Granada-a 9/11 postscript

I started working on the Granada post a few weeks ago, but the demands of work, church, and family prevented me from spending more than a few minutes at a time on it. Since I hadn't touched it since last weekend, I had nearly forgotten about it. Then, today, as I sat at home from church with two pink-eyed children, I suddenly remembered to polish and publish that Granada post that I had been sitting on for so long.

Feeling very pleased with myself at having accomplished something, I proudly posted it on Facebook so that my three readers could be reminded that I indeed have a blog. As I did so, I noticed other people's comments about where they were ten years ago today when they heard about the terrorist attacks of September 11. I of course cannot forget that day. I was a student at Utah State University, and watched as events unfolded on a the screen at the front of the auditorium while I waited for my Integrated Science class to begin. As these memories came back to me today, so did the mix of emotions that I felt then: grief, anger, patriotism, and confusion.

Suddenly my two trains of thought for the day collided. I had just published a blog post exalting Islamic art and berating the Western world for its colonial attitude towards other cultures. Would someone reading my post take some unintended offense at this on a day like today? Should they be offended? Would it be better to take the post down and wait a few days?

I believe that the answer is no. In fact, I think that today is a particularly important day to reflect on the glories of Muslim Spain. Here is why.

The Alhambra is a physical reminder of a civilization that once filled most of the Iberian Peninsula, a caliphate known as Al-Andalus that was as much part of the Muslim world as Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Iran are today. While the rest of Europe languished in what are now known as the Dark Ages, the scholars of Al-Andalus were rediscovering the science, philosophy, and literature of classical Greece and Rome. They built magnificent libraries and palaces, and their engineering projects continue to marvel us. The most amazing aspect of their civilization, however, is that they found a way for Muslims, Jews, and Christians to live together. It would be naive to assert that this was a perfect convivencia ("living-togetherness"), but the fact is that, while Muslims certainly dominated society, churches and synagogues received special protection, and mutual respect existed between the three great religions of the book. Some people converted to other religions, but most were able to share in the best characteristics of the other cultures without giving up their own beliefs or identity. They studied one another's languages. Jews and Christians served as advisers and even viziers to Muslim political leaders. Muslim poets delighted in Christian folk songs and incorporated them into their own compositions. Churches and synagogues from the era display the horse-shoe arches and exquisite decoration typical of mosques.

I am not aware of any other society where the three faiths have co-existed quite so well, but it makes me exceedingly proud of my country to think that our democratic system makes convivencia possible as long as "We the People" are willing to work to make it happen. Reflection on our history during the twentieth century, while in some ways disheartening because of certain ill-advised decisions and attitudes, is also inspiring because of the rapid progress that has been made towards a more inclusive society.

If Al-Andalus had so many good things going for it, what happened to turn Spain into a mono-religious society where an institution as horrific as the Inquisition could flourish? What happened to cause a strict devision between Christians and Muslims in the Mediterranean and, eventually, the entire world? Obvious there were many complex historical factors involved, but I believe that at the heart of it all was the emergence of a radical "us-versus-them" attitude on both sides. Christian kingdoms in the north of the Peninsula, inspired by the Pope's call to the Crusades, decided to wage their own Crusade in Spain. The Almohades and Almorávides, Muslim extremists from North Africa, decided that their Iberian coreligionists had become lax in their devotion, and invaded the Peninsula in order enforce a greater adherence to Islam. The best way to accomplish this was to unite them against a common enemy, the Christians. Convivencia crumbled. The only safe place was among one's own kind.

I can't claim to fully understand the motives of the criminals who orchestrated and carried out the September 11 attacks, but my sense is to categorize them with the Almohades, Almorávides, Crusaders, and other extremists. I believe that they have almost nothing in common with the Muslims who created the brilliant monuments of Al-Andalus. I think that they observed efforts in the Western world to create the sort of convivencia that was starting to characterize Al-Andalus, and saw that as a threat to the "us-versus-them" attitude upon which extremism thrives. They wanted the Muslim world, which they perceived as having become lax in their devotion, to unite against a common enemy, and therefore needed to provoke that enemy. Their goal was for us to invade Muslim countries. They wanted us to discriminate against our Muslim neighbors. They hoped we would reject every good thing about Islamic culture. They needed us to forget Al-Andalus.

Like most Americans, today I will think about the victims of the 9/11 attacks. I will feel a wave of patriotism come over me each time I see an American flag. I will shed a tear of admiration for the sacrifices of the people who served and continue to serve as firefighters, police, and military personal. But I will also strengthen my resolve to defeat extremism through tolerance and cooperation. And I will proudly tell the world about the glories of Al-Andalus.