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Pyramidal Socialization

Salafi Militant Apoliticism and the Control of French Islam’s Political Agenda

Pyramidal socialization deploys first of all in the arena of politics. Viewed properly, the position of the Salafis is a demobilization and disengagement with respect to militancy, with the theorization of political challenges past, present, and future taking place in a moralizing and radical mode.¹ Salafist sociality in matters of political morality harks back to the example of alternative groups in the United States in the years 1960–1970: the Salafist way of life and socialization are comparable to the countercultures in vogue during that era and are built on opposition to the dominant culture in the form of a moral radicalism.²

Politicization is the aspect of the socialization process that impacts the political arena. Salafis embrace a moralizing and militant apoliticism that characterizes their relationship to the politics of the humanitarians. Viewed as the domain where man’s passion will push him into forgetting the orthodox worship of God, the political sphere is regarded negatively, with disengagement and demobilization the chosen rules of conduct. We can compare the political offer of the Salafis to that of a nongovernmental organization in which, in fine, the individual and collective welfare will guide an eventual politicization.

In Salafist militant apoliticism, the militant expert finds himself supplanted by the scholarly expert in defining and interpreting the political stakes. The scholarly expert is tasked with reminding Salafis to worship Allah (among others, a political mission) and to deter them from activism in the classical sense. The example of the debates that preceded the vote on the law of March 15, 2004, on the wearing of religious symbols in public schools showcases Salafis’ slight propensity for joining the throngs of militants that demonstrated in the streets of Paris for the right to wear the hijab (Islamic headscarf) in public institutions of learning. Several years later, the ban on wearing the niqab (full veil) did not impel Salafis to mobilize in the public square. Bilal (a young convert from the Southern suburb of Paris) gave us his analysis of the debate concerning the hijab and its ban in French primary and secondary schools. He also brought up the debate about the niqab:

AUTHOR:Would you say that you can practice Islam fittingly in France? Especially when seeking to follow the ancients?

BILAL:In France? . . . [Brief moment of reflection]. In France you can practice Islam, but . . . someone who wants to work, to practice his religion while trying to meets his needs, he will have difficulty joining [sic] the two: keep the religion and make a living. . . . Most companies refuse to allow acts of religious devotion during working hours. What to do in that case? When it comes to prayers, for instance? You can’t hear the adan [call to prayer] when it matters. In the Muslim countries, you hear the adan. . . . But above all, they want to change the laws of Islam, for example with regard to the veil. In France they want to lift the obligation of the veil. You understand . . . while they talk about liberty for anyone. Picture the suspicion with which they regard Muslims. A girl who undresses has the right to do it, but a girl who wants to protect her modesty . . .

AUTHOR:But tell me, did you think of going into politics to defend the rights of Muslims?

BILAL:Politics in this country? They would never accept my going into politics. They need to adapt their society to Islam, but they do everything they can to make Islam adapt itself to their society. You want an example? The veil. Their politics and Islam are separable.

AUTHOR:Yes, but let’s take the vote, for instance. You don’t plan to vote to tip the balance toward the side of Islam? For that matter, what do you think of the scholars’ advice on voting?

BILAL:There is a split about voting. Some scholars forbid it regardless of circumstances. For them, it’s clear, you do not vote even if it supposedly would turn out to be useful in certain cases. For Albani, it’s the rule of the lesser evil. When you are in a Muslim country, and if there is the choice of whatever lesser evil, one would be permitted to vote.

AUTHOR:And you, if they authorized you to vote in France, who would you vote for?

BILAL:In France I don’t feel drawn to anyone. My position is that it’s necessary to leave this country. How do you expect me to accept the dissoluteness, the pornographic images plastered all over the billboards? There are serious things that must not be accepted. If some want to accept them, fine for them, but me, no.

AUTHOR:And do you feel attracted to one party rather than another? On the left, for example, as opposed to the right? You know, they say that, generally speaking, people from the suburbs feel closer to the left. In opposition to Sarkozy (considered to among many French Muslims as antiIslam and antiimmigrants), for example.

BILAL:Like socialism and all that? It’s all the same. These are laws made by man. These are no good laws, because they are from societies known to be deviant, and that is where they have more murders, more crime. This very well proves the uselessness of these laws.

AUTHOR:And you think that it is better in some Muslim countries?

BILAL:In Saudi Arabia they have the least number of violations. The people in the West criticize the Shariʾa as something barbaric, inhumane, when you find only a few thieves, fornicators, and no drugs; this is a pure society. While it is in the most developed countries that you find the most evil.

AUTHOR:And, just for the sake of example, between Nicolas Sarkozy (French President from 2007 to 2012) and Jacques Chirac (French President from 1995 to 2007), which one would you prefer?

BILAL:Sarko is worse! It’s been under his government that they tried most to infringe on the Muslims. That law against the sitar (a type of full facial veil)³ . . . that one’s the enemy! I won’t say Chirac is good, but he doesn’t do that. ...

AUTHOR:What’s your opinion of the vote on the law of 2004, banning the veil in schools?

BILAL:That 2004 law is no good. It’s done a lot of harm to Islam. It opens a door to temptation, it encourages intimate relations at an early age, and it favors coeducation.

AUTHOR:And why not organize demonstrations to protest the proposed law while it was being debated? Certain individuals in the UOIF (Union of the Islamic Organizations in France, main movement related to the Muslim Brotherhood) did it, for example. In other currents they did as well.

BILAL:But the scholars prohibited demonstrations, because it leads to disorder and also because of the resemblance to nonbelievers. For all that, it also implies mixing of men and women in the same place, the disorder that can cause. But as I said, the degradation in public places, the authentic Islam has formally forbidden havoc and stirring up strife.

AUTHOR:And what do you think of banning the niqab?

BILAL:It’s a bad law. It’s because it lets the sisters who wear the niqab show that they are different. They feel attacked for being different. I don’t understand it. I don’t see where it’s bad. The person who wears the niqab, she’s not forcing anyone to adhere to her convictions. As long as we don’t proselytize, it shouldn’t cause any problems.

AUTHOR:And how would you answer those who bring up the question of the niqab from the aspect of women’s dignity and the relations between men and women? You must have heard about the debate concerning the women of Islam.

BILAL:Careful! We are mixing everything up. Islam advocates equality between the man and the woman insofar as rights are concerned, but not the same functions. They educate themselves, they inherit, they study their religion, et cetera. But the functions are not the same. The man has his functions, the woman has hers. The man has rights where the woman is concerned, the woman has rights vis-à-vis the man. For example, the woman must remain at home to look after her husband’s property and the children. If she is a pious wife, she looks after things while he is traveling, for instance. . . . She must not show herself in the street because the frequency with which women go into the street is a factor in adultery. Mixing creates opportunities that can end up in adultery.

AUTHOR:And if they ever pass a law that bans the wearing of the niqab, how will that affect you?

BILAL:If they implement that law, it will lead to numerous problems, like, for example, resistance to the forces of law and order. . . . It might even come to clashes, to riots. Those inclined to revolt will say “We’re being attacked!,” and in response to the attacks they’ll destroy things in that country, they’ll burn cars. . . . But that is bad behavior. For the Salafi, he will fault them but also himself. He will say, “If I were not in this country, they could not do me this harm.” If he has no way of leaving, he’ll plead with Allah to take care of the problems. He’ll make douʾa [invocations], he’ll ask for patience, but the takfiris [excommunicators], those who have misunderstood Islam [raises his fist and physically contorts his face, which we interpret as his way of describing takfiri morals], they’ll respond to it with reprisals. We Salafis . . . we can defend ourselves. If someone strikes our wife, for instance, it is normal to defend your relatives and property, but do so without going on the offensive. The best way of responding to this attack is to leave the country, the hijira. Just like the prophet left Mecca . . . they left Mecca for Medina and were free to observe Allah’s commandments. Because the Prophet and his Companions furnish the best examples to follow. It is by following the Sunna that we win. Strictly observing the Sunna will make all problems disappear, all the inconveniences.

We can draw three lessons from this. The first attaches to the vampirization or demonization of the political and religious alterity incarnated in French elites. Thus we note the frequency with which the pronoun “they” occurs in Bilal’s statements. Bringing the deciders into it (without ever employing a precise designation), he insists on the relationship between domination and French society’s opposition to the Muslim community, especially when the latter appears inflexible, defending and promoting values from another era that it judges to be ontologically superior to contemporary values. This vindictive aspect reflects a principle of resistance as well as a sentiment of being divinely chosen. The more “they” go after the manifestations of religious purity, the more the Salafis are sure that they are on the right path, so long as they are never called to wear the yoke of a foreign iniquitous power or influence. The essence of the link that makes them oppose French institutions resides in conflict, at least symbolically. In contrast to the Islamic currents that preach negotiation within the republican framework based on moderated demonstrations of piety in the public square, the Salafis would not know how to abandon their pretension to totality. Their reading of society’s challenges comes close to the “radical fundamentalism” conceptualized by Jean-Marie Donegani,⁴ who utilizes this concept to describe the behavior of certain Catholic groups in reacting to secularism and the separation of church and state. The accommodating ethic of militant Muslims or the refusal to make Islam the center of daily life, especially among private Muslims or traditionalists, eventually will compromise the faith and reinforce positions that are hostile to Islam. Intent on preserving religious authenticity, the Salafis end up eschewing all engagement with the political debate, even when it is likely to lead to an attack on Muslim rights. According to the typology developed by Nancy Venel, the followers of Tariq Ramadan or the UOIF are “accommodationists” because their Islamity finds its meaning in fertilizing the social field with religious morality. They combine “integral religious affiliation and anti-authoritarian citizenship,” since their relationship to society is characterized by “a dual civic and religious belonging.”⁵ Their religious practice nonetheless remains characterized by a form of subordination to the French context.

As for the Salafis, they are “neo-communitarians,” characterized by an “introverted assertion of identity and [an] anti-authoritarian citizenship.”⁶ Living in a “perception of territorial exclusion,” “[they] have the sense of evolving in a diffuse climate of hostility. They say they are subjected daily to discrimination, lack of respect, and a delegitimization of their presence. The way they are regarded, be it in school or in the professions or simply in the street, is intolerable to them. They are continually reminded of their origins.”⁷ In particular:

The neo-communitarians decline the invitation to share the ensemble of the characteristics of a collective national identity, favoring instead the promotion of a differentiating identity. . . . They know themselves to be in a space that belongs to them and that supersedes the (artificial in their view) borders of states: the Umma, the extraterritorial community of believers . . . whose existence stems more from a mental construct than reality. The place of residence is immaterial. It engenders neither allegiance nor affectivity. Identifying with France is not possible (or desired).⁸

This exclusive Islam upholds a contradictory posture of moralizing indifference: its followers reserve the privilege of harboring as many value judgments as necessary to warn Muslims against modernity, all the while staying on guard against ever engaging in or actively opposing the French political arena. Their posture can be compared to that of someone who turns away from a brawl, judging that it does not concern him and that the parties involved are on the wrong path no matter what the outcome, yet he keeps an eye on the fight and his coreligionists who want to intervene in the dispute. Discourse that combines democracy and secularity leaves no room for faith. The identities of citizen and believer are mutually exclusive. The faith that the integrationist Muslims of the UOIF or those close to Tariq Ramadan practice is the fruit of an isomorphism: here the context has shaped the definition of the Muslim condition and religious practice. This renders unacceptable certain strategies that do not take into account the dominant sociopolitical norm in the definition of the individual or of the group. Secularism in France, in the same way as sustainable development or environmental protection, is subject to a quasi-consensus that impacts both the perception that a social group has of itself and its political or social agenda. The manner in which the law of 1905 (French Law on the Separation of the Churches and the State) was integrated into the discourse of organizations representing militant Islam symbolizes a dynamic of isomorphism. In this case, we even speak of an “institutional isomorphism”⁹ (the norm adopted by an entity proceeds from societal, media, and political pressure). Among the Salafis, the opposite is the rule. What they are after is saving differentiation, not integration (voluntary or forced) of a system of values and practices emanating from a society that is implacably foreign and iniquitous. Interaction with the French environment is a negative-sum game: that which is given in France represents something taken away from the true Islam. Thus a refusal to vote indicates the militant depoliticization that typifies the relationship to politics of the upholders of the true way.

A second point concerns the politicization of the hijra. As Bilal told us, “the strategy of departure” from the French social space is conceived of as a self-preservation solution that is religiously justified. Although the majority of Muslims have consented to tolerate the perversity and iniquity of nonbelievers, the Salafis do not plan to remain in hostile territory. And this plays a role in a political understanding of the hijra: a salutary migration takes on a protective but also pyramidal dimension, since the positive differentiation that typifies it turns the practicants into beings capable of physically breaking away from France solely by force of will. Going to a country where the names of Allah and his Prophet are not trampled on, Salafis emerge into the light, awakening¹⁰ to the realization that only an ersatz Islam can survive in France. We asked Bilal where he would hope to live if he had the chance to leave France:

AUTHOR:In your view, which are the best countries for living in as a good Muslim? To make the hijra, for example.

BILAL:[Our question barely finished] Saudi Arabia . . . Yemen, Egypt. Mali, in Africa. Mali is better than Senegal because there have been many toulab al-ʿilm [students (seekers) of science] who did the Daʾwa there. There were also scholars there. Me, I’d like to go to Saudi Arabia and, if not, to Yemen, inchʾallah. But I’d like to finish my life in Senegal. If they don’t grant me a visa to Arabia, I’ll go study in Egypt, where I was already, but it will be Africa for finishing my life, in Senegal [his family’s native country].

AUTHOR:And what about Afghanistan?

BILAL:Afghanistan before was good. There was a real jihad. People studied their religion. There was a Daʾwa Salafiyya. The believers practiced true jihad. Then came bin Laden. He took the reins. He arrived with his money, he’s a rich man, and he turned the people’s heads around. There used to be a great scholar in Afghanistan, Jamiʾou Rahman Al-Afghani,¹¹ he had a real Daʾwa and people practiced the real Islam. Afghanistan was Daʾwa country. . . . Like Sheikh Fawzan said, there are two types of jihad:¹² defensive jihad for repelling an attack, like when the Russians entered Afghanistan. Jamiʾou Rahman Al-Afghani united the Muslims on the basis of tawhid. . . . He talked with a jihadist and told him that for a jihad they needed an emir, but he [the jihadist] answered, “What does it take to have an emir?” He [the sheikh] responded that if the Muslims united according to tasfiyya wa-tarbiyya,¹³ after that they could do jihad. You can do it on the basis of uniqueness. Strategic unity would come from uniting around the credo. . . . That is what the Prophet did: First, he preached to the Companions against associationism, and so on. The factor behind unity is tawhid. . . . Where tawhid is lacking, like in Palestine or Iraq, the enemies benefit from it. Why do you think the Palestinians have to be ʿammar?¹⁴

AUTHOR:Where, in your view, is jihad legitimate in the world? The talk is of jihadism, but no one knows where it is ultimately legitimate. For example, is Iraq a territory for legitimate jihad? About Afghanistan too, along with Pakistan, there’s been an enormous amount of talk. What do you think?

BILAL:There was a jihad in Afghanistan, also in Chechnya. Not in Iraq, not in Afghanistan today. Whenever there is no emir, there’s no jihad. The Taliban, before, they were Salafis, but not now. They’ve become . . . bizarre. Bin Laden arrived with his Daʾwa of takfiri, when they’d stopped cultivating opium, they were in tasfiyya wa-tarbiyya, Shariʾa applied, there was no injustice, and the women were veiled. Bin Laden, he called for jihad; he enticed them, without passing through the tawhid, without adopting this methodology. The scholar I mentioned to you [Jamiʾou Rahman Al-Afghani] was killed by the Northern Alliance, by Commander Massoud, an ikhwan (a Muslim Brother). He allied himself with the Westerners because he didn’t like the Taliban. It was one of his followers that killed that scholar, when all the scholars had spoken well of him. He was a Salafi, but bin Laden, he oriented them toward hating the West. People reverted to being what they had been. They went back to worshipping graves and cultivating opium. It was the return of Muslim decadence. The Americans came, they turned against the governor. Bin Laden fled. That story we know.

AUTHOR:And as for jihad in Islam?

BILAL:For us, it’s the jihad al-talab [defensive jihad]. Before, people saw how Muslims behaved and they converted like that. That is truly the light of Allah. . . . It is wrong to say Islam is violent. If there were wars, there must not have been that many. It’s false to say that Islam is violent and calls for war. Muslims before were engaged in commerce, that’s how they got people to convert.

Finding a substitute product for best quality Islam, especially in Saudi Arabia, the Gallic way is bound to be unsatisfactory. Where a majority of Muslims seem to accord importance to legitimate mechanisms of political participation, such as electoral participation, the Salafis “vote with their feet,” in the sense Hirschmann employed when he analyzed the emigration from Eastern European countries to Western European societies.¹⁵ Salafist socialization therefore is to be understood as an obligation to teach contemporaries in the religious domain (voice strategy), while, in the political field, only an ethic of loyalty toward the Muslim states is justifiable if life in a non-Muslim society makes a moral and physical departure imperative (exit strategy).

In the third place, the practicants reject political engagement in favor of a radical and soteriological moralism; this makes Salafist militant apoliticism postmillenarian, whereby the wise practice of religion prevails over the infantilism of wanting to precipitate an uncertain political revolution. Such postmillenarianism discredits any enterprise with that aim. According to the doctrine of salvation, the sole posture grounded Islamically is to rely on God in the face of a given social problematic. This does not mean that Salafist apoliticism will never resort to a large-scale mobilization to defend the Muslim religion if the time is ripe. Yet regardless of circumstances, such an action will be up to the scholars to approve. Even though they deny it and consider it to be a pure moral religious issue, what we have here represents a question of a political thought. Indeed, the problem of how a city should be ruled has clearly been tackled and theorized. What is targeted and denounced is the fact that this matter usually divides people, not that how best organize a city.¹⁶ On the other hand, the Islamic state will someday materialize, if for no other reason that its arrival is predicted in Koranic times. Engagement is possible, on the condition that there is proof of the relevance of the moment of assumed politicization, when quietism must give way to militancy.

The Palestinian question without doubt best illustrates the greatest gap between the Salafist position and that of numerous militant Muslim organizations agitating for this cause. Between December 27, 2008, and January 18, 2009, the Gaza Strip was the subject of an intense barrage by the Israeli army under Operation Cast Lead, during which more than fourteen hundred Palestinians perished, including several hundred children. This impassioned conflict is the one that most impacted the Muslim world during the years of my research on Salafism, not to mention the numerous crises framed by antagonistic relations with the West that called out to the planetwide Muslim conscience. At a time when masses of people demonstrated in protest and demanded a halt to the massacres, the contrary movement in the Salafist communities has to be noted. The Salafis aligned themselves with fatwas issued by the clerics, particularly the one promulgated by the grand mufti of the kingdom of Saudi Arabia, Abdel Aziz Al Sheikh, while the fighting in Gaza was in full swing and the streets of the great Arab cities (Cairo, Damascus) and London, Paris, and Madrid regularly filled with demonstrators. This fatwa¹⁷ qualified the act of demonstrating in the street as a “senseless act” and ordered a stop to the “bedlam” in favor of donating blood or money to the victims. The grand mufti finds an echo in Saudi Arabia, in the person of Sheikh Saleh Al-Luhaydan, the head of the kingdom’s Supreme Judicial Council, who characterizes the demonstrations as “corruption [fassad] on earth” and individuals who call for expressing anger in the street as only “[diverting] people and [preventing] them from invoking God.”¹⁸ Where many Muslims see duplicity by the Saudi elites allied with the Western nations, the followers of the true way have developed a policy position that is radically different from that of militant Islam. Abdelsamad, formerly named Francisco (he is a convert in his 30s of Portuguese descent), provides us with the example:

AUTHOR:How did you experience the events in Gaza? Were you thinking about the fatwa by the grand mufti of Saudi Arabia, who came out against demonstrating?

ABDELSAMAD:Bah, he’s right. Frankly, what good will it do? You think it will change anything? Did the people who took part stop the Israelis from firing on the Palestinians? No. Well? He was right in issuing this fatwa. You think the Muslims should make noise in the street? No, what they really need is to learn their religion, believe me. It’s not by making noise that you’ll instill fear, on the contrary. That is far removed from Islam.

AUTHOR:And what do you tell those who say the sheikh is remote-controlled by the king so as not to call on the people to show their discontent?

ABDELSAMAD:That’s plain ignorant. In Saudia [sic], it’s like this. The officials and the scholars, they get together to decide what to do. The people who say that, they don’t know what happens and they criticize. They’re ignorant. . . . How many billions has the king of Saudia sent to the Palestinians? How many? Well, let those who demonstrate keep demonstrating.

AUTHOR:Do you think he tries to help them secretly?

ABDELSAMAD:Why not? It is written in Islam that when you do good, don’t talk about it, keep it to yourself. The ignorant people just talk. [His tone hardens slightly.] The scholars know better than them what needs to be done, they see things that the others don’t see. And then they criticize the scholars. Can you imagine? It upsets me, people who talk out of ignorance. It’s always emotions. People do things without thinking.

AUTHOR:What do you think is going on with the Palestinians? Why are they oppressed?

ABDELSAMAD:To start with, they ought to stop fighting among each other. Stop dividing themselves and fighting each other, because it helps their enemies.

AUTHOR:What are you suggesting?

ABDELSAMAD:Bah, shouldn’t you know, of all people? You specialize in politics, right? The Palestinians haven’t been beating each other up, for how long? Hamas and Hezbollah haven’t been killing each other?

AUTHOR:Not always. What do you mean by that? Hamas and Hezbollah? They’ve never fought each other.

ABDELSAMAD:[Ironic tone, a bit condescending] They never fought each other? A year or two ago, they didn’t fight each other?

AUTHOR:Oh, you mean Hamas and Fatah?¹⁹

ABDELSAMAD:That’s it! Hamas and Fatah, sorry. Hamas and Fatah. Hamas and Fatah didn’t fight for power?

AUTHOR:Sure, sure. And that, as far as you’re concerned, explains that they are oppressed and occupied by the Israelis?

ABDELSAMAD:What else? They’re not united, they wrangle over power, and they ignore their religion. It’s no wonder they beat each other up.

AUTHOR:And so you, during the Israeli strikes on the Gaza population, you did not think about taking part in demonstrations in support of the Palestinians? Not even once?

ABDELSAMAD:Nope. Anyway, how would I have? The fundamental rules of Islam are not respected. I didn’t make up the mixing that goes on in the demonstrations. I have a brother who works at Renault with me, in Guyancourt [site of the car maker’s Technocenter], who took part in the demonstrations. . . . He’s a practicant, but he is more ikhwan, you see. He told me I should participate in the demos, but I told him, “How to do it in the presence of sisters? You’ll touch them, hear their voices. They will raise their voices, when that’s not allowed.” He didn’t answer me, he just told me you have to express your anger, you had to do something and not stay on the sidelines. And you know what?

AUTHOR:What?

ABDELSAMAD:The day after the demonstration, I told him, “Well, how did it go?” He told me, “Good.” But in talking to him, I asked him if he said prayers when he was demonstrating along with the others. And get this, he said no. He couldn’t do it because, you know, he was busy demonstrating. He missed a prayer, he skipped a prayer while he was demonstrating. When you say that, you’ve said it all. ...

AUTHOR:In your opinion, what impels some Muslim countries and non-Muslim countries to fight?

ABDELSAMAD:It’s nothing new, it’s always been like that, the wars against Islam. They don’t want the Truth to spread. It doesn’t suit them. We know very well if the true Islam spreads, it will destroy them.

AUTHOR:And what do you say to people who maintain that Islam is a violent religion that seeks to dominate? There are, for example, the extremists who only see things their own way. Some of them, for instance, cast the takfir [excommunication] on other Muslims, also on those in power.

ABDELSAMAD:[In a didactic manner and a tone that is both moralizing and professorial] Oh, not at all! Those are the ikhwan that do the takfir! Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s! No, we appeal for respect for religion, it’s the ikhwan who call for rebellion against the governing elite. We never do that. Did you ever see a Salafi cast the takfir on a government leader? Believe me, if he did that, he would be a strange Salafi, with a weird ʿaqida (creed), a Salafi with his head screwed on backwards.

The Quest for Status through Economic Independence

If the political arena is an object of defiance, it is different in the economic sphere, which enjoys a positive image because it constitutes the domain for realizing the Islamic self by pushing the believer onto the way of the Prophet and the first Muslims. As long as it respects the prohibitions prescribed by Islamic morality, the economy is the object of a veritable strategy (religiously and socially grounded) of engagement (in word and deed), for two reasons. The first has to do with the political vision of economics, by which Salafis strive to escape from the godless society. The second resides in the accomplishment of the commercial and entrepreneurial vocation of the religious ethic. Where the other Muslims “are bent”²⁰ and placed under the heel of the repressive state, the commercial dimension recovers status and political scope. The economy is in the service of Salafist desocialization in relation to the norms and standards of French society. Since earning a wage leaves no room for respecting the imperative of worshipping God, it leads to a resocialization in an economic area structured around the principle of independence and symbolic opposition. Here are the remarks made by Othman (a young convert and an entrepreneur from the city of Athis-Mons), whom we asked about his profession and how he conceived the economic ethics bearing on his projects. The scene takes place after a course taught by Yassir, a young Salafi imam, in early 2008 at the Red Cross Mosque in Athis-Mons. Othman suggested picking us up at the RER train station in Juvisy-sur-Orge. He drove a Peugeot commercial vehicle behind whose backseat was piled a lot of material for use in assembling kitchen furniture. Seeing these items, we asked Othman what he did for a living:

OTHMAN:[While driving] I install marble for private customers in their kitchens. I’m self-employed and I work with some brothers.

AUTHOR:You only work with brothers?

OTHMAN:Yes, a long time already, more than a few years. At times, when the work load is not so heavy, when there are fewer contracts, I can’t call everyone, but it works out, al-hamdoulilah [God be praised], there’s nothing to complain about. . . .

AUTHOR:What did your father do?

OTHMAN:He did a variety of things. He was on his own. He worked hard but made a good living. Me, I think he did the right thing. He paid a lot of taxes to the state, but at least he had a real business, he was his own boss. [Here we sensed a moment of sincere admiration for the entrepreneurial father, a native of Spain.] He was also very intelligent. So I thought that that’s the way to go. I didn’t wait around for someone to give me a job.

AUTHOR:So how does it go, day by day? An example: when your clients see that you have a beard and that you wear the qamis (Islamic dress for males)?

OTHMAN:No problem. People can see I’m not trying to put one over on them. . . . I do good work. The work is clean, and they say thanks. Some even refer our name to other people, and that’s how one thing leads to another. There are no problems. I observe my religion, but I work normally. Most recently, I installed a kitchen for . . . [slight hesitation] Anyway, I’m not going to tell you how much, but the money isn’t bad. The clients were very satisfied.

AUTHOR:I imagine so. I’m not surprised. But you won’t tell me how much? It embarrasses you, or?

OTHMAN:[With a frank, sincere laugh] No, not at all, but good money, you know, people don’t like to talk about it to just anyone. Anyway, I made good money, al-hamdoulilah. Don’t worry about it.

AUTHOR:Okay, so how much do you gross? Ten thousand euros? Five thousand?

OTHMAN:[Another frank, sincere laugh] Bah . . . ha, ha, ha. . . [slight pause while he holds the smile]. Well, the gross isn’t far off from what you say, maybe even a little more. When the work is plentiful, it’s about that. That should do it.

AUTHOR:Do you have any complexes about money?

OTHMAN:Pfff! No, why? Look, you work, it’s to earn money, help others, not to get stepped on, it’s normal. Why do you think people work? Allah Zawjel [God almighty]. He says it: “Work, apply yourself, and make an effort.” What do you expect? The young people today, for example, they wait for it to happen, for it to fall out of the sky. No. You’ve got to take charge. That’s what I do.

AUTHOR:But tell me. So, you also do it to “be at ease”? So you don’t have to depend on anyone? For example, some non-Muslims?

OTHMAN:Bah, well, yeah. For me, it’s like the hijra. You know, because you’re a researcher, you know the hijra. The brothers here in France, they wonder why they are bent. They don’t do anything. They stay in France and then they wonder why the state controls you. It’s abnormal. Don’t wait to get out. The Muslims in France complain, but then what do they do? They do nothing. They don’t move. They need to take their head out of the sand. There are other things to do. For your religion, your life, your family, et cetera. As for work, if you don’t find what you are looking for, or if you don’t find a good career to do your prayers, bah, change. Listen, guy, it does no good to complain if you stay put and let yourself be bent.

AUTHOR:In your case, for example, that means you wouldn’t hesitate to leave France?

OTHMAN:[Renewed smile] Ah, but it’s already happened! I have a deal in the Gulf with some brothers.²¹ In Sharjah [one of the United Arab Emirates, known for being the most scrupulous when it comes to respecting Islamic morality] we have a real estate sales business. It’s totally different there. The people, business, commerce, nothing like France. You can work, you can open your business, not like in France, where they put obstacles in your way, for example.

AUTHOR:You find that they make it difficult in France for people who want to start a business?

OTHMAN:Are you kidding me? You’re joking, right? In France they put obstacles in your way at the drop of a hat. If you want to build a dossier, when you put in a claim, when you want to do something useful. They say, “Take charge! Invest!” But, look, if you want to work, you can’t, or you really have to be damn strong. My father had it the same, he worked, but he gave, I don’t know how much, to the state. Do you think that’s right? For instance, they make some laws, I saw it under Sarko, it goes without saying, he wants to make it easier for business [heavily ironic], but you’ll see every time in France, there’ll be talk, blah blah blah, and they’ll debate and they’ll pass a law that will come into effect months later or I don’t know when. And just now you talked to me about Dubai and all that, and, bah, you know that one of the reasons why they’re strong and become richer all the time, it’s because when they do business they mean business. If they have a problem there, they pass a law and apply it in not even a month, not like in France. Yes, there, that’s how you get ahead, not like they do here, where it’s meaningless.

Othman’s description is representative of the Salafist conception of the economic playing field. Mobilizing a strategy of speaking out in a quest for status, the practicants show the rest of society that they depend on themselves and put their confidence in God. They promote depoliticization by economic means:²²

OTHMAN:I never have voted in all my life. I don’t think I’ll ever vote. It means nothing to me. I don’t know in the name of what I should elevate a man: he’s just a man. It’s not that I’ll believe him just because he says he’ll do things or that he has some incredible qualities. A man stays a man. Those who vote, they have confidence, but I don’t. It’s useless. . . . And then, let’s not forget one thing: what are people seeking power for? Always more power.

AUTHOR:[Laughs] You’re quoting from The Matrix there, quite a remove from the hadiths.

OTHMAN:[Laughs] Bah, yes, he’s right in that film. Let’s be frank: what are people who govern looking for? Always and again, more ways of gaining greater power. I don’t see why I would go back in there and why I would give them my vote.

Besides the pacifying dimension of the economy, the Salafist conception manifests empathy for the libertarian ethic. Convinced of the fact that, by taking charge, the individual on his own avoids being subservient and retains the self-respect that is lost when expecting subsistence from another, the Salafi here offers a vision of society and the market economy. This perception, wedded to a consumerist spirit, offers a much less negative conception of the Occidental heritage; here free enterprise and mass consumption are perceived as constitutive of the ethos of a sincere orthodox Muslim. The Salafist approach to the economic field is symbolic and prosaic. Its political message: that economic independence makes it possible for one to avoid the godless system’s yoke. Also, it lets the Salafi take a stand vis-à-vis his coreligionists who lack sufficient resolve to put an end to what is lived as a relationship of alienation between French society and its Muslims.

Rising in the socioprofessional hierarchy by breaking with the classical integration circuits on the labor market is perceived as the empirical consequence of the principle of spiritual, psychological, and sociological rupture from unbelievers and deviant Muslims. Unlike those who choose to play the cooperative game with society in their quest for resources and status and who expect society to reward their individual efforts, Salafis choose socioprofessional careers that permit both material and religious accomplishment. In the manner of the first Protestant sects studied by Max Weber,²³ Salafis experience economic and material success as a sign of divine predestination, of God enjoining the pure to persevere in saving up for an “entrepreneurship of salvation” whereby capitalist success will give pleasure to the divine. The practicants believe that Allah traces an invisible line between those He fills with His grace and those He does not call to success in the beyond, prefigured by a worldly victory here below.²⁴ But they go further than the Protestant communities, who seem to understand the course of their economic affairs by trial and error, since the assessment of their possibility of salvation after death depends on the success or failure of their investment. The Salafis cross over into a supplementary stage by interpreting their economic success as the evident sign of the benefit engendered by breaking with the social codes and political contract that too many Muslims subscribe to. It is no longer about seeking, like the Protestants, signs of a next victory in the by-and-by prefigured by success in the here-and-now; it is about proving to yourself as well as your coreligionists that the—true—way of Islam is that of dignity regained by an ambitious economic ethic and of breaking with a labor market that is hostile to Muslims.²⁵

Social Rupture: Between Elitist Religious Practices and Cultural Desocialization

A Counterculture in Retreat and in Collision with the Dominant Culture: The Full-Body Veil

“The dress code”²⁶ yields one of the best illustrations of the Salafi will to rise above the cultural habits that are dominant in French society.²⁷ Among these codes, the most controversial garment is without doubt the full-body veil: the niqab, which covers the entire body except the eyes, and the sitar, a niqab that also hides the eyes behind another veil. While the Salafis make it a point of honor to dress according to the habits and customs of Islam’s first believers,²⁸ the niqab or sitar also perfectly represent the symbolic and practical break sought by women practicing the true way in an environment they judge to be oppressive and iniquitous.

Moreover, wearing the veil, considered moustahab (religiously recommended),²⁹ signifies the moral force of the female believers who thus reproduce the original norm while not submitting to an allogeneic or anti-Islamic standard. Abdelwahid’s wife wore the sitar for several years and still does on occasion, especially when she attends certain mosques. Oum Daoud³⁰ explained her motivations and the journey she took to wearing the sitar:

AUTHOR:May I ask you to please introduce yourself? Your age, your educational level, your profession if you have one?

OUM DAOUD:My name is Oum Daoud. I was born in 1986, and I’m twenty-four years old and married. I’m originally from Algeria. I come from Constantine, but I grew up in Paris. I came to France as a baby, but grew up in Paris. I have a secretarial vocational diploma, but I don’t work.

AUTHOR:And how old were you when you started wearing the niqab? And what were the reasons that persuaded you to wear it?

OUM DAOUD:In fact, I wore the jilbab³¹ starting at eighteen, nineteen years old. Prior to that, I didn’t wear the niqab. Also, I never wore just the niqab, since I wore the sitar right from the start. I always covered my eyes. It was part of my understanding right from the start.

AUTHOR:And just how did you arrive at this understanding? On which arguments did you base your decision to wear the sitar?

OUM DAOUD:To be honest, it’s hard to explain. It’s more of a feeling. I was interested in my religion: why we pray, why we fast. . . . Then I asked myself questions about the veil, and I understood that it was fard [obligatory]. I was not influenced by anyone. . . . I read a lot, I read the scholars like Ibn Taymiyya, Ibn Baz, and Albani. And then I also saw the sisters in the jilbab, I was with them. I told myself, “It’s not possible. I’ll never have the strength to wear it. It’s impossible.” I only wore the hijab at the time, but I was asking myself questions. I admired them.

AUTHOR:And so how and when did it click?

OUM DAOUD:One day I went into a clothing store owned by a Pakistani, in some bazaar in Ménilmontant, where they sold everything. He sold long veils and shawls. I went in and I bought one. It started like that, so I started wearing the jilbab.

AUTHOR:And then?

OUM DAOUD:Then, two months later, I put on the niqab. I started wearing the niqab, and then more the sitar. I didn’t know any girls who wore it, but I decided to wear the sitar. I also hid the eyes. I wore it for a long time, but one day I took it off.

AUTHOR:But why?

OUM DAOUD:Bah, when you start working and going out. Anyway, I was pushed around, they spit on it.

AUTHOR:Oh really, and who did that?

OUM DAOUD:Mostly it was women who told me . . . They were even Muslims . . . They said to me, “You bring us shame, you’re infringing on women’s freedom, we fought for that,” et cetera. One time even, at a store cash register, I was with a friend, a French woman, and I no longer wore the sitar. A woman came to the register that started saying, “Why don’t you go back where you came from if you want to do that.” So then my friend lifted her sitar and told her, “It’s you who should go back to your country. Look at my face, here’s my ID card.” And everyone in fact saw that she was French, while the other one was a foreigner. . . . Sometimes it also was men who spit in front of me, like it happened with a man over by Gambetta. I was walking, and a man came, looked at me, swore at me, and spit in front of me just like that.

AUTHOR:And today you no longer put on the sitar because you are afraid since that time?

OUM DAOUD:No, I no longer put it on because I told myself it’s not obligatory. But I still put it on occasionally when I go to the mosque on Fridays. . . . I feel good when I put it on. When you wear the sitar, it’s a sign of faith, you feel good, and you feel protected. I started from the principle “If I mind people, I won’t get ahead.” If I pay attention to what they say, I’ll never do anything. So I decided to put it on, and there you are. When I wore it, it was out of modesty, no one ever made me wear it.

AUTHOR:What was the reaction from your relatives, your parents, for instance?

OUM DAOUD:My mother didn’t agree with it. My father was also against it. Even [though] they are Muslims, good Muslims, but as far as they’re concerned it has nothing to do with Islam. They say it’s not required. Still, unlike other parents, they never made me take it off, even though they were afraid of aggressions in the metro or the RER. It worried them.

AUTHOR:Can we go back to the reasons that made you decide to remove the sitar one day when you said that you felt good wearing it? How did you change your mind about it?

OUM DAOUD:It wasn’t obligatory, I decided. Just on the spur of the moment, it wasn’t a requirement. Also, I saw how it created problems for sisters. For example, they stepped on their sitar and it embarrassed them. For me, it was okay, because I worked in the store [her husband’s bookstore]. . . . But because I was often at the ASSEDIC (French Job centre dedicated to paying unemployment allowances), the mayor’s office, they asked me questions.

AUTHOR:You encountered problems in these administrative offices?

OUM DAOUD:Sometimes they asked me questions that were a bit harsh. But I stood my ground, I didn’t let myself be pushed around. I answered that I didn’t make anyone do like me. . . . Sometimes they tried psychology on me, where they would say, “But, madame, if you want to work in the chic neighborhoods, it’s going to be difficult. This is not how you succeed over there. Moreover, your head looks fine. It’s a bit of a waste.” I just answered, “But I don’t have to justify myself.” But I didn’t try more either, because afterwards it goes too far.

AUTHOR:And as you see it, if there’s a law against it, how will the moutanakibat sisters [those who wear the niqab] react? What will they do if they can no longer wear the niqab?

OUM DAOUD:If there’s a law, it won’t do any good. There will just be problems. If they enforce it, the sisters take off the niqab. That’s how it always is. I have a friend, when she is driving and is stopped, she removes the niqab. . . . If there’s a law, some of them will take it off automatically. After they spend a week or two at home, they won’t have a choice. Others will stay home and not take it off. After that, the others, the fighters, they won’t take it off and won’t pay the fines. Then there are those who will leave France, who’ll go to England, like some that I know. Some are already. I know two sisters getting ready to leave and join their husbands.

AUTHOR:And in your opinion, why to England and not a Muslim country?

OUM DAOUD:For lack of means. Foremost because they lack the means. They’ll choose England before thinking about going elsewhere.

AUTHOR:And according to you, why is it that certain politicians today want to prohibit wearing the niqab or sitar in public? Are you among those, for example, who view it as Islamophobia?

OUM DAOUD:[Smiles] It would be a lie to say it’s not Islamophobic. People fear Islam, its advance, the conversions. I listen to the debates and sometimes hear that there are ten thousand Kabyles who converted to Christianity, but when people convert to Islam, it’s a problem. People are afraid, they are afraid of the unknown. . . . It’s vicious on their side, it’s calculated. They know where they’re heading. They don’t do things haphazardly. It’s like when you build a house, you need an architect. For instance, there’s a clear connection between the law of 2004 on the hijab and today. One is building on the other. . . . And then, frankly, I don’t like to say it, but we, we are not united. When they say to the sisters, “Come on, organize,” they say no. Or if not, they complicate things and sleep.

AUTHOR:So, as far as you’re concerned, it’s truly an anti-Muslim project?

OUM DAOUD:Well, sure. For example, my younger sister wears the hijab. She says things, sometimes, she forgets. She says, okay, all this, it’s not really obligatory. And then, in school, they do everything to teach her things that are contrary to the religion. For instance, they tell her things so they will forget it. They say to her, “Why don’t you just put on a bandanna? Look, this piece of jewelry, why don’t you put it on? But you’re pretty, why do you dress like that?” If your faith is weak, you are weak. I tell her, “Look out, we’re Muslims.” But the problem is that we’re still asleep. Out of ten people, nine are asleep while one is awake. . . . They say, “France is a secular country, a free country,” but when a woman wants to wear the niqab, they forbid it, it’s a catastrophe. But when they put up a nude woman to sell yogurt, they don’t say anything. There’s confusion between liberty and libertinism. Forty years ago Coco Chanel created a scandal because she wore a miniskirt, but nothing like today, still not as short. They talk about integration, but they don’t forget to say that it was used during the era of French Algeria to get Muslims to forget themselves. Sure, there’s a problem of suffering, I don’t say there isn’t, but why fixate on Islam? . . . And then, when you see who defends the Muslims, really? Last week, for example, I saw a broadcast with Copé and Ardisson,³² the one they brought on and who wore the niqab. Sometimes I wonder if it’s just to gain viewers. The sisters who go on television, I get the impression they want to denigrate men, their husbands, for example, in saying that they don’t do it as an obligation and that they decided on their own to wear it. My impression is they do it to show who’s wearing the pants in the family. I just wonder if it’s not on purpose, all of it.

Elitist Proselytizing: A Conversion in a Mosque Attended by Salafis

Salafist religiosity does not sustain itself by mass preaching, as in the Tabligh, where the potential believer is preached to in a diffuse fashion and without regard to his progress or individuality. Whether or not he comes from a Muslim background, the Tablighi practicant is concerned with faith, spirituality, God’s existence, and the need for conforming to His demands. The important thing is to bring the individual to the path of Islam, while ignoring the dogmatic quarrels or legalistic debates. Besides, this type of Daʾwa is more active the more the preacher seeks out others. It’s the sense of “embarking on the way of God” (al-khourouj fi-sabil ilah). The goal is to shrink as much as possible the distance between the Truth and the individual who is estranged from God. Seeking to bring the message to all of humanity, Tablighi proselytizing, through which many non-Muslims and Muslims have been resensitized to the sacred, advances this expansive aspect.

The religious socialization that follows is demanding but is characterized by the refusal to divide the practicants with dogmatic quarrels. Among the Salafis, the problematic of the credo represents a casus belli on a symbolic level. Certainly Muslim unity is important, but it should not be achieved on the basis of a false conception of the ʿaquida (dogma, doctrine). Virtuosos of Islam, they are a source of imitation since they themselves imitate the only Muslims whose authenticity cannot be challenged. As such, their convert model focuses on the individual’s potential. Embracing the Salafist career amounts to entering a community of the saved; it would therefore be out of the question to bring others to Islam without socializing them in the true framework, without furnishing them with the knowledge backed up by a rigorous methodology of Sunni sources. This structures a more introverted approach to preaching. Conversions to quietist Salafism are not the outcome of a mass enterprise that, for example, has taken Tabligh preachers into bars to ask individuals who were born Muslim to go to the mosque for their salvation. Salafist communities are magnetic poles; potential Muslims are drawn to them, in contrast to Tablighi socialization in which the khourouj, exceptional symbol of a more extroverted posture, occupies a central place. Salafist preaching is more elitist. Hence the most diligent and the most receptive individuals coming into the places of worship are priority targets. This is where the adept, alone or in a small group, can try to deepen his connection to Islam, on condition that he shows himself worthy of receiving this superior word. Muslims already showing puritan potential are favored. Preaching pays attention to serious but disengaged religious profiles. Mobilizing an ethic of conviction, the orthodox preaching builds like a logical approach, focused and thought out in a way to get the receiver to admit that giving allegiance to Salafist precepts is natural. One of the principal consequences of this approach is that the number of people sensitized to their religious view is, ultimately, less important than in other currents, such as the Tabligh.

In the Montreuil mosque, the Saturday service ends and the question-and-answer session is over. Before the call to prayer, Abdeljalil, the young Salafi imam, asks for the congregation’s attention. There is good news in the offing for the faithful: a young man has embraced Islam, and as Tradition prescribes, he must give his statement of faith before at least two witnesses at the mosque, although it is recommended that the maximum number of persons attend the officiating of his entry into the religion. After the prayer, a young man, age sixteen, of African origin comes forward to join Abdeljalil. Before the faithful who have stayed to witness this scene, the one henceforth to be called Walid attentively listens to the words that brother Abdeljalil says to him. The young man, tall and slim, formerly named Michel, is timid, and his tone of voice shows that he is impressed by the dozens of people waiting to hear his responses:

ABDELJALIL:[His tone is warm but grave.] Walid, you are here, having chosen to become Muslim. You must know what that means and which road you must take. I’m told that you chose to become Muslim because you keep company with some brothers who attend the mosque and who talked to you about Islam. They told me that you became interested in Islam and that you made your own discoveries. You chose to embrace Islam. That’s good. I am now going to tell you what the principles are, and you will tell me what you think about them. Are you still prepared to become Muslim?

WALID:[In a reedy voice] Yes.

ABDELJALIL:Good. I already told you that few people embrace Islam. If you are here today, it means that Allah has guided you. Good. Before, you followed a different religion, that of your family, therefore you were not a Muslim. But God showed you the right way. Therefore, so that you know the importance of it, I tell you one thing. Now that you are Muslim, it’s as if you never committed any sins. You start from zero [laughter]. And even all the bad acts you committed since you were born, bah, today they turn into good actions. You realize that Allah transforms all your sins into good deeds. You start over again from zero. Good. Do you understand?

WALID:Yes.

ABDELJALIL:Now, know that Islam does not simply mean “I am Muslim.” You are going to begin your religious apprenticeship. You will pay attention, come to the mosque, and continue to talk with the brothers. There are books that you are going to read. Also, I take this opportunity to say to the brothers [turns to face the audience of the faithful], “Brothers, I repeat, there are books. Look around at the walls of the mosque [points to the bookshelves along the walls]. Take advantage of these books, don’t let them just stand there without paying attention to them.” So you see, now you will start your apprenticeship in religion. Islam means faith and prayer. You will learn about paradise and hell. Now I will say to you, now that you know all that, do you still want to become Muslim?

WALID:Yes.

ABDELJALIL:Ma cha Allah [Glory to God], now you are Muslim, and be on the alert because now the Devil, he will be after you. You just saved your soul from the eternal fire.

AUDIENCE OF THE FAITHFUL:Ma cha Allah [repeated several times].

Muslim Worship, Restorationist Practices with Elitist Effect: The Example of Prayer

The ensemble of worship practices constitutes many spaces of differentiation that result in producing a two-pronged effect of Salafist sociality in the French context. This duality—identifying with and reproducing the practices of early Islam and then putting yourself above those who have not made the effort to rediscover their religion in an orthodox mode—is the key to understanding the aristocratic dimension of the Salafist identity.

More than any other Salafist worship practice, prayer is what recaptures the first norms: it represents the demarcation line between believers and nonbelievers. Indeed prayer erects the practice of Islam’s second pillar as a “fervent obligation”: on a fixed schedule in congregation at the mosque and according to the most authentic prophetic ritual. The condition of being Muslim is arguable for any believer who neglects prayer, so that a large number of Muslims in French society see a soft faith in Allah as the dividing line between individuals authorized to call themselves Muslim and those who are not.

We reconnect with Abdelsamad. In contrast to a number of his coreligionists, he dates his effective conversion from the moment he began regular and purposeful observance of canonical prayer. The part of the interview that deals with the perception of his progress explains the Salafist principle that belonging to the religion should translate not only into a spiritual belonging but also into a practice:

AUTHOR:How did you come to Islam? Can you tell me the story of your coming to Islam and what reasons you had for choosing this religion? And also, of course, why you chose the Minhaj Salafi?

ABDELSAMAD:I was born in ’74, I’m thirty-five years old. I work in a research department for Renault, but for the past several months, I live in Casa in Morocco. I made my hijra and had the opportunity to get training and professional experience that made it easy for me to find a job in Morocco. So I left Guyancourt by the sea for Casablanca. . . . In fact I have the BAC +2 (two years of undergraduate studies after the baccalaureate), I have a BTS (undergraduate degree) in industrial product design that I earned from the Corbeil Technical College. I got that in ’98. . . . I converted ten years ago, and to answer your question, I chose the Daʾwa Salafiyya right away. Why? It was clear to me from the start, no muddle, no ambiguity. . . . It seemed obvious to me, there was no mistaking it. Nothing, for example, but to follow the last of the Prophets, that’s logical. You only need to read the The Bible according to Barnabas,³³ who writes that a Prophet would come after Jesus and that he would be called Muhammad. Also, I could show you this book. You can find it in Couronnes, in Ménilmontant. My parents are Portuguese. They are believers but not practicants. In the outback. [speaking of Portugal in the way many Maghrebians evoke Morocco, Algeria, or Tunisia. We underline this Arabization of the lexical field employed by the Salafis.] Sometimes we said prayers in the evening, we went to church, but I had a problem on my mind. It seemed to me that who we prayed to, God, was not Jesus. Then why say it’s God? It jarred me, there was a contradiction. Sure, I believed in life, death, and what comes after, but there, no, I told myself, “No, this isn’t possible.” I never believed what they told us in school: Darwin, the monkeys, Cro-Magnon. . . . It’s all bullshit. We’re descended from monkeys, and this, that, and the other. Aside from that, the little I knew about Christianity, even if, as you can see, I didn’t agree with everything, I was more attached to it than anything I learned in school.

AUTHOR:And so? The Daʾwa Salafiyya?

ABDELSAMAD:It was thanks to someone I met. [Laughter.] I always met the one who kept apart. At age eighteen or nineteen, I met someone who did the prayer. I fell into the LEP (professional-skills based learning high school) at Nadar, in Draveil, in the 91st (Department 91 in the South of Paris) . He was doing salat [prayer], and it was me who covered up for him. I hid him in the facility when he did it. I watched so no one would come and disturb him when he prayed. I wasn’t Muslim, but I already had stopped eating pork. . . . By the way, you know that even in the Bible, eating pork is forbidden? But they don’t know, they don’t talk about it. Anyway, I went with him to hide him while he prayed. . . . Afterwards, in the Bac pro (type of baccalaureate based on the learning of professional skills, not general knowledge), I again met someone else who did the prayer and who I hung around with. Then the same in the BTS.

AUTHOR:[Noting that he was still in high school at over twenty years old] But tell me, when did you get your BAC?

ABDELSAMAD:Yeah, I’ll admit, I had a rough time. I had to transfer quite a few times.

AUTHOR:And there, based on what you just told me, you still did not call yourself a Muslim at that time?

ABDELSAMAD:No, I converted at the age of twenty-four, during BTS in ’98. That’s where I started praying. I think it’s with the prayer that you really convert.

AUTHOR:But you just told me you found that Christianity didn’t make any sense and that you felt drawn to Islam even well before that. Also, you just told me that you’d stopped eating pork for quite a while. . . .

ABDELSAMAD:[Hesitates] I was in the Muslim faith, but I think that I became a full-fledged Muslim with the prayer.

AUTHOR:And what about the Daʾwa Salafiyya?

ABDELSAMAD:When I was doing my BTS, I worked as an instructor at Morangis, still in the 91st. There was a brother there who knew Islam very well. He was twenty-six. I fell in with him. He was a supervisor. His name was Farid and he did the khotba [sermon at the Friday collective prayer] in Corbeil, and he was also the imam at Longjumeau. He was a young Moroccan. It’s from him I learned the prayer. I observed Ramadan but, as I said, didn’t do the prayer. It was really him who taught me Islam, the prayer, the basics, and the obligations.

AUTHOR:And so, without the prayer, you didn’t consider yourself a Muslim?

ABDELSAMAD:Bah.

¹ According to Hirschmann’s template for interpreting mobilizations, which is formulated in terms of defection, voicing opinions, and loyalty, the Salafist viaticum appeals to a “defectionist” posture in relation to the “godless” spheres of power, to a “speaking” posture in order to counsel other Muslims in a moralizing mode to not integrate in a society opposed to the Muslim norm, and to a “loyalist” strategy vis-à-vis the Muslim powers established de facto at the top of majority-Muslim societies. See Albert Otto Hirschmann, Face au déclin des entreprises et des institutions (Confronting the decline of enterprises and institutions) (Paris: Les Éditions ouvrières, 1972), 10–11; Lionel Arnaud and Christine Guionnet (eds.), Les frontières du politique: Enquête sur les processus de politisation et de dépolitisation (The frontiers of politics: Inquiry into the processes of politicization and depoliticization) (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2005), 14–15.

² Marie-Christine Granjon, L’Amerique de la contestation: Les années 60 aux États Unis (The United States of dissent: The ’60s in the United States) (Paris: Presses de Sciences Po, 1985), 23–24.

³ Later I provide a more in-depth definition and analysis of the sitar phenomenon.

⁴ Jean-Marie Donegani, La liberté de choisir: Pluralisme religieux et pluralism politique dan le catholicisme français contemporain (The freedom to choose: Religious pluralism and political pluralism in contemporary French Catholicism) (Paris: Pressed de Sciences Po, 1993).

⁵ Venel, Musulmans et Citoyens, 77, 59.

⁶ Ibid., 165.

⁷ Ibid., 174–175.

⁸ Ibid., 247.

⁹ P. J. Di Maggio and W. Powell, “The Iron Cage Revisited: Institutional Isomorphism and Collective Rationality in Organizational Fields,” American Sociological Review, no. 48 (1983): 147–160.

¹⁰ The Salafists have a Platonic view of life in France and the religious practice that it engenders. Reduced to evolving inside the “French cave,” Muslims are lied to and made to believe that the Islam they are following is good.

¹¹ A cleric educated in Saudi Arabia who returned to preach an intact Islam in his country of Afghanistan, where he was killed: http://as-salafiyyah.overblog.com/sheykh-djamil-our-rahman-al-afghani.html.

¹² See “La parole de Shaykh Salih Al Fawzane sur les conditions du jihad,” Scribd, http://www.scribd.com/doc/10970131/La-Parole-de-Shaykh-Salih-Al-Fawzane-Sure-Les-Conditions.

¹³ Bilal here repeats the famous saying (justification of militant apoliticism) of Sheikh Al-Albani, according to which “it makes for good politics these days to leave politics behind” (see chapter 1 in this volume).

¹⁴ A modern word meaning “to fill,” “to fulfill,” “to make oneself,” ʿammar also conveys the sense of “receiving blows,” an expression used in the present case for describing the situation of the Palestinians.

¹⁵ Hirschmann, Face au déclin.

¹⁶ Gilles Kepel and Jean-Pierre Milelli (eds.), Al-Quaida dans le texte (Al-Qaeda in texts) (Paris: PUF, “Proche Orient,” 2008), 313.

¹⁷ For a fatwa by Sheikh Fawzan on the legal status of participating in demonstrations, see “Demonstrating Is Not Good Behavior,” https://salafislam.fr/organiser-rassemblements- manifestations-sheikh-al-fawzan/

¹⁸ https://www.islamsounnah.com/les-revoltes-et-troubles-politiques-sheikh-al-louhaydan/.

¹⁹ Our interviewee is referring to the bloody clashes in the Gaza Strip in the summer of 2007, one year after the electoral victory of Hamas.

²⁰ We quote the words with which Othman, a Salafi having taken up Islam, situated for us the believers living in France who want to play the integration game.

²¹ Here Othman is referring to the company that he founded with two of his peers, Mokhtar and Christophe (Antillean converts who chose Abdallah as their Muslim given names), both of whom hail from Essonne like he does. The company is called Gulf Properties.

²² Taking up Carl Schmitt’s concept, he invokes a “depoliticization through ethical-economical polarity.” Carl Schmitt, Théorie du partisan (Theory of the partisan) (Paris: Flammarion, “Champs,” 1992), 114–130.

²³ Max Weber, L’éthique protestante et l’esprit du capitalisme (suivi d’autres essais) (The Protestant ethic and the spirit of capitalism [followed by other essays]), trans. J.-P. Grossein in collaboration with F. Cambon (Paris: Gallimard, 2003).

²⁴ Olivier Bobineau and Sébastien Tank-Storper, Sociologie des religions [(The sociology of religions)], (Paris:, Armand Colin, 2007), p. 34.

²⁵ By the idea of Beruf, Weber means “profession-vocation” (ibid.). This concept refers to the “carrying out of duties within secular professions” and constitutes “the highest content that an individual’s moral activity can take on” (Weber, L’éthique protestante, 71).

²⁶ Quentin Bell, Mode et société: Essai sur la sociologie du vêtement (Fashion and society: Essay on the sociology of clothes), trans. I. Bour (Paris: PUF, 1976), 13–24.

²⁷ The “counterculture consists of . . . political ideas, a lifestyle, and of philosophical conceptions that above all define themselves by their opposition to the modes of thought of the great majority of the population.” Christiane Saint-Jean-Paulin, Le contre-culture États Unis, années 60: La naissance de nouvelles utopies (The counterculture in the United States in the ’60s: The birth of new utopias), Memoirs no. 47 (Paris: Autrement, 1997), 9.

²⁸ The beard, qamis, taqiyya (skullcap), izhar (never having your garment reach down to the ankle), and the siwak stick (used to clean up the teeth as the first Muslims used to do) are indispensable parts of the Salafi kit. The qamis is the principal distinguishing mark of men who want to recognize each other and cultivate a clothing aristocratism. Although some Salafists in the French market offer qamis brands as Sunna (managed by Salafists), it is Saudi Arabia and the Gulf states that occupy the top rank, with brands like Ad-Dafa, Al Asil, and At-Tiyaf. Pilgrimages to Mecca and travel to this area of the world are as much occasions for purchasing these clothing items at lowest cost.

²⁹ The Tradition distinguishes between gestures that are licit (halal), forbidden (haram), advisable but not required (moustahab), to be avoided although not subject to punishment (makrouh), and permitted without being obligatory (moubah).

³⁰ This is her kounya (the way a Muslim can be called by referring to the name his/her child). This can be translated into: “Father/Mother of . . .”

³¹ A shapeless robe or coat designed to hide the feminine form, with the goal of respecting the imperative of modesty. This clothing type conforms to many Salafists’ expectations.

³² Here Oum Daoud is referring to the broadcast Salut les terriens on Canal+ on Saturday, January 9, 2010, presented by Thierry Ardisson, who staged a debate between Jean-François Copé and Dalila, a girl wearing the niqab and wanting to defend her point of view against one of the most mediatized proponents of banning the full-body veil.

³³ Here Abdelsamad is referring to a lesser-known version of the Jesus story that many Muslims, foremost the Salafists, cite as clear proof that Jesus announced the coming of a Prophet who would bear the Seal of God’s Messengers and who had to be obeyed. See Luigi Girillo and Michel Frémaux, Evangile de Barnabé (The Gospel of Barnabas) (Paris: Beauchesne, 1999).