On the surface, everything is calm. In the courtyard of the Dutch parliament in the Hague, a petite, dark-skinned MP is talking quietly to a news reporter. A cameraman hovers with a large, fluffy grey microphone; a few curious tourists look on, some recognising Ayaan Hirsi Ali. She bids the news team goodbye, and glances across at an unsmiling, tall man in dark trousers and a tweed jacket. Then, looking sheepish, she heads for the door of the adjacent building.
The man's eyes dart warily around the courtyard, then he follows her in. He is one of her bodyguards. It's hard to imagine anyone wanting to hurt this small and unobtrusive person. Perhaps she can't fully imagine it herself. Certainly, at this point, she is not fazed by the possibility. "I'm very bad — I am not supposed to go out on my own," she confides lightly. "I thought I could just sneak out, but they came anyway." It's ironic that a woman who campaigns to free oppressed Muslim women should find her own freedom curtailed. But Hirsi Ali has openly criticised Islam, and the danger to anyone who dares to do this is all too real.
This becomes horribly evident five days later, on November 2, when the film director Theo van Gogh is murdered in Amsterdam. Hirsi Ali collaborated with van Gogh on Submission, a short film showing a Muslim girl's suffering, broadcast on Dutch television on August 29.
Its makers both received death threats from Muslim extremists, but van Gogh, who was fond of making obscene remarks about all the world religions, did not take them seriously and turned down police protection. Pinned to his body with a knife was a letter containing a direct warning to Hirsi Ali, signed by an unknown group. Her protectors have spirited her away into hiding. Whether or when she will re-emerge remains to be seen.
She is Holland's most controversial politician since Pim Fortuyn — the flamboyantly gay, anti-immigration MP murdered by a left-wing extremist in May 2002. She is reviled by Islamic fundamentalists. Her message — that Islam needs to modernise — is offensive to many. But the messenger has a very soft voice. She is relieved when I sit near her, so she won't have to speak up, on our first meeting, at the Dutch embassy in London in September. The 35-year-old has the air of a head girl about to make her first public speech. She is dressed in an elegant grey trouser suit, with patterned tights leading to pointed black shoes. She does not have a politician's hardened bravado. She does, however, give good soundbite. In the past she has agreed with Fortuyn that Islam is a backward religion, and described the Prophet Muhammad as a pervert. Not a good way to win friends among militant Muslims, but a sure means to get in the newspapers. Even some in her own party, the VVD (People's Party for Freedom and Democracy, which holds 28 of the 150 seats in parliament), regard her as a bit of a media whore. She shows me that night's dinner agenda (discussions on the European constitution, and so on), admitting she has no idea who many of her British counterparts are. She has only been in politics for two years: after a stint as a researcher for the Dutch Labour party, she became a VVD parliamentary assistant in November 2002 and an MP in January 2003.
Her ingénue manner is disarming. It seems bizarre that this polite creature could have incurred the wrath of the fanatics. Until she starts telling you about Islam, and you realise that here is a woman without a shred of political correctness, who is unwilling to spare anybody's feelings if there's a point to be made. She insists she is still a Muslim, albeit lapsed; she is a part of Muslim culture but no longer believes in God (itself punishable by death, according to the Hadiths, Muhammad's teachings) and thinks those who take everything in the Koran literally have a lot to answer for.
She raises hackles because she attacks core beliefs. The trouble started, she explains, when she gave an interview last year to the Dutch newspaper Trouw. "I did say some good things about Muhammad, but I also said he legalised the tribal system where the woman is a baby machine; he had nine wives, and one of them was a nine-year-old. I said he is a perverted tyrant. In the Netherlands, that is called paedophilia and you would be brought to justice."
Her comments were instantly picked up by other media. About 600 Muslims made an official complaint to the police, seeking to put her in jail. Four ambassadors, from Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Sudan and Malaysia, visited her party chairman and asked him to make Hirsi Ali resign as she had offended their human rights. "It was complete madness." Non-Muslims were shocked by the clamour. "They were like, if you're causing Muslims this much headache, aren't you being ineffective? You'll drive them away from enlightenment if you approach them in this way."
Thanks to the internet, news of this apostate spreads fast. Earlier this year, a man threatened her in the trendy Dudok cafe, just opposite the Dutch parliament, saying he hoped the mujaheddin would kill her. Reportedly, she answered spiritedly: "If you want to kill me, you'll have to do it yourself!" The man replied, chillingly: "I'd like to, but I'm afraid I'll end up in prison." Hirsi Ali's bodyguards were out of earshot, and were angry when she told them what had happened only after her would-be assailant had left. But that's typical of her — she would rather fight her own battles.
"There's this man now who's serving nine months in jail," she says. "He put my address on the internet and called everyone saying, 'She should be killed.' They put 22 detectives on the case, and now they have him. They're not quite sure if he's alone or if he's part of a group." She was forced to move house. "That's the most traumatic thing that's happened to me. I had bought a house, and then I had to give it up. It makes me angry — why are my opponents not talking? Instead they intimidate and threaten."
The pressure must be immense. "Yes, but it's my work, and the pace of work here is so fast that there's no time to get depressed and feel bad. All the prominent members of parliament are always busy." But they don't all have bodyguards. She sighs, in weariness rather than self-pity. "They are with me 24 hours a day and it is annoying. Inside my house I have privacy, but they can see who is coming around." So she feels safe? She looks me straight in the eye. "Yes. After two years, I can say it's been worth it. There are things in life where it's really important to say, 'I'm going to take a stand.' But there are limits to what you can do as one individual. This is not something I can keep up for ever. I am not a martyr. I have no wish to sacrifice myself."
Though they argue over ideology, Hirsi Ali and her father are very alike. Were it not for him, she would never have ended up in the Hague. As it was, she grew up in Somalia, Saudi Arabia, Ethiopia and Kenya, speaks six languages and is an independent career woman. But as a teenager, she was rarely allowed to go out. "As a girl growing up, I was more sheltered from outside influences than most women in Europe." Some critics have accused her of being blinkered by the trauma of her own personal experiences — for example, she underwent genital mutilation when she was six. But she says she does not dwell on the negatives — and that was one of many negatives. "Being forbidden to read what I wanted, being forbidden to go out, being forbidden to be friends with non-Muslims. I have forgotten the pain and being angry with my mother about it, but I remember the lesson." She sighs. "I've lost so many years."
She was born in Somalia in November 1969, a month after Mohamed Siad Barre seized power in a military coup, putting paid to the country's heady dream of democracy (Britain, Italy and France had pulled out of their former colony). Her father was one of many democratically minded politicians imprisoned by Siad Barre; his wife fled with the children to Saudi Arabia. Her father escaped and joined them there but got an ultimatum from the Saudi government: "'Keep away from Somali politics, because it's a friendly nation, or we'll kick you out' — so we went to Ethiopia. Then Somalia and Ethiopia were at war, so we moved to Kenya. I was lucky enough to be educated there — it was an ex-British colony and I could learn English."
