Rising East Online

We’re All Bin-Ladens Now

Arshad Sharif

‘I must not think like a terrorist. I must not think like a racist.’ Imran mumbled to himself as he tried to suppress the shocking thoughts coming into his mind. His first experience of dealing with London's banking system, to be more precise with all the top banking brands located in and around Stratford shopping centre, made him realise he had terrorist and racist tendencies in abundance. The simple-sounding process of opening a bank account had been made so illogical, cumbersome and frustrating for newly arrived foreigners such as Imran that suddenly he could relate to all the Bin Ladens and Hitlers who ever lived.

To a certain degree, all of us harbour terrorist and racist tendencies. They normally lie buried in some deep recesses of the mind. However, the banalities of everyday life can bring these enormities to the surface. Imram’s dragons were stirred by the obstructive ambiguities of opening a bank account in East London: on the one hand the apparent openness of multicultural, corporate policy; on the other hand, the closing of ranks in the name of ‘public safety’ and ‘combating terrorism.’

Imran visited six banks (Barclays, HSBC, NatWest, Halifax, Abbey, Lloyds) in and around Stratford, London E15, presenting to each his passport with valid visa stamp. All of them refused to open a bank account for him, on grounds of failure to give adequate proof of his identity. But if this internationally recognised legal document was not proof enough, then Imran’s identity must really be in question. Thus he began questioning not only the systems which frustrated him, but also, in accordance with this destabilising experience, his own sense of self. The violent thoughts which sprang to mind showed him it was far from fixed.

Imran was stymied by checklists of necessary documents. NatWest, for example, required a ‘current signed passport’. Imran's passport, including electronic data, fingerprints and digital photo, did not have a conventional signature. Being a foreigner, who had arrived in London just two weeks ago, he could not present any one of the 10 other 'identifications' such as ‘a current full UK photo card driving license; current full UK driving license; Armed Forces ID card; Police Warrant Card; electoral register search through Credit reference Agency; two consecutive utility bills; driving license (as proof of residence if already not used as means of identification); three consecutive months’ worth of Bank/Building Society/Credit Union/Credit Card statements; Council Tax Bill or payment book.’

Can the Aristotles and Platos of the banking system, the corporate thinkers who designed the checklists, explain how a foreigner entering the UK is supposed to provide two different 'identifications' as proofs of identity and residence? Especially when a valid passport and visa, digital-machine-readable but without signatures, does not even count as one of them.

Designed to stop money laundering and to 'protect me and my money', the ‘identification processes’ seemed farcical and at the same time a product of post-9/11 paranoia. Especially absurd when one considers the sophisticated ways in which identity fraud takes place, and how money laundering occurs every day. After all, the City of London advertises itself as the hub of the financial world. And if it takes just a few minutes to transfer money anywhere in the world, with no questions asked except the sort codes and account numbers of sender and recipient, how else could it be?

Faced with illogicality, Imran started to think like a bigot. The first targets of his mental rage were clerical receptionists of Asian and African backgrounds. Somehow, the colonial experience embedded in the unconscious memory, conveyed through icons of popular culture, made him think that if a pure bred, white Britisher were dealing with the case, he would have managed to open an account. The 'pure bred white Britisher' would have understood his logical reasoning. But, in celebrating the virtues of 'multiculturalism,' and 'equal opportunity' British banks had put the 'coloured ladies and boys' of Asian and African origin, some of them Muslim judging by their headscarves, to do the job of dealing with customers and turning away those unable to meet impossible conditions.

Running out of money and carrying the worthless pieces of paper which were the cheques Imran had to deposit to get his life going, he wanted all the non-Britishers to be taken out of the system. But they were just messengers conveying the orders of the system. He should not have blamed the messengers, but he could not help himself.

That’s when an especially destructive thought came into his head: bomb the banks. With his existing identity undermined, he had started to acquire a new one: he had become Al-Qaeda. Joining up was easy. He would not have to provide proof of identity by means of two or more documents from an approved list. In any case, Imran had all the right provenance. Born into a Muslim family, growing up in Pakistan, he could become a member any time he liked.

Grappling with these shocking thoughts, Imran wondered if there were other systems in British or American society which overtly proclaimed the virtues of 'multiculturalism' but maintained covert processes, for security reasons or administrative purposes, which made mental terrorists out of civilised people who happened to be non-white and non-Christian. Had he experienced the same frustration which eventually prompted Omar Saeed Shiekh, a student of the London School of Economics, to turn terrorist? What about Muhammad Atta, from the Technical University of Hamburg? How did Muhammad Siddique, a British national of Pakistani origin, become a 7/7 bomber?

Imran knew he would eventually open a bank account; and indeed he has since succeeded in doing this. He knew the mental process initiated in his mind would be rationalised out of existence and without resort violence. But he is not sure how to resolve the 'identity crisis' which the experience prompted in him. Furthermore, with two master’s degrees behind him and a programme of doctoral study in front, he wonders how others, perhaps less exposed than he to rational thinking, may respond to being shut out of society.

Imran struggled for a month to open a bank account, and for some time afterwards with the thoughts thrown up in the protracted process. In an attempt to quieten them, he got on the famous red London bus to explore the city. Going towards Oxford Street, Imran was hopping on and off at different places. At Whitechapel, he saw a shop selling Islamic literature, videos and cassettes. Imran spent sometime browsing but came out without buying anything. Nearby, he spotted the Central Mosque of East London, a huge complex. Being faithless, Imran did not have the courage to go inside. But he had a strange feeling. For the first time in many years, Imran wanted to go inside a mosque. But then, realising he would have to catch up with so many things forgotten since childhood, he moved on – past the mosque, on to the next bus stop and from there to consciously lose himself in the hustle and bustle of modern Oxford Street.

For the time being, Imran has not let London change him, though it made him question himself about his identity. Imran always thought he was a citizen of the world and as a human being that was his only identity – a global citizen. But, for how long and through what other support structures, will Imran maintain this identity? Frustration with modern systems might prompt him to reject them, as Bin Laden did before him.

This semi-fictional account is written by Arshad Sharif, a former Chevening scholar and national newspaper journalist who recently took up a PhD studentship at the University of East London.

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