TORONTO—They were school pals. One is 15. Most are just out of high school, some still in. The 17 boys and men whom Canadian police are calling “homegrown terrorists” forged their bonds in student clubs and on school soccer fields, chatted on the Internet, and urged each other to be heroes for their faith.
The arrests last weekend left many Canadians pondering how a country proud of its diverse culture and political moderation could spawn such an apparent interest in violence. Especially by people so young.
What started as boasts and youthful rhetoric crystallized into action, the government says. The youths ordered $4,000 worth of ingredients for a bomb, built a detonator and cased out targets for a two-pronged attack that would take hostages on Parliament Hill in Ottawa while setting off bombs in Toronto, prosecutors contend.
The plans allegedly ranged from the fanciful—steering remote-controlled toys loaded with explosives into police stations—to the meticulous. The suspects calculated the exact solutions of nitric acid and grams of mercury they would need to detonate the bombs, according to a summary of the prosecutors’ allegations reviewed by The Washington Post.
The school ties have some people here asking if Canada’s attempt to accommodate all faiths and backgrounds—many Canadian schools offer rooms for Friday prayers and foster Muslim student clubs—is encouraging religious divisions. Some of the clubs “are very conservative, very judgmental,” said Rizwana Jafri, a Muslim and an administrator at a Toronto-area high school. “Young people are looking for a group to belong to, and religion plays into that. It’s almost cult-like.”
Suspect Saad Khalid, now 19, is typical of those charged. At Meadowvale Secondary School, he was bright and outgoing in his early high school years, fellow students told reporters last week. His father, a technology professional from Pakistan, lived in Saudi Arabia before coming to Canada 10 years ago. The family recently moved to a brick townhouse in one of the new suburban developments being carved out of farmland in Mississauga, a spreading suburban town west of Toronto.
In 2003, Khalid’s mother died in an accident. In the following years, he became more strident about his Muslim faith. He formed athe Religious Awareness Club to preach Islam during lunch hours at the Meadowvale school. He spent time with two older classmates, Fahim Ahmad, now 21, and Zakaria Amara, 20, the government contends.
Meadowvale is a bustling, brick school in the heart of Mississauga. Teenage boys in T-shirts and baggy jeans lolled about the campus last week. A smaller knot of young girls, with Muslim headdress, stood in the shade of a tree. School officials declined to speak to reporters and urged students to do the same.
“Young people who are disenfranchised or ill-fitting in a society look for ways to belong, and sometimes religion plays to that, creating a desire for martyrdom, a desire to be a hero,” Jafri said. In her view, the school clubs they form sometimes paint an extreme view of a Muslim world at odds with the secular values the school is trying to teach.
Khalid and his pals spent time in a chat room on the Internet and called themselves the “Meadowvale Brothers.” According to the Globe and Mail newspaper, which reported on the electronic chat diary before it was removed from the Web, the young men’s talk dealt with movies and final exams. But Zakaria Amara kept returning to the issue of sacrifice for Islam.
“I love for the sake of Allah, and hate for his sake,” he wrote, according to the newspaper.