What does a burqa ban reveal? – Portugal Resident

For many – most I’d say – there will be some sort of reaction, and this ‘story’ has certainly drawn an unusual amount of attention. Its writer Natasha Donn and I discussed it further on our weekly ‘The Resident News Review’ podcast.

“I’m quite suspicious about this story,” I told her, to which Natasha replied: “To me, it didn’t really make any sense because I’ve never seen anyone around here in a burqa. And if they were in a burqa, I’d just worry how they would keep walking because there’s so many obstacles. You know, loose paving stones.”

This is what I love about our weekly conversations, and Natasha’s down-to-earth observations that have a habit of taking some of the emotional heat out of the week’s more sensational scenarios, a result of her cultivated Portuguese-ness. Such matters are important, but there are more important things in life too. This is the Portuguese way, thankfully.

Our conversation continued nonetheless, drawing on the CHEGA-flavoured elements of the proposed legislation and concerns around parts of Lisbon becoming “like ghettos”. To her points, I asserted my concern about this being “a sort of tokenism”, and a genuine concern about how our culture is changing and then “pushing back with a sort of token gesture like that”.

To my relief, and our agreement, this matter appears to be best managed from the point of view of security and public safety, and not the angle of religious attire and its prohibition. I understand balaclavas are in the legislative firing line too, which is interesting to note, albeit not by many headline writers or social media commentators. Imagine, “Balaclava ban promises return of national calm”.

Over on The Resident’s Facebook page, comments have gone into three-figures triggered by the pre-ratification proposal, proffered with the usual emphatic and indignant tone that that particular medium fosters and is now characterised by.

But back to the podcast conversation and “it’s about knowing who’s walking down the street,” continued Natasha, and I agree. And in the same sense that motorcycle helmets and hoodies might cause concern, we might expect that this parliamentary serving suggestion, should it become decree law, will have police officers feeling more confident about asking Muslim women, ‘motards’ and wannabe gang members to show their faces in public places, if necessary.

But this would not appear to be the main concern and motivation of many involved in the pile-on and general reaction, which appears to have its influences in the fiery realms of religious intolerance, cultural invasion and ideological confrontation.

“Attack the women? Yeah, don’t be brave and deal with the ‘Fitna’, just demanding a state-approved dress code like North Korea,” said @partidaportet27, responding on YouTube.

“The ban is part of a wider effort to demonise Muslims in the west. These people are your brothers and sisters. Don’t succumb to fear and hatred,” added @imovertheocean.

You’ll have your view on this too, of course. This is a ‘culture war’, ‘lightning rod’ or ‘dog whistle’ topic for sure, where it would take the strongest of mentalities to not voice, or at least think, a thought of knee-jerk pace and emotional in quality. There are a whole range of similar topics and triggers in our times: Donald Trump, Brexit and climate change are just three examples; others I won’t even mention here, for fear of losing the intended plot and trajectory of my point today, such is their inflammatory power.

And my point is to ask if you have ever wondered why some facts hit you harder than others, and why this might be? Why on one topic you can take it or leave it, and with another – like the burqa ban – it seems there’s an unstoppable reflex that often begins with the phrase: “I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but…”, often followed by “You can’t say that anymore”. Both bookending exactly what you wanted to say, which you most certainly just said, often via the relative safety of a keyboard or among agreeable company.

My theory is that such sentiments, prompted by such controversies, are the outward expression of unresolved fears. Not that you’d get any sense of fear, given the certainty and forcefulness of their expression. And, by the way, I think it’s OK to be afraid. These are uncertain times and the world appears to be changing rapidly and unpredictably in front of our very eyes.

This is what I believe is behind the bluster and bravado of the burqa ban: plain primal panic that the world is not going the way it ‘should’. And poignantly, when we consider this predicament, behind or beyond the first blistering reactions, we can note that such reactionary responses are not going to create what we really want, which is the very peace we fear we are going to lose.

When this is the state of public discourse – an emphasis on an argument rather than inquiry – we, I suspect, will draw unto us more of the same. Fixed positions, underwritten by a growing lack of curiosity and open-heartedness, are confrontations waiting to happen. From top to bottom, the political landscape looks like vanity in search of certainty; in my eyes, a bleak formula from which no good can come.

In Portugal, I am pleased to note that, generally speaking, people define their politics; their politics do not define them. However, if I were to guess the direction of travel in this regard, it looks like the kind of political conditioning that has gripped the UK and US may well be taking root here.

And ultimately, and as ever, this isn’t really about Portugal, burqas, racism or whatever hobby horse we might append our subconscious urges to (which incidentally I am also prone to do – instinctively and habitually). For the sake of all that is ‘good and holy’, this is about you and what’s stirred within you, for your possible edification. 

Perennial offence, habitual discontent and reactive argument have little to commend them, looking at the world right now. I say our peace and freedom are lit by curiosity and safeguarded by vigilance, and not encouraged by condemnation and upset. If this very opinion upsets you, let’s talk, not shout about it, and maybe realise that the rarely-seen burqa is hardly the end of the world as we know it.

Read Carl Munson’s previous article: The future, still unknown, but much faster