In the Streets of Londonistan

(Vol. 26 No. 2 dated 22 January 2004 London Review of Books)

Perhaps it is the rain. The gaggle of BNP protesters standing behind the crowd-control barrier on Tottenham High Road are very subdued. They are almost to a man - they are all men - overweight, shaven-headed and in their late thirties (think Private Eye's Yobs). They stand rather meekly, as if trying hard to prove their reasonableness. One of them, the oldest, holds a soaking piece of paper in his left hand on which is written a speech, and in his right a megaphone to berate his audience of passers-by and journalists on the other side of the road. 'This is a sovereign nation. These people are committing treason. Why are they not being arrested?' The megaphone squeals with feedback. A man is talking about them on his mobile phone; he laughs openly. The small group of policemen posted outside the industrial estate where al-Muhajiroun are holding a press conference, laugh too. The rain begins to fall even harder; on the kebab shops, on the hairdressers, on the BNP. 'f***ing Pakis,' one of the Yobs says. It is 11 September 2003.

I cross the road and ask a policeman where to go for the press briefing. He points in the direction of a checkpoint set up by al-Muhajiroun.

Al-Muhajiroun are holding a conference to commemorate the 19 mujahideen who gave their lives for the cause of jihad. I am frisked thoroughly, quickly and professionally by a mountain of a man dressed in a jellaba. He tells me to hurry up the stairs - the briefing may already have started.

Upstairs is a large room with whitewashed walls and grey carpet tiles. On one of the walls a banner proclaims that there is no God but God. A panel of young, bearded men are sitting under the banner, facing a semi-circular swathe of TV cameras on tripods and photographers jostling for position. Behind the cameras are two rows of seats, some are occupied by journalists, others by members of al-Muhajiroun. From time to time the journalists take calls on their mobiles or ask whispered questions of the young men next to them who are nodding sagely at the words of their representatives.

'It is easy for you to forget our history. Our history did not begin at 11 September. The USA ploughs money into Israel. In 1998 Sudan was bombed. Atrocities have been committed against Muslims in Chechnya and Afghanistan. Do you have a minute's silence for them? No. You remember only non-Muslims.' The spokesman's voice is distorted by the cheap amplification system. The press do not know what to make of these outspoken, confident fanatics. They are articulate and intelligent. Should they be treated as spokesmen for al-Qaida or as the Islamic equivalent of Monty Python's People's Front of Judea?

We are here for the official opening of a conference - not a celebration, they are keen to stress - to commemorate the glorious memory of the 19 men who killed themselves in flying four planes into the Twin Towers, the Pentagon and the ground.

'The world is now split into two camps. It has become clear that there can never be peace with the USA.'

'The Jews are a bunch of murderers and criminals.'

The hijackers were 'brave men. They were mujahideen. You might call them cowards but none of you would be willing to sacrifice your lives.'

'Jihad is spreading like wildfire. Constantinople has fallen, Rome is still to come.'

Amid the talk of the Great Satan and the Little Satan it emerges that the plan is to hold conferences soon afterwards in Leicester, Manchester and Birmingham.

One of the brothers stands prominently at the back of the hall holding a mobile phone. It rings very loudly and the speaker breaks off. The man with the phone walks up and down talking intently in Arabic. Then he shakes his head. 'Well,' he says, 'so much for the great tradition of freedom of speech in this country. We have been refused access to these venues.' There is an amount of eyeball rolling among the press. 'But,' the speaker counters, 'I am pleased to say that there should be a very special guest coming shortly. You are very lucky.' He is referring to Omar Bakri Muhammad, the founder of al-Muhajiroun. 'You must take the message of the mujahideen seriously,' the speaker continues. 'Do not listen to the liars Bush and Blair who say that al-Qaida is finished. We are not spokespersons for al-Qaida but we pray in the same direction.'

I notice, at the back of the hall, two men in suits who are not journalists, though one of them holds a notebook. They listen attentively.

An American journalist makes her question heard despite the panel's efforts not to acknowledge a woman, let alone an American. 'Are your views born out of anti-semitism?' she asks, and thrusts her microphone forward.

'Jews are an occupying power. They destroy houses, they spoil crops. They should be killed.'

The American journalist doesn't give up. 'If I close my eyes,' she says, 'this could be Combat 18 or the BNP talking.'

'Well don't close your eyes then.' All the brothers laugh and the press briefing is over. Our special guest, it transpires, has been detained 'in consultation with his lawyer'. This gets a laugh from the press. The two men who weren't journalists have disappeared. As the press swap notes and check details, I get talking to Ahmed, one of the members of the organisation. Small and bespectacled, he is wearing a knitted cap, denim jacket and jeans. He suggests that we take a seat to one side of the hall. He wants to talk about the Ummah, the worldwide community of believers. Eventually I manage to ask him what he makes of the pair at the back of the hall.

'Police officers,' he says. Does it worry him that they are under surveillance? 'I am not paranoid. Whatever happens is in Allah's hands.'

The two men sitting at the back of that hall are as visible as the secret war against Islamist terrorism gets. What they are doing is typical of the hundreds of intelligence-gathering operations taking place in this country today. This is the reality behind Tony Blair's evangelical declaration that 'we . . . here in Britain stand shoulder to shoulder with our American friends in this hour of tragedy, and we, like them, will not rest until this evil is driven from our world.'

Full first half part of this piece please read here.