This week, nearly four months after the massacre at Charlie Hebdo, it’s become clear that there are two profoundly problematic responses to that French mag and its bloody travails.
The first is the cowardice of the Western writers and cartoonists who cannot bring themselves to say ‘Je suis Charlie’, at least not without adding a massive ‘But’ at the end: ‘But it was a racist magazine’, ‘But it upset Muslims’. And the second unhelpful response comes from those who can only say ‘Je suis Charlie’. Those who have turned ‘being Charlie’ into the litmus test of liberalism, the passport into polite society, the measure of every man and woman’s moral decency. The reason this second response, the ‘Charlie’ camp itself, is becoming a problem is because it is obscuring the bigger, historic, Europe-wide crisis of freedom of speech, which goes far beyond two psychotic gunmen acting on behalf of Allah. In fact, it has become a means of avoiding talking about that crisis. ‘Je suis Charlie’ is increasingly a distraction, and a dangerous one.
One thing that most people who are in possession of a moral compass will agree on is that writers like Peter Carey are moral invertebrates. This week, Carey and other prominent authors — Michael Ondaatje, Teju Cole, Rachel Kushner, Francine Prose — said they were pulling out of a PEN gala dinner in New York following PEN’s decision to give its Freedom of Expression Courage Award to Charlie Hebdo. They feel that giving this award to a rabble-rousing mag like Charlie is ‘inappropriate’ – that dead bureaucratic phrase used by 21st-century cowards and censors who can’t bring themselves to say ‘heretical’, which is what they really mean.
Kushner said she didn’t want to celebrate a magazine that promotes ‘cultural intolerance’. Carey says: ‘A hideous crime was committed, but was it a freedom-of-speech issue for PEN America…?’ When you’re adding a ‘but’ right after talking about the cold-blooded execution of 12 people for the crime of having made fun of a religion, you know you have problems. Carey went on to slam the ‘cultural arrogance of the French nation’, which ‘does not recognise its moral obligation to a large and disempowered segment of their population’. The fantastic irony here is that Carey is himself being culturally arrogant, depicting an entire nation as a gaggle of racially unaware ignoramuses: national chauvinism disguised as concern for Muslims. But the most telling thing is his idea that Charlie Hebdo should have wound its neck in rather than offend a ‘segment of the population’.
This cuts to the heart of the supineness of those who balk at any honouring of Charlie Hebdo, which includes not only those gala-flouncing writers but also Garry Trudeau, creator of the Doonesbury cartoon. The motor of their moral cowardice is the idea that we should avoid giving offence, that to offend is tantamount to abuse. Their elitist allergy to saying ‘Je suis Charlie’ reveals the extent to which the ideology of multiculturalism, with its relativistic notion that all cultures are equally valid and its instinct to shush criticism of any particular culture, has much of the literary set in its grip. Their description of ridicule and blasphemy — which is what Charlie did — as ‘cultural intolerance’ confirms the creeping criminalisation of certain forms of speech, the transformation of heatedness, controversy itself, into a social problem, possibly even a form of violence. They’re expressing one of the worst ideas of our time: that respect for an individual’s or a group’s sensitivities should trump the right of others to say what they want; that feelings are more important than freedom. Their ‘erms’ and ‘ahhs’ and ‘buts’ in relation to Charlie Hebdo add up to an alarming failure to stand up for freedom of speech; worse, they contribute to an increasingly chilling climate of word-watching and self-censorship for fear of giving offence.


