[Note from Christopher:  Back in 2006, when a Danish newspaper published several cartoons depicting the prophet Muhammad, firestorms exploded around the world. People died, buildings were burned. The publication of the cartoons and subsequent violence prompted a fierce discussion of what to do when fundamental cultural values clash. In this case, the conflict pitted freedom of speech against devout religious belief. And it caused me to write this column for The Progressive Populist, a biweekly political news journal based in the U.S.]

PRAGUE, Czech Republic – March 15, 2006

What began as a political assertion of free speech within the tiny country of Denmark has become a global-wide calamity. Economic boycotts. Violent street riots. Embassies burned. Ambassadors recalled. Protesters gunned down. Charges of racism, cultural provocation, imperialism, terrorism. . .

All that over a dozen cartoons depicting the prophet Muhammad.

If it seems hard to swallow—this scenario of cartoons causing a global crisis—then it’s smarter not to swallow it. Because the story really is much more complicated than that.

The mainstream media takes in the U.S., where any event must be defined by a headline, miss the complexity of the story. The explanation in the European media—that this is the latest clash in the ongoing culture confrontation between Western secularism and Muslim theocracy—is perceptive, but not very useful.

What, then, would be useful? First, to understand why the Danes (and later, many other European newspapers) published the cartoons. Second, to understand why Muslims reacted so violently. Third, to understand how fundamentalists and extremists exploit such a controversy and drive it toward violence.

Let’s start in Europe, where the two world views of Western secularism and Muslim theocracy aren’t so separate anymore. About 5 percent of Europeans are Muslim immigrants; religion is important to them. Religion is less important in European cultures, which are essentially agnostic. Fatigued by hundreds of years of religious strife, this region birthed the Western Enlightenment and dumped theocratic institutions. Secular democracy represented progress. As Europeans see it, Muslim immigrants who now resist assimilation, who demand theocratic exemptions, are resurrecting ugly ghosts.

So when a Danish author confessed he was afraid to publish a children’s book on Islam, a Danish newspaper editor responded by publishing cartoons depicting Muhammad. In his view, freedom of expression must trump religious belief. Other European media agreed and published the cartoons in a show of solidarity (except for the British, who offered a convoluted rationale that seemed driven more by fear than logic).

In short, Europeans expect Muslim immigrants to adjust to European culture, not vice versa. If that makes the Muslims unhappy, well, there’s the door. And frankly, those Muslims aren’t eager to leave Europe. One look at Muslim regimes in the Middle East, Africa, and Asia, and you understand why. Those countries are repressive, poverty stricken, undemocratic. Who’d want to live there given a choice?

Which takes us to the Muslim world’s take on the cartoons. The cartoons were offensive, most certainly. But the violence that erupted globally was—and is—mostly about something else. It’s about rage. Rage about massive poverty in oil-rich states where royal family members commandeer the wealth while hobnobbing with Western leaders. Rage about living under corrupt, repressive, non-democratic regimes. Rage about watching TV ads for products you’ll never afford, over feeling powerless as the days of your impoverished life pass by. And rage over knowing if you dare take to the streets in protest, you’ll be arrested, imprisoned, likely murdered.

Unless, of course, you ventilate your rage toward someone other than those directly responsible for your predicament. Doing that is permissible, even covertly encouraged. And certainly far, far safer. Muslims know that. So do Muslim fundamentalists eager to exploit the rage.

You’d think the secular West, led by the U.S., would respond by actively going after the roots of the rage, not just extremists who exploit it. But any western idealism is sacrificed to its economic dependence on oil from theocratic Islamic regimes. What? Lean on the Saudi royal family? Forget it. The one place where the U.S. has purported to express its democratic idealism, Iraq, doesn’t even address this issue. It’s an expensive side-show, a pork barrel venture.

As for Europe, for the moment it is struggling to resolve the clash of two world views within its own borders. The problem was imported. The Muslim rage from overseas is being resisted. European political leaders have refused to apologize for cartoons they say were published by a press they don’t control. Angry Muslims overseas don’t understand; in the regimes they inhabit, the media serve at the pleasure of theocratic governments. But most Muslims in Europe get it. They are adjusting. Given the choice between that and the door, well, it just isn’t much of a choice.

*****

[Note from Christopher:  Sometimes I look back at things I’ve written and think, “Hmmm, well, that was a bit prophetic. Or at least good guess work. Maybe I’m not so dumb, after all.” Given the events of the Arab Spring in 2011, this column hits me that way. It was published in 2006 in The Progressive Populist, a biweekly political journal based in the U.S.]

THE ANSWER MAY SURPRISE YOU…

PRAGUE, Czech Republic—March 1, 2006

A prediction for the 21st century: Globally, the definition of “democracy” will change so dramatically you’ll no longer recognize it.

Propaganda aside, most Americans know that democracy in the USA is broken. Rarely do even half the citizens vote. Those who vote choose between two candidates (a Democrat, a Republican) who each represent institutional (corporate) interests. The highest bidder (most expensive campaign) invariably wins. It’s a money transaction.

Is that democracy? Well, sort of. If people define it that way. Technically, we do have a choice. And if the choice sucks, it’s our own damn fault. People get what they have coming, or will accept. Right? At least that’s the prevalent view.

But what about democracy elsewhere?

Most Americans do believe democracy should be spread globally. It’s a noble goal… until Islamic fundamentalists start winning elections. In Iran, for instance. And Palestine. So do we want a truly democratic Egypt? American liberals and conservatives alike confess no, if they are honest. Democracy suddenly appears insufficient on its own. Other issues matter, too, such as the separation of church and state. So we support a fake democracy in Egypt and feel relieved (if guilty) when the Egyptian government jails its fundamentalists.

Then there’s the faux democracies in some post-Soviet nations. Under the influence of Russia, these countries with one-party rule (often a group of thugs) now imprison and kill dissidents, and fix elections, yet boast about their democratic character. Americans (meaning the U.S. Government, the average American being completely ignorant on this matter) accept the pretense. After all, we want Russia as a friend. Our economy needs, or at least wants, access to Russian oil and gas.

Indeed, the greater our economic dependence on a country, the greater our tolerance for stretching the definition of democracy—especially if the dependence concerns energy resources. Saudi Arabia, ruled by a family oligarchy, elects a few local city councilmen (no women allowed), and we celebrate its burgeoning democracy. Not that we require such dissembling from an oil supplier. We only ask that it remain “politically stable” and keep the pipelines flowing.

On the other hand, an energy supplier that embraces democracy while opposing U.S. policies does pose a problem. Venezuela, for instance. The U.S. Government is highly interested in seeing its populist president, Hugo Chávez, removed from office, and you can bet it’s hard at work trying to accomplish that end. The same with energy-rich Bolivia, where Evo Morales, a populist and socialist, just won the presidency.

In short, it appears that Americans believe (1) democracy is universally good and should exist everywhere, (2) democracy is bad is some countries where it does exist, and (3) democracy would be bad in some countries where it doesn’t exist. About nations that merely pretend to be democracies, Americans are ambivalent (i.e., confused), especially if oil and gas supplies are concerned.

If all that seems contradictory, then welcome to the cognitive dissonance thriving in the minds of many if not most Americans. Also, welcome to the world of American foreign policy. And should you protest that I’m wrong to equate “Americans” with “U.S. Government,” then I offer this reply: We’re a democracy, right? And in a democracy, the government is of the people; it is the people.

Still, if this entire state of affairs seems bewildering, then consider the view of Plato, who more than 2,000 years ago warned us against even attempting democracy. It would result, he assured us, in disaster. But then, Plato was an idealist. He didn’t foresee our ability to stretch the definition of democracy to include almost anything we want it to be.

Iraq is now a democracy, because we say it is. The same for Egypt and Afghanistan and Nigeria, and Russia and Guatemala, and… well, it’s a long list. And diverse, too. In fact, you might have trouble identifying what all the nations on the list have in common other than the official claim, “We are democratic.”

Just like the USA.

*****

[Note from Christopher:  For several years I held a titular post as Central European Correspondent for The Progressive Populist, a biweekly political news journal based in the U.S. It helped that I coincidentally was living in the Central European city of Prague. I believe this effectively held down expenses for the Populist and may have played a role in me getting the position. Also, there was no salary. But I did get press credentials. And I only had to file a report when I felt like it—my favorite kind of job. The founder and editor of the Populist is Jim Cullen, a fine journalist and longtime friend. Jim and I met years ago when we were both toiling for the same daily newspaper. He was a political junkie then and still is. He’s also dedicated to reforming the U.S. political system and creating more economic justice, no small task.

The following piece about the controversial—and illegal—naming of Valerie Plame as a C.I.A. agent by Vice President Dick Cheney’s office was published by the The Progressive Populist. It also appeared in the English language Prague Post in the Czech Republic.]

September 1, 2005

Back in a previous lifetime, as a young reporter working for small daily and weekly newspapers, I suffered editors and publishers who routinely practiced easy self-censorship, killed controversial stories, and otherwise surrendered press freedoms with alarming frequency. I consoled myself with the notion that someday, in the “big time,” I’d no longer suffer such indignities.

By “big time,” of course, I meant large daily newspapers and national publications like The New York Times. Or Time magazine. Or even the Cleveland Plain Dealer.

So much for my youthful naivete. As recent events show—I mean the events surrounding the public outing of the C.I.A.’s Valerie Plame and who is at fault—the main difference between an editor at a small newspaper caving in to local pressures and a large national publication (such as Time) caving in to larger pressures is a matter of scale. A supermarket pulling its advertising threatens a small-town weekly as surely as fear of a stock value drop threatens Time Inc.

My first experience along these lines occurred in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1980. I’d just been hired by the Birmingham Post-Herald to cover the police beat when Richard Arrington was elected the city’s first black mayor. The cops had two unions, one white and one black, and I soon earned the ire of the white union by giving the black union equal news coverage. Then the city’s white police chief made some highly imprudent remarks about having a black man—meaning Arrington, the new mayor—as his boss. The chief used the “n” word. He was angry (and surprised) when my subsequent story quoting him verbatim appeared in the newspaper. A fire storm broke out. The city’s powers-that-be feared a return to those days when Birmingham was full of racial unrest and violence. The police chief was forced to resign. A few days later, the newspaper fired me. Everyone “in the know” presumed the two events were connected, that a backroom deal had been made. Maybe so. But the newspaper claimed the legal right to fire me without cause, so that was that.

I moved on, briefly became a bartender, then a carpenter. I turned down offers for reporting jobs elsewhere. Editors at several newspapers thought the treatment I’d received in Birmingham was unfair. The job offers did not placate me. I was angry that “freedom of the press” seemed so tenuous. But I eventually returned to journalism, taking a reporting job for a small daily newspaper in Georgia.

After several months there, I wrote stories on the judicial records of two local judges vying for a higher court position. As it turned out, both judges had been routinely letting off friends and “important people” on drunk driving charges while sticking it to everyone else. The two stories (one on each judge) were set to run over two days. On the morning the first story appeared, the publisher appeared in the newsroom shouting angrily. The judge was his good country club friend. We mentioned the second story on the second judge, due to run the next day. But that judge, too, was the publisher’s friend. So he killed the story.

“But we ran the first story already,” the editor suggested, “it’s a matter of balance.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right!” the publisher yelled.

And that was that. Almost.

Because I was not only a reporter but also the newspaper’s weekend editor. And I printed the “killed” story the following weekend. On page one with a big headline. This act was not well received by the publisher.

So I moved on to a medium-size daily newspaper in Texas, my native state. After several months, I was assigned to write a thrice-weekly feature column. In addition, I’d write news stories that I happened across in my work. One of those stories concerned a county sheriff who was stopped in another county for driving drunk. While in his official car, he led sheriff deputies and state highway patrol on a wild high-speed chase before being apprehended. Being a brother law officer, he wasn’t officially charged. But other cops were unhappy with his behavior and gave me the story, which I verified (with much legwork).

So I put the story together. And contacted the sheriff, who refused to comment. But as the story went to press, he called my editor, who killed the story. I protested, to no avail. Then the editor killed an unrelated feature column I wrote, calling it controversial, and demoted me from columnist to general assignments. The publisher agreed it was a fine compromise. So I quit. And that was that once again. (Except for this: When I belatedly received a journalism award for my feature columns, the editor showed up at the banquet to accept it. I wasn’t invited.)

By this time in my journalism career, still nowhere near the “big time,” I was feeling a tad jaded. Freedom of the press? Reporters fervently believed in it. Most publishers did not. Editors were stuck in the middle, an uncomfortable position. And the average reader never heard a word about the matter—about the internal tensions at a newspaper, about reporters fired or quit, and certainly not about the stories not covered or killed.

So the intense, recent coverage by the media of the internal mechanisms of a free press, coverage prompted by the Plame affair, is somewhat refreshing. But not terribly reassuring. The New York Times has stood its ground, a commendable act. Time magazine has not, and its reputation will suffer for it, at least among journalists. Meanwhile, in Cleveland, the newspaper editor has announced he is withholding important investigative stories based on anonymous sources because he fears legal repercussions. That seems awfully wishy-washy, as if he expects the general public to rise up in the newspaper’s defense (it hasn’t).

So it goes. All I can say is—and this is garnered from personal experience—freedom of the press isn’t free. It costs something. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a seen as high principle; it’d simply be a routine business practice.

I bailed out of the profession long ago and now write fiction. But I still care deeply about whether journalists cover stories that are inevitably controversial, and whether those stories are printed and broadcast for the benefit of me, a concerned citizen. If they aren’t, we all suffer. Everyone. Not just the journalists.

*****