September 11, 2005
Sons of Ishmael, sons of Uncle Sam
'God, bigger than Allah. Islam is idol worship.'
The words slashed like an oratorical whip.
In the four years since Islamic terrorists attacked U.S. soil, cadet Lee Habib Roberts has heard plenty of stupid things about being Muslim in America.
None hit harder than the ignorance uttered in 2003 by an Army lieutenant general ...
It's a challenge for the organization and the leadership to overcome," says Roberts, 19, a third-year cadet at West Point from Fairfax, Va.
It's a challenge Roberts is facing head on.
Since Sept. 11, 2001, the number of Muslim cadets at the U.S. Military Academy has increased tenfold, according to voluntary surveys.
Weekly Muslim services overflow with cadets donning camouflaged combat gear. Of the 4,000 students currently enrolled, 20 identify themselves as Muslim, up from just two in 2001.
Because surveys are voluntary and a cadet's faith isn't revealed until after he or she is accepted, West Point brass say it's hard to draw conclusions from the religion-specific data.
But in interviews with cadets and spiritual leaders, Muslims at West Point say there's been an increase in Islam's presence in recent years.
Many said a growing misunderstanding of their religion since 9/11 has turned them into unlikely military prophets.
"You see a lot of them take responsibility, almost take matters into their own hands, to explain Islam to other cadets," academy assistant Imam Umar Abdul-Mutakabbir says during a recent interview from his home in Highland Falls.
"Generally people are curious, and if (Muslim cadets) can find a way to make it where they are approachable, they do."
Roberts puts it another way:
"Everyone here is an ambassador for the faith," he says. "Not because they applied for it, but because it's inevitable."
MUSLIMS AT WEST POINT never commanded much attention before the terrorist attacks, and there are few visible signs of their presence today.
There are no turbans or prayer books, just crew cuts and polished brass – the same accouterments adorning every other cadet bristling to serve his or her nation in war.
But behind the gray wool and ramrod posture is a sense of purpose uniquely theirs.
At a recent Friday afternoon prayer service, held in a tiny chapel tucked in the shadows of Eisenhower Hall, three members of the Long Gray Line speak about being Muslim at today's military academy.
Two are foreign exchange students from Islamic counties, two are upperclassmen, all are sons of Muslim parents.
One cadet, a lanky freshman whose shoulders slouch when he sits, came to the military academy as part of West Point's military exchange program.
He won't fight for America when he graduates, but says he'll use his four years to help teach the truth about Islam.
War has a way of altering people's perception of their enemy, he says.
"Classmates come up to me and ask, 'Is it true the Muslims have to kill?'" the cadet, who asked not to be identified, said as he waited for the start of the Friday service, known as Jumah.
"I told them no, that we're actually a loving people. Being Muslim here, I have to help educate my classmates."
SOME, LIKE ROBERTS, do that better than others. A tall, well-spoken junior who injects "Sir" or "Ma'am" with tactical frequency, Roberts easily convinces hearts and minds in discussions about faith and family.
He recalls the time when a civilian suggested that the United States "should carpet-bomb Afghanistan, which is where my mother's family is from."
"Obviously people make such remarks out of ignorance," Roberts says.
"When you tell them the truth, they at least clam up. And even if it doesn't get to them, someone listening is going to take something away."
Muslims here might hope the Army's own Lt. Gen. William G. Boykin takes note of such wisdom.
In 2003, during a series of Christian religious services, the deputy undersecretary of defense for intelligence, who is an evangelical Christian, made numerous references to Islam that angered Muslim leaders.
One, about a Somali warlord who believed Allah would protect him from American capture, was particularly spiteful.
"I knew my God was bigger than his," Boykin says that day in January. "I knew that my God was a real God and his was an idol."
Two years later, the words still sting.
"People seem surprised be-cause they expect the military to be this big, single-minded entity," Roberts says.
"That's not the case."
INSIDE THE GRANITE GATES of this venerable war college, cadets and academy leaders talk of a religious tolerance unequaled at other American universities.
Reports of religious harassment are nearly nonexistent – only one cadet has reported being singled out for religion since 1999, according to the academy's inspector general.
"If anyone has ever harbored any ill will or prejudice because I'm a Muslim, it's never shown," Roberts says.
"I think that's because it's not there."
Similar boasts don't hold for the nation's other service academies.
At the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colo., for instance, an Air Force task force concluded in June that more needs to be done to accommodate cadets of non-Christian faiths.
In July, the national director of the Anti-Defamation League called for a cessation of the noon meal prayer at the U.S. Naval Academy, complaining that the practice violated the separation of church and state.
The military academy, with more than 60 denominations on post – including a handful of Hindus, Buddhists and Wiccans – hasn't been saddled with such scandals.
STILL, LIFE FOR MUSLIMS at West Point is far from perfect.
"The main problem is that they may not understand something," Dias Asanov, 22, a junior from Kazakhstan, which borders southern Russia, enrolled in the academy's foreign exchange program, says of non-Muslim classmates.
"The only thing that they know is coming from the news, and sometimes that's not really describing the things that are going on."
The cadet from Kazakhstan says there are other hurdles to overcome at the academy, including finding time to worship.
"I try to pray certain amounts of time. However, sometimes here at West Point, like in field environments, it's not always possible.
"It's just the reality of the environment I'm in."
But for the most part, Asanov says, West Point has provided a nurturing environment mixing religious pursuit with the study of war.
"I had a lot of my friends and people that once they find out about my religion, they asked a lot of questions. Some cadets actually attended our services because they wanted to find out about it."
Greg Bruno is a reporter for the Times Herald-Record. He can be reached at gbruno@th-record.com.
Religions at West Point
(nearly 5,000 cadets surveyed over
the past four years)
Protestant 622 (12 percent)
Roman Catholic 1,754 (35 percent)
Jewish 62 (1 percent)
Christian nondenominational
644 (13 percent)
Buddhist 15 (less than 1 percent)
Muslim 20 (less than 1 percent)
Hindu 8 (less than 1 percent)
Sons of Ishmael, sons of Uncle Sam
'God, bigger than Allah. Islam is idol worship.'
The words slashed like an oratorical whip.
In the four years since Islamic terrorists attacked U.S. soil, cadet Lee Habib Roberts has heard plenty of stupid things about being Muslim in America.
None hit harder than the ignorance uttered in 2003 by an Army lieutenant general ...
It's a challenge for the organization and the leadership to overcome," says Roberts, 19, a third-year cadet at West Point from Fairfax, Va.
It's a challenge Roberts is facing head on.
Since Sept. 11, 2001, the number of Muslim cadets at the U.S. Military Academy has increased tenfold, according to voluntary surveys.
Weekly Muslim services overflow with cadets donning camouflaged combat gear. Of the 4,000 students currently enrolled, 20 identify themselves as Muslim, up from just two in 2001.
Because surveys are voluntary and a cadet's faith isn't revealed until after he or she is accepted, West Point brass say it's hard to draw conclusions from the religion-specific data.
But in interviews with cadets and spiritual leaders, Muslims at West Point say there's been an increase in Islam's presence in recent years.
Many said a growing misunderstanding of their religion since 9/11 has turned them into unlikely military prophets.
"You see a lot of them take responsibility, almost take matters into their own hands, to explain Islam to other cadets," academy assistant Imam Umar Abdul-Mutakabbir says during a recent interview from his home in Highland Falls.
"Generally people are curious, and if (Muslim cadets) can find a way to make it where they are approachable, they do."
Roberts puts it another way:
"Everyone here is an ambassador for the faith," he says. "Not because they applied for it, but because it's inevitable."
MUSLIMS AT WEST POINT never commanded much attention before the terrorist attacks, and there are few visible signs of their presence today.
There are no turbans or prayer books, just crew cuts and polished brass – the same accouterments adorning every other cadet bristling to serve his or her nation in war.
But behind the gray wool and ramrod posture is a sense of purpose uniquely theirs.
At a recent Friday afternoon prayer service, held in a tiny chapel tucked in the shadows of Eisenhower Hall, three members of the Long Gray Line speak about being Muslim at today's military academy.
Two are foreign exchange students from Islamic counties, two are upperclassmen, all are sons of Muslim parents.
One cadet, a lanky freshman whose shoulders slouch when he sits, came to the military academy as part of West Point's military exchange program.
He won't fight for America when he graduates, but says he'll use his four years to help teach the truth about Islam.
War has a way of altering people's perception of their enemy, he says.
"Classmates come up to me and ask, 'Is it true the Muslims have to kill?'" the cadet, who asked not to be identified, said as he waited for the start of the Friday service, known as Jumah.
"I told them no, that we're actually a loving people. Being Muslim here, I have to help educate my classmates."
SOME, LIKE ROBERTS, do that better than others. A tall, well-spoken junior who injects "Sir" or "Ma'am" with tactical frequency, Roberts easily convinces hearts and minds in discussions about faith and family.
He recalls the time when a civilian suggested that the United States "should carpet-bomb Afghanistan, which is where my mother's family is from."
"Obviously people make such remarks out of ignorance," Roberts says.
"When you tell them the truth, they at least clam up. And even if it doesn't get to them, someone listening is going to take something away."
Muslims here might hope the Army's own Lt. Gen. William G. Boykin takes note of such wisdom.
In 2003, during a series of Christian religious services, the deputy undersecretary of defense for intelligence, who is an evangelical Christian, made numerous references to Islam that angered Muslim leaders.
One, about a Somali warlord who believed Allah would protect him from American capture, was particularly spiteful.
"I knew my God was bigger than his," Boykin says that day in January. "I knew that my God was a real God and his was an idol."
Two years later, the words still sting.
"People seem surprised be-cause they expect the military to be this big, single-minded entity," Roberts says.
"That's not the case."
INSIDE THE GRANITE GATES of this venerable war college, cadets and academy leaders talk of a religious tolerance unequaled at other American universities.
Reports of religious harassment are nearly nonexistent – only one cadet has reported being singled out for religion since 1999, according to the academy's inspector general.
"If anyone has ever harbored any ill will or prejudice because I'm a Muslim, it's never shown," Roberts says.
"I think that's because it's not there."
Similar boasts don't hold for the nation's other service academies.
At the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colo., for instance, an Air Force task force concluded in June that more needs to be done to accommodate cadets of non-Christian faiths.
In July, the national director of the Anti-Defamation League called for a cessation of the noon meal prayer at the U.S. Naval Academy, complaining that the practice violated the separation of church and state.
The military academy, with more than 60 denominations on post – including a handful of Hindus, Buddhists and Wiccans – hasn't been saddled with such scandals.
STILL, LIFE FOR MUSLIMS at West Point is far from perfect.
"The main problem is that they may not understand something," Dias Asanov, 22, a junior from Kazakhstan, which borders southern Russia, enrolled in the academy's foreign exchange program, says of non-Muslim classmates.
"The only thing that they know is coming from the news, and sometimes that's not really describing the things that are going on."
The cadet from Kazakhstan says there are other hurdles to overcome at the academy, including finding time to worship.
"I try to pray certain amounts of time. However, sometimes here at West Point, like in field environments, it's not always possible.
"It's just the reality of the environment I'm in."
But for the most part, Asanov says, West Point has provided a nurturing environment mixing religious pursuit with the study of war.
"I had a lot of my friends and people that once they find out about my religion, they asked a lot of questions. Some cadets actually attended our services because they wanted to find out about it."
Greg Bruno is a reporter for the Times Herald-Record. He can be reached at gbruno@th-record.com.
Religions at West Point
(nearly 5,000 cadets surveyed over
the past four years)
Protestant 622 (12 percent)
Roman Catholic 1,754 (35 percent)
Jewish 62 (1 percent)
Christian nondenominational
644 (13 percent)
Buddhist 15 (less than 1 percent)
Muslim 20 (less than 1 percent)
Hindu 8 (less than 1 percent)