Speaking out: Against the culture of fear

Raif Badawi’s case is collective, not personal

Text Ensaf Haidar, wife of Raif Badawi

As Raif wrote repeatedly before his words were banned — before his website was shut down and he was thrown into a cold prison cell:

“Freedom of expression is the air every free-thinking person breathes; it is the fuel that ignites the fire of thought and free debate. Down the centuries, countries and societies would not have advanced without the work of their intellectuals. They presented their ideas and philosophies to everyone, and people could choose what they wanted from among the different views. They then elaborated upon these ideas to reach the deepest recesses of knowledge, progress and civilization.”

These are just a few lines from Raif’s writings. I selected them to begin this article, because I believe that protecting writers and thinkers ought to symbolize freedom of thought. It should also be a space that guarantees the following right for everyone: namely, the right to differ, to reject censorship in all its forms, and to discuss ideas with which we do not agree, instead of outlawing them.

It may seem strange for a Saudi woman to be talking about the importance of freedom of thought and expression. Doubtless you agree with me, but I say this as a person who has suffered greatly. We are still suffering as a family — and as an entire people — from the specter of censorship and the policy of suppressing ideas. I say this because freedom has cost my husband and my children dearly. I say this as a woman who has lived half her life within a culture that does not allow her to express love or emotions; it does not even allow her to leave her home without a male guardian.

Raif Badawi is a pacifist. He believes in humanity and in the freedom of people to live, without interference from religion or state.

He represents everyone in the Middle East and North Africa who wishes to openly express their opinion, to exercise their human rights in thought, religion and expression. He is arguably an icon for many young people here who are eager to defend freedom and change the world. Raif is a man of today. He is proud to belong to this generation — the internet generation — and proud of the opportunities it has given us. This is a free-thinking generation; a generation that bridges the gap between peoples and cultures, inspiring millions with the notion that change is both possible and necessary. And as it happens, the students at this university belong to this very generation.

Raif was not demanding revolution. All he was asking was to believe that change is possible and much needed in his beloved country. He was asking for peaceful change, respectful of the individual. There are those who want to portray Raif as a traitor to his country, but who is the real traitor here? Is the traitor the one who warns people of the dangers of extremism and urges them to catch up with the present and the future, or is he the one eager to silence all free-thinking voices and to imprison us in the past?

Raif and those who defend human rights across the world are not traitors. On the contrary, they are honorable patriots who love their countries and who want them to be part of this diverse world.

Right now, we have two choices; there may not be a third way. Are we ready to stand on the right side of history, or to leave our grandchildren with the awful legacy that we could have changed the world for the better, but we chose not to? I’m a firm believer that changing the world for the better is possible — and that it is a dream all young people share. The world today is full of wars and human rights abuses — our dream has become a duty. It is the moral and humanistic duty of us all to stand together in supporting freedom of thought and human rights.

This is the lesson I have taken on board from my husband’s experience. Today, I am not only defending Raif because he is my children’s father, but because I believe more than ever in everyone’s right to express themselves freely. I am even ready to defend this right on behalf of those who disagree with me. This is the one thing of value that my children will inherit from their father. It is priceless; it cannot be bought or sold: I have learned to say no to everything that demeans people’s dignity and diminishes their rights.

Raif Badawi expressed his concerns with his pen and in his own words. And because his words were sincere, born of his conviction in the possibility of peaceful change, they terrified those who benefit from maintaining the status quo.

Change will not happen as long as we let fear seal our lips. Change will not happen if we remain silent.