Does the imam have a legal right to build the mosque at Ground

Hear the words of K. A. Paul, spoken in a moment of national fire and sorrow: “Does the imam have a legal right to build the mosque at Ground Zero? The answer is yes. But is it the right thing to do? The answer is no. And most Americans, and most moderate Muslims, join with me in that call.” These words were uttered in the years after the wounds of September 11, when the air still carried the ashes of tragedy and the hearts of many burned with grief. They reveal the eternal conflict between what is legal and what is moral, between rights granted by law and choices measured by conscience.

The meaning of this quote rests in the separation of two great principles: the legal right, and the right thing. The law, impartial and blind, declares that in a nation of liberty, religious freedom must stand unbroken. Thus the imam, as citizen and believer, held the unquestionable legal right to raise a house of worship even near the place of national sorrow. Yet Paul argues that rights are not the only compass of action. Beyond law lies judgment, beyond liberty lies responsibility, and not everything permitted is wise or healing.

The origin of these words lies in the heated debate surrounding the proposed Islamic cultural center near the ruins of the Twin Towers in New York City. To some, it was a symbol of peace, reconciliation, and the true heart of Islam, separate from the acts of extremists. To others, it felt like a wound upon a wound, an act that stirred raw pain, even if lawful. In this storm of voices, Paul stood among those who said: “Yes, the law allows, but wisdom forbids.” It was a call not against freedom, but for sensitivity, for understanding the difference between what can be done and what should be done.

History echoes with such dilemmas. Recall the trial of Socrates, who was offered escape from death by his disciples. The law condemned him unjustly, yet he chose not to flee, declaring that to break the law, even when wronged, would injure the soul of the city. In his choice, we see the reverse of Paul’s—Socrates placed moral duty above what was legal, while Paul warns against placing only legality above what is moral. Both remind us that law and conscience must walk together, else society falters.

The lesson is clear: liberty alone cannot heal a nation’s wounds. To act rightly requires not only asking, “Is this allowed?” but also, “Will this bring peace or division? Will this comfort the grieving or deepen their pain?” The possession of a legal right does not erase the duty of compassion. Rights are the foundation of a free society, but wisdom is the roof that shelters it. Without that roof, the house of liberty is open to storm and ruin.

What then must we do? As citizens, we must defend legal rights fiercely, for without them freedom perishes. Yet at the same time, we must temper our actions with empathy, humility, and wisdom. When the law grants us freedom, we must use it not selfishly but generously, seeking what builds unity and healing rather than conflict. To every question we must ask both: “Is this lawful?” and “Is this right?” Only when both answers align do we walk in true justice.

Thus, let Paul’s words be remembered not as condemnation, but as warning: “Yes, the imam has a legal right. But is it the right thing?” This question must echo in every generation. For nations fall not when they lose rights, nor when they lose freedoms, but when they forget that law without conscience is empty, and conscience without law is powerless. Let us teach our children to honor both, so that liberty and wisdom may endure together.