The Clarion Fund’s Film Jihad Against “Islamism”

This brilliant exposé of the Clarion Fund’s Islamophobic propaganda film was written by Azeezah, originally published at Muslim Lookout.

From the same team that gave America Relentless: The Struggle for Peace in the Middle East and the award-winning Obsession: Radical Islam’s War Against the West comes a new blockbuster “documentary”: The Third Jihad: Radical Islam’s Vision for America. Undeterred by the thorough debunking Obsession received following its mass distribution in American newspapers last year (financed by the eminently shady Clarion Fund), producer Raphael Shore and director Wayne Kopping are back with more of the same in their latest offering.

The Third Jihad’s vortex of fear-mongering centers on the Muslim Brotherhood’s so-called “Explanatory Memorandum on the General Strategic Plan For the Group in North America,” a document dating back to 1991 that supposedly outlines the Muslim Brotherhood’s manifesto of “grand jihad in eliminating and destroying the Western Civilization from within.” (The memorandum is available exclusively on the website of Steve Emerson’s Investigative Project on Terrorism.) The Third Jihad premiered in Canada on Wednesday May 20 to a sold-out crowd at Toronto’s Eglinton Grand theatre; I attended the premiere to discover what my “radical” co-religionists envision for America. As the film’s narrator Dr. Zuhdi Jasser so ominously put it, “We all know about terrorism; this is the war you don’t know about.”

An exhaustive treatment of the film’s contents lies beyond the limits of this piece, and so what follows is an assessment of its most salient assertions and an analysis of the function those claims serve in The Third Jihad’s broader propagandic narrative.

“Where are the Muslims? Where are they in speaking out and condemning terrorism?” – Dr. Zuhdi Jasser

In Good Muslim, Bad Muslim: America, the Cold War, and the Roots of Terror, anthropologist Mahmood Mamdani described the American endeavor to discriminate the “good” Muslim from the “bad” Muslim. This distinction is political, rather than religious or theological: as Mamdani explained, “Even when Bush speaks of ‘good’ Muslims and ‘bad’ Muslims, what he means by ‘good’ Muslims is really pro-American Muslims and by ‘bad’ Muslims he means anti-American Muslims.” The Third Jihad shamelessly exploits this bifurcative dynamic to cast suspicion on the majority of the American Muslim community – belying its opening disclaimer that it is only about the “small percentage” of Muslims embodying “the threat of radical Islam” – while propping up its Muslim cheerleader for American neo-conservatism, Dr. Zuhdi Jasser.

Dr. Jasser, founder of the American Islamic Forum for Democracy (AIFD), is The Third Jihad’s narrator and central protagonist. He is described in the film as “a devout Muslim,” as if his pious Muslim-ness qualifies him to speak authoritatively on global and local Islamic politics and history (it obviously doesn’t, given the quality of the political and historical analysis The Third Jihad offers; see sections below). Moreover, it is obvious that what characterizes Dr. Jasser as a “good” Muslim is not his devotion to his religion, but rather his uncritical devotion to the neo-conservative agenda: AIFD’s list of core principles includes an affirmation that “as United States citizens we support our American armed forces,” and expresses a commitment to “work to express the consistency of the principles of Islam with economic principles of free markets and capitalism.” The film ends with an American-as-apple-pie scene of Dr. Jasser playing soccer with his children and exhorting people to “stand up for the freedoms and liberties our forefathers fought to create.”

The Third Jihad’s promotional material bills Zuhdi Jasser as “the one person who is not afraid to tell you the truth” about “the jihadist quest to rule America.” He is also apparently the only Muslim willing to condemn terrorism: “Where are the Muslims?” Dr. Jasser wonders in the film. “Where are they in speaking out and condemning terrorism?” (To relieve his bewilderment he could refer to the lists of anti-terrorism statements issued by Muslim leaders and organizations, compiled by Rabbi Arthur Waskow and Sheila Musaji.) Mainstream American Muslim organizations, including the Islamic Society of North America (ISNA), the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR), and the Muslim Students Assocation (MSA) are cast in the role of “bad” Muslim, working to undermine Western society from within while deceptively “presenting themselves as moderate.” While it is true that the Muslim Brotherhood named ISNA and the MSA as possibly friendly organizations in their putative “General Strategic Plan,” the film gives no evidence to suggest that the organizations are indeed participants in the Brotherhood’s nefarious “grand jihad” plot, or are vitiating American society in any other way.

The Third Jihad’s portrayal of the American Muslim community as a towering fifth column is a potemkin construct of half-truths. For instance: The film shows extensive footage of the Islamic Thinkers Society (ITS) proclaiming their desire to institute Shariah law in America, but it doesn’t reveal that the ITS membership is “less than a handfull [sic] of Muslims” localized in Jackson Heights, New York City. The film asperses CAIR because it was founded in 1994 by three former leaders of the Islamic Association for Palestine (described as a front group for Hamas), but it conveniently neglects to mention that support for Hamas wasn’t illegal when the CAIR founders were IAP members.

“In today’s context there are actually two different types of jihad. There’s the violent jihad, where the Islamists use violence and terror to try and overthrow their enemy. And then there’s what has been termed the cultural jihad, where these Islamists use in a most duplicitous way the laws and the rights they are given in our society to try and work against society and overthrow it.” – Dr. Zuhdi Jasser

The promotional material accompanying The Third Jihad notifies that “radical Islamists are taking advantage of the United States of America’s democratic processes, and using them to destroy the American way of life.” The film provides several sinister (European) instances of this “cultural jihad”: toy pigs being banned in a British office because they offended a Muslim employee; Burger King recalling a desert because its logo resembled the Arabic script for “Allah;” a Turkish lawyer attempting to sue a soccer team because its jerseys displayed a Crusader-like cross. (Interestingly, Barbara Kay trots out many of the same examples in her National Post article on “soft jihad.”)

While these cases may indicate the oversensitivity of individual Muslims to insult of Islam, they are hardly signs of a concerted strategy to “try and work against society and overthrow it,” much less the most serious current threat to liberal democracy and society. If a ban on toy pigs is a troubling assault on rights and freedoms, then where do you rank the USA PATRIOT Act, which permitted the indefinite detention of non-citizens upon secret evidence and extensive government surveillance of communications? Or the judgment of Guantanamo inmates in secretive military commissions, contravening all notions of fair trial? Is the American state also waging a “jihad” on Western civilization?

“The clash between Islam and Christendom has now been going on for 14 centuries.” – Dr. Bernard Lewis

The Third Jihad condenses 1400 years of Islam into three jihads, rendering history thus: The first jihad was the 7^th century spread of Islam out of Arabia (and “that was obviously not done by peaceful persuasion,” comments Bernard Lewis), and the second jihad was the Ottoman expansion beginning in the 15^th c. CE. According to Zuhdi Jasser, “we’re [currently] in the third and final phase of their mission to bring about the domination of their version of Islam.” The graphic accompanying this cobbled-together history shows a map progressively covered by metastasizing star-and-crescent symbols, until the whole world is dominated by Islam. This domination is portrayed as a cumulative process, leaving one with the erroneous impression that the Ottoman Empire still exists and controls significant portions of the globe. One is also left puzzling when the Islamists conquered the continents of South America, Australia, Asia, and Africa, since the film deals mainly with North America and Europe.

Edward Said remarked in Orientalism that the Orientalists (including Bernard Lewis) saw Islam as a “ ‘cultural synthesis’ . . . that could be studied apart from the economics, sociology, and politics of the Islamic peoples . . . The impact of colonialism, of worldly circumstances, of historical development: all these were to the Orientalists as flies to wanton boys, killed – or disregarded – for their sport.” And so The Third Jihad draws straight, spurious lines of continuity from the Ottoman Empire to the modern day, blithely ignoring pesky historical “flies” such as the emergence of the modern system of nation-states, the colonial and post-colonial encounters between “Islam” and “the West,” the Cold War, and the processes of modernization and globalization that have been so instrumental in shaping the contours of political Islam. Juan Eduardo Campo makes an incisive analogy: “One can only imagine the objections that would be raised if a respected American Studies scholar were to interpret Chicano or African American gang activity in American cities in terms of ancient Aztec or African warrior religions, while neglecting to discuss the immediate social, cultural, and economic causes.”

Provided with no description of the different ways Islam has been interpreted and enacted throughout its history, the unfortunate viewer of The Third Jihad is left to imagine that the “version of Islam” spread through subsequent jihads is synonymous with the worst behaviors of Muslims documented in the film: extremism, oppression, and intolerance. (Incidentally, the branch of Islam that seems to constitute The Third Jihad’s greatest concern – Wahhabism – only achieved prominence in the early 20^th c. CE, a period entirely elided in the film’s telescoped history. Wahhabism was considered a form of heresy by the 18^th-century Ottoman Empire.) Moreover, the film’s insinuation that Islam as a religion was spread purely by the sword is misleading: even Daniel Pipes notes that in the prevailing classical conception of jihad, its purpose was “political, not religious. It aim[ed] not so much to spread the Islamic faith as to extend sovereign Muslim power.” Bernard Lewis’ castigation of the Muslim empires for using means other than “peaceful persuasion” to expand is historically anachronistic – is there any empire which extended its sovereign power without using force?

The film situates this piecemeal history within a cosmic clash between two “religiously-defined civilizations” which will only end when “they [the Muslims] triumph universally” (according to Bernard Lewis). The “clash of civilizations” thesis has been discredited ad nauseum (see, for instance, Francis Robinson’s “Islam and the West: Clash of Civilizations?”), so I will refrain from entering into a full rebuttal of it in this piece. However, one wonders if Zuhdi Jasser realizes that if Bernard Lewis was correct – that the “Islamic” and “Western” civilizations really are fundamentally incompatible – his dream of creating “a world where my children can grow up, and there’s no conflict in their hearts between being American and being Muslim” would be unattainable.

“The real war is not a war against a bunch of terrorists. It’s a war between the values of freedom and democracy, and the values of barbarism.” – Dr. Tawfik Hamid, “former Jamaa Islameia terrorist”

The Third Jihad plays as fast and loose with contemporary politics as it does with history to extend its Manichean grand narrative to the current age. Sundry conflicts are stripped of their contexts and presented as fronts in a unified Islamist movement. In Dr. Jasser’s analysis, “When we look at the conflicts in India, Chechnya, Indonesia, Gaza, Iraq, Somalia, and countless other countries,” what’s at root is “the quest for Islam to become the dominant religion.” No allusion is made to the history of violence between Muslims and Hindus in India, or the brutal repression of Chechen separatists by the Russian government, or America’s pre-emptive war in Iraq, or the 60-year Israel/Palestine conflict. The Muslim actors in these theaters are robbed of all rational political motivation: “It’s an entire movement,” states Rudy Giuliani, “and the idea of it is hatred for our way of life.”

But as writer Melanie Phillips suggests in The Third Jihad, “surely it’s more sensible to look at what they [radical Muslims] actually say they’re doing.” For example, Al-Qaeda’s 1998 declaration of jihad “against the Jews and the Crusaders” outlined three goals of the jihad: the withdrawal of American troops from Saudi Arabia, an end to sanctions against Iraq, and the establishment of Islamic control over holy sites in Jerusalem. These objectives were obviously not driven by abhorrence for American “freedom and democracy,” but rather by specific elements of American foreign policy that have crippled freedom and democracy in parts of the Muslim world. Portraying the situation as an ineluctable “clash of civilizations” – in which the enemy “hates us for what we are, not what we do” – may provide absolution for America, but it does nothing to address the root causes that give rise to violence. Obviously violent Islamism and anti-Americanism do exist, but The Third Jihad mischaracterizes both its motivations and its scale.

“Islamism is like cancer. You either defeat it or it will defeat you.” – Dr. Tawfik Hamid

Ironically, The Third Jihad mirrors the “us-against-them” logic and rhetoric of the anti-American radical Islam it so decries. And its farrago of innuendo and half-truth is extremely persuasive. Following the screening, a member of the audience stood up and drew a parallel between Islamism and Nazism, arguing that Islamists have to be destroyed as the Nazis were – a dangerous proposition, considering the blurry line the film draws between radical Islamists and the rest of us Muslims. But that is the inescapable conclusion of The Third Jihad’s perverted message. If the dog is to be put down, it must first be declared sick.

Open Discussion: President Obama’s Speech in Cairo

President Obama delivered a very moving and powerful speech in Cairo on June 4th, 2009.  The speech focused primarily on improving American and Muslim relations, but also addressed issues such as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict as well as the situation in Afghanistan and Pakistan.

I admit that it was heartening and emotional to hear Obama cite so many verses from the Holy Qur’an, as well as referring to the miracle of al-Isra, the Night Journey, in which the Prophet Muhammad journeyed to the seven heavens and met with Jesus, Moses, and Abraham, peace be upon them all.  When Obama said “peace be upon them” after mentioning these Prophets, there was enormous applause from the audience because the attendees, as well as Muslims all around the world, knew exactly what it meant:  Respect.

It was also nice to hear Obama stress on the importance of Islam being part of America.  He acknowledged the contributions of Islamic civilization, particularly in mathematics, science, poetry, architecture, and music.  When he spoke of Israel and Palestine, he emphasized on a two-state solution and recognized the struggles that both Israelis and Palestinians face.  For many Muslims, the Israeli-Palestinian crisis is crucial simply because U.S. foreign policy has been overwhelmingly supportive (politically, militarily, and economically) of Israel while vilifying and ignoring the plights of Palestinians.

Although there were many times during the speech where it seemed like Obama was hesitant to acknowledge certain atrocities, such as Israel’s recent airstrike on Gaza, it was at least refreshing to hear a U.S. president recognize the Palestinian humanitarian crisis.  I really liked when he said “children of Abraham,” because that kind of language speaks to the hearts of inter-faith communities around the world.

While citing the Qur’an and reaching out to Muslim majority countries displays the President’s desire to improve relations, it’s important to stay mindful that actions speak louder than words.  As Tariq Ramadan mentions in his recent article, “Obama’s speech to Muslims will mean little if its symbolism is not followed up by concrete measures to restore trust.”  In no way am I trying to deny Obama’s efforts, but rather I’m simply pointing out that I truly hope he follows up on his words.

What are your thoughts?  If you missed the President’s speech, you can watch it below (it’s divided into 6 parts):

Watch Part 2
Watch Part 3
Watch Part 4
Watch Part 5
Watch Part 6

Egyptian-born American Muslim to advise White House

This is a post from a couple of weeks ago, but I still thought it was worth sharing.  Written by Marwa Awad, originally published on Al-Arabiya News.

The first Muslim scarf-wearing woman appointed to a position in President Barack Obama’s administration met with lawmakers Monday and discussed her role on an interfaith advisory board the new administration hopes will broaden dialogue and understanding.

Dalia Mogahed’s dimpled smile shined from under her hijab, the Muslim headscarf, as she addressed senate staff and think tanks at a meeting organized by the Congressional Muslims Staffers Association to discuss American Muslim public opinion in the wake of a recent survey.

The Egyptian-born American who heads the Gallup American Center for Muslim Studies, a non-governmental research center providing data-driven analysis on the views of Muslim populations around the world, became the first Muslim veiled woman to be appointed to a position in the White House.

“I am very honored to be given this opportunity to serve my country in this way,” Mogahed, who will be Obama’s window into the Muslim American community, told AlArabiya.net.

Last month, Obama signed an executive order setting up a new body at the White House called the “Office of Religious Partnerships” to support religious institutions and strengthen inter-faith dialogue and government ties. The advisory group, consisting of 25 religious and secular representatives, is to report to the president on the role religion can play in resolving social problems and addressing civil rights issues.

“The key idea of the council is to tap into the energy and wisdom of religious organisations and leaders who focus on faith groups to solve common problems,” explained Mugahed.

Mogahed will brief Obama on what Muslims want from the U.S. in a bid to create channels of communication and correct the erroneous image of Muslim Americans.

The advisory group will help define issues of concern to religious constituents including the effects of economic crisis on minority groups and the phenomenon of fatherless families. It will also seek to reduce the number of abortions and strengthen inter-faith relations between Muslims and Christians.

“The main premise behind the council is cooperation between faiths and helping them become a force that helps push society forward,” said Mogahed. “These societal challenges are shared by all faith-based groups and it is our task to unite them against common challenges.”

Mugahed will keep her full time job at Gallup while serving as an advisor.

Qualified

Mogahed’s appointment comes at a critical time given the rising tide of Islamophobia in the media and within some academic circles.

“I am very happy that Dalia was asked to be part of this advisory group because she represents a unique position,” Jihad Saleh Williams, from Congressional Muslim Staffers Association, told AlArabiya.net.

Mogahed coauthored the book with John L. Esposito which covered findings from 40 countries

“There is always the question of who are the experts? Who speaks about Muslims? That is on the minds of policy makers and people in general,” said Williams. “Dalia knows the Muslim community and all that she says comes from her work at Gallup, which is fact-based and is the opposite of the ‘experts’ we often see on TV who speak, not based on facts, but on ideology. Dalia is the fact-based alternative to that,” he explained.

As a senior researcher and executive director of the Gallup Center with a chemical engineering and business administration background, Mogahed headed studies on Muslim public opinion worldwide. Her studies and resulting statistics have been quoted in prominent media such as the Wall Street Journal, Foreign Policy magazine, Middle East Policy and the Harvard International Review.

In 2008, she co-authored woth John L. Esposito “Who speaks on behalf of Islam? What a Billion Muslims Really Think,” the largest and most comprehensive study of the Muslim public opinion around the world.

Changing image of Muslims in America

The first Muslim advisor appointed by the White House marks the beginning of an opportunity for Muslims to seriously engage in public policy and contribute to developing solutions to social challenges.

“American Muslims have ideas and should participate in the development of solutions that serve their country and it is important that they get the opportunity to do so,” Mogahed said.

She hopes to counter stereotypes of Muslims as extremists and sources of unrest that have gained ground in recent years in the wake of U.S.-led wars in two Muslim countries.

As for being the first veiled woman in the White House, Mogahed said the veil was a non-issue in the process of hiring; that her appointment was based on Obama`s interest in hearing from Muslims and her ability to provide that information through her work at Gallup.

“Hijab was not an issue. What the Obama administration is after is sound advice on how to engage American citizens in a common cause,” Mogahed said.

There are currently two full time Muslim hires in the White House, though neither hold high-ranking political positions. However Williams said that the Obama administration is generally behind on appointments and that the Muslim community, like other groups, has submitted resume books it hope will be consulted as more staffing decisions are made throughout the summer.

Muslim in America: Defining an Identity

This post is by guest contributor INAL, a mixed-heritage Muslimah in America. INAL is the writer behind the blog Shadjar Al Noor . . . Really?. Her article was originally published under the title “Who are We Really as Muslims in America, Really?” on her blog and is republished here with the author’s permission. To see the original post, click this link.

Some have given what others never considered possible.

This afternoon as I was walking down the block away from my apartment building I started looking- really looking at the people that would come my way. I normally don’t do that…I just go where I have to and I leave the “Fashion” police to someone else.

But what struck me was that every one person was different from the next. Oh sure, some shared a language, a culture, a dress code (even our teenagers have their particulars)- but really no shared commonality other than living in the same area. Here in NY who people are, how they act changes from block to block; from uptown to downtown- east and west side.

I can go to the upper West-side and feel all the Dominican come right at me- the language, the music, the clothes women wear; the clothes men wear- the types of shops and the restaurants- fast food or sit down- with some of them having the “Bellonera” or jukebox blasting the latest merengue or bachata. And for a quick moment I can identify with them because they are a part of my culture- but then I remember I have hijab on- and that immediately sets me apart. Some shops who have Spanish speaking Lebanese or Jordanian will Salaam me as I pass and I greet them warmly…they get few chances to encounter another Muslim in their daily work up in “Dominican City”.

Soho is a totally different world…you have the chic boutiques and cafes; the run down book stores every one loves to come into and just sit and read- or the posh stores like Dean and Deluca or the skateboard & snowboard stores my youngest daughter loves to shop in because they also sell the kind of clothes she wears. Here its white city- and by that I mean most who live in the renovated lofts and buildings of Pre WWI and WWII are upper middle class white. It is also close to NYU and you’ll see tons of students hanging about- doing what they do when not burning the midnight oil. There again once in a while you will see a hijab- maybe a student- maybe a vendor- or a sight-seer. But rarely in a large enough group- so when I go buy something I need I get the looks, sometimes the smiles of good morning- sometimes the looks of hatred…

When we sign up our children’s life….

I remember in one of those non-credit courses I love to take at NYU a very “red neck” ex-marine sat through one of our lectures on  Afghanistan; taught by a professor who has been going there on and off for the past thirty years and a journalist by profession. This “student” was an angry man an ex-marine (considering what my son has told me about that particular branch of the service -at times I don’t blame them)-but he felt that the Muslims in the class couldn’t identify with blood and gut mentality and that while some came from war torn countries- those of us “Lily White” couldn’t comprehend his view of giving your life for your country- And he asked me point blank since he knew I had been born in America if I had done anything for my country as a Muslim? I said yes- I had signed off my only son’s life to the US government’s Navy. That when it came to sacrifices that one was a good one- had he given up his only Son’s life for “the cause”? No- he had not…the man never bothered me again.

The professor was overjoyed when we would sit after class, those of us who were Muslims and sort of have a second class with him where he learned from us- as we were all as different as night and day. He learned of the things no one really knows about Muslims- their personal lives- the lives they lead in their homes; their personal thoughts and opinions…We would talk about what it was like in Turkey, in Afghanistan, India, Lebanon, Jordan and other places.  We would bring family photos for him to look at and it enriched his life he said in ways journalism had not- because as much as he had been staying in Afghanistan he only knew some of the men; and only in certain situations. The last question he asked us was “Who are you really- as Muslims in America?”

One young guy from Lebanese parents said, “I don’t speak for anyone, but I’m just an American who happens to be Muslim is all.”

And I have to agree, I don’t have a country that is my one and only home to go back to…this is it. America is my home. Yes, Jordan and Spain and even Yemen are my ancestral homes in my heart. Yemen because it is the homeland of the man I adore; Jordan is because half of my genes comes from there and my brothers now all live there with their families…and Spain because technically that is where my mom’s family came from as Moorish as they are.

The first, second generations, even the third generation Muslim families that have another ancestral home sometimes mystify their homeland, because it helps, especially for the first generation, to cope with living in the States- others because it is their subliminal message to their offspring to keep them attached to their traditions, culture and religion. To others, only Allah knows why they say what they say, and do what they do…it is what it is.

We are threaded to one another in a fabric called Islam by the faith and its precepts we may follow completely, partially or not at all…But many of us are also American born and bred here; we don’t have those threads that bind us more tightly to particular ideas, traditions and culture…I will not, nor ever will speak for another Muslim and be their spokesperson- because we are as diverse as the drops of rain that come down on a rainy day…we just have to understand that some of us will be standing in the middle of the umbrella; some of us on its edges; and others will just stand in the rain and let it pour on them…

That to me is Islam and who we are.

Hoagland’s Hogwash: Islamophobia in the Washington Post

by Guest Contributor Fatemeh Fakhraie, originally published on Racialicious.

Jim Hoagland’s April 12, 2009 article for The Washington Post, entitled “The War Within Islam,” is the best example of “journalistic” Islamophobia I’ve seen in a reputable news source in quite a while. Hoagland has written for The Washington Post for several years, and his focus is on both national and international politics.

But in all his time at the Post, this is the first time he’s ever shown editorial concern for Muslim women. In fact, it’s only the second time he’s focused on Muslim women at all: in 2005, he wrote about the gains that Iraqi women gained in the 2005 elections. These two articles alone reflect a heavy-handed political paternalism that is amplified when he discusses the position of women in predominately Muslim societies. Get ready to see some serious faking concern for women to mask and justify martial occupation!

On a serious note, Hoagland opens by describing the recent video of a Pakistani girl being publicly whipped. This was a horrific occurrence, and no one should be made to suffer this way, publicly or privately. But Hoagland’s use of this video to illustrate the “brutality” of the local Taliban is misplaced because he ends up casting an illustrative net so wide that it catches all Muslim and Southwest Asian men, dehumanizing all instead of only a few. Which one is worse, I’m not sure.

While Hoagland attempted to differentiate between Islam and the political entities he discusses in last Sunday’s article by using specifics (“the Taliban’s version of Islamic law”; “Fanatical Islamic sects have framed their battle in holy terms and seek to destroy their faith’s mainstream values.”), any delineation is lost in his judgment-laden words and mischaracterizations of Afghan and Pakistani men.

The casual insertion of disparaging and condemnatory phrases, such as “…the local Taliban commander continues to flog her without mercy…”, “brutal subjugation of poor, uneducated women…”, and “The savage misogyny and feudal fury of the Swat Valley…”, paints a picture of a place where men are evil and women are victims. (emphasis mine) Instead of placing the blame on local manifestations of patriarchy, he hurls blame at local Taliban, not minding that his condemnation falls like misguided bombs on innocent men who have nothing to do with the Taliban or the public whipping in Pakistan.

Even without actually using the words “brutal” or “savage,” Hoagland successfully uses language to construct Afghan and Pakistani Muslim men as both: “The recent U.S. strategic review, … depict[s] the struggle in the desolate Afghanistan-Pakistan frontier as being rooted in fierce nationalism, the region’s ancient warrior culture, the failures of nation-building and the rebirth of jihadist terrorism.” Ancient warrior culture, huh? If that doesn’t convince you that these brown guys are also the bad guys, then what of “the desire of Pakistani and Afghan men to be left in peace to deal with their womenfolk as they see fit.”? Or “The savage misogyny and feudal fury of the Swat Valley are alien to modern, urban Turkey…” ?

There’s an interesting angle. The idea that Turkey is the “good” Muslim country, and Afghanistan and Pakistan are the “bad” ones is also racialized and Islamophobic. All three countries are predominately Muslim, but because of Turkey’s political/ideological identification with the white, non-Muslim West (particularly Europe), Turkey is the “tolerant, sophisticated” country, despite the fact that Turkey has just as many failings in women’s and human rights as Afghanistan and Pakistan do, both in its history and the present day.

Hoagland also drags out that old gem about Islam being incompatible with modernity: “All religions are absorbing the shocks of globalization. But none has felt more besieged than Islam as the flow of people, goods and instant communications across borders perturb or limit its deep reach into gender relations and family structures.” This paints Islam and Muslims as if they “can’t handle” modernization, and are thus not modern. Not to mention the myopic view that misses examples of religious extremism and gender backlashes from other faiths that have also grown with the rise of globalization.

The article is simply more of the same martial voices trying to camouflage themselves as “protectors of brown women from brown men” under the guise of politics. Hoagland’s judgmental phrases that cast Afghanistan, Pakistan, and everyone within their borders as innately and decidedly good-or-evil is not journalism, and it’s astonishing to see someone who has written about the region and its politics for so long know so little.

(Photo Credit: Xabier Mikel Laburu)

Stop Judging Me

by Guest Writer Ahmad Yousaf, originally published on his blog, i-Slam

In the Name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful

I was driving in my car listening to AM radio and for some God-forsaken reason, I tuned in to Mark Levin (a man who makes Rush Limbaugh sound intelligent and reasonable). My blood boiled as he repeatedly used words like ‘Islamic terrorists, Islamic, hate-mongerers, Islamofascists, ect.’

After slamming my fist into the steering wheel, imagining the Nissan sign in the middle was Levin’s face, I saw that I was low on gas so I pulled in to an Exxon. While my gas was being pumped, my frustrations about judgemental and ignorant human beings seemed to actually get worse. I decided that the best way to cool off was to eat something (explains a lot about my recent weight gain). I stepped in to the little gas station ‘mini-mart’ with my face red with anger and my stomach ready for retribution. I picked up a bag of Doritos and a bottle of Gatorade, went up to the register and handed the lady behind the register my credit card. The following poem ensued.  Keep an open mind while you read it and please comment and tell me what you think.

STOP JUDGING ME!!!

It was late, and her register was the only one open.
She was about 50 years old, caucasian and looked tired

She gave me a familiar cold stare that I had gotten used to
since the word Muslim became synonymous with the word terrorist.

I tried to look at myself through her eyes
See myself for what she sees me as, lies
Or at least ignorance, but contentment in ignorant bliss
Has the truth conveniently missed
It has the innocent painted
The purity of simple souls tainted
With blood soaked beards and masked executioners,
Having the masses seeing me as Osama incarnate, straight from the sands
Guilty by religious association, they have caught me with red hands
As if I personally tore down the towers brick by brick
That I made them sick with anthrax tricks
That on September 12th I had a smile on my face
Like I didn’t wish I could go back to the history books and hit backspace
As if I am building the dirty bomb they dream about in their nightmares
That I sting the eyes of mourning moms and churn out their widowed tears
As if I am the Wal-Mart of sorrows
The one stop shop crusher of happiness and snatcher of tomorrows
Like I mass produce grief and woe
And I sliced the throat of lady liberty and let her blood flow
And she thinks this of me before shes sees anything except my name
And before I can apologize for something I never did I am tagged with blame
So from her, I get a funny look, a rolling of the eyes
A smirk of disbelief or a suspicion ridden sigh
Relegating me to someone who belongs in Abu Ghraib or Guantanamo
No longer worthy of the right of opportunity, a chance to show
Who I really am… to explain with which eyes I see
Instead she keeps a watchful eye on me
As if I am going to jump over the counter and steal her liberty
But what she doesn’t realize is that she has already given up the freedom to think
And I watch as, in her false sense of patriotism, she sinks
When I reach out to help her, she flinches as if I am a murderous crook
And in reflex I say, 
“Lady, its been eight years, pick up a freakin book,
I am not a terrorist; Islam is not evil as they say
I do not drink the blood of children,
and hide from the sunlight during the day
I am just like you, just another human being
And it kills me to know that when you look at me all you are seeing
Is another sociopathic mass killer or another Saddam!”
She put up her hand,
Her face became red but her demeanor remained calm
‘I am sorry, I didn’t mean to look at you strangely or make you feel this way
And I know that many do judge you unfairly in the world we live in today
But I– I am just a single mother of one
And you look so much… well, the truth is you remind me of’
And now her tears began to run…
‘and I really miss him so much, but you look just– like my son………’

Her son had passed away at a young age and that ‘cold’ stare she gave me wasn’t cold at all. It was just one of sadness because I reminded her of someone she loved.  I hope the title ‘Stop Judging Me’ meant something different when you started the poem and when you ended it.

(Photo Credit: Pascal Deloche/Godong/Corbis)

Searching for My Pakistani Identity

By Jehanzeb Dar

It started off funny. I was at the mall buying a birthday gift for a friend of mine and, as usual, the store manager was friendly and conversational. After she took a good look at my gift, the following conversation took place:

MANAGER: Aww, is this for your girlfriend?

ME: She’s not my girlfriend.

MANAGER: That’s an awful lot of money for just a friend.

ME: (smiles) Well, maybe you can lower the price for me.

She laughed as she scanned the item through. Another customer approached the counter and waited patiently. She decided to chime in:

CUSTOMER: Ooh, you’re buying gifts!

ME: (smiles) Yeah, it’s for my friend’s birthday.

CUSTOMER: Aww, that’s so romantic, your girlfriend is going to Love it.

ME: She’s not my girlfriend.

CUSTOMER: Hmm, maybe she’s a special friend!

I laughed at how both of them were teasing me while I waited for the manager to package the gift. The manager was really helpful that day, so I asked her if there was a number I could call to give her an “outstanding” customer service rating. She showed me the number on the receipt and thanked me for asking. As the manager wrote her name on the receipt, the customer waiting in line caught me off guard with an unexpected question:

“What country are you from?”

For some reason, the question struck me in an odd way, as if it triggered an alarm in my head and sprung forth countless things I’ve been ruminating about over the past few weeks. It wasn’t a new question at all. I have brown skin; it’s easy to notice, so I understood. People ask me where I’m from all the time, but it was different now. Almost immediately, I thought about the current crisis in Pakistan, I thought about the corrupt Pakistani president Asif Zardari, I thought about the Taliban taking control of Swat Valley – a beautiful place that I visited once – and I thought about the U.S. drone attacks in Pakistan and my sheer frustration with Obama’s foreign policy. Even though it only took me about two seconds to respond, I still had more thoughts and feelings swell inside me. I feared that disclosing my nationality would disrupt the friendly interaction I had with the manager and customer. I worried that their response would be offensive or ignorant and that I would go home feeling like an “outsider.” It was too late for that. And it wasn’t their fault.

“Pakistan,” I said slowly with an unfamiliar discomfort in my voice.

I was shocked at the way I responded, it sounded like I was ashamed of it. I noticed the shift in her body language when she replied with a simple, “Oh.” It was the typical response I usually get after I tell people I’m Muslim. An awkward silence followed before she politely said, “cool.” Again, it was nothing new to me, but when I nodded and forced a weak smile, I suddenly felt the urge to leave. I left quickly after the manager handed me the gift. “It’s ok” I told myself as I heard the fast paced rhythm of my shoes walking on the marble floor, “they didn’t say anything wrong.” I thought about the possible conversation that took place behind me. Maybe they said something ignorant. Maybe they didn’t say anything at all. Maybe they had negative thoughts about Pakistan, maybe they didn’t. Maybe they wondered where it was on the map. Whatever they said or thought didn’t matter. What mattered were the countless thoughts that surfaced in my mind.

As I walked to the other side of the mall, my memory traveled back to January of 2008. Former Pakistani Prime Minister, Benazir Bhutto, had been killed in late December and it was the hot topic for a while in the mainstream media. I was on my way out of a post office one afternoon, minding my own business, when an older man smiled at me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you Indian or Paki?” Caught off guard by the random question and his use of the word “Paki,” I smiled at the silliness of the question. “Umm, I’m Pakistani…” I said. The man’s face turned grim. “Shame on you!” he growled. Since there were so many things I was going through at the time, my grief reached a point where I couldn’t even get angry anymore. I laughed instead. “Excuse me?” I asked. He threw his hands in the air, “Your country is a mess! You guys are killing your leaders and your women!” You can’t be serious, I thought to myself. I couldn’t believe I was standing in a post office and listening to a man flipping out on me just because I’m from a certain part of the world.

I stood my ground and called him out on his ignorance. I told him he was generalizing about me, as well as the people of Pakistan. I also told him that it wasn’t fair for him to treat me as if I had control over what country I’m from. He apologized, “I’m sorry, you’re right. See, you’re good because you’re here. You’re good because you’re an American.” Right. Typical “melting-pot” remark. Let’s mix everyone together, cut them off from their culture and heritage, and give them one identity: American. “So what about my family members who live in Pakistan?” I asked him. “Are they ‘bad’ since they’re not American?” He replied, “Well they should come over here.” Yeah, like that’s a piece of cake. And besides, what’s up with the assumption that people living in the Muslim world want to come to the United States (or any Western country)? He apologized again and then asked, “Are you Muslim?” Oh boy. “Yeah,” I said. Before I know it, he was going on about Christianity and how democratic values are also Christian values, so Muslims could benefit a lot from Christians. I tried to enlighten him about Islam, coexistence, and how we’re all created by God, but it didn’t seem like he was receptive to what I was saying. He ended up making an insensitive remark about Muslims standing at the end of the line in the afterlife. He was trying to be funny. I couldn’t stay there. I shook my head, “whatever.” As I walked out the door, I heard him say “Ah, I’m just kidding!”

I had to disengage from the conversation because it brought back memories of something that happened to me in the summer of 2007. I was working a part-time job in the photo lab at CVS Pharmacy. I Loved my job, which is why the managers always called me first whenever they needed help. It was a really happy time in my life, I had friendly relations with my co-workers, and I was really good with customers. We were incredibly low on help that day though and at one point, I was the only person on register. The line only got longer and longer, and eventually, a cranky customer started swearing at me for moving too slow for her. I ignored it at first, but then she cursed at me again and told me that I “shouldn’t work here.” I explained that we were short on help and I politely asked her to stop cursing at me. It only made things worse. “Who the f*** are you to tell me to stop talking?!” she shouted.

Finally, my manager rushed back to the front of the store. He couldn’t help but notice the angry customer and her friend. “What’s the problem here?” he asked. Before I could answer, the customer pointed at me and said, “You better watch out for this kid otherwise he’s going to blow up the store.” I froze in utter disbelief. I felt the anger rushing through my blood and then I broke out, “What did you say?! Are you judging me by the color of my skin?! Why did you say something like that?!” She shouted back, “man, just do your f***ing job!” My manager intervened and told me to take a break. I listened and began to the break room, but I heard the customers talking behind me, “if he’s going to wait for us in the parking lot, we can take him! There’s two of us.” I was so outraged and furious. I turned around and said, “Who’s talking about violence here?” She said I threatened her first because I told her to “stop talking.” I shook my head, “No, I told you to stop cursing.” My manager stepped in between me and the customers. He pushed me back, as if I was going to hit the customers or something. “Just stop,” he said to me, “Just ignore them.” The customer’s friend stepped forward and said, “F*** you, terrorist!” I was so angry that I just stormed out of the building and drove home. I was notified a week later that I was terminated because the incident “created a problem” for the store and I was supposed to “bite my tongue” just like the “company policy” expected all employees to (how I handled the case, with the help of CAIR, is another discussion!).

I reflected on these two experiences as I walked out of the mall with my friend’s birthday gift. When I started my car, I sat and spaced out for a while. I thought about how my past experiences sometimes make me so tense and uneasy whenever non-Muslims ask about religious and/or ethnic background. With the current crisis in Pakistan, I worry that the ignorant and offensive remarks will only get worse, but amidst all the politics and personal fears, I am also bothered immensely by how distant I am from my ethnic background.

The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror and felt so unusually distraught. I stared at my brown skin, my black hair, my half-Kashmiri and half-Punjabi nose; I thought about my suburban-American accent and my inability to speak Urdu and Punjabi fluently. I felt a mismatch, like I was some kind of cheap import. I felt fake and counterfeit. I thought about all the times I see older South Asians working at local stores and feeling terrible for speaking to them in English when I could be speaking in Urdu or Hindi. When I walk away, I always wonder if they’re thinking, “oh the kids in this country forget their culture and their language, it’s such a shame.” In South Asian culture, we always refer to elders as “Auntie” and “Uncle,” so whenever I see elderly South Asians, I want them to know that they are “Auntie” and “Uncle” to me. Sometimes, it feels like my skin color and name are the only Pakistani things about me. What does it mean to be Pakistani? I can put on my shalwar kameez (traditional South Asian dress) and attend a South Asian event on campus, enjoy the music, dances, and food, but does that make me Pakistani? What do I know about Pakistan – the history, the culture, the people, the great mystics, thinkers, and leaders of the past, or even the politics? Although I’ve made attempts to re-connect with my Pakistani identity in recent years, I feel that current events (as well as things I’ve observed in other Pakistani-Americans) have caused me to turn inward again in efforts to attain a richer understanding of what my ethnic identity really means to me.

I was born in Lahore, Pakistan. My father’s family descends from Kashmiris who migrated to Lahore, and my mother’s family is Punjabi. Although I’ve never experienced what it’s like to live in Pakistan (since my family moved to the United States shortly after I was born), I’ve stayed there on long visits. The first time I visited Pakistan was in 1999 and I remember hating it. The bumpy roads, the crowded traffic, the poverty, the pollution, the electric cutting out randomly – it all made me miss the United States. At the time, as a 15 year-old, I admit that I felt better than everyone else because I was an American citizen. When I returned to the U.S., I would tell my White non-Muslim friends how proud and grateful we should be to live in America. Like many other Pakistani-Americans that I knew at the time, I made fun of Pakistani/Indian music, culture, language, accents, and dress. I associated all of those things with my parents; it had nothing to do with me. I was American.

I went to Pakistan again in 2000 for my Uncle’s wedding and my opinion of the country didn’t change much. I still thought it was backwards and uncivilized, although I remember seeing something that struck me as oddly positive. On our way to the wedding, a truck accidentally hit one of our party’s cars. The respective drivers – complete strangers – got out and shook hands! Then, we invited the truck driver to the wedding! That was something I don’t ever recall seeing in the United States. Still, I longed to leave Pakistan, so much so that I couldn’t even appreciate the fact that my Uncle’s wedding lasted for three days (as opposed to the typical single-day weddings I would see in Hollywood films). I couldn’t appreciate the decorations, the dancing, the beautiful South Asian dresses, or the immense amount of preparation that went into it all. I regret that now.

It wasn’t until I visited Pakistan in early 2002 when I really learned to appreciate it. As many of my friends know, 2002 was a special year for me. It was the year I discovered my inner voice. I remember sitting in the car while the driver navigated us through the busy traffic of Lahore and without warning, a question struck me in such a profound way. The question didn’t come from someone, it came from within: I asked myself, “Why do you hate this place so much?” I stared out the window and saw people walking with their spouses, children, and friends. They were going somewhere. To school, to work, to buy something, to have fun with their friends – every day activities that my friends and I would do except in a different part of the world. This place was home to them. “This is where you were born,” I said in my thoughts, “This place is in your blood.” It helped that I had a great time with my family that year too, but I also believe that these questions didn’t come to me randomly or without meaning. For the first time, when I left Pakistan, I was sad. Sure, I was happy about going home and seeing my friends again, but I also felt like I didn’t get enough of a chance to explore more, i.e. explore more about myself.

Since it was post September 11th, I was already experiencing a lot of hostility and prejudice in my predominately White non-Muslim high school because of my religious background. When I returned from Pakistan, classmates and teachers asked a lot of ignorant questions. Questions like: “Why do they have weird names?” or “Are they Taliban?” or “Don’t they hate America?” The most insulting one probably came from my friend’s mom, “Are they very pro-bin Laden over there?” I told her that Osama bin Laden was the last thing on my mind when I was there and I also added that she should visit Pakistan some time since it’s a beautiful place. As a result of my new appreciation for Pakistan, I started to become more religious and spiritual. It was the first time in my life when I read the Qur’an on my own free will and it was the first time I prayed without anyone instructing me to do so. It was a very special turning point in my life since I began to contemplate religion and spirituality in ways that I never did before, but what I didn’t realize was that my attempts to become a better Muslim actually distanced me from my ethnic identity rather than compliment it. In actuality I was doing something that many young Pakistani Muslims do these days: I was trying to be Arab.

Over the years, I’ve found that discussing Pakistani identity is quite problematic and controversial at times because it’s often perceived as “religion versus culture.” Generally speaking, we Pakistanis try to distance ourselves from India as far as possible because we think India is synonymous with Hinduism, therefore “kuffar” (nonbelievers/infidels). It’s silly actually considering that (1) India has the third-largest Muslim population in the world and (2) prior to the partition in 1947, Pakistan was part of India; therefore the similarities in culture, dress, food, and language are inescapable. In any case, many Pakistani Muslims in America cut themselves off from India and Indian culture in pursuit of an “authentic Muslim” identity, which happens to point to the Middle-East. In other words, we take on a pseudo-Arab identity.

So many times, I’ve heard fellow Pakistani Muslims saying that we should abolish culture completely because there is no culture in Islam. We’re Muslim and that’s it. I bought into that for a while. “Yeah, we Pakistanis watch too many Bollywood movies,” I would say, “We have girls dancing at our weddings, that’s not Islamic!” As I condemned Pakistani culture, I didn’t realize that I was adopting another culture: Arab culture, or at least what I perceived to be “Arab culture” (saying “Arab culture” is inaccurate since the Arab world is filled with diverse cultures, religions, and dialects, it can’t be narrowed down into “one culture”). In my freshmen year of college, I would wear my keffiyeh (traditional Arab scarf), drive around blasting Arabic music, and making enormous efforts to learn Arabic. To give you an idea of how much I studied Arabic, I can put it like this: my Arabic pronunciation is much better than my Urdu and Punjabi pronunciation. I don’t regret learning the amount of Arabic I know now; I admit that it helps understanding your prayers a lot better, but I feel a tremendous amount of shame when I make pathetic attempts to speak Urdu. When I throw in some Arabic phrases when I meet Arab-speaking people, they smile and tell me how good my accent is. When I try to speak Urdu with South Asian friends and family, they laugh because they can hear it mixed with my American accent.

I became discouraged when I saw the same Pakistani Muslims who despised culture taking dabkeh lessons (folk dance of Lebanon, Palestine, Syria, Jordan, and Iraq), smoking hookah, or wearing thobs (traditional Arab dress for men), as if there wasn’t anything cultural about those things. They would also rebel against the South Asian pronunciation of their names and pronounce them the “correct Arabic” way. It dawned on me that we weren’t getting rid of culture; we merely getting rid of South Asian culture – our culture. As Fatemeh Fakhraie writes in her brilliant article, “The Arabization of Islam:”

What is troublesome about all this is that most Muslims who are non-Arabs complain that they’re not seen as Muslims because they’re not Arab (or ethnically Middle Eastern, in some cases). But when non-Arab Muslims take Arab names or wear Arab clothes under the guise of “Islamic authenticity,” we’re all reinforcing the idea that we’re not really Muslims unless we have some link to Arab culture.

I have seen many Pakistanis Muslims using Arabic words like “akhi” (brother), “ukhti” (sister), “wallahi” (I swear to God), and even non-religious words like “yanni” in their conversations. There’s nothing wrong with this, but if they inserted Urdu words instead of Arabic words, they wouldn’t be taken seriously. Why? Because we don’t take Urdu seriously. The only time we’ll use Urdu is to be funny. It’s like, “haha, you sound like a FOB!” The only time we’ll use Urdu in a serious manner is when we’re speaking to elders (because it’s an “older people” thing, right?). Speaking Arabic, on the other hand, is taken seriously and even makes you look like a better Muslim. We attribute more religiosity to Muslims who can give khutbahs or speeches with “proper Arabic pronunciation.” Even at the recent CAIR event I attended, one of the guest speakers was a South Asian Muslim woman who made sure she pronounced every Arabic word and Muslim name “correctly,” as if not doing so would lower her credibility. It was interesting because I didn’t hear any of the Arab speakers pronounce Pakistan correctly (they said “Pack-istan” rather than “Paak-istaan”), and yet you see young South Asian Muslims striving to pronounce Arabic correctly.

But it’s not just pronunciation that’s changing. Words are changing and being replaced too. The best example is how the Urdu phrase, “Khuda hafez” (God be with you), has been replaced with “Allah hafez.” They both mean the same thing, but thanks to the growing influence of Salafi movements among Sunni Muslims in Pakistan, the use of “Khuda hafez” became gunah (sinful). “Khuda” comes from the Persian word for God (pronounced “Khoda” in Farsi), but since Arabic is taught to be the “Muslim language,” it has been replaced with “Allah hafez.” I remember, on one of my trips to Pakistan, I heard some of my relatives say, “don’t say ‘Khuda hafez,’ it’s gunah! Say ‘Allah hafez.’” As Pervez Amirali Hoodbhoy elaborates:

Persian, the language of Mughal India, had once been taught as a second or third language in many Pakistani schools. But, because of its association with Shiite Iran, it too was dropped and replaced with Arabic. The morphing of the traditional “Khuda hafiz” (Persian for “God be with you”) into “Allah hafiz” (Arabic for “God be with you”) took two decades to complete. The Arab import sounded odd and contrived, but ultimately the Arabic God won and the Persian God lost.

And of course, there’s nothing wrong with saying “Allah hafez.” I say it now and then, but why are we labeling “Khuda hafez” sinful? Is one “more Islamic” than the other? Have Muslims forgotten that God teaches logic and reason? Does it make any sense that God can only understand Arabic? The same kind of propaganda was used against those who followed Jesus, peace be upon him, when they were told that Angels could only speak Hebrew and not Aramaic. Consider this Qur’anic verse:

“Call upon God, or call upon the Merciful; by whatever name you call upon Him (it is the same), to Him belong the most Beautiful names.” (17:110)

Avoiding the use of “Khuda hafez” is also an example of how Salafi Muslims strive to abstain from biddah, or innovation, which in turn explains their strong opposition towards culture. Subsequently, we see Salafi Muslims seeking to purge Sufism (Islamic mysticism) out of Pakistan. The Sufis are Islamic mystics, who do not see Sufism as a separate sect of Islam, but rather an inclusive and necessary mystical dimension of Islam that explores one’s inward journey for God, self, and Divine Love. The Sufis often express their Love for God and the Prophets through music, dancing (notably whirling meditation), and Divinely-inspired poetry. Conservative Muslims perceive this as “Indian Islam” and accuse the Sufis of committing biddah and even shirk (associating partners with God), even though the Sufis, like all Muslims, don’t worship anyone else besides God. Qawwali music, for example, is a Sufi musical style of South Asia, but since Salafi Muslims condemn music, many Pakistani Muslims don’t learn to appreciate Qawwali for what it is. I remember one of my dad’s Pakistani co-workers was sitting in my car and he heard me listening to Qawwali music. He said to me, “man, why are you listening to this? You’re not supposed to sing about Allah in songs, that’s a sin.” I couldn’t help but think about the times I sat in his car and heard him listening to hip-hop music with excessive profanity and pornographic lyrics – he’s telling me that listening to Qawwali is sinful? This is just an example of how deep the conservative Salafi brainwashing is on Pakistanis. As is evident from my father’s friend, the conservative teachings even affect those who aren’t as vocal about their Muslim identity. As Sufi Muslims teach to be accepting of others, I’ve often found that conservative Muslims tend to be more about conformity, and this is a huge problem because it’s not only an attempt to pull us away from ethnic identity, but it’s also a way of “infidelizing” Sufi Muslims or anyone else who doesn’t agree with Salafi interpretations of Islam.

Recently, I gave a Pakistani cricket jersey to a friend of mine who became Muslim earlier this year and a couple of Pakistani Muslims in their mid-twenties made silly remarks about the jersey. They said, “We should get him a shirt that says ‘Islam.’” I felt like responding, “If he wore a shirt that said ‘Free Palestine,’ you wouldn’t say anything, right?” And it’s true, we see Muslims – both Arab and non-Arab – wearing Palestinian keffiyehs or “Free Palestine” shirts in the Mosque and no one makes an issue about it. No one accuses them of being more cultural than religious.

The little secret about us Pakistani Muslims is that we like when people mistaken us for Middle-Eastern. We get all flattered. Really? You thought I was Arab? Wow, thanks! But when people ask if we’re Indian, we respond in disgust. The first time I noticed this difference was in college when my professor felt like bashing on Muslims one day (she was one of the most Islamophobic teachers I’ve ever had). She asked, “Where are all my students from the Middle-East?” She immediately looked at me because she knew I was Muslim. “I’m actually from South Asia,” I said, “but thanks for the compliment.” Smile. I said that in defense of Middle-Easterners since there’s such a negative perception of them in the media (and also because Middle-Easterners get lumped together with Muslims). About a week later, I remember asking a non-Pakistani girl if she was Pakistani, and she responded with disgust, “No! I’m not! Why does everyone always think I’m Paki?!” Well, excuse me, I didn’t mean to offend you. I mean, ew, Pakistani? Who wants to be Pakistani? Ask us if we’re Palestinian, Lebanese, Egyptian, or even Iranian, and we’ll totally be cool with that. Why? Because we don’t want to look like Pakistanis. We don’t want to look like what we are.

The “Arabization” of Islam has gotten to the point where religious scholars from immensely popular Islamic websites like SunniPath.com teach that Arab Muslims are superior to non-Arab Muslims and that praying behind Shia Muslims will invalidate your prayer! If Malcolm X was Pakistani, he’d have a lot to rip into us about. On one hand, we have Pakistanis completely emulating the images and behavior they see in Western pop culture and on the other, we see Pakistani Muslims trying to behave Arab in order to “authenticate” their Muslim identity. Either way, we’re distancing ourselves from our Pakistani and/or South Asian roots. Where did all of this internalized racism and self-hatred come from? Malcolm X was Muslim, but he also taught African-Americans to be proud of their roots and heritage. Why can’t Pakistani Muslims do the same? When bombs fall on Gaza, Pakistani Muslims throw on their keffiyehs, pump their fists in the air, and chant “free Palestine,” but where are they for Pakistan? Now, our country is in trouble. There are U.S. drone attacks killing innocent Pakistani civilians in tribal areas. The Taliban have taken control of Swat Valley, imposed their oppressive Taliban law, and destroyed over 200 schools, mostly girls’ schools. Did you read that? Good. Read it again. According to Tariq Ali, Pakistani author of “The Duel: Pakistan on the Flight Path of American Power,” the majority of Pakistanis are not only anti-Taliban and anti-extremism, but 70% of them perceive the U.S. as the greatest threat to peace in Pakistan. Will we Pakistani Muslims in America start educating ourselves about Pakistan or will we do what most of the Pakistanis at my Mosque do when I tell them the latest news from Pakistan: shrug their shoulders, shake their heads, and simply say “yeah it’s crazy”?

I have always told people (and myself) that I am Muslim first. I still say this, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t be appreciative or proud about being Pakistani. I am not encouraging fellow Pakistanis to support the Pakistani government – that’s not what I’m suggesting at all since the government is absolutely corrupt. What I am encouraging is that we care about the country we come from as much as we care for the country we live in. As Tariq Ali writes, the people of Pakistan cannot be blamed for the failure of their politicians or the recent violence that is unfolding. I am not saying we shouldn’t learn Arabic either. I still want to learn Arabic, I still wear my keffiyeh to represent the Palestinian people, and I still listen to Arabic music, but not at the expense of forgetting my South Asian heritage.

I try to make as many efforts as I can to brush up on my Urdu and Punjabi, and I also read about the history of Pakistan and India. I know all humanity descends from Adam and Eve (peace be upon them both), but why do I have to ignore the people in between? I am not ashamed of my Buddhist, Hindu, or possible Jewish (many Kashmiris claim to be one of the ten lost tribes of Israel) ancestry. I embrace that. Why should we ignore the great mystical poetry of Amir Khosrow, Mirza Ghalib, Bulleh Shah, and Allama Muhammad Iqbal? Why should we ignore the beautiful architecture of Shah Jahan (he built the Taj Mahal)? I remember when I was listening to a Qawwali song by the legendary Pakistani singer, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, I felt like I was reconnecting with a missing part of me. I would constantly listen to his beautiful wailing and hear so many emotions being expressed: Love, yearning, pain, sorrow, grief, joy, and happiness. “This is the voice of my soul,” I would think to myself, “this is that other side of me that I have forgotten.”

The last time I went to Pakistan was in 2004 and it was the first time I visited the country with respect and appreciation. I hope to visit again someday. I often wonder if the country will recognize me as the child of its land or as some tourist just passing on by. I know I stand out when I go to Pakistan. It’s in my body language, the way I walk, the way I speak, but all that doesn’t matter to me because I know that I am striving to re-connect. I know I am making an effort. I would like to revisit the Tomb of Jahangir in Lahore to reflect on the timeless history. I want to see the city of Muree again and enjoy the beautiful mountains. I want to visit the Sindh and let my heart mourn with the tragic Love story of Sohni and Mahiwal (depicted left). I would like to visit Mohenjo-daro, one of the largest cities of the ancient Indus Valley Civilization. I would like to trace my ancestry, visit Kashmir and then India.

I am a Pakistani who has grown up in the West and I know that my experiences may be completely different from what people in Pakistan experience, but it still hurts me to see what is happening in Pakistan today. I still care. It hurts even more when I see such a strong anti-Pakistani sentiment in the United States. Discussing Pakistani politics is another blog post, but I would like others to know that Pakistan is a beautiful place filled with a rich culture that is struggling to survive amidst Westernization and heavy Salafi influences. I find hope in the fact that the majority of Pakistanis are strongly against the Taliban and the corrupt politicians governing them.

Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, said in his last sermon: “All humankind is from Adam and Eve, an Arab has no superiority over a non-Arab nor a non-Arab has any superiority over an Arab; also a white has no superiority over a black, nor a black has any superiority over a white- except by piety and good action.” The Prophet would not have addressed this issue if there weren’t noticeable differences among human beings. As the Qur’an says: “Another of His signs is the creation of the heavens and earth, and the diversity of your languages and color. There truly are signs in this for those who know” (30:22). There is also this famous verse: “O people, we created you from the same male and female, and rendered you distinct peoples and tribes, so that you may know one another.” (49:13)

In closing, I would like to share that as I wrote this reflection on Pakistani identity, I found myself asking, “Why is Pakistan so important to me?” I responded simply: I was born there. Many of family members are there. My ancestry is there.

Those answers suffice for me.

Khuda hafez

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Critics of U.N. Anti-Blasphemy Resolution Overlook Opportunities for Global Dialogue

By Jehanzeb Dar

Much is being made about the U.N. Anti-Blasphemy Resolution, which calls upon member nations, including the United States, to combat defamation of religion — Islam in particular.  Critics of the resolution include CNN’s Lou Dobbs, who describes the opposition against the resolution as a “fight for free speech,” author Christopher Hitchens, and Islamophobes around the blogosphere who scathingly label the resolution a step towards “spreading Sharia law to the West.”

The resolution, “Combating the Defamation of Religion,” was adopted in 2007 and “stresses the need to effectively combat defamation of all religions and incitement to religious hatred, against Islam and Muslims in particular.”  Unsurprisingly, religious groups and free-speech advocates in the United States accuse the resolution of impeding on constitutional rights such as freedom of expression.  John Bolton, former U.N. Ambassador, comments:  “It’s obviously intended to have an intimidating effect on people expressing criticism of radical Islam, and the idea that you can have a defamation of a religion like this, I think, is a concept fundamentally foreign to our system of free expression in the United States.”

I’ve noticed a lot of bloggers terming this issue “freedom under fire” and I see a lot of Islamophobes pouncing on it since it “scores points” for their “argument” that Muslims want to “impose Sharia law.”  What I see missing from these reactions are efforts to engage in global dialogue between the Muslim and non-Muslim worlds.  Rather than recognizing the importance of much-needed dialogue, Lou Dobbs and Christopher Hitchens spend about seven minutes defending freedom of expression, accusing the U.N. of being a “totalitarian” and “authoritarian organization,” and resorting to typical fear-mongering tactics by saying there are “Muslims who are prepared to use violence at the drop of a hat.”  Dobbs and Hitchens present us with a very singular, misconstrued, and stereotypical perspective on the situation instead of acknowledging social problems such as annually rising hate crimes and discriminatory acts against Muslims in the West, which clearly contribute to the formation of this particular U.N. resolution.

The fact of the matter is that this is a very complicated issue.  Personally, I find the U.N. anti-blasphemy resolution flawed.  Although the resolution aims to prevent violence and discrimination against people of any religious background, I believe the defamation laws can be abused by governments.  Individuals should be allowed to express their views and opinions about religions and cultures without worrying about being criminalized.  I am not against the idea of people criticizing Islam; surely everyone is entitled to their opinion, but what I am against is dehumanization and vilification of religions and entire groups of people.  There is a difference between constructive criticism and hate speech, the latter has the potential to lead to discrimination and hate crimes.  One could argue that organizations like the KKK are entitled to “freedom of speech,” but when they advocate violence towards African-Americans, it no longer complies with the American constitution.

The “Combating the Defamation of Religion” resolution was introduced by the Organization of the Islamic Conference.  The fact that the resolution stems from a Muslim organization should indicate the importance of dialogue rather than perceiving the idea as an attempt to “impose Sharia law in the West.”  As I mentioned, I do not support the resolution, but I think it raises an important opportunity for Muslim and non-Muslim communities to achieve a richer and empathetic understanding about issues related to vilification of Islam in mainstream media, pop culture, and newspapers.  During the Muslim Holy Month of Ramadan in 2008, for example, the Clarion Fund decided to distribute millions of anti-Islamic DVDs entitled “Obsession” to swing states in the U.S.  Although there are those who continue to argue that the film is an exercise of “freedom of expression,” the larger issue that is often ignored is how Islamophobic imagery was distributed on a massive scale.  Whenever Muslims protested against the DVD and wrote letters to their newspapers, they were often accused of being “over-sensitive” or “impeding on American values.”  Muslim voices were hardly given a chance to voice their own opinions about the DVD and how it made them feel.  Instead, their voices were lost and dumped into a box of Islamophobic generalizations.

The argument that people like Dobbs and Hitchens don’t seem interested in is that dehumanization and vilification of a religion and/or entire group of people is an inevitable companion of war.  In other words, in order to successfully rally supporters for war, one needs to establish an immensely contrasting divide between “us” and “them.”  Demonizing the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, in the Danish cartoons is an example of attacking the very heart of Muslims and reinforcing the “differences” between non-Muslims and Muslims, not just in the Islamic world, but also within the West.  The Danish cartoons also generated such a negative perception and attitude towards the Prophet Muhammad that CAIR (the Council for American-Islamic Relations) mobilized to hold seminars to educate and enlighten non-Muslims about the truth of the Prophet.  Muslims wouldn’t have held educational programs if they weren’t so concerned about the general public’s perception of their religion after the Danish cartoons and riots.  The mainstream media didn’t seem to be concerned with these stories because they were too busy covering the violent riots in the Muslim world.  The inability to empathize with the sentiments of Muslims all over the world (including in the West) represents a failure to establish communication and understanding.

It is important for freedom of speech to be protected, but when Muslim-Americans experience ignorance, verbal abuse, physical assault, and vandalism, it is society’s responsibility to recognize that they, like every other American citizen, deserve to be treated equally regardless of their skin color, culture, and religious background.  Sensitive issues need to be discussed fairly and openly between Muslim and non-Muslim communities, otherwise stereotypes and misunderstandings will continue to persist.  Islamophobic rhetoric and blindly defending “free speech” are just obstacles and barriers that are created to prevent necessary dialogue.  If people like Lou Dobbs and Christopher Hitchens took the opportunity to engage in respectful and open-minded discussions with Muslim-Americans, they may empathize with how Islamophobic material, like the Danish cartoons and the “Obsession” DVD, have been used to bully, harass, and discriminate against Muslims in the West.

In the end,  it is not simply a matter of “freedom of speech.”  It’s a matter of understanding one another better.  The Muslim-American experience needs to stop being treated as something “foreign;” on the contrary it is an American story that isn’t being given enough voice.  As Muslim students, who protested the Danish cartoons in Washington D.C., wrote on their banners, “Freedom of Speech Does Not Equal Freedom to Hate.”

Late Comment on Hijaab

I just came back from a community cinema event in Philadelphia for an independent film called “Arusi Persian Wedding” directed by Marjan Tehrani. It’s a really beautiful film that follows an Iranian-American and his American wife who travel to Iran and have a traditional Persian wedding. I was not only in awe of how incredibly beautiful Iran is, but also at how I found myself relating to it. The Iranian-American expresses his pride for his Iranian roots, but also feels a distance because of his inability to fully understand the culture and language. It reminded me about how I sometimes struggle with finding my ethnic identity, no matter how much I’m proud of it.

After the screening, there was a guest panel that led an interesting discussion about the film and then took questions from the audience. My friend got a chance to chime in with a great question, while I decided to sit back and listen. I didn’t feel like I had much to contribute to the conversation since the event seemed to aim at breaking stereotypes about Iran, its people, and its culture. Although one of the panelists spoke very highly of her experience as a White woman in Iran, she admitted that “initially, I was frightened, as a feminist, when I learned I had to wear the veil…”

When I got home tonight, her words replayed in my mind over and over again. I really should have gotten up and said something, even though I just wanted to make a small comment. I think I’ll e-mail her after I write this, but what I wanted to point out is that it’s very important for us to not make an association between oppression and the hijaab, or veil. Her comment seemed to implicate that someone who wears the hijaab could not also be a feminist (I would have asked her to correct me if I was wrong). I’m sure this is not what she meant, but I believe it would have been important for one of the panelists to mention that forcing someone to dress a certain way is very different from someone choosing to dress a certain way. There are plenty of Muslim women in other parts of the world, especially in the West, who wear hijaab by choice; therefore it would be very inaccurate to say that Muslim women who wear hijaab cannot be feminists. I’m glad one of the Iranian panelists said that Iranian women still drive, work, and go to school, contrary to the stereotypes and misconceptions that they’re “so oppressed.”

The other thing I should have commented on was on their usage of the word “Islam” whenever discussing the “Islamic Revolution” in 1979 and the current “Islamic Laws.” The Qur’an clearly states that religion cannot be imposed on people. Doesn’t Allah teach us to use our logic and reasoning? What is so logical about forcing someone to believe a certain way? The true spiritual essence and beauty gets lost when someone is being forced to practice a religion. Spirituality and Faith is personal; it must be felt within. Reciting the Shahada (Islamic declaration of Faith) is simple, while believing in it is something deeper and entirely different altogether.

Later, someone asked a question about whether or not these were the dress codes for Muslim women in all Islamic countries, and one of two Iranian panelists said, “I’m not sure, but I would say ‘yes,’ they are universal.” A friend and I spoke about this later after the discussion and both agreed that we felt a strong anti-Islam vibe from her. I was glad that the other Iranian panelist jumped in and explained that these are not universal dress codes in Islamic countries since most Muslim countries don’t force women to wear hijaab or the burqah.

Anyway, my main point is that the hijaab should not be associated with oppression, and Muslim women who wear it shouldn’t be so quickly judged. Just because some feminists are not familiar with certain manners of dress doesn’t mean that it’s not compatible with feminism. I think it’s important for feminists to understand that feminist thought is very diverse rather than being limited to one group of people, one culture, and one skin color.