Written in the style of an open letter from one global citizen to another, « Moi, musulman, je n’ai pas à me justifier » by Seydi Diamil Niane seeks to steer the confusing and politically charged conversation about Muslims and their relation to violent extremism away from the damaging blame game towards a call for a spiritual Islam compatible with humanist values. Moreover, while Diamil Niane’s condemnation of extremism is absolute, he rejects the notion that he or any other Muslim ought to apologize or distinguish him or herself as one of the ‘good guys’ in the wake of a terrorist incident. On page 35, Diamil Niane writes: “If I decide to take up the pen to denounce the violent extremism of certain groups claiming to share in my own religion, then it is by personal choice and not by obligation.”

More interesting still, is Diamil Niane’s rationale for refusing to give in to the pressure to defend one’s religion every time these heinous acts perpetrated by a tiny minority – who disproportionately kill other Muslims - are brought up. Logically, it makes sense that one person cannot be held in any way responsible for an act they did not commit themselves. However, today’s media climate reflects a double standard whereby Muslims are expected to justify their faith after terrorist attacks when the same courtesy does not apply to other groups, religious or otherwise. For example, Christians are hardly ever called upon to excuse themselves for the war in Iraq, even though George Bush identified as a Christian. In a similar vein, media pundits do not demand that every French citizen beg for forgiveness for the atrocities committed by their government during the colonial period.

Given the book’s target audience of “global citizens”, Diamil Niane does a commendable job of linking Islamophobia, that is, a prejudice against Muslims which is completely separate from justified criticisms of Islamic thought and practice, to other forms of racisms that persist in 21^st century in France. By so doing, the book is able to connect to a larger audience by drawing the connection between Islamophobia and other social justice issues such as the French strain of anti-Semitism that has placed Jews under the microscope for centuries as easy scapegoats (case in point, the Dreyfus Affair) and led to the characterization of an entire religious community as somehow less trustworthy than other French citizens.

            Indeed, for me the book’s most touching moment came early on in the dedication page. In addition to two tributes to the author’s mother and a former teacher, the book is dedicated to Rosa Parks, or, in the author’s own words, “She who refused to explain herself.” This tribute reminded me that whether a people are fighting for justice on the basis of religion or race, it is never up to society at large to dictate the terms of their so-called equal treatment. Muslims do not have to apologize profusely for practicing their faith to make non-Muslims feel safer, nor should Americans to dictate what black Americans can or cannot speak out against because their “Black Lives Matter” protests make parts of white America uneasy.

            Yet, the book’s title begs the question, if Muslims are not obligated to constantly explain or justify their faith, then what can they do to fight back against the tide of criticisms against their religion? For the author, the answer to this question is to show the beauty of Islam through their exemplary behavior and acts of kindness. Dialogue, particularly interfaith dialogue, is also stressed as essential to promoting understanding and counteracting intolerance against a religion that is so deeply misunderstood by many, particularly in the West. And while I wholeheartedly agree that interfaith dialogue is necessary to counteract Islamophobia, I worry that this sort of interpersonal connection is not always possible.

            Granted, my perception is a little skewed. I live in a country with a population of 323 million of which an estimated 3.5 million individuals identify as Muslim. It is not uncommon, especially in rural areas, for a fully mature adult to not know a single Muslim person. Speaking from personal experience, before attending university I knew only a handful of Muslim families in my small town which was mostly made up of the descendants of Irish or Italian immigrants. Still, after every incident of radical Islamic terrorism the same scenario plays out on U.S. television screens. A so-called “expert” on Islam gets on a national news network such as Fox News to denounce Islam as inherently violent. Oftentimes, they produce one verse of the Qur’an that alludes to physical retaliation of some sort, completely isolated from both its historical context and its surrounding verses of course, and wave it around to evoke fear and suspicion of Muslims residing in the U.S. My point is, that it is much easier to fear and otherize Islam when you have no personal experience whatsoever interacting with Muslims. Moreover, in the same way that it is unreasonable to ask a Muslim to justify their faith after a terrorist incident, we cannot burden the relatively small number of Muslim-Americans with the task of educating the masses of non-Muslims whose knowledge of Islamic is next to nothing. This presents quite the dilemma for countries without a sizable Muslim minority such as the United States. Although the book provides fascinating insights for Muslims on how to internalize the core values of their faith and walk along the path of Sufism, I was left wondering what the author’s recommendations for non-Muslims to promote tolerance and interreligious understanding would be.

Aoife Croucher

Research Intern at Timbuktu Institute –African Center for Peace Studies