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March
29, 2002
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WIDE
ANGLE
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The
blurring focus on Kabul
The Festival of British Islam highlights the spectrum of views on
the war against terrorism
THE
transition was almost surreal from the burnt out Muslim shops and
houses in Gujarat I had left behind the previous night, to the “Festival
of British Islam” in London. The contrast was brought out even more
sharply in a detail loaded with irony: the festival was sponsored
by the London Fire Brigade.
I was
part of a group of journalists and TV personalities from various
(mostly Muslim) societies to see for ourselves how Britain was both
participating in the war against terror and coping with the predictable
internal fallout from this war.
The
dialogue revealed the differences among Muslim societies themselves
in their understanding of the post-September 11 scene. Arab journalists,
for instance, saw American bias towards Israel as the obstacle to
peace in the Middle East. This unresolved issue was, in their view,
the source of the current global upheaval, of which 9/11 was the
consequence.
Afghan
journalists, for their part, were preoccupied with uncertainties
in their country as the war against Al-Qaeda stretched longer than
expected. This absence of a conclusion to the post-September 11
Afghan narrative was likely to be a source of global instability.
This view was shared by the Pakistani journalist, Agha Masud Hussain,
from the Jang newspaper.
I may
be forgiven for feeling a little left out as nobody mentioned Kashmir
or even the Gujarat massacre. When I asked Alastair Campbell, media
adviser to Prime Minister Tony Blair, to list the five most important
foreign policy issues that preoccupy 10 Downing Street, he fell
into deep thought. Then he began to count: “Europe, the Atlantic
alliance, Middle East, Kyoto protocol and Africa.” He then shrugged.
“Well, India and Pakistan would have been high up there when there
was danger of a military conflict.”
That
he did not mention the war against terror was because it was a theme
of obvious high saliency for the entire British establishment, not
just the prime minister’s office. Moreover, policy decisions in
that regard, involving the prime minister, had already been taken.
Now the foreign, defence and home offices were in a scrum to refine
and implement policy.
There
are a series of questions on the war against terror, particularly
the conflict in Afghanistan, to which British officials do not seem
to have clear answers. They do not say it in so many words but the
sense one gets is that there may be a lack of coherence among different
members of the international community on how to proceed in Afghanistan.
For
instance, a Turkish contingent is due to take over from the British
Security Assistance Force at present keeping the peace in and around
Kabul. But it has been delayed because the costs of the Turkish
expedition, to be borne by the US, are yet to be sorted out.
Meanwhile,
a 1,700-strong British Special Operations contingent is already
in various stages of deployment in Afghanistan to flush out Al-Qaeda
cells and operatives. The role of these troops is completely different
from the peacekeeping unit, but bits of both may be retained to
train a new, unified Afghan Army.
Since
this comprehensive, American-led war against terrorism involves
Muslim societies, the fear of a backlash is not far fetched in a
society like Britain where between ‘‘two to three million Muslims’’
reside.
Indeed,
five of the 300 suspected terrorists held at the US naval base at
Guantanamo Bay happen to be British passport holders. Britain has
played a considerable role in ensuring these detainees receive the
treatment dictated by the Geneva conventions.
But
the Guantanamo Bay episode remains unique because none of the detainees
have been accorded prisoner of war status, opening up the path towards
a fresh look at the Geneva Convention, at some future date.
At
the popular level, there is a sense of boredom setting in at the
unexpectedly long, inconclusive engagement in Afghanistan. A generally
relaxed air (compared to the taut nerves in the September-October
period) is quite striking during the courteous passage through immigration.
Clearly
a great deal of work has been done to harmonise race relations since
then. Credit must go to community leaders as well as government
agencies.
London’s
central mosque at Regent’s Park has, attached to it, the Islamic
Cultural Centre where the Muslim Council of Britain, an apex body
of about 300 Muslim organisations, expresses its dissent against
British policies in the most civilised tones. There are one or two
British officials present.
At
the Ar Rum art gallery in East London, an art exhibition is on —
the Best of British Islam. In the adjacent room a film on Jalaluddin
Rumi and the dancing dervishes of Konya is followed by a lecture
by an Englishman. He recites Rumi’s verses. The audience in a small
circle sways.
Someone
places his hand on my shoulder. “I believe they have burnt down
Vali Dakhini’s grave in Ahmedabad?” “Yes,” I mutter, trying to disguise
my embarrassment. Vali predated Mir Taqi.
Mir
by decades and was the first great Urdu poet. His poems on Surat
and Gujarat remain unsurpassed. I do not wait even to ask the name
of the man who’s opened up the wound on which I had allowed a scab
to form over the past week since visiting Ahmedabad.
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