Why Europe’s Muslims do not chant in unison, as its politicians would like

In the realm of European Islam, nothing is going quite to plan. In the perfect scenario of the continent’s mainstream politicians, the law-abiding majority of Muslim citizens would be coming together now in a massive, thundering condemnation of terrorism. That in turn would create a renewed social consensus, paving the way for the defeat of terrorism in its latest, horrible forms, as it has been perpetrated in places like Nice, Brussels, Berlin, Manchester and London.

Reality turns out to be messier. Yesterday, in the German city of Cologne, there was a “not in our name” rally against terrorism, which was backed by some of the country’s leading Muslim organizations, and by politicians from across the political spectrum. It was hoped that at least 10,000 people from all over the country would take part, and that it would inspire similar actions in other cities. But the event proved to be a damp squib. At most 3,500 turned up.

The main snag was that one of Germany’s most influential Muslim bodies, having historical links with Turkish officialdom, shunned the gathering. The organisation, DITIB, thought it was a bad idea to risk sending the message that Muslims were mainly to blame for international terrorism. Many other European Muslims agree with their main argument: that putting the onus on the followers of Islam to stamp out terrorism serves to stigmatise them. They also asserted that it was unfair to ask people keeping the Ramadan fast to walk for hours in warm weather. DITIB’s role in Germany is controversial. Local authorities are investigating complaints that it snoops on the Muslim Turkish diaspora at the behest of Turkey’s rulers. In any case it represents a significant slice of the country’s Muslim community.

Theresa May threw out a sharp-tongued challenge to British Muslims in the aftermath of the murderous attack that began at London Bridge on June 3rd. The problem, the prime minister declared, is ideological and cultural, rather than simply a challenge for the police and security services. In her words,

On the face of it, Muslim Britons responded to the London Bridge mayhem in some impressively positive ways. For example, hundreds of British imams have said that they would not give a public funeral to anybody who traduced their religion by perpetrating terrorism.

But look closely at the prayer leaders’ declaration, as published by the Muslim Council of Britain, and you will see that they are far from following Mrs May’s hymn-sheet. The first batch of imams to sign the “no funeral” statement added some important qualifications:

Their message to Mrs May and her government might be paraphrased as something like: “If you want a broad conversation about ideology and culture, even an embarrassing one, let’s have one. But it won’t be the sort of conversation that you want or expect. You want to talk about imams with hardline ideas about gender, sexuality and self-segregation by Muslims, because you think all that is a gateway to terrorism. Well, we want to talk about Muslim grievances, including those over British foreign policy.”

In France, meanwhile, some lines of communication that used, for better or worse, to connect mainstream politics with Muslim community groups seem to have failed. One of the most widely organised Islamic bodies in France had hitherto been called the Union of Islamic Organisations of France (UOIF in its French acronym). It recently vowed to rename itself the “Muslims of France”. It is regarded as being ideologically close to the Muslim Brotherhood abroad, which it denies. During the 2012 presidential poll, it backed François Hollande, the successful Socialist candidate.

This year, Marine Le Pen, a far-right presidential candidate, repeatedly alleged that the UOIF and her centrist rival Emmanuel Macron were somehow linked in a disreputable pact. The charge completely failed to stick, or to prevent his victory, but it did force its targets onto the defensive. The Muslim organisation urged people to go to the polls but made no recommendation; and, in contrast with previous years, secular politicians stayed away from the organisation’s annual gathering at Le Bourget airfield in April.

Meanwhile in smaller European countries like the Netherlands and Belgium, the emergence of what might be called responsible Muslim politics has probably been held back by a sociological factor. A high proportion of their Muslim citizens come from the poorest parts of their respective countries, Morocco and Turkey, and relatively few have the wherewithal to become active players in prominent debates or political deliberations. That leaves the field open to the heavy-handed influence of their home countries, or to extremist groups.

There is a common problem. Although mainstream secular politicians would dearly wish it to be otherwise, the Islamic scene is large, diverse and contentious. It is riven by theological, ideological, ethnic and personal rivalries. That makes it unlikely that Muslim leaders will ever be induced to stand together in a line and chant in unison “Down with terrorism” in the precise terms that secular political leaders would like.

That does not mean the outlook is hopeless. The great majority of Muslims living in Europe do, indeed, condemn terrorism and they suffer bitter consequences, direct and indirect, whenever it is practised. But intervening in any contentious political landscape in order to achieve a much-desired goal will always be hard work, and it will require listening as well as lecturing. That applies as much to the politics of European Islam as to anything else.