The Jijadist & The Player


I share in the widespread sense of horror at  the summarily execution-murder- of James Foley, a fellow journalist whose only alleged crime was that he was a US citizen reporting on the brutal reality of the Middle East.

We are told that his Jihadist murderer spoke with  an English accent, suggesting he might have been educated and brought up in London’s multicultural  East End. If and when he is killed or captured by his enemy, or some relative or friend spills the beans, further details of the personal history of  Foley’s executioner will , with all,  probability emerge .

Who knows what it will tell us. But let us imagine that for a moment that it will tell us of   boy born into very decent, God-fearing family, educated in an English state school along with other kids of varied racial and cultural backgrounds, watching images of conflict on English TV, when not following Spanish football on Sky Sports, and somewhere along the way encountering some preacher, website, or other would-be martyr to the cause.

Such a process of radicalisation of an ordinary life has become part of the widely accepted narrative in the discourse and analysis of the terrorism of Islamic  fundamentalism which terrifies with its fanaticism and ability  to regenerate.

The narrative is certainly different from that of, and certainly in no way involves,  Munir El Haddadi, the Madrid -born son of Moroccan immigrants (his mother came originally from the Spanish north african enclave of Melilla) who at the age of 18 is being described as the new star revelation of FC Barcelona, having already shown his remarkable talent in the first team along the likes of Lionel Messi , Neymar and company.  The other day, Munir wowed some 60,000 gathered at the  Nou Camp stadium ,  scoring two of the six goals  Barca scored against Mexico’s Leon in the pre-season Gamper tournament. We are told that Munir is not only a great player in the making but also  a good natured simpatico. He is popular with his team mates to whom he may soon show his other passion-break-dance.

If only football could bring peace and joy and fun and reconciliation  throughout the world! Of course it doesn’t. But the young Munir’s  happy upbringing and career break is a good story to hang on to and savour. It rekindles our faith in humanity despite  that lottery of life, in which are fate, as the Spanish philosopher Ortega y Gasset said,  is determined partly by ourselves, but also by our circumstances.

 

 

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