How do we define freedom? Does it have something to do with the amount of geographical space we are permitted to roam around in? Is it about doing whatever we want to do, whenever we want to do it – regardless of the consequences? What happens when one person’s freedom begins to infringe upon another’s?
It’s a difficult notion to pin down, but it seems to me that, from a practical standpoint, we’ve done a pretty good job of nailing it over here in this part of the world. So much so that the topic rarely even comes up until we are jostled back into the reality of it – and the contrasting ideals associated with it – with events such as the Charlie Hebdo massacre last week in Paris.
We may never know for sure what the motives were behind those killings – many of the alleged assailants are now dead – but some have decided that the shooting had something to do with the magazine’s history of publishing comics depicting the Prophet Muhammad in cartoon form. Doing this, apparently, makes some people angry. So out came the guns.
A little bit of research helps provide some context for this. According to the BBC, “There is no specific, or explicit ban in the Koran on images of Allah or the Prophet Muhammad.” The British broadcaster does go on to state that Muslim tradition prohibits such drawings – as well as drawings of any of the prophets in the Christian or Jewish traditions. Furthermore, depictions of any living thing are discouraged in the hopes of preventing idolatry, or the worship of an image over a deity.
The bottom line is that, to some, these drawings are offensive. So what? Doesn’t the ability to produce and laugh at satire, especially that which is directed at the higher-ups – politicians, religious leaders – fit right into the notion of freedom that we are working to define here?
It’s easy to find examples of major broadcasters poking fun at religious or political figures: Saturday Night Live airs a skit depicting Jesus Christ bestowing good fortune on former-NFLer Tim Tebow; a few skits later they make some jokes at the expense of President Obama; a couple of crude comedians make a movie about the assassination of Kim Jong Un; the Pope and a rabbi walk into a bar . . .
Since the act of terror in Paris, some news outlets have chosen to reprint the aforementioned cartoons, while others have refrained. The CBC was one of the institutions that decided not to print Charlie Hebdo’s renderings of Muhammad. According to David Studer, CBC's director of journalistic standards and practices, the CBC didn’t run these cartoons because doing so would needlessly offend Muslims.
This, of course, motivated some to do some digging. Unearthed was a photo that the CBC ran on its website in 2010 of a crucifix soaking in a jar of urine. (The photo was part of an art exhibit, and was ironically reported on by Jian Ghomeshi’s Q program.)
Aside from the loss of life, one of the greatest tragedies to come out of this recent string of attacks committed by radicals is the collateral damage felt by all Muslims, who must now deal with the ignorance of those who think that their religion has anything to do with these murders. The bottom line here is really very simple: Those who commit heinous acts in the name of any given religion do not represent others who practice the same faith. The Ku Klux Klan, for example, considers itself to be a Christian organization. Does the group’s view represent all Christians? Obviously not.
So why are we so quick to poke fun at certain religions while we walk on eggshells when dealing with others? Doesn’t this contrast add to the dangerous chasm that is being formed here – that of a purely “us” versus “them” mentality? Wouldn’t we be better served by joining together in laughter?
Freedom of speech is not absolute. Not even close. I cannot stand on a street corner and shout obscenities while threatening violence. Dentistry students should not post remarks online about having sex with unconscious patients. There is a difference, however, between hateful, hurtful comments, and pushing boundaries while keeping those in power on their heels. Taking away the latter – whether it be through laws or through the threat of violence by radicals – will cut a deeper gash into our freedom than can be carved by any knife.
