The Earth Hearing

by Daniel Plonix

  “You seek to control too much,” argued Galecki. He leaned forward across the table. “I mean, let me be honest here, some of us do not care for gay marriage. All the same, everyone ought to have the right to exercise whatever marriage arrangement they may choose.”

  “Deviants should be killed off, not have an infertile, faux marriage,” said al-Jabouri testily. It was infuriating that about a dozen Muslim countries decreed the death penalty for homosexuality, and yet, there have been maddening few executions of sodomites! He drew in a long breath to calm himself. He finally said, “Tell me, where is your vaunted liberty if a man wants to take on a second or third wife?”

  “I could not tolerate being one among a few wives. I want a man all to myself,” proclaimed Susan.

  That was not much of an argument. “How nice for you,” Nayef al-­Jabouri said sarcastically. “In the aftermath of war, women are in greater numbers than men. What of those who cannot find husbands? Like­wise, men tend to abstain from marrying widows and divorcees, so who would take care of them? Last but not least, Allah Most High might afflict a woman with infertility, but instead of divorcing her, Islam has permitted the man to marry another woman while keeping his infertile wife honored and supported.”

  Konsta was surprised by those arguments. He allowed they made sense—in a nineteenth-century kind of way, when most women did not work and were depended on men for survival.

  “Wearing a niqab and praying five times a day.” Nayef al-Jabouri shook his head ruefully. “This is the first and last thing you know of the divine way, the Shari’ah.” That’s what happened when the Qur’an was treated as a book of chanting and recitation rather than a book of governance.

  “The Shari’ah is a complete scheme of life and an all-embracing social order, where nothing is superfluous, and nothing is lacking.” His eyes shone with an inner light. “From marital relationship to economic affairs to international relations. It brings into a total harmony human life and the law of the universe. It is a call to move away from one’s whims and desires, such as drinking and drugs. It is the way of forbidding the evil with the hand, tongue, and heart.”

  Galecki raised his glass in mock salute. “The book with all the answers, eh?”

  With some effort, Nayef al-Jabouri controlled the flare of anger. His fingers dug into the arms of the chair. “The Islamic law will be a merciful thing for the West.”

  “What about the freedom of choice?” Galecki shot back.

  “Freedom is merely the possibility of choosing,” replied the Muslim man. “Once a choice is made—which sooner or later, all people do—we are governed by a certain code of conduct. Hence, the word Islam: submission to God.”

  A flush crept up Susan’s face. Much of the concepts Nayef al-Jabouri voiced were disturbingly familiar to her from church. It was too close for comfort.

  “What about the freedom to evolve, to change one’s view, or try new things?” said Konsta. His mouth compressed. “There is always a sect or some school of thought that claims to possess the ultimate answers and proper way of living. But there is always a large number of people who don’t want to become adherents and subsequently are outcast or sent to reeducation camps of one stripe or another. However, in the case of Islam, even if it is to assume a worldwide hegemony, some segments of the population will be disenfranchised.”

  Konsta made a steeple of his fingers and fixed al-Jabouri with a speculative gaze. “You suggest Islam is better. Better for whom? For women? No, it will institute polygamy and the legal right of men to beat their wives into submission. For Christians? No, they won’t be able to build or repair a church or even openly wear crucifixes. For gays? No, they will be executed. For those who changed their views and wish to leave Islam? No, a death sentence will hang over them.”

  Galecki felt the same way. “Inviting people to live by those precepts is one thing, to force this code on people is something else entirely. I have heard how Muslims have treated their fellow non-Muslim countrymen. Egyptian imams who urged violence against Christians over loudspeakers. Hundreds of Muslims in Indonesia who threw rotten eggs on Christians who tried to hold Mass. Thousands of Muslims who attacked Christians in Egypt because of an accusation that a Christian had an intimate photo of a Muslim woman on his phone.”

  This is as it should be, thought Nayef al-Jabouri. He was secretly gratified to know that in Pakistan and Indonesia, numerous churches had been bombed. In Sudan, Christians got arrested or persecuted for discussing their faith. In Afghanistan, to reveal one’s Christian identity may spell death. In northern Nigeria, Christians had been killed off on a regular basis. In Egypt, hundreds of mob attacks against Christians have taken place in the last couple of decades.

  The man in a white attire and dark kufi cap clasped his hands around his knee. “Look, the lordship of man over man is the root cause of all corrupt rule. This is why no laws can be legitimate except God’s, and no government representatives are valid except those who rule as God’s deputies, implementing God’s laws exclusively.”

  Galecki sucked in a harsh breath, eyes fixed on al-Jabouri “You advocate the use of force then?”

  The bearded man raised his hands placatingly. “The men who have usurped the authority of God and presume to govern other men are not going to give up their power merely through preaching. We have to do it the way of the Prophet, with blood-red swords.”

  His expression hardened. “The establishment of the Rule of God and laws of Islam over this Earth is the duty of Muslims. As it is said in the Book of God: ‘And fight them until there is no more disbelief and polytheism.’ Sanctioned by the Shari’ah, jihad for the sake of Allah is the means to bring the message of Islam to the entire world and make His word most high. To that end, Allah, blessed and supreme He is, said: ‘O Prophet! Strive against the unbelievers and be firm against them’ and ‘Fight against those who do not believe in Allah...until they pay the tax in willing submission and feel themselves subdued.’ Hence, the Prophet’s companions spread out and conquered lands. A new Islamic state, Allah willing, will rise and do the same.”

  We will rub the noses of the kuffar in the dirt, al-Jabouri thought grimly. Shed their blood and take their wealth as spoils of war. Yes, the sun of jihad has risen, praise is to Allah. The time came for those being nursed on the milk of humiliation to rise, remove the garments of debasement, for the era of hand-wringing was at an end. Indeed, the black flag of the tawhid had been raised by the soldiers of Allah. And within a few generations, the Crusader lands would be under the sway of a new caliphate. First Constantinople, then Rome, and then the White House.

  Al-Jabouri was pleased with the state of affairs in the land of the Crusaders, well aware that people who publicly mocked Islam could get into trouble with the law. Islam’s blasphemy code had been upheld by the kuffar establishment and governing bodies. Why, just recently a Christian woman in Pakistan who blasphemed against Allah and had credible death threats against her was refused asylum in the United Kingdom; its authorities feared a backlash from the British Muslims if they dared to grant admission to the blasphemer.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, Muslims were gaining a controlling presence in the West.

  One knew it was going well when his brothers could march in the main streets of London carrying banners proclaiming, “The followers of Muhammad will conquer America,” “Massacre those who insult Islam!!” and “Islamic Emirates for Britain,” while the clueless native dhimmis did nothing but direct traffic around the marchers. These were the results of divine intervention. This was obvious to all who had eyes to see.

  Nayef al-Jabouri wasn’t always a true believer. He had scoffed at his brethren and their empty proclamations, like gnats biting a lion. However, as the years went by, he saw it. He saw how Allah Most High had addled and befuddled the brains of the kuffar, how they opened the gates, how they held signs greeting the incoming invaders. Even soldiers of the Islamic State,
mujahid brothers, were allowed back into Western Europe, unmolested. This was when he became a believer, as what he witnessed was beyond plausible, beyond reason.

  Inshallah, in his grandchildren’s lifetime, the lands of the Crusaders will be theirs. Allah Most High was wise in his ways. Al-Jabouri kept his face blank, careful not to show any outward signs of satisfaction. The thousands of mosques established across Western Europe had by now reached the Outer Hebrides islands. And in Belgium, the Islam Party was formed with the avowed intent to establish an Islamic state. Slowly through the generations, it would all work out.

  Aloud he said, “What comparison the loss of some lives is next to the tremendous anguish humanity would suffer if the world would become the abode of evil, corruption, and perversion?”

  “You sanction the killing of thousands of innocents,” said Susan and gave him a hostile glare. What a heartless, depraved monster, she thought.

  He just looked at her.

  “You do not understand,” he eventually said, his voice hauntingly calm. “It is a struggle between truth and falsehood. La ilaha illa Allah—there is no god but Allah. The ultimate objective of Islam is to establish peace and order throughout the world under Islamic law. We fight to bring you out from the darkness of disbelief and into the light of Islam. Every nonbeliever will be given the choice,” he added in a low voice, “willing submission to Allah, payment of jizya poll tax, or the sword.”

  Susan glanced away, then made a visible effort to control her voice. “What about the line in the Qur’an that says: ‘Whoever killed a person…it would be as if he killed the whole of mankind’?”

  Surah 5 verse 32. Not that again. “You are taking a verse out of context. It is prefixed with the statement: ‘We made it a law for the Children of Israel.’ It was said and decreed of the Jews, not the Muslims. Furthermore, the next verse says: ‘The punishment of those who wage war against Allah and His Messenger is execution, or crucifixion, or the cutting off hands and feet from opposite sides, or banishment from the land.’”

  Susan declared, “Thank goodness, most Muslims don’t advocate your militant form of Islam.” That Jihadi Salafist nut job.

  Nayef al-Jabouri was incensed. “My form of Islam? You think it is like Christianity or Judaism, where you can keep changing the recipe to taste? There is only one Islam, immutable and perfect. There are no updates or new versions of the Qur’an.” He recalled that a recent poll had found that 39 percent of the British Muslims thought wives should always obey their husbands. An outrage! Only 39 percent! Did the Qur’an not say that “men are the maintainers of women”? and that it was up to the men to “admonish women who display ill conduct” and “beat them” if the rebuke produced no results?

  “You speak of evil while your men in uniform have done worse. Far worse,” al Jabouri said darkly. He almost spat the words, “You have killed people in their homes, in marketplaces, and on roadways. Many have been killed as a result of your invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan. About twenty million have been displaced.”

  “This stupid War on Terror,” said Susan with bitterness that surprised Galecki. “So far, directly and indirectly, it has cost us over six trillion dollars. With this money, we could have awarded a new car for each high school graduate and kept doing it year after year for decades on end. Or waived the national student loan debt and also provided free higher education to all our people for generations. Or equipped every single elementary, middle, and high school with a giant, state-of-the-art robotics, engineering, and technology center. Mind you, this doesn’t factor in the projected additional trillions of dollars in future interest payments on the money borrowed for the war.” She’d learned that her government had poured into nation-building in Afghanistan more money, inflation adjusted, than they’d spent under the Marshall Plan to rebuild Western European economies in the heels of World War II.

  What a heartless, depraved monster, Nayef thought. Utterly amoral. They have been killing men, women, and children, but they might as well be talking about pest control. All they can think about is how much the mass killing they have perpetrated cost them. Human lives they have taken and misery they have sown meant nothing to these people. It was as he had suspected, and he resolved once again to fight and see a khilafah in all the lands of the kuffar.

  In a hidden, private room, Lee had been listening to their conversation with a growing sense of unease mixed with disgust. She chose to come along to the hearing but felt she no longer could be in a room with the Terraneans. The party Lee had thrown was to be the last interaction she would have with them. She already knew that. Seemingly with each passing hour, the realization had grown she was not going to resume living back on Earth. This chapter of her life was swiftly coming to an end.

  “I get his point,” Konsta was saying. “A small group of jihadis brought down a few giant buildings filled with people. And for over a decade, you guys go apeshit, directly killing over three hundred thousand noncombatants.” He shook his head in disbelief. “All you achieved was the return to power of discredited warlords in Afghanistan, the funneling of money to large military contractors, and aiding the recruitment efforts of various insurgent groups steeped in hatred toward the people of the West and bent on vengeance.”

  “This is the only language they understand,” Galecki said, reddening. “We are fighting terrorists around the world and scoring.” He regarded Konsta, and there was a sudden icy contempt in his eyes. “If not for us, who is going to fight them—you?”

  “This is—”

  “You don’t get to talk,” Galecki interrupted rudely. “Not as long as it is our funds and our boys who underwrite your defenses, decade after decade.”

  If anything, Konsta seemed even more incensed. “In the sixties and seventies, you ogres dropped on Laos a planeload of bombs that averaged one every eight minutes, twenty-four hours a day. And you kept up this rate of bombardment for nine long, fucking years. In the countryside, those who did not get blown up were holed in caves and trenches. Laos! a little country of poor peasants with a barter economy. Your people dropped over two hundred million cluster bombs on Laos, of which tens of millions never did detonate. They are waiting to be found and handled by children in schoolyards, rice paddies, fields, fruit orchards, bamboo stands, and river banks.”

  Galecki and Susan sat in stony silence.

  Konsta drained his cup, put it down with a thud, and said, “So you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not horrified when some people got fed up with your savagery and killed, in turn, a few thousand of your people, the people who have been bankrolling atrocities and military excursions.”

  The blessed raids on Washington and New York, thought al-Jabouri.

  Konsta was still at it. “You tasted in 2001, but what, through the decades, you have parceled out in many countries. I wonder how many whose daughters or fathers you blew up—from the villages of Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam to the marketplaces of Iraq—prayed that some of their assailants were in those buildings when they collapsed.”

  Susan face drained of color.

  Konsta gave her a level look. “The Americans who bombed those civilians in Laos will never be brought to justice. Will never be called for a reckoning.”

  “They just followed—”

  “—Orders, I know. All the same, those who dropped cluster bombs on villages later got to play baseball with their sons when their tours of duty were over and now get to play bingo in the retirement community in their golden years. Hell, your military is the only one not patrolling its borders and protecting its lands. Rather, it is an imperial force stationed around the world and fighting only in other people’s countries.”

  Wang Lei buried a chuckle in a deep cough. As he saw it, the American was the rich, dotty uncle with a temper. Equipped with a blund­erbuss and binoculars, the American was dashing about, mindlessly blowing up things here, there, and everywhere. Racking up trillions of dollars on a credi
t card his grandkids will be saddled with, the American was chasing phantoms through deserts and across jungles.

  In contrast, China bombed no one and antagonized few. It expended no money on war campaigns overseas but rather gave strategic loans to states that could not repay, like Sri Lanka.

  It took American municipal authorities sixteen years to reroute under­ground a small section of a highway in Boston. This was about the same time it took the Chinese administration to lay down over twenty thousand kilometers of high-speed rail, transforming his country. China’s century of humiliation was coming to an end; China was on its way to become a prime force on the global stage. They owned in Australia farms and factories, an airport and a seaport, wind farms and coal mines, and millions of acres of land. Along with Africa, it was gradually pulled into China’s orbit, on its way to become a tributary state. Slowly through the generations, it would all work out.

  Wang Lei loved his country and the Party. Wang Lie believed in the Zhōngguó Mèng: China’s rise to greatness, the rejuvenation of the great Chinese nation.

  “Americans,” he muttered absently, filing his nails. “Self-appointed bullies of the planet. Defecating on every humanitarian convention—unlike China.”

  A suggestion of a sneer curled Galecki’s lip. “You’re one to talk. Your government forced over one million Uighurs into high-pressure reeducation camps!” A few people had escaped those gulags and made it to the West. He had heard of their gut-wrenching eyewitness testimonies. They described internment camps where shaven inmates were handcuffed, even while sleeping, and their every move monitored by cameras. The afternoons were devoted to confessions of moral offenses. And under all sort of pretexts, inmates were beaten with electrified batons or made to sit on chairs of nails or restrained for days on end in the so-called tiger chairs.