Anas Coburn
December 20, 2008

 Muslims in America have a lot to contend with these days.  We share with other Americans concerns about the economy and how it is being handled (for example, see “Dude, Where’s my $700 Billion,” from Salon, or even more ominously,   “Fed Defies Transparency Aim in Refusal to Disclose [recipients of $2 Trillion !]”   from Bloomberg).  We grieve over the lives lost in Iraq and the epidemic of kidnapping adding to the downward spiral of violence in Afghanistan.  We raise our hands in supplication to the All-Merciful over the fate of Dr. Aafia Siddiqui and her family ( a court hearing in the US on Wednesday, Dec. 17, allowed psychiatrists from both sides addtional time to determine whether Dr. Siddiqui is competent to stand trial), of Syed Fahad Hashmi, of Dr. Sami al-Arian and the others suffering at the hands of our justice system. 

 Many of us felt increased hope with the result of the 2008 Presidential elections. But the magnitude of the challenges are truly daunting, extending all the way to the principle of the rule of law, when we see a sitting Vice President admit committing grave breaches of the Geneva Conventions, and violations of the Convention Against Torture, punishable in this country under the War Crimes Act and the Torture Act respectively, and a bipartisan Senate report links Bush to detainee homicides -- while the mainstream media yawns.

  As Daniel Larison of the American Conservative Magazine points out here, and Glenn Greenwald of Salon points out here,  and here:

What's most striking is not that we have zero intention of prosecuting the serious crimes committed by our leading establishment figures.  It's that we don't even recognize them as crimes -- or even serious transgressions -- at all.  To the contrary, we still demand that those who are culpable be treated as dignified, respectable, serious and inherently good leaders.  Real outrage is never generated by the crimes and outrages they have undertaken, but only when they are not given their proper respectful due as leading American elites.

 What is troubling for us as Muslims is that we know, as the Prophet said, may Allah bless him and give him peace: “As you are so will you have rulers put over you.” (Hadith of Baihaqi).  Our deen is a mighty matter.  We are responsible before Allah for what we do and neglect to do, what we say and do not say, and what we believe and do not believe.  There is a lot going on in the world.  With the internet, our capacity to find out about what is going on is unprecedented.  When we find out about something, we often find ourselves responsible for action.  On top of all this, we have our day-to-day responsibilities to our families, our neighbors, and our work.  How difficult it can be to stay consistent in our ‘ibada, to keep moving forward in gaining knowledge of our deen.

 During the elections, a Muslim wondered in a moderated mailing list, “Why are we [Muslims] so politically weak?” Hazem Kira, a political consultant, questioned the premise of the question, but also went on to talk about steps he thought would strengthen our community politically.  He said, in part, that Muslims must

“develop a balance between self-development and self-understanding with political know-how. This is very important, because no matter how politically successful we become, if we do not know ourselves we will continue to sabotage our own efforts and be prey to nefarious agenda setters (power, money, and false promises are the carrots they use to bait us).” (Italics added)

 To develop this balance between self-development and self-understanding on the one hand, and political expertise on the other is no trivial task.  Nor is the danger to which Kira alludes confined to the field of politics.  Eager, well-educated young Muslims are finding success engaging in business, politics, law, entertainment, journalism and other fields.  Their commitment to engaging the dominant culture is strong, and many see their work, at least in part, as a way of advancing the interests of Muslims in North America.

 It is a mistake to underestimate the influence of the dominant culture on those who engage it.  When Muslims spend significant portions of their time and energy interacting with those whose values and way of life are characterized by heedlessness of Allah, this interaction exacts a toll.  If one’s Muslim identity is strong, and knowledge of the deen deep, then the toll is minimized.  But for those of us whose knowledge is not deep, or whose identity has been shaped by a multiplicity of influences other than Islam, the toll exacted is more rapid and more severe.

 This is not an argument against engagement.  The point is rather to remind ourselves that achieving the balance Kira speaks of requires work, especially in a society whose capacity to distract one from the reason for which we were created is highly developed.  Our Muslim heritage is rich in ways to do this work. Each of us may find an affinity for some of these ways more than others.  Let us not mistake drowning in this world for “engagement.”