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Writers Articles And Opinions |
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10 August 2009 By Bob Geary Just two Saturdays
ago, the Islamic Center of Raleigh was a joyous place.
A long-planned open house at its mosque and school in
the Method neighborhood near N.C. State University
drew such high-level guests as N.C. Attorney General
Roy Cooper and State Treasurer Janet Cowell. FBI and
SBI officials also attended, marking an important step
toward their hosts' goal of good relations between law
enforcement and the Muslim community as memories of
9/11 recede.
So Muslim leaders were shocked the following Monday,
when the FBI and the U.S. attorney's office in Raleigh
announced that seven local Muslim men had been
arrested, charged with a terrorist plot to commit
murder in foreign countries. An eighth suspect was
being sought abroad. "It was like a bomb went off,"
said Jihad Shawwa, a member of the mosque and an
officer of the Muslim American Public Affairs Council
(MAPAC) in North Carolina.
He wasn't the only one who was rattled.
Officially, the Muslim community reacted cautiously to
the arrests, professing their trust in the federal
justice system while also warning, in the words of
Khalilah Sabra, executive director of the Triangle
chapter of the Muslim American Society Freedom
Foundation (MAS-Freedom) , against "a rush to
judgment" by the press and public.
But within the community, many received the news with
mistrust or fear. To one another, they questioned why
the FBI pounced so soon after the open house, asking
if the arrests weren't a deliberate effort to ruin the
goodwill the event created. Some who read the 14-page
indictment called it flimsy, full of vague accusations
that the defendants were plotting "violent jihad" and
their own suicides, but with no details about where or
against whom they planned to strike.
Was the indictment backed up by evidence of crimes,
they wondered, or merely the result of loose talk by
the suspects combined with the authorities' ethnic
stereotyping? And if the latter, would it serve to
alienate newly arrived Muslims, many of them refugees,
as they try to adapt to a new and foreign culture in
America?
The distrust was palpable when Shawwa and I ate lunch
in the cafeteria at the Islamic Center three days
later. A man Shawwa knew sat down and with little
prompting recited a list of "plots" previously charged
by the FBI that were dismissed for lack of evidence.
The man, a well-established academic in the University
of North Carolina system, said he knew Daniel Boyd,
the alleged ringleader from Willow Spring. He didn't
know him well, he acknowledged, but other members of
the mosque who knew him better had remarked about how
Boyd "was the nicest guy you'd ever want to know."
Don't use my name, the man said.
As he left, another of Shawwa's friends sat down and
decried the "media frenzy" in the case. Why did
reporters continually talk about suspected "Muslim
terrorists?" the second friend asked. "No one ever
called Timothy McVeigh a Christian terrorist."
The friend was especially angry that the FBI,
according to published media accounts, lured Boyd's
wife from their home and searched it by telling her a
false story about one of her sons having been injured
in a car crash. One of the Boyds' sons died in a car
crash two years ago, he remembered. "It [the trick]
was very, very hurtful," this man said. "I heard about
it, and I cried."
This second man, also employed in the UNC system, said
he's known one of the younger suspects since he was a
little boy. "I can vouch for him," the man said. "He's
innocent, naive maybe, but he would never hurt
anybody."
Like the first friend, though, he didn't want his name
used.
At his friends' reticence, Shawwa just shook his head.
He's not afraid, he insisted, to question the quality
of the evidence or to point out, as the FBI itself
said in a press release, that the defendants are
innocent—until proven guilty.
On the other hand, he said, stories and rumors are
being passed around in the Muslim community alleging
that FBI agents are knocking on doors, questioning
innocent people, including children, and harassing
them. "So people are scared," he said, shrugging.
"I've had calls from people, they're afraid to come
out of their house."
Click for larger image • Federal officials, including
ICE, surveilled Tuesday's detention hearing for the
terrorism suspects.
Photo by D.L. Anderson
The next day, Friday, was the traditional day for
midday prayer in the Islamic faith, and the Raleigh
center, the largest of some six mosques in the
Triangle, was filled for three successive
services—more than 2,000 worshippers in all. As each
service ended, kids headed for the gymnasium or lined
up to leave on a weekend camping trip. Adults,
meanwhile, went outside to socialize or patronize the
vendors—fellow Muslims—who were busy selling clothing,
produce and books.
Except for the Arabic iconography and the women's
headscarves, this might've been a scene from any
church anywhere. Members greeted one other, and every
guest, with a smile and a wish, in Arabic, for peace.
"Assalamu alaikum," they said. Loosely, it means
"peace go with you."
If the worshippers seemed at ease, however, mosque
leaders were not. Men in security vests watched every
visitor. Two reporters who came were told not to
interview people in the building or on the grounds.
All questions were referred to a spokesman, a
baby-faced architect named Imran Aulchil.
Aulchil insisted that the center is an "open and
welcoming" place, with just 200 recorded, or official,
members but thousands of unofficial members, including
a steady stream of newcomers each week. But he was
unapologetic about the day's clampdown.
Members were free to express their views, he said. But
they should do so somewhere else, not at the mosque,
where something they said might be misconstrued as the
view of the community. "We don't want any trouble with
the law, obviously," he said.
In the first prayer service, Imam Sameh Asal addressed
the tension members were feeling. The charges in the
case, he said, were "afflictions, trials and
tribulations" that are felt by the whole community.
"If any member of the body is hurt," the imam said,
"every member of that body shares in the hurt."
The imam, though, counseled patience to his listeners.
Everything that happens on Earth, he preached, is
preordained by Allah—God—who visits trials on his
people as a way of strengthening their faith. God
reserves his greatest tests for those with the
greatest faith, who are destined to be the prophets in
heaven, the imam went on. Thus Muslims should accept
their afflictions "with pleasure."
A guest speaker from Oakland, Calif., who led the
third prayer service, however, offered a more strident
view. Abdel Malik Ali called on the youth in the
community to "speak up and speak out" together against
harassment and intimidation by the FBI. "Your parents
are living in a state of insecurity," Ali said, his
voice rising. "What are you going to do about it?"
When the FBI asked him about potential terrorists in
the community, Ali went on, he told them Muslims are
peaceful, and any terrorists must therefore be agents
who were planted by them.
When he did, Ali said, they went away. "I promise you
this. If you show fear to them, and you show them that
you are weak, you are inviting harassment," he warned.
Off the grounds, Moe El-Gamal, MAPAC president and the
owner of an information technology company, preferred
the imam's advice. "Of course you have to stand up for
yourself, but in a good way," the easygoing El-Gamal
said.
Mohammed the Prophet showed how, he went on, by
refusing to retaliate against his persecutors, even
when he'd gained the strength to do so. "This is the
principle of Islam. We love our neighbors. We also
love our enemies. This is the same as in the Bible and
in the Torah."
El-Gamal acknowledged that Muslims here are afraid to
speak out, fearing that to do so will bring them to
the FBI's attention and open them up to false
accusations by others who are under pressure to name
names.
"Yes, it's the land of the free," Hamdy Radwan,
director of outreach in the Triangle for the Muslim
American Society, agreed, "but people do feel a little
bit cautious" and are on guard about saying too much
in the wrong place.
El-Gamal and Radwan each gave voice, in separate
interviews, to the whispered fears of other Muslims
that the FBI's timing was meant to hurt the community,
that the facts stated in the indictment are sketchy
and that the younger defendants were indicted for the
purpose of pressuring them to give evidence against
Boyd.
Both, though, expressed confidence in the American
justice system, and the American people, to sort out
the facts.
Muslims are indeed under scrutiny here, El-Gamal
asserted, but even so, they have more freedom to
follow their beliefs, and get a fairer shake in court,
than in any of the world's repressive Muslim-majority
nations. "I can't tell you how much I love this
country," he continued, smiling broadly. "This is the
best country in the world, especially for Muslims."
On Sunday, Jihad Shawwa was still bemused by the fact
that his two highly educated, well-positioned friends
had refused to let their names be attached to their
doubts about the arrests and the evidence to support
them. If they are afraid, he said, imagine how the
masses must feel—the poor and poorly educated Muslim
refugees who've been relocated here from places like
Iraq, Afghanistan and African countries, such as
Somalia and Malawi wracked by civil war.
Shawwa, an N.C. Department of Transportation employee,
could joke about his father's choice of a first name.
"Jihad," he said, means struggle in the sense of
striving to be better and more faithful to God—there's
nothing violent about the word at all, he said. But
his name, combined with the fact that he's a Muslim
born in Gaza, "means that I am struggling all the
time. That's why I'm happy."
But Shawwa worried that, though he's happy to
struggle, question authority and speak his mind, most
Muslims aren't so sanguine—and the efforts of Muslim
leaders like him to involve them in civic affairs are
threatened whenever the FBI starts showing up on
Islamic doorsteps.
"I'm struggling not to make a prejudgment in this
case," he says, seriously now. "The FBI has an
important job to do, and I can see the dilemma of
their job," trying to stop violent acts before they
occur. "But think of the people who go home, and
they've been harassed. How do you think they would
feel? It's scary."
EsinIslam.Com
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