Why
I'm Banned In The USA
By Tariq Ramadan
03 October, 2006
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me that my visa had been revoked.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."
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