Perhaps the clearest expression of who Jahjah is and what he wants comes in his book, "Tussen 2 Werelden: Roots van Een Vrijheidstrijd," or "Between Two Worlds: The Roots of a Freedom Fight." Published late last year by the prestigious Dutch-Belgian publisher J.M. Meulenhoff, a house known for its strong list of Jewish literature, Jahjah's memoir-cum-manifesto suggests that ambiguity and contradiction are central to his character -- and maybe to his strategy.

Born and raised in Hanin, in south Lebanon, Jahjah grew up in the midst of that country's civil war and Israel's invasion of Lebanon, which culminated in the 1982 slaughter in the refugee camps of Sabra and Shatilla, where an Israeli commission of inquiry found that Israeli forces and their commander Ariel Sharon were indirectly responsible for the massacre of at least 800, and perhaps as many as 2,000, Palestinian civilians at the hands of Israel's Christian Phalange allies.

In the early 1990s, at the age of 19, Jahjah traveled to the West; he applied for political asylum in Belgium, telling immigration officials that he'd been a member of the militant Shiite group Hezbollah and was seeking to escape its persecution. When authorities began to question his story, he married a Belgian ex-girlfriend, receiving residency as her spouse. The couple divorced shortly after his papers came through. Since then, he has denied he was a member of Hezbollah, saying he made the story up to get asylum.

The league, Jahjah says in his book, isn't especially radical, but rather a "healthy, democratic protest organization born of the frustration and disappointment and hurt" of its members, a movement that seeks only equality and freedom. Only action, maintains Jahjah, will produce change. Azzuz agrees, saying that sometimes a bit of civil disobedience is necessary to win attention. "It's not like we take hostages," he says. But in another passage, Jahjah's book also contains a somewhat different message: "Violence is no solution," he writes, "but it can open the way to a solution."

In his book, Jahjah claims people wrongly accuse him of ties to al-Qaida when in fact, he says, it is the AEL that is terrorized. Bodyguards protect him from the many domestic and international organizations that he claims want him dead, including Israel's Mossad. (Israel dismissed the charge as "laughable.")

But critics see evidence of the league's character not only in what Jahjah says and does, but equally in what he doesn't say:. For instance, neither he nor the AEL condemns al-Qaida. And while it would be unreasonable to blame Jahjah, Azzuz or the Arab European League for the wave of anti-Semitism, they are widely seen as contributing to the climate of rage and polarization, if only by issuing mixed messages.

This impression was strengthened last November, after terrorists suspected of al-Qaida links killed more than 50 people and injured hundreds in four bombings in Turkey -- including two bombings at Istanbul synagogues. Some in the AEL did publicly condemn the attacks. But Elmaslouhi, the Dutch league's vice president, voiced "support and understanding" for the bombers. "I am against the killing of innocents," she told the Dutch newspaper Algemeene Dagblad, "but how do you know who is innocent?"

To some critics, Jahjah, Azzuz and others in the Arab European League seem less interested in multicultural harmony than in hostile separatism. These critics warn that a militant "Arab pride" movement poses risks that far surpass mere social tension.

The recent report by the Dutch General Intelligence and Security Service noted that self-styled mujahedin "purposefully influence members of the Muslim communities in the Netherlands in order to create a polarization in society and to alienate the Muslims from the rest of the population." The effect, according to the report, is to strengthen their recruitment efforts by "appealing to the idea that the rights and interests of 'good' Muslims are being violated time and again." As proof of the potential danger, the report cites the example of two Dutch-Moroccans who were killed in Kashmir while training for jihad.

Such concerns have provoked officials in both Belgium and Holland to wonder whether the Arab European League should be banned. In Belgium, Prime Minister Guy Verhofstadt has called Jahjah a "threat to society," though his effort to shut down the AEL on the grounds of "inciting violence, issuing threats and disturbing the public order" -- a move Jahjah ascribed to "the Zionist lobby" -- failed.

But when the AEL posted its statement supporting Hamas founder Yassin on its Dutch-language Web site, motions were filed in the Belgian courts to have the page, if not the entire site, pulled from the Web. While the courts debate, the provider serving the site has cancelled the League's account, forcing it to scramble for another and rebuild essentially from scratch. (The English version of the site remains for the most part intact.)

But some are concerned that banning the league would only send the movement underground, making it even more dangerous. "At least, it's out there in the open," says Ayhan Tonca, who heads the organization of Turkish mosques in Holland.

For their part, AEL members accuse European officials of criminalizing their movement and exaggerating the social problems within the Euro-Muslim community. Even if that's true, the increased pressure on the league and allied groups is likely to increase the tension. As with the conflict between Israel and the Palestinians and the widening conflict between Islamist groups and the West, it sometimes seems that there is no middle ground.

Recent Stories