatives in the globalization process.
Philippe Honoré, aka Honoré, 73 - self-educated artist from age 16.
Michel Renaud - former journalist from Clermont-Ferrand, a visitor.Elsa Cayat - psychoanalyst, author and columnist.
Mustapha Ourrad - an orphan from Algeria sent to France by his friends, self-educated, respected for his erudition and self-deprecation.
Ahmed Merabet - Muslim, a beat bobby shot in the groin, then point blank in the head as he lay on the pavement.
Franck Brinsolaro, 49 - police officer, Charb's bodyguard since 2013.
Frédéric Boisseau - a maintenance worker who was in the reception area when the attackers burst in.
(c)2015 Daisy Morant
Labels: Charlie Hebdo