Ben Affleck, Islamophobia and global stakes of speaking up

In an era when celebrity commentary often seems either performative or superficial, a rare moment of sincerity can stand out — especially when it affirms dignity over division. That's exactly what happened last month when I had a brief but meaningful encounter with Ben Affleck.

While walking together, my wife spotted Affleck in the distance. To her horror, I walked straight up to him before she could stop me. "Hey Ben," I said. He looked up, clearly caught off guard — likely expecting a selfie request or a comment about The Accountant 2. But instead, I told him, "You probably don't remember, but I want to thank you for standing up for Muslims and calling out Islamophobia years ago on"

Before I could finish, he smiled and said, "On Bill Maher show?"

I nodded. Without missing a beat, he replied: "It should be obvious. There's no place for hate."

My wife had caught up by then and instinctively recorded the tail end of our chat — a brief handshake, but a powerful moment of moral clarity. A moment that reminded me — and clearly millions of others, given how widely the story resonated online — that Hollywood, at its best, can push back against harmful narratives.

That exchange brought me back to 2014, when Affleck famously challenged Bill Maher and Sam Harris on HBO's Real Time. Harris, a neuroscientist and prominent atheist, had declared that "Islam is the mother lode of bad ideas" and argued that liberals fail to confront theocratic extremism. Maher backed him, claiming that Muslim societies broadly lack liberal values.

Affleck didn't let it slide. "It's gross. It's racist," he said, comparing the generalisations to saying, "Oh, you shifty Jew." He reminded the panel — and the audience — that there are more than a billion Muslims who are not fanatics, who "just want to go to school, have some sandwiches."

In the years since, Harris has doubled down, blaming Hamas entirely for Gaza's suffering, suggesting that Western civilisation alone represents "civilisation", and arguing that liberal institutions are being infiltrated by "stealth Islamists".

Meanwhile, Bill Maher has continued to use his platform to attack Muslims. He has said Islam has "too much in common with ISIS", joked that he's afraid of people named "Muhammad", and mocked a Muslim teenager arrested for bringing a homemade clock to school.

This is not principled critique. It's a pattern.

And it's a pattern we see repeated in more respectable tones, too. In a recent op-ed for Newsweek, Dr Qanta Ahmed warned of the dangers of "radical Islamism" in the US, citing a Muslim housing development in Texas and its spiritual leader, Dr Yasir Qadhi, as causes for concern. But her argument rested on associations, not evidence. The implication was clear: visibly devout or politically engaged Muslims are to be viewed with suspicion.

As someone who has spent years in both academic and legal circles defending religious freedom and civil liberties, I find this shift troubling. We are watching liberal ideals — free expression, equal protection and due process — increasingly applied selectively.

Critique of extremism is necessary. But when that critique becomes a vehicle for collective blame, it ceases to be liberal. It becomes a form of ideological tribalism.

Affleck's words that day stayed with me: "There's no place for hate." Not against Muslims. Not against Palestinians. Not against anyone.

If liberalism is to mean anything at all, it must mean a consistent defence of human dignity, regardless of who is speaking, praying or resisting. We must challenge extremism wherever it arises. But we must also challenge the quiet, polite, professional Islamophobia that too often hides behind the mask of rationalism.

In a world where celebrity voices are often louder than policy papers, Affleck's moment of moral clarity matters. And as the viral reaction to our brief encounter suggests, people are hungry for voices that speak up — not just for themselves, but for fairness.

And this matters just as much in Pakistan as it does in the US. Those in the Global South are often on the receiving end of these narratives — through media, foreign policy, or biased gatekeeping in global discourse. When someone like Affleck uses his platform to push back against lazy stereotypes, it ripples far beyond Hollywood.

Because there is, indeed, no place for hate.