Europe's Muslim Problem
In April 1968, two weeks after the riots in US cities that followed the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr, the British Tory politician Enoch Powell (who as minister of health between 1960 and 1963 had presided over the large-scale recruitment of nursing and health staff from Britain’s former colonies) predicted that a similar destiny was facing Britain. He said:
We must be mad, literally mad, as a nation, to be permitting the annual inflow of some 50,000 dependents who are for the most part the material of the future growth of the immigrant-descended population. It is like watching a nation busily engaged in heaping up its own funeral pyre.
Quoting a phrase of Virgil’s that was to resonate famously down the decades, he warned: ‘I seem to see “the River Tiber foaming with much blood”.’ Though the Tory party leader Edward Heath immediately fired him from his post as opposition spokesman on defence, Powell’s speech had struck a powerful chord. Within ten days he had received more than 100,000 letters of support, with only 800 expressing disagreement. In London, more than 1,000 dockworkers went on strike in protest at his dismissal. Anxiety about immigration was a significant factor in the unexpected victory that restored the Conservative Party to power in 1970.
Powell, who died in 1998, has been castigated as a racist and condemned, not to say vilified, by the liberal left; but as Christopher Caldwell argues in his provocatively titled book, Reflections on the Revolution in Europe: Immigration, Islam and the West, his demographic predictions have proved to be remarkably accurate. In one of his speeches he shocked his audience by predicting that Britain’s non-white population of barely a million would reach 4.5 million by 2002: according to the office of national statistics, the size of Britain’s ‘ethnic minority’ population actually reached 4.6 million in 2001. His predictions for the ethnic composition of major cities such as Wolverhampton, Birmingham and Inner London were similarly on target.
Britain’s Commission for Racial Equality predicted that, by 2011, Leicester would be the first major British city with a non-white majority.
This pattern is being replicated in cities throughout Western Europe. According to Caldwell, Europe is now a ‘continent of migrants’, with more than 10 per cent of its people living outside their countries of birth. The figure includes both non-European immigrants and citizens of countries belonging to the enlarged European Union, who are permitted to move freely within its territory. But it also includes a substantial body of immigrants - namely Muslims - who Caldwell regards as posing ‘the most acute problems’ because of their religion (an issue never mentioned by Powell in his speeches).
The statistics are highly variable, since many countries do not register the religion of their citizens. However, it is generally assumed that there are now upwards of 13 million Muslims, and possibly as many as 20 million (Caldwell’s preferred figure), living in the European Union. The largest concentrations are in France, with more than 5 million, Germany with around 3 million, Britain with 1.6 million, Spain with a million and the Netherlands and Bulgaria with just under a million. Overall, the proportion of Muslims now residing in the European Union (including the indigenous Bulgarian Muslims) remains at 5 per cent, a proportion twice that of the ‘nearly 7 million American Muslims’ mentioned by President Obama in his Cairo University speech in June 2009.
Individual cities, however, have much higher concentrations. Karoly Lorant, a Hungarian economist who wrote a paper for the European Parliament, calculates that Muslims already make up 25 per cent of the population in Marseilles and Rotterdam, 20 per cent in Malmo, 15 per cent in Brussels and Birmingham, and 10 per cent in London, Paris and Copenhagen. If the French national figure of around 5 million were reproduced in the USA, it would make for 40 million American Muslims. Moreover, given that immigrant Muslims have a higher birth rate than indigenous white Europeans or other immigrant groups such as Eastern Europeans or African-Caribbeans, that population seems set to increase, regardless of the tighter controls on immigration now being imposed by governments. The US National Intelligence Council expects that by 2025 the Muslim population of Europe will have doubled.
In the first part of his book, Caldwell takes some Enoch Powell-like swipes at the policies - or lack of them - that allowed this situation to develop. In the aftermath of the Second World War, European countries overestimated the need for immigrant labour. Instead of investing in new technology, they drove down labour costs - and undermined the power of the labour unions - by importing cheap workers without regard for the social and cultural consequences. Caldwell challenges the assumptions of economists who argue that immigrants increase the national wealth. With old industries such as textiles already in decline, immigrant workers merely delayed the necessary process of restructuring. In macroeconomic terms, the wealth they generate is nugatory - approximately one three-hundredth of the advanced countries’ output. In any case, much of the supposed added value contributed by immigrant businesses that appears in economic statistics is absorbed in the cost of accommodating them in their new environment, or is sent back home. In 2003, for example, Moroccans living in Europe sent home €3.6 billion ($4.1 billion) in remissions.
The picture Caldwell paints is complex, paradoxical and sometimes at variance with the anti-immigration thrust of his argument. While he dwells on the obvious points of political and cultural dystopia - the terrorist outrages in London and Madrid, the riots in the Paris banlieues, the growing Muslim prison populations, and the horrors of unreconstructed patriarchy in the shape of ‘honour killings’, systemic homophobia and the bizarre medical procedure of the ‘hymen repair operation’ that allows young women to recover lost virginities - he also acknowledges some of the positive contributions that immigrants are making to society. In the case of Italy, for example, he observes that the country’s food and its superb urban landscape - features that lie at the heart of its attractions at the centre of European culture - are largely sustained by immigrants:
Italy has lately received more than half a million immigrants a year from Africa and the Middle East, mostly to work in its farms, shops and restaurants. The market price of certain kinds of Italian produce, so farmers say, is in danger of falling below the cost of bringing it to market. Under conditions of globalisation,
Italy’s real comparative advantage may lie elsewhere than in agriculture, in some high-tech economic model that is remunerative but not particularly ‘Italian’ ...
Traditional ways of working the land may be viable only if there are immigrants there to work it. You can make similar arguments about traditional Italian restaurants, which in the present economy may be able to hold their own against soulless chains only with the help of low-paid immigrant labour. Ditto the country’s lovely public parks, which have traditionally required dozens of gardeners, a level of manpower that the country’s shrinking population cannot supply, except at a high price ...
Some natives may feel ‘swamped’ by the demographic change, but immigration though not ideal, may be the most practical way of keeping Italy looking like Italy. As the novelist Giuseppe di Lampedusa once wrote, ‘If we want everything to stay the same, everything must change.’
Caldwell does not suggest that the paradox of foreigners ‘keeping Italy looking like Italy’ is necessarily unsustainable. His concern is that the majority of migrants belong to a religion that a sceptical, post-Enlightenment Europe cannot be expected to contain or resist. The level of Muslim immigration is unprecedented. Whereas in the past groups of immigrants - ‘Jewish and Huguenot refugees, a few factory hands from Poland or Ireland or Italy’ - were ‘big enough to enrich the lands of settlement, but not so big as to threaten them’, the sheer volume of Muslim immigration endangers the indigenous cultures of Europe, not least because those cultures have become precariously fragile. Political correctness, anti-racism and multicul- turalism, born of guilt about colonialism and shame about the Holocaust, are eroding national cultures, while failing to produce a coherent vision of a common European identity.
No reasonable person would deny that there are problems with some of Europe’s immigrant communities, or that multiculturalism challenges traditional boundaries separating citizenship from ideas centred on loyalty, identity and allegiance. For the late Sir Bernard Crick, George Orwell’s biographer and a leading educator, ‘Britishness’ is a legal and political structure that excludes culture: ‘When an immigrant says “I am British”, he is not saying he wants to be English, Scottish or Welsh.’ As Caldwell comments:
This was the EU model of belonging: you are one person for your culture and another for the law. You can be an official (legal) European, even if you are not a ‘real’ (cultural) European. This disaggregation of the personal personality and the legal personality sounds tolerant and liberating, but it has its downside. Rights are attached to citizenship. As soon as your citizenship becomes a legal construction, so do your rights.
In Caldwell’s view, immigrants to Europe are able to exploit their rights, not just as citizens, but also as residents, by claiming the health and welfare benefits to which natives are entitled: ‘The postwar Western European welfare states provided the most generous benefits ever given to workers anywhere’; Germany’s social market was the archetype of the systems replicated across Western Europe, with short working hours, seven-week holidays, full health coverage and rates for unionised workers reaching the equivalent of almost $50 an hour. While, unlike some other countries, Germany’s jus sanguinis denied full citizenship to immigrant workers, who were mainly from Turkey and Morocco, the economic effects were ultimately the same.
The welfare burden impeded investment, stifling real risk-based entrepreneurship, epitomised by the ‘small, flexible start-up companies that drove most of the innovation in recent decades’, especially in the information economy. The USA, by contrast, is less indulgent: here, contrary to the myth of American openness, immigrants are pressured to conform. An immigrant may maintain his ancestral culture, but ‘if it is a culture that prevents him from speaking English properly or showing up to work promptly, he will go hungry. Then he will go home’.
In Caldwell’s vision, Europe’s welfare states have been succouring alien intruders: as the native population grows in age and declines in proportion to immigrants, so the value they add to the ‘social market’ economy by working for its welfare systems is eroded by their claims on benefits. In Spain, for example, the Harvard economist Martin Feldstein has predicted that the ratio of workers to retirees, currently rated at 4.5:1, will fall to 2:1 by 2050. In Britain, the Office of National Statistics predicts a population increase of 10 million - two-thirds of them immigrants or their children - over the next quarter century, with the number of people aged 85 and over expected to double. For Caldwell, the short-term relief that immigrants bring to the welfare state is unlikely to match their longer-term claims on it:
In the extremely short run, a baby bust such as Europe has undergone can enhance living standards, because it reduces the number of dependents per worker. But in the longer run a reckoning awaits, and the longer run has arrived.
The most egregious examples of Caldwell’s aliens are Muslims, because, as he sees it, they are less susceptible to European cultural influences than are other immigrant groups such as Slavs, Sikhs, Hindus, non-Muslim Africans and African-Caribbeans. He flatly ignores evidence produced by numerous scholars, such as Aziz al-Azmeh, Tariq Modood, Philip Lewis and Jytte Klausen, that Muslim identities are shifting to meet changing circumstances, that the majority of younger British Muslims, for example, ‘share many aspects of popular youth culture with their non-Muslim peers’, and that their problem is not so much with the majority culture as with ‘traditionally-minded parents who seek, usually unsuccessfully, to limit their access to it’.
Caldwell pours scorn on writers who emphasise the diversity of the Islamic traditions in Europe. ‘For all its pleasing glibness,’ he says, ‘this harping on diversity is misguided.’ His reading of Islam takes an essentialist perspective of a primordial religion impervious to change, as if he were oblivious of the way that essentialist views of religion have long been under sustained intellectual attack. No one remotely familiar with the work of scholars such as Aziz al-Azmeh (who ruminates on the diversities of ‘Islams’ and ‘modernities’) or the political scientist, Jytte Klausen, whose brilliant work on European Muslims investigates emerging hermeneutics and epistemologies of faith, would dismiss them, as Caldwell does, as ‘glib’. Al-Azmeh and his colleagues provide plenty of support to refute ‘the cliche’, as al-Azmeh writes, ‘of a homogenous collectivity innocent of modernity, cantankerously or morosely obsessed with prayer, fasting, veiling, medieval social and penal arrangements’, while Klausen has demonstrated convincingly that European Muslims are overwhelmingly hostile to extremism, support democratic processes, accept the duties of citizenship, and are evolving distinctively local styles of Muslim identity.
Nor does Caldwell exhibit any familiarity with the rich literature describing the spread of Islam in peripheral cultures such as Sub-Saharan Africa or South Asia, where a religion originating in Arabia proved every bit as adept as Christianity in adjusting to local conditions. He has similarly failed to familiarise himself, even superficially, with the vast literature charting the encounter between Islam and modern Western society. In his review of Western attitudes towards Islam he prefers to celebrate the prejudices of writers such as Ernest Renan (in 1883) or Hilaire Belloc (in 1938) than to engage with significant Muslim thinkers such as Muhammad Iqbal, Fazlur Rahman, Mohammed Arkoun or Abdullahi an-Na’im who might challenge his essentialist assumptions. Caldwell’s ‘Islam’ owes more to tabloid headlines than to responsible research. To borrow a phrase of Philip Lewis, it exemplifies the need for greater religious literacy in the post-9/11 era.
Nevertheless, in arguing that ‘Europe became a multiethnic society in a fit of absence of mind’, Caldwell makes some useful points. European societies have yet to find satisfactory ways of institutionalising Islam within their national polities. This is partly a result of the fragmentary and contested nature of Islamic spiritual authority, in which (with the partial exception of Shi‘ism) no formal priesthood stands between the individual and a God who reveals Himself in texts that are subject to a wide variety of interpretations.
Umbrella bodies intended to act as interlocutors with governments, such as the Muslim Council of Britain (MCB) and the French Council for the Muslim Faith (CFCM), are rejected by many Muslims for being too political, or not political enough, or simply not representative of people who may be difficult to represent, or may not want to be represented as ‘Muslims’. It is clear that, as a religion formulated during an era of political ascendancy, the mainstream traditions of Islam have yet to find comfortable moorings as minorities in the contested public spaces of a secular, pluralist West.
Two-thirds of the imams in France live on welfare, as do a similar number in Britain. The majority are foreign-born and trained, and have received little instruction in European culture or its values. A small number of them have been exposed in the press as ‘preachers of hate’. The funding of European mosques and Islamic institutions from ultra-conservative countries should be a real cause for concern: in France, for example, the Union of Islamic Organisations (UIOF) - an umbrella group of doctrinaire Muslim youth organisations linked to the Muslim Brotherhood - gets a quarter of its annual budget from Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Kuwait and other foreign donors.
The British laissez-faire model of leaving immigrant communities to manage themselves has allowed extremism to flourish in all sorts of complex ways. Missionary organisations such as the Tablighi Jamaat, known for its piety and declared abhorrence of politics, nevertheless encourage a separatist spirit in which extremism can be incubated: most of the men convicted in September 2008 for plotting to blow up transatlantic airliners using liquid explosives smuggled in soft-drink bottles had connections with the Tablighi Jamaat, as did two of the suicide bombers who murdered 52 people in the London transport system in July 2005.
Paradoxically, even marriage can be an agent of radicalisation: whereas the first generation of migrants’ children pleased their parents by marrying cousins imported from Pakistan or Bangladesh (thereby swelling immigrant numbers), their children’s insistence on marrying Muslim partners of their choice is leading to the creation of a Muslim identity that transcends the older patterns of ‘encapsulated’ settlement based on differences of region, culture, language and biradiri (extended family networks).
This novel pan-Islamic identity both feeds on and contributes to the perceived hostility of the host society: the Rushdie agitation in 1989, the row over the ‘insult’ to Islam conveyed by the Danish newspaper Jyllands- Posten in publishing a cartoon showing Muhammad with a terrorist bomb as his turban, the marches in France protesting the headscarf ban in schools, the riots of youth in Parisian suburbs, and episodes of Islamophobia reported on Al Jazeera television or in the Muslim press, all contribute to the sense of an embattled community that is also flexing its collective communitarian muscles.
Despite the legal, institutional and cultural differences of the European host cultures in which Muslim immigrants find themselves, the narrative that Caldwell extrapolates from a complicated web of data points in an alarming direction. The bottom line is that Islam is a religion of believers. Most Europeans are not only sceptical, but - as heirs to the Enlightenment - they regard religious scepticism as being essential to their outlook and identity ‘as part of the essence of European-ness’. He writes:
A fast-shrinking population of several hundred million Europeans lives north of the Mediterranean, while a fast-growing population of several hundred million lives south of it, with a desire to take up residence in Europe that seems unshakable. What is more a certain part of it is dedicated to Europe’s destruction by armed violence ...
Europe’s basic problem with Islam, and with immigration more generally, is that the strongest communities in Europe are, culturally speaking, not European communities at all. This problem exists in all European countries, despite a broad variety of measures taken to solve it - multiculturalism in Holland, laicite in France, benign neglect in Britain, constitutional punctiliousness in Germany. Clearly Europe’s problem is with Islam and with immigration, and not with specific misapplications of specific means set up to manage them. Islam is a magnificent religion that has also been, at times over the centuries, a glorious and generous culture. But all cant to the contrary, it is in no sense Europe’s religion and it is in no sense Europe’s culture.
Impressive though Caldwell may appear in marshalling a disparate army of sources (ranging from government statistics, social surveys and think- tank reports, to novels and newspaper stories in eight or more languages), the impression he gives is spurious and not supported by real evidence. He selects a multitude of facts or quotations that support his central premise of a ‘believing’ Islam pitted against a doubting or sceptical Europe. This conclusion, however, is not supported by surveys of actual religious behaviour. While the figures - and methodologies used to arrive at them - vary considerably, the conclusion to which they point is that Muslims do not differ greatly in religious behaviour from other Europeans. For example, a French study in 2001 found that only 10 per cent of Muslims were religiously observant. A study by the demographer Michele Tribalat in the same year found that 60 per cent of French Muslim men and 70 per cent of women were ‘not observant’, though the great majority respected ‘cultural attachments’ by abstaining from eating pork or drinking alcohol and by fasting during Ramadan. Caldwell mentions none of this work.
The failures in this book are not limited to its flawed and biased research. A troubling example of Caldwell’s method involves the misuse of translation in order to further his argument that, unlike other religious traditions, Islam cannot be assimilated into European culture. In an extended critique of the work of Tariq Ramadan, the charismatic and articulate advocate of a distinctive European Islam, Caldwell argues that Ramadan’s project for Muslim integration into European societies is basically asymmetrical:
The integration of Muslims into Europe will happen on Muslim terms. Or, as Ramadan puts it, ‘It will succeed when Muslims find in their tradition elements of agreement with the laws of the countries in which they are citizens, because that will resolve any questions of double allegiance.' This is an extraordinary statement: Only when Europe’s ways are understood as Islam’s will Muslims obey them.
The word Ramadan uses in the original French text of this quotation is not ‘tradition’, but ‘references’. ‘References’ in this context sounds slightly odd in English, but ‘tradition’ is too comprehensive, tipping the semantic scale towards inassimilable Muslims. A better translation might be ‘sources’. This is not splitting hairs. As Ramadan explains in What I Believe, in which he defends himself against charges of ‘doublespeak’, the idea of ‘reference’ is fundamental to his approach: ‘Adapting one’s level of speech to one’s audience, or adapting the nature of one’s references, is not doublespeak ... To avoid doublespeak, what matters is that the substance of the discourse does not change.’
Ramadan writes that his most distinguished defender, the philosopher Charles Taylor, exonerates him from the charge of ‘doublespeak’, arguing, as Ramadan puts it, that his ‘discourse is clear between two highly ambiguous universes of reference’. Ramadan’s aim is to ‘build bridges’ between these two universes. As a Muslim scholar and intellectual he applies the discipline of ijtihad (interpretative reasoning), an Arabic term which has the same root as jihad (moral striving) - a word that is often translated, too restrictively, as ‘holy war’.
Ramadan presents his new book, What I Believe, as ‘a work of clarification, a deliberately accessible presentation of the basic ideas I have been defending for more than twenty years’. The ground is broadly the same as that covered in two books of his previously reviewed in these pages. There I argued that Ramadan’s belief that Islam can avoid the processes of secularisation that afflicted Christendom after the Reformation was flawed by his failure to accommodate the tragic narrative of Shi‘ism and his failure to recognise that the institutionalisation of religious differences - a prerequisite for religious peace among Muslims - would ipso facto initiate a process of secularisation.
In a chapter on ‘Interacting Crises’, Ramadan addresses some of the issues that Caldwell raises in his book: the Muslim presence in the West, he says, should not just be seen and engaged with as a problem of religions, values and cultures, but also as a psychological one. It is not just Muslims who face challenging issues of self-identification. ‘Western societies in general and Europeans in particular are experiencing a very deep, multidimensional identity crisis’ flowing from the double effects of globalisation and supranationalism. Everywhere, landmarks of national identity and cultural memory are being eroded, and the presence of immigrants adds to feelings of confusion.
While ageing populations need immigrants to sustain their economies, the incomers threaten ideas of cultural homogeneity that are already endangered by globalisation and the revolution in communications. Europeans are trapped in an irreversible logic. Economic necessities are in conflict with the cultural forces around which European identities accrue. Muslims living in the West face similar predicaments. Their identity crisis generates anxiety, leading them towards attitudes of ‘withdrawal and self-isolation’.
A ‘Manifesto for a New “We”’, with which Ramadan concludes his book, urges European Muslims to have more confidence ‘in themselves, in their values, in their ability to live and to communicate with full serenity in Western societies’. There needs to be ‘a revolution in trust’ built on the confidence that Muslims must have in their own convictions. Their task must be ‘to reappropriate their heritage and to develop toward it a positive yet critical intellectual attitude’. Contra Caldwell, he demands - without qualifications - that Muslims ‘respect the laws of the countries in which they reside and to which they must be loyal’.
The tone is lofty, the language high-minded. It is the preacher, rather than the intellectual, who speaks. Ramadan does not stoop to engage directly with his critics. As he grandly writes in his introduction: ‘I will not waste my time here trying to defend myself.’ This is a pity. The charges of doublespeak against Ramadan are not based only on what he describes as ‘double-hearings’, malicious, deliberate or otherwise. The claims of his most trenchant critic, the French journalist Caroline Fourest, are specific, detailed and documented, based on the tapes of Ramadan’s lectures to youthful Muslim audiences as well as his published writings.
Fourest presents Ramadan as a fundamentalist wolf in reformist clothing, a position at variance with his declared advocacy of a ‘critical intellectual attitude’ towards Islamic tradition. Most of her charges depend on family links Ramadan refuses to abjure - his maternal grandfather Hasan al-Banna, founder of the Muslim Brotherhood; his Islamist father Said Ramadan; and in particular his brother Hani, a more strident critic than Tariq of ‘Europe’s atheistic materialism’, and who has publicly justified the stoning of adulteresses ‘as a punishment’ that is also ‘a purification’. Tariq, by contrast, notoriously argued in a 2003 televised debate with Nicolas Sarkozy that the penalty of stoning should merely be subject to a ‘moratorium’ while scholars debated the issue.
Other troubling details that emerge from Fourest’s vigilant, even obsessive, trawl through the Ramadan canon include explicit condemnations of Kant and Pascal, and fence-sitting, not to say ‘double-talk’, on Darwinism. A work published by the Islamist publishing house with which Ramadan is closely associated explicitly denies evolution, while his audiotapes advocate creationism as a ‘complementary instruction’ to the teaching of evolution in schools. Yet, when asked in a television interview whether he accepted evolutionary theory, he ‘preferred to agree’, rather than express his true convictions before the general public.
In one sense, Fourest’s critique can be seen as reassuring: Ramadan’s teachings - on sexuality, evolution and moral behaviour generally - fall into grooves already furrowed by the Christian right. Secularists may abhor any alliance between anti-Enlightenment God-fearers from among Abraham’s quarrelsome children, but any such alliance may have an important advantage: it may mask or defuse religious conflicts surrounding the contested symbolic languages that afflict the contemporary world, where ancient certainties clash with what Anthony Giddens usefully calls ‘the institutionalisation of doubt’.
Paradoxically, as the sociologist Steve Bruce has pointed out, alliances between clashing fundamentalisms can serve to bridge sectarian divisions. For example, in the early 1970s, when Mormons, conservative Jews and Catholics collaborated over issues such as opposition to the proposed Equal Rights Amendment for women, or abortion, they had to suppress their theological distaste for allies whose religions they regarded as false. While such alliances may have seemed threatening to liberals, and especially to women, they marked a significant step away from fundamentalist certainties, since the different parties were forced to compartmentalise their beliefs, to separate their distinctive religious outlooks and practices from ‘the moral crusades which the religion has produced’. Social problems such as the ‘binge drinking’ and drug abuse that afflict European cities are obvious candidates for collaboration across religious boundaries. In Britain, at least one Orthodox rabbi is working alongside a local imam on such problems.
One of the strongest statements deploring the Danish cartoons came from the Vatican, along with the World Council of Churches, Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the Danish Evangelical Church. While such expressions of ‘faith solidarity’ may have disturbing implications for the rights of free expression cherished by Europeans, they carry the seeds of longer- term accommodations that are likely to bring the more conservative and isolated strands of Islam into the cultural mainstream. Interdenominational collaboration on any issue is a stage in the process of secularisation, pushing believers towards a recognition of religious pluralism and dethroning particular dogmas as the unique and non-negotiable sources of truth. Ramadan can afford to be more forthright about his fundamentalist views. When defensive religiosity turns into moralising, there is space for social engagement and constructive debate.
Published in The New York Review of Books, 17 December 2009.
The books reviewed were:_
Christopher Caldwell (2009) Reflections on the Revolution in Europe: Immigration, Islam and the West. New York: Doubleday.
Tariq Ramadan (2009) What I Believe. New York: Oxford University Press.
Books quoted from:_
Aziz al-Azmeh and Effie Fokas (eds) (2007) Islam in Europe: Diversity, Identity and Influence. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, p. 209.
Islamic Foundation (1999) To Be a European Muslim. Leicester, UK: The Islamic Foundation.
Caroline Fourest and Denis McShane (2008) Brother Tariq: The Doublespeak of Tariq Ramadan, translated by Ioana Wilder and John Atherton. Encounter Books.
Jytte Klausen (2005) The Islamic Challenge: Politics and Religion in Western Europe. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.
Tariq Ramadan (2003) Western Muslims and the Fate of Islam. New York: Oxford University Press.