Read Online American Jihad: The Terrorists Living Among Us by Steven Emerson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steven Emerson
Tags: Non-Fiction, Politics
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or Naples than a guerrilla warrior. Although as tall as his father, he had nothing of the late sheikh’s austerity. The family home was in a suburb of Peshawar, but Hudaifa occupied another house in Islamabad’s privileged E-6 sector, where many diplomats and high-ranking Pakistani officials live. This is not to say he lived in grand style. In 1994 the house was divided into two apartments with Hudaifa, his wife, and their newborn son in the rear, living in utter simplicity. The kitchen was a mess, and it was hard to find a clean glass. “We had many guests last night,” Hudaifa offered in man-of-the-world style. His wife was nowhere to be seen. The Azzams strictly observed purdah, and as males we would never be permitted to see her.
At the time, Hudaifa was a student at Islamabad’s International Islamic University, which is housed in the grand National Mosque, a huge tent-like structure with four minarets at the foot of the Margalla Hills, which serve as a backdrop to Pakistan’s new capital. Created in the 1960s, Islamabad is still expanding rapidly. The mosque is a tourist attraction, and on holidays large numbers of people assemble there for prayer. On postcards, the building seems grandiose, but in person this impression evaporates quickly. Both the mosque and the university are the accomplishments of General Mohammad Zia ul-Haq, the religious conservative who ruled with an iron fist from 1977 to 1988. The university was the personal brainchild of this man whom the not-so-pious Pakistanis derisively nicknamed their “priest president.”
Incorporated into the new university was the Islamic Research Institute, created in 1962 to reform Islamic law and modernize the religion. It quickly became a target of fundamentalist wrath. The “priest president” placed it under the new university’s jurisdiction and all thoughts of reforming Islam quietly disappeared. None of this appeared to be known to Hudaifa, who walked past the Institute’s front door every day but did not know its history. In fact, most of his classes were taught by Arabs who disguised their sense of inferiority in this environment by staying aloof from Pakistani scholars. Hudaifa, although possessing a fine mind open to fresh impulses, treated the Pakistanis in almost a colonial manner. In the course of our first week, the only materials we saw Hudaifa read were our passports, which he apparently wanted to memorize.
Our visit to the Institute was an emotional reunion for Khalid, who had taught here from 1967 to 1974. Before long almost a dozen of his former colleagues had gathered to welcome him. To our amazement, Hudaifa did not know a single one—nor was he very curious. To him they were all just Pakistanis, with nothing to differentiate a shopkeeper or night watchman from an internationally known scholar. Later he admitted his reservations. He said that most Pakistanis were hypocrites and opportunists. “Nothing remains a secret in this country,” he told us. “Everyone takes bribes, without exception.” These national and ethnic differences constantly disturbed the utopian concepts of Islamic brotherhood. “The oneness of the umma quickly founders once Muslims from one culture are set in another,” is how Khalid explained it to me. “The more Islamist they are, the more problems this creates, since the slightest deviation from their own norm is considered a deviation from the pure faith.”
The problem that has always faced the jihad is—to use military terminology—an extreme form of “mission creep.” The fundamentalists would like the entire world to accept their version of Islam, so no matter where they start, they are always tempted to expand their targets. Hudaifa’s contempt for moderate Pakistanis, and his understanding that Muslims from different cultures were at odds, reflected this. Sizing him up, I tried to determine where the bulk of his energies would lie.
Having heard the stories about Arabs indulging in a kind
At the time, Hudaifa was a student at Islamabad’s International Islamic University, which is housed in the grand National Mosque, a huge tent-like structure with four minarets at the foot of the Margalla Hills, which serve as a backdrop to Pakistan’s new capital. Created in the 1960s, Islamabad is still expanding rapidly. The mosque is a tourist attraction, and on holidays large numbers of people assemble there for prayer. On postcards, the building seems grandiose, but in person this impression evaporates quickly. Both the mosque and the university are the accomplishments of General Mohammad Zia ul-Haq, the religious conservative who ruled with an iron fist from 1977 to 1988. The university was the personal brainchild of this man whom the not-so-pious Pakistanis derisively nicknamed their “priest president.”
Incorporated into the new university was the Islamic Research Institute, created in 1962 to reform Islamic law and modernize the religion. It quickly became a target of fundamentalist wrath. The “priest president” placed it under the new university’s jurisdiction and all thoughts of reforming Islam quietly disappeared. None of this appeared to be known to Hudaifa, who walked past the Institute’s front door every day but did not know its history. In fact, most of his classes were taught by Arabs who disguised their sense of inferiority in this environment by staying aloof from Pakistani scholars. Hudaifa, although possessing a fine mind open to fresh impulses, treated the Pakistanis in almost a colonial manner. In the course of our first week, the only materials we saw Hudaifa read were our passports, which he apparently wanted to memorize.
Our visit to the Institute was an emotional reunion for Khalid, who had taught here from 1967 to 1974. Before long almost a dozen of his former colleagues had gathered to welcome him. To our amazement, Hudaifa did not know a single one—nor was he very curious. To him they were all just Pakistanis, with nothing to differentiate a shopkeeper or night watchman from an internationally known scholar. Later he admitted his reservations. He said that most Pakistanis were hypocrites and opportunists. “Nothing remains a secret in this country,” he told us. “Everyone takes bribes, without exception.” These national and ethnic differences constantly disturbed the utopian concepts of Islamic brotherhood. “The oneness of the umma quickly founders once Muslims from one culture are set in another,” is how Khalid explained it to me. “The more Islamist they are, the more problems this creates, since the slightest deviation from their own norm is considered a deviation from the pure faith.”
The problem that has always faced the jihad is—to use military terminology—an extreme form of “mission creep.” The fundamentalists would like the entire world to accept their version of Islam, so no matter where they start, they are always tempted to expand their targets. Hudaifa’s contempt for moderate Pakistanis, and his understanding that Muslims from different cultures were at odds, reflected this. Sizing him up, I tried to determine where the bulk of his energies would lie.
Having heard the stories about Arabs indulging in a kind
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