When news emerged of the life-story of the Nigerian who tried to blow up a flight from Amsterdam to Detroit on Christmas Day, there were cries of bewilderment in some quarters, groans of dismay in others, and shouts of “I told you so” from a small army of cassandras. Whatever motivated Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab to become a terrorist, it wasn’t material deprivation; he came from a rich family. The biographical detail that fascinated many terrorism-watchers was his record as president of the Islamic Society at University College London, where he had studied engineering.
Some found his choice of subject significant. A forthcoming book by Steffen Hertog, a sociologist, will argue that terrorists include a high number of engineers — not because of their need for bomb-making skills, but perhaps because of a mindset that likes rigidity and binary choices.
Long before his bungled effort hit the headlines, the role of Islamic Societies (ISOCs in student jargon) in British colleges — and of similar associations on other Western campuses — was sparking arguments. In 2008 a report and opinion poll from the Centre for Social Cohesion (CSC), a right-of-centre think-tank, had argued that Muslim student associations in Britain need much more careful watching. They seemed to be acting as incubators for fundamentalist ideas that favoured self-segregation by Muslims, and dreamt of Islamic governance and law. And as the report noted, several young Britons involved in terrorism had a record of ISOC activism; for example, Yassin Nassari, convicted in 2007 of bringing missile plans into Britain, had led one branch of the ISOC at the University of Westminster.
The CSC report triggered an angry response from Britain’s Federation of Student Islamic Societies (FOSIS) and 52 of its member bodies, calling the study “ideologically biased” and “motivated by…malice”. The current FOSIS president, Faisal Hanjra, responded to the news of Abdulmutallab’s failed attack by insisting that there was “no credible evidence” to suggest that British universities were “arenas of radicalism”.
Among Western countries, Britain stands out as a place where Muslim students (who number about 100,000 or around 5 percent of the total student population) are visible and self-confident. But all over the world, the increased profile of Islam on campus has created tension, curiosity and unlikely partnerships.
Sohaib Nazeer Sultan, the newly appointed Muslim chaplain at Princeton University, says that neither there, nor at the two other American campuses where he has worked, did any student under his care show signs of real extremism. But theological differences certainly exist, and have to be managed. Some students hew to the mystical, Sufi reading of Islam whereas others prefer the one-size-fits-all version of the faith that emphasises the unity of all Muslims and is highly suspicious of cultural difference between say, South Asians and Egyptians.
Across the Western world, many Muslim students feel defensive. A request for information from Al-Furqan, an association of Muslim students at the University of Amsterdam, whose aims include the improvement of Islam’s image, elicited the following reply: “Thank you for your interest in our student association. However we would like to inform you that we have no interest in answering your inquiry.”
(Excerpted and adapted from Times Higher Education)