The rational face of Islam

Javed Khan, the president of New Zealand's main Muslim body, is a mild-mannered chap. He works as a solicitor for New Zealand Post, and has that measured way of speaking common to legal types.

But there have been a couple of moments lately where he has had to suppress uncharacteristic anger. On one of those times, he was standing in his Remuera garden in front of a camera from the TVNZ show Close Up, about to go live and discuss 'those cartoons'. As he watched a cue screen, two of the images appeared before his eyes.

Mr Khan hadn't seen the Danish cartoons and hadn't wanted to; there was no warning. He was, he recalls, "totally devastated". He felt ambushed. He thought about just walking away.

When the camera went live minutes later, Mr Khan's eyebrows were steeply sloped in a frown; friends and family could tell he was furious. But the soft voice gave nothing away.

"Quite honestly, that's the teaching of the prophet, peace be upon him," sighs Mr Khan, recalling the moment in his office five floors above Victoria St. "Even when he got upset, he would tell people in a nice manner."

Since 2003 Mr Khan, an approachable, softly-spoken man, has been president of the Federation of Islamic Associations of New Zealand, the umbrella body for seven regional Muslim organisations.

Throughout what he describes as a "stressful" week, Mr Khan was aware that he was being judged by Muslims and non-Muslims alike - and, by extension, Islam in New Zealand.

"I had to watch my mouth very carefully. Sometimes you get emotional but ... you take a step back and say: hey, look at things as a reasonable person. You are representing Muslims; you have that rationality to portray.

"The media have been very good to us, in general. I feel I owe it to the media to respond to their questions .... and through the media, inform the public".

Still, he didn't expect quite this level of exposure: live radio and TV, newspapers, meetings with ministers. He was also at the "relaxed and ground-breaking," Wellington reconciliation meeting between religious leaders and media heads.

Kiwi Muslims are moderates, he says, and although they are drawn from more than 40 different nationalities, tend to see themselves as part of a single body: injury to any part hurts them all.

That's why the suggestion of a demonstration against the cartoons drew more than 800 people to Queen St last Sunday. Mr Khan couldn't go but says he would have liked to.

Mr Khan is of Indo-Fijian stock: his grandparents migrated to Fiji from northern India in the early 1890s to work in the sugar cane fields; he grew up in Tavua, on Fiji's main island, Viti Levu, speaking Urdu and Hindi.

After quitting school, Mr Khan felt he owed his parents, and worked for a government department that helped locals set up co-operatives.

When a friend announced he was off to study law at Wellington's Victoria University, Javed, then 22, thought he would give it a go.

A former Fiji Crown prosecutor, Mr Khan has spent 20 years at New Zealand Post. He is "happy married" to Rahil, 50, with whom he has three children: Clarence, 32; Javed Junior, 24, and Razia, 22.

Looking back on the week, Mr Khan praises his bosses, including his direct manager Carey Oldfield and New Zealand Post chief executive John Allen, who offered the necessary time: "They really understood where I was coming from."

Mr Khan says we will eventually come to see the benefits of the cartoon debacle: many people will be prompted to learn more about Islam. "Every bad thing has something positive coming out of it."