Essay 11

Despite the enthusiastic commentary and widespread reporting, Americans often exhibit a practical sense of cautious concern and predictable worries—some of which, over time, have proven to be valid. These concerns, while not always immediately threatening, can sometimes agitate the very fabric of democracy. A notable example is the election of President Obama, the first African American to hold the office. I want to clarify that I harbored no personal dislike for Obama, nor was I opposed to his presidency; in fact, I voted for him, sharing the conscious optimism that many Americans felt at the time.

For many like-minded citizens and me, the concern was never about the color of his skin or his name, Hussein, which some interpreted through the lens of religious or cultural symbolism. Rather, our apprehension centered on the potential for his presidency to amplify the wounds of racism and slavery—wounds that, while deeply rooted in American history, had seen significant healing and progress over the past century, arguably more so than in many European or other nations. The fear was that by overemphasizing these historical divides, we might inadvertently reopen old scars and deepen national divisions, rather than continuing the path of reconciliation and unity.

Many years later, Americans in general—and New Yorkers in particular—find themselves grappling with a similar question, though the dilemma has evolved significantly. This time, the focus is on Zohran Mamdani. Once again, the issue at hand is not about skin color, name, or heritage. Instead, the central concern revolves around his convictions and unwavering dedication—not merely to Islam as a faith, but specifically to his deep reverence for the third Shia Imam, Imam Hussain. Imam Hussain remains a profoundly influential yet controversial figure, even among Muslims, due to the complex legacy of his life and martyrdom. For many, Mamdani’s choice to draw inspiration from Imam Hussain as a role model raises questions about the intersection of personal faith, public service, and the diverse values that shape American society today.

Let’s explore these two significant milestones in American history—the presidency of Barack Hussein Obama and the mayorship of Zeran Mamdani—focusing on their ideological impact, responses to social tensions, and the controversies surrounding accusations of division. Both leaders emerged during periods of heightened national anxiety, yet inspired hope among many Americans. Their tenures were marked by bold advocacy on issues such as social justice, race, and religious inclusion. While critics often accused them of deepening societal divides, supporters praised their commitment to principled leadership and transformative change. It is important to recognize that perceptions of division are frequently shaped by partisan perspectives and the broader political climate. By examining public records and statements, we can gain a nuanced understanding of how each figure navigated the challenges of leadership, addressed pressing social issues, and influenced the national conversation—balancing the concerns of their detractors with the aspirations of their supporters.

Background on Mayor Mamdani’s Ideological Influences

Imam Hussein as a Guiding Figure: Mayor Mamdani, a practicing Shia Muslim, has consistently identified Imam Hussein—the revered third Shia Imam and grandson of the Prophet Muhammad—as a profound personal and moral exemplar. In public addresses and social media commentary, particularly during Ashura (the annual commemoration of Hussein’s martyrdom at Karbala in 680 CE), Mamdani has described Imam Hussein as a “timeless symbol of courage, justice, and resistance to oppression, even in the face of overwhelming odds.” He draws inspiration from Hussein’s unwavering stand against tyranny, emphasizing the Imam’s prioritization of moral conviction over personal safety or political expediency. Mamdani frequently connects these themes to contemporary struggles, such as the fight for housing affordability, social justice, and principled foreign policy. His decision to be sworn in as mayor on a Quran in January 2026 further underscored his commitment to inclusivity and the integration of ethical values into public service.

Intellectual Parallels with Thomas Carlyle: Mamdani’s ideological framework also resonate with the ideas of Thomas Carlyle, the 19th-century British historian and essayist. Carlyle’s influential work, On Heroes, Hero-Worship, and the Heroic in History (1841), extols figures like the Prophet Muhammad for their steadfast adherence to principle and their transformative impact on society. Carlyle regarded such “heroes” as catalysts for moral and social progress, embodying the virtues of integrity and resilience. While Mamdani has not explicitly cited Carlyle in his speeches or writings, the thematic overlap is evident: both Imam Hussein and Carlyle’s archetypal heroes represent an unyielding commitment to justice and ideals, a motif that Mamdani frequently invokes in his advocacy against systemic oppression and inequality. However, some critics contend that this ideological framing, by invoking historical grievances and identity-based narratives, risks deepening social divisions and alienating constituents who perceive it as excessively partisan or sectarian.

Political Identity and Platform: As a democratic socialist and active member of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA), Mamdani made history in November 2025 by becoming New York City’s first Muslim, South Asian, and African-born mayor—having been born in Uganda to parents of Indian descent. His administration is anchored in a platform centered on affordability, equity, and anti-discrimination. Mamdani’s policies prioritize expanding access to housing, combating systemic inequities, and fostering a more inclusive civic culture. Nevertheless, his progressive agenda has drawn criticism from opponents who argue that his focus on social justice and identity-based issues may exacerbate polarization and detract from broader consensus-building.

Context on the March 7, 2026 Incident and Mamdani’s Response

On March 7, 2026, a confrontation erupted outside Gracie Mansion, the official residence of the mayor of New York City, following a small anti-Islam protest organized by far-right activist Jake Lang—a figure known for his involvement in the January 6 Capitol riot and subsequent presidential pardon. The protest, explicitly targeting Assemblymember Zohran Mamdani’s Muslim identity and warning of an alleged “Islamic takeover” of New York City, drew a significantly larger group of counter-protesters.

Tensions escalated rapidly. Amid the chaos, two individuals from the counter-protest side reportedly threw improvised explosive devices (IEDs) packed with nuts, bolts, and screws. Although the devices failed to fully detonate and caused no injuries, law enforcement confirmed they could inflict serious harm. The FBI has since launched an investigation, treating the incident as a potential case of ISIS-inspired terrorism, and two suspects are currently in custody.

In a press release issued on March 8, Mamdani addressed the events in two parts. He first condemned the anti-Islam protest, describing it as “rooted in bigotry and racism,” and asserted that such hate “has no place in New York City” and “is an affront to our city’s values.” He then turned to the violence, calling it “even more disturbing,” and unequivocally stated, “Violence at a protest is never acceptable. The attempt to use an explosive device and hurt others is not only criminal, but also reprehensible and the antithesis of who we are.”

Mamdani’s statement has sparked debate. Critics, particularly on social media and in right-leaning media, argue that by leading with criticism of the anti-Muslim demonstrators rather than the attempted bombing, Mamdani appeared to downplay the severity of the IED attack and further inflamed divisions. Supporters, however, contend that he condemned both hate and violence in clear terms, reaffirming the right to peaceful protest while denouncing all forms of extremism.

This episode is consistent with Mamdani’s broader record. He has repeatedly spoken out against anti-Muslim bigotry, including his opposition to a 2022 parade float glorifying Hindu nationalism (which he linked to anti-Muslim violence in India) and his criticism of public figures associated with anti-Muslim groups. While some view his stance as principled advocacy against hate, others argue that his approach reflects an ideological rigidity that may contribute to polarization in an already divided political climate.

Similarities to Obama

Perceptions of Barack Obama as “divisive” have largely originated from conservative commentators, who argue that his public remarks on race—such as his response to the 2008 Jeremiah Wright controversy, his statement during the 2012 Trayvon Martin case (“If I had a son, he’d look like Trayvon”), and his comments following the 2014 Ferguson unrest—spotlighted racial injustices in a manner that, in their view, deepened social rifts rather than healing them. These critics often dubbed him the “divider-in-chief,” contending that he intensified societal tensions instead of fostering unity. Supporters, however, maintain that Obama merely illuminated pre-existing divisions—evident in phenomena like the birther movement and the Tea Party backlash—and consistently advocated for unity, as exemplified by his 2008 “A More Perfect Union” speech.

Objectively, several parallels can be drawn:

• Emphasis on Addressing Bigotry First: Much like Mamdani’s approach in his Gracie Mansion statement, Obama frequently began by expressing empathy for marginalized communities—such as criticizing racial profiling before denouncing violence during protests. Critics interpreted this as an imbalanced approach, suggesting it downplayed lawlessness. Both leaders have unequivocally condemned violence yet are accused of mitigating its seriousness by contextualizing it within broader systemic injustices.
• Ideological Commitment to Justice: Both Obama and Mamdani draw inspiration from their respective cultural and personal backgrounds—Obama from civil rights leaders and Christian theology, Mamdani from Islamic history, notably the legacy of Hussein—to frame their advocacy against oppression. Detractors argue that this principled stance can come across as doctrinaire and polarizing.
• Minority Identity and Resulting Backlash: As the first Black president and the first Muslim mayor of New York City, respectively, both have been targets of identity-based attacks—Obama through birtherism, Mamdani through anti-Islam protests. Their responses to such attacks are sometimes perceived as exacerbating cultural divides, even as they seek to address underlying prejudices.
• Progressive Political Orientation: Both are Democrats with progressive leanings—Obama as a center-left figure, Mamdani positioned further left through his affiliation with the Democratic Socialists of America. Both have been accused of leveraging identity politics to energize their political bases, sometimes at the expense of broader appeal.

Nevertheless, important distinctions remain: Obama operated on a national and global stage, while Mamdani’s influence is primarily local. The racial tensions Obama navigated were shaped by the post-2008 landscape, whereas Mamdani’s challenges are intertwined with the aftermath of the 2023 Israel-Palestine conflict and his historic election. There are no direct public comparisons between the two in the record, and claims of “division” often reflect the biases of observers—polls during Obama’s presidency indicated rising racial polarization, but the causes remain contested.

Historic Perspective: The Subjectivity of Historical and Ideological Interpretations

The portrayal of figures like Imam Hussein is deeply shaped by subjective historical and ideological lenses. When Imam Hussein is described as a “freedom fighter” or a symbol of resistance, such characterizations often reflect the interpreter’s cultural, religious, or political context rather than a universally agreed-upon narrative. Scholars like Mahmood Mamdani, and even 19th-century thinkers such as Thomas Carlyle, have framed historical figures through their own perspectives—Mamdani invoking Hussein as an emblem of anti-oppression, and Carlyle casting him (and others) as heroic agents of moral progress. These interpretations, while influential, are not neutral; they are shaped by personal, cultural, and intellectual biases.

Imam Hussein: Diverse Interpretations Within Islam

Imam Hussein’s stand at Karbala in 680 CE is a pivotal event, but its meaning is far from monolithic. In Shia Islam, Hussein is venerated as a martyr who sacrificed his life to uphold justice and resist tyranny under Yazid one of the Umayyad Caliphate. His actions are seen as the ultimate act of selflessness and a model for standing against oppression, which aligns with Mamdani’s framing. However, this narrative is not universally shared across the Muslim world. In Sunni traditions, the events at Karbala are often viewed through the lens of the broader political and religious disputes that followed the death of Prophet Muhammad. Sunnis generally accept the legitimacy of the early caliphs, including those opposed by Hussein, while Shia Muslims see Ali (Hussein’s father) and his descendants as the rightful leaders. Thus, labeling Hussein as a “freedom fighter” is inherently subjective, emphasizing resistance while potentially overlooking the complex political, theological, and historical dynamics of the era.

Parallels to Foucault and Khomeini: The Risks of Heroic Narratives

The tendency to romanticize revolutionary figures is not unique to Islamic history. The comparison to Ayatollah Khomeini and Michel Foucault illustrates how intellectual enthusiasm for resistance can sometimes obscure uncomfortable realities. Foucault, a French philosopher known for his critiques of Western power structures, visited Iran during the 1978 revolution and praised the uprising as a form of “political spirituality.” He saw Khomeini as a mythic leader channeling collective will against imperialism, and he downplayed concerns about theocracy, women’s rights, and the potential for authoritarianism. Foucault argued that the revolution was not about installing a new regime but about transcending conventional politics altogether.

Did Foucault later regret his stance? Publicly, he never issued a retraction or apology, even as the Islamic Republic’s repressive measures—executions, censorship, and mandatory veiling—became apparent after 1979. Privately, friends reported that he expressed regret by 1979-1980, and he largely ceased commenting on Iran until his death in 1984. Critics have argued that Foucault’s position reflected a broader tendency among some left-wing intellectuals to romanticize anti-Western revolts, sometimes at the expense of local voices—such as Iranian feminists—who warned of the dangers of regression and authoritarianism. This dynamic is echoed in Mamdani’s selective framing of Imam Hussein, which may overlook the diversity of perspectives within Islam itself.

The Importance of Context and Diversity

Ultimately, the interpretation of historical figures like Imam Hussein is shaped by a complex interplay of religious, cultural, and political factors. There is no single, universally accepted narrative; rather, there are multiple, sometimes competing, perspectives that reflect the diversity within Islam and the broader human tendency to project contemporary values onto the past. Recognizing this subjectivity is essential for a balanced understanding of history and its ongoing impact on present-day identities and ideologies.

As of 2026, estimates from reputable sources such as Pew Research and World Population Review indicate that the global Muslim population has reached approximately 2 billion, representing about 24-25% of the world’s total population of roughly 8.1 billion.

• Sunni Muslims: Comprising the vast majority, Sunni Muslims account for about 85-90% of the global Muslim population, which translates to approximately 1.7 to 1.8 billion individuals worldwide.
• Shia Muslims: Shia Muslims make up about 10-15% of the global Muslim population, estimated at 200-300 million people. Significant Shia communities are concentrated in countries such as Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, and India, with notable minorities in Lebanon, Azerbaijan, Bahrain, and other regions.

Sunni Perspectives on Imam Hussein

Within mainstream Sunni scholarship, Imam Hussein is deeply respected as the beloved grandson of the Prophet Muhammad, the son of Ali and Fatimah, and a revered companion. Sunnis widely regard him as a symbol of righteousness and a victim of grave injustice. The actions of Yazid and his forces at Karbala are broadly condemned as tyrannical and contrary to Islamic principles. While Hussein’s martyrdom is seen as a tragic event, it is not typically viewed as a foundational schism within Islam by Sunnis. Instead, the emphasis is on unity and the shared reverence for the Prophet’s family. Many Sunni communities honor Hussein in prayers, name mosques after him, and observe the month of Muharram, though their commemorations are generally less ritualized than those of Shia Muslims.

Shia Perspectives on Martyrdom and Imam Hussein

In Shia Islam, the martyrdom of Imam Hussein at Karbala is the central event in religious consciousness and identity. His sacrifice is commemorated annually during Ashura, symbolizing the eternal struggle against oppression and the preservation of true Islamic values. Shia doctrine holds that most of the Twelve Imams were martyred—often through poisoning or assassination by ruling authorities—and their deaths are seen as divinely ordained acts of sacrifice for the faith. Ritual mourning, processions, and dramatic reenactments are integral to Shia religious life, especially during Muharram. While some modern or reformist Shia may focus more on the ethical and spiritual lessons of Karbala rather than on public displays of grief, most Shia communities worldwide consider these commemorations essential to their religious and communal identity. Claims that “many Shias do not fully subscribe” to these practices generally refer to minority or culturally specific variations, particularly in diaspora contexts, and do not reflect the mainstream.