Radical Read Free

reconciliation, perhaps my heart had once again followed the same pattern in my personal life. In her sentient, serene, and even musical gentleness, Rachel embodied the antithesis of the violence that had once forged me. Her comfort in the abstract, among the arts, her subtlety and tenderness being the very traits I needed to rely on to soften my combative instincts, to anchor my weathered soul. Perhaps I was only really able to love what I believed in, and would be destined to seek out the person who came to personify those beliefs.
    But it was deeper than that; accepting myself and embracing a hybrid array of identities meant that I was now truly free to love someone who relished this complexity. And here it is that one can discover the real hope in my writing Radical ; for we can all try to understand “the other” in times of conflict, and though sometimes we will succeed, other times we are destined to fail. But it is not so much in understanding this “other” that brings lasting reconciliation; rather, it is in understanding ourselves. It took me years in prison to finally realize that my hatred was against myself, and that my Islamist rebellion was informed by, and constructed from, the most Western of political ideas and methods. In short I was being American; I just hadn’t realized it yet.

    Maajid Nawaz
    London
    April 2013

F OREWORD

    This is a book about change and transformation. Maajid Nawaz’s extraordinary account of his life—from young childhood in Southend through teen years embroiled in street violence and induction into Islamism—makes it relatively easy to understand how political and ideological radicalism occurs. His description of the violent prejudice he experienced in his youth is a salutary lesson in what can happen when institutional racism is allowed to flourish. He makes it very clear how and why he became desensitized to violence and shows how racist aggression created a fertile recruiting ground for Islamist extremism. He writes powerfully about his gradual detachment and inability to feel empathy for others; such was his experience of immersion in radical ideology. But what is most fascinating to me is the evidence that radical extremists can change; it is possible. Maajid describes his awe at the compassion of ordinary human beings who, after his arrest, unfair trial, ill treatment, and imprisonment in Egypt, put aside their own dislike of his politics, stood up for the universality of human rights, and campaigned for his release. Chief among them was Amnesty member John Cornwall. Not only did he prompt Amnesty International to adopt Maajid as a Prisoner of Conscience, but he also wrote letter after letter of friendship to Maajid himself.
    I am moved beyond measure to read of the transformative effects of these letters on Maajid. It reminds me again of why I am proud to work for Amnesty International UK, whose members’ actions were so instrumental in enabling Maajid to reconnect with life and humanity. In essence, human rights, compassion, and kindness helped to save his humanity. This book is the account of his redemptive journey—through innocence, bigotry, hard-line radicalism, and beyond—to a passionate advocacy of human rights and all that this can mean.

    Kate Allen, Director, Amnesty International UK

P ROLOGUE

    SOUTHEND, 1992
    Slamer : that’s my tag when I’m out bombing, plastering the streets with graffiti. I write it without a second “m”—“Slamer”—because it’s quicker that way, and speed counts if you don’t want to get caught by the cops. I’m a hip-hop B-boy, into Public Enemy and N.W.A tracks like “Rebel Without a Pause,” “Fear of a Black Planet,” “Fuck tha Police”—their lyrics are deep. I’m in a “click” suit, baggy corduroys with pin tucks at the bottom, rocking Adidas trainers. My hair’s a grade zero up to the top—when