Brother Tariq: The Doublespeak of Tariq Ramadan by Caroline Fourest Page A
Authors: Caroline Fourest
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today when he
speaks as an adult:
I have an intense remembrance of his presence, his words, his silences. Long
silences sometimes lost in memories, in thought, in bitterness .... It was often
so. His eyes were bright, his expression penetrating and intense, conveying at one
moment his warmth, his gentleness, his tears; at other times fortifying his determi nation, his commitment, his anger. It was a difficult thing for me when I caught the
expression in his eyes-wide-open, powerful, suggestive-questioning eyes that
went with his words straight to my heart that was woken, aroused and shaken by
them.14
From his earliest years Tariq Ramadan felt he was different from other
children. When he was eight, he used to kick a soccer ball with all his might,
dreaming of becoming a sports star, but his coach was obliged to explain to
his team mates that, as required by his religion, Tariq took his shower fully
dressed so as not to show himself naked.15 At school, he was a fairly bright
student-diligent even. He asked one of his teachers for his opinion of a
play that he had written. When older, he offered to give remedial instruction
courses for younger students who were having trouble, a family reflex. His
grandfather had two obsessions: train minds and train athletes (he encouraged militants to be physically fit). His grandson chose teaching as a vocation
and amassed exploits in sports: ski instructor, soccer coach, a ranked tennis
player. His hyperactivity was less a proof of integration of some kind than an
expression of the malaise and suffering that haunted all the members of his
family.
Haunted by exile
The Ramadan family probably never fully appreciated the charm of Lake
Geneva. All is drab when one's eyes are fixed on the Nile. For them, Switzerland was never a land of refuge, but a land of exile. A golden prison, where
the essential thing was to organize for revenge, organize for the day when
the Muslim Brotherhood, deprived of their nation, would return in triumph
to Egypt to join in an Islamic government. Tariq Ramadan was brought up
with the myth of this return, continually postponed. In this context, becoming integrated or "dissolved"-an expression that he uses frequently-in the
West was out of the question. His brothers and his sisters learned to grow up
in a family welded together by the promise of return. From his earliest years,
he suffered to see his father endure exile. "His life was not life," he wrote
when his father died, as a way of describing his forty-one years spent away from Egypt, haunted by the fear ofbeing kidnapped or liquidated by the Egyptian secret service.
Before being banished from Egypt, Said Ramadan had already chosen
to be the roving ambassador of the Brotherhood. But it is a different matter
when the choice is not a free one. In addition to holding secret meetings and
fomenting conspiracies in the name of the cause, Tariq Ramadan's father
had to struggle to find funds. His son has bitter memories of the day when
money from the Saudi benefactors stopped pouring in. For years, the Rabita sponsors had supported the family without protest and had subsidized all
of Said Ramadari s projects. But after thirteen years of financial infusions, he
could no longer tolerate the Saudi authorities' right to supervise his activities,
and he wanted to have greater leeway, even if that meant refusing the hand
that had nourished him in exile. According to the Center, Saudi contributions came to an end in 1971, but this remains to be proved. At any rate, Tariq
Ramadan recounts that his father was in pitiful straits: "We were totally without financial support; we had no money left. I remember that I couldri t leave
the country, we had no means, and no papers."26 Said Ramadan had been
stripped of his Egyptian nationality by Nasser, after having been condemned
in absentia to three twenty-five-year prison sentences for high treason, in particular for having organized the
speaks as an adult:
I have an intense remembrance of his presence, his words, his silences. Long
silences sometimes lost in memories, in thought, in bitterness .... It was often
so. His eyes were bright, his expression penetrating and intense, conveying at one
moment his warmth, his gentleness, his tears; at other times fortifying his determi nation, his commitment, his anger. It was a difficult thing for me when I caught the
expression in his eyes-wide-open, powerful, suggestive-questioning eyes that
went with his words straight to my heart that was woken, aroused and shaken by
them.14
From his earliest years Tariq Ramadan felt he was different from other
children. When he was eight, he used to kick a soccer ball with all his might,
dreaming of becoming a sports star, but his coach was obliged to explain to
his team mates that, as required by his religion, Tariq took his shower fully
dressed so as not to show himself naked.15 At school, he was a fairly bright
student-diligent even. He asked one of his teachers for his opinion of a
play that he had written. When older, he offered to give remedial instruction
courses for younger students who were having trouble, a family reflex. His
grandfather had two obsessions: train minds and train athletes (he encouraged militants to be physically fit). His grandson chose teaching as a vocation
and amassed exploits in sports: ski instructor, soccer coach, a ranked tennis
player. His hyperactivity was less a proof of integration of some kind than an
expression of the malaise and suffering that haunted all the members of his
family.
Haunted by exile
The Ramadan family probably never fully appreciated the charm of Lake
Geneva. All is drab when one's eyes are fixed on the Nile. For them, Switzerland was never a land of refuge, but a land of exile. A golden prison, where
the essential thing was to organize for revenge, organize for the day when
the Muslim Brotherhood, deprived of their nation, would return in triumph
to Egypt to join in an Islamic government. Tariq Ramadan was brought up
with the myth of this return, continually postponed. In this context, becoming integrated or "dissolved"-an expression that he uses frequently-in the
West was out of the question. His brothers and his sisters learned to grow up
in a family welded together by the promise of return. From his earliest years,
he suffered to see his father endure exile. "His life was not life," he wrote
when his father died, as a way of describing his forty-one years spent away from Egypt, haunted by the fear ofbeing kidnapped or liquidated by the Egyptian secret service.
Before being banished from Egypt, Said Ramadan had already chosen
to be the roving ambassador of the Brotherhood. But it is a different matter
when the choice is not a free one. In addition to holding secret meetings and
fomenting conspiracies in the name of the cause, Tariq Ramadan's father
had to struggle to find funds. His son has bitter memories of the day when
money from the Saudi benefactors stopped pouring in. For years, the Rabita sponsors had supported the family without protest and had subsidized all
of Said Ramadari s projects. But after thirteen years of financial infusions, he
could no longer tolerate the Saudi authorities' right to supervise his activities,
and he wanted to have greater leeway, even if that meant refusing the hand
that had nourished him in exile. According to the Center, Saudi contributions came to an end in 1971, but this remains to be proved. At any rate, Tariq
Ramadan recounts that his father was in pitiful straits: "We were totally without financial support; we had no money left. I remember that I couldri t leave
the country, we had no means, and no papers."26 Said Ramadan had been
stripped of his Egyptian nationality by Nasser, after having been condemned
in absentia to three twenty-five-year prison sentences for high treason, in particular for having organized the
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