3

Immunological Socialization

Justification for abandonment and migration, whether interior or exterior, derives from the principle of “alliance and rejection” of what God accepts and condemns in the faithful. The Salafist view of this principle in particular determines the relations that are supposed to unite Muslims concerned with orthodoxy and infidels. On the political level, according to Salafist doctrine, the only possible connection between the believer and the governing authority in Islamic territory is obedience, the goal being the preservation of the umma from fitna, while the pious Muslim who finds himself in an environment that rejects Islam’s message can only opt out. This approach is accentuated by a geographic division of the world on behalf of a religious dichotomy between Islam and the kufr (the ungodly). Hence two systems offer themselves to believers: “the world of Islam” (dar al-Islam), which is contrasted with the part of the world that refuses to accept Islam’s revelation, “the infidel world” (dar al-kufr). Judging a Muslim’s buying into an environment resistant to the Islamic norm as incompatible with exercising an authentic religious faith, the Daʾwa Salafiyya differentiates itself from most other offers of Islam for whom living in France is sometimes even presented as a privilege relative to Muslim countries that do not guarantee freedom of religion. By way of illustration, for some theorists of the Muslim Brotherhood heritage¹ physical departure from the ungodly society is by no means required. It is actually construed as giving up an opportunity for promoting Islam in a framework of predicative activity to a continent insulated for centuries from the Prophet Muhammad’s apostolate. Counter to this logic of compatibility, the relationship that the Minhaj Salafi fosters between believer and French society resembles a medical treatment. The Muslim must search for a place where he can pursue a true practice because what comes from the ungodly society is intrinsically bad. In the manner of people endangered by exposure to an unhealthy environment, Salafis perceive their presence in France as inimical to their “believing body.” Refusing to submit to the ruination that is characteristic of the contemporary era, the ungodly French experience causing believers to hide their faith, the hijra takes on both a liberating and a prophylactic aspect. Conceived of as a rite of initiation through which the practicant gains a higher status in the orthodox field, the salutary migration represents the principal distinctive sociological feature of quietist Salafism in France. This ethic of hijra explains why, as long as a physical departure is not acted out, the practicant effects a partial rupture with his environment. No longer belonging to an ungodly society, because of the impossibility of appropriating its values as his own, he promotes a sociality of substitution.

Among the texts most studied by Salafists is the French translation of the synthesis by the ʿalim Sheikh Fawzan on the subject of “allegiance to and rejection of Islam.” In it, the cleric presents what it means to lead the Salafist life in terms of relations with others, what principles to accept and which to reject. The physical and moral rupture with France thus registers as the duty of renouncing that which is un-Islamic in order to renew a strictly religious view of the world:

Emigration (hijrah) means leaving the land of the ungodly for Muslim countries with the aim of flight in order to safeguard [the] religion.

The emigration defined above and for the cited goal will remain an obligation until the day the sun rises in the west and the Hour is nigh. Moreover, the Prophet . . . dissociates himself from any Muslim residing among polytheists. Consequently, Muslims are forbidden to live in countries of the ungodly, with exception of those who do not have the means for emigrating or whose residence presents a religious benefit such as the call to the religion of Allah and its diffusion.²

Internal Hijra: Between Psychological Withdrawal and the First Fruits of Departure

Rupture in Time and Space: The Logic of Religious Rationalization and Attendance at Mosques

Analyzing how many Salafis relate to time also sheds light on the process of a physical or symbolic exit from French society. They cultivate a relationship to France that leads to a rationalized view. As a result, socioreligious practices end up being redefined by virtue of a dynamic of optimization. Salafist socialization engenders a desire not to succumb to a passive vision. On the contrary, every day, week, and year that passes must witness a moral progression. Because the Salafi is the authentic keeper of the Islamic norm, the way he takes advantage of passing time registers as an intensive logic to the extent that it is the religious benefit of a dislodging, of an action, or of a withdrawal that conditions the way he behaves. Each unit of time must be put to use in a way that reinforces the puritan ethic. The practicant rationalizes each period available to him with the aim of maximizing hassanat.³ In specific terms, besides the spatial rupture, this translates into an intensive approach to religiosity since there should be no time elapsed outside the religious prism. The benefit that this could procure in terms of good actions becomes the Salafi’s objective; this is why, regardless of whether it means dropping certain practices or taking up new ones, time becomes the vector for a willingness to cut oneself off from the world of the infidel in order to concentrate on that which will bring something. With the practicant becoming the agent of his individual development, time must constantly contribute to gaining divine approval in the form of hassanat. An actor and no longer just a spectator, he does not perceive time as the moment dedicated solely to consumption or to earthly work but as a challenge and a resource for his puritan project.

The time spent in the masjid (mosque), the cardinal place for Salafist sociality inasmuch as it is supposed to be the most immunized and the least contaminated, illustrates this dynamic very well. It reflects the piety acquired by the practicant as well as his refusal to give in to certain social niceties. Where he presents himself as an obligant of the mosque, he sees his coreligionists subject to passions that drive them to leave places of worship. This is why Salafis evoke this place as the one symbolizing best their rupture from the rest of society. “Attending the mosque” thus becomes in their mouths a formula symbolizing their distance from the rest of society in an inversely proportional relationship. The refusal to go to venues like political meetings is argued for by the differential gain from frequenting places blessed by God. This explains how a mosque becomes an agitated place when a cleric known for his knowledge is on tour in France. The gain the faithful can draw from such a presence in places of worship is that much higher when they can welcome a renowned person from the Daʾwa Salafiyya. Time then stands still for the persons present at the dars (course or lesson), the theoretician as well as his audience moving about in a bubble, neither entrapped in the French sociocultural tissue nor in the present. Salafis speak of their participation in a course taught by an ʿalim as a privileged experience allowing them instantly to escape a society they are trying to emancipate themselves from. The hijra, defined here as an interior escape from an oppressive world, takes on not so much a physical as a mental dimension, the proximity to the ʿalim being interpreted as an exit factor from a tentacular society determined to corrupt the devotees.

The scene described here is the visit by a quietist ʿalim known for regular sojourns in France that are occasions for his making the rounds of numerous mosques with the aim of right and authentic preaching. He is Sheikh Fayçal Al-Koweīti, known especially within the tazkiyya (sanctification) principle for having studied under Sheikh Ibn ʿOtheimine. On this Friday the end of midmorning congregant prayer is unusual: Sheikh Rajib of the Sartrouville mosque concludes his speech by telling his audience that those “lucky ones present” that very evening will be able to attend a dars given by an individual wearing the “badge of honor” of having learned at the side of Sheikh Ibn ʿOtheimine. We were there to observe the reactions as well as what the practicants said on receiving this news. The agitation of the young Salafis was genuine. On hearing of Sheikh Fayçal’s visit, everyone broke out in smiles and praised the Master of the Universe for allowing them to benefit from the “lights” of an ʿalim who spent his religious apprenticeship close to a pinnacle of “unaltered Islam.”⁴ This is what we heard: Ma cha Allah (God’s will be done), Soubhan Allah (Glory to God), Allah Akbar (God is the Greatest). We observed lots of eye contact, hinting at a real emotional complicity among the practicants; hands went into pockets to pull out cell phones, followed by sending text messages or making calls once the pious contemporaries had filed out of the mosque. Some of the most hyped up of the Salafis discussed the need to immediately spread the word in diverse forums about the arrival of the Kuwaiti scholar. The smiles were frank, the giving of thanks to God sincere, and the exchanges concerning the good news brotherly.

Come the evening, the mosque was jammed; many new faces not present that morning were now seen, the text messages evidently having resonated among Salafist communities in other cities. Seated at the foot of the minbar from which Sheikh Rajib had delivered his sermon to the faithful of the Indes housing project a few hours earlier, Sheikh Fayçal, in a thick Kuwaiti accent, recalled once more the axial character of the tawhid. The substance of the preaching that evening is rigorously the same as that of convocations led by other clerics that we attended in other mosques. Bringing up the Prophet’s never ceasing to speak of “unicity,” of the necessity of hunting down all forms of associationism (shirk) until his dying day and even after the end of Koranic revelation, the ʿalim put his public on guard against associationism of whatever kind: many Muslims today, particularly the young, he said, grow up not knowing the true tawhid. Once more taking up the example of the Prophet continuing to preach unicity even at the point of death, he criticized those who made objects of worship out of the Messengers before him or venerated their tombs. He called for respecting the principle of divine unicity and the necessity of holding on to the Sunna to keep from erring and “falling into the bidʾa that corrupts the Sunna like vinegar spoils honey” (a reference to a celebrated hadith). Not for a second did the cleric deviate from the typical Salafist line of preaching. He broached no political subjects or social issues; the expectations uniquely concerned that which the light-skinned, corpulent cleric had to say on the manner of practicing certain rites and how a Sunni Muslim is to comport himself in daily life. The questions posed to the face of the “Salafism of teaching” showed no interest in current political issues or even a religious curiosity about an Islamic morality of politics.

As the time for the last prayer of the day approached, pieces of paper and pens moved through the crowd, signaling that the scholar’s dars would soon give way to a question-and-answer session, when one interrogatory after another would be presented to him as he knelt, finishing the last traditional invocations.

After the scholar had spoken at this conference of sacred science (religious knowledge) (majliss al-ʿilm), the questions were read out loud in French by a Salafi, who then translated them into Arabic for Sheikh Fayçal. The answer, in literary Arabic, was translated into French and Arabic dialects for the faithful. The course ended with a more direct exchange between the cleric and his audience, a large part of which included young people in full agreement with him. The call to order then proceeded in a more interactive manner. The practicants present in the mosque, so numerous that many had to stand at the entrance, silent, knit their brows at every question posed, reflecting their impatience at having to wait their turn. The questions mostly dealt with worship and how to perform the ritual. The slips of paper read to Sheikh Fayçal bore the following questions: “Is it possible for people at work to pray while seated?” “Who has the priority in getting the zakat?”⁵ “What to do when your daughter has chosen a husband? What to do?” “Is it possible to group the prayers at day’s end when working with non-Muslims who do not accept prayer at work?” “Is cooking with alcoholic vinegar permitted?” “Does a disabled woman have the right to an abortion?” “Is it permissible to pray behind an imam whose way of dressing does not conform to the Sunna?” “Noble Sheikh, can you explain the hadith in the end times?” The questions from the patriarchs essentially concerned daily life, and those from the young contemporary pious, primarily revealed an interest in dogma and knowledge of God.

Protection against an Islamophobic Society: Media Discourse about Islam

Analysis of the media discourse about Islam conducted by academics, journalists, intellectuals, and others, including in the context of the post–September 11 world, reveals another facet of Salafi immunological socialization. Perceived as a flagrant illustration of the structural hatred that Western society nourishes toward this religion, the arguments of persons authorized to talk about Islam is subjected to an ontological interpretation. The pronouncements by the majority of observers on the subject of the Islamic way demonstrate the need to flee a French and, more generally, a Western collective that is nothing less than a contemporary manifestation of the ongoing mythical conflict between the defenders of the Truth and its detractors since the earliest days of humanity. The historical progression that authorized a greater freedom of expression concerning Islam and Muslims in the wake of the September 11 attacks was experienced as Islamophobia,⁶ convincing the contemporary pious to cut off all relations with France.

An interesting example of this fear inspired by the discourse on Islam was provided to us by Mekki, in Montreuil-sur-Seine. He was born in 1982 to a family of Algerian immigrants with a traditional relationship to Islam. His speech is laced with the distrust of all that revolves around “the Muslim problem” in France today. Mekki works in the Pompidou Center as an official in the library, which leaves him lots of time “for reading and keeping [himself] current on what is being said about Islam.” His perspective is representative of the pious individual whose final departure for “the land of Islam” is on his horizon in the medium term and who cultivates a negative view of the intellectual production linked to this subject since the banalization of the debates on Islam in the media after September 11:

AUTHOR:And so, for you, what problems would you say confront you in France?

MEKKI:Bah, already, here we have a state that has a big problem with Muslims already.

AUTHOR:Oh, really? What exactly do you mean?

MEKKI:Bah, I mean the media campaigns, the attacks, all of it. Someone who practices his religion, someone who practices his religion, you get the impression that they think he’s somebody violent, who is going to lapse into violence. If they don’t want Muslims, let them say so! I have the impression that the state won’t accept al-Haqq [the Truth].

AUTHOR:The people and the state are the same thing, in your view?

MEKKI:Regardless, I think they view Muslims in the same way. . . . For example, I had a professor when I was at the Rene Cassin high school in the 16th. He was a professor in computer science. He came right out and told me that for him Islam was the problem, that there was a problem with it. He didn’t hold back in telling me what he thought. I told him I didn’t agree with him, but he just laughed about it.

AUTHOR:And when you talk about media campaigns, to be precise, what are you referring to? Are you thinking about particular people?

MEKKI:Let’s say I was well acquainted with the authors, the intellectuals, all those writing about Islam, geopolitics, all that. I was working for several months at the Centre Pompidou, I took advantage of it to read, to hit the books, and, frankly, what interested me most was what they said about Islam. I read, I saw. . . . Also, the debates, the debates I watched on TV quite a bit, even though, frankly, it was more and more catastrophic. I really want to . . . When I hear this stuff . . . Well, never mind.

AUTHOR:You no longer watch?

MEKKI:When I get a chance. Less, but when I can. But the others, the brothers, no, frankly, they are disgusted. People are turned off by what they hear. There are people, when they open their mouths, they can only say “Islam! Islam! Islam.” But the worst is they know absolutely nothing. I wonder what gets them invited.

AUTHOR:What do you reproach them for? Are you thinking of any particular persons?

MEKKI:I blame them for being know-nothings, for hating, for being way off the mark. And yes, I have quite a few people in mind....

AUTHOR:Are there any shows that you like watching?

MEKKI:[Slight pause] Yeah, Taddéi (French journalist who for many years was I charge of one the most popular talk-show on French TV) I like; his show is less hateful. He hosts interesting debates.

AUTHOR:Such as?

MEKKI:Such as? [Reflects a moment] Not long ago, a few days ago, I think . . . yeah, several days ago I saw a show about Al-Qaeda. . . .

AUTHOR:Who was on the set, do you remember?

MEKKI:Yes, Dominique Thomas.⁷ I finally saw what he looks like.

AUTHOR:Meaning what?

MEKKI:Like I told you, when I was in Beaubourg, I read books on Islam, topical books. I like reading books that insult us. I found that very interesting. There’s no sense saying “They insult us, so I won’t touch them,” not at all. And so one day, I read a book by someone named Dominique Thomas, about Islamists in London. What he wrote surprised me.

AUTHOR:What do you mean? In what sense? Are you talking about his book on Londonistan?

MEKKI:There, that’s it. Yes, that one. Yeah, the Londonistan. And bah, in fact, it was not hateful. What he wrote . . . well, I don’t know how to put it, but . . . how to say it, he was precise without being sensational, and besides, one thing is that in his book he thanked the people he interviewed. He said thanks to the Islamists that he met there. That surprised me. I told myself, “Wow that is very rare.”...

AUTHOR:Gilles Kepel was also on the show. What do you think of him? You know who he is?

MEKKI:Yes, sure, I know him. Yeah, he was on too.

AUTHOR:And?

MEKKI:He really speaks good Arabic, I already had seen him on TV. He speaks Arabic well, it’s true. He’s intelligent, but when he talks about Salafism, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He says, “Salafism . . . jihadism,” “Salafism . . . terrorism.” What they say about Salafism shows they don’t really know it . . . just, that’s impossible, terrorism. We condemn terrorism, severely even, for us it’s very serious. But them . . . they . . . But when you study Salafism like they say you come to understand that Salafism isn’t violent. It has nothing to do with it. You see very well that there’s no connection.

AUTHOR:So as far as you’re concerned, Gilles Kepel. . . ?

MEKKI:Ah yes, you also know him, you told me, you told me you know him. . . .

AUTHOR:Yes, I know him, I do.

MEKKI:What’s he like?

AUTHOR:He is . . . in what respect?

MEKKI:Is he rich?

AUTHOR:Is he rich? Let me see . . . I don’t really know. I think he is more likely to own his house than rent. . . . At least, I would hope so. Why, is money important to you?

MEKKI:No, but since he writes books, I wonder how much that brings. I don’t know if going on TV pays well.

AUTHOR:Ah, that I can’t tell you, I don’t keep track. I think it depends on the individual. And otherwise, you know some other persons?

MEKKI:Other people. [Reflects a moment] You make me think of with Gilles Kepel . . . there was one whose name was . . . Bruno, Bruno Étienne.⁸ He too astonished me, that day I saw him on TV. He was defending Tariq Ramadan. What he said surprised me. In front of Mohamed Sifaoui,⁹ who did a segment on him. He answered him that Tariq Ramadan was a decent . . . guy. That he wasn’t like what he said, that he had interesting ideas. That surprised me. . . .

AUTHOR:And so, in the end, in your view, what explains all this intense activity concerning Islam?

MEKKI:In my view? [Pause] In any case, today it’s simple. If you want to stand out, write a book about Islam. You write a rag, it will sell no matter what you write.

AUTHOR:And as far as you’re concerned, all that shows what? What does it say to you? For example, does it worry you or not?

MEKKI:[Thinks a moment] Honestly, I will tell you, yes. Yes, because no one knows or can tell you how it is going to play out. We know where it starts, we don’t know where it will end. Yes, I do think about it, and this is why I’ll tell you one thing: it gets me thinking, to figure out how I can react. . . . For me, sure, one day, I tell myself, okay, there will perhaps be a time for drawing conclusions. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, as the saying goes.

The Hijra to the Land of Islam: Leaving, Rebirth . . . and Fulfillment

Egypt, or the Erasmus Hijra: Go East, Learn . . . and Return

Egypt is among the most popular destinations for Salafis on a quest for scholarly socialization. Land of ancient Islamic tradition, best known as the home of celebrated Islamic universities, of which the most famous is Al-Azhar,¹⁰ as well as multiple mosques where important Companions of the Prophet preached.¹¹ The city of Cairo is especially sought after because of the presence of the Markaz Al-Ibana (Al-Ibana Center), known to Salafis the world over and which every year attracts hundreds of individuals wishing to perfect their religious apprenticeship. Founded many years ago by Afro-American practicants who embraced Islam, the school is known for attracting French Muslims, mostly from the suburbs. This in fact is why the Americans elected to have the center operated by French brothers, the religious affiliation not erasing the economic reflex. Promoting the primacy of the tawhid in its educational offerings, the Center’s pedagogical project attracts the interested faithful looking to find themselves and guarantees them the opportunity of getting fresh ideas in an orthodox place of learning.

Of the several dozen, mostly francophone individuals encountered in the Center, all wore beards and the typical Salafi garment (the qamis) but said they were there in order to resume studies abandoned earlier. The basic Ibana experience is revitalization of a heritage that they perceive a majority of their coreligionists have sacrificed.

We visited the Markaz on June 25, 2009. The school is located in the popular Madinat an-Nasr (City of Glory) district. Situated close to the Al-Houda mosque (the Guided One), its mandate is relatively clear-cut: offer to interested individuals courses in Arabic and a religious education with an orthodox foundation. We stayed in the Center for several hours in order to observe the thinking in a place for religious teaching in Muslim country and to cast an outsider’s look at a society in theory sharing the same system of values as these expatriates of salvation. Only a two-minute walk from one of the principal thoroughfares of the Cairo megalopolis—the grand avenue Makram Ebeid¹²—the Markaz is architecturally ordinary and not instantly recognizable. Housed on the ground floor of a two-story apartment building typical for the Madinat an-Nasr quarter, the education center at first glance appears to be a boarding school specializing in Arabic-language courses for a religiously motivated public. The mood is cheerful, and people coming to attend class or to get information are received warmly, always with fitting Islamic greetings. Religious brotherhood is emphasized, the guests being seen as equals seeking an orthodox haven in the midst of a world lacking true meaning.

Idriss is eager to say that he is not the owner; that is an American Salafi woman who seldom asks for an accounting, knowing that the majority of students are French, which explains her willingness to let individuals from that country run the institution. He most often adopts a friendly tone, so that everyone feels at ease in the school. The part of the institute by the main road facing Makram Ebeid Avenue is reserved for the women, which explains why we had to wait a long time before a young man invited us in.

The school’s sociology emulates that of French Salafis: everybody is young (twenties and thirties), many come from Maghrebian families, and all are there to study their religion. Following a practice of temporary hijra in this country, almost all tell us they are in Egypt for some time (from months to, in very rare cases, one or two years) for religious and education reasons. Many live close by in the neighborhood. Several hours of lessons are scheduled each day. Several options and different levels are offered (approximately seven or eight in Arabic, for instance). The students, usually a handful per class, together with Idriss, choose the course of studies that suits them best. The teachers have been recruited by the Center’s owners, but not all are Salafis. Some of them speak a very solid French, mastery of Molière’s language unquestionably constituting an asset in the eyes of the Center’s operators. The classrooms are few and small. Two of them, accessible from the backyard, are set aside for the administrative team; Idriss occupies one of them. It has a fax, a computer, a table and some chairs, as well as a minimum of office furniture for keeping school records.

We questioned Idriss about different points regarding Salafism and the functioning of the Markaz. For instance, we had no idea about the various course fees. In this regard, he told us that they are highest for the language courses, but we learned that several hundred euros will pay for a basic course (a good twenty hours of elementary Arabic before going on to more advanced studies). On one wall are the house rules, including a stipulation that, pursuant to the state of emergency in force in Egypt since the 1980s, it is forbidden to gather (especially in large numbers) around mosques outside the hours of prayer or around religious schools, which includes the Center. A short time later, when we accompanied some Salafis to the Al-Houda mosque, the practicants went there by twos or individually to keep from attracting attention.¹³

Algeria, or the Hijra of Origin: Go East . . . and Stay?

“Algerian-style” emigration is a movement to return to origins. The Salafi leaving behind French ungodliness for Algeria is acting on a different logic than the migrant heading for Egypt. Salafis of the origin are primarily believers from the Algerian immigration in the process of definitively leaving France, while Erasmus Salafis are from more diverse origins (Antillean, Maghrebian, etc.), and their first objective is scholarly salvation in Muslim territory, not the abandonment of a despised society.

Salutary emigration to Algerian soil can be classified as a double reversal of the symbolic and sociological order. The rupture represented by the upending of a South–North traditional migration for reasons not found in the material and economic domain relates to two different ways of looking at a global space, both read according to a religious grammar.

The first rupture relates to tendencies generally observed among entire categories of young people in Arab countries, starting with the countries of the Maghreb, from where a large number of French citizens with Muslim heritage originate. Indeed the Salafist hijra can be understood as the exact opposite of the emigration habitus typical for many Algerian and Moroccan youth, of heading to Europe (or other destinations), a resource they capitalize on the most. Repository of an imagined modernity and material well-being for the individual barred from the entry mechanisms to the native country’s consumption economy, Europe enjoys real prestige because its economic and political systems are supposed to guarantee more civil rights and justice. Counter to this desire to “leave,”¹⁴ Salafis adopt a logic of a return home. If the geography of their migration is supposed to reproduce a continental divide of salvation (some regions of the world being farther from it, while others are closer), the direction of the ultra-minoritarian migration of practicants (from the West, land of godlessness, to the Muslim world, land of belief and piety) is radically different from the much larger numbers of modern young people (from Arab countries like Algeria, world of injustice and hypocrisy, to a civilized, democratic Europe, land of human rights and the welfare state). Seeing their coreligionists leave a country where they should in fact be staying in order to preserve their religion and avoid becoming victims of the illusion of modernity and progress, the Salafis once again assume this ultra-minoritarian status. The geographic and mental migration, counter to what is happening before their eyes, is all the more convincing in that is signifies a journey in time to connect to the original codes. This effective, symbolic rupture equally distinguishes Salafis from other offers of Islam that see in the presence of its faithful in Europe so many opportunities for preaching on this continent, the cultural uprooting representing in reality a windfall for Islam.

The second rupture has to be fit into a longer historical timeline. The dynamic of return to the country that one’s parents should never have left in the first place—to push the Salafist argument to its logical conclusion—can also be apprehended as a reversal of the logic of the original family immigration. Poles apart from the Salafist migration is this migratory ethic of a generation of workers that came to France in order to earn a living in the old metropole, then to start a home and raise their children. Because it signifies the refusal to sink roots in a country judged to be harmful to exercising a true Islamity, the hijra can be understood as a rejection of being incorporated in a profoundly alien social, cultural, and political fabric. Substantiating in a sense the position of some political parties or certain intellectuals that view the Muslim faith as an element preventing identification with a symbolic corpus that will not be the umma, the hijra should be seen as closing the extra-Islamic parenthesis. Because the parental project of living their faith in an environment that is not majority Muslim is frowned on by the very people this migration into well-being was undertaken for, the hijra passes beyond the simple religious dimension. This phenomenon of the return to the point of departure therefore can be interpreted as a settling of accounts with a French society held in contempt for not respecting the injunctions of a religion that commands departure to its faithful rather than integration.

Nassim is a Parisian Salafi who turned into a “roi” (king) in contrast to those who are “rien” (nothing). This is how a humorous difference is drawn in Algerian parlance between the “Algé-rois” living in the capital and those living in the rest of the country, the “Algé-riens.” With a calm disposition and endowed with a great religious determination, Nassim is divorced and the father of a boy. At thirty-five years old and an émigré in Algeria for two years after a career as a taxi driver in Paris, he settled in the Bab el-Oued quarter. The interview takes place at his home, a family dwelling of several stories belonging to his parents, who still live in France, where he periodically returns to make money to live on for the rest of the year in Algeria. Nassim thus pioneered a kind of periodical or commuter “counter-hijra” with the goal of accumulating financial capital during a few weeks of work in Paris and then return to the country. This is how the interview began:

NASSIM:You see, your watch, for instance. . . .

AUTHOR:Huh . . . yes.

NASSIM:Eh, bah, you see, as we know, everybody in general wears their watch on the left hand or rather wrist. All right, because we know that’s what the kouffar [ungodly] do, we try to be different from them. We know that we need to distinguish ourselves from the kouffar. So, as a result, when it comes to the watch, we put it on our right wrist. That’s how we revitalize the Sunna. We do the Sunna, for example, by following this principle “Be different from the infidel.”

From there, he goes on to explain the reasons for his departure. He recalls driving his taxi in Paris:

NASSIM:Well, let me tell you what happened to me. Let’s see . . . Good, I already asked myself some questions earlier. I said to myself. . . As a matter of fact, one evening I picked up three people, three . . .

AUTHOR:Three men?

NASSIM:[Laughs] That’s right, indeed, three . . . how to say [still laughing heartily] some . . . some homos. There were three. I took them, and one of them sat in front next to me, he said nothing. The other two, they sat in back and started to talk. They were dressed like, well, you know? You know, you can tell, a little bit. . . . Right, after one of them talked to his [laughing openly and a bit embarrassed] friend. He had a high voice, he was, how shall I say, mannered, he had mannerisms. I know what they were thinking. They saw I had a beard. I must not have been what they wanted as driver, but anyway [once again loudly laughing]. The one next to me didn’t say a word, he just looked at me kind of strangely. I thought he was looking at me from the corner of his eye. Anyway, it was especially the ones in back who made small talk.

AUTHOR:And what were they saying?

NASSIM:They carried themselves, let’s say . . . they sat close to each other. They wanted to know what I thought of them, you might say. When they saw me, they were intrigued, it was obvious. The one who talked the most, he said to me, “Excuse us. We’re talking too much, it must be bothering you.” I told him no. They asked me to take them to the 10th. For the entire drive, I saw very well that they were. . . . That’s it.

AUTHOR:And how did it end?

NASSIM:Nothing special, I took them to their address, and I said good bye. The talkative one wanted to ask me questions during the trip, but after a short while, I stopped talking.

AUTHOR:What sort of questions?

NASSIM:Like I said, you could tell, they were . . . how to put it, curious, it surprised them. They were looking for a taxi, it was me who stopped, and so they asked themselves, “What did we get?”

AUTHOR:So? Then what? This encounter between two worlds?

NASSIM:[Laughs] Like you said, a meeting between two worlds. No, well, no . . . well, okay, I never asked anything of anybody . . . but after, it’s true, I asked myself some questions, I kept asking myself some questions, rather. [Brief silence, then laughs and looks down] Allah mousʾatan [Lord help us].

AUTHOR:And the second experience? You mentioned a second experience when you were a taxi driver in Paris?

NASSIM:Yeah, that was a different thing. You’ll laugh, because that I found it to be even more serious.

AUTHOR:Meaning what? What was more serious?

NASSIM:I say that because it was a woman, as it were. . . . One of us. You could easily see that she came from the Maghreb. I picked her up in my taxi, not far from Saint Lazare train station, and so. . . . Bah, in no time I saw that she was beginning to be annoyed. She looked at me, she stared at me. She looked at me, especially the beard, as if she’d seen . . . I don’t know, as if she’d seen, I can’t really explain. . . .

AUTHOR:And tell me, a small question, out of curiosity, in your cab . . . how to say it, are there religious things, is there the Koran?

NASSIM:Yes, sometimes, I put the Koran there.

AUTHOR:And so, what irritated the lady?

NASSIM:Then she started making faces when she saw me. She made these little noises. . . . Me, I didn’t say anything, but I knew that, well, she was uncomfortable. I could see I was bothering her. All right, it’s a fare, you don’t say anything, you take them where they want to go, and that’s that. That’s all. But as it turned out, she was the first one to talk.

AUTHOR:What did she say? She said what?

NASSIM:She said, “Can I ask you something?” Me, bah, I said sure. She told me, “Why do you do that? We’re in France. I was in Algeria, I came to France; why do you do that? I left Algeria, not to see bearded ones, people who . . . Religion, religion, religion.”

AUTHOR:What then? What did you answer? It upset you, did it?

NASSIM:Nooo, why? In fact, I was . . . It made me laugh, in fact.

AUTHOR:Why?

NASSIM:Because I’m accused of being the integrationist [Laughs openly].. . . .

AUTHOR:And so it’s this sort of reason that made you quit France? Is that why you’re telling me this?

NASSIM:Yes and no. As I told you, yes, it made me think. How can you live in a place where they talk to you like that? However, paradoxically, we are the ones accused of being killjoys, and we, we are the ones being attacked verbally. Good, there you have it, this has to be made clear.

AUTHOR:But otherwise, do you think you would have done the hijra regardless, no matter what?

NASSIM:Yes, I’m going to tell you, there’s a rule. When you live in a kufr [infidel] country, if something happens to you, you can only blame yourself. Allah is not responsible for you. If something happens to you, you’ve been confronted with situations that you didn’t look to avoid. You placed yourself in a situation . . . how to say it, of difficulty. On the other hand, if you make the effort to go live in a Muslim country, there the one responsible is the wali al-amr [wielder of authority]. He is responsible for what happens to you. You have to put yourself under Allah’s protection. People say that the Salafis are only interested in what the rulers do. Bah, maybe, except that we don’t question the houkam [rulers]. We know what’s going on but don’t say anything. There’s nothing you can do unless the ruler gives a sign of unbelief.

AUTHOR:And, for example, what would be such a visible sign of unbelief?

NASSIM:For example, it would be no longer respecting the laws of Allah. For instance, if a ruler gives a sign of having accepted another religion, like if he put on a cross.

AUTHOR:And does the king of Saudi Arabia, for example, obey the laws of Allah?

NASSIM:There you’d have to revert to the scholars. It’s for them to tell us. Why do you ask that?

AUTHOR:Because I already saw it on the internet, some people reproach him for having been decorated by a Western head of state, and that he received a cross. That’s why some persons said that they submitted to another religion’s symbol.

NASSIM:[Brief silence] I have no opinion. That’s for the scholars to say.. . . .

AUTHOR:And, for instance, here in Algeria, do you feel close to the scholars?

NASSIM:Yes, in Algeria, there are macheikh [scholars]. There is Sheikh Ferkous, to name one, who you met at Masjid Qoba.

Mohamed-Ali Ferkous is indeed one the best known figures in predicative Salafism in Algeria today.¹⁵ This ʿalim is celebrated especially for having called back to order a number of believers some years ago in the matter of the Orascom company, which sells telecommunications-related products¹⁶ under the Djeezy brand, highly prized by Algerians. In fact, circles around Sheikh Ferkous in 2008 were roiled when rumors circulated implying that the head of Orascom, an Egyptian Copt, had slandered Islam and announced his intention to attack this religion. Another rumor accused the businessman of financing evangelical groups in Algeria with the goal of Christianizing as much of the world as possible. It was why the ʿalim took the lead in a campaign warning against an “enterprise of corruption” (machrouʾ al-fassad) by announcing a fatwa encouraging all believers who wanted to preserve the religion to boycott this company and its products.

Sheikh Ferkous is also known for praying in the mosque of the Qoba district in Algiers, where, during the month of Ramadan, including after the fajr (morning) and the ʿasr (afternoon) prayers, a crowd of faithful follow the cleric to a library adjoining the place of worship, where he spends part of his day. There he answers questions from believers seeking an Islamically based solution to a problem. The rules are simple. Sheikh Ferkous answers no more than ten questions and gives precedence to ones from visitors from far away. We tried our luck in the morning, without success; after being presented to him and having explained our academic initiative, he suggested that we return in the afternoon. Still, we remained throughout the morning to find out what questions the faithful asked. These were typical: “When it rains during the evening prayer, as is the case in our area, is it possible to have the women pray inside while the men pray outside?” “What should a person who fasted and vomited while kneeling in prayer do?” “Is it possible to perform the ritual ablutions before prayer by resorting to the taymoun [touch a natural stone instead of the usual water] in case of illness, and when would a wall known to be constructed of stone suffice?” In the afternoon, after the prayer, we joined the ʿalim in his library where, seating himself before his numerous visitors, he said that he had first to respond to questions by a researcher. We chose to ask him two questions framed by our work: What do you say about the obligatory character of a Muslim living in an unbelieving country doing the hijra by moving to a Muslim country? What do you say to the possibility of taking part in elections in a non-Muslim country like France? Some people take the position that this could be a way of serving Muslim interests. His responses are repeated here from memory, the author having judged it impolite to offend the imam by using a microphone. Sheikh Ferkous thanked us for these questions, which appeared sensible to him. His advice was clear and seemed at one with the interpretations he draws from reading and exegesis of scriptural sources. With regard to hijra, Sheikh Ferkous put forward the position that is most common among practicants in France: that it is obligatory and not permitted to prolong one’s presence in a non-Muslim country if one attaches importance to “shariatic” principles. Recent trends, he said, for example in the way the French speak about Muslims, leave no doubts in this respect. From the prohibition on wearing the hijab to remarks by President Nicolas Sarkozy, Islam has been targeted by the French authorities for some time already. The same reasoning led the theoretician to pronounce himself against participating in the country’s elections: On what basis do they legislate? Who decides what is good or bad? And who votes for the welfare of everyone and the general interest? In answer to this last question, he jovially remarked that in democracy there is one notable element that ought to stand out to any Muslim possessed of reason. Through the principle of free and egalitarian elections, you find yourself in a funny situation where the vote of one “wrongheaded” person is equivalent to that of a “person of knowledge,” that of a “deviant” put on the same level as that of an ʿalim. For these reasons, the cleric condemned taking part in elections in France.

Faced with this response, we asked him to react to the argument that participation in elections can help advance causes defended by believers. His response was the same: this reasoning led Muslims to favor one policy over another, yet today they find themselves in a country that humiliates them, passes laws that deprive them of fundamental rights and exposes them to the vindictiveness of badly intentioned people. Sheikh Ferkous questioned the effectiveness of such “exceptional thinking.” In a polite and empathetic manner, he asked us what we thought of his responses. When we replied that the object of our research was not, properly speaking, religious or Islamological, he ended his talk by “reassuring” us about Muslims in Algeria today, with the following quip: Don’t worry, your question is not foolish. Even in Algeria, if you were to ask many young people, they would tell you they have only one desire and that is to go live in France. And with regard to elections, if you were to poll most Algerians, they would tell you they want to return to being a French territory.

¹ Tariq Ramadan, Dār ash-shahāda: L’Occident, espace du témoignage (The Domain of the Testimony: The West, space of witnessing) (Lyon: Tawhid, 2002).

² Sheikh Sālih ibn Fawzān El Fawzān, “Alliance et Désaveu en Islam” (Loyalty and Disavowal in Islam), translated by Abu Talha Said El Djazairi, revised by Abu Ahmed, https://d1.islamhouse.com/data/fr/ih_books/single/fr_Loyalty_and_Enmity_in_Islam.pdf, 10.

³ Plural of hassana. This term designates the good coming from an action, a speech, or a thought.

⁴ http://www.3ilmchar3i.net/article-biographie-du-cheikh-mouhammad-ibn-salih-al-outhaymine-123317707.html.

⁵ “Ritual, legal, and purifying alms” in the Muslim religion. Constituting the fifth pillar of Islam, they amount to 2.5% of income spent by the faithful.

⁶ The debate about the body veil, for example, was interpreted as an entire system’s hate for the Salafis. See the article “La Burqa! La Burqa!,” http://www.convertistoislam.fr/article-33199509.html.

⁷ Expert on radical Islam and author known for Dominique Thomas, Le Londonistan: La voix du djihad (Londonistan: The voice of jihad) (Paris: Michalon, 2003).

⁸ Expert on the Muslim world, known for Bruno Étienne, L’islamisme radical (Radical Islam) (Paris: Hachette, 1987) and L’islam en France (Islam in France) (Paris: CNRS Éditions, 2000). He died in 2009.

⁹ A journalist known for his works on Islamism, such as Mohamed Sifaoui La France malade de l’islamisme: Menace terroriste sur l’Hexagone (France sickened by Islamism: The terrorist menace over France) (Paris: Le Cherche-Midi, 2002).

¹⁰ Renowned institution of Sunni Islam, Al‑Azhar University, founded in 988, is celebrated for having represented over the centuries a citadel of Islamic knowledge and education.

¹¹ One of them, for example, being ‘Amr Ibn al‑’As, conqueror of Egypt and Companion of Muhammad.

¹² An artery that is itself located just a few minutes from another famous avenue, named ‘Abbas al‑’Aqad, after the celebrated Egyptian writer (1889–1964). Makram Ebeid (1879–1961) was an Egyptian Copt politician and member of the Wafd Party.

¹³ Since 1981 Egypt had been under a state of emergency imposed following the assassination of President Anwar Sadat on October 6 by an Islamist commando and the taking of power by Hosni Mubarak, whose fall would mark the end of this device.

¹⁴ Tahar Ben Jelloun, Partir (Leaving) (Paris: Gallimard, 2006).

¹⁵ Owning a website where snippets of his biography can be found (http://www.ferkous.com/fra/A1.php), the cleric is also known as a professor of Islamic sciences at the Algiers Faculty of the Arts.

¹⁶ http://www.ferkous.com/rep/Bb27.php.