Academic literature on the topic 'Turkish-Muslim Minority Group'

The Muslim minority in Thrace is a heterogeneous group of people regarding their cultural and linguistic identities. It consists of Muslims of Turkish origin who speak Turkish as their mother tongue, of Pomaks, who speak Pomak, and of Roma, who speak Romani. Their educational-linguistic situation is fraught with long-lasting problems, which are attributed to the inherent characteristics of ‘Minority Εducation’, a term used to describe a specific group of primary and secondary schools, situated exclusively in the area of Thrace, that operates under a special regime, as stipulated in legal instruments of international law and bilateral agreements, and can be attended only by Muslim minority children.
 
 Extensive research over the years has shown that there are serious impediments in these students learning Greek as an L2, even after the implementation of the Project for Reform in the Education of Muslim Children (PEM) and the additional educational material that targeted this particular religious minority. The results show that most of these students do not achieve a language level of A2 in Greek and, thus, exhibit low school performance. Similar results have been recorded in research papers concerning learning English as a FL, which is a compulsory school subject, by Muslim minority students in both public and minority primary schools. These students also fail to achieve the foreign language attainment level set in the school curriculum.
 
 The present paper seeks to outline the unchartered causes of this situation, delve into the language situation of Muslim students and suggest possible and viable solutions.

This paper deals with the image and perceptions that Turkish migrants from Bulgaria had about the Turks in Turkey, the Turkish state, Bulgarians, and the Bulgarian state both before and after 1989. Perceptions of the Turkish minority among the Bulgarian communist elite are analysed according to published reports and statements made by Bulgarian Communist Party members. The perceptions that Turkish migrants had about Bulgaria and Turkey are the main focus of this study which is based on field research and interviews conducted with Turkish migrants from Bulgaria now living in Turkey. This article shows that these migrants held both positive and negative perceptions of Bulgaria and Turkey, largely depending on the context. The Turkish minority in Bulgaria was regarded as a problem for the Communist government and as an in-ternal enemy to the Bulgarian state. Moreover, the locals in Turkey regarded the Turkish migrants from Bulgaria as “Bulgarian migrants” who possessed a non-Muslim or “liberal” culture. In this way, they experienced exclusionary attitudes from their neighbours both in Bulgaria and in Turkey. The Turks of Bulgaria perceived the Communist regime as oppressive and as a threat to their Turkish identity. Despite their dislike of the regime, prior to the period of forced assimilation that began in 1984, they still possessed a relatively positive perception about the Bulgarian people. Interestingly, while they perceive Turkey as their homeland, they nonetheless held certain prejudices against the local population in Turkey. All of these various interaction helped to strengthen their group identity as migrants from Bulgaria.This paper deals with the image and perceptions that Turkish migrants from Bulgaria had about the Turks in Turkey, the Turkish state, Bulgarians, and the Bulgarian state both before and after 1989. Perceptions of the Turkish minority among the Bulgarian communist elite are analysed according to published reports and statements made by Bulgarian Communist Party members. The perceptions that Turkish migrants had about Bulgaria and Turkey are the main focus of this study which is based on field research and interviews conducted with Turkish migrants from Bulgaria now living in Turkey. This article shows that these migrants held both positive and negative perceptions of Bulgaria and Turkey, largely depending on the context. The Turkish minority in Bulgaria was regarded as a problem for the Communist government and as an internal enemy to the Bulgarian state. Moreover, the locals in Turkey regarded the Turkish migrants from Bulgaria as “Bulgarian migrants” who possessed a non-Muslim or “liberal” culture. In this way, they experienced exclusionary attitudes from their neighbours both in Bulgaria and in Turkey. The Turks of Bulgaria perceived the Communist regime as oppressive and as a threat to their Turkish identity. Despite their dislike of the regime, prior to the period of forced assimilation that began in 1984, they still possessed a relatively positive perception about the Bulgarian people. Interestingly, while they perceive Turkey as their homeland, they nonetheless held certain prejudices against the local population in Turkey. All of these various interaction helped to strengthen their group identity as migrants from Bulgaria.

The aim of the present study is to explore the expectations of adolescents of a minority (i.e., of Roma and Muslim cultural backgrounds from the area of Thrace)[1] and majority status (i.e., dominant group) on their future employment and family life as well as on gender relations. Ninety-one adolescents participated in the study (51 from the dominant group and 40 from the minority, 45 boys and 46 girls). While all participants from the dominant group attended the 3rd grade of Gymnasium or the 1st grade of Lyceum only 8 Muslim Roma participants did so. Adolescents were asked to fill in a questionnaire and to write a short essay titled "A day in my future family". Data were collected in written from the participants of the dominant group and orally from those of Muslim Roma origin. In addition to the statistical analysis, and with respect to the data from the essay, a thematic analysis was carried out in order to identify the adolescents’ images of their future life in both the private and the public sphere. The results of the study reveal the multiple gender identities that are constructed by culturally diverse, with respect to gender and social status, groups of adolescents. They, also, suggest that the participants’ views are shaped by the marginalized or privileged categories in which they belong to. Finally, results show that as boys and girls of both the minority and the dominant groups project themselves in the future, they try to actively construct the social context they will live in, to position themselves within it and to provide meaning to gender relations.
 
 [1]The Thracian minority is the only officially recognized minority in Greece and its position is guaranteed by the Treaty of Lausanne (Dragonas & Fragoudaki, 2006). The Thracian minority is not an ethno-culturally homogenous group. Τhese are Greek citizens who are either Roma or of Turkish or Pomak origin. Moreover, it is accorded religious but not ethnic status.

Abstract Ethnic minority job-seekers may have incentives to include or omit photographs from résumés depending on the social norms regarding this practice and the extent to which their outward appearances diverge from the majority group. To investigate minorities’ incentives to engage in a specific type of résumé whitening––omitting photographs to avoid discrimination based on phenotypical traits or religious attire––we draw on data from an audit field experiment conducted between 2016 and 2018 in the Netherlands and Germany. Our analysis highlights the challenges for anticipating discrimination (and, thus, deciding to engage in résumé whitening) since it is difficult to predict employers’ true preferences with respect to the inclusion of photographs. In the Netherlands, unveiled Turkish women were better off submitting their picture rather than omitting it, but the premium associated with the inclusion of photographs disappeared if they wore the Muslim headscarf. For unveiled Moroccan women, there was no discernible advantage or disadvantage associated with the inclusion of pictures in job applications. In contrast, in the German context, minority women with high prototypical appearance (brown phenotype or wearing the Muslim headscarf) would have incentives to omit their photographs from job applications, particularly if they wore the Muslim headscarf. For Moroccan and Turkish men in the two countries, the inclusion of pictures with different phenotypes does not affect employers’ responses. To conclude, we explore the advantages and disadvantages of blind recruitment policies (i.e. omitting all ethnic identifying cues from résumés, including photographs and names) in the European context.

Intergroup attitudes of Muslim immigrant youth and native youth in the Netherlands were examined in relation to perceived parental socialization. Our aim was to gain insights into parent-child (dis)similarity in antagonistic and egalitarian attitudes and to understand differences between these two groups in this respect. Data come from qualitative interviews with 22 Turkish Dutch, Moroccan Dutch, and native Dutch youth (aged 16-22) who were prone either to intergroup antagonism (i.e., held hostile and negative attitudes toward out-groups) or to egalitarianism (held egalitarian attitudes). Interviews were analyzed using the constant comparison method. Results show that in the majority youth group, egalitarianism as well as intergroup antagonism were quite comparable across two generations. The attitudes of Muslim minority youth diverged more from those of their parents and appeared to be related to the pedagogic relationship between parents and children. Minority youth prone to antagonism perceived a lack of adequate parental responses to their negative experiences in the context of Islamophobia. Egalitarian minority youth reported that their parents were quite sensitive to their communications about perceived exclusion and that they responded with advice and support. Findings are discussed with reference to the social learning theory and the ethnic socialization strategies identified by Hughes et al.

The paper comes up with a synchronous-diachronic analysis of the linguistic situation in one of the isolated cultural and linguistic enclaves of the Balkan Peninsula: the district of Xanthi in the region of Thrace in Northern Greece, on the Bulgarian-Greek border. Here, in a remote mountainous area, live Muslim Slavs, ethnic Bulgarians, representing a minority ethnolinguistic and cultural-confessional group that has existed for a long time in a foreign language and other religious environment among Orthodox Greeks. In the historical past, this community formed a single whole with the Muslim Bulgarians who now live within the boundaries of the Republic of Bulgaria. This minority is the object of the language and cultural policy of three states: Greece, Turkey and Bulgaria. Note that the Greek authorities for a long time 1920s–1990s (excluding the period of Bulgarian rule in 1941–1944) pursued a policy of de-Bulgarization of this population. As a result, today the degree of its Turkicization (due to the influence of Islam, the study of the Koran in Turkish and the active position of Turkey) is quite high. It should be noted that the Bulgarian-speaking communities in Northern Greece are not the object of the Bulgarian language policy, which is carried out by disinterested officials and politicians who ignore the opinions and assessments of Bulgarian dialectologists and sociolinguists. The study focuses on ethnonyms and exonyms as important factors in the formation of the Pomaks' linguistic identity: the self-name of the speakers of these dialects is Pomaks, Ahryans. The ethnonym Pomaks was introduced and continues to be actively used to discuss the new Greek policy towards the Bulgarian-speaking population of Greece; the linguonym Pomaks was also formed from it. Earlier in Greece, the term Slavophones ('speakers of the Slavic language') was used, cf. new pomakophones. In the 90s of the 20th century and early 21th century a number of scientists (V. Friedman, A. D. Dulichenko, A. Ioannidou, K. Voss, M. Nomati, M. Henzelmann, K. Steinke) considered Pomak to be one of the literary microlanguages of the southern Slavia, noting that it is characterized by the diversity of the script used and poor functionality. There were appropriate grounds for this (codification, publication of dictionaries and grammar, textbooks, etc.). But the impetus for the “creation” of the literary language of the Pomaks was the political task of the country's leadership. At present, Pomak (Southern Rodhopian, Bulgarian) dialects in Greece have an unwritten character (they are used exclusively for oral communication in the family and village, microsociety). Despite the presence of certain signs of the formation of the literary language among the Pomaks, the modern language situation and language policy do not contribute to its existence and functioning. We rely on both published sources and our own field materials collected during two ethnolinguistic expeditions carried out in 2018 and 2019, as well as online in 2021, and will try to present preliminary results of the study of the current state of the language and language policy. Let us note the importance of modern interdisciplinary approaches to the study of the phenomenon of intercultural communication, which are based on the dialogue of languages and cultures, and which necessitated the description of new linguistic conditions and consideration of the importance of not so much Greek as Turkish as a means of intra — and interethnic communication in the specific genre.

<strong>Abstract</strong> <strong>Background:</strong> Rohingya refugees are one of the most vulnerable group due to lack of health care system, personal hygiene, shelter, sanitation and violence. <strong>Aim:</strong> The present study aims to find out the health problems and health care seeking behavior of rohingya refugee peoples, to identify the socio-demographic information for such exposure group in relation to age, sex, occupation, living areas, to explore the patient's physical, emotional, perceptions, attitudes and environmental health problems and to bring out health care seeking behavior of refugees. <strong>Methodology</strong>: A cross-sectional study was conducted. A total of 149 samples were selected conveniently for this study from the refugee camps. Data was collected by using mixed type of questionnaire. Descriptive statistic was used for data analysis which has depicted through tables, pie chart and bar chart. <strong>Results</strong>: The finding of the study<em> showed that </em>45.6% participants had multiple problems, followed by 16.8% participants who had other specific problems like musculoskeletal pain, visual problems and peptic ulcer. Urinary tract infection was the leading individual health problem with 11.4% of the sample group having it. 10.7% participants had hypertension, 6% had respiratory tract infection, 3.4% had nutrition deficiency, 4.75% had diabetes mellitus and 1.3% had sanitation &amp; hygiene problems. Among the participants, 68.4% age ranged between 15-59 years. The study showed that, only 16.1% participants were satisfied with the quality of service they received while 37.6% participants said that they needed better services such as more laboratory test, radiological imaging, more medicine and more doctors. <strong>Conclusion:</strong> It is clear that refugees suffered from a variety of health problems, because their living condition and environmental situation were not similar like an independent nation. Further, basic amenities like medicines and other services were not available. <strong>Keywords:</strong> Health problems, Rohingya refugee, Health seeking behaviour, Bangladesh. <strong>Introduction</strong> Rohingyas are an ethnic, linguistic and religious minority group of Northern Rakhine State (NRS) of Myanmar. Myanmar government categorized them as illegal immigrants from Bangladesh and have been excluded from citizenship and basic human rights [1]. From 1991-1992 a mass exodus of more than 250,000 Rohingya refugees fled persecution in the Union of Myanmar and arrived in Bangladesh, living in temporary camps and completely dependent on outside support from the United Nations (UN), the Government of Bangladesh (GOB) and numerous non-governmental organizations (NGOs) [2,3,4]. Globally, the total population of refugees is about 9.9 million. The general health status of refugees in various countries is reported to be poor with malnutrition being the major health problem due to lack of access to sufficient food and nutrient intakes. Other health problems among refugees include mental illnesses, intestinal parasites, hepatitis B, tuberculosis, sexually transmitted diseases, HIV/ AIDS, malaria and anemia [2,5]. Infants and young children are often the earliest and most frequent victims of violence, disease, and malnutrition which accompany population displacement and refugee outflows. One of them said "My life is over. All I want is, for my children to have a chance at a better life." Two generations of the Rohingya have said this. The vast majority of their community suffers the same neglect and lack of opportunity that their parents faced at present, there are no specific services available to refugee children with special needs or disabilities. With regards to cases of sexual exploitation of children, there have been reports and cases of refugee minors (females) being harassed, abused or raped by local villagers. A survey found that out of 508 children of under 5 years of age, 65% were anemic and therefore, chronically malnourished (4, 6, 7). Rohingya is an ethic group of people referring from the Sunni Muslim dwelling from Arakan, the historic name of border region of Myanmar which has a long history of apartness from the rest of the country. In general, Rohingya are of mixed tribe, who have traxces from their generation from ancestry (Arabs, Moors, Turks, Persians, Moguls and Pathans) and also from local Bengali and Rakhine. They speak Chittagonian (a local language style), a regional idiom of Bengali which is also used extensively throughout south-eastern Bangladesh [8]. Basic services like shelter, nutrition, education, medication and health care are needed for Syrian refugees. Near about 1.4 million Syrian refugees are children, United Nations Children's Fund has showed that these children are at risk of being a "lost generation". Syrian refugees tolerate daily physical and mental survival-challenge. In the case of extreme needs for physical and nutritional interventions, mental health professionals find out the emergency needs for counseling services based on comprehensive documented reports of refugees [9,10]. Three meals a day were served in camps, but refugees were not satisfied with the quality of what was being served. There were occasional cases of food intoxication. Refugees were not allowed to cook their food in tents because of the risk of fire. Out of camps, the nutritional status of refugees is mostly bad and only limited number of them could have 3 meals a day. In general, they fed on bread and vegetables. A survey conducted at a provincial centre found, among women in the age group 15-49, iron (by 50%) and B12 vitamin deficiency (by 46%) [11]. Some of the countries in the region (notably Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Nepal) hosted the refugees and displaced populations from neighbouring states, a circumstance that in itself merits attention since it has the potential to cause major political unrest [12]. Myanmar is a High HIV prevalence neighboring country of Bangladesh. A small town Teknaf is in the Chittagong Division situated at the southern tip of Bangladesh. It separates Bangladesh and Myanmar from the eastern side. Tens of thousands of refugees are currently living in poverty-stricken conditions at the Bangladeshi side [13]. A 19 years old refugee at Nayapara camp sayed that "I was born in Burma, but the Burmese government says I don't belong there. I grew up in Bangladesh, but the Bangladesh government says I cannot stay here. As a Rohingya, I feel I am caught between a crocodile and a snake" [14]. The population of Bangladesh is growing at an approximately rate of l.59 percent per annum which includes 27% in the urban areas while that of rural is 73%. Bangladesh's population growth rate was among the highest in the world in the 1960s and 1970s, when the country swelled from 65 to 110 million [15]. The problem of Rohingya refugee has been a chronic issue that involves the question of an ethnic minority's identity. In Myanmar, the Rohingyas are an ethnic minority group in the northern Arakan (currently known as Rakhine). From the eleventh century to 1962, the Rohingyas trace their historical roots in the Arakan region commonly known as Muslim Arakanese [16]. More than Hundreds of Rohingya have been the victims of torture, despotically binding, rape, sexual harassment and other forms of serious physical and mental harm, Rohingya have been fully devoid of freedom of movement and access to food, clean drinking water, sanitation, medical care, work opportunities, and education [17]. There is no domestic law in Bangladesh to regulate the administration of refugee affairs or to guarantee refugee rights. New refugees have difficulties accessing health care, their health problems may worsen with time.5 Social isolation and disconnection have been shown to contribute to premature death among members of isolated communities [18]. In refugee camps, medical services are mostly crippled as there is no examination and with the exception of some community health centers (RHU) there is no pregnant women and infant monitoring either, since family planning services for refugees are not available, there are unwanted births and increase in infant mortality, women additionally face risks of gender discrimination, sexual violence, early marriage and miscarriage and birth complications [19]. The government of Bangladesh showed their warm welcome to the Rohingyas from beginning and made corporeal efforts to accommodate them but the GOB had clearly maintained from the beginning that shelter for the refugees was temporary and encouraged them about their immediate return, In 1992 in south–western area, 20 refugee camps were constructed in Bangladesh for refugees. Among them, only few have been persisted till now which are as named Nayapara and Ukhia. Nayapara refugee camp is situated at Teknaf and Kutupalong refugee camp near Ukhia, giving shelter to 21,621 refugees, and also Kutupalong camp officially houses 8,216 refugees and Nayapara 13,405 (as of recorded till December 2001) [20)]. <strong>Methods</strong> <strong>Study Place</strong> The study was conducted at the refugee camp in Cox's Bazar in Bangladesh. <strong>Data Collection, Management &amp; Analysis</strong> The data was collect from the refugee camp in Cox's Bazar in Bangladesh through a standard mixed type questionnaire. The study was conducted at the Nayapara refugee camp at teknaf in Cox's Bazar. About 149 samples were collected from July 2016 to October 2016 in Nayapara refugee camp by convenient sampling. After collecting the data analysis is done by SPSS (Statistical Package of Social Science) software version 16.0. <strong>Ethical consideration</strong> A research proposal was submitted to the public health department of ASA University for approval and the proposal was approved by the faculty members and gave permission initially from the supervisor of the research project and from the academic coordinator before conducting the study. The necessary information has been approved by the ethical committee of public health department and was permitted to do this research. Also the necessary permission was taken from the Camp In charge (CIC), health coordinator &amp; medical team leader of the refugee health unit (RHU). The participants were explained about the purpose and goal of the study before collecting data from the participants. Pseudonyms were used in the notes, transcripts and throughout the study. It was ensured to the participants that the entire field notes, transcripts and all the necessary information was kept in a locker to maintain confidentiality and all information was destroyed after completion of the study. The participants were also assured that their comments will not affect them in any way possible. <strong>Result</strong> Among 149 participants, 82 (55%) were female and 67 (45%) were male. Female were predominantly higher than male. Mean age of the participants was 45.52 (±19.28) years, mode was 35. The range is 100 with minimum age 02 years and maximum 102 years. Among the participants the higher numbers of the participants were at the age of 35 years and the numbers were 13 (8.7%). The number of ≤ 18 years were 15 (10.1%), ≤60 years were 102 (68.4%) and ≥60 were 32 (21.5%). Majority of the participants were illiterate the numbers were 112 (75.2%) and 37 (24.8%) participants were literate those who complete their primary education. Majority of the participants were married the numbers were 105 (70.5%) followed by those who are widow the numbers were 24 (16.1%) and 20 (13.4%) participants were married. Nuclear family were 76 (51%) whereas 72 (49.0%) participants were in extended family. Among total particepants housewife were 61(40.9%), Unemployed were 42 (28.2%), others 16 (10.7%), student 13(8.7%), Day labour 11(7.4%), Agriculture 3(2%) Driver2 (1.3%) and Fisher man1 (0.7%) (Table 1). The mean of the number of problems faced was 7.39 with standard deviation (± 3.28), median being 9.0 and the mode was 10. Out of the 149 participants, 68 participants (45.6%) had multiple problems followed by 25 participants (16.8%), who had other specific problems like musculoskeletal pain, visual problems and peptic ulcer. Urinary tract infection was the leading individual health problem {17 participants (11.4%)}, 16 (10.7%) participants had hypertension, 9 (6%) had respiratory tract infection, 5 (3.4%) had nutrition deficiency, 7 (4.75%) had diabetes mellitus and 2 (1.3%) had sanitation &amp; hygiene problems (Figure 1). 82 (55%) participants took medicine from RHU, 49 (32.9%) received multiple services like medicine, referral, laboratory test &amp; others { 5 (3.4%)} received both laboratory test and referral to other organizations &amp; 6 (4%) participants said that they didn't received any treatment from health center. Majority {75 (50.3%)} of the participants said that they received health services from RHU, followed by those who received health services from multiple organizations like RHU, HI, ACF &amp; RTMI and 6 (4%) said that they received services from others like MSF, health complexes. Among the 149 participants, only 11.4% (n=17) participants said they have enough health services to meet their needs, 58.4% (n=87) said that sometimes they have enough health services to meet their needs and 30.2% (n=45) said that they did not not enough health services. Majority ( n=50, 33.6%) of the participants said they didn't meet needs because there was a lack of medicine supply and doctors in the camps. 47 (31.4%) of the patients said that they didn't meet needs because there is a lack of medicine supply in camps (Table 3). Among the 149 participants, 56 (37.6%) participants said that they need better services. Majority of the participants said that they need multiple services includes more laboratory test, radiological imaging, more medicine &amp; more doctors, 17 (11.4%) participants said that they need more medicine and 3 (2%) said that they require more referral, laboratory test and radiological imaging. <strong>Table 1: Distribution of demographic variables</strong> (Kindly look at the PDF for the Tables and Figures) <strong>Table 2: Type of health care and health care receive organization (n=149)</strong> Among the 149 participants, only 16.1% (n=24) participants were satisfied with the quality of service received, 56.4% (n=84) said that they were sometimes satisfied after receiving the services and 27.5% (n=41) denied of being satusfied even after receiving it<strong>.</strong> <strong>Table 3: Health care services that meet the demands and the reason for not fulfill the demands (n=149)</strong> <strong>Figure 2: Expectation among the participants (n=149)</strong> <strong>Figure 3. Satisfaction level among the participants (n=149)</strong> <strong>Discussion:</strong> <em>The result of this study showed that </em>45.6% participants were having multiple problems followed by 16.8% participants who had other specific problems like musculoskeletal pain, visual problems and peptic ulcer. Urinary tract infection was the leading individual health problems (11.4% had it), while 10.7% participants had hypertension, 6% had respiratory tract infection, 3.4% had nutrition deficiency, 4.75% had diabetes mellitus and 1.3% had sanitation &amp; hygiene problems <em>during the course of the study. It was also observed that </em>among the participants the mean age of the participants was 45.52 (±19.28) years. The range is 100 with minimum age pf 2 years and maximum 102 years. Among the participants, the higher numbers of the participants were at the age of 35 years (8.7%). The numbers of ≤ 18 years were 10.1%, ≤60 years were 68.4% and ≥60 were 21.5%, the middle age people were the ones which had maority of the health problems. Önen C<em> et al stated that</em> health problems among refugees were frequently seen mostly at the early childhood &amp; in adult aged problems, a community based study was carried out by Turkish medical association stated that 25.0% children had sleeping disorder at the of below 18 years &amp; 24.0% have adult persons with the same problems [22]. The study showed that, majority of the participants received health services from RHU {75 (50.3%)}, followed by other multiple organizations like RHU, HI, ACF &amp; RTMI and 6 (4%) said that they received services from others like MSF and health complexes. The study showed that, only 16.1% participants were satisfied with the quality of service they received, 56.4% said that they were sometimes satisfied after receiving services while 27.5% were not satisfied. Among the 149 participants, 32.9% participants said that they were not satisfied because there is a lack of medicine supply in RHU, 13.4% participants were not satisfied because there is a lack of qualified doctor in RHU &amp; 38.9% participants stated that in RHU there wass a lack of budget, lack of doctor, lack of medicine supply, lack of referral to other organization in timely, not gave proper medicine &amp; treatment &amp; lack of serial maintain during medicine collection. <strong>Conclusion</strong> Rohingya refugees are far away to achieve their basic human rights and they have become stateless without a legal nationality from 1962. Considering the importance of nationality crisis of the Rohingya and problems associated with these following steps can be taken: Supplies of adequate Medicine, Increase Doctors' and Nurse, Modernized treatment, Increase Childcare hospital, Decrease pollution, Mass awareness of life threatening disease. <strong>Acknowledgement: </strong>Authors acknowledge the Kauvery Research Group for necessary support. <strong>References:</strong> Azad A, Jasmin F. Durable solutions to the protracted refugee situation: The case of Rohingyas in Bangladesh. J Indian Res. 2013;1(4):25–35. Teng TS, Zalilah MS. Nutritional status of rohingya children in kuala lumpur. Malaysian J Med Heal Sci. 2011;7(1):41–9. Coutts E. The Rohingya Refugee Situation in Bangladesh. American International School; 2005 [cited 27 February 2017]. Available from: http://www.rna-press.com/data/itemfiles/9bcc51b07210277172cfaca50dd60ff6.pdf Report of the WFP-UNHCR Joint Assessment Mission. 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Confl Health. 2008; 2:5. Holland MSF, Fronti S, March H. 10 Years for the Rohingya Refugees in Bangladesh : Past, Present and Future. 2002; (March):1–45. Islam MS. Socio-economic and family planning aspects of rural people in Bangladesh: A case study of Comilla District.Academicjournals.org; 2014 [cited 27 February 2017]. Available from: http://www.academicjournals.org/journal/AJHC/article-full-text-pdf/D32B4D348580 Farzana KF. Music and Artistic Artefacts: Symbols of Rohingya Identity and Everyday Resistance in Borderlands. Austrian J South - East Asian Stud [Internet]. 2011;4(2):215–36. LOWENSTEIN AK. PERSECUTION OF THE ROHINGYA MUSLIMS: IS GENOCIDE OCCURRING IN MYANMAR'S RAKHINE STATE? 2015[cited 27 February 2017]. Available from: http://www.fortifyrights.org/downloads/Yale_Persecution_of_the_Rohingya_October_2015.pdf Mohammed MS, MacIntyre CR, Wood NJ, Leask J and Isaacs D. Barriers to access to health care for newly resettled sub-Saharan refugees in Australia.MJA;2006[cited 27 February 2017]. Available from: https://www.mja.com.au/system/files/issues/185_11_041206/she10835_fm.pdf Sharara SL, Kanj SS. War and infectious diseases: challenges of the Syrian civil war. PLoS Pathog. 2014;10(10):e1004438. Cheung S. "Migration control and the solutions impasse in South and Southeast Asia: Implications from the Rohingya experience." J Refug Stud. 2012;25(1):50–70. Population influx from syria to turkey: life in turkey as a syrian guest.Turkey:AFAD;2014[cited 27 February 2017]. Available from: https://www.afad.gov.tr/upload/Node/3905/xfiles/population_influx.pdf Önen C, Güneş G, Türeme A, Ağaç P. Depression and Anxiety Case among in Syrians that Live in a Refugee Camp. The Journal of Academic Social Science. 2014;2(6):223-30. <strong>Article Details</strong> <em><strong>Author Details</strong></em> 1. Handicap International 2. Centre for the Rehabilitation of the Paralysed (CRP), Bangladesh 3. New Deep clinic and Diagnostic Centre, Bangladesh 4. Centre for the Rehabilitation of the Paralysed (CRP), Bangladesh 5. Senior Lecturer, Department for Allied and Public Health, Anglia Ruskin University, UK 6. Department of Psychiatry, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib Medical University, Dhaka, Bangladesh 7. Lecturer, Department for Allied and Public Health, Anglia Ruskin University, UK <em><strong>*Corresponding Author Details</strong></em> S. M. Yasir Arafat, Department of Psychiatry, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib Medical University, Dhaka, Bangladesh E-mail: arafatdmc62@gmail.com <strong>Date of Submission:</strong> 19/02/2017 | <strong>Date of Peer Review</strong>: 26/02/2017 | <strong>Date of Acceptance</strong>: 01/03/2017 | <strong>Date of Publishing</strong>: 03/03/2017 <strong>Financial or Other Competing Interests</strong>: None <strong>How to cite this article </strong> Masud, A., Ahmed, M., Sultana, M., Alam, S., Kabir, R., Arafat, S., &amp; Papadopoulos, K. (2017). Health Problems and Health Care Seeking Behaviour of Rohingya Refugees. <em>Journal Of Medical Research And Innovation</em>, 1(1), OA1-OA9.

&Ouml;Z Bu ampirik araştırmada, diasporik yaşamdaki dindarlık ile umutsuzluk arasında bir ilişki olup olmadığı; şayet varsa bu ilişkinin M&uuml;sl&uuml;man-T&uuml;rk azınlık grubun dindarlık tipolojilerine bağlı olarak değişip değişmediği analiz edilmiştir. Bu ama&ccedil;la 157 Fransalı M&uuml;sl&uuml;man-T&uuml;rkten oluşan &ouml;rnekleme, &lsquo;(ı) Kişisel Bilgi Formu, (ıı) Her Yaş İ&ccedil;in Uygun Dinsel Eğilim &Ouml;l&ccedil;eği ve (ııı) Beck Umutsuzluk &Ouml;l&ccedil;eği&rsquo;nden oluşan bir anket formu uygulanmıştır. Fransalı M&uuml;sl&uuml;man-T&uuml;rk azınlık grubun i&ccedil; ve dış-g&uuml;d&uuml;ml&uuml; dindarlık puanları ile umutsuzluk d&uuml;zeyleri arasındaki ilişkinin ortaya &ccedil;ıkarıldığı bu &ccedil;alışmanın bir sonucu olarak, (a) i&ccedil;g&uuml;d&uuml;ml&uuml; dindarlık d&uuml;zeyi y&uuml;ksek olan M&uuml;sl&uuml;man-T&uuml;rk azınlığın umutsuzluk d&uuml;zeylerinin, dış-g&uuml;d&uuml;ml&uuml; dindarlık d&uuml;zeyi y&uuml;ksek olan azınlık gruptan daha d&uuml;ş&uuml;k olduğu saptanmıştır. Ayrıca yapılan korelasyon analizlerinde ise, (b) i&ccedil;g&uuml;d&uuml;ml&uuml; dindarlık ile motivasyon kaybı alt boyutundaki umutsuzluk d&uuml;zeyi arasında negatif; dış-g&uuml;d&uuml;ml&uuml; dindarlık ile de pozitif bir ilişki olduğu g&ouml;r&uuml;lm&uuml;şt&uuml;r. Makalenin sonunda ise, araştırmadan elde edilen nicel veriler konuyla ilgili literat&uuml;r eşliğinde tartışılmıştır. ABSTRACT Religiosity and Hopelessness in the Diaspora: An Empirical Research on French Turkish-Muslim Minority Group This empirical research, analyses whether there is relationship between religiosity and hopelessness in the diasporic life or not; and if there is, it also analyses whether this relationship differs or not according to the religiosity typologies of Turkish-Muslim minority group. For this purpose, a questionnaire form which consists of (ı) Personal Inquiry Form, (ıı) Age-Universal Religious Orientation&nbsp; Scale and (ııı) Beck Hopelessness Scale was applied on the sample of 157 French Muslim-Turks. As a result of this study which reveals the relationship between French Muslim-Turkish minority group&rsquo;s intrinsic and extrinsic religiosity scores and the level of hopelessness, (a) it is determined that the hopelessness level of Muslim-Turkish minority with the high level of the intrinsic religiosity is lower than the others with the high level of the extrinsic religiosity. In addition, (b) it is observed in the correlation analyzes that there is a negative relationship between the intrinsic religiosity and the level of the loss of motivation; and a positive one between the latter and the extrinsic religiosity. At the end of the article, the quantitative data which is obtained from the research is discussed within the framework of the related literature.

There are objections to the definition of Islamophobia as a form of racism. Objections center around two main themes of Islamophobia: “Islam” and “Muslims”. Some detractors argue that the former should not be given protection against various debates and criticisms that should be considered legitimate within the scope of freedom of expression. They assert that statements such as “Muhammad is a pedophile and married a nine-year-old girl”, “Islam was spread by the sword” or “Wearing the veil dehumanizes, humiliates and objectifies women” should be considered as theological debates that should be seen as legitimate within the scope of freedom of expression and that these rights of criticism should not be restricted by defining Islamophobia as a form of racism. For others, the latter cannot be considered a racial minority because being a Muslim is a religious identity that is seen as being voluntarily chosen. While this approach regards gender and racial identities as innate or involuntary identity categories, it assumes that being a Muslim is related to one's own will and therefore Muslims need or should have much less legal protection than these other identity categories. This paper argues that definitions other than racism would miss a vital issue, one that helps capture and understand how Muslims and those who are simply perceived as being Muslim are excluded, subordinated, and exploited with reference to phenotypical and cultural differences. This is the issue of racialization of Muslims. This study aims to explore the following questions: What should be the legal limit of freedom of expression? Is it possible to distinguish Islamophobia from reasonable criticism of Muslims and Islam? Does racism really depend on the actual existence of races? If the hostility to Islam and Muslims can be regarded as a form of racism, then, what kind of racism might it be? What are its specific qualities, how does it function? How have Muslims been racialized? To answer these questions, this paper draws on a study of Islamophobia experiences of thirty-nine first and second-generation young Turks aged between 18-35 in London in 2019. I aimed to recruit respondents that were diverse enough to represent the variation known to exist in the Turkish community of London. I selected the semi-structured in-depth interview method as the means by which the data would be collected. I employed thematic analysis to identify and analyse patterns of meaning in the dataset. This study has made clear that Muslims are racialized not based on biological or phenotypical features, but also ethnic and cultural features. I argue that making sweeping generalizations is more likely to be Islamophobic. One should have the right to critique ideologies and religions, but the manner and decorum in which individuals express themselves are vital. The speech should not intentionally demonize a religion, or humiliate, devalue, or stigmatize a diverse group of people. Moreover, being Muslim is not a racial identity reflects the idea that race is the pre-condition for racism and confines racism to a narrow understanding. Every racism, whether biological or cultural, is cultural in its essence and the main target is cultural, social, and religious differences attributed to bodies (individuals). Therefore, perceived religious affiliation rather than religion itself is at the center of anti-Muslim racism. Regardless of physical appearance, nationality, ethnicity, or economic situation, Muslims are homogenized, humiliated, and marginalized through Islamophobic discourse and practices in their daily lives. This article contributes to a better understanding of why Islamophobia should be evaluated as a form of racism. It is hoped that in assessing the discourse and behavior towards Islam and Muslims, the focus will be shifted from everyday political debate or hostility to religion, fear of religion, anti-Muslim hatred, and prejudice to the fact that Muslims are racialized.

&#x0D; &#x0D; &#x0D; Introduction I am a transmigrant who has moved back and forth between the West and the Rest. I was born and raised in a Muslim family in a predominantly Muslim country, Bangladesh, but I spent several years of my childhood in Pakistan. After my marriage, I lived in the United States for a year and a half, the Middle East for 5 years, Australia for three years, back to the Middle East for another 5 years, then, finally, in Australia for the last 12 years. I speak Bengali (my mother tongue), Urdu (which I learnt in Pakistan), a bit of Arabic (learnt in the Middle East); but English has always been my medium of instruction. So where is home? Is it my place of origin, the Muslim umma, or my land of settlement? Or is it my ‘root’ or my ‘route’ (Blunt and Dowling)? Blunt and Dowling (199) observe that the lives of transmigrants are often interpreted in terms of their ‘roots’ and ‘routes’, which are two frameworks for thinking about home, homeland and diaspora. Whereas ‘roots’ might imply an original homeland from which people have scattered, and to which they might seek to return, ‘routes’ focuses on mobile, multiple and transcultural geographies of home. However, both ‘roots’ and ‘routes’ are attached to emotion and identity, and both invoke a sense of place, belonging or alienation that is intrinsically tied to a sense of self (Blunt and Dowling 196-219). In this paper, I equate home with my root (place of birth) and route (transnational homing) within the context of the ‘diaspora and belonging’. First I define the diaspora and possible criteria of belonging. Next I describe my transnational homing within the framework of diaspora and belonging. Finally, I consider how Australia can be a ‘home’ for me and other Muslim Australians. The Diaspora and Belonging Blunt and Dowling (199) define diaspora as “scattering of people over space and transnational connections between people and the places”. Cohen emphasised the ethno-cultural aspects of the diaspora setting; that is, how migrants identify and position themselves in other nations in terms of their (different) ethnic and cultural orientation. Hall argues that the diasporic subjects form a cultural identity through transformation and difference. Speaking of the Hindu diaspora in the UK and Caribbean, Vertovec (21-23) contends that the migrants’ contact with their original ‘home’ or diaspora depends on four factors: migration processes and factors of settlement, cultural composition, structural and political power, and community development. With regard to the first factor, migration processes and factors of settlement, Vertovec explains that if the migrants are political or economic refugees, or on a temporary visa, they are likely to live in a ‘myth of return’. In the cultural composition context, Vertovec argues that religion, language, region of origin, caste, and degree of cultural homogenisation are factors in which migrants are bound to their homeland. Concerning the social structure and political power issue, Vertovec suggests that the extent and nature of racial and ethnic pluralism or social stigma, class composition, degree of institutionalised racism, involvement in party politics (or active citizenship) determine migrants’ connection to their new or old home. Finally, community development, including membership in organisations (political, union, religious, cultural, leisure), leadership qualities, and ethnic convergence or conflict (trends towards intra-communal or inter-ethnic/inter-religious co-operation) would also affect the migrants’ sense of belonging. Using these scholarly ideas as triggers, I will examine my home and belonging over the last few decades. My Home In an initial stage of my transmigrant history, my home was my root (place of birth, Dhaka, Bangladesh). Subsequently, my routes (settlement in different countries) reshaped my homes. In all respects, the ethno-cultural factors have played a big part in my definition of ‘home’. But on some occasions my ethnic identification has been overridden by my religious identification and vice versa. By ethnic identity, I mean my language (mother tongue) and my connection to my people (Bangladeshi). By my religious identity, I mean my Muslim religion, and my spiritual connection to the umma, a Muslim nation transcending all boundaries. Umma refers to the Muslim identity and unity within a larger Muslim group across national boundaries. The only thing the members of the umma have in common is their Islamic belief (Spencer and Wollman 169-170). In my childhood my father, a banker, was relocated to Karachi, Pakistan (then West Pakistan). Although I lived in Pakistan for much of my childhood, I have never considered it to be my home, even though it is predominantly a Muslim country. In this case, my home was my root (Bangladesh) where my grandparents and extended family lived. Every year I used to visit my grandparents who resided in a small town in Bangladesh (then East Pakistan). Thus my connection with my home was sustained through my extended family, ethnic traditions, language (Bengali/Bangla), and the occasional visits to the landscape of Bangladesh. Smith (9-11) notes that people build their connection or identity to their homeland through their historic land, common historical memories, myths, symbols and traditions. Though Pakistan and Bangladesh had common histories, their traditions of language, dress and ethnic culture were very different. For example, the celebration of the Bengali New Year (Pohela Baishakh), folk dance, folk music and folk tales, drama, poetry, lyrics of poets Rabindranath Tagore (Rabindra Sangeet) and Nazrul Islam (Nazrul Geeti) are distinct in the cultural heritage of Bangladesh. Special musical instruments such as the banshi (a bamboo flute), dhol (drums), ektara (a single-stringed instrument) and dotara (a four-stringed instrument) are unique to Bangladeshi culture. The Bangladeshi cuisine (rice and freshwater fish) is also different from Pakistan where people mainly eat flat round bread (roti) and meat (gosh). However, my bonding factor to Bangladesh was my relatives, particularly my grandparents as they made me feel one of ‘us’. Their affection for me was irreplaceable. The train journey from Dhaka (capital city) to their town, Noakhali, was captivating. The hustle and bustle at the train station and the lush green paddy fields along the train journey reminded me that this was my ‘home’. Though I spoke the official language (Urdu) in Pakistan and had a few Pakistani friends in Karachi, they could never replace my feelings for my friends, extended relatives and cousins who lived in Bangladesh. I could not relate to the landscape or dry weather of Pakistan. More importantly, some Pakistani women (our neighbours) were critical of my mother’s traditional dress (saree), and described it as revealing because it showed a bit of her back. They took pride in their traditional dress (shalwar, kameez, dopatta), which they considered to be more covered and ‘Islamic’. So, because of our traditional dress (saree) and perhaps other differences, we were regarded as the ‘Other’. In 1970 my father was relocated back to Dhaka, Bangladesh, and I was glad to go home. It should be noted that both Pakistan and Bangladesh were separated from India in 1947 – first as one nation; then, in 1971, Bangladesh became independent from Pakistan. The conflict between Bangladesh (then East Pakistan) and Pakistan (then West Pakistan) originated for economic and political reasons. At this time I was a high school student and witnessed acts of genocide committed by the Pakistani regime against the Bangladeshis (March-December 1971). My memories of these acts are vivid and still very painful. After my marriage, I moved from Bangladesh to the United States. In this instance, my new route (Austin, Texas, USA), as it happened, did not become my home. Here the ethno-cultural and Islamic cultural factors took precedence. I spoke the English language, made some American friends, and studied history at the University of Texas. I appreciated the warm friendship extended to me in the US, but experienced a degree of culture shock. I did not appreciate the pub life, alcohol consumption, and what I perceived to be the lack of family bonds (children moving out at the age of 18, families only meeting occasionally on birthdays and Christmas). Furthermore, I could not relate to de facto relationships and acceptance of sex before marriage. However, to me ‘home’ meant a family orientation and living in close contact with family. Besides the cultural divide, my husband and I were living in the US on student visas and, as Vertovec (21-23) noted, temporary visa status can deter people from their sense of belonging to the host country. In retrospect I can see that we lived in the ‘myth of return’. However, our next move for a better life was not to our root (Bangladesh), but another route to the Muslim world of Dhahran in Saudi Arabia. My husband moved to Dhahran not because it was a Muslim world but because it gave him better economic opportunities. However, I thought this new destination would become my home – the home that was coined by Anderson as the imagined nation, or my Muslim umma. Anderson argues that the imagined communities are “to be distinguished, not by their falsity/genuineness, but by the style in which they are imagined” (6; Wood 61). Hall (122) asserts: identity is actually formed through unconscious processes over time, rather than being innate in consciousness at birth. There is always something ‘imaginary’ or fantasized about its unity. It always remains incomplete, is always ‘in process’, always ‘being formed’. As discussed above, when I had returned home to Bangladesh from Pakistan – both Muslim countries – my primary connection to my home country was my ethnic identity, language and traditions. My ethnic identity overshadowed the religious identity. But when I moved to Saudi Arabia, where my ethnic identity differed from that of the mainstream Arabs and Bedouin/nomadic Arabs, my connection to this new land was through my Islamic cultural and religious identity. Admittedly, this connection to the umma was more psychological than physical, but I was now in close proximity to Mecca, and to my home of Dhaka, Bangladesh. Mecca is an important city in Saudi Arabia for Muslims because it is the holy city of Islam, the home to the Ka’aba (the religious centre of Islam), and the birthplace of Prophet Muhammad [Peace Be Upon Him]. It is also the destination of the Hajj, one of the five pillars of Islamic faith. Therefore, Mecca is home to significant events in Islamic history, as well as being an important present day centre for the Islamic faith. We lived in Dhahran, Saudi Arabia for 5 years. Though it was a 2.5 hours flight away, I treasured Mecca’s proximity and regarded Dhahran as my second and spiritual home. Saudi Arabia had a restricted lifestyle for women, but I liked it because it was a Muslim country that gave me the opportunity to perform umrah Hajj (pilgrimage). However, Saudi Arabia did not allow citizenship to expatriates. Saudi Arabia’s government was keen to protect the status quo and did not want to compromise its cultural values or standard of living by allowing foreigners to become a permanent part of society. In exceptional circumstances only, the King granted citizenship to a foreigner for outstanding service to the state over a number of years. Children of foreigners born in Saudi Arabia did not have rights of local citizenship; they automatically assumed the nationality of their parents. If it was available, Saudi citizenship would assure expatriates a secure and permanent living in Saudi Arabia; as it was, there was a fear among the non-Saudis that they would have to leave the country once their job contract expired. Under the circumstances, though my spiritual connection to Mecca was strong, my husband was convinced that Saudi Arabia did not provide any job security. So, in 1987 when Australia offered migration to highly skilled people, my husband decided to migrate to Australia for a better and more secure economic life. I agreed to his decision, but quite reluctantly because we were again moving to a non-Muslim part of the world, which would be culturally different and far away from my original homeland (Bangladesh). In Australia, we lived first in Brisbane, then Adelaide, and after three years we took our Australian citizenship. At that stage I loved the Barossa Valley and Victor Harbour in South Australia, and the Gold Coast and Sunshine Coast in Queensland, but did not feel at home in Australia. We bought a house in Adelaide and I was a full time home-maker but was always apprehensive that my children (two boys) would lose their culture in this non-Muslim world. In 1990 we once again moved back to the Muslim world, this time to Muscat, Sultanate of Oman. My connection to this route was again spiritual. I valued the fact that we would live in a Muslim country and our children would be brought up in a Muslim environment. But my husband’s move was purely financial as he got a lucrative job offer in Muscat. We had another son in Oman. We enjoyed the luxurious lifestyle provided by my husband’s workplace and the service provided by the housemaid. I loved the beaches and freedom to drive my car, and I appreciated the friendly Omani people. I also enjoyed our frequent trips (4 hours flight) to my root, Dhaka, Bangladesh. So our children were raised within our ethnic and Islamic culture, remained close to my root (family in Dhaka), though they attended a British school in Muscat. But by the time I started considering Oman to be my second home, we had to leave once again for a place that could provide us with a more secure future. Oman was like Saudi Arabia; it employed expatriates only on a contract basis, and did not give them citizenship (not even fellow Muslims). So after 5 years it was time to move back to Australia. It was with great reluctance that I moved with my husband to Brisbane in 1995 because once again we were to face a different cultural context. As mentioned earlier, we lived in Brisbane in the late 1980s; I liked the weather, the landscape, but did not consider it home for cultural reasons. Our boys started attending expensive private schools and we bought a house in a prestigious Western suburb in Brisbane. Soon after arriving I started my tertiary education at the University of Queensland, and finished an MA in Historical Studies in Indian History in 1998. Still Australia was not my home. I kept thinking that we would return to my previous routes or the ‘imagined’ homeland somewhere in the Middle East, in close proximity to my root (Bangladesh), where we could remain economically secure in a Muslim country. But gradually I began to feel that Australia was becoming my ‘home’. I had gradually become involved in professional and community activities (with university colleagues, the Bangladeshi community and Muslim women’s organisations), and in retrospect I could see that this was an early stage of my ‘self-actualisation’ (Maslow). Through my involvement with diverse people, I felt emotionally connected with the concerns, hopes and dreams of my Muslim-Australian friends. Subsequently, I also felt connected with my mainstream Australian friends whose emotions and fears (9/11 incident, Bali bombing and 7/7 tragedy) were similar to mine. In late 1998 I started my PhD studies on the immigration history of Australia, with a particular focus on the historical settlement of Muslims in Australia. This entailed retrieving archival files and interviewing people, mostly Muslims and some mainstream Australians, and enquiring into relevant migration issues. I also became more active in community issues, and was not constrained by my circumstances. By circumstances, I mean that even though I belonged to a patriarchally structured Muslim family, where my husband was the main breadwinner, main decision-maker, my independence and research activities (entailing frequent interstate trips for data collection, and public speaking) were not frowned upon or forbidden (Khan 14-15); fortunately, my husband appreciated my passion for research and gave me his trust and support. This, along with the Muslim community’s support (interviews), and the wider community’s recognition (for example, the publication of my letters in Australian newspapers, interviews on radio and television) enabled me to develop my self-esteem and built up my bicultural identity as a Muslim in a predominantly Christian country and as a Bangladeshi-Australian. In 2005, for the sake of a better job opportunity, my husband moved to the UK, but this time I asserted that I would not move again. I felt that here in Australia (now in Perth) I had a job, an identity and a home. This time my husband was able to secure a good job back in Australia and was only away for a year. I no longer dream of finding a home in the Middle East. Through my bicultural identity here in Australia I feel connected to the wider community and to the Muslim umma. However, my attachment to the umma has become ambivalent. I feel proud of my Australian-Muslim identity but I am concerned about the jihadi ideology of militant Muslims. By jihadi ideology, I mean the extremist ideology of the al-Qaeda terrorist group (Farrar 2007). The Muslim umma now incorporates both moderate and radical Muslims. The radical Muslims (though only a tiny minority of 1.4 billion Muslims worldwide) pose a threat to their moderate counterparts as well as to non-Muslims. In the UK, some second- and third-generation Muslims identify themselves with the umma rather than their parents’ homelands or their country of birth (Husain). It should not be a matter of concern if these young Muslims adopt a ‘pure’ Muslim identity, providing at the same time they are loyal to their country of residence. But when they resort to terrorism with their ‘pure’ Muslim identity (e.g., the 7/7 London bombers) they defame my religion Islam, and undermine my spiritual connection to the umma. As a 1st generation immigrant, the defining criteria of my ‘homeliness’ in Australia are my ethno-cultural and religious identity (which includes my family), my active citizenship, and my community development/contribution through my research work – all of which allow me a sense of efficacy in my life. My ethnic and religious identities generally co-exist equally, but when I see some Muslims kill my fellow Australians (such as the Bali bombings in 2002 and 2005) my Australian identity takes precedence. I feel for the victims and condemn the perpetrators. On the other hand, when I see politics play a role over the human rights issues (e.g., the Tampa incident), my religious identity begs me to comment on it (see Kabir, Muslims in Australia 295-305). Problematising ‘Home’ for Muslim Australians In the European context, Grillo (863) and Werbner (904), and in the Australian context, Kabir (Muslims in Australia) and Poynting and Mason, have identified the diversity within Islam (national, ethnic, religious etc). Werbner (904) notes that in spite of the “wishful talk of the emergence of a ‘British Islam’, even today there are Pakistani, Bangladeshi and Arab mosques, as well as Turkish and Shia’a mosques”; thus British Muslims retain their separate identities. Similarly, in Australia, the existence of separate mosques for the Bangladeshi, Pakistani, Arab and Shia’a peoples indicates that Australian Muslims have also kept their ethnic identities discrete (Saeed 64-77). However, in times of crisis, such as the Salman Rushdie affair in 1989, and the 1990-1991 Gulf crises, both British and Australian Muslims were quick to unite and express their Islamic identity by way of resistance (Kabir, Muslims in Australia 160-162; Poynting and Mason 68-70). In both British and Australian contexts, I argue that a peaceful rally or resistance is indicative of active citizenship of Muslims as it reveals their sense of belonging (also Werbner 905). So when a transmigrant Muslim wants to make a peaceful demonstration, the Western world should be encouraged, not threatened – as long as the transmigrant’s allegiances lie also with the host country. In the European context, Grillo (868) writes: when I asked Mehmet if he was planning to stay in Germany he answered without hesitation: ‘Yes, of course’. And then, after a little break, he added ‘as long as we can live here as Muslims’. In this context, I support Mehmet’s desire to live as a Muslim in a non-Muslim world as long as this is peaceful. Paradoxically, living a Muslim life through ijtihad can be either socially progressive or destructive. The Canadian Muslim feminist Irshad Manji relies on ijtihad, but so does Osama bin Laden! Manji emphasises that ijtihad can be, on the one hand, the adaptation of Islam using independent reasoning, hybridity and the contesting of ‘traditional’ family values (c.f. Doogue and Kirkwood 275-276, 314); and, on the other, ijtihad can take the form of conservative, patriarchal and militant Islamic values. The al-Qaeda terrorist Osama bin Laden espouses the jihadi ideology of Sayyid Qutb (1906-1966), an Egyptian who early in his career might have been described as a Muslim modernist who believed that Islam and Western secular ideals could be reconciled. But he discarded that idea after going to the US in 1948-50; there he was treated as ‘different’ and that treatment turned him against the West. He came back to Egypt and embraced a much more rigid and militaristic form of Islam (Esposito 136). Other scholars, such as Cesari, have identified a third orientation – a ‘secularised Islam’, which stresses general beliefs in the values of Islam and an Islamic identity, without too much concern for practices. Grillo (871) observed Islam in the West emphasised diversity. He stressed that, “some [Muslims were] more quietest, some more secular, some more clamorous, some more negotiatory”, while some were exclusively characterised by Islamic identity, such as wearing the burqa (elaborate veils), hijabs (headscarves), beards by men and total abstinence from drinking alcohol. So Mehmet, cited above, could be living a Muslim life within the spectrum of these possibilities, ranging from an integrating mode to a strict, militant Muslim manner. In the UK context, Zubaida (96) contends that marginalised, culturally-impoverished youth are the people for whom radical, militant Islamism may have an appeal, though it must be noted that the 7/7 bombers belonged to affluent families (O’Sullivan 14; Husain). In Australia, Muslim Australians are facing three challenges. First, the Muslim unemployment rate: it was three times higher than the national total in 1996 and 2001 (Kabir, Muslims in Australia 266-278; Kabir, “What Does It Mean” 63). Second, some spiritual leaders have used extreme rhetoric to appeal to marginalised youth; in January 2007, the Australian-born imam of Lebanese background, Sheikh Feiz Mohammad, was alleged to have employed a DVD format to urge children to kill the enemies of Islam and to have praised martyrs with a violent interpretation of jihad (Chulov 2). Third, the proposed citizenship test has the potential to make new migrants’ – particularly Muslims’ – settlement in Australia stressful (Kabir, “What Does It Mean” 62-79); in May 2007, fuelled by perceptions that some migrants – especially Muslims – were not integrating quickly enough, the Howard government introduced a citizenship test bill that proposes to test applicants on their English language skills and knowledge of Australian history and ‘values’. I contend that being able to demonstrate knowledge of history and having English language skills is no guarantee that a migrant will be a good citizen. Through my transmigrant history, I have learnt that developing a bond with a new place takes time, acceptance and a gradual change of identity, which are less likely to happen when facing assimilationist constraints. I spoke English and studied history in the United States, but I did not consider it my home. I did not speak the Arabic language, and did not study Middle Eastern history while I was in the Middle East, but I felt connected to it for cultural and religious reasons. Through my knowledge of history and English language proficiency I did not make Australia my home when I first migrated to Australia. Australia became my home when I started interacting with other Australians, which was made possible by having the time at my disposal and by fortunate circumstances, which included a fairly high level of efficacy and affluence. If I had been rejected because of my lack of knowledge of ‘Australian values’, or had encountered discrimination in the job market, I would have been much less willing to embrace my host country and call it home. I believe a stringent citizenship test is more likely to alienate would-be citizens than to induce their adoption of values and loyalty to their new home. Conclusion Blunt (5) observes that current studies of home often investigate mobile geographies of dwelling and how it shapes one’s identity and belonging. Such geographies of home negotiate from the domestic to the global context, thus mobilising the home beyond a fixed, bounded and confining location. Similarly, in this paper I have discussed how my mobile geography, from the domestic (root) to global (route), has shaped my identity. Though I received a degree of culture shock in the United States, loved the Middle East, and was at first quite resistant to the idea of making Australia my second home, the confidence I acquired in residing in these ‘several homes’ were cumulative and eventually enabled me to regard Australia as my ‘home’. I loved the Middle East, but I did not pursue an active involvement with the Arab community because I was a busy mother. Also I lacked the communication skill (fluency in Arabic) with the local residents who lived outside the expatriates’ campus. I am no longer a cultural freak. I am no longer the same Bangladeshi woman who saw her ethnic and Islamic culture as superior to all other cultures. I have learnt to appreciate Australian values, such as tolerance, ‘a fair go’ and multiculturalism (see Kabir, “What Does It Mean” 62-79). My bicultural identity is my strength. With my ethnic and religious identity, I can relate to the concerns of the Muslim community and other Australian ethnic and religious minorities. And with my Australian identity I have developed ‘a voice’ to pursue active citizenship. Thus my biculturalism has enabled me to retain and merge my former home with my present and permanent home of Australia. References Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London, New York: Verso, 1983. Australian Bureau of Statistics: Census of Housing and Population, 1996 and 2001. Blunt, Alison. Domicile and Diaspora: Anglo-Indian Women and the Spatial Politics of Home. 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Drawing from a wide range of primary archival and secondary Greek, Bulgarian, and Turkish sources, the book explores the way the Muslim populations of Greece were ruled by state authorities from Greece’s political emancipation from the Ottoman Empire in the 1820s up to the country’s entrance into World War II, in October 1940. In particular, the book examines how state rule influenced the development of the Muslim populations’ collective identity as a minority and how it affected Muslim relations with the Greek authorities, Greek Orthodox Christians, and other ethnic and religious groups. Greece was the first country to become an independent state in the Balkans and a pioneer in experimenting with minority issues. With regards to its Muslim populations, Greece’s ruling framework, and many of the country’s state administrative measures and patterns were to serve as a template at a later stage in other Christian Orthodox Balkan states with Muslim minorities (e.g., Bulgaria, Romania, Serbia, Cyprus): Muslim religious officials were empowered with authorities they did not have in Ottoman times, and aspects of Islamic law (sharia) were incorporated into the state legal system to be used for Muslim family and property affairs. The book shows that these and any policies can be ambivalent and cannot be a guide to present-day solutions. It also argues that religion remained a defining element and that religious nationalism and public institutions played an important role in the development of religious and ethnic identity.

This chapter explores the implications of adopting religion as a category to draw together individuals and communities as corporate bodies that are depicted as in need of legal protection to achieve their freedom. It draws on an extended case study of the Alevis in Turkey. Ongoing uncertainty about the legal and religious status of the Alevis opens a space in which to explore claims to the category of religious minority, constructs of religious freedom, and the implications of contemporary legal approaches to managing religious difference. The chapter begins with a short introduction to the Alevis, a social group that was formally constituted as a single community relatively recently as part of the Turkish nation-building project. It then evaluates two legal definitions of Alevism by the Turkish state and the European Court of Human Rights. These distinct institutional contexts produce different constructions of Alevism with significant legal and political implications for arbitrating major social issues in Turkey, such as who is a Muslim, who is a minority, and what is religion.

Abstract Despite their historical and sizable presence in parts of the country, Twelver Shi‘a Muslims, or Caferis, are practically absent from the scholarly literature on religion in Turkey. As a predominantly Turkish-speaking Muslim community, albeit a denominational minority, Shi‘a are not officially recognized by the Turkish state. They have therefore faced barriers to the construction and management of their own mosques and public expressions of religious difference. This chapter provides an overview of Twelver Shi‘a in Turkey over the last century, tracing the ways the community has navigated its position in the Turkish public sphere vis-à-vis the state and other religious groups. It also provides insight into Shi‘i piety and religious life by ethnographically highlighting sensory-aesthetics forms and practices of devotion to the Family of the Prophet (Ehl-i Beyt), a distinguishing feature of Twelver Shi‘i religiosity.

This paper asks: when and under what conditions does religion become a source of coopera- tion rather than conflict? The Gülen movement is an Islamic social movement that bases its philosophy on increasing religious consciousness at the individual level and making Islam an important social force in the public sphere. It is this intellectual and social activism that has made the movement a global phenomenon and the focus of socio-political analysis. The Gülen community brings different sectors of society together to facilitate ‘collective intellectual effort’ and offer ‘civil responses’ to social issues, seeing this as a more subtle and legitimate way of influencing public debate and policy. To this end, the movement initiated a series of symposiums, known as Abant Workshops in Turkey. The scope of these meetings was later expanded to include a wider audience in Europe, the U.S., and the Middle East. This paper looks specifically at the Abant Workshops and the movement’s strategy of bridge building and problem-solving. It uses the press releases, transcripts and audio-visual records of the past 14 meetings to discuss their objectives and outcomes. This material is supplement- ed by interviews with key organisers from the Journalists and Writer Foundation and other participants. The discussion aims to understand how far religiously inspired social groups can contribute to the empowerment of civil society vis-à-vis the state and its officially secular ideology. Beyond that, it aims to explain the role of civil society organisations in democratic governance, and the possibility of creating social capital in societies lacking a clear ‘overlap- ping consensus’ on issues of citizenship, morality and national identity. The hesitancy at the beginning turns into friendship, the distance into understanding, stiff looks and tensions into humorous jokes, and differences into richness. Abant is boldly moving towards an institutionalization. The objective is evident: Talking about some of the problems the country is facing, debating them and offering solutions; on a civil ground, within the framework of knowledge and deliberation. Some labelled the ideas in the concluding declarations as “revolutionary,” “renaissance,” and “first indications of a religious reform.” Some others (in minority) saw them “dangerous” and “non-sense.” In fact, the result is neither a “revolution” nor “non-sense” It is an indication of a quest for opening new horizons or creating a novel vision. When and under what conditions does religion become a source of cooperation rather than conflict in the civil society? The Gülen movement is an Islamic social movement that bases its philosophy on increasing religious consciousness at the individual level and making Islam an important social force in the public sphere. It is this intellectual and social activism that raises the Gülen movement of Turkey as a global phenomenon to the focus of socio-political analysis. The Gülen community brings different sectors of the society together to create and facilitate a ‘common intellect’ to brainstorm and offer ‘civil responses’ to social issues. The move- ment sees this as a more subtle, but more effective, and legitimate way of influencing public debate and policy. Hence, the movement initiated a series of symposiums, known as Abant Workshops in Turkey. The scope of the meetings was later expanded to include a wider audi- ence in Europe, the U.S., and the Middle East. In early 1990s the Gülen Movement launched a silent but persistent public relations cam- paign. Fethullah Gülen openly met with the prominent figures of government and politics, and gave interviews to some popular newspapers and magazines. With a thriving media net- work, private schools, and business associations the movement seemed to have entered a new stage in its relations with the outside world. This new stage was not a simple outreach effort; it was rather a confident step to carve a niche in the increasingly diversified Turkish public sphere. The instigation of a series of workshops known as Abant Platforms was one of the biggest steps in this process. The workshops brought academics, politicians, and intellectu- als together to discuss some of the thorniest issues of, first, Turkey, such as secularism and pluralism, and then the Muslim World, such as war, globalization and modernization. This paper seeks to explain the motives behind this kind of an ambitious project and its possible implications for the movement itself, for Turkey and for the Muslim World in transition.