Translated by UiOGPT
The sociologist and extremism researcher is himself a Muslim and a first-generation Norwegian with parents from Pakistan. Inspired by his background, he has examined why some Muslim men residing in Norway resort to violence in the name of religion, while the vast majority do not.
He will be awarded the King's Gold Medal for his doctoral dissertation at the University of Oslo's annual celebration in September.
Through in-depth interviews with nearly a hundred Muslim men, Uzair has identified several factors that recur among those Muslims who become radicalized.
Marginalization, poor economy, racism, crime, and religion are part of the explanation. The participants who became religious extremists often relied on the life they had lived earlier. If crime was what they were "good" at – that was what they brought with them.
Ahmed emphasizes that for many this has to do with the community they are offered and included in. If you are a marginalized school dropout, it is easy to be caught up in environments with others in the same situation as yourself – where it is easy to end up on a criminal path, which in some cases can later be a resource in finding a role in religion.
Feels the same gaze without being Muslim
"In Norway and much of the Western world, an image of the Muslim man as extreme, barbaric, and with a negative view of women has taken hold. This contributes to a feeling of marginalization for all men of colour," Uzair Ahmed points out.
He emphasizes that the so-called minority man in Norway comes from various countries, such as Pakistan, Sri Lanka, and Afghanistan. However, he is perceived as "the Muslim man" regardless. So, the stereotype is equally applicable to those who are not Muslims, according to the extremism researcher.
Yohan Shanmugaratnam is a commentator and journalist for Klassekampen and has been concerned with marginalization and what it means to be Norwegian for many years. He has written the book "Vi puster fortsatt", which deals precisely with this topic and is dedicated to his children.
Shanmugaratnam, who has parents from Japan and Sri Lanka, came to Norway when he was six years old. Even though he is not a Muslim, he recognizes himself in the image Uzair Ahmed paints of the majority's view of the Muslim man, as dangerous, extreme, and with a negative attitude toward women.
"Not so long ago, I was stopped by the police and asked for identification papers. They had driven past me and a Norwegian-looking friend at a pedestrian crossing one evening, and apparently found it suspicious that I remained standing when my friend crossed. But I was just waiting for the green light."
Might Be a Bomb in the Suitcase
An experience from when he was a master's student has stuck with Uzair Ahmed. He had a suitcase and a backpack full of materials and books related to his studies. His charger had stopped working, and he asked the librarian at the university to look after his things while he went to town to buy a new one. When he returned, there was a new librarian at the desk who breathed a sigh of relief and exclaimed that she was really glad to see him.
"After I recovered from my initial shock, I went back and asked her what she meant, and she replied with something along the lines that she couldn't help the thoughts that had been planted in her, thinking there might be explosives in the suitcase and backpack intended for a terrorist act."
"The point was that she carried with her the stereotypical image that a Muslim man is potentially dangerous," says the researcher.
He adds that it is important to emphasize that this is how racism works. The librarian was not necessarily conscious of this action.
"Like all people in a society, she is influenced by the narrative or story about who is us and who are the others, and what applies to him who is seen as the Muslim man," explains Ahmed.
"That's what racism does. It short-circuits the impulse – not just for the one who faces racism, like at the library with you – but also for oneself," emphasizes Yohan Shanmugaratnam. He shares one of his own experiences on this very subject.
"I often take the 37 bus in Oslo. If there only been one empty seat on the bus and it was next to a white lady, I have often chosen to stand rather than sit next to her – just in case she was afraid of brown men."
"That's what this is all about: an internalization of the outside world's gaze upon us. We who are brown spend our whole lives looking at ourselves from the outside because we stand out. It's something the majority doesn't have to do," the commentator points out.
This text is based on an episode of Universitetsplassen, a research-based podcast from the University of Oslo. Extremism researcher and recipient of the King's Gold Medal at the University of Oslo, Uzair Ahmed, talks with author and commentator Yohan Shanmugaratnam in Klassekampen.
They share knowledge and personal experiences about marginalization and extremism. They also discuss inclusion and the importance of everyone having a place and being seen by the community. Additionally, we learn more about why some Norwegian Muslim men become radicalized, while the vast majority do not.
Uzair emphasizes that most of the Muslims he has researched are not extreme. Those who become radicalized share that they fall out in many ways.
"It's not just about the marginalization due to racism, but it's also a lack of resources to handle their experiences well enough. And then it's also about society and the family not necessarily being there to catch them when they fall out. Class also plays a role," he underscores.
Yohan Shanmugaratnam agrees: -Class amplifies the impact of marginalization. If you grow up in a society marked by abundance, but you are from a poor family, you are at a disadvantage from the start.
Yohan Shanmugaratnam stresses that this is not a uniquely Norwegian phenomenon but something we see in country after country.
"An illusion that we choose our friends"
Uzair Ahmed agrees and tells about one of his participant’s - a foreign fighter whom he met in a prison and who had had plenty of time to reflect on the life he had lived while in his prison cell.
"Something that struck me was that he said it was an illusion that we choose our friends. As a child, he couldn't invite others to his home. It didn't fit, and there was no one to receive them. He also couldn't do homework with the others because he was much worse off than them. At home, he had no one to help him," Uzair Ahmed recounts.
"The foreign fighter believed that as a child, he had only one option: To be with those in the same situation as himself; those who were outsiders – and that this starting point had contributed to his radicalization as an adult."
One of the men Uzair interviewed still vividly remembers what the teacher said to him in front of the rest of the class:
"You have four wives, and you commit honour killings; you beat your wives and rape women. What do you have to say about that?" He asked a young boy. Why did he talk about these things? Yeah, you are terrorists. When you don't understand something, you blow yourselves up."
What does a comment like that from a teacher do to a young boy?
"I think it’s stuck with the boy and affects him in terms of how he understands himself, his role in society, how included he is, and how excluded he is," says the extremism researcher.
"This is something that has stayed with him. When the teacher from a position of authority says this in front of the other students, I think it also gets a sense of legitimacy that "this is how these people are,"" says Uzair Ahmed.
"That this is being said is obviously incredible," comments Yohan Shanmugaratnam.
He notes that white Europeans, white Norwegians, and white Americans are not confronted when they are children or teenagers with questions like: "What is it about your culture that makes you so fond of taking millions of people as slaves, gassing Jews, and creating concentration camps in Kenya?"
"The imbalance in how people are categorized and stereotyped is so enormous from the start that we don't even think about it," he emphasizes.
Uzair Ahmed adds that the case with the teacher is very explicit, while much of the racism in society, in culture, and in language is far more implicit. It affects us without us even thinking about it.
In the news, we often hear about crimes, and often the perpetrators are men with minority backgrounds. So back to stereotypes. Maybe there is some truth to them - some of the prejudices?
"Whenever I hear about crime in the news, I already have the image of the people behind it in my head – even if the newsreader hasn't said anything about ethnicity. I think that says quite a lot. I already have the gaze of the mainstream society within me – and I picture a dark man," says Shanmugaratnam.
"When I do that, someone who goes around calling themselves an anti-racist, you can imagine what it's like for others," he adds.
Historically, there have been many different groups involved in crimes in the Oslo area, Shanmugaratnam reminds us.
"It's when we start to associate crime and violence with specific groups and explain criminal actions by saying they are minorities, that's when the problem arises. We have been exposed to these ideas explicitly and implicitly so many times that we have internalized them," Uzair Ahmed emphasizes.
How should we turn this ship around?
"I believe that inclusion and critical thinking are the way to go. It requires self-reflection and criticism from each one of us."
Breaking: It has just been announced that Uzair Ahmed is the recipient of the Maria Ioannis Baganha Dissertation Award. This is an award given by IMISCOE (International Migration Research Network), which is the largest multidisciplinary network for migration researchers. The prize is awarded for outstanding PhD research in the field of migration.