from Real Clear Politics
originally published in  WSJ  
 
 
SATURDAY ESSAY  Updated May 18, 2013, 11:29 a.m. ET 
Swearing In the Enemy 
One of the suspected Boston bombers was a  naturalized citizen, and the 
other was on his way. Ayaan Hirsi Ali, herself a  new citizen, asks how we 
might change the process of becoming an American to  exclude those who hate 
America.

 
On April 25, 2013, I took the oath to become a citizen of the United 
States.  Perhaps only those who have taken this oath can fully understand how I 
felt that  afternoon in Boston. I felt a strong sense of belonging, and tears 
welled up in  my eyes more than a few times during the hourlong ceremony. 
 
I have no reason to doubt that the 1,834 other men and women who took the  
oath with me also felt that special sense of homecoming. On that sunny  
afternoon, it seemed unreal that just 10 days earlier, another new citizen of  
this country had taken up arms against it—against us—in the very same city.  
As the whole world now knows, that new U.S. citizen was Dzhokhar Tsarnaev,  
only 19 years old. He had taken the oath just seven months earlier—on Sept. 
11,  in fact, a grim irony whose lessons we are still struggling to learn. 
His  alleged partner in crime and mentor was his elder brother, Tamerlan 
Tsarnaev,  who himself had applied for citizenship and was well into the 
process, awaiting  approval and the invitation to take the same precious oath. 
That approval and invitation would surely have come, because Americans—we  
Americans—are a generous people. And yet, strangely, today's debate about  
immigration reform has little to do with keeping out people like Tamerlan and 
 Dzhokhar Tsarnaev.
 
The Tsarnaev brothers are emblematic of the divided loyalties of our  times—
and they are not the only ones. Faisal Shahzad, a Pakistani national, is a  
naturalized U.S. citizen who lived the American dream: He arrived on a 
student  visa, married an American citizen, graduated from college, worked his 
way up the  corporate ladder to become a junior financial analyst for a 
cosmetics company in  Connecticut, became a naturalized citizen at the age of 
30 
and then, a year  later, in 2010, tried to blow up as many of his fellow 
citizens as possible in a  failed car bombing in New York's Times Square.  
Prior to sentencing, the judge asked Mr. Shahzad about the oath of 
allegiance  he had taken, in which he did "absolutely and entirely renounce and 
abjure all  allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state or 
sovereignty,  of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen." 
The defendant  replied: "I sweared [sic], but I didn't mean it." He then 
expressed his regret  about the failure of his plot and added that he would 
gladly have sacrificed a  thousand lives in the service of Allah. He concluded 
by predicting the downfall  of his new homeland.  
Every naturalized citizen has a unique story to tell. My own journey to  
America was not only geographical but also intellectual, emotional and 
cultural.  I grew up in Muslim communities in Somalia, Saudi Arabia, Ethiopia 
and 
Kenya. In  my early years, these communities (with the exception of Saudi 
Arabia) were  moderate in their religious beliefs and practices. 
 
But during my teenage years, I saw a change. Friends and family members 
began  turning to Islamic scripture, interpreted literally, for answers to all 
their  problems. I saw religious leaders who emphasized ritual observance 
replaced by a  new breed of imams who urged hostile action, even violence, 
against Jews,  "infidels," and Muslims who neglected their religious duties or 
violated  Shariah, the Islamic law. 
I wasn't immune to the appeal of this new fundamentalism. I myself joined 
the  Muslim Brotherhood, a religious and social movement in which we were 
urged to  implement Shariah in our families, communities and nations. For a 
young woman,  this might mean strict obedience to her husband and quiet 
propagation of the  message; for a young man, it might mean seeking martyrdom 
through a violent  attack against the infidels. One person might contribute 
money, another his  home, yet another his political and social connections. 
What 
mattered was being  united around the ideal of a world ruled by Shariah.
 
Over time, I began to question that ideal. My journey included a decade in  
the Netherlands, where I lived a life of profound dissonance, mentally 
vowing to  remain steadfast in my faith while my lifestyle drifted further and 
further from  the narrow Islamic path. I knew that the freedom I experienced 
in the  Netherlands was supposed to be abhorrent and evil, yet I found 
myself  overwhelmed with gratitude for it and for the generosity with which the 
Dutch  people welcomed me and so many other émigrés. I discovered that I was 
more  comfortable with the idea of treating women, gay people, and people of 
different  races and faiths equally than I had ever been with the 
strictures of  Shariah. 
It was this journey from a world dominated by strict adherence to religious 
 law into a world of freedom both for and from religion that led me to that 
 ceremony in Boston, where I finally became a citizen of the country that, 
above  all others, represents freedom to the world. I have devoted the past 
decade of  my life to working as hard as I can to expose the threat posed by 
what I label,  as carefully as possible, "political Islam."  
It's a subject about which I know a great deal. Political Islam killed my  
Dutch friend Theo van Gogh, who dared to collaborate with me in making the 
film  "Submission," which criticizes the mistreatment of women in the name of 
Islam.  Adherents of political Islam regularly threaten me, an apostate 
from their  faith. Political Islam eventually made my life in the Netherlands 
impossible. If  it were not for political Islam, I would almost certainly 
still be Dutch. 
 
What is political Islam? It is not precisely the same as the spiritual  
dimension of the faith. Islam is multidimensional. It has a religious and 
social  aspect but also a very strong political dimension. Political Islam is a 
 
comprehensive vision of ideas and ideals derived from Islamic scripture as  
interpreted by various scholars widely accepted as authorities on its 
meaning.  Virtually all of these scholars agree that Muslim societies must 
accept 
Allah as  the sovereign power and struggle to abide strictly by Shariah law 
as exemplified  in the Sunna (the life, words and deeds of the Prophet). 
Political Islam  prescribes a set of specific social, economic and legal 
practices in a way that  is very different from the more general social 
teachings 
(such as calls to  practice charity or strive for justice) found in the 
spiritual dimension of  Islam, Christianity, Judaism and other world religions. 
All of this, obviously, flies in the face of the American—and more broadly  
Western—ideals of religious freedom and the separation of church and state. 
But  most Americans ignore the fundamental conflict between political Islam 
and their  own worldview. Perhaps this is because they generally assume 
that "religion,"  however defined, is a positive force for good and that any 
set of religious  beliefs, however unusual, should be considered acceptable in 
a tolerant society.  I agree with that. 
The problem arises when those who adhere to a particular faith use it as  
divine license to break the law. It is a wonderful truth about America—one of 
 its powerful attractions for millions of immigrants like me—that you may 
think  and say whatever you wish as long as you do not act on your beliefs in 
a way  that harms others. Unfortunately, a minority of the adherents to 
political Islam  wish to take violent action in support of their beliefs—
threatening the lives of  innocents like those killed and maimed as they stood 
watching the Boston  Marathon. 
It is reasonable to ask yourself: How many more young men like Tamerlan and 
 Dzhokhar Tsarnaev are already living a double life in America, ready to 
take up  arms for the cause of political Islam? And how many more will be 
naturalized  this year? None? That seems pretty unlikely.  
In a 2011 Pew survey, 1% of American Muslims said that suicide bombings 
were  "often justified"—a tiny proportion, to be sure. The overwhelming 
majority of  American Muslims want to lead peaceful lives. But 7% of those 
surveyed 
said that  suicide bombers were "sometimes justified," and 5% said they 
were "rarely  justified." Taking Pew's conservative estimate that Muslims now 
constitute 0.6%  of the adult population of the U.S., this means that more 
than 180,000 American  Muslims regard suicide bombings as being justified in 
some way.  
Still more worrisome, a 2007 survey by Pew revealed that Muslim Americans  
under the age of 30 are twice as likely as older Muslims to believe that 
suicide  bombings in defense of Islam can be justified. The same survey 
revealed that 7%  of American Muslims between the ages of 18 and 29 had a 
"favorable" view of al  Qaeda. 
To repeat: The proportion may be small, but the number of Americans 
committed  to political Islam and willing to contemplate violence to advance it 
is 
surely  not trivial. And rising immigration from the Muslim world is likely 
to increase  the proportion of Americans sympathetic to political Islam.  
A 2013 Pew report revealed the extraordinarily large proportion of Muslims  
around the world who favor making Shariah the official law of their own  
countries: 91% of Iraqi Muslims and 84% of Pakistanis, for example. Comparably 
 high proportions favor the death penalty for apostates like me. Are 
immigrants  to the U.S. drawn exclusively from the tiny minority who think 
otherwise? I  doubt it. 
When trying to explain the violence of some political Islamists, some 
Western  commentators blame hard economic circumstances, dysfunctional family  
circumstances, confused identity, the generic alienation of young males and so 
 on. In other quarters, the mistakes of American foreign policy are 
advanced as  an explanation. Even if one accepts these arguments—and these 
factors 
may indeed  play a role in exacerbating the sense of violent alienation 
among many young  Muslims—it remains hard to understand why a convinced 
political Islamist would  sincerely want to become an American citizen. 
The naturalized citizen swears to "support and defend the Constitution and  
laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and  
domestic…bear true faith and allegiance to the same…[and] bear arms on behalf 
of  the United States when required by the law." Naturalized citizens tie 
their own  destiny to the destiny of this society, not their former one, for 
better or  worse. So the potential bomber takes an oath to defend the 
Constitution and the  U.S. against all enemies, while committed in his heart to 
a 
radically different  political order. 
The challenge that this would-be bomber poses for us is not to change our  
foreign policy or improve economic conditions in the Muslim world. We 
already do  that. The challenge is to uncover the deceit of such phony 
citizens. 
One measure employed during the Cold War was to question prospective 
citizens  about whether they had ever been members of the Communist Party, a 
recognition  that communism was an ideology fundamentally hostile to the 
American 
way of  life. That question about the Communist Party is still asked today, 
even though  the threat posed by communism has receded to a few desperate 
holdouts. I was  surprised to encounter it not once but twice during my own 
application process.  And it got me thinking: Is it not time to update the 
application form,  substituting political Islam for Communism? 
Of course, the question alone would do nothing to uncover deceit on the 
part  of a determined terrorist. But it would establish the principle that 
adherence  to political Islam, with its dreams of a society ruled by Shariah 
(not to  mention a world ruled by a restored caliphate), is incompatible with 
the terms  of the oath of allegiance. 
During my application process, the Citizenship and Immigration Services  
requested that I show up at the John F. Kennedy Federal Building in downtown  
Boston only twice—once for fingerprints and pictures, a second time for an  
interview with a civil servant to review my application. It was a purely  
bureaucratic procedure, empty of any larger moral or political meaning—as it  
must have been for Dzhokhar Tsarnaev and Faisal Shahzad and as it would have 
 been for Tamerlan Tsarnaev, too.  
The question now is whether the interview process should remain so devoid 
of  meaning. Is that what we want for the next zealot of political Islam who 
wants  to enjoy the benefits of American citizenship until the day he tries 
to  slaughter as many of us as possible? 
A half-century ago, the U.S. turned away from the era when immigration was  
restricted with the deliberate intention of keeping down the number of 
Chinese  and other ethnic groups, who were deemed undesirable. I have no wish 
to 
go back  to those bad old days. There should be no discrimination on the 
grounds of  ethnicity or faith. But it is not enough to confine the current 
debate on  immigration reform to a narrow argument about the future of illegal 
immigrants.  I believe that we are entitled to filter out would-be citizens 
who are  ideologically and morally opposed to the U.S. and pose a threat to 
its  population. 
Every applicant should be interviewed by an ethnically and religiously  
diverse panel made up of experts on ideological extremism, who would then 
advise  the government on whether or not to allow the applicant to proceed 
along 
the  road to citizenship. Muslim applicants need not feel singled out; the 
panel  would look out for any individual whose political convictions, 
religious or  otherwise, radically clash with the government and principles to 
which the  applicant is preparing to swear allegiance.  
This would include any and all extremists who openly advocate or engage in  
political violence as a means for attaining their ideal society. Examples 
would  include members of terrorist organizations such as the FARC in 
Colombia, the PKK  in Turkey, Aum Shinrikyo in Japan and so on. The most 
important 
question is not  what they believe but what they do—or believe it would be 
legitimate to do.  Requiring candidates for citizenship to respond to 
questions from such a panel  might do more than all the other inconvenient, 
expensive, and undesirable  measures to combat terrorism that we currently put 
up 
with. 
A big job to organize and implement? Absolutely. But such screening is  
necessary to ensure that the U.S. continues to draw and naturalize people who  
are genuinely attracted by what makes the country great and who want to make 
 their own contribution to that greatness, while keeping out enemies bent 
on our  demise.  
"I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of 
 evasion: so help me God." Those closing words of the Oath of Allegiance 
are now  etched indelibly in my memory. But as I said them, I thought of the 
Tsarnaev  brothers, whose mental reservations about America grew to the point 
that they  were prepared to sow murder and mayhem. 
Immigration reform that does not make it harder for such people to settle 
in  the U.S. would be, to say the least, very incomplete. 
Ms. Hirsi Ali is a founder of the AHA Foundation and author of "Infidel"  
and "Nomad: My Journey from Islam to America." She is a fellow at the Belfer  
Center of Harvard's Kennedy School and a visiting fellow at the American  
Enterprise Institute.

-- 
-- 
Centroids: The Center of the Radical Centrist Community 
<[email protected]>
Google Group: http://groups.google.com/group/RadicalCentrism
Radical Centrism website and blog: http://RadicalCentrism.org

--- 
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups 
"Centroids: The Center of the Radical Centrist Community" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email 
to [email protected].
For more options, visit https://groups.google.com/groups/opt_out.


Reply via email to