Introduction
The Islamic Quest for Democracy, Pluralism, and Human Rights deals with
the substantive basic doctrines of government and politics that were
developed
during the history of classical and medieval Islam. It aims to elaborate
and develop those basic doctrines that are not contradictory to, and include
the seeds of, modern liberal Western democracy, pluralism, and human rights,
although they have followed in the Islamic world different historical paths.
These doctrines include the notions of political contract and consensus;
tolerance of differences, pluralism, and opposition; and human rights and
rights of minorities.
This book is a sequel to my earlier Moderate and Radical Islamic Fundamentalism:
The Quest for Modernity, Legitimacy, and the Islamic State, also published
by the University Press of Florida. There I showed the diversified and
multiple
discourses of Islamic fundamentalism, or Islamism, which range from advocating
complete radical totalitarianism to inclusive pluralistic ideologies. Here
I aim to highlight—and, when necessary, to construct—the important
ideological and religious arguments on democracy, pluralism, and human rights
that have been under development in modern Islamic political discourses.
This study is not historical and does not attempt to account for all historical
periods, or even one. However, it extensively uses historically developed religious
and political formations, especially those of the period of the governments
of the Prophet and the rightly guided caliphate. This period is seen as formative
and constitutive in the making of Islamic thought because of its distinctive
religious and political impact on the minds of Muslims. All Muslim thinkers,
philosophers, jurists, ideologists, and historians refer to it to justify one
ideology and understanding or another. Because of the importance of that period
in validating any Islamic notion or system or, more important, in making a
notion
or system Islamic, this study also uses examples from different historical
periods under, for example, the Umayyads, the 'Abbasids, and the Fatimids to
pinpoint
and show how some basic changes and reinterpretations have overtaken many main
Islamic doctrines of government and politics. These dynasties represent moments
of historical practices and interpretations that moved closer to or further
from the original ideals developed from the first model of the Prophet and
the rightly
guided caliphate. The book aims at providing the historical and ideological
formations that made the period of the governments of the Prophet and the rightly
guided
caliphate the model that almost all Muslims refer to in order to sanction their
ideological and political models.
First, I will show how basic views on major political doctrines relating to
shura, ikhtilaf, human rights, and minorities originally developed and will
shed light
on the negative and positive changes effected on their perception under the
Umayyads, the 'Abbasids, and the Fatimids. Second, the Islamic system of government
will
be theoretically explained in the light of the major doctrines to be discussed
in the first part of each chapter: shura (consultation) and democracy, along
with bay'a (the oath of allegiance), ikhtiyar (choice), and ijma' (consensus)
in chapter 1; ikhtilaf (difference) and pluralism in philosophy, theology,
and jurisprudence as well as the ideological and religious justifications for
opposition
and revolution in chapter 2; and the Islamic categories and philosophy of legal
rights along with general and public rights that include those of minorities
or, traditionally, ahl al-dhimma, women, and family in chapter 3.
Further, this study introduces the framework and points of reference that modern
Islamic thinkers and movements use to justify the adoption of democracy, pluralism,
and human rights into the main body of modern Islamic thought. It is the argument
of this book that the notions of democracy, pluralism, and human rights are
not only in harmony with Islamic thought, but their seeds are embedded in many
notions
of government and politics found in Islamic religious thought. Building upon
classical and medieval thought, the book will show that Islamic philosophy,
jurisprudence, and theology are very rich with comparable notions that postulate
and protect
individual and communal rights, that legitimize political, social, economic,
intellectual, and religious differences, and that view the people as the source
of ultimate political sovereignty on earth.
The discussion of democracy, pluralism, and human rights is undertaken in the
spirit of the Enlightenment as well as of classical liberalism as advocated
in writings like John Locke’s Two Treatises on Government, Jean Jacques Rousseau’s
The Social Contract, Alexis de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America, and
John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty. While moderate Islamism indirectly employs
its most important doctrines to reinterpret Islam, the Enlightenment grounded
its doctrines in natural reason, whereas Islamism ultimately grounds these
doctrines in a novel interpretation of the fundamental Islamic texts, the Qur'an
and the
Sunna. Thus the moderate Islamists adapt and adopt into Islam such Enlightenment
principles as the distinction between state and society; the need for civil
government; the necessity of a social contract that can be dissolved; the centrality
of civil
society, the general will, political representation, and a body of standing
law or a constitution; the importance of limiting political power, rejecting
arbitrary
power, and the right of opposition to governments; the significant value of
equality, liberty, and individual rights; and the inviolability of property.
By linking classical and medieval Islamic thought with present political and
religious debates, this book argues that modern Islamic thought in general,
and today’s moderate Islamism in particular, has absorbed and “Islamized” the
notions of democracy, pluralism, and human rights. At the religious and ideological
level, Islamicly developed doctrines on democracy, pluralism, and human rights
constitute a theology of liberation and an epistemological break with the past.
At the political level, they widen the individual, social, political, and philosophical
space in the Arab world. At the international level, they provide the Arab
world with common ground with the West. At the cultural level, they serve as
a general
context and a political language of dialogue between different civilizations,
religions, and political orders.
The basic argument of this book is thus both simple and grand. While the history
of the highest Islamic political institution, the caliphate, is mostly a history
of authoritarian governments, the economic, social, political, and intellectual
history of Islam abounds with liberal doctrines and institutions. In classical
and medieval Islamic political thought, there are comparable doctrines of equality,
freedom, and justice, older and much more universal than those subsequently
developed by traditional Islamic thought.
Because the book is planned for maximum topical usage, it is structured so
that the relevant notions of classical and medieval Islamic government and
politics
are developed and analyzed in the first part of each chapter. Chapter 1, “The
Classical and Medieval Dialectics of Shura and Its Modern Islamist Constructions
As Democracy,” examines the doctrines of shura based on the choice (ikhtiyar)
of the people, the contract between the ruler and the ruled based on an oath
of allegiance (bay'a), and consensus (ijma') of the community, and shows that
these are the theoretical methods that should govern in political rule. Chapter
2, “The Classical and Medieval Interpretations of Ikhtilaf and Its Modern
Islamist Expressions As Pluralism,” shows that Islamic thought was historically
and theoretically based on the notion of tolerating differences (ikhtilaf), manifested
in the adoption and tolerance of pluralistic exegeses, philosophies, theologies,
jurisprudence, politics, and public opinions. Yet on a higher level, political
opposition and revolution had theoretical and religious justifications that center
on numerous religious and political doctrines. Chapter 3, “The Classical
and Medieval Roots of al-Huquq al-Shar'iyya and Its Modern Islamist Conceptions
As Human Rights,” shows the categories and philosophy of Islamic human
rights, which include general and public rights as well as the rights of women,
families, and minorities (ahl al-dhimma).
The second part of each chapter shows how Islamists developed the topics discussed
in the first part to become the substantive theoretical foundations of modern
democracy, pluralism, and human rights. The moderate and pluralist discourses
of modern Islamic movements and theoreticians are first structured and then
compared and contrasted with the discourses of radical and rejectionist movements
and
theoreticians. Here I have selectively borrowed from my previous book, greatly
developing some of the arguments and then grounding them in classical, medieval,
and modern Islamic political thought, something that has not been done in any
Islamic discipline of knowledge.
What emerges from this study is a tentative classical and medieval development,
and a preliminary theoretical taxonomy, of modern Islamism on the very important
topics of democracy, pluralism, and human rights as well as relationships
with other religions, specifically Judaism and Christianity. The concluding
chapter
provides a theoretical assessment of the prospects of the ongoing Islamic
dialectics on democracy, pluralism, and human rights.
Views on Islam in the Modern World
In recent times, modernist Islamic thinkers and, now, moderate Islamist
thinkers are making medieval doctrines comparable to modern Western notions
of democracy,
pluralism, and human rights. This assumption about comparability is neither
defensive nor apologetic. I show that Islamic thought has long viewed itself
as more equitable,
less racial, and more humane than Western political thought. Equality, freedom,
and justice, for example, are cardinal Islamic doctrines, which throughout
history have received various formulations and suffered various abuses. The
different
chapters of this book show the development, the uses and abuses, the perfection
and imperfection of these and similar doctrines, stretching from the Prophet
Muhammad’s era to modern times. While most political studies by Islamic
scholars have focused their consideration on the rise and fall of Islamic dynasties
and on the historical developments of “traditional” Islamic law (shari'a)
in order to construct possible Islamic views on democracy, pluralism, and human
rights, they miss the fact that neither the study of dynasties nor the authentication
of “traditional” shari'a is more formative to Muslims than the ideological
developments brought about by opposition movements or reformist attitudes. A “view
from the edge,” and not only from the traditional centers of power,
is necessary in order to comprehend the true nature of the Islamic system
of government
and the doctrines of democracy, pluralism, and human rights. While Richard
Bulliet argues correctly that “the story of Islam has always privileged the view
from the center,” I show that such a view is mostly a political construct
and, consequently, can be politically deconstructed. I also show that other
constructs that were more liberal have been disregarded either under pressure
from governments,
for political expediency, or in preference for the official discourses of
religious and political institutions.
Ann Mayer, for example, argues in her Islam and Human Rights: Traditions
and Politics that the different conservative interpretations of Islam that
developed
during the Middle Ages and are enshrined in authoritative books of jurisprudence
are responsible for Muslims’ dealings with human rights issues. While
she is emphatic in not attributing repression to Islam and recognizes the
multiplicity of ideas and trends within the Islamic world, she feels that
Islam has not
specified
a proper scheme of human rights from an international viewpoint. However,
had she looked at the original texts of the Qur'an and the Prophetic Traditions
(Sunna) as well as the early experience of Muslims, she could have developed
a scheme
of rights and could have found, even in medieval Islamic literature, schemes
of rights, though they might not be exactly what she would like to label
schemes
of human rights.
Mayer builds her analysis on her belief in “the normative character of
the human rights principles set forth in international law and in their universality.” She
has no hesitation in looking on these rights as universally valid. Other
observers have seen that diverse cultures produce diverse rights, and that
the nonconformity
of a particular culture to Western models of rights does not necessarily
preclude the existence of different schemes of rights. However, because Mayer
looks
in a nonhistorical manner at the international schemes of human rights, which
were
developed within the context of Western conflicts, she feels able to position
them in an absolute manner.5 She could have been more helpful had she looked
at the categories of rights rather than specific rights. For instance, when
dealing with the right of belief and while acknowledging that Islam provides
that right,
she nonetheless insists on the Western origin of that right. She rejects
any allusion to any historical Islamic influence, though hundreds of books
are
today published in the West on the diverse impacts of Islam on Western civilization.
Thus, one of my objectives in writing this book is to show how certain doctrines
have come into existence or have gone into suspension—or, to put it differently,
how we can understand or read them in their respective contexts. For instance,
the Islamic right of belief cannot be treated like the Western in all of its
aspects. The main Islamic texts, the Qur'an and the Sunna, assert the people’s
freedom of belief. However, apostasy is distinguished from freedom of (un)belief,
since it also implies treason against an Islamic state. The Prophet himself
treated the hypocrites as Muslims insofar as they did not work against the
state, while
the first caliph treated a group of Muslims who refused to pay their financial
dues as apostates and fought them. Thus, unbelief and apostasy are treated
differently in an Islamic context where an Islamic state exists. However,
in later periods,
the two merged, giving rise to current confusion about the meaning of each
doctrine.
This is why I attempt to make sharp distinctions between Islam as a divine
belief system and the Islamic state as a humanly developed political system.
Such a
distinction between the human and the divine opens unlimited possibilities
of interpretation and reinterpretation as well as deconstruction and construction.
As a belief system, Islam should be compared to other religions, but not
to modern
Western states. The rise and fall of Islamic states should be historically
compared to the rise and fall of Western states. Thus a specific Islamic
law like that
of apostasy should first be treated in the context of an Islamic state and
then be compared to treason in Western states. This is not to deny that many
Islamic
states and societies have historically misused what Muslims consider even
to be Qur'anic duties—the complete individuality of women, the rights
of minorities, and similar issues that will be treated later.
Again, while Mayer acknowledges the existence of Islamic support for democratization
and human rights, she does not review adequately the current Islamist literature
of mainstream Islamist movements. Instead she adverts to state Islamization
programs in Iran, Pakistan, and Sudan—which are controversial to Muslims and even
to Islamists—in order to compare them with international human rights.
Because she considers such state programs to be a “middle-ground position,” she
becomes pessimistic about the future of human rights schemes in the Islamic world
and reflexively defensive of the record of Western states. She treats most critiques
of the West as obstacles to any comparison. For instance, many scholars and politicians
regard Western critiques of human rights in the Middle East as tainted by Western
hypocrisy and double standards, given the West’s history of colonialism,
genocide, racism, and sexism. However, Mayer dismisses this argument as rhetoric
employed by regimes like Iran to maintain their grip over their societies.
It is true that violations by Western regimes of their own philosophies do
not negate the validity of human rights in principle; still, such violations
deprive
those regimes and their institutions of the right to judge the moral standing
of other, non-Western regimes. The West reacted to modern Western moral and
political problems by developing its philosophy of “universal” human rights
against the background of Western genocide and world wars, not against the background
of the West’s relations with the colonized world. More important, it
is not only the regimes but also the peoples of the Middle East, both Christians
and Muslims, that accuse the West of double standards. While most Middle
Eastern regimes misuse this feeling and oppress their people, Western hypocrisy
is
nonetheless
a glaring fact for people who have just seen what happened to the Bosnians
in Europe and the Palestinians in the Middle East.
On yet another level, modern Islamist political thought postulates human
rights, pluralism, and democracy as religious rights and, consequently, views
their
normative character as categorical. However, modern Islamic understanding
of democracy,
pluralism, and human rights depends on the possibility of modern interpretations
of the sources of religion and major extensions of the meanings of some basic
doctrines. These include consultation (shura), consensus (ijma'), difference
(ikhtilaf), minorities (ahl al-dhimma), enjoining the good and forbidding
evil (hisba), and similar doctrines that are elaborated later. However, one
finds
that some scholars and thinkers attempt to show that the historical shari'a
is not capable of coping with doctrines like human rights, pluralism, and
democracy.
For instance, Abullahi An-Na'im argues in his Toward an Islamic Reformation:
Civil Liberties, Human Rights, and International Law that it is not possible
to expand the meaning of the historical shari'a’s major doctrines like
shura and ijma' to modernize major concepts like freedom and equality. Instead
he opts for a minor concept, abrogation (al-naskh) of certain verses of the Qur'an,
and transforms it into a methodology of change. While he gives himself the right
to abrogate and reactivate Qur'anic verses as needed to accompany modernity,
he denies to other Muslims, whether traditionalists, modernists, or Islamists,
the right to expand the already existing major methodology of change, whether
interpretation, reasoning (ijtihad), shura, or ijma'. He justifies that on the
grounds that the historical shari'a is not capable of change.6 In fact, as will
be shown in chapter 1, the historical shari'a, the compendium of medieval Islamic
literature, is capable of development if the Islamic centers of learning so decide.
At times, they did, as was the case under the grand mufti of Egypt Muhammad 'Abdu
(1849–1905) and, later, Shaykh al-Azhar Mahmud Shaltut (1893–1963).
When Shaykh Shaltut, for instance, deals with the status of women as regards
female testimony, he argues that the socioeconomic conditions of earlier
Islam made two female witnesses equivalent to one male witness because women
were
not accustomed to financial transactions. However, women are now routinely
involved
in such transactions and their testimony should be equal to that of men.
Thus, he rejects the argument based on female emotional volatility or male
superior
intellect. Again, Shaltut equates the rights and duties of minorities with
those of the majority and maintains that the testimony of non-Muslims is
valid in a
shari'a court.8 The point of this discussion is that if the authoritative
and traditional centers of Islamic learning wish to effect modern changes
in “traditional” and
long-standing doctrines, they have the means and the shari'a provides the
flexibility to do so. The traditional shari'a in itself is capable of internal
modern development.
But so far this development has not occurred.
Another example of the possibility of change from within the traditional
centers of learning is the thought of Ayatollah Muhammad Mahdi Shams al-Din.
Through
a revisionist view of the role of the Islamic government, he brings into
Shi'ite thought, in opposition to Ayatollah al-Khumayni’s rule of the
jurist, the necessity of democratic rule. Shams al-Din, the head of the Supreme
Shi'ite Council
in Lebanon, argues that the government’s legitimacy is not derived
from a Qur'anic text but depends on human interactions. There is no divine
rule
or representation on earth today. Reason calls on people to set up a political
rule.
Legislation is made to organize human interactions and socialization, and
the state should be a natural outcome of society. Therefore, a Muslim society
produces
an Islamic state, and not vice versa. However, the nation as a whole is addressed
in the Qur'an, and the basis of an Islamic government should be shura rather
than the rule of the jurist. Thus, as opposed to the historical apathy of
the Shi'ites toward governments and political involvement or the current
dependence
of the individual on the imam, Shams al-Din views the rule of the nation
over itself as the appropriate modern Islamic doctrine of government. In
shura the
nation unifies its decisions and outlooks.
Here I do not, then, aim to provide a defense of or apologia for Islamic
political thought, for I recognize the negative aspects of classical, medieval,
and modern
Islamic political thought. I do attempt to show that Islamic political thought
has initiated and developed throughout the ages doctrines compatible with
Western doctrines of human rights, pluralism, and democracy. Their uses or
abuses,
while related to intellectual and philosophical understanding, are also tightly
webbed
into various socioeconomic and political contexts. Their proper application
today not only requires their intellectual development, which is moving nowadays
at
a great speed especially by moderate Islamism, but requires, above all, liberal
socioeconomic contexts that are mostly lacking in the Islamic world.
In contrast to Johannes Jansen’s The Dual Nature of Islamic Fundamentalism,
which first misleads the reader on modern Islamic thought and then obliterates
differences between fundamentalism and reformism, I aim to clarify the differences.
Jansen willfully associates both trends with violence and tries to prove the
common platitude “Islamic fundamentalism is both politics and religion.”10
He assumes that—for Muslims alone—politics cannot exist without violence.
Hence, “Islamic fundamentalism fuses politics, religion, and violence.”11
Jansen attempts to show that violence does not arise solely from the contemporary
contexts of Islamic movements but has roots that go back to reformers like Jamal
al-Din al-Afghani (1838–1897), Muhammad 'Abdu (1849–1905), and Muhammad
Rashid Rida (1865–1935) and further back to Ibn Taymiyya—that
is, to the essence of Islam.
More important, Jansen’s logic is reductionist. For instance, he argues
that “power in the perception of Islamic fundamentalism is not something
that can be divided or shared with other groups, persons, or institutions.”12
He can make this argument only because his portrayal of fundamentalist views
on political participation and government as well as political life is based
on a few radical ideologists, who are condemned by the majority of the fundamentalists,
and on a twisting of the writings of major fundamentalists like Hasan al-Banna.
One might ask, is the Muslim Brotherhood’s demand for “an Islamic
form of the nation-state” a call for not sharing power—or, as Jansen
puts it, indivisibility of power?13 What then of the Muslim Brotherhood’s
long history, in Egypt and elsewhere, of attempts to share power by participating
in elections? Examples of excluding the fundamentalists from participating
and of their attempts to be included in political life abound in Egypt, Tunisia,
Libya, Algeria, and Turkey.
Another reductionist point in Jansen’s logic is his claim that to understand
fundamentalism we need “a theologian’s outlook” and that Islamic
fundamentalism “even wants to enforce the advent of the Kingdom of God
itself. In such a Kingdom the literal truth of the revealed book will be a minor
self-evident detail.” Thus, Islamic fundamentalism is “the creation
of an Islamic religious imagination.” My argument goes squarely against
his. While it is true that fundamentalism aims at establishing the Islamic state,
to identify the Islamic state with the Kingdom of God is the result of the author’s
confusion of Islam with Judaism or Christianity. Islam started as a polity, and
Muslims, including the Prophet, never thought that they were setting up God’s
kingdom on earth. Muslims’ belief in the afterlife—including heaven
and hell—made them view this world as transitional and ephemeral, not
a permanent abode. Also, while imagination is involved in all forms and types
of
thinking, the harsh contexts and realities that Muslims have found themselves
thrust into, whether because of colonialism, imperialism, or the modern nation-states,
have had a major impact on the politicization of religious thought.
Jansen does not stop at imposing the doctrine of God’s Kingdom. He also,
and more dangerously, imputes to all Muslims another unheard-of belief: according
to him, Islamic fundamentalism “classifies individuals as human or subhuman
as Islam does.” Now, we all know that, like most other religions,
Islam classifies people as believers or nonbelievers and saved or condemned—but
never as human or subhuman. As an example of this classification, Jansen mentions
the recent history of Algeria and Egypt—but never mentions the colonialist,
imperialist, and Israeli human and subhuman treatment of the Third World’s
peoples. As another example, Jansen characterizes the command to “enjoin
the good and forbid evil” as an Islamic justification to use violence—a
conclusion he reaches by twisting Fahmi al-Huwaidi’s views on the subject.
I argue in this book that, while a few radical groups and thinkers use the
command to justify violence, Jansen has no idea that major fundamentalist
theoreticians like Hasan al-Turabi, Rashid al-Ghannushi, Hasan al-Banna,
and even al-Huwaidi
himself use the command to justify political participation, elections, pluralism,
public opinion, and even democracy.
Nor is the fact-twisting restricted to contemporary issues. Jansen argues
that the history of Islamic fundamentalism started in the nineteenth century
with
Jamal al-Din al-Afghani. Against all accumulated and well-documented and
-researched studies—or even a simple analytical reading—Jansen makes al-Afghani,
Muhammad 'Abdu, and Muhammad Rashid Rida “the founding fathers of Islamic
fundamentalism.” He denies the possibility that these thinkers were reformist,
modernist, or liberal. Jansen’s rejection of the existence of a modernizing
liberal trend in Islam is due to his intellectual poverty, for instance,
in defining and distinguishing between fundamentalism, modernism, and reformism,
or in confusing
the shari'a with hudud (deterrents). Deterrents are only a small fraction
of
the shari'a, which is a way of life that covers all aspects of life. Fundamentalism
is the outcome of believing that Islam should be not only the center of politics
but also the means for developing philosophy, morality, ethics, sciences,
and technology. This is why I argue that the fundamentalists try to Islamize
all
aspects of Western civilization in order to bring them into conformity with
Islamic texts. For fundamentalism, the Qur'anic text is the highest authority
of interpretation,
understanding, and action.
I show below that the modernists, including al-Afghani and 'Abdu, tried to
interpret the text in terms of Western science, rationality, and modernity.
In fact, they
subjected long-standing Islamic traditions and texts to the discoveries of
Western science. Thus, for instance, shura became equivalent to constitutional
rule.
They reinterpreted Islam to suit the modern age—at least, from their
perspective. They made science the highest authority of interpretation, understanding,
and
action; they made Islam a force for civilization and morality. However, Jansen
seems to suggest that to be reformist, modernist, or liberal amounts to rejecting
Islam and its political understanding.
Here I briefly analyze comparatively the general political principles that
have been developed by both Islamism and Islamic modernism, in order to provide
the
general background on political and intellectual issues and Muslims’ interests
during the last two centuries. I outline the various political views that
help in understanding the newly developed Islamic discourses on democracy,
pluralism,
and human rights.
The latter part of the nineteenth century and the first half of the twentieth
century witnessed the birth of two intellectual and political responses aimed
at reforming both the Ottoman Empire and the Qajjar Empire. The first response,
liberal and secular, called for an epistemological and political break with
the Islamic past and a rejection of all forms of sultanic rule as well as
the wholesale
adoption of Westernization. Thinkers like 'Abbas Mahmud al-'Aqqad, Taha Husayn,
Muhammad Husayn Haykal, and Lutfi al-Zayyat represented that response. The
second response, Islamic modernism, called for the absorption of Western
civilization into the Islamic heritage. Some reformers like al-Afghani called
for revolutions,
others like Rida called for establishment of a constitutional state, yet
others like 'Abdu believed that the necessary prelude to political reform
was the
reformation
of educational systems and social institutions.
World War II constituted a turning point in the history of the imperial powers
that sought domination of worldwide markets and cheap raw materials. Oppression
by the imperial powers led to nationalist and socialist tendencies that weakened
the liberal Islamic response and strengthened the secular but authoritarian
response. Egypt, which was under the British mandate, is a good example to
use here because
of its political and intellectual influence all over the Arab world. During
that period, Egyptians were focusing on liberating their country from British
colonialism
and were advocating democracy, both secular and religious. However, the rise
of Arab nationalism under Jamal 'Abd al-Nasir brought about secular and socialist
authoritarian nationalism. The secular response was adopted but democracy
was rejected.16 And while 'Abd al-Nasir accepted Islam as one of the three
pillars
of Egyptian foreign policy, in reality it did not amount to more than rhetoric.
In this fashion, both the secular democratic response and the modernist Islamic
response were aborted.
In recent decades, numerous movements that call for a return to the fundamentals
of religion have flourished throughout the Muslim world. They pushed further
for and developed a new Islamic response. Leaders of such movements believe
that a modern development of Islamic spirituality, morality, and politics
will definitely
condemn moral corruption, glorify idealism, and lead to true representative
governments. Such a development will mobilize Muslims to establish a modern
Islamic civilization
that reconstructs Muslim identity and consolidates Islamic power.
The genesis of Islamism, as of any other intellectual and political product,
must be sought within a complex web of educational, political, economic,
and intellectual crises and reactions. The mixing of the religious and the
political
is not new and was upheld even by the Seceders (al-Khawarij) at the beginning
of Islam in the seventh century. They were the first to postulate the doctrine
of divine rule or hukm and the ultimate authority of the Qur'an as the sole
point of reference for Muslims. They denied as well the legitimacy of human
judgment
unless supported by religious texts. Because of this, they did not submit
to the community, but instead removed themselves from social life and fought
those
who did not adhere to Qur'anic textual rulings. Moreover, they thought they
had acquired the right to judge others’ beliefs and behaviors, since
every human action had a religious connotation. Such a view made them rigid
in both
principles and actions, so the general Muslim public viewed them as renegades
to be fought.
In the eighteenth century, the Wahabiyya movement, following the well-known
medieval thinker Ibn Taymiyya, called for the purification of Islam by a
return to the
fundamentals of religion, the Qur'an and the Sunna. It followed a strict
line of thinking in its attempts to reconstruct society and government on
the basis
of divine oneness (tawhid) and the doctrine of good ancestors (al-salaf al-salih).
However, the significance of the ancestors is their reluctance to engage
in philosophical or intellectual argumentation and their adherence to the
basic
texts without
any major attempt at reinterpreting or reworking the principles of Islam.
They focused more on the spiritual and ethical aspects of Islam, while leaving
political
matters to politicians and traditional elites. Other important movements
in modern times are al-Sanusiyya and al-Mahdiyya, which started basically
as Sufi
orders
but were later transformed into political movements that struggled against
Western intervention in Libya and the Sudan, respectively. The two movements
were puritan,
aiming at the restoration of genuine Islam through political activities.
Again, fundamentals were entertained as the road to the Islamic community’s
salvation.
At a higher and more substantive level, Jamal al-Din al-Afghani has had a
massive influence in drawing the modern political agenda that is still more
or less
the backbone of intellectual and political reform. He was ready to think
over and
adopt into Islamic thought any new intellectual, political, or scientific
knowledge that might trigger the advancement of the Islamic people. On the
political
level, he was ready to adopt those institutions and systems that could serve
the Islamic
world and save it from its crises. His follower and colleague Muhammad 'Abdu
and Rashid Rida, the inspirer of Hasan al-Banna (1906–1949), adopted different
aspects of al-Afghani’s intellectual and political thought. While 'Abdu
tended more toward the modernist European aspect of al-Afghani’s thought,
Rida picked up the necessity of returning to the fundamentals of religion.
Rida wanted to induce an intellectual revival and to develop new Islamic
institutions for the establishment of an Islamic state, thus facilitating
the renaissance
of the umma (community) and guaranteeing the ethical foundations of society.
Muhammad Iqbal (1875–1938), the modernist, and Abu al-A'la al-Mawdudi (1903–1979),
the Islamist, manifested similar differences. Both tried to reargue Islamic
traditions dealing with knowledge and politics through attempts to reconceptualize
ijtihad.
But al-Mawdudi, the founder of al-Jama'a al-Islamiyya in Pakistan, was puritanical
in his call for the reestablishment of Islam. He aimed at setting the Islamic
state on purified Islamic roots and focused his efforts on establishing such
a state, which would shoulder the implementation of Islam as both a comprehensive
way of life and a complete system. Iqbal, on the other hand, showed liberal
tendencies in reworking the Islamic traditions within Western modernity in
order to renew
Islamic systems of knowledge and politics. In his view an Islamic state was
of only secondary importance when measured against the fundamental intellectual
task that Muslims must first confront. The development of just and modern
ideologies must precede just and modern politics.
Very much along al-Mawdudi’s line of thinking, the Egyptian Muslim Brothers,
also greatly affected by Rida and al-Afghani, centered their thought and actions
on the political aspect of Islam to promote a modern renaissance. Thus, the Brotherhood
urgently advocated the importance of establishing an Islamic state as the first
step in implementing the shari'a. While focusing its intellectual reinterpretation
on returning to Islamic fundamentals, the Brotherhood selectively filtered into
modern Islamic thought a few major Western political doctrines like constitutional
rule and democracy. These doctrines were seen as necessary tools for modernizing
the Islamic concept of the state. Meanwhile, the Brotherhood’s antagonistic
dealings with the Egyptian government led some of its members to splinter off
under the leadership of Sayyid Qutb. Qutb continued to uphold the need for establishing
an Islamic state while rejecting any dealings or intellectual openness with the
West. For him, the Islamic state was not a tool but a fundamental principle of
creed. It signaled the community’s submission to God on the basis of the
shari'a and represented political and ideological obedience to God. Without such
submission and obedience, he held, any constitution is illegitimate, and the
state loses any shred of legitimacy and enters into paganism, or jahiliyya. Ayatollah
al-Khumayni limited further the confines of a legitimate Islamic government:
While the shari'a theoretically legitimizes a government, only the rule of the
jurist actualizes its legitimacy. Within the Islamic world today, the demands
of the mainstream Islamist movements in Algeria, Tunisia, Jordan, and Egypt are
derived from al-Banna’s discourse on the Islamic state, constitutional
rule, and multiparty politics; radical Sunni movements follow the discourse
of Sayyid Qutb, while Shi'ite political movements follow that of al-Khumayni.
The Islamists employ the doctrine of tawhid as the thread that stitches together
all disciplines of knowledge and walks of life. Without this doctrine the
pursuit of politics, economics, ethics, theology, and all other aspects of
life is
defective. God, as the fountain of every material and spiritual thing, is
the ultimate authority
and requires people’s theoretical, theological, economic, and political
submission. Complete submission is due only to God. Most Islamists thereby
go beyond the traditional theological submission as understood in the classical,
medieval, and modern history of Islam. They imbue tawhid with ultimate political
and social significance. This subordinating of political life to the highest
level of religious legitimacy has led many Islamists to equate, first, religiosity
with proper political behavior and, second, the Islamic state with political
legitimacy.
It should be noted, however, that denying the legitimacy of modernist and
secularist endeavors does not turn Islamist thought into traditional thinking.
In reality,
the Islamists level their attacks on traditional religious and political
establishments and ways of conducting religious and political affairs. For
instance, Qutb
argued that traditional religious scholars ('ulama') do not understand the
true spirit
of Islam. Instead, they imitate an obsolete jurisprudence that throws Islamic
thought into the realm of irrelevance, and they comply with any ruling political
power that throws Islam into the realm of alienation. Islamists also criticize
secular elites for their marginalization of Islam from the administration
of the affairs of society and state. Rejecting both secular and religious
elites
forces the Islamists to develop a new Islamic model that harmoniously takes
into account religion and modernity. Thus, even when emphasizing the fragility
of
Islamic civilization, Islamist thinkers insist that an untraditional Islamic
revival is the only instrument for political and social mobilization. To
recapture scientific and political supremacy, Muslims must develop new ideologies,
sciences,
and philosophies from within Islam.
Islamist political projects are based, then, at both the theoretical and
the practical levels, on renewing old doctrines and ideas and on authenticating
new doctrines and ideas. Viewing themselves as synthesizers between traditional
Islamic
thought and modern Western thought, the modernists adopted Western political
theories and ideologies and introduced Western political doctrines like democracy
and republicanism into traditional Islamic thinking. Lacking a coherent theory,
their political thought was oriented toward the survival of traditional thought
and institutions and for immediate political goals. They tried to reinterpret
and upgrade traditional doctrines and concepts to enable them to support
Western
notions of government and politics. They wanted to harmonize religion and
science to keep the former alive and to bring together, scientifically and
religiously,
the West and the East. The modernists thus pioneered in Islamizing central
notions like democracy and pluralism and in believing in a possible congruence
between
Islam and the West.
Modernists’ interpretations did not invalidate the normative status
of Islamic theological and jurisprudential schools. 'Abdu’s rejection
of man’s
complete understanding of divine things is theoretically and practically
traditional. His argument is an unsophisticated reinterpretation of medieval
theological doctrines
and concepts without elaborate developments or explanations. Modernist arguments
on the congruence of science with religion and on the negative and positive
divine attributes are mainly adopted and reworded from al-Ghazali’s
numerous writings. These modernists were following in the footsteps of philosophers
like al-Kindi,
Ibn Sina (Avicenna), and Ibn Rushd (Averroës) in ushering sciences into
intellectual circles and in encouraging the closed intellectual circles to
rethink traditional interpretations of philosophical, political, social,
economic, and
religious doctrines and concepts.
In opposition to the modernists, the Islamist rejection of both Islamic and
Western past and present is total. The Islamists view philosophy, science,
jurisprudence,
and theology as historical constructs without universal values. They ground
these disciplines in their historical social and political contexts and deny
any universal
validity for classical, medieval, and modern interpretations. Because these
interpretations are only tentative readings of the religious text and the
truth, the argument
goes, they lack the power of the religious text. The Author, or God, can
only entertain a final interpretation of the text. Humans can only read within
a
complex set of conditions that superimpose meaning on the text or the truth.
The divergence
of theological, jurisprudential, philosophical, and political interpretations
indicates the variety of ways of living. Hence, the logic of a reading as
well as its formal truth is derived from its utility to the reader. Most
Islamists
convert their rejection of historical readings into adopting new legitimate
readings that are relevant to them here and now. However, this discourse
on the reading
and meaning of texts has given rise to multiple readings that call for religious,
intellectual, ideological, political, social, and economic transformation.
Both the discourse and the transformation manifest themselves in moderate
and radical
ideologies and behaviors.
Democracy, pluralism, and human rights, the basic ideological doctrines in
the ever more globalized world, are not only fundamental doctrines of modern
Western
political philosophy but are now emerging as primary concerns of modern Islamic
political thought. While the process of blending modern Islamic thought with
democracy, pluralism, and human rights appears to astonish many politicians,
intellectuals, and ordinary people, it is currently under way and is one
of the main occupations of intellectuals and political parties in the Islamic
world.
Furthermore, the awareness of the need for democracy goes beyond the theoretical
to become a demand of Muslims themselves, especially vis-a-vis their governments.
Numerous political and intellectual conferences have been held to investigate
ways and means to begin or enhance the process of political democratization
and intellectual, social, and economic liberalization of the Islamic world.
A majority
view in Islamic intellectual circles, including even major Islamist theoreticians,
with various expressions that adopt emergent Islamic doctrines on democracy,
pluralism, and human rights, is now becoming vocal and central in Islamic
studies.19
All justifications for tyrannical thought and authoritarian politics are
collapsing, since they are now perceived to have been major historical impediments
to the
development and freedom of Muslim communities as well as good religious life.
The disintegration of the Soviet Union has hastened the focus on the political
legitimacy of democracy, the social necessity of human rights, and the intellectual
suitability of pluralism to both the Middle East and the Islamic world. Secular
and religious thinkers alike attribute the miserable conditions of economic,
social, and political life to the absence of democracy and pluralism in the
Arab world. A new political process that stresses the importance of political
democratization
and liberalization is on the rise and is entertained within a whole range
of political and social strata, including the media and academia. For instance,
the widely read London-based Arabic newspaper Al-Hayat ran an extensive series
for many days on the issues of civil society, pluralism, and democracy in
Egypt
and the Arab world. A few meetings, like “The Democratic Experience in
the Arab World” in Morocco, “The Crisis of Democracy in the Arab
World” in Cyprus, and “Political Pluralism and Democracy in the Arab
World” in Amman, show clearly the emerging interest in democracy and
pluralism. The Beirut Center for Arab Unity Studies also convened a conference,
in Cairo,
to discuss democracy in the Arab world.
However, the West at large has focused on Islamic threats to Western interests
and orders while according no real attention or sympathy to the oppression
of the peoples of the Islamic world or to the dialogues and debates that
have been
going on among diverse groups over political theories and rights of people.
Scare titles in magazines and newspapers, such as “One Man, One Vote, One Time,” “The
Challenge of Radical Islam,” “Will Democracy Survive in Egypt?” “The
Arab World Where Troubles for the U.S. Never End,” and “The Clash
of Civilizations,” have further pushed the West away from the East.21 While
quite a few Western academics concerned with the Middle East deal with people’s
real concerns, the West in general regards these concerns as negligible because
their impact is localized and does not affect Western interests.
Current circumstances in the Arab world, especially in Algeria, Egypt, Lebanon,
Sudan, and Tunisia, have led to ideological, political, and religious inquiries
and debates on the compatibility of Islamic discourses, especially the doctrines
of an Islamic state, with democracy, pluralism, and human rights, and indeed
with Western ideas in general. However, a majority of Western media and scholars
along with a majority of their Middle Eastern counterparts have directly
viewed Islamist political thought, and indirectly Islam, as unfit for democracy
because
it is exclusivist by its nature and definition. There is no doubt that there
are a few religious groups that are truly exclusivist and believe in the
necessity of radical ideological, religious, and political transformation.
They believe
that only through radical coups and education can they achieve any meaningful
victory. However, most popular and influential Islamic political groups adhere
to new interpretations of inclusion that embrace pluralism and democracy.
Ideological, religious, and political radicalism is not based on the main
Islamic doctrines
on the world, religions, knowledge, and salvation. More important, radicalism
is a worldwide manifestation and is not restricted to a few Islamic groups.
To make radicalism an essential part of Islamic doctrines or modern Islamic
thought
is only to miss the point on the need for inclusivist liberal contexts.
However, Professor Bassam Tibi’s analysis of Islamic fundamentalism, which
is close to Jansen’s perspective, misses all distinctions between ideologies
and behaviors of moderate and radical Islamists. One might start discussing his
analysis by asking whether it is true that “the study of fundamentalism
thus becomes an inquiry into the obstacles confronting the search for peace among
civilizations and their religions”! And are Islam, Christianity, and Judaism
the obstacles to achieving a world peace? It is well known that most, if not
all, of the twentieth century’s major wars as well as most civil wars were
not conducted under the banner of or for the benefit of religions or fundamentalisms.
The two world wars, and the wars of liberation that spread all over the Third
World, stemmed from the naked self-interest of secular nation-states and empires—England,
France, Germany, Russia, the U.S., and others—and not from any fundamentalist
empire that fought secular states. Such unfounded remarks permeate and drive
Tibi’s theses, analyses, and conclusions.
Tibi starts well by not identifying Islam with terrorism or extremism. “Islam
as a religion is definitely not a threat, but Islamic fundamentalism is and is
replacing communism as a global enemy.”22 However, after an initial
attempt to dissociate Islam from Islamic fundamentalism, and then Islamic
fundamentalism
from terrorism, his book ends up identifying Muslims with Islamic fundamentalists
and then Islamic fundamentalists with terrorists. Most of his analysis is
spent associating Islamic fundamentalism with terrorism or extremism. Tibi
never
stops to ask why religion is on the rise all over the world and why Muslims
in particular
are so frustrated.
Furthermore, Tibi’s theoretical weakness leads him to define fundamentalism
as a “political phenomenon [that] is an aggressive politicization of religion
undertaken in the pursuit of non-religion.”23 In this statement, “political
phenomenon” distorts fundamentalism and restricts it to politics. I
argue here that while fundamentalism is much associated with politics, it
goes beyond
that to become a new interpretation of religion. Where Tibi takes the case
of Professor Nasr Hamid Abu-Zaid, for instance, as evidence of the politicization
of Islam, the fact of the matter is that the Egyptian (secular) government
tried
and convicted Abu-Zaid.
Moreover, all scholars of the Middle East know that it is not true that Islamic
fundamentalists refer to their movement as usuliyya (fundamentalism).24 In
fact, they reject that term and instead use Islamiyya (Islamism). More important,
Tibi’s
representation of Islamic fundamentalism is, like Jansen’s, reductionist.
For instance, most fundamentalists do not believe that democracy is unbelief
(kufr); 'Ali bil Haj’s dismissal of democracy as kufr cannot be generalized
as the fundamentalist view on this issue,25 and Hasan al-Turabi’s reinterpretation
of democracy is completely glossed over. Tibi’s views on Islamic fundamentalism
are built basically around the most radical fundamentalist thinkers, who
have been attacked by moderate fundamentalists. Why did he not choose Rashid
al-Ghannushi,
or Tariq al-Bishri? Even when he uses the ideas of moderate fundamentalists
like Muhammad Salim al-'Awwa, Tibi seems intent on distorting their views.
I will show that God’s governance (hakimiyyat Allah), which Tibi wrongly
translates as Allah’s rule (hukm Allah), need not necessarily lead to totalitarian
rule. Governance is not political rule or a system of government but is a doctrine
used to empower people through divine texts to counter the naked force, despotism,
and totalitarianism of rulers. It is an empowering doctrine that can be understood
only in its context. However, Tibi seems to force fundamentalist arguments to
fit his dichotomy between Islam and the West. For instance, Sayyid Qutb’s
Islamic system (al-nizam al-Islami) and paganism (jahiliyya) are made responsible
for the Gulf War that engaged Islam to a degree unprecedented in modern history.
The linkage between Qutb and the Gulf War is strange, given the fact that
Qutb was executed in 1966 in Egypt. Again, shura, which for Tibi reflects
the tribal
tradition of pre-Islamic history that was adopted into Islamic thought during
its formative years, cannot be turned into democracy. It is either shura
or democracy. He declares this while most fundamentalist theoreticians interpret
shura in terms
of democracy.
This is why Tibi takes issue with John Esposito, who finds valid possibilities
of reinterpretation of Islam in terms of democracy and who sees no inherent
contradiction between Islamism and democracy. While Esposito correctly bases
his argument on
historical grounds and studies in comparative religion and sees no global
threat coming from the Islamic world and makes a distinction between moderates
and
radicals, Tibi generalizes his observation on Algeria, whose failure to democratize
is
blamed on the fundamentalists.
On yet another level, I argue that it is true that Islamic fundamentalism
presents “a
worldview that seeks to establish its own order” but I dispute Tibi’s
assertion that it seeks “to separate the peoples of Islamic civilization
from the rest of humanity.”26 Tibi believes that if the fundamentalists
cannot impose their order on the world, they “can create disorder, on a
vast scale.”27 He believes that Islamic fundamentalism has become a
world challenge to current standards of politics, though he acknowledges
that Islamic
fundamentalism is not the cause of the current crisis of our world, but both
an expression of and a response to it.28 Islamic fundamentalism is not an
intra-Islamic affair, but rather one of the pillars of an emerging new world
disorder. Thus,
there is a world order that is dominated and structured by the West and a
world disorder that is dominated and structured by Islam.
Tibi innocently describes the existing world order as a process of “peaceful
international interaction among sovereign states,” then twists the
logic of conflicts in the world, reducing war to “irregular wars in
the Balkans, the Caucasus, Central Asia, and Somalia, in all of which Islam
is involved” and
pronouncing them “more an indication of unfolding disorder [read, fundamentalist
world order] than of any new world order.”29 He views the activities
of Hamas and Islamic Jihad in the Palestinian Zones as directed at obstructing
the
peace process through “terrorist activities justified as Jihad.” There
is no criticism of the activities of Israel or the Palestinian Authority
or the major world powers. While the West, in Tibi’s opinion, did not
aim to enlighten Muslims but to subject them to Western rule, this is not
enough
to explain the tension between contemporary Islam and Western cultural modernity.
For him, the world is going through a clash between the divine (Islamic)
and the rational (Western) views. Even at a theoretical level, he avoids
criticizing
offensive Western doctrines and policies: it is not Samuel Huntington, for
instance, but the Islamic fundamentalists who draw these fault lines of conflict
between
civilizations. Western powers and intellectuals are exonerated en masse,
while Islam stands firm on the ground that contradicts other options for
a world order—other
options being multicultural world orders.
For Tibi, Western and Islamic civilizations must learn to live with each
other on a footing of equality, refraining from their explicit or implicit
claims
to moral superiority and universality. However, he soon rescinds his evenhandedness
by pronouncing that Islamic fundamentalism must forgo its religious views
and opt for an alternative international cross-cultural morality made up
of human
rights and secular democracy. Maybe this reflects Tibi’s view that
fundamentalism does not address religious belief but is “rather a sociopolitical
worldview” and expresses a practical preference.
Tibi acknowledges the existence of a basic division within the Islamic fundamentalist
camp, but does not see that division as spelling differences over interpretation,
or moderation versus radicalism. He is mainly happy that the disorganization
will forestall control of the world. Thus, structural globalization is countered
by national and international cultural fragmentation. However, fundamentalism
is a challenge to the nation-state. “Islam has become the West’s
leading challenger for one simple reason[:] Islamic perspectives are not
restricted to national or regional boundaries. In this respect, Islam resembles
Western
civilization. The fundamentalists revolt against Western hegemony and compete
with Western universalism. Fundamentalism is an ideology contributing to
the war of civilizations.” But who is leading it? The strange answer
Tibi gives is Islamic universalism, which might be capable of taking over
the West.
What makes the clash of civilizations sharper is the migration of Muslims
to the West. Tibi talks repeatedly about globalization and compares it to
Islamic
universalism, although globalization, for him, is basically technological
and economic, and universalism is religious and moral. If Islamic fundamentalists
are universalists in their attitude, and if, as Tibi says, globalization
is
rampant in economics, politics, communication, transportation, and technology
but is
lacking in culture or civilization,38 the fundamentalists may be able to
employ globalization to the advantage of universalism. Tibi thinks that the
fundamentalist
revolt against the nation-state is a revolt against imported solutions, because
the nation-states have failed in bringing about economic development and
political participation.
Unlike Tibi, I do not argue that the only way for Islam to become part of
the new emerging global system is to be secularized. I argue that an international
morality of democracy and human rights could be based on religions as well
as secular thought. Although the origins of human rights and democracy
in
the
West are to be found in the making of Protestantism and its breaking away
from Catholicism, and although Islamic thought is undergoing a similar process,
Tibi denies Muslims the right to reinterpret Islam in the light of modernity
and democracy.
For him the condition for democratization is secularization, and the “goal
is, rather, how to get us Muslims to speak the language of secular human
rights in our own tongues.”41 But could not the Muslims be Muslims
and find the necessary common ground with other civilizations and religions
to build a universal
framework for human rights and democracy based on their strong divine beliefs?
Tibi’s final surrender comes out in this West-bound ingratiating statement: “Despite
my being a Muslim, my understanding of human rights is inexorably linked
to the basic rights promulgated by the French and American revolutions.”42
Is this the choice for Muslims all over the globe whose understanding of
human
rights is not linked to the French and American revolutions but emerges from
colonialist
and imperialist experiences with the secular West and the tyranny and exploitation
of their nation-states!
Tibi takes his stand against fundamentalism on Islamic grounds: the Sufi
love of God, and the Islamic rationalism of Ibn Rushd and Al-Madina al-Fadila
of
al-Farabi.43 He forgets that the Sufis and the rationalists in medieval Islam,
especially
al-Farabi and Ibn Rushd, were not democratic but elitist and against popular
sentiments. Tibi’s sad story is that while he claims to push forward
Islamic liberalism as an alternative to Islamic fundamentalism, what one
is left with
is his urgent need to destroy any Islamic trend that is an ideology, a philosophy,
or even a way of life. For him, Islam should be replaced wholesale with a
globalized Western civilization.
Unlike Tibi’s book, Emad Shahin’s Political Ascent: Contemporary
Islamic Movements in North Africa places Islamic resurgence in North Africa in
its historical and cultural context. Shahin compares and contrasts the organizations,
contexts, and developments of Islamic movements within both pre- and post-independence
experiences. Furthermore, he provides essential information on Islamic movements,
thinkers, and leaders as well as their ideas and discourses. He places emphasis
on major Islamic movements in the Arab West: al-Nahda, the Progressive Islamic
Tendency movement, and the Islamic Liberation Party in Tunisia; the Islamic Salvation
Front, Hamas, and al-Nahda Party in Algeria; and the Association of Justice and
Benevolence and the Movement of Reform and Renewal in Morocco. His study of these
movements based on extensive field research situates them within local conditions
and follows their emergence as social movements that adopt Islam as a political
alternative to Western models and as an instrument of social protest. The three
countries, Tunisia, Algeria, and Morocco, share many characteristics. For instance,
the states’ control of the institutions of official Islam is used to affirm
the political elites’ legitimacy, while they are in fact committed
to foreign models. Thus, the political elites expropriated Islamic institutions
to cultivate
bases of support for their modernization campaigns and to maintain the legitimacy
and stability of their regimes.
Shahin argues that a few factors complicate the development of an objective
and comprehensive theory of Islamic renewal: (1) the revival is still in
a transitional
phase, in flux; (2) Islamic movements operate in diverse environments and
conditions; (3) they are still developing ideologically; (4) the revival
is too often seen
as only political in nature; (5) the secular framework of analysis leads
to the marginalization of religion; and (6) Western intellectual and political
responses
to these movements reveal a confusion of political interests with ideological
orientations. On reexamining the role of Islam and postindependence Islamic
movements in Tunisia, Algeria, and Morocco, he concludes that the Islamic
movements
within
these countries are forces for political change. Shahin tries to distinguish
preindependence Islamic forces from and to juxtapose them with postcolonial
movements, but while his main objective is to go beyond the conventional
classification of these movements as being political, economic, or social,
he himself falls
victim to the same classification. He continuously refers to the Islamic
movement as political Islam—never strongly as theological, intellectual,
or economic.
On a higher theoretical level, while Shahin makes the argument that these
movements are not new phenomena but are the expressions and continuation
of a reform-protest
trend that had appeared earlier, his main intellectual argument is that “contemporary
political Islam is a widespread response to the determination of the post-independence
state to relegate Islam to a subordinate political and social position and to
the perceived inadequacy of the secular-oriented Western models of development
in addressing the indigenous problems of society.”44 These movements
are challenging the legitimacy of their rulers and seeking to reconstruct
the religiopolitical
base of society in response to the secular policies of the postcolonial incumbent
elites.
While this argument does not make political Islam in North Africa any different
from Islamic movements in the Arab East or the Gulf, Shahin insists that
political Islam in the Arab West is unique, and is significant for the region
as a whole,
because political Islam in North Africa has shown a marked willingness to
work within the system right from the beginning. This willingness has led
to “some
important contributions from various Maghribi thinkers about the relations between
Islam and the state and Islam and democracy as well as the feasibility of non-violent
struggle.” Shahin then concludes incorrectly that in many ways “the
Islamist intellectual center of gravity has moved away from the Mashriq to North
Africa,” a development he relates to the “particular role Islam has
played and to its proximity to Europe and French culture.” Furthermore,
in North Africa, Islamic groups have actually at times been officially recognized
and allowed to compete in elections.
In fact, there is nothing unique about North African “political Islam” that
distinguishes it from other geographic areas of the Arab world. Shahin himself
tells us, for instance, that the Islamic dimension of reform that asserted Islamic
identity in Tunisia was advocated by Shaykh 'Abd al-'Aziz al-Tha'alibi, who was
influenced by “the reformist ideas of Muhammad 'Abduh and the Salafiyya
movement.”45 In Algeria too, Islamic reforms were “exposed to the
ideas of the Salafiyya movement, either directly through its protagonists, such
as Muhammad 'Abduh and Muhammad Rashid Rida, or while studying at religious institutions
in the Arab East.”46 We are also told that even Shaykh 'Abd al-Hamid ben
Badis, the great Algerian thinker and founder of the Association of Algerian
Scholars, was “influenced by the teachings of Jamal al-Din al-Afghani and
Muhammad 'Abdu and introduced Ben Badis to the reformist ideas of the Salafiyya
movements.”47 Nor did Morocco escape the influence of the Arab East, for
a major development by the end of the nineteenth century was, according to Shahin, “the
emergence of an Islamic reform movement, the Salafiyya, influenced by the ideas
of Islamic modernism propagated by Afghani, 'Abduh and the Manar group in Egypt.”48
There is no value in denying the intellectual influence of the Arab East
over the Arab West: even today, the ideological and political discourses
of North
Africa’s major fundamentalist movements are still chiefly shaped by theoreticians
from the Arab East such as Hasan al-Banna and Sayyid Qutb as well as Hasan al-Turabi.
Also, the main fundamentalist movement in the Arab East, the Muslim Brotherhood,
did not start as an underground movement but participated in public and political
life, including parliamentary elections. This is likewise true of the Brotherhood’s
branches in Jordan, Kuwait, and other countries. Furthermore, the major work
in constructing Islamic shura as democracy has been done by theoreticians from
the Arab East such as Tawfiq al-Shawi, Muhammad Salim al-'Awwa, and Fahmi al-Huwaidi.
Of course, every country of the Arab West has some distinguishing characteristics—a
remark that can just as easily apply to the countries of the Arab East and
elsewhere. These characteristics do not amount to any unique theoretical
development that
is unheard of or particularly North African.49
The general conclusion that the author makes is that while the nature of
political Islam is complex, its connection to social change and development
maintains
its longevity. Its expansion is related to the marginalization of Islam in
state
and society and the importation of Western models that have failed to resolve
socioeconomic and political problems. New intellectual elites are confronting
Westernized elites as well as the elites of official Islam. While it is true
that pluralism affects the level of cohesion and behavior of the Islamic
opposition, Shahin makes no real efforts to differentiate between radical
or revolutionary
and moderate or tolerant movements. His main line of argument is that “when
an Islamic movement is perceived as radical and dogmatic, the movement is likely
to resort to a strategy of violence and dissent.”50 However, we all know
that violence is not a perception but a reality—examples include the
Armed Islamic Group and the Islamic Youth Association. I argue in this book
that there
are basic differences between moderate and radical Islamists that relate
to philosophy, ideology, sociology, and politics.
In line with Bruce Lawrence’s Shattering the Myth: Islam beyond Violence,
I show that the deconstruction of the myth of Islamic violence requires a complex
process of deconstructing stereotypes and constructing pluralistic images of
Muslim lives. Lawrence’s excellent analysis of Islam today brings together
a great array of socioeconomic, historical, political, and religious elements
and examines the resulting blend in a global context of transcapitalism and
high technology. He provides insightful studies of the local, national, and
international
contexts of the rise of Islamic fundamentalism and the nation-states within
the Islamic world. Looking not only at the theoretical and political discourses
of
Islamic fundamentalism but also at the larger economic and political orders,
Lawrence argues that Islam cannot be understood except as a major and complex
system shaped as much by its own metaphysical postulates and ethical demands
as by the circumstances of Muslim polities in the modern world.
Addressing well-known stereotypes of Muslims, he shows that the longer view
of Muslim societies offers hope rather than despair about Islam in the next
century.
He shatters the myth that Islam emanates from a hostile, “Arab” Middle
East. Arab Islam is only one manifestation, which is itself diversified; there
are other interpretations—Iranian, Bosnian, Malaysian. Equally important,
he shows how the reality of Muslim women’s active participation in their
societies is glossed over and covered by a stereotype that projects the violence
of male “Arab” Muslims everywhere: Muslim males hate the West and
abuse their women. Against this background, Lawrence shows that women in India,
Pakistan, and Bangladesh are forced to represent the cultural norms and that
court cases involving women’s legal rights not only reflect boundary
markings between Muslims and other communities, they also heighten tensions
about their
maintenance, even as they complicate notions of what it is to be both Asian
and Muslim at the start of the new millennium.
At another level, Lawrence gives due credit—or blame—for one of the
defining events of the Islamic world in modern times: the imperialist intrusion
of the West, which led to distortion of economic development and subordination
to global—Western—economic interests. Even the rise of the local
bureaucratic elites in the name of independence replicated the nationalist ideological
superstructure of the colonizers. Counterelites returned to “authenticity” to
contest the power and legitimacy of the nation-state. While Lawrence shows that
Muslims have been subjected to structural violence, it is remarkable that they
have not lost control over their destinies. The reason behind this is the diversity
of the Muslim world. Although it uses similar symbols and values that influence
conduct, its politics are reshaped by interacting with the world of the postcolonial
or, generally, non-Muslim “others.” It is structural violence that
reduces the range of choice for European, African, and Asian Muslims. It is structural
violence that restricts the options for Muslim nation-states in the post–Cold
War world. Lawrence argues that it victimizes Muslim intellectuals by imposing
limits on their discourses about Islam at the turn of the century.
While Muslims’ politics may suggest uniformity of intent and practice,
Lawrence shows—through analytical socioeconomic studies of Egypt, Iran,
Saudi Arabia, Syria, and Tunisia as well as, later, of India, Pakistan, Bangladesh,
and Malaysia—that the source of this uniformity is the manipulation
of symbolic resources and the permeability of boundaries. And because authority
in the Muslim world is fragmented, negotiations take the form of protest
against
the colonial and neocolonial power, the dominant state apparatus, the religious
establishment, and the prevailing economic system.
However, Lawrence places protest in time and sequence when distinguishing
different types of protest: thus, (1) revivalists are seen as a preindustrial
response
to European intervention, disruption to traditional trade, demographic shift,
and agricultural decline, leading to reaffirmation of Islamic identity and
values; (2) reformers are products of the colonial presence, who adapted
to the nationalist
and ideological legacies of the West and saw them as compatible with Islam;
and (3) fundamentalists are a response to the imbalance with the West, who
seek to
empower themselves through control of “authenticity.” All these
responses have taken place within the context of structural realignments
of global economic,
political, and military powers.
To disconnect the equation of Islam with violence, or to shatter the myth,
Lawrence draws attention to (1) blurring of the distinction between Islam
as religion
and as a political ideology that is competing with and dominated by nationalism,
and (2) the colonialist European powers’ use of religion to divide and
control major segments of world population, from West Africa to Southeast Asia.
According to Lawrence, not all fundamentalists employ direct confrontation with
the nation-state that they see as a creature of the neoimperialist West. And
there are other voices, like Malaysia and Bosnia, which are moving toward pluralism.
Thus Islam’s compatibility with democracy falls under the broader question
of whether Islam is evolving and flexible or definitive and unyielding. Yet because
of Muslim societies’ underdevelopment and global marginalization resulting
from advances in science and technology, the future seems to be centered
upon economic dependence.
Some Muslims may choose jihad as a holy war to confront the hegemonic powers,
but they risk further marginalization: in this case the narrative of jihad
is not related to contemporary history and global politics or economics.
Other Muslims,
in Malaysia for instance, can reinterpret jihad as neocapitalist corporate
culture—today’s
dominant world force—that leads to economic responsibility and social
justice. Lawrence correctly argues that a reinterpretation of jihad within
a modern global
context, which takes into account the realities of economic and technical,
structural changes, and whose terms of engagement shift to economic jihad,
can lead to an
Islamic religious discourse that is moderate, pluralistic, and democratic.
This discourse creates an open public space that increases tolerance between
Muslims
and non-Muslims and among Muslims themselves. Along this line, I argue that
Islam, like other religions, is shaped by its world context; Muslims are
now victimized
by the international power structure and economic disparity leading to despair
and often violence where the have-nots drift to the margins of global exchange.
Transcapitalism, high technology, and religion are shaping and are being
reshaped by humankind.
© 2002 University Press of Florida. All Rights Reserved.
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