Keeping Us Safe from Cat Stevens

What I remember about the incident was the outrage it inspired. A lot of people were really angry about what he said. People had loved his music, and bought so many of his records, but then, suddenly it didn't matter. Suddenly, people could not forgive him; they were demanding that all of his records be banned and that he never be allowed to come to the United States again. It was March of 1966, and John Lennon of the Beatles had said in an interview that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus. I think I knew what he meant-- it was a somewhat flippant comment about the nature of fame and how influential rock stars were with young people. But in the Bible Belt, it was considered blasphemy, and they took it as an attack on their faith. Some radio stations stopped playing Beatles records, some even held public events where Beatles records were burned. Lennon did get to travel to the US on numerous occasions, and eventually became a permanent US resident; but there were some people who never forgave him for what he had said.   

Fast forward to February 1989. Cat Stevens, who had so many hits in the early 70s, great songs like "Peace Train" and "Wild World" (and an album track I always loved, "Father and Son"), had converted to Islam in late 1977 and walked away from his music career. He became very fervent in his beliefs, and at a forum at a London university, where he was giving his views on world events, he was asked about controversial author Salman Rushdie, whose book was deemed blasphemous by religious Muslims. Rushdie had been put under a fatwa by Ayatollah Khomeini, who called for his death. Stevens, now known as Yusuf Islam, seemed to agree that anyone who blasphemes the Prophet Muhammad was indeed deserving of death. And when the New York Times reported that the former singer had been approving of the fatwa, many of his (now former) fans were appalled. Stevens seemed to realize he had expressed himself very badly, because he tried to clarify his remarks almost immediately, explaining that he was just describing the sentence for blasphemy in Islam, but he was not calling for Rushdie's death. Many people saw this as a distinction without a difference, and even years later, they couldn't forgive him.

Fast forward to 2025. Yusuf Islam became a lot more moderate as the years passed, and today, as Yusuf Cat Stevens, he continues to try to explain what he said, what he meant, and what he believed back in 1989, compared to where his spiritual journey has taken him since. For years, he has lived a peaceful life, eventually coming back to his music (after years of not playing it), but some fans have never forgiven him; by many accounts, Rushdie hasn't forgiven him either. And now, more than 35 years later, the US government is also unwilling to forgive him. He has a new book and was planning to tour some US cities, discussing his life and playing some of his songs. But the tour had to be cancelled because he was unable to get a visa. 

We are living in a time when lots of famous people, are getting in trouble for making statements that are perceived as controversial. When Republican activist Charlie Kirk died, comedian Jimmy Kimmel made some remarks that were perceived as offensive by Kirk's supporters, and he also mocked the president at the same time; the president and the chair of the FCC were furious and suggested that ABC needed to take some action. So, Kimmel was suspended, while outraged conservative commentators demanded he be fired. On the other hand, many folks debated whether what he said merited a suspension and the precedent it set for the government to imply that a network would be in trouble if the president disliked what someone on TV had said. He was back on the air several days later, but the debate continues.            

And here we are, in a media universe where it's easy to stir up outrage, and where people can hold onto grudges for decades. So, are we better off because Yusuf Cat Stevens can't tour America? Are we better off that a comedian can be suspended for something he said to displease the current administration? Back in late September 2001, after comedian Bill Maher made controversial remarks (leading to his show being cancelled), then-president George W. Bush's press secretary Ari Fleischer reminded everyone to "watch what they say, watch what they do." I found that chilling advice then, and I find it a very frightening prospect now. I may not agree with certain views, but the threat that they'll be banned worries me a lot. I doubt I'd attend Yusuf Cat Stevens' talk, but he ought to have the right to deliver it. I mean, how long do we hold what someone said against them? And who decides which views are permissible? That, my friends, is the question.    

Lenny Doesn't Live Here Anymore

I remember where I was the day that Lenny Zakim died. It was a Thursday, and I was driving home from work, and when the news came over the radio that he had lost his battle with cancer, I remember screaming out "No!" So many of us had admired Lenny. He was the kind of guy who loved a challenge; and no matter how bad a situation might seem, he would usually find a way to turn things around. You didn't want to count Lenny out. You didn't want to bet against him. So, when we heard he had cancer, we kept hoping that somehow he'd turn this around too. I mean, if anyone could beat cancer, it was Lenny. But sad to say, there was no happy ending this time. Lenny was only 46 when he died on December 2, 1999. I still miss him. 

But in his short life, he did some remarkable things. In his obit, which ran in newspapers nationwide, the headline often read "Leonard Zakim, 46; Promoted Racial Unity and Tolerance." That was an understatement. Lenny came to Boston from Jersey. Back when he got here in the late 1970s, Boston had been going through periods of racial and religious tensions. He was hired by the Anti-Defamation League in 1979 as its New England Director for Civil Rights (he would later rise to be the organization's Executive Director), and he went to work trying to bring people together. That was his superpower-- the ability to bring together folks who were initially suspicious or mistrusting and get them to collaborate to make Boston a better place to live.

He started an annual Black-Jewish Passover seder, that brought together community members from Boston's Black and Jewish communities; it grew in popularity and other cities emulated it. He brought together faith leaders from Catholic and Protestant traditions and worked with them to tackle antisemitism. He worked hard to improve Catholic-Jewish relations in Boston: in fact, his efforts were so successful, and so inspirational, that he was awarded the Order of St. Gregory by Pope John Paul II (if I'm not mistaken, Lenny was the first Jew ever given this medal). And while Lenny's political views leaned Democratic, he had friends who were conservative Republicans, because that's how Lenny was. In fact, when he died, his funeral was attended by thousands, from just about every walk of life.

Sometimes, when I'm driving home, I still think about Lenny and I wonder what he would make of our hateful and contentious politics, the refusal of each side to see the humanity in the other, the willingness of far too many to insult and mock and demonize, rather than getting together to tackle the problems our society still has. But then, it's a matter of leadership, isn't it? Lenny was a leader. He found ways to bring people together. Surely, we need someone like that, now more than ever. But sad to say, Lenny is gone, and few in leadership positions seem committed to doing what he did. In Boston, they named a bridge after him, because after all, he was all about building bridges. And each time I drive across it, that's what I miss the most: leaders who want to turn down the volume of our angry discourse and give people a chance to collaborate. Leaders who want to promote understanding and tolerance, rather than mistrust and outrage. Leaders who want to build bridges... like Lenny did.