Ma vie, ma Tunisie – Massin Kevin Labidi – Livre complet

My life, my Tunisia Testimony of the brother-in-law of Salah Karkar, former leader of Ennahdha. Written by Massin Kevin Labidi Book sponsored by MCAN. North African Change Movement Website: mcantimes.com To infinity… Notice The emotions and hopes of a personal experience as extraordinary and overwhelming as the one

You are about to discover in the pages that follow. “My life, my Tunisia: Testimony of the brother-in-law of Salah Karkar, ex-leader of Ennahdha and former follower of Shiism” is a poignant and deeply disturbing story which plunges us into the heart of a reality that is far too little known.

This book chronicles my life within a Mahdist Islamist movement in Iran between 1983 and 1990. At a time when the world was in the grip of much conflict and upheaval, this personal experience took on an incredibly intense and devastating dimension.

The rise to power of the ayatollahs in Iran from 1979 saw the birth of a sacred war machine preparing the return of the Savior, according to mystical Shiite precepts. It is an enlightened warning about the dangers that threaten humanity due to the plans and objectives

Of these Mahdist movements. Often remaining in the shadows, these movements are based on sacred texts and pursue a short-term and long-term plan to impose their worldview on a global scale, in the name of Allah. All of these movements draw on the same sacred texts and work to achieve goals that, while varying in

Details and methods, converge toward a common goal: world domination under the banner of Islam. Their strategy does not shy away from the idea of ​​annihilating two thirds of humanity and drawing blood up to their knees, because they believe that blood

Always triumphs over the sword, as long as the remaining third is in accordance with divine will. I will guide you through the twists and turns of this complex reality, where religious beliefs mingle with political and ideological ambitions. You will discover how these movements spread, influence and seek to destabilize entire regions,

While manipulating Muslim populations who sink into the obscurantism of ignorance. Through this exceptional story, you will understand the issues hidden behind religious discourse and ambitions for power, as well as the disastrous consequences that this can have on our world. I invite you through this book to discover the

Hidden face of Islam, in particular the iceberg of Iranian Shiism which exploits religious feelings to extend its influence, whether in the Middle East, Africa, Asia , Europe, as well as the rest of the world. This testimony is a living example of Shiite Iranian infiltration into Islamist movements, aiming to destabilize

States and infiltrate populations across the Muslim world, with the aim of becoming the dominant force everywhere. They seek to act in one fell swoop to destroy what they call the Satanic Judeo-Christian alliance. “My life, my Tunisia” is a call for vigilance,

A cry from the heart to make the world aware of the insidious threats weighing on our civilization. I hope that this testimony will contribute, even if only a little, to the fight against the danger that the Iranian Shiite ayatollahs represent for our countries,

Our populations and our human achievements. You will not come out of this reading unscathed, but you will undoubtedly be more aware of the issues surrounding us. Happy reading, and may the light always shine above the shadows. Dedication I dedicate this book: To the Amazigh queen Dihya Tadmut, beheaded by the Arab-Islamic occupier

For her fight for freedom and dignity. To my late mother, for her patience and her fight for the success of her offspring. To my late father, with all my esteem and respect. To my children, with my deep affection and love. Special dedication: To Madame Shiraz Rahhal… An extraordinary woman

Without whom this book would never have seen the light of day. Our sincere thanks for his careful proofreading. and its valuable correction of the content. Foreword I was born in Tunis, in a traditional Muslim family of nine children, like any other. I have kept heavenly memories of my childhood.

But I very quickly lost the lightness of mind specific to that age. Looking back, I see that I was deprived of it by the five years of hell that my family experienced, delivered to Islamist infiltration between 1975 and 1980. This upheaval, which marked me for the rest of my life,

Foreshadows what Tunisia experienced in 2011 Indeed, what happens at the level of a country also happens at the level of a city, a family, an individual. We are history, often without our knowing it. It seems important to me today to bear witness to this descent into hell

And to bring my experience in the Islamist movement to light . I will describe the mechanisms and methods that led my family to adhere to Islamist theories, its hesitations, its heartbreaks, its breakup. Then, I will tell my personal story in the net of an international Shiite movement with messianic ideology,

Which continues today to work with impunity after having transferred its bases from Iran to Syria and Iraq. My objective is to denounce the Islamist attack strategy through the example of this Shiite elite network: the Rissali line “al-Khat al-Rissali”. This network is no different from other Islamist movements

Which exploit candid youth in search of identity. I take it as an example because I know all the tricks, ideologies and ways of acting, having been an active member. Since freeing myself from its influence, I have continued to emphasize the danger these movements represent.

I believe that it is urgent that today’s world becomes aware of the power of Islamist networks which manipulate a public ignorant of the real history of Islam by using double standards and relying on a plurality of methods. This ranges from proselytism in associative activities to physical, intellectual and political terrorism, including censorship,

The denial of the right to be different and the imposition of a single model of thought in the name of Allah. Muslims, from the most radical to the most pacifist, have in common a dream formulated in the Koran, sura 21, “The prophets”, verse 105: “And we have verily written in the Zabur

After having mentioned it in the Heavenly Book that my good servants will inherit the earth.” Each Islamic school, sect or movement considers itself to be the “good servant” of Allah, who follows the right path through obedience to his rules. The promised land in question is interpreted in different ways depending on the exegetes.

It may be the earthly world in general, Jerusalem in particular, or the paradise promised to the righteous after their death, as taught in pre-Islamic traditions. However, Islamists resolutely go beyond the last interpretation: if they fight globalization from the Western world, it is not out of love for humanity, but because they believe

They have the absolute truth about this verse. According to them, Islam is intended to subjugate the earthly world. This desire for power, fueled by blind persuasion, uses a fierce strategy that we will discover throughout this book. Islamism infiltrates internal opposition movements , Arab nationalisms and opposition to the West in Third World countries.

Wild recruitment The wild recruitment of future Islamists or pro-Islamists takes place on an international scale and everywhere: in families, on the streets, in public and private institutions, on the Internet. It mainly affects young people left to their own devices eager to conform to the precepts of a “sacred authority”,

Due to lack of having been protected by effective parental, family and social guardianship. This recruitment targets psychologically weak individuals , failing in their lives, enlightened, or even thirsty for power, money or consideration. The aim of this recruitment is to counter “Judeo-Christian imperialism which oppresses the weak”. Islamism presents itself

As help for these oppressed people and claims to liberate them by imposing its own Islamist imperialism on them through its culture and way of thinking. I consider it essential that we mobilize, whether governments, the social fabric or individuals, to confront these people who, in the name of Allah, commit nothing other than crimes

– against themselves firstly, against their society and secondly humanity. Their superiors in the Islamist hierarchy exploit them. They only instill in them the fear of divine punishment to achieve their own political and personal ends. Writing after all these years is an effort driven by the international insecurity situation,

A consequence of the chain of events since the September 11, 2001 attack in the USA. the anger of the people which arose from the Tunisian uprising on January 14, 2011, the revolts which followed one another in several countries – Egypt, Yemen, Libya, Syria -, the creation of the IS

(Islamic State) in Iraq and Syria, its defeat, the rise of Arab hegemonism hidden behind Islam, and in particular behind the Iranian Shiite trend, the loss of identity and the extremely serious decadence of the Arab peoples who were forcibly Arabized and colonized in the name of Arab Islam. Finally,

The general restriction of freedoms and the rise of pro-nationalist and pro-religious conservative political parties in response to Islamist terrorism around the world, such as in America with the arrival of Donald Trump. This book aims to warn young people against the infernal spiral into which they are blindly entering

And from which they will then find it so difficult to extricate themselves. I hope that this testimony will keep some readers on a disastrous slope and will allow others to understand the dark side of Islam and the threatening reality of Islamist designs. It is imperative that we

Reach out to young people excluded from society, hear their story, help them build their lives, give them taste and hope again, so that they do not fall prey to these enemies of humanity. Their rehabilitation is in the general interest. This work also sets out my humble opinion on international conflicts

Where Islam plays a central role: these rivalries will cause a catastrophe on a global scale if emergency measures are not taken to defuse them. Let us hope that developed countries, which advocate secularism, liberty, freedom, equality and humanity, support freethinkers loyal to their countries, rather than dictators who seek agreements with them

To serve their own interests . Let them provide positive assistance to underdeveloped countries in achieving civility and modernism, without requiring them to submit to their economic or political systems. Indeed, the development of these countries is the interest of all humanity. Through these pages where I weave my experience,

I wish to make the distinction between Islam proper and orthodox Islam understood. I call for awareness of the rights to difference, diversity and freedom. This new writing is also justified by my dissatisfaction after a first publication of this testimony. I started the first version in Arabic in 1987,

During my detention when Ben Ali came to power. It was in 1990, once I returned to France from Syria, that I decided to share my experience with readers with all the anger of a wounded heart that refuses to give up. Since my life was unstable, I couldn’t publish alone.

Before retiring to Tunisia and then to Morocco, I entrusted this mission to one of my sisters, believing that she would faithfully transmit this testimony . Unfortunately, this was not the case. The French version published in 1997 by Flammarion under the title “Karim, my ex-fundamentalist terrorist brother”

Moved away from the message I wanted to convey. The information there was manipulated and interpreted to serve political and personal interests . This time, I decided to republish this testimony under my own name and in the first person. I deleted everything that did not come from me

And that had nothing to do with my experience, my character and my objective: the denunciation of political Islam. I would like to point out that this testimony is autographic. This is about my own experience and my personal point of view. The other characters are only present to the extent

That their actions participate in the story. and I am content to quote the public figures of the time without any other intention. It doesn’t matter what unfortunate consequences it might have for me, if speaking out loud contributes to world peace. As they say, “the earth is round and the sun is for everyone.”

Joy is invincible. We must believe in it to achieve better days for all of humanity. A chaotic childhood My story takes root from my birth, a trajectory takes shape, taking an unexpected turn at the age of three with a car accident.

The fragile balance of my universe is shaken, and a veil of autism extends over my reality. Sensations intensify, sounds become captivating melodies, and social interactions transform into captivating puzzles. My parents, caught in their own relationship turmoil, face unforeseen challenges.

The rare presence of my father creates a void in me, despite the numerous siblings around me. But that’s just one piece of the complex puzzle. The infiltration of Islamism into my family adds layers of anxiety to my troubled world. School, once a place of learning, becomes a battlefield where I struggle

To understand myself. As the chapter climaxes with a radical move to France – new country, new culture, new apprehensions – it closes in a duality of excitement and apprehension. This prelude announces the adventures and challenges to come in this story of resilience, growth and transformation. My origins Dreams and premonition have always

Held a considerable place in North African families. My childhood was lulled by the word of age-old tales, by legends, the remedies of good women, the interpretation of signs. My grandmother, with whom we all lived, never left traditional Tunisian dress. She was small, but you didn’t notice it.

In the middle of his soft and round face, his eyes were like two angels who read in you what you wanted to hide. His gaze was warm and affectionate when it came to listening to a child, lively and piercing when she was about to give her opinion, always carrying it far away, towards

That vanishing point where destinies meet. She readily recounted her childhood memories with a verve worthy of the tales of the Arabian Nights. She most often expressed herself in colorful language, mixed with traditions and metaphors , and surrounded by extralucid visions. She felt things even if she had no power to define them.

All she had to do was cast her eyes on the facade of a house to immediately know the history of the people who had inhabited it. It reminded me of a monument which would have witnessed the many adventures of the centuries, from the tiniest gestures to the most striking facts.

This impression may seem curious, but everyone has surely felt at some point in one of their ancestors this magical and timeless dimension which makes them an illustrious and infinitely respectable person. Born in 1910 in Tunis, my grandmother came from a Moroccan Jewish family converted

To Islam who had migrated from Fez to Tunisia in the 18th century. His mother had been the cook of the Bey of Tunis. She was divorced with two daughters when she met my grandfather, and they married for love. My maternal grandfather, born in Tunis in 1903, was of Turkish origin.

His father, a Jewish convert to Islam, had come from the city of Izmir to work as an accountant in Tunis. He loved the simple pleasures of life, such as smoking a hookah at night while admiring the stars. I never saw him get angry, and his smile was always honest and full.

What was important to him was to enjoy life without worrying about tomorrow. His motto: “What is acquired is acquired. Why fear the torments that the future could hold, when each moment that passes is a source of happiness.” Its dry body like a braided vine moved with remarkable fluidity,

Avoiding obstacles as if by magic and reaching its goal as surely as a stream joins the river. He looked like a blind man led by the hand of an angel. For him, the universe formed a great whole, people could not be dissociated

From life, nor the pleasures of the places where they were revealed. This was his philosophy. My father, a native of Bou Salem near Jendouba, came from rich landowners. He was extremely discreet about his family and his origins.

Had he decided to erase this past from his memory? It is true that his life began in a tragic way. His mother died giving birth to him on March 28, 1928. His father died a few years later, leaving four orphans.

The boy and his three older brothers were then adopted by their uncle, the oldest member of the family, who recovered the entire estate as was customary in the countryside. Guardians then had the right to transfer the children in their care to wealthy adoptive families in exchange for money.

In the case of these boys, they were disposed of to rob them of their inheritance: they were given to a family of Turkish origin in Tunis as khamessa, “boys for all purposes”. The patriarch who adopted them taught them textile manufacturing.

The eldest of the four, closest to this adoptive father, had great admiration for him and did not shy away from the task. The second did not shine with any particular quality. He was not mean, but spoke little, most often looking at the tips of his shoes with an almost supernatural detachment.

He only opened his mouth when strictly necessary. The third joined the resistance and died during the War of Independence. The fourth, my father, was an unruly boy. He gave his adoptive father a lot of trouble. Under the French protectorate, education was reserved for a very restricted elite in large cities.

My father was illiterate and suffered from it. The lights of the capital bewitched him, he was attracted by the unknown and constantly let himself be drawn into adventures instead of coming home on time. At the age of twenty, he ran away, spent his nights in the streets of Tunis and led

A disorderly life. He smoked and drank, which is against religion. No doubt he indulged in obscure dealings in the back rooms of the gambling dens. During his nocturnal escapades, he frequented his adoptive father’s cousin, who often welcomed him to his home in the Medina and who would become his father-in-law.

The two of them got along well because they liked to enjoy the pleasures of life. However, they differed on one important point: if my maternal grandfather appreciated the sweetness of existence, he also knew how to respect his neighbor, while my father had poor listening skills.

Grandmother felt pity for this uprooted boy who had not known his parents, who had left his native countryside and who lived in Tunis like an exile. He became close to the family and did all he could to help, until he was allowed to take up residence.

He was then adopted as a full member of the family. A forced marriage From the union of my grandparents a boy and a girl were born. The daughter, Wassila, inherited her mother

‘s strength of character and cooking skills . Born on May 6, 1938 under the French protectorate, she studied with the White Fathers, whose quality of teaching was then renowned. There she learned, among other things, sewing and embroidery. When it came to embroidery, she was an expert.

She created true works of art which made her reputation throughout the Medina district of Tunis. It was a job, but also a passion, a way of recollecting oneself through work that required as much application as skill. As a teenager, Wassila’s beauty was resplendent.

Tall, slender, with a fleshy mouth, as appetizing as a ripe fruit, she seemed unaware of her charms, which made her all the more desirable. At a very young age, she fell in love with a cousin on her father’s side. Her love for this boy had all the grains and violence of an excessive

And sincere passion like few others know, which permeates the mind and the body for life. It could have been a beautiful love story, an example of a radiant life for everyone. Unfortunately, my grandmother intervened. She quickly suspected this relationship, and she opposed it on the pretext that this boy had no future.

She was a light and playful nature, and she did not want to entrust her daughter to someone who only thought about pleasure. For her, there was no need to hesitate: her daughter’s husband would be her protégé . The reasons which pleaded in favor of the latter were contained in three words: first,

He was a grown man, ten years older than his daughter. Secondly, he was almost raised by the family, and my grandmother always said that a person you know is a thousand times better than a person you don’t know. Third, he respected my grandmother and carried out all her orders.

She kept telling her daughter: “Marry him, you will do a good deed. You will bring him out of debauchery. Thanks to you, he will find the right path, you will make a man of him.” When my father asked her for his daughter’s hand, she granted it without hesitation.

Despite her fierce refusal, she forced this union, so much so that they married at the beginning of the 1950s. My father was entering his twenty-fifth year, my mother was fourteen. As she was a minor, my grandfather, who refused nothing from his wife, signed

The marriage contract with his own hand without their daughter being able to give her opinion. Forced marriage is common in orthodox Islam, especially when the bride is a child. This criminal and humiliating act is a tradition that has remained alive in several Muslim countries,

It follows the example of the prophet of Islam, who married Aisha at fifty-four when she was only six years old and who consummated this marriage when she reached nine years. Bourguiba fought this. He fixed in the Tunisian constitution the age of marriage at eighteen years for women as for the man.

Below this age, marriage can only be contracted under special authorization from the judge, who only grants it for serious reasons and in the well-understood interests of the two future spouses. The consent of the guardian and the mother is also required for minors under the

Age of eighteen, for example in the case of rape where the young girl becomes pregnant. A law inspired by Islamic Sharia law then releases the rapist if he marries his victim. The party lasted three consecutive days and three nights in the Medina.

The bride wore a black dress to express her refusal and her sadness. The top of the hips were belted, letting the curve of the kidneys stand out in a movement full of voluptuousness. Gold bracelets jingled on her wrists, their music caressed the hearts, like the

Lapping of a fountain softened by a cushion of moss. Around her neck, a pearl necklace completed the bride’s moving coronation. The guests laughed, their songs filled the atmosphere, their dances made them drunk, light, far from worries, making them rediscover the charms of innocence. Wassila, all the while, tried to repress her distress.

In the wedding photos, her composed smile barely hides her distress. His face is immeasurably sad, such that I still shudder when I remember it. It seems that she has just lost her soul, that a fatal whirlwind has carried her away and lost her in an unknown and hostile region.

She cried so much that we had to put her makeup on three times in a row. How she must have hated this interminable ceremony! Suddenly, her future life unfolded before her eyes like a bad dream, suddenly, she envisaged the worst,

The intimate moments that she would have to share with her husband while masking her bitterness, the renunciations agreed to at the price of the humiliation, the incessant sacrifices. Suddenly, she saw all the doors close, and her hopes of a happiness of which she had nothing to be ashamed of sink.

When I look at family photos, I continue to be struck by her post-nuptial transformation. It had lost its shine. She was no longer this young woman with lively, clear eyes and a thin waist. Her face seemed to have faded, gradually sinking into a sentimental defeat from which she was unable to recover.

However, behind this mask, we felt that nothing would have been enough to revive the grace of yesteryear. The young couple moved in with my grandmother. The first years of living together took place as everything suggested: my father persisted in his bachelor life. He went out all the time.

Having left his countryside to become a man of the capital, he saw himself as a bit of a hero. A great sportsman, a crack at gymnastics, before independence he trained the resistance fighters of which he was a part, and after independence he continued to fulfill this role for the

Official Tunisian army under Bourguiba. His dearest hobby was photography. He was a photographer of professional stature, a genius in this art. He also had a busy professional life: knowledgeable and gifted in the field of textiles, he specialized in the production of silk, and he earned a good living.

But he did not contribute to his family’s expenses, he used all his money elsewhere for his personal pleasures. He cared little about the future, had little ambition, and planned nothing to offer pleasure to his wife. He couldn’t even imagine the pain his flighty and childish behavior was causing my mother.

So many wasted dreams! How much energy is spent on simple trivialities! My mother knew how to read and write French. She was a true Tunisian, proud of her belonging to the capital. She had the habits, philosophy and mentality specific to Tunis. She had her pride.

Although living with her parents, she wanted to contribute to the household expenses. She did not want her couple to live at the expense of the family, even if her parents didn’t need anything. My grandfather actually had a significant real estate asset from which he received rent every month.

As he didn’t like working, he didn’t work. My father also earned a lot, he could have offered a comfortable life to his family, but that never occurred to him. Unable to stand this situation, my mother worked in embroidery to earn a living. This occupation, although exhausting, gave him a certain serenity which

Allowed him to endure the dull daily reality. My father, as I said, was illiterate. He found it difficult to shake off his rural origins. He hadn’t learned to plan his life. This very notion escaped him. He had acquired from the capital its pleasant but artificial side: he lived like a pasha.

This marriage was nonsense, a fiasco, an error whose consequences still remain incalculable. What misfortunes this situation unleashed later on among the members of the family! Sometimes, fortunately, suffering results in rebirth, and from evil sometimes good is born. Tragedy, even stubborn, inevitably ends up giving way to the stubbornness of those

Whose courage does not abandon. In any case, this is my dearest wish. I cannot blame my grandparents who imposed this union. The weight of tradition and conventions has led them astray. Of course, we need tradition, but we must learn from it and not use it blindly.

They did not know how to reinvent a way of life, rebuild a culture with the data of emerging modernity. What did my father think? What did he want? Was he thinking about the future and his married life? What did he do to change things? Certainly, his illiteracy must have constituted a major handicap.

He was not the one in charge, just one of the cogs. The most dramatic thing is that he didn’t even realize it. Does he even realize today how much he lacked discernment, how much his weakness of character favored the breakup of our family?

If sometimes there were moments of joy, they were lived in fear of tomorrow, in fear of an ultimate catastrophe, of a tear that would never heal again. – What do you have to do today? my mother asked. – I don’t know, I’ll probably visit your father.

– You’re going to spend your day lazing around, right? While I have to clean the house? Poor man, how I pity you! – You think I don’t care about you? She didn’t answer. She would have liked to do it, to show that she finally accepted her fate, that fate

Could not destroy her pride. But his mind was drowning in inextricable confusion. The words were choked in his mouth. With time, would the wound heal? Impossible. Despite the embroidery stitches which lined up indefinitely, the hope of renewal remained alive.

Something whispered to her that one day, sooner or later, she would find the one she had loved. Despite her relationship problems, my mother wanted children more than anything. Perhaps so that they would support her in her suffering, in this marriage that she had not wanted.

Perhaps to educate them to be free and choose their own destiny, unlike what she had experienced. Even if her love life was a failure, her children would have the chance to succeed in theirs. Yes, that must have been how my mother thought.

The long-awaited happy event arrived at the beginning of February 1955, approximately three years after her marriage. She gave birth to a girl. She was not yet seventeen. The birth of this first child threw my mother into extreme fatigue. She only regained her vitality after several months of convalescence.

My grandmother took care of the infant as if he were the eighth wonder of the world. This birth revived her maternal instincts, she experienced a second youth. My father did not share the family joy. He felt outraged by the birth of a daughter.

The word may seem strong, but, despite time, the reproaches have difficulty settling down. It was his peasant upbringing influenced by orthodox Islam that spoke. In his native countryside, he had been a sort of lord because the members of his family were large landowners to whom respect and obedience were owed.

From this condition, he had kept his attitudes. His own relaxation did not affect the haughty expression he displayed , which sometimes bordered on contempt. In tradition, the transmission of the name to future generations is essential. So he was angry with my mother for not having given him the boy he had hoped for.

He completely lost interest in his family. He fled, ran towards the chimerical pleasures of the streets of Tunis, sought an improbable land of plenty among playmates with futile discussions. The arguments intensified, mixing fire and ice, violence and perfidy, savagery and hypocrisy. These arguments wore out my mother.

His look betrayed infinite desolation, his body had ended up transforming. In this distress, the beauty of Tunis, its illustrious past enshrined in oriental fables , its souks, the intoxicating scent of spices and jasmine in spring, came to cajole my mother and soften her torments.

Above all, she loved this profusion of light, this impassive sun which creates meditative shadows in the alleys of the Medina, between the walls of the houses, mystical and virtuous shadows whose tiny movement we watch for, languidly recluse in the cool of the rooms to sleep. Grandmother tried to console her.

– Be patient, my darling. Your husband is very anxious. He didn’t know his parents, that must have had a profound impact on him. Soon he will be another man. – Mom, I don’t know what to do anymore! – Courage, everything will work out.

Did she regret having forced this union? I will never know. The pity she once felt for my father had blinded her. Because of that, I can’t blame him. Disgusted, my mother decided to divorce her husband. But when she watched her daughter offer her first smiles and discover the sensations

Of life, this idea crushed her heart. Out of love for her daughter, she gave it up. So, to maintain her freedom and prove to her family that she did not admit defeat, she turned her talents as an embroiderer and seamstress into a real profession.

It was at this time that she began to make a living from her art and spread her reputation throughout the Medina. Why did she continue to give birth when her marriage was in dire straits? It was a mystery to me for a long time.

Was the desire for procreation so strong? Was it to compensate for the dryness of their relationship? Was there a form of masochism in her? Was it a kind of revenge, like “You wanted to marry me, so now take responsibility”?

One day, she explained it to me: she was trying to get my father away. She had never known love or pleasure with him. Each of us had come into the world following a rape that she could neither say nor

Prevent, since in Islamic tradition the husband has the right to rape his wife and she does not have the right to escape his requirements. But every time she got pregnant, she was free of him for a few months. That’s why she hadn’t stopped giving birth.

In early April 1956, she gave birth to a second child. Another girl. Then, at the end of December 1957, she again gave birth to a daughter. Then came a fourth daughter in December of the following year. Was this an ironic act on his part? My father’s anger was like a torrent

That had overflowed its banks. Their arguments became incessant. They were on the verge of divorce several times, but my grandmother always intervened at the height of the storm to reconcile them. The climate of extreme tension that reigned at my parents was getting worse day by day. It was no longer tenable.

As my sisters grew up, the sight of these arguments risked traumatizing them forever. Something had to be done to make my father aware of it. Once again, my mother took the lead. She decided to move. It was like a sort of poker move, a last chance rescue.

They left the Medina to move into a house that belonged to my grandmother, in the Zayatine city, in the suburbs close to the capital. Although my mother undertook this move out of desperation and doubted the success of the operation, my father’s behavior, curiously, gradually began to change.

So much so that he managed to find stable work! He was employed by the Ministry of Equipment in the photography department. The stability of this job made him consider the future more seriously. His regular salary allowed him to provide for the family’s needs. In fact, this was his first real contact with reality.

Strangely, the new father coincided with the birth of a boy in December 1961. My father was finally assured of the perpetuation of his name! One morning, he arrived very joyful, pulling a rope at the end of which a sheep was struggling.

He was going to sacrifice the sheep in honor of the birth of his son, then there would be the family celebration. The annual practice of sacrificing sheep during Eid-el-Kébir, supposed to perpetuate the tradition of Abraham, is none other than an act of bravery in order to demonstrate the virility

Of the father of the family and his permanent willingness to pass to act if necessary. In most civilizations, the sacrifice of the animal is practiced by a butcher, but among Muslims, each father of the family must acquire this quality by becoming

A butcher, even if only once a year to demonstrate his submission to the divine message. The birth of a boy in Muslim countries has nothing to do with that of a girl. This discrimination, which began at birth, continues in education. In Islamic tradition, boys are educated differently from girls.

My mother did not believe in these archaic codes. She suffered from this tradition. For her, there was no difference between a girl and a boy. With the arrival of this first son, however, the arguments between my parents lessened. On the other hand, the independence of Tunisia had become reality after the treaty

Led by Mendès France in July 1954. Bourguiba was now the master of the country. He ordered the nationalization of agricultural land to distribute it to Tunisians, in particular to the resistance fighters who were the first to benefit from it.

Was my father finally becoming a responsible man? He felt that from now on it was necessary to settle his family within his own walls, and he asked my mother to intervene with my grandmother so that she could sell the house in La Goulette, the favorite place for our summer vacations. .

If she agreed to give them the money from the sale, he could buy one of the plots of land allocated at a low price by his ministry and build a beautiful and spacious house there. My grandmother accepted, she began the sale procedure, and in the meantime, the family

Returned to live in the Medina. Thanks to his work at the Ministry of Equipment, my father was allocated land located in Ariana, in the close suburbs of Tunis. Then he obtained a loan from the Ministry of Housing. My mother took care of the essentials in the household: the children, the maintenance, the

Shopping, the administrative procedures relating to the building permit for the future house. She contributed to the realization of this project financially and even frequently went to Ariana to prepare the site with the companies! However, when she gave birth to a fifth daughter, my father began to panic.

He, who until then had been carefree itself, felt crushed under the responsibilities he had ended up assuming. As he saw his freedom shrinking day by day, he began to make my mother feel guilty by attacking her on her sensitive points, in particular blaming her for her numerous pregnancies.

He didn’t want any more children. For him, the cup was full! He put pressure on my mother to use the pill as recommended by Bourguiba’s government at the time. My mother refused this act which seemed unnatural to her. I arrived in the world in 1966.

She gave birth to a third boy in 1969, and a fourth in 1973. Islam and Arabization By authorizing the use of contraceptive methods and abortion and by encouraging education and information in schools and the media to limit births in Tunisia this, Bourguiba went against the

Principles of orthodox Islam, designed to Arabize the people – especially North Africa and the north of the Middle East – according to a specious linguistic-religious precept : the Arabic language, which is that of the Prophet, the Koran and Islam, would also be the

Sacred language of Allah, of paradise and its angels, at the origin of all the languages ​​of the world as the language of Adam and Eve. It would therefore be the language destined to conquer the world! Arab Islam emerged in the Arabian Peninsula, an arid region where tribal wars

Raged, not to mention disease and low life expectancy. At that time, the strength of a society depended on the number of its individuals. Orthodox Islam constituted a successful response to the circumstances of the time and the region where it appeared. Several Hadiths encourage childbirth.

Thus this Hadith of Mohamed: “marry, grow and multiply, for I will be proud of you among the nations on the day of resurrection”. This precept is anchored in the unconscious of every orthodox Muslim, even if he does not know it literally. Producing many children is still today

One of the ways that orthodox Islam spreads, for example in Europe, where increasing the number of Muslims should allow it to become the majority over time. During the invasion and forced colonization that lasted over a thousand years, Islam destroyed multiple cultures, peoples and beliefs, and this colonization in the name

Of Allah lasts until today. Arabization and Islamism represent a single double-sided currency: we cannot separate them, they come together no matter what we do. Islamism penetrated North African society in the 1970s. The consequences of the policy of Arabization and uprooting are visible today

: the populations no longer have any other identity than Islam, the sacred is transforms into an identity distinction and becomes threatening. The general Arabization that accompanies the development of radical Islam and all that it contains of physical and intellectual terrorism reveals the true

Objective of it all: the subjugation of peoples by the Arab world. This charade must be denounced and curbed. We must give people free access to their history, their language of origin, their habits and customs so that they can re-assume their identity, stop experiencing this tear

And regain confidence in themselves to participate in evolution. of humanity. The time of lethargy I was born on August 4, 1966, a day when a fierce heat reigned over Tunis, like a mixed omen of hope and fear. I imagine that, on that day like the others, the clamor of the souks, spice shops

And children’s games rose towards the evening in the streets of the Medina and slowly dissipated. I imagine that night gradually covered the mosques and whitewashed houses, while up there an ocean of crystalline stars flooded the sky. I was a quiet, silent child.

I was later told that, from a young age, I was found at night huddled in the courtyard of the house, looking at the stars for hours, like the nomad quenches his thirst at the fountain of the oasis. At two years old, despite all the attention my mother and sisters gave me, I

Still did not respond to the call of my name. I didn’t express myself in words, and there were fears that I might have a serious language delay. According to what the family doctor had told my mother, I was suffering from form of autism. Omi Zohra practiced his ancestral remedies on me.

Every Friday, during prayer, she would turn a key in my mouth seven times. Better yet, on the day of Eid-el-Kebir, she collected the tongues of the sacrificed sheep from neighbors . She dried them, assembled them into a necklace, and regularly cooked a dish with them that I had to eat.

One day she said to my mother: “Go get a bird and stick its head in your child’s mouth . When the bird has chirped, your son’s tongue will be loosed. My mother performed this curious medicine in the hope that I would be able to speak.

At three years old, I began to speak my first words. My mother exulted, even though what I was saying was a collection of phonetic units recurring at regular intervals and progressing according to a logic that no one around me understood.

That year, while I was playing with my turtle in the yard of the house, I took advantage of the fact that the door was left open to go out following the turtle. When we noticed my absence, it was already too late, none of our neighbors had seen me. Panic gripped the household.

My mother was screaming and my sisters were spinning around, unable to make a decision. Confusion reigned for a few minutes, everyone jostling to give their opinion. You had to keep your cool and get organized as quickly as possible! Finally, they split into several groups to go looking for me.

One of my sisters arrived at the end of the Medina district, near the main road where traffic was heavy. Suddenly, she saw me about fifteen meters away, walking on the sidewalk. – Karim! she screamed. Come here ! Misfortune ! The frantic tone of these words made me panic.

With a jump, I threw myself onto the road, and I was hit by a car in front of my sister, frozen, her legs as if buried in the ground. I was bleeding a lot, but I was alive.

In this type of situation, it is recommended not to attempt to move the body of the injured person and to wait for help. The driver took a huge risk by putting me in his car to take me to the Charles Nicole hospital, in the Bab Saadoun district.

At the hospital, the doctor was reassuring: I had been incredibly lucky, the head x-rays showed no lesions. I was a miracle! After several days of observation, I was brought home . From then on, my mother and my whole family paid doubly attention to me.

However, the shock suffered during this accident probably prolonged the mental block I was suffering from. When I reached the age of four, I still couldn’t speak coherent words. The family doctor advised my mother to enroll me in a deaf-mute school, but she refused.

Supported by a friend who worked in education, she managed to place me in a primary school before the legal age. The teacher took a liking to me and helped me with all the strength of her heart, but I made little progress.

At the end of my first school year, the school director agreed to renew my registration, but he accommodated a reservation: if I did not progress, he would be obliged to transfer me to a specialized establishment for deaf and mute children.

Thanks to the support of my teacher, I improved significantly, and I was accepted into the 2nd year of primary school. Of course, I began to pronounce words and construct sentences, but only those close to me could understand me. I stayed far from my comrades, and no one tried to communicate with me.

The world I lived in had no outside door. I don’t remember anything at all. I don’t remember my first year of school, or what happened and how I was able to move up to the next grade. All this was told to me later by my mother and my sisters.

The construction of the Ariana house continued, not without adventures and delays. The ground turned out to be very wet, which posed a certain number of problems for the balance of the foundations. My father was hanging around to get the work done.

I don’t know if it was out of laziness or because he didn’t care. Although his behavior had improved somewhat, there was still an element of selfishness in him coupled with fear in the face of the realities he had to face.

In fact, I believe that he didn’t care about anything, that he was never able to understand the meaning of life and that he constantly refused to reflect on his actions for fear of being forced to recognize his shortcomings. Of course, this only fueled arguments between my parents.

My mother aspired to finish the work as quickly as possible in order to gain her independence and be able to raise her children in peace, which was her only reason for living. The discovery of consciousness Given that human beings can perceive the tangible as fiction and take the imaginary

For truth, they are torn between the real and the unreal. This is how my childhood began the day when, at seven years old, I became conscious of my existence. I remember this moment well. I found myself in an empty and dark room in my grandmother’s house in the Medina.

I felt my hands and feet tingle as if I were discovering them for the first time. In this confusion between the real and the unreal, I heard a voice without understanding anything, until the moment when I became aware, I don’t know how or why, that it was

My mother’s voice and that she called me. In a panic, I began to gesticulate like a bird struggling to get out of its cage, hitting myself against the walls. It took me a long time to spot the door.

I ran into the courtyard and stood in front of a pile of packages and crates. All around, members of the family were moving with an enthusiasm I didn’t know they had. What was happening ? – Where were you ? my mother told me.

I looked for you everywhere, I called you a thousand times! Come quickly with me. These words resonated deep within me, and the sight of the Sefsari (Is a traditional white female veil worn in Tunisia) that she was wearing accelerated my confusion.

Everything was jostling in my mind, as if the memory of the sequences of words and speech were coming back to me, and I understood with incredible speed everything my mother said to me, as if it were déjà vu.

I got in the truck with her, next to the driver who was transporting the rest of the furniture for our move to Ariana’s new house. All along the road, I stared into space, asking myself the time-honored existential questions: who was I? What was I doing there? Where were we going?

Until we arrived at the new house. My mother opened the truck door for me and told me to go play in the yard until I was called to eat. I ran out, not really understanding what was happening around me.

I went to the bottom of the garden, where I found a large well, on the edge of which I sat down. I looked at the bottom of the well which reflected the blue sky, I raised my head towards the sky

To contemplate it, then I lowered my head to discern the bottom of the well through the transparent water. This duality between reality and reflection made me ask myself a thousand more questions about this strange world, and each question led me to ask a thousand more.

I remained in this state for more than an hour, until I felt a hand shake me and a voice address me in an evil tone. – What are you doing here ? Go join your brothers to eat! Thus began my conscious life. It’s like I never existed before.

I only know what I experienced before I was seven years old from what my family members, especially my mother, told me. It was a boundless joy to explore my newfound awareness of existing. Feeling and seeing everything around me for the first time in my life. Everything was discovery, exploration, understanding.

For the first time, I became aware of my five senses, I was interested in everything, I tried to discern and touch everything around me, while remaining a calm child and without apparently showing anything. This dizzying sensation of existing, of breathing, this intoxicating freedom of spirit,

I was only able to feel it two other times after this event: on December 8, 1998, after the death of my mother, the day I decided to leave orthodox Islam and loudly declared my atheism to my family and friends, and on January 14,

2011, that famous day when Ben Ali left Tunisia, abandoning the country to its fate, and where I finally felt free in my country. Among the people around me, no one suspected that I didn’t remember anything before the age of seven.

No one in my family noticed the change – except my mother, who kept saying to me “Karim, what are you thinking about right now?” My response was always total silence. It was only at the age of twenty-one, after my release from prison in December

1987, that I was able to confess this upsetting experience to those close to me. Here is the text of this confession that I read aloud to them: “I am really happy to finally have the courage to tell about this painful period of my childhood.

It is a great weight to be deprived of memory during the most formative years of my life, an excruciating thing. No one can imagine the suffering I endured before becoming this boy capable of expressing himself in the language of men.

The worst part was the feeling that the shore on which those around me were standing was light years away. When I regained my memory at seven years old, I was taken to a house. Who were these people who laughed, played, and were called “the children”? Why

Did the taller people carry me in their arms, why did their facial features darken when I remained silent before their calls? The world I discovered was not mine! At the same time, it was as if I had known him for a long time. My family accepted me as I was.

They were like companions from nowhere. I recognized their faces, I understood their behavior, their gestures. But I still couldn’t understand why we lived together. I couldn’t tell where the ideas that were racing through my mind were coming from. I had experienced this before, but where and when? I made superhuman efforts, I

Constantly climbed out of the night to reach a less thick, but sometimes more bitter darkness. In the morning, I was dropped off at school. The other children stared at me, turned away from me, spoke in low voices as soon as I approached them. My stomach was knotting.

How was I going to be able to remember the teacher’s lessons? I tried to understand the connection between his questions and the students’ answers. Little by little, I perceived the meaning of certain words, of certain ideas, even if the rest remained impenetrable to me.

I soaked up numbers and letters without being sure of anything, most of the time making misunderstandings. The next day, I had almost forgotten everything. Little by little, the scattered parts of my past life fell into place. I began to decipher and remember without much effort what was being said in front of me.

What happiness! You can’t imagine what extreme pleasure I felt in those moments! However, I did not feel the desire to shout my joy out loud and loud. I think that on the contrary, I preferred to silence forever the hell from which I had just escaped.

This is how I was born into consciousness at the age of seven. I don’t know exactly what triggered this sudden return of memory and immediate memory in me. Was it the move? The empty feeling I felt in the room ? An alliance of the two? For me, the mystery remains complete.

After this confession, I felt relieved and freed from a secret kept deep inside me all this time. Since then, I have never had any hidden behavior again. I was beginning a period in my life in which I could share what I thought and felt around me

, express my point of view out loud without being afraid of others. I finally understood that sharing is a natural human behavior and that social life is the basis of a balanced life for the individual. These great sensations that I felt for the first time – consciousness, reflection

, aggressiveness – still question me after all these years: are they not the primary elements which separate the human being from animal world ? I don’t know if, before that, I was aware of my existence or not. Was I thinking, asking myself questions? Did I know the difference

Between an aggressive gesture and an affectionate one? What I am sure of is that, following this sudden realization, I began to ask questions about myself and everything that was around me. I tried to understand and compare things to classify them by pairs of opposites : me and others, high and low, etc.

I was able to understand the difference between my mother’s tender and loving anger at my disappearance before the move, and my father’s hurtful frustration and anger when he hustled me to send me to join my brothers. The discovery of space At first, the Ariana looked like the countryside.

It was the discovery of a new place, vast and empty, in a sparsely inhabited place, with fields of olive trees all around, a few houses under construction here and there, some inhabited, others not. The sea was not far away, you could smell its smell and its freshness in the air, to the

Point that a Tunisian proverb says that “if the sea were at Ariana, no one would go to the tomb”. Not far away, opposite our house, stood a hill with two large water reservoirs at its top which supplied the town, and behind it was a vast fort.

Ariana is nicknamed “the city of roses” because of the gardens it contained during the Hasfid era. In the ancient city there is still the Sidi Ammar mausoleum. It is adjoined to the south by Tunis, and to the north the agricultural lands still extended as far as Carthage.

The State began to subdivide these into residential areas. My parents’ house was located in the Ennouzha city, very close to the ancient city. Ariana’s house had many rooms, including three bedrooms: one for my parents, one for the boys, and another for the girls, where boys were forbidden to enter – except me.

Every place in the house was allowed to me. There was also the kitchen, a dining room, a large living room and a bathroom, but all this was not yet finished, the paint and some doors and windows were missing . Outside, a semi-oval veranda occupied the facade, and at the rear another

Veranda was extended by a vast garden. Its dense vegetation whetted my appetite to discover some delightful niche as only nature knows how to reserve for dreamy children. During the day, I wandered around the house exploring the surroundings. Every day, I ventured a little further. But the night was my paradise.

I looked at the sky for a long time from the window of the boys’ room, my eyes drowned in the darkness of the sky and its stars. After the move, our first dinners were made by the light of kerosene lamps. My mother blocked the entrance with large barrels and blocked the windows

With wooden planks. In the evening, we were overcome with excitement, because all this was new to us. Our heckling was never so furious and amusing. But the arguments between my parents were also rarely violent. My father was opposed to this departure.

He was afraid of losing his old habits, his friends from the old Medina, and above all of facing the responsibility of this new independent and not yet completed dwelling. But the last word always went to my mother, and my father only had the

Possibility of going out to return very late at night, a little more serene after a few glasses of wine with friends in a bar in Tunis. My mother always looked after our well-being. We were dressed tastefully, not for the sake of appearing, but to

Teach us to respect our bodies and to cultivate a sense of rigor. In his opinion, a clean, simple outfit, without an exaggerated style effect, went hand in hand with good mental hygiene. The moral values ​​she instilled in us were common sense: keep courage in

All circumstances, even in the worst moments, love and respect your neighbor. But she attached particular care to our education. For her, it was essential, there could be no true richness of the spirit without a solid intellectual training.

Above all, she wanted at all costs to spare us the sad life from which she continued to suffer. On the subject of education, my parents were completely in agreement. This is actually one of the only points of agreement that I noticed between them. Although my father was crude in many ways, he

Agreed with my mother that girls should be on an equal footing with boys , although deep down he retained a preference for his sons: his rural roots never ceased to betray him, just as his illiteracy had created a complex in him that he could not bear to see in his children.

– Only your studies can help you, he often told us. The first in class get everything they want. Our move took place towards the end of the winter holidays, at the beginning of 1973. A few days passed, and school started again. My older sisters had not changed high school, they had to

Travel to Tunis every day. At noon, they had lunch in the old house in the nearby medina, and they returned in the evening tired to revise their lessons. As for my youngest sister and me, my mother had enrolled us in a primary school closer to home.

I was in the 3rd year of primary school. Although I had regained a large part of my intellectual capacity before returning to school, I remained of little talk. My face and my mannerisms were still prisoners of my inner world. What scared me the most was the number of children my age.

Why did my mother put me in this place? However, I was very happy at home! The love my family had for me was overwhelming. I never really knew if it was a natural love or one of pity, of compassion, because I was the most fragile.

I spent most of the lunch break in class, far from the hustle and bustle of the others, after munching alone in a corner of the school yard the sandwich that my mother prepared for us daily. In class, the teacher treated me in a somewhat special way.

I was always placed in front of his desk, under his eyes. I later understood that my mother had asked him to pay attention to me because I had isolated, antisocial behavior and was poorly articulated. The first days of school were very difficult, but as the days went by, I began

To form good habits. As soon as I got home, I worked hard to catch up, erase my many gaps, and fix my focus. I had noticed that everyone took care of me, especially my second sister, Samira, who paid a lot of attention to me and took care of making me revise

My lessons with patience and delicacy, as if she were my second mother . Unlike my other brothers, I always preferred to stay alone away from everyone . My relationship with the environment took on great importance for me very early on. In Ariana’s new house, I often hid in the cellar, sometimes staying

For hours without doing anything, just thinking and trying to understand the world around me. I always wanted to be something other than a human being. In my future, I saw myself as a nocturnal bird that retreats to its hole during the day.

Moreover, I most often remained on the fringes of individuals, preferring to take refuge in a world specific to me, to which no one had access and which shaped me over the years. Injuries are a normal part of life. They can be tiny or impressive, but they nibble at us silently, ending

Up mixing with our flesh and rotting it little by little. My favorite games were with animals. I carried out experiments diligently, as a scientist would have done. As the days passed, my sense of observation developed. I could spend hours looking at the leaf of a tree or a twig without

Saying a word or expressing any emotion. It was as if I lived on a planet designed just for me, where I had my kingdom, my lairs, and a whole colony of spooky characters with whom I conversed mentally. I continued not to date any boys my age.

Worse, as soon as a child approached me, attracted by my strange games, I chased him away, displaying the hostile appearance of a half-wild mongoose. Like other middle-class Tunisian families, mine respected cultural principles, loved their country, and tried to maintain their dignity despite economic difficulties.

Supporting nine children and taking care of their education and needs was not easy. Fortunately Bourguiba had made education free! I almost never saw my father, who lingered at work or with his friends. I spent most of my time with my mother.

When I was at home, I stayed glued to her all the time, listening to her every word and gesture. The education of his nine children did not seem to cause him any fatigue. Her enthusiasm for the task only faltered very rarely, or only for a few

Seconds which she made fun of immediately afterwards. His stubbornness was excessive, practically psychotic. What was she looking for in this relentlessness which bordered on obsession? Sitting around doing nothing tired her. She never rested, she was always busy. In addition to all her chores at home, she went shopping at the old town market.

I accompanied him to help him carry the bags, and at the same time discover a little more about this world full of surprises into which I found myself parachuted. My mother didn’t ask my sisters to help her with household chores. When one of them offered help, she said: “Go revise your lessons,

It’s better for you.” She did everything to ensure that her daughters led a modern and independent life. She usually wore the traditional sefsari outside although Bourguiba had encouraged Tunisian women to remove it, but for her daughters, this was out of the question. She bought them jeans, mini skirts and fashionable shirts.

They were young girls steeped in emerging modernity, dedicated to fighting the conservative brakes of the traditionalist rearguard which limits the role of women to that of maid. The discovery of the beyond The days passed quickly between school and home.

Every day, I discovered a sensation or a concept that was previously foreign to me. My maternal grandmother came to visit us to see what her daughter’s life was like in her new home. One day late in the afternoon, while the sweet scent of pastries that had just been

Prepared wafted from the kitchen, I found her returning from the garden kneeling for the Salat El-Asr prayer (The third prayer of day for Muslims). I approached her and questioned her. – What are you doing ? – I pray to Rabbi to accept me at his side and relieve my suffering.

Because I have to leave soon. – Does God answer all your requests? I continued. – Of course ! He gives us everything we ask of him. At these words, I sat down on the prayer rug, imitating his gestures, and I cried out fervently: – My God, make me become a monkey

! Omi Zohra thought I was asking for yogurt, yogurt and monkey which in our dialect sound almost identical to a child who articulates poorly and a grandmother who doesn’t hear much better. So she answered my prayer by giving me a few coins. – Go buy your yogurt, my child.

I did as she ordered for fear of offending her. But when I came home, I asked my mother. – Does God grant all our requests? – Without a doubt ! – Why didn’t he turn me into a monkey as I asked him in my prayer?

– You have forgotten the essential: after prayer, you must wash yourself with milk and then go to bed naked. When you wake up, you will be transformed into a monkey. I told myself that this operation was far too difficult to carry out. I will accomplish it when I grow up.

I will become a monkey, and I will be able to climb everywhere! The next day, my grandmother felt extremely dejected. She decided to return to Tunis. Before leaving, she turned one last time to look at our house. Sadness filled his eyes. She said a few incomprehensible words then kissed us.

A few days later, she took to her bed. Her condition worsened day by day, to the point that she lost her speech. My mother then had to go to his bedside. – Listen to me, Karim, she said to me, I have to go to Tunis. Your grandmother is very ill.

I trust you to keep the house. Stay calm and don’t come out of here. When your father gets home, tell him to join me. So I suddenly found myself alone. All this agitation had disturbed me. Taking advantage of my solitude, I began to wander in the garden according to my instinct, without

Worrying about the time that was passing. I walked up and down, crossed the garden several times, returned to the veranda, returned again near the trees… I saw my grandmother’s face again between the branches. I remembered my last conversation with her on the prayer mat.

Now I associated her image with that of God, and I had never felt so close to her. I was afraid of the immensity of this new dimension that was opening up to my consciousness, but at the same time it activated in me a feeling of well-being.

When the light dimmed, I sat on the steps in front of the house and watched the sunset behind the mountain and the progress of dusk until my father arrived. I passed on my mother’s message to him.

He waited for one of my sisters to arrive, told her to take care of me and then ran off . The next day, a mask of sadness froze everyone’s faces. Omi Zohra had died. It was February 20, 1973. Everyone left to attend his funeral except me.

From what I understood, grandmother had told my mother not to bring me, she did not want me to see her either before or after her death, finding me too fragile for that and fearing that I would don’t be shocked. I couldn’t understand what death meant. I questioned my mother several times.

All she could tell me was that Omi Zohra had gone to heaven, up there near God. What is God? Why in heaven? What was she doing near God? How had she gotten up next to him? Questions swirled around my head without me having the courage to ask them.

All I understood was that I would never see her again, or only after my own death. But I asked myself the question again and again: “What is death?” The questions I asked myself, I kept to myself most of the time, for fear of expressing myself badly.

Of course, they were clear in my mind, but to transform them into words and sentences was difficult. I only asked questions that I could pronounce well. Sometimes I would isolate myself and ask the question out loud to myself before asking my mother or anyone else, to make sure I got it right.

I ended up agreeing with my mother’s opinion that death is a one-way journey to heaven. The discovery of death and God made me think about the relationship between these two words. By associating my grandmother with death, she had gone close to God, this God who makes all our wishes come true.

I wanted to die to go close to God too, to join Omi Zohra whom I loved so much. Looking back, I realize that I loved God through the image of her that I had in mind: her delicacy and her love towards me.

A few months later, my mother gave birth to my little brother. I did not understand ! My mother was in the kitchen preparing lunch. She had a stomach ache. She ran out and came back a few hours later, carrying in her arms

A little baby wrapped in a white blanket, which she placed on the living room bench. She surrounded him with cushions and told me to be careful not to hurt my little brother while she prepared dinner. I stood next to him, staring at him, stunned.

From what I remember, it was a surprise for everyone on May 28, 1973. The whole family was happy with this unexpected newborn, no one expected his arrival. The arrival of my little brother was the last in the family. My mother had no more children after him.

Already, she did not expect to become pregnant because, when she was preparing to give birth to her penultimate child, my father had asked the doctor on duty at the hospital to perform a ligation on her without her knowledge. tubes. What the doctor had accepted, crossing the limits of what was acceptable.

At the end of the birth, he operated on my mother. But by a miracle that I cannot explain, the operation was a failure, and my last brother was born. Obviously, I asked my mother the usual questions for any child my age: where

Did this little brother come from, and how did he come? My mother had accustomed us to always giving answers to our questions, to each person according to their age and their level of understanding and thinking. I noticed that when one of my sisters asked her a question, she would sometimes say

“I don’t know” and sometimes give the answer. And when we asked her for her opinion, she always gave it, adding “it’s up to you .” But when it came to me, she always gave me an answer. For this, I almost always found the courage to ask him questions.

But this time his answer was not convincing. – Your brother was in my stomach, she told me. He was sleeping. When he woke up, he came out to join us. I understood it with the logic of a little child: if we go to God when we

Die, logically, we come from him when we are born. My little brother therefore came from God in my mother’s womb. The discovery of life At the end of the school year, I managed to obtain an average, and I was admitted to the 4th primary class. Summer arrived and so did the holidays.

No more school chores! It was a party at home, and everyone was happy. I remember well that summer of 1973 when I was able to fully enjoy myself: swimming, games, evening walks on the beaches of La Goulette, Sidi Bou Saïd, Carthage or Hammam Lif, daydreams of a thousand horizons.

Often, in the morning, a friend of my father would drive by with his daughter who was the same age as my sisters to pick us up and take us to the sea. Swimming was a treat. We loved the waves, the wind and the salt.

We loved feeling the sun penetrate our bodies, rolling around in the sand, laughing at everything. Nothing mattered except simply enjoying the joys of summer. It was a time of carelessness, there was no tomorrow. The days I loved the most were when we went away with my mother.

The day before, she prepared everything needed for a long day at the beach. We would leave early in the morning to find a good spot on the sand and plant a large parasol there, a landmark under which my mother would sit with my little brother in her arms or next to her.

My sisters would put on bikinis and go for a walk. As for me, I stayed playing in the sand with my brothers under the watchful eye of my mother. His discreet gaze in my direction gave me a security and protection that always accompanied me.

Despite this, I felt total freedom, without limits, like the sea that stretched to the horizon. On the way back, the evenings flowed peacefully in a bath of joy and shared affection , like in any ordinary, slightly conservative Tunisian family.

The return to school in September put an end to our regular games and swims. We had to face new realities, perfect our intellectual training. For my sister and I, a primary school opened its doors two minutes from the house, saving us a long journey: the El Ferdaous school.

Teaching was shared between French and Arabic. I had a French teacher with whom I had an excellent relationship. My Arabic teacher, a tall mustachioed man, arrived every morning on his bicycle, straight on his saddle as if he were riding a horse at a horse show.

Then he meticulously removed the clips from his pants, took his bag and headed into the teachers’ room. He didn’t like me much, judging me to be lazy and dreamy. Far from complimenting me when he had the opportunity, he always called me stupid : “If this guy achieves anything, I’m willing to leave teaching

!” It is true that, during Arabic lessons, I spent most of my time looking out the window. The universe was so captivating! Unlike the French class which overlooked the courtyard, the windows of the Arabic class overlooked a vast field of olive trees

With a few goats and sheep that I followed with my eyes. My mind reasoned with its own logic, very far from conventional criteria. How could my master have detected the visions in which I continued to be immersed? Apart from mathematics where I stood out

And self-dictation and recitations where I was the first, Arabic was my pet peeve. My master summoned my parents several times to complain and take severe measures with them. But these were only blips in the water, because it was my mother who took care of the summons and everything that concerned our schooling.

My father never came, he wouldn’t have even known if she hadn’t told him about my problems. And, apparently, he barely heard what she was saying to him. At the end of 1973, we got ready to celebrate New Year’s Eve at home.

I didn’t remember New Years Eves from previous years, but I understood that our family celebrated New Years every year like in Europe. That year was going to be special because my dad decided to invite his friends over instead of joining them.

My mother was not against it, on the contrary! She had encouraged him so that he would at least be in front of her. There was a festive atmosphere in the house. Everyone had their task. My mother prepared dinner and cake, my sisters took care of decorating

The house with balloons and designs, my father went to buy wine. As for us boys, we helped set up the tables and chairs and put everything away. We were the most open family in the neighborhood. My sisters invited their friends, my mother too, and of course my father. Everyone was happy.

My father’s best friend had given us a big Christmas tree. We placed it in the large living room with lights of all colors. Once night fell, the music blared loudly, and the party began. At midnight, everyone kissed and wished each other a happy new year. 1974. The party continued almost until dawn.

I was witnessing such a moment for the first time, and it was for me as if life had always been a joy. The next day, my mother woke up early to clean the house, and when we got up around noon, she had put everything back together and made breakfast.

The smile was on everyone’s faces, and the new year promised to be full of happiness and hope. After a few days of vacation, we each returned to our usual school schedule. The school year went normally. Often, my mother took us on Sundays for a picnic in the Belvédère park in

Tunis where there was a zoo. We spent the day outdoors, and it was a great day where I could run on the grass, climb trees and, above all, observe the animals at the zoo. We came home in the evening tired. Everyone was preparing to face a new week.

For me, going to school was an ordeal, but I had no choice. I looked forward to the end of classes or the short vacation, but my big goal was to get out of school as summer approached. The construction of the house continued at full speed.

Before the end of the school year, the work was almost finished, at least inside the house. The doors were fixed, as were the windows. Everyone was happy with these advancements, and we were preparing for the summer, the excursions

To the beach and the night trips to the coast, in short, the heavenly life of the summer holidays where everyone has fun and does What he wants. My mother gave us a lot of freedom, she preferred to teach us responsibility than to forbid us from doing anything.

She always said: “Try it yourself to make up your own mind.” That summer, my father began inviting his friends over on Saturdays to drink wine and play cards. On those days, my mother would prepare dinner and everything they needed before going to

Bed, and my brothers and I would stay outside and play until tiredness overcame us. My father’s best friend was a generous and caring man. He didn’t let us miss anything, often gave us gifts. Whatever we wanted, he bought it for us.

I remember a phrase that he often repeated and that I only understood twenty years later: “Life is short, you have to make the most of it.” One day, returning from the beach, I noticed a small goat in the middle of a herd.

I took a liking to this adorable little creature who embodied innocence itself. My father’s friend, giving in to my whim, caught the animal and bought it before putting it in the car. I loved my new friend. I climbed on her back, kissed her, told her stories, and she didn’t leave my side .

We became inseparable. Until the day my father grabbed the goat and slaughtered it for the evening meal with his friends. I screamed, shouted my rage at my father, cried all day. That day I understood what the word hate meant. I suddenly perceived all the dangers and powers of hatred, and how much it

Can move the flesh. The start of the school year in September 1974 was special because my older sister was taking her baccalaureate. We boys were not allowed to play inside the house. My mother made us go out into the garden so as not to disturb her.

She worked harder so that my big sister could focus exclusively on her studies. She brought him breakfast in bed and prepared his things. She lived like a princess, her every wish was granted to her. That year, she corresponded with a girl her age named Wendy who lived in America.

She waited impatiently for her letters and asked me to see if the postman had come by. She invited him to spend a few weeks with us during the summer vacation. My mother wasn’t against the idea, and Wendy agreed. As the holidays approached, there was abnormal tension at home.

We were waiting for my big sister’s baccalaureate results, and no one was interested in me, despite the difficulties I had overcome in class. My older sister didn’t get her baccalaureate. It was a big shock for my mother. I saw her face turn pale when she heard it.

But she didn’t want to show her disappointment. – It doesn’t matter, she said. You’re going to have fun this summer to forget the stress, and I want you to work hard from the start of the school year to graduate next year.

Your sister will pass it at the same time as you, so it will be a double joy. The day the American friend arrived, my mother prepared her bed in the girls’ room, and my two older sisters went to pick her up from the airport. It was joy when they returned with her.

They spent the whole night laughing and talking in their room, and the next day they left to show him around Tunis. They spoke to each other in English, a language that I of course did not understand, but I recognized in the happy faces of my sisters the obvious pleasure of Tunisian hospitality.

We would have looked in vain for any difference between them and their guest, whether in appearance, outfit or mentality. All three had been educated in the same modernity. Wendy stayed with us for about a month, and I remember the sad atmosphere and the moist eyes of my sisters the day she left.

In addition to the gifts she had brought, Wendy left them almost all of her sexy clothes as a thank you. After accompanying her to the Tunis-Carthage airport, they returned dejected and quietly retired to their room. That summer, the days passed quickly, and I didn’t see much of my older sisters,

Who were busy with their guest, but I felt that something had changed in the family. There were now two worlds, that of adults and that of children. It was as if they were no longer part of our world, they had their own activities, went out with their friends and sometimes took them

Home, as if their world was separate . Even for trips to the beach, they no longer came with us. Suddenly, I had more time to pursue my own dreams. Yes, that summer, each of us began to grow up and create our own world. But that didn’t bother anyone, on the contrary.

We stuck together, and everyone was happy. In September 1975, I entered the 5th grade of primary school. This year was going to be difficult for me, because my second sister would no longer have time to take care of me, and therefore help me catch up. I just had to rely on myself.

Of course, my mother took care of me a little instead of my sister, but it wasn’t the same. My second sister understood me and had the patience to explain everything to me calmly and wisely, and sometimes she played with me. My mother was something else. His household chores didn’t leave him much time.

All she could do was help me a little in the evenings with French language lessons . As for Arabic, she knew nothing about it since she had studied with Christian sisters. In Arabic, my average dropped very quickly. My teacher hated me even more, to the point that he forced me to sit

At the back, having decreed that at the back of the class, I could take the opportunity to sleep and rest. In the first trimester, I had less than average. My father, furious, shouted at me, calling me a donkey, and began to give me

A text in French and another in Arabic every evening to punish me, which he forced me to stupidly copy out without understanding anything. My isolation in the face of this tense situation caused me to withdraw into myself, and I began to no longer love anyone.

I had created my own characters in my head, my own friends among the animals. When I returned from school, I threw away my schoolbag, took refuge in the cellar with the dog and the chickens and talked to them.

Then, before my father arrived, I would run up to my room and open a book and pretend to study. All he had to do was see me with a book or a pen in my hand to close the door, thinking I was studying.

I pretended to copy the texts he gave me, but as he didn’t know how to read, I showed him texts that I had already copied before, and he left me alone. The winter holidays were approaching, and with them the end of year eve that I was looking forward to.

This year’s party was even more magnificent than the previous year because our house was completely finished, including the house fence! So, two years of happiness had just passed. My mother’s greatest joy The return to school in January 1976 after the winter holidays was difficult for the two baccalaureate candidates.

This year, my mother didn’t want to fail. Everyone had to provide them with calm and serenity so that they could revise well. Even my father no longer brought friends home on Saturdays. After work, he would join them at the bar in Tunis and return late at night.

As for my mother, she would get up at 6 a.m. to bring them breakfast in bed and stay up with them in the evening until they almost fell asleep on their lessons. And after turning off the lights at the girls’ house, she would go around to the

Boys’ house again to take a look at each of us and cover us. For me, this January return to school was even more difficult. I was hardly taken care of anymore. I didn’t get my average in the second trimester. Even my father didn’t care about it now.

– I’m not going to bother with him anymore, he said. Whether he studies or not, he will not succeed this year. Increasingly isolated at home and at school, I fell into my dreams. Pets were the only friends I had left. I spent most of the time with them, even at night.

I waited until everyone was asleep to go out the window. I went to sleep in the cellar with them, and I woke up at sunrise to go to my bed. At the end of the 1976 school year, the sentence fell: I had to repeat my 5th grade class.

That’s when I started to lose my footing. Studies no longer interested me. Around me, the family was only interested in the results of my two sisters. When it was known that I was repeating a grade, there was no reaction, as if it was normal and everyone expected it.

A little attention would have done me good, but I resigned myself. Everyone expected the girls to succeed. Finally, the news arrived: my two sisters had graduated, and the second with the distinction “very good”! As soon as my mother heard the news, a loud ululation

Echoed through the house! We hadn’t seen her so happy since the death of her own mother, with tears in her eyes as if she was the one who had graduated! After all these years of fatigue, she deserved this joy. Everyone was happy with this success. For several days, visitors came

To the house one after the other to congratulate my sisters. My mother received them with enthusiasm, presenting them Tunisian cakes with green or red tea with pine nuts. Several times I had to run to the local grocer to buy what was missing. A busy week had just passed.

My big sisters were more and more distant, they lived in their grown-up world. As for us, the youngest, we had our own world. My mother did not change her habits. She took us to the beach like every summer. My father had resumed the habit of inviting friends to the house in the evening.

Life was returning to normal after all this tension. On Wednesday, August 4, 1976, I reached my tenth birthday. My birthday held an important place in my mind since the beginning of my new life. As for each of our birthdays, my mother prepared a big cake, and it was a special day for me.

I didn’t have any friends to invite, but I was very happy to spend this day with family, and everyone hugged me, wishing me long life, happy birthday and success for the year to come. I had failed my school year, but thanks to the success of my two sisters,

Everyone seemed to have forgotten it! The Islamist infiltration of the family At the end of the summer holidays, I started my year of 5th primary again with the same teachers. The students had changed, except those who repeated a year like me.

This return to school was so difficult for me that I no longer wanted to go to school, but my mother tried to convince me that she would take more care of me from now on and that, in the end, I would succeed. also up to the baccalaureate.

This reassured me a little, but deep down, I no longer believed in my ability to succeed. My two older sisters were enrolled in university. The first wanted to become a teacher. As for the second, she began studying mathematics.

After a few weeks, I noticed that she was smiling less and less and that she was starting to change her behavior. I had known Samira since I opened my eyes to this world, and she was the one who had taken care of me the most since I was born.

So, if there was one person among my siblings who was close to me, it was her. Until then, I knew her by heart, I guessed everything she felt. She displayed considerable and very natural energy to brighten up our lives.

His dedication had contributed to my happiness and to maintaining a spirit of openness among us. She always came up with a new idea for a game. She liked to dress fashionably and add atmosphere to the house; she was a young girl steeped in modernity.

She had inherited from our mother her strong character who never gives up whatever the circumstances. She was known for her free and critical spirit, her humor, her human warmth. She was always willing to get ahead of things. But since she had joined the university, she seemed to lose that cheerfulness which was

The charm of her personality. She was no longer the same, isolated herself more and more, locked herself in her room when she came home from university. One day, I heard this strange conversation between her and my mother: – Mom, do you know we are surrounded by the forces of evil.

– What do you mean, my child? Samira began to pace up and down the kitchen. Her excitement included a sort of embarrassment that she tried in vain to hide. – There are many people who want to divert us from the path that leads to Allah. – It worries me, what you say.

Is someone trying to harm you? – Oh no ! I feel strong, mom! Allah is with me. Allah is so good! I have never felt so close to his heart. Sensing that her daughter was not in her normal state, my mother abandoned the lunch preparations and sat down.

– This is the first time I’ve heard you speak about Allah with such passion! I congratulate you. But why do your hands shake like that? What’s happening to you ? Are you unwell? – What if I’m unwell? Not in the least

! On the contrary, I feel as strong as a block of granite! – But then, why are you trembling? – I tremble because my love for Allah is immense, and I know that he looks at me. “He looks at us all,” my mother retorted placidly. – You’re wrong, mom.

Allah only looks at those who sacrifice everything for him, those who place themselves body and soul under his light. – Since you have been at university, Samira, your words have changed a lot, and I find that you have lost your joy of living. – I have never been so happy.

! I met new people who opened my mind and gave me freedom again. – Thank you for your kindness, my daughter… Did I raise you under a glass dome? – You did not raise me so that I could access the true word of God! My sister said

Angrily, as if my mother had hidden the truth of Allah from her. She sat down and rubbed her face with her hands. For a few seconds her mind seemed lost in silence, then she stared at my mother. – We must all learn to listen to the word of Allah.

What we have done for him so far is nothing. From now on, all our gestures, our actions and our thoughts must be turned towards him, otherwise the doors of paradise will remain closed to us. – Shut up ! Your words hurt me.

As if I wasn’t Muslim! I don’t want to listen to you anymore. – However, it will be necessary, because it is the will of Allah! This discussion made my blood run cold. Why was Samira so harsh in her comments? My mother practiced prayer

Daily, she educated us without making any difference between us, paying equal attention to everyone, fulfilling her role as mother as best as possible. She had nothing to be ashamed of, except her numerous arguments with her husband. But she was not responsible since she had not wanted this marriage.

On the contrary, she had accepted her fate despite her pain and worked tirelessly for the well-being of her family. She had fought for us to live under our own roof. What more could she do to deserve Allah’s love? My sister was taking a turn that heralded difficult days ahead.

Her change of attitude was reflected in her clothes: within a few months, their attractive colors slipped towards gray, and surprisingly for her who usually dressed rather short, her skirts now came down to her calves. She would lock herself with her two younger sisters in their room to discuss in

Hushed tones about Allah and Islam. I noticed that they were starting to imitate him. As for the eldest, she refused to listen to her younger sister. The tone rose between them. The other didn’t give up and put pressure on him.

She objected to the way he dressed, intervened in his private life and his behavior. The atmosphere had become electric. My mother had to intervene to calm them down. Before, there were banal, everyday arguments, like: “Why did you take my jeans without asking me?” Now I could hear my older sister shouting, “Take care

Of yourself and let me live my life!” My big sister had been raised free and independent, she couldn’t stand people deciding for her. My second sister’s outfit had become propaganda for her new speech, but that wasn’t enough. She transformed herself into a true proselyte.

She had set her sights on our family, and, of course, it was soon my turn. – Tell me, Karim, she asked me, do you know who Allah is? – Someone who wishes us well, and one day, we will go to his home in heaven.

– That’s good, I see that you have understood the essential: true life does not take place on earth but in the sky, alongside Allah. This is called paradise. – Oh, I know the things that happen in the sky! I like looking at the stars, I understand when they speak to me.

– What are you saying there? The stars don’t speak! – Of course yes. You don’t know how to listen to them, that’s all. Behind them, there are beings that look like animals and trees and who talk to us.

And I also see the face of Omi Zohra who speaks to me and accompanies me from up there. – You have a lot of imagination, Karim. But you have to listen to me. When you were a little boy, I took care of you, you have to trust me.

Above these beings you speak of, there is Allah. We must all go to him, because our place is at his side. Our life on earth is only a passage. There is nothing good down here. To hope to join Allah, we must respect a certain number of rules.

Among them, prayer is the most important. From now on, I recommend that you practice it every day. – Prayer ? But I feel like I’ve been praying for a long time already! – You’re on the wrong track, Karim. I will teach you how prayer is practiced. – If it makes you happy.

But, say, why do you quarrel so much with mom? – These are not quarrels. I only want his good. – Still, it makes her unhappy. – Rest assured, we will all become good and true Muslims. – Because we are not true Muslims?

– No, a true Muslim must be completely submissive to Allah to gain his paradise. – And how do we submit to Allah? – That’s what I’m going to teach you. And the whole family will submit to Allah. Building on her first victories, my sister was more active than ever.

She would go on dates with her new friends to discuss religion and politics. At home, she began pouring out frantic declarations about hell, paradise and the West, the great enemy of Islam. His look was no longer the same. Was someone hiding behind her to manipulate her? My mother’s worry grew.

She saw that her daughter was going through a delicate period, that she was the victim of her bad company, but she clung to the hope that she would soon find her true nature. It seemed impossible to him that a well-educated person with a good level of education would allow himself to be manipulated.

She did not want to impose anything on her children, preferring that they make their choices on their own, with full responsibility. I remember that when my little brother wanted to touch the hot water in the bathroom , she let him.

When he got burned, she consoled him with a laugh, saying that that way he wouldn’t touch her again. She had educated us like this. She didn’t want us to experience what she herself had experienced, not having a choice about her experiences and her partner.

She had suffered all her life from her forced marriage and refused to let her children suffer the same fate. No, this couldn’t happen in her family, she had done everything to protect us from this! The great mistake my mother made was

Not to act in time in the face of this danger, because she believed in everyone’s freedom of conscience. Unfortunately, she underestimated the danger. She did not imagine the multiple methods of infiltration and manipulation by means of which Islamism maintains its hold on the people who fall into its trap.

My sister had fallen into one of these traps: the love of an Islamist and the wish to become an exemplary woman in the service of Allah in marriage, which is the dream of every girl of that age. This method was used among others by Mohamed himself: to obtain the alliance

Of a family or a tribe and propagate Islam, he married one of their daughters. We also see this in Europe among many converts to Islam: love and marriage are one of Islamism’s plans to infiltrate society. Today, I cannot help but think that this situation which is at the origin

Of our family’s misfortune foreshadowed what Tunisia is experiencing today. Ben Ali’s flight allowed a political party with an Islamist vocation to act with complete impunity on a still fragile Tunisian population, lacking experience in the field of democratic freedom and mostly under the influence of Islam. : this party

Took advantage of this religious influence to bamboozle thousands of families like ours and come to power. So my mother didn’t want to intervene in my sister’s choices, and things got worse. This noxious atmosphere precipitated another event. My older sister was being courted by one of her friends, a tall man with a

Western appearance and appearance – he looked like a German. As he was good, well-mannered and had a stable job, my mother encouraged my sister to marry him. No longer able to stand the tension that reigned at home, she accepted very quickly.

He came with his family to ask for her hand, and my parents agreed that the marriage would take place at the end of 1976. The wedding ceremony organized by my parents at home delighted us. It was a modern Tunisian wedding. My big sister wore a white dress, a symbol of light and joy.

After the ceremonies which lasted three days and three nights, she left home with her husband to build her family life. My mother burst with joy because this union augured great happiness for her daughter. She was happy to see her find her way and be independent.

But these weddings had only been a moment of respite. The next day, the fundamentalist regime regained its rights at home. My second sister found herself without a rival to oppose her plan: to force us to become “good Muslims in the service of Allah” according to her idea.

The cyclone of the Islamic revolution As the 1976 end-of-year holidays approached , my sister expressed her opposition. For her, there was no question of celebrating the end of the year, it was a Western celebration, and Islam prohibited it. Of course, my mother didn’t listen to him.

– If you don’t want to party with us, you are free to stay in your room. My sister responded promptly. – There is no way I can witness the presence of sin before me without taking action! It is

Up to you to leave the house for this, I refuse to accept that this home is soiled by sin. But seeing that it was impossible for her to convince my mother, she changed strategy. She played on my father’s weaknesses with consummate perfidy.

– Dad, do you think you are really the master of your house? – You know your mother’s character. She’s a rebel, my father grumbled. – What do the Quran and Hadiths tell us about the role of the wife in the home? – You won’t be long in teaching me.

– The woman cannot act without the consent of her husband. The wife is the right hand of the husband. She proposes, her husband decides and orders. – The Hadith is right, said my father. -And what does your wife do? Have you ever once been able to control his actions?

– You know that as well as I do, my daughter. “But that’s not all,” my sister continued. Does a householder spend his time away from his wife? Does he constantly go out with his friends? Does he drink alcohol? If this were the life of a householder, when

Could he pray? – You ask a lot of me, my child. – It’s not me who asks you, it’s Allah. -And what should I do to please Allah? – You have a lot to do. I will teach you the path of Allah which will make you master of your family, but

You must follow what I tell you. – I agree, if it pleases Allah… We almost heard him add in his heart: “And if this allows me to subdue their mother and make myself the true master of the house!” After this discussion, my father changed his habits.

He was at home almost all the time, shouting and asserting his wishes like a barbaric tribal leader. His orders had to be carried out to the letter, without discussion. Arguments between my parents became daily. Tension was very high at home.

The girls hid in their room, and my little brother and I fled to the garden. As for my mother, she was either in her room crying or in the kitchen preparing dinner, with a pale face and tears in her eyes. Despite my sister’s best attempts to prevent it, the New Year was celebrated,

But in a modest way. My mother had prepared a big cake and candles, and we spent New Year’s Eve in front of the TV. This end of the year was one of the saddest I have ever known, and it was the last time we celebrated New Year’s Day at home.

The atmosphere was tense. My mother forced herself to smile. My three older sisters present had chosen to stay in their room, far from us, so as not to sin and participate in what according to them was infidelity. to Islam.

As for my father, instead of inviting his friends to the house as he had been doing since we moved to Ariana, he preferred to go out and spend New Year’s Eve with his friends without saying anything to anyone, forgetting everything. what my sister had told him.

He came home in the early morning, completely drunk, walking on tiptoe so that no one would know. It was the first time I saw my father hiding like a thief. Usually, when he came home drunk, he would wake everyone up with his agitation.

That night, I discerned in him the deep fear that Islam instills in the heart of the individual. The next morning, I woke up to hear my second sister saying morning prayers with the other two. I heard him ask Allah for forgiveness for the great sin that had been

Committed in the house the previous evening. She asked for support and strength from Allah to fight sin wherever it may be found. The boys’ room being next to the girls’ room, I heard all her pleas. I got goosebumps. I felt that this New Year’s Day was not going to pass without damage, especially

When I heard her say that she was ready to give her life so that Islam would be applied at home. A great Islamic revolution was brewing. I crossed my fingers waiting for what would happen on that first day of 1977.

When my mother got up, I no longer heard Samira imploring Allah, but my three sisters were whispering so that no one could hear them. I waited a bit before getting up to join my mother in the kitchen. She was cleaning, as always.

She looked happy that she had allowed us to celebrate the New Year despite Samira’s opposition, but there was also sadness in her eyes because the three older girls had not attended the party. When I entered the kitchen, she was surprised.

– Why do you get up so early? she asked when she saw me. So go and rest, I’ll wake you up when breakfast is ready. – No, I replied, I can’t sleep. I prefer to go see my animals.

I opened the door leading to the garden and went out to take care of my animals, until I heard violent shouting in the kitchen between my mother and my father. My mother criticized him for showing weakness in front of his daughters.

Instead of facing the situation with courage and spending New Year’s Eve with his family as usual, he preferred to flee and spend New Year’s Eve outside, like a coward, so as not to face his daughter who was trying to impose her law at home. My father could not stand this frankness.

As he felt guilty, he decided to shout, call my mother names and leave by slamming the door. Shortly after, seeing my father’s friend’s car park in the street, I ran to open the gate for him before it rang, but I was intercepted by Samira,

Who had seen him from her window. room and ordered me to tell him that our father was not there. Without really understanding, I left to carry out this commission. As soon as he saw me, our friend kissed me and told me to help him carry the presents

He had brought for the New Year. When I told him that my father was away, he smiled. – I didn’t come to see your father, I spent the whole night with him. I came to see you! Not knowing what to say anymore, I took the gifts with him, and we went home.

He knocked on the garden door with rhythmic knocks while singing: – Happy New Year 1977 for my dearest friends in this world! But no one answered. He turned towards me, questioningly. – Is there no one at home? – Yes, I replied, everyone is there except my father.

So he continued to knock harder and harder, until Samira’s voice was heard behind the door. – Go home, you have nothing more to do here! Don’t come back to this house again to dirty it, demon that you are! Go away from us and our father and let us live

In the right path of Allah! My father’s friend couldn’t believe it. – What’s going on here? he exclaimed, turning towards me. I couldn’t think of anything to say to him. I saw his face close. He piled up the presents in front of the door and kissed me and said, “Say hello

To your mother.” Then he got back in his car and left without looking back. A few minutes later, Samira came out, her head wrapped in a veil and her body covered with a sort of cape so as to hide her form, leaving only her face and her hands visible.

I didn’t recognize her right away. I had never seen this kind of outfit in my life. I didn’t know the traditional Tunisian sefsari that my mother wore when she went out like many women her age, but the outfit that my sister wore, I had never seen before on a woman.

But what shocked me the most was seeing my sister, very angry, tearing down and breaking the gifts that my father’s friend had brought. – We don’t need gifts from a demon! she shouted. We don’t need gifts from an impure man!

Then she collected everything in a trash bag and told me to throw it away. Frightened, I carried out without discussion what she ordered. I was shocked, but I couldn’t do anything. I went home with my head down.

I looked for my mother, but she had locked herself in her room and didn’t want to see anyone. As for my brothers and sisters, they were in the kitchen having breakfast . Samira called me to eat as if nothing had happened, and I sat at the table without a word. Nobody spoke.

The tension was massive. When my father came home, my second sister rushed into the hallway to talk to him. – We no longer want to see your friend or any of your friends coming to our house. Are you forgetting that you have daughters and that you have to protect them?

– Exactly, my daughter, I wanted to warn them. It’s just that I haven’t found the time to do it. – No need, I did that for you. Your best friend just stopped by, and I sent him away. That way, he’ll tell the others, and you’ll just have to confirm it to them.

– No problem, so be it. – Dad, did you understand or not what we discussed the other time? – Yes, of course, my daughter, and I am trying. – What efforts? Yesterday, you left in the evening, and you didn’t come back until the morning. – You know, my daughter, the devil tempts me.

Pray to Allah to help me. – You have to want it, Allah doesn’t change people who don’t want to change. – May Allah help me to be at his service… Where is your mother? – She is in her room. My father entered the room and closed the door.

Apparently he was trying to smooth things over with my mother. Indeed, she went out to prepare lunch, and we all had lunch together. But the climate was still deleterious. After lunch, my sisters wanted to help my mother with the housework, but she

Sent them away, and they went back to their room to say midday prayers together. The afternoon passed calmly until around 4 p.m. Samira called my little brother and me into their room. – Are you ready to do something that will please Allah a lot?

– Like what ? I asked cautiously, not seeing where she was going with this. – You do not trust me ? – Yes. I just want to know what exactly you want. – It’s not me who wants it, it’s Allah.

– What exactly does Allah want from me? – Not just you, but all of us. And you, if you want to please Allah, you must participate with us in what we are going to do so that he is pleased with us. – What are you going to do ? – Well, I’ll explain.

Islam won only after our dear prophet decided to conquer Mecca and demolish the idols around the Kaaba. This has cleansed the house of Allah. So, we will christen this New Year’s Day “the day of demolition of statues”,

And we will clean our house so that it will be a pure and holy house for Allah alone. You’re going to light a big fire. Making a fire in the garden, of course, suited me. For me, it was just child’s play.

I gathered the branches and papers with my little brother, and I lit the fire, shouting with excitement, unaware of what was going to happen. We then saw my sisters come out, carrying suitcases of clothes. Samira declared that they were Satan’s clothes, and she began to burn them one after the other.

– God is great ! The truth has come and evil is gone! she shouted. Among these clothes were those that the American guest had given the previous year. After the clothes, it was the turn of their makeup box and everything that makes a woman beautiful.

They then burned paintings that Samira had painted herself. She who loved drawing and painting so much! My mother watched all this silently from the kitchen window. As for my father, he didn’t intervene either. It was their own things the girls were burning, so he had no reason to intervene.

But once started, the vacuum cleaning did not stop there. After burning all these things contrary to the principles of Islam, Samira told me to go get all the wine bottles, filled or not, and even the wine glasses from the kitchen, and also the corkscrew.

I went home with my brother to do what she asked. In the kitchen, my mother intervened. – Don’t touch anything before asking your father’s permission. He was not against it, and he even came with us to give us everything. We started smashing it with stones while my second sister shouted Islamist slogans.

When she saw that my father was witnessing this carnage without objecting, she smiled. “Good has come and evil has gone,” she said in a tone of triumph. Glory to Allah Almighty! “In any case, it’s over,” my father muttered.

I’m not going to drink this filth anymore, may Allah help me to follow the right path. Starting today, I start praying. It was a bit of a special scene, but I was sincerely delighted. I believed that a page had just been turned and that our family would live

A happier page from that New Year’s Day 1977. My second sister didn’t stop there. She went into the house to take down the paintings and family photos that decorated the walls of the bedrooms and the hallway. She tells us that angels do not enter a house where there are photos.

She explained that making portraits and taking photos is forbidden in Islam because it amounts to wanting to imitate Allah the Almighty. Whoever takes a photo or draws a living being, whether it is an animal or a human being, Allah, on the Day of Judgment, will order him to bring this representation to life.

If he fails, he will be thrown into hell. My sisters were also passionate about drawing at school, especially portraits. They had pretty designs. They threw them into the fire asking Allah for forgiveness. When my father saw that they were starting to burn the photos, he turned pale, but after my sister talked about

Allah’s punishment of photographers and cartoonists, he trembled even more. – Okay, he decreed, from today on, I don’t want to take anyone’s picture anymore, that’s it. Allah must forgive me for all the wrongs I have done in my life. My sister gave him a sharp look.

– To prove to Allah that you are sorry and for him to forgive you, you must burn all the photos you have taken, she said, implacably. My father was passionate about photography, it was his favorite hobby. Since his youth, he always had a camera with him.

He took pictures of us almost every day and took photos at every place he went, especially on special occasions. In almost thirty years, he had archived tens of thousands of photos with their negatives. He even had daguerreotypes – very old glass negatives – because, in addition to the

Photos he took himself, he collected photos that dated from the turn of the century. He also had a significant number of photos featuring Bourguiba, taken during the events of Independence. It was almost unimaginable how many photos my father had accumulated.

In the hallway, there were two large closets, each containing at least six layers of photo albums, slides, and negatives. Priceless archives. I saw my father leave with my sister to take out all these photos and throw them into the fire while shouting the same slogans. The glass negatives shattered in the heat.

Everything went on fire until there was nothing left and the cupboards were completely empty. Twenty years later, I learned that my mother had hidden three packs of photos under her bed. Then, she took them out of the house without anyone knowing and went to hide them

At her sister’s house in Tunis, in the Medina. When she informed me of their existence, I went to look for them to keep them with me. Unfortunately, I lost two packs, but I still have one today that contains previews of hundreds of photos.

Samira burned everything she found contrary to the law of Allah, even books. My sisters read a lot of novels, and that day, hundreds of books were burned in the name of Allah. Apart from the Koran, the study books and those on Islam that my sister had brought home, nothing remained.

This operation lasted for hours, until sunset. It didn’t end. I remember that day as the longest of my life. The cyclone of the Islamic revolution had just passed over our family home. After that day, nothing was the same again.

What had just happened with us is reminiscent of what happened in the time of Mohamed in thousands of families. Destroy everything that contradicts Islam, whatever its historical, emotional and cultural richness, completely erase the past to build a new history. Annihilate identities to create a single Islamic identity.

I found all this much later in books on the history of Islam. I then perfectly understood the historical events through what my family had experienced. We had suddenly moved from a traditional, tolerant and inherited Islam to an extremist Islam which respects nothing, which condemns and destroys everything in its path.

Before, in the family, it was only my mother who prayed, and she was the only one to wear traditional clothing. Despite this, we never saw fundamentalism there. On the contrary, she was tolerant, she did not ask my sisters to wear these clothes and did not force any of us to pray.

For her, everyone was free and responsible for themselves. She instilled in us this spirit of tolerance and love from a very young age. No one doubted his Islam or his sincerity until Islamism entered our family – the conquering Islam of the beginnings, aggressive, violent, the Islam

Of hatred and submission which forces others to follow it in destroying and burning with fire everything that contradicts him. After that day, my mother became the disbeliever of the family. It lost its influence, and my father rushed into the open breach.

Little by little, he raised his voice, posing as a righter of wrongs, monitoring his wife’s actions . Through my sister, he was granted the position of leader that he had always secretly dreamed of. My mother saw her autonomy diminish. Soon, she could no longer decide anything without her husband’s consent.

The education of children, the maintenance of the house, the choice of menus, expenses, all of this now had to obtain the approval of the “master”. After her disappointment in love, she suffered her second failure. A terrible failure. Her children no longer supported her, except lip service, fearing the anger

Of my sister, who had become the representative of God in the house. The bad marital climate that reigned at home had weakened us. We were children who were still easily influenced and sorely lacked critical thinking. Fundamentalism was corrupting our family. My sisters also decided to wear the zaï islémi or “Islamic outfit”.

My second sister began to teach us prayer. She spoke about it as if it were a balance sheet: the more you pray during the day, the more chances you have of reaching paradise. According to her, what differentiated the Muslim from the unbeliever was the abundance of prayers.

So, now everyone had to submit and pray as many daily prayers as possible to please Allah the Almighty. I myself was caught in the spiral. I began to pray as did the others. The family under the Islamist dictatorship My sister’s maneuver had succeeded perfectly. She now imposed all her wishes through paternal authority.

This system reinforced the self-esteem of my father, who believed he was acting like a true Muslim by cracking down on the slightest deviation on our part. Basically, he was religious out of interest. My brothers and sisters lived in fear.

Samira kept an eye on us and intervened as soon as anyone did or said anything. If we lied, did not pray or did not follow the will of Allah to the letter, we would burn in the flames of hell! Like everyone else, I was terrified.

My heart inclined me to think that she was wrong, but my pre-adolescent reason advised me to give in to her orders to avoid the worst. Despite my young age, I clearly perceived the irreversible fracture that she had caused within the family, to the point that the house resembled a prison world

Where the walls and furniture seemed charged with the darkness of our relationships. Before, Sunday was spent at the beach or at the gazebo for a change of scenery and having fun, but that had changed, the day of rest of the week had become Allah’s day.

That day, my sister took us to the mosque for lessons on Halaka, “Islamic legislation”, the equivalent of catechism for Christians. There, the religious people taught us how a Muslim should behave. In fact, the themes discussed contained the premises of fundamentalism. This teaching aimed to train the new generation who would soon fight

The traitors, in other words Westernized Muslims, and the conspirators, in short the Westerners. All this was done in small steps. True to her fighting spirit, my mother fought against her husband’s despotism. Likewise, she stood up with violence to sweep away the extremist wave initiated by my sister.

Where was she going to draw such strength after so much humiliation? May women who suffer in the shadow of a tyrannical husband look at her and follow her example ! Unfortunately, his vehemence remained fruitless. His own mother, his only support, was no longer there. His isolation was too great.

The family was bogged down in the doldrums of the inquisition. Times had changed. After winter break, my second sister announced to my parents that she had met the man of her life at university and that she wanted to get married.

He was, she said, a brilliant being, full of kindness, who had thought long and hard about the history of the country and who conceived great projects for the future of Islam. His study of sacred texts had instilled in him a deep sense of religion.

In addition, his knowledge of economic matters made him capable of integrating religion into the realities of the modern world. He adhered to the Islamist movement and advocated religious revolution as the only possible outcome to get North Africa out of the rut. My sister had met this exceptional being during feminist meetings held on

The university campus. At the start of her conversion to Islamism, she had not imagined the political dimension that a certain fundamentalist elite would give to the women’s movement. Originally, their grouping sought to combat the cult of the woman as an object maintained by Western ideology.

It was a pseudo-feminist movement imitating those that sprouted in European countries in the early sixties. The founders of this school of thought were distinguished by a high level of education. They saw – wrongly! – in the return to the values ​​of Islam a means of restoring dignity to women.

The fact of encouraging the wearing of the veil and traditional dress was above all a political act: it was necessary to destroy the image of the woman as a sexual object to impose her recognition as a person in her own right. Religion served feminism. But this movement was gradually infiltrated by religious extremists.

The height of irony is that this political feminism sank into religious fanaticism through male will. This man, Salah Karkar, changed her life and that of our family for the worse. It is likely that it was he who took the initiative of meeting my sister, noticed by everyone for her liveliness and enthusiasm.

This alliance fit with his strategy. When my mother learned that her future son-in-law belonged to the Islamist movement, she tried to convince her daughter to give up the marriage. – If you marry him, you will ruin your life as you have already started to do. He will lock you in his house.

You will be subject to his will until the end of your days. Open your eyes, my daughter! There is still time to react. I fought for you to become a free and independent woman. How can you let yourself be deceived like this? My child, you were made for love and

To fill your children with happiness. Give up this marriage, I beg you! Otherwise you will experience eternal torment. – Mom, I am an accomplished woman. I know where to find my happiness! Samira retorted. Allah has entrusted me with a mission. If I didn’t fulfill it, my life would have no meaning.

– May God preserve you, my child, that’s all I can say to you, I don’t want to impose anything on you, as was the case for me. But I hope you find your way before it’s too late.

I imagine that my mother had to take refuge in her room after that and cry for long hours at the resounding bankruptcy which struck her dearest ones. I perfectly remember the impression my future brother-in-law made on me when he came to our house.

I didn’t see him well at first, because he was standing back behind my sister, like a bird of prey who knows that patience is the assurance of a royal feast. He was short, plump, with a thin beard. The thin, drawn-in line of his lips suggested the dryness of his soul.

His broad forehead was sweating, wetting the roots of his hair. There was an opaque force in his gaze, something tenacious mixing iron and reed. When he stared at me, his eyebrows seemed to move very slowly, like the legs of a spider.

To say hello, he crushed my hand in a way that I will never forget. After the usual pleasantries, he poured himself another cup of tea, talking about the rain and the good weather, looking completely at ease. – Do you want to marry our daughter? my mother called out to him.

– Indeed, he replied. I want to be her husband, I am sure to make her happy. – According to what my daughter told me, you are an Islamist and a revolutionary? My mother continued . – That last word is a bit strong.

I am indeed a fervent practitioner, proud of my religion, just like you. I also study economics, because I want to participate in the development of my country. – I think my daughter has changed a lot in recent times. His practice of religion is definitely not mine. I don’t share his ideas.

– Your daughter is an admirable person. Now that I know you, I realize it more. Your daughter is brave. In her everyday work, she defends women’s rights, which are unfortunately often violated in our country. I will do everything to protect her, as prescribed in Islam. – I don’t know how to believe you…

I hope that my daughter continues her studies and that she can freely pursue the profession she chooses. The man nodded his head for a long time, as if to give more weight to his answer. – Needless to say. This is also my idea of ​​modern life. I am for gender equality.

If your daughter wishes to pursue a career after her studies, she will be free to choose. – Enough with your questions! my father shouted. This man is a good Muslim, a serious student, promising a great career. Let them get married! This is my will.

The future groom was in a hurry to celebrate the wedding. After obtaining my father’s agreement in principle, he returned a week later with his parents for an official agreement and to set the date of the marriage. According to him, there was no reason to wait. If everyone agreed, the sooner the better.

Long engagements were part of the bad traditions that needed to be changed to properly apply Islam transmitted by the Prophet. My father was not against it. They arranged the wedding two months before the end of the academic year, during spring break, while they had time to prepare everything.

In fact, the future groom had been meticulously brainwashing my sister for several months . It was now devoted body and soul to him, deprived of any critical spirit or freedom of expression. Through the brutal work of her future husband, Islamist propaganda had become her only center of interest. Worse, a real obsession.

When it came to instilling a political message within my family, it did not appear in any way. To do this, he systematically used my sister’s voice. It was she who went to the front, thus endorsing the image of the enlightened extremist. As such, his method of psychological destabilization was inspired by the

Most sophisticated techniques . This was how Salah Karkar became the true master of the house. He came to our house regularly. He clung to our walls and our minds like a leech. Protected by my father, he ruled our days with the systematic assistance of his future wife.

A climate of suspicion settled in the house. Everyone was watching each other and suspicious of each other. As for me, I remained suspended in my dreams, there was always a part of my mind which wandered in some remote region of the universe. But his arrival gave me goosebumps. I expected the worst.

What kind of moral abuse was he going to inflict on us again? He always took on a friendly air when speaking to us, as if we were little lambs, but his dialectic betrayed his real intentions. His lessons on the Koran, the interpretation of the words of Mohamed, the history of

Muslim civilization, all converged towards the same goal: to prove that only the Islamist religion could save humanity and create in us hatred of West. His plan was to transform us into docile soldiers of the war machine planned for the future Islamist crusade.

Our religious flame would be all the more lively and tenacious if it had previously sown in our hearts these deadly poisons: the feeling of persecution and the spirit of revenge. Every time my future brother-in-law came to the house, he observed everything, and before

Leaving, he gave instructions to my sister on what she should do. I noticed that every time he came, my sister gave us moral lessons and orders. I also remember that, under the pretext of preparing the house for her wedding, she

Changed all the curtains in the house, as well as the bench covers and cushions. No one noticed this act which apparently had a good intention, but I understood afterwards that it was just because the furnishing fabrics in the house included colors and especially designs, something abhorred by Islam.

Salah Karkar must have noticed this, and he had given Samira the mission to remedy it. This replaced everything with a plain fabric of a single color. After that, the house seemed even duller, lacking color and life. My mother, although she did not agree with this marriage, was happy that her second

Daughter was getting married. After all, it was his choice! Like any mother preparing for her daughter’s wedding, she offered Samira embroidery designs for her bedroom and for the pillow, as is customary. But my sister declared that there was no point, that she didn’t want it.

For her, it was all a waste of time and money. It was enough for her that her husband was a true believer. Given her love for Allah, she could sleep and eat anywhere. The most important thing was that Allah was pleased with her, because life is only

A passage and true life is with him. My mother was deeply hurt by not being able to participate in the preparation of her daughter’s wedding. But she always hoped that things would get better with time, and she encouraged us to do everything possible to succeed in our studies, which, according to

Her, constituted the main hope of living free and independent. She only apparently gave up to allow us to study without being too disturbed. Worst case scenario, when Samira was married and left home, she would take over and put things back in order. Losing one daughter was better than losing all your children.

But this reasoning was in vain, because my sister’s fiancé took charge of the romantic relationships of my two other sisters who were reaching marriageable age. They had to find a trustworthy husband, who was also faithful to the word of the Prophet

! He pushed the calculations so far as to draw up a list of the tastes and expectations of my sisters and to establish the sketch of the man each dreamed of marrying. Thus he introduced my third sister to a career soldier and to the fourth

A bookseller who was in charge of the newspaper El Maarifa (knowledge), the first Tunisian Islamist newspaper, published by MTI. The deal was concluded in a minimum of time for both . My father, whose stupidity continued to grow, accepted their engagement and decided, to

Celebrate the happy event, to slaughter the rooster for whom I felt great affection. I begged him to spare the animal’s life, but he did not hear it that way and completed the job before my eyes full of tears. My mother was beginning to lose hope

That her three daughters would be freer than herself. Despite this, she tried by all means to relax the atmosphere. But my second sister didn’t give her a chance, she was always behind her. The family space had transformed into a sort of prison where no one could express their point of view.

Only the word of Allah was to be heard, nothing else. My second sister’s wedding took place in April 1977. The Islamist regime did not allow music or customary pomp, the ceremony took place in immeasurable sadness. The women were separated from the men, and the bride covered from head to toe.

It looked more like a funeral. It was forbidden to take photos, forbidden for the ceremony to last three days and three nights as is the custom in Tunisia: since this was not part of Islam, it was contrary to Islam.

Everything happened in a single afternoon, the time for the bride and groom to appear before an imam friend of my future brother-in-law and to read a little Koran, and the marriage was over. There was a meal, couscous made with the meat of the sheep that my father had slaughtered,

Then everyone returned home, including the bride and groom. My sister moved in with her husband not far from us. They had taken up residence in a modest, discreet house, in accordance with Islamist behavior where luxury is prohibited – nothing free there either.

And a few steps were enough for my sister to cross our door and continue her undermining work. After Samira left home, my mother believed that she could take over the reins of the family. Sadly, it only lasted a few days. She came back to visit us almost every day to closely monitor whether

We were observing true Islam. Our house had become a waypoint in his tours to spread the word of Allah. Sometimes, she invited neighbors whom she called her “sisters in Islam” to our house to discuss and spread the word of Allah around her.

My mother, worried about seeing her neglecting her studies, one day told her her way of thinking. – Do you have nothing else to do but go door to door? Take care of your studies, it would be better for your future.

You never know, with a husband like yours, you risk finding yourself alone one day… This made my sister furious. – And what will I do with my studies? Find work ? Studies are a waste of time for a woman who must start a home and raise her children according to the principles

Of Islam! What I have studied is enough for me to raise my children well, and what I am doing now will serve me after my death. Continuing my studies would be of no use to me. When Allah asks me what I have done for him in this life, do you think he

Will ask me for my diplomas? My mother was appalled, wondering if she really had before her the daughter she had raised to be a reasoned and cultured woman. The soothing words her husband had said were nothing but a web of lies. In reality, pushed by him, she had abandoned her studies without my

Parents’ knowledge. She now spent her days spreading the word of Allah among her neighbors. Not long before, she was a brilliant student, and now she was embarking on a career as a joker while her husband continued his university studies ! My regimentation In the torments, I hardened myself.

Faced with the harshness of reality, the dream was my refuge. Often I tried to imagine Allah. One day, during Arabic class, the teacher asked each of the students what they wanted to become when they grew up. Some wanted to become a doctor, soldier or policeman, others an architect.

When it was my turn to speak, I said without thinking that I wanted to become like Allah. A terrible silence fell, and all eyes were directed towards me. Petrified, I saw the master turn red while his eyes flashed with anger. – What ? he shouted, furious.

What do you want to become ? Out of fear, I changed my answer and said that I wanted to become close to Allah. – You, close to Allah? he exclaimed with a mocking look. – Yes. – Well, first learn to make your mind work and think! Afterwards, you

Can ask to be close to Allah. Because Allah will never accept a fool like you near him. These words stung me. From that day on, I decided to change. No more childhood dreams, no more wasting time, I had to do everything to prove to

Allah that I was not the imbecile people thought I was. And the way that seemed the most obvious to me to get closer to Allah was to submit body and soul to everything that my sister and her husband ordered me. Those closest to Allah were obviously them! So I would do whatever they

Told me without question. I can say today that I then forever abandoned my childhood to enter this other world which was to lead me closer to Allah. By the end of the 1977 school year, I was starting to lose my grip. Studies didn’t excite me.

My past was like a long sleep crossed by visions, my present resembled a hell, and the future only offered me vague and tedious perspectives. The only good thing about that year was that I moved up to the next class – a normal thing for a repeater.

In fact, I just managed to get through the 6th grade. However, as I had managed to pass, Salah Karkar took an interest in me and pushed me to continue my studies: the more I learned, the better I could serve the Islamist cause and fight the enemy.

Around me, the family was tearing itself apart. Disgusted, my mother began to let go. My father had equipped himself with a new weapon to turn his children against her : aware of the deplorable situation of our family, he closed his eyes.

He no longer paid any attention to their studies, leaving them to pursue other pursuits. Thanks to this irresponsible ruse, he strengthened his influence over them. The position of undisputed leader was so pleasant! In this carnage, only my older sister stood out.

She had passed her teacher exams and would take her first job at the start of the school year. The beginning of the summer of 1977 was very sad. Swimming was forbidden to us. My little brother and I had to go to a Koranic school every morning, then to the mosque for prayer.

When I turned eleven, my second sister forbade us to celebrate my birthday, under the pretext that it was a typically European tradition that was not worth following . That summer, her husband came to the house regularly. The process of psychological destabilization accelerated.

Bourguiba was at the behest of France and other Western countries, he proclaimed. He was therefore incapable of freeing the people from neocolonial slavery! If he was right on certain points, the argument he used was knowingly exaggerated, it distorted reality and thereby distorted my malleable mind.

After hammering myself, this speech began to penetrate my subconscious. His words bathed me in the imagery of Jihad, arousing in me a macabre enchantment, persuading me that Westerners were constantly working to degrade Muslims, oppress them and steal their property. Today, this work of intoxication brings me back to the wisdom of my grandmother.

– Monsters like jinns and devils, Omi Zohra, do they exist? – The only monster in this world, my child, is the one who walks on two legs. During the summer, my older sister’s husband invited my older brother and me to spend three weeks at an army summer camp near Bizerte,

In the north of Tunisia. We were thus able to escape the clutches of the infernal couple. In Bizerte, we stayed in a barracks near the sea. While my brother was interested in life in the barracks, I took full advantage of the sea air.

Finally, I understood what the word freedom meant! This revelation imprinted itself deep within me. Without a doubt, this was what saved me a few years later. I loved this feeling so much that I forgot the chore of prayer! However, as if by design, our environment bore all the signs of the coming war

: rifles, machine guns, fighter planes, combat boats, all this warlike paraphernalia also marked my subconscious. A feeling of freedom and visions of war coexisted within me throughout these weeks, combining exaltation with fear. Back at the Ariana, the fundamentalist beasts pounced on me again, fueling

My feeling of guilt for having breathed freedom and abandoning prayers while my second sister had insisted so much on this danger before our departure. From the start of the 1977-1978 school year, my academic results looked mediocre. I had to go to Samira’s house every evening to receive private lessons.

These focused on the school curriculum but also on Islam and the behavior of a good Muslim. She especially insisted on the religious content, although I was in my last year of primary school before moving on to middle school. She repeated that it was the only thing you took with you after death.

She linked everything to death, the last judgment and eternal life, rather than interest me in study. As for my older brother, he had been advised indirectly through my father to enter a military high school. My second sister’s husband knew the art of war! The plan was

Simple: infiltrate thugs in the country’s strategic sectors: the army, the media, etc. Recruit followers who would extend Islamist propaganda to all neighborhoods in order to create a real popular uprising. This didn’t just apply to our family. Thousands of others across Tunisia suffered the same fate in comparable ways to varying degrees.

Many Tunisians who were teenagers in the 70s will recognize themselves in this story. Regardless, my disinterest in studies grew to a critical point. Between my father’s crudeness and the moral sedition inflicted by my brother-in-law, the chances of a revival seemed non-existent.

Given the withdrawal of my mother, who was increasingly flouted and humiliated, my sister had taken her place, I could no longer rest on any reliable shoulder. Feeling harassed on all sides, I once again retreated into myself to sink into the dream, my lifeline.

Faced with family disorder and ambient tyranny, this allowed me to survive. I created my own world with my own rules and laws. In my delirium, I even conceived a secret language, creating an alphabet using symbols to which I alone possessed the key.

I also focused on the history of Islam that my sister forced me to rant about. I developed a passion for his great adventurers, notably Ibn Battuta, whose hectic life kindled in me a love of travel, far from the situation I was experiencing.

– You must succeed in your studies at all costs to become an airline pilot, my third sister scolded me one day. You will then have a lot of money, and you will be able to serve the cause of Islam. – I will do like Ibn Battuta, I retorted.

He was neither a pilot, nor rich, nor studious, yet he traveled all over the world ! In such a state of mind, my poor academic performance worsened. My father openly made fun of me. He told me: “If you don’t succeed this year, I’m going to give you a big party

For repeating a year.” Internally tortured, I did not express my suffering, letting the forces macerate within me which would later come to consummate my revenge on the adult world. The holidays at the end of December 1977 were even sadder than those of the previous year, but this year was going to be livelier.

Salah Karkar began to organize secret meetings at our house with other Islamist members under the pretext that his house was being monitored by plainclothes police. He came in the afternoon with my sister, and other people arrived at our house discreetly. At dusk, the meeting began. They submitted reports, developed action plans, shared tasks

. They stayed late into the night discussing what everyone should do, then they left the house in small groups. The meetings became periodic, and the number of participants grew. My mother was very angry, she found it difficult to tolerate this intrusion into our house. But she couldn’t do anything.

Since my sisters were busy in the kitchen preparing everything the guests needed , she locked herself in her room. As for me, my brother-in-law entrusted me with missions. He said that Allah would reward me in paradise if I fulfilled them well.

At first he asked me to play ball outside with my brother and to keep an eye out for suspicious people. Sometimes he would make me go up to the roof, look around and then tell him what I had seen. Little by little, he asked me to carry messages to certain people.

He gave me their address and showed me the way. Always, when in doubt, I had to eat the paper he gave me to leave no trace. I sometimes had to accompany him to the mosque or to certain people’s houses.

For example, one day he took me with him to Tunis to the Medina and showed me a house. – Do you see this house? You count to the tenth house, you knock on the door, and you ask for Sheikh Abdelfattah.

As soon as he says to you: “It’s really me Abdelfattah”, you will tell him that I say hello, and you will give him this paper. – No problem. He walked away, and I did as he asked. Arriving at the tenth door, I knocked. An unveiled young woman opened the door for me.

I was surprised and thought I had come to the wrong house. I almost left, but the young woman held me back with a smile. – Are you looking for someone? – I want to see Sheikh Abdelfattah. As soon as I said this name, a man came through the door. – It’s me.

Come in, my son, you are in the right house. – I’m here on behalf of Salah Karkar who says hello to you. I gave him the paper, which he read and tore up immediately afterwards. – Come in and have something to drink, he said to me, smiling. I didn’t dare accept.

I thanked him politely and returned to my brother-in-law. I was only twelve years old when I began carrying out these missions. Honestly, at that point, I was starting to really believe what my second sister and her husband were saying.

You could say that I was engaged in the Islamist cause on a daily basis. Samira or her husband asked me for information about the students and their parents. My sister told me: “When a teacher wants to summon your parents, you won’t tell mom, you’ll tell me.”

Thus, she attended parents’ meetings in place of my mother in order to become friends with the mothers of the students whom she was trying to get to work for the cause of Islam. Our house had become a real den of Islamists, the only master there was Salah Karkar.

When there was a big meeting at home, I counted the number of shoes in front of the door to the large living room to know how many people to prepare dinner for. Up to a hundred people came. The meetings occurred on average three times a week, to the point that our house

Was nicknamed the house of Al Arqam ibn Abi al-Arqam, in reference to the one where Mohamed and the first Muslims met in secret for three years before make Islam public. Why had Islam been kept secret all this time? This point was not clear in my mind.

Today, I no longer ask myself the question. In my experience, movements that advance masked for a period are either terrorist or sectarian or mafia-like. This point and many others show that Islam is a sectarian political ideology before being a religion. Its primary goal is power, even if it emphasizes faith.

It is enough to study Islam and its history to understand that it is one with Islamism. Same tactics, same strategy. My brother-in-law, like Islamists in general, used the same methods as Mohamed to propagate Islamism. My older brother was studying at the military school, we rarely saw him now.

After the wedding of my third and then my fourth sister in April and July 1978, we found only four children left at home: my two little brothers, me and my fifth and last sister Samia, my elder by two years, who was about to turn sixteen.

Samira announced one day that they had found a good Muslim husband for her, a fighter pilot in the army. It was Saïd Ferjani, the future shadow man of Ennahdha. Fortunately, this attempt failed because Samia was still very young.

In June 1978, my average was very mediocre despite the evening classes that my second year gave me. sister did not allow me to move to the next class. I had to repeat my last year of primary school. It was normal for me to repeat a grade, because I had missions all the time.

I wasn’t in the mood for studies, being busy running errands for my sister and brother-in-law. The house was their special meeting place for them and their Islamist friends. The veranda was transformed into a room for feverish politico-religious meetings where hatred of the West hovered.

My two sisters who had just gotten married had decided to stop their studies and stay at home. My mother couldn’t take it anymore. She had already left the marital home several times. Realizing that the situation was getting worse, that her authority was no longer respected and

That everything she had done to educate and emancipate her daughters had fallen through , she decided to leave once and for all. Torn, she hugged me tightly, sobbing. – Listen to me carefully, my son! Don’t give up on your studies. Persevere, and heaven will thank you. I had just turned twelve.

I tried in vain to dry her tears. I had never seen him cry like this. Once she took refuge with her family, she let my father know that she was asking for a divorce, but he refused. She stayed away from us for more than a month.

As the 1978-1979 school year approached, however, she returned to the family home, anxious to protect the future of her remaining brood. But his return lasted in a flash, as the house had fallen under the yoke of Salah Karkar and Samira. Our home had become a meeting center and now resembled a vast fair.

The veranda was crumbling under rows of kneeling bodies. The number of participants in the Islamist meetings organized by my brother-in-law was now close to three hundred participants! People were coming and going day and night, it looked like a political party headquarters. She found the courage to be ironic.

– They are not Muslims, she said, they are mousrimine! Which meant zombies, people without head or tail. My poor mother! Driven from her home, returning because she felt so guilty, leaving again disarmed, tossed between mountains of despondency and remorse. She had become a sort of living dead in the house.

She couldn’t leave us alone, always hoping to save us from these leeches who were bleeding our family. For her, saving even one of us would have been worth it. She didn’t give up, she spoke her mind every chance she got, confronting my sister again and again.

I remember her taunting her about her Islamic veil. She replied that her own sefsari had nothing to do with the true Islam of Mohamed’s time. – For what ? my mother retorted. Were you with him to see how women dressed in his time?”

– This outfit that I wear is described in history books. You can’t know that since you don’t even read Arabic. – Ah good ? I inherited this outfit that I wear from my mother, and all Tunisian women inherited it from their mother.

I keep it by tradition, even if Bourguiba asked the women to take it off. – Don’t talk about Bourguiba, this enemy of Allah and Islam! This guy should not govern a Muslim country, he is a kefir (infidel, unbeliever), a murtad (Apostate), a traitor

! He must die for everything he has done wrong to Tunisia! Knowing that the discussion would not end if my sister started to get angry, my mother shrugged her shoulders and resumed her activity, lamenting under her breath. – My poor girl! She’s saying nonsense. She doesn’t even know what she’s saying.

She just repeats what she is told. Poor thing, she lost her mind to the point of repeating like a parrot words that were put in her head… My sister, rolling her eyes to the sky, went into another room, letting her talk all alone. Salah Karkar’s hatred for Bourguiba was limitless.

At each meeting, he denigrated and insulted him whenever he had the opportunity, calling him an apostate, a traitor, a Zionist Jew, etc. The Tunisian mentality is in principle favorable to foreign support, but according to him, we should only deal with Arab-Muslim countries, any other alliance was a betrayal.

Bourguiba’s politics Certainly, Habib Bourguiba was dazzled by the West, given his French-speaking education. A lawyer trained in the 1920s, on his return to Tunisia he campaigned in the nationalist milieu made up of three groups: the Islamists guided by the sheikhs of Zitouna and the imams; the pro-Arabs guided by Eastern Arab

Nationalists ; the left guided by the workers’ union. All these groups campaigned for the military and especially cultural independence of Tunisia, while the bey and his entourage, the French speakers, the rich and the intellectuals were for the French protectorate and. In 1934, at the age of thirty-one, Bourguiba created Néo-Destour.

This movement for the military independence of Tunisia, however, considered France as the example to follow. As an ally of the West, Tunisia would be part of the developed countries. To do this, it was necessary to protect French interests and present independent Tunisia as a secure ally of Europe.

But it was also necessary to adapt these values ​​to Tunisian society and take into account the composition of the Tunisian people, which could only be done with a territorial military force. Bourguibian nationalism brought something new. The idea of ​​military independence without economic and cultural divide brings together

The wealthy and the intellectuals, and even the modernists and the nationalists. Bourguiba convinced the French political class of his project, won the independence of Tunisia on March 20, 1956 and became the master of the entire Tunisian people. A unity that France had not been able to obtain since 1881 under its protectorate.

According to Bourguiba, what prevented Tunisia from reaching the stage of so-called civilized countries was its archaic Islam. It was necessary to reduce the importance of Koranic schools and work for Western-style education . Since independence, emphasis was placed on the development of the education system.

The budget allocated to national education continued to grow, reaching 32% in 1976. Schooling became public, free and compulsory, including for girls. At the time of the French protectorate, education, at a level equal to that of France, was only accessible to the upper urban strata.

Bourguiba extended it to the entire territory, taking into account the rural component of the population. In addition, he integrated the teaching of Islam into the national education system, modernizing it and reducing the influence of Koranic schools. The modern constitution he established abolished the confusion between Islamic and civil laws.

He put an end to the influence of religious people on the judiciary by establishing civil law courses . In 1958, Arabic education at Zitouna University was unified with the bilingual education system. He banned polygamy and called for equality between men and women.

He advised women against the use of sefsari and banned it in public administration. Women became voters and eligible in 1957, something never seen before in the Muslim world ! Except in Türkiye. Tunisian women take great pride in these advances to this day. Finally, rebelling against “retrograde mentalities, archaic behaviors and

Defects inherited from the past” responsible for poverty, he attacked one of the most sensitive points of religious observance in the land of Islam: fasting. of Ramadan. On February 5, 1960, three weeks before the holy month, in a speech intended for the executives

Of the Neo-Destour, the single party of the time, he invoked before his stunned listeners the right to interpret the Koran, recalling that the Prophet had eaten at Ramadan for fight the adversary: ​​I too tell you not to observe fasting in order to be able to face your enemy, which is misery, deprivation, humiliation,

Decadence and underdevelopment (…). At a time when we are doing everything possible to increase production, how can we resign ourselves to seeing it collapse for an entire month to fall to a value close to zero? (…) Whether you are soldiers, civil servants or students, I demand that you not fail in your duty.

Administrative and school timetables will therefore no longer be arranged according to Ramadan (…) I am only interpreting the message of the Koran. I declare that this is my personal opinion. If you are not convinced, you are free not to adopt it. Bourguiba claimed his own interpretation of Islam influenced by believing authors

Favorable to evolution. For him, Mohamed had preached for tribes who were killing each other. All we had to borrow from that time was the fight against ignorance and stupidity. Despite the demonstrations in favor of the Ramadan fast which broke out on January 17,

1961, notably in Kairouan where they degenerated into bloody clashes, in February 1961 he urged his fellow citizens to abandon this fast to combat underdevelopment. And in March 1964, in the middle of Lent, he drove the point home by ostensibly drinking a glass of orange juice in the middle of the day

On television . Since then, no other Muslim head of state has had such nerve to shake up traditions. This policy made Tunisians evolve. My mother considered Bourguiba to be the father of modern Tunisia. But this policy angered conservatives, Islamists and pro-Arabs. The sheikhs of Zitouna especially saw

Their religious domination over the masses weaken. For them, Bourguiba was an enemy of Allah, he sold the country to the West, he was going to destroy Arab-Muslim identity, the root of our people. They forgot that the history of Tunisia is not limited to the Arab-Muslim period

And that this last period on the contrary cut Tunisia off from its Amazigh origins and its multicultural history by imposing Arab culture and religion on it. Upset by the rise of Arab nationalism coming from Egypt, Bourguiba won this fight by destroying in Tunisia the current of Salah Ben Youssef which infiltrated Arabism

At the level of each country. Before the union of the Arab world, he wanted progress. For him, the fight was cultural and economic. After education and economic progress, democracy was the third step he reserved for his people. For this, we can concede that he was a severe father for Tunisia, in other words

A good dictator who ruled it according to a single objective: to make it a sovereign country within the limits of its territory and its borders. Before the French occupation, Tunisia, although belonging to the Ottoman Empire, was already relatively independent. Minister Khair-Eddine Pasha had made radical changes in the

Education system, for the opening of the country to the West and in favor of Western markets. This resulted in the French protectorate. France had a great influence on the Tunisian mentality. It could not Europeanize it in depth given the fierce opposition of the Islamists

And the ulemas of Zitouna, but the introduction of exact sciences within the university allowed the rise of a few intellectuals. Mohamed Tahar Ibn Achour, Tahar Haddad and others sought a path of balance in the double obligation to evolve and maintain cultural identity. Tunisians themselves readily adopted certain aspects of European culture, although

Islamists attributed this solely to Bourguiba. What the latter accomplished for liberation from religious influence, gender equality and education, no one can deny. The Western model brought a lot concretely on a social and intellectual level. The only other president in the Arab Muslim world who had this audacity was Atatürk.

What they accomplished in their time would be impossible today because the situation has changed both outside and inside our countries, but it was the best thing to do then. Today, Tunisia and Turkey are an exception in the Muslim world.

We can criticize their policies, but these are the most advanced countries in terms of their tolerance, their open-mindedness and their level of education. Tunisia is more socially evolved, Turkey politically: Turkish society has changed little but has solid government institutions.

On the other hand, the mentality of Tunisians is more evolved, but their government and their political class are as precarious as in other Muslim countries. These two nations which followed the Western model to escape archaism thereby show their own character. Given his age, Bourguiba did not see economic progress materialize.

Tunisia moved to this stage after the arrival of Ben Ali. Under his mandate, Tunisian society disintegrated. He screwed up the education sector by Arabizing it. We saw censorship take hold and the economy stagnate under the mafia yoke of those close to him. State corruption, educational degradation, social injustice and

The military state destroyed the gains made. Democratic principles being difficult to reconcile with poverty and ignorance, this led to the abandonment of the democratic project with the elections of Ben Ali with 98% in 2009. The announcement of a new mandate in 2014 led to the uprising which chased the Ben Ali family.

The deplorable situation left by them after their flight allowed the Islamists to come to power and destroy what little remained of modern Tunisia. The question is whether the Tunisian people were then ready to live in freedom. Personally, I don’t believe it. Not as long as religion comes before everything else.

The current disarray of the Tunisian people reminds me of the shipwreck of my family despite everything my mother did for her children to achieve independence: when Islamism is in charge, we must expect the worst, whatever that may be. displayed ethics.

Mohamed, in his early days, was for difference and the rights of everyone, but once in power, he transformed into a monster. How can we believe that the Islamists do better, even if they claim to be tolerance and openness? The Iranian Islamic Revolution By the end of 1978, my

First term average was at its lowest, although I was repeating my school year, but that didn’t bother anyone anymore. My Islamic activities had intensified to the point that I didn’t care about my studies at all. My goal was to please Allah.

Entering heaven after my death was the only victory I was waiting for. My mother left the house every time she had an argument. We found ourselves alone, and I then had to take care of everything. I was at the end of my nerves. During the winter holidays, I ran away.

One night I set off towards the coast with a stick and a bundle as I had often dreamed of doing. I arrived at the port of La Goulette, facing the sea. The light of the stars was reflected on the waves. I spent the night imagining distant shores.

When I came back in the morning, head down and hungry, my father jumped on me. He didn’t even bother to reason with me. Directly, as soon as he saw me, he grabbed me like a sheep and began to beat me on the bottom of my feet.

He wanted to know where I had gone. Of course, I refused to tell him. As he beat me, I clung to the thought of Bilal Ibn Rabah, Mohamed’s companion , when he was being tortured into abandoning Islam. He resisted by repeating: “Allah is one, Allah is one”.

I did like him, I repeated in my head: “Allah is one, Allah is one”. My father was sitting on a chair and smoking his shisha. He continued like that for hours before my mother came to free me from him. Since I hadn’t cried, she didn’t know he was hitting me.

After that, I couldn’t stand on my feet for a week. My hatred towards my father increased another notch. At the beginning of 1979, Salah Karkar gave us a gift: a color television. My brothers and I were very happy with this gift. I watched color TV for the first time.

Before, we had a black and white TV. Since the Islamist infiltration, Italian channels were forbidden to us. When my older brother came home, he would secretly watch them, and sometimes us too. With color, it would be a thousand times better! I appreciated this gesture from my brother-in-law,

But I quickly understood why he had done it. It was to come every evening with his friends to follow the news on the Islamist revolution in Iran. This is how, when the Shah of Iran left the country at the beginning of 1979, we were all

In the large living room shouting “Allah is great” with dozens of other Islamists. The Iranian Islamic Revolution had just triumphed, putting the reins of the country in the hands of Khomeini. From then on, the clamor of fundamentalism rumbled almost everywhere in North Africa.

Salah Karkar, who had gone to Tehran during his economics studies, had seen the beginnings of this revolution firsthand. He was very emotional and followed everything that was happening minute by minute. For him, it was the example to follow in Tunisia. This climate of insurrection, added to my brother-in-law’s proselytism and family conflicts,

Accentuated the psychological problems with which I was struggling. This bundle of events imprinted itself on my unconscious, making me prey to all the contradictions. For better, but especially for worse. I ended up grasping the ambition of my Salah Karkar: to foment a popular uprising against Bourguiba’s government.

Since the beginning of 1978, its Islamist activity intensified and became more and more official. He was one of the leaders of MTI, the political movement which preached a return to orthodox Islam in Tunisia. At the end of the 1970s, the Tunisian authorities turned a blind eye to their activities because

They countered the communist rise in universities. Indeed, the communists represented the most dangerous breed for the Islamists since they say loud and clear that they are atheists – even worse than Bourguiba, who was but who did not dare to say it publicly, according to my beau. -brother. I now knew his determination.

But where did this excessive insistence on applying Arab Islam in Tunisia come from? To understand this, we must go back to the origins of MTI, the association for the safeguarding of the Koran founded in 1969 by three men. Rached Ghannouchi, a philosophy professor, edited the magazine Al-Ma’arifa and spoke in mosques.

His sermons were increasingly followed by young people. Abdelfattah Mourou, a theology and law student at the University of Tunis, led reflection circles, as did Hmida Ennaifer, a doctor at Zitouna University in Tunis and the Sorbonne in Paris.

It is to these three that we owe the appearance of the Islamist movement, inspired by the Egyptian movement of the Muslim Brotherhood to counter the westernization of Tunisia. At first, the Tunisian state tolerated his activities, which were limited to encouraging good behavior and Islamic teaching.

When they arose in 1970 in highly politicized universities, there were many debates and clashes with left-wing political parties. The MTI gave a large place to theoretical and political debate. He began to develop an Islamic political line. Realizing this politicization, the government encouraged him to counter

The left-wing parties, and especially the communists who controlled the university. This government green light allowed the movement to grow. In a few years, the MTI became the great political rival of the left-wing parties at a time when the latter occupied most of the political-cultural space.

Around 1974, it had become very present in universities and Tunisian society. Veiled female members multiplied. Their very specific veil – the one my sister wore – proclaimed their belonging. It was a sort of banner. The men also displayed a very particular style, my brother-in-law the very first.

Salah Karkar, born in 1948 in Boudher in the Sahel, came from a peasant family. The Tunisian Sahel has long lived in poverty. The centuries-old lack of consideration on the part of the State has forged in the minds of the Sahelians a spirit of revenge and even a fascination for power.

Bourguiba is from the Sahel, as are the majority of his ministers and political leaders who followed him. It is a remarkable fact that most key positions in the administration are held by Sahelians. The Tunisians, more dilettante, rarely have access to these spheres. My future brother-in-law, a brilliant student, entered university to gain his

Share of glory and power. Upon his arrival, he joined forces with the Islamists who expressed his line of thought. He was a strong personality. He became one of the leaders of the MTI. Perseverant and inflexible, he was later considered her iron man.

It was while he was preparing his master’s degree in economics that he met my sister and drew her into the movement. In 1975, the movement was not yet official before the law. Indeed, the Tunisian constitution did not very clearly allow political pluralism before the 1980s.

But the MTI activated all the levers in mosques, universities, and society. He decisively infiltrated the country’s families – we saw how in ours – not only in the big cities, but also in the interior localities forgotten by Bourguiba’s policies. After the Iranian Islamic Revolution, with the government finally taking seriously

The potential danger of the MTI, which went far beyond the left-wing parties and threatened Bourguibist gains, the police began to gather information on its members. El Ghazali high school Now, my sister and her husband no longer came as much. With the family now theirs, they spread the Islamic word elsewhere,

Apart from during Islamist meetings. The ever-increasing number of participants forced them to fall back on our house where there was no shortage of space, inside and out. The house looked like Mecca because there were so many people. Only men. The women were only there to help my sisters in the kitchen.

And, of course, my brothers and I were serving between the kitchen and the amount of men sitting on the floor all over the house, the porch and the garden. Around April 1979, my mother broke down. She left home again, this time for a long time, and my father

Put me in charge of the daily chores. – You have no future since you are not going to go to secondary school. So take care of the household and your brothers. At least you’ll be useful for something.

From now on, in addition to studying Islam in the evening at the mosque or at my sister’s house, I did the cleaning, shopping, preparing meals, and I took care of my younger children. School became the least of my worries. For me, studies were over forever! I took my mother’s place at home

And took care of the garden, where I grew vegetables and took care of the animals. At the end of the 1979 school year, I refused to repeat the 6th grade and declared that my dearest wish from now on was to cultivate the land. I would take care of the beasts and the humble.

My brother-in-law, seeing the opportunity to place me once and for all under his authority, proposed to me to exploit agricultural land which belonged to him, and this project was easily approved by my father. But my joy faded when I realized that this future project was the laughing stock of the whole family.

This shocked me deeply and made me give up my plan. This new injury was added to the previous ones. My sister then suggested that I enroll in a one-month catch-up course leading to on an entrance exam to a private school.

My father was not against it, especially since my brother-in-law offered to pay for my education if I succeeded, because the school was run by Islamists and depended on the MTI. This establishment welcomed young people who had failed at school with the aim of training the warriors of tomorrow.

In the summer of 1979, I worked hard to get up to speed. I regained confidence, because all the questions on the exam were related to Islam, and months and laws of Islamic courses had given me a foundation on Islam and its history.

Finally, the management of El Ghazali high school accepted me into the first year of secondary school. I was not a little proud, but I still suspect that my move to the next class had been made possible by the intervention of my brother-in-law. Now the dice were loaded.

In September 1979, I entered secondary school at the private high school located in the Medina, not far from my grandmother’s house, in the street of Sidi Abdel Salem, as if destiny had wanted me to return there. after all these years. I took the bus in the morning.

At lunchtime, I went to eat at my aunt’s who lived in my grandmother’s house, and there, I found my mother, who stayed with her sister when she was not at Ariana. In the evening, I came home. This change allowed me to mature a little.

El Ghazali high school looked like a modern Koranic school. The teachers were all Islamists and mostly men, apart from two or three veiled women. The students were also mostly boys. There are also a few girls, veiled or not, but after a while they all veiled themselves. The lessons all revolved around Islam.

Of course courses on the Koran and Muslim education, but also French and Arabic. Even in mathematics, we were mainly told about ancient Muslim mathematicians, and the same for the physical sciences. It wasn’t too difficult for me, given the basics I already had about Islam.

At prayer times, we looked the same behind the teacher. Some did not pray, but over time, they began to pray too. In short, the high school was a place of recruitment. He accepted everyone, but his real goal was to recruit future Islamists.

One morning in February, I woke up as usual to go to school. That day, I was a little late. When we arrived at the bus stop, there were a lot of people. The first bus to arrive was crowded, people were leaning over to get on.

I was able to hang on to the bus, like others with me. We had to stand back so that the door could close. At the next stop, the door got stuck and couldn’t open. I was glued to the door when it suddenly unlocked. My right arm was crushed.

I passed out, and I don’t remember the rest. I regained consciousness in the ambulance. A nurse was going through my things to notify my parents. I told them to tell my mother. She joined us at the hospital, panicked. We arrived in ten minutes, but we stayed more than eight hours before the doctor

Could examine me, despite the emergency. After seeing my arm, he ordered a cast to be put on me. Two months later, when the cast was removed, my right hand no longer opened, and I could no longer move it.

The doctor said they shouldn’t have put me in a cast because my arm had multiple fractures . To repair everything, an operation was required which was very expensive and which was difficult to do in Tunisia. So I kept my hand in this state.

Fortunately, after a few months, I was able to move my fingers and hold a pen to write, with difficulty. At the end of the 1980 school year, I moved to secondary school with a good average, even though it was not at the public school level. This success gave me confidence.

That summer, despite the usual family tension, I was full of hope. My goal was to study to serve the Islamist cause. My mother rarely visited us now, but I saw her at her sister’s house in the Medina. I was the only one of the children to maintain good contact with her.

When she learned that I was moving up to the next class, she hugged me tightly as if I was her last hope. She then informed me that she was going to divorce my father, because she could no longer stand the atmosphere at Ariana’s house and that she needed a home of her own.

Journey into the unknown Since I had regained my consciousness, I had begun to find a taste for life, to appreciate the world and everything around me. My curiosity had developed, the adventure, the risk, the unknown, even the mystery attracted me.

I wanted to know everything. However, the imposition of Islamism within my family, at the heart of my social core, prevented me from asking questions freely. My sister Samira kept telling me that Islam prohibits questions that lead to doubt of the truth of Islam,

As well as dreams and imagination. At that age when I would have needed it so much, this deprivation pushed me to create an undetectable inner world and to withdraw into myself. But now, my mother’s priority objective was for me to escape the prevailing Islamism.

So she hatched a thousand plans to get me out of it. An idea finally emerged in his mind, as clear as crystal: my broken arm on the bus had been poorly treated, it was urgent to send me to Paris to be examined by a specialist. Based on this evidence,

She hatched a plan which gave me the hope of undertaking a new life and new adventures in complete freedom. This time again, pain was the driving force of my destiny. My mother’s plan My uncle Larbi, my mother’s brother, had lived for several years in

The Paris suburbs of Argenteuil. He regularly returned to the country for vacations . Tough in character, not hesitating to raise his voice to demonstrate his authority, he was also a helpful man, and he liked me because he thought I was like him.

His wife liked me too. In June 1980, they invited me to spend a few days under their roof, not far from our home, with their children who were almost my age. My father did not object, although he had asked my second sister and her husband, who

Were very busy with their Islamist activities, for their opinion. It was an unexpected escape for me. I quickly packed my things, and my uncle came to pick me up in his car. Those days nourished my joy. I saw other faces, I breathed,

I forgot a little the sad life in Ariana’s house. And above all, through my uncle’s stories about life in France, I began to dream of the European continent. My uncle had seven daughters and only one son. His daughters, most of them older than me,

Were very modern and spoke French better than Arabic. Of course, at fourteen, I was a bit stuck with my cousins. I said my prayers every day on time, read the Quran and avoided looking at them or chatting with them. I

Stuck to my uncle all the time. This one was not an Islamist but a traditional Muslim, like my mother. Besides, like her, he hated the Islamists. But he trusted me to evolve over time. I was therefore welcomed

Into his home as one of his children, to the point that he asked my father that I stay with him and his family all summer, which was accepted. During this stay, my mother came to see us and locked herself in with my uncle to discuss my future. I then understood that the

Latter’s invitation was not a coincidence: it was she who had organized everything from the start. This shocked me a little, and also the fact that she had removed the traditional sefsari and was now dressing in a modern way. When I first saw her like this,

I thought it was only in the house, but when she called me to go out with her, I saw that she was going out without combing her hair. – Mom, I asked her, are you no longer wearing your sefsari? She responded very quickly, decisively.

– No, I don’t wear it anymore! Now I dress like everyone else. I left the veil to the mousrimine. – Oh? And why ? This time she looked straight ahead and took a while to respond. – They made me hate Islam with their intolerance, she finally muttered.

I don’t want to hear about it anymore. Obviously, she was at the end of her rope. – Listen, my son, she said abruptly, I want to talk to you about something important, but until you tell me if you agree, it must stay between us. No one should know

What I’m going to tell you, not even your sister! – No problem, mother. – It’s been several months, since I left Ariana’s house, that I have been in contact with your uncle by telephone. He told me that he was going to come to Tunisia this summer,

And I agreed with him that you would spend the summer with him. Look carefully, my son, I know that you had a good average in the free high school, but between us, I have no confidence either

In this high school or in these Islamists for your future. So, you have to run away and leave Tunisia. – Leave Tunisia! But to where? – Do you agree to leave Tunisia or not? – I have nothing against it. But

Will my father and my sister accept it? – Leave it to me, I have a plan. You just have to agree, that’s all I want to know. – I agree, mom. But where would I go? – In France, with your uncle. To heal your arm and at the same time continue your studies.

Uncle Larbi was leaving for Argenteuil in a few weeks, he could be a trusted guardian during my stay in France. On the other hand, there, I could study and learn a real profession. Faced with such arguments, my father could only

Agree with my mother. Logically, my sister and her husband, who now saw in me a future warrior of the Islamist revolution, initially opposed my departure. They tried to dissuade me, describing Europe as the kingdom of inequality, racism, decadence. But I told them that my faith was very strong and that no force could

Deviate me from my path to Allah. I managed to convince my sister that this stay would allow me, at the same time as treating my arm, to propagate Islam from there. I presented it to her as a mission to serve Almighty Allah, and she accepted the omen.

In reality, my attitude was just a trick my mother had told me to convince my sister and her husband to release their moral pressure on me. Deep down, I doubted their Islam. I had seen my sister and her husband destroy our family and deprive us

Of the best days of our childhood, I had seen my mother suffer. My brother-in-law had tarnished our family’s reputation. Those around us considered us religious and anti-European fanatics. Besides, our family was under surveillance by the authorities, and our reputation as vague pro-Islamists was starting to pose serious problems. I

Was no longer very convinced that they had brought us closer to Allah. I had been in contact with my mother throughout this year, and she had made me understand that Islam, which wants to impose itself by force and which does not contain love of life is not true Islam.

My doubt about the Islamic religion dates from that year. My only concern now was to reach new horizons. When the time of my departure approached. Samira refined her recommendations. – You are still very young, my brother. It

Will take you many years before you know how to discern all the dangers that will stand in your way. Stay on your guard at all times. It is Allah who wanted this journey to test your faith . Never forget that Europeans have only one idea in mind: to remove Muslims from

Their religion in order to better dominate them. Your only weapon is your faith. So, never stop praying and ask Allah to give you strength and faith to be able to face any temptation that might lead you astray from the true path. The day before the big day, there was a

Farewell dinner prepared by my mother’s expert hands. I was at the height of my joy. What a feast! The pleasure of food was combined with the countless images that swarmed in my mind: the boat, the crossing, the port of Marseille, Provence,

The landscapes of the countryside, the road to Paris, all this wonderful unknown that I sensed like an unknown body that we are about to hug. At this meal, my brother-in-law looked sad. I was slipping through his fingers. How was he going to be able to control me remotely? At the end,

He gently leaned towards me. – Islam will need you in the future. It is Allah’s will that you leave, so follow your studies well and pray without ceasing. Those were the last words he said to me before leaving the house with my sister.

My mother, through trickery, had won a great revenge on them. However, did she imagine how many disappointments the next few years had in store for her? The education that an adolescent has received from his family allows him in principle to make correct choices, to think before venturing out

Or taking risks. An isolated adolescent, without knowledge or experience, can take the wrong path, and the excesses he experiences can disrupt the rest of his life. Between 1980 and 1983, I was going to experience what every North African immigrant arriving in

France experiences: the fear of the West, the doubts towards this new people, then the identity crisis after returning to Tunisia for the summer holidays. summer, this return to the native country which prevents the children of immigrants from integrating into their host country, periodically revives the tear

Between Europe and Africa and leads to a renewed identity crisis in the customary North African environment. racism and hatred. Finally, my stay in Paris would allow me to discover Shiism. This would result in my fleeing to Iran to study Islam and my immersion

In the international Islamist network, leaving behind what I had built in France. Distrust of the West The night before my departure, I could not sleep. From dusk until sunrise on September 12, 1980, I remained leaning on the window. For nothing in the world,

I would not have wanted to miss the birth of this day, and my mouth smiles tirelessly until dawn. I relive with open eyes the seven years that have passed since the day I regained my consciousness: the beautiful days lived before the infiltration of Islamism into our family and the

Nightmare years lived because of Islamism… But everything this was going to change, my travel dreams were going to come true! In a few hours, I will take the boat to Marseille. I was leaving for other horizons, new hopes and a whole new life.

I stayed in the garden for more than two hours waiting for my uncle. I sat down on the edge of the well and remembered the scene I had experienced there seven years previously, upon arrival at the Ariana. When I heard my uncle’s car stop in front of the house,

Before setting off, I mentally said goodbye to everything that had surrounded me until then: the house, the walls of my room, the perfumes, the trees, the pets, the faces of my family, all my childhood memories. I will never forget this moment.

My uncle got out of his car and greeted my mother as she came running from the kitchen. She kissed me very hard, with tears in her eyes. She kept telling me to be very careful of myself. – Come on, get in! my uncle called out to me.

I sat down next to him. The car drove off in the direction of La Goulette, consigning all that to the past, and the house disappeared around the corner. I knew that, as tradition dictates, my mother was going to pour a bucket of water at the door so

That I could come back one day. – So, my nephew, are you happy? asked my uncle. – Like you can’t even imagine! – I’m warning you, you’ll have to obey me! Otherwise, my anger will be terrible. – Yes, uncle. – I know you’re a good boy.

While my uncle recited passages from the Koran, I remained silent, my eyes on the road, remembering the time when I had done it on foot, at night and with my pilgrim’s staff during my escape to join the other continent, there beyond the waves.

When we arrived at the port of La Goulette, I craned my neck to see the pier at the end of which I had had to interrupt my walk facing the sea, this impassable barrier. Today, she was no longer! The boat we were on was called

The Liberté. In this case, we could not have dreamed of a more symbolic name! As we moved away from the coast, I stood on the deck for a long time, watching the strip of land fade into the distance. Leaving your country and your loved ones, even for the

Most exciting of adventures, is not without some heartbreak. By tearing myself away from this unique family atmosphere, I was aware that it was still mine and that I would not find it anywhere else. Despite my childhood misfortune, I now felt

A bitter nostalgia. Certainly, there was an unknown land on the other side of the Mediterranean where I hoped to be reborn, but what would I find there? Would I really no longer be oppressed there? I remained on guard, questions racing through my mind. I thought of everything

My sister and her husband had told me about this West which seeks to destroy us and erase our Arab-Muslim identity. However, I could see that my uncle had kept his identity while living in France for a long time. Certainly, he was Muslim by tradition and not

By fundamentalism, like most, but France had never forced him to abandon his belief. I always tell myself that what has saved me throughout my life is my critical spirit, despite my naive appearance which suggests that I trust easily and that I believe

Everything that is told to me. said. Because secondly, I think about it, I examine the question from all angles , and if I am not convinced, I change direction. During my childhood, I was fascinated by the idea of ​​an all-powerful God who possesses all the powers of this world, from whom we come

And to whom we will return. A simple belief, learned or inherited from my grandmother and mother. I did not doubt the existence of this force which watches over us and which guides us in life like its children. I naturally spoke to this merciful God to

Ask him to help me and show me the right path. I believed at that time that the name of this God was Allah, but I have since learned that each belief names its own God and that the name Allah was specific to the Arabs before being propagated by Islam.

Despite the appearances I gave to my sister and which led her to believe that I was following her, I was never convinced of the value of Islamism that she and her husband imposed on us. I saw it as too rigid and too harsh, preventing one from living and leading to hypocrisy

Towards those around them and towards oneself. So my fear of my sister was greater than my fear of Allah himself. Only rules, nothing but rules! This is prohibited, this is obligatory, this is permitted, this is to be avoided. In this Islam, the believer is conditioned in

All his actions, he cannot do anything, say or think without being channeled to please Allah. Already, I wondered why this Allah asked us for prayers five times a day. I even asked my sister the question. – Why do we pray? – To thank Allah for everything he gives us.

– But why thank him five times a day, wouldn’t once be enough? She didn’t immediately find what to say. – It is Allah who asks us to pray five times a day. We must obey him and submit, she finally declared. This answer did not convince me. Also,

When I did not find the opportunity to say my prayer, I did not do it, because for me prayer did not consist of thanking Allah, as my sister said, but of feeling close to him. So I only prayed when I needed to, and the rest of the time I just pretended.

The boat entered the port of Marseille. My eyes were wide. How immense this city seemed to me! Something mysterious emanated from the fancifully shaped rocks on the shore, but the foliage on the heights reminded me of Tunis. It was still the spirit of the South speaking. Going through customs represented my first

Contact with the Western world. Fearful, I expected to hear bad words, but not at all. These men in regulatory uniform smiled, did their work seriously, without seeking to harm strangers. Had I been lied to about the wickedness of Westerners?

I took a deep breath and relaxed a little. The long climb to Paris began. I discovered the variety of French landscapes, the small provincial towns, the isolated villages, the farms lost in the middle of the fields, the woods, the forests, but also the factories,

The multi-storey buildings, the enormous cranes, the shopping centers . France appeared to me as a very modern country which had nevertheless managed to preserve its past, its characteristics. There was nothing diabolical in these architectures, these landscapes. Certainly, the people seemed very busy, but their faces apparently expressed serenity.

In the classrooms, on the sports fields, the children were having fun, laughing freely. In just one day, I stored up so many new images that my head felt like it was all cottony when we arrived in Saint-Gratien. My uncle lived in an apartment, in a city where

All the neighbors were Europeans. The family welcomed us with hysterical joy. Screams , tears, hugs, laughter. With the fatigue of the journey, I felt very weak, as small as a fly, barely daring to open my mouth. I found my maternal grandfather

Who had joined his son after the death of my grandmother. It was the first time I saw him since. I barely remembered him, but his presence reassured me, because he reminded me of my grandmother whom I had loved very much. My uncle’s wife brought my things into her

Room and showed me my bed not far from hers. – This is your room, my son, rest well. Thanks to my grandfather, the link with Tunis was maintained. The wisdom of this majestic man created around him a piece of native land on which I could set foot

Without fear. But the next day, I would have to face the reality of an unknown world, far removed from what I had been taught until then. I found it difficult to sleep, despite the fatigue of these forty-eight hours spent almost without sleep, part of which was on

The boat, in the excitement of the discovery. The next day, my uncle took care of enrolling me in a vocational school. As my parents had wished, he began by contacting vocational high schools, which was not my own taste. I dreamed of becoming

A veterinarian. To do this, I first had to follow the traditional route to the baccalaureate. Fortunately, the registration dates for technical courses being closed, my uncle had to enroll me at the Jean Zay college in Saint-Gratien where all his children studied.

I was enrolled in fifth grade, the equivalent of secondary school in Tunisia, at the same level as my cousin who was my age. The first days of class were terrifying, and I had to show great courage. Alone, knowing little French, forced to

Quickly accustom myself to a new mentality and to fight against my natural shyness, I was unable to bond with my classmates. My complexes put a brake on my contacts, and I also felt a kind of inexplicable embarrassment. The proximity of my cousin in

The establishment comforted me a little. During recess, I looked desperately for her in the jumbled crowd of students, and as soon as I saw her, I went up to her and hastened to tell her my impressions. The teachers were particularly understanding towards me. Conscientious, they took their free time between classes

To support me in my work, especially the French teacher. I will never forget their kindness and dedication. However, in these delicate, hesitant beginnings, I was wary of them. The satanic image of the European instilled by my brother-in-law and the

Islamists continued to influence me. At home, the time of candor had been so fleeting! Despite the language handicap, I got off to a good start. At the end of the first term, my academic results were very satisfactory. To improve my French, I frequently went to the college library. I devoured novels, newspapers,

Science books. My thirst for learning was such that the librarian took a liking to me. One day, I came across a French translation of the Quran. Odd ! Why did the “enemies of Islam” publish such a work? Was it a trap? I admitted my surprise to the librarian.

– There’s nothing very surprising about that, she told me. A good library has no bias, it must offer everyone the widest possible choice. Like all sacred texts, the Koran belongs to the history of humanity, so it is normal that you find it here.

It is my role to make all human knowledge available to students, even if this book is rarely consulted. – But you are Christians, why would you be interested in Islam? – You see, this college belongs to the secular school. Teachers can teach students the history of religions,

Although under no circumstances will they force them to practice them. Do you understand the nuance? “Yes, it seems to me,” I stammered, unconvinced. – And then, in the school there are students of North African origin born in France and who

Do not know the Arabic language. It is also to them that this translation is addressed. My thoughts remained confused. What was the difference between studying a religion and practicing it? Why seek to know a religion when you don’t believe in it? For me, there was none. The librarian’s words seemed

Suspicious to me. How did Christians, who once fought Islam, agree to let students read the Koran? Why did they translate the Quran into French? Perhaps to know us and thus know how to fight us? In this case, we too had to

Understand them to be able to protect ourselves from them! This allowed me to open up more to the understanding and knowledge of European culture. The librarian was amazed at the number of books I read, either those I consulted in the library during break times or

Those I borrowed to read at home. I focused on history and natural science books , particularly on animals, which fascinated me. The winter holidays were coming, it would soon be Christmas. My uncle bought a large tree. It reminded me of the early days of Ariana,

When we celebrated the end of the year. This time, I will celebrate it in the West. In the streets and stores, everyone was preparing for this celebration, there were decorations everywhere, Santa Claus was moving around and distributing gifts to the neighborhood children. This

End of 1980 remains unforgettable for me. During these first months, nothing could distract me from my goal: to succeed in my school year. I devoted myself exclusively to my studies. The atmosphere was good at home despite my uncle’s bouts of bad temper,

Usually over money issues. That’s because he was stingy! For him, everything was calculated to the nearest cent, the lights had to be turned off at 11 p.m., dinner, breakfast and lunch times had to be respected to the minute. It was a sort of military regime at home, everyone had to obey without question,

Otherwise they found themselves locked in a room or thrown out into the street. Everyone feared him. The children only found a little freedom outside the home. As soon as they came back, everything should be back to normal. My aunt kept watch so that he didn’t notice

Anything. When one of us did something stupid, she often took responsibility for it. She was the one who was punished and sometimes even beaten. All this didn’t bother me too much, because everyone liked me and my uncle treated me in a somewhat special way. But when I needed

Something, I asked my grandfather or my aunt rather than him directly. My grandfather liked me too. Normal, I was the child of his favorite daughter! I had a good time with him since we shared the same

Room. He loved giving me advice. – My little one, he said to me, I am almost a hundred years old. I have had time to learn a lot in my life. So enjoy it while I ‘m still alive. As the saying goes, “ask advice from those who have experience.”

My grandfather was nothing like my grandmother. I saw him as a hard man and proud at the same time. He had no friends in the neighborhood and didn’t want to have any. For him,

It would have been no use. He was always in his room, but he sometimes went out to go to the market, walk a little or sit in the public garden. I accompanied him several times. He was punctual as a clock. He did the same thing every day, in a

Well-regulated routine. I had never seen anyone so punctual in all their actions. I learned a lot from him, he told me about his youth. He had almost never worked in his life because his parents had left him a large fortune, but now

He no longer had a cent because of his former Arab friends. Grandfather hated Arabs. Certainly, in the north of Africa, it is common to insult Arabs, and there are even proverbs for that. But my grandfather’s hatred for them knew no

Bounds. When I was going out with him and we met an Arab beggar, he would give him money. On the other hand, when he saw a French beggar, he gave him nothing. – Why do you give money to Arabs you don’t like,

And not to the French? I asked him. – I give money to Arabs so that they remain beggars throughout their lives. I don’t give to the French so that they can go and find a job. This behavior of my grandfather and his hatred towards Arabs was incomprehensible to me.

Was it because he was of Turkish origin and his pride as a Turk pushed him to act this way, or because of his Jewish origins? – Look, my son, he said to me one day, I tell you a truth: non-Arabs, in general, they don’t say hello to you, but the day one

Of them says hello to you, he said it heartily. On the other hand, an Arab, every time he says hello to you, it is because he finds an interest or a profit in it. When an Arab doesn’t say hello to you, it means he doesn’t need you. So, beware of Arabs who say

Hello to you and try to talk with you. Once he even told me a secret. – When I want to insult the Arabs, I pretend to insult my son Larbi, whose name means “the Arab”, and no one knows that I am insulting the Arabs.

My grandfather said his prayers every day on time, even the dawn prayer, and he read the Koran every day. He never abandoned his traditional Tunisian clothes, even in France, but he hated Islamism. When we saw the news on the Iranian revolution on TV

, he called Khomeini a devil who thinks he was a God, he cursed his people, and he retired to his room, refusing to see any more. At my uncle’s house, it was only him, grandfather and I who said prayers every day.

The children did not do it, or rarely, when their father asked them to. I too am used to this situation: I prayed when I had to or wanted to ask Allah for help. I was well integrated into the family’s lifestyle

And considered myself one of their children. Even the neighbors believed that I was my uncle’s son , because I was the one who accompanied him most of the time when he needed me. He wasn’t such a difficult man to live with, after all. He hated being upset,

But all he had to do was pretend and everything was fine. At the end of the school year, I was admitted to fourth grade. My grade average was even higher than my cousin’s! I already saw myself at the end of the road with my white veterinary coat,

But my uncle congratulated me in his own way. – I’m proud of you, my boy, but that’s not enough! You must do even better next September. Integration Almost a year after my arrival in France, I already spoke French quite well. At least

Everyone understood me. I had integrated well and I didn’t feel any racism towards me . In my class, I was considered like all the other students. There was also my cousin and two Africans. All the others were Spaniards and French. In our neighborhood, I have never felt any injustice or racist attitude. This

Situation gave me confidence in myself and convinced me little by little that my sister and her husband told me lies. Despite this, deep down, I remained suspicious. I told myself that this was all too good to be true. The beginning of summer 1981 brought good

News: my mother was going to come to Saint-Gratien for a few weeks! I counted the days nervously. My mother finally arrived, without sefsari and dressed in European style, with good hair and makeup. At first, I didn’t even recognize her. At forty-three,

She looked like a young girl! What a joy to hold in my arms the one I loved so much! My mother cried with joy and looked at me for a long time, as if she could not get enough of the sight of me.

– How you have grown, my son, she finally said with a touch of sadness in her voice. His face still showed the marks of a life marked by continual disappointment. His strength was the same, as was the weight of his defeat. The

Situation continued to deteriorate with my father, and she finally obtained a divorce. She hoped to experience a moment of respite at her brother’s house. My bad arm still hadn’t recovered. If this injury had opened the doors to

Travel for me, it was important for me to treat it quickly. My uncle waited until I was registered for social security to take me to see a doctor. After consultation, an operation proved necessary. A few days later, I entered the hospital with fear in my stomach. The operation

Took place in good conditions. Once the cast was removed, I had to go to daily rehabilitation sessions for several weeks. This was done scrupulously but gave no positive results. A second operation was decided for the end of 1981. During the summer holidays, I devoted myself to reading the French language intensively

. My will had never been so tenacious. The future had strange surprises in store for me, I instinctively sensed it like an animal senses the arrival of a natural cataclysm. Learning was my best weapon, a way to get closer to God – My God, my grandmother’s. On August 4, I turned fifteen. A

Big party was organized, and my mother prepared wonderful pastries like in the good old days of Ariana. At the end of the summer, my mother decided to stay in Paris permanently. She had made this decision as soon as she left for France, I

Am fairly certain. This choice responded to a desire for freedom. Her forced marriage had deprived her of her dignity as an independent woman. By taking the risk of breaking it, she finally regained this dignity… Except that the world of work was completely unknown to her and she was starting from scratch.

The benefit of this much sought-after freedom began with learning French; it was essential that she spoke the language of our host country well enough to hope to find a job there. She already had a good foundation since she had studied in a French school

Before her marriage. I accompanied her three times a week to evening classes where she improved her French. We never left each other’s side, and his courage strengthened my will to win. She and I, my uncle and his family, grandfather, we should have rebuilt together in the

Spacious apartment in Saint-Gratien the family harmony that the house in the Medina had known under the aegis of my grandmother. . But my uncle’s anger flared up at any time and was not likely to promote a climate of serenity. Worn out by years of arguments with my father,

My mother found it difficult to tolerate her brother’s mood swings and his greed. In addition, my special relationship with her aroused my uncle’s jealousy. The presence of his sister overshadowed his role as the dominant male, he who was never so happy as when the others lived under his

Dependence. Sure of his judgment, he did not admit that anyone could act without first asking his advice. His experience seemed irreplaceable to him. The old demons of poorly digested tradition spoke louder than reason. In September, I returned to fourth grade,

More motivated than ever. But the relationship between my mother and her brother deteriorated every day. My mother had not left my father to relive the same conflicts. Of course, I supported her, which increased my uncle’s anger. – You, a boy, do you agree with a woman who knows nothing about life here?

Finally, my mother moved into a maid’s room located in the 19th arrondissement of Paris, at the Jean Jaurès station. She who had lived among her children, in a spacious villa surrounded by a magnificent garden, now found herself in a rabbit cage,

Alone and without friends. What irony ! She finally obtained her independence, but at the highest price. It seems like you have to go to the lowest point before you can rebuild your life. She couldn’t even take care of me until she got her resident card,

Found a job and bigger accommodation. So, she called me regularly to ask for my news. At the end of 1981, I returned to Argenteuil hospital. There, I made friends with a very young nurse, with a thin face and almond-shaped eyes. When she first entered my room, I was

Immediately moved by her presence. The gentleness of his gestures and his attentions testified to an open mind. On Christmas Eve we had one of those rare and profound conversations that lasts for the rest of your life. – How do you feel ?

She asked me, smiling. – I feel good, but I’m a little scared. – Don’t worry, everything will be fine. Dr. Four is an excellent doctor. He is very used to this type of operation. “You’re nice,” I muttered. – From your file, I see that you were born in Tunis.

How long have you been living in France? – I’ve been living with my uncle since September 1980. – Isn’t life here too hard? – At first, you feel lost. But since my mother came to settle here, I feel better, I replied,

A little surprised by these signs of interest. – I’m probably being indiscreet, but what does your mother do? “She’s looking for work,” I said, looking down. – I imagine that it must not be easy every day. And why did you both leave your country? – It’s a long

Story. Life there was very difficult… – Forgive me, I’m really indiscreet. – Oh no ! I protested. It makes me feel good to talk. You know, in my country there are many believers, but some Muslims seek to lead others. That’s

Why my mother and I left the country. – I see. Religion is sometimes a source of conflict. We hear everything and anything about Islam, especially about women who are scorned, she says with embarrassment. – According to the Quran, men and women

Are of the same rank. But some Muslims – fundamentalists – have a false idea of ​​life and want to reform everything. For example, they claim that a woman who stays alone in a room with a man attracts evil spirits. It’s ridiculous.

– I share your opinion. And why do women have to wear the veil? Isn’t that a way of lowering them? I sat up on my bed with enthusiasm. – There are a thousand ways to wear the veil! I got carried away. It is above all a sign of

Nobility and courage! Are you a believer? The nurse was silent for a moment and sat down in the chair next to my bed. – This is a question to which I have no answer. You know, in the West, religion has lost many followers. The desire to consume,

To get rich, to climb ever higher on the social ladder turns people away from the Church. Above all, I believe in reason and logic. But respect for others, for their beliefs, is fundamental for me. I am a humanist, that’s why I’m learning this profession. I’m

On internship. Later, I plan to work in a humanitarian association in Africa to care for the sick, Muslims as well as Christians and animists. Suddenly, I thought of my sister and my brother-in-law, of their intolerance, and I felt ashamed for them. – You have to love God,

Seek the way, I muttered. There was a long silence, as if our unspeakable thoughts were secretly communicating. – Christians and Muslims have done a lot of harm to each other, she continued. It’s undoubtedly a utopia, but I would like so much

May peace settle between peoples! – I too am for peace. But I wonder… Can a Muslim marry a Christian woman? It seems difficult. – In this case, religion would be an enemy of peace! We exchanged an understanding look,

And I suddenly realized how much this young girl resembled the images of my dreams. I would have liked to take his hand, shake it. But this gesture scared me immensely, and I did not have the courage, knowing that it was forbidden by Islam and considered a great sin.

I closed my eyes for a short moment. “Maybe,” I said, sighing. The age I was at the time, fifteen, was premature for a boy to feel the emotion of love for the first time. This kind of feeling was a big taboo for me,

One should not think about it and even less allude to it. I had to reject it because, in principle, woman is a devil who seeks to tempt man to keep him away from the path of Allah. However, I did not feel any distance from Allah in the presence of this

Kind nurse. His behavior was completely natural and good. For my part, I felt more than that, a surge of love, but if I didn’t know how to express it, it was mainly because she was older than me. Before leaving, she wished me good luck.

I stood speechless as I watched her leave my room. I wish she would have stayed with me longer. Of course, that wasn’t possible, she had other patients and had to do her work… – You too, I hastened to respond before she disappeared. She turned around to give me a

Knowing smile, and I waited most of the night for her to come back to see me. In vain. The next day, I learned that she had finished her service after leaving me. A week later, on New Year’s Day, I found a novel on my bedside table accompanied by his wishes. A love novel.

I reread it several times, always hoping to detect a hidden meaning. I watched in vain for her in the corridors. Would I see her again one day, this young girl with such moving eyes? This discussion had unlocked the brakes in me. Staying away from people was definitely a sterile attitude,

The truth was everywhere. My distrust of Europeans had receded, I wanted to integrate into society, become a full-fledged citizen of the world, live as an adventurer of the human soul and not as a simple visitor. On January 1, 1982, I felt free and

Strong to face the world. Humanism could not be a simple comedy. I felt sincerity and transparency in the minds of the people I met everywhere, at school, in the street, in the neighborhood, among adults, old people, young people,

Among women and men. I was more and more convinced that the West does not wish any harm to Muslims, and that they are only imagining this to complicate their lives! Once the cast was removed from my arm, Dr. Four was unpleasantly surprised to see that the fracture

Was still not reduced. Despite numerous examinations, no medical explanation was found that could clarify this mystery. The rehabilitation sessions did not change the situation. Clearly, there was something strange in this fracture that refused to heal, as if destiny forbade it. Soon, I gave up on physical therapy. At least

I could use my fingers normally. As I approached my sixteenth birthday, my relationship with my uncle began to seriously deteriorate. Since my mother left, he had wanted to strengthen his authority, but I was no longer a fearful young boy and I was doing well at school. Therefore,

His anger was unjustified, and I fought back. One day, not being able to stand it when I stood up to him, he raised his cane to hit me. I pushed past him with a sudden shoulder movement, took my things and joined my mother in Paris in her maid’s room.

I had to return to Saint-Gratien every day to finish the last term. We both lived the life of hermits, frugal and laborious but happy. In the summer of 1982, I passed my third grade with flying colors and received a certificate of encouragement. Summer in the countryside

To reward me for my excellent work, my mother offered me a trip to Tunis. The family reunion was joyful, blood ties prevailing over the wounds of the past. Furthermore, my success in a foreign land made me a true hero:

I had experienced solitude, overcome my fear, braved the madness of the Western world! I was shown a new respect. My second sister prepared a feast, and I was placed at the head of the table. Everyone looked at me with consideration, as if I had arrived from a distant planet.

Furthermore, things had taken a new turn: my brother-in-law was temporarily spending his days in prison. The authorities had in fact deemed his politico-religious activities dangerous, likely to endanger the stability of the State. He was accused of preparing an Islamist revolution inspired by the Iranian model. The main leaders of the MTI had

Been arrested and put in the shade. The political climate was tense. The Iranian revolution resounded throughout the countries of North Africa, shaking minds, awakening passions, giving weight to Tunisian fundamentalists. The government was constantly on guard, the police sent

Its agents to infiltrate almost everywhere in order to nip in the bud the Islamist snake that was crawling in the shadows. Soon, the West would experience bloody attacks sponsored indirectly or directly by the Islamic International. The Islamic war of the “enraged

Of Allah” was organized despite the noise of the politicians. There was no indication of when or where it would begin to burn, but there was a smell of death in the atmosphere. Samira’s change in appearance shocked me as soon as I arrived. She was poorly dressed,

She looked like a servant. She was no longer the strong woman I knew. She was alone with two children, a boy and a girl. She gave private math lessons to earn some money, but it wasn’t enough to pay her rent, and she was

Forced to move into Ariana’s house. She occupied one of the bedrooms with her children and took care of everything at home. Her husband being in prison, she had to go visit him every week to bring him food. She deprived herself to keep the little money

She received as charitable aid from the Islamists. She whom I had always known with her head held high, today she walked with her head lowered and no longer looked others in the eyes. She no longer found time to propagate Islamism or discuss Islamic morality,

Busy as she was with her children, her husband, her father and the rest of the family. She was resigned, a real rug. When I spoke to her about it, all she could say was that it was all “a trial intended by Allah to test our belief and strengthen

Our faith.” But I had the feeling that she wasn’t convinced of it and that she was only repeating it to convince herself. Did she regret following the Islamists? Was she aware of all the harm she had done to our family?

Was she aware of the tear she had made in each of us? I always ask myself these questions , and I don’t know if I will ever have the answer. That summer, while I was in Tunis, we learned that my mother had just remarried

Her cousin, her first love, the one she had always loved. He had come to France, totally ruined and seriously ill, to undergo treatment which unfortunately proved ineffective. But it didn’t matter to my mother, she was able to surround him with her affection until the end.

She had found a job and had just moved into bigger accommodation. Nothing stopped him anymore. Her only obsession from now on was to do everything to save those of her children whom she could still remove from Islamist influence. My brothers prepared to go to Paris. They

Too wanted to know Western life, to live this unique experience which would train their minds to new realities. My father would therefore find himself deprived of most of his children, surrounded only by my little brother and my second sister whose fanaticism religious had worsened considerably. To avoid making things worse, I was careful

Not to express to the latter my favorable judgments with regard to Europeans. She, who always considered me as a naive being, would have had no problem reproaching me for my weakness, my failure in the face of the enemy. But Samira was no longer the woman I had known,

And her words no longer touched me or scared me or the rest of the family. Even my father didn’t treat her like he used to. He sometimes spoke to her as if he were a slave, and she could not say anything since she lived with him and was economically dependent on him.

The situation had turned around. She was at his mercy and had to obey him without any opposition, as Islam had taught her: the woman must obey the man, whether he is her husband or her father. After a few days, she took me to Bizerte, to El Nadhour prison where her husband

Was incarcerated with his fellow Islamists. The place was riddled with armed guards. On one of the roofs at the entrance to the camp, there was a machine gun ready to open fire at the slightest suspicious movement. This significant security deployment demonstrated the seriousness with which the authorities now viewed religious fundamentalism.

We passed several checkpoints before reaching Salah’s cell. My sister and her husband kissed without excessive effusion. Affection had no place in this place nor in the life of a revolutionary. – Oh! Karim, finally! Salah Karkar then exclaimed. He did not appear to have suffered any mistreatment

. His facial features were only marked by slight fatigue. His faith in the Islamic revolution had preserved him from physical and moral decline: belief is the best remedy against deprivation. His calm gaze showed the firmness of his patience, the determinism of his fight. – So, did you resist the

European devils? he asked me. I had now mastered the art of avoiding confrontation. I told him what he wanted to hear without involving myself. – I let them come to me to observe them better. They revealed themselves, but they never

Knew that I had understood their scheme. – GOOD ! I am very happy about it. Listen to me carefully now. The Tunisian state has transformed into an infernal despotic machine. The politicians imprisoned me even though I am an honest man. They threw me behind

Bars like a common dog for the simple reason that I defend the freedom of believers. Is it a crime to want to live in the love of Allah? I am the victim of the greatest injustice. But my imprisonment serves the cause of Islam. Know that other

Fighters have taken up the torch. Soon, the Islamic State will be victorious, it is the will of Allah! While waiting for this day of glory, continue your learning tirelessly so that, tomorrow, you can participate in the revolution. Then my brother-in-law took my sister aside,

And they began a conversation in low voices. They spoke as quietly as possible, but I could still hear. He gave him instructions, a list of contacts. Salah Karkar visibly continued to communicate with the Islamist party through my sister. This weekly meeting allowed him to lead the movement. From what I understood,

He was in conflict with Rached El Ghannouchi. He accused him of treason at the highest level affecting the Islamist cause, he told my sister that Rached was probably a spy for the Tunisian state and that she should warn people in the party against him and his entourage. He

Also mentioned the negotiations with the State for the release of Islamist detainees. He was furious, said he would rather die than abandon or change their plans and that there was no point in arguing with the enemy. The detainees were divided between pro-Ghannouchi

And pro-Karkar, that is to say between those who wanted to negotiate with the state and those who refused any discussion. The divide was beginning to grow, which would change the situation for the future of the Islamist movement. The visit finished, we returned home. My sister didn’t say a word on the way home,

As if she no longer believed in her husband. But it was clear that she would continue to follow him to the end. She only returned to her present miserable life to bring him the food he demanded the following week. Two days before the prison visit, I had seen her

Preparing all kinds of food – chicken, meat, three to four kinds of fruit, a real feast. Indeed, political prisoners each having the right to one visit per week, the families of seven prisoners organized themselves to cover the seven days of the week. We

Prepared food for them like kings! Hence their good looks: they had nothing other to do than eat and sleep, chat and pray. On the other hand, Samira and her children did not taste this food, they had to make do with a meager soup. I was sad to

See her in such a precarious situation, but everything my mother predicted was true: my sister was without work or support. Anti-Islamic practice or not, on August 4, 1982 I celebrated my sixteenth birthday in my own way, without asking anyone’s permission, not even my sister,

Who said nothing as she was so busy ensuring her survival and that of her children. . This stay in Tunisia, even if short, reminded me that I was a Tunisian and that, whatever I did, I would always remain one. I had forgotten that a little, because I had integrated so well in France

That I almost considered myself a Frenchman. But this return to the countryside reminded me of my origins and what I really was, and this induced in me a doubt about my identity. I asked myself the

Big question: what am I? Who am I ? Indeed, this return shuffled all the cards in my mind again . And the worst part was seeing what had become of my second sister. Despite all my resentment towards her, her distress shocked me, and at that moment I did not accuse

Islam or Islamism. In my eyes, the culprit was the government. Why was Bourguiba so angry with the Islamists? I knew that my mother had been afraid of these same Islamists, but I could not, because of my young age, associate my mother’s fear for her children and

Bourguiba’s fear for his people. It was only later that I managed to do it. Bourguiba had taken strong measures against the Islamists. My mother had watched, helpless and disarmed, as our family was torn apart. If she had not used cunning to

Save what she could of the family from Islamism and above all to save herself, she would never have succeeded. Alas, by placing her trust in French society, she was wrong once again. Believing that, in France, we would be safe from Islamism,

She did not watch over us enough, thinking that the most important thing to achieve independence was to have money. So, she was wrong several times, like those governments that fail to overcome this globally communicable disease that Islamism represents. Despite the difficult situation my sister found herself in after her

Husband’s arrest, she still believed in Islam. Throughout my stay in Tunisia, she never stopped urging me not to forget my origins and my faith in Allah. And above all, she advised me to enroll in a school where they study Arabic. All this influenced me and once again induced

In me doubts about the French. In addition, seeing her situation and that of her husband, I could not help but be revolted with her against this pro-Western government which sought to uproot the Tunisian people from their roots and deprive them of their identity. Samira repeated that

The West had not been able to achieve this goal through direct colonization, but that it had only left our countries through the door to return through the window by putting in power governments which served its interests and made us his submissive slaves. According to him, the only thing

That could save us was to cling to our faith in Islam and spread it in Europe. In fact, these ideas did not come from her but from her husband: every time she visited him in prison, he stuffed her head and gave her instructions on everything she should

Do and say, as in a puppet. She had become a self-effacing person, without personality own. Islamism had obtained from her what it imposes on all its followers: total erasure. Delinquency At the end of August, I returned to Paris. That day, the storm was threatening. Black clouds gathered on

The horizon like an endless funeral procession. Around 5 p.m., lightning tore the sky, and torrential rain fell on the city, slowing traffic and chasing pedestrians from the streets. When the rain stopped, the smell of soot rose in the air. My mother’s new home was in Houilles-Carrières, in a quiet neighborhood in

The western suburbs. It was a pavilion without a garden, the ground floor of which housed a shop. The first floor accommodation had, apart from the kitchen and the bathroom, two bedrooms and a living room. This narrow space forced the partially recreated family unit to have a certain

Solidarity. However, everyone had their own activities and organized their days freely. For my part, being a half-boarder, I only came home at the end of the day, sometimes late. So that we didn’t lack for anything, my mother worked several jobs. For the first time,

She showed signs of fatigue. His eyes were dark, his complexion gray, his breathing short. In addition to his role as head of the family, urban stress contributed to wearing him out. She would go out early in the morning and often return after 10 p.m. When she arrived, she cleaned the house because

No one else did that except me when I found time. Each of the others only looked out for themselves. After cleaning, she prepared food for the next day, then did the dishes and went to bed after midnight. She was up again at 6 a.m.

To make us breakfast before leaving for work. She did this every day, even on Sundays. She regained her freedom and her little family that she had lost in Tunisia because of Islamism. She wanted to rebuild a family in exile, this time giving more

Importance to money than to studies. Yes, she had changed a lot! She no longer believed that only studies could lead to a decent life; now, money also mattered. She encouraged us to work as early as possible, and gave us new proverbs: “with

Money, you leave a good wake in the sea”, or “with money, the tail becomes the head”. Given the change of residence, I could no longer continue my studies at Jean Zay college. So I had to change college. As I knew Arabic, I asked to enroll in a

College where you could choose Arabic as your first language. The closest establishment to us with this option was the André Doucet college, in Nanterre. The majority of the students there were Algerian. I told myself that I would easily adapt to this new life, where

I would find the North African brotherhood. One of the reasons that pushed me to choose a college where we studied Arabic was my sister’s recommendation to hang out with Muslims and not forget my origins. In addition, as I already knew Arabic,

I would have a good level which would strengthen my general average. Before, I would never have thought about it. First of all, I didn’t even know that you could study Arabic in France! But after my summer stay in Tunisia, several things changed in me as I noticed my sister’s distress

Following her husband’s imprisonment. I did not accept this, and I decided to sympathize in my own way by enrolling in a school where I would study Arabic. It was only later that I understood that Islamists tend to pose as victims to gain the support of the naive.

With my registration in this school, I discovered another face of France. I expected French racism against foreigners, and it was quite the opposite. Strong racism against France and the French had developed among the students, especially among the Algerians. This racism was not hidden behind diplomatic or veiled words

, as is often the case. On the contrary, it was displayed without shame, sometimes even shouted out loud. I found within the walls of this establishment the hatred that my brother-in-law kept harping on and that he had once tried to inspire me. This shocked me deeply. In my class, four Algerians spent

Their time heckling and causing disorder during lessons. They couldn’t sit still, gesticulating in all directions. Their nervousness testified to an inner tear, to a blatant psychological instability. Uprooted, incapable of ambition, constantly convincing themselves that they had no future, they filled the void in their existence by swearing all day long

Against the French, whom they designated as those responsible for their misfortunes. Where did this resentment come from? Apparently, it had its source in the numerous traumas resulting from the Algerian war. It must be believed that this wound never healed. These teenagers were drowned in the hateful words of their parents,

Themselves engulfed in the bloody memory of the war. “Revenge, death to the French who burned our brothers and our land!” is what they heard every day since their earliest childhood. Moreover, the urban environment did not help their integration. They lived in public housing projects whose buildings stood like concrete-colored pylons. Boredom lurked

Everywhere, it permeated the walls of the city, the stores, the parking lots, the stairwells, the corridors. In the courtyards, on the esplanades, the young people of North African origin seemed to go around in circles indefinitely, looking as sullen as the faded facades of the buildings. They indulged in

Disorderly games which often ended in confusion, betraying a deep lack of work. It was at that moment that the drift that was to bring me back towards Islamist circuits began . It is natural behavior for a North African to side with his

Peers, even if they are wrong. I had to choose my side, and I couldn’t agree with a foreigner, especially a Frenchman, even if he was right. Otherwise, I would have been considered a traitor, a sellout. I had no choice. And then,

While deep down condemning the racism of these four boys, I felt drawn to them by an irresistible force. Evil is as attractive as good. Did the violence of their words fuel a sort of exaltation in me? A vibration of revolt? A dark romanticism?

I befriended them and soon tragically slipped to the wrong side. From simple comrades at first, we became inseparable friends. Very quickly, I gained their trust, and even more quickly , I became their accomplice. Strangely, my companions had not yet been affected

By Islamism. They had certainly heard this word, which sometimes circulated in conversation, but they had never tried to know its meaning. Islamist agents had not yet come to exercise their deleterious influence in their suburban city. Their hatred was expressed through acts of vandalism and threatening words uttered against any

European passerby. They provoked fights, threw stones at cars, showing no fear of danger, as if to make it clear to their victims that they were capable of the worst. The French students, the young Algerians, beat them, stole their school materials, their canteen meals under the pretext that the French did not want

Us to succeed, that they were putting obstacles in our way, that they were traitors. The others were terrified, they did not dare to complain for fear of further reprisals. Caught in such a turmoil, I lost interest in classes. In the family,

Everyone being busy with their own studies, my fall into violence was not noticed. The teachers tried to reason with me, but nothing worked. I was literally spellbound by these reprehensible acts, the tortured mask of our victims intoxicated me. How to give up such power? Most of the teachers could not cope with

The unruly actions of the gang. Only the history and geography teacher managed to maintain relative calm in his class. Listening to the students, never disarming, smiling when certain tempers began to get heated, this woman had managed to

Gently establish her authority through the simple power of her kindness and her words. There was in her when she spoke an extraordinary grace which bewitched the most recalcitrant. One day when she was discussing the Nazi period, one of my companions said odious words about

The Jews. Hiding her anger as much as her disgust, she tried to open his mind by recounting the genocide of the Jews in all its ignominy, explaining how her words could one day turn against her own people to the point of provoking a new massacre.

Hate breeds hate, she reminded. She also explained how people are equal, what are the foundations of human rights, and what the word tolerance means. For more than half an hour, she taught with incredible rigor, supporting her argument with specific examples. The force of his speech was such that we were all speechless.

I was captivated. There we received an immense lesson in humanism, realizing the full horror of the holocaust. But it was only years later that I would grasp its true significance. Something beneficial had just taken shape within me, which would mature over time even

As I followed the path of violence. I found myself caught in a vice of opposing forces. My quest for the absolute had not yet found the breath that would allow me to flourish. I felt it without being able to explain it. The sufferings

I endured during my childhood continued to affect me internally, to the point that I enjoyed reproducing them on others. My violence degraded me further, which gave me perverse pleasure, an infernal cycle of masochism. Finally, the brainwashing carried out by my brother-in-law contributed to my drift. My quarterly school report was more

Than mediocre. My mother didn’t realize it. She was tired, no longer had the will to supervise the education of her children. Her mind was elsewhere, searching for the peace she had been deprived of until then. The years passed, she had not had her share of dreams,

Her happiness had been constantly postponed to tomorrows which had come too late. It was time she took care of her own life. I found myself left to my own devices. A new fact struck me to the point of rushing me a little further down the wrong

Path. While we were in the neighborhood where my friends live, suddenly the sound of a gunshot rang out. On the ground, a young North African lay in a pool of blood, his stomach punctured by a bullet. Mesmerized by the sight of the corpse, I began to tremble,

My anguish mingling with the pain felt by the loss of a Muslim brother. The ambulance arrived within moments and left with the body. During the afternoon, we learned that the murderer was a Frenchman who lived nearby. In the evening, the television news

Announced the tragedy. The assassin claimed to have fired because he could no longer stand hearing the young people heckling under the windows of his home. Deemed mentally ill, he was placed in a psychiatric hospital by the courts. The authorities’ hasty handling of the case caused

A deep feeling of injustice throughout the North African community of Nanterre. A protest demonstration was organized. I took part, as did the students, the teachers, the high school director and the mayor of Nanterre. But that didn’t change anything, the case was closed.

It was then that my four Algerian companions and I decided to avenge this unjust decision. We would wage this war in the name of the murdered young brother, but also in the name of the resistance fighters killed during the Algerian war. The vicious spiral of violence accelerated. This time,

It took the form of a real plan of destruction. Each member of the gang received a mission order on a daily basis. Telephone booths, RER wagons, warehouses, cars, store windows, etc., everything was trashed with maniacal care, the city walls

Were covered with offensive graffiti. Everyone contributed to an internal fund in order to purchase the necessary equipment. As for me, I was responsible for coordinating all operations. I no longer know what pushed me personally to continue these criminal acts. When it comes to violence, logic often fades, leaving dark forces to take over.

Being. In an unspeakable blindness, I began to transform this anarchic gang into an ordered, structured movement, equipped with an effective strategy and carrying out actions on a regional scale. From petty crime, I now claimed to reach the political domain: our movement would defend the sacred cause. The victims would no longer be targeted

At random but according to precise criteria, in particular for their displayed hatred towards the Muslim world. It was necessary to quickly find an acronym, a secret code, rules of conduct, financing, establish a manifesto, annual objectives, in short, move from amateurism to professionalism. Intoxicated by these acts of violence, I was like

A madman, deprived of all guidance, having lost my sense of values. I acted without the family’s knowledge, never displaying my contempt for the French. To my family, I was always a sweet-natured teenager. Suddenly, I realized that I had crossed the limits of what

Was tolerable: all this was leading to disaster. Our blind hatred had led us to attack innocent people. This war that we were waging against the French was going to turn its victims into martyrs, forcing them to take up arms in their turn! Remorse tore my soul apart,

But how could I turn back? It was too late, evil wore its bitter smile… I was like a child struggling in the midst of its contradictions. No longer knowing how to find the path to normality, I sank into distress. Strangely, the shame of these excesses took hold of our group as quickly

As the spirit of revenge had inflamed it. Without almost needing to consult, we ceased these activities completely. What has become of my former companions today? Did they really realize the madness to which hatred had led us? I never crossed paths with them again. Our friendship had been based on poor

Foundations. We had wasted this school year. Idleness threw me into incredible sadness. My shame was immense, I no longer fed myself and remained prostrate in my room, fearing the wrath of hell. I felt dizzy, my heart spasmed until I vomited. At night, I would sink into

Abominable nightmares, from which I would wake up with a start, panting and covered in sweat. In the surrounding cities, delinquency triumphed. Breaking up of families, school failure, drugs, unemployment, idleness. For thousands of teenagers, the horizon was filled with black clouds. The elders set a bad example for the younger ones. Daily life

Was bathed in insults, the poverty of language as the only mode of expression reflected misunderstood sensitivities, the State allowed the situation to rot. Blessed bread for Islamist networks! All these young people would soon swell the ranks of Islamist warriors, the hatred of the suburbs

Would spread to the gates of the capital. And France would tremble at this limitless delinquency that nothing could stem except Islamism, an Islamism more organized and more dangerous because it directed a sacred and thoughtful delinquency. My mother’s fatigue was getting worse. Her new husband was dying in the hospital. I had changed,

But no one realized it or suspected the tragedy of my drift. As is often the case in families, tragedies unfold under their noses, but they do not see them. I had to carry the weight of my own life, which made me less clear-minded about the outside world.

Since the death of this young Moroccan, I could no longer look at the French as before. Already, I had started to look only at their negative sides. I had become attentive to all the words, gestures, behaviors that could contain racism towards Arabs and

Especially Islam. At the beginning, I also saw the racism of Muslims towards the French, but after this crime, I only saw the racism of the French towards Muslims. All it took was a simple look, a gesture or a word from a French person,

And for me it was a racist act. I became paranoid and hyper-susceptible, and I started to think that my place was no longer in France. I was no longer interested in my studies, especially with my mediocre results and without any family supervision. Sometimes

I didn’t even go to school. I then found myself alone wandering around Paris. Paris and Christianity During the 1982-1983 school year, since no one asked me where I was or what I was doing, I really began to discover Paris. I had an Orange card for four zones,

Which allowed me to move everywhere, and I could walk the streets and contemplate the monuments from morning to evening if I wanted. I first explored the Butte Montmartre district: the Place du Tertre, the esplanade… I also liked to wander into the

Sacré-Cœur church, where I marveled at the beauty of the blue stained glass windows. and gold, which reminded me of the wings of the giant birds of my childhood dreams. One day, I turned off into Rue des Martyrs, went down towards the Opera, walked along the Louvre, crossed the Seine and stopped

For a long time to look at the boats facing the Île Saint-Louis. Then, I reached the Saint-Germain district where I was surprised to see so many bookstores. I read numerous books, measuring with dismay the extent of human knowledge: philosophy, anthropology, sociology,

Literature, law, marketing, occult sciences, management, so many fields as specialized as they were varied. What was all this knowledge for? Was it for domination purposes? Western man did not pray, he ran around, controlled interest rates, talked about economic war, created material wealth, comfort, leisure, and always seemed dissatisfied. What

Ideal was he striving for? All this remained confused in my mind, prey to contradiction. I particularly liked the Georges Pompidou center district, and I made it my headquarters. One afternoon, I saw a group of people on the esplanade of the

Beaubourg museum. These were Christians who called themselves the Children of Christ. One of them, with long hair and an excited face, preached with exemplary enthusiasm. His hands never stopped tracing movements full of his religious passion. Mysticism suddenly awoke deep within me. In fact, anything related to spirituality

Immediately transported me. Nothing else really interested me, my dreams and my views ended up sooner or later melting into the idea of ​​God. Fascinated by this young man’s words, I decided to speak to him, and soon we retreated to a café to continue our discussion. – I don’t see people praying

Around me, I observed. Have Christians lost their faith? – People are busy with the problems of daily life, retorted the young man. They live far from the principles of love and respect for their neighbors which are the only path leading to

Happiness. They do not see that the word of Jesus is the answer to all their problems. Truth be told, they are lost in a world of doubt. – Love and respect for one’s neighbor are also at the basis of Islam. – Of course ! Because our two religions come from

The Old Testament, which posits love as a universal truth. Each man seeks God in his own way, the forms of belief are multiple, but their goal is the same: to merge with heaven, that is to say, to love infinitely. The variety of cults attests to the wealth of man.

This wealth is in the image of God. – So why did Christians once fight Muslims? – Because evil exists and it is inseparable from the Truth. Evil is a mirror, a tool. God leaves us free to choose our actions, because man must himself find the path to remission through his

Fight against evil. The crusades responded to a political and economic ambition. It is again evil which has acted by cultivating in man a taste for power. This is part of the test that we will one day have to overcome. In Islam today, there is also this

Desire for domination. This is why I preach the rapprochement of all humanist believers. The conversation lasted until the end of the afternoon, to be repeated on the following Saturdays. I always came away overwhelmed, my imagination fired. At the end of these conversations, I revised

My judgment on the Christians and the French. It was during this period that I began reading of the Bible and the Gospels. The history of religions became my passion. I was interested in Judaism, Buddhism. My reading led me to recognize that Islam did not have a monopoly

On the truth, contrary to what I had always been told. Far from wanting to abandon Islam, I tried to highlight the common or divergent points between the different religions without subjecting them to any order of preference. I therefore remembered that

The word God is a general word, that each belief has its God and that Allah is the God that Muslims want to impose on the world. At Christmas 1982, I overcame a serious taboo: I attended Christian mass. The fervor of the songs and the preaching invades me like a

Breaking wave. But even though I felt great happiness in contact with this religious practice, I decided to put it aside for the moment, judging it appropriate to preserve my roots above all. Because I thought that an individual without roots is a dead man. What I liked most about the Christians I met

Was, on the one hand, human warmth, and on the other, faith. With them, I felt in a very special way this faith towards a God of tenderness and forgiveness that my grandmother had instilled in me.

This divine tenderness, this forgiveness, I would have needed it so much during this period! It was a revelation for me . Not to the point of converting to Christianity, but I at least had this spiritual revelation of a God of love, a concept unknown in Sunni Islam. Because, I still affirm

Today after all these years, I have never detected an ounce of spirituality in Sunni Islam, except in that of my grandmother, inherited from distant traditions having little connection with religion. orthodox Islam. This group of Christians, the Children of Christ,

I do not know if it was a sect or a simple group, since my relations with them were personal relations with some of their members. But I didn’t feel any racism from them. On the contrary, I felt a very high humanism, love for human beings

And a strong spirituality turned towards God. And I must say that their presence allowed me to avoid falling into delinquency and to keep my distance from the Algerian group, with which I remained friendly. I even tried to calm them down, to talk to them about Islam

And its principles of tolerance, according to what I believed before. Despite their rebellious spirit, when I spoke to them about it, they showed great respect, as if it were a sacred thing that should neither be touched nor discussed. They felt like sinners and hoped to one day find the path to peace.

Discovery of Shiism I never finished exploring Paris. One Saturday as I was passing through the Barbès district, I heard a clamor coming from Boulevard Magenta. I seemed to recognize words in Arabic. I took a few steps, turned and stopped stunned: in front of me,

A crowd of Muslim clerics shouted in unison Allah Akbar, “God is great”, Khomeini won the victory of Islam! He is our leader! Death to despots! At the front of the demonstration, there were women dressed in black fabrics. Their supple approach

Expressed the grace of a grandiose mysticism. I was under the spell. These monks emanated a spiritual emotion of great intensity. I had never experienced such strength before. In addition to their mystical fervor, a fraternal bond seemed to unite them. Their powerful tone intoxicated my soul. Passers-by could not help but watch

The religious people parade. They were intrigued, annoyed, but finally they stopped for a long moment, unable to utter a word. After all the doubts that had poisoned my life, I felt a sense of well-being at the sight of these believers. It seemed like they were calling me to

Join them. I had finally found what I had always been looking for: something obvious, a tranquility, a sort of paradise on earth. Seeing that I was about to follow their march, a young demonstrator broke away from his group and approached me.

– Forgive me, he said, are you a Muslim? – Yes, I said shyly. – Would you agree to sign a petition against the war that Saddam Hossein is waging against Iran and to his people? He is a criminal who wastes the blood of Muslims.

– How will my signature help you? – The more signatures we have, the better we can put pressure on international opinion and put an end to this war. – GOOD. So, I would be happy to participate in your movement. By agreeing to join this cause, I had no idea that I was fulfilling

The wish of my sister and my brother-in-law. This meeting would indeed have dramatic consequences. The protester was Algerian. I walked alongside him, proud to share his fight. During the route, the parade stopped in front of a synagogue. The demonstrators began to shout anti-Semitic words and then to quote

Verses from the Koran. We all clung to each other’s arm in order to take a single step forward and shout slogans together, like “Khaybar Khaybar y yahoud, jaich Mohamed soifa yaoud”. The Battle of Khaybar was fought in the time of Mohammed by the Muslim army against the

Jews. The defeated Jews were reduced to serfdom, and this became the symbol of Muslim victory over the Jews. At the end of the demonstration, my Algerian recruiter gently held me back. – Would you be interested in coming to visit our cultural center? – Oh yes ! I responded enthusiastically,

Thus unknowingly signing my adherence to Shiite political Islam. In the middle of the reception hall of the Iranian El Kanoun cultural center, a huge portrait of Khomeini seemed to irradiate the room with a magical wave. His white beard and piercing eyes

Commanded respect. The Algerian took me up to the first floor, where around thirty people were conversing in small groups. One of them gave me a suspicious look. He stared at me tenaciously for a short moment, to the point that I had to look down. The atmosphere of the place was strange behind

The spiritual atmosphere that still hovered. I was asked to watch a film about the Iranian revolution. The light went out, and the image of Khomeini flashed onto the screen. Soon, mystical fever took hold of me. My hands were shaking,

I felt hot and cold at the same time. On the screen, we saw the crowd of faithful shaking their fists, marching in the streets of Tehran chanting the victory of their spiritual leader. The shah’s portrait burned under the cries of believers. The people were finally freed from the monarchist dictatorship

Secretly led by Western countries. The people would live in the will of Allah, experience happiness on earth. Religious schools were organized, the new society was set in motion. Like most propaganda films, this document intended to awaken forms of primary patriotism, except that it

Was a religious patriotism. The panoply of lyrical imagery was deployed in such a way as to touch the sensitive fiber of the viewer. In one hour, I experienced centuries of religious fervor. I was in a trance. When it was time for prayer, the believers headed to the bathroom

For ablution. I noticed that the rituals of ablution and prayer were different from what I had known until then. – What is this way of practicing prayer? I asked. – You know that there are two doctrines in Islam,

I was told, one Sunni, which is widespread in the regions of North Africa and the majority of Muslim countries, the other Shiite, which is found mainly in Iran and some Middle Eastern countries. We follow Shia tradition. I was then asked to introduce myself. Remaining

Reserved, I told the story of my family while toning down certain facts, notably the activities of my brother-in-law. I also presented my ideas, my projects, how I envisaged the future, emphasizing my ambition to participate in the construction of a just, spiritual society, but also concerned with maintaining peace between peoples

. Except for my naive pacifism which provoked a few ironic smiles in the assembly, my profession of faith did not displease my interlocutors. My admission to the center was accepted by mutual agreement, the religious all welcomed me among them as

A brother and invited me to share their dinner. We sat down on the linoleum floor to eat our meal. The atmosphere was joyful, without straying from a spirit of rigor and seriousness which seemed to be their common motto. I was called to join them

At the center the following Saturday morning at 10 a.m. When I got home, I was overjoyed with happiness. I had found a second family where I could express myself freely, surrounded by my Muslim brothers. – What is wrong with you, my son,

To be so excited? my mother asked me. – I am simply happy like a bird flying in the blue sky. – It’s strange, your attitude reminds me of your sister’s before her marriage. – Rest assured, mom, I am a free man,

And I will always remain so. – She also told me the same thing, and you know how far she went. – Yes. But I’m not like her. I’m not imposing anything on you – Fortunately! she says. We know how far this madness has taken us. The following Saturday, I went to the

Iranian cultural center well before the scheduled time. I had to pace back and forth in the street for fear, by arriving early, of showing my new companions my lack of serenity. Initially, I was responsible for preparing banners for demonstrations against

Saddam Hussein’s war on Iran. While working, I spoke with my Algerian interlocutor. These discussions made me appreciate the gap that exists between Sunnis and Shiites, regarding their approach to the Islamist revolution. From a Shiite point of view, this is how a Sunni Islamist behaves: once religious practice and learning have been assimilated,

He engages in the fight to convince the impious to join his faith. To do this, he uses indirect language, the attack never being frontal. Family members are the first targets, any rebel element being ruled out. Then, the circle widens to neighbors, friends, and thus goes up to regional and then national elected officials,

Finally to representatives of the State and its supreme leader. War on an international scale can then take place. Sunni Islamism therefore starts from the individual to reach the State. Once it becomes a majority, it imposes its rules either through elections, or by force if it is refused.

This method was in fact the one my brother-in-law used! Suddenly, my family past was illuminated in a new light. The Shiites’ approach in this matter is the opposite: it is the enemy states which are first the subject of incessant attacks, namely the United States, Israel and European countries. Political action is dominant.

All human, strategic, military, economic, etc. resources. must be used to destroy them from within. On a daily basis, the Shiite revolutionary’s mission is to convince those around him of the political and economic bankruptcy of the country’s leaders, then to train new fighters on the ground, who will reproduce the same process

According to the principle of the pyramid system. This is an essentially ideological war, aimed at creating a current of protest opinion within countries until the overthrow of States. The religious does not appear in any way during this first phase. Convinced of the political power of Shiism, the revolutionary can then undertake to convert

Sunni elements to this doctrine. The religious then takes action, without seeking to impose on future converts the practice of worship, such as prayer, Lent, etc. He can even continue to live his faith as he sees fit. The political tool therefore constitutes

The great weapon of Shiite revolutionaries. This Shiite method of focusing on the common enemy and immediately setting a political target to bring down, with everyone participating in the action, believers and non-believers, practitioners and non-practitioners, reminded me of the Iranian revolution , where veiled and unveiled women, Christians, Jews, Islamist and communist Muslims

Participated , all against the shah of Iran. For the Shiite, bringing down the head is the first thing to do. The rest then comes gradually, according to a precise plan. This evokes what is happening today in the Arab-Muslim world, where we have the impression of witnessing mini-Islamic revolutions,

Like in Tunisia. Certainly, neither the situation nor time allows us to repeat the Iranian example, but isn’t the goal the same: to achieve the establishment of Islamic states by a tactic other than elections? How sad to see countries that call themselves free,

Progressive political parties and humanitarian associations believe in an Islam of freedom… By listening to my Shiite comrades, I discovered a new perspective. In its complexity, Shiism responded to what I had always dreamed of, both politically and religiously: unifying humanity beyond its contradictions. Over the course of these conversations, I immersed myself a

Little more in this idea. I did not yet perceive the real intentions of the defenders of this doctrine, who ultimately covet world power. Sometimes I had a burst of lucidity, and I regained some distance. But the persuasiveness of my interlocutors

Always brought me back to their ranks. I was caught in the trap of political Islam, as I was to realize later. My conversion to Shiism In the evening after class, I regularly went to the Iranian cultural center, and on weekends too. At first,

My younger brother willingly accompanied me, but these meetings quickly bored him. This period allowed me to form my political thoughts. In contact with my new brothers, I sharpened my arguments, enriched my vocabulary, read numerous works, to the point that I soon had the entire arsenal of revolutionary rhetoric at my disposal.

One day, I hung a poster of Khomeini in my room. When he woke up, my older brother who was sleeping in the same room thought he saw the devil himself above his bed . He found the monk’s face horrible, to the point of giving him nightmares. The poster,

However, remained in its place. I was attracted to this spiritual leader, even though I did not follow any of the religious practices he advocated. It may seem paradoxical, but a part of my conscience instinctively refused to submit. I was both curious and suspicious. These two

Tendencies continually clashed within me, sometimes plunging me into deep disarray. To tell the truth, I perhaps did not meet the criteria of a perfect practitioner as my Shiite companions understood it, but religious practice took second place among them. It lasted more than six months, intensive training: readings, videos, audio,

Without forgetting speeches and private discussions to keep me well informed, and first of all politically. It doesn’t matter whether we are Shiite or not, whether we say our prayers or not, whether a woman wears the veil or not. The important thing was to be part of the Islamic Umma against everything

That was West and Zionism. During the entire 1982-1983 school year, I was directed and trained body and soul towards a single goal: hatred of the West and the promotion of the Islamic nation. At the beginning of the summer of 1983, the pro-Khomeini demonstrations took place in a tense climate.

The police closely monitored the activities of the Iranian cultural center and intervened most of the time to disperse the demonstrators. It didn’t change anything in my habits. One day when I was sitting in the library on the first floor of the center,

I met a young Tunisian from the south. The discussion began very quickly with him, as if we knew each other, or rather as if he himself already knew certain things about me, which made me think since then that my Algerian friend was the initiator of this meeting.

– Why do you live in Paris, Karim? – Well, it’s a long story! I first came to have my sick arm examined by a specialist. – What are you suffering from? – From a fracture. I was operated on twice at Argenteuil hospital, without success. As you can see,

My arm does not fully extend. – Does this hinder you from carrying out everyday tasks? – Not really. I got used to it. Why this question ? – I am always concerned about the health of my brothers. Tell me about your family.

– We are a Tunisian family of nine children. I live in a suburban housing project with my mother and brothers. My father lives in Tunis in the Ariana district. One of my sisters is the wife of a leader of the Islamist movement Ennahdha, better known previously as

The acronym MTI or “El Itijah El Islami”. The authorities imprisoned him. I believe he should be released soon. – Oh? It’s interesting… Are you close to your brother-in-law? – Let’s say that certain aspects of his character strongly displease me. – Which ? – His vision of religion is not entirely mine.

– your brother-in-law is Sunni, I suppose. This is probably why you cannot completely embrace his ideas. – It’s just. Moreover, I fear that he is not a reliable person. Only power counts in his eyes. – I see, said my interlocutor thoughtfully. But you still need

To keep in touch with him. Now tell me what are your plans for the future? – Building a better world. – So you are a brother… You know, I too was part of the Tunisian Islamic movement. – Ah good ? And now you’re no longer part of it?

– No. Now, I am a Shiite, the young man concludes – Exactly, I would like to know how to become a Shiite because, frankly, until now, I have read a lot about their ideas and I like it.

It seems to me that Shiism is the true Islam. – Everything in its time, my brother. If you want, I will take care of you personally. With my new Tunisian friend, we met several times in a row in the same place. But very quickly, he advised me

To definitively desert the Iranian cultural center, which was under close surveillance by the French police. This warning was justified, because a few days later the police expelled the Iranian clerics and closed the center. This proved that this young friend had first-hand information! From now on, we found ourselves either in the Beaubourg district

Or on the Champs-Élysées. He provided me with the documentation and books I needed to fully understand Shiism and convert. In reality, he belonged to the Islamist network in which he was notably responsible for recruitment. Without knowing it, I was on

The list of future agents of this organization. My family connection with a major leader of the MTI was of great interest to the leaders of the Islamist network based in Iran. Through this, they saw a way to infiltrate existing Tunisian Islamists, while

Tunisia constituted a hub in the strategy of the international Islamic network. As the days passed, the friendship between us was confirmed. This young Tunisian demonstrated a great sense of organization and great speed of decision-making. The time and place of our meetings

Were decided at the last minute and changed each time. When we walked together in the street – he preferred to walk to talk because, according to him, walking attracted less attention – he frequently stopped in front of a store window to check that

We were not being followed. He lived in a maid’s room which he shared with two other Tunisians who were part of the MTI and who did not know that he had become Shiite. He asked me never to mention this fact. Our discussions often focused on what opposes Sunnis and

Shiites. My friend used great finesse to get me to adhere to Shiite doctrine, the art of making the request come from me. After a few weeks, I clearly declared myself in favor of the Shiite doctrine, convinced that it corresponded to my

Deep convictions. My Tunisian friend had won a first victory, the hardest part was done. All that remained was to persuade me to follow special training in Iran to gain the status of agent of the international Islamist network. According to my friend, a good Shiite had to

Know the names of the twelve imams descended from Imam Hussein, son of Ali and his wife Fatma. Only they can perpetuate the word of Allah “for there is no Allah but Allah, and Muhammad is his prophet”. The twelfth imam, Mehdi, disappeared in a cave in Iraq,

Had to return among men to save humanity. For me, this was a major discovery. From that day on, I began to study in depth the basics of Shiite doctrine without my instructor’s knowledge. My academic results were mediocre that

Year. I did not repeat a year, but neither did I have my certificate to continue my studies until bin. I was therefore forced to choose, against my will, a technical career path. This mortified me and discouraged me from continuing. My mother was not upset, on the contrary. It would allow me

To learn a trade, find a job and build my future more quickly, she told me. I was therefore registered for the start of the September 1983 school year in a vocational high school, electronics section. But I was starting to no longer see my future in a profession. Rather, I

Saw myself becoming a soldier of Allah. – If you knew how much electronics bore me! I confided to the young Tunisian. These professional studies will bring me nothing. This is not how I am going to accomplish my plans. I have to react quickly.

– What exactly would you like to do? – You know it as well as I do! – Be patient, the horizon should clear up soon. My friend obviously had an idea in mind. In July, my older brother left home

To live with his girlfriend, the rest of the family went on vacation to Tunis, and I found myself alone in Paris. As I was alone, I invited the young Tunisian to stay with me. Several peaceful days passed, which allowed us to strengthen our ties around

Shiite doctrine, then we organized a first meeting. The neighborhood being discreet, the house could serve as a meeting place between Shiites: several meetings were organized the following week. Unfortunately, this disturbed the neighbors, and especially the owners. One evening we were both having dinner when there was a knock at the door.

– Who is here ? I asked. – The owner. Will you open, please? My friend hid behind the partition while I opened the door. The owner, a forty-year-old woman who was always well dressed, was stamping on the steps, a man at her side. The man, a veritable Hercules,

Was her new prince charming. – So, young man, he said, are you the one who collects Khomeini posters? – How do you know ? I replied, outraged. – Listen, the lady intervened, I ask you to empty the place immediately. Grab your things and leave. – How so ? For which motive ?

The man advanced menacingly. He was across the door, ready to jump inside the apartment. – Don’t argue! – I refuse to leave! I shouted. We’ll see about that when my mother returns! The man started to push me, when the young Tunisian jumped out to stop him.

The assailant backed away, but he took out a revolver from his jacket and pointed it at us. – She told you to leave, is that clear? he thundered. It was the first time I had seen a gun pointed at me, but I felt no

Fear because I was so consumed with anger. – No way ! I shouted. We are here at home! – Very good, said my Tunisian friend, raising his hands. Come on, Karim, come to your senses, we’re going to leave. We found ourselves in the street, where I let my rage explode and

Swore revenge. – France is a sick country! Something has to be done ! – Calm down, shouting is no use, retorted my friend. You must learn to control yourself, otherwise you run into great dangers. – I can’t stand injustice! He then took me by the arm

And looked me in the eyes. – You want to do something ? Well, here’s what I offer you: I am in contact with the leaders of a religious school located near Tehran. You would receive a solid religious education there. I’m

Sure they would be happy to welcome you. – I’m in ! When can I leave? – Give me a few days, and I’ll tell you more. This is how I really entered the Islamist network, on a whim. Of course, this couldn’t have happened without the other tragic events that had

Preceded it in my life. However, I needed this final electric shock to achieve it. My Tunisian friend left me in a public garden, saying he was going to come back and pick me up. The wait was endless. I waited, and I asked myself questions. What was he doing all this time?

I’ve been waiting for hours! I went back to the house to check if everything was in order, and then noticed that the owner had changed the locks. It was too much ! I went straight to file a complaint at the nearest police station.

The owner and her friend were summoned and completely denied the allegations, including attempted intimidation with a firearm. Informed of the incident, my brother presented himself at the police station. According to the commissioner, the only alternative was to place me in

A juvenile boarding school while waiting for my mother to return. As for the owner and her friend, they were severely blamed: in the event of a repeat offense, they would be liable to legal action. I was pleasantly surprised by the loyalty of the police. I couldn’t believe she

Could be in my favor. Was the law therefore equal for all? In the car that took me to the boarding school, one of the agents reassured me, specifying that he would intervene at the slightest deviation from the owner. I set up my things in my new

Room. Two days later, I asked the director for permission to go out for a few hours. He accepted. Immediately, I went to Paris to reassure my big brother and above all to find the young Tunisian. – So, I urged him, do you have any news

For Iran? When can I leave? – We have to wait a few more days, retorted my friend. – Oh! How happy I am ! I can not wait ! – Hey, a little patience! – You know, the owner had changed the locks at the house.

I had to complain to the police. – The police ? he whispered, looking alarmed, looking around him. What happened ? Did they ask you questions about your family, your friends? – Not really. Why does that worry you?

– The police don’t like Muslims, you know that. She is looking for all means to drive them out of the territory. Once she gains your trust and you are no longer on your guard, that’s when she traps you. You understand ?

– Yes. But I assure you that the commissioner was very kind towards me! – This confirms what I just told you, idiot. Where do you live now? – I was placed in a juvenile boarding school. – Better and better ! the young man got angry.

Now the police can keep an eye on you! I told you to wait for me and not to move. When I came back and didn’t find you, I thought maybe you had gone home. I was waiting for you to contact me. – You are really too suspicious.

Well, here I am, I came to see you as soon as I sorted out my problems. – Never forget that Europeans want the destruction of Islam! Behind them are the forces of evil that conspire to turn them against the Muslim people.

– What are you talking about ? – You’ll find out later. Now watch your actions and words, okay? This conversation left me perplexed. I didn’t have the feeling that the police had intended to frame me, I had behaved normally, and so had they. Furthermore, the people at the boarding school were

Courteous and did not ask me any indiscreet questions. My friend’s attitude was curious… I visited him every two days, hoping to finally have a positive answer. When will I go to Iran? The agreement of the religious school seemed

To be the subject of a very long reflection! Fortunately, life at the boarding school was pleasant. I often went to the swimming pool or on excursions with the other residents. The climate was one of camaraderie and games. And even, on August 4, the day I turned seventeen, the people at the boarding school

Gave me a surprise for my birthday: the instructor took us to dinner in Paris, she even offered us ice cream. We had a lovely evening before going back to sleep. In this boarding school which housed cosmopolitan youth in exile, all the conditions were met

For optimum integration. We learned about life in a community, we rubbed shoulders with other cultures. In short, I recharged my batteries, I lived happy days, and I found a balance full of promise. Then the long-awaited answer arrived: I had to prepare to leave French soil

To join a religious school in Iran whose name would be revealed to me later. Last days of freedom The day of departure was not yet set, I was waiting for the final instructions. Overjoyed, I called Samira to tell her the happy news. She

Encouraged me to follow this path which, according to her, was “the true path leading to Allah”. My sister’s blessing reinforced my decision. Nothing could stop this trip anymore. However, faced with the boarding school director’s proposal to spend the end of the summer in a

Summer camp in the Lyon countryside, I found myself caught in a vice. There were a large number of attractive sporting and cultural activities on the menu. If I refused, I would be forced to explain myself, which risked arousing suspicion. On the other hand,

By accepting, I would jeopardize my departure for Iran. I had twenty-four hours to decide. What to do ? My embarrassment made me nervous, I imagined several courses of action, opted for this solution, gave it up. Exasperated, I postponed my choice until the next day. At night giving

Advice, Allah would know how to enlighten me. But when I woke up, nothing had become more obvious. I walked into the principal’s office not knowing what I would say, and ended up accepting, stammering. – Are you sure? insisted the director.

I nodded without managing to look at him. After which, I went to see the Tunisian, who could not hide his irritation. – What do you mean, you’re going to Lyon? Finally, do you retract? – No no not at all ! I’m going to Lyon,

But I will come back when necessary. – Listen to me carefully, Karim, your trip to Iran is finally ready. You’re flying next Saturday. You will have to show up at my home at 7 a.m. I will then give you your ticket, as well as the final

Instructions. So, what do you decide? – It’s perfect. Trust me, I’ll be there next Saturday at 7 a.m. sharp. Finally, God willing! – Either. I feverishly prepared my things. I wedged my passport between two piles of clothes and then shifted it, struggling

To control my nervousness. I felt like my life was turning upside down. It seemed to me that the slightest wrong move could have unfortunate consequences for the future of events. On Sunday, a train took me and around ten other boys towards Saint-Étienne

. Unable to focus my attention, I spoke little to my new comrades. I remained in my corner, my face pressed to the window of the carriage, my gaze lost on the landscape. I couldn’t get rid of my anxiety. My feverish thoughts turned to the

Streets of Tehran, the faces of those waiting for me there, the walls of the religious school where I was going to complete my training in Shiite doctrine. Will I become a hero? A great theologian? The future was full of mysteries. Arriving at our destination, a bus took us a

Few kilometers from the city, in the countryside. In the middle of the summer camp, there was a football field on which the boys immediately started running, letting their joy explode. I began to prepare my escape, which I planned for the night of Thursday to Friday. The following days, the group took long

Hikes in the sun, accompanied by country picnics. During these few days, I appreciated the landscapes of deep France, that of forests, meadows, hamlets. Far from the fury of big cities, there were families who lived peacefully, in harmony with the land! Doubt sometimes crossed my mind to the point

Of making me hesitate to leave, but curiosity remained the strongest. On Thursday, at dawn, I began to walk in circles like a lion in a cage. Anxious, I waited for nightfall away from my comrades. Finally, after hours of anxiety, I fled around 2 a.m. The half-full moon gently lit the road. I went

With a cheerful step, nothing mattered anymore, I was now sure of my lucky star. Freedom is mine ! Two hours later, I approached a village and turned onto the main road to hitchhike. A van stopped next to me. I took a seat in the vehicle, whose driver,

An Italian with the physique of an adventurer, intrigued me. I had the distinct feeling of knowing him. No doubt my heightened imagination. After a few kilometers, he dropped me off at an SNCF station on the outskirts of Saint-Étienne. As the day dawned, I saw the car of the manager of the

Holiday camp, probably looking for me. Caution ! Nothing was over! I turned back and arrived at a freight station. There, a railway worker allowed me to climb into a wagon to Lyon. I thanked him warmly. He was a local man, short,

Round, full of kindness. Understanding that I was on the run, he undoubtedly wanted to help me complete my experience. The rest was child’s play, and I knocked on my Tunisian friend’s door at 5 a.m. – Oh! There you are ! He told me. So Allah is with you. – Allah is everywhere!

I retorted, a smile on my lips. – I thought you wouldn’t come. – Know that when I give my word, I carry it out. – Um… Now listen to me carefully. Here’s your plane ticket. Takeoff is scheduled for 10 a.m. Before boarding, avoid moving around the airport. Buy a

French newspaper and concentrate on reading it. Don’t look suspiciously at others. You will stopover in Rome, where you will board for Istanbul. There, you will telephone the Marmara Hotel, and you will ask for an Iraqi named Saïd on my behalf, who will then give you

New instructions. Here is the hotel telephone number. Learn it by heart. – Got it. – Are you sure you remembered the number correctly? – Rest assured, dear brother, I have the memory of an elephant. I can remember several pages of

Text in a single reading. It’s a gift. – Thank Allah, because your memory will be your best weapon. – When will I see you again? – Only Allah knows. The life of a revolutionary is subject to many imponderables. Come on, courage and good luck! I arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport

And quietly waited for boarding, respecting my friend’s recommendations . At the end of the morning, I landed in Rome. There, taking advantage of a few hours of transit, I telephoned my second sister. – I’m proud of you, she said to me. So, what

Is this religious school that you are going to join? – It is located near Tehran, but I cannot tell you more about it. – Take care of yourself, little brother! When I think that just a few years ago, I would hold you in my arms!

– It’s all in the past, my sister. Now we must look to the future with new eyes. Think about your actions, because I’m not sure you’re on the right track. – You hurt me, she said. Look, the whole family knows you’re on the run. Our mother

Is very worried. I’ll reassure her, tell her that you went on a trip and that everything is fine. – I kiss you, my sister. – Me too. May Allah be with you. The road to Turkey Istanbul, ancient Constantinople, magnificent Byzantium, the Suleymaniye mosque,

The crescent of religious passions! I exulted when the plane landed on this land with an incomparable past. I was seventeen years old and, turning my back on my contradictions, I had abandoned everything to live the great adventure. I was talking about my dream!

Outside, the heat was oppressive, but instead of calling the Marmara Hotel, I decided to go there on foot to scout out the area. It was a very long walk. The hotel was luxurious. I never imagined that my contact could live in

Such a place. Odd ! I sneaked inside the building and asked for Said, the Iraqi. The receptionist told me that she did not know this person, that it was probably a mistake. My confusion made me nervous, I insisted,

To the point of almost creating a scandal. It was then that another receptionist informed me that there was a second hotel of the same name located in the old quarter of Istanbul, near the Blue Mosque. I came out, red with shame. I had actually got the address wrong, and my clumsiness

Could have derailed everything! I had just landed in a world that was foreign to me, I suddenly realized it. I let myself be carried along by the crowd for a long time, disoriented and undecided. Evening was falling. I spent the night in a public park. When I woke up, I returned to

The airport, from where I called my contact. – Hello, my name is Karim, I come from a Tunisian in Paris. – Alright. Did you encounter any difficulties? – No. Everything is fine. – Make sure you’re not being followed and call me back in an hour from another cabin.

The Iraqi hung up. I was a little stunned. I expected a warmer welcome. Did Islam have so many enemies? I looked around me, took a few steps, trying to surprise any possible spies. How to recognize them in this immense crowd? The few European tourists, sweating like fools,

Their faces flushed, seemed solely occupied with finding a taxi, collecting their luggage or examining the city map. When the hour was up, I called again. – Everything is normal ? asked the Iraqi. – Yes I think. – Do you believe, or are you sure? – Finally, how do you expect me

To be able to tell you that! – Keep calm, young man. And stay where you are. We have your report, someone will come get you. Two hours later, a man approached me. He was small, his teeth were decayed, his left eye was crooked. In short, we wanted to give him alms.

– Follow me, he said to me. At the exit of the airport, we got into a taxi whose driver seemed to know my mysterious companion. We crisscrossed the city. The man next to me remained unmoved. A little upset by this cold reception, I didn’t

Take my gaze away from the window. My bad mood even prevented me from fully enjoying the spectacle of the street. The taxi stopped in front of a bus station. An individual with smoldering eyes dressed in European style approached us. – You are Karim, I suppose, said the stranger.

– Yes. But what a welcome, tell me! – Do not be offended, this is the usual procedure. We are constantly on our guard, particularly in Turkey, a country sold to the West and indirect enemy of the Islamic revolution. The religious revolution led by our great imam Khomeini has disrupted their plans in

The region and Western intelligence services are tracking us. That’s why. I seemed to recognize the Iraqi’s voice. – Who are you ? I asked him. – It does not matter. – Who tells me you’re not an imposter? – Congratulations ! I see you have good reflexes!

My lips curved into a half-hearted smile. I regretted my aggressive attitude a little. Alone, without a real friend, I could not do without the help of those I spoke to. I wasn’t at the end of my troubles… – Are you dreaming, Karim? the stranger asked me.

– Um… No, I’m listening to you. – You will take the next bus to Tehran, which leaves in half an hour. The stranger verbally gave me a telephone number to call as soon as I arrived in Tehran. He didn’t give me any name, I simply had to

Introduce myself on behalf of Saïd. He also provides me with a visa in my name to present with my passport at the Iranian border. If someone asked me why I was coming to Iran,

I had to answer that I was coming to study in Qum and that I was a Shiite. He insisted that I not talk too much and just answer questions briefly. If I had a problem, I had to tell them to contact El Said Alshirazi’s office in Qum. After which

He greeted me and wished me good luck. – Wait, I said to him, I don’t have much money anymore. – You have your bus ticket, that is enough for you. The stranger slipped into a taxi and turned one last time to give me an ambiguous smile. The car

Drove off and disappeared in a cloud of dust. I sat on the bus, which was soon filled with travelers. There were no Europeans on board, most were Iranians and Iraqis, all Muslims . Some women were not veiled, but as they approached the Iranian border,

They put on their veils, a sign that we were entering the kingdom of believers… I took a seat on the bus next to an Iranian Kurd who was speaking a little Arabic, he kept me company all the way and spoke to me about the sufferings of the Kurds. It was the first

Time I heard about the Kurdish people. The journey lasted two days. The bus, which was not very comfortable, first reached Ankara, then went along the north of the Taurus Mountains and then crossed Malatya. When crossing the Iranian border, my companion became very nervous and

Stopped talking to me. For me, no problem, as soon as the customs officer saw my visa, he told me sign to pass with a big smile, and I went to take my place on the bus, but my Kurdish friend

And several other people were arrested by the revolutionary guards, and the driver had to leave without them. Either they were wanted, or they had doubts about them. I was sad for him. We continued the road towards Tabriz, Qazvin, and we finally arrived in Tehran. Finally Iran

I got off the bus numb, like in a dream. I was exhausted by the journey, my kidneys ached, my legs were limp, my eyelids were heavy, and the crushing heat was further numbing me. But what happiness! Finally, I reached the goal! I dozed for a long time

On a shaded bench, then I looked around before considering contacting my contact. In the street many women were moving around dressed in loose black tunics, all wearing chadors. They seemed cheerful, free to move. The men were dressed in Western style, with the exception of some who wore the attire

Specific to religious scholars. Contrary to what I would have expected, the markets were full of a variety of foodstuffs. The economic war waged against Iran by the Western powers since the advent of Khomeini had in no case slowed down the circulation of goods and

Merchandise in the country! The population seemed captivated by the Islamic revolution, patiently respecting the discipline imposed by the revolutionary guards. The architecture of Tehran was not what I had imagined. The capital had preserved few ancient monuments, the buildings were rather modern. Under the reign of Mohamed Rezâ Shah (1941-1979),

Major town planning works transformed the appearance of the city: removal of the ramparts, construction of wide avenues. After this sweet rest, it was time to get to the heart of the matter. In front of me, I read a sign indicating

The direction of the airport. I decided to go there. There, I entered a telephone booth and dialed the number of my contact. – My name is Karim, I come from Saïd. – Welcome, my young friend. – I am at the airport. – Don’t move, someone

Will come and get you soon. Two hours later, no one had come to meet me. Hunger was starting to gnaw at my stomach. I had almost no money left in my pocket, and I preferred to avoid spending it, guessing that a merciless standoff had just begun. Had my interlocutors decided to

Make me go crazy? Finally, I gave in to my impatience and called again. – So, what’s going on? I asked. – Nothing serious, just a setback. Wait again, your guide is on the way. Ah! I almost forgot, did you have a good trip?

I almost hung up on him. – Great thank you ! I will wait here for years if necessary, even if it means starving! I retorted in an ironic tone. – Especially not ! We need you, my friend. See you soon. Regretting the arrogance of my retort, I stamped my foot, glaring around.

How many faces have I not scrutinized, hoping to meet a soul mate as lost as me! But no, nothing except the large, flat crowd, indifferent to my sad fate. For a moment, my empty stomach made me feel dizzy, and I thought I would faint. I took a few steps to stretch my

Legs, then decided to call again. – It’s me, Karim, I began in a weak voice that almost sounded pitying. – So, are you feeling better? – What do you mean ? – I suppose you are now cool, in front of a good meal. – No, I’m still

At the airport. – How so ? Your guide didn’t come to pick you up? – No sir. And I’m spending my last coins to call you. – Okay, I’ll find out. Contact me again in ten minutes. I despaired. Perhaps the leaders of the religious school had reconsidered my application and

Ultimately refused it. The shifty tone of my interlocutor indicated his embarrassment, he probably didn’t know how to tell me. It was the end, I would have to sleep outside, call my sister in Tunis in desperation so that she could help me, return home, ashamed,

Ridiculed, to the mocking laughter of my father. Suddenly, I saw a man walking towards me, a smile on his face, holding out his arms to me. I lit up as he approached. But the man brushed past me without stopping to kiss a little girl who was jumping for joy: “Daddy, daddy!”

My God, I was losing my mind. And I had been waiting for more than half an hour. Quick, phone! My interlocutor gave me the address of a hotel where I should go immediately. There, someone would take care of me. Finally, I was going to leave this cursed place! Refreshed,

I jumped into a taxi driven by an Iraqi who spoke perfect Arabic. – I arrived in Tehran this morning to study in a religious school, I no longer have money to pay for my fare, I said to the driver once I reached my destination.

I took a shirt out of my bag. – Take, if it suits you. – Okay, young man. May Allah be with you. With peace of mind, I watched the vehicle disappear around the corner. What a brave man! But when I turned toward the hotel entrance,

My stomach sank. My first contacts with religious people had been so difficult. What would I find now? I pushed the door and walked forward. Across from me, a man sat in an armchair, his arms crossed, his gaze

Fixed. As I stopped in front of him, he came to life and stood up. Small, with brown hair, wearing Islamic clothing and a white turban, he moved delicately. – Karim, is that you? he asked, giving me a warm smile. – Yes, I replied shyly. – Nice to meet you !

My name is El Sheikh Ahmed. You are my guest. Please have a sit. It was with intense relief that I slid into an armchair. My nerves suddenly relaxed, I seemed to have lost control of my muscles. It was all so unreal! – Did the trip make you tired?

Continued El Sheikh Ahmed. – A little. But I can’t wait to start my apprenticeship. – Religion is a serious thing. We are looking for strong men, capable of adapting to any situation. The road to universal revolution is still long. Courage and patience are qualities to cultivate. – I understand. – You need to

Eat and rest. Tomorrow, one of our companions will contact you. I fell asleep like a lump. Early in the morning, when I had just finished washing, I heard a knock on my bedroom door. – Come in ! A man appears wearing the same religious habit as my host, a little younger.

– Hello young man. El Sheikh Ahmed invites you to follow me. I have to take you to a place where you will spend a few days. – GOOD. When will I be able to join religious school? – I am not able to tell you.

This non-response exasperated me. I was hoping to meet my future religious masters during the day! The imprecision of the speech of my interlocutors put me to the test. Apparently, this artistic blur was intentional, I had to be patient and wait

Carefully for the end of the control procedures. Despite my motivation, my instinct invited me to remain reserved: after all, who were these religious people? Did they have the truth? Wasn’t my desire to sacrifice myself for God’s work proof of my honesty? And why did some of them refuse to reveal their identity?

– How is El Sheikh Ahmed? I asked. – Why would you want him to be unwell ? replied my interlocutor with pride. – I just wanted to please you… – It’s to your credit, young man, he cut me off, as if he

Were putting a subordinate in his place. Clearly, this man was blowing hot and cold! I decided to keep quiet. – From now on, continued the religious, forbid yourself from revealing your true identity to anyone. I propose to you as a pseudonym Falahi Hassan Mohamed.

This name is dear to me. It is that of an Iranian fighter pilot who recently died in combat against the Iraqi enemy. A martyr. Be proud to perpetuate his memory by taking this name. I followed my guide without a word. We left the hotel to go north of

Tehran in a three-story villa. This once luxurious residence belonged to a general of the Shah of Iran and was requisitioned at the start of the revolution. A vast garden with trees extended to the rear, surrounded by a wall high enough to prevent any intrusion

Or indiscretion. In the middle of the vegetation itself, an out-of-service swimming pool testified to the wealth of the former owner. – I am Saudi, the religious confided to me. I abandoned Sunni doctrine for Shiism. I hope you follow the same path. – I came to Iran for that, I retorted coldly.

– You will stay in this house until further notice. See you soon. And the Saudi went away, dragging his feet like a jaded child. This man, obviously from a rich family, did not inspire confidence in me. It seemed like he was serving Allah on a whim.

I took possession of my room, which overlooked the garden, facing south. The occupants of the two upper floors – active members of the El Rissali network whose name had not yet reached people’s ears – were distinguished by their calm. They spoke quietly, never laughed, seemed absorbed in problems of the utmost importance.

On the other hand, around ten Afghan families lived on the ground floor. Children were running everywhere, mothers chasing them. These people also depended on the network. The leaders placed them there to train them before sending them on missions.

In the afternoon, a man entered my room, dressed like his predecessors in Islamic clothing, with a thin beard and an intense gaze. Without the slightest smile, he stared straight into my eyes for several seconds that seemed like centuries . He didn’t seem to be joking. I remained still, straightening my shoulders to

Hide my anxiety and give myself courage. My destiny was at stake. Outside, in the garden, the children were having fun, squealing. My thoughts flew for a brief moment to my mother who must have been feeling bad. – So, young man, you want to learn

Shiite doctrine? the monk began. – Yes and many other things. – And why ? – Because I believe in the omnipotence of the twelve infallible imams descended from Ali and Fatma. I also believe in the saving return of Imam El Mehdi. – The return ? But Imam El Mehdi never

Stopped speaking to us. – Ah yes, I see… – What do you think you see, my young friend? – I see nothing. I only seek the way of the Lord, I replied. – I can only encourage you. Tell me about your parents now. – My parents are humble believers.

I have great admiration for my mother, a little less for my father. – However, your father is a good man. Don’t you owe him your life? – I prefer to speak sincerely rather than lie! I got carried away.

– Oh! “The lie,” repeated the monk with a sort of relish. This is a fascinating subject. Don’t you think that lying, in certain circumstances, can lead to the truth? – No, I do not think so. Isn’t that a sin? – Certainly. But let’s ask the question from a

Different angle: wouldn’t you be willing to lie to save the word of Allah? – I don’t know what to answer… – Don’t worry, you will have time to think about it. In a few months, I am convinced that you will better understand the multiple meanings contained

In the ideas of lies and truth. – I hope so, I said cautiously. – First learn the foundations of the Shiite religion. Then, I am sure you will find your true path. – Will I be able to join religious school quickly? I asked after a hesitation.

– How do you want me to know, young man? It’s up to you. – That’s to say ? – Are you sure you want to learn at our school? – I abandoned my family, I left my mother

In grief. That’s not enough for you? I shouted furiously. – We’ll talk about it another day. The monk greeted me with a gentle gesture then disappeared. I threw myself on the bed, my head in my hands. I cursed him with rage, ready to spill

In insults of the most infamous. But wasn’t this man right to ensure the validity of my approach? The West had already shown its strength in the past, it possessed powerful weapons, it wanted the death of Muslims. Therefore, no security measures should be ruled out. I was the innocent victim of a paradox,

Both eager to give myself body and soul to Islam and suspect in the eyes of my brothers. There was nothing I could do except wait until the sincerity of my intentions was finally recognized. I was forced to stay for more than a month in this superb residence transformed into a

Golden prison for young recruits. I underwent numerous interrogations, never knowing what people really thought of me. The ordeal was exhausting, humiliating, I was harassed by doubt and dismay. Then, one morning, the Saudi monk came to tell me that I was going to be transferred to the El Qaem El Mehdi religious school.

Finally, I was admitted! But, already trained to control my emotions during psychological tests, I was careful not to let my joy burst forth. Indoctrination. The majority of Muslims denounce the Zionist and Western conspiracy and manipulation. According to them, Judeo-Christians are shamefully plotting against the Muslim world to

Destroy it. Islam, their rival, is the absolute truth. Allah is the true God, and Muslims represent the force of good and justice. On the other hand, Judeo-Christians represent Satan, the source of evil and injustice. During my time in Iran, I observed an opposite reality: trickery, lies and shenanigans are fundamental elements

Within global Islamist movements. In Islam, life cannot be considered outside of spirituality and mystery. This partly explains why some believers allow themselves to be drawn into the most radical Islamist fundamentalism without being truly aware of it. Added to this is the perfidy of professional fundamentalists, advancing with a covered face

To indoctrinate people gently, with small insidious touches. This is how they manage to exert their influence on dreamers, malleable souls, as well as on those who do not yet have enough perspective in life – a category to which I belonged. The El Qaem Religious School We first went to

The offices of Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi, not far from Meyden Ferdaoussi Square, south of Tehran. I had a feeling that this was an eminent personality. Indeed, this man, right arm of a party related to the El Rissali network, was responsible for

Political strategy. There, I had to wait most of the day, forced to answer all kinds of vicious questions, always with the aim of verifying my good faith. After which, the Saudi cleric took me to the El Qaem school, located about fifteen kilometers from Tehran

Between the town of Mamazend and that of Partchine, on the road leading to Mashhad. During the trip, my guide bombarded me with recommendations, the most important of which was to trust only my religious leader. As I had come to Tehran precisely

To train in Shiism and live my faith, I did not understand the reasons for these quasi-military prescriptions. But when we arrived at the El Qaem school after changing taxis at Mamazend, my incomprehension was at its height: the entrance to the building was monitored by a guard with a Kalashnikov. Did this weapon prevent

People from entering or leaving the school? This vision gave me chills, but I remained under the influence of my desire to know a new source of the Muslim religion. The discovery of Shiism produced a sort of permanent ecstasy in me. At that moment, I did

Not in the least imagine that I now belonged to the oldest and gigantic Islamist network. It was only in the following months that I would fully appreciate it, thanks in particular to reading the countless activity reports drawn from the

Network’s archives. While waiting for this realization, I was drunk with joy. In this beautiful sun at the beginning of September, my dream came true! After the obligatory passage through the administrative offices of the school, I installed my things in the room that I

Shared with three other students, and I took in the place, happy and confident. The area of ​​the El Qaem school extended over approximately ten thousand square meters. The main building had three levels. On the ground floor, the classrooms, the refectory, the theater, the library, the administrative offices and the prayer room.

On the two upper floors, the dormitories. The site presented a pleasant setting, likely to excite the enthusiasm of the students. There was a swimming pool on one side and a garden on the other side adjoining the forest. Before Khomeini’s revolution, the school received young girls from wealthy families

Under the direction of the Shah’s sister. They were taught the art of social and diplomatic receptions with a view to their marriage with future great political, military or administrative leaders. After the fall of the Shah, stormy negotiations took place between the

El Rissali network and Khomeini for the sharing of power. Among the resolutions taken during these discussions was the creation of the El Qaem religious school. Its goal was to train young Muslims from around the world in international Islamic warfare. Supreme skill,

In this school which advanced under the veil of religious teaching, we did not train “attack fodder”, experts in the handling of weapons and other bombers, but terrorists of thought, outside organizers. peers capable of organizing networks, manipulating information, stirring up crowds. The school trained white-knuckled terrorists

, El Rissali’s elite. On the other hand, a few kilometers away, in a secret camp located on the border with Afghanistan, the network trained soldiers who would go directly into combat. During the year 1980, during the visit

To the Iranian cultural center in Paris by Hédi El Moudarissi, the “right leg” of the network responsible for the military component and the creator of the Islamic revolution movement in Bahrain, a large number of North Africans participated in demonstrations in support of the

Islamic revolts in Iran, so much so that the network decided to recruit from this pool. The first three recruits from this area were Sheikh Djamel, a Moroccan born in Meknes better known under the pseudonym Mehdi Atlas, Abed El Rahman, my Algerian recruiter from Paris,

And Falahi Hassan Mohamed, my assumed name. The three North African countries were thus represented. When I joined the school in September 1983, it had around a hundred students, the majority of whom were Saudis and Afghans. It also welcomed some Arab Iranians, Tanzanians and Comorians. We were classified into groups

Of around twenty students. For my part, I depended on the El Imam El Kadhim group. Between pure education and cultural activities, everything was designed to instill in the minds of future fighters revolutionary ideas that would make them enlightened and manipulable at will. At the end of their training,

These recruits would open offices in all strategic capitals in order to serve propaganda and Islamist action. The day after my arrival, my awakening in the grounds of the El Qaem school was marked by a first disappointment: when I presented myself at the prayer room for morning prayer, the place was deserted. Naively,

I thought it was a mutiny. But when I went up to the dormitories, I realized that all the students were sleeping like crazy. Was this how we lived the faith here, at El Qaem school? Later, I questioned my comrades, who made fun of me. – A revolutionary needs to

Sleep to recover his strength! I backed away from this unbelieving response . From then on, my suspicion of our leaders continued to grow. We didn’t have time to get bored. Classes started at 8 a.m. and ended at noon. Five subjects followed one another. The first lesson was devoted

To the study of the Koran. The second dealt with Islamic jurisprudence, El Fiqh, which brings together the reference works of great religious scholars. In the second year, this course consisted of studying the thought of Jaafar El Sadek, the sixth descending imam

Of Ali and Fatma, grouped into six volumes constituting the synthesis of the Shiite position in numerous areas. The study of the Arabic language came in third place. The fourth course was devoted to the analysis of the Book of Beliefs by Hédi El Moudarissi. In the second year,

We studied The History of Islam written by his brother Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi. The fifth and final lesson consisted of a debate on general culture, each time led by a new sheikh who came to present a current subject. Under the pretext of objectivity, most currents of

Shiite thought appeared in this program: those defended by the eminent members of the network of course , that of Imam Khomeini, grand master of the Iranian revolution, and that of Imam Al-Khoei, supporter of pacifist apolitical Shiism. Each student had to choose their spiritual guide

From three big names: Mohammad Al-Husayni Al-Shirazi, visible head of the El Rissali network, responsible for the social aspect, El Imam Khomeini and El Imam Al-Khoei. This pluralism made it possible to flatter the sensitivity of each student by pushing them to defend this or that opinion leader.

At the end of his apprenticeship, he would join the circle corresponding to his favorite party and infiltrate it on behalf of the network. Before lunch, the students celebrated the second and third prayers of the day. At 2 p.m., the program continued with

Various sporting and cultural activities. We had the choice between team sport, the library or theatrical art, very useful for developing the talents of propagandist and orator. The day ended with the fourth and fifth prayers. Student life was governed by around ten committees. The most important,

El Tekthir, managed the video cassettes relating to the key speeches of the network’s thinkers, small masterpieces of propagandistic skill. Located on the second floor of the school, this committee had thousands of hours of video tapes and very sophisticated equipment. The library committee

Managed a host of religious and political works, including a section of secret documents on the activity of the network to which only a few elected officials had access. Authorization was required for each work requested. There were also various other committees:

Cleaning and maintenance of the school, the occupation of prayers and the maintenance of the mosque (El Mesjid), art, cooking, gardening, sport. Finally, security. In turn, each student had to devote an hour and a half daily to monitoring the establishment. This cell permanently had sixteen armed individuals patrolling

The perimeter day and night. For my part, I continued my practices as a good Muslim. Early in the morning, I got up and went straight to the prayer room. Kneeling towards Mecca, I gave back to the Lord his due share, while most

Of my companions profited handsomely from their last hours of sleep. On the way back, I passed the troop of guards who, rifle in hand, were finishing their patrol. They addressed a few words to me, sometimes friendly, sometimes grating: – So, Falahi, was the prayer good?

I returned to the dormitory to read the works of great religious scholars. It was around 7 a.m. that my comrades woke up. Some muttered, shuffled their feet, expressing their lack of enthusiasm for the morning program. They didn’t like

Taking classes . What they were waiting for was to go and fight the enemy. Killing, that’s the tasty program they wanted to follow! An hour later, the first class started. The master taught the students how to read and interpret the Quran. Little by little, the

Sacred text was scrutinized by Islamist ideology. This was done gently, tactfully, meticulously. The master flattered everyone’s sensitivity and awakened their warlike instincts. At the end of the discussions, everyone saw themselves honored, invested with an exhilarating mission: they became lords in the noble circle of heroes of history in progress. They were princes

Under the authority of the master, who knew how to step aside at the right moment to let collective pride spring forth . Because the idea that we belonged to a sacred caste was also widely developed in order to cement the group. Thus, individual hatred found its place in the

Community spirit. By the end of the morning, the students were in a state of almost hysterical excitement. We couldn’t hold them any longer. I myself was overcome by the fundamentalist contagion, a real drug. I let myself be caught in the trap of blood-colored religious fervor.

In the afternoon, most of the students played football. As much as a release of steam, it was a question of challenging oneself, of tickling one’s nerves in anticipation of the next battles against the Western enemy. I rarely participated in these games, preferring

To go to the school library, where I quickly got my entries. At first, the masters looked at me with a complacent eye, but by the end of my stay, they followed my every movement: any soldier who approached the sensitive heart of the underground activities of the

Network was subject to close surveillance. In the evening, I fell asleep, stunned by revolutionary slogans and indoctrination. Awareness came step by step. My doubts vanished and returned. I was experiencing a terrible inner conflict, little by little discovering the demons hiding behind the personalities and organs of the network. I

Remained inert, unable to renounce my faith in the revolution, because for me it would have been the end of my dream of a rediscovered humanity. Torn from my naivety, I inevitably sank into a nightmare where every word spoken by my masters became threatening, letting me glimpse

The pestilence of the wildest of ambitions: the search for power on a planetary scale. On the other hand, it was almost magical. I had a salary, I enjoyed a pleasant living environment in a comfortable place, bordered by splendid trees in the shade of which I

Could take shelter and meditate. My teachers, with their scientific rigor, allowed me to glimpse the resolutely heroic lines of an exceptional life. Sometimes I even imagined taking advantage of it for my personal benefit by playing on the weaknesses of my superiors. I had a

Goal, a story that was shaping itself day by day, worthy of later inclusion in the guestbook of mythical religious leaders. I was in the wake of Allah. I was respected, feared – or so I believed. This flattered me, reassured me, placed

My future under very favorable auspices. However, when I forced myself to objectively criticize the teaching provided by the school and when I thought of the bloodthirsty acts of the Rissalist leaders, even if I refused to really believe in them, at those moments, I was

Overcome with disgust. I loved the privileges, but my conscience felt an indescribable shame. I then felt lost, helpless, as I did before when, as a child deprived of memory, I could not communicate with the outside world. I was caught in the spiral of terrorism. For me,

The path to rebirth was still very far away. Death lurked in my wake. Pages and pages of hesitant comments would undoubtedly be insufficient to explain the dilemma in which I saw myself trapped, as the emotional and the religious,

History and education, utopia and reality were mixed within me . This truth that I was looking for, where was it to be found? And then, there is a dimension that often escapes us, because those who have known it do not express it except half-heartedly,

Or they die from it. I want to talk about the beauty of the devil. The leaders of El Rissali, Mohammad Al-Husayni Al-Shirazi or Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi, to name only these two names, were characters of fire, blood and light. They brought together brutality,

Savagery, but also the mystery of faith, the brilliance of the diamond. From the height of their stature as great religious scholars, they reconciled the magnificence of speech and the harmfulness of thoughts. Their words annihilated us. They called for no response, so everyone ended up finding the crimes they mentioned acceptable. From this arose

The terrible power of attraction that they exercised over us, while in reality they were incurable lunatics, bloodthirsty psychopaths with whom it was impossible to treat. We can never emphasize this point enough: religion, once misguided, can transform the fear of the unknown into a fountain of artificial pleasures in which

Those who doubt existence allow themselves to be drowned. If the Rissalists manipulated through politics and religion, they also practiced occult sciences. I attended a magic class designed to ward off the evil eye of parcel bombs intended for enemies of the network. Likewise,

When a soldier was preparing to plant a bomb, his master had to provide him with gris-gris, pronounce long imprecations, and brush his body with a special oil which was to make him invincible! I even heard that remote bewitchment

Experiments were being conducted … For the network, anything was a good idea to lead others into supernatural madness. This is to explain the sometimes strange climate that reigned at school. Everything was monitored in a thousand ways. We could not leave the premises of the establishment

Without authorization. Solo outings were an exception. The students were subjected to the severe chaperoning of a guide who took his task very seriously, as strict regulations required. Excursions were generally carried out in groups of around twenty students, to visit religious or state sites, such as the National Assembly. On the other hand,

We had free access to official buildings upon simple presentation of our student card, which demonstrated the good relations between the network and the Iranian government, at least during the years 1984-1985. We were sometimes introduced to eminent people. It was at the Assembly, which he then chaired, that I met Hachemi Rafsanjani,

Who was accused by the German courts of having ordered the assassination of Kurdish opponents. I had the opportunity quite often to practice the streets of Tehran. Each time, the profusion of foodstuffs and other goods in the markets surprised me. The Iranians

Lacked nothing even if the country found itself excluded from world trade under pressure from the international community! This was all the more striking given that the purchasing power of the inhabitants was practically zero. Certainly, a parallel economy based on barter had been set up

, but Iran also benefited from the support of friendly states, such as Syria. Second notable fact : the participation of women in all sectors of activity, whether administration, commerce, political bodies. In this regard, the government in place had for a time

Improved the condition of women compared to other Muslim countries. Another particularity was that the population of Tehran included Christian and Jewish communities which seemed not to be subject to any persecution. I met a young Christian woman in a bookstore. She invited me to share tea to continue the conversation, and she

Did not hesitate to vilify Khomeini’s power, without considering fleeing the country. For fear of hurting her, I told her nothing about my belonging to Shiism and the El Qaem school. I perfectly assimilated the lessons of my masters in the field of espionage,

Simulacrum and counterfeiting. I was learning to be a true chameleon, capable of building a new personality in a flash. It must be said that I had very early on this psychological faculty that certain beings have to blend instinctively into the environment. At school,

From the first days, I chose to mix with Saudi students, the majority group. I dressed like them in a white djellaba, I wore a beard, I imitated their language mannerisms, their customs, their mannerisms. War mimicry, feline strategy: each situation has its own parade. Rebellion

However, I was not fooled by the perverse effects that my masters’ speeches could trigger on my mind. The tireless discussions, the frenetic debates between students, the propaganda films praising revolutionary globalization replayed and commented on a hundred times, the apocalyptic prophecies, the calls for hatred

And revenge, the religious justifications, the plundering of the word of God , the false prayers, the pretension, the desire for domination, all this sulfurous atmosphere urged me to remain in my reserve. My inner revolt, which I painfully repressed, made me taciturn and irritable. As the days passed, I took refuge in a silence

That noisy mood swings broke at the most unexpected moments. The personal mentor assigned to each of us was unlikely to get along with me. There were ten of them who took turns in this role the first year. I wore them out

In turn by my refusal to fit into the mold. The Rissalist teaching method consisted of adapting to the psychological profile of the student, the aim being to stimulate his awareness rather than imposing anything on him by force: an individual who convinces

Himself reveals a mind far superior to that whose will has been forced or violated. According to the members of the network, everything had to come from within… An ambiguous principle, since at the same time, under the guise of religious education, we replayed

The incantatory speeches from the audio and video cassettes made available to us. If I had succumbed from the start to the teachings of my masters, perhaps I would have been placed in the category of bombers. My resistance to the rules and the string

Of teachers that it exhausted pushed the Rissalists, on the contrary, to entrust me with a task more in line with my inflexible character: organization. Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi, the head of the school, was however upset by my outrageous attitude, which he described as

“lack of taste”. I then understood that his exasperation was all the greater because, having planned to send me abroad to carry out a very particular mission, he was beginning to doubt the real abilities of his emulator. Could he really trust

Such a brat? He verbally reprimanded me several times, to no avail. But he ended up finding the rare gem that would put the rebel that I was back on the right path. My new manager was named Abou Moustapha. Of Saudi origin,

Wearing traditional clothing, in his forties, round, with soft brown hair, dark skin, his presence had the effect of an ocean of calm. Even the hurtful words couldn’t take away his smile. When he spoke, his head remained still,

Only his mouth moved slightly. His voice was so soft that you had to strain your ears to hear it. On the other hand, when he addressed an important assembly, he could raise his voice like a tribune. A fine psychologist, he spoke with tact and gentleness.

He managed to calm my protesting impulses. Unlike the other teachers, he tended to show confidence in me, and he gradually revealed to me the medium-term objectives of the network’s policy in North Africa. But before getting to the point, he took a circuitous route. – I have been observing you for several

Weeks, young man, but I don’t know how to judge you, he said to me one day. I’m blushing. Previously, Abou Moustapha had been rather flattering towards me. Was he now trying to offend me? “However, I am a simple boy,” I retorted, not without irony. – Let’s say, an intelligent boy.

That said, you don’t like to indulge. Am I wrong ? Obviously, he wanted to place the conversation on a purely friendly level, as if a new stage had just been reached in our relations. “It’s the first time you’ve spoken to me

That way,” I replied in a harsh tone. – It surprises you ? – I am not used. – There is a beginning for everything. Learning is a long journey, sometimes experienced as an ordeal by some. When harvest time comes,

The horizon suddenly brightens. But that can only come from you. Without your good will, I can do nothing for you. To approach God, you must first understand yourself. Descend inside his mind, and ascend to heaven. This man almost took the words out of my mouth,

As what he said corresponded exactly to my philosophy. Was he reading my thoughts? – Yes, I said, I too believe that God is first and foremost deep within us. But I doubt that this idea will please everyone. – Think again. We have a lot to share

This intuition. SO ? If you think God is hiding in the depths of your mind, why not open yourself up more boldly? – You know, usually, we are advised to hold our tongues. I have heard this from mouths as honorable as yours. – It takes everything to make a world,

Replied Abou Moustapha, imperturbable. – Yes, provided you do not cross the boundaries of morality. – Excellent ! exclaimed the master. You see that you know how to let your heart speak! – It was not my heart that just spoke,

But the voice of my reason, I retorted finely – Reason is only a facade, my boy. Isn’t all reasoning motivated by a larger dimension which is curiously similar to that of the heart? – I suppose so. – I would like to approach your thoughts. Speak, go ahead,

Speak with your insides! From what is dear to you, from your fears, from your joys, awaken the God who sleeps in you. Here, tell me about your projects! And in return, I will entrust mine to you. – Well… I would be

Happy to be able to serve my people. – Oh! Maghreb ! Illustrious land! Land of the future! It’s now up to me to tell you something: the network plans to help the people of North Africa, particularly Tunisia. – How ? I asked, immediately interested. – By helping them get rid

Of the tyranny of the powers in place. – Tyranny ! That’s a bit of a strong word, isn’t it? – Young man, the Maghreb States are pursuing a policy that is outrageous for their people. Their leaders discredit Muslim reality. Justice in these countries does not exist, because

Westerners manipulate governments with the sole aim of stripping the region of its wealth. Under the pretext of economic cooperation, Westerners in reality practice disguised slavery. – Really ? Abou Moustapha continued his refrain. – What we want to undertake in the Maghreb

Only responds to the deep aspirations of the Maghreb. Out of a spirit of solidarity, the network decided to support them, at the risk of losing people. One day or another, you will return to your country to realize your dream… I listened to him, half incredulous.

For me, faith then had nothing to do with economics. The interventionism of Western countries did not prohibit Muslims from praying or seeking the word of God. Furthermore, Europe held knowledge in many areas that could be used to build future Muslim societies and to apply an open

And generous Islam, as Mohamed taught it. Resistant to the indoctrination of my masters, I looked elsewhere for a real dialogue in order to deepen my knowledge thanks to the experience of others. With this in mind, I preferably hung out with the

Most undisciplined students. One of my comrades, an Iraqi, gave me information about the secret activities of the network which confirmed the suspicions I had. Thanks to him, I also learned what certain code names were hiding. We both loved acting. We participated in the staging of plays written by

Muslim playwrights and inspired for the most part by the life of Mohamed or heroes of the history of Shiism, for example El Afghani, a Rissalist spy who raged at the end of the 19th century. century. Helped by an attentive teacher, we gave several performances which were a great success.

Of course, we guessed that the theater teacher was transmitting his reports to Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi. Through this activity, the network detected future religious speakers. The stage performance prepared us to overcome our shyness. In addition to instilling in us a certain ideology through cultural entertainment, we approached the art of mystical pleading,

The mastery of the word. Thus, a vocation could be born, and a devious mind could find a new reason to be interested in the Islamist revolution. It is perhaps difficult for a European to understand the reasons which led me to Islamism. As I have already mentioned,

The spiritual dimension in which a Muslim is immersed from birth partly explains certain unfortunate excesses. The believer is a fragile being, because to live in the spirit of Allah, he must aspire to perfection. In addition, he often lives in poverty. Thirst

For the absolute and poverty are two very sensitive cords. Therein lies the power of the El Rissali network and of the Islamist international in general. Anyone who gets in their way is easily caught. What I discovered about the network’s activities was appalling.

No government had yet truly measured the extent of this evil. To deal with it, there was no miracle solution, other than to create as quickly as possible a pacifist movement of equivalent scale bringing together democratic states from both hemispheres, whether Muslims, Jews, Christians, Buddhists, atheists. , if they just wanted to see their

Children grow up away from bombs and murder. The months passed like a slow agony, shared between the search for truth, disillusionment and anguish. How could I escape the trap that was closing in on me more and more every day? Sometimes I felt like a colony

Of rats was gnawing at my stomach. Fear twisted my guts, exerted its blind torture in the depths of my soul. She would never leave me again. I feared for my own mental health. I decided that the solution lay within myself: since I was learning the art of appearance, false compromises, lies, political intrigues,

In short all the baseness and tricks that transform a man into a war machine, I might as well let this be of some use! My only recourse was to sharpen my faculties of observation and investigation to try to understand from the inside the monstrous organism into

Whose bowels I had wandered. Access to the archives By becoming a regular in the section of the El Qaem library reserved for El Rissali activities, I realized that the network intervened in most cases indirectly, using a vast labyrinth to do so. associations, moles, financial relays

And relationships with other small groups. So, did the infamous GIA of Algeria know the nature of the links he had established with various Islamist networks including El Rissali? “Come on, friends, slit the throats of your children and your mothers! Do not be shy ! Soon it will be

Your turn!” Imam Khomeini himself was the object of their Machiavellian manipulations, just like the young people from the suburbs to whom we come to offer the keys to Allah’s paradise. Who were the leaders of this sprawling network? Unfortunately, I could

Only know the names of those who acted in the realm of the ostensible. Indeed, the organization was structured in such a way that it was practically impossible to reach the top of the hierarchy. It was during numerous discussions with my school friends and my

Religious teachers, by cross-checking and comparing each person’s statements, that I was able to piece together the puzzle. Most importantly, I discovered it by reading the top-secret documents in the school library, but moreover, luck took me by the hand in an almost marvelous way.

In any case, too beautiful to be honest. One day when my group was out in the religious city of Qom to visit the mausoleum of the sister of Imam El Ridha, a sparingly dressed man called out to me. – Young man, do you want me

To show you a wonder? Conditioned by several months of brainwashing and revolutionary training, I remained on the defensive. Suspicious in the extreme, such was now my temperament. How was it that this individual approached me when my comrades had just passed the same place two minutes

Before? Wasn’t it a trap? – Wonderful ? I asked, my face imperturbable. – It’s a surprise, young man. – I don’t like surprises. – You will like this one, trust me. – And why ? – Because I see on

Your face that you are one of Allah’s chosen ones. This type of expression is very common in an attempt to gain trust. However, I felt flattered despite myself. “I don’t know what you mean,” I replied. – Listen, young man, you had to follow me. Your future depends on it,

The stranger insisted in a very gentle voice. Finally, I agreed to let myself be guided. We arrived in front of a humble building. – This is my house, said the man. Come in. Once across the threshold, he took me down into a sort of dry well.

– Where are you taking me? – This well provides access to old cellars. Come, have no fear. A garland of bulbs attached to the wall illuminated our steps with a frail light. We crossed several narrow corridors to arrive in a large vaulted gallery. – What is it about ? I asked, stunned

At the sight of the rows of books there. – It is a very old Shiite library. There you will find manuscripts dating back several centuries, some even coming from the time of the caliphs. – I can not believe it !

– Oh, but it’s not the only place like this in Iran! Know, young man, that the soil of our country contains hiding places where the archives of the greatest religious scholars of our history and numerous documents relating to

Shiite politics are piled up. Now, I leave you, know how to take advantage of what you are about to discover. Come back and see me whenever you like. For the trouble, you will give me what you can.

Fascinated, I didn’t know where to start. I stayed in this place full of mysteries the entire afternoon , reading with a ferocious appetite. If I believed the authors of some of these documents, the El Rissali network emanated from a very ancient religious order whose sacred texts

Advocated the use of force for centuries to come. Some claimed that it dates back to the time of Mohammed. Some of these manuscripts indeed seemed to belong to a very distant past, suggesting that generations of scribes had spent their lives transcribing

These parchments over the centuries. I returned to this place several times during my stay in El Qaem, without stopping asking questions. How could such a wealth of knowledge have survived the ages? Were these real incunabula? Was I not the object of a mystification intended to prove the legitimacy

Of the network with strong minds like mine? Today, regarding this last question, I no longer have any doubt. The passage through the centuries of the El Rissali network Here is how the Rissali present their origins. This is a story to be read with great caution, but it is instructive as to their mentality.

During the disappearance in 878 of the twelfth infallible imam, the famous hidden imam El Mehdi, the first supporters of the El Rissali network, “the messenger”, claimed that he, despite his temporary withdrawal from public life, continued to address prophetic messages to believers.

Through them, he would soon designate his successor, the only religious scholar capable of building the future of the Muslim world. Pursued by their detractors, the members of the network, very weakened, decided to also withdraw from the political scene to escape torture

And prepare in the shadows the revival of the Shiite religion in the light of the texts resulting from the word of ‘El Mehdi. The disappearance of the latter therefore marked the beginning of their clandestinity. At that time, the first task Rissalist scholars undertook was to preserve and

Protect for centuries to come the writings on which the network’s strategy was based. These texts had two parts, one is intended for the mass of believers, the other intended for the elite, which had to be kept secret. Religious schools were opened,

Reserved for their descendants. The members of the network retreated to these elite schools, consolidating their organization. Before being admitted, each applicant was subjected to draconian tests, and an investigation into his past and his family was carried out. Religious training consisted of seven stages, the details of which are as follows:

The first takes place over several years, during which the student learns under the authority of a moujtéhid – an “assisted” or exegete – the basics of Islam and Fiqh , the jurisprudence which brings together the exegeses of Shiite scholars. The second raises the student to the

Rank of religious scholar, but he remains under the tutelage of a master who teaches him the subtleties of jurisprudence. During the third stage, the student acquires the degree of Houjatou El Islam. From there, it is possible for him to

Partially detach himself from his master. He then wrote his own case law. As a result, he reaches the level of ihtiate, “cautious”. During the fourth stage, he defended his thesis Rissala El Amalia on jurisprudential practices before the greatest Shiite scholars, who granted him the title of exegete authorizing him to express his

Personal opinion independently of a master. The fifth elevated him to the rank of Ayatollah, giving him the right to direct his own religious school and to send his disciples throughout the world to propagate his jurisprudence. The students owe him alms (el zakat).

The sixth corresponds to the rank of Grand Ayatollah El Ouadhama, “sign of the great God”, the highest degree of knowledge. Few religious people can claim it. Finally, the seventh, called Wilayat Al-faqih, crowns the supreme religious scholar. This degree,

However, remains theoretical to say the least. According to some, only Imam El Mehdi holds it. In practice, no cleric has ever dared to claim it, apart from Imam Khomeini during his revolution against the shah of Iran. This is how Shiite Rissalist thought was able to cross the ages. The rise of modern terrorism

Around 1860, the appearance of Djamel Eddin El Afghani on the political-religious scene marked the entry of the network into the political domain, the source of terrorism. This Afghan born in 1839, whose real name is Djamel Eddin Assad Abadi, was one of the

First to participate in the infiltration of the Sunni body. Converted to Shiite doctrine, he received religious training in Iran and entered the ranks of the network. He entered Afghanistan among the Sunnis in order to understand their logic and their mode of operation. Then

He went to the famous El Azhar religious school in Egypt. To propagate the political ideas of Shiism within this establishment . This served as a test for the development of a science of infiltration from which future agents would benefit. He initiated Mohamed Abdou (1849-1905), one

Of the first Sunni politicians to teach at El Azhar and the founding father of Muslim reformism El Nahdha, “the renaissance”. A precursor of the secret war, El Afghani planned in 1867 to establish an Islamist movement in Egypt and push it to take power. From there,

He would unify the Arab world and expel Western settlers from the land of Islam. This did not prevent this spy working throughout the Arab-Islamic world in the service of the network from maintaining excellent relations with European colonists, especially the British to

Whom he provided all kinds of information on the opposition parties – communists, nationalists, Shiites – not belonging to the network. In the 1920s, after the fall of the Ottoman Empire and the division of the Arab-Islamic world between the British and the French, the leaders

Of El Rissali took the full measure of Western power. This led to a hardening of the movement and the questioning of its political strategy. Faced with the gigantic Sunni body and Western domination, the frontal attack proved ineffective. Infiltration, manipulation, destabilization, in short everything relating to secret warfare,

Became the weapons of choice. The leaders isolated themselves further in their ivory tower, establishing an ultra-locked system of communication that was both horizontal and vertical. At the same time, they formed a secret apparatus intended on the one hand to carry out terrorist actions

Against Western interests and on the other hand to create Islamist movements within the Sunni community. They also developed the double agent technique, taquiya. When Egypt gained independence in 1936, the Muslim Brotherhood movement created in 1928 by Hassan al-Banna precipitated the departure of the British. This religious brotherhood had

Come into existence thanks to the influence of El Afghani, but the lack of experience of its leaders in political matters prevented them from accessing power. This failure forced them to reorganize. They developed a specific economic and social system, different from capitalism and

Socialism. At the same time, they preached a complete return to Islamic tradition. Little by little, they sank into fanaticism, endangering the Rissalist plans. The network, however, managed to regain control of the movement through Saïd Quotb, leader of the Muslim Brotherhood and sympathizer of the network. He even granted them significant financial aid

. The more the political-religious ideas of the Muslim Brotherhood spread throughout the Islamic world, the stronger El Rissali’s presence grew. After the death sentence on Saïd Quotb by the Egyptian authorities, the network nevertheless continued to exercise its hegemony over the Muslim Brotherhood until the 1950s, when they were exterminated by Nasser.

This relative defeat pushed the Rissalists to intensify the infiltration of the Sunni body into Egypt. Choosing a new strategic position, they maneuvered to develop, under the control of their agents, Islamist movements preserving the local religion. In this way, they strengthened their positions in the main Egyptian cities,

From which they could then establish annexes in neighboring countries. I heard from my Iraqi friend of the underground Rissalist activity in North Africa in the 1960s, particularly in Algeria. True or false ? The answer is secondary as long as the followers

Of the movement take this as truth. This student told me that the El Rissali network had actively participated in the independence of Algeria. Long before the liberation, he sent soldiers to Algerian military camps. Mustapha Bou Yaali, a resistance fighter who fought

The National Liberation Front in order to impose the creation of an Islamist state after independence, was according to him a member of the network. According to this Iraqi again, the Rissalists, faithful to their policy of all-out infiltration, maintained excellent relations with Ben

Bella and certain FLN resistance fighters. Through the leader of the Algerian insurrection and his armed movement, the network hoped to accelerate the Islamization of the country initiated by Bou Yaali. Ben Bella came to power in 1963. The understanding between the new president and the Rissalists was well underway,

But in 1965 Boumediene’s coup d’état caused the network’s projects to fail. A staunch anti-Islamist , Boumediene established a totalitarian socialist regime in order to stifle any political-religious desire among the population. He assigned key positions in the army to

Amazigh Kabyles known for their opposition to the Arabization of the country and their hatred of Islamists. However, a secret agreement was concluded between the Rissalists and Boumediene, a reciprocal non-aggression pact also accepted by the governments of Nasser in Egypt, Gaddafi in Libya and El Assad in Syria: the network undertook to withdraw

From these countries that he used as support and transit. In return, the governments concerned had to support Islamist movements, take Rissalist soldiers into their own military camps and turn a blind eye to their proselytism. These comments seemed far-fetched to me. However, in 1985, an Algerian, with a doctorate in economics, visiting

The El Qaem school to train as an elite soldier, made me change my mind. – My country needs warriors more than scientists, he told me. The network must help with the creation of military camps there and not with the opening of religious schools. Let’s leave

That to the people of the Gulf, who prefer the rest of jihad to the handling of weapons! At these words, I had to admit that the links between the network and Algeria were old and solid. A year later, while I was in Syria, I met this Algerian again.

– What are you doing here ? I asked him. – The network must provide me with false passports intended for compatriots who are going to participate in military training in Algeria. Due to a technical incident, I was unable to bring them back to the country on my own,

So I was forced to refer the matter to Bou Yaali. – “Bou Yaali”? I repeated, trying to place this name in my memory. – What, you don’t know Bou Yaali? He is our leader, one of the greatest Algerian Islamist activists! After independence,

He continued the struggle for the establishment of a religious state. These are the Rissalist executives who train our troops. We also benefit from financial assistance from the network. – I suppose he is hiding? – Yes, he moves constantly. The Algerian government wants him dead. Since independence,

Algeria has always been a battlefield! The infiltration effort aimed above all to erase differences with the Sunni populations who constitute 90% of the Muslim people. The idea of ​​the Rissalists was to work with the communities by pushing them to create their own

Islamist bodies and by supporting the currents of thought closest to Shiism, such as the Koranic or the Sunni Islamist left which advocates the rereading of bloody Muslim history. . Once the Muslim community is unified in the name of a political ideal accepted by all, indoctrination

With Shiite ideas could take place. The offensive in the West After the first Rissalist offensive carried out in the Middle East, the next one was launched towards the West. The analysis of El Rissali’s leaders – which I do not share, I point out – is that the Western world is infiltrated by

Zionist Jews who preside over numerous financial, civil and military institutions. Taking advantage of the naivety of Christians and their ignorance of the Jewish-Islamic conflict, they organized a secret war intended to annihilate the Muslims. The starting postulate of the revolutionary theory of the Rissalists, the one that they develop in front of their troops

And which they adapt according to events, is this: the struggle for world domination opposes two symmetrical entities, each made up of three groups ideological: 1. The pro-Arab Shiites (El Rissali), the rest of the Shiites, the Sunnis; 2. Zionist Jews, the rest of the Jews, the Christians.

Within these two entities, the play of influences is comparable. Thus, according to them, Christians are manipulated by Jews, who are themselves subject to the influence of Zionists, just as Sunnis are manipulated by Shiites, themselves subject to the influence

Of El Rissali , the hard branch of the Shiite movement which actively prepares the ground for the famous Mahdi through all kinds of underground actions. The Rissalists and the Zionists are therefore sworn enemies. Each Zionist offensive is subject to a response of equal

Or greater scale. For example, when the State of Israel emerged at the end of World War II, El Rissali decided to respond by creating an Islamist government. This came to fruition years later in Iran. When the Zionists obtained their territorial base, the Rissalist Shiites decided to obtain the equivalent,

Always indirectly to avoid being condemned by the international community. At least that’s what their leaders claim . The Rissalists therefore sent spies to Europe responsible for drawing up detailed reports on Zionist activities, meticulous and long-term work but which was not to frighten the network,

Which reasons in the very long term in the light of El’s predictions. Mehdi. El Rissali leaders admit to having been in contact with the Nazis. I saw documents detailing their relations with the Nazis through the network and the support they gave

To Hitler, promoting his rise to power. Likewise, they seem to have supported all anti-Semitic organizations in France, Italy and Spain, and indirectly helped the far-right and neo-Nazi parties which are rampant on the European continent. This policy was clear: eliminate the Jewish presence in Europe, then strengthen the presence of

Popular Muslim communities and maintain their cohesion by preventing or delaying their integration to make it an intervention force, and at the same time encourage an elite to integrate. and to occupy key positions, all this to prepare for the conquest of Europe in due time. Wilayat Al-faqih The efforts of the Rissalists also focused

On the creation of their own state, led by them indirectly, their rule being not to appear openly. They set their sights on Iran, whose supreme leader, the shah, was beginning to show signs of weakness at the end of the 1970s, while the aura of the imam

Khomeini continued to grow. At this period, the Rissalists had already infiltrated various Iranian Shiite currents, and their influence on the people was not negligible. Khomeini’s supporters could not avoid dealing with them. In fact, in 1961, when this religious leader launched his first calls for a popular uprising, the Rissalists

Quickly orchestrated political support allowing him to establish his authority over the people. Relying on Khomeini’s popularity, the Rissalist agents worked on behalf of the network: their superiors wanted to put Khomeini in power by devoting him in the more or less

Short term to a role of puppet. Negotiations between the Rissalists and the leaders of Khomeini’s party began while Khomeini was exiled in France. An agreement was reached, namely the establishment in Iran of a resolutely Shiite Islamist state. That said, points of divergence remained. The pro-Khomeini based themselves on a

Pacifist revolution – the future Iranian leader called for a popular uprising starting from women and children “with roses in their hands”, while the Rissalists advocated the use of armed force. Khomeini actually found himself at an impasse. Al Mahdi, “the Savior,”

Had not yet shown himself. Who could take his place while waiting? What message other than religious can we rely on to carry out the revolution? He had no other solution than to grant himself the highest spiritual degree, Wilayat Al-Faqih, not by replacing El Mahdi,

But by presenting himself as his representative among the believers. This approach, simplistic at first glance, is much less so when we look more closely: this title placed him de facto above all other religious people, forcing his rivals to submit to his authority. Nevertheless,

They remained free in the exercise of their faith. The plurality of doctrines being preserved, he brought together all the religious currents of the country and their supporters around two clear ideas: oust the shah, this traitor at the behest of Westerners, and give power

To religious scholars, the only possible salvation for Shiites and all Muslims. The fact of entrusting, pending the advent of El Mehdi, the absolute power normally reserved for an infallible imam to a parliament made up of religious scholars, is called Wilayat al-Faqih

Or Choura el foukah. This idea of ​​parliamentary power dates back to the disappearance of the twelfth infallible imam. Indeed, Shiites are prohibited from leading a war or a policy without it being directed by such an imam, elected by Allah himself. As long as the last imam remains

Hidden, no Faqih can take his place. This is why the Shiites have remained passive since his disappearance. The idea of ​​Wilayat al-Faqih reappeared at the fall of the Ottoman Empire, when Shiite clerics sought an expedient to exercise political power in the absence of an infallible imam. Some, including Mohammad Sadek al-Sadr and Khomeini,

Brought out the idea of ​​Wilayat al-Faqih, and the Shiite political branch split into two groups: one for Wilayat al-Faqih, the other for unofficial activities. When the revolution had overthrown the shah, the network presented itself under the name El

Rissali Alshirazi, named after its mastermind. Until then, only the second segment of the name had been highlighted. Its leaders continued their warlike actions, so that most of the bloody actions sponsored in the 1980s were attributed to Imam Khomeini,

Who publicly took responsibility for some of them. If, through an unforgivable mistake, he did nothing to stem the murderous wave which sowed panic in the West, he must be held complicit rather than responsible. The story is more complex than simple minds want to believe.

His supporters found themselves trapped. By attacking the Rissalists, they risked bringing about the fall of their supreme leader. The future leader of Iran ends up learning the real intentions of the Rissalists. Had he placed a spy within the network? Had one of their agents

Betrayed? He kept his discovery secret and tried to gradually push aside the Rissalist elements from his entourage. But he had underestimated their power, and he had to negotiate the power sharing. El Rissali’s agents took over key sectors of the country: military barracks, television, radio, the press, banks, the Ministry of

Foreign Affairs and therefore the embassies abroad, which would soon be used basis for the development of their murderous war. Thanks to the success of the Iranian revolution, the network won its first major victory and consolidated its positions throughout the world. He only established Imam

Khomeini as a mythical hero to accelerate the unification of the Muslim community, with the aim of ultimately taking power. Equipped with extraordinary media, military and human resources, the Rissalists had succeeded in implanting their ideas in an important era: the Middle East, Russia, Egypt, North Africa, Black Africa, Europe, the United States. At the

Request of the network, most of the major Sunni religious scholars rallied to the cause of the Iranian revolution. The locking of minds was reaching new heights. With the Islamist clamor growing since the beginning of the 1980s, Westerners were finally becoming aware

Of the danger, although ignoring the identity of the protagonists of this international rebellion. From inside the network, I was able to observe the actions and deep motivations of its leaders. Intoxicated by success, the latter, mocking the rules of international law, spread blood and terror through other

Movements such as Hezbollah. Horrible attacks like the suicide truck which killed 241 marines and 58 French soldiers in Beirut in 1983 can be attributed to them, as well as hostage-takings like those of Marcel Carton, Marcel Fontaine, Jean-Paul Kaufmann, Michel Seurat. They financed drug networks aimed at the West with the aim of

Weakening it. They formed the elite army Haras El Thaoura, “the guards of the revolution”, leading people to believe that it belonged to Khomeini’s supporters when it was led by one of their own, Mohamed Muntadhiri, supported by Hédi El Moudarissi, right arm of the network. Officially responsible

For protecting the interests of the Iranian revolution, it was in fact ready to intervene abroad in the event of serious conflict. The history of the El Rissali network is symptomatic of the deep troubles that have shaken the world since the beginning of the century,

Namely the gap of incomprehension that has widened between the North and the South, the consequence of a decolonization born in pain. , and the stagnation of the conflict between Jews and Muslims. The strength of this network in perpetual movement lies in the diversity of the individuals

Who compose it: religious people, intellectuals, bankers, soldiers, politicians, warriors, suicide bombers, and a large mass of frustrated believers who are easy to manipulate. Beyond that, it lies in its organization, all the more alarming as it seems more difficult to attack. The apparent leaders of El Rissali are religious scholars or self-styled,

Powerful potentates whom I have met and can speak to. But his greatest manipulators remain strangers, men with whom I have been able to speak, whom I have been able to admire at certain times and hate at others without knowing their occult power. The network’s organization chart Before going into the details

Of El Rissali’s organization chart as it appears, we must recall the way in which this terrorist group views the world. This will help to better explain its structure. Rissalists perceive religion beyond common sense deriving from a traditionalist analysis

Of the Koran and Hadith. They place the human body at the top of the scale of values. For them, man is a perfect machine, equipped with qualities borrowed from both the animal and plant worlds, but without equivalent in the universe. The spirit of this machine belongs to Allah

Alone. At the end of time, she will join the divine Spirit. Feelings are only the expression of a pretentious conscience, misguided and harmful to its functioning. Given that the Rissalists consider man as a simple means, their techniques of infiltration and

Manipulation take on a different light. This also explains why, in the face of adversity, the network has to protect itself behind numerous screens. As I mentioned, its organization is similar to a human body composed of two symmetrical parts: one visible, the other

Secret. A structure of which only one of my bosses gave me a clue during a private exchange. At the end of my first year of studies, desperately wanting to obtain confirmation of the existence of the secret part of the network, I took the bold step of requesting an interview

With Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi. – Do you have a secret role? I asked him bluntly. – What do you mean, my boy? – I understand that there are leaders whose identity must not be known. – Be wary of what some people say. – Allow me to insist. I am a fighter.

As such, I sacrificed my life for the network. Therefore, I believe I have a right to the truth. – Falahi, I feel affection for you, but I think you are getting the wrong ideas . Good advice: stay in your place, and everything will work out for the best. Learn

Shia doctrine well. A day will come when you will be a great religious scholar. You would be wrong to want to skip steps. Think carefully about what I just told you. I rely on your wisdom. Now leave me. This message seems quite clear to me: the

Secret entity of the network was very real. I had to wait before accessing it, or I would be in serious trouble. This binary structure is a model for simulacrum and locking. Thus, it is necessary to distinguish between the function and the position

Occupied in the hierarchy of the Rissalist network. Indeed, an individual can be assigned a secret task without belonging to the hidden entity. The nuance is significant, because any member is likely to occupy both apparent and secret functions,

It is impossible to know the effective extent of the roles and powers of each: one Rissalist may suspect another of carrying out a mission underground when this is not the case. Doubt constantly reigns, forcing everyone to hold their place and especially their language. This

Permanent ambiguity is a guarantee of security at the human and political levels. What rissalist would dare to confess his misfortunes to a colleague, knowing that he is perhaps the instigator? Because an apparent member can become a hidden leader while retaining his primary activity. In this

Case, his peers do not know of the existence of this “double hat”. When the danger becomes too pressing, he abandons his external (official) functions; this is the strategy of withdrawal or masking. On the other hand, if it is accepted that a Rissalist belonging to the internal

(unofficial) entity reduces his activities within it, he is prohibited from leaving it. Belonging to the secret domain is conceived as a priesthood, a total and definitive sacrifice. This organization is also inspired by a word from Imam Ali, cousin of the Prophet Mohamed,

Who defines the notion of State according to five pillars: social, cultural, political, military and economic. The value of these terms is decreasing: social service corresponds to the head, culture to the left arm (the voice of the heart), politics to the right arm (the voice

Of reason), the military to the right leg and economical on the left leg. This is the apparent hierarchy of the network. Its hidden part observes in principle the same order, although it remains impossible to affirm it, since it is by definition secret. It is in a

Way the soul of the apparent entity, representing the eternal energy to which no one has access. Its dimension is immaterial, as opposed to the visible body that is the apparent network. This organization also joins the theory of the imamate which goes beyond the border between

The visible and the invisible. Finally, it strangely ties in with the myth of El Mehdi, the hidden imam. This operation may seem obscure or even absurd to a Western soul accustomed to Cartesian reasoning. One would even be tempted to think that his description cultivates

A paranoid delusion. But the complexity of the rules which order the network is equal to the excess of the political and religious ambition of the Rissalists. By working with them, by being part of their organization, I was a privileged witness to the abuses of these men

For whom religion is only a pretext and who are experts in the art of secrecy, of dissimulation, of the game of masks. This story is intended as a warning: it is not because we have difficulty conceiving of something or that we do not believe in it that it does not exist.

Secret and compartmentalized network, El Rissali therefore had visible leaders whose portraits are: Mohammad al-Husayni Al-Shirazi, the social aspect Mohammad al-Husayni Al-Shirazi, in charge of the social aspect, was the official head at the time . The passage of information between the two network entities relied on him. He had sole access

To the hidden domain through permanent consultation with his ghost counterpart, responsible like him for the social aspect. He transmitted to him the information that came back to him and circulated among his subordinates in the visible network that which came from the

Superior entity. He was therefore at the heart of the Rissalist octopus. However, he probably only had a fragmentary vision of the secret network’s activities. Besides, was his counterpart from the hidden entity necessarily the leader of the network? Saddam Hussein’s regime said he was of

Iranian origin for obvious reasons of domestic politics, but he came from a family of great Iraqi religious scholars. The members of this family had always opposed the ruling power, preaching the creation of an Islamic empire uniting Muslim countries. In this,

They agreed with Rissalist ideas – and for good reason since they belonged to the network. He belonged to the sixth Shiite degree, that of Grand Ayatollah. This title earned him the admiration and respect of all. It was a religious reference. He lived in Qom where he ran a

Religious school. Over sixty years old at the time, married and father of a family, small in stature, with a round stomach, white hair, he wore a light beard, a sign of the nobility of his blood. Generally dressed in a djellaba or kamis, he wore the black turban or

Amema testifying to his belonging to the family of the prophet. The paradox seemed to constitute the basis of his personality: one day he said white, the next day black. It’s impossible to know what he was really thinking. His gaze seemed to come from nowhere, sometimes warm, sometimes icy.

His language was always carefully considered. He didn’t let out any words that could cause confusion. He never talked about war. His cause was intended to be pacifist, apolitical, dealing only with social issues. In reality, his secret activities consisted of directing through multiple screens four major Islamist movements of which he was the

Founder. When he issued a fatwa, an order to initiate a terrorist action, it was immediately executed without discussion, regardless of its nature, scale and distance. To think that some saw him as an ethereal being, a pacifist, while he was planning one of the largest Islamist terrorist networks in the world!

Al-Shirazi chaired the social organization which constitutes the basic coverage of the network: the Harakat El Jamahire El Muslima, “movement of Muslim populations”, whose headquarters is in Qom but which has branches in London, the United States. United States, Turkey, Tanzania and India. Through this movement with a social vocation, he intervened first and foremost

Within the Shiite community where his thoughts were widely disseminated, encouraging people to unite with the aim of creating an empire of a thousand million Muslims, taking up the arguments used by the Al Tabligh Oua Al Daoua movement, whose supporters claimed to be apolitical

And anti-terrorist. In fact, it brought together missionary-proselytes active in all Islamic countries. Their goal: to harass consciences in such a way as to precipitate a return to traditionalist religious practice. Alshirazi collected the work of these relentless preachers and also controlled it remotely thanks to his agents and his networks. Everything

That could directly or indirectly serve the El Rissali network was recovered and financially supported by underground routes. In this way, thousands of doubting young people were indoctrinated without knowing it. He also waged a secret war against the Sunni community and other religions. The order of priority was: convert

Sunnis to Shiism, then Christians to Shiite Islam, finally excluding Jews from economic and political circuits. The zone of intervention defined by him concerned East Asia, India, Pakistan, the south of the former Soviet Union, black Africa, that is to say non-Arab Muslim communities. Living away from the

International political scene and often ignoring the dangers of Islamism, they were easier to rally around Shiite ideas. During my stay in Iran, I met Al-Shirazi three times. During an excursion to Qom in which I participated in a group of students, the head of the official network received us in his offices.

When my comrades and I were received by him, he sat in the lotus position and placed the tips of his fingers under his chin to show that he was giving us his full attention. As soon as

A sentence was finished, he leaned his forehead forward for a moment as if he were trying to penetrate the deeper meaning of the words. Strangely, while my first impression recommended that I remain reserved, he obtained my sincerity with a disconcerting economy of means. Quickly,

I felt the irresistible desire to surrender myself to him. He had the gift of speaking to both the hearts of men and their unacknowledged desires. From there came his strength. What could be more reassuring for an Islamist network than having a man who has the power to probe the kidneys and hearts?

During the conversation, he addressed me. – Why did you decide to convert to Shiism, young man? – When I was in France, I was convinced that the descendants of Ahl El Beit (the holy family) are the only true representatives of the word of Allah. He nodded compunctionally.

– Very good, young man! This is fundamental. The transmission of the prophetic message is based on the blood bond, which contains the secret of the invisible and circulates it among the descendants. Beware of the impostors that Sunnis sometimes are,

My children. But I would like to take advantage of the presence among you of our brothers from the Maghreb to pay tribute to their people. My thoughts go in particular to the Algerian community which has suffered so much from the torture of Westerners. But the Shiite doctrine is quickly gaining

Ground in Algeria, Tunisia and Libya. I can only invite you to spread it around you! Visit me whenever you like, you will always be welcome. The second interview took place a few months later. A new student with the pseudonym

Ibrahim had just arrived at El Qaem school. He came from Syria where he had studied theology for several years. Of Sunni faith, not yet converted to the Shiite doctrine, he found me erased, without personality, far from his own ideas. He even criticized me for having

Converted to Shiism. Despite this animosity, I sought to gain his friendship, and I invited him to meet Mohammad al-Husayni Al-Shirazi. Arriving at the site, we had to wait, as Al-Shirazi was in conversation with other visitors. I heard that one of them was asking him

For permission to kill Iraqi state security guards. Al-Shirazi dissuaded him, not out of the goodness of his heart but because this act was, according to him, a serious political error, which risked jeopardizing the balance of the network and personally compromising its

Author. He took the opportunity to give these agents a lesson in the art of war. He knew the subject like the back of his hand. When Alshirazi found himself alone, Ibrahim and I were brought in. – What is your visit worth to me,

My children? the monk began. – I wanted to introduce you to Ibrahim, I replied. He comes from Syria. I thought you would be happy to meet one of our Sunni brothers. – You flatter me, young man. And what can I do to please you?

– In your capacity as a venerable master of Shiite doctrine, perhaps you would agree to enlighten Ibrahim with your light? – With joy ! In my opinion, the main thing is to cultivate the variety of doctrines within the Muslim community. This is

All the richness of Islam. After all, the differences between Sunnis and Shiites are slim to none. Everyone can interpret the sacred texts in their own way, the freedom of jurisprudence is the essence of Islam. I was speechless. How could Al-Shirazi

Defend ideas in which he did not believe for a single moment? How could he, a man of faith, a religious man, say the opposite of what he had always preached? – Those who seek to pit Sunnis and Shiites against each other are traitors, he continued. Open your eyes,

My friends: it is the Jews who are plotting in the shadows to divide Muslims, to sow war between our brothers to weaken them. This age-old technique can be very effective if you are not careful. Sunni Muslims represent an enormous mass

Of living force. We must help them as best we can. Our common goal is to unify Muslims to crush the Zionist enemy. Finally, why would you want me to recognize any superiority of the Shiites over the Sunnis, given that they are based on the same texts,

The Koran and the Hadith? I blushed with shame and anger. What humiliation! Ibrahim was over the moon, so happy to hear the undisputed master prove him right! When he left, he obviously thought that the Shiite scholars were great men. During my third and final visit,

This time I was accompanied by an Iraqi student. – With all due respect, I began, I admit to having been shocked by the speech you gave to our brother Ibrahim last month. How should I interpret your words? – Each situation has its context, replied Al-Shirazi, with a smile on his lips.

– It’s a bit hard. – Hard ? Don’t you want to live your faith in complete freedom? – This is my dearest wish. – Well, this freedom comes at a price. Strategy, my dear! Only she can

Save us. You understand well that if I had recognized the superiority of the Shiites in front of Ibrahim, he would have considered me an enemy. Those refractory to our doctrine must in no case be excluded, otherwise they would become our fiercest adversaries. A

Religious scholar has the duty to adapt to each situation. Its mission, I repeat, is to unify the Muslim community. Therefore, he is prohibited from publicly displaying his personal beliefs. It’s war, my child. El harbou khidaa (war is a deception), as the prophet said. I wanted to shout at him that he was wrong,

That Allah would not order the death of all humanity to save a single man! But I bit my tongue. Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi, the political side Next to Al-Shirazi was his right-hand man, responsible for the political side: Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi. In his fifties, with a thick beard, deep-set eyes,

He was Al-Shirazi’s son-in-law. His calm was impressive. In fact, his whole being expressed a sort of unhealthy gravity. It must be believed that the position he held within the network did not allow affectionate outpourings. His charisma was due to the seriousness which

Characterized each of his actions and the quality of his speech. When he spoke, the words flowed gently from his mouth, his sentences were fluid and precise, getting straight to the point. His father had entrusted the religious education of his seven sons to

Al-Shirazi. All of them subsequently became great religious scholars belonging directly or indirectly to the El Rissali network. Right-hand man of the network, Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi reported directly to his father-in-law. Just like the latter, he was a great spiritual reference, and today he became an ayatollah. He chaired the Iraqi Islamic work organization

, Mounathamet El Amel El-islami El lraqia. Behind the social alibi hid the political function, the network’s preferred domain. The term “Iraqi” served to blur the lines, because this organization within which the main lines of political strategy are decided was based at the time in Tehran – today, it is transferred to Iraq

And intervenes on the international. Its action focused on three main areas: the publication of propaganda documents, the collection of information on the situation of States in the world and recruitment. The first newspaper published in its fold, El Aamel El Islami, “Islamic Work” is of very limited distribution. The second, El Shahid, “the Martyr”,

Is on the other hand distributed to the four corners of the planet, notably through Iranian embassies locked by the Rissalists. Their printing house is located in Tehran. The offices of the intelligence service are also located in the Iranian capital, not far from the house

Of Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi. They are equipped with high-performance equipment. Many agents around the world provide the mass of information the network needs. The rissalists have thus constituted an exceptional database. As for recruitment, it took place within various organizations such as the now closed Iranian cultural center in Paris of which he

Was the creator, and it continued in religious schools placed under the control of the organization. Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi was therefore the spiritual master of the El Qaem school. Among the five great leaders of the visible network, he was the one I respected the most. Certainly,

This man was a dangerous Islamist, but who else could I rely on? He generally came on Thursday to hold a conference on a current political theme. It was an opportunity to reform minds. He also came regularly to go through school records. The

Principal and teachers gave him their report. In light of the conclusions contained in these reports, he sometimes interrupted a current study program in order to revise it. He also decided the fate of the disciples: one would be rejected for incapacity, another

Sent on a mission to his country of origin, a third assigned to economic or military training, a last one sent to an apolitical religious school like that of Qom, administered by Al-Shirazi. In the latter case, the student escaped his supervision. He also read the application files of future students. He was extremely picky.

He would sometimes look into a case for several consecutive days. He sometimes even took additional information on the personality of the candidate before making his decision – this is how I understood the missed appointments, the special conditions and the delays which

Had governed my recruitment. He was full of advice and told students to avoid wasting the money the school gave them. He regretted the futility of those from the Gulf whom he considered dilettantes. According to him, this attitude contributed to the backwardness from which

Muslims suffered. But it was necessary to compose well. When asked why he then entrusted them with responsibilities, he replied that “donkeys only allow themselves to be guided by donkeys ”. Our fight had to be followed by everyone, including fools. And then, the wallets

Of these people were far from empty. Hassan al-Saffar, the cultural aspect The cultural aspect was vested in Hassan al-Saffar. Thirty years old, a theology student , thin, with a growing beard, he looked more like a socialite than a religious person. During

Our first meeting, I was surprised by his voice as fine as that of a woman. His duties required him to travel extensively abroad. Due to his Saudi origin, he was responsible, among other things, for infiltrating the Sunni body into the popular social strata. He

Had neither the charisma nor the persuasiveness of Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi, and his religious works were of a mediocre level. But, once again, nothing here was free, and it was after careful calculations that the Rissalist leaders had chosen him as a recruiter among humble and weak-minded people. However, it was rumored that

Most members of the network didn’t like him. I perceived him as a weak, easily influenced person who liked to be flattered and who could never be counted on, but he was still the best Saudi Shiite I had met. It is likely that the

Hidden leaders monitored him closely, waiting to see him fail in his task before removing him. When he was young, he left eastern Saudi Arabia for Kuwait where he studied in a religious school belonging to the network. After the success of Khomeini’s revolution,

He had won Iran, and the Rissalists had placed him at the head of the left arm of the network. He thus became the head of a cultural organization called El Thaoura El Islamia Litahrir El Jézira El Arabia (the Islamic revolution for the liberation of the

Arabian Peninsula), which served as a cover for a secret propaganda organ and whose official headquarters was was in Tehran, although I was unable to verify it, as the secret was so well kept. The absence of the term “organization” clearly indicates that the political role

Played by this structure was secondary. Al-Saffar’s underground work lay essentially in the transformation of Muslim societies towards the Islamic ideal without which the international Shiite revolution cannot take place. In summary, it was a matter of discreetly replacing traditionalist practices with specifically Shiite ideas, with the

Prospect of an uprising of populations on a global scale. The method, varied throughout the company, was identical each time but terribly effective. The priority target was Saudi Arabia with a Sunni majority, the leaders of the network

Not recognizing the legitimacy of the power of El Saud nor that of the other emirs of the Gulf. Outside of Saudi Arabia, Al-Saffar’s activity extended almost everywhere in the world. Among its many places of action, the most important was the Muslim Youth Center located in the

United States. Under the guise of promoting Islamic culture, this center worked to recruit future Rissalist elements. Other structures located mainly in Europe fulfill the same role. There are also ones in Kenya, Tanzania or Syria, in El Saïda Zeyneb, to name just this particularly active branch. Al-Saffar published a number of magazines,

For example in London The Islamic Revolution and in Lebanon the Afef magazine dealing with the condition of women. These publications sought to compete with El Watan El africain and El Moustekbil. The newspaper El Alem (Le Monde) based in the English capital

Also depends on the El Rissali network, and not on the Iranian government as some believe. The objective is of course to flood the Arab-Muslim world with publications with a large circulation, some of which are even distributed free of charge to homes. These are mainly aimed

At Sunnis. Their editorial line strives to smooth out ideological differences with the aim of bringing people together. Among the five major areas of intervention defined by the network since 1979, Hassan al-Saffar was primarily responsible for the Arabian Peninsula, the Sultanate of Oman, Jordan and Yemen. As the Rissalists

Were defeated in Saudi Arabia due to strong opposition from Sunni Wahhabis, they had to fall back on the last two countries mentioned. To complete this picture, Mohamed Faouzi, a Shiite of Saudi origin, eminent member of the network, was responsible for the four major regions of Africa: northeast (Sudan, Somalia, Ethiopia, Egypt, starting point

Of the revolution) , South-East (Kenya, Tanzania, Comoros Islands, Mauritius), South-West (Cameroon, Niger, Senegal, Ivory Coast, Benin), particular efforts were focused on these last two countries due to their large populations of Lebanese origin. Finally, the greater Maghreb.

When I had completed my studies in El Qaem, I had to collaborate with this man as well as with Sheikh Ahmed, a great specialist in the Maghreb. Hédi El Moudarissi, the military aspect Brother of Mohamed Taki El Moudarissi, Hédi El Moudarissi was in charge of the military aspect of the

Network. He was a man with a robust physique, tall, slender, dynamic, a true champion of combat action, subject to furious anger. His hoarse voice often let out threatening accents. His influence was great, as was his passion for revolution. He led El Jibha El Islamia Litahrir El Bahrain (the Islamic Front

For the Liberation of Bahrain). The term “Bahrain” was not chosen innocently since Iran has long claimed, even under the Shah’s regime, ownership of these thirty-five islands comprising a large Shiite Iranian population. The total control of the Rissalists over

The country would put the network in a perilous position of strength for the Gulf countries. Fact, This armed front is at the origin of the serious unrest that the archipelago has been experiencing for several years: coup attempts, attacks, riots by Shiite populations. The Emir of Bahrain is struggling to

Stem the growing protests. Thus, Sheikh Ali Salman, a young thirty-one-year-old mullah and Rissalist sympathizer, expelled from the territory on January 15, 1995, preached rebellion at the great Shiite Khawwajah mosque in the capital. This geographical area resembles a powder keg.

The armed front based in Tehran has training camps in the north of the capital, but also near Mashhad, in Iran, Lebanon and Afghanistan, as I learned by speaking with soldiers who were part of it. This is where the network’s troops are trained. These are not

Simple conscripts armed with bayonets, but true war professionals with ultra-modern weaponry, trained both psychologically and physically. The armed forces are divided into three groups. The first, El Joundi El Rissali, “the soldier of El Rissali”, brings together men prepared for suicide command who live in

Isolation, maintained in a state of perpetual religious trance. When a kamikaze attack or an attack is decided by the leaders of the network, one of these warriors is selected. On the day of his departure, he was informed of the details of the operation. Equipped with false papers, he crossed

The borders and waited a month in the country before undertaking his terrorist action. During this period of time, the network transmits to him the information necessary to accomplish his mission, for example the contacts of the agents in place who will provide him with explosives and other

Equipment. When the attack takes place on the soil of a Western country where the police system is very efficient, the soldier returns to his base as soon as his crime is completed. This is called “fugitive terrorist work.” If the affected country is politically unstable, such as Lebanon,

Afghanistan or Algeria, the soldier remains there to carry out new attacks. This is “permanent terrorist work”. These soldiers are distinguished by their sense of dedication and their total obedience. They are trained in a camp called “suicide school”. This title says it all. They are named Safouine, after the surname of Navvab Safavi,

A former member of the creative network of the Rissalist armed forces executed by the shah before the Iranian revolution. To enlist the first Rissalist soldiers, Safavi was inspired by the methods of an ancient Islamic order called El Hachachine, “the sect

Of the Assassins”. This religious order invented the suicide commando in the 10th century, based on the tragic end of Imam El Hussein who allowed himself to be assassinated to save the Shiite cause. The second group, El Joundi El Rissali El Kahfi, “the secret soldier of El Rissali”,

Brings together explosives specialists responsible for manufacturing bombs, homemade chemical weapons and transporting weapons. They are quick, efficient, quick-witted, capable of making a decision in a minute. The third group, El Joundi El Halaka, “the soldiers of the circle”, forms the elite of this fight. They are organizers, a link

Between the two previous groups. Once their training is completed, they travel around the world to collect information to enrich military data banks and prepare the ground for future terrorist actions. They live in the West, in a regular situation, often occupying an important position in European civil society. They therefore represent

A latent terrorist threat that is all the more serious as it is more difficult to spot. Intelligence is a commodity like any other that is sold through unscrupulous sellers. Thanks to them, the network holds information of the highest importance on European and American forces. Hédi El Moudarissi was propelled to the position

Of military leader because he had lived for a long time in Bahrain where he was recognized as a great religious scholar of the Houjatou El Islam degree. I don’t know of any enemies. He is a respected and feared man

. Through his functions as military leader, he activates a large number of levers in the structure of the network. Furthermore, he wrote several works on the meaning of religion, considered of great philosophical significance by critics. This individual with a heart of steel could sometimes be extremely gentle, sometimes frighteningly harsh and unmistakable.

Fortunately, I never had to complain about it. It is true that he was capable of the worst. At the slightest perceived danger, he had the nuisance removed. In his eyes, the only thing that mattered was the success of the revolution, even if that meant massacring half the world. It was probably

The bloodiest of all. Shedding blood seemed to him the most likely means of precipitating the overthrow of enemy states. He constantly pushed for more suicide squads. Moreover, he volunteered for a large-scale operation intended to assassinate several Muslim heads of state in Morocco, during a political meeting where he

Was to represent Iran. As he enjoyed diplomatic immunity, he would escape border control and could easily approach the target. The leaders, however, refused to sacrifice a man of his caliber. Believers, but also calculators! This did not prevent Hédi El Moudarissi from organizing a coup d’état against the power of Bahrain which

Fortunately failed . The operation resulted in the arrest of seventy-five Rissalists. Like his brother Mohamed Taki, Hédi did not hold the people of the Gulf in his heart. He said: “The future of the Arabs is the great Maghreb, that of the non-Arabs,

Persia.” The North Africans, on the other hand, had his esteem. One day, he told me about his travels, notably to Tunis where he had met Islamist elements, whose names he of course refrained from mentioning. He also went to Libya, where he had excellent relations

With Abdessalam Jalloud, Gaddafi’s advisor and second man in power. Abdessalam Jalloud visited him in Iran to develop a common policy relating to terrorist operations against Western interests. Hédi El Moudarissi proposed opening military training camps in Libya in order to cover the Maghreb zone, and the

Libyan gave his agreement. But Gaddafi ultimately refused this project. In reality, the Libyan president had no confidence in the Islamists and did not want to take the risk of plunging into an Arab-Muslim conflict. Especially since he wanted to improve his image in the eyes of the

International community. But the ties of friendship between the Rissalists and Abdessalam Jalloud were maintained. The latter secretly provided the network, on behalf of the Libyan state, with financial, logistical and military aid, even providing men capable of carrying out

Terrorist attacks against Western countries. In view of the information that I was able to collect or that people were willing to let me see, the El Rissali network thus participated in the attack on the Pan Am (Lockerbie) and UTA planes with the complicity of the secret services. Libyans and Abdessalam Jalloud.

These horrible attacks were intended as a response directed on the one hand against the United States, whose army had mistakenly destroyed an Iranian airliner some time before, and on the other hand against the French authorities for their neocolonialist policy in the

African countries. Discovering that he had been double-crossed, Gaddafi removed Jalloud from power, but he still refused to hand over the Libyan spies suspected of being involved in the affair, not wanting the villainous activities of his former advisor to be revealed – which

Would not does not exonerate him from other misdeeds. If he was betrayed on this point, he nevertheless remained a tyrant with hands covered in blood. Kadhem El Moudarissi, the economic aspect Finally, the last visible manager, Kadhem El Moudarissi was the “left leg”,

The boss of the economic aspect. Younger brother of Taki and Hédi El Moudarissi, this man, then thirty-five years old, with a rather fragile physique, rarely wore Islamic clothing, unlike his elders. He preferred to wear the costume of a Western businessman.

Strictly speaking, there is no specific organization dedicated to the financial aspect. In fact, each branch of the network has its own autonomy in this matter and sets its budget according to its needs. The Islamic revolution for the liberation of the Arabian Peninsula,

The branch led by Hassan al-Saffar draws its resources from money from Saudi Arabia and the Gulf countries. The movement of the Muslim population of Al-Shirazi lives thanks to private donations, zakat, khoms. Hédi El Moudarissi’s “Islamic Front for the Liberation of Bahrain”

Is financed by rich Iranian traders. Mohamed Taki El Moundarissi’s “Iraqi Islamic Work Organization” inherits the largesse of wealthy businessmen belonging to the Iranian government. To avoid budgetary inequalities between the different branches of the network, its leaders decided in 1982 to create an economic department

Responsible for managing revenues. A placement office was opened in Tehran. He invests in the East and Europe in all kinds of sectors such as real estate or hotels and then distributes the profits earned between El Rissali’s sectors. Thanks to the qualities of manager and fine negotiator of Kadhem El Moudarissi,

Helped by his brother Ali Akbar, the network’s revenues reached dizzying sums. He trains his own businessmen who go to open branches in Scandinavian countries, the United States, the Gulf, and especially Kuwait, a country serving as a cover during the launch of vast financial operations. The West is the sworn enemy,

But also an excellent cash cow! Money from Gulf countries reaches Iran and Lebanon via Syria. From Lebanon, it is directed to the Lebanese in Africa who are responsible for integrating it into the drug circuits in Europe. Once earned, the money is used to purchase weapons and advanced technology in order to equip the

Network with the best in logistics. Apart from the placement office located in Tehran, it seems impossible to locate the nerve center of this activity. Certainly, the El Rissali network has a large number of stakes in the capital of financial establishments of international stature through a cascade of shell companies. He also maintains

Close relations with unscrupulous Arab banks, money having no odor, even in the kingdom of God. These sums are intended for the soldiers of the network: terrorism is a profession, and no matter how much we hide behind a religious mask,

The Money God is also very revered! Any new member of El Rissali is given a lifetime salary, a bank card, housing, housekeeping staff (with sharp ears), a tutor for the children’s education and lots of other benefits. I myself benefited for a

Time from a salary and the largesse of the network. The prospect of the return of the hidden imam A very advanced organization, remarkably established, even sprawling, El Rissali pursues a single goal: to dominate the world in the perspective of the return of the hidden imam. And this, by

Following a very long-term strategy that few people in the West can conceive of, because according to them it has been hatched for centuries. The rissalists firmly believe in the merits of their harmful approach. They are criminals with unparalleled determination. I

Have noticed that any order emanating from the governing bodies is executed to the letter and without delay, since according to them it comes directly from Imam El Mehdi, holder of the hidden truth, who bequeathed his powers to Shiite religious scholars. before disappearing. As such,

Every member of El Rissali considers himself his soldier, his knight protected by the hand of Allah. Therein lies the essence of his fanaticism. Imam El Mehdi is considered the true secret leader of the network, who continues in the shadows to enlighten men with his lights

And transmit to them his perpetually emerging wishes. The idea of ​​insinuating that the network emanates from the founders of Islam, therefore from Allah, is judicious insofar as it maintains confusion among the weak-minded and frustrated, lulling them with the illusion that they are familiar with divine power by obeying orders. The Hadith proclaims that

Any soldier of Allah who perishes in the line of duty is reincarnated with the Mahdi to fight the enemy with him and spread Islam on earth. This prophecy is successfully disseminated among Shiite and Sunni populations: hope of reincarnation for the former and

Higher place in paradise for the latter. As we have seen, I was able to approach some of the sacred books supposed to transcribe the words of Imam El Mehdi and buried according to tradition near the mausoleums of infallible imams. This is obviously a pious imposture

Hatched over time, and it is likely that the network voluntarily gave me access to these texts to make me adhere to its supposed religious legitimacy. Making followers believe that the network is the emanation of the prophet Mohamed constitutes the absolute weapon. The art

Of mystification works to its fullest here to arouse the feeling of enlightenment in the young terrorist recruits. These works trace the story of Adam until the end of the world. Their content is intended to be clinically precise. It determines the rules

Of life of the network and its strategy within the framework of the holy war which should lead to the advent of the Muslim Empire. This war, which it is written that it began on the day of the birth

Of Mohamed, in 571, and that it must end in the year 2299, is of an unimaginable scope and duration if the We reason on the scale of an individual’s life: it is divided into twelve generations spread over four periods. Each generation lasts one hundred and forty-four years and

Has twelve plans of twelve years, themselves divided into four periods of three years. The tenth generation covers the period between 1867-2011. The actions carried out by the network during the thirty-six years preceding its end aim, according to the Rissalists, to demonstrate to the international community that Islam is an invisible and indestructible force,

“the last religion of the last prophet, and its civilization, the last of all. According to them, El Mehdi will resurface when the flags of the following peoples have been united: Iran (black), the greater Maghreb (yellow) and Yemen (white). Then Israel will be surrounded. Here,

Freely translated, are the ten Hadiths which announce for the Rissalists the return of Imam El Mehdi and on which they base their strategy: 1. After me (Mohamed), there will be the caliphs, the Arab kings, the kings not -Arabs, then despotic kings, dictators and tyrants.

For the Rissalists, this sacred word took shape when the Abbasid dynasty collapsed and the Ottoman Empire (the non-Arab royalty, Ajam) triumphed, putting the Arabs under the domination of the Turks. 2. The union of the two greatest enemies of Islam (Jews and Christians) will take place to fight and weaken Islam.

Christians have long condemned the Jews for allowing the murder of Christ. Conversely, the latter reproach the former for their rejection of Judaism and their non-recognition of the prophet to come. Rissalists believe that this ancient rivalry ceased after World War II, uniting followers of the Old and New Testaments in a

Common desire to combat the Muslim danger. 3. A time will come when there will be towers and space will be subject to the laws of men. The development of modern society (skyscrapers, airplanes, telephones, etc.). Would be the illustration of this prophecy.

4. A time will come when the Islamic world will be fragmented under Roman rule. The colonization and partition of the countries of the Arab-Muslim world by the West after the fall of the Ottoman Empire constitutes the fourth sign. 5. When Jews and Arabs

Sit down at the same table to negotiate a peace treaty, this will herald the imminent fall of Israel and the return of El Mehdi. The creation of the State of Israel in Palestine after the Second World War would be another heralding sign of the return of Imam

El Mehdi. The Koran and the Hadith specify that the fall of Israel will take place under pressure from the Eastern Persians (the Iranians) and the Amazighs (the North Africans). Muslim countries would then be governed by despots with whom it would be illicit to deal and this period

Would be marked by the emergence of two world powers, one atheist, the other non-practicing. The first would correspond to the former USSR, the second to the United States and Europe. Finally, another word predicts that an important federation which seems to refer to the USSR will collapse,

Allowing some of its former republics to unite with the Islamic world. 6. Small black flags will rise on Persian soil under the authority of a descendant of the Prophet’s family whose supporters will be soldiers of God and El Mehdi.

He will destroy El Basra (Basra, flagship city of Iraq under the Abbasids) without being able to conquer it, and he will die in bitterness. The Rissalists see in this word the announcement of Khomeini’s Iranian revolution. Another prediction indicates the appearance of large

Black flags hoisted by El Khourassani (named after the Persian city of Khorassen, today Mashhad in Iran), who will destroy El Basra, colonize Iraq and stop at the gates of Jerusalem . This would herald a new revolution against the Iranian government in the near future.

7. Beware of the Egyptians of the Amazigh people, they will eliminate so many Egyptians that there will only be one man left for every ten women. They will then settle on the throne of the country and head towards the gates of Jerusalem to join the black flags of El Khourassani.

This sacred word would reveal the creation of an Islamic state in the greater Maghreb, on Amazigh land. The Rissalists, relying on different Hadiths, see this happening in the following way: first, the sidelining of the despot of Ifriqiya (Tunis) enemy of Islam

And Muslims, in other words the president Bourguiba. Which happened. He will give up the ghost at the moment when the Islamist clamor rumbles in Tunis and throughout the Maghreb. King Hassan, considered the last strong king of the Alawites of Morocco, will die in turn, which will lead to

Strong political instability until the arrival in his country of El Kindy, “lame” or originally from the Amazigh tribe Kindy, who will unify Muslims. Raising the yellow flags, he will bring together Morocco and the neighboring countries within an Islamic state.

Egypt will tremble, like Western countries. 8. The white flags will come out of Yemen under the leadership of El Yemeni. After a long period of political instability in Yemen, a leader will unite the people, invade Saudi Arabia and head towards Jerusalem to regain

The black and yellow flags. The Jews will then be massacred and the holy city “liberated”. 9. The reunification of Islamic States will take place under the banner of Imam El Mehdi. In reality, the Rissalists have already undertaken this reunification.

10. The Antichrist incarnated by El Soufiani (name of Jewish origin) will colonize the five cowardly states (Palestine, Jordan, Lebanon, Syria and Iraq). The State of Israel will cover the region between the Nile and the Euphrates, and corruption and injustice will reign supreme. It is then that

Imam El Mehdi will emerge to liberate Jerusalem. Christ, who according to Islam is not dead, will be at his side. At this time, Muslims will be united. El Mehdi will declare war on the West, conquer and dominate the planet, on which Islam will remain the only religion.

These are, according to the Rissalists, the ten warning signs of the return of Imam El Mehdi. The manipulation therefore continues through the tendentious interpretation of sacred texts. Religion becomes in the hands of exegetes a weapon more formidable than bombs and cannons: an entire

Bewildered and galvanized people risks rising up in the name of an outrageously misused sacred cause. The network strategy I had access to the details of the interpretation of the tenth generation (1867-2011). The period 1975-1999, in particular, is instructive. This

Information should not be taken literally, and certainly not its dates, which may move forward or backward depending on developments in the world situation. The aim is essentially to report on the internal information provided by the network. 1975-1987: the El Rissali network increases its aid to Islamist movements and intensifies the propagation

Of revolutionary ideas in all layers of the Muslim community. The end of this period celebrates its first major victory, the creation of an Islamist state in Iran. 1987-1999: the objective focuses on different points. First, provoke the creation in Asia

Of a second Islamist state, even if it is not Shiite. The countries targeted are Iraq, Lebanon and Afghanistan. Then continue the destabilization of states in North Africa to bring about an Islamist regime with a Sunni appearance but allied to the Shiites. The targeted countries are Egypt, Tunisia, Algeria and Sudan. Then, intensify

Terrorist acts against Western countries. Liquidate opponents of the Iranian revolution, pro-Israelis and pro-Westerners. Finally, reorganize the network, redistribute key positions and unify the various Islamist movements under the control of El Rissali. As we have seen, after the Iranian revolution, most of the strategic branches of

Power were monopolized by Rissali terrorists: radio, television, written press, intelligence services, barracks, embassies, banks. Khomeini only kept his supreme title Wilayat Al-faqih, seventh spiritual degree according to Shiite doctrine. The network hoped to then adorn Houssein Ali El Mountadhiri, a Rissalist in his own right. Iran would

Then become the state of all Muslims, the fifth Islamic empire, with Qom as its capital. At the end of stormy negotiations with the ruling party, the Rissalists had to revise their ambitions, aware of the need to protect the change underway to progress

More surely towards the universal spread of Shiism. Here are the details of these negotiations: Khomeini names Houssein Ali El Mountadhiri his legitimate successor, the heir to the title Wilayat Al-faqih. El Rissali withdraws his non-Iranian agents from the revolutionary guard,

Which comes under the command of El Mountadhiri. This armed body becomes an elite troop dedicated to the defense of the supreme title Wilayat Al-faqih. The network returns the reins of the audiovisual and written press subject to being able to continue to propagate its ideas there. Its members

Can now present their candidacy in local and national elections. The network agrees to release the embassies but retains the right to use them in due course. He has complete freedom to support Islamist movements around the world from Iranian soil. The Iranian government

Contributes to financing the network and provides it with state tools and military aid. The network remains the owner of the real estate obtained during the revolution (land, schools, gulag, etc.) but participates in the defense of the State and supports it in its fight

Against the Iraqi regime. If he is overthrown, El Rissali will take power. These agreements strengthened the power of the El Rissali network in Iran. Iran’s public image was officially safeguarded, but concessions were slim to none. This allowed the network to create a microstate within the Iranian regime

That could secretly purchase weapons abroad and carry out all kinds of illegal operations. From now on, he could easily use the regime as a shield and as a springboard to accelerate the Islamist world war. The network’s strategic plan covering the period 1987-1999 is divided as planned into four three-year periods. These

Clearly show the madness of these men who get drunk on the blood of their victims. 1987-1990: the network accelerates the establishment of Islamist movements in Muslim countries. A group of people chosen from each of them comes to Iran to receive solid training. Then,

These people return to their respective countries with a mission of propaganda, recruitment and destabilization. The selection criteria were as follows: the candidate had to be between seventeen and twenty-four years old, be open to the various doctrines of Islam, be fascinated by the Iranian revolution, be interested in Shiism,

Hate the West and the power in place, loving travel, having a sense of risk, sacrifice, obedience, finally being quick-witted and independent from his family. Several groups of terrorists were formed in Tunisia, Algeria, Morocco and Egypt. The network focused its efforts on Algerian territory in order to strengthen the movement of Bou Yaali,

Who died on February 3, 1987. In vain, because this organization was banned by the State Security Court in June 1987. The network then formed the “Islamic jihad” in Egypt, where he apparently orchestrated the horrific attack of October 6, 1981 which ended the life of President

Anwar El-Sadat, an ardent defender of peace. The method was simple: recruit from within countries of partisans in all layers of society to weave a web ensuring propaganda and espionage. Prepare an elite to take power. Store weapons and explosives near sensitive areas to arm a hard core of enlightened soldiers capable

Of operating suicide commandos at any time. At the same time, monitor any Islamist movement that has emerged on the initiative of independent revolutionaries and infiltrate it in the short term. This work was made possible by the presence of observation offices all over the world. Parallel to the destabilization of Arab-Muslim countries, moles

Infiltrated in most Western countries were fanning the future blaze of ungodly lands. 1990-1993: the objective is to make Westerners tremble by the multiplication of terrorist acts and the regular sending of threats to political leaders. The aim is to demonstrate the unyielding power of Islam. War was declared. The attacks mowed down

The conspirators, the neo-settlers, but also women and children. No one was spared. In this, it was a question of testing the Westerners, in order to reframe the combat method if weak points appeared both among the enemy and in the network. This new war pitted

The forces of darkness against millions of unarmed innocents who instantly became human torches. It sowed desolation and panic in families. I will never forget the speech given by a lecturer at the El Qaem school, a few hours after the despicable attack which

Left almost three hundred dead in Beirut in 1983 (241 marines, 58 French soldiers): – Let us rejoice because this day celebrates a great victory! We have made Lebanon a cemetery for Westerners! In some time, an Islamist state will arise there. It is

Young people like you who made this operation successful. They sacrificed themselves in the name of Allah and are now at his side. Soon, it will be your turn to accomplish your mission as a soldier against the ungodly. This phase where the spirit of revenge arose on

All sides and where suspicion lurked also saw the annihilation of rival Islamist movements, either by denunciation or by outright liquidation of their leaders. Contacts with terrorists of all sides increased, as did the sending of moles to the West. According to the figures to which I had access, ten thousand agents infiltrated

French, English, Belgian, Spanish and American territories. Apparently pacifist and anti-Islamist, they studied at universities, managed hotels, restaurants, worked in banks, etc. 1993-1996: the network reviews its relations with the Iranian state. A few years earlier, in early 1985, conflict broke out with

Supporters of Khomeini’s People’s Party taking over the reins of government. The network then decides to carry out a purge which it calls “the reorganization inside the house”. Weapons and explosives are transported to the West, notably via Italy and Germany. Destabilization operations are continuing within Arab-Muslim countries (Iraq, Lebanon,

Jordan, Palestine). The network acts in a formidable manner in Afghanistan, a springboard towards Russian Muslim countries, and is planning a coup d’état in Tunisia. Egypt resisted him, but he achieved great success in Sudan. This arms convoy for which the network

Collaborates with ETA, the IRA and small Nazi groups according to the rule “The enemy of my enemy is my friend”, started in 1984, apparently ended in 1996. It is difficult to estimate its importance. 1996-1999: analysis of the international political situation in order to prepare the next

War plan. The second terrorist wave is expected to last until 2004. In fact, it has started, particularly in France. Likewise, the program of infiltration of foreign countries is well underway. Moroccan members of the network are sent to Spain, Algerians to France, Tunisians to

Libya, Gulf activists to Britain and the United States of America, Egyptians to Greece, Turks and Kurds to Germany, Iraqis and Iranians in Eastern Europe. Fortunately, not everything that Rissalist terrorists boast about is necessarily true, they don’t win on all counts. The great Maghreb is still standing. If Algeria

Drowns in a bloodbath, nothing yet suggests that clandestine Islamist troops will win. Afghanistan, so coveted, escaped them: during the Soviet withdrawal, Borhane Eddin Rabani, a fierce opponent of the network, seized power. The network suffered a severe defeat on this occasion. Some readers may therefore be tempted

To think that the facts recorded here are deliberately exaggerated. How I would like to prove them right! But El Rissali is in no way similar to a simple Islamist movement. It is an occult organization whose supporters are strategically distributed across continents under various covers, ranging from

Isolated regions to large capitals and sometimes occupying positions of high responsibility. Their desire for domination is all the stronger as they are convinced that their rivals are the Zionists in their conquest of the world. It is a merciless struggle that is underway, a struggle that they claim to

Have started centuries ago. So the terrorist madness has not finished torturing us. So this is what I discovered between my eighteenth and twentieth years during the months spent at the El Qaem school: “What I discovered or what they were willing to

Let me discover. Through readings, interviews, and deductions, I was able to piece together part of the puzzle of El Rissali’s organization and secret strategy. All this while continuing to believe despite everything in the merits of an Islamic revolution, with the fear that its

Leaders would discover that I knew things that I should have ignored, and with the growing anxiety of being myself manipulated. This testimony is addressed to the sleeping consciences of Western bloc politicians . What are governments doing to stem this deadly surge? The more the

Days pass, the closer the war comes. Without the return of peace to Muslim countries, the West cannot look to the future with serenity. Let us think for just a moment that our children risk seeing the sky covered in ashes tomorrow! Let’s forget the differences of race,

Skin color, the wounds of the past. Let’s think about life. Let us think about confronting with the will of the heart this sinister reality which only escapes in order to strike harder.” Special missions El Rissali officials are attentive to world events and noticed that it was appropriate to designate me

For a mission in Tunisia. This happened after my brother-in-law Salah Karkar became head of MTI, replacing Ghannouchi. For them, this opportunity should not be left aside, because it would open the way to establishing direct links with Tunisian Islamic movements. After realizing that my recruitment and training at the El Qaem school was

In no way random, but was carefully planned for this mission, I left Iran for Europe. That’s where I started making contacts. This included not only my brother-in-law, but also every Islamist group or individual, whether Shia or Sunni, that I encountered during my trip. This practical experience

Allowed me to understand precisely how Islamists work and their way of thinking. I also understood how they develop long-term plans, putting concern for individuals at the heart of their actions. Their religious ideological goals take precedence over all other aspects, whatever the cost. My new manager The second year, the school management replaced

Abou Moustapha with Sheikh Djamel, a Moroccan considered a great master of political-religious issues, who regularly collaborated under the pseudonym Mehdi Atlas for the newspaper El Shahid belonging to the network. This decision was well thought out. In the eyes of the

School leaders, it was necessary to silence my hesitations to prepare me to take action. In the capable hands of my new mentor, I would eventually submit to the Rissalist order. In fact, this change bore fruit. As my masters taught me the art and manner

To conduct myself in all circumstances, I became a studious student, ripe for war – religious war , certainly, but above all war. I learned how to write a coded letter, falsify a passport, shadow an enemy without him knowing, install wiretaps, thwart a police hunt, respond to an interrogation. I,

Who never had any taste for violence, was also taught the basics of handling weapons and explosives. In short, I was introduced to all the techniques useful to an Islamist spy starting out in his career. Deep down, it excited me. This training let me foresee an extraordinary life,

Subject to danger but hectic. Violence, when adorned with the attractions of adventure, has the gift of awakening the ardor of the most phlegmatic individual. Worse, she places him on a pedestal. From there, on the heights, the feeling of belonging to a

Singular elite goes to your head, so much so that ordinary mortals, these helpless insects, seem infinitely mediocre to you. You feel like a superman, wielder of considerable power. You have the feeling of belonging to a united family, the only one that matters

Now: that of theory and weapons. The Rissalists know perfectly well this kind of ecstasy which flatters the pride of young people, and they know how to play on it in a thousand ways. Infiltration plan Hédi El Moudarissi summoned me one morning to his office in Tehran.

The room was decorated in the oriental style, with trinkets and carved wood panels, a cozy atmosphere, subdued lights, delicate perfumes. The complete opposite of terrorist harshness! In the corridors prowled a strange fauna made up of silent individuals, with closed faces, sliding on the ground like sleepwalking felines. There were

Rissalist religious people but also people resembling businessmen, children who played cards while waiting for who knows what reward, old women who chewed prayers, needy people… In fact, the building housed the network secret service agents. This is where

The activity reports of the Rissalists converged from the four corners of the planet, to be processed, analyzed and archived. Without really knowing why, I was proud to find myself in this place. No doubt I suddenly became aware of the importance that the leaders attached to me.

– Sit down, began Hédi El Moudarissi. I have been observing you for several months. You have made great progress since arriving at school. However, I am forced to mention it, you easily succumb to daydreaming. This, I suppose, is the manifestation of your love

Of God. But Our Lord also requires that we be vigilant, active, in other words that we defend Islam. – I am simply trying to understand God’s message. – His message is clear, the words of Imam El Mehdi leave no ambiguity on this subject. Now it’s about how

You see the future. Do you want to fight alongside us or do you think our efforts to make you honorable will be in vain? At these words, I felt fear tickle me, sensing a threat in the words of the great military leader. Hédi El Moudarissi had just

Given me an ultimatum. Since I had been fed and whitewashed at the princess’s expense for almost two years, I owed accountability. – I… Of course, I want to serve Islam in the name of Imam El Mehdi, I replied cautiously. But

What exactly do you expect from me? – That you become an honorable being, I have already told you. – I’m listening to you, sir. – Master Sheikh Djamel spoke to you at length about the Maghreb countries. We want to help

Tunisia get out of the rut. For this, it is necessary to overthrow Bourguiba and establish an Islamist state, of which you will of course be one of the pillars. I will give you a complete file on local revolutionary movements. You will also find a

Detailed presentation on the political life of Tunisia and neighboring countries. We know perfectly well most of the factions linked to the MTI party, with the exception of one: the one led by your brother-in-law Salah Karkar. – Oh! The excellent Salah Karkar! I exclaimed ironically. – Does he like you?

– Yes I think. But I have little confidence in him. In my opinion, it is a mistake to want to deal with this individual, I ventured, happy to have to give this wise advice to one of the most senior executives of the network. – Rest assured, we have the

Means to control any type of situation, whispered Hédi El Moudarissi, a look of satisfaction on his face… Know that I have big plans for the future for you. – Oh? – Are you worthy of serving Tunisia? – I love my country, indeed. – Then you will be one of its

Most remarkable leaders. – You flatter me, I don’t deserve so many honors. – Come on, dear Falahi, take your destiny head on! – What will my mission consist of? – You will have to convince your brother-in-law to collaborate with us. But I will provide you with more

Details later. Read this file first. We parted with a warm handshake. Hédi El Moudarissi had corrupted me a little more: I was over the moon, excited, ready to take up arms, in a hurry to leave, to

Lead my country on the paths of freedom, to serve God and his messenger the imam El Mehdi. In fact, I had just put one foot in the grave. I never imagined for a single second that I was now an armed apostle of the forces of evil and that I might have to shed

The blood of innocents on my sacred land. The next day, my post was transferred to Tehran. Every morning, I went by taxi, as discretion requires, to the secret service offices in El Rissali to receive additional training. This included all kinds of ethnic, political, economic, military and

Psychological data on the Maghreb, its heads of state, its main Islamist leaders, personalities belonging to the police, high administration and finance. During these courses, my teachers described to me the specificities of my future role as organizer, namely the formation of bombers’ cells, the dissemination of revolutionary ideas

Within Sunni communities, the preparation of popular demonstrations, preliminary to the religious revolt, etc. On this occasion, I became aware again of the power of the network and its quasi-neurotic conception of global Islamism. But from now on, all that counted was the hope of soon seeing the birth of a religious state in my

Country. The rest didn’t matter to me. My discussion with Hédi El Moudarissi had the effect of an electric shock: Tunisia was waiting for me. A few days later, Hédi El Moudarissi summoned me again. When I entered the chief’s office, I had the pleasant surprise of

Finding my friend from Paris, Abou Ahmed. – What are you doing here ? I shouted , opening my arms wide. – I came especially for you! – For me, really? – And how ! Today you are going to take the oath. – What do you mean ? – You’re one of us

Now. In a few days, you will leave to accomplish your first mission. But first, you must swear loyalty to our cause for the rest of your life. Hédi El Moudarissi maintained a religious silence, but his smile testified to his inner jubilation. He seemed to get real physical pleasure from this

Spectacle. A new recruit was going to bow down, submit to the Rissalist order, sacrifice his life to the holy war! This oath ritual rewarded him each time with his own sacrifice. Revolutionary blood was married to the blood of God. What a moment of grace! I backed away.

– Tell me, Ahmed, you planned everything from the start of our meeting to get me into the network, right? – Aren’t you happy serving your country? Rather rejoice! Now listen to how we are going to proceed. For the execution

Of your mission, you will act under the authority of three comrades: Hassan El Safar, the head of the cultural component, Mohamed Faouzi and his brother, El Sheikh Ahmed, both responsible for leading the Tunisian Rissalists and those of the greater Maghreb. – How ? I refuse to be commanded by these

Individuals! I cried. – What happens to you ? Have you lost your mind? said Abou Ahmed, taken aback. – El Sheikh Ahmed has the reputation of never keep his word. The students nickname him “the liar”. As for the other two,

They are lazy, they have neither the weight nor the seriousness of our venerable Hédi El Moudarissi here present. – If you start trusting gossip, you’re lost, said Abou Ahmed. – There is necessarily some truth in what we hear about them. – People talk indiscriminately,

You know that well. And then you won’t have to deal with them. In reality, you will depend directly on me. I will be your intermediary. – Ah OK. It changes everything. – So, are you going to take the oath? said Abou Ahmed, coming closer to me.

I decided to go all out. – I cannot swear loyalty for my entire life. To be completely honest, some days I doubt the usefulness of our goals. An oppressive silence spread. Alone, Hédi El Moudarissi, with furrowed eyebrows, was tapping his fingers on his desk.

Finally, he addressed me. – You are a curious boy, Falahi. Would you reconsider your decision? – I cannot swear loyalty for my entire life because I am not sure that the network is completely truthful. I would like to commit to a period of one year. I also want to be

Free to choose my missions. – This procedure is unusual, replied Hédi El Moudarissi. That said, I am willing to make an exception. All I ask of you is to convince Salah Karkar to collaborate with us, that he understands that, without the help of the network, he will never succeed in overthrowing Bourguiba’s government.

– Trust me, I will be able to convince him. The rest of the discussion was more relaxed. I took an oath of loyalty to the Rissalist cause for one year, as I had requested. Return to Europe Once the false

Passports and visas were prepared, the day of departure arrived for Abou Ahmed and me. The wife of a Rissalist agent living in Brussels was also on the trip. She posed as Abou Ahmed’s wife. Under her black chador, she hid top secret coded documents relating to the network’s activity in Europe,

Intended for her real husband. A taxi took the three of us to Tehran airport. I was going to travel under the pseudonym Falahi Hassan Mohamed. Dressed in Western style, I had to pass myself off as an Iraqi student. In order to fit his character perfectly, I had been

Trained to behave like them, to use the same language tics. In addition, I had been taught a certain number of magic formulas to pronounce mentally depending on the circumstances, for example when handing over my passport at customs, before boarding the plane,

Contacting this or that person, etc. This is to escape bad luck. As we have seen, the network is also irrational! When the Lufthansa plane took off, I felt great relief. Certainly, I had been happy to live these two years in Iran: the religious fervor of Iranian Shiism, the excursions to historical sites

, the meeting of illustrious personalities, the study of Koranic exegesis, the beauty of certain landscapes, the walks in the streets of Tehran in search of the unknown, all these moments which had shaped my daily life were among my best memories. But the

Prospect of rediscovering the dazzling colors of the West, its modernism, the abundance of its population made me overjoyed. The flight attendants took off their chadors, revealing their blonde hair, like a stream of gold. What a beauty ! How well God had designed things! This was my feeling in October 1984.

We landed in Amsterdam, via Frankfurt. As a security measure, soldiers going on missions abroad never fly directly. Already, when I reached Iran for the first time, I had made two stopovers before taking the bus from Istanbul to Tehran. As soon as

We arrived in the Netherlands, Abou Ahmed contacted a member of the network by telephone to arrange an appointment at the train station. A few hours later, we boarded the train heading to Brussels. Previously, Abou Ahmed had discreetly handed over some of the coded documents to his Rissalist contact based in the Dutch capital.

During the trip, he tried to bring the conversation to the reservations with which I had attached my involvement in the network, but I pretended not to hear. From then on, there was an awkward silence between us. Once we reached our destination, the young woman’s real husband,

A certain Abou Ali, welcomed us without excessive effusion and took us to the Rissalist cultural center in Brussels, where I stayed for two days with Abou Ahmed. This premises was an apartment located in an old building in the city center. The entrance

Was guarded by a man who pretended to read the newspaper. His gaze stared at each new arrival then plunged back into the crumpled pages of his daily life. A door opened onto a service staircase, generally used by VIPs who did not wish to be seen by the

Building’s occupants. In the apartment there was a library containing most of the publications of Islamist networks. I saw some notables circulating in this den of brigands: According to what they told me, the son of Rafsanjani, a member of El Rissali, leader of the student-compatriots, an official of the Iranian embassy,

​​a member Belgian communist terrorist group, the CCC, who came to request logistical help from the network. So many associations which clearly show the Iranian state’s share of responsibility in terrorism. The details of my mission had not yet been clarified to me. Before we left, Abou Ahmed, my supervisor,

Told me about it and added his recommendations. – Now you will join your family members. Be careful. Apart from your sister and her husband, no one should know that you are returning from Iran. You can say that you come from Syria where you studied in a religious school.

Start reporting as I asked and contact me in a week. I arrived in Paris in an indescribable state of exaltation. Finally, I found this city that I loved so much! My memories of walks came back to me in turn, but also, with less pleasure, those of the long days spent at the

Iranian cultural center where I had unknowingly signed my doom. I headed towards Avenue de Wagram, where I entered a plush building. I raced up the seven flights of stairs, along the narrow corridor of the maid’s rooms and knocked on the door of one of them, my pulse pounding.

It was my older brother who opened the door. – Mummy mummy ! Karim is back! After such a painful separation, words were unable to come out of our mouths, but we exchanged melancholy and intense looks for several minutes. What joy

To hug us again and again! A kind-hearted and tactful woman, my mother did not question me about my past. That said, she was not fooled and suspected that I would lie to her. Life having not been kind to her, she preferred not to know anything, simply praying that God would

Help her children, and especially me, who according to her was the most fragile. On the other hand, my older brother, curious by nature, questioned me relentlessly, but he ended up giving up because I was so effective in drowning the fish. A few days after my return,

I moved into the maid’s room next to my mother’s, bought myself a typewriter, and in the evening, regularly, I began to type whatever I wanted on the keyboard. had seen and heard during the day. “I write what comes into my head,” I claimed. In fact, I was starting my

Spy work. At the end of the week, I submitted my first report to Abou Ahmed, who sent a copy to the cultural center in Brussels, which then took care of sending it to Tehran. For several months, I sifted through the capital, noting a large number of addresses

Likely to interest the network: mosques, cultural centers, embassies, bookstores, high schools of Muslim communities. At the same time, I tried to note the habits of the people who occupied these places. Then I inspected the Jewish and Arab neighborhoods and

The situation of their businesses. I went so far as to delve into the past of certain personalities. Any element that could destabilize public order was carefully noted. I drew up a sheet for each district. When an individual risked being a threat to the network

Or to serve as a political target, I opened a special file for him. In this case, I investigated his private life, did an in-depth analysis. Finally in action, I no longer doubted. I accomplished my mission as a fundamentalist executive with zeal. Other than that, I prayed whenever

I wanted. Sometimes I listened to religious songs, sometimes to rock music. Sometimes I drank alcohol and smoked cigarettes. I wore jeans, sneakers, a leather jacket. A real hipster! I didn’t ask anyone for money. I claimed to have

Earned my living on my travels and saved quite a bit. I was a mystery to everyone. However, having no news of the follow-up to my Tunisian mission, I had to find cover. I decided to enroll in a high school in Paris attended by well-off Libyans,

Sons of ambassadors and industrialists. To do this, Abou Ahmed provided me with false study certificates. From now on, the morning was devoted to school life and the afternoon to espionage. The leaders of the network seemed very satisfied with my work. It must

Be said that I was particularly maniacal, not hesitating to accompany my reports with plans and all sorts of details that seemed insignificant at first glance. Furthermore, I was ordered to convert the members of my family to the Shiite doctrine in a detached manner,

In small steps, avoiding to rush people’s minds. My preaching skills were very sharp. I took them separately to create intimacy, or in groups to better bring out everyone’s contradictions. When I had succeeded in sowing doubt in their minds and they no longer knew what to answer, I proposed an alternative solution. With them,

I had found the sensitive point: the Sunnis, I said, forbid women from leaving the house. Stupidity of that! Reactionary practice! Shiism attaches great importance to the development of women in society. They can practice politics. In fact, they are considered equal to man. My role as a Rissalist agent

Therefore consisted of three parts: espionage, underground preaching, and the development of the El Taqîya method, which consisted of integrating into French society without arousing suspicion. Al Taqîya I will try to summarize this vast and thorny subject as best I can. Many think that taqîya is limited to the

Domain of religion, even if it means attributing it solely to Shiism. Others tie it only to simulation. In fact, taqîya applies to all Islamist currents, whether in the fields of politics, economics, military and religion. Simulation is only one of its forms. There are essentially two forms

Of taqiya: defensive (A) and tactical (B). has. Defensive taqîya allows you to protect yourself from external aggression. It is commonly practiced on an individual level in order to limit the influence of those around them. It is exercised in cases of self-defense by any minority who

Wants to preserve its right to be different. This form of taqîya also applies to sectarian orders such as Shiism or Sufism in order to survive. There is no need to dwell on this approach which is a classic and safe simulation.

B. Tactical taqîya, on the other hand, has a strong political connotation; it aims to seize power over a country and sooner or later over all of humanity. It works towards the extinction of human diversity and wealth through sophisticated techniques

Which can be divided into three main points: 1. The methods used to reach a maximum number of followers in the diversity of a population. 2. The application of a step-by -step procedure to gradually infiltrate minds and gently subject them to control. 3. Adaptation to different situations that arise depending

On their seriousness and current means. The renewal of tactical taqîya appears with Mohamed. He wanted, with the complicity of his tribe, Bani Hachem, to form a sort of opposition to the social, political and religious power monopolized at the time by

The competing tribe of Bani Oumaïa. The objective was to regain control over the region and unite the Arab tribes around Mecca in the name of one God, Allah, and one religion, Islam. Mohamed exploited the absence of a sacred book specific to the Arabs to

Impose on them a despotic bookish ideology. The totalitarian character of the new belief contained a germ of domination that was hyper-effective on a local scale – and which proved disastrous on a global scale – but its implementation required subtlety. Mohamed bet on

Al Taqîya tactics to accomplish his dominating will. It is thanks to the mastery of this art that he succeeded in introducing Islam and that it proliferated slowly but surely throughout the world. This delusion exists among all Islamists, whether Shiites or Sunnis,

With this nuance: among the Shiites, only Ahl el beïth can take command of all Muslims to establish El khilafa (the caliphate) on earth, so that among Sunnis, this right of command falls to religious leaders. The visions differ, but the objective is the

Same. I will content myself with talking about taqîya among the Rissalists, in order to understand its mode of operation and to draw from it the appropriate solutions to discern and counter it. Before talking about Al Taqîya tactics, I would like to say a word about my legitimacy in talking about it

As a former fundamentalist who belonged to an international Islamist network. It is this experience that allowed me to discern the logic of taqîya and to grasp the threat that this practice represents on the scale of humanity. To those who would be tempted to think that,

Given my young age at the time, a four-year experience is insufficient to gather so much information on the Islamist danger, I would respond that one can obtain a master’s degree or even a doctorate in four years. A student who spends four years studying a

Thesis subject with the help of targeted teaching, the reading of hundreds of hand-picked books , the viewing of hundreds of cassettes, ends up delving deeper into the question, and moreover he then has the opportunity to apply his knowledge, as I did

During missions carried out on behalf of the network in the West and especially in Tunisia. With twenty years of hindsight and analysis of the functioning of the Islamist octopus, I realize with anxiety in the light of international news that what I have

Learned applies to all existing Islamist movements. My experience is ultimately limited to approaching one sprawling system among others. Each of them presents himself as the legitimate representative of khilafa, God’s will to spread Islam on earth. Their only difference lies in the school of thought through which each network claims to achieve

This objective. I am not asking that people take my word for it, but that people think about what I am denouncing and become aware of the extent of the threat, regardless of the form my testimony presents. I draw attention to the hundreds of young people who have acquired the same

Training as me. If I myself managed to escape, many of them, now adults, continue to work tirelessly throughout the world to bring this inhumane plan to fruition. And I’m only talking about the network that I knew closely, without counting all those that I don’t know. Because,

Knowingly or not, every Islamist feeds on this idea of ​​planetary domination of Islam. The more time passes, the more the danger grows and becomes more difficult to combat. Everything must be done to prevent the evil from spreading further and to eradicate it. Whether within governments, associations, intellectual elites, the media,

Business or artistic circles, we must all fight against this fanaticism which assassinates freedom of thought in the name of a certain Allah. El imam Ja’far al-Sadiq, the 6th infallible Shiite imam, said this: “Al Taqîya as I understand it is our true

Religion and that of our parents. Anyone who does not practice it must be considered a non-practitioner of authentic Islam.” I initially believed that the course called “El Taqîya” consisted of intensive learning of simulation techniques, as in any classic secret service training. But over time,

I realized that it went well beyond a simple occasional practice of simulation . It was in fact a belief in its own right, an unshakeable faith in a tactic infallible which will sooner or later lead to the desired end: El Taqîya is more than an attitude,

It is a sectarian behavior which becomes second nature. It is a religion in itself and a practice at all levels, supported by unwavering faith. In El Rissali, it is more important than the five pillars of Islam and comes first so that its

Members remain constantly elusive. A political approach rather than a religious one, it is only assimilated by those who have the opportunity to exercise it assiduously. The true blood network of this international octopus, it irrigates even the most obscure members who work in the shadows to pull the strings. The emblem of this network

Is the quote from Imam Ali: “Be among them without being part of them”, so as not to be singled out and liquidated at the first opportunity. The origin of Al Taqîya as taught by the network dates back to the creation of man. This would be the first knowledge instilled in Adam

After his creation in order to unmask Satan, an expert in this technique, by distinguishing him from the angels among whom he hid. God was aware of his vile intentions, but Satan’s extreme skill in the exercise of taqîya prevented him from attacking him

For lack of flagrante delicto. This is why he created Adam and taught him this technique, in order to reveal the falsehood of Satan’s submission, to dissociate him from the other angels and to justify his dismissal from the heavenly paradise. This version follows from the following Quranic verse (ch. 2, verse 30):

When your Lord confided to the angels: ‘I will establish a caliph on the earth,’ they said: “Will you establish someone who will do evil and who will shed blood while we celebrate your praises and glorify you and proclaim your holiness? He said, “Verily

I know what you do not know.” The network claims that the one who speaks in the name of the angels, called Iblis in Muslim tradition, is none other than Satan, who is positioned at the highest of the pyramid because of his apparent exemplary submission to the

Divine will. It is thanks to his extreme mastery of Al Taqîya that he managed to occupy such a prestigious rank. The angels support him in his opposition to the divine will through ignorance of his true intentions: he wants to be the only representative of God on earth, and man risks

Stealing the spotlight. This is why God answers them: “I know what you do not know”. The divine decision to create Adam aims to unmask Satan in order to remove him and replace him with man. So that the latter can thwart the tricks of Satan, God first teaches him

The handling of taqîya. If Adam eats the fruit of the tree of Knowledge, it is with God’s agreement, because he could not violate a divine order as Satan did. He defies the ban on touching the tree with divine permission to appear to have sinned and

Thus reveal to the angels Satan’s bad faith and his schemes to lead him away from the right path. We must believe that Adam learned his lesson well since he transmitted this knowledge to his descendants through the generations until today! According to the network,

Only the direct descendants of Mohamed and the children of Israel know this truth: Jews exercise it in the service of Satan, while Muslims put it in the service of God. In this secret complicity with God to confuse the issue, Adam uses Eve,

A symbol of weakness and ignorance, in order to reinforce his image as a sinner tempted by the devil. This is why the first rule of El Taqîya is to use the weakness and ignorance of others. Here, “the other” refers to El Aamma, (the simplistic popular mass): you have to blend

Into the crowd to go unnoticed. This mass has no choice, either it is subject to the imams, or it is exploited by the enemy. From the outset, this illustrates the Islamist mode of operation, where human beings have no importance in relation to the desired objective.

Another example of the application of taqîya according to the network is the story of Joseph, where Jacob maneuvers with the complicity of his eldest son and Joseph to bring his people into Egypt. As a prophet, Jacob is a righteous among the righteous, his apparent

Favoritism for Joseph is therefore part of taqîya: he voluntarily favors him to make his other sons jealous. When they begin to plot to murder Joseph, the elder suggests throwing him into an empty well, knowing that he will be recovered by the caravanners. We know the rest.

The story of the exit from Egypt is similar: the pharaoh having refused to give freedom to the Jewish people, his wife, who is of Jewish origin and managed to infiltrate the summit of power , arranges with his sister, Moses’ mother, to adopt the child and raise him as a

Future ruler. Once the latter became an adult, informers who worked on behalf of the Jews warned the pharaoh of the danger represented by these people, who had become too numerous and too rich. This prompts the pharaoh first to bully the Jews, and secondly to grant Moses’ request to let them leave Egypt,

Something he had previously refused. It is therefore thanks to taqîya that Moses is spared and raised in the palace while waiting for the Jewish people, enriched but subjected to bullying, to decide to leave Egypt to reach the Promised Land. These biblical episodes are studied at the

El Qaïm school as an example to follow and a lesson in the use of Al Taqîya by the Jews, by divine order at the time, but which continues today in the service of Satan. in order to satisfy personal ambitions. According to our teachers, this same scenario is

Used by the Zionists to create the State of Israel: after the exodus of the Jews to Europe where they enriched themselves and multiplied, Hitler is warned against the danger they represent for that he triggers their massacre, which encourages the survivors to flow back to the State

Of Israel. According to the network, without the deliberate provocation of the Holocaust, Jews would never have agreed to leave Europe. Following in the footsteps of his ancestors, Mohamed used taqiya to accomplish the mission he had undertaken. The progressive revelation of the Quran demonstrates its use through the principle of El naskh

Ouél mansoukh, which consists of abrogating one verse for another intended to erase the effect of the first. Abrogation is based on taqiya in order to deceive the enemy and mislead him. Mohamed was not supported by chance by the Medinans during his exodus; several branches

Of his followers patiently waited for the green light under the mask of taqîya. Likewise, the message of tolerance at the beginning of his prophecy was tactical, it only lasted long enough to gain strength before being able to change its discourse. Later, after his death,

The use of taqîya was taken up by his cousin Ali, who temporarily accepted the caliphate of Abu Bakr, one of Mohamed’s disciples, in order to protect himself. In fact, we must reread the entire history of Islam in the light of taqîya to truly understand its twist and intentions.

The practice of Al Taqîya today It is reported from Imam Ja’far al-Sadiq that he said: “Dissimulation (Al Taqîya) is my religion and the religion of my ancestors.” He also said: “He who has no dissimulation (Al Taqîya) has no religion.” This is an example of handling taqîya. Many interpret this Hadith as a call

To view the diversity of religions in a positive way, but while this may be true among Muslims, this is by no means the case for non-Muslims, i.e. at the time the followers of the religion of Rome who absolutely had to fall under the influence of Islam. The real

Question is to know what the different Islamist tendencies, from the most barbaric to the most moderate, mean today by “Rome”. Al Taqîya reappears in modern Islamism with the fall of the Turkish Ottoman Empire, with Jamal El Dine El Afghani, the father of political Islamism

To which all Islamists refer, whether Shiite or Sunni. Faced with the weakness of the Muslim world and the appearance of the West as the new international force, the Islamist international then takes the blow, but it does not lose sight of its objective, which is the application of

Divine will on earth. . The Islamists then believe that it was the sleep of Muslims which allowed the Jews to invade the West to turn it against them and destroy the Arab-Muslim world, making the voice of Satan prevail over that of Allah. According to their mode of reasoning,

Muslims are punished by God for straying from their basic objective. It is their fault that Satan’s will took over. Indeed, the average traditionalist Muslim assumes that nothing exists or can exist outside of divine will. It is God who

Orchestrates his life in its smallest details, and he must submit to his order without calling anything into question. It is God who guides him on the right path of Islam in order to save his soul from all error and admit him to his heavenly paradise. Therefore, there is

No room left for free will. The slightest catastrophe is interpreted as a divine sign. If it occurs in the enemy’s camp, it is a sign of support for Muslims, but if it falls on them, it is a sign of divine anger and a call to order. To

Make up for lost time and return to the international scene as an essential force, all means are good. It’s a simple question of tactics, of taqîya. This is the beginning of Islamist movements with an assumed political connotation in order to recover

The reins of power. The Arab world is targeted first, then the Muslim world in general, and finally the entire planet. Here are some examples of modern application of taqîya. This shows how difficult it is to collect evidence for this. On the other hand,

If we continue to wait for proof, we will not know what to do with it the day when only the so-called representatives of Allah can speak, but it will be too late. Moderate Islamism Some Shiite ulama (scholars) appear to be very moderate, like Ayatollah El Sistani. Its followers are accepted

Throughout the world as representatives of a tolerant Islam. As such, all doors are open to them in Asia, the West and Africa to create associations and recruit in complete freedom. We forget, however, that these followers are muglidin, “followers” ​​who are content to advance on the path indicated to them by their spiritual leader,

Who has unfailing authority over them. In other words, as long as the master calls for peace, they are pacifists, but if he changes his tone and calls them to violence, they will obey without the slightest hesitation. If he asks them to give their lives to God, they will turn into an army

Of uncontrollable and devastating suicide bombers. Furthermore, in Shiism which has a clergy and a hierarchy identical to the Christian Churches, the disappearance of an ayatollah leads to the appearance of his successor. All it takes is for a master pacifist to die and be replaced

By a fanatic to overturn the data and find yourself in a catastrophic situation. What does El Sistani’s approach consist of, apart from the fact that he is not currently calling for war against the West? His position can be compared to that of Orthodox Jews

Who refuse to recognize the State of Israel until the Messiah has arrived. Among the Shiites, a good fraction consider that we should not move until the Mehdi has returned to spread the divine word throughout the planet. I can imagine what will happen

The day an Ayatollah issues a fatwa announcing the return of the Mehdi and demands that all Muslims throughout the world follow his instructions. This time bomb could explode in our faces at any moment. Let us also cite Sunni Islamist movements

, such as the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt or those of Jordan, Kuwait or North Africa, which advance in the name of democracy to achieve power but which, once obtained, transform it. into a theocratic dictatorship for life and over several generations. State Islamism So-called Islamic countries

Like Saudi Arabia, Iran or Sudan, or pro-Islamic ones like Syria or Lebanon, say they respect international laws while representing support for Islamists at home. planetary scale. At the top of the list are Saudi Arabia and the Gulf countries in general . They secretly encourage the action of the Islamists in three ways:

1. These States make no effort to help their respective populations to free themselves from the traditionalist orthodox religious influence. On the contrary, they ensure that they are bathed in ignorance. Political and media propaganda presents Arab-Muslim countries and the Umma Islamia as victims of the Judeo-Christian conspiracy which seeks to dominate them.

It is enough to follow a few broadcasts on Arab satellite channels to realize the negative feelings that this interpretation of the current situation can provoke in the average citizen. This keeps the popular mass of this part of the globe on alert, given

The recent events in Palestine and Iraq. The Jew and the West are presented as scapegoats throughout the streets, in mosques and even on the Internet. The result is unsurprising: we note an unprecedented return to religion, more to oppose the enemies

Of Muslims than out of personal conviction. The Islamists have never recruited so much and found so much support among the middle classes. 2. Arab-Muslim territories serve as a platform for the various logistical and financial traffic of fundamentalist and terrorist movements. We may not be in the presence of funding at the state level,

But the state often turns a blind eye to the funding networks that exist in the country. A complicity has undeniably been established between certain Arab governments and the Islamists: the latter can operate in complete peace of mind provided that they

Do not harm the power in place. I am thinking in particular of Syria, which serves as a stopover to cross into Iran or Lebanon in complete safety. 3. Terrorist fundamentalists are tolerated. The essential is the foundation of their belief, regardless of the fact that their mode of operation

Is unacceptable, that they induce a state of implicit religious war against the Judeo-Christian alliance and that they arrogate to themselves the right to sow religious tyranny among their own and terror among others. In other words, these different protagonists work to make Islam a formidable force against the Judeo-Christian camp.

Here again, a qualitative minority exploits a quantitative majority. The Islamist International Through the attacks perpetrated around the world, it is not the number of victims that counts, but the medium and long term repercussions. Mohamed proclaims: “Islam has become powerful thanks to its strong capacity to terrorize the enemy”.

Indeed, the primary objective of attacks is to sow terror in the adversary’s camp in order to create neurosis and destabilize it with a minimum of effort. The strikes are spaced out and do not respond to a particular logic, in order to remain elusive. The aim of the attacks

Is none other than a call to order in order to make the “enemies of God” understand that jihad is still present on the international scene. The Islamist terrorist international aims for the maximum to achieve the minimum. It adopts two parallel strategies in the East and the West.

By practicing terrorism in the West, Islamists incite populations against their government due to the lack of security and proximity policy. The immediate result is the negative and weakened image displayed by states, even powerful ones, which lose credibility day by day in the eyes of their citizens. This policy of

Terror allows so-called moderate currents to be better accepted within host societies. I do not know of a worse case than France, which legitimizes the action of Islamists by creating a French Islam under the patronage of the State in order to represent the Arab-Muslim community,

Which does not recognize itself from near or far. in this CFCM. It is, if I dare say, “thanks” to the attacks that France began to take an interest in this community in order to better supervise it through the attempt to create an Islam of France. On the side of Arab-Muslim countries affected

By barbarism, fundamentalist terrorism targets the economy and particularly tourism, as well as foreign investments due to the climate of insecurity it creates. Here too we are witnessing at government level a return to the practices of Islam in order to block the way for extremists, which only indirectly responds to their demands. It is

A way of responding to them “we keep the power, but what you want to do, we will accomplish it in your place”. Thus, instead of helping populations to free themselves from religious influence, the States in place keep them there more provided that power does

Not escape them. Instead of moving ahead of modernity by further marking the separation of religion and the State, they multiply the speeches “in the name of God” and the official representations during religious festivals, and they comfort the masses in his ignorance.

Disinformation is circulating at all levels in order to achieve the impossible. Thus, it is not necessarily the real instigators of the attacks who claim responsibility for them. It is a way of muddying the waters and causing

The enemy to lose further ground, in the East as well as in the West. The international calls for help from foreign forces if necessary. The most obvious example is the attack on Iraq by the Americans. Everyone knows that the Islamists had Saddam Hussein as their sworn enemy, who knew all their

Schemes and who represented a major obstacle to their access to power in Iraq. Alone, they would never have succeeded in bringing about the fall of this dictator. The September 11 attack was the ideal opportunity to involve the Iraqis and provoke a war with the aim of removing

Saddam Hussein with the help of the Americans, who continue to sin through ignorance. The fall of Saddam represented a gain of time and an unprecedented victory for the Islamists. A counter-offensive from within We must therefore not underestimate the

Capabilities of orthodox Islam, for which we only need to go back through history to see what it was able to achieve in a short time thanks to taqîya. We see, it benefits indirectly from “moderate” and state Islamism, and all these branches of the same tree work consciously or

Not for planetary domination. What solutions do we have to foil his plans? Once we realize that the ultimate objective of Islamism is to dominate humanity in the name of a single mass ideology, several alternatives remain. First of all, we are in the middle of

Science fiction! This disproportionate objective cannot be achieved in a sustainable manner: the most colossal powers all end up crumbling, the need for autonomy and diversity being anchored to the soul of the people. On the other hand, it can cause considerable nuisance.

The counter-objective must therefore aim to limit these nuisances. Mohamed, who knew the weak points of his religion, said himself: “I do not fear the external enemy for you, but I greatly fear the one who comes from within.” This Hadith reveals the means by which Islamism

Can be attacked: the fact of bludgeoning Arab-Muslim countries from the outside only strengthens it. Therefore, change must come from within. Given that Islamism is based on five major networks – military, cultural, political, social and economic – we must mobilize in these five areas in order to block these networks sooner or later.

The fight will bear fruit provided that as many individuals, legal entities and states as possible participate, each according to their means. We can already propose several key ideas that seem to make common sense among others to outline an action program. 1. Military domain First eliminate the

External ingredients that fuel hatred within Arab-Muslim countries. Concerning the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, quickly create a Palestinian state alongside the Israeli state. We must remove from the Islamists this important argument which serves them to arouse the popular masses and win sympathy. Initially limited to the borders

Recognized in 1967, the status of Jerusalem having to be re-studied and settled in the medium term. Stop the interference of the Americans, whose selfishness and incomprehension of the Arab and Muslim world seem to know no bounds. Thinking only of their immediate interest, they continue to support the Wahhabi regime in Saudi Arabia

After having sparked the El Qaeda movement there, which turned against them before contaminating the planet. They are now opening a new gulag in Iraq, again in the name of combat against the axis of Evil. After Iran, we will witness the creation of a new Afghanistan, and a few

Years later, we will see the emergence of Iraqi Islamist terrorists all over the world, as we saw with the Afghan Arab terrorists. The damage is done, now we must limit the damage. To do this, the Americans and their allies must withdraw from Iraq

And let the country rebuild itself from the inside under the control of the UN. Strengthen international collaboration in the fight against terrorism. Place under the direction of the UN an international counter-terrorism cell made up of specialists and provide it with unlimited resources in order to protect the planet from this threat which

Concerns us all. This cell will include two structures: one for collecting information on behalf of an independent secret service, the objective being to infiltrate, observe and control the different movements and their modes of mobilization in order to create new networks, the other rapid intervention under UN control, ready to intervene to neutralize

Terrorists anywhere in the world with the collaboration of local intervention services. 2. Political domain It is the free spirits from the Arab-Muslim world who have the means to eradicate evil in the long term. We are thirsty for freedom of expression, but the most urgent need

Is not the establishment of democracy, from which we are unfortunately still far away. Today, this would lead in the short term to Islamist dictatorships from which we would find it even more difficult to escape. The Islamist dictatorship risks further knocking out the masses in order to secure power

. To avoid falling into this type of excess, several measures are necessary: ​​Prohibit the creation of any political movement with religious connotations. Even those who present themselves in the most moderate guise must not be allowed to stand in free elections. Only secular parties that respect the right to

Difference will be admitted to represent a nation with a secular constitution which expresses itself in the name of its people and their needs and not in the name of a religion and its dictates. Close written or audiovisual media outlets carrying Islamist and pro-Islamist propaganda and enact laws to prevent

Indoctrination campaigns from reaching populations incapable of understanding things. Stop sparing religious sensitivities to the detriment of freedom of expression and conscience. Every time an atheist raises his voice, the sentence of apostasy falls, followed by the death sentence, without anyone daring to oppose it. The deeds and gestures of free minds in

This part of the globe must be protected from any abusive censorship. Ex-Muslims must be able to express themselves safely like religious people, without being treated as Islamophobes, traitors or unbelievers because they dare to think for themselves without referring to a deity. Remove laws that interfere with the private lives of citizens. Freedom of

Morals encourages people to adopt responsible behavior instead of living under guardianship like eternal minors devoid of judgment. Beware of Islamist and pro-Islamist countries which display openness and tolerance without thinking a single word about it. Put pressure on this type of regime in order to encourage them to respect and take into account all

Components of their society. Insulate them if necessary. Marginalize religious leaders and leaders who call for proselytism to rob the simple-minded of their identity. Soliciting, which is prohibited for sects in public places, must be prohibited in the same way for followers of religions. 3. Cultural domain

The elite must work towards a cultural revolution which takes into account the sacred right of people to self-determination in the face of intellectual and religious slavery which keeps them under supervision. To achieve this, several points must be made concrete. Set up campaigns to combat obscurantism which will be

Unanimously broadcast in all media in order to raise public awareness of the threat posed by this scourge which is still very present in the twenty-first century. Giving voice to secularists in the media, to free thinkers, to atheists, whether they are scientists, historians, writers,

Artists, to any open and tolerant person so that public opinion becomes aware of the lamentable narrow-mindedness in which it has been maintained until now. Revise national educational programs to bring them into line with the demands of our times. Allow and encourage the printing of works debating the foundations of Islam,

Whether in Arabic or other languages. Finance the creation of television and radio channels as well as secular press outlets in order to bring populations out of their ancestral lethargy and extricate them from Islamist influence. 4. Social domain It is good to differentiate a terrorist from an Islamist. The first is a criminal against

Humanity: whether he is active or not, he must be struck without hesitation wherever he is. As for the second, we will do him a favor by putting him under surveillance so that he does not swell the number of the first. It is also important to distinguish a

Muslim from an Islamist, at the risk of falling into a confusion which fuels the rise of religious fundamentalism . The fact of systematically apprehending any woman who wears the veil and any man who lets his beard grow fuels rejection and incomprehension. Any

Ostentatious religious sign should be prohibited in schools and administrations, but in public spaces, everyone must be free to wear what they wear as long as it is decent. In the West, we get stopped in the street because we have a beard and the job profile. If I

Myself remain understanding in this type of situation, others find it difficult to swallow the pill and become ready prey for Islamist recruiters. We must make law enforcement aware of this danger so that they collaborate as much as possible. The fight targets an archaic ideology, not individuals. It is not a question of replacing

One intellectual terrorism with another, but of defending the right to difference and freedom of conscience in all senses of the term. The majority which has remained silent until now must be able to show solidarity inside and outside Arab-Muslim countries to confront the fascist terrorist minority which only recognizes itself.

Instead of publicizing the horrors committed by the Islamists, which gives them publicity, we must support those who call for peace between peoples far from religious influence. Reach out to those who have let themselves be caught in the net of the Islamists. Encourage them

To desert the enemy camp, to denounce it and to partially repair the error due to their young age and ignorance of the harmful consequences of their commitment to humanity. Encourage them to testify to circumvent the evil instead of refusing their rehabilitation and giving them

A shameful label for eternity. Protect children from parental dictates so that they can seek their path freely. Paternal religion must stop being imposed. Everyone must be able to choose the religion that suits them, change it or not have one without putting their reputation or their life in danger, girls and boys alike.

Encourage the creation of non-governmental associations in order to fill the gaps of the State in the defense of human and citizen rights. 5. Economic field In this area, it seems to me that the urgent need is to limit the self-financing of the extremist faction by creating organizations to control and manage

Charitable donations. The Islamists do not lack sources of financing between the financial support of Arab-Muslim states, the religious obligation of zakat (alms), khoms (the religious tax on wealth) and the donations of a class wealthy businessman who wants to wash away his sins. This system sees the construction of mosques proliferate around the world

Under the pretext of promoting Arab-Muslim culture and identity, while activists for the separation between religion and state are only entitled to strong encouragement from the lip service. We must reverse the machine and provide them with resources commensurate with their responsibilities. Money must be redistributed to new secular formations

Requiring supervision and support. It is also necessary to create an international monetary fund under the aegis of the United Nations so that States participate in the financing of projects which contribute to the eradication of Islamism. Al Taqîya is both a philosophy and an applied strategy. Going around the issue

Is difficult, which is why I limit myself to relatively simple examples, whether occasional or permanent. I don’t want to plunge the reader into unnecessary paranoia, but simply to become aware of the situation. I readily recognize that the East does not

Function like the West: when the latter demands proof in the name of rationalism, the East does without it in the name of intuition, and when the West accuses the East of illuminism, the latter treats him as naive who skims over the appearance of things without discerning

Their complexity. One is too far away and the other too close to effectively assess the Islamist danger and integrate its mode of operation in order to counter it. It should be noted, however, that the Islamists do not disdain learning the Western mode of reasoning while keeping

Their own, which means that they are ahead on this point: the underestimation is one-sided, which makes the critical situation. Indeed, education does not necessarily reside in the number of diplomas. There is a crucial lack of knowledge of neighboring cultures in the West. This lack of information constitutes the ideal ingredient to fuel

Fanaticism and obscurantism in third world countries, but it applies to the West. Including at the top of the States, to which the status of political refugees is sometimes attributed to notorious Islamists under the pretext that they are victims of the dictatorships of their country of origin.

Whether we are born Muslim or not, we want our children to be born free and to live in peace. So, it doesn’t matter whether the Islamist attitude is logical or not, the main thing is to admit that thousands adhere to it without a shadow of a doubt. Even if it is pure

Fiction, it must be confronted concretely. The fight must apply to all the areas mentioned. The primary weapon is to remove ignorance and raise awareness in society of the threat posed by the rise of Islamist fundamentalism. To face it, we must deprive it of its two major assets

: the unconsciousness of the vast majority and that of the international order which only takes into account the concrete aspect of things. The solution is in the hands of free spirits. All actors, individual or collective, must work simultaneously and on an international scale to

Eradicate this breed destructive of the rights of peoples and individuals. Otherwise, we are inevitably part of the ingredients of this rise in obscurantism fueled by human stupidity. Approaching Salah Karkar in Tunis At the beginning of April 1985, Abou Ahmed announced to me my upcoming departure for Tunisia because the revolution against the

Bourguiba government would soon be triggered. I felt some reluctance to participate in this operation, having rediscovered some of my former doubts through contact with Paris. To tell the truth, I didn’t feel any hatred towards the Tunisian president. On the contrary, I

Judged his political record to be favorable, even though I deplored his anti-democratic positions. However , I didn’t say anything about it to my friend. Once there, I would see the state of the situation. I have always been extremely carefree, and if I have sometimes suffered from it, it has also

Saved me on many occasions. Heedless of the danger, of the gravity of my actions, I moved forward on the path of life like a tightrope walker who had forgotten that he was walking on a wire. In this way, I found myself most of the time where no one expected me,

So that I avoided many traps without knowing it myself. Abou Ahmed gave me his instructions: – The priority objective of your mission is to establish contact between the network and your brother-in-law. Be careful, because he will undoubtedly be suspicious. We don’t know what exactly is in his stomach. When you

Arrive, you will wait to be contacted by the person in charge in Tunis, and you will have to give him a certain number of documents. No one should know about your trip, Its very important. Your stay will last ten days. This is how you will proceed: first,

Monitor Salah Karkar and try to obtain as much information as possible about his activities. When you talk to him about your religious experience in Iran, you will carefully analyze his reactions and note the questions he asks you. Act like a tactician. Then,

Through your sister, you will request a private meeting with him. If he refuses, don’t insist. We will advise accordingly. Otherwise, make the appointment three days before your return to Paris. – And why ? I interrupted him.

– Security Question. Exactly, I was going to come there. It is imperative that you are alone with your brother-in-law. Turn on the radio to jam anyone listening. Don’t forget that the national gendarmerie station is just a stone’s throw from your home! When all this is verified and trust

Is well established, you will ask him the following question: “Do you want to meet Mohamed Faouzi, the leader of the Islamist movement in Iran? He is ready to collaborate with you to overthrow Bourguiba and create a revolutionary Islamist state.” If he accepts,

You notify us immediately. The day before your departure, one of our agents will give you a report on the network’s activities in the country and a list of needs necessary for the continuation of the revolution. You will tell this man to select ten Tunisian Shiites and send them to Iran.

We greeted each other gravely. From now on, everything would be rushed. This did not prevent Abou Ahmed from giving me a black look before leaving which expressed a certain resentment. He still hadn’t digested my lack of enthusiasm during the oath. The idea of ​​returning to my country put me in a

Pronounced state of excitement. This time, I left with my real passport. No need to cheat. On May 2, 1985, I flew to my native land. When I got off the plane, the scents of Tunis whipped my blood. Happy, slightly dazed, I stayed a few moments in the

Airport cafeteria to watch the spectacle of the crowd. I particularly like these places where thousands of travelers meet every day. Half an hour later, I got into a taxi which took me home. – Is that you, my son? cried my father,

Opening the door for me. But why didn’t you warn me of your arrival? – I wanted to surprise you, dad. – Well, you did it! Come let me kiss you. Despite the lack of affection I had for my father, I let myself go to the pleasure

Of reunion, without however being able to prevent myself from maintaining a certain distance. He was stronger than me, I couldn’t forget his paternal cruelty of the past. I was struck by the state of abandon in which Ariana’s house was located. Just like my father, whose

Face was marked, the villa had taken a serious look at its age. The hedges were growing crooked , the trees were thirsty, a layer of dried moss covered the veranda slab, objects were lying everywhere, the paint on the walls was peeling, the gate

Was falling into ruin. Obviously, since my mother left, nothing was working normally. All this saddened me. I was happy to return to the land of my childhood, but it gave me a disastrous image. What kind of miserable life had my family led in recent years? When Samira saw me,

She ran across the garden. The closer she got, the more moved I was by the changes her body showed. There was something fundamentally slovenly about his outfit. His hairstyle looked like nothing, his clothes were poorly patched, dark circles appeared on his face, the skin of which appeared dehydrated. The weight of

Religious obligations which deny the expression of the body had transformed her into a poor woman. Such a waste ! Now a mother of three children, subject to the vile Islamist laws, she continued to sink into a compartmentalized hell, made of renunciations, annoyances, unconfessed remorse. Behind her, her husband walked slowly

, looking up. He was always the same, round face, bald forehead, short, stocky, short legs, massive thighs, redundant belly, and black eyes. Black of hatred, black with power. At first glance, he looked great. His stay in prison had definitely been successful for him. Some seeds resist the wear and tear of

Time and deprivation better than others . Salah Karkar was slow to come, no doubt wanting to show that he was not a man to be easily moved. Rivalry obliges, the war of nerves had resumed in this setting which looked like the end of the reign. – How happy I am! Samira said.

– What a joy to see you again! I exclaimed. – Assalamu Aleïkoum, Karim, said Salah Karkar. So, you must have some things to talk about! I had to mark my distances. Applying the lessons instilled, I did not respond immediately, as if I distrusted him. – Well, continued Salah Karkar,

A little disconcerted, have you lost your language? – Let me enjoy my big sister a little! I retorted. “Let’s go get some fresh air,” my father said cheerfully. The next day, I confided in my sister. – Do you remember when you rocked me in your arms? I said. – Oh yes ! How

Far away it is! – Now it’s up to me to comfort you, Samira. – How ? – By talking to you about God. – God ? Ah! You know I have a tough school with Salah. – Has your religion made you a happy person? – Happiness, you have to wait

Until you ascend to heaven to experience it. – I learned a lot of things in Iran, I would like to pass them on to you. – Do you think I’m ignorant? Samira got angry. – We never stop learning, my dear sister. – It is obvious. – Do you know the Shiite doctrine?

– Yes, I heard about it, but nothing more. – For Shiites, faith is freedom. The freedom to love God not only according to the Scriptures, but also and above all by listening to the voice of one’s heart. The nuance is significant. An individual who forgot

To look at himself before turning to God would not truly be a believer. – Is that what Shiism is? she said, incredulously. – I could talk to you about it for hours, and still I would only disfigure Shiite thought, because God cannot explain himself, he is. All

Paths lead to him as long as you live with respect for others and for your own will. – This all seems very confusing to me, Karim. – But take a look at yourself! Your eyes seem very sad for a woman of your quality. Your dark clothes are the reflection

Of a soul dried up by a religious practice far too far from human realities. Samira lowered her head. Deep down, my words must have shocked her. But the strong pressure from her husband prevented her from existing as

She had dreamed of as a child. To admit his bankruptcy would have been unbearable for him, it would have been to suddenly admit the madness of his years of emotional distress. A terrible shock! – What exactly did you do in Iran? Tell me,

She asked to hide her embarrassment. – I saw a people moving towards a just and better world. Imagine that there, women are active, they work side by side with men on an equal footing! People are happy, all the children go to

School. Solidarity is in full swing. The poor are less poor, and the rich know how to share… I spoke to him at length about the El Qaem school, about Iran, about my companions in the revolution, extolling the merits of the Shiite doctrine. I didn’t really believe everything I said,

But I had to impress her, provoke her, touch her unconscious so that she would change – and also so that she would become my ally. Not far away, Salah Karkar was reading the newspaper. I sometimes raised my voice a little so that he could hear certain comments

Likely to excite his curiosity. – Samira, will you do me a favor? – With pleasure, little brother. – Tell your husband that I would like to speak to him face to face. – Very well, I will fix that for you.

Thanks to the intervention of my sister, the private meeting between Salah Karkar and me could take place two days later, on May 5, 1985. That day, Ariana’s house was empty. My father was in Tunis, probably with some playmates.

So we sat in the kitchen. Before sitting down, I took care to turn on the radio to discourage possible prying ears. – What are you doing ? We no longer get along, protested Salah Karkar. – A little music will relax us, I retorted with a knowing smile. – If you want to… So,

What do you have to tell me? – Finally, we don’t know each other very well. – So much the better ! I love discoveries. – So how is the revolution progressing around here? Salah Karkar frowned. My sister reported to him. In fact,

He was wary of the young wolf of Iranian Shiism that I was in his eyes. Had I not been corrupted by Western powers? Wasn’t my whole history in Iran used as a pretext to approach him and trap him? – The revolution is on its way,

He replied. It is the people who will decide the moment of its consecration. – The people ! You know very well that it is nothing without the power of leaders. – Make no mistake, the people have a soul. Leaders are only there to show

The way. Then they must fade away. – Oh yes ! I said in a knowing tone. It is the theory of Marxism applied to Islamism. Well seen ! God and his people in power, the disappearance of the elite, the abolition of classes. – Somehow. But tell me,

You have quite a culture now! – Reading never hurt anyone, I retorted. – You still need to understand what the books say. I approached my brother-in-law as if I wanted to confide a secret of the greatest importance to him. – Wasn’t it you who

Told me a few years ago: “one day, you will become a soldier of Allah”? Well, there you go, I am now well armed to fight the ungodly. But that ‘s another story… Between us, who would know how to lead the country better than those who have learned to

Love it and who know the meaning of history? – I don’t see where you’re coming from, said Salah Karkar, moving back a little in his chair. – I do not believe that the people are capable of governing Tunisia alone. We must not hide our faces, the country needs

People of your caliber. You must accomplish the mission that God was willing to give you. – Do you think I waited for you to act in this direction? exclaimed Salah Karkar with pride. – I do not believe that the people are capable of governing Tunisia alone. Would you be

Willing to meet Mohamed Faouzi? – Mohamed Faouzi? – He is an Islamist leader responsible for the greater Maghreb. He is very powerful. He would like to talk to you. The fish took the hook even faster than I had imagined. Salah Karkar was even in the grip of furious agitation,

He already saw himself at the top of the bill, haranguing the crowd with frenetic speeches. I immediately called my boss to let him know the good news. The meeting between Salah Karkar and Mohamed Faouzi took place the next day at Ariana’s house.

But when the negotiations were about to begin, Mohamed Faouzi whispered in my ear that my presence was not wanted. My pride took a serious blow. I walked around the garden during the interview, my nerves frazzled.

On May 10, 1985, at the end of my stay, I was contacted as planned by one of the local network managers. We met in Tunis at the Café Le Diplomate, a modern hotel located in the center of the capital. – I am really happy to meet you, began the Tunisian Rissalist.

In his thirties, dressed in the fashion of young people of the time, with a light beard, a sign of his affiliation with Shiism, the man did not really seem at ease. He pursed his mouth into a nervous grin. – It seems that I am your messiah! I said

With a genuine smile. – This is not the time for jokes. I have big problems. – We all have, I said, surprised by this unexpected panic. – Isn’t the continuation of the revolution in Tunisia one of the priority objectives of the network? – It’s just.

– I sent several messages to Tehran. I still haven’t had a response. I am sorely lacking in resources. – What exactly do you need? – Money, of course! -.Like everyone. Why do you want additional funds? -.Because the number of Shiite recruits continues to increase. It’s a real success. I did my job well,

You see. And I am alone to train our future soldiers. Without money, how do you want to retain the young people who gave their lives to the network? I need new premises, more equipment, and above all trainers. – I see. Where do new recruits come from?

– Shiism is very successful among intellectuals and the wealthy classes, but also among the popular classes. There is no in-between. In the hinterland, we are also very listened to. Many people are ready to take up arms to

Defend our cause. This is why the network needs to send me money, and fast! I admit I do n’t understand the slowness of their reaction. “Me neither,” I admitted. The Rissalist pulled my arm from my shirt – Make a move! Did he take me for El Rissali’s banker? Had Abou Ahmed

Presented me as a senior official? – Listen, I’ll take care of your problem, I promise. In exchange, you can choose the ten best elements from your troops . You will send them to Tehran to receive ideological and military training. Training future Tunisian revolutionaries in Iranian camps

Is one less thing to worry about. And then, it is essential that we can test them, know their resistance. The revolution is underway, things will soon speed up. – Deal done! declared my interlocutor, now reassured. Shortly after, he entrusted me with a detailed file on his activities and needs.

The affair had been carried out smoothly. I flew to Paris with my head held high, like a glorious warrior whose destiny now rubbed shoulders with the thoughts of the Lord. Recruiting agent mission in Paris When I returned to the French capital on

May 12, 1985, I did not change my habits. In the morning, I took high school classes ( mathematics, physics, etc.) in Arabic. In the afternoon, I worked on behalf of the network. I also obtained a temporary residence permit valid for a period of

Three months. At the end of the week, I visited Abou Ahmed, curious about what happened next. – How did the interview between Salah Karkar and Faouzi go? I asked. – Perfectly ! Salah Karkar firmly believes in the success of the Iranian revolution. He sees

No objection to collaborating with a Shiite Islamist movement. On this point, he showed himself to be remarkably flexible. For him, the future leaders of Tunisia must base their policy on the fight against the West with Islam as the bridgehead. Faouzi claims

That Salah Karkar is the man for the job. – It’s not just him on earth! I grumbled. – I agree. But for now, we are forced to respect the instructions. Faouzi and Salah Karkar began to develop the coup d’état plan over two years,

From 1986 to 1988. Bourguiba will be killed like a rat! – Bourguiba may be a rat, as you say, but he is also a respectable man, I continued. – You fell on your head! Bourguiba is a puppet, an agent of the Western enemy!

– Alright Alright ! But does religious revolution require the systematic use of force? Is there not another way than that of violence, a way which would make Islam a real place of meeting and exchange? – Are you aware of the ineptitude of your words? It

Is impossible to negotiate with anyone, because Islam as we understand it is recognized neither by Bourguiba nor by Western countries. But raise your head a little, open your eyes a little. Be careful what you say, unfortunate! – Its a threat ?

– Silly ! You know you are my friend. Simply, moderate your language, because some walls have ears. Be patient, things will get better and better. – I hope so… – Here’s the most important thing now: our bosses ask that you leave as soon as possible for Brussels

To meet the main people in charge and think about the terms of our plan of attack. Your stay must not exceed three days. – Very good, I concluded soberly, flattered deep within me. Two days later, I reached the

Belgian capital, where I spoke mainly with the brother of Mohamed Faouzi, of whom I had already met at El Qaem school. His pseudonym was Abou Ouajih. Together, we developed a plan, the broad outlines of which were as follows: for a month, I was to guide Abou

Ouajih and introduce him to the Islamist community in Tunisia, without however being his hierarchical superior. On site, Salah Karkar would be responsible for selecting around twenty Islamists from his network who would be invited to receive

Six months of religious, political and military training in Iran. The return to Tunis could not be considered before this date. I would inherit the responsibility of these future young terrorists, whose character and combat aptitude Abou Ouajih would study. My excitement grew day by day. Although

I remain divided on the relevance of the objectives set by the Rissalist leaders, my rise in the hierarchy, at least as I assumed it, finished dizzying me. When I returned to Paris, I rushed to see Abou Ahmed. – I have excellent news to tell you, my

Friend immediately announced to me. The bosses agree with your plan. – Well, apparently, I’ve gained some ground! I enthused. However, Abou Ahmed looked gloomy . He remained silent for a few moments. – I’m not sure we’re on the right track, he finally said half-heartedly. This coup d’état

Against Bourguiba seems premature to me. – Now you are beginning to doubt, you, the most ardent defender of the Rissalist cause? – To tell the truth, I don’t trust the MTI. This sudden distrust betrayed a much deeper pain. Undoubtedly, my friend was not feeling well. I assumed he was upset that the

Management had kept him out of the loop. “Trust me,” I said reassuringly . I am your friend, and I know my brother-in-law well. It’s all good. – Certainly, Salah Karkar is one of its main animators, but who knows what is hidden behind this nebula? You know that, perhaps? Abu Ahmed got angry.

The discussion ended in confusion. In the days that followed, I inherited a bank account into which the network had deposited the sum of two thousand US dollars, an international credit card and traveler’s checks for an amount of one thousand

US dollars. This account was opened in the Crédit Lyonnais branch near Avenue de Wagram. My mission consisted of receiving the Islamist candidates sent by Salah Karkar, questioning them and verifying their good faith. As a recruiting agent, I would finally implement what I had learned from my masters in Iran, namely testing the personalities

And verifying the motivations of future Rissalist soldiers. I took a certain pride from it. This first contingent proved in any case that Salah Karkar kept the commitments made with Faouzi, namely respect for parity between Sunnis and Shiites. First of all, I welcomed a couple, Sami and Samia Ayad.

The young woman claimed to belong to the Shiite doctrine, just like her husband (the Shiites accept women in armed cells). Their goal was to acquire solid religious and military training to serve the revolution at all levels. It was,

They said, the dream of their lives. Sami had studied in Paris before being expelled from the country on suspicion of having participated in an explosive attack on a train near Marseille. He claimed not to be linked to this affair, but he knew the perpetrators, whose network

Had been dismantled by the police. Since his arrival in Tunis, he actively participated in the MTI. After having subtly questioned them, I drew up a report which I sent to the cultural center of Brussels to Abou Ali, one of the local officials. In my opinion, Samia’s revolutionary passion

Was very real. She had a very strong personality and spoke with enthusiasm, but this fiery energy could cause her to act a little hastily and lead her to make mistakes. Furthermore, although she showed a form of independence,

She could not stand the idea of ​​living far from her husband, which was paradoxical. In short, with a complete and rigid nature, she could prove to be a faithful revolutionary, but also a fierce adversary if she felt deceived. As for Sami, her husband, he spoke

Lightly and presented his ideas in a summary and inconsistent manner. That said, his courage and his hatred of the West were remarkable. He was willing to take risks and was the type of person to accept the most perilous missions without forgetting to be careful. A man of action with a

Big heart, he would walk away discreetly in the event of a disagreement, without seeking revenge. Shortly after, I received in Paris two new recruits, Abd Eltif El Tlili and Mongi El Fatnassi, who were supporters of Salah Karkar totally devoted to his cause.

Here again, as a guarantor of fundamentalist good morals, I had to test their convictions and their attachment to the revolution. When I informed Abu Ali of their arrival, he instructed me to apply the “plan of despair” for three or four days. When the two soldiers presented themselves to me, I looked sorry.

– Forgive me, but I don’t have the money for your accommodation. I live in a maid’s room which I already share with another companion. I’m in a hurry, I have to leave. Call me tomorrow morning. Not having anticipated such a welcome, the two

Young boys had to sleep under the stars. The next day, they contacted me, as agreed. From postponed appointments to abruptly cut phone lines, I made them wait the entire day. In the evening, I finally went to join the two budding revolutionaries.

Their condition was pitiful. Hungry, with dark circles around their eyes, they were trembling with anger and despair . I therefore judged them unfit to fight but, remembering the similar treatment I had suffered in Tehran, I sympathized with their pain and composed a

Laudatory report. At the request of Abou Ali, I accompanied them to Spain, to the cultural center of Madrid, whose manager would take charge of them in order to cover their tracks, to then send them to Syria, a country friendly to the Rissalists, from where they would join the ‘Iran.

A few days later, I took care of two other Islamists, Abdullah and Ibrahim. This time, they were grown men who were over thirty and who belonged to the Tunisian Islamic Front movement. Equipped with significant financial resources, they wanted to ensure the seriousness of the operation launched against Bourguiba’s government before investing funds

In the terrorist network. Salah Karkar had invited them to meet me in Paris so that I could provide them with the desired information. After a careful presentation of the situation, I took them to Spain. The airports being under police surveillance, we traveled by

Train. I had reserved all the seats in the compartment to avoid the intrusion of strangers, and I had drawn the door curtain. The landscape passed by the window like images from a silent film. During the journey, I continued to probe their revolutionary thirst. – How do you envisage the future

Islamist state in Tunisia? I asked. – I hope for strong power focused entirely on the people, replied Ibrahim. – Yes, but on what religious basis? – Sunnism is the only possible path. Meanwhile, Abdullah, the other Tunisian Islamist, was examining us with a tight-lipped mouth. His eyes bulging and his jaw contracted,

He seemed to suffer from having to wait many more months before taking up arms. He was motionless, but the rocking of the train made his head move with the regularity of an automaton, like the pendulum of a clock. It looked like a prehistoric insect ready to throw

Its deadly poison in the face of the enemy. – What do you think of Shiism? I continued. – I have no attraction for this doctrine. – It doesn’t matter how diverse the cults are, I replied. What matters is to bring the

Revolution to its conclusion beyond our differences. I obviously used the method advocated by Mohamed Alshirazi, the head of the apparent entity of the network: resorting to lies rather than taking the risk of dividing the troops. I, who had nevertheless detested the perfidious rhetoric

Of the great Rissalist leader, now made it my own without a shadow of a scruple. – The country has been drifting for too many years, Ibrahim continued. It is important to restore order, to instill in the people a sense of the values ​​of Islam. How

Does the network intend to help us? – First of all through training. If you accept it, your men will receive military and political training in Tehran. Believe me, the network is powerful and has excellent masters, strong experience and significant reserves of weapons. – All right. But on the ground,

I mean in Tunisia, for the coup and after, what support will the network have? – I cannot tell you in detail, this is currently the subject of discussions between Salah Karkar and the Rissalist leaders. On the other hand, I can tell you this: in the

Preparatory phase, the network will lend its soldiers. After the coup d’état, its economic engineers will come to support you in implementing the new regime. – Will we have guarantees on the withdrawal of Rissalist forces once the operations are completed? – To find out, you must contact

Salah Karkar, your boss. But the country will remain in the hands of the Tunisian revolutionaries. The network never appears center stage. He prefers to work in the shadows, for security reasons. – I think you understand the meaning of my question, insisted Ibrahim. Abdullah and I, like a few others,

Will contribute significant funds to this revolution. It would be regrettable if we lost our stake. – The rissalists will also pay out of their own pockets. As such, they are counting on the rigor of the MTI to carry out this coup. This response silenced Ibrahim’s suspicions. Adbullah,

Who had remained silent until then, leaned forward and shook my hand enthusiastically. – May those who love the Lord know their hour of glory! Arriving in Madrid, I presented them to the local manager, Saïd Mousaab. At the end of the talks, agreements were reached: in exchange for financial support,

El Rissali agreed to train the supporters of the two Islamist businessmen while leaving them free to practice Sunni doctrine. It is in this context that I examined the candidacy of Mohamed El Harath shortly after . This individual greatly displeased me, I found him obtuse,

Ultra fanatical, reactionary, refusing to listen to anyone’s ideas. But Salah Karkar having reminded me of the terms of the recent agreements, I was forced to direct him towards Syria. Coup d’état preparation tour in Tunisia During the month of May 1986, Abou Ahmed

Suddenly returned to the forefront to tell me that my mission as intermediary was temporarily postponed. I had to go quickly to Tehran to welcome the Tunisian elements and train them there. This new assignment was not to my liking, and I told him so immediately. – I hope you haven’t forgotten that I should

Be free to choose my missions? I protested. – No, but there are certain imperatives that we cannot escape. You can’t be both in the network and outside it forever! exploded my friend, visibly tired of my continued reservations. – I didn’t break my word! The leaders

Have no reason to complain about my action! After a lively exchange during which I did not give in one iota, Abou Ahmed referred it to our superiors, who accepted my demands. But in return, I had to first reach Tunisia with Abou Ouajih, the brother

Of Mohamed Faouzi, to introduce him to the local Islamists on a reconnaissance mission. I had to find a way to leave the Libyan high school without arousing suspicion, so I decided to adopt an “Iraqi position” by openly insulting the Iranian government and

Its people. As the Palestinian and Egyptian high school students began to defend my point of view, this worried the principal of the establishment, who eventually chased me away. My maneuver had worked admirably. A few days before my departure,

The father of a student came to approach me. – Do you want to enter an Iraqi school? he asked me. – I’m not saying no, but I have to return to Tunisia for the moment. My father is very tired. Could we

Talk about it again at the beginning of next September? – Of course. I am officially a journalist and political refugee, but in truth I belong to the Iraqi Baath Party. Would you agree to join us? – With pleasure, I replied.

This is how I attended the secret meetings of the Baath party in Paris, adopting the role of double agent as El Afghani had instituted it. One of the Iraqi partisans also entrusted me with documents intended for a Tunisian correspondent, documents

Put in a sealed envelope and the contents of which I did not know. As a security measure, I immediately informed my superiors: if I were to be arrested by the Bourguiba police, it would be better for me to pass for a member of the Baath party than for an Islamist.

I admit that I was jubilant deep down. Organizer, recruiter, emissary, double agent, I wore all the hats! Arriving at Ariana’s house, I introduced our family to my Saudi friend Abou Ouajih, “who had come to the country to deal with some commercial matters.”

The latter and Salah Karkar were thus able to work in complete peace on the future coup d’état against the Bourguiba government. The house thus saw all the terrorist elite of the region parade: soldiers like Saïd El Ferjani, but also businessmen and unknown people

Whose identities were not revealed to me. As had been agreed during the agreements concluded in Brussels a few months earlier, I took charge of introducing Abou Ouajih into the Tunisian Islamist milieu. For a month, we met a large number of

Religious revolutionaries, both in the most remote villages of the country and in Tunis. This trip was comparable to an electoral tour carried out at breakneck speed: analyzing the morale of the troops, explaining the merits of the Islamization of the country, encouraging, reunifying, distributing roles, settling differences, training spies, make a pact,

Install relays, distribute propaganda documents, prepare future demonstrations against the regime in place, organize the war machine down to the smallest detail. Abou Ouajih and I returned to Paris armed with numerous reports assessing the needs for Shiite forces in Tunisia. We arranged to meet in Syria.

Return to the El Qaem school When I landed in Damascus, I was hosted for a week by a former student of the El Qaem school, while I obtained visas for Iran. Crossing the Syrian border did not cause any difficulty, neither for me nor for my friend.

In June 1986, I found the walls of the El Qaem school. I immediately noticed that new nationalities were among the students. North Africa was now strongly represented there. For the rest, nothing had changed, the climate of tension, of creeping war,

Of suspicion, was still just as heavy. As soon as I arrived, El Sheikh Ahmed, known as “the liar”, detailed to me my new mission order, namely to train the Tunisian elements sent by Salah Karkar by trying to gently convert them to Shiite doctrine. It didn’t matter to ignore

The agreements made with Salah Karkar. At this moment, my doubts grew, and I reiterated my wish to return to the French capital before the next four or six months. El Sheikh Ahmed guarantees it to me. The group of students I was responsible for included

Ten individuals. The first four were supporters of Salah Karkar, the next belonged to the Tunisian Islamic Front movement mentioned above, two others were Shiites, two others had been recruited by myself, and the last belonged to the European network.

I was then approaching twenty years old, which was barely above the average age of the group, but the ascendancy that I had acquired over most of them during the recruitment stage made me confident. At first, I received them separately, each of these interviews

Being the subject of a report which I sent to my superiors, so as to establish the level of training which would suit the whole group. I truly cherished the ambition of making them intellectuals in the true sense of the word, and not bloodthirsty murderers.

I had inherited an office located in the school garden and equipped with high-performance computer equipment , a luxury of resources that I was quick to exploit. Soon, I began to edit a newspaper titled Information on North Africa and displaying this motto taken

From the Koran: “When a depraved person gives you news, check the authenticity of his words”. Through this publication intended for the information of students, I did not hesitate to distill here and there cryptic messages on the secret activities of the network for those who could

Decipher them, like the one appearing at the opening of my diary, and which meant in my mind “Be careful, the network can lie to you!”. This publication presented general information articles on the political, economic and cultural life of North Africa, a sort of press review. His reputation grew quickly within the school.

My growing desire to free myself from terrorism had led me to play on several fronts, but given the success of my newspaper, my work as an editor took up more and more of my time, and I had less time for myself. take care of my own lessons. In addition to this

Overload for which I was partly responsible, I soon had to accept the complaints of my students, who now demanded to receive training based exclusively on political and military teaching, and not inspired by Shiite doctrine. One of the students, the one who belonged to the Tunisian Islamic Front movement, considered the Shiites as atheists,

He criticized them for neglecting the religious aspect in favor of the social and politico-military aspects. During class, I walked on eggshells, dreading the fatal incident that would cause the group to explode. The students criticized my lack of realism and accused me of limiting my lessons to

Theoretical teaching. Most of the time, classes ended in a furious cacophony, students banging on tables, throwing projectiles across the room. This climate close to mutiny worried the management. Teki El Moudarissi, the grand master of the place, had to intervene several times to calm things down. But

It was the arrival of an eleventh student, Ibrahim, to whom Salah Karkar had in fact given full powers over the group of Tunisians, who triggered their division into three groups. The Shiites led by Sami Ayad refused to submit to the authority of Ibrahim,

The official representative of Salah Karkar, claiming that they did not depend on the MTI and that Salah Karkar being thousands of kilometers from the school, he therefore could not appreciate the reality of the facts. They demanded to be repatriated to Tunisia. I subsequently learned that a compromise was found: the Rissalists agreed

To provide them with rapid military training following which these Tunisian elements would agree to go on a mission to the West on the indirect behalf of the network. Mohamed El Harath, the recruit from the Tunisian Islamic Front movement, did not recognize Ibrahim’s authority either. According to him, Ibrahim was

Just a blind puppet. Furthermore, he had no respect for the Shiites, whom he considered too far removed from the true values ​​of Islam. He even went so far as to insult the twelve infallible imams . His opposition was so vocal that the Rissalist leaders considered

Eliminating him. I interceded at the last minute to prevent blood from spilling. The Tunisian opponent was sent home without damage. For their part, the supporters of Salah Karkar led by Abd Eltif El Tlili willingly complied with Ibrahim’s orders. For them, the network had to respect its commitments, namely to train them on a

Military and not a doctrinal level. They were therefore sent to another school to receive training specific to terrorist action. The discord had therefore reached a point of no return. The first reports that I had drawn up in Paris on the subject of these young recruits had hinted at this possible outbreak of conflict,

And this confusion in reality resulted from the underground war between Salah Karkar on one side and the Rissalists, a war that religious antagonisms further complicated. But, whatever the reasons, the cohesion of the Tunisian group had been shattered : I had failed in my mission. Network executives were starting

To look at me negatively. For my part, totally cut off from the preparatory negotiations for the coup d’état in Tunisia as I was, I sometimes wondered if my new assignment in Iran had not been a maneuver by the network to keep me away, which reinforced my annoyance.

I asked El Sheikh Ahmed to exempt me from the task of trainer from now on, as I seemed to lack the required skills in this area. I received a categorical no, and I had to take care of training Shiite elements sent by my friend Abou Ahmed. During the first lessons, I tried to

Explain to them the importance of the ideological struggle to convert the Sunnis to Shiism, but only the armed struggle counted in the eyes of these enlightened young people. War, blood, the smell of explosives, that’s what they yearned for! Had youth transformed

Into a machine for crushing human flesh? I lowered my arms, suffering a second failure. Management replaced me immediately. At the same time, the École du grand Maghreb was created, a special school installed both in Damascus and Tehran and reserved in particular for the instruction of Tunisian elements. From then on, relations between the

Network and me deteriorated considerably. The Rissalists would have been ready to accept my incessant demands if I had appeared to them as an effective teacher, but as my indocility was not accompanied by major teaching skills, they found me more and more cumbersome. The resentments of the past resurfaced on both sides

Like a deadly venom, infesting minds, causing suspicion to reign to an unprecedented degree . They demanded all the passports in my possession, including mine. I refused, knowing that I would need it to return to Paris. Although I thought I had hidden them

In a safe place, they were stolen from me shortly after. I protested loudly, calling my leaders thieves , while I was reproached for my inability to submit to orders. The solidity of my membership in the network, already tested on a few occasions, cracked a little more.

I saw my freedom shrinking day by day, and my convictions followed the same path. Those in charge prevented me from returning to France, spies followed me step by step. Indirect death threats constantly hovered over me: someone told me that one of my friends had just

Died in a tragic accident, that another had been stabbed by a stranger… It was a real war of nerves, a permanent psychological pressure. Suddenly, I understood that I was on the verge of becoming a stranger to the network. El Sheikh Ahmed humiliated me even more by giving me a dirty job: selecting addresses

From a file of several thousand references and sending propaganda documents to the greater Maghreb. The sample had to include a well-defined number of selections per country (Mauritania: 50; Libya: 50; Morocco: 150; Tunisia: 400; Algeria: 3,000 ). I therefore sent nearly a thousand packages per week containing leaflets,

Newspapers, books, etc., either directly from Iranian territory or via the centers in Brussels or Madrid. A thankless, menial job, unrelated to the role I had held until now. After two months, El Sheikh Ahmed ordered me to prepare to leave for Belgium for a

Final mission before returning to France. Despite my reluctance, a glimmer of hope arose deep within me. Was purgatory over? Was I going to rejoin the cell responsible for overthrowing Bourguiba’s government? As I had to cross the borders under a Saudi identity with the alias of Hassan Ali El Marhoun, I tried to integrate

The habits and customs of the Gulf country. My ideas were beginning to become clearer, I had now detached myself a little from the Rissalist doctrine, but nothing was yet decided, I could very well set sail for good or sink again. To a man,

Bigotry, whether religious or otherwise, is like a drug, an almost incurable virus that becomes a part of you. Even when doubt assails you and the desire to get out of it gnaws at you, you are still likely to fall back under its influence.

Return to the West and break with the network On the day of departure, I felt a profound relief. It was at the beginning of November 1986. I made the trip with Ali Akbar El Moudarissi, his wife and his mentally handicapped daughter whom he had decided

To have treated in Brussels. As he spoke no language other than Arabic and Persian, I had to serve as his guide and interpreter. Wasn’t that actually the only reason for my repatriation to Europe? In any case, I wanted to free myself

From my obligations quickly in the hope of returning to Paris, but each time El Moundarissi gave me a new mission. The last thing he asked me was to act as an interpreter for a member of the network who had had an accident. A bomb had exploded next to the latter,

Who risked serious disability to his hand. He had come to Belgium with false papers, officially sent as a soldier. I had to translate all the lies he told until the doctor didn’t realize he was an Islamist agent.

The end of December was approaching, and the validity date of my passport expired on January 1, 1987. If I continued to wait like this, I would soon find myself stuck in Belgium. Now, more than anything, I wanted to return to Paris. This city was like my second home, I had

Taken my first steps there as a man barely out of adolescence, my mother, the person who was dearest to me , lived there. I loved the excitement of its teeming and cosmopolitan streets. Moreover, under the agreement made with my superiors, I was officially authorized to settle there. So

Why did the network seem to be blocking me? I wanted to get to the bottom of it. – When will I be able to return to Paris? I asked Abu Ali for the umpteenth time. – I do not know. – How so ?

– I have not received any instructions on this subject. – There are no guidelines that hold. It was always said that I should be based in Paris. – The situation is no longer the same today. The revolution takes precedence over personal interests. We must all comply with the requirements of

Our common project. You have to know how to be patient. – In Brussels, I’m useless! I got carried away. I don’t like to be idle. And what about the coup against Bourguiba? – On this last point, I have no information. As for your

Activity in Belgium, we are thinking about it. – You are laughing at me ! I got carried away. – Not at all, I respect you very much. Besides, the leaders also appreciate you. – Flattery is not the answer I’m looking for! – Don’t get upset. It seems

Like you’re looking for evil for evil’s sake! – Don’t think I don’t see where you’re coming from! You want everything to be under your command, that’s the truth! – I hope you’re joking. Rest for a few days, we’ll talk about it in peace.

– Yes, we’ll talk about it again sooner than you think, trust me! This discussion made me angry. I felt betrayed, humiliated, with the impression that I had been cheated. The vagueness in which my superiors kept me put the height of my exasperation. Until proven otherwise, I had kept my promises.

But had they respected theirs? What were they playing? Were they working to ruin me? Once my passport expired, what would become of me? In any case, I realized that I was nothing more than a common puppet in their capricious hands, victim

Of their changing and incoherent desires. This was not the first offense I had suffered, and I had long known of their taste for sedition and their desire for destruction, but this time the desire to harm them began to force its way into my

Mind. As is often the case in stories of organized crime, it only takes one tiny detail for everything to change, a misplaced or misinterpreted word for devotion to suddenly transform into a spirit of vengeance. Between the resentments of the past, the broken dreams, the

False justifications, I rebelled. And the more I rebelled, the more the idea took hold that the Rissalists were the worst enemies of the earth. Almost without thinking, impulsively, I decided to change my destiny. I made the painful decision to run away to fight my own fight. On December 27, I took

In my account the sum of a thousand US dollars, I seized a number of secret documents on the activities of the network, Abu Ali’s false passport and video material. In the afternoon, I telephoned Abou Ali. – I’m fed up with your shenanigans,

I told him, my nerves on edge. I’m leaving the country. Good advice, don’t do anything to try to catch me, otherwise I will give your passport to the police and reveal your secret activities to them. Understood ? And I hung up.

Through this blackmail, I used the Rissalists’ own method, drawing inspiration from the old adage which says that one must fight fire with fire. I had just deliberately put myself outside the network, now the worst could happen to me. Forced to engage in a standoff with the network, I

Was the loser, because the fight pitted me, a single twenty-year-old man, against an indoctrinated army. Putting into practice what I had learned from my masters was the only way to fight against them. The next morning I boarded the plane and landed in Madrid in cold

But dry weather, under a metallic blue sky. I had no choice. First of all, I needed to explore the terrain. Like a tightrope walker, my throat tight, I entered the cultural center building with measured steps, ready to flee at the slightest suspicious movement. Sitting in his office, Saïd Mousaab,

The local manager, seemed to be waiting for me. – Management has just contacted me. She asks you to return to Syria immediately! he told me. – In what tone are you telling me that? – Do you think it’s time for jokes?

– No, but I am not a simple commodity. – You are a soldier of Allah. – A soldier who is mistreated! The network had guaranteed my return to Paris. According to Hédi El Moudarissi, I was going to become one of the pillars of the future Islamist state

In Tunisia. What about today ? – I return the question to you: what about your fight for Islam? You know well that personal interests must give way to those of the revolution. You acted like a spoiled child. Abu Ali only implemented instructions from above. He was about to send you to Syria where

A school will soon open for the training of inhabitants of the great Arab Maghreb. This is why your presence there is essential. – But the managers know that I am unsuitable for this kind of work. – They give you a second chance.

– I have already paid a lot. – Not far from here ! As I did not answer, Mousaab added: – give me your passport. I will get you a new one for your departure to Syria. I found myself trapped. The danger was irreversibly approaching

Me, I felt it without being able to explain in what form it would appear. Mousaab had lost his smile, he was drumming his fingers on his desk, showing that his patience was about to leave him. His gravity was reaching a point

Of extreme tension. No doubt, I had to submit before taking the initiative again. I gave him the document. – Come tomorrow at 2 p.m. Where are you going to sleep tonight? – At a trusted friend’s house. I left the cultural center, a little stunned. The grip of the Rissalists was tightening. But the

Next morning, after regaining my strength, I was firmly determined to defy my superiors. Without further delay, I telephoned Mousaab. – I thought about. I refuse to go to Syria. I committed for a limited period of time, and that expired

Some time ago. I won’t go to Iran either. From now on, I only agree to intervene on French territory. – Listen, management considers you much superior to Abou Ahmed. She wants to deal directly with you. On the other hand, the plan to bring down Bourguiba is now operational. The leaders want you to

Actively participate in the Tunisian revolution. – Ah good ! Once you tell me Syria, then Tunisia! You can see that none of this is serious! Should I go to Syria or Tunisia? In any case, I’m going to Paris. My decision is final.

– But you have to go to Syria first. Afterwards, from there, you will be told what you need to do and how to participate. A cold shiver ran down my spine. I wasn’t the type to cower in the face of danger. I had been trained for this, and then,

As I said, I had retained from my childhood a form of carefreeness which made me put drama into perspective. But, knowing the cruelty of the Rissalists, I felt for the first time an indescribable fear seize me. – We may have gotten a little carried away,

I mumbled to calm things down. Give me a few days to think. That’s all I ask of you. Of course, I was maneuvering to gain time, I had no intention of going back on my choice. El Rissali’s management only

Thought of its own interests, the human being that I was had no value outside of serving the cause, there was no doubt about that. I went to the Tunisian consulate and explained that my passport and my money had been stolen and that I had to return to the country as soon as possible

. I was pleasantly surprised by the friendly welcome the official gave me. Three days later, I returned to collect my pass. One of the consulate employees drove me to the airport. I was so amazed at the respect with which

I was treated that I feared a trap. But after all, I preferred to have to negotiate with the administration of a state suspected of atheism rather than with terrorist Islamists. In fact, it was nothing of the sort. The consulate officials really believed my story.

Contrary to what the Rissalists had tried so hard to put in my head, there existed within the Tunisian government open men, ready to be of service! Learning to fear I landed in Tunis on January 2, 1987, without incident and as free as the air. However, as soon as I set foot

On my native land, I felt a strange feeling. It seemed like civil war was going to break out at any moment. National police officers patrolled everywhere. People were hurrying as if a storm was imminent. Sirens rang through the city streets. Had the day of the revolution advanced, or was it a projection

Of my tormented mind? When the taxi left me in front of Ariana’s house, Salah Karkar left the villa and walked towards me with rapid steps as if he had been watching for me for hours. As I later learned, he had been

Elected president of MTI in 1985, but he had also established his own group of followers within MTI. He thus played a double game, both through his responsibilities within the MTI and as leader of a parallel group whose activity was kept secret. If the situation during

The revolution were to be blocked, this group bringing together men entirely dedicated to its cause could intervene to tip the scales in its favor and seize Tunisian power if the opportunity presented itself. With this spare wheel in the event of MTI failure, Salah

Karkar, foreseeing and wary as he was, had his back. In the struggle to gain power, anything goes! After brief greetings, he immediately got down to business. – So, what’s the news? Of course, I kept silent about my dispute with the Rissalists. The objective was

To reassure Salah Karkar and gain time. – The heads of the network welcome the progress of negotiations with the MTI. – But still ? Be more specific! – Without wishing to throw flowers at you, I continued, I understand that you are very appreciated in high

Places. My leaders are counting on your fighting qualities to change the face of the country. – What is your role now? – In what capacity? I asked cautiously. – Between the network and Tunisia, I mean. – He did not changed. With Mohamed Faouzi,

I am the official representative of El Rissali. Salah Karkar put his hand on my shoulder. – I always knew that you were a true believer and an activist, he said with a perfectly staged gravity , but which I was not fooled. – The future is ours, I retorted

With the necessary compassion. When I woke up, I paced around the garden. That day, I understood how much my future was ruined. Although I had isolated myself from the network, I remained before the law a fundamentalist liable to a very heavy sentence. In addition, the idea

To declare war on the Rissalists was germinating in my mind. The time for a response had come. I telephoned my Moroccan friend in Madrid to send me the secret documents taken from the cultural center in Brussels, which compromised several senior members of the network. When I

Received them a few days later, I buried them at the bottom of the garden. Then I went to visit Abd Eltif El Tlili, alias Samir, who had just arrived from Tehran. Tall, thin, mustachioed, dark-skinned, El Tlili was Salah Karkar’s right arm, certainly

His most loyal soldier. A mechanic by profession, he, like many young people manipulated by the admirable promises of the Islamists, left the security of his job to join the Islamist camp. Experienced in the use of weapons, he had followed military training in Iran

. I distrusted him like the plague. – When did you return from Tehran? I asked him. – About a week, replied El Tlili. – In Tehran, what’s new? – The routine, always the same thing. – You seem a little bitter, I said to provoke him.

Would you regret your involvement in the network? “Let’s talk about you instead,” he replied, obviously trying to create a diversion. Do you know when the revolution will start? – It shouldn’t be long. But you must have information from Karkar, right? – Oh! Sometimes I feel like we’re being made fun of…

– I’m going to tell you a secret, I continued, feeling that El Tlili was only hoping for that. I too am filled with doubt. – Never peace of mind, unclear situations , orders coming from above without any explanation, whispered El Tlili, suggesting

That he implicitly shared my discouragement. – To tell you the truth, I no longer trust the network. We are common puppets in their hands. – You are totally right. I too am disgusted. Besides, you should be wary, Mousaab contacted your friend Elias to ask him

To let Shiite and Sunni circles know that you are a spy in the service of Iraq and the Tunisian government. This news left me speechless. The objective of the network is clear: to close all doors to me in order to completely isolate me.

Elias was one of my best friends, also a Shiite. We had met a few years earlier and had never stopped corresponding since. If there were a few trustworthy people in my relationships, Elias was one of them. I couldn’t believe El Tlili’s allegations. – Elias! I said finally. Are you sure ?

– Certain. When I left El Tlili, I hastened to telephone Elias to find out for sure. – Do you imagine me as a spy? – El Tlili exaggerates, Elias told me. – What do you know, Elias? Talk to me frankly.

– I learned that the network had assigned someone to tail you to follow you. Unfortunately, I don’t know his identity. If you think I am that person, I would be very sad. – The one responsible for tailing me is El Tlili!

– It’s possible. Be careful, my friend, I wouldn’t want to lose you. For me, there was no possible doubt: El Tlili was indeed the agent responsible for controlling me. For the first time, I felt the breath of fear in my flesh.

The network could do anything in its interest. I didn’t know what, but anything was possible, I had to expect the worst. It was like an enormous, monstrous machine that had just been set in motion against me. An invisible, blind machine, programmed to

Harm me in one way or another. From now on, I was done falling asleep without the risk of waking up suddenly, my senses on alert at the slightest suspicious noise, of walking in the street without turning around. Never again will I know which route to take to avoid

The traps. I would never stop suspecting my friends, a passerby reaching into his jacket pocket, the sudden braking of a car. I went to meet El Tlili a second time to try to unmask him – The Rissalists are all rotten , I said. I will report them to the Tunisian government.

– Hey, wait a bit, retorted El Tlili. We still need them for moment. Let’s be smarter. The network promised to supply weapons via Germany and Spain. So far, we haven’t received anything from that side. Let’s wait until we receive the delivery,

Then we can report them. – Do you think they will do it? – Listen, a first shipment from Libya has arrived. We immediately hid her in the forest. The most important thing is yet to come. What do you think of that ?

El Tlili was trying to make me talk in order to feed his reports intended for Mousaab, for sure! I cut the conversation short. From that day on, I took enormous precautions whenever I had to leave the house. Every

Day, I feared the stab or the explosion that would come and mow me down at the corner of the street. To protect myself, I made my appointments at the last minute, constantly changed my route, never called from home, and trusted no one. My father

Had no idea of ​​the situation I found myself in. We lived in two different worlds, as we always had. I continued to see Elias secretly. Through him , I used the network for my own purposes. He and I brought together young Shiites

With the idea of ​​leading a religious revolution based on the pacifist struggle, like that led by Gandhi. By acting in this way, not only did I not admit defeat, but I overtook El Rissali. It was a way of shouting in the face of my former masters that I too

Could manipulate them. Because, deep down, I still believed in the creation of an Islamist state in my country, but in my own way, without recourse to force, by the sole will of the people. At my request, Elias asked the Rissalists for authorization to expand his group from seven to

Fourteen individuals. The network agreed on the condition that its supporters support the MTI while spreading rumors that Salah Karkar had converted to Shiism and become pro-Iranian. In Islamist circles where information circulates at high speed and where passion is king, a rumor can indeed ruin even the most solid reputation in a short time.

Salah Karkar, the MTI and AL RISSALI As a reminder, the Sunni Islamic organization, founded in 1928 in Egypt by Hassan El Banna, apparently advocates a non-violent struggle against secularism and Western values ​​but carries a totalitarian ideology which encompasses all aspects of social, political, economic and military life, all means being

Good to restore the Islamic khilafa to the world. For its members, the religion of Allah contains everything and remains valid for all men, in all times and all places. Known for their outdated attire, they form a brotherhood whose goal is

To apply orthodox Islam to the letter to compensate for the distance from the precepts of Islam in modern society. This ideology spread across the Middle East and North Africa. In Tunisia, Rached el Ghannouchi, founder of the MTI in the 1970s,

Follows the example of Hassan el Banna, the Muslim brothers and Sayed Quotb who constitute the reference in terms of political Islam. The movement infuses academic circles. Like El Banna in Egypt, El Ghannouchi created his own secret network: he sent young

Graduates of the movement to infiltrate state organs, including security and the army. In 1981, following several acts of violence, the State recognized the danger posed by the movement. Around a hundred members were arrested. El Ghannouchi is sentenced to eleven years in prison

And Karkar to ten years. El Ghannouchi, more moderate, dealt with Prime Minister Mohamed Mzali, which resulted in their release in August 1984. Tunisia was then experiencing a serious economic crisis. The increase in the price of bread following the demands of the International Monetary Fund

Sparked “bread riots” in December 1983 which caused more than seventy deaths. After that, Bourguiba, given the fragility of the government and his own state of health, had to accept an agreement with the Gulf countries including the return to the values ​​of Islam in

Tunisia, including the Arabization of education. This agreement left a free hand to the Islamists to indoctrinate society under the control of Mzali, close to Saudi Arabia, who was seeking to succeed Bourguiba and therefore needed them. The MTI returned to occupy the mosques,

Multiplied the associations and became, with the complicity of Mzali, the main opposition to the Bourguiba regime. Since their release from prison, Salah Karkar has accused Ghannouchi of betraying the values ​​of the movement. According to him, the MTI should not have accepted rapprochement with the enemy of Islam that was Bourguiba. He presented a

Plan to change the structure of the movement and establish the rules to be applied within the MTI. This request was ignored, which reinforced his resentment. According to him, the MTI had become the private property of el Ghannouchi, who made decisions alone. Unable to openly counter

Ghannouchi in his approach because he had strong support within the movement, Salah Karkar began to create his own network. This put Ghannouchi in a delicate situation given the agreement with Mzali not to work in secret, which had led him to shelve

His own network of infiltration of government bodies. But he turned a blind eye to the actions of Salah Karkar and continued to strengthen his relations with the Gulf countries. As for Salah Karkar, he tried to turn world public opinion and human rights leagues against Bourguiba’s policies. My sister told me

That he contacted organizations like Amnesty International by letter to denounce the scandalous situation suffered by Islamists in Tunisia. Inside the movement, he had the support of young activists. This approach allowed him after a year to rise to the head of the movement,

El Ghannouchi having stepped back in 1985. When I contacted my brother-in-law again in 1985, he was the absolute leader of the MTI. He himself discussed and concluded the agreements with El Rissali as part of his project of rapprochement with any Islamist organization whatsoever,

Even Shiite. This did not please Ghannouchi who moved closer to Salafism and bet on the Gulf countries at the expense of the Shiites. Salah Karkar, for his part, dealt with all social or political organizations that represented the interests of Islam. Djamā’at al-tablīgh, the Muslim Brotherhood, Ibadi businessmen, he had connections everywhere. He

Advised young people to learn the art of combat by joining karate clubs, my sister led a women’s network… If el Ghannouchi’s network was oriented towards state institutions, he developed his own within society. According to the information that I was able to gather

From several sources, here are the agreements that were concluded between the Rissalists and him: The network provides 50% of the material needs. He undertakes to train MTI soldiers on the political and military levels and provides him with explosives specialists in order to coordinate

Operations on the ground. It is responsible for delivering the necessary weapons to the MTI and ensuring its distribution on Tunisian territory. Supporters can use the network’s channels to carry out a smear campaign against Bourguiba’s government in Arab-Islamic countries. The rissalists already on site, i.e. 200 to 300 elements, made themselves

Available to the MTI. If necessary, this workforce will be reinforced by drawing on the pool of 2,000 pro-Rissalist Tunisian Shiites. If successful, the network sends its instructors to help form the new government and run the country’s affairs for a

Period of six months. Finally, in the event of defeat, it guarantees the security of the MTI leaders and their flight abroad. In return, El Rissali is authorized to disseminate propaganda tools in the country that ignore the points of opposition between Sunnis and Shiites. The MTI

Itself has an initial stock of weapons and significant financial support from Tunisian businessmen. It has 2,000 supporters ready to take up arms at any time, scattered throughout the Tunisian army, the National Guard which acts as police and the

Ministry of the Interior. Among these supporters is a hard core of 200 people capable of circulating weapons, rousing the population and organizing demonstrations of support during the coup d’état, as well as executives and engineers accustomed to the exercise of power. and an elite troop experienced in handling weapons and terrorist action. A million

People support the MTI across the country, including 200,000 directly dependent on the grassroots cell ready to trigger demonstrations in the territory. A map of strategic sites is developed in anticipation of colonizing central Tunisia and Bizerte to counter a possible foreign offensive. These were the secret agreements negotiated between

The Rissalists and the MTI, notably during the two meetings between Salah Karkar and Mohamed Faouzi then Abou Ouajih. I would like to point out that Salah Karkar negotiated these agreements in his own name, in his capacity as military leader of the MTI. It was only afterwards that he informed Rached El

Ghannouchi and Abdelfattah Mourou in order to obtain their approval. As early as 1985, the Rissalists had built the first bases of this action by training in Iran a hundred terrorists chosen from Tunisian youth. Isolated cells of three people isolated from each other were formed. These in turn created

New cells of the same caliber (no more than twelve individuals), and so on. The elements were selected according to the following criteria: being attracted by the holy war, but above all suffering from family problems (school failure, disagreement). This selection targeted excluded people,

Malleable beings to whom the path to paradise was opened by offering them the opportunity to die for Islam. After serious brainwashing, they were released into the wild and began to operate, increasing attacks against the police, tourist sites, etc.

Their lack of experience and the emotional deprivation they found themselves pushed them to make mistakes, so much so that the police arrested them fairly quickly. Once imprisoned, the majority of them regretted their actions, but it was too late. In fact, this scorched earth policy

Constituted the second phase of the plan organized by the Rissalists in association with Salah Karkar, taqîya having no limits. These arrests were desired. The Islamists did not hesitate to accuse the government of tracking down poor adolescents excluded from society without respect for human rights and thus won the day: the popularity of

Religious opponents was growing in the country, from the capital to the most remote regions. more remote. The betrayal of El Ghannouchi and the coup d’état When I returned to Tunis at the beginning of 1987, Bourguiba, aware of the plot that Mzali was preparing, had fired him and replaced him a few months

Earlier by Rachid Sfar. Zine El-Abidine Ben Ali had just joined the Sfar government as Minister of the Interior. The confrontation between the State and the Islamists began, demonstrations triggered by Salah Karkar’s men broke out everywhere. I was able to follow the situation closely because my brother-in-law commanded his groups from

Our house in Ariana. He sent men for military training in Iran and Sudan, but some were trained in Ariana itself, in the Nahli forest, near a stone quarry. No one suspected it because dynamite explosions were common in the area. Through his connections, Salah Karkar smuggled weapons from Germany and

Libya. Unlike el Ghannouchi who let his cells act on their own, he did not carry out terrorist acts against civilians and tourists. He himself led the demonstrations. I saw him distribute his orders for the big demonstration in the city of Bab El Khadra. His plan was to foment a widespread popular protest movement

In the country. When the situation degenerated, as in Iran, he would intervene with the armed groups whose followers already occupied key positions within the state. Ghannouchi was then under house arrest. In March, he was officially arrested along with thousands

Of Islamists. On the other hand, Salah Karkar hid in Ariana with an Ibadi person and continued to pull the strings of the protest movement. In the summer of 1987, the demonstrations moved into high gear, and on August 2, the day before Bourguiba’s eighty-fourth

Birthday, a series of attacks were committed in hotels in Sousse and Monastir. Following these horrors, members of the MTI were arrested in large numbers. I myself was arrested in September along with the sixteen members of my group. The first arrested was Faouzi el Warteni,

Who was tortured intensely. The rest of the group followed, and I was taken last. I was transported to the Wardia police station then transferred to Bouchoucha. In the newspaper El Chourouk, journalist Kamel Labidi wrote: “The leader of a terrorist group, Mohamed Karim Labidi, was arrested with sixteen people. This pro-Iranian terrorist group

Worked with the MTI to sow panic in Tunisia. Following this arrest, Tunisia interrupted its relations with Iran, and its cultural attaché at the embassy was expelled. Everything that happened during this arrest, I only found out afterwards. The leaders of the MTI were sentenced on September 27, 1987 to forced labor for life.

Seven of them were sentenced to death, including Salah Karkar who was on the run. El Ghannouchi, incarcerated at the time of the events, was not sentenced to death although Bourguiba requested his execution. Ben Ali, promoted to Minister of State for

The Interior in May 1987, was appointed Prime Minister on October 2 of the same year while retaining the portfolio of the Ministry of the Interior. Through my arrest, he obtained proof of my brother-in-law’s involvement with Iran. After he gave the order to arrest Salah Karkar, Saudi Arabia, Iran’s long-time enemy

, supported his accession to power. The agreements made with Arabia promised a transfer of power without deviating too much from the laws of the constitution. Ben Ali had the situation under control. With the support of foreign countries acquired, the “constitutional coup d’état” against Bourguiba

Continued its course. Ben Ali met separately with the two important forces in Tunisia: the Bourguibists represented by Habib Ammar and the Islamists represented by Rached el Ghannouchi. He concluded with Habib Ammar that Bourguiba was too old to govern, that the country was in

Danger and that if it fell into the hands of the Islamists, Bourguibism would disappear. Habib Ammar was convinced and helped Ben Ali, who nevertheless dismissed him eight months after the success of the operation and his coming to power. On the other hand, he spoke with Rached

El Ghannouchi, whom he warned against Salah Karkar and the dangerousness of his involvement with the Shiite network. I don’t know if the interview was direct, but the information I have comes from a source close to its organizer, Abdelfattah Mourou, a key figure in the MTI.

Abdelfattah Mourou was a lawyer. It was he who knew Ghannouchi first. He cultivated good relations with the other founders of the MTI such as Hamida Ennaifer, but also with the sheikhs of Zitouna and influential political figures inside the country. Known for his multiple trips to Europe and the Gulf countries, he had relationships

Abroad with important leaders like Gaddafi, but also in Saudi Arabia and France. He was arrested in 1981 with the leaders of the MTI. Sentenced to a heavy sentence, he was released before all the others and contacted Mzali with the blessing of el Ghannouchi to

Find common ground with the government. It was the famous letter where he promised to protect the constitution and not to threaten the republic which, transmitted to the presidency by Mzali, convinced Bourguiba to release the leaders of the MTI. Salah Karkar nicknamed

Abdelfattah Mourou “the wolf”. He spoke of him as a dangerous, multi-faceted man who played on all sides. If you wanted to transmit information to the enemy, you just had to talk about it in Mourou’s presence. At the same time, the balance of the

MTI was maintained thanks to him: he prevented the break between el Ghannouchi and Salah Karkar. The latter relied heavily on Mourou despite the little confidence he had in him and his close relationship with el Ghannouchi. Abdelfattah Mourou left Tunisia in

1986 when the situation had become critical between the MTI and the government. He had a series of meetings in France with François Mitterrand and in Germany then settled in Saudi Arabia. He was now working within the framework of the constitution. In this

New context, he abandoned Salah Karkar, got closer to Ben Ali, contributed to the release of el Ghannouchi and organized support for Ben Ali with the complicity of el Ghannouchi and his armed network. In return, he obtained a change in the name of the MTI, which he named Ennahda.

Ben Ali therefore succeeded in his coup d’état on November 7, 1987 with the help of foreign countries, Habib Ammar and the moderate branch of the MTI. My sister Samira later confided to me how it had happened for Salah: he followed a very determined program

Consisting of raising the people without a coup d’état or shedding blood by chaining demonstrations from July to December 1987 until the advent of a revolution on a national scale. There, his groups would occupy the strategic cultural and economic points of the country. At the same time,

El Ghannouchi’s branch would invest the police and the army, jam the radars and use military planes to attack the palace of Carthage, the Ministry of the Interior and free the prisoners. But Ghannouchi’s security group informed him that they would not wait

Until December and that a coup was planned for November 8. When Salah asked for an explanation for this change of plan, he was told that Rached’s life was in danger because he would be executed before then. Salah did not take this response into account and continued his action,

Unaware that el Ghannouchi and his group had betrayed him and that they were in cahoots with Ben Ali to overthrow Bourguiba with the blessing of Saudi Arabia and public opinion. international. But Ben Ali was smarter! He had not placed his trust in el Ghannouchi,

Nor in the Bourguibists, nor in the other opponents. He betrayed all his allies and carried out his coup d’état alone, a day in advance, by manipulating the Tunisian constitution. During this period, I was in prison in Bouchoucha. The inspector who interrogated me

Informed me that Bourguiba had requested the death sentence for me and my group, and that I risked the death penalty. I was barely twenty-one. I saw my life pass by, yet I couldn’t believe that I was already going to die.

What bothered me more was not knowing who had reported me. I had been very discreet, and no one knew me. Could this have been a coincidence? At first, I believed the inspector’s version, who claimed that it was a phone call from

Spain, coming from another Islamist network which had known that I was working against them in Tunisia. After that, I suspected Salah Karkar. But over time, I understood that our arrest must have been part of the agreements concluded between Rached El Ghannouchi and Ben Ali. During my arrest, I saw men belonging to

Salah Karkar’s group being incarcerated one after the other, day after day. The most intriguing thing was that the Tunisian government could not know these people. I saw Samir El Tlili, who had previously joined me in Iran, arriving at the prison on a stretcher with bullets in

His body. All this confirmed to me that Rached el Ghannouchi, who knew Salah’s entire entourage , had sold the latter with his entire network. He had become a servant of Ben Ali, which is summed up by this little phrase dropped during a political speech: “we trust in

Allah and in Ben Ali”. What’s surprising from a man who my sister told me had built up a nest egg in prison with donations from prisoners’ families, claiming that the Tunisian state confiscated the money sent! Rached el Ghannouchi had betrayed his people,

He had wanted to lead the MTI alone, and he in turn was betrayed by Ben Ali, causing the loss of both branches of the MTI. In 1988, Ghannouchi had the green light to restart his action with Abdelfattah Mourou under the name of Ennahda. Said el Ferjani resigned from

The army and went into exile in London, where he conducted prosperous businesses thanks to his contacts in Turkey and the Gulf countries. As for Salah Karkar who had fled to France, he was pushed aside, and his group was scattered among those who were arrested, reduced to silence or exiled.

At the end of December 1987, I was pardoned among others by Ben Ali and left prison. For information, I knew before my arrest that Rached el Ghannouchi had a group of loyal infiltrators from the 70s in the army and security, and

Among them my brother-in-law Abdessalem Khammari. A second group was under the command of my other brother-in-law, Salah Karkar. These soldiers were apparently civilians integrated into society, but they could at any time transform into fighters to stir up crowds and occupy key positions. The Tunisian secret services were aware, as was Ben Ali,

But they had more information on Rached’s branch than on Salah’s. When he came to power, Ben Ali’s priority was to wipe out the Bourguibists. Then, he settled his account with Salah Karkar by transforming my testimony in such a way as to clear el Ghannouchi

And put all the crimes of the MTI on Salah’s back. After that, he waited four years, then in 1992 he banished the infiltrated members of Rached el Ghannouchi who had participated in the coup with him, accusing them of preparing a new overthrow of power.

I know that Salah Karkar was not involved in the terrorist acts in Sousse and Monastir, nor in the acid attacks, nor in the Bab Souika attack in 1991, nor in other less disclosed attacks. In my opinion, these acts were ordered indirectly by those close to Ghannouchi. Indeed, Islamist leaders could take initiatives

To add to the ambient confusion. They then used submissive and naive young people, as was the case in the Bab Souika affair where Abdelghani and Hicham Bennour, two of my cousins, were sentenced, one to twenty-five years in prison and the other for life.

They were not active members of the MTI but simple sympathizers who wanted to burn documents . The Tunisian state took advantage of the opportunity to eradicate Ennahda on its territory. Having thus gotten rid of all his opponents, in 1992 Ben Ali became the absolute master of Tunisia.

Rached el Ghannouchi had grasped Ben Ali’s plan in advance. He left Tunisia for Algeria in 1989 then moved to Sudan after Omar-El-Bashir’s coup. He worked with Hassan El Tourabi to lead a Sudanese Islamist movement. In 1990, he went to

Turkey to work with Recep Tayyip Erdogan. Having obtained political refugee status in 1993, he made sure to eliminate his rivals for control of Ennahda. He organized a meeting in Germany to definitively exclude Salah Karkar. This decision was postponed following the agreement

Between Charles Pasqua and Ben Ali to send the Islamists back to Tunisia, where Salah Karkar risked the death penalty. But in 2002, the news broke: Salah Karkar was excluded from the Islamist movement. He retired from political life in 2005 after a stroke, and Ghannouchi remained

Supreme. In 2005, Ben Ali’s opponents united under the leadership of Ennahda to work for his downfall from abroad. No one likes to talk about all this, but this story perhaps provides a better understanding of what happened after 2011. Uncertainty “Doubt leads to reason.” Averroès

I have reached a very important moment in my life: the critical period between 1987 and 2001. My arrest in the last days of Bourguiba’s power deeply disturbed me: I began to doubt everything. Upset, delivered to my inner battle, without direction and without help, I plunged into a real

Existential crisis. I don’t like doubt and don’t run away from obstacles. When I was released after Ben Ali came to power, I decided to return to Syria, even if it meant leaving my life there, hoping to find an answer or a truth in the East. There,

I completely freed myself from orthodox Islam and banished Islamism once and for all from my mind to the depths of me. This led me to turn to mystical Islam and Sufism on my return to the West. Finally, my doubts about the foundations of Islam

And my meditations in the isolation of a mystical trip to Morocco led me to atheism. Incarceration In March 1987, tension was rising in Tunis. It was not good to hang out in the streets. Demonstrations secretly led by Islamist forces broke out regularly and ended in

Panic and shouting. Vision of apocalypse, the police unceremoniously charged the columns human and carried dozens of people. At the same time, she broke into the homes of suspected Islamists, smashed everything and made new arrests. The

Smell of blood and war seemed to hang in the air. The country was on the brink of civil war. The government feared that agitation would spread on all sides. The Islamist terrorist forces were finalizing the final preparations for the revolution in the shadows, secretly taking up positions

In all the country’s hot spots. In a few months, they would launch hostilities, and nothing could stop the wave from sweeping through the streets and uprising the people. The country was going to sink into a bloodbath. Faced with this explosive climate, I observed

Things with fury and compassion. I felt pity for my brothers who had been promised mountains and wonders, who would soon discover the harsh reality of the facts and see many deaths in their families. I was torn. Should I collaborate with the authorities to

Stave off the looming massacre? Should I interfere at the last minute in the popular revolt to help save my country from disaster? In fact, the police had an eye on everything that directly or indirectly related to Islamism. The meetings held at Ariana were

Infiltrated by moles from the Tunisian secret services. On the night of March 12, Rachid el Ghannouchi was arrested and placed under house arrest. My brother-in-law was questioned and then released for lack of evidence. Cautious, he went into hiding before fleeing to France

During the following summer thanks to his brother, a policeman by trade, who used his company vehicle to drive him to the boat. The Tunisian Islamic revolution had lost two of its leaders. After this incident, the Rissalists respected their commitments and organized the flight of the main leaders – this is how Salah

Karkar obtained the status of political refugee in Paris. However, they withdrew their confidence from the MTI, and the network’s organized crime policy was reoriented towards Algeria. There, after the civil war between the Algerian army and clandestine Islamist soldiers, the Islamist forces were hiding, biding their time. The Tunisian cells that survived the

Bourguiba roundups were sent there. The Islamist agents began their painstaking work again with the aim of overthrowing the Algerian government, creating an Islamist state and then conquering North Africa. This mission was entrusted among others to Salah Karkar despite the distance. In Tunis, tension between the government and Islamist forces continued to rise. The

Situation posed great risks for each party, given the number of moles that were rampant everywhere, emanating from the police as well as the Islamists, the MTI, Salah Karkar and the Rissalists. For my part, I continued from March to September 1987 to structure a pacifist revolutionary party composed mainly of young Tunisian Shiites. My

Fear was drowned out by the weight of my belief in Allah. Some kill in the name of the Lord, others survive because of him. My friend Elias was my most faithful ally. He had kept his position within the El Rissali network and used its mysteries on our behalf. He

Did not fail to fudge the reports sent to his superiors and to pass on false information to Tehran, using the decoy technique instilled by our masters. We knew that danger lurked around us, but we were far from imagining the perverse intertwining of

Opposing forces which transformed the country’s political and military chessboard into an incredible game of mikado. Agents with multiple hats, crooked police officers, profiteers of all kinds, professional informers, repentant Islamists, the situation was very complex. In this tangle

Of rivalries, who could have found their way? On September 10, I had a meeting with my friend around 4 p.m. I had been waiting for a good ten minutes. I was watching for Elias, but also for a possible bad move, because in the eyes of the Rissalists, I was always

A man to be killed. My friend and I had established a common rule to guarantee our safety during appointments: if one of us was more than twenty minutes late, the other had to go home and wait for a phone call for the

Next two hours. If there was total silence, it meant that an arrest had probably taken place and they would have to flee. After twenty-five minutes, still no Elias in sight. I returned home and waited the agreed two hours. Elias did not call.

I had to prepare to leave and hide near Gabès, further south. But something strange was holding me back. No matter how much I told myself that the more minutes passed, the more I put myself in danger, nothing helped. Hearing the gate creak, I looked out the window. Three police cars

Cordoned off the passage, law enforcement officers surrounded the house. It was finished! I wanted to face the unknown, I was taken. Oddly, the police officers didn’t seem to be in a hurry. They walked at a leisurely pace, as if it were a routine operation. Nothing to do with the raids

I had witnessed the previous days. Subsequently, I learned that Salah Karkar, based in Paris from where he closely monitored developments in the political situation in Tunisia, had denounced us as dangerous terrorists. Basically, it was fair game,

Since I, for my part, had managed to convince the Shiite community that the MTI was working on behalf of an international terrorist network. When I revealed my identity, the police officer who questioned me was surprised at my age. – So young… If that’s not unfortunate, he muttered. My father couldn’t believe his eyes,

He looked at me with a haggard look. He who had made fun of me my entire life, suddenly realized that his son’s life had taken an unexpected turn. The years had dissolved almost without his knowledge in the relentless hourglass of time. A passive spectator until then,

He suddenly became aware that his child had grown up without him, like a weed in the middle of a wasteland. He had seen nothing, too selfish to be interested in the lives of others. Destiny caught up with him in the space of a few seconds to throw the result of

His years of absence in his face . Hard wake-up call for a father! The wheel had turned, it was too late. During the search, no weapons, no leaflets, not the slightest clue were found. Only a few works on the Iraqi Baath Party were confiscated as evidence

. Relieved, I went so far as to facilitate the work of the police. My calm was exemplary. However, clearly something was wrong with the police. – Are you really an Islamist? insisted the one who had questioned me. To reassure him, I gave him a smile. “Think what you want,” I retorted.

It seemed like I wanted to brave death, to push my own limits. After an hour, I got into the police bus, where I found Elias, his face marked by worry. Our dreams were definitely gone. My fear had also dissipated, but this respite was short-lived.

Sitting in front of the commissioner’s office at the El Wardia police headquarters, I did not flinch. Opposite, the commissioner stared at me without saying anything. Long minutes of silence passed, heavy, unforgettable. In the hallway, I heard voices, screams. The agitation was at its height. Other young people who had just been arrested underwent

Interrogations with a different fate. In this type of situation, a simple glance at the accused, sustained indefinitely with the same intensity, can prove to be very effective torture. How would the representative of the law ultimately

React? What irrational and bestial act was brewing in the head of this man of whom I knew nothing, who was perhaps capable of the worst? Was he going to beat me? Leave me waiting for whole days? Should I break the silence? I don’t know exactly how long

This silence lasted, but I suddenly saw my past flash by, at such a pace that I felt dizzy. Finally, the commissioner decided to speak. – Are you proud of yourself? – Not especially. The commissioner got up from his chair, went to close the office door behind me, then

He came up behind me and started growling. – So here is Mohamed Karim Labidi! Look at this seed of an Islamist, dressed in leather and hairstyle like Travolta! I can’t believe my eyes. Ah! When we say that we have to track them down to the nightclubs, we are right…

Used to blending into the crowd so as not to be noticed, I wore the outfit of the young people of the time influenced by rock fashion. It had become a reflex: as soon as I settled in a place, I adopted the habits of the locals.

– Do you agree to tell the truth? the threatening voice continued. I didn’t dare turn my head. – Everything is in your hands, I have nothing more to say. – So, let’s go, young man! When I entered the cell, a smell of abominable filth caught my throat,

As if the air had not been renewed for months. I heard a man groan while coughing. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. I sat next to him to comfort him. I will never know what he tried to tell me. – Water, water, please! shouted

Inmates in neighboring cells. It’s true that we were suffocating. The lack of air and the dust burned the lungs. When I fell asleep, I woke up every hour with a start, so much so that it seemed to me that my end was near.

I was transferred shortly after to the Bouchoucha barracks. As soldiers took me away for questioning, I saw other soldiers leading Elias back in the opposite direction, looking badly beaten up. He and I were each on our own behind bars! I tried to meet his gaze to

Send him a sign of friendship, but he was lost in another world. I felt like I would never see him again. In the room where I was taken, two police officers began to harass me. – So, you little bastard? shouted the sergeant,

Do you want to make a revolution? Take this ! And he threw his knee into my stomach. I lowered my head. – What ! I hurt you ? So what do you say, bastard? Then addressing his colleague:

– Do you think I hurt him? – I did not see anything. When are you really going to take care of this dog? I am already bored. – Did you hear, you dirty troublemaker ? My boyfriend misses seeing you as dumb as a carp!

And the policeman started beating me again. I rolled to the ground, continuing to be kicked in the kidneys. – Stand up ! You hurt your Lord! I stood up. My mouth was bleeding. The policeman rubbed my ears vigorously. – Do you hear better now? – Yes sir.

– I am not sure. How are we going to unblock your ears? Afterwards, my friend will probably want to have a little laugh with you. You know, we have to understand each other. Life in the police isn’t always fun… After an hour of torture, I was thrown into

A cell, almost passed out. I didn’t know where I was or even if I was alive. When I came to my senses, all the prisoners in the cell – around twenty – were standing around me. – How are you ? Said one of them. – I’ve seen better days. – They beat you?

– Yes, and how, I said, straightening up as best I could. – You’re not the only one. – I suspect it. – Are you an Islamist or a communist? continued the prisoner who seemed to be the leader. – Neither. – Hold ? So what are you?

– Why do you want to know? – We are all prisoners. You must reveal your identity, otherwise none of us will speak to you. You could very well be a government spy. – In that case, I play my role wonderfully

! Did you see what they put on me? – It’s not difficult to fake appearances. We’ve seen worse. – I am Shiite, and Salah Karkar is my brother-in-law. At these words, some moved away while others, on the contrary, came closer to me. By saying my brother-in-law’s name,

I had created admiration, but also distrust. This duality in the prisoners’ reactions illustrated the rivalries taking place in the Tunisian Islamist milieu. From the start, the dice were loaded. Over the days, after seeing many tortured prisoners, I managed to gather them around me and began to

Talk to them about the conflict between the Sunnis and the Shiites. My argument started from the origins of Islam to try to explain the stupidity of certain interpretations. I insisted on the notions of fraternity, of sharing, which were, I repeated, the very foundation of

The Muslim religion: the people must bury the hatreds of the past, build a generous Islam through rediscovered union, otherwise Muslims will remain indefinitely withdrawn into themselves. The prisoners were summoned in turn by those in charge of the barracks. They left in the

Morning to return in the evening, humiliated and bruised. Every morning, everyone dreaded hearing their name shouted through the cell vent. A month passed before I was heard from again. Deprived of visitors, forced to wash myself with the thin stream of water flowing from a rubber,

Undernourished, I was hard to see. I was stripped from head to toe except for my boxers, then the guard forced me to lie down on the tile floor, handcuffed. I remained in this position for several hours. Among Islamists,

The body must not be shown, modesty is essential. By forcing me to get naked, the soldiers thought they would humiliate me further. However, I didn’t care. Nudity didn’t matter to me, unlike the other prisoners. When I entered the chief inspector’s office

, my limbs were stiff. – Have you thought about it? the investigator asked me. – That’s all I did. – Your friend confessed everything. Elias was therefore alive! This news gave me hope. – I have no intention of denying the truth. – Did you work for

Iranian terrorists? – Yes, but I left this network before my return to Tunisia. – For what ? – I no longer believe in their ideas. I was wrong all along. They are assassins, nothing more, nothing less. – However, continued the investigator, you subsequently continued to indulge in terrorism by creating

Your own revolutionary party. – That’s true, but I didn’t intend to shed anyone’s blood. – Don’t play the coy pacifist! the investigator raged . Did you really have the idea of ​​overthrowing Bourguiba’s government? – What do you want, I’m full of contradictions.

– Do you think it’s time for jokes? – No. But it’s true, but I didn’t intend to kill anyone. – That’s not what your friend told us. – What exactly did he confess? – If you think I’m going

To tell you… Know, however, that he hates you. Letting me believe that my best friend had told the worst stories about me was undoubtedly intended to destabilize me psychologically. It was well seen. In the pure style of moral torture. In fact, I felt betrayed. But this feeling only

Lasted a short while. – I doubt. – We received a report on your activities, an anonymous report. – Ah, Salah Karkar! I said, clenching my fists. – Salah Karkar. This is an interesting subject. – He’s on the run, and I’m in prison. Don’t you find that curious? Justice

Is not the same for everyone. – Are you insinuating that the government made secret agreements with your brother-in-law? – No, I only note the facts. It’s always the same story: poor people pay for great leaders. – You are not here to philosophize but to tell the truth. Do you want to collaborate

With us? Recognize the facts? – Brutality is useless. I will say what I know. – We will be able to agree. Do you want something? – Yes, a cigarette… And above all, sleep. The next day the guard came to get me, and I had to lie down again half

Naked in the corridor adjoining the investigator’s room. I spent the day in this posture without being questioned. This treatment was repeated three days in a row. Finally, I was heard. I then revealed everything I knew, trying however not to overly involve the MTI or the Iranian government,

Out of a spirit of solidarity with the partisans who had been cheated. I was asked to play the mole in the prison, but I refused. For nothing in the world I would have accepted again dependence on an authority, even a respectable one. From now on, I wanted to be free, independent,

No longer owe anything to anyone. This painful experience had revealed to me the madness of my crime. My actions had been all the more absurd as I appreciated certain points of President Bourguiba’s political work , in particular what concerned women’s rights. Marriage as an attempt at reintegration Very weakened for several months,

Bourguiba no longer had the strength to govern and cruelly lacked lucidity. The Islamists have felt this for a long time. Despite the raids, they had not given up on the coup d’état planned for December. The streets were overflowing with demonstrations, the police were making more arrests, which led to new demonstrations. The

El Rissali network carefully prepared its operation for its part. From Paris, Salah Karkar monitored the maneuver. Was he pulling the reins? We said it. Ultimately, history did not want their putsch to succeed. Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali replaced Bourguiba on November 7. He dismissed the potentate in a very legal manner: already prime minister,

He replaced the deficient president with a sort of chic coup d’état, holding out the promise of free elections. These never really took place. Some claim that the American secret services had warned Ben Ali that an operation was being planned. Still, he targeted the police and made new arrests in Islamist circles.

At the beginning of November 1987, my Islamist accomplices and I appeared before the investigating judge Hassan Ben Fellah. As I ascended the steps of the courthouse, the supreme symbol of state authority, my heart sank. – Do you want a lawyer? I was asked before entering the courtroom. – No, I replied.

– Are you a member of MTI? the judge began. – No. – Do you have an organizational relationship with Karkar? – No. – Did you participate in the training of MTI members? – No. But I trained Salah Karkar supporters . –

Were these supporters not members of the MTI? – No, they depended exclusively on Karkar. – Do you mean by this that your brother-in-law had his own network? – Yes. – Did the training of the armed troops of the MTI take place in Iran? – Yes.

– Was the political and military objective of the MTI to overthrow Bourguiba’s government? – Yes. – Do you know how to handle weapons? – Yes, the Kalashnikov. – And the bombs? – No, only the Kalashnikov. – Despite all these misdeeds and especially thanks to your collaboration, you will soon be free,

Continued the judge. Tunisia has just turned a page in its history. A new era is dawning. Know how to learn from your mistakes. Practicing the Shiite or Sunni religion is not a crime, but wanting to impose it on others by force in seeking to overthrow power is an attack

On public order and state security. Such acts will be punished very severely in the future. Never forget it. I nodded, looking the judge in the eyes. Such acts now seemed like criminal infantilism to me, and I knew I would never allow myself

To be caught in them again. But many obstacles would still stand in my way. The prison where I was held had around a hundred prisoners, all Islamists. My father and one of my sisters now visited me regularly, bringing me comfort and food. I had become friends with another inmate,

Mounir, to whom I confided one day that I would like to get married when I got out of prison. But it would have to be an independent, autonomous woman, so that I could devote myself entirely to the fight against Islamist terrorism. – I know one who looks like this portrait,

Mounir told me. I promise to introduce her to you one day. In reality, after these crazy years, I aspired to an orderly and calm life. I don’t think I was ever cut out for marriage. For me, it was above all a way to integrate,

Marriage being in most societies the strongest model of social reference. A married man is a normal man, therefore better able to be accepted by those around him. Afterwards, I could look at the future in a completely different way. This was my ambition then.

On December 30, 1987, I was released. When I got home, I asked the taxi driver to wait a little while he looked for the money to pay for the fare. He told me that he was an Islamist sympathizer, and therefore a friend. I didn’t have to pay anything.

The family reception was frosty. Samira, Salah Karkar’s wife, barely spoke to me. From what I understood, the rumor was circulating that my arrest had only been a pretext to clear my name. Most of my former acquaintances accused me of being an agent serving the Tunisian government, which was completely false.

After leaving Bouchoucha, however, I was approached by the inspector who had questioned me. We became more acquainted. This man knew all about MTI because he had been a part of it in the 70s until he realized they were a threat to

The country. He then turned against them by working in the state secret service. He fought firmly, severely and relentlessly against Islamist movements. He promised to help me reintegrate into society and even offered to work with the police. Of course, I refused, while promising that if I learned anything affecting the security

Of the country, I would notify the authorities. Afterwards, I was summoned several times to the Ministry of the Interior to speak to him, and we remained in contact. He helped me through the difficult period after I was released from prison, then when he saw that there was no chance of me working with

The police, he left me to my fate. I soon received a call from my brother-in-law: “Traitor! One day or another, you will be punished!” Did “punished” mean removed? I hung up on him. Although my self-esteem was hurt, I decided not to pay attention to these threats.

Despite the risk of seeing the defamatory rumor about me grow, I continued to see Elias. During our meetings, we tried to persuade young believers to distance themselves from Islamist movements: – You sacrifice yourself for individuals whose only goal is to satisfy their personal ambitions, we repeated. They don’t care about

Your work. They are cowards. Remember what Karkar said: whatever happened, he would never leave Tunisia. However, he had been the first to flee as soon as the revolution had failed, and El Tlili Ditto. One day, my friend Mounir, whom I met in prison,

Invited me for coffee. – I have a surprise for you, he said to me. I got you a date with the girl I told you about. I went to the meeting, dressed in my best shirt. When I saw the young woman sitting next to Mounir, I decided instantly to

Make her my bride. I spent the afternoon in his company. In the evening, I asked her to marry me. This eagerness may seem curious, but I needed to compensate for the emotional lack born from my family’s rejection. A few days later,

She accepted the marriage proposal. On May 28, 1988, we celebrated our union, then we moved into Ariana’s house where my father lived alone. My marriage helped me to stabilize myself and to ignore the defamations that were still circulating about me. Soon,

I found a job as a sales agent at the Africa hotel located on Avenue Bourguiba, in the heart of Tunis. There, the first weeks were happy. However, at the end of the trial period, my employer asked for a criminal record certificate before hiring me permanently.

As I began to tell myself that a normal life was still possible despite my past, my doubts took over again. The torture endured during my arrest had affected my psychological balance. Deep down, I still believed myself guilty. Guilty towards my country and mine,

Guilty towards the Lord, guilty of having hatched an insurrection which could have caused many deaths. I called my contact at the ministry several times to find a solution about this damn judicial extract, but he did not answer or told me that he was busy. Every time

He found an excuse to slip away. I couldn’t see the end of my dark thoughts. I I crossed this way of the cross alone, without anyone’s help. Everything was uncertain, everything hung by a thread. Society, it is well known, has difficulty opening its doors to former prisoners, especially ex-Islamists. My employer

Reiterated his request. I wanted to gain time, fearing that the production of this piece, which surely included my former membership in Islamism, would lead to the loss of my job. I made my boss wait for six months, then he, exasperated, fired me. I found myself without money with the responsibility of a family.

This failure upset me, I felt rejected. In desperation, I requested my criminal record extract – which, ironically, was completely blank! I then experienced very difficult times. Without money, soon to be a father, with a blocked future, surrounded by scoundrels who spent their time slandering me, my days passed under the weight

Of remorse and guilt. I looked for God everywhere but found him nowhere. Furthermore, my life as a couple bored me, just as I was bored of being nothing, of claiming nothing. A few months earlier, I belonged to a large family, certainly criminal, but who housed me

And took full care of me. If I had stayed, I would certainly have become a millionaire, I would have been part of the Rissalist dignitaries with all the privileges attached to this caste. They would have respected me, they would have been quick to ask me for advice. At forty,

I would have become an adored patriarch. How far away it all seemed to me now! Far ? Not that much. Psychological fatigue, the aftermath of my years of brainwashing in Tehran, of suspicion and humiliation, was leading me astray. One day

My nerves gave out. Like a heroin addict deprived of an artificial paradise for too long, I seriously thought about diving back in: to become someone again, to regain the political status assigned to me, to reconnect with the excitement of danger, to no longer be a solitary hunted beast

. , I decided to reconnect with El Rissali. Many examples show the complexity of the violence syndrome, how difficult it is to cure oneself from this illness which functions like an intoxication, in the same way as a drug. A part of me remained aware

That it was heresy: I was heading back towards the hell of terrorism, this time with full knowledge of the facts. While I had managed to leave this bloody sect, I was preparing to throw myself into the den of the wolf again! Seeking to clear my conscience,

I fell back on the following pretext: were the Rissalist leaders aware of the lax behavior of those responsible for their base? Maybe not after all? In any case, I absolutely had to check this point. Although this decision may seem

Inconsistent to those who are willing to follow this story, it should be noted that I had little other choice. Living was a Chinese puzzle for me. I was rejected everywhere, my future was blocked. Moreover, the Rissalists had certainly not forgotten me. They would order my execution soon, if they hadn’t already. At

Least, by going to meet them, I still had a chance to redeem myself. In Syria in the clutches of El Rissali Shortly after, I collected my new passport and immediately left Tunisia towards Syria, defying death, whether in the form of a stab in the back or with a revolver bullet in the head.

I land in Damascus. I crossed the city to reach the El Sayyida Zeinab district where El Sheikh Abou Moustapha lived, a religious man who had been my teacher at the El Qaem school and whom I appreciated for his qualities of heart. I never doubted

His generosity for a single moment. Indeed, he received me with open arms. He didn’t seem to be aware of the dispute that existed between the network and me, or at least he didn’t say anything about it. Forty years old, wearing religious garb, Abou Moustapha was a renowned Shiite pacifist

. He belonged to the network but did not know of its villainous activities, everyone trying to hide the truth from him. For Abou Moustapha, El Rissali was a charitable religious movement. In fact, like many others, he was the subject of

Vast manipulation on the part of the Rissalists, who used his pacifism as a foil. In certain circles, the network prided itself on counting this honorable personality among its members. I called my wife to reassure her. Then, having made my mark, I jumped back into the game:

After a week I returned to religious studies in the new school of the great Maghreb under the direction of one of the greatest Shiite scholars, El Saïd El Tab Tabaii, a Syrian of Iraqi origin. The serum from the fundamentalist syringe was flowing through my veins again.

The Rissalist leaders would quickly be informed of my presence in their stronghold. So, how would they come to meet me? Would I have the guts to express my thoughts to them? In any case, I was waiting for them. As the days passed, I regained hope. Life at school presented itself under good auspices,

I was fed and cleared. Abou Moustapha authorized me to bring my wife, who had given birth to a little girl on April 3, 1989. When she arrived at the airport, I offered her a chador so that she could cover her head and go unnoticed in the crowd, then

I kissed my child. Thanks to the financial help of Abou Moustapha, we rented an apartment where we lived sparingly but happily. I had my daughter baptized by my teacher, El Tab Tabaii, in the Zeinab mausoleum whose name I borrowed to give to the little one.

During the ceremony, the religious scholar placed a little earth “from El Hussein, son of Ali” in my child’s mouth, poured water on his head then read a few Koranic verses. In short, I was calm. I even blamed myself for my poor attitude towards the Rissalists.

I thought I was wrong about them. Poor me ! My naivety, which had sometimes saved me from madness, had this time completely led me astray. How could I hope to change the behavior of these bloodthirsty monsters? My ambition was like a crucifixion.

One morning as I was going to school, I witnessed a strange sight: there was not a soul outside. The wind whistled in the middle of the streets, raising dust from the sidewalks, the silence was heavy on all sides, and the light cast a strange glow on the walls.

Did this atmosphere announce the return of God to earth? Had an atomic war just been started? I froze for a moment, then panicked and started running towards my apartment. I knocked on my next door neighbor’s door. The man appeared, his face in tears. – What is going on ? I asked,

My stomach knotting. – Imam Khomeini is dead. I went to the mausoleum where El Tab Tabaii had baptized my daughter a few days earlier. People cried, lamented, some fainted. All hearts seemed to have come together in a spirit of solemn communion. In turn, I burst into tears.

The mourning continued for the entire week. Schools, offices, administrations were all closed, black flags were flown at half-mast everywhere. Syria behaved completely like a little sister of Iran. Shortly after, Abou Moustapha informed me of the arrival in Damascus of a network delegation formed by Mohamed Faouzi and El

Sheikh Ahmed, the brother of Hassan El Safar, and apprehension returned to take hold of me. The network’s approach was slow. They began by sending me cryptic messages: “Dear Karim, has Tunisia been profitable for you?” A few days later, I was told: “We

Are thinking of you.” Then another time: “Death is only a passage”. And the next day: “What hides the smile of a wounded man?” How should I interpret these little “love words”? After a few days of this regime, silence returned. The network gave me no sign of life for more than a week.

The Rissalists were playing on my nerves. The game was just beginning. Finally, my last secret tutor at the El Qaem school and one of the leaders of the new school in the greater Maghreb, El Maghribi

Jamal, a Moroccan who hated me, let me know through an intermediary that I was going to be heard. I choose to plead guilty. I wrote a report in which I recognized all the wrongs with which I was accused. By way of conclusion, I asked for the constitution to

The El Qaem school of a tribunal made up of all the Rissalist leaders, with Hédi El Moudarissi as supreme judge. I will come before this court to present my defense. In fact, I was trying to create an exceptional event that could then set

A precedent for my companions. I hoped to be able to reveal during this plenary meeting the low blows and abuses that I had witnessed, so as to provoke an internal confrontation. I wanted to somehow provoke a coup d’état in the kingdom of genre specialists! On paper, the operation did not lack

Cleverness. A nice counterpoint, indeed. But once again, my naivety betrayed me. As was predictable, the leaders refused to comply with such a procedure. Worse, Hassan El Safar’s brother reported the following comments to me: – Hédi El Moudarissi has no confidence in

You. From the first days of your arrival here, he considered you a traitor. He ordered your execution. It’s lucky for you if this order has not yet been implemented. Another told me: – If you want to be judged,

It will take place in a select committee, and your judge will be El Sheikh Ahmed. – So, in this case, I ask to be excluded from the network permanently! For the moment, I was alive and well, but in what state! Because from then on, my wife and I

Felt the flames of hell reach us a hundred times. At night, someone came to knock on our door to wake us up. I was getting up. Person. This happened several times. Then this persecution ceased to give way to another of the same register, but more vicious: we

Heard people walking on the roof of the apartment, uttering mournful groans, making all kinds of strange noises, as if they were of a black mass. My wife was terrified, our baby was no longer sleeping. Later, we received death threats from

Third parties. As I resisted, the telephone was cut off, then the water and electricity, the building being the property of the network. My wife and I found ourselves on the street, without any resources. As a last resort, I requested an interview with Hassan El Safar, but

I learned that he did not want to know anything and that he had already given his orders concerning me. I once again challenged the Rissalists. – My wife and my daughter are innocent! Give them something to eat. – You can all starve.

In a few days, we sank definitively into poverty. Our couple fell into total decline, forced to beg near the El Sayyida Zeinab mausoleum. We were hungry and thirsty, we lived in filth amidst our baby’s cries. In addition to destitution,

Fear gripped us. I kept watch day and night trying to spot in the crowd whoever would come and slit our throats. We experienced horror. I never imagined to what extent fear can reduce a being to the state of a

Begging larva. My throat was perpetually tight, my legs were trembling, my pulse sometimes slowed, sometimes beating at full speed. The harassment of the Rissalists took new forms each time. So-called protectors gave us food… rotten! We lit

Firecrackers in the middle of the night right next to our baby. People insulted us and threw projectiles in our faces. I became so thin that I could barely walk. My wife and daughter cried all day long. Their screams stuck into my brain like incandescent needles.

They were going to die before my eyes, terrible torture. I felt so guilty! And always these tears which tore my heart, hammered my soul and reminded me of my wrongs. Why didn’t death decide to come and get me, let this ordeal finally end!

I was looking to sell my child’s stroller. With the money raised, I could buy two bus tickets and reach Istanbul. A passerby offered me a hundred pounds for the stroller, eight times less than its value. I refused to sell out the only semblance of comfort

My wife and daughter had left. Fortunately, unlike the Saudis, the Iraqi inhabitants were generous: women from the neighborhood, although miserable, collected five hundred pounds which they gave to my wife without compensation. We would be able to leave, escape death! Unfortunately, bad luck

Continued: the travel agency did not have any tickets for a week. However, the next day, I received the following message: “we are giving you forty-eight hours to leave Syria, otherwise you will be eliminated.” I didn’t say anything about it to my wife, but this time

The end was approaching. Around, the crowd moved slowly, mothers walked their children, life went on. Without us. We must pray, I told myself, looking towards the sky. It was then that the faces of my family came back to my memory. How stupid I had been to leave! There

Was only one thing left to do. I got up and told my wife to follow me. Like a sleepwalker, I snuggled my little Zeyneb in my arms and headed towards the United Nations office, determined to tell my story and ask for help. – Sorry, sir, we deal exclusively with Palestinians and Lebanese

, the official retorted. – So what can I do? I asked, revolted. – Ask to meet the human rights officer at the French embassy. We went to the French embassy, ​​where we were warmly welcomed. The senior official took my confession very seriously and finally offered to repatriate my family to

Tunisia. In the meantime, he offered us accommodation. This is how we were able to escape death: in the heart of the Arab world, a Frenchman reached out to us. On July 23, 1989, while my wife waited a few more days in Damascus for a direct flight to

Tunis, I disembarked in Paris. At the airport, two police officers received me and took me to a hotel not far from the Eiffel Tower. – Do you have any important information to give us regarding terrorism? one of them asked me. – Yes. – Don’t worry,

Everything will be fine. Regain your strength, we will contact you in a few days. Grow a beard to avoid being recognized. Wait a bit before contacting your family. Don’t tell them we intervened. You can say that

You returned from Syria by land. On the day of the Eid holiday, I rang the bell at my mother’s house who had just moved into a house in Bagnolet. What a surprise for mom! What a surprise also for Salah Karkar and Samira who were present that day! My brother-in-law took his breath away.

Yes, I was still alive! And the fight was only just beginning. Over the next few days, I found dialogue with my sister again. After Salah Karkar’s arrival in France, Samira settled with the children in Eaubonne near Paris. Although she

Was still with her husband and had joined him with their six children, she was timidly becoming aware of certain realities. She ended up leaving Islam after an overdose of Islamism. Now she wanted only one thing: to hear no more talk of orthodox Islam or politics. She continued her quest for truth individually, without

Resorting to any stultifying dogma whatsoever. When I had recovered my strength, I went to Abou Ahmed, the one who had recruited me. – Karim, my brother! he cried. I was less tender. – Do you want to send a message from me to the network? – Of course, but…

– Karim Labidi declares war on the Rissalists. – Forget them and start a new life! – How could I forget those who destroyed my life and who are also destroying the future of thousands of young people? – There are many, Karim. You are alone.

– A single man can overthrow an entire army if Allah is with him. – But Allah is also with them… – What are you talking about? If these monsters are destined for heaven, then I would much rather join the devil and hell

Than find myself alongside them. They left my wife and child to starve to death before my eyes. And they claim to be Muslims! This is enough to disgust you with Islam! I poured out my heart in rage, my eyes bulging. I had never experienced

Such anger. My friend didn’t know how to calm me down. Not having followed the same path as me, he could not understand. – It’s true, they acted very badly, retorted Abou Ahmed, but to err is human… – They are not humans, they are demons!

– Look, it’s a misunderstanding. I can still fix things. I would like to reconcile you with them. Let me do. – No way ! The harm is irreparable. Abou Ahmed had to face the facts: I had finally and definitively reached the other shore. He

Had to stop meeting me under pressure from the Rissalists, because he moved shortly after, and since that day we have never seen each other again. I confessed to French intelligence officials everything I knew about the El Rissali network, including the plan of destruction

That these fanatical terrorists had prepared for the years 1999 to 2011, and of which I had learned shortly before my incarceration in 1987. So that the reader can appreciate all the horror that hovers above our heads if we continue to

Hide our faces, here is the summary: During the month of Ramadan 1999, the network officially announced to the religious elite the return imminent of Imam El Mehdi. The march towards international revolution would be carefully organized. Russia would fall into debacle,

Leaving the United States the role of grand masters of the planet. The transport of arms to the USA and European countries would be renewed, particularly across the Franco-Spanish, Franco-German borders and the Scandinavian countries. From 1999 to 2004, the network planned to weaken most Arab-Islamic countries and sow disorder, fear and division

In the West. He would discreetly support far-right and neo-Nazi parties, as well as Basque, Corsican and Irish nationalism, in order to precipitate civil war. The plan also planned to circulate large quantities of hard drugs in Western countries with the aim of destroying the family unit. Thus,

Politicians would be overwhelmed on all sides, and Muslim communities would have free rein to organize the revolt. A large wave of attacks would take place. Orders (fatwa) would fall in the suburbs and elsewhere, and the young uprooted Muslims to whom the madmen

Of God had promised paradise would commit continual assassinations. We would put in place various modes of terrorist action, particularly with knives. The key dates of this plan, some of which have since been revised, were as follows: Between 1992 and 1999, trigger possible change in Iran and

Ensure the weakening of as many Arab-Arab countries as possible. Islamic countries – Algeria, Egypt, Tunisia, Libya, Morocco, Afghanistan, the five Russian Islamic countries, Yemen and Pakistan, Iraq and the new internal revolution in Iran. From 1999 to 2011, practicing a policy of alliance between all Islamic countries

While the destabilization of the West would continue through internal and external strikes. In 2011, war against the West would be officially declared. It is at that moment that those who are preparing the return of Imam El Mehdi would emerge to unite the popular masses. They would lead hostilities for several years until

They managed to dominate the entire earth. All this only preceded the reincarnation (El Rijaa) of the eleven other infallible imams around the year 2299. I explained as clearly as possible to the French police officers how the threat that this terrorist sect posed over France and Europe remained more present than ever.

I was not afraid to express to them the core of my thoughts, namely that Islamists should not be treated as religious people but as pure criminals. But they replied that, due to lack of evidence, they could not consider arresting these criminals before they acted – which

Seemed to me to be an admission of powerlessness. They suggested that I play mole for them in exchange for money in international terrorism networks. I refused. I said it, I no longer wanted to depend on anyone. However, I agreed to collaborate with

The French secret services and provided them with extensive information. I was also in contact with the Belgian police, who seemed to take my story very seriously. I showed him the cultural centers and the secret bases of the Islamists,

As well as the names of those responsible. At that time I also resumed writing the confession I had started during my incarceration, so that my experience would not disappear with me. During the year I stayed in Paris, I used all my

Free time writing. I was dominated by the need to put it all down on paper. It was stronger than me, it had to come out, it had to come to light. Let me get rid of it. Return to origins and spiritual quest My wife wanted to stay and live in

Tunis. While I was still in Paris, she gave birth to a boy who was named Houssem. At the age of twenty-four, it was time for me to return to the reality of men and build something solid. I then decided to make a clean slate of the past and start from scratch. I

Collected the manuscript in which I had written in Arabic the story of my struggle with Islamism, and I entrusted it to Samia, my fifth sister, who was pursuing studies in sociology and social economy in Paris and policy. She agreed to translate it into French and take care of

Publishing it under her own name. As she needed an expert to contact if necessary, I gave her the contact of the Bouchoucha inspector, whose breadth of knowledge and seriousness in the fight against Islamist currents I appreciated. During the month of August 1990, I reached Spain to reach Tunis via Morocco

And Algeria. In Spain, I met a Moroccan with whom a beautiful and promising friendship began. My new friend invited me to Meknes. I lingered there for a while, enjoying the sun and the sweetness of life, finally relaxed. After this relaxing break, I returned by train to Tunisia. While traveling by rail,

I was able to observe the catastrophic situation plaguing Algeria. In Tunis, I found the harsh reality: the Tunisian secret services did not have confidence in me since I returned to Syria, I was constantly observed and summoned to the Ministry of the Interior for routine arrests. This situation made me unbearable.

The following summer, while the Gulf War was in full swing, I decided to turn my back on the evils of political Islam and set off on a journey through the Amazigh countries. This sort of escape from the complications of the world lasted several months: I went along Tunisia towards

The south of Libya, then I crossed Algeria and Morocco to the south, before retracing my steps towards the north of Morocco and to return to Tunisia through northern Algeria. I made this trip with local means of transport and on foot, almost without money, like a wanderer,

But infinitely enriched by my freedom of movement. When I returned to Tunis, I lived with my mother-in-law for a few months, then I found a small apartment to rent where I planned to resume a normal life. However, I felt unsafe in Tunisia. Every time an Islamist was arrested,

I was asked if I knew him and what I knew about him. Sometimes people stopped me just to ask me for information! On top of that, I always feared possible Islamist revenge, either from the network or from my brother-in-law’s followers.

The idea grew within me of starting a new life in a place where no one would know me. I chose Morocco and decided to settle in Agadir. What I did as soon as I woke up on January 27, 1992, without even thinking, by boarding the first train.

I reached Annaba, in the north-east of Algeria, from where I would reach Morocco by road. When my bus left Annaba on January 29, I heard on the radio that President Boudiaf had just been assassinated while giving a speech in Annaba itself.

All the travelers were dismayed, and me perhaps even more so, secretly. I felt like horror was following my footsteps. It was for me the sign that I had to silence myself inside myself, free myself definitively from my demons,

Move forward in spirituality to find peace and a taste for God following the path of Sufism. The journey lasted several weeks, passing through several Moroccan cities. Arriving in Marrakech, I had spent all my savings, all I had left was my belongings. I had to sell them to buy the bus ticket to Agadir.

I arrived there at night, with nothing other than the clothes I was wearing. The months that followed were miserable. Without money, without work, I wandered the streets of Agadir, surviving only thanks to the alms of passers-by. I remained in this situation for several months. Life for me had become unimportant,

I lived day to day with tramps and abandoned people, hunted by residents and the police. In the depths of this initiatory erasure, I knew what it meant to be alone, with nothing to wait for in this world other than a revelation from heaven. However, during my

Dream visions, a vast reflection took shape on the question of God – God in the absolute, and no longer the God that Muslims call Allah. I ended up retreating into the hinterland, mainly in Inezgane, Dchira, Pergola, the suburbs of Agadir. The Agadir region,

In southwest Morocco, is poor and agricultural. It is mainly home to an Amazigh population with an unfriendly character. Non-Amazigh cannot carry out a lucrative activity there. However, one day, in Inezgane, a small town adjoining Agadir in the Souss valley,

A man in a market offered me to work with him in the fruit and vegetable trade. As our bond grew even stronger, we decided to set up a company in wholesale trading . The business was set up at the beginning of 1993: my new friend took care of commercial relations

While I kept the accounts and resolved administrative problems. From there, I was able to begin writing about my spiritual experiences. I met a young man from the town of Taroudant with whom I became friends. With fine, slender features, clear eyes, an open mind, this young man became more

Than a friend, a confidant ready to do anything to help me and accompany me in my quest. Thanks to this meeting, I gradually discovered the Souss valley, its beauty and its people. My friend introduced me to pious Sufits who lived in the mountains and in remote areas. I was able

To meet them, and I learned a lot from them about life and their vision of the world. It was a very rich experience which lasted almost four years and which freed me from the prison of received and inherited ideas. During these four years, I devoted myself to my spiritual quest, my business activities

Simply representing a cover and a means of living. My thirst for perfecting my spiritual knowledge continued to grow. I wanted to unravel the mysteries kept out of reach of ordinary mortals. I sought to make contact with every person

I knew or believed to have spiritual knowledge in the area. To the point that I approached old weirdos in the markets who worked as healers or miracle workers, even sellers of medicinal plants. I was looking to learn their knowledge. Sometimes, I

Offered to take me as a student. Sometimes I even agreed to be a simple servant under their direction. I thus learned a lot in this very secret area of ​​magic which is imbued with popular tradition. And, of course, I bought everything I found in terms of old or

Recent books talking about Sufism and mysticism. I wrote furiously, living frugally, eating little, lulled by calm. Little by little , the bases of a work that went beyond the framework of confession took shape in my mind . I embarked on the development

Of an essay based not on sacred texts but on the theory of numbers. Thus, I developed a mathematical system determining the existence or not of divine nature. What may seem at least fanciful out of context was based on a strict deduction from my experience.

In my thirtieth year, I gradually freed myself from all the constraints that had hindered my personal development. I became allergic to all religions, sects or political groups of whatever stripe. I only had one idea left: to become myself and nothing else. Realizing that it was time to

Normalize a situation whose precariousness was no longer tenable, I made the decision to settle permanently in Morocco. To do this, I needed to obtain my resident card. In November 1996, I I therefore went to the Tunisian consulate in Rabat to request the renewal of my passport.

– Do you have your resident card? the Tunisian official asked me. – Of course not. – In this case, I cannot renew your passport. – But that’s absurd! You know well that I cannot obtain a residence permit without a valid passport. – Sorry, but the law is like that. “Be understanding,” I continued.

– Listen, maybe I can do something for you. I’ll talk to my boss about it. Come see me again in a few days. I left the consulate with unspeakable worry. Since I arrived in Morocco, I had not spoken to

Anyone about my past. I lived like a normal person, a simple Muslim without an Islamist past. I was known as something of a mystic, and many asked me for advice. Suddenly, the memory of my disappointments in terrorist Islamism resurfaced. The old traumas

Were far from erased, and their burning blades returned to tickle my nerves. Would the Tunisian state seek new charges against me? Panicked, I went to the Inezgane police station without really trying to understand why. The commissioner received me, all smiling and full of kindness. – Your situation is not simple, he said. But

Rest assured, I am ready to help you. – Really ? – You have been working in Morocco for several years now. You have a job and don’t bother anyone. We must be able to obtain an exemption and give you a

Resident card within a reasonable time. I’ll talk to my management about it tomorrow. – At the consulate, I was told the same thing. – You see, the problem will be quickly resolved! I left the police station just as uneasy. Returning to the ephemeral calm of my home, I thought for a long time.

I had a friend who had a lot of connections and a well-paying corporate job. I did him a lot of services, and he did the same, but he knew nothing about my past, I only ever spoke to him about my professional experience

With my Amazigh friends. I convinced myself that I had to tell him everything to get his opinion. I went to see him, invited him to lunch and told him I needed to talk to him. He agreed without hesitation to listen to me. We shared lunch. Kindly,

As if jokingly, I began to tell him about my past. My friend was stunned, to say the least. In the end, I felt that he was afraid of me without wanting to show it. He advised me to tell everything to the police. Since then, I have never seen him again.

On December 5, 1996, I was invited to the police station, where the commissioner welcomed me with great joviality. – Management has ordered me to treat you with care. Wasn’t I right to be optimistic! – No doubt… Without being able to explain it to myself, I felt bad. There

Was a perverse intonation in this man’s voice, as if the friend to whom I had revealed my past had come to see him the day before to tell him everything – which must indeed have happened. I began to regret having fallen into the hands of the local police and turning

Myself in to my friend. But how would one do otherwise ? I absolutely needed my resident card to regularize my situation. On Wednesday, December 20, everything came to a head. While I was at my quiet home in Pergola, I heard a knock on the

Door. I didn’t have time to react before two police officers burst into the room, threw themselves on me and handcuffed me. – What right do you have to do this? I shouted. – Shut up, you dirty traitor! The police searched the house and

Confiscated my manuscripts and anything that seemed valuable to them, money and otherwise. Then they put me in a big car. I was blindfolded so that I could not see the road, I just knew that we had taken the direction of Rabat. The violence with which

I had been arrested made me fear the worst. This time, I risked being there for good! The vehicle drove for approximately three-quarters of an hour before we stopped. When I was taken out of the car, I smelled the sea. The place was calm,

We could hear the singing of birds and the rushing of jets of water. Where was I? The police officers directed me by pushing me in the back. I stumbled. Immediately, I received kicks in the kidneys. – Come on, move forward, vermin!

I got up and groped my way for fear of losing my balance again. We entered inside a building. I felt like I was walking along endless corridors. I went up a flight of stairs. A door creaked. – Get in there! they shouted to me.

I took a few steps into what appeared to be a bedroom. The police first made me sit on a bed before tying me to a chair. Then nothing. Only silence, a heavy silence that smelled of death. Outside, there was no sound except the sound of a

Fountain or an automatic watering can. Obviously, I was sequestered in an imposing residence. Tied up, blindfolded, I remained in the same position for more than half an hour, my heart beating, my shirt soaked with sweat, dreading the blow from the baton that was about to come. After this terrible wait, the door

Opened again. A man approached. No doubt trying to impress me even more, he began by slapping me. – Who are you ? Who do you work for? – I don’t work for anyone. I am an honest worker who wishes to settle in your country. – Liar ! the stranger shouted

, punching me in the stomach. His breath gave off a strong smell of alcohol. My God ! This man was completely drunk, he had lost his mind, he was going to kill me! – So, you admit, let’s get it over with? my torturer shouted, pulling

My hair at temple level. – I told the truth ! I moaned. – You keep lying! Rotten ! We have verified your statements: you are a spy in the service of the Tunisian government! – It’s not what you think. I belonged to an international terrorist network based in Iran. But I realized that

I was wrong. I left her. Since then, I’ve been trying to rebuild my life. I don’t depend on anyone and I want to remain free. – And why then did you flee Tunisia? – My life was in danger there. Islamist terrorists want my skin. I had to

Hide somewhere to start from scratch. My tormentor began to beat me harder . Then another man who had not come forward until then began to torture me in turn. While threatening to burn me with his cigarette butt, he always hit me with the flat of his hand, obviously to leave fewer marks.

A true professional in muscular interrogation, he combined physical violence with psychological persecution with fierce rigor. The two men left the room before returning a little later to question me again. This must have been repeated twenty times. Blindfolded, hands and feet handcuffed, I suffered martyrdom.

I spent the night writhing in pain. The next day, the man with the alcohol on his breath continued to question me. – The boss doesn’t believe your story, he said. Morocco cannot accept atheists like you. Ben Ali should be

Put in the same bag. We know that he does not respect the Ramadan fast. Besides, all the political leaders in your country are dogs, sellouts, unbelievers! You are a spy sent by Ben Ali’s government to track down Tunisian Islamists who are

Political refugees here. Are you finally going to confess? – It’s wrong ! If I was the spy you say, why would I have taken the risk of contacting the Moroccan police? – To better infiltrate us! Do you take me for an idiot or what? The writings we

Found at your home are unequivocal: you want to falsify religion. You are an enemy of Islam like Ben Ali and his clique. If you were a Tunisian Islamist, you would have been given your resident papers. – I tell you that I am not a spy! And,

Thank God, I am no longer an Islamist. – I make you an honest offer: you agree to work for Morocco, and I will give you your papers immediately. – Out of the question. I am a free man. I tell you again, I don’t work for

Anyone. I would rather die. – Ah ah! Before dying, you are going to experience hell, believe me! Insulted, tortured, after three weeks of this diet I fell into the beginnings of a coma. When I came to, my body was in pain

All over. I felt my face disfigured, my eye swollen, dried blood on my mouth. The light of day blinded me: my blindfold had been removed. Little by little, I discovered the walls of my prison, very different from what I had known until then. I found myself

In a luxurious room. Opposite, on a table covered with an embroidered tablecloth, sat a tray of food. From the open window rose the scent of flowers and the smell of the sea. What had happened? Why this change in treatment? Leaning on the edge of the bed,

I stood up with difficulty. In front of me stood a man wearing a mask, like the puppets that made the satirical shows on French television so successful. Next to it, a moon-faced individual sat in an armchair, dressed in traditional religious garb. In the back of the room I distinguished a

Third individual dressed in business attire. – So, have you regained your strength? asked the masked man. – I didn’t answer. His voice was the same as that of my tormentor from the previous days, the one the alcoholic called sidna, “the boss.” But who were the other two characters?

The monk slowly stood up and approached the bed. A powerful glow burst from his eyes. – I am a specialist in religious issues, young man. And the other person is a psychiatrist. – Do you think I’m crazy? I said with effort. – Are you the author of the manuscripts that

We found at your home in Pergola? asked the monk. – Yes. – What sources do these writings come from? – Only from me. – I do not believe you. These writings are far too scholarly for someone your age. – If I really tell you their source,

You won’t believe me. – In Morocco, we take supernatural phenomena very seriously, replied the religious. Speak frankly. – I receive these ideas from the wise people I meet, I learn from them what they know. Afterwards, according to what I understood, I give free rein to my pen.

At these words, the monk widened his eyes and fell silent. – Do you have any questions to ask him? said the masked man, addressing the psychiatrist who had not moved from the back of the room. – No, none, replied the latter. As they prepared to leave the cell, I noticed spots of depigmentation

On the masked man’s hands . I understood later that it was Idris El Basri, the Minister of the Interior of King Hassan II himself. Change of tactics. After this exchange, I was treated better. I was given what I wanted while sequestering me in my room. From the

Window, I could see a huge garden stretching as far as the eye could see. Only a very wealthy man could maintain such a property! For the next four days, the masked man continued his interrogation. This time, my story about my Islamist past

In Iran was taken very seriously. – Do you know these men? he asked me , handing me several photos. – Yes, a few. This one is Saïd Mousaab, the Rissalist leader in Madrid. This one, Sheikh Atif, is the brother of

That one, Sheikh Djamel, responsible for Morocco. At first glance, the photos appeared to have been taken shortly before, except for that of Sheikh Djamel. About ten days later, with a black blindfold over my eyes, I was taken to the

Central police station in Rabat. Locked in a cell, sleeping on the floor, I plunged back into the misery of incarceration for more than two weeks. I suffered the same fate as the undocumented immigrants whose cell I shared. For the Moroccan authorities,

I had to be treated as an illegal alien so as not to arouse suspicion. On Wednesday January 8, 1997, the commissioner called me into his office and told me that I was going to be sent back to Tunis. I would be escorted to Agadir to collect my personal belongings.

Then I would board in Casablanca. On Thursday January 9, 1997, two police officers took me out of my cell and handcuffed me. I was told that I would be able to get my business, but it was only a lie: I found myself at the airport where I was passed to

Police officers who, after routine procedures, put me on a plane, heading to Mauritania. The plane stopped for a few hours in Nouakchott then resumed its flight to Tunisia. I arrived in Tunis on the night of January 9-10, 1997 with nothing other than the jeans I was wearing

When I was arrested, my torn shirt and a single plastic sandal on my right foot. But the main thing was that I was safe and sound. I was home, and life could resume its rights. I could hardly imagine after that experiencing another great misfortune in my life.

Return to the realities of the modern world What had become of my parents? After so many years of arguments, separations and false reunions, they ended up remarrying, each nevertheless retaining their independence: my father had spent a

Period in France with my mother, but he had not been able to bear the Parisian life. He lived at Ariana. As for my mother, she still lived in France in her house in Bagnolet. After settling in with my father and regaining strength, I was able to see my children,

Who periodically came to the house. My wife gave birth after my departure to our third child, a boy called Mehdi Hédi who was now four years old. By mutual agreement, we launched divorce proceedings which we obtained after a few months. The whole family had gradually but surely detached itself from Islamism. Awareness

Had reached people’s minds after this sad experience which had mistreated each of us. All worked more or less to thwart the irresistible rise of political Islam. On September 1, 1997, the first edition of my book, translated into French and signed by my sister Samia, appeared in bookstores under the title “Karim,

My ex-fundamentalist and terrorist brother.” To be honest, I didn’t read it when it came out because I didn’t want to dive back into those memories. I trusted Samia. Despite this, I was unhappy with the title. I told him that this title was not good because I had

Been neither a fundamentalist nor a terrorist, only an Islamist convinced that Islam is the only good model of life. My sister assured me that it didn’t matter, that it was just to sell. This testimony from the inside of a family and a Shiite Islamist sect

From the Islamist international was a first. Despite the release of The Yann Piat Affair which had shaken the publishing house and mobilized minds for a certain time, the book made its way into Islamist circles, who tracked down any information in this area.

Shortly before the expiration of the limitation period allowing a complaint for defamation to be filed, Salah Karkar attacked the book and the publisher Flammarion from his place of house arrest in Digne-les-Bains. I had to travel to France to testify in court. After

Losing this trial at first instance, we ended up winning on appeal and on cassation. I was starting to feel like I existed again. As in my childhood during the first days when this happened to me, I moved forward very quickly in my observations to make up for lost time.

I realized to what extent public opinion in Europe was corrupted by Islamism. Of course, I knew that Islamist sects were determined to destroy freedom and democracy in the West, and that we saw freedom being restricted every day in Europe for

Fear of attacks organized to terrorize the population. I have already spoken about this reality several times. We have seen how Islamist political parties fled to Europe, grew up there and indoctrinated young people from immigrant backgrounds. Islamist terrorists were clearly using Europe as a propaganda platform. But it

Would dismay me to see the result come to fruition. In the 1990s, the use of the Internet as a means of expression began. Freedom of expression then took a leap forward, censorship having become practically impossible with the appearance of proxies,

Anonymity and a thousand ways to express one’s opinion without being recognized or prosecuted. I got my first computer in 1997 and discovered an infinite virtual world. At that time, some blogs and forums began discreetly to criticize Islamism. This immediately led to a formidable outcry. For years, the debate was

Violent on the question of the right to criticize Islam. The Islamists accused the minority who held to free criticism of all the evils – racism, intolerance, etc. Behind them, moderate Muslims protested against open criticism of Islam and its symbols,

And the European left deplored under the guise of humanism that this criticism affected the sensitivity of a religious community. This “formal” debate ended after the attacks of September 11, 2001. There, everyone agreed that the application of Islam according to the Koran, the Hadiths and the Sunnah was a crime against ‘humanity. This launched

An unprecedented wave of criticism of Islam on the Internet and in the media, which led to what is called “Islamophobia” to designate the fear of Islam and its criminal ideas. This criminalization put Islamophobia on an equal footing with anti-Semitism. This was

The pretext that the Islamists used to refuse any criticism. Since then, anyone who criticizes Islam has been labeled an Islamophobe. You should know that calling someone an Islamophobic is, according to the Koran, tantamount to threatening them with death. Indeed, it is clearly said that whoever

Fights Allah and his prophet – here in the form of criticism – his punishment is death. Here is Surah 5, Al-Mâ-‘idah, the Table Served, verse 33: “The reward of those who wage war against Allah and His Messenger and who strive to sow corruption on earth is that ‘they are killed or crucified, or

Their opposite hand and leg are cut off , or they are expelled from the country. It will be ignominy for them here below. And in the Hereafter there will be a great punishment for them.” We must therefore take this accusation seriously and criminalize

Anyone who calls others Islamophobic, because it is an indirect death threat. At that time, I said: “I am Islamophobic and proud of it, it is an honorable and human position”. I explained in an article that you have to be Islamophobic because Islam is a murderous ideology that leads to crimes against humanity.

However, looking back on the almost twenty years that I have been fighting Islam and Islamism, I now reflect that the success of this criminal ideology is not due solely to its actors: those who are supposed to fighting it are partly responsible. First, moderate Muslims denounce criticism of Islam but rarely its

Crimes. They pose as accusers but do not engage in self-criticism. However, we can see that, to this day, the sacred texts of Islam have not been purged of their criminal passages. Second, the European left displays humanitarian objectives and claims to defend Muslims. It’s wrong. The speech she presents to defend them insidiously aims

To keep these people dependent. She considers Muslims to be welfare recipients and political recipients. It denies them the basic right to exercise their own self-criticism. For her, they are intellectually minors. Thus, it shows a sneaky racism towards them and keeps them in barbarism.

Third, other authorities, under the guise of humanism or for personal reasons, disrupt the debate and create discord instead of uniting their efforts to repel the danger. Among them, ex-Muslims who leave their loved ones prey to submission and fanaticism, considering them ignorant, incapable of thinking for themselves and evolving.

These three groups, far from participating in real work for freedom and respect for man, are complicit with the Islamists instead of doing their utmost to limit their action. They must prove to humanity that they are not complicit in the crimes against humanity committed

Before their eyes. They have an obligation of means if not of results. It is up to them to prove that they are implementing these means. Who is human and civilized and who respects others when we call on a Muslim to face the morbid reality of Islam? We do it out of brotherhood,

Out of esteem and respect for his faculties of discernment, so that he knows the truth and can exercise his freedom in relation to Islam, not like all these pseudo-humanists who treat him as mentally handicapped. Today, criticism of Islam is met with

Indifference from Muslims, because many of them do not feel concerned: for them, the Islam they practice is not the one being criticized. Indeed, the religion they practice is a substitute for true Islam. Despite this, they are part of the umma,

They protect this umma and, more seriously, they are a source of propaganda and constitute an important reserve of people, money and means for the Islamist offensive. This must stop. They must choose, either to be part of the umma, or

To separate their personal belief from the sources of Islam. They can have their own God, but they must know that the Islam of Mohammed, the Koran, the Sunnah and the Hadiths is an outdated and detestable history, a global danger for our times. Every passive Muslim must

Realize that he fuels Islamism and indirectly participates in crimes against humanity through the following behaviors: 1. The veil Wearing the Islamic veil is first and foremost an indirect support of Islamism , a sort of free advertising to claim the submission of women, the fact that she is a

Subhuman under the authority of the male. Everyone is free to wear traditional clothing or not, but not the Islamic veil, which has a sexist connotation. The woman who wears it affirms her adherence to what Islam affirms: that woman is evil

And the source of evil, that she is not respectable and therefore legitimately despised by man. The wearing of this veil must be prohibited in civilized countries because it perpetuates the situation of inferiority of women. Any woman who wears it participates in crimes committed against them.

2. Circumcision and excision Male circumcision and female excision have, as we know, disastrous effects on the physical but also psychological level. These practices constitute a failure to respect the rights of the child and a violation of their body. Any mutilation of a child must be prohibited in civilized countries and anyone

Defying this ban participates in this interference and this crime against childhood. Those who wish to be circumcised must do so knowingly, upon reaching the age of majority. 3. Halal meat Anyone who is in favor of

Halal meat, buys it or authorizes it, participates on the one hand in disrespect for animals and on the other hand in financing the rise of Islamism in the world . Because, if we look closely, the halal meat distribution networks, especially in Europe, hide die-hard Islamists who use

The money to finance Islamist drift. We must therefore obviously boycott halal meat. 4. Dual nationality A Muslim cannot integrate if he is shared between two cultures and two countries. Taking the nationality of a country means adhering to its culture, its values ​​and its principles. Therefore, the Muslim

Must choose one and only one nation. If a North African wishes to retain his original nationality, this does not prevent him from obtaining a residence permit and living in Europe without being European. Any Muslim who claims dual nationality

Must deny his belonging to the Muslim nation and respect the values ​​of his new country. He must under no circumstances impose his religious practices. How can we accept that a person has French nationality if they themselves do not recognize French values? 5. The prohibition of apostasy We know that thousands of ex-Muslims

Hide their apostasy from their parents, who are nevertheless so-called moderate Muslims. I ask the question: if these parents are “moderate”, why do they refuse the apostasy of their sons, daughters, brothers and others? If they do not accept it, it means that they follow Islam which

Punishes apostates. So they are not moderate at all. Laws must criminalize anyone who refuses apostasy or insults apostates, as anti-racist laws do. We must protect apostates from their families who are intolerant and sometimes even criminal towards them. 6. The ban on criticizing Islam Those who are opposed to criticizing

Islam, the Koran, the Hadiths or the life of Mohammed in the media admit that they are against criticizing any religion or ideology, which they do not deprive themselves of. This hypocrisy is obvious. On the contrary, it must be admitted that any injunction can be examined and debated.

We demand in particular the right to denounce texts that call for hatred, war and murder, to proclaim that they contain retrograde ideas and to classify the Koran as a book harmful to humanity. 7. Impunity for activism in mosques Mosques are places of propaganda, recruitment of future Islamists and even

Criminals. These places of worship which manufacture bombs must be rigorously controlled and placed under the surveillance of state authorities, including the people who frequent them, the speeches given there and the income of money, often used for Islamization. These places must be limited and declared to the municipality. Illegal mosques

Must be closed. 8. Hajj Agencies Hajj and Umrah agencies to Muslim holy places are organs of money laundering and propagation of Islam. Anyone who goes through these agencies indirectly participates in the financing of Islamism. Therefore, these agencies must be monitored, controlled and limited by the state. 9. Almsgiving

The donation of money is obligatory in Islam. In principle, to direct surplus wealth to those most in need. In fact, whether it is the 1/10th annual Sunni, the 20/100th Shiite or the alms at the end of Ramadan, all the money collected is used to build mosques

And propagate Islamism. Anyone who gives money, even in good faith, participates in the propagation of Islamism and its crimes against humanity. This vast scam must be denounced and banned. 10. Muslim identity Claiming that one is Muslim and that one belongs to the umma means that one adheres to the values

​​of Islam and the criminal laws brought by Islam. It is to define oneself by default as the enemy of civilization, evolution and science. To avoid participating in this disastrous denial, we must concede that Islamic laws are outdated,

That the Quran is a mere book of history, and choose our own belief away from the criminal laws instigated by orthodox Islam. Ultimately, anyone defending these ten practices participates in Islamization, that is to say, in the destruction of

Humanist values. Let those who wish for evolution and progress renounce these practices, and they will be welcome in a civilized society. As for anyone who wishes to follow orthodox Islam, let him go to a country where this Islam is applied and not impose it on others.

We will then find a national destiny of which we can be proud as Tunisians, Moroccans, Algerians, French or others. I believe it is clear enough that the aim of Islamists is to implement Allah’s law by any means – physical and

Intellectual terrorism, legal and illegal methods. They are also likely to use humanist principles to destroy humanist achievements. It is urgent to limit the Islamization of young people who benefit from these achievements in Europe and to mobilize them against Islamist interference ready

To destroy them. Objectively, everyone is involved in one way or another. We all participate directly or indirectly in the spread of this scourge, and we are responsible for it to varying degrees according to the logic of “he who sows the wind reaps the storm”.

The United States of America today positions itself as a leader against terrorism, but it was the first to finance and harbor Islamic terrorist figures and groups . When these were a weapon against the former USSR. Europe calls itself free and democratic, but it has hosted Islamic political figures

Convicted in their countries for crimes they had committed against the people. By offering them the right to asylum, it allowed them to move and speak freely on behalf of human rights. The result speaks for itself. Most other countries behave like passive spectators, like people watching

Their neighbor’s house burn and doing nothing until the fire reaches their own. Self-interest is their watchword. They forget that in today’s world, they can be affected without being directly attacked. No country is more isolated. The slightest event has consequences on the entire earth. Muslim countries still believe they are in the time of

Mohamed. They live with the Quran and the Hadiths. Islam governs all actions and actions. The magnates of the Gulf countries finance Koranic schools and so-called humanitarian associations in the countries of the former USSR, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Malaysia, Indonesia, as a pretext for investing in economic development. They do not do this

For God but to have an army at their command thanks to the brainwashing of young people on welfare. Among the Arab countries, those of the Gulf are the leaders. US- backed politicians keep the people in ignorance by providing them with an education based on

Wahhabi Islam, one of the most Salafi sects of Islam. As long as an Arab is not affected, they do not care about the misfortune of the world. Some countries live under terrifying dictatorships, like Syria. Others experience controlled freedom. Fearing that

The Islamists will seize power, they do not allow anyone to express themselves. They think they control things by creating a ministry of religious affairs and putting the call to prayer on TV. In fact, they do what the Islamists want, who do not consider them

Legitimate. They show themselves incapable of establishing a constructive dialogue, hence the tear these countries are experiencing. The rich of the Arab-Muslim world finance terrorists, either out of fear or to be forgiven for their sins. They are led to believe that

God will forgive them everything if they act like this. The rich in the rest of the world get drunk on consumer goods, preferring to forget that everything can be destroyed in an attack. The free-thinkers of the Western world, mostly individualists, rarely support their colleagues from Arab-Muslim countries, even if only morally.

The latter are the bane of society. If their government does not prohibit them from expressing themselves, the Islamists take care of it with fatwas. They end up either remaining silent, hiding, or being killed. The world population without Islamic culture swallows the manipulative discourse of the Islamists. The people of the Arab-Muslim world live

In poverty, experience oppression and languish in ignorance. They are forced to transform themselves into soldiers of Allah to gain access to food, self-esteem and paradise. The final culprits are the humanitarian associations and the media – press, radio, TV – which support Islamists by publishing their books, putting them in

The spotlight and making them media personalities. Terrorist attacks are also entitled to the widest publicity. On the other hand, the free-thinkers of the Arab-Muslim world are almost ignored. It turns out that terrorism feeds on our weaknesses and that everyone has their share of responsibility for what we are suffering

Today. The populist mutation parallel to the terrorist wave is favored by the vagaries of international politics, and behind it by the great powers who take advantage of the situation to serve their own interests. All this contributes to global insecurity.

But it is not too late to correct our mistakes. In full awareness of the danger, every State must optimize its legislative apparatus, and every natural or legal person must contribute to general awareness. It is everyone’s responsibility. From abandoning the idea of ​​God to atheism I can say that, upon my return from Morocco,

I left Islam. I no longer believed in the God of Islam, I was no longer a Sufi. I had decided after careful consideration to believe only in my own God, the one who resided deep within me. Now, as the months went by, my eyes grew watery. I gradually discovered

The extent of the deception that we call religion and that we impose in the name of an alleged creator God when it is only a human work. I ultimately deduce that religion, whatever it may be, is a diabolical creation preventing human beings from progressing and perfecting themselves

. This lie which keeps individuals on a leash and keeps them under guardianship for life cannot be a divine work. In my opinion, it would rather be proof of the existence of Satan. Of course, I kept this to myself, because the idea of ​​God clung to me, and I couldn’t get

Rid of it completely. While renouncing dogma and religious influence, I began to present myself to my friends and family as a deist. In any case, I had acquired the conviction that to destroy Islamist evil, it was necessary to oppose a large-scale movement starting from within the Muslim community.

My experience was just one example among millions. After my expulsion from Morocco, I tried to rebuild my life in order to better combat this evil with full knowledge of the facts. It was now my main reason for being. If I was still among the living,

It was to dedicate myself to waking up crowds unaware of the danger of political Islam. In Paris, I participated for several months with Samia in the creation of an association of ex-orthodox Muslims called D’ailleurs ou d’ici mais ensemble (AIME). The

Basic objective was to mobilize people against the rise of fundamentalism and terrorism. Our action was aimed at the Muslim community, where political Islam was wreaking the most havoc. Faced with bellicose and fundamentalist Muslims, we wanted to create open, generous, pacifist and reformist Muslims , but also agnostics, atheists and converts. This

Association would have two poles, one in North Africa, the other in Europe, precisely in Paris and Tunis. It would bring together without discrimination all dogmas and ways of thinking – Muslims, Jews, Christians, Buddhists, atheists, people of the left and the right,

Provided that all have a single idea in mind: to fight against terrorism and to build peace in our societies. We have already invited all organizations to support our action without equivocation or diplomatic kowtowing on the following basis: “peace is a formidable political opportunity. Cultivating our differences and fighting censorship

Is the best way to achieve peace. From Elsewhere or from here, but together, we can fight against the scourge of political Islamism.” On July 4, 1998, the day of my younger brother’s wedding in Paris, my mother was transported to the emergency room following a

Brain incident which, after multiple tests, turned out to be brain cancer. She died five months later at the age of sixty in Ariana’s house, surrounded by her loved ones, on December 8, 1998. Unfortunately, I was in Paris at the time. I

Returned immediately to attend the funeral. The disappearance of my mother within five months was a terrible shock for me. I found it very difficult to admit the weakness and helplessness of human beings in the face of death. Feeling the need to turn to the imagination to mourn

This death, I began writing a novel in which the hero, Mazel Azel, ceased to believe in a possible divine existence. He understood that this was only a human creation, that man had created God in order to reassure himself and to strive towards a

Supreme ideal. “God is a human dream that our ancestors tried to realize through the generations, but this dream turned into a nightmare from which we struggle to wake up,” was the subject of this mystical tale. My spiritual journey then led to pure and die-hard atheism

. I threw away any religious moral crutch. After years of turbulent questions and quests, I finally achieved my balance and my own philosophy. I was enraged, I picked up the phone to call a friend to comfort me. He started talking to calm me down. He reminded me of such distant years

In my childhood, by piety, people recognized me and by prayer every day in the mosque. I learned the Koran by heart and Lent day after day I did. In my adolescence, I traveled far and in Islamic schools I studied to become a renowned imam and guide lost people; teaching them your sacred word.

In my youth, I wanted to prove my unlimited love to you. My blood I will offer you. My body, I will sacrifice to meet you. And one day, unlike any other, my eyes opened and doubt overtook me. Here I am lost from you… Here I am free from you.

I refuse to believe in you. You no longer exist for Me. I refuse to bow down again. I live my life as I see it. You have no rights over Me. I forgot all my past. I live the present as it should be and the future I will wait.

Until I die I will face you. It’s my choice and I will continue. Since then, life has become for me a fantastic stroke of luck that must be taken full advantage of. I am now the master of myself, free to accomplish what I see fit. I only believe

In concrete things, never again in an imposed dogma. I came to the idea that each of us is free to choose and follow the path he pleases according to his nature and his degree of consciousness and knowledge , without imposing his beliefs and principles on others. Humanism and pacifism

Allow the exchange of ideas and knowledge in a calm, non-confrontational manner. Discussion and dialogue are then an inexhaustible source of knowledge where we find answers to our questions. Everyone has their own truths, but the closer we get to each other through exchange,

The more we can understand each other and arrive at the right decisions. By listening to others regardless of their origins, skin color and beliefs, we eliminate ignorance, racism and mistreatment, and we fight hatred. Where humanism reigns, ideas can evolve,

The notion of the sacred is oriented towards the human being and towards the earth which welcomes life. For me, religion is not God’s monopoly and even less the absolute truth for the human condition. I consider Buddha to be the most human among the great men of humanity

Because he understood that everything comes from us independently of any divine intervention. It is humanity that we must believe in, it is humanity that we must learn to know and help it to think for itself instead of muzzling it with dogmas. Theological discourses

Are invented by man in order to circumvent his fellow human beings with the aim of exploiting them. Recourse to the divine, an external entity whose existence or non-existence no one can prove, is the pretext par excellence which allows people to be subjugated. But he who

Makes the angel makes the beast. Religions fabricated by human genius have an effect rather diabolical than divine. They cause the human species to regress by preventing it from believing in itself. It seems to me that a God worthy of his name should watch over this world to make it better,

Deserve to be honored and not just proclaim himself as creator. I cannot accept that a God asks me to believe in him and makes me his slave. Faced with the dishonesty of such a hold, I tend to do everything to free myself from it.

If this God existed, I would refuse to submit to him, because until proven otherwise he would not deserve that I do so. As a Gnostic, my gnosis reduces God to absolute neutrality, making him a “neutral zero” who has no influence over

Our individual and collective existence. This does not prevent me from respecting those who believe in God but do not seek to impose their personal belief and confine it to the private sphere. Each of us is our own prophet and designs our own religion. No one

Should claim to gain the upper hand over the other. I know that the process of faith is specific to human beings, I myself do not renounce the other half of me: intuition and feelings participate in my reflection as much as concrete ideas. But in my opinion,

Faith in God is in no way superior to belief in his non-existence. By making what I call the “atheist faith” my own, I reconcile the spiritual and the material without basing my thoughts on the existence of a God. In fact, it is not enough to

Believe in man to feel yourself, you still have to renounce God to think for yourself. State censorship of atheism under Ben Ali After the funeral, I announced to my family that I had become an atheist. Some didn’t understand anything, others began to stop speaking to me

, but many of the younger people tried to understand my decision. I started preaching atheism to my cousins ​​and nieces and nephews. Many were convinced that religion is only a human creation. Some came to support the

Associative work carried out with my friends to raise the level of consciousness around us and to face the interference of Islamist fundamentalism, the cause of the moral regression of our people. Between 1998 and 2001, I worked according to my means within the framework of AIME France to sound

The alarm and to dissuade young people from falling into the nets of fundamentalism to fuel the conflict in Iraq – where a new Shiite state was established after that of Iran, proof of the United States’ ignorance in matters of Islamism. With war and escalating violence

Only exacerbating an already critical situation, I began to think that the solution in the East lay in the hands of free spirits from the Muslim community. The freedom of expression and conscience reconquered by atheists, agnostics, reformist believers and secularists belonging to this culture is an unprecedented obstacle to the

Vicious return of religion. We must give free rein to constructive criticism of religions, lift the veil on the so-called sacred and its sterile discourses which maintain us in the Middle Ages. Islam as a super invasive religion is obviously a source of misfortune. How

Can we expect the Muslim world to progress if national constitutions continue to refer to it as the state religion and prohibit any criticism of it as such? Where are the rights of conscience and the human rights to which we constantly refer? Change must

Come from the bottom up. A government cannot establish freedom of expression within a people who experience prohibition and censorship from within themselves. The cultural revolution must start from the individual, the family, the streets to reach the top of the State, which is none other than the executor of the popular will. Unfortunately,

Islamism, even if it has not spread to certain countries with Muslim cultures, succeeds in keeping populations there in ignorance. Indeed, the Islamists, understanding that they risk being attacked for their outdated and indefensible ideas, opt for camouflage and present themselves as moderates or as opponents of the power in

Place… Which does not change their supreme goal. It is regrettable that this awareness is not yet unanimous within Western intellectual circles. We continue to take Islamists as victims of the powers that be and to extend a hand to them, which

Allows them to spread their deadly poison. In no case is it legitimate to walk hand in hand with lunatics who only reason through retrograde Islam and personal interests. This alliance in the name of human rights only tarnishes the image of secular institutions.

The Iranian experience shows this clearly: when the left-wing parties allied themselves with the opposition embodied by Khomeini, the latter massacred them after the revolution. Today, Iranian free spirits regret this alliance, but the damage is done. We must therefore be

Vigilant and not buy into their dirty tricks. These criminals have no place in society, we must fight them by all peaceful means, marginalize them like the scum of humanity that they are. Instead of seeking to disrupt the political stability of a country,

It is better to carry out in-depth work to change mentalities. Let’s make no mistake about the fight, Muslim countries experience dictatorship within families and neighborhoods. Those who demand democracy in these countries are unaware that this luxury is unknown in everyday life

. How do we require it at the state level? I campaigned tirelessly for a secular state that prohibits religious political parties, a state without an Islamic veil with political connotations, without a call to prayer on television and in the streets, without closing bars during Ramadan,

Without a ban on alcohol consumption, homosexual sex or sexual relations outside marriage. Let us call for prayer inside the mosque without disturbing the others, I repeated. Let us practice Islam if we want, but at home, in private! Part of my family, especially young people, took a stand with me to

Support this fight and awaken those around us. After three years of tireless work around me, in cafes and on the Internet, especially on forums, I created with friends a website and a forum in the name of the AIME France association. In the year 2000, I thought about

Creating a branch of L’AIME France in Tunisia. I realized after consultations that I could not do it. On the other hand, I could create an association independent of AIME, on the same principles but adapted to Tunisian laws. So I prepared everything necessary and submitted an official request to the Minister of the Interior.

My request was refused at first because you cannot create an association that encourages atheism in a Muslim society, this was not permitted by Tunisian laws. I then submitted another request on behalf of AIME, an inter-Mediterranean association, with the aim of spreading knowledge and exchange between the two shores of the Mediterranean.

The acceptance was only effective after September 11, 2001. I was contacted by the secretary general of the Minister of the Interior in order to receive approval for the creation of the association where I held the position of secretary general. On this occasion,

He warned me that we should not try to propagate atheism. On the one hand, the people were too ignorant to assimilate these ideas, on the other hand we ourselves would be accused of atheism. According to him, if this happened, the minister would be forced to close our association so as

Not to be accused of fighting Islam. – We cannot govern them with moderate Islam, he told me. Imagine, with atheism, it would become a real jungle! People need belief to hope for a better life after death. Atheism is for a cultured and intelligent class. – Why not work to cultivate

People? The fight against Islamism takes place on an intellectual level, so why not open debates of ideas in the media so that the people are informed and can choose? My host barely did not laugh. – You don’t know anything about it! You cannot

Know how religious feeling is stronger than all logic. If we do this, the Islamists will incite the people against us and accuse us of fighting Islam. And, believe me, the majority of the people will be with them. Bourguiba tried to cultivate

The people. Have you seen how Islamists have become more and more opposed to the state and progress? They are now working to destroy all the cultural achievements that Tunisia has been able to achieve since independence! – I know, religious feeling is stronger

Because the majority of people are very ignorant. But precisely ! I protested. We must open television sets to public discussions and put an end to censorship, because all of this works for the Islamists: they operate through censorship and bans.

We must express the problem, burst the abscess, take them out of their holes and expose them in public! My interlocutor, with a closed face, called his secretary to accompany me, thus telling me that the interview was closed. – If you want your association to work,

I advise you to live your life and not seek confrontation, he said to me as he left me. I came away from this discussion happy to finally have my authorization but aware of an indirect threat. The first few years things went as expected. I worked on an associative magazine called

T’aime@tic, electronic at first then on paper in France. I had the idea of ​​publishing it in Tunisia, and I even managed to distribute it in Morocco and France on newsstands. I had transformed the house into premises for the association. I organized meetings and debates there,

And parties every Saturday. I even organized cultural trips between Europe and Tunisia and excursions within Tunisia. At that time, I had hope for change. I believed in the Tunisian government’s desire to change mentalities. Unfortunately, neither the Ben Ali government nor the West had the will to

Lead this fight. They condemned Islamism on the surface, but deep down instability and ignorance suited their interests. The association and its magazine were popular and brought together more and more people. The State had adopted an active observer position. I was summoned several times by the Ministry of the Interior and warned

More or less directly to be more discreet, because I clearly stated that I was an atheist, and the association was known on the internet and in the field. as an atheist association. She was even commonly accused of being pro-Zionist. From 2003, I noticed that the magazine

Was hidden on newsstands. Sellers were not displaying it for sale and sales were dropping every month. I did not lose hope and continued my action, but I began to ask myself questions: were we really free in Tunisia? In fact, censorship was not directed only against Islamists, but against any current

Of thought opposed to the interests of the state, whether nationalist, secular, Islamist or otherwise. We were free to express ourselves as long as we worked for the government! The censorship which officially protected Tunisian society against Islamism in fact targeted any

Opposition, political or otherwise. The government maintained itself in power by all means without thinking of the people or future generations. This realization was a shock, but I nevertheless continued to practice my usual activities. I noticed that plainclothes police officers were following my actions, but focused on preparing issue 40 of

T’aima@tic, I didn’t pay much attention. At the beginning of 2003, just after issue 40 was printed , I saw the police come to my house and seize everything. I contacted the Ministry of the Interior several times, without obtaining an explanation: my magazine had been banned

Unofficially, for no valid reason! I therefore continued my work in the association without the magazine. This did not discourage me from continuing to organize meetings and discussion circles. However, as the days went by, I noticed that the number of interested parties

Was decreasing. People no longer came. In fact, they were stopped and harassed by the police when they left my house. The activity in Tunisia stopped completely, all that remained was the status. At this time, censorship tightened its grip and demanded total submission from the media to

The government. The information became less and less present. A climate of fear was taking hold in Tunisia. There was a rise in protests against the government’s restriction of freedom of expression. Opposing political parties denounced his dictatorship. Ben Ali changed tactics. Ostensibly to fight the Muslim Brotherhood,

He approached Saudi Arabia, established Salafi and Wahhabi Islam, built the largest mosque in Carthage and positioned himself as a modern caliph who protected Islam. Having gone online with the AIME association from France, I was advised several times

To stop my actions under the pretext of the well-being of the country and my personal security. I had lost all confidence in the Tunisian government. I thought about leaving the country. Paris conference and controversy about the book Karim, my ex-fundamentalist and terrorist brother.

In 2005, AIME de France organized a conference in Paris in the name of “Islam against Islam”. I was invited to participate. I went to the French embassy to get a visa. It was explained to me that

This request would only be accepted on condition that I signed a document which obliged me not to stay in France but to return to Tunisia at the end of my residence visa. Surprised, I signed, because I had no intention of staying in France anyway.

The conference went well, I made a speech on the danger of Islamism, its methods of infiltration and its use of Taqiya, and I then had an interview with the members of the association in France on the problems that I met in Tunisia with the

State censorship, sabotage of the magazine and indirect threats from the Ministry of the Interior. On this, my sister shared her opinion with me. – It’s normal. It’s because you threaten public order. – What public order? I asked, surprised. I work day and night on the magazine and

At the association! – Yes, but here we must not exceed the limits. – What limits? I work within the framework of an association. Certainly, there are many members who support the association and who are active. I myself didn’t imagine that things would get to this stage… When I return to

Tunisia, I’m going to check it out with our managers. I hope we will resolve the problem. I began to wonder about my fifth sister’s new way of thinking. On my return to Tunisia, I immersed myself as soon as I arrived in reading

My brother Karim, ex-fundamentalist and terrorist, the translation she had made of my book. I was shocked by what I found there, especially when I came across this sentence: “and yet, my brother Karim lived, saw and even read everything that is reported in this book”. I had never read

What she wrote in the book before its publication! I was in Morocco, and I trusted him to transmit my message as I had written it. After reading everything, I began to better understand the behavior of people who, after reading the book,

Looked at me as if I were a victim. I was sure of what I said in my testimony, where I transmitted my experience as I had lived it. But now, years after the book came out, I discovered that these accusations were not so frivolous. I am not saying that everything

In this translation was false or invented, but my sister had diverted the text with an obvious objective: to accuse Salah Karkar, and to do so show me in the book as a simpleton individual, a victim deluded by his dreams. In the original version that I had written

In Arabic, I did not want to talk about myself or my life, but about my involvement in Islamism from a young age, and the part that our step-in-law had taken in it. brother, then from my experience in the Shiite Islamist sect, and finally from my doubts about political Islam. On the other hand,

My sister had drawn on her own vision of our childhood by presenting facts from her imagination as truths. She had taken pleasure in a psychological construction that resembled romantic fiction. It was not based on any logic and made the story non-objective. I couldn’t resist calling him immediately to ask for explanations.

She didn’t want to answer me right away. She told me that she would explain everything to me when she came to Tunisia. In fact, it came shortly after, sent by the association, because I was preoccupied with the work on the magazine, which I wanted to improve: I needed more

Resources and professionals who could help me. Samia wasn’t against the idea, but she kept telling me that I needed to be more moderate, not to go beyond the limits. Not knowing how to interpret this, I asked her for explanations, which she gave me clearly

: if I wanted the association and the magazine to continue to exist, I had two choices : either not to enlarge the association, remain as discreet as possible and be satisfied with the little, or change my speech according to the norm of Ben Ali’s politics and fit into the

Mold. Without one of these two choices, I was likely to have problems. I could imagine the worst by not following the rules of the game. Following the discussions I had with her, I understood many things that had until then been confusing to me in the story of the

Release of my book: the fact that the text that I had entrusted to him in the early 90s only came out in 1997 and the accuracy of certain accusations launched against him. On the part of Salah Karkar, I had always considered it the height of cynicism that he tried

To minimize the role he played in the story by making journalists believe that the book was infiltrated by Ben Ali’s government. A magazine close to the Islamists had launched this accusation against the book, but I had not paid much attention to it at the time, knowing their

Habit of always putting themselves in the role of the victim. This was also the thesis defended by Nicholas Beau from Le Canard chainé and Jean-Pierre Tuquoi from Le Monde, who devoted a chapter of their book Our Friend Ben Ali to one of the victims of this power: Salah Karkar himself. However,

My brother-in-law had only released the first part of the information to these journalists, carefully leaving out the epilogue of the affair: his house arrest for fundamentalism and notorious terrorism. In fact, information that I had put there had been manipulated and interpreted specifically against my brother-in-law by Ben Ali’s secret service.

To fully understand what had happened and which I only discovered in 2005, we must go back to 1990. When I decided to publish my book and entrusted the manuscript in Arabic to my fifth sister so that she takes care of translating it,

I put her in touch with the Tunisian Bourguibist secret service agent who had stopped and questioned me, so that he could give her a helping hand if necessary. I was in fact convinced that he had understood everything about the danger of Islamists in the country. After

My departure to Morocco, this man read the book in the company of my sister. Shortly after coming to power, Ben Ali moved closer to the Gulf countries and so-called moderate Islam , presenting himself as the head of state protecting Arab-Muslim identity.

Following this new policy, the government separated the Islamists into two parts: the pro-Ghannouchi with whom it could find common ground, and the pro-Karkar with whom it refused any negotiation. Suddenly, my manuscript was a godsend for our friend from the

Secret service. Not content with using all the data detailed in it to hit the hard branch of the MTI, he had closely followed the rewriting of the book from 1992 to 1997. He had come

To France several times to revise and direct the writing of the book with the aim of of the Tunisian government : break Salah Karkar and convince the French secret service of the latter’s danger. He also put my sister in contact with French personalities to help her publish.

Another family spring intervenes in the story: Samia had reconnected with Samira. After all, they were sisters! Cleverly informed by the secret service guy, she did not let her ignore that Salah Karkar had married religiously in Morocco with a second woman whom he saw during his absences. She even provides him with proof.

Samira obviously knew that the Muslim religion gives a man the right to marry a second, third and fourth wife without any obligation to inform others and that it also authorizes him to lie to them. However, she totally refused to accept it. She saw her

Sacrifices and her support for her husband reduced to nothing by the latter. Driven by rage, she searched Salah Karkar’s belongings and found a false passport in his name filled with stamps from various countries such as Sudan, Algeria and Morocco. She made a copy with other papers concerning her husband’s outlaw activities

Within Islamist terrorist networks and transmitted everything to the secret services. The French state had taken seriously the content of the manuscript as well as the information from the Tunisian government confirming what I reported on Salah Karkar’s relations with terrorist circles in Iran, Sudan and Algeria. Despite this, he could not have done anything,

Not having any facts and acts on his territory. With this latest tangible evidence that Salah Karkar used his status as a political refugee in France for illegal and dangerous activities, the case was now complete. Salah Karkar was finished, destroyed.

His Islamist political life was atomized. On October 11, 1993, Interior Minister Charles Pasqua signed an expulsion order against Salah Karkar on suspicion of actively supporting a terrorist movement. An appeal filed by Salah Karkar before the Paris administrative court was dismissed on December 16, 1994, the court finding that he had “kept close links

With Islamic organizations using violent methods”, which justified the ministerial decision by necessity. to ensure public safety. Salah Karkar cannot be returned to Tunisia given his refugee status, he was placed under house arrest while waiting for a third country to agree to welcome him. He stayed in Finistère, in Brest, in Saint-Julien-Chapteuil,

In Cayres and finally in Digne-les-Bains, where he was forced to report to the police once a day. On January 15, 2005, a cerebral hemorrhage plunged him into a long coma, from which he emerged weakened and aphasic. The house arrest having finally been lifted in October 2011 after

Ben Ali’s flight, he returned briefly to Tunisia to attend the Ennahdha congress, where he was elected on July 17, 2012 as an honorary member of the Shura council. He died the following October 18. The scam and the disappointment In 2005, I finally understood

The whole story: my manuscript had been loaded to serve the interests of the Tunisian government and personal vengeance. The accusations of collusion with the Tunisian authorities that the book gave rise to when it was released were due to the interventions of the inspector who had

Helped Samia to write it. During the trial that followed, when I had to go to France to testify in court after my return from Morocco, everything was made easier for me. I did not have an identity card or passport at the time, but that was resolved in a few days,

And I obtained the visa for France without any problem. I naively believed that the Tunisian state was finally taking me seriously. I had not thought that my testimony was being used for political purposes. I also understood it late, when the Ministry of the Interior reversed

Its refusal to authorize our association in 2001, it was to improve the Tunisian brand image in the eyes of the international community, to show that it was a free country which participated in the fight against Islamist terrorism. They didn’t imagine that

My work in the association would be so successful. They then did not hesitate to put obstacles in my way. Now, I was faced with a fait accompli: if I wanted the association to continue operating, I had to

Support Ben Ali and call for moderate Islam. That, never! I refused the idea of ​​being part of Ben Ali’s machine or the government. Furious, I did not send him to tell my sister: I had gotten rid of Islamism to live freely without depending on anyone,

Whether it was Ben Ali or anyone else! I continued to work, waiting to see what procedures would be implemented to silence me. Indeed, in 2003, when I was starting to be very active again on the Net and on Tunisian and other forums

, I was deprived of the Internet on numerous occasions and for days. This didn’t stop me, on the contrary. I worked harder without forgetting to continue my social activities in the association. I was summoned by the police, this time to the Ariana,

Where I was told that I was too active and that it had to be stopped, but I did not lose courage. However, I noticed that there are fewer and fewer active members, only people who were close to me remained loyal to the association. In the end

I decided to work alone: ​​in February 2005 I created my own site and forum, islamla.com. Pro -Islamists followed me to Islamla and did everything to sabotage the site, without success. Despite everything, I continued to criticize Islam and to demand the right to speak in Tunisia

For ex-Muslims. I wrote dozens of articles denouncing the criminal principles of Islam such as the prohibition of apostasy or the non-recognition of the rights of the individual, including children and women. I denounced the danger awaiting Europe and our countries given

The interference of Islamists in society and their base methods of spreading their venom. I was gagged and put under house arrest, but everything I had predicted happened: my country was Islamized, and I was forced to leave it. I still hoped that the Tunisian government

Would understand that fighting Islamism cannot be done through censorship. I had tried several times to convince them that we had to give the middle classes the means to participate in combating this Islamist danger. Unfortunately, according to them, the State had to fight the Islamists alone,

By calling for a so-called moderate and open Islam without touching the Islam of the popular masses. Ben Ali even went to the Hajj to better present himself as a good Muslim and defender of Islam. He had allowed Saudi-style Islam to spread in Tunisia. Criticizing Islam meant only to enable Islamists to turn the

People against him. That was where the whole problem came from. Despite everything, I still believed in educating the Tunisian people in debate and freedom of expression. I addressed the question on my site in May 2005: “The Tunisian mentality grants an important place

To the head of the family and by analogy to the head of the country. The leader exudes what is called in Arabic el hayba, the prestige of the leader. This prestige is essential to being respected and feared, and therefore to exercising power. With us, without prestige, there is no respect,

And when there is no respect, there is disorder. The day we can criticize our fathers, elders, teachers or business leaders without being accused of disrespecting them, then we will be able to claim to criticize those who govern us. To do this,

We must learn to criticize ideas without calling people into question. It is an art in which Europeans have become masters but which was not acquired overnight. The fight to obtain this freedom of reasoning was long . In Tunisia, you just have to go to a so-called political opposition site

To understand that the people who express themselves there understand nothing about what “opposition” and even less “freedom” means. Indeed, they call for a freedom that they themselves prohibit in the name of freedom! They forcefully impose their ideas and do not hesitate to insult anyone who disagrees with them. For them,

The camp of the righteous is the one that stands against the current regime. Otherwise, we are not only a declared supporter of the government, but we are even paid by the state! As we can see, the choice is limited. If these people who claim to be “political opponents” of the regime

Really want freedom for all, they must show more discernment and learn to listen to the point of view of those who contradict them. They are against the government, it is their right, but let others give their personal opinion on the question without

Showering them with insults and launching ridiculous accusations against them. This is where true freedom lies. Should we not give if we want to receive? If these people were more open -minded, public opinion would have proven them right a long time ago. On the contrary, they

Are enemies of freedom and humanity. What is the point of this so-called opposition, if its goal is to substitute one dictatorship for another? I am particularly targeting here the Islamist opposition which whines and vociferates endlessly about the lack of freedom it encounters in Tunisia. This criticism is 80% directed against individuals,

In most cases without providing proof: “This minister is a thief”, “the president’s wife did this”, “His daughter “was seen wearing a miniskirt in a nightclub”, these are the kinds of attacks these so-called opponents engage in – what we call in

Arabic takti wa taryich and in French gossip. Is this really criticism? Is this a valid way to express opposition? In this hateful drivel, do we see a political and social project? Islamist opponents have the nerve to assert that freedom does not exist in Tunisia,

But since when, in which country, has defamation represented any freedom? In Europe, we do not allow ourselves to defame political leaders or ordinary people in this way. The defamers appear in court. It even happens that scandal magazines are condemned! Unfortunately, at the same time, the European media lets the

Same opponents defame everyone on their websites. Through ignorance of the reality on the ground or out of ideological interest, they do not hesitate to call “opponents” those who are in fact only Islamist terrorists. Some of these media outlets seek scandalous scoops to retain

Their audience, thus supporting these so-called opponents which they present as truth absolute the arbitrary conclusions, namely that freedom of expression is violated in Tunisia. The problem cannot be separated from its context. We must take social factors into consideration and teach at school what the terms “criticism” and

“freedom” mean in order to use them wisely. The West, which believes itself to be so free, must also be self-critical. In Tunis, we imprison or censor journalists, it’s true. But, without mentioning the United States where they are killed and bombed outright, information in Europe is

Distorted and/or minimized by the media which present it – which does not prevent Europeans from advocating the freedom of expression and human rights. We forget that Europe was the first after Saudi Arabia to support and give refuge to Islamist criminals. European intellectuals are also suspicious of free minds from the

Arab-Muslim world – a bit as if freedom could only be seen through a European eye, or if democracy could only come from the West, or if The East could only give birth to military or religious dictatorships. A country is accused of being a dictatorship because it is fighting

An armed opposition. On the other hand, the United States arrogates to itself the right to assassinate combatants whose only wrong is to want to free their country from foreign colonization. We bomb civilians, but we swear we do it for the best of causes: fighting terrorism.

Some people justify such acts by democracy and human rights! What is the difference between a Saddam who fought and assassinated his opponents and the United States who fought and assassinated these same opponents because they refused a new dictatorship and

A foreign occupation? It is difficult to say that there is one, especially since, as we know, the Americans were the protectors of Saddam Hussein before becoming his bitter enemies. All this should push us to think before launching gratuitous accusations, and lesson-givers such as Europe and the United States must question themselves

Before judging other powers. European-style freedom is nothing but a vast lie which makes citizens believe that they are free when they only have a very limited area of ​​freedom. He believes he lives in a democratic country when the truth is quite

Different. He believes he is choosing his representatives even though he elected them following brainwashing orchestrated by the media. However, in Europe, we do things carefully so that they present a flattering appearance. We are far from mastering this art. Therefore, we either learn to excel in appearances in order to give the outside world

The expected politically correct image, or we become free by applying our own values. The subject is complex. Nowhere in the world is politics transparent. We manipulate populations, religions and sects at will with the aim of dominating, we direct discourse,

We authoritatively designate culprits. For my part, I avoid getting into this game. I don’t trust just one source, I inquire and gather information, and above all I don’t accuse gratuitously. Everyone has their own vision, their faults and qualities. Hence the need for discussion

And therefore freedom of expression, the only guarantees of evolution. Of course, I do not claim that Tunisia is a free country, and Europe is not either. On the other hand, European society has evolved a lot, particularly in the 18th century, and as a result it has managed to forge governments that are

In principle democratic. On the other hand, in Arab-Muslim countries, our societies are too far behind in civic education, and all those in power are taking advantage of the situation to maintain or even increase this delay. Our societies do little to help people gain and maintain

Democratically constructed power. This is very serious, both on a social and political level, this fact should not be treated lightly. Taking into consideration parameters such as the social situation and political and economic stability would help to improve the situation.

Before accusing this or that country of dictatorship or censorship, the priority is to put all agree on what freedom represents. We must stop considering such a precious good according to European, American or Saudi standards, definitively admit universal standards and grant each country the freedom of its own reflection. The free minds of the

Arab-Muslim world are the only ones who know the terrain well enough to propose adequate solutions. It is important for some to revise their definition of the word “freedom”. Freedom must extend to all places and to everyone, men, women and children, except with regard to those who challenge the right to sexual, ethnic and

Religious difference, that is to say the Islamists and the majority of religious fanatics. During the affair of the Danish caricature of the Prophet in September 2005, I supported through several of my articles the freedom to criticize Islam. I expressed

My point of view on the Tunisian forums. I saw myself banished from it. My work in the association was less and less read and commented on. The agreement expressed by my sister Samia to undertake another

Edition of my book was just an empty word. As a result, I broke off all contact with her and with AIME de France – which closed shortly after -, and I presented my resignation to AIME de Tunisie. Certainty My decision to leave my associative activities

And work alone, depending only on myself, led me to a deep conviction: no one can be the master of another, but only of himself . Until now, I had no moral responsibility for the comments made in my name. I only felt responsible for what I had personally expressed through

My articles, writings and videos, whether on my sites, social networks or in my books. This approach gave me confidence in myself and encouraged me to take back control of my own destiny. I realized that I could shape my future and make decisions in accordance with my convictions

And my personal integrity. This new approach allowed me to regain my confidence and reaffirm my uniqueness as an autonomous individual, capable of charting my path with determination, while recognizing that change is the only certainty in life. In this quest for independence and fulfillment,

I have learned that the ability to adapt to change is essential to evolve and fully realize my potential. From house arrest in Tunis to exile At the beginning of 2006, I was no longer in contact with my sister. I was increasingly isolated, my internet was cut off all the

Time, my sites were censored, and every time I found a proxy to participate, it was censored a few days later. I even suffered censorship from Google, which prevented me from advertising my site. In February 2006, I launched a petition against the censorship in Tunisia of the sites islamla.com and labidikm.com,

Of which the following is a summary: “How much longer will we have to wait for the establishment of freedom of expression as a right? fundamental in Tunisia? We are flouting this freedom to please a particular religion or belief, let us have the courage

To denounce it loud and clear! My site islamla.com and my Arabic site labidikm.com, as well as other blogs, were censored on February 18, 2006, following the Danish caricatures affair that I mentioned as part of my support for the freedom of expression.

What is sacred, true and untouchable for some is not necessarily so for others. Words must be criticized with words, not with censorship. I created the Islamla.com site under this right. This personal portal aims to promote and disseminate analyzes and critiques of orthodox Islam. This initiative

Aims to enable orthodox Muslims to revise their cultural heritage and free themselves from dogmatic tutelage. Islamla.com offers free minds of all origins and beliefs a privileged space of expression where everyone can participate in common reflection . It is intended to be a database bringing together constructive criticism from

Reliable sources and people worthy of interest. I live in Tunisia, it’s hence I am launching this petition. I ask the Tunisian authorities to lift this censorship which has lasted long enough. My site has proven its tone of absolute freedom. Never has an article

Or post been censored, and no one has been banned from my forum. I ask you to sign this petition to show the authorities concerned that there are many of us who defend freedom of expression. I hope my appeal will be heard.”

This petition had little effect. Being deprived of the Internet and my sites being censored, I tried to continue my activities in the cafes of Tunis, in particular that of Etoile du Nord, frequented by atheists. In March 2006, police officers came to my house to bring me an

Official summons from the police chief of the Ariana governorate. When I showed up, the commissioner politely told me to stop all activity and stay at home, under the pretext that I was putting my life in danger by criticizing Islam and that the state should

Protect me. He asked me not to move around without informing them, to be content with my work and to cut off all contact with others except to earn my living, neither more nor less. He even told me he could help me find a job to move on.

He spoke at length, insisting that Islamism is the fight of the State and that ordinary citizens cannot be allowed to tamper with the principles of Islam. Although he himself did not believe in it, religion was in his opinion socially useful. The State

Protected it so that it could govern the people and so that it could not be accused of being against Islam. He also reminded me that Tunisian law punishes with prison anyone who attacks or criticizes Islam. From March 2006, a

Plainclothes police officer was stationed near my house. No one could visit me without having their identity checked. I myself could not move around without being followed, and I had to report my slightest movements. Between 2006 and 2011, I found myself isolated

At home under unofficial house arrest. I accepted this harsh reality and cloistered myself at home. I was summoned multiple times by the Ariana police. In addition, I no longer had the means to survive with the little I had. I did odd jobs to

Make a living. During this period of physical and moral censorship, I once again questioned my fight and sought to live like an average individual, without dreams or hopes other than that of surviving. A nightmare. During this period, I threw down my weapons, gave up

All fighting and resigned myself to leading a banal life. During my life, I had changed my ideas several times, and I might change again, because ideas are neither sacred nor unique, and everything evolves in this world. We judge by who we are at the moment,

Not by what we have been in the past. I had come to this conclusion: being all different, we could not all think the same, the only evidence was the evolution of ideas. This conviction made me more flexible, while remaining very firm in my

Choice: atheist faith or nothing. I was content to write without publishing, reviewing my life and reflecting on three subjects that seemed essential to me: where Sunni Islamism leads ; what does Shiite Islamism lead to? what is leading to the policy of the West and its allies – these three international forces

Which are fighting to impose their respective dogmas on the rest of the world. At the beginning of 2007, I was invited to an anti-Islamist conference, but I was refused a visa. There, I understood that I was in prison at home . After this rebuff, in August 2007 I tried to travel to Algeria.

I was arrested at the airport and imprisoned in Mornaguia prison near Tunis under the pretext that I was wanted. I was released after a few days of detention, claiming that there had been a mistake, but I understood very well

: it was a maneuver to dissuade me from leaving Tunisia and force me to stay at home. I had set up a website creation company which allowed me to work from home. I then closed myself off while waiting to find a solution to leave the country.

During the popular uprising of 2011, however, I faced the facts: I could not not continue to live like this. All religions and beliefs had withdrawn from the political and social scene except orthodox Islam, which continued to prosper and

Would take advantage of the breach to achieve its evil ends. Because as long as this factor of imperialism, injustice, censorship and lies was rampant, there would be no peace, and we would lag behind in terms of progress and dignity. The majority of those who called themselves Muslims knew

Nothing about it, it was necessary to reveal the truth to them so that they did not risk falling for it. I started going out again and participated in demonstrations for freedom and against Ben Ali. After the latter fled, I continued to participate with the neighbors in the protection of our neighborhood. For almost

Two weeks, we all worked together side by side – Islamists, homosexuals, atheists – there was no difference between us! However, after the few weeks of fraternity which followed Ben Ali’s flight and the lifting of censorship on January 14, 2011, this changed with the return from abroad

Of the Islamists of Ennahdha: I suffered several strong incitements to return to Islam, accompanied by death threats if I did not comply. I continued without losing courage to participate in the demonstrations for freedom and secularism, but given the way things were turning out – the strong return of the Islamists to Tunisia

– I really found myself in danger. After a few months of freedom, it became more serious day by day. Islamists sparked demonstrations throughout the country to demand the application of sharia law. Violence was perpetrated against all forms of freedom, such as the attack on Nadia El Fani’s film or that of the

Nessma TV channel. I received serious and direct threats from Islamists whom I knew well, and close friends advised me to leave given the climate of insecurity due to the absence of power. This time, I thought about leaving Tunisia

For good . However, before making such a decision, I wanted to wait until the elections. If things changed for the better and we could live in freedom and peace in Tunisia, I had no desire to leave the country! At the beginning of the summer of 2011, the Interior Ministry inspector came

To my house several times to ask me to work with them to fight the Islamists, because we had to do everything to prevent them from taking power. I told him that I was not interested because I had no confidence in the old regime: for years

That I had been fighting for freedom in Tunisia, no one had taken my warnings seriously or helped me. at the Ministry of the Interior. On the contrary, I was locked in my house ! It was in the ranks of political parties calling for secularism that I

Actively participated in the elections. Unfortunately, as we know, the Tunisian people, too influenced by Islam, voted in majority for Ennahdha, which left me no other choice than to leave the country as soon as possible. Everything I had predicted had happened: my country was Islamized, and I was forced to leave it.

At the end of 2011, I resigned myself to leaving for France via the Netherlands. I began the procedure to obtain a visa to Holland following an invitation from a friend. I got the visa without any problem after a month, and I left Tunisia in January 2012, before the Islamists came to power.

Arriving in the Netherlands, I lived with my friend for a period. I was preparing to go to France when I learned that, according to Dublin law, I had to ask for asylum in the first European country reached. So I went to the asylum center located

In Ter Appel, in the north of the country, to officially request political asylum. This is how, after a little over a year, I ended up obtaining political refugee status in the Netherlands. Reconnecting with Amazigh identity In June 2013, once well established, I

Began to organize myself and resume my contacts via the Internet in Tunisia and France. I started criticizing orthodox Islam again through my forum, my site and social networks. Finally, I created a YouTube channel that I named: “Know the religion of Allah”. It was during these discussions on the

Internet with people from North Africa that I realized the importance of the Amazigh identity specific to this region, an identity based on a land and its centuries-old culture and not on race or creed. I realized that it alone could save us from the impasse experienced by our people, adorned with an Arab-Muslim identity

That is not theirs. From there, I understood that the myth of Arab-Muslim identity is largely the cause of our problems, because a people without identity cannot advance, evolve or participate in the evolution of humanity. This reflection led me to discern that if orthodox Islam fights national identities and Arabizes peoples,

It is to forever link their fate to Islam. From there, I considered that the identity crisis experienced by the North African people on their own territory and abroad is due to the fact that Islam is trying to tear away their identity: having become an orphan,

They are forced to take on the Arab-Muslim identity at the same time as Islam. And it goes without saying that a people on whom an identity is imposed is a people without dignity, submissive and kept in slavery. Many political parties in Tunisia or Egypt consider Arab-Muslim identity as an essential fact on which

The constitution must be based, because it truly represents the people. Since independence and until today, the question of Arab-Muslim identity is a general demand, a sacred truth, the only way to protect us from any cultural erasure, even after the uprising against dictatorships. But are we really Arab-Muslims

? What if the idea of ​​Arab-Muslim identity was nothing more than a lie fueled by pro-Arab Islamists? The plot to erase identity by Western Europe denounced by the Islamists can easily be turned against the Arab world. Before knowing who we are, we must first

Define the notion of identity. On what criteria is the identity of a people based ? Does it concern the people, the group, the country, the individuals? Identity is what determines an individual or a given group and differentiates them from

Others. This brings together the ways in which the individual or group defines itself and how it is defined by others. Human beings need to identify themselves individually and socially in order to move forward, otherwise they experience an identity crisis

That blocks them on all levels. The identification of a people is like that of an individual : a person who does not know their sex cannot choose their sexual orientation, a people who do not know their identity cannot choose their cultural orientation. Identity is not just what we claim or impose, it is

Evidence that emanates from within and governs practice from the outside. It is not enough to pretend to be a man or a woman, our behavior must convince those around us of this reality. The same goes for collective identity : it is not enough that it be proclaimed or imposed, it must be fully

Experienced in the present as well as through the people’s past, its history. A people or a group is defined according to several criteria. We will content ourselves with the most important ones, cited in history: The criterion of blood or skin color is the oldest, it dates back to prehistory

, like the differentiation between animal families. It is used in history to differentiate peoples on hereditary and physiognomic bases. This criterion is at the origin of genocides, slavery and racist crimes. Today, following the evolution of the human mind, this criterion is considered inhuman. Any person or group identifying themselves

Solely by this criterion is condemned by civilized minds. The criterion of religious faith and ideological affiliation is an evolution compared to the previous one, it is opposed to the racial criterion and defines the identity of a people in relation to their beliefs: this is observed

Among Christians, and even more clearly in Islam under the notion of El Oumma. In history, this criterion has made it possible to create despotic and imperialist empires in which religious or ideological minorities are oppressed and silenced by the majority. This criterion should be considered as dangerous as the

Racial criterion, even if it is based on ideas rather than appearance. The criterion of language and culture then appeared to share peoples. It does not take into account physiognomy or belief, but the language spoken and what this language conveys as social and cultural behavior. This cultural

And linguistic preservation is reflected in the distribution into nations. Despite its evolution compared to previous ones, this criterion remains imperfect, because it creates groups closed in on themselves and limits the freedom of the individual to choose their identity. This resulted in nationalist states

Refusing cultural and linguistic diversity. The fact that a State imposes a single or main cultural identity and a majority official language tends to oppress cultural and linguistic minorities, which leads either to the disappearance of languages ​​and cultures, or to the creation of explosive hard core groups, which leaves predict an

Impasse for the future. The criterion of soil and territory is avant-garde compared to the previous ones. It is based on land law, regardless of the person’s affiliation to a religion, language or culture. The individual is considered a full citizen in a country and a state that respects all culture,

Language and dialect as well as all non-totalitarian ideology. In this diverse society, it is the presence on the ground which is taken into consideration as a criterion of identity. Ideologies, beliefs and people change throughout history, but the earth does not. According to the Ivorian man of letters Jean-Marie Adiaffi, “nothing

Beats the strength of man’s love for his land, his forest, his rivers, his mountains, his rocks, his trees, his birds, his stones “. Based on this soil criterion, we can imagine that civilized countries accept the difference born from multiculturalism which is the real wealth of a country and move

Towards a society without discrimination. Whatever their origin, belief, language or culture, the citizen is recognized in their own right and in their dignity on the land they have chosen to live in. In the example of Tunisia, we can affirm

That each citizen considers themselves to be Tunisian and North African in their own right in their flesh and spirit, whatever their origin and belief. Thus, my grandparents felt like full-fledged Tunisians despite their foreign origins. Contrary to what those who stray into racism or nationalism believe, the place and

The culture of that place shape us as much as our own origins. It is the link between people. Culture necessarily includes respect and understanding of the places where it comes to life. We are, it is true, attached for the rest of our

Days to our childhood memories, to our native country, to the place where we grew up. But my grandparents had integrated perfectly into their host country because they felt love for this country. This plural identity, sometimes difficult to grasp, is not unrelated to the imprints

That mark our individual journeys. Certainly genetic and genealogical imprints, but also cultural, family and social, which it is up to the individual to take into account to give meaning to their own history. This identity is in the nature of the earth,

This specificity is a wealth to be preserved. I believe in the power of the earth on which we live. Identity is ultimately linked to the place of life, to the local culture, a link between the inhabitants. The belonging of an individual or a group to a place

Is recognized by their respect, their love and their intimate knowledge of this place which gives them their identity and of which they are proud. Love of a country, a city, a village, a neighborhood is not limited to living on good terms with one’s neighbor, it requires

Dedication, a sense of responsibility, a gift of oneself. In return, the earth teaches us who we are and what we want to live for. Thus, the Phoenicians, the Romans, the Arabs, the Turks and even the French who decided to settle in North Africa and who have lived there for generations are today

Without a shadow of a doubt North- Africans. The African who has lived for several generations in Europe or America ends up becoming a European or an American. Likewise, I believe that the inhabitants of North Africa are Amazighs whatever their origins,

Color, race, language, religion or doctrine, for the simple reason that they have lived for centuries on this independent land and proud. The Punic or Roman period did not make us Phoenicians or Romans, any more than commitment to Islam makes us Arabs today. It is not a question of rejection, but

Rather of the search for an identity which is rooted in this land, which takes into account both the reality of the past, that of the present and the common social project. Our duty is to understand life in its entirety, not to

Exaggerately develop our particularities. To say that North Africa is Arab would be to deny its history before the arrival of the Arabs. North Africa existed before them and will remain after them. To consider ourselves Arabs would be to deny the essentials of our identity. Conversely,

Are the Arabs settled in northern Africa the same as those in the Arabian Peninsula? Certainly not. They mixed with the Phoenicians, the Turks, the Romans, the French, in short all those who live on this land to form the North African people. Logically, North Africans, Libyans and Mauritanians are not Arabs but North Africans

: although different in race, color, language, religion or beliefs, they live on the same land and breathe the same air. We do not reject our origins, we do not deny where we come from, because previous civilizations deserve respect and recognition, but we also think about current life and

Future generations who will live alongside the whole world without worrying about borders and limits . To say that North Africans are only Arabs or North Africans would be to deny our history and fall into the illusion of false identity. Today, the majority of residents display the sole Arab-Muslim identity

Out of ignorance, religious dogmatism or even nationalism. This identity is only a myth. It is an unfair discrimination against the Amazigh who claim the oldest presence of non-Muslims on this land. The values ​​of Islam and Arab-Muslim identity erase our local identity and prevent us from being proud of our

Country outside of Islam. We were Arabized and Islamized without giving us a choice. However, the Tunisian people are diverse and varied in their values, their origins, their opinions, they want to feel legitimate through the rights of their land without feeling any more

Shame or fear. The Tunisian citizen wants to be one in his or her own right, someone who loves this land, its air and its soul, and without belonging to any majority . Everyone has the right to evolve with respect for others without being accused

Of treachery. We must let our people know that we do not owe everything to the East. We are not Arabs, that’s clear. Many of us are not Muslims, and the majority have nothing to do with the orthodox Islam that conquered us almost 1,400 years ago. Everything was done

To subordinate us. We were lied to by pretending that we were uneventful barbarians to whom the Arabs and Islam brought civilization. We had a culture before the Islamic occupation. To free ourselves, we must know who we are. The first thing to do is to reconnect with the Amazigh past that Islam

Has made us forget. Therein lies our identity. In the Amazigh word, “free man”, I found for my part the freedom that I have been looking for since childhood. It is this thirst for freedom that pulled me out of the jaws of Islam, that is to say, submission

And followership. Yes, freedom is our identity. The Amazighs, throughout history and despite their differences, have been able to live together on this earth, under these skies. I experienced this freedom intensely in short moments – before the arrival of Islamism in my family, after the flight of Ben Ali, before the return

Of the Islamists to once again subject our country to this Islam foreign to our North African nature . These moments are short, but they are enough to mark my inner path : the path to freedom. The path to freedom It has been seventeen years since I left Islam

And freed myself from Islamic tutelage, and I am still convinced that freedom of thought is the number one enemy of Islam. Islam thrives in censorship and oppression from its inception, as we saw in Arabia, where Islam spread like a virus once banned. It is no coincidence that the Islamists

Present themselves to everyone as victims and oppressed. They cry about the lack of freedom, then once they come to power, they are the first to ban criticism, kill apostates and refuse discussion with non-Muslims. In fact, Islamism hides behind civilized and humanist principles like

Freedom of thought simply to come to power and subsequently prohibit this same freedom in the name of God. Mohamed himself was tolerant and open in Mecca , then he changed his tune as soon as he took power in the Medina. The

Difference between the Koranic verses of Mecca and those of the Medina constitute proof that Islam uses double language to achieve its goal. It is also the characteristic of any dogmatic and authoritarian movement to put on a tolerant and altruistic facade to convince the masses. We must not fall into the trap and believe

The Islamists’ speeches in the name of freedom. In reality, Islam does not know what this word means. This religion contains no freedom, it implies total submission. Unfortunately, the majority of the Islamic population being submissive and dominated by

Religious sentiment, Islamists take advantage of this to gain the maximum number of votes by playing on the emotional side of Muslims. The latter vote out of fear of incurring the wrath of Allah and of not going to paradise once they die rather than to found a political

Or economic program that meets their expectations in life. In order to deal with this unfair indoctrination, we must create limits and respect them. This must be done legally. Clear and defined laws are needed to punish defamation, lies, exclusion, violence or calls for verbal

And physical violence. Anyone who wants to prohibit freedom of thought in the name of any ideology should find no place in a civilized society. Anyone who does not respect these rules, whether Islamist or not, will be punished without discrimination for having

Transgressed the law. This is how freedom will extend to all. Otherwise, Islamism will continue in the shadows to keep the popular masses in ignorance and submission. Freedom of expression is a right. Everyone has the right to speak, criticize

And express their point of view through speech, writing, art, or cinema… On the other hand, no freedom for those who are against freedom or who seek to prohibit it in the name of some sacred thing. Anyone opposing it through violence in the name of their

Beliefs will be punished by law. The censorship practiced all over the world to keep individuals and peoples in ignorance under the pretext of avoiding any slippage is not a solution. Prohibiting speech does not prevent thinking and opens the way to clandestinity for destructive impulses such as intolerance, hatred,

Lies and violence. It seems to me that only total transparency, the confrontation of ideas and public debate can open the way to a humanist evolution avoiding all violence. This applies to all identities that the system claims to erase in the name of artificial, political, economic or ideological borders. Globalization

Must recognize human diversity. World dogmatism must take into consideration cultural and genetic differences such as the Basques, the Corsicans, the Bretons, the Catalans, the American Indians, the Aborigines, the Kurds, the Amazighs, and everything that determines a person or a group claiming the right to exist. When

A new world order tries to erase them in the name of economics, politics or religion, humanism involves recognizing the disparities between independent identities. I wish this dream comes true. I believe in human independence from any divine intervention or unnatural force. I defend freedom of conscience and expression

In a neutral framework. What is different from me enriches me. Almost fifty years of my existence have passed, I have recounted my daily struggle to find my dignity as a man. According to the words of Pericles, “there is no happiness without freedom nor freedom without courage”. This book is a

Testimony brought to the attention of all those who would be tempted to follow the disastrous slope of fanaticism. A testimony to avoid the worst. It is also an appeal to governments, political actors and simple citizens of the so-called free world: misfortune

Creeps at our doors in the form of vermin with a thousand and one faces. Finally, I insist on the importance of women’s fight against orthodox Islam which deprives them of their essential rights. Women are perhaps the strongest lever against orthodox Islam and violence. Unfortunately, their presence

Is so far limited. Everywhere, in neighborhoods, towns, villages, associations, they must organize themselves, they must fight for education, peace, dignity. Saving North Africa Working in Europe is not enough, the free world will not live in peace until its southern borders are pacified. We must

Also work in North Africa, a close partner of Europe. Freedom of thought is a right for every people, group or human being, and when good comes, it comes for everyone. After more than two years of discussions and analysis of the situation on the Internet, we created with a group of young people

From North Africa and living on both sides of the Mediterranean a movement for change in Africa North. We started at the beginning of 2015 to share our ideas based on our Amazigh identity. After several months of work, we published on May 15, 2015 a founding declaration of the Movement for Change

In North Africa (MCAN) addressed to all North African Amazighs or “free men” and to all free spirits everywhere. the world. Dear North Africans, dear free men Anyone observing the events taking place in the countries of North Africa knows the seriousness of the situation and the dangers that await this area. It also knows

The malicious authorities which are determined to destabilize the autonomy, security and freedom of its inhabitants, consequently confronted with misfortune and despair. The North African region has incredible potential through its natural riches, its climate, its strategic positioning, without forgetting its dazzling landscapes. Unfortunately, it

Does not escape the ideological conflicts and the infamous conspiracies hatched repeatedly. The media war also gives rise to rebellion and conflicts from which North Africa does not benefit. A cultural decline began a long time ago, caused by submission to ideologies from elsewhere, whether

From the East or the West. The extremism and terrorism that this engendered contributed to the collapse of economies. We are reaching a point where our young people are throwing themselves into the sea to escape this cruel reality or, worse yet, joining extremist terrorist groups, unaware that their actions will destroy them as well

As their homeland. The intellectuals who are supposed to constitute our elite and the example to follow focus on Western and Eastern ideological conflicts, which poses a problem of leadership in North African society and politics. This cultivated class forgets its duty to give North Africa an ideological

And scientific orientation that will help it progress. The result is generations of graduates having proven their memorization skills, but unfortunately absent, unable to contribute to the change in their original environment and unable to assess the seriousness of the situation on a daily basis. They live on the remains of past colonizations,

Which deprives them of the opportunity to open their eyes to imagine a better future. This state of affairs is the cause of an intellectual and ideological recession which dates back to the Middle Ages in North Africa. Worse, given the general dissatisfaction, the university

Becomes a bomb-making machine that explodes sooner or later. This alarming observation, aggravated by the situation of ignorance of the rest of the populations, results in the decline of human rights, censorship, the absence of freedoms and the lack of investment in local skills. As activists, activists,

Free citizens of North Africa, we have united to discuss solutions to this cultural and ideological decline. We decided on May 15, 2015 – which corresponds to the 27th of the month of tasra temzwarut 2965 of the Amazigh calendar – to announce the founding of the movement

For North African change. It is a pacifist and independent movement which denounces the sad reality experienced by our societies and wishes to remedy it by all means. This movement is exclusive to North African identity, it is based on the

Cultural heritage of the Amazighs or “free men” and derives from a philosophy linked to the land and civilization of North Africa, according to the principles following: 1. North African identity is land-based. 2. Freedom is a right for every human regardless of ethnicity, religion,

Gender and custom. 3. Thought is alive, it must be able to evolve and flourish. Coercing her is a crime. 4. Human experience allows us to choose what suits us to meet our needs, taking into account the characteristics of North African identity.

5. Respect for human beings is the basis of any project aimed at the prosperity and progress of our civilization. Based on these principles, the movement has established goals and missions to accomplish: 1. Guarantee the survival and continuity of the North African nation.

2. Defend your identity and authenticity. 3. Defend human freedoms and rights against all forms of abuse. 4. Consolidate resources and skills and support artistic and ideological production in order to develop a modern and strong North Africa . 5. Adhere to and defend the principles of civility

. 6. Develop and refine the moral principles and values ​​of society by combating religious, regional and linguistic racism. 7. Reconsider the nature of political regimes in North Africa and move towards a technocratic model. 8. Remove all kinds of borders between North African countries, unify the customs system and currency and establish

The free movement of people and goods. 9. Break all political, cultural, ethnic and ideological relations with any region oppressing the North African identity and reestablish political relations on an international scale based on common interest and mutual respect. 10. Strengthen the role that North Africa plays in regional and

International policies within the Mediterranean basin. Our movement brings together the desire for change of many young graduates who have taken on the responsibility of building the future. A future based on the dignity of man and no longer on the whim of obscure political or religious entities. We formally believe

That this future is possible, achievable through change and positive criticism, so that the North African people experience a new era, a new stage of their civilization, of their existence, while avoiding reproducing the errors of our ancestors. . We invite you to adopt this line

Of action to rehabilitate our land. To build a nation with real political and economic power, which will benefit from a modern and influential society in the Mediterranean basin and the world. The North African Change Movement is determined to combat the effects of decadence and backwardness and to build

A better future for North African generations to come. This movement is yours, it’s your platform, its success depends on you. Let’s stand together to break oppression and obscurantism! After the release of this press release, the support and encouragement received in Europe and North Africa pushed us in September, during a second plenary meeting

Of MCAN, to begin the procedure of registering our movement. The official authorization of the Movement for Change in North Africa occurred on December 31, 2015. On January 13, 2016 – which corresponds to the Amazigh New Year 2966 – we chose as our

First line of work the propagation of knowledge in the North African community, abroad and at home, in order to fight against reactionary ideologies . The short-term objective is to create a space for debate, a platform free from all racial and extremist discrimination

Capable of promoting human principles and values ​​as well as advances in knowledge among North Africans . I sincerely hope that each of us will do what we must to counter the war and the economic recession, that North Africa will join the civilized world and that we will leave our children a better world.

In this life, the most important thing is not to achieve our goals but to strive for them. It is the route that we trace towards a goal that gives meaning to life, even if we do not necessarily see the result of our efforts. As

Long as everyone works according to their skills towards the common goal, our children will follow in our footsteps and complete our goal. I warn people, groups, associations, political parties and governments of the danger of political Islam, of which the tyranny suffered by my family gives a foretaste.

I dedicate this book and its future gains to MCAN, with the hope that a North African federation based on a humanitarian policy will liberate our countries from Islamist interference and participate in the construction of a more civilized future.

Copyright my life my Tunisia year of publication 2018 written by Massine Kevin Labidi all rights reserved no part of this book may be reproduced distributed or transmitted in any form electronic mechanical photocopy recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher except as provided by copyright law

The names characters places and events written in this book are based on actual events and people the author has taken every precaution to ensure accuracy of the information contained in this book however the publisher and the author disclaim all liability for any loss or damage arising from

The use of this information this book is a work of biography of the author any unauthorized use of this work including reproduction distribution or may constitute a violation of copyright laws we recognize and respect the moral rights of the author as the creator of this work

Copyright 2023 by [Massin Kevin Labidi] Book title: “My life, my Tunisia” All rights of reproduction, adaptation and translation, in whole or in part, reserved for all countries. The author is the sole owner of the rights and responsible for the content of this book.

Notes: The book was written in Arabic as a draft in 1987, taken up and rewritten between 1990 and 1992. Published in French by my sister under the name “Karim, my brother: Ex-fundamentalist and terrorist” in September 1997 by Flammarion, ISBN paper: 2-08-067462-5, France. First edition: Published in March 2018 by Édilivre Éditions,

Paper ISBN: 978-2-414-19191-8, France Second edition: “Revised, published in 2020 by Zeineb Éditions, paper ISBN: 978-9938-39-092-6 , Tunisia Current edition: Third edition, revised and expanded, self-published in June 2023. Paper ISBN: 978-9-083-34680-9, Nederland discover my life my Tunisia available in paper and ebook format on Lulu.com and Amazon.com

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