For a relatively young man (he is in his early forties), the academic and writer Tariq Ramadan has an impressive collection of enemies. In France, where he keeps an office and publishes the books and tapes that have made him a hero to Muslim youth in the francophone world, he is regularly attacked as an Islamist troublemaker and anti-Semite.
No doubt it was the half-truths and rumours in the French press that inspired the US government to revoke his visa in July 2004. Ramadan had been invited to lecture at the University of Notre Dame in Indiana, but found himself persona non grata. No reason was ever given for the ban, except a vague reference to “security measures”. Recently, he has also fallen foul of the British tabloids and in particular the Sun, which, after the London bombings of 7 July, declared him unwelcome in the city because he was a “soft-spoken fanatic”, a man more dangerous than obvious nutters such as Abu Hamza and Omar Bakri Mohammad, mainly because he was so plausible and convincing.
Despite this, he has recently been appointed to two prestigious posts in Britain. The first is a visiting fellowship at St Antony’s, Oxford – no doubt reflecting the strength of the Egyptian-born scholar’s publications, which include Western Muslims and the Future of Islam, about how Muslims can live in the west without any sense of contradiction with their religious identity. More controversial is his appointment as adviser to a Home Office task force tackling extremism among Muslims in Britain. Ramadan’s detractors claim he is a defender of extreme Islamism who speaks to the west with forked tongue. If this is true, his appointment could be a public relations disaster for the government.
I interviewed Ramadan for the first time last year. He was not pleased with the results (see New Statesman, 21 June 2004), which, as he saw it, portrayed him exactly as his enemies would wish: a figurehead who speaks to his western audience in a “moderate” discourse while addressing his Muslim constituency with a more radical voice. So when we spoke again, early this month, I began by asking him about this. “I have often been accused of this ‘double discourse’,” he said. “And to those who say it, I say – bring the evidence. I am quite clear in what I say. The problem is that many people don’t want to hear it, particularly in the media. Most of the stories about me are completely untrue: journalists simply repeat black propaganda from the internet without any corroboration, and it just confirms what they want to believe. Words are used out of context. There is double-talk, yes, but there is also double-hearing. That is what I want to challenge.”
His many critics allege that Ramadan is characteristically vague on the subject of suicide bombings, yet it is true that he has been unequivocal in his condemnation of the London bombings. But did he see any connection between these and the war in Iraq? “I condemn suicide bombing,” he said, “and it is wrong to try and use the war in Iraq to justify these actions. It is obviously true that the war is wrong, and the likes of Sidique Khan and the other bombers were influenced by this. But they were politically and ethically wrong to do what they did.”
Ramadan is also appalled by the climate of Islamophobia in London. “I have been coming to the UK for over ten years and I noticed that the atmosphere has changed dramatically over the past two months. After the first attack, I thought that people responded properly and well: there was a sense of community. But the second attack changed everything. There was a new kind of fear which I have never seen here before. British people have always been proud of multiculturalism, but they realised that they knew very little about Islam, and they were frightened.
“But multiculturalism is a patchwork that cannot well survive a period of crisis, as terrorists know. People started to link the bombs to Iraq – which is politically the case, but it was ethically wrong of the bombers to make this link and act upon it. The first danger of this kind of action is that the Muslim community retreats into itself. But this is the wrong way. It only confirms prejudice and makes matters worse.”
So what proposals can he bring to a government-led task force? “Well, before I said yes to the appointment I wanted to know what they wanted. In the weeks after the 7 July bombing it was clear that security policy was a priority – which is part of the responsibility of government, of course – but I also wanted a wider and longer view. The bombers, like Sidique Khan, were the children of two parents: the Islamic community and the UK government. I want to talk about the responsibility of these two agencies in making the bombers. For one thing, it’s clear that the Muslim community in Britain has to become more self-critical and ask hard questions about what it teaches its young people. But also the UK government must give young Muslims a stake in society, make them part of collective memory and heritage.”
Yet wasn’t one of the most shocking aspects of the video of Mohammad Sidique Khan shown on al-Jazeera that he sounded and looked like “one of us”? And didn’t British society in any case bend over backwards in pursuit of the plural society – much more so than, say, France? “This is a complex problem, but it is at the heart of what I am saying,” Ramadan replied. “The issue with the likes of Khan is that he has obviously been socially integrated – his accent and manners and so on – but he is psychologically not integrated; he is at war with himself, his identity as a Briton, a European and a Muslim. This is my project: to reconcile these multiple identities. We can start, we Muslims, by starting to ‘dis-Islamise’ social problems such as unemployment and education. Also Muslims are too obsessed with international issues – with Muslims always being beaten or humiliated. We need to return to domestic issues, questions of citizenship, and so on.”
This, to me, sounded neither like a “double discourse” nor any kind of radical Islamism. I wondered therefore whether his views had changed. Specifically, I wondered whether he still believed in the concept of “jahaliya“. This is an Arabic term meaning “barbarism” and is a description of life in the west developed by Sayyid Qutb, the founding father of contemporary Islamic fundamentalism. The term is commonly used to justify “jihadi” actions in the west. “No,” Ramadan said without hesitation, “the notion of jahaliya is outmoded and clearly does not apply in a multicultural society. Our task is to break down this kind of binary thinking, which leads to separation and the kind of alienation that leads ultimately to terrorism. Muslims must realise that they live in an environment that they can participate in and that they can change. But the government must see also that it cannot stop terror with a security policy. That someone must speak to the ‘literalists’ in the Muslim community, because they are there, and they are powerful and will become more so if society splits down binary routes.”
Downing Street has clearly taken a risk in appointing Ramadan, but he, too, is taking risks in calling for a new spirit of honesty and self-criticism in a notoriously conservative community.
One of the difficulties in speaking to him lies in judging how much he really means what he says. The black propaganda that precedes him is not helpful. When we first met, I was less than convinced about his intentions. It was a time, however, when he was fighting against his enemies in the French press, and he came across as brittle and angry. This time, I came away impressed with his honesty, passion and courage. Even so, in the present atmosphere of hate and malediction no one, least of all Ramadan himself, can be sure if the project of integrating Muslims into Europe will succeed. It is, in every sense, a question of good faith.
Andrew Hussey is senior lecturer in French studies at University of Wales, Aberystwyth and professeur des lettres at Abdelamaalik University, Morocco
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