Human Before Anything Else

Especially this time of year, I just can’t help feeling a little conspicuous. I often wonder if people on the street or in the subway believe I was affected very much by Sept. 11 when they see me—a Muslim with hair modestly covered. Perhaps, if they were slightly open-minded, they would recognize that I am saddened by the loss of any innocent life. If they were slightly politically aware, perhaps they would speculate that I’ve been the victim of post-September 11 domestic anti-terror legislation. But few would realize how deeply I have been affected by Sept. 11—as an American, as a Muslim, and as a human being.

I am affected as a human being because more innocent deaths have occurred as a result of the attacks than I can bear to imagine. Over 3,000 of our fellow countrymen were brutally murdered. And at the very least, about 10,000 human beings were denied life and a chance at liberty and the pursuit of happiness when a war-hungry administration dragged my country into a War on Terror.

I am also deeply affected as an American. I have watched a gang of governors degrade the value of liberty and human life by denying both citizens and foreigners the constitutional rights with which all human beings—not just Americans—must be endowed. As a second-generation Iranian and a descendent of a pilgrim from the Mayflower, I am embittered by the attacks of the hijackers and the current administration on this nation.

Finally, I have been affected as a muslim. When I am lamenting the loss of so many people in the World Trade Center and abroad, I do it not in spite of, or as a matter aside from, but precisely because of my religion, Islam. Despite popular perception, Islam preaches peace. As prophet Muhammed said, “Never kill a woman, a weak infant, or a debilitated old person; nor burn palms, uproot trees, or pull down houses.” Thus, before even the Western theory of just war was born, Prophet Muhammed prohibited the killing of innocent civilians and even plants.

It is precisely because of my religion, then, that I am opposed to all forms of modern warfare. I am opposed to smart bombs because they make mistakes, to suicide bombings because they are indiscriminate, and to all wars that have been waged in aggression throughout history—all because the Quran says in chapter two, verse 190, “Fight in the way of God against those who fight against you, but begin not hostilities. Lo! God loveth not aggressors.”

But on Sept. 11, a gang of ignorant madmen carried out an attack on both America and Islam. Sept. 11, for me, will have significance as the day associated with attacks on every important aspect of my life—my religion, my ideals and my fellow human beings. To alleviate my grief, I pray for a time when recognition of our shared quality of humanness overcomes our emphasis on our individual races and religions, and we are as much distraught by the death of our neighbor as one far away from us. Perhaps Prophet Muhammed describes this idea best. Once, as he was sitting, he saw a Jewish funeral procession approaching. He immediately stood up, saying, “Is it not a human soul? If you ever see any funeral, stand up.”

—Nura A. Hossainzadeh is a news editor.