The implication of discussing the (passivity of the) moderate Muslim

If you spend even a tiny fraction of time actually reading or listening to stories on Islam and Muslims written by Muslims, one thing you probably have heard is how upset many of them are over what they consider to be violent extremism done in the name of their religion. If you want to know why you aren't "hearing them", then perhaps it is because you (and much of the mainstream English-speaking press) aren't listening. But more than that, something else that has long been a sore spot for some Muslims who happen to disagree with such violence is the term moderate Muslim. But this isn't just about Islam.

Take, for example, this statement by a Muslim blogger posting on a site that identifies with progressive politics...

Why are "moderate Muslims" not speaking out against the recent media feeding frenzies regarding Muslims—the teddy bear caper in the Sudan and the Saudi rape survivor who has been sentenced to lashings? And, why aren’t "moderates" responding effectively to the critiques of people such as Ayaan Hirsi Ali?

I’m not going to attempt some sort of totalizing answer. For one thing, I don’t call myself a "moderate." I find that sort of labeling of Muslims insufferably patronizing. "Moderate" in relation to what—al-Qa’ida? Since when has the antics of Osama et. al. become the yardstick against which we should all be measured? And, by what right does anyone arrogate to her/himself the power to measure us? What exactly is a "moderate," anyhow?

But more to the point, I find that when this sort of "moderate"/"extremist" dichotomy is imposed on Muslims, it effectively silences people like me because it de-legitimizes our voices and says that we either don’t exist, or that we are too marginal to be bothered with. In that case, why would I join the conversation? What purpose would it serve?

I won’t try to answer for all Muslims who have abstained from commenting publicly on either the teddy bear crisis or the Saudi rape survivor’s ordeal. But, speaking for myself, my view of both issues can be summarized by six words reportedly uttered under very different circumstances by a German general during the First World War: "We are fettered to a corpse."

One commenter addresses this with a logical follow-up:

Where are moderate Jews when Kahanists say Arabs aren’t human and attack kids in the West Bank? Where are moderate Christians when high ranking coalition officers state that they believe it’s their job to convert Iraq to Christianity? Where are moderate Hindus while the Indian government rattles the saber at Pakistan and promotes and allows violence against Sikhs?

Note that neither of these replies suggest that it is good and when non-extremists don't speak out. This then raises (at least) three issues. One is the biased characterization of Muslims, in which it is implied that the zealously faithful are synonymous with the ultra-hateful and the violent. Not everyone who uses the term moderate Muslim means to imply this at all, as there are a number of ways one could interpret the word moderate. However, it (often) betrays a perspective in which the standard, full-on follower of Islam either actively or passively supports suicide-bombings, calls to kill infidels and those who slander Mohammad, etc. Hence the "moderates" are, you know, only somewhat committed to their religion. They aren't really all-in when it comes to their faith, like the radicals and their supporters.

The next issue is whether it is therefore the obligation of the non-extremists to constantly apologize for the actions of extremists. I don't think it is. I think instead it is, if not an obligation, at least a wise course of action to confront extremist rhetoric. That is, rather than going around saying "Sorry, not all of us are like that" every time something offensive is done in the name of a particular faith, it is more effective and more compassionate to have more debate within the relevant religious community itself and to make such debate visible to the public. It is also important to keep in mind that religion, culture, and politics are intertwined, so people often use what happens in one of those spheres to justify a stance or action taken in another. That is why it needs to be a community-based process which emphasizes healing and reconciliation rather than continued polarization and extremism. It also means addressing the economic, cultural and political environment of communities suffering from such extremism and the underpinnings of that environment. Communities and societies don't exist in a vacuum.

The other issue, which has also been covered previously, is that even when people are interested in pursuing the first two issues non-extremist religious voices, especially progressive ones, are frequently minimized in media coverage. There can be many explanations for why this is so. Perhaps it is the assumption that religious extremism isn't typical and is therefore newsworthy. By that logic, if extremism becomes more common, it will receive less attention. After all, why cover what we are used to and what we expect to see every day? For many, that isn't news. On the other hand, explosions, self-righteous hypocrites, and sex-scandals - that gets ratings, whereas non-violence, non-aggression, non-belligerence is just not entertaining. But whatever the reasons, good, bad or ugly, the constant representation of Islam and other religions as being the primary if not the sole factor associated with tragedy only compounds a worldview in which it makes sense to divide people of faith into "moderates" (possessed of some reason, only somewhat delusional, and mostly harmless) and "radicals" (devoid of reason, totally insane, and extremely dangerous). The moderates can then be painted as ineffective at best and enablers at worst.

[Is it any wonder, then, that despite their harsh rhetoric and sometimes shaky scholarship that the batch of books now labeled under the sub-genre "New Atheism" are so popular?]