OK, I’ve gone to great lengths to discuss the problems with Islam, using a medical metaphor. First, I went over the diagnosis, then the treatment. That leaves me with the third phase: prognosis.
How well will my prescribed treatment work? What are the odds that it will take, and the tumor that is Islamism be contained — if not destroyed?
How the hell should I know? I’m not a doctor.
I’m not an expert on anything, and I make no professions to be so. Indeed, I have developed my blogging style to reflect that — I try to never just make pronouncements, but to show what I think and why I think it. It’s a legacy of two very influential teachers in my past. The first was a high-school math teacher, who — over and over — told us to “show our work.” It wasn’t enough to give the right answer, we had to prove to her that we had arrived at it correctly and not just guessed or copied it from someone who had done the work. And even if we got the wrong answer, she would give us partial credit if we had followed the process correctly, but made a careless error along the way.
The second was my college writing teacher, who pounded into our heads three simple words: “show, don’t tell.” He stressed the importance of using details and descriptions in writing, to draw the reader into not just seeing words on a page, but living the experience the writer was laying out on the page. To him, it was almost obscene to write out “he looked sad.” He wanted us to not tell the reader what to visualize, but guide the reader into seeing what we wanted him to see: “He frowned at the floor and let out a soft sigh. His shoulders sagged, and he wouldn’t lift his eyes to meet mine — but I could still see the redness of his eyes, the remnants of tears now past.”
Anyway, here — in several thousand words — I have tried to show not only how I see Islam, and the problem it has with the radicals in its midst, but why I see it that way. I have also shown how I think we can best address that problem, and why I think that is the best way to do so.
Am I right or wrong? Naturally, I think I’m right. I wouldn’t spend over 3,000 words (and almost two solid hours of composing and typing) if I thought I was wrong. But the only way I would know, definitively, if I was right would be if my ideas were put into practice, and I don’t see that happening any time soon.
But maybe — just maybe — some portion of what I’ve thought out will provoke enough people to actually address the issues I’ve laid out, and maybe even consider the solutions I’ve proposed. Maybe some actual good might come from all this.
Stranger things have happened, after all.