have ever read. His references to past history are accurate and clear. Not
long, easy to understand, and well worth the read. The author of this email
is said to be Dr. Emanuel Tanay, a well-known and well-respected
A German's View on Islam
A man, whose family was German aristocracy prior to World War II, owned a
number of large industries and estates. When asked how many German people
were true Nazis, the answer he gave can guide our attitude toward
fanaticism. 'Very few people were true Nazis,' he said, 'but many enjoyed
the return of German pride, and many more were too busy to care. I was one
of those who just thought the Nazis were a bunch of fools. So, the majority
just sat back and let it all happen. Then, before we knew it, they owned us,
and we had lost control, and the end of the world had come. My family lost
everything. I ended up in a concentration camp and the Allies destroyed my
We are told again and again by 'experts' and 'talking heads' that Islam is
the religion of peace and that the vast majority of Muslims just want to
live in peace. Although this unqualified assertion may be true, it is
entirely irrelevant. It is meaningless fluff, meant to make us feel better,
and meant to somehow diminish the spectre of fanatics rampaging across the
globe in the name of Islam.
The fact is that the fanatics rule Islam at this moment in history. It is
the fanatics who march. It is the fanatics who wage any one of 50 shooting
wars worldwide. It is the fanatics who systematically slaughter Christian or
tribal groups throughout Africa and are gradually taking over the entire
continent in an Islamic wave. It is the fanatics who bomb, behead, murder,
or honour-kill. It is the fanatics who take over mosque after mosque. It is
the fanatics who zealously spread the stoning and hanging of rape victims
and homosexuals. It is the fanatics who teach their young to kill and to
become suicide bombers.
The hard, quantifiable fact is that the peaceful majority, the 'silent
majority,' is cowed and extraneous.
Communist Russia was comprised of Russians who just wanted to live in
peace, yet the Russian Communists were responsible for the murder of about
20 million people. The peaceful majority were irrelevant. China 's huge
population was peaceful as well, but Chinese Communists managed to kill a
staggering 70 million people.
The average Japanese individual prior to World War II was not a
warmongering sadist. Yet, Japan murdered and slaughtered its way across
South East Asia in an orgy of killing that included the systematic murder of
12 million Chinese civilians; most killed by sword, shovel, and bayonet.
And who can forget Rwanda , which collapsed into butchery. Could it not be
said that the majority of Rwandans were 'peace loving'?
History lessons are often incredibly simple and blunt, yet for all our
powers of reason, we often miss the most basic and uncomplicated of points:
Peace-loving Muslims have been made irrelevant by their silence.
Peace-loving Muslims will become our enemy if they don't speak up, because
like my friend from Germany , they will awaken one day and find that the
fanatics own them, and the end of their world will have begun.
Peace-loving Germans, Japanese, Chinese, Russians, Rwandans, Serbs, Afghans,
Iraqis, Palestinians, Somalis, Nigerians, Algerians, and many others have
died because the peaceful majority did not speak up until it was too late.
As for us who watch it all unfold, we must pay attention to the only group
that counts--the fanatics who threaten our way of life.
Lastly, anyone who doubts that the issue is serious and just deletes this
email without sending it on, is contributing to the passiveness that allows
the problems to expand. So, extend yourself a bit and send this on and on
and on! Let us hope that thousands, world-wide, read this and think about
it, and send it on - before it's too late.
When I was a young boy, my father had one of the first telephones in our
neighbourhood.. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The
shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the
telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an
amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she
did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the
My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my
mother was visiting a neighbour. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the
basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but
there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give
I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at
the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlour
and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the
parlour and held it to my ear.
"Information, please" I said into the
mouthpiece just above my head.
A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.
"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough
now that I had an audience.
"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.
"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.
"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.
I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open the icebox?" she asked.
I said I could.
"Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the
After that, I called "Information Please" for everything.. I asked her for
help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped
me with my math.
She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day
before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called,
Information Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said
things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her,
"Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all
families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"
She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, " Wayne , always
remember that there are other worlds to sing in."
Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please."
"Information," said in the now familiar voice. "How do I spell fix?"
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest . When I was
nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston . I missed my friend
"Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I
somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in
the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood
conversations never really left me..
Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of
security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind
she was to have spent her time on a little boy.
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle .
I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on
the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I
was doing, I dialled my hometown operator and said, "Information Please."
Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.
I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying,
"Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"
There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your
finger must have healed by now."
I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any
idea how much you meant to me during that time?"
I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your call meant to me.
I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."
I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I
could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.
"Please do", she said. "Just ask for Sally."
Three months later I was back in Seattle .. A different voice answered,
I asked for Sally.
"Are you a friend?" she said.
"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this,"She said. "Sally had been working part
time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."
Before I could hang up, she said, "
Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?" "
Yes." I answered.
"Well, Sally left a message for you.
She wrote it down in case you called.
Let me read it to you."
The note said,
"Tell him there are other worlds to sing in.
He'll know what I mean."
I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.
Never underestimate the impression you may make on others..
Whose life have you touched today?
Life is a journey... NOT a guided tour.