Foto: © Anke Illing
Montag, 14. August 2006
'Pakistani terror'
urmila, 18:09h
The terror alarm of last week has shook 'Europe'. That young men, who were born and raised in a 'European' country and have its nationlity are suspeceted of terrorism seems to be both a big surprise and a big threat. The 'Pakistanis' are dangereous, they are 'Muslims', they are potential terrorists and 'we' have to deal with this danger.
In (at least) one 'German' newspaper the commentator reffered to the Rushdie affair and that one could see already then that Great Britain had a problem with 'radical Muslims'. In comment to this a quote from Zadie Smith's (2000) "White Teeth":
"To be more precise, Millat hadn't read it. Millat knew nothing about the writer, nothing about the book; could not identify the book if it lay in a pile of other books; could not pick out the writer in a line-up of other writers ... But he knew other things. He knew that he, Millat, was a Paki no matter where he came from, that he smelt of curry; had no sexual identity; took other people's jobs; or had no job and bummed off the state; or gave all the jobs to his relatives; that he could be a dentist or a shop-owner or a curry-shifter, but no footballer or a film-maker; that he should go back to his own country; or stay here and earn his bloody keep; that he worshipped elephants and wore turbans; that no one who looked like Millat, or felt like Millat, was ever on the news unless they had recently been murdered. In short, he knew he had no face in this country, no voice in the country, until the week before last when suddenly people like Millat were on every channel and every radio and every newspaper and they were angry, and Millat recognized the anger, thought it recognized him, and grabbed it with both hands."
In (at least) one 'German' newspaper the commentator reffered to the Rushdie affair and that one could see already then that Great Britain had a problem with 'radical Muslims'. In comment to this a quote from Zadie Smith's (2000) "White Teeth":
"To be more precise, Millat hadn't read it. Millat knew nothing about the writer, nothing about the book; could not identify the book if it lay in a pile of other books; could not pick out the writer in a line-up of other writers ... But he knew other things. He knew that he, Millat, was a Paki no matter where he came from, that he smelt of curry; had no sexual identity; took other people's jobs; or had no job and bummed off the state; or gave all the jobs to his relatives; that he could be a dentist or a shop-owner or a curry-shifter, but no footballer or a film-maker; that he should go back to his own country; or stay here and earn his bloody keep; that he worshipped elephants and wore turbans; that no one who looked like Millat, or felt like Millat, was ever on the news unless they had recently been murdered. In short, he knew he had no face in this country, no voice in the country, until the week before last when suddenly people like Millat were on every channel and every radio and every newspaper and they were angry, and Millat recognized the anger, thought it recognized him, and grabbed it with both hands."
... comment
