From the beginning, our leaders sought to distance the majority of U.S. soldiers--all of America in fact--from the despicable acts of those few rogue GIs. In an interview with Arab-language television station Al-Arabiya, President Bush said, "First, I want to tell the people of the Middle East that the practices that took place in that prison are abhorrent, and they don't represent America." 

Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, speaking to the Senate Armed Services Committee in a May 7 hearing, said the abuse of Iraqi detainees "was inconsistent with the values of our nation. It was inconsistent with the teachings of the military. ... And it was certainly fundamentally un-American." 

Senator Elizabeth Dole (R-N.C.), a member of the committee, said: "The acts depicted in those photographs shown around the world do not in any way represent the values of the United States of America or our armed forces." 

Every American knows that the brutal and gruesome images are the antithesis of the definition of an American soldier. The honorable and brave men and women of the armed forces, who have made no small sacrifice in enlisting to serve their country, put their lives on the line every day to protect the freedoms we sometimes take for granted. 

Day in and day out, they do an outstanding job and deserve our admiration, honor and respect. No doubt, the abuse of Iraqi prisoners by some U.S. soldiers has stained and shamed every American the world over. 

Nevertheless, to judge every American by these is patently unfair and unjust. Those photos, although taken by an American and depicting brutality at the hands of Americans, are not America. Period. 

And here is where we Americans must pause and reflect. Just as it hurts to be painted by the world with the same broad brush of the brutality at Abu Ghraib, we should never do the same here at home. 

Take American Muslims. For as long as I can remember, American Muslims have had to contend with the unending association between Islam and terrorism. 

The terms "Muslim terrorist" and "Islamic terror," sadly, have become part and parcel of the American lexicon, especially in the media. With each report of a suicide bombing in Israel, with each attack on Americans by gleeful Iraqis yelling "Allahu Akbar" (God is Great), with each airing of the latest audiotape by Osama bin Laden threatening America and its citizens, that association becomes entrenched even further. 

American Muslims, just like their non-Muslim compatriots, think it unfair to be continually judged by the actions of a rogue minority. 

Both acts of association have led to adverse consequences. 

The shocking pictures of American abuse of Iraqis have damaged American credibility around the world. In fact, on May 7, Libyan Foreign Ministry spokesman Hassouna al-Shawish, in response to U.S. criticism of his country, retorted by saying, "America has no right to talk about human rights--or even animal rights." 

Every action of America to promote freedom and human rights around the world will now be viewed with the utmost suspicion and skepticism. Similarly, the association between Muslims and terrorism, coupled with the still-prevalent fear and misunderstanding of Islam, has led to an increase by almost 70 percent of anti-Muslim incidents in 2003. 

That figure comes from a recently released report by the Council on American-Islamic Relations, a prominent Washington, D.C.-based national Islamic advocacy group. In addition, hate crimes against Muslims have increased 121 percent, the highest number ever recorded. 

Yet we must not stop at the stereotyping of Muslims. 

The generalization of anyone is wrong, and it leads to division and disunity. I know this firsthand because of an experience I had soon after Sept. 11. 

Our mosque had an open house, and up rode two men in leather jackets on motorcycles. Everyone's eyes, including mine, were fixed on them in nervous suspicion. I took them on a tour of the mosque, always on edge, half expecting them to do something wrong. 

My fears turned out to be totally unfounded: They were among the nicest men I had ever met. The stereotypes I harbored about "men in leather jackets who ride motorcycles" put up an unnecessary barrier between them and me. 

Everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt, and the whole must never be judged by the sins of the few. 

Assuredly, these are some of the darkest days for the men and women of our military. It pains me deeply to look at or even read about the photos of the abused Iraqi prisoners, and I can only imagine the sadness, shame and pain our soldiers must be feeling right now. 

My heart, and the collective heart of our nation, goes out to them.