Joseph Wakim theguardian.com, Tuesday 12 August 2014
Refusing to eat with someone is a gesture indicating they’ve dishonoured you. That’s why Muslim leaders are boycotting high profile events in an attempt to be heard
NSW Premier Mike Baird at Lakemba mosque, to mark the end of Ramadan. Photograph: AAP
In recent weeks, three high-profile boycotts have been launched by Australia’s Muslim leaders against the backdrop of the current conflict in Gaza. As a form of political activism, the boycotts are novel, but perhaps the response to them isn’t: they have been described as “divisive and unproductive” and a barrier to constructive dialogue.
Those remarks came from Vic Alhadeff, who was the subject of the first boycott. In his capacity as CEO of the NSW Jewish Board of Deputies, Alhadeff issued a community update on 9 July which justified Israel’s Operation Protective Edge by republishing a statement from Israel’s ministry of foreign affairs. By doing so, I and others argued, he abrogated his responsibility to remain neutral as chairman of the NSW community relations commission (CRC).
We argued his position had become untenable, and that he had to resign. Local Arab leaders issued an open letter to Victor Dominello, the NSW citizenship minister, and met with him in person, but the minister concluded that Alhadeff “is doing an outstanding job” as CRC chair and would remain in the post.
Similarly, Mike Baird, the NSW premier, affirmed that Alhadeff had “his full confidence” – although he conceded that it was inappropriate in his role for him to have made those comments. This was seen as a slap on the hand for Alhadeff, and a slap in the face for NSW’s Muslim leaders.
After being ignored, a boycott or withdrawal becomes a worthwhile option. Community leaders announced that they would “suspend involvement with the CRC so long as [Alhadeff] is at the helm … [because] the minister has walked away from what is morally right”.
Many who had accepted the invitation to attend the premier’s annual Iftar (breaking of fast) dinner, scheduled for that week, announced that they would “respectfully withdraw … on moral grounds”. They could not break bread with those who shrugged off what they saw as propaganda. Images of injured or dead Palestinian children had spoiled their appetite for a celebration.
The result was many empty tables at the parliament house dinner. Photos of Baird addressing the half-full room made a powerful statement: the premier and minister did not treat Australian Arabs and Muslims with respect, so they acted with respect for their culture, faith and tradition.
The “Iftar boycott” is such a strong image because dining is much more than physical act of eating, it’s a spiritual communion of people. There is an Arabic expression said after a meal is shared, along the lines of “there is now bread and salt between us”. Even the poorest people share what little food they have as a gesture of hospitality, which is often bread and salt.
Salt is a bonding and flavouring agent when baking bread, and a bonding agent that preserves friendships. It’s also a common motif in the Abrahamic faiths. In Christianity, breaking bread holds profound significance after the last supper, as does salt; Christians are described as the “salt of the earth” in Matthew’s gospel. In the Jewish Shabbat, there is silence during the hand-washing ritual before the bread is blessed.
Refusing to break bread together is neither about dishonouring the host, nor is it a threat or a provocation. It is, rather, a gesture to indicate that he has dishonoured you. The Sydney Morning Herald apprehended this in their editorial on 26 July, when they lamented that “some ill-chosen and insensitive words at an inopportune time have tarnished [Alhadeff’s] otherwise fine work”.
Alhadeff resigned the next day and Baird finally conceded that his comments had made his position untenable. “I will always listen to the Muslim community, just as he has in that resignation,” Baird said, proving the boycott was a landmark lesson in how to be heard without yelling; on 28 July he addressed thousands of Muslims at Lakemba mosque.
The precedent was repeated last week when the Australian National Imams Council announced its withdrawal from the annual Eid dinner hosted by the Australian Federal Police on 7 August. Again, it was a moral stand led by professor Ibrahim Abu Mohamed, the Grand Mufti, who said they “regrettably, must in all good conscience decline the invitation to attend the dinner in protest of the new proposed anti-terrorism laws … the amendments are a direct attack on the … presumption of innocence”.
Like the Alhadeff boycott, which was launched to preserve the CRC’s neutrality, the AFP boycott sought to preserve a fundamental maxim of Australia’s system of justice, the presumption of innocence. Neither promoted, imported or apologised for an ideology that is dangerous or divisive, such as fighting foreign wars.
Yet both boycotts were met by last-minute offers that miscalculated the seriousness of the Muslim community’s concerns: Alhadeff issued a statement, rather than an apology, and the AFP invited the Grand Mufti to speak about his concerns.
Many Muslim Australians watched with horror as their American counterparts were humiliated at Barack Obama’s annual Iftar dinner at the White House on 14 July, when he appeared with Israeli ambassador Ron Dermer. With Dermer’s tweeted support, Obama said during the dinner that “Israel has the right to defend itself against … inexcusable attacks from Hamas.” He was talking at them, not to them. Any hope that the dinner was a dialogue were smashed when the president left soon after his speech.
Given the US weapons supplied to kill civilians in Gaza, many argued that the dinner should have been boycotted in the first place. The American-Arab anti-discrimination committee made the case: “political engagement is important and having a seat at the table is crucial — but only when that seat is intended to amplify our voice as a community, not tokenise or subdue it.”
A third Australian boycott has been announced, over the controversial resignation of Fairfax columnist Mike Carlton. Peak Muslim organisations have written to Fairfax, calling for Carlton to be reinstated or they may stop cooperating with journalists and start targeting advertisers. Given that the Australian Jewish News had called for readers to “cancel your Fairfax subscriptions” a week earlier, this counter-boycott risks being trivialised; there was less at stake. It may have been wiser for community leaders to invite the editors to their table, break bread together, and explain why Carlton was a vital voice for the voiceless.
The political Iftar has arisen during a period of conflict and tragedy, but it may well become a new phenomenon in Australia. If Australians are serious about multiculturalism, the broader community should realise that the boycotts are a pouring forth of Ramadan themes of human rights, justice, integrity, poverty and morality, which return each year. The 2015 Iftar agenda could be political again; consulting with and respecting Australian Muslims may ensure next year’s hosts won’t need to guess who’s not coming to dinner.
