Dark + Dangerous Thoughts: The Place Of Doubt

Dark Mofo began with the aptly named Dark + Dangerous Thoughts series, culminating in an interview that opened many minds to a world seen by a rare few.

With the iconoclastic red upside-down crosses alight across Hobart, Dark Mofo had already caused controversy. Aptly, the festival played host to a discussion about perhaps the most disruptive word in the history of power and religion: doubt.

David Walsh kicked off the Dark + Dangerous Thoughts series with a naked picture of himself. It was meant to illustrate the absurdity and arbitrariness of status and power, and how we should all challenge what we assume. So too the enticing description of The Place Of Doubt begged more questions than it answered: former violent jihadist Muhammad Manwar Ali is interviewed by Peter Greste - a reporter imprisoned in Egypt in 2013.

Critical discussion is needed for democracy and society to thrive, and the crowd was clearly in anticipation. It was fitting that respected journalist Greste was the interviewer, having been wrongfully imprisoned in a campaign against free journalism in Egypt. Indeed, The Place Of Doubt seemed to be the centrepiece of the series.

However, the grand Odeon Theatre seemed empty with only Greste humbly seated, and slightly hunched, centre stage. Unaware, the audience turned questioningly to each other when Ali appeared on the giant screen behind Greste. Peace campaigner Muhammad Manwar Ali's visa had not been approved by authorities after many weeks.

It felt apropos, as a plot twist to a dark and dangerous conversation, that the London scholar was forced to video-call in. Seeing Ali, with a live backdrop of Westminster Abbey and the glowing red London Eye, was eerily reminiscent of a Julian Assange interview.

It was clear immediately that both Greste and Ali had immersed themselves in dangerous ways of thinking. Ali discussed his work in security and counter-terrorism in the UK, after fighting alongside jihadist groups for over a decade in Afghanistan. Seemingly, the person best placed to reverse radicalisation is a man who has lived it.

Greste's voice was composed but alive with energy as he asked Ali about jihad. Tied up in religion and politics and war, modern jihad is vastly different to what it was, said the softly spoken Ali. Ali's words, delivered in his smooth, inflected British accent, had heads nodding across the theatre. "Jihad has a purpose," Ali said, which is striving towards self-betterment.

Jihad has been perverted and militarised for political reasons over time. It is now the opposite of what the prophet Muhammad intended, which was peace and justice. War made it easier for leaders in destabilised countries to mobilise people and quell dissent, or even overthrow governments.

In Australia, the fact that people have abused and shaped religion for their own purposes is uncontroversial. The crowd even chuckled when the two joked, "Come on, who really talks to god?" However, the thought that part of religion is man-made is a dangerous one indeed to some fundamentalists.

When Greste narrowed into his personal story, Ali tried to demonstrate that even jihadis are people, capable of empathy and change. When Ali was compelled to take up arms in defence of downtrodden and dispossessed Muslims, fear and violence were used to indoctrinate him. Ali described his upbringing as being "ensconced in Islamic education" with mentors that encouraged his radicalisation.

Propaganda surrounded Ali, where peace was portrayed as impossible. A brutal Russian army was pillaging and killing innocent Muslims. It was a "sacred duty" of young Muslims to fight and die protecting them. Idealistic, Ali was attracted to the "nobility" of a martyr's death. He wanted to die. Many audience members were taken aback, but engrossed; leaning in as he spoke.

For poor, fearful and under-educated people, the brutality of war is impossible to understand, Ali said. Civilian casualties rose. The death of a mother or a child hurts just as much, no matter who kills them or why. Russians with guns and Americans with guns don't seem all that different, and that pain is easy to misdirect. This created a perfect culture for radicalisation and Ali played his part as recruiter.

When Ali supported jihadis in Afghanistan, the groups used child soldiers and committed brutal murders. Before witnessing this, Ali realised he had accepted what he was told without any second thought. He had told others what he "knew" to be the truth.

Ali grappled with his complicity in perpetuating war and began to reflect on the way of thinking he had inherited from his culture and society. His doubts turned to the stark and brutal truth that he had been part of something horrible. Ali said that he felt the need to make amends for his mistakes, by teaching and living by example. His penance and remorse resonated deeply with the audience.

Ali cried and cried when he realised he had supported the movement that resulted in the September 11 attacks. He lamented that he had so easily become a pawn. Ali implied that it was caring human beings that helped him to realise his errors and it is that empathy that he challenged the crowd to embrace.

As the conversation started to sink in, it became clear why Ali and Greste saw revealing the hope and despair of these dark truths as so important. As Ali put it: some ideas are worth living and dying for.

It is rare in this day and age to see someone change their mind and doubt what they think is true. The crowd was clearly challenged to see this wisdom laid out before them in its humble and naked humanity. This is the place of doubt.

It is also rare in this day and age for people to challenge dehumanisation. But it's much more difficult to dehumanise someone when they're in front of you, beard and all, telling a very human story. This is why conversations like this are so critical to our community, and why Greste lavished praise over the Londoner for his wisdom and passion.

Both Greste and Ali were met with rapturous applause.