Carnegie Mellon University

Nation, Religion, and Extremism

Anonymous
Carnegie Mellon University – Qatar
Modern Languages – Understanding Cultural Complexities

I have no home. I came to this realization early on in my life, but it only manifested itself as I grew older. I was born to two Algerian immigrants in the United Kingdom, making me the only child in my entire extended family born outside of Algeria. I only spent a few years in the U.K., and even though it shaped my identity hugely, and although I was born a citizen, I always knew I was different; I couldn’t call this place home. I lived in Qatar for the rest of my life, and although I share the values of and have love for this country, I knew this place too couldn’t be called home. As for the home of my parents and ancestors, Algeria, I never lived there, I barely speak the dialect, and most of all, I don’t know the vitally important French language. For my entire life, I lived and continue to live in a state of limbo.

Ideas of nationalism and patriotism were fervent in my friends around me, but I could never identify with them. It felt like there was a vacuum present in my identity that needed to be filled. For the first half of my life, when asked about my nationality, I would say I was British, but was given looks of suspicion and asked where are you really from? Later in life, I would say I’m British but originally Algerian – pre-empting the inevitable question. Finally, when asked, I simply say I’m Algerian, after all, I look Arab, and I’ve become tired of the looks and questions that follow with my identification as a non-Arab. You don’t have the accent? You don’t look British? It became clear that my identity was tightly linked to not only where I grew up, my lineage, and my birthplace, but also to what was accepted and expected by others.

I came to the realization that I wouldn’t be fully accepted by the Algerians – I couldn’t run for president with my British Passport. The British may be more forgiving, particularly with the rise of politically correct culture, but I’ve lived the reality. My skin color and face are not non-existent. Perhaps being British has changed and you might argue that color, religion, and even language don’t decide who is and isn’t British. Perhaps we’re moving in that direction, but I cannot lie to myself. I’m British, but I am not British. As I grew older, this question of nationalistic identity became less important to me as I filled the vacuum with something more constant, closer to me, and more important – religion. I oriented myself around my religious ideals, my religion was my nation, flag, and its teachings, my national anthem. Would I die for a nation? Maybe, but it’s hard to see myself fighting for a nation that doesn’t fully accept me. Would I die for my religion? Yes.

Although fringe and scarce, Islamic extremism is on the rise. Individuals, with an Arab background, but European and American passports – supposedly naturalized, are common perpetrators of terrorist attacks. We’ve created a world of cultural and nationalistic orphans; I am one of them. When so much importance is placed on allegiance, to anything, and we cannot find it in our nations we turn to something else. For many, this is religion. With no nation and central structure, religion and, in particular, Islam can transcend boundaries, be used by extremists to wage wars against false enemies with ease, and allure the lost cultural orphans with the promise of purpose.