LUTON, England–Famous for hat-making and home of the straw boater, Luton, is about an hour north of London by rail. It’s just far enough that some glimpses of cows on green slopes interrupt the urban blur seen from the window of the train. The conductor who asks for my ticket is a wiry, dark-complexioned man with an East London accent and a handlebar mustache. He’s wearing a turban. I’ve come to spend an afternoon with friends, an American and his English wife, who have promised to show me around this heavily Muslim town. Brad’s specialty is small-business development. He makes several trips a year to Albania and Kosovo on behalf of an organization called Radstock Ministries that is helping women widowed in the recent war secure loans to buy cows. Between trips, Brad comes home to Luton, where Abi is getting acquainted with Kosovar refugees. Most of the Kosovars here have no intention of going back to the Balkans. Their goal is further west: the USA. When the Kosovars arrived in Luton, the authorities steered them to long-established Muslim neighborhoods. They felt out of place, Brad tells me. Balkan Islam tends to be ethnic and secular. The refugees had nothing in common with the Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, and other Asians here–not race or language or culinary tastes or religious custom. Many of the patrons of the sari shops and “halal” food stores and of the half-dozen mosques and Koranic schools here were born in Britain. Our guide through Muslim Luton is a Pakistani Christian named Edward Masih, pastor of the non-denominational Luton International Church. He says the Asian Muslims here are “in a divided situation.” They are less integrated into British society than the Sikhs and Hindus, he says. They’re here to stay, yet they tend to cluster in “ghettos.” When I ask about the influence of Islamist radicalism, Brad says many Muslim leaders have spoken out against it, but the few recruits tend to be young and educated–“the young professionals, the computer guys.” Already two volunteers from Luton have been killed in Afghanistan. Says Masih, “We’ve been aware of the radicals for maybe ten years, and the last few years even more.” When he worked at Luton University, he encountered “verbal and even physical harassment of Jewish students” by Muslims. He takes a dim view of Britain’s “softy-softy” policy of allowing the radicals to operate here without restriction. “In the Middle East, the radical groups are banned,” he says. “Now this has become a breeding ground for recruitment and training, and the British are in big trouble. It’s a snake in your sleeve.” “In France,” he goes on, “the government’s attitude is, ‘You come here, you live by our rules.’ With the new atmosphere since September 11,” he adds, “maybe we’re looking to see some sense coming to these Brits.” As we finish our afternoon tea, Masih makes a portentous comment. New mosques here are being built with sturdy cellars, he says. And their members are taking self-defense courses. He quotes a friend in Oxford, another Pakistani pastor, as saying, “You will see things–this is only the beginning.” I am intrigued and want to investigate further, to impose some order on a few hours’ impressions. But our time has run out. I gather up my things and say my goodbyes. We venture out into the English rain, and Brad whisks me off to the station to catch my train. Claudia Winkler is a managing editor at The Weekly Standard. BONUS: Make sure you catch Weekly Standard contributing editor Robert Kagan’s “On to Phase II” in the Washington Post.
