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DONALD TRUMP WE ARE NOT THE ENEMY .pdf



Nom original: DONALD TRUMP - WE ARE NOT THE ENEMY.pdf
Auteur: USUARIO

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DoNALD TRuMP: WE ARE NoT
THE ENEMY!
A MUSLIM-AMERICAN U.S. MILITARY VETERAN
EXPLAINS MUSLIM “PROBLEM” AND OFFERS
PROPOSALS FOR PEACE
by
Adam Al hor
U.S. Air Force Veteran and U.S. Department of Defense analyst

MA. in Strategic Studies, American Military University
Published by Gatekeeper Press
3971 Hoover Rd. Suite
Columbus, OH 43123-2839
Copyright © 2016 by Adam Al Hor
tL4
All rights reserved. Neither this book, nor any parts within it may be sold
or reproduced in any form without permission.
eISBN: 9781619845664
Contents
Chapter i: My Story
Chapter : Fox News and the Islamophobia industry
Chapter : Republicans and the 2016 Election Bids
Chapter : History of Militant Islam
Chapter : Causes of Terrorism
Chapter 6: A Chronology of U.S. Military Interventions in the Muslim
World
Chapter : Solutions to Terrorism
Chapter 8: Condemning Terrorism
Chapter : Conclusion

Chapter 1
Mv Story
As a child, if I looked westward from the shores of mv native North African country, only the water
of the Atlantic Ocean separated me from the United States. Growing up, I fell in love with the
liberties, freedoms, and pursuit of happiness that the American people enjoyed, and I strove to be
part of the dream. As President Barack Obama said, “Alongside our famous individualism, there is
another ingredient in the American stoi, which is a belief that we are all connected as one people
despite our background, races, and faiths. There is no white America, black America, Latino
America, or Asia America; there is the United States of America.”
This unique fabric of the country prompted me to contribute to the mix and diversity.
I was born in Morocco, the first country that recognized the United States (on June 23, 1786)as an
independent nation. On that momentous day, a trea of peace and friendship was signed by U.S.
Minister Thomas Barclay and Sultan of Morocco Sidi Muhammadat Marrakech. 2
I am a middle child of ten children. Mv parents were previously divorced from arranged marriages,
and theirs was also arranged. My father had a small electronic repair shop. My mother alwa s told
me that mv dad used to make good money, but because of his trustworthy nature, he trusted a
friend who conned him out of his savings after the friend promised to help him buy a house. Mv
father was naive. The con artist vas later arrested and sentenced to prison, where he died years
later. Without a degree, mv dad managed to learn how to fix TVs, radio receivers, and most kinds
of electronics. I remember when I was small, he used to take me with him to fix people’s TVs in
their homes after he closed his shop. After he lost most of his savings, he felt bad, so lie started to
smoke heavily, which affected his health, and lie liad to sell the shop aiid stay at home.
Mv father saved no inoiiey for retirement and, just like most Moroccans, who do not benefit from
any type of social welfare, he died poor. He died in 1993 at age fifty-three following a long fight
against an illness related to heavy smoking. I was nineteen years old. We were poor with no
financial support, so mv mother,without formal education or training, was required to enter the
job market by selling clothes in the markets of Casablanca.
Mv mother sold lier nierchandise in the streets, never missing a day, weathering cold, rain, and
burning sun. I used to worry about her due to petty thieves and some corrupt Moroccan police
officers who extorted money from the poor to allow them to do business. Similar practices are
widely known in North Africa, and it was later the spark that ignited Arab Spring in Tunisia in 2011
and beyond.

When I was in college, I used to accompany mv mother to help her sell clothes. In Morocco,
college was free for Moroccan citizens, but an opportunity cost vas associated with attending
college. Each class I took was time away from helping to support mv family.

When mv father worked, we had food on our table and clothes on our backs. But after he died,
things started to get worse. Mv mother had to rent one of the rooms in our two-bedroom flat, and
she sold her jewelry and kitchemvare to buy food for us. She even washed people’s clothes with
her bare hands to make money. I used to be happy to have a guest in our flat, because I knew that
we would be eating meat and fresh fruit.
We were often hungry and waited for Mom to come back home and bring food.

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