Charles Le Gai Eaton
Charles Le Gai Eaton (Hasan le Gai Eaton or Hassan Abdul Hakeem) (1 January 1921 – 26 February 2010) was born in Lausanne, Switzerland and raised as an agnostic by his parents. He received his education at Charterhouse and at King's College, Cambridge. He worked for many years as a teacher and journalist in Jamaica and Egypt. He then joined the British Diplomatic Service.
Eaton converted to Islam in 1951. He served as a consultant to the Islamic Cultural Centre in London. In 1996 he served on a committee that drafted the constitution of the Muslim Council of Britain
He was however often critical of mainstream British Muslim opinion, and felt that Muslims themselves should have sorted out Saddam Hussain. Regarding the invasion of Iraq, in an interview with emel magazine he said, "I am very torn either way and I cannot quite make up my mind what I think... He was our monster, it should have been for us to deal with him.” In the same article Eaton also called for the creation of a British Islamic identity, "it is time for the Muslims in Britain to settle down, to find their own way, to form a real community and to discover a specifically British way of living Islam... This is no curry-island.”
His books include Islam and the Destiny of Man (listed on Q News' list of "10 books to take to university"), King of the Castle, and Remembering God. Many converts to Islam in the United Kingdom have been inspired by his books, which are also expositions of Islam for Western readers, secular or believing. He also frequently contributed articles to the quarterly journal on comparative religion and traditional studies, Studies in Comparative Religion.
There is a short autobiography at Salaam Books[8]. His last book and autobiography A Bad Beginning and the Path to Islam was published by Archetype in January 2010. He is the father of Leo Eaton, a director and producer of documentary films.[10]
“Everything becomes a blur when you travel beyond a certain speed. Distant objects may still be clear in outline, but the blurred foreground makes it impossible to attend to them. This landscape is unreal and the passengers in the express train turn to their books, their thoughts or their private fantasies. The subjectivism of our age has a good deal to do with this imprisonment in a speeding vehicle, and the fact that we made this vehicle ourselves, with all the tireless care that children give to a contrivance of wood and wire, does not save us from the sense of being trapped without hope of escape. A further effect of such vertiginous speed is a kind of anaesthesia, entirely natural when the operation of the senses by which we normally make contact with our environment is suspended. With no opportunity to assimilate what is going on, our powers of assimilation are inevitably weakened and certain numbness sets in; nothing is fully savoured and nothing is properly understood. Even fear (which exists to forewarn us of danger) is suspended. This would be so even if speed of change were the only factor involved, but the kind of environment in which a large part of humanity lives today --- the environment created by technology at the service of immediate, short-term needs – does much to intensify this effect. Outside of works of art which embody something beyond our physical needs, our own constructions bore us. Those who, when they have built something and admired the finished product for a decent moment, are ready to pull it down and start on something new have good sense on their side.”