Pour Ahmad et Charlie

If there’s a parallel to be drawn between jihadists and cartoonists, I think it lays beneath the fact that both are soldiers. To me, mudjahids, as jihadists like to call themselves, refer to the soldiers that Commandant Massoud — Ahmad Massoud — commended in a fight against the Soviet army and Talibans. The Lion of Panjshir used to fight for civils, women and freedom, while talibans were spreading chaos and fear, all over the land.

So to be perfectly true to history, I think these armed jihadists are usurping the title from a glorious army who fought for a noble cause, and so they should be called talibans. On the other hand, cartoonists and especially Charlie Hebdo followed the path of Massoud in a way, by fighting for freedom – with pencils, so I think they are the true mudjahids.

On January 7th of 2015, two armed men stormed the hidden, yet joyful place that used to be home for freedom and french values. In Charlie Hebdo, they killed 10 or 12 highly talented people in God’s name. Just to make a point, I’m not willing to paraphrase them — they actually say “Allah” — ‘cause it’s disturbing to me in a sense that they must not have the same God as other Muslims. So in their God’s name, they made one of the most brutal and gruesome attack against not only journalists, not only Parisians, not only French, not only Muslims, but against the whole humanity.

As a proof, I don’t recall any French event that drove so many attention around the world. Roughly 4 million people marched the streets from the Republique to the Nation’s plaza, in memoriam of the victims. This made a statement : we the French people will forever fight for freedom of speech, against hate and violence, against terrorism. This was a deeply emotional moment, in which french reconciled with their old complains : the police, immigrants, religion. This happened at a time when the nation was divided, as if we needed chaos to meet unity. Like the Masonic mantra says : Ordo ab Chao (Order came at from Chaos).

I want to conclude with the following Afghan poem, I’m sure it would have pleased Ahmad :

In the order we are born
we enter the streets
to follow the clocks of the dandelions
that tell the candles’ life
We are reborn
one in India, one in the wasteland of Hijaz, both in search of
the one born down a well in Isfahan
In the beginning
we learn the name of the wind
the name of the rain
In the beginning
we learn the names of spring and winter
and we rummage through everything
until we find death

Note : don’t get mad at me for laughing at a moment, I was having some beers and had a stomach issue.

Context : this is a work for an English class, regarding Charlie Hebdo. My thoughts also goes to the victims from the kosher supermarket. I will pray for them on friday’s Sabbat.