Tag Archives: Politics

Book Review: ‘A Half Century of Occupation: Israel, Palestine, and the World’s Most Intractable Conflict’ by Gershon Shafir

Note: The following was initially written for a graduate class assignment as an analytical essay responding to and critiquing a book presentation. The presentation was by UC San Diego sociologist Gershon Shafir, who discussed his book ‘A Half Century of Occupation: Israel, Palestine, and the World’s Most Intractable Conflict.’

The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is widely regarded as the longest running modern conflict in the world, with such longevity that its presence has been taken for granted in the global arena and entire industries having been developed to simply manage it, carrying the implicit assumption that all solutions have been exhausted. In his latest book, A Half Century of Occupation: Israel, Palestine, and the World’s Most Intractable Conflict, UC San Diego sociologist Gershon Shafir attempts to revive the conversation with a fresh and unconventional approach, going beyond both theoretical discussions rife with idealized notions of radical political solutions (whether from the Left or the Right) as well as traditional analyses which are often dated and lacking in original material.  The crux of his discussion is to argue for the viability of the two-state solution based on a feasibility study of the social sciences, while accounting for these aforementioned approaches and maintaining a humane tenor toward both actors in the conflict that the approaches tend to lack.

Shafir elucidated his argument in a lecture at the Kevorkian Center for Near Eastern Studies at New York University where he presented his book. In the following essay, I will first outline the argument of his presentation and then include an analysis of it. Having read parts of the book as well, I will be sure to include additional details from it that were not mentioned in the presentation.

I argue that while Shafir must be credited for meticulously sketching the granular schema and calculated legal machinery of the occupation to an impressively precise degree, and for accurately portraying the durability of the occupation itself along with the formidability of undoing the ongoing settlement gridlock in the West Bank, he falls short of convincing the audience that the settlement project and the occupation are indeed reversible. Shafir spends a considerable amount of time arguing for the feasibility of two contiguous states, and unlike many two-state advocates who operate without accounting for facts on the ground, he openly acknowledges these as daunting challenges that must be taken into consideration in order for the solution to manifest into reality. However, I believe that where Shafir falls short is not in his accounting for feasibility but in his accounting for desirability.

Shafir divides his text into three main portions. The first portion aims to set the stage for the rest of the discussion by exploring definitions, particularly around the word “occupation.” What is it? How is it perpetuated? Here he must be credited for connecting the post-1967 occupation to the broader project of Zionist colonial settlement which began decades before the establishment of the state, an analysis often missed or outright denied by liberal advocates of the two-state solution. He thus minces no words in describing ongoing settlement-building as colonization.

He accounts for the lived experiences of Palestinians – another rare feat in discussions of realpolitik – who are made to endure the daily machinery of the occupation’s violence which occurs in a continuum, manifesting from technologies as mundane as a checkpoint interrogation to as rattling as a house raid. The violence perpetrated by Palestinians cannot be seen in a vacuum and in isolation to the continuum of state violence perpetrated against them by the machinery of Israeli occupation, he argues.

He then shares the perspective of the international community, citing the ‘Law of Belligerent Occupation,’ which states that a country cannot establish sovereignty over a territory that it occupies and is entrusted to care for the occupied population. He subsequently describes the paradoxical perspective of all Israeli government administrations, which do not recognize the West Bank as occupied (the term they use is “disputed”) except when making a case against the Supreme Court, which does.

The next part of the book asks why occupation has lasted this long, and Shafir does so by elaborating on the methodical, granular, and calculated techniques and mechanisms – along with the ideological rationale – that Israel employs to sustain it indefinitely. For example, Kfar Etzion, which was a Jewish settlement in the territories that was established before the existence of the state, was rebuilt after the 1967 conquest of the territories. Its prior existence served as the legal basis and provided the ideological rationale for its reconstruction.

Other techniques include the colonization patterns of economic monopolization he describes in his previous book on land and labor, and he does an excellent job at tracing the ideological shifts driving settlement expansion, marking the juncture where the efforts took on a more religious fervor. When discussing this second component of the book in his talk, he jokingly quoted an Israeli official who commented something to the effect of occupation being temporary, but permanently temporary.

His final question aims to explore how this occupation has transformed the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and in what ways it has made reversing the entrenchment of the conflict a formidable task. He tackles each one of the qualities of the occupation that make it appear irreversible, and then ultimately concludes, using maps and statistics, that a two-state solution is indeed a realistic possibility. He argues that a two-state solution would require only (emphasis mine) 27,000 settlers to be removed while the remaining (several hundred thousand) would remain where they are because they are located in territories that would be absorbed into Israel in any territorial exchange (which he calculated to be 4%). Of course, the argument takes for granted the fact that such a land exchange would even take place in any final status negotiation.

Another crucial point taken for granted is that moving 27,000 settlers into Israel and dismantling their homes would be a seamless process. He preemptively answers this critique by citing the Gaza evacuation of 2005 which saw 7,500 settlers moved and notes that eventually, despite initial resistance, the settler leadership assented to it. While this may certainly have been the case for Gaza, his projected number here is nearly four times as many, spread out over a wider geographical plane, and in the context of the most right-wing government in Israel’s history in power, so the viability of such an argument deserves to be challenged.

Where he argues that settlement expansion has been limited and slow because of the constraints placed on Israel through international pressure and by Palestinian resistance, I believe his work could benefit from analysis from another text, which should be read side-by-side with Shafir’s. Nathan Thrall’s ‘The Only Language They Understand: Forcing Compromise in Israel and Palestine’ like Shafir’s text examines the last five decades of the conflict but also attends to the question of desirability. Thrall comes to the sobering conclusion that political actors and analysts of this conflict must stop operating under the premise that Israel has a genuine goodwill desire for a solution. In fact, Thrall argues, from the perspective of the United States, the benefits of a contiguous Palestinian state are small in comparison to the cost of pressuring and isolating a significant ally. I would take it further and argue that for Israel, the costs of a negotiated solution (at least initially) far outweigh the costs of maintaining the status quo, and that the occupation lasts precisely because it can.

Thrall argues that the only occasions when Israel – and the Palestinians for that matter – have come to the negotiating table were when they were coerced to. The PLO’s maximalist demand for all of historic Palestine was tempered only after tremendous losses of land after 1967. The Israelis came to negotiate with the PLO only after experiencing the pressure from the First Intifada. Recognizing that both sides will have to compromise, Thrall nonetheless places more responsibility on the more powerful of the two, Israel. Shafir’s book was released around the same time as Thrall’s, so if he were to write a new edition, the quality of his conclusions would be strengthened by taking Thrall’s work into account.

Another text I believe would either complement – or complicate – Shafir’s discussion is ‘The Bridge and the Dowry: Israel, Jordan, and the Palestinians in the Aftermath of the June 1967 War’ by Avi Raz. Raz’s meticulously researched book examines the historical archives of every meeting and significant event that took place in the first 21 months after the Six Day War and concludes that there was a complete absence of desirability for a peace deal on part of the Israelis.

Raz’s primary argument is that in the early days and months of occupation, Israel had never intended to abandon its control over the land it acquired, and instead set up avenues for buying time to keep it. The de facto Israeli policy seemed to be that of stalling while settlement creation and the establishment of “strategic depth” in the West Bank continued unabated. Raz’s book is a powerful rebuke to Shafir’s argument. Why feasibility when there is no desirability?

Though the thrust of Raz’s book is Israel’s relationship to its Arab neighbors, the general impart of his book is relevant insofar as it relates to Israel’s overall approach to the West Bank. This brings me to another critique: Shafir comments very little, if at all, on the role of Arab states in peace negotiations. The internationalization of the conflict and the increased role of Arab states – particularly Egypt, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia – cannot be ignored in any feasibility study, especially when the “right of return” (theoretically) forms the backbone of transnational Palestinian identity and solidarity among diaspora refugees in Arab lands.

One consideration which all three authors have a consensus on is their acknowledgment of the “special relationship” between the United States and Israel, and it is significant: American complacency – if not outright enablement – of Israel’s intransigent and obstructive policies has forestalled any sort of resolution despite the U.S.’s occasional perfunctory condemnations of the occupation and settlements.

Shafir’s argument for feasibility, Thrall’s argument for pressure, and Raz’s historical backdrop combined would present a more multidimensional portrait of the factors and stakes involved in this conflict. Moreover, the latter two readings would provide some serious challenges to the former.

Insofar as Shafir attempts to accomplish what he intended, which in his words was a “modestly conceived feasibility study from the perspective of the social sciences,” I believe he succeeded. However, his work would significantly improve had he included some of the criticisms mentioned in this paper. Even if a two-state solution is theoretically feasible, it must also be realistically desirable.

And if not, then what next?

-Asad

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Book Review: ‘The Idea of the Muslim World’ by Cemil Aydin

The assumption that there exists a monolithic “Muslim world” is one that is often taken for granted by both those who seek to criticize this imagined world and those who seek to advance its imagined collective interests.

On the one hand, totalizing questions like “Is Islam compatible with democracy?” and “Can the Muslim world undergo reform?” pervade in the arenas of political discourse and punditry in western countries.

On the other hand, if one travels to Muslim-majority cities like Cairo, Istanbul, or Islamabad, it would not be out of the ordinary to hear questions like “Why is the Muslim ummah [collective body of believers] so divided today?” or “How can the Muslim ummah earn victory if it doesn’t unite?”

Underlying both of these discourses is the sustained myth of a timeless, singular, essentialized “Muslim world” that must necessarily have always existed and a concurrently existing “Western world” that must always have existed in perpetual conflict against it.

While the notion of this “Muslim world” has been thoroughly repudiated by scholars and academics in a variety of fields, it has primarily been done through a Saidian approach that critiques representation in film and literature. In his timely new book, boldly entitled, “The Idea of the Muslim World“, Cemil Aydin bolsters the repudiation through the angle of history. He locates the origin of the notion of the “Muslim world” in 19th century colonial politics and in the consequential and reciprocal pan-Islamic (or pan-Islamist, used interchangeably) discourses that came about as a result.

In the 19th century, the existing empires operated within a nebulous web of alliances and enmities as they competed for influence and power. Each one of these empires — be they British, French, Russian, and Dutch, or Safavid, Mughal, and Ottoman — ruled over vast numbers of minorities who, despite enduring unequal treatment at times, were not subject to inequalities on the basis of being seen as subordinates in a necessary civilizational religious divide. Simultaneously, these minorities were nonetheless seen as fundamentally inseparable from the empires under which they lived.

This is the central thrust of the book: That throughout history, competing cosmopolitan empires neither saw themselves as operating in a religiously-divided binary of “Muslim world” vs. “Western world” nor imagined “the other” as operating under this paradigm. The imperial rulers of various kingdoms and empires would conduct their domestic and foreign policies based not on assumed religious loyalties, but on political interests and expediencies. However, as time passed and colonial powers began to lose their influence, or as they reneged on their word toward their Muslim subjects and allies, these powers began to fear the potential of a shared “Muslim solidarity” that would emerge and undermine the otherwise-accepted legitimacy of their rule.

This led to the “racialization” of various Muslim populations who were aggregated under one static category where their unique particularities were interpreted as incidental. While this was happening, colonial politics caused Muslims to see themselves under this same racialized paradigm, which led to them mounting defenses of “Islam” and the “Muslim world” using the same civilizational discourses.

Aydin uses various examples throughout history to illustrate the initial absence of the “Muslim world” vs. “Western world” dichotomy. One such example is the issue of slavery. The gradual disappearance of slavery in Turkey and Egypt in the early twentieth century was not done out of consideration to grand ideas of religious or civilizational conflict, but out of political pragmatism and new ideas of morality. “Pragmatic and ethical state policies, new moral ideas about human equality as well as the capitalist labor market ended slavery in modernizing Muslim societies, all without any claims on behalf of the Islamic world and the Western world,” writes Aydin (page 47).

During the Siege of Vienna in 1683 fought between the Ottomans and Hapsburgs, Muslims fought on both sides, and the Ottomans fought on the side of Protestant Hungarians. When Napoleon invaded Egypt in 1798, it was he, not Muslims, who described Egyptians in terms defined exclusively by religion, even willing to convert to Islam to curry their favor. Though even then, Napoleon’s intent was rooted in political pragmatism and not in ideological fervor.

In 1798, when sultan Tipu of Mysore in southern India looked to the Ottomans to help him fight the British by appealing to a shared Muslim religious solidarity, the Ottomans refused. The notable Ottoman reforms known as “Tanzimat” were also not necessarily interpreted as “pro-Western” or “anti-Muslim” argues Aydin. Even in the late-1800s, when British and Ottoman interests began to diverge,  Muslim religious clerics in India required Muslim subjects to maintain political loyalty to Britain over the Ottomans.

When cracks began to emerge between the British and their Indian subjects in the lead-up to World War I, the British assured their subjects that in the case of war, Muslim holy sites under Ottoman control would be protected. In this case, Indian Muslims did not necessarily see a tension between recognizing the British as a political authority and the Ottomans as a spiritual one, and many indeed fought alongside the British against the Ottomans (who were allied with the Germans) in the war.

Aydin also presents instances when both western and non-western powers exploited the idea of a “Muslim world” if it suited their interests: “[W]hen American colonial officers in the Philippines faced armed Muslim resistance in 1898, they consulted Istanbul. In response, Sultan Abdulhamid sent a message to Philippine Muslim leaders instructing them to refrain from rebellion as long as American rule respected their religion,” he writes on page 95.

On the other hand, Istanbul also leveraged its status as a Muslim metropole to vie for the support of other Muslims whilst simultaneously balancing political alliances with the concert of western empires.

In both of the above instances, the idea of the “Muslim world” was exploited not because it was one that was necessarily believed in, but because it was politically convenient. Once again, pragmatism trumped ideology. Though this gradually changed as alliances shifted and signs of inconsistency began to emerge.

As Indian Muslim subjects under British rule received news that the British were supporting Christian Greeks seeking independence from the Ottomans, they began to question why they, as Muslims, were required to accept British rule. As Christian nationalist armies drove Muslims out of places like Bulgaria, Romania, and Greece, the Ottomans responded by brutalizing Christian minorities, particularly Greeks and Armenians, in their own empire. The ethnic cleansing and massacre of the Armenians by the Ottomans in 1915 was directly motivated by such politics, and consequentially ended the cosmopolitanism of the Ottoman empire as it had existed for centuries.

Another instance of inconsistency was when the British made promises to Arabs in Mandate Palestine that they would inherit the land as sovereigns after the Great War, but instead reneged on this promise by producing the Balfour Declaration which favored the Zionist project for a Jewish state. Once this happened, the mufti of Jerusalem sought the help of Muslim intellectuals and activists, convening a conference in Jerusalem in 1931 to deal with the crisis of Palestine,  which became the “symbol of enduring Muslim humiliation” (page 175).

Gradually, through the work of imperial powers, the writings of public intellectuals, and the discontent of the broader masses, civilizational discourses became more solidified.

Even as Muslim states gained their independence and modernized, such processes were done no longer on their own terms, but against the idea of Islamic backwardness, with Turkey ironically being the prime example: Ataturk’s logic was that he was abandoning the stagnancy of “the Muslim world” for the modernization of “the West.”

Once the idea of a “Muslim world” had become thoroughly cemented in public imagination, competing nations began to leverage it to their advantage for better or worse: Be it in World War II, Cold War alliances, the Sunni-Shi’a divide, or the post-9/11 War on Terror. These discourses continue up until this day.

Aydin argues that six themes have characterized pan-Islamic thought up to the current era:

1) The idea of an “Islamic civilization.”

2) A notion of Islam as a singular “world religion” defined in response to Christian and secular polemics, e.g., frequent usage of the expression “XYZ according to Islam.”

3) The interpretation of every aspect of Muslim history as a product of Western humiliation.

4) A new historical consciousness positing eternal conflict between “the Muslim world” and “the Christian west.”

5) A growing awareness of the extent of Muslim-majority territory and its populations.

6) Anticolonial internationalism.

As I read the book, a few questions came to mind:

  1. While there is no way that over 50 “Muslim countries” can be boxed into one, is there still a possibility for their peoples to use a shared Islamic vernacular to achieve liberation and dignity without reinforcing racialized and civilizational discourses? Here I think of the “Balkans to Bengal” complex as coined by Shahab Ahmed.
  2. Is it possible to appeal to Islam’s emancipatory, revolutionary, and egalitarian ethos as a driver of the action of various Muslims without subsuming all Muslims into one monolithic category?
  3. Is it worth exploring the potential for an inherent unifying power in Islam at all and can Muslims base their solidarity with other Muslims upon it?
  4. If my pursuit of justice is inspired by the Qur’an, would I be a pan-Islamist?
  5. Does the racialization of Muslim societies fully negate the existence of an Islamic international polity?
  6. Even if the idea of a Muslim world is a historically contingent construct, can it still be used as a sociologically useful conceptual tool in academic analysis? After all, Muslims do still organize around the belief in an “ummah” and the idea of one does animate their debates and engagement with one another.

Surely there a distinction between the pursuit of freedom and justice inspired by Islamic ethics and the pursuit of the modern political project of Islamism. In this regard, I believe Aydin could have done more to delineate between the two and more deeply engage with these questions in his concluding remarks.

At the same time, what Aydin has presented is more relevant now than ever. Our world today is experiencing profound tectonic shifts that threaten to shatter the current global order, and political polarization has exacerbated this process of disruption. Our situation today appears very similar to the conditions in the lead-up to World Wars I and II.

We must then ask ourselves if we — not as a “Muslim world” or as a “Western world” — but as a human civilization, are yet again willing to buy into the same grand narratives that led to the violent destruction of the previous order that devastated entire peoples that came before us.

Indeed, my first time being exposed to the terminology of the “Muslim world” wasn’t by Islamophobic writers or even by well-intentioned non-Muslims. It was by local leaders of my own community. A common grievance today is that the stagnation “of the ummah”, i.e., a collective body of Muslim believers, is because of our division, infighting, and abandonment of Muslim international solidarity.

I grew up learning that the occupation of Palestine and Kashmir, the wars on Afghanistan and Iraq, the dictatorships across the Arab world, and the rampant corruption, inequality, and stagnancy of Muslim countries as different from each other as Egypt and Indonesia was all a consequence of the “Muslim world’s” collective failures.

It is because of this upbringing that I found this book to be an enlightening and refreshing read. It was a powerful remedy for me because it provided me not merely with relief from spiritual guilt, but with deeper insight into the dynamics of our current international arena and how it came to be the way it is. Do I completely reject every aspect of what I was taught growing up about the Muslim ummah? Not necessarily, but I appreciate knowing that things are a bit more complicated than I have always imagined them to be.

To learn the nuanced mechanics of historical alliances and the particularities that characterized their composite parts allows us not only to counter dangerous myths and assumptions about a divergent range of populations, but it also empowers us to surmount more meaningful and focused ways to pursue justice for those populations. Aydin seeks not just to expand the reader’s understanding of history, but to persuade the reader to act.

This text does not only do an excellent job at undoing the racialization of Islam but also of “the West.” Those seeking to counter orientalist narratives about Muslims should be cautious as to not fall into what the late Syrian academic Sadiq Al-Azm described as “Orientalism in reverse” of the West, as Aydin aptly notes.

To point out that “the Muslim world,” and for that matter “the West,” are contingent constructs born out of certain political trajectories is not enough; one must take it further and understand why this point even has to be made. Indeed, to recognize contingency of contemporary politics and to work from there as a starting point is the most effective way to apply the antidote that will counter and defeat both Islamophobia and radical Islamism without harming Muslims or non-Muslims in the process.

Only then can the idea of the Muslim world finally be undone.

A Sermon/Khutbah for our Trumpian World

I was asked to give a sermon (khutba in Arabic) at Columbia University this week as part of their ‘Charity Week’ and am in the process of writing it, but as I was looking through older sermons, I found one which I gave earlier this year that I am particularly proud of and wanted to share here.


The following is a transcript of a Friday sermon that I delivered at the Islamic Center of New York University on January 13, 2017, one week before Donald Trump’s inauguration. I also delivered a slightly edited version of the same sermon at Columbia University on February 3, 2017, where it was followed by a demonstration. Portions of this sermon appear on my personal blog page as well. With the exception of one quoted Qur’anic verse in the sermon, the traditional Arabic prayers in the beginning and end have been edited out. Photos of the prayer at Columbia are attached at the bottom this document.

The sermon begins below with a translation of the standard opening prayer of Islamic Friday sermons, followed by the actual sermon.


All thanks and praise are due to God, and we seek His help and forgiveness. We seek refuge in God from the evil within ourselves and from the consequences of our actions. Whomever God guides will never be led astray, and whomever God leads astray will never find guidance. I bear witness there is no God but God, alone without any partners, and I bear witness that Muhammad is His servant and His Messenger.

—START—

Many people in the country and in the world right now are in deep pain and fear over what is to come to our nation. This pain and fear extends beyond ideology and party; it isn’t just about an election, but about the reality that every value we held close to us is under attack. The institutions that we trusted would protect us are faltering, and it feels as if our very system is collapsing. The evils of racism, misogyny, sexism, xenophobia, and Islamophobia have skyrocketed, and their purveyors have become more unapologetic.

Hate crimes have been spiking all over the country, and even if the outcome of an election were different, we all know we would have to live with the reality that the most malicious elements of society are now at the forefront of becoming mainstream.

And thus, against this backdrop is the subject matter of our sermon today. It is about how we are to resist what is to come, how we develop a renewed and sustained sense of urgency and resilience, and how we can maintain our hope in these troubling times.

This reality that we are facing is something that we’ve come to learn has already existed. It is bad, it is real, and the truth of the matter is that it has always been happening. The poor black woman has always been aware of it. The transgender woman has always been aware of it. The undocumented teenager has always been aware of it. It is simply now more visible to the rest of us.

Many of us have been protected from these realities by the color of our skin, or by our income, or our education, or our gender, or our sexual orientation. And the truth is, some of us will continue to be protected from it.

But given the sheer magnitude of what we are facing, we cannot afford to be anything but supportive of one another despite the very different identities and circumstances we have. It is the only way to overcome today’s climate.

We must ask ourselves now, will we meet today’s climate with fear? Because if we do, we will be beaten by it. But if we meet it with a certain type of strength and a set of values that allow us to reaffirm our relationship with our Lord and our purpose for being here, we will win. And to do that takes real love, real hope, real commitment to equity and justice.

Sometimes what it takes is a complete and absolute disaster of our lives in such an epic, unavoidable way that only afterwards can it suddenly become clear to us what we have been doing and where we have failed all along.

And our process of healing, growing, and coming together will require more than just words. It will require us our taking deliberate action to understand that what today is bringing us should not prevent us from building what it is we want for tomorrow.

And if there’s ever a moment where you are in despair or at less, remember that we have the example of our Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, to look to.

This was a man who was informed of the many trials and tribulations his community would face until the end of days; a man who told his companions that a day would come when holding on to the religion would be like holding on to burning hot coals; a man who narrated to us that a time would come when killing would increase to such an extent that the killer would not know why he was killing and the one being killed would not know why he was being killed; a man who told his companions that, “if you knew what I knew [about the world], you would weep much and laugh little.”

He witnessed his friends tortured to death for simply professing and espousing their faith. He was abused and attacked, humiliated by some of his own family members, persecuted to the point where he had to flee the city of his birth because the people would not accept him and his message.

And yet, at the same time, he was a man whom Anas bin Malik, a companion of his, described as someone who never once complained; someone who was present in the lives of each and every one of his companions so much to the degree that they each felt that they were his best friend; who was so beloved by God that the tree branches would sway in his direction and the clouds would shade him when he walked.

And even with all that he knew and all that he witnessed, he would bring glad tidings to his companions as to not terrify them, smiling so broadly that his molar teeth would show.

In our tradition we are taught that when he was asked to invoke God’s wrath on a people, he responded by saying that, “I was not sent as an invoker of curses, but as a mercy.”

So, we can allow our responses and our reaction to today’s sociopolitical climate make us reactionary, or we can take the example of the Prophet as a model for us to follow.

And yet at the same time, words cannot be minced. We must not be charitable with how we characterize the situation we find ourselves in today. What we have witnessed until now: the erosion of democratic norms and institutions, the denigration of women, the potential evisceration of healthcare, the dismantling of civil rights, the potential deportation of millions of undocumented Latino citizens, the indiscriminate profiling and the brazen demonization of Muslims, immigrants, and refugees; the atmosphere that has been created – or rather, revealed – as a consequence of all of this, may remain for decades to come, and we have to be brutally honest in accepting all the challenges that we must face.

But there is a thin line here; there is a thin line between accepting the reality and normalizing what we see today. Acceptance absolutely does not mean normalization. On the contrary, it means quite the opposite. Yes, we have witnessed an upsurge in abuse from the most dangerous, menacing, and fringe elements of our society, and it has been coupled with a tremendous display of hubris that has emboldened and empowered these elements to openly proclaim their virulently racist, supremacist ideologies. This cannot be overlooked and must be fought against, but anyone who tells us to accept the situation as it is today without also coupling it with the imperative call to action is undoubtedly committing an injustice.

A companion of the Prophet Muhammad named Abu Sa’id al Khudri said that, “I heard the Messenger of Allah say, “Whomsoever of you sees an evil, let him change it with his hand; and if he is not able to do so, then with his tongue, and if he is not able to do so, then with his heart, and that is the weakest level of faith.”

As one of my mentors, the Muslim Chaplain of NYU Imam Khalid Latif always says, we cannot allow any situation to put us in a place of passivity or complacency.

And thus, at every step will make it unequivocally clear that we will not allow bigotry to become normalized; make it clear that even when we are not surprised by what we see in the news, that we will remain outraged; make it clear that we will not flinch for a second when we are asked to stand up to the daunting forces of bigotry, hatred, racism, and oppression; make it clear that we will do what we must, using every mechanism and means at our disposal, to confront these various threats, and we will not be fooled by fleeting moments of a false normality, as if what we are witnessing today is at all normal.

We must now, at this critical moment in time, engage in a sobering reflection about where we are, and with a renewed impetus, recognize our responsibilities, not just as citizens, but as human beings, to push back against what is to come.

But this necessitates stepping out of our insulated friend circles and social media bubbles that only reinforce what we already believe and grant us the delusion of audience. President Obama said it very well earlier this week, “If you’re tired of arguing with strangers on the internet, try to talk with one in real life.”

I have to recognize that the world is much bigger than my personal needs and desires, and that I can take my strengths, my credentials, my talents, and my resources for the sake of a community, a country, and a world that is in dire need of me thinking about others before I think about myself.

I have to be bold enough and audacious enough to ask of the Divine to make me the answer to people’s prayers.

If I am part of an older generation, I should get in touch with young students and ask them how I can invest my wealth and your resources toward their development; if I am young, I should spend time with the elderly and gain from their wisdom because they’ve been through what I have and worse.

I need to ask myself: When was the last time I went to a church or a synagogue to build relationships with different faith communities? When did I last visit a soup kitchen? A funeral? A town hall meeting?

Look at the allies standing around you. Do not leave this space until you’ve met at least one of them and gotten to know their name.

If you work on the board of a mosque, ask whether your mosque has any women representing on its board? Ask the women of your mosque about the status of their prayer spaces, if even there is space at all. If your mosque is racially diverse, ask whether the board is representative of that diversity.

Ask what you and your mosque have done to reach out to our black brothers and sisters in solidarity? If you were born Muslim, ask whether you have reached out to the converts you know, who often have to endure isolation from their own family in addition to the trauma of Islamophobia.

If you are sitting here right now, recognize that you are sitting in one of the most diverse institutions on the planet.

You have the opportunity right here and right now, using all the resources at your disposal, to be the change you wish to see. Do not allow this moment to be one that gives you a quick sense of urgency during a Friday sermon and then wears off after you’ve left this space.

My last message in this sermon, and it is the most difficult one of all. I do not ask you to look back to an imaginary utopian past, or to a time when things may have seemed to have been better. No, I ask you to look forward and to have hope.

You must look forward to organizing locally, among your family, your friends, and your community, to build power that will defend the weak, the poor, the vulnerable, the marginalized, and the targeted.

You must look forward to using your positions of privilege to amplify the voices of those who may not have access to the same platform as you. Offer your platform to such individuals and stand as an ally to them without putting any conditions on your allyship or expecting anything in return.

You must look forward to fighting back against all harmful legislation that ill-minded lawmakers attempt to pass, whether it be unlawful profiling and surveillance, the deportation of thousands of undocumented immigrants, or the evisceration of health insurance for millions of people.

You must look forward to supporting organizations and institutions that are working to make the world a better place. You must look forward to reading, writing, educating, and sharing whatever knowledge you have that will contribute to making the world a better place.

You must look forward to punctuating your mark in history by fighting and resisting against all forms of oppression with every fiber of your being.

Today, at this very place, in this very moment, at this very juncture in time, look forward to counting yourself as part of The Resistance.

And as far as hope is concerned, there is the verse from the Qur’an where God says:

“Wa idh Qala Rabbuka lil Mala’ikati Innee Ja’ilun fi al-Ardhi Khalifah Qalu a-taj’alu fi ha man yufsidu fi ha wa yasfiku dimaa a wa nahnu nu-sabihu bi-hamdika wa nuqaddi sulak Qala innee a’lamu ma la ta’lamun” [Transliteration of the Qur’an 2:30]

When God was creating humankind, he said to the angels that “Indeed I will make upon the earth a “Khalifah,”” or a successor, an authority, an inheritor, a caretaker, and the angels responded, “will you place upon it those who cause discord and shed blood, while we praise you and sanctify you?”

Look at our God’s response to the angels when they asked him this.

“Qala innee a’lamu ma la ta’lamun”

“Indeed. I know that which you do not know.”

Our God had hope in us, so we must have hope in ourselves. Have hope in God but also have hope in yourself and in others, because more often than not your hope will be confirmed. Have hope, because hope makes a better world possible.

God rebuked the angels for us, so make the intention to be the manifestation of that rebuke. Be evidence of His mercy, love, compassion, and justice in this world. How do you embody that mercy? How do you embody that sense of justice?

And how will you resist what is to come?

—END—

Photo of CU Friday prayer

The Friday prayer commences on the steps of Columbia University’s Low Memorial Library (February 3, 2017)

Photo 1 of CU Sermon

Muslims prostrating in their Friday prayers with non-Muslim allies standing by the side in solidarity (February 3, 2017)