Over one hundred Muslims were killed today, most of them barely out of their teens. They died in droves, attacking heavily armed soldiers who knew they were coming. They died in a hail of bullets, their meager arms woefully inadequate in the face of the assault rifles they faced. Thirty died in a mosque, where they had sought refuge when their attack failed.

Where was this bloodbath perpetrated?

It was in a little place to the south of Thailand, called Pattani. And here begins the problem.

Awareness of the greater Muslim Ummah, or nation, is not one of most Muslims’ strong points. This is more particularly felt in the Arab world. For example, with the breakup of the Soviet Union, many were surprised to learn that that doomed state had ruled with an iron fist over the lives of many millions of Muslims, and that they had suffered miserably under communist rule.

Even now, countless barriers exist that hamper our awareness of our brethren around the world. Language barriers. Government-dominated media, hostile to Islamic trends. The “war on terror,” that brands any Islamic movement that fights for self-determination or freedom as terrorist.

Pattani. Once a Muslim kingdom, it was brought under the yoke of British colonialism and then Siamese domination in the early twentieth century. Where once a Muslim civilization thrived and prospered, the Thai now rule the Muslim Malay provinces of Satun, Songkhla, Yala, Patani and Narathiwat, collectively referred to as “Greater Patani.”

Force-fed the culture of its Thai rulers, strangled economically, subjected to arbitrary and brutal security policies, Muslim resentment erupted in the 1980s into a guerrilla war against the Thai government in a campaign that gradually wound down and faded.

Until now.

Increasing raids by government forces, the theft of explosives, increased harassment of Muslims, and a renewed campaign of violence against Thai soldiers and government targets suggest that Pattani is set to erupt.

But what we as Muslims must ask is what drove those young Muslim men to throw their lives away, to launch an almost certainly suicidal attack, armed as they were with only machetes and a handful of guns, an attack that left them lying in pools of blood on the streets for cameramen to photograph. And in asking such a question, we are confronted with the specter of our own ignorance.

Unlike in Palestine and Chechnya, the answer is not readily available to us. There is a dearth of material on Greater Pattani, and even less good Islamic literature on the subject. But we know the two basic facts that should motivate all responsible Muslims to dedicate some time to familiarizing themselves with the struggle of our brothers in Pattani: We know that there was once a Muslim country there, and we know that the remnants of that nation are now persecuted by occupiers.

Many will ask how we can help Pattani. Doubtless, we as Muslims are obliged to support them in any way possible, and doubtless many will search for venues to do so. But crucially, we must first learn of them, to learn how to help them. Too long have many of us been ignorant of Pattani, of Chechnya, of Aceh, of Kashmir, of Uzbekistan, of countless Muslims who suffer under the occupation or the brutality of secular dictators.