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May 4, 2009
Afterword:
And What About America?
by Ed Husain
Author of The Islamist: Why I
Became an Islamic Fundamentalist, What I Saw
Inside, and Why I Left
The bosom of America is open to receive
not only the Opulent and Respected stranger, but
the oppressed and persecuted of all Nations and
Religions; whom we shall welcome to a participation
of all our rights and privileges.
George Washington, 1783
If they are good workmen, they may be of
Asia, Africa, or Europe; they may be Mahometans,
Jews or Christians of any sect, or they may be
Atheists.
George Washington, in a letter to Tench
Telghman, 1784
It was my first visit to the United States. I
was expecting to be stopped at the airport,
harassed, interrogated and perhaps detained. Since
9/11, Muslim communities across the globe are
filled with horror stories of encounters at
American airports. My friend from college days,
Majid Nawaz, who had spent four years as a
political prisoner in Egypt, was with me. Together
we had attended countless anti-American rallies in
Britain, and witnessed many US flag-burning
rituals. Now, in our thirties, and after a decade
in the wilderness, we had changed. But would
America understand us? Would we understand
America?
Like good Brits, we patiently stood waiting in
the long queue at Washington Dulles Airport.
Suddenly, Majid's name was called from the
loudspeaker, telling him to go to the front of the
line. Then mine. Were we in trouble? Majid had
visited the US recently, appearing as an expert
witness for the Congressional Homeland Security
Committee chaired by Senator Joe Lieberman. Majid
had been one of Hizb ut-Tahrir's most intelligent,
vociferous and articulate leaders, travelling to
Pakistan, Denmark and Egypt advocating the group's
ideas and setting up secret cells. The Hizb, in
essence, was identical to al-Qaeda, differing only
in terms of the tactics it chose to achieve the
desired result: political power. Majid has been
banned in several countries, and is wanted by
Pakistan's ISI, their intelligence agency. But he
had recently rejected extremism and, after years of
study and reflection in prison, become a public
advocate for liberal democracy, using scriptural
evidence to support peaceful Muslims -- who
represent the vast majority -- in their struggle
against religious extremism. His rejection of Hizb
ut-Tahrir made headlines in the British press, and
the British prime minister quoted Majid in
parliament. But now we were in America, and during
Majid's recent trip, federal escorts had
accompanied him everywhere, fearful that he might
violate US security regulations and not quite sure
what to make of him. Would he, would we, face the
same fate again?
An immigration officer at Washington Dulles
Airport, accompanied by several colleagues, took us
to one side, registered our passport details and
asked the desk officer to clear us for entrance.
Senior officials at the US Department of Homeland
Security were expecting our arrival and wanted
minimum kerfuffle. The polite, courteous conduct of
the officers touched us both. But my mind was on
the thousands of American Muslims who had been
subjected to raids and arrests. Can we forget their
plight?
Outside the airport, I stood with Majid and was
stupefied by the number of US flags I saw
everywhere. Flying at full mast at several
junctures in the car park, and then above the
airport, and on cars and coaches, the stars and
stripes were ubiquitous. Unlike Britain, America
was proudly patriotic and unreservedly expressive
of national pride.
'Their flag is almost sacred to them, isn't it?'
I said to Majid.
'And extremists burn it all the time. Why did we
do that, Ed? Why?' he asked, trying to come to
terms with how we had been sucked into
extremism.
'Why didn't anybody stop us?' I asked in
response. 'We watched this happen in London, not
Baghdad -- what possessed us?'
Majid and I recalled how several of our fellow
activists became suicide bombers, were imprisoned,
or created entire organisations that linked
themselves to al-Qaeda. What started off as mere
talk, as rhetoric, found expression in mass murder
in several European capitals, including London and
Madrid. The murder we had witnessed on our college
campus a decade before the attacks on London's
subway on July 7, 2005 was an unspeakable testament
to the power of words. The talk of jihad, hatred
and anger never remains abstract, limited to
'freedom of speech.' It yields results.
More than anything else, what worried Majid and
me was the lack of awareness in the wider society
of the root causes of extremism, and of the
lifestyle that fosters recruitment into extremist
movements. Society's demonstrated failure to grasp
the urgency of the situation was also troubling,
because that comprehension might precipitate
policies and actions that could prevent young
Muslims from becoming fanatical ideologues
committed to creating a world dominated by
Islamism, not Islam. To help fill this void, Majid
and I started the Quilliam Foundation, the world's
first think-tank committed to explaining and
countering Islamist thought.
We were in America to speak at Harvard and
Princeton, at an array of Washington think tanks,
and to meet Muslims on both the East and West
coasts. We spoke with leading personnel at several
government departments, US ambassadors, academic
leaders and students. And everywhere we went, we
were asked a similar series of critical questions.
Can America create home-grown terrorists? Will
American Muslims, like British Muslims, attack
their own homeland in the name of a false Islam?
Britain is home to over 3,000 extremists: Can
America be harbouring enemies without knowing? The
9/11 hijackers hatched their plot in Europe: Are
American-born Islamists capable of a similar
monstrosity?
My answers to these questions, after meeting
quite a few American Muslims and consulting with
American experts on these issues, are both yes and
no.
The
above is an excerpt from the book The Islamist:
Why I Became an Islamic Fundamentalist, What I Saw
Inside, and Why I Left by Ed Husain. Reprinted
by arrangement with Penguin, a member of Penguin
Group (USA) Inc. Copyright © 2009 by
Penguin.
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Ed Husain, author of The
Islamist: Why I Became an Islamic
Fundamentalist, What I Saw Inside, and Why
I Left, was an Islamist
radical for five years in his late teens
and early twenties. Having rejected
extremism he travelled widely in the
Middle East and worked for the British
Council in Syria and Saudi Arabia. Husain
received wide and various acclaim for
The Islamist, which was shortlisted
for the Orwell Prize for political writing
and the PEN/Ackerley Prize for literary
autobiography, among others. He is a
co-founder of the Quillium Foundation,
Britain's first Muslim counter-extremism
think tank. He lives in London with his
wife and daughter.
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