When the present-day Washington Post runs a story like this, you can
be assured that its impact is too late.
Dan Scanlan
-------------------------
Why I'm Banned in the USA
By Tariq Ramadan
10/01/06 "Washington Post" -- - -For more than two years now, the
U.S. government has barred me from entering the United States to
pursue an academic career. The reasons have changed over time, and
have evolved from defamatory to absurd, but the effect has remained
the same: I've been kept out.
First, I was told that I could not enter the country because I had
endorsed terrorism and violated the USA Patriot Act. It took a
lawsuit for the government eventually to abandon this baseless
accusation. Later, I reapplied for a visa, twice, only to hear
nothing for more than a year. Finally, just 10 days ago, after a
federal judge forced the State Department to reconsider my
application, U.S. authorities offered a new rationale for turning me
away: Between 1998 and 2002, I had contributed small sums of money to
a French charity supporting humanitarian work in the Palestinian
territories.
I am increasingly convinced that the Bush administration has barred
me for a much simpler reason: It doesn't care for my political views.
In recent years, I have publicly criticized U.S. policy in the Middle
East, the war in Iraq, the use of torture, secret CIA prisons and
other government actions that undermine fundamental civil liberties.
And for many years, through my research and writing and speeches, I
have called upon Muslims to better understand the principles of their
own faith, and have sought to show that one can be Muslim and Western
at the same time.
My experience reveals how U.S. authorities seek to suppress
dissenting voices and -- by excluding people such as me from their
country -- manipulate political debate in America. Unfortunately, the
U.S. government's paranoia has evolved far beyond a fear of
particular individuals and taken on a much more insidious form: the
fear of ideas.
In January 2004, I was offered a job at the University of Notre Dame,
as a professor of Islamic studies and as Luce professor of religion,
conflict and peace-building. I accepted the tenured position
enthusiastically and looked forward to joining the academic community
in the United States. After the government granted me a work visa, I
rented a home in South Bend, Ind., enrolled my children in school
there and shipped all of my household belongings. Then, in July, the
government notified me that my visa had been revoked. It did not
offer a specific explanation, but pointed to a provision of the
Patriot Act that applies to people who have "endorsed or espoused"
terrorist activity.
The revocation shocked me. I had consistently opposed terrorism in
all of its forms, and still do. And, before 2004, I had visited the
United States frequently to lecture, attend conferences and meet with
other scholars. I had been an invited speaker at conferences or
lectures sponsored by Harvard University, Stanford, Princeton and the
William Jefferson Clinton Presidential Foundation. None of these
institutions seemed to consider me a threat to national security.
The U.S. government invited me to apply for a new visa and, with
Notre Dame's help, I did so in October 2004. But after three months
passed without a response, I felt I had little choice but to give up
my new position and resume my life in Europe. Even so, I never
abandoned the effort to clear my name. At the urging of American
academic and civic groups, I reapplied for a visa one last time in
September 2005, hoping that the government would retract its
accusation. Once again, I encountered only silence.
Finally, in January, the American Civil Liberties Union, the American
Academy of Religion, the American Association of University
Professors and PEN American Center filed a lawsuit on my behalf,
challenging the government's actions. In court, the government's
lawyers admitted that they could establish no connection between me
and any terrorist group; the government had merely taken a
"prudential" measure by revoking my visa. Even then, the government
maintained that the process of reconsidering my visa could take
years. The federal court -- which issued a ruling recognizing that I
have been a vocal critic of terrorism -- rejected the indefinite
delay. In June, it ordered the government to grant me a visa or
explain why it would not do so.
On Sept. 21, the long-awaited explanation arrived. The letter from
the U.S. Embassy informed me that my visa application had been
denied, and it put an end to the rumors that had circulated since my
original visa was revoked. After a lengthy investigation, the State
Department cited no evidence of suspicious relationships, no meetings
with terrorists, no encouraging or advocacy of terrorism. Instead,
the department cited my donation of $940 to two humanitarian
organizations (a French group and its Swiss chapter) serving the
Palestinian people. I should note that the investigation did not
reveal these contributions. As the department acknowledges, I had
brought this information to their attention myself, two years
earlier, when I had reapplied for a visa.
In its letter, the U.S. Embassy claims that I "reasonably should have
known" that the charities in question provided money to Hamas. But my
donations were made between December 1998 and July 2002, and the
United States did not blacklist the charities until 2003. How should
I reasonably have known of their activities before the U.S.
government itself knew? I donated to these organizations for the same
reason that countless Europeans -- and Americans, for that matter --
donate to Palestinian causes: not to help fund terrorism, but because
I wanted to provide humanitarian aid to people who desperately need
it. Yet after two years of investigation, this was the only
explanation offered for the denial of my visa. I still find it hard
to believe.
What words do I utter and what views do I hold that are dangerous to
American ears, so dangerous, in fact, that I should not be allowed to
express them on U.S. soil?
I have called upon Western societies to be more open toward Muslims
and to regard them as a source of richness, not just of violence or
conflict. I have called upon Muslims in the West to reconcile and
embrace both their Islamic and Western identities. I have called for
the creation of a "New We" based on common citizenship within which
Buddhists, Jews, Christians, Muslims and people with no religion can
build a pluralistic society. And yes, I believe we all have a right
to dissent, to criticize governments and protest undemocratic
decisions. It is certainly legitimate for European Muslims and
American Muslims to criticize their governments if they find them
unjust -- and I will continue to do so.
At the same time, I do not stop short of criticizing regimes from
Muslim countries. Indeed, the United States is not the only country
that rejects me; I am also barred from Tunisia, Saudi Arabia and even
my native Egypt. Last month, after a few sentences in a speech by
Pope Benedict XVI elicited protests and violence, I published an
article noting how some governments in the Muslim world manipulate
these imagined crises to suit their political agendas. "When the
people are deprived of their basic rights and of their freedom of
expression," I argued, "it costs nothing to allow them to vent their
anger over Danish cartoons or the words of the Pontiff." I was
immediately accused of appeasing the enemies of Islam, of being more
Western than Muslim.
Today, I live and work in London. From my posts at Oxford University
and the Lokahi Foundation, I try to promote cultural understanding
and to prevent radicalization within Muslim communities here. Along
with many British citizens, I have criticized the country's new
security laws and its support for the war in Iraq. Yet I have never
been asked to remain silent as a condition to live or work here. I
can express myself freely.
I fear that the United States has grown fearful of ideas. I have
learned firsthand that the Bush administration reacts to its critics
not by engaging them, but by stigmatizing and excluding them. Will
foreign scholars be permitted to enter the United States only if they
promise to mute their criticisms of U.S. policy? It saddens me to
think of the effect this will have on the free exchange of ideas, on
political debate within America, and on our ability to bridge
differences across cultures.
Tariq Ramadan, <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> a fellow at Oxford University,
is author of "Western Muslims and the Future of Islam."
© 2006 The Washington Post Company
