Asghar Bukhari: Organised Jews, Disorganised Muslims, War, the Bible & A Police cell

“The art of war is simple. Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving on” — Ulysses S Grant

Itwas a short attack. A man came out of the crowd of shoppers, screaming at me -then he hit me in the throat and walked off. One blow was all it took to push the first piece in the plan — the rest would fall into place like dominoes.

A line of Police officers that had turned up regularly for a few weeks, now stood motionless behind me. I stumbled back choking and looked at them to do something. They did, as I screamed after my attacker, they arrested me. One arm pinned behind my back, I was marched down a public high street toward the Police station.

People I didn’t know, walked next to me insulting me, another tried to rip the poster I was holding up out of my hand — who knows who they were or why they were so happy to see me arrested.

The police put me in a cell, and to add to the humiliation — they strip searched me to teach me a lesson. It was small grey room as I recall, everything was concrete including the bed. It was the first and only times I have ever had my freedom taken away. I can’t tell you how awful a feeling that is.

That was fifteen years ago and this is the story of how a younger, inexperienced me, would end up taking on the worlds most powerful special interest group — Jewish Zionists and pay for it.

Speaking About Palestine Was An Act Of War

You never really understand society until you try to change it. Up until that moment, you live in a bubble, your friends, your family, your work colleagues and of course what you see in the Media. You create an image of society that isn’t true and you have no way of finding out what a society is like, because you never venture out of your comfort zone and oppose it.

My attempt at changing it was a culture shock.

I had no idea what I was getting into when I first got active. I had even less of an idea what it meant to face up against Israel and it’s supporters in the West. The book “They Dare To Speak Out” gave me a clue, but in my mind, I was small fry, so not likely to be targeted.

Little did I know that to say anything against Israel, was as one editor of a newspaper told me, ‘a war he didn’t need’. People who have never crossed Israel have no idea what it means to take on the most powerful, most organised group in the world and fifteen years ago, neither did I.

Legitimate protest meant nothing to them, neither did freedom of speech. Their mission was to stop anyone who came against Israel. Silence them. Scare them from ever speaking again.

The first time I came up against Israel’s friends was when I started picketing Marks & Spencers. They had murdered a young boy named Muhammad Al-Durrah. To my undying shame, it took that boy to be murdered to wake me up from the apolitical, pacified, tranced-state my theological teaching of colonised-Islam had put me in.

I chose to picket because I figured, that for a man who had no money or manpower, it was the one thing I could do, that would highlight — Israel’s war crimes. Social Media had not kicked off at that time. Protests and Pickets are not just tools to show solidarity or financially hurt barbaric regimes, they change public opinion — they are a PR stunt in their own right.

The largest picket of stores by Muslims in British History

Pickets are the rough end of activism in Britain. It is a cold, wet, grueling and thankless task. Everything depends on making people hear you and understand how important the message is. Yet all too often it seemed they passed by without even a look.

Keeping my motivation up throughout winter was a battle in itself. I remember with frozen fingers, in the blasting cold, trying to give out leaflets I could hardly feel, only to see people simply throw them on the floor. Truth is I hated it, I hated the cold, I hated the people, I hated putting myself in a position where I begged people that I despised to do the right thing. The only reason I continued was I started to realise, those that supported Israel hated it more than I did. That was the clue that told me it was working.

It grew bigger and bigger. Over the weeks, I kept blogging about my time at the picket and why it was so important Muslims back me. As more and more people read my blog, forwarding it to each other, more brothers and sisters joined the campaign. Up and down the country pickets sprung up. In the end over 16 Marks & Spencer stores had people outside them from Manchester to Bournemouth.

I had started with the help of some truly inspirational people (many of whom I still respect and know today), the biggest picket of stores in British Muslim history and that record still stands. Later even non Muslims joined, some amazing people from RCG — Revolutionary Communist Group, Victory to the Intifada, Fight Racism! Fight Imperialism! and more I have not mentioned continued it long after we gave up. Those guys were life-long campaigners and totally committed.

Together we gave out hundreds of thousands of leaflets. Those who didn’t take a leaflet, still passed our banners, posters, or heard our shouts. Well over two million people must have come into contact with the Palestine issue due to our campaign. It was truly a smart campaign — with hardly any resources, we were reaching millions and because it was so effective, a lot of pro Israel Jews really wanted to stop it.

We did all that with less than 60 core Muslims in the campaign, now imagine if only 10,000 out of the 3 million Muslims in the UK got active. In today’s Islamophpobic world — imagine what we could do if we just stopped making excuses and did something.

The days of Malcolm X — were long gone

Ilearned a lot about society during my time in the streets, stuff I would never have learned in a talk or a public meeting. Picketing is raw, you get to really see what people are like as opposed to what you think they are like.

Take for example my naive understanding of the British black community. I had a perception of black people being the first to stand against injustice. But that’s not what I experienced. Black shoppers in the most part were surprisingly apolitical and didn’t give two hoots about what was happening in Palestine or anywhere else.

The days of Malcolm X and civil rights were long gone. British black people were the least likely to take a leaflet, or engage me about the issue, they just were not interested. Some that did engage me, actually supported Israel due to the warped Christian evangelical brainwashing their Church taught them. That was one of my many, eye opening, disappointments.

Black men believing Jesus wanted white Jews to ethnically cleanse Brown Muslims so they could live in an Apartheid state.

The disappointment I had about Black people that I interacted with, was nothing to do with the apolitical carelessness of my own Muslim brothers.

Never in my wildest nightmares would I believe Muslims would be so blind, dismissive, argumentative, apathetic and careless about such a major issue such as Palestine.

I cannot tell you how crushing it was for me to stand there, in the biting cold, week after week, rain and snow, having been harassed all day by Zionists, and have Muslims with beards and headscarves walk past me, ignore my pleas and shop in Marks & Spencer’s — even as non Muslims turned away and even have the cheek to come out and lecture me about sisters covering up at the picket!

I came to realise, British Muslims were the most defeated, comatose, apolitical excuse-making bull**** merchants, you will ever find anywhere in this world.

Our forefathers who stormed across the world because Allah (God) outlawed injustice were long dead, their sons were a disgrace to their memory.

White people, again to my surprise, were the most open minded, the most conscientious. They were more likely to stop and talk to me, agree or disagree they were generally polite and most likely, if convinced, to do something about it. More than once did a white man or woman, come out of the shop, laden with bags of shopping and upon hearing my pleas, walk back into M&S and return all of their shopping! I cant remember a single time a Muslim did this. That was before Israel’s billionaire friends funded the Islamophobia industry, which once it took off, moved white people against us.

Pro Israel Jews were another shock to my system

Then there was Zionist Jews. Man, that was an eye opener. I don’t think I had ever really interacted with any Jewish people. I knew they supported Israel and I supported Palestine. Thus in my mind we were opposed to each other.

Still I knew they had suffered prejudice and expected to debate them from the perspective of one minority to another. Boy was I wrong. I honestly don’t know where to begin.

They were racist. I mean imagine a Jew calling me a Paki! I was called a Paki more times by Zionist Jews than by any racist white people (always when no one else was in ear shot). Now I expected resistance, but one minority racially abusing another was something that to me not only made no sense, it made my blood boil.

The other thing that I noticed after months of being there, was the psychological, often petty, games they played. You got a second sense of their games, because they repeated them so many times. It was like they had been trained in some class, because so many of them used the same tricks.

Many years later, I realised that many, if not most Jews fly to Israel and are trained by the Israeli military in warfare tactics, including psychological warfare. They had been doing this since the 1940’s. What we were dealing with, unknown to me, was soldiers — trained and organised to protect a foreign state.

War Games

Let me give you a few anecdotes to help explain the type of odd yet psychological games they played, that at the time left me wide-eyed in surprise.

The more obvious tactics varied from trying to occupy us in pointless debate for as long as possible, a diversionary tactic that would stop us talking to those who actually were willing to listen, to trying to rip/run off with our posters, smash leaflets out of our hands and onto the floor, intimidate us with threats of violence, kicks, punches or just casually walk by and spit on us, and on and on it went. You always had to be on guard — the game was to make us feel like we were under siege — and it worked.

Other tactics were more psychological. For example, they would walk by and pretend to look intently at the leaflet, making sure that I knew they had noticed their interest. Once they had caught my eye, they were all smiles, literally beaming with enthusiasm and take a leaflet. But no sooner would they take the leaflet, they would pretend to notice it was anti-Israel, feign shock-horror and then proceed to screw the leaflet up, scowl and throw it in your face or if they got a chance knock the stack of leaflets out of your hand.

It was like clockwork — every other week, the same pretending not to know it was a Pro-Palestinian picket (despite loud speakers and giant posters) the same smile, same scowl, same throwing the leaflet in your face. Thinking back on it now, I guess they wanted us to be unsure of what we were dealing with, on edge, off balance, not trust the public — in short feel demoralised.

Everything in hindsight was a psychological game for them.

The one that most stands out in my mind was how some of those I encountered could lie so openly. They would change their whole demeanor in a blink of any eye, if they thought someone else was watching. I recall one of the times this happened. A man, maybe 50 years old and stocky, came over to me. From the get-go he clearly meant trouble. He told me he was Jewish and was angry about our leaflets, threatened to hit me and stepped forward as he insulted me. I readied myself.

Then within a blink of an eye, he spotted a security guard and instantly before my very eyes, morphed into the frailest old man you could imagine, stooping low, he shuffled toward the guard — not picking his feet up, as if he needed a zimmer frame! I’m serious — from gangster to geriatric within three seconds flat! The transformation was something to behold!

It didn’t stop there, he then told the security guard I was intimidating him! And that I was ‘threatening Jews who shopped there’ — he deserved an Oscar for the performance — and he wasn’t the only one.

It was not all bad. Take the example of an elderly pro Palestinian Jewish woman who joined the picket at Oxford Street. If I recall correctly she told me she was 80 years old. Think about that — an 80 year old woman fighting for Muslims at her age. She would come every week, in the bitter cold and get harassed by her own people. I thought about that a lot. It was another contrast that exposed the hypocrisy of my own people.

I couldn’t help wonder — where were our old men and women in the struggle? How comes our elderly Muslim men and woman never put themselves out like that — they just sat around in the comfort of a warm mosque or at home — and that was religious in their eyes? It proved to me yet again — Jews were taught from birth that action was good, Muslims were taught Islam was nothing more than talk.

Still, in the main, my experience was dominated by Jews who supported Israel and the disgraceful way they acted toward me and others in that picket. I encountered every sort of person you can imagine in those two years but I never saw anything like that off other people. Don’t get me wrong, people were not all nice — but they didn’t try dirty tricks, they were open about their hatred, dislike, disagreement with me for whatever reason. I am being honest, these type of strange games seemed only to be played by pro Israel Jews.

I know it is controversial to say anything about Jews at all and I cant talk for all Jews, I am just talking about many of the pro Israel type Jews who I encountered — it made me think ‘what the hell was I dealing with’.

It wasn’t long before I found out.

Oh God Why Have Thou Forsaken Me

Asthe weeks passed, the intensity of the abuse from the local pro-Israel Jewish community got worse. The threats became more hostile, the confrontations more heated, and promises of attacks ‘if you turn up next week’ got more believable — the whole atmosphere changed. I knew something was going to happen. I guess when the psychological games didn’t work, they upped the game to violence.

I did finally get attacked. Thrown in a Police cell, I sat there thinking of the people who had lined the road to jeer at me, throwing things at me as I was forcibly marched before them. How organised the whole thing was. It seemed people far more powerful than me were against me — they WERE the system — they WERE awake, my Muslim people were busy debating important issues like ‘Was it haraam to celebrate birthdays or not!’. I cant tell you, how very alone I felt sitting there in that cell.

When I think of what greater men than I went through and are going through, I understand how weak I was. There I was acting as if the world had collapsed, just because I had been attacked, arrested and jeered at. Palestinian children get tortured when they get marched to a Police station, else they get shot dead.

A man only knows himself when put to test. — up until then its an image of what one likes to think they are.

I sat in the cell dejected and inconsolable. Sometime went by before a Police officer opened the cell shutter and asked if I wanted something. I don’t know what prompted me, but I asked for a Bible, mainly because I didn’t think they would have a Quran. The officer looked surprised, but a short while later, brought one back and handed it to me.

I prayed to Allah to help me with a verse and opened it. As Muslims we believe the Bible too is from God and some of its verses are still unchanged although many have been altered by man.

The first page I opened it on, I read:

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
 Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning?
O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer,
 and by night, but I find no rest.

I cant tell you how comforting it was to read that, to know a man as great as Jesus (peace be upon him)had felt so low and vulnerable after the powers conspired against him. It made me feel less alone. I don’t know if Jesus pbuh had actually said that or not — but I do know, it helped me, when I was most down. I thank Allah for helping me through that.

Organised

Unknown to me, a few of the brothers and sisters who were with me, the day I was attacked, saw me get arrested and kicked into action. They started an email campaign spreading word of my arrest. And smartly telling those few active Muslims out there a step by step way of helping me.

My weekly campaign diary was eagerly read by thousands of Muslims and they had psychologically brought into the campaign, even if they themselves did not help.

Thus a number of caring and politically active Muslims from all over the world now felt the least they could do was help. They started to call and email the Police station.

The police stations phone didn’t stop ringing I was told later by a Policeman. Then to my surprise, other Muslims started to come to the station, one after the other and asking about me. Someone had put an email out with the phone numbers of the local mosque leaders too and people from around the country started to call them, putting pressure on the committees to go the Police station to express their concern — which after being flooded with calls — they did!

They interviewed me without a solicitor, against their own rules of conduct, but still finding nothing — they released me.

The fuss generated about my arrest, made the Police want to understand what they were dealing with and how they could calm growing community tension. I was invited in to talk to them — which in hindsight I should have done straight away if I had been more experienced.

See what Muslims can do with a little effort, a little intelligence and a little organisation.

Organised Deception

I took the opportunity to ask a Police officer at the station why had such a large number of Police turned up at the picket, since it was often just me and perhaps two or three others there at most. What he told me, shocked me. He explained, that for weeks, old Jewish men and women had been coming into the station complaining I had threatened them with violence and made anti-Semitic comments about them. That is why the Police had finally decided to go to the Picket the way they did — in force. It was only then, I realised how planned it all was, they really had organised against me.

I told them it was a lie and specifically requested undercover police there to monitor me, if they didn’t believe me. I could see on their faces, they knew I was telling the Truth.

The only other thing that sticks out in my mind about that meeting was a very senior Police officer telling me he was Jewish and asking me this simple question — ”I didn’t realise Muslims had a network like that of Jews, that could get urgent information out to the community that quickly — how did you do it?”

I can’t help thinking — fifteen years later-Muslims are still not smart enough to even think this way. I had my first taste of the organised pro Israel Jewish community and for the next fifteen years, we would be at war.