The last time the girls and boys of the Oxford Union had invited me to speak, it was about Israel, so naturally I was screamed at and abused. They threw out one of my fellow speakers, and threatened to remove another (both Arabs who like Israel).
It seems we had found the limit of free speech they had all denied existed. That limit was Islam
This time, they invited me to debate a much calmer topic: Islam. I spoke alongside Tommy Robinson and Laurence Fox, and opposite a little-and-large double act of converts to Islam who have made a career sharing their Islamic experience on the internet. Oh, and Jacob Rees-Mogg, who I thought was a Conservative and a Catholic. What could possibly go wrong?
Though the mob outside on Wednesday night were shouting about fascists, and blocking the capacity audience from entering, by the end of the event Sir Jacob had called me, Tommy, and Laurence ‘pinkos’ and accused us of Marxist thinking. The two Islam-fluencers opposing us were joined by Arwa Elrayess, the Union’s first female, Arab, Palestinian, president (because every president has to be the ‘first’ something these days) who had planned the entire event.
Having been instructed that we couldn’t decide what order we would speak in, Alrayess and Rees-Mogg had a mini-squabble in the library before the debate, about which of the two would be the final messenger of their side. The former MP pulled rank over the 20-year-old, insisting on going last. This left poor Arwa to whizz through her speech at double speed in the middle of the show, rather than allowing her the opportunity of a majestic summation and dismantling of everyone else’s arguments.
Laurence and I had prepared a brown paper envelope on which he had written the letters C.H. for Charlie Hebdo. At the start of his speech, he held it up, warning the audience that it contained a caricature he wished to show them, later on. Most didn’t react at first, but some minutes later, when he reached for the envelope a second time, the opposition bench jumped like a group of dozing cats who had heard a sudden noise.
“My wife asked me not to show this for fear of repercussions for my family,” he said. “But I told her that if I did not, I would have submitted to Islam.”
The opposition speakers and their guests squirmed in discomfort, terrified at the very suggestion a drawing of Mohamed might soon be unveiled – and not just any drawing, that drawing.
Entirely as predicted, the mask slipped. Arwa, who had been enjoying her 15 minutes of fame as the self-proclaimed final protector of free speech in the UK, jumped to her feet with an interjection that seemed intended to prevent her own death for facilitating such blasphemy.
Had she not demonstrated enough commitment to freedom of speech, as a Muslim woman, she begged, by inviting him to speak in the first place? Must the cartoon be unleashed?
But before Laurence could even answer, Sir Jacob – who would later claim Britain’s Western, Christian foundations were sufficient to defend us from the horrors of Islamic violence – jumped to his feet. Maybe there was an obscure rule in the Union’s constitution which prohibited the use of props, he clutched, but the straw was not there.
A young man in the third row announced that no such prohibition had been applied to remove PLO flags in previous debates, so clearly the cartoon should be allowed. Touché.
Suddenly Rees-Mogg, Alrayes, the two converts, and even the three Muslim heavies they’d brought with them to attempt an intimidating entourage, all looked distinctly freaked out. It seems we had found the limit of free speech they had all denied existed. That limit was Islam, and if they let this pass, maybe it would come for them too.
Exercising the full dramatic abilities only a professional actor cancelled by the woke mob could, as Laurence slowly unwound the string which fastened the old-fashioned brown paper envelope, time stood still. The audience gasped, and let out a nervous laugh, as he slid out its scurrilous contents.
A caricature of Jacob Rees-Mogg.
Relief. A pardon from the otherwise inevitable death sentence. Because in this country, you can mercilessly mock an antiquated former MP and knight of the realm with no fear for your bodily safety or life. Actually, it’s almost compulsory to mock the Mogg. But don’t you dare touch Mo.
As we had intended, the moment perfectly revealed the palpable fear of Islam held even by its staunchest defenders in that room, and by everybody else, too. Check mate.
That was the harder part of the evening, because I did feel for Arwa and Aisha: they seemed genuinely attached to a private, personal, tolerant Islam, and I know what it is to defend an inherited faith and identity against people determined to think the worst of it. The difference is that when Abdullah al-Andalusi reached for Jeffrey Epstein and Harvey Weinstein, he was naming villains who did not act as Jews or claim religious warrant for their crimes; the harsher forms of Islam we were discussing are preached, justified and enforced by men who insist they are acting precisely as Muslims, from the same texts Arwa and Aisha understandably want to protect.
Meanwhile, Abdullah al Andalusi concluded his remarks in defence of Islam with a quote of peace: “Live and let live…Does anyone know who said it?…His name is Osama Bin Laden.” His face twitched with ever more and more ticks, as the room echoed with laughter. I hadn’t been aware of Mr Al-Andalusi’s work before, and when I looked him up I discovered from his website that he is a “thinker, speaker and debater”. Unfortunately, I’m not sure he can do all three at the same time.
As for my speech, I’ll leave you to judge, if the Union ever releases the video (watch this space).
It had gone midnight when Sir Jacob finally got to speak. Just as we were all nodding off in the stifling heat of the shabby Victorian debating chamber, he perked things up a bit. His central claim that the West has benefitted from Islam was backed up by mentions of a handful of Muslims from history as far back as 800AD or so who had done great things. The invention of numbers, he suggested, was responsible for modern capitalism which enriches us all. But ultimately the reason he isn’t suspicious of Islam is because he feels Christianity is so strong it cannot be defeated.
Then, in a sudden U-turn, he forgot his dislike of props. “I’m going to upset all my friends who I’ve been supporting this evening,” Rees-Mogg declared, before reaching into his double breasted dinner jacket pocket and producing a cross shaped container. This, he said, contained the cross “literally upon which our Lord (and) saviour died, because inside there is a piece of the true cross.” Whoever sold him that bit of timber in the shuk in Jerusalem clearly had better persuasive powers than his team mates. Ashen faced, al Andalusi and Elrayess could do little to prevent their entire case defending Islam, Mohamed and Allah being closed with the proud chant: “Christus vincit! Christus regnat! Christus imperat!”
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