‘Ako si Charlie’: A plea for a world without hate

BRUSSELS - My feet were cold and the winter winds made my ears red. The crowd was building like a multiplying cell and my inner fear of a rally turning into a riot stirred the first signs of a rising panic. But the warmth around me kept me calm. I was there, enveloped by a multitude of humans who do not know each other but has come together for the same cause. The gathering was comforting. 

 

I hate crowds. I am not a a regular client of public assemblies. I am not a reader of Charlie Hebdo. I do not always agree with their opinions and drawings that are often vulgar and in bad taste. I am often offended by their caricatures of the Catholic Church and of those who represent it. I deplore the fact that through their caricatures, my faith and the practice of my religion may be perceived as stupid, outdated, irrelevant. But I was there with some 25,000 people, filling the grand boulevards of Brussels, and carrying a placard that said “Ako si Charlie.”

 

On January 7 at around 11:30 a.m., two masked terrorists, who brandished their Kalashnikovs in the name of Allah, opened fire in the editorial offices of Charlie Hebdo, the Parisian-based satirical weekly newspaper. Twelve died, four of them considered the “monuments” among French cartoonists. The editor-in-chief, popularly known as Charb, was on the “most wanted” list of Muslim extremists. This is the September 11 of France. 

 

In the wake of the shootings, a huge emotional wave has taken over the European continent and the rest of the world. How can one remain insensitive to the loss of human lives in such a violent display of fanaticism? We were there on the streets to mourn for the dead, to sympathize with the living, to show defiance against fear, and to prove to terrorists that terrorism will not terrorize us. 

 

The millions who marched on the streets on Sunday, January 11—in Paris, in Brussels, in New York, in Berlin, in Pakistan—were not all readers of Charlie Hebdo, were not even subscribers, were not fans nor friends. Charlie Hebdo became a symbol, an aftermath that those who fell that day would have candidly rebuffed the tribute because they had always fought against symbolism. Free thinking is Charlie Hebdo’s raison d'être. “We work on details, specific points in correlation with French humour and our way of analyzing things à la française,” said Luz, one of the surviving cartoonists, in a magazine interview.

 

France has a long, deep-rooted tradition of satire with fearless and obnoxious cartoonists and writers making fun of royalty, the religious, and the politicians as early as the 15th century with Daumier the cartoonist and Voltaire the writer as forerunners. Charlie Hebdo used humoristic and provocative cartoons to encourage debates, reflections, and laicism rather than to incite racism, hatred, violence. Charlie Hebdo was an independent voice. But they were also called the “joyful unbelievers, the “troublemakers,” the “white knights,” or the “irresponsible journalists.” 

 

Charlie Hebdo didn’t intend to convince the whole population. Neither did France expect to apply its laws in other territories. But in France we can make fun of everyone and everything…but not with everybody.

 

In this age of internet, the cartoons have gone beyond the borders of France, in places where religion is sacred, where cultural taboos are omnipresent and where freedom of the press has a different meaning. Liberty of expression is universal. But the boundaries are defined by law, people in power, by culture, by religion. 

 

The other day, I posted a “lewd” cover of Charlie Hebdo with a caricature of the Holy Trinity in a sexual act and genuinely asked the question among my Facebook pious and Catholic friends and media friends what they felt about this kind of caricature and press freedom. To my puzzlement but not surprising at all, there was almost no reaction except “intelligent” exchanges between a cousin in Manila and a journalist friend in Belgium. I wonder if silence is part of liberty of expression. Or perhaps, ignoring it is the best way to handle such "attacks." Or did the cartoon raise questions in their heads (from loathing the authors to asking one’s self how far and how can I defend my faith)? Or perhaps, there was fear that making a statement could tarnish their images.

 

“I am Charlie” is a social media solidarity slogan that has gone viral, adopted worldwide by those who sympathized with the families of the victims and who endorsed freedom of speech EXCEPT by those who have felt slighted, misunderstood and insulted by Charlie Hebdo all these years. “I am not Charlie,” said many students of Muslim origin, during a televised class debate. “How can I pity the people who mock my religion? In a way, they asked for it,” said one 15-year old high school student. But majority of them condemned the killings because after all, Muslim extremists and their violent acts give Islam a bad name.

 

But “Je suis Charlie. I am Charlie. Ako si Charlie.” It goes beyond Charlie Hebdo and its contents. It stands for liberty for expression, for democracy, for freedom that we zealously want to preserve for future generations. It’s a slogan that hopefully expressed my capacity to accept the views of others even if I might have felt attacked by their insensitive drawings. And by walking side by side with those who believe in the same universal principle, I am not denouncing my faith nor those of others. “Ako si Charlie” has nothing to do with religion, with racism, with anti-Islam. It’s simply a plea for a world without hate. 

 

 

Louise Baterna, former journalist of the Manila Bulletin, has moved to Brussels, Belgium 23 years ago and since then, has diversified her activities from importing world products, to running a tea shop, to becoming a pastry chef. Writing continues to be one her favorite activities, keeping a blog on food and travel. 

 

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of this website.