From Center for Investigative Reporting
As worshippers streamed out of the prayer hall, some beaming, clasping hands and congratulating each other on their victory, Waqar Khan was fuming. He sat on a mosque bench, absorbing his defeat. He was about to be removed as president of the Islamic Society of East Bay in Fremont, California, a suburban city in the shadow of Silicon Valley.
The mosque on Peace Terrace had just endured a grueling two years of turmoil. Accusations of corruption and mismanagement of the mosque were rampant on both sides. Rival members exchanged expletives on the grounds, which include an Islamic school for children. After one heated argument, a former board member had called the Fremont police on Khan’s brother.
But on the May afternoon when Khan learned he was on his way out, he was not quite ready to give up.
“We’re going to fight back for the mosque, for the community,” the real estate agent and contractor told Reveal.
Infighting among religious leaders is a centuries-old problem – every denomination has its feuds. But what makes the Fremont case unusual is how it later was resolved: The mosque turned to a court-appointed arbitrator from outside the Muslim community.
On May 11, David Meadows – an arbitrator appointed by an Alameda County Superior Court judge – issued an interim decision taking control away from Khan and the new board and handing it back to the mosque’s former leaders. But Khan hadn’t lost hope that the final decision would turn in his favor.
Historically, the Muslim American community has kept its disputes private, sometimes turning to faith-based mediation. But as the number of mosques increases and Muslims integrate with mainstream America, conflicts involving clerics, congregations and mosques are seeping into secular courts from California to Texas and Florida.
Intergenerational friction offers significant fodder for legal actions. U.S. mosques are evolving from traditional institutions run by the eldest community members to democratized nonprofits with bylaws and elections, even women in positions of power. Oral traditions have become written.
Conflicts can become so heated that they turn criminal and erupt into violence: threats of physical assault, theft of donor funds, fraudulent property transfers and, at one mosque, allegations that terrorism reports are being trumped up by members as a weapon against rivals.
Some Muslims say the American judicial system provides a voice for long-muzzled victims. In the Chicago area, for example, four women have accused a prominent 75-year-old Deobandi sect imam, Mohammed Abdullah Saleem, of sexual assault and abuse at the Institute of Islamic Education. Criminal charges and civil suits were filed in February. Saleem was arrested and released on bail. He has pleaded not guilty in the pending case and still prays at the Elgin, Illinois, mosque.
Whether going to court is a sound option for mosques is a matter of debate – including among attorneys involved in current legal actions.
Mogeeb Weiss, one of the lawyers representing former board members of the Fremont mosque, said it’s better for the community to resolve its issues outside the courts.
“The court system is absolutely being manipulated by those who have an agenda to take over multimillion-dollar Muslim organizations,” said Weiss, a Muslim. “It’s draining in terms of resources and emotionally. It affects everybody.”
Omair Farooqui, the attorney for the new board, declined to comment on the Fremont case specifically but said that in general, there’s an upside to heading to court: “It creates a precedent for mosques to look at so they can avoid subsequent disputes.”
