Let’s lay aside the question of whether it makes sense to have a law that makes it punishable to offend the vaguely defined sensitivities of a particular religious group. The justifiability of such a law is irrelevant when we debate Arifur Rahman’s fate. For anyone who has seen Arif’s Prothom Alo cartoon (see it on shadakalo; read the translation at 3rd World View, along with reactions and updates from the Bangladeshi blogosphere), it is clear that the cartoon is not at all about the Prophet (S) or about the beliefs and practices of Islam and Muslims. Rather it is about the ignorance of those who think that there is some kind of religious requirement to have the name of the blessed Prophet (S) somewhere in one’s name. Of course, there is no such requirement - in anything that the Prophet (S) said or did, or in the Book. Pointing out the folly of believing that it is some kind of religious requirement cannot, in any stretch of the imagination, be viewed as abuse of the name of the Prophet (S) or of his religion.

And yet, Arifur Rahman is headed to a month of detention, for something he manifestly did not do. We are told he insulted the Prophet. When? We are told he hurt the sensibilities of Muslims. How? Arif is being thrown into prison on what is clearly a lie.

I am reminded as I sit up this night shivering as I contemplate Arif’s fate - and ours - of the story of Yusuf and Zulaykha, of the shirt rent in the back, of the snares of the wicked and the unjust. Today Arif is our Yusuf - he who was thrown into the dungeons because of passionate, unreasoning, unreasonable lies and the cold, unprincipled calculations of cynical men. I can only pray that Arif is granted some of the perseverence and protection, and ultimately, blessings showered on Yusuf.

Justice in our Land of Gold is in hiding. Reason has escaped us. Truth has fled. The City of Mosques lies in the Republic of Fear. None of us is safe here when things we say can mean what they manifestly are not, and where the compass points the qibla at the direction and discretion of the angriest, ugliest shouts. Let us bear witness.