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>> 347 Epilogue American Muslims and the Place of Dissent Dignity On January 25, 2011, Egyptians from all social backgrounds—young and old, men and women, Christian and Muslim, gay and straight, middle class and working poor, Islamists and Marxists—marched in cities across Egypt and began an eighteen-day protest that captivated the world. Their calls in Cairo’s Tahrir Square, and in public squares throughout Egypt, rang out around the world: “Dignity, Freedom, and Social Justice!” I used to pray that someday my children might live to see a more just, a more stable, a more peaceful Middle East in their lifetime than the one I knew in mine. I never thought I would live to see the dignity protests and peaceful revolutions that began in Tunisia at the end of 2010. I never once dared to dream it, and I don’t think I even ever prayed for it. I thought I had finished this book in the last few cold weeks of 2010, before the footage on CNN and Aljazeera of Tunisia and then Egypt made me rethink and rewrite so much of it. It was beautiful and frightening and heartbreaking and inspiring to watch from so far away. Um Ali and Maryam and I have lost touch over the years, as phone numbers and emails have changed and disconnected. I wondered if my two strong-willed friends were in Tahrir Square during Egypt’s revolution . Maryam, if she still lives in Cairo, probably was not, but Um Ali, if she still lives in Cairo, probably was, chanting and praying, defiantly. Once the protests that had been beyond the limits of my imagination began, I was sure that change was on the horizon, but worries about what might happen next, about whether it was all fleeting, hung over each small victory. 348 > 349 the protestors, I thought of all those Azhari shaykhs in Cairo who had complained to me so many times about how unvalued they were by ordinary people, especially by the youth. I had spent so many hours recording and writing about how their expertise went unappreciated, how badly they wanted to be relevant. Here was their opportunity; they just had to follow her lead. A few prominent scholars did. Many famous ones outside Egypt did. Most of the popular Sunni scholars in the US came forward publicly to support the protesters in writings and sermons, detailing the long tradition of Sunni dissent, the long lists of scholars who were tortured and killed for speaking truth to power. But in Egypt, too many learned men remained silent. Some American Muslim leaders, such as Imam Suhaib Webb, expressed open disappointment with those ‘ulama in the Middle East. Webb, a young, white preacher with a popular following, was a former gang member turned student-traveler. He had graduated from AlAzhar University, and six months earlier, Shaykh Ali Gomaa had praised him for his intellectual achievement on the stage at the annual ISNA conference . Shaykh Hamza Yusuf shared the stage with them too that night and on his blog, and I was surprised that he was only mildly critical of Shaykh Ali. Shaykh Hamza reminded American Muslims that even if they disagreed with the ‘ulama, they ought to “maintain a good opinion of the scholars.” They were scholars, after all. I am not considered a scholar in that world of intellectuals. But I have casually flipped through enough Islamic law manuals to know that the chapters on political rebellion do not apply so clearly to the dignity revolutions. I have read enough to understand that the quietism of some Sunni scholars is built on an interpretive jump that equates the premodern caliphate and a modern police state. In those next eighteen days, as we wondered whether Mubarak would actually fall, I waited for those scholars too. I could not help thinking, “If their trained minds are so nimble, if the tradition is so dynamic and alive, then why are these scholars so slow?” Was the tradition so heavy on their backs that the revolution in Egypt was over before they decreed it was permissible? It did not look to me like the kids in Tahrir needed anyone to teach them about courage and justice and faith, anyway. They certainly were not waiting for a fatwa from AlAzhar, the way so many American Muslim youth were, glued to their computer and television screens. 350 > 351 and complex ways in which they have embraced religious outsiderhood, today we see...

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