Inside Muslim Minds [1 ed.] 0522854818, 9780522854817

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INSIDE MUSLIM MINDS

INSIDE MUSLIM MINDS Riaz Hassan

MELBOURNE UNIVERSITY PRESS An imprint of Melbourne University Publishing Limited 187 Grattan Street, Carlton, Victoria 3053, Australia [email protected] www.mup.com.au Text copyright © Riaz Hassan 2008 Design and typography copyright © Melbourne University Publishing Ltd 2008 This book is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968 and subsequent amendments, no part may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means or process whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publishers. Every attempt has been made to locate the copyright holders for material quoted in this book. Any person or organisation that may have been overlooked or misattributed may contact the publisher. Cover design by Peter Long Typeset by Sonya Murphy, TypeSkill Printed in Australia by Griffin Press, SA National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry: Hassan, Riaz. Inside muslim minds / author, Riaz Hassan. 9780522854817 (pbk.) Includes index. Bibliography. Islamic ethics. Islam – 21st century. Islam – Customs and practices. Islamic fundamentalism. Muslims. Islam and state. 297.5

For Selva

CONTENTS

Tables Figures Acknowledgements Introduction Portraits of Islamic consciousness The nature and structure of Muslim piety Meanings of jihad Public roles of Islam Attitudes towards blasphemy Veiling, patriarchy and gender issues in Muslim consciousness Challenges of globalization Muslim philanthropy Islam and civil society Mutual suspicions Countries studied 1 Exploring Islamic consciousness The hudood laws in Pakistan Other laws in Pakistan Other Muslim countries Conflict of conscience in contemporary Islam An empirical assessment Conclusion 2 Patterns of religious commitment Muslim piety Dimensions of Muslim piety International comparisons of Muslim piety Conclusion 3 Jihad and conflict resolution in Muslim societies

Qur’anic origins of jihad Periodization of jihad doctrine Attitudes towards conflict resolution Conclusion 4 Political order and religious institutions Relationship between state and religion Institutional configurations and trust in religious institutions Trust in institutions Is trust in religious institutions linked to trust in political ones? Implications Conclusion 5 Expressions of religiosity and blasphemy Religion and blasphemy Attitudes towards blasphemy in Muslim countries and Australia Attitudes towards blasphemy and religiosity Religion, modernity and blasphemy Implications Conclusion 6 Veiling, patriarchy and honour killing Historical context of gender issues Veiling and seclusion of women Observance of Islamic dress codes Hijab Patriarchy Honour killing Discussion Conclusion 7 Globalization and the Islamic ummah History Sociology of the ummah Ummah consciousness and modernity Globalization and the ummah Conclusion 8 Philanthropy and social justice Genesis of zakat as an Islamic institution Zakat payment in contemporary Muslim societies The scale of zakat receipts

Motives for giving Critical assessment What is gained by zakat giving? 9 Islam and civil society Islam and civil society Civil society in contemporary Muslim countries Conclusion 10 Mutual suspicions Islam and religious fundamentalism Muslim perceptions of the ‘other’ Muslim perceptions of major countries Conclusion Epilogue Piety and development Islam and women Religion and politics The challenge of hybridity Jihad and terrorism Appendix 1: Methodology Appendix 2: Qur’anic foundations of the doctrine of jihad Appendix 3: The call to jihad by the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan Notes References Index

TABLES Table 1.1: The intensity of agreement with certain religious beliefs 50 Table 1.2: The intensity of salafabist/Islamist consciousness 57 Table 2.1: Belief in the existence of Allah 72 Table 2.2: Belief in miracles 73 Table 2.3: ‘There is life after death’ 74 Table 2.4: ‘The Devil actually exists’ 75 Table 2.5: ‘Only those who believe in the Prophet Muhammad can go to heaven’ 76 Table 2.6: Index of orthodoxy of religious beliefs 77 Table 2.7: ‘How often do you perform salat?’ 78 Table 2.8: ‘Have you paid zakat in the past twelve months?’ 79 Table 2.9: ‘Have you fasted in the past twelve months?’ 79 Table 2.10: ‘How often do you read the Qur’an?’ 80 Table 2.11: Index of religious practice: ritualism 82 Table 2.12: ‘How does the Qur’an help you in making everyday decisions?’ 84 Table 2.13: ‘Have you felt you were in the presence of Allah?’ 85 Table 2.14: ‘Have you felt a sense of being saved by the Prophet?’ 85 Table 2.15: ‘Have you felt a sense of being afraid of Allah?’ 86 Table 2.16: ‘Have you felt a sense of being punished by Allah?’ 86 Table 2.17: ‘Have you felt a sense of being tempted by the Devil?’ 86 Table 2.18: Experiential dimension index 88 Table 2.19: ‘Do you agree that a person who says there is no Allah is likely to hold dangerous political views?’ 93 Table 2.20: ‘Do you agree or disagree with Darwin’s Theory of Evolution?’ 93 Table 2.21: Index of consequential religiosity 93 Table 2.22: Religious commitment and human development in Muslim countries 102 Table 3.1: Historical trajectory of the jihad doctrine 108 Table 3.2: War is justified when other ways of settling international disputes fail 125 Table 4.1: Trust in key institutions in selected Muslim societies 136 Table 4.2: Level of trust in key institutions of the state by level of trust in religious institutions 141 Table 4.3: ‘What is the role of the religious institution?’ 143 Table 4.4: Differentiated vs undifferentiated social foundations by functional vs performance roles 148

Table 5.1: ‘Suppose a person publicly admitted that he/she did not believe in Allah, would you agree or disagree that the following actions should be taken against him/her?’ 163 Table 5.2: Attitudes towards blasphemy, religiosity and human development in selected countries 165 Table 6.1: ‘Women are sexually attractive, and segregation and veiling are necessary for male protection’ 187 Table 6.2: ‘Women should observe Islamic dress codes’ 190 Table 6.3: ‘Hijab is an Islamic duty’ 193 Table 6.4: ‘Hijab enhances femininity’ 193 Table 6.5: ‘Hijab contributes to sexual modesty’ 194 Table 6.6: ‘If men are not in charge of women, women will lose sight of all human values and the family will disintegrate’ 197 Table 6.7: ‘Whose role is more important in managing the family?’ 199 Table 6.8: Estimates of honour killings in different countries 207 Table 7.1: Ummah consciousness and modernity in Muslim countries 224 Table 8.1: ‘Performed zakat in the preceding year’ 238 Table 9.1: Democratic and social values in Muslim countries 255 Table 9.2: A profile of religious consciousness in Muslim countries 257 Table 10.1: Respondents’ perceptions of the future of Islam, Christianity, Judaism and atheism 271 Table 10.2: Respondents’ perceptions of the attitudes towards Islam held by governments of selected countries 277 Table 10.3: Attitudes towards Christians and Muslims in selected Western and Muslim countries 281 Table A1.1: Sociodemographic profile of sample 313

FIGURES Figure 3.1: Attitudes of Muslims towards suicide bombings

123

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This book is part of a comparative study of Muslim religiosity that began in 1996. I am indebted to the Australian Research Council for supporting this investigation through two research grants. Surveying several thousand respondents in seven countries was a complex logistical exercise and would not have been possible without the assistance, guidance and support that I received from a remarkable international team of social scientists. I would like to acknowledge especially the assistance and support provided by Professor Agus Dwiyanto, Dr Sukamdi, Professor Mohammad Anwar, Dr Muneer Ahmad, Mrs Razia Rafiq, Mr Shaukat Abbas, the late Dr Oumerseric Kasenov, Dr Sabit Jousupov, Professor Saad Eddin Ibrahim, Dr Hassan Eisa, Professor Taghi Azadarmaki, Professor Johan Saravanamuttu, Professor Maznah Mohamad and Mr Caglayan Isik. Of course, the study would not have been possible without the cooperation of more than 6300 respondents, for which I am deeply grateful. Over the years, I have benefited from the support and advice received from Ivan Szelenyi, Joseph Tamney, Bill Martin, Dusko Sekulic, Richard DeAngelis, Selva Hassan, Haroon Hassan and Tirana Hassan. I count myself very fortunate to have some very able and dedicated research assistants and would like especially to express my warm thanks to Jessica Sutherland, Carolyn Corkindale and Kate Hoffmann for their outstanding support and research assistance, which has made a significant contribution to the completion of this book. I am also grateful to my colleagues in the Department of Sociology, Flinders University, for their support over the years. The manuscript has greatly benefited from the editorial advice and assistance of Cathryn Game and Low Wai Wan, for which I am deeply indebted. My thanks also go to Louise Adler, Foong Ling Kong, Felicity Edge and Kabita Dhara at Melbourne University Press for their interest and support in the publication of this book. I am also thankful to Nuffield College, Oxford, and especially to Rosalind Brook and Justine Crump for their assistance. On the personal level, my wife Selva has helped me in more ways than I can say. This study owes much to her and to Haroon and Tirana, whose affectionate support has been a source of strength and encouragement to me over the years. None of the people mentioned here is, of course, responsible for any shortcomings of this book. I accept full and sole responsibility for those. Riaz Hassan Flinders University, Adelaide

INTRODUCTION Islam inspired its followers to build civilizations that were envied and admired by their rivals in the Middle Ages. The successor states of these civilizations are no longer as vibrant, but their past achievements still echo in their social, cultural and physical landscapes. In the contemporary Muslim world, the Islamic spirit finds expression not so much in rebuilding the past grandeur of these civilizations through the economic and technological advancement of Muslim societies, but through movements of resistance against Western hegemony and of Islamic reassertion. What is the nature of the Islamic spirit in the modern Muslim world? Some perceptive and other not so perceptive answers have been offered by both Muslim and non-Muslim scholars, some of which will be examined and discussed in this book. The aim of this volume, however, is not to focus on the existing answers, but to offer new and empirically grounded insights into the religious consciousness of modern Muslims. Using evidence gathered from 6390 Muslim respondents from seven countries in South-East Asia, South Asia, Central Asia and the Middle East, the book examines some of the key aspects of Islamic consciousness. The methodology of the survey is discussed in appendix 1.

Portraits of Islamic consciousness In modern Islamic discourses, the Islamic self-images of believers are frequently used both descriptively and analytically to explain the nature of Muslim religiosity and the character of Islamic collective movements. Chapters 1 and 2 explore the basic structures of Islamic consciousness. Using Islamic consciousness as an analytical tool, chapter 1 offers a framework in which to examine and understand the current dilemmas facing the Muslim world. It is argued that Islamic consciousness is a symbolic universe that gives expression to deeply held religious beliefs. A product of interpretive communities of the past and present, this universe provides the convictions and ideals that act as primary texts for indexing social reality. After examining the empirical evidence, the chapter argues that the dominant mindsets of respondents in several countries can be characterized as self-righteous, arrogant, misogynist and puritanical mindsets that help compensate for the feelings of alienation and powerlessness engendered by the general economic, social and technological backwardness of their respective countries. A key function of these mindsets is to repair and assert Muslim identity. The chapter explores some of the reasons for the strength of such mindsets among respondents from Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan and Egypt and the relative weakness of them among respondents from Kazakhstan, Iran and Turkey.

The nature and structure of Muslim piety As religion is the essence of Muslim identity, religious commitment is both the evidence and the expression of this identity. Using a multidimensional approach, chapter 2 explores the nature and expression of Muslim piety. The findings show that a religious renaissance is taking place in several Muslim countries, which is reflected in strong religious commitment to Islamic beliefs and rituals and their cognitive underpinnings among Muslims from all walks of life. The chapter also explores how Muslim piety is socially constructed by general religious conditions at the global as well as local levels and by social and political conditions in the various countries. It offers a typology of Muslim piety, which is subsequently used as an analytical tool to explain varying degrees of Muslim commitment and religiosity and levels of economic and social development in the Muslim world.

Meanings of jihad The war on terror and the global jihad by radical Islamic groups are two conflicts that are receiving huge media coverage. Their coverage and analysis have created an army of experts in what is becoming a thriving industry. Both conflicts require closer examination in order to make some sense of why they have become such globally significant events affecting the lives of millions of people. This book examines only the global jihad—its nature, rationale and meanings—not the war on terror, which is outside the scope of this book. In chapter 3, I will focus on the global jihad. Jihad is one of the foundational concepts in Islamic religious and sociopolitical thought. The Islamic jihadi movements use the term to mean a ‘holy war’: a war fought in the name of Islam or Allah. Yet ‘holy war’ is not a concept used by the Qur’an or Muslim theologians. In Islamic theology, war is never ‘holy’. It is either justified or not justified, and if it is justified, those killed in battle are considered ‘martyrs’. If this is the case, why do Islamic jihadi movements use jihad to denote a ‘holy war’? Using historical material, chapter 3 provides a periodization of the meanings of jihad doctrines throughout Islamic history. It also examines the implications of the growing awareness in the Muslim world of transgressions against Muslim populations and how that is being exploited by followers of jihadi movements.

Public roles of Islam The relationship between politics and religion in Muslim countries has become a much debated and discussed issue among scholars of Islam and Muslim societies, and it forms the focus of chapter 4. A commonly stated view of many Western and Muslim scholars and activists is that Islam is not only a religion but also a blueprint for social order and therefore it encompasses all domains of life, including law and the state. It is then argued that this striking characteristic is what sets Muslim societies apart from Western counterparts, which are based upon the separation of state and religion. This characterization of Muslim societies, however, is not supported by historical evidence. The evidence discussed in chapter 4 also

shows that Muslim opinions about the political roles of Islam vary widely, and this may also apply to Australian Muslims as well. After examining these and related issues, chapter 4 reports empirical evidence, which shows that institutional configurations form an important factor in mediating and articulating the nature of the relation ship between religion and politics in Muslim countries.

Attitudes towards blasphemy The widespread demonstrations and violence across the Muslim world following the publication of cartoons in a Danish newspaper in September 2005 that satirized the Prophet Muhammad, among other things, demonstrated Muslim attitudes towards blasphemy. Although in Islamic theology there is no exact equivalent of the Christian notion of blasphemy, offering insult to Allah or to the Prophet Muhammad, or any part of the divine revelations, constitutes a crime under Islamic religious law. More specifically, from the perspective of Islamic law, acts of blasphemy refer to verbal expressions that give grounds for suspicion of apostasy. Pakistan, Iran, Egypt and Saudi Arabia have incorporated these laws into their criminal codes. After reviewing the relationship between modernity and secularization in sociological theory, chapter 5 offers a brief historical account of blasphemy laws in Western countries and their currency in Muslim countries, using Pakistan as a case study. It then examines empirical evidence that measures the prevalence and intensity of attitudes towards blasphemy, which vary significantly among Muslim countries, and their relationship to religiosity and modernity. After offering some plausible explanations of variations in these attitudes and how they might be influenced by the conditions of modernity, the chapter explores the implications for civil society.

Veiling, patriarchy and gender issues in Muslim consciousness In the minds of most non-Muslims, especially in the West, the status, role and position of women are perhaps the most distinguishing features of Muslim societies—the ones that set them apart from Western ones. Veiling, patriarchy and gender issues form the basis of chapter 6. After providing a historical context of gender issues in Muslim societies and explaining how the ulema (male Islamic scholars) have developed an institutionalized framework for the management and satisfaction of sexuality by the imposition of control over women, chapter 6 examines the survey findings related to Muslim attitudes towards veiling, segregation and patriarchy. The findings pertaining to the meaning of hijab (headscarf) offer insights into how it has become intertwined with notions of religious duty, beauty and femininity. Perhaps the ugliest expression of misogynist and patriarchal attitudes is ‘honour killing’. The chapter examines the question: how Islamic is honour killing? It analyzes the nature, prevalence and legal status of this practice in contemporary Muslim societies.

Challenges of globalization Islam has the second-largest following of any religion. Its 1.3 billion followers live in fortyfive Muslim-majority countries and, in 149 countries, Muslims constitute a significant religious minority community.1 Through much of Islamic history, difficulties of mass travel and communication nurtured the myth of ‘one religion, one culture’ and a sense of belonging to a universal ummah (a community of believers). Globalization is prompting a reformation of these beliefs. Instantaneous and worldwide communication and the relative ease of international travel are now allowing Muslims and non-Muslims to experience different Islamic cultures. Chapter 7 explores these challenges of globalization by focusing on the emerging struggle between the ‘hybridity’ and ‘authenticity’ of Muslim identity. It argues that this struggle is one of the main underlying factors behind the emergence of Islamic fundamentalist movements.

Muslim philanthropy Philanthropic giving is an important part of Muslim religious obligation. A significant part of Islamic teaching relates to reducing social and economic inequalities. To that end, Islam enjoins its followers to ‘give’ for individual and collective well-being. One of the key instruments of Muslim philanthropy through which this obligation is fulfilled is zakat. Under Islamic law, zakat is regarded as both a personal obligation to God and a right of the state. This dual nature of zakat manifests in debates among Muslim jurists often as an unresolved tension between the state and the individual. The discussion in chapter 8 focuses on the practice of zakat and attitudes of Muslims in modern societies towards it. The findings reported in the chapter show that, globally, zakat is practised widely among Muslims, but there are also significant variations among Muslim countries in its practice.

Islam and civil society The idea of civil society has its origins in the post-Enlightenment theories of liberalism, democracy and individualism, which were concerned with articulating the proper relationship between individual autonomy, the economy and the coercive power of the state. In modern social theory the concept of civil society has been eloquently expressed in the work of the late philosopher and social anthropologist Ernest Gellner. For Gellner, the core of civil society was the idea that institutional and ideological pluralism prevented the central institutions of the state from establishing monopoly over power and truth in society.2 This goal is realized through diverse non-governmental institutions that are strong enough to counterbalance the power of the state as well as assist the state to fulfil the role of arbiter between contending interest groups in its efforts to ensure social stability. Many Western commentators have contended that civil society and Islam are incompatible. Chapter 9 discusses how civil society has become a powerful slogan for political reform and

democracy in modern Muslim countries. Empirical evidence reviewed in the chapter reveals that political ideals of civil society find equal support in Muslim and Western countries but that they differ over social values. Chapter 9 argues that, at the theoretical level, ideas, institutions and structures—such as the ulema, waqf (religious trusts) and menbar (pulpits)— that are grounded in Islamic ideology function to create avenues for resistance to the state authorities and have been instrumental in creating and expanding the space for civil society in contemporary Muslim countries. Encouraging signs exist to indicate that movements towards a functioning civil society are gaining momentum and that the existence and functioning of a robust civil society is neither out of the question nor incompatible with Islamic ideas and ideals.

Mutual suspicions If the increasing ‘moral polarization’ observed between Islam and the West were continued3, it would have obvious implications for a mutually harmonious relationship. Unfortunately, this trend is still pronounced. In many Western debates, Islam is seen as the polar opposite of the West, as promoting violence and terrorism and as being intent on overthrowing modernizing and secular regimes.4 In Muslim perceptions, only Islam is seen as offering and promoting real moral and ethical alternatives to Western values such as permissiveness, consumerism, hedonism, moral relativism and individualism. Chapter 10 explores the evidence of Muslim perceptions of the ‘self ’ and the ‘other’, as well as Muslim perceptions of the governments of major Western countries, which show a continued trend towards ‘moral polarization’. Besides providing empirical evidence, the discussion also argues that, just as Muslim perceptions of the ‘self ’ might be exaggerated, for reasons of self-esteem, so might their perceptions of the ‘other’ (mainly that Western countries are anti-Islamic). Irrespective of the validity of these Muslim perceptions of the ‘self ’ and the ‘other’, such perceptions do not augur well for promoting a better political relationship between Western countries and the Muslim world in an increasingly interdependent and globalizing world.

Countries studied The research was carried out in seven Muslim countries, namely Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan, Egypt, Kazakhstan, Iran and Turkey. These countries were chosen for their distinctive geographic, historical, cultural and political conditions. The religious developments that they have undergone are strongly influenced by these differences, and it was expected that they would provide contrasting environments for sociological explorations of the research. The seven countries have a combined population of about 600 million, which is equivalent to about 60 per cent of the population of Muslim-majority countries and about half of the world’s total Muslim population. All the demographic data, including data on religious affiliations, provided from this point on is from the CIA Factbook, 2005.5

INDONESIA Indonesia, which had an estimated population in 2004 of about 212 million, of which 88 per cent is Muslim, has the world’s highest concentration of Muslims. Like most other Muslim countries, it is a developing nation, having a per capita gross national product (GNP) in 2002 of US$2990.6 Until recently, its economy was one of the most rapidly developing ones in the world. Unlike many other Islamic countries, Indonesia has also been very successful in providing universal education to all its citizens, taking great strides in this direction. The success of the Indonesian government’s education policies since the 1970s has transformed the country’s educational profile.7 After battling two years of economic crisis, its economy appears to have resumed a growth trajectory.8 Almost all Indonesians are Sunni Muslims and followers of the Shafi’i school of Islamic law. Islam was introduced by South Asian and Arab traders and Sufi scholars in the thirteenth century. A rapid expansion occurred in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; by the eighteenth century, most of the population of Java and Sumatra had become Muslim. Because of the Sufi influence, mysticism became an important feature of Indonesian Islam.9 This religious orientation allowed it to assimilate the images and metaphors of the local cultures. Consequently, Indonesian Islam has been remarkably malleable, syncretistic, multivocal and multilayered.10 Its expressions are closely intertwined with the social structure of Indonesia’s dominant island of Java. The ruling classes and peasantry assimilated and absorbed Islamic concepts and practices into their Indic pantheism and animism. The trading classes, which also made up the middle classes, were more exposed to the Islamic world of the Middle East and South Asia as a result of their trading activities and consequently acquired doctrinal and puritanical Islam.11 As a result of these influences, contemporary Indonesian Islam has two well-established traditions that are represented by two mass organizations. The Sufi or popular Islam that dominates the rural areas and pesantren (religious schools) is represented by Nahdatul Ulama. The modernist–scripturalist Islam that dominates the urban areas is represented by Muhammadiyah. Islamic teachers, known locally as kiyai, are the symbols of Sufi or popular Islam; Islamic intellectuals dominate Muhammadiyah activities.12 The constitutional framework of Indonesia is based on strict separation of religion and the state. In this respect, the country’s various governments have continued the policies of its former Dutch colonists. The state ideology is known as Pancasila (Five Principles) and is strictly enforced. Since its formation in 1949, Indonesia has been governed by authoritarian, military-dominated governments. As a result, the evolution of civil society has been thwarted and many institutions of civil society are dominated by state functionaries. Although the state ideology has encountered resistance, which at times has been militant, the country’s governments have been largely able to enforce strict adherence to Pancasila, as a result of which Indonesian society has evolved in a secular, modernizing capitalist direction.

PAKISTAN

Pakistan, with its estimated population of 145 million in 2004, is the second-largest Muslim country in the world. It came into existence in 1947, after British India gained independence from colonial rule, which led to the partition of the subcontinent into a secular India and a Muslim Pakistan. Founded to provide a separate homeland for Indian Muslims, Pakistan comprised Muslim-majority areas in the northern and eastern parts of the Indian subcontinent. In 1971, the eastern part of the country, known as East Pakistan, seceded to form the new country of Bangladesh. Pakistan now consists of the Punjab, Sind, Baluchistan and North-West Frontier provinces. It is a developing country, and its per capita GNP of US$1940 in 2002 makes it one of the world’s poorer countries.13 Unlike Indonesia, it has a very patchy development record. It has a high illiteracy rate, and the government’s efforts to provide mass education have not been very successful, owing to social, cultural and economic obstacles. More than 95 per cent of the population is Muslim. About 85 per cent of Pakistanis are Sunni and subscribe largely to the Hanafi school of Islamic law. About 15 per cent of Pakistanis are Shi’ah Muslims. Since independence, the country has developed gradually as an Islamic republic. While Pakistan is not theocratic, its constitutional framework stipu lates that it shall be a democratic state based on Islamic principles. Article 198 of the constitution stipulates that all laws shall be in accordance with the injunctions of Islam as laid down in accordance with the Qur’an and Sunnah (the deeds and sayings of the Prophet Muhammad, which form the basis for the normative practice of the community). Since 1971, Islamization has been adopted as a state policy. Paradoxically, the adoption of this policy has proved to be socially and politically divisive over the long term, the full consequences of which are not yet clear. For much of Pakistan’s political history, it has been governed by an authoritarian, bureaucratic, military oligarchy. However, with urbanization and industrialization, pressure for the democratization of political processes has been gaining momentum.14 At the sociocultural level, Islam plays an important role in the lives of Pakistanis. However, as is the case in many other Muslim countries, religious sectarianism is a fact of life and a source of political and social instability and growing violence. There are considerable variations in the way people articulate, interpret and practise their faith and work out its implications in their individual and collective lives. For analytical purposes, one can describe the religio-intellectual situation of Islam in Pakistan with reference to at least four distinct categories: orthodox, Sufi/popular, reformist/liberal and revivalist/fundamentalist Islam. The ulema play a prominent role in orthodox Islam, the Sufi saints and pir (Sufi masters) dominate Sufi/popular Islam, Islamic intellectuals are active in reformist/liberal Islam, and the religious political party Jamaat-e-Islami plays an important role in revivalist/fundamentalist Islam. In recent years, several splinter fundamentalist groups have also emerged, but it is difficult to determine their impact as yet.15

KAZAKHSTAN Kazakhstan is a Central Asian country of more than 15 million people. Indigenous Kazaks, who are Muslim, constitute more than half of its population. According to 2001 estimates,

slightly more than 30 per cent of the population is made up of ethnic Russians and about 15 per cent comprises other European (mostly Germans and Ukrainians) and Central Asian ethnic groups. Kazaks are Sunni Muslim and follow the Hanafi school of Islamic law. For seventy years, when Kazakhstan was part of the Soviet Union, this control was exercised most ruthlessly under communist rule. In 1991, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, Kazakhstan became an independent country. It is resource-rich, with a relatively literate population and a per capita GNP of US$5480 in 2002.16 The spread of Islam in Kazakhstan began in 714 with the opening of Transoxiana by the Qutayba Muslims. Because of their nomadic lifestyle, Islam made little impression on the Kazaks until the late eighteenth century, when Catherine II (‘the Great’) of Russia used Tartar missionaries to spread Islam in Kazakhstan in order to ‘civilize’ and pacify the pastoral Kazak nomads, with whom her expanding empire was coming into increasing conflict. The nomadic lifestyle of the Kazaks made proper religious training difficult. Consequently, the Islam of the Kazaks was syncretic and not dogmatic. By the middle of the eighteenth century, however, a scripturalist tradition of Islam had taken root in Kazakhstan with the establishment of Qur’anic schools in several Kazak cities and towns. By the end of the nineteenth century, Islam was firmly established among the Kazaks and had become part of their identity.17 Under Soviet rule in the twentieth century, anti-religious pressure all but eliminated doctrinal Islam. The independent religious organizations were practically eliminated. Waqf were taken under state control; mosques, Muslim courts and schools were closed. Kazakhstan was placed under the jurisdiction of the Spiritual Administration for the Muslims of Central Asia and Kazakhstan (Dukhovnoe upravlenie musulman Srednei Azii i Kazakhstana or DUMSAK), which supervised the functioning of the few remaining religious institutions. By 1989, when under glasnost (openness) the Soviet authorities had relaxed their opposition to religion, all Kazaks identified Islam as part of their ethnic and linguistic heritage. Their ‘Muslim-ness’ was more cultural than religious. Kazaks are very particular in differentiating themselves from the neighbouring Uzbeks, whom they view as very religious. According to Kazak ethnologist Raushan Mustafina, many Kazaks observe Muslim ceremonies, but they regard them as part of their national rather than their religious heritage.18 Since independence in 1991, Islam has become more visible at both the individual and national levels. At the national level, a new board for the Muslims of Kazakhstan (DUMK)— a separate entity from the original Central Asian spiritual board that had regulated Kazak religious affairs for about half a century—has been established by the Kazakhstan government. This development could be viewed as a response to greater religious adherence among the local Muslim population. There is growing evidence that ethnic Kazaks are now displaying a greater interest in Islam. The state, however, remains committed to secularism. The Muslim religious festivals are not public holidays, and the government has refused to allow the most Islamic of the Kazak nationalist parties, Azat (Freedom), to be legally registered.19 In 1997 and 1998, when the survey fieldwork was done, Kazakhstan was going through a very difficult economic period, and there was widespread disillusionment among

the people about their economic and political future.

EGYPT Egypt, with its population of 66 million, is the largest Arab Muslim country. It is also one of the most influential countries in the Middle East as well as in the Muslim world. Approximately 90 per cent of Egyptians are Sunni Muslim; of the remainder, most are Coptic Christians. Egypt is a developing and economically poor country, with a per capita GNP of US$3710 in 2002.20 It has been a Muslim country since the seventh century when (in 642 AD) Muslim troops from Arabia conquered it and made it a province of the Arab empire, which it remained for 200 years. During that period, its population was converted gradually to Islam and became Arabic-speaking. From 800 AD onward, Egypt was ruled by different Muslim dynasties from Baghdad, Tunisia, Cairo and Istanbul. In 1882, Britain occupied Egypt, and towards the end of World War I (with the defeat of the Ottoman Empire), Egypt became a British protectorate. In 1922, Egypt gained independence from Britain and became a kingdom. In 1952, an Egyptian army coup abolished the monarchy and, in 1954, Colonel Gamal Abdel Nasser came to power and laid the foundation of the Arab Republic of Egypt. Islam plays an important role in the public and private lives of Egyptian Muslims.21 As the site of Al-Azhar, the oldest Islamic university, Egypt has significantly influenced the development of Islamic learning in the Muslim world. Egyptian Muslim intellectuals such as Muhammad Abduh, Muhammad Rashid Rida, Syed Mohammad Qutb (also Kotb) and Hasan al-Banna are among the most influential Muslim thinkers and scholars of modern times. They have inspired several influential Islamic activist movements both inside and outside Egypt. These movements have been influenced by their ideas about the legitimacy of political authority and the nature of Muslim society. These movements include Salafiyya, Jama’at alIslamiyya (Egyptian Islamic Jihad), Jama’at al-Muslimin (Society of Muslims) and the Muslim Brotherhood (Jam’iyyat al-Ikhwan al-Muslimin).22 The Muslim Brotherhood has been probably the most important and influential Muslim organization in Egypt, as well as in the Arab world. From a reformist Muslim organization it was transformed into a radical Muslim organization committed to the establishment of an Islamic state through armed resistance. Nasser banned it but, after his death, state control over it was relaxed. It is no longer a radical militant organization, but still remains enormously influential in Egypt as well as in the Sudan and Jordan. As a result of the realities of Egyptian politics, the Muslim Brotherhood now emphasizes the creation of an Islamically oriented society through socio-moral rather than political reform. Its present leadership is focusing on building its base of support through educational and socioeconomic programs. Islam has played an important role in Egyptian political processes and in civil society. It continues to play a vital but constantly changing role in the development of Egyptian public life. Prominent Islamist intellectuals and the organizations they have formed have shaped its role and influence.23 These intellectuals and organizations have articulated unique and diverse responses to modernism and the influence of the West.24 These responses have

ranged from violence directed against the political leaders—including the assassination of Egyptian President Anwar Sadat and periodic attacks on Western tourists—to movements that seek to make Muslims Islamically observant in efforts to rebuild the ummah so as to redress the balance of power between Islam and the West.25 The Egyptian state remains a secular one founded on a constitution that stipulates separation of the state and religion. It is ruled by an authoritarian government whose power base lies in the armed forces and state bureaucracy. The most important feature of Islamic revivalism in Egypt in the 1990s was that Islam became part of mainstream Egyptian life and society, rather than a phenomenon confined to the margins of society. This development is credited to the institutionalization of a more open political system under President Hosni Mubarak. Emphasis on Muslim piety is now found across all social classes: educated and uneducated, peasants and professionals, young and old, women and men. Qur’an study groups are becoming popular. Islamic identity is expressed not only in formal religious practices but also in the social services offered by professional and social welfare organizations. The ulema and the mosques have also taken on a more prominent role. Like the Jamaat-e-Islami of Pakistan, the Muslim Brotherhood denounces the evils of imperialism and the cultural hegemony of the West. Nevertheless, both have realized that the Muslim predicament is first and foremost a Muslim problem, caused by Muslims who have failed to be sufficiently Islamically observant. Both re-emphasize the need for Muslims to cultivate Islamic piety, which would then pave the way for the establishment of a true Islamic society.26

TURKEY Modern Turkey is a successor state of the Ottoman Empire. It covers most of the Anatolian part of the empire and forms a bridge between Europe and Asia. It was founded by Mustafa Kemal following the defeat of the Greek and Sultan’s armies in October 1923 in a bitterly fought civil war. In 1928, it was declared a secular republic and adopted a legal system based on European law. The new republic abandoned the long Ottoman tradition of following shari’ah Islamic law. The new republican constitution introduced in April 1928 placed severe restrictions on the public role of Islam. In 1931, Kemalism was declared to be the official ideology of the Turkish state; in 1937, it was written into the constitution. The core principles of Kemalism were republicanism, nationalism, statism, populism, secularism and revolutionism. Following the introduction of Kemalism, Islam was ‘nationalized’, and Arabic was replaced with Turkish for all religious activities. The Turkish translation of the Qur’an became the official version, and the call of prayer was also mandated to be recited in Turkish. The introduction of state-enforced and state-sanctioned secularism did succeed in reducing the public influence of Islam and of the ulema, but the state continued to use the mosque to disseminate its ideology. Although they were seen as a conservative force by the republican elite, the influence of the great Sufi orders of Naqshbandiyah, Mawlawiyah, Malamiyah and Bektashiyah—which have profoundly influenced Turkish society since the thirteenth century

—remained strong. The new republic was ruled under a one-party system until 1946, when the ruling Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi (Republican People’s Party; CHP) came under pressure from new political forces led by the Demokrat Parti (DP), which was sympathetic to Islam. This political liberalization allowed Islam to take on a greater role in society. However, it was not enough to prevent the Democrats from winning the 1950 elections. Following this victory, the DP continued its liberalization policy of creating a greater role for Islam in public and personal life. Nevertheless, the success of the Democrats is generally attributed not to their policy of religious liberalization but to their economic development policies, which opened up the Turkish economy and brought prosperity to the masses.27 Since the DP victory in 1950, Turkish politics have gone through several periods of political instability and military coups—once every decade between 1960 and 1980. The military regimes, while helping to transform Turkey into an industrial society, also created political and economic dynamics that sharpened differences between the left and right—differences that began to take on a religious character. The main target of military-led right-wing political forces has been Turkey’s Alevi Muslims—a heterodox offshoot of Shi’ah Islam that makes up about 15 per cent of the country’s population—who are labelled as ‘leftist’, although their only sin is that most of them have been long-term supporters of the secular CHP. Benefits accrued from Turkey’s rapid economic growth since the 1980s have been distributed unequally. The main beneficiaries are the large Turkish conglomerates, which have alienated the small producers and petite bourgeoisie. This has led to the emergence of new political forces and dynamics. In this political milieu, Islam has become a source of political mobilization. In 1997, the Turkish military engineered another coup to oust the Islamically oriented government led by Necmettin Erbakan of Refah Partisi (Welfare Party). However, in 2002, the Justice and Development Party, an Islamic-oriented party under the leadership of popular and charismatic politician Recep Tayyip Erdogan, won a historic electoral victory by garnering 34 per cent of the vote. This victory represents the first time in the history of the Turkish republic that an ‘Islamic party’ has become the ruling party in its own right. It now leads Turkey, which has a population of 70 million and had a per capita GNP of US$6120 in 2002.28 About 96 per cent of Turks are Muslims. Of these Muslims, about 80 per cent belong to Sunni-Hanafi Islam; of the remainder, most are Alevi Muslims. About 4 per cent of the Turkish population comprise Christians—mostly Greek and Syriac Orthodox and Armenian Apostolic—and a small number of Jews. Mainstream Sunni Islam affairs are organized by the state through Diyanet Isleri Baskanligi (Department of Religious Affairs). This department manages all mosques and Muslim clerics and is also responsible for their training in religious schools as well as university faculties. The Orthodox Patriarch of Antioch and All the East governs all aspects of the Greek Orthodox Church in Turkey and serves as the spiritual leader of all Eastern Orthodox churches in the Middle East.

IRAN The Islamic Republic of Iran is probably the only country that can claim to be a theocratic

state in the modern Muslim world. It came into existence in 1979 after the overthrow of the Pahlavi dynasty—the last of a long line of dynasties that had ruled Iran over the preceding 2000 years—following a popular revolution led by Ayatollah Ruhollah al-Musavi Khomeini. The revolution was the culmination of widespread public dissatisfaction with autocratic and oppressive policies instituted by Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi, which purported to be efforts to modernize Iran and were modelled after Mustafa Kemal’s reforms in Turkey. Unfortunately, these policies alienated a wide spectrum of Iranian society, including the industrial working class, urban squatters, the bazaari (merchant class or petite bourgeoisie), students, the Shi’ah clergy and the middle class. Resistance to autocratic and oppressive policies widely regarded as pro-Western modernization is not new in Iranian history. Indeed, the 1978–79 Islamic Revolution followed the lines of the 1906–11 social movement known as the Constitutional Revolution and other similar social movements in 1949–53 and 1960–63. These movements sought to assert the political role and legitimacy of parliament in checking the excesses of royal authority. The 1978–79 Islamic Revolution, like the Constitutional Revolution, was plagued by inherent contradictions between the revealed law, which maintains the primacy of the shari’ah law, and the role of wilayat al-faqih (guardianship of the jurisconsult) and the constitutionalists, who assert the power and authority of the positive law and sovereignty of parliament. This tension remains a major source of political instability in Iran.29 Iran, with its population of 69 million (in 2004), is the largest Shi’ah country in the world. The Shi’ah sect has its roots in the early history of Islam. According to Shi’ah beliefs, the rightful successor to the Prophet Muhammad was his son-in-law Ali and not his companion and adviser Abu Bakr, who succeeded him instead on his death. Those who supported Abu Bakr belong to the Sunni sect. Approximately 20 per cent of the world’s Muslims belong to the Shi’ah sect; around 80 per cent are Sunni Muslims. About 90 per cent of Iranians are Shi’ah Muslims; around 9 per cent are Sunni. In terms of ethnicity, 51 per cent are Persian and Azeri; of the rest, most belong to the Gilaki, Mazandarani, Kurd, Arab, Lur and Blochi ethnic groups. An important characteristic of Shi’ahism is that it tends to be intellectually more oriented to ijtihad (innovation) than Sunni Islam is; hence, many scholars regard it as less tradition-bound than Sunni Islam. Like other oil-producing countries, Iran—with its per capita GNP of US$6340 (2002)—is a relatively prosperous Muslim country.30 Since its Islamic Revolution, Iran has had tense relationships with its mainly Sunni neighbours; one of the most dramatic manifestations was the Iraqi-instigated and costly Iraq/Iran war, which lasted ten years and resulted in more than a million casualties. Between 1993 and 2005, reformist political parties dominated Iranian politics; however, the conservatives were able to resist the reformist agenda through their entrenched positions in state structures, which allowed them to wield significant political power. As a result, the reformists were unable to significantly reduce the tension between those who support Iran’s constitutional arrangements, which confer enormous power and status on the unelected proponents of wilayat al-faqih (leadership of a jurist over society) or on the unelected faqih (jurists), and those who support parliament as the source of legal and

political sovereignty. The invasion of Iraq in 2003 by the USA and its mostly Western allies played into the hands of Iranian Islamic conservatives; as a result, they regained political power at the 2005 Iranian presidential and parliamentary elections. In 2006, Iran became embroiled in a major row with the USA, France, Germany, the United Kingdom and Israel over its nuclear program. According to some reports, the USA is even considering a nuclear attack against Iran’s nuclear facilities.31 These claims are strongly denied by the US government. While doing the survey fieldwork for this study, I gained a strong impression that Iran has made significant progress in promoting educational opportunities that has given the poor and particularly women almost universal access to all levels of education. Furthermore, notwithstanding the mandatory dress codes imposed on women when they appear in public, significant progress has been made in improving women’s economic and social status thanks to their growing participation in the economy. Perhaps one of the most striking indicators of this progress is the dramatic decline in fertility. In Iran, the total fertility rate (a measure of the average number of children born to women during their reproductive years) fell from 6.3 in 1986 to 2 in 2002.32

MALAYSIA Malaysia is the successor state to the former British colonies on the Malay Peninsula and on the island of Borneo. It became an independent state in 1957. According to 2004 estimates, slightly more than 60 per cent of its population of 24 million are Muslims, most of whom are Malays. Like Indonesian Muslims, most Malaysian Muslims are followers of the Shafi’i school of Islamic law. It is one of the most ethnically diverse countries in the world: Malay and other indigenous groups form 62 per cent of its population; Chinese, 23 per cent; South Asians, 7 per cent; and other South-East Asian ethnic groups, 8 per cent. With its per capita GNP of US$8280 in 2002, Malaysia is one of the more prosperous countries in South-East Asia.33 During the pre-colonial period, the Malay Peninsula was divided into several traditional states ruled by hereditary Malay sultan (kings) who acted as the traditional defenders of the faith. In most of these states, indigenous Malays had converted to Islam during the twelfth to fourteenth centuries under the influence of trade and the Islamic Sufi orders, which had spread to these states via Sumatra and India. As in Indonesia, Islam did not completely diminish the role of traditional Malay adat (personal law), which continues to be practised along with Islamic shari’ah law. This gave Malayan Islam a distinctive syncretic character. Islamic scholars in traditional Malay society played an important role by preserving, transmitting and translating the tenets of the faith for followers.34 Most education was provided in religious schools and involved memorization of the Qur’an and the learning of basic religious rituals. Around the turn of the twentieth century, Malayan society was also influenced by reformist trends sweeping thorough Islamic lands in the Middle East and South Asia. Reformists became critical of the poor economic conditions and religious conservatism of traditional

Malay society, which resulted in the development of two distinctive movements known as Kaum Muda (the Young Group) and Kaum Tua (the Old Group). Kaum Muda placed greater emphasis on ijtihad (independent religious reasoning) and on the Qur’an and Sunnah and less reliance on traditional and conservative practices, which were strongly resisted by Kaum Tua.35 Kaum Muda sowed the seeds of Malayan nationalism, which spearheaded the independence movement led by the United Malays National Organisation (UMNO), formed in 1946. In 1951, the ulema faction broke away from UMNO and formed Persatuan Islam SaMalaya (Pan-Malayan Islamic Association), popularly known as PAS (it was eventually renamed Parti Islam Se Malaysia or the Islamic Party of Malaysia). Both parties have played an important role in Malaysia, but UMNO has been the dominant ruling party in the Barisan Nasional (National Front)—an alliance of Malay, Chinese and Indian political parties—that has ruled Malaysia since its independence. As UMNO and PAS appealed to Muslim Malay voters to represent them at the state and national levels, gradually, the more nationalist UMNO began to incorporate Islam into its policies and programs. This became especially pronounced under the 22-year-long leadership of Mahathir Mohamad, who trumped PAS by successfully wooing the main youth da’wah (propagation) movement headed by the charismatic Anwar Ibrahim. Under the leadership of Mahathir and Ibrahim, UMNO introduced the Islamization program (which included Islamic banking and insurance and expansion of the role of the shari’ah courts), expanded Islamic education in educational institutions and established the International Islamic University Malaysia and a number of Islamic centres. Although the partnership between Mahathir and Ibrahim ended bitterly, their legacy has left an indelible mark on Malaysian Islam. There is much greater emphasis on Islam in public affairs, although Malay Islam still continues to adhere to its moderate and malleable inclinations. The success of these policies has had a tangible influence on Malaysian politics, as was evident in the 2004 national elections, during which UMNO made significant inroads into the traditional PAS homeland on the east coast of West Malaysia. In general, Islam now plays a significant role in private and public life, as it does in Malaysian politics.

1 EXPLORING ISLAMIC CONSCIOUSNESS

Religious consciousness, a product of interpretive communities, is a symbolic universe of deeply held religious beliefs and convictions that guides the religious behaviour and practices of the faithful. Using historical as well as empirical evidence, this chapter will sketch portraits of Muslim religious consciousness in different countries and explore their evolution and function in Islamic history and the contemporary Muslim world.

The hudood laws in Pakistan On 22 February 1979, about two years after the military coup that brought him to power in Pakistan, General Mohammad Zia ul-Haq’s military regime introduced a series of laws known as the hudood ordinances, governing offences against property, consumption of intoxicants, zina (fornication and adultery) and qazf (bearing false witness). In Islamic jurisprudence, hudd (plural hudood) refers to punishments prescribed by the Qur’an or Sunnah, the traditions set by the Prophet Muhammad. The express purpose of these laws was to bring existing laws regarding these crimes into conformity with the injunctions of Islam as set out in the Qur’an and Sunnah, which are obligatory for all Muslims to follow. These laws were presented as necessary to fulfil one of the fundamental obligations of the Islamic state and to ‘protect honour, life and the fundamental rights of a citizen, as guaranteed under the constitution and to ensure peace and provide speedy justice through an independent nondiscriminatory Islamic system of justice’.1 Successive governments used a similar rationale to expand the scope of the hudood laws; for example, when introducing the Qisas (retribution) and Diyat (compensation) ordinances of 1990. However, behind the platitudes of creating a just and equal society for all, the real reason for the new laws was to bolster the regime’s legitimacy among the Pakistani masses, and they were widely regarded as a cynical attempt to exploit the common people’s devotion to Islam. The hudood ordinance regarding zina covers fornication, adultery, rape, kidnapping, abducting or inducing a woman to commit illicit sex or compelling her to marry against her will, enticement or detention of a woman with criminal intent and the selling or buying of a

person for purposes of prostitution. Under this ordinance, criminal liability for adults differs by gender. A girl is considered adult at sixteen or on attaining puberty, whereas a boy is considered adult at eighteen or when pubertal. The law provides hudd punishments that are fixed, and the rules of evidence are stringent. It requires the confession of the accused before a competent court, or evidence of four adult male Muslim witnesses (who are truthful persons and abstain from major sins). Non-Muslim males can be witnesses only when the accused is a non-Muslim. Such evidentiary rules clearly discriminate against women and non-Muslims. Under the laws that existed before the introduction of the hudood laws, premarital sex was a crime only in the case of adulterous sex between a married woman and man; it carried a punishment of five years imprisonment or a fine or both. The crime of adultery was bailable. Complaints of adultery could be made only by the husband of a woman or, in his absence, by someone who had care of such a woman on his behalf. Women could not be punished and, if the complainant chose to drop the charges, criminal proceedings against the accused were stopped. After the hudood laws were implemented, the situation changed fundamentally. These laws have converted zina from an offence against an individual to one against the state. Anyone can make a complaint against anybody else, and the police are authorized to initiate a criminal case. The accused individuals are considered guilty until proven innocent, and both the woman and her male partner are liable to punishment. In such a society as Pakistan, with its deeply embedded patriarchal beliefs and attitudes, the hudood laws in general and the law pertaining to zina in particular have been widely and recklessly abused. In particular, they have become an instrument of oppression against women. As long as only the husband could register the case and only the male accused could be punished for adultery, husbands were reluctant to prosecute in order to save or protect their family honour. The hudood laws have become a tool used to victimize and humiliate women. A man accused by a woman of sexual assault or rape frequently escapes prosecution by simply swearing innocence on the Qur’an (DNA testing is not carried out), and the woman, particularly if she is pregnant, then faces the full weight of the zina law. The vast majority of zina allegations are either false or based on suspicion. True, a large majority of hudood cases in the superior courts have been decided in favour of the women involved, but only after the accused has suffered long periods of incarceration and humiliation while awaiting trial. The vast majority of the cases are filed by parents whose daughters have married someone against their wishes, or by former husbands on the remarriage of their ex-wives. The following cases are typical of the abuse of the hudood laws. In 2002, in the Pakistani city of Kohat, Zafran Bibi, after being sexually violated and discovering that she was pregnant, went to the police to report a case of rape. Instead of investigating the case, the police brought a charge of adultery against her, and a court sentenced her to death by stoning (a hudd punishment). On appeal, the Federal Shariat Court acquitted her but, for weeks, she was kept shackled and isolated in a death row cell. In 1988,

in response to a complaint brought by her ex-husband after she remarried, Shahida Perveen was sentenced in court to death by stoning. She was finally acquitted after a retrial ordered by the Federal Shariat Court upheld the validity of her earlier divorce and subsequent marriage to her new husband. The humiliation she faced forced Perveen and her new husband to leave their home and community to restart their life elsewhere. A couple arrested at their home on 3 May 1980 for ‘attempted zina’ (which is not a crime even under the hudood laws) spent seven years in prison awaiting trial before being sentenced in January 1987 by a court in Karachi, the country’s most metropolitan city, to ten lashes and five years of rigorous imprisonment. On appeal, the couple was acquitted by the Federal Shariat Court on 18 March 1987.2 The hudood laws and their successors have severely eroded and undermined the constitutional guarantees of life and liberty for all citizens. Instead of protecting ‘honour, life and the fundamental rights of a citizen’, these laws have become instruments of oppression. They have made adultery or fornication—a consensual act between two adults—a crime against the state. At the same time, they too often redefine rape—in reality a non-consensual, violent act against women—into a consensual act initiated by women, since a woman who is unable to prove that she has been raped opens herself to prosecution for adultery. The complainant thus becomes subject to hudd punishments. Since the promulgation of the Zina Ordinance, allegations of zina, instead of declining, have increased dramatically. Zina cases now run into thousands. In some places, they constitute the majority of cases dealt with by the police. At the Women’s Karachi South police station, for example, zina cases made up around 80 per cent of all cases in which charges were filed. (In conservative Pakistani society, women shy away from dealing with male-dominated state institutions. Thus, women police stations are staffed by female officers to facilitate women’s access to the police service.) State agencies such as the police and the judicial system are used to hound women who, in attempting to take control of their own lives, overstep the boundaries defined by a patriarchal society.3 The hudood laws, far from creating a just and equal society, have succeeded only in imprisoning half of the country’s population ‘in a web of barbaric laws and customs’.4 According to some Islamic scholars, the introduction of these laws represents an ugly blot on the divine purity of Islamic doctrine. In a carefully researched book, Dr Mohammad Tufail Hashmi, a well-known Pakistani Islamic scholar, argues that, in conferring supposed ‘divine’ status on the Islamic hudd laws as well as on supporting laws laid out in the Pakistan Penal Code, the hudood ordinances violate the sanctity of the divinely ordained laws of Islam. They also convey a flawed and unworthy image of Islam to the world. In Islamic juristic tradition, punishing an innocent is a greater and more serious sin than acquitting a guilty person. According to Hashmi, the enforcement of hudood laws in Pakistan is a perversion of Islamic law and is perpetuating a warped image of Islam.5

Other laws in Pakistan

The supposed Islamization of the Pakistan Penal Code did not stop with laws that disadvantaged women. Between 1980 and 1986, General Zia’s regime made five amendments to the Code that introduced new punishments for blasphemy and insulting the sentiments of Muslims. Before these amendments, allegations of blasphemy were hardly ever made in Pakistan. The blasphemy laws permit unscrupulous and fanatical elements in society to play out their own prejudices against, or settle their own scores with, individuals, in particular liberal-minded Muslims or non-Muslims. Thousands of people, especially Christians and members of the Quadiani sect of Muslims, have been imprisoned under these laws. Many have committed suicide, and others, even after having been acquitted by the courts of any wrong-doing, have had to flee the country for their own safety.6 The following case illustrates this abuse.

DR YOUNUS SHAIKH On 1 October 2000, Dr Shaikh, a Pakistani Muslim doctor and a human rights activist, attended a meeting in Islamabad on Pakistan–India relations and nuclear war. In a statement from the floor, he expressed his personal view that, in the interest of peace, the existing line of demarcation should become the peace line: the international border between the two countries. He also voiced his opposition to Pakistani support for the ‘freedom fighters’ in Kashmir, arguing that such support would provoke India into launching retaliatory actions, thus damaging prospects of peace between the two countries. Following this statement, an officer from Pakistan’s military intelligence threatened Dr Shaikh, saying he would crush the heads of those who think and speak like that. Two days after this incident, Dr Shaikh was dismissed without notice from the college where he taught. A few days later, he was arrested on a charge of blasphemy. The charges levelled against Dr Shaikh—by a Muslim cleric from the Committee for the Finality of the Prophethood—under Section 295-C of the Pakistan Penal Code centred on remarks that he was alleged to have made during the course of a lecture given on 2 October 2000, at the college where he worked: that neither the Prophet of Islam nor his parents could have been Muslims before Islam was revealed to the Prophet. Dr Shaikh was also alleged to have said that the Prophet was unlikely to have shaved under his armpits since the custom was probably unknown to his tribe at the time. These remarks were interpreted by Dr Shaikh’s accusers as an insult to the Prophet. Although he categorically denied having given any lecture at the time or having made these remarks, he was taken into police custody and remained in jail for many months until his trial, which took place in the summer of 2001. Dr Shaikh was found guilty of ‘insulting the Prophet’ and given a mandatory death sentence under the blasphemy law. He spent the following two years in solitary confinement in a death cell in Rawalpindi, in appalling conditions, and was under constant threat of being murdered by Islamic fundamentalist inmates. On appeal, his case was heard by two judges and lasted fifteen months. The appeal ended in a split decision by the judges, as they disagreed over the material facts, so a retrial was ordered. At the retrial, held in November 2003 in Islamabad, he was acquitted of all charges. Even after his acquittal, he felt unsafe in

Pakistan and escaped to a European country where he now resides.7 Many similar cases have been documented in reports published by the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan8, which claims that the abuse of blasphemy laws is increasing. While non-Muslims remain especially vulnerable to being charged under these laws, more and more Muslims are being accused as a way to settle minor disputes.

Other Muslim countries The situation in Pakistan is symptomatic of conditions that now prevail in other Muslim countries. The four cases discussed below illustrate other kinds of abuse carried out in the name of Islam. Two cases involve Saudi Arabia; the others took place in Indonesia and Egypt.

DEATHS OF GIRL STUDENTS IN SAUDI ARABIA In March 2002, an accidental fire broke out in a public school for girls in Mecca, Saudi Arabia. According to parents, firemen and regular police present at the scene, the Saudi religious police or mutawaun—fearing the girls were not ‘properly’ covered and wanting to ensure that no physical contact took place between them and the civil defence forces—locked the doors of the school from the outside, forcibly preventing the girls from escaping the burning building as well as preventing the firemen from entering the school to save the girls. Fourteen students were burned to death or asphyxiated by smoke. Witnesses told Saudi newspapers that the mutawaun demanded that the girls return to the burning building to retrieve their veils before being allowed to leave the school and that at least three girls were beaten with sticks and kicked when they attempted to argue. The few girls who obeyed and went back into the burning building were later found dead. The Committee for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice, the Saudi government department responsible for administering the mutawaun, denied that the doors of the school were locked, or that the girls or civil defence workers were beaten, as alleged. No investigation or prosecution took place, and the incident is now all but forgotten in Saudi Arabia.

BEHEADING OF ABD AL-KARIM AL-NAQSHABANDI, SAUDI ARABIA Al-Naqshabandi was a Syrian citizen employed by Prince Salman bin Saud bin Abdul Aziz, a nephew of King Fahd. In the early 1990s, it was alleged that he had practised witchcraft against his employer. The primary evidence: an amulet inscribed with Qur’anic verses found in his desk drawer at work and some books on Sufism allegedly found in his home. According to al-Naqshabandi, the amulet had been given to him by his mother in Syria, in the belief that it would ward off envy and evil spirits. My mother gave me a similar amulet, known as imam zaman in my family, when I left Pakistan to study in the USA—for identical reasons. The Saudi government, however, considered possession of such materials to be grievous acts of heresy that warranted the punishment of death under Saudi Islamic law.

For three years after his arrest and despite being tortured, al-Naqshabandi continued to profess his innocence. As a practising Muslim, he maintained that he had never believed in or practised witchcraft. Citing Muslim jurists, he wrote letters to the judge in charge of his case, arguing that no authority in Islamic law had ever held that the punishment for possession of an amulet was death. He also asserted that his employer had framed him, that he was never allowed to consult a lawyer after his arrest and that the court had refused to call any of the twenty-two witnesses who could testify to his innocence. The Committee for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice and the Saudi Ministry of Interior justified the execution by charging that al-Naqshabandi ‘undertook the practice of works of magic and spells and possession of a collection of polytheistic and superstitious books’. They added: ‘In view of what magic and witchcraft produce in the way of serious damage to the individual and society with respect to religion, the soul, money and intellect and considering that what the defendant did has the potential of producing great harm, his acts are worthy of severe punishment so that his evil will be terminated and others will be deterred. Therefore, it was decided that he be sentenced to the discretionary punishment of death’.9 Al-Naqshabandi’s death sentence was reviewed and affirmed by the Saudi Appeals Committee and the Higher Judicial Council. On 13 December 1996, he was beheaded.

SHARI’AH PUNISHMENT IN INDONESIA On 24 June 2005, Tarmizi bin Abdullah was the first of fifteen men publicly flogged for gambling in the Indonesian province of Aceh. They were sentenced by an Islamic shari’ah court under newly introduced Islamic laws. The evidence against them included a pack of cards and Rupiah 47 000 (less than US$5). According to press reports, flogging was administered on the grounds of the Grand Mosque and watched by thousands of Achenese, including invited dignitaries, many of whom laughed and applauded when those convicted were led one by one to an elevated pavilion whose pillars were decorated with blue fabric and silver bunting. They were then flogged by a man in a hood and green robes. According to press reports, many eyewitnesses did not think the beatings were harsh enough since they ‘didn’t knock the convicts over or make them scream’. Children sat at the front of the audience, enjoying the drama. The floggings were broadcast live on Indonesian television networks. There were no public protests: ordinary people were hesitant to criticize the government, and many people in deeply religious Aceh approved of the punishment.10

DR NASR HAMED ABU ZEID, EGYPT Abu Zeid was an associate professor of Arabic studies at Cairo University whose problems began in 1994 when he applied for promotion to the post of professorship by submitting to an examining committee two examples of his research, one of which was A Critique of Religious Discourse. One of the members of the committee rejected his application and accused him of rejecting fundamental tenets of Islam. In 1995, a Cairo appeals court ruled that his writings included opinions that made him an apostate and therefore annulled his

marriage. This verdict was based on a doctrine known as hisbah (guarding against infringements), which entitles any Muslim to take legal action against anyone or anything he considers to be harmful to Islam. According to this injunction in the Qur’an, Muslims are obliged to propagate good and suppress evil, and the state is empowered to institute arrangements to oversee the enforcement of this injunction. The traditional areas in which hisbah functioned included maintenance of public law and order and supervising the behaviour of buyers and sellers in the market, with a view to ensuring correct conduct. With the advent of Western colonialism, the functions of hisbah law were transferred from a religiously supervised state to such secular departments as the police, and agencies that regulated commerce and its religious content became irrelevant. Several Muslim countries, including Egypt, are now reviving the application of hisbah laws, but this application has become controversial and contested. In the case of Abu Zeid, appeals followed the 1995 verdict. Indeed, that same year, another court dismissed the case against him, but the decision was reversed by a superior court. The university decided to promote him and provided him with armed protection. However, for many militant Islamists, the original court decision was tantamount to a death sentence. Abu Zeid’s life was under such grave threat that, in July 1995, he and his wife went into exile. He now teaches at Leiden University, in the Netherlands.

Conflict of conscience in contemporary Islam The cases described above are symptomatic of a deep conflict within the religious and social conscience of Muslims in most Muslim countries today. While these practices and laws do not enjoy universal acceptance, the fact that a significant proportion of Muslims at least tolerates them indicates a troubling level of moral lethargy in the collective life of contemporary Islam. It is also important to emphasize that the examples described above coexist with a pervasive sense of common humanity, kindness and genuine concern for the well-being of others and the underprivileged in Muslim societies. One only needs to reflect on the outpouring of generous financial assistance provided by ordinary Indonesians and the personal anguish and sympathy they felt for the victims of the December 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, which devastated Aceh. Similar expressions could be witnessed following the destruction wreaked in Pakistan by the 2005 South Asian earthquake. Other examples of generosity and a genuine concern for the well-being of the underprivileged can be found in the institution of waqf (charitable trusts). Spread across the Muslim world and numbering in the thousands, the waqf deliver educational, health and welfare services to millions of poor people. In 2004, I visited an Ottoman waqf in Istanbul near the shrine of Eyup-al Ansari that had served meals to the poor and the needy over the previous three centuries. Then there is the celebrated Islamic institution of zakat (obligatory charitable giving), through which billions of dollars are raised in Muslim countries each year and applied to the well-being of impoverished and disadvantaged Muslims.11 In addition, there are countless

privately funded non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in every Muslim country working to promote activities ranging from the advancement of human rights to caring for the welfare of the disadvantaged.12 For example, Muhammadiyah and Nahdatul Ulama—the largest Muslim organizations in Indonesia and possibly in the world, with a combined membership of around 80 million—have provided educational and health services to Indonesian Muslims for a century or so. In another example of common humanity, Pakistan and Iran together have been home to more than 2.5 million Afghan refugees (about 20 per cent of the world’s refugees in 1999) for decades.13 Do the laws and practices described at the beginning of this chapter negate not only the humanitarian traditions of Islam but also the essential message of the Qur’an, which enjoins believers to establish a viable social order on earth that will be just and ethically based? Only the most deluded or self-absorbed Muslims could remain unconcerned by the sheer quantity and ugliness of the incidents described earlier. The hudood and blasphemy laws of Pakistan, the seriously flawed judicial systems and the rampant oppression of women and the poor (who are the main victims of the hudood ordinances and other similar laws) cannot be attributed to an aberrational fanaticism considered marginal and unrepresentative. The evidence suggests instead a pattern of abusive practice. The Qur’an is full of warnings to Muslims that if they fail to establish justice and bear witness to truth, God owes them nothing and will replace them with other people who are more capable of honouring God by establishing justice and human equality on earth.

THE MAKING OF THE SALAFABIST CONSCIOUSNESS Such violent, repulsive and publicly visible acts could be interpreted as the by-product of social malignancies that have festered for a long time. Dr Khaled Abou El Fadl—an eminent Islamic jurist who was born in Egypt but is now an American citizen and a professor of law at the University of California, Los Angeles—provides a succinct description of how historical and social conditions interact to form a particular mentality, noting: there is a socio-historical enterprise formed of various participants that partake in the generation of meaning. The participants in these various socio-historical enterprises are known as interpretive communities—groups of people who share common hermeneutical methodologies, linguistic skills, and epistemological values, and coalesce around a particular set of texts and determine the meaning and import of these texts. The determinations of the participants in a socio-historical enterprise become precedents that help set the meaning and practical applications, of a text, even if the text is sacred, such as the Qur’an. Therefore, when we speak about the meaning of Islam today, we are really talking about the product of cumulative enterprises that have generated communities of interpretation through a long span of history.14 It is important to keep this idea of a ‘cumulative enterprise’ in mind when we consider the cases described in this chapter. The behaviours described earlier were not the acts of a few

marginalized individuals who had been socially and politically corrupted. People do not just wake up one day and decide to commit acts of terrorism, kill in the name of ‘honour’, or behead someone for possessing an amulet—in the name of Islam. They are not naturally inclined to sanction acts by religious establishments of the state that prevent young female students from escaping a school fire, or humiliate victims of rape and injustice—in the name of Islam. Such acts take place because of social dynamics that have desensitized and deconstructed a society’s sense of moral virtue and ethics.15 Theological constructs and social responses that tolerate the commission of acts of cruelty are the product of a long process of indoctrination and acculturation. Indoctrination facilitates their commission; acculturation mutes or mitigates the sense of outrage over the offensive behaviour. Muslims ought to be seriously concerned when Islam is repeatedly and consistently invoked to justify immoral behaviour. Each abusive act committed in the name of Islam becomes a historical precedent, and each precedent can carry normative weight and therefore influence the meanings of Islam and Islamic values in the future. Religious consciousness in a Muslim society is shaped by the interaction between that society’s interpretive communities and its dominant theological orientations. Interpretive communities arise among members of social groups to develop explanations of the events that shape their personal lives, collective history and temperament and, in the process, to reinforce and strengthen the moral foundations of the group. This universal social process, essentially a type of intellectual discourse, has a strong influence on all forms of religious consciousness. Theological orientations are the dominant forms of religious ideas and practice. Their claims of being closer to the authentic and true meanings of the divine doctrines give them precedence over rival religious ideas and practices. Theological orientations are transmitted through families, communities and institutions and are also profoundly influenced by the society’s interpretive communities. Just as the foundational community of Arabia shaped many of Islam’s fundamental beliefs and practices, so the succeeding historical epochs have nurtured and shaped the theological orientations that followed.16 To make sense of the incidents described, we need first to analyze three streams of Islamic consciousness that developed under the historical conditions faced by Muslim societies over the previous few centuries. Under the conditions of economic underdevelopment, technological backwardness and powerlessness prevailing today in the Muslim world, elements of these three streams have somehow fused to give rise to a new hybrid Islamic consciousness: salafabism, a development that provides the most likely explanation for the active support or passive tolerance of the hudood laws and the acts of violence I described at the beginning of the chapter. This Islamic consciousness is constructed by the social, political and economic conditions in the various Muslim countries and feeds on them. The intellectual, social and political challenge is to undo the conditions that have given rise to salafabism and thus lead the way to its marginalization. Doing so will require reclaiming an Islamic consciousness that honours the Islamic heritage while incorporating a critical stance towards Islamic history and texts—one that is able to confront salafabist dogma. In the

analysis and discussion that follows, I have relied mostly on the seminal work on this subject by Abou El Fadl and Rahman.17 Apologetics A common feature of most Muslim societies is a shared history of colonialism under European dominance. This sociopolitical experience was accompanied by a culture of orientalism: an assumption of Western superiority combined with a condescending trivialization of Islamic cultural achievements. The onslaught of these processes led not only to loss of power by political and religious elites in the lands of Islam, but also to the devaluation and deprecation of Islamic beliefs and institutions. The dominant intellectual response of Muslims to this challenge from around the mid-eighteenth century came from the apologetics.18 The apologetic approach was an impressive and elegant attempt to offer interpretations and construct meanings about this challenge. Apologetics attempted to defend and salvage Islamic beliefs and traditions by simultaneously emphasizing the compatibility between Islam and modernity and adopting pietistic fictions about the supremacy of Islamic traditions. Such fictions eschewed any critical evaluation of Islamic traditions and celebrated the presumed perfection of Islam. A key argument of apologists was that most meritorious and worthwhile modern institutions were in fact invented by Islam. According to apologists, Islam liberated women, created democracy, endorsed pluralism, protected human rights and introduced social welfare long before these institutions ever existed in the West. One implication of this orientation was that, since Islam had invented most modern institutions, there was no incentive to engage in any further thinking or analysis, except on very marginal issues. Apologists embraced the idea of resisting the destructive effects of modernity and Western hegemony, affirming self-worth and attaining a measure of emotional empowerment. The main effect of their efforts, however, was to contribute to a sense of intellectual selfsufficiency that often descended into a moral arrogance similar to that displayed by the orientalists. The apologists produced an arrogant culture that eschewed self-critical and introspective insight, instead embracing fantasy and projecting blame as a way of instilling self-confidence.19 The apologetic response was primarily power-centred. The apologists sought to empower Islam by revering the presumed superiority of Islamic tradition in the abstract. Yet they failed to engage it as a dynamic and viable tradition in everyday life. They projected a static image of Islamic tradition that was incapable of adapting to the demands of modernity without collapsing into itself. In this respect, the apologist’s stance adopted a projection of the orientalists: that the Islamic tradition was decent but incapable of coming to terms with the conditions of modernity. Apologists treated the Islamic tradition as if it had fossilized at the time of the Prophet and the Rightly Guided Companions (the four Caliphs who succeeded Muhammad).20 The decline and disintegration of traditional institutions of Islamic learning and authority under the yoke of colonialism virtually ensured the irrelevance of true Islamic intellectuals.

By undermining the authority and authenticity of Islamic institutions, this disintegration produced an intellectual vacuum. Under these conditions, virtually any Muslim could regard himself or herself as an authoritative spokesperson for Islamic tradition. Using the rhetoric of apologetics, these self-proclaimed experts, whose knowledge of Islamic tradition and law was very superficial, sought to position themselves as authorities in Islamic theology and law by proclaiming such vacuities as ‘the Islamic world is backward and powerless because it is devoid of the practice of true Islam’.21 They then used their new-found position to increase Islamic tradition’s mass appeal by transforming it into a vehicle for displays of power symbolism. Such symbolism, driven by the desire to overcome a pervasive sense of powerlessness in the face of Western political and cultural hegemony, became a means of voicing nationalistic aspirations for political, social and cultural independence. Islam thus came to be seen as a kind of anti-colonialist resistance ideology capable of restoring Muslim pride and political power. Political liberation anchored itself in a religious orientation that was puritanical, supremacist and opportunistic.22 Wahhabism Wahhabi theology was founded by the eighteenth-century Arabian evangelist Abd al-Wahhab (d. 1792) as a response to the Ottoman rule of Arabia. With puritanical zeal, al-Wahhab sought to rid Islam of all ‘corruptions’ and ‘aberrations’, such as mysticism, intercession, intellectualism, sectarianism and rationalism, in order to restore its pristine purity. He proclaimed that Islamic purity was reclaimable with a literal implementation of Islamic texts and the commands and precedents of the Prophet and through a strict adherence to correct ritual practice. Wahhabism resisted the indeterminacy of the modern age by retreating to a strict literalism in which the sacred texts became the sole source of legitimacy. Any form of moral thought and ideas not completely dependent on these texts were treated as a form of idolatry. Wahhabism viewed rational inquiry with deep suspicion and hostility. It rejected any attempt to interpret Islamic law that would accommodate modern conditions and exigencies and treated classical jurisprudential tradition as a corruption of the true and authentic Islam. Religiously puritanical, it rejected all interpretations of the sacred texts except those of wahhabism.23 From the onset, wahhabi ideology was suppressed by the Ottoman rulers of Arabia, but it continued to attract a following among the tribes of Najd. It was the cause of several brutal rebellions in the nineteenth century. Many prominent Islamic jurists of the time regarded it as a fanatical ideology. It was resuscitated in the early twentieth century when tribal and religious leader Abd al Aziz ibn Saud adopted wahhabism, allied himself with the tribes of Najd and succeeded in establishing the modern state of Saudi Arabia. Wahhabism might have remained just a local ‘sect’ if it had not been for the sharp rise in the price of oil in 1972. With this rise, the Saudi Arabian state gained the financial resources to spread wahhabism throughout the Muslim world—partly as a counter-ideology in response to the challenges created by the socialism and nationalism practised in neighbouring Arab states.

Salafism The Saudis have never regarded wahhabism as a sect or a school of Islamic thought. They even object to the label wahhabism because they regard it as the pristine Islam. In the twentieth century, wahhabism did not spread among Muslims under its own banner but under that of salafism. The salafi movement in modern Islam had its genesis in the writings of such Muslim reformers and nationalists as Mohammad Abduh, al-Afghani, Muhammad Rashid Rida and Sayyid Abul A’la Maududi. Salafism appealed to some basic Islamic concepts, namely, that Muslims ought to follow the precedents set by the Prophet and his companions (al-salaf al-salih).24 Salafism is an intellectual response that developed to fruition under the conditions of postcolonial Muslim societies whose governments failed to deliver the fruits of the ‘national project’; that is, jobs, economic development, welfare for citizens and equality of citizenship. It was the kind of response that said to the ruling elites: ‘You have failed to deliver the fruits of the national development because you were using secular laws; use the law of God and you will succeed’. Salafism in its original incarnation strived to establish an Islamic state, but unlike wahhabism, it did not reject pluralistic interpretations of Islamic texts. More recently, however, the terms wahhabism and salafism have often been used interchangeably. Salafism as it originally developed maintained that, on all issues, Muslims ought to return to the original textual sources of the Qur’an and the Sunnah of the Prophet and interpret them in the light of modern needs and demands without being slavishly bound by the interpretive precedents of earlier Muslim generations.25 In this respect, it was a distinctive intellectual project. Salafism advocated a kind of interpretive community in which anyone was qualified to return to the divine texts and interpret their messages. Unlike wahhabism, it was not hostile to competing Islamic juristic traditions, Sufism or mysticism. A great impetus for the rise of salafism came from Muslim intellectuals who were influenced by the tradition of apologetics and who were eager to argue that modern developments such as democracy, constitutionalism and socialism were embedded in the foundational texts of Islam. Salafi intellectuals were more interested in demonstrating that Islam was compatible with modernity than in maintaining the integrity of the juristic tradition and method. They thus represented an apologetic response to the challenges posed by modernity—one that displayed an intellectual self-sufficiency and arrogance typical of the apologists, as well as a typical apologist mindset, largely devoid of self-criticism and selfreflection. Salafi ideology concerned itself with making Islam into a political force that might transform the ummah (the universal community of Muslims) and with providing a solid basis for Islamic identity in the Muslim struggle against neo-colonialism and the underdevelopment of Islamic lands. As a result, it essentially became a part of Muslim identity politics. A key salafi ideologue was Sayyid Abul A’la Maududi, the founder of Pakistan’s Jamaat-e-Islami, who argued that Muslims should endeavour to strengthen their Islamic identity by following lifestyles that distinguish them from non-Muslims. To avoid ambiguity as to what constituted proper Muslim identity, Maududi and his colleagues

ventured to update the norms of Islamic ‘correct action’. Among the fruits of their efforts was an Islamic theory of economics that they used as an instrument to foster global Muslim solidarity and Muslim identity vis-à-vis non-Muslims. Islamic economics emerged in South Asia in the nineteenth century at a time when the region’s Muslims were intensely preoccupied with defining themselves as Indians or Muslims and with finding a proper response to Europe’s formidable economic achievements. In his recent book Islam and Mammon, American economist Dr Timur Kuran of the University of Southern California argues that Islamic economics is mostly prescriptive. When efforts are made to give it a more scientific or analytical power, it loses much of its Islamic character. For example, the model of an interest-free economy tends to rely on a standard general equilibrium model that features no Islamic motif except a restriction on interest. Islamic economics has remained largely preoccupied with defining modern Muslim identity. As an economics of identity, however, it raises interesting questions for economic theory, which has, in the past, largely ignored the economic and social benefits of identity and thus avoided the need to address the way people cope with identity-related concerns. ‘In reality . . . the need for a well-defined identity competes with needs that every school of economics recognizes, like food, shelter and financial security. Moreover, just as a person whose house suffers damage will undertake repairs, people whose identity has lost focus or become depreciated will try to redefine themselves and establish a clear sense of who they are. The repair task may involve . . . efforts to reformulate economics itself.’26 This might be one of the most significant contributions that Islamic economics has made to modern economic thought. Salafi ideology also failed to confront the challenge posed by nationalism. Unable to muster power (except in Saudi Arabia), salafism responded by restructuring and redefining itself and, over time, became an unprincipled and diluted moral force. In the post-colonial period, wahhabism and salafism gradually began to merge; by the 1970s, they had become practically indistinguishable. Both imagined a golden age of Islam, a historical utopia that they claimed was entirely retrievable and reproducible. Both remained uninterested in critical historical inquiry and responded to the challenge of modernity by retreating to the secure haven of the sacred texts. They placed such strong emphasis on the self-sufficiency of Islam that their viewpoint bordered on arrogance, and the egalitarianism and anti-elitism they advocated was so extreme that rational inquiry and intellectualism were viewed as corruptions of the purity of Islam.27

SALAFABISM The term salafabism was developed by Abou El Fadl in outlining a syncretic theory of one strand of contemporary Muslim religious consciousness that combines elements of wahhabism and salafism.28 According to Abou El Fadl, characteristic features of salafabism include the following: a profound alienation from institutions of power in the modern world and from Islamic

heritage and tradition a supremacist puritanism that compensates for feelings of defeatism, disempowerment and alienation a belief in the self-sufficiency of Islamic doctrines and a sense of self-righteous arrogance vis-à-vis the ‘other’ the prevalence of patriarchal, misogynist and exclusionary orientations, and an abnormal obsession with the seductive power of women the rejection of critical appraisals of Islamic traditions and Muslim discourses the denial of universal moral values and rejection of the indeterminacy of the modern world use of Islamic texts as the supreme regulator of social life and society literalist, anti-rational and anti-interpretive approaches to religious texts. Salafabism has anchored itself in the security of Islamic texts. These texts are also exploited by a select class of readers to affirm their reactionary power. Unlike apologists who sought to prove Islam’s compatibility with Western institutions, salafabists define Islam as the antithesis of the West. They argue that colonialism ingrained in Muslims a lack of selfpride and feelings of inferiority. For salafabists, there are only two paths in life: the path of God (the straight path) and the path of Satan (the crooked path). The straight path is anchored in divine law, which is to be obeyed and which is never to be argued with, diluted or denied through the application of humanistic or philosophical discourses. Salafabists argue that, by attempting to integrate and co-opt Western ideas such as feminism, democracy or human rights, Muslims have deviated from the straight to the crooked path. In arguing thus, they exaggerate the role of the texts and minimize the role of the human agent who interprets them. In the salafabist paradigm, the subjectivities of the interpreting agents are irrelevant to the realization and implementation of the divine commands contained in the text. In this paradigm, such public interests as protecting society from the sexual lure of women can be verified empirically and must be protected. In contrast, moral, ethical and aesthetic judgements about human dignity, love, mercy and compassion—qualities that cannot be quantified empirically—must be ignored. Abou El Fadl shows how widespread, dominant and pervasive salafabist theological orientation has become in modern Islam. Any criticism of this paradigm is dismissed, as demonstrated by the controversy that surrounded the late Egyptian Muslim scholar Sheikh Muhammad al-Ghazali (d. 1996), who challenged some of its key premises and criticized them for perpetuating acts of fanaticism and defiling the image of Islam in the world. He was widely condemned by salafabists, who questioned his motives and competence.29 Like most theological orientations, salafabism manifests itself in both moderate and extreme forms. Its moderate expressions can be found in such political movements as Jamaat-e-Islami, the Muslim Brotherhood and Malaysia’s PAS, and similar movements in various Muslim countries that are struggling for the establishment of an Islamic state; its extremist expressions are represented by such groups as al-Qaeda and the Taliban. The acts described at the beginning of this chapter are stark manifestations of a way of

thinking among many Muslims that has come to value a superficial sense of independence, control, security and power, regardless of the moral and social consequences. Colonialism, blind nationalism, the universal failure of the nationalist project in the lands of Islam, a woeful backwardness in science and technology and a preponderance of oppressive authoritarian state structures have nurtured moral lethargy among the Muslim masses and given rise to salafabism. However elegant and persuasive Abou El Fadl’s analysis, it offers no empirical evidence documenting the pervasiveness of salafabism in contemporary Muslim societies and in contemporary Islamic consciousness. Such empirical evidence is available, however, from my multi-country study of Muslim religiosity. From its results, it is possible to ascertain the degree to which salafabism is reflected in the religious consciousness of modern Muslims residing in different Muslim countries.

An empirical assessment The survey of Muslim religiosity was carried out in Indonesia, Pakistan, Malaysia, Iran, Kazakhstan, Egypt and Turkey. It included statements on the respondents’ image of Islam. The survey listed forty-four items that examined religious beliefs, ideas and convictions. These statements were generated by consulting some key sociological texts on Muslim societies by authors such as Fazlur Rahman, Ernest Gellner, William Montgomery Watt, Mohammad Arkoun and Fatima Mernissi. Respondents were asked to give one of the following six responses to each of the statements presented: strongly agree, agree, not sure, disagree, strongly disagree, or no answer. More than 6300 respondents were interviewed. In the analysis below, those who responded with no answer have been excluded, and responses have been assigned the following weights: strongly agree (1), agree (2), not sure (3), disagree (4) and strongly disagree (5). This means that, for each statement, a respondent could get a numerical score ranging from 1 to 5. For each statement, a mean score was computed for all respondents as well as for each country. Table 1.1 gives the twenty statements that generated the highest mean scores. A mean score of less than 2 indicates that the respondents ‘strongly agreed’ with the statement; one between 2 and 3 indicates that they ‘agreed’ with it. TABLE 1.1: The intensity of agreement with certain religious beliefs

Very strong agreement = Mean score was less than 1.95; Strong agreement = Mean score was between 1.96 and 2.95 inclusive; Disagreement = Mean score was greater than 2.96. * Question 19 was not asked in Kazakhstan.

The evidence provided in table 1.1 suggests that Muslims tend to feel strongly about the sanctity and inviolability of Islamic texts, as indicated by strong agreement with such statements as ‘The Qur’an and Sunnah contain all the essential religious and moral truths required by the whole human race from now until the end of time’; ‘The Qur’an and Sunnah are completely self-sufficient to meet the needs of present and future societies’; and ‘Any

state will be imperfect unless it is based on moral values implicit in the shari’ah and also on belief in Allah as the upholder of morality and justice’. If we are to believe the study, most Muslims agree that a truly Islamic society is an attainable goal, that they must strive to establish it and that their leaders should be people of explicit religious convictions whose moral and political decisions would be shaped by these convictions. Also, according to the results of the study, most Muslims believe that people are free as long as they act within the moral and religious boundaries expressed in the sacred texts. The results of this study indicate that all that is required for the creation of a utopian Islamic society is a deeper appreciation by Muslims of the precepts enunciated in the holy texts. The religious orientation underlying these beliefs indicates a supremacist, puritanical ideology conducive to literalist interpretation of the texts—an ideology that regards human nature as unchanging and deterministic and renders unnecessary and redundant any changes in the rules and laws about human conduct laid down in the Qur’an and Sunnah of the Prophet. Needless to say, such views run contrary to modern social scientific knowledge, which holds that human nature is also shaped by genetic and environmental factors, and provide scope for the exploitation of religious texts by religious and political leaders to expand their reactionary power base. While such strict attitudes are widely held among Muslims, the intensity with which they are held is not the same in every Muslim country. These attitudes are strongest in Egypt, Indonesia, Malaysia and Pakistan; and they are strong in Iran and Kazakhstan and only moderately strong in Turkey. The evidence indicates very strong support for implementing ‘Islamic law’ in Muslim countries. Respondents strongly support strict enforcement of Islamic hudood laws pertaining to apostasy, theft and usury. The purpose of human freedom is seen not as a means of personal fulfilment and growth, but as a way of meeting obligations and duties laid down in the sacred texts. This makes such modern developments as democracy and personal liberty contrary to Islamic teachings. The strong support for strict enforcement of apostasy laws makes any rational and critical appraisals of Islamic texts and traditions unacceptable and subject to the hudd punishment of death. The strength of these attitudes could explain why hudood and blasphemy laws are supported, or at least tolerated, by a significant majority of Muslims. Strong support for modelling an ideal Muslim society along the lines of the society founded by the Prophet Muhammad and the first four Caliphs is consistent with the salafi views and teachings discussed earlier. Once again, such views are stronger in some Muslim countries than in others. The strong belief that Islamic identity can be constructed only through faithful adherence to Islamic beliefs and duties raises numerous questions not only for Muslims living in predominantly non-Muslim countries but also those living in such Muslim countries as Kazakhstan and Turkey, which have secular constitutions that place restrictions on the observance of certain Muslim laws or that allow for legal pluralism. This belief also runs counter to the empirical reality that, while many Muslims construct their Islamic identity through the practice of their religion, a significant number of Muslims do so on the basis of family, ethnicity and heritage.30 This belief does not provide any political and cultural space

for the coexistence of multiple routes through which Muslim identities are constructed in modern societies. A striking feature of the evidence reported in table 1.1 is that misogynist and patriarchal attitudes are deeply entrenched in the modern Muslim consciousness. The strength of beliefs about the observance of Islamic dress codes by Muslim women was especially pronounced among Indonesian, Malaysian, Pakistani, Egyptian and Iranian respondents. This suggests strong support for exclusionary practices with regard to women. The evidence also suggests strong misogynist and patriarchal attitudes and an abnormal level of obsession with the sexual allure of women, whereby women are seen as sexually provocative and must be segregated to avoid endangering men. Such views raise interesting questions about the Muslim male’s attitude towards controlling his own sexuality. They suggest that men cannot be held responsible for acts of sexual misconduct as any such behaviour must have been provoked by the women concerned; they would never have indulged in such behaviour otherwise. Such views are demeaning and insulting not only to women but also to men themselves. These views were less pronounced in Kazakhstan and Turkey than in the other countries. Respondents in these two countries disagreed that segregation and veiling are necessary for male protection. Patriarchal as well as misogynist attitudes are reflected in the strong agreement with the statement, ‘If men are not in charge of women, women will lose sight of all human values and the family will disintegrate’. The human family can be recognized as important without arguing that it can be assured only through men’s domination of women. Such an attitude runs exactly contrary to the principle of gender equality found in Islamic texts.31 Again, patriarchal attitudes were less pronounced in Turkey and Kazakhstan, where respondents rejected the statement; this was the case in Iran as well. Still, the prevalence of attitudes about women’s dress codes, patriarchy and misogyny makes it clear why Islamic laws against fornication and adultery are supported in so many Muslim countries, including Malaysia, Pakistan, Iran, Nigeria and Turkey. These attitudes also explain why women do not enjoy equal citizenship rights in most contemporary Muslim countries. On the basis of the survey results, Islamic fundamentalists are seen as educated and sophisticated believers concerned about the inability of the state to provide for the economic, political and moral well-being of Muslims. The aim of their movement is seen as the amelioration of the negative conditions affecting Muslims today; in other words, fundamentalist movements seek to counter the adverse effects of modernity. Respondents showed significant positive agreement with all statements in table 1.1 except the last, which held that it was not practical or realistic to base a complex modern society on shari’ah law. Most modern Muslims apparently have few doubts that implementing shari’ah law in contemporary Muslim societies would alleviate their problems. This conviction persists, despite evidence from several studies suggesting that the implementation of shari’ah law offers no panacea for the political, economic and social problems of Muslim societies.32 Analysis of the survey data also revealed that male respondents were significantly more likely to have a stronger salafabist/Islamist religious consciousness than women. There were

no uniform correlations between a strong salafabist/Islamist religious consciousness and gender, age and education levels in individual Muslim countries. Using the agreement rates, a composite global mean of all items in table 1.1, for each of the seven countries in the study, was calculated to obtain a single measure to rank the countries on the intensity of their salafabist/Islamist orientation. This analysis is reported in table 1.2, which indicates that Pakistani, Egyptian, Malaysian and Indonesian respondents were more salafabist/Islamist than their counterparts from Iran, Turkey and Kazakhstan. TABLE 1.2: The intensity of salafabist/Islamist consciousness

< 1.95 = Very strong agreement; 1.96–2.95 = Strong agreement; > 2.96 = Disagreement.

The variations in intensity of salafabist/Islamist religious orientation are most likely the result of the different political, social and economic paths taken by the individual countries. Kazakhstan was a communist, anti-religious country for much of the twentieth century. Likewise, the secular political history of modern Turkey helps explain the not-so-strong salafabist/Islamist religious orientation of the Turkish respondents. Iran is the only theocratic country among the countries studied; yet Iranian respondents display a relatively weak salafabist/Islamist orientation. One possible explanation is that Iran is a predominantly Shi’ah country and Shi’ahism tends to be more intellectual than its Sunni counterpart. Another reason might be that trust in religious institutions tends to decline in any nation when religion and politics are fused.33 The salafabist consciousness was very strong among respondents in Malaysia, Pakistan and Egypt whatever their gender, age or educational attainment. In other countries, these factors appeared to have some influence on the findings. In Indonesia, there was an inverse correlation with age. In Iran and Kazakhstan, there was an inverse correlation with gender as the female respondents in these countries rejected salafabism. In Turkey and Kazakhstan, the findings indicated a complex relationship with educational attainment. These diverse patterns of relationships between salafabism and sociodemographic factors are a product of social conditions unique to individual countries.

Conclusion Islamic religious consciousness is a symbolic discourse that gives expression to deeply held religious beliefs. A product of interpretive communities, it provides the convictions and ideals that act as primary texts for indexing social reality. Salafabist/Islamist discourse has gained considerable influence among Muslims today. The empirical evidence presented above demonstrates an intense belief among many Muslims in the self-sufficiency of Islamic texts and an attitude towards them that is literalist, anti-rational and anti-interpretive. Religious texts are seen not as moral and religious guides, but as a secure refuge for an intellect that is unable to confront the challenges posed by modernity and is, by and large, hostile to them.

Such a mindset can be characterized as self-righteous, arrogant, supremacist and puritan. It compensates for the feeling of alienation and powerlessness arising from the general economic, social, political and technological backwardness of the Islamic world. It is further characterized by strong patriarchal and misogynist attitudes that deny Muslim women equality of citizenship, indicate an obsession with the sexual allure of women and pose important questions about the sexuality and insecurities of Muslim men. This salafabist strand of modern Muslim consciousness can be seen as a product of the historical experience of Muslims over the past three centuries. Large-scale social and political factors have played an important role in shaping it and might also explain the variations in its intensity in different countries. Understanding it is essential to an understanding of the cases described at the beginning of this chapter. As the events of 9/11 and its aftermath have demonstrated, the followers of salafabism are capable of meticulously carrying out extreme acts of destructiveness. But can salafabism produce the type of world that will provide economic and social justice for Muslims? The mentality underlying the logic that produced 9/11 and the acts described at the beginning of this chapter represent at best a reckless and ruthless effort to repair Muslim identity; indeed, this mentality offers no thoughts about how to construct the type of world that most Muslims would like to see for themselves and future generations. Will today’s Muslims be able to take up the challenge of marginalizing salafabism, or will they be overwhelmed by it and, in the process, be marginalized themselves? This is probably the most pressing challenge facing Muslim intellectuals today.

2 PATTERNS OF RELIGIOUS COMMITMENT

Religion provides the means to create a morally coherent and meaningful life. In philosophy and sociology, there is a long-established tradition that postulates a link between the religious precepts and moral character of a community and its political organization.1 Such considerations invest the study of religious commitment with significant sociological import. As religion is the essence of Muslim identity, religious commitment is both the evidence and the expression of this identity. An analysis of Muslim religiosity or religious commitment can provide vital insights into the nature and character of Islamic consciousness and the role it plays in shaping the political and social organization of Muslim societies. There is considerable debate among Muslims about the nature as well as the content of the religious commitment (religiosity) that a Muslim must display and adhere to in order to be a Muslim or true believer. One of the key claims in this debate is that, in order to be a Muslim, there must be evidence of religious piety at behavioural, ethical and cognitive levels. Islamic philosophy and theology contain a large body of expository literature dealing with this issue.2 Yet sociologically informed analysis that explores the nature and content of Muslim piety remains very underdeveloped. Two plausible reasons account for the absence of such studies. First, sociological scholarship in Muslim societies, especially in the field of Islamic sociology, is relatively underdeveloped, which makes such studies difficult to undertake. Second, Islamic sectarianism makes such studies fraught with controversy so intense that it often erupts into hostility. This, however, does not mean that Muslims shy away from making such judgements. At the level of common everyday experience, many Muslims make judgements about the religious piety of their fellow Muslims. Sociology and common sense indicate that being ‘religious’ can mean different things to different people. This was evident in the reactions and comments by the respondents interviewed when the survey questionnaire was being developed. In these comments, the meanings given to the words religious and religiosity by different, mostly highly educated, interviewees covered a broad spectrum of activities. Many Muslims are very sceptical of and sometimes disparaging of the ‘religiosity’ or religiousness of their fellow Muslims, particularly those who faithfully observe the

mandatory Islamic rituals. In Pakistan, some respondents interviewed as part of my research on Muslim religiosity described them as ‘Muslah Muslim’ (prayer mat Muslims). For many, ‘religiosity’ was essentially a spiritual experience of a very intimate nature not amenable to objective empirical study. The only way to appreciate or comprehend it was, they held, to observe a person’s behaviour over a long period, in the religious domain and in other domains of life. Being ‘religious’ entailed not only religious worship but also an ethical commitment and a code of conduct that covered all spheres of life. This, some argued, was too difficult to observe, document, study and analyze. In other words, the term religious was seen as having a variety of meanings and multiple dimensions. They might well represent various aspects of a single phenomenon, but they were not simple synonyms. People who are religious in one way will not necessarily be religious in other ways.

Muslim piety The nature and expression of Muslim piety were among the key areas investigated in my research. As there were no previous sociological studies on this subject that could be used as a possible model, I searched for an appropriate framework that could be applied in such an investigation. The field observations described above confirmed an important insight from the sociology of religion: that religious piety is a multidimensional phenomenon.3 In their seminal sociological studies of religious piety, American sociologists Rodney Stark and Charles Glock address the question of the multidimensionality of religiosity or religiousness.4 These scholars take up the challenge of identifying different dimensions of religiosity and how to measure them methodologically. For them, the core of religiosity is religious commitment. They also take up the task of defining and describing religious commitment and undertake a linguistic analysis in order to determine the different meanings of the term and the different ways in which an individual can be religious. They then try to analyze whether religiousness manifested in one of these ways has anything to do with its expression in others.5 Stark and Glock conceptualize religiosity as a multidimensional rather than a unidimensional phenomenon. This conceptualization can also be attributed to the Berkeley Research Program in Religion and Society run by the University of California at Berkeley. The multidimensional conceptualization takes into account distinctions in the way religion might be expressed, as well as in the degree of intensity with which it might be practised. Any serious student of religion will acknowledge that expressions of religion vary greatly among world religions. Different religions expect quite different things from their followers. For example, regular participation in holy communion is obligatory for Christians, but the practice is alien to Muslims. Similarly, the Muslim imperative of performing hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca) during one’s lifetime is alien to Christians. The expectations of Hinduism and Buddhism are again different from those of Islam and Christianity. However, according to Stark and Glock, although there is great variation in religious

expression, there also exists considerable consensus among the world’s religions as to how religiosity ought to be manifested. Stark and Glock identify five core dimensions of religiosity within which all of the many and diverse manifestations of religiosity prescribed by different religions can be ordered. They label these dimensions the ideological, the ritualistic, the experiential, the intellectual and the consequential.6 The ideological dimension refers to the fundamental beliefs to which a religious person is expected, and often required, to adhere. The ritualistic dimension encompasses the specific acts of worship and devotion that people perform to express their religious commitment. Often these include public or communal, as well as private or personal, acts of worship. All religions have certain expectations, however imprecisely they might be stated, that a religious person at some time or other will achieve direct knowledge of the ultimate reality, or will experience a religious emotion. Included in this category are all those feelings, perceptions and sensations—whether felt by an individual or a person or a religious group—that involve some type of communication with God or a transcendental being. Stark and Glock label this the experiential dimension. The intellectual dimension refers to the expectation that religious persons will possess some knowledge of the basic tenets of their faith and its sacred scriptures. The intellectual dimension is clearly related to the ideological dimension, since knowledge of a belief is a necessary condition for its acceptance. However, belief need not follow from knowledge; nor does all religious knowledge bear on belief. The consequential dimension encompasses the secular effects of religious belief, practice, experience and knowledge on the individual. It includes all those religious prescriptions that specify what people ought to do and the attitudes they ought to hold as a consequence of their religion. Validation and verification of the multidimensionality of religion have been achieved primarily through studies of intercorrelations of scales that seek to represent different dimensions.7 American sociologists Gordon DeJong, Joseph Faulkner and Rex Warland found evidence of six dimensions of religion. Their evidence also showed a cluster of three dimensions encompassing belief, experience and practice, which they labelled ‘generic religiosity’.8 The cumulative evidence from sociological and psychological studies of religious commitment continues to provide support for Stark and Glock’s multidimensional conceptualization of religiosity.9 My study and analysis of Muslim piety were guided by Stark and Glock’s conceptualization of religious piety. This conceptualization was subjected to extended interviews with knowledgeable Muslim respondents in Australia, Pakistan and Indonesia. In addition, in all these countries, several focus group discussions were organized during which participants were invited to review critically and to evaluate various dimensions of religiosity. As a result of these interviews and discussions, five dimensions were identified that were purported to express and signify Muslim piety. These dimensions were the ideological, the ritualistic, the devotional, the experiential and the consequential religious image dimension. Individual respondents, as well as the focus groups, were asked to indicate the appropriateness of various questions to be included in the survey questionnaire to gather

data on the five stated dimensions. The follow ing section provides a brief description of each dimension and the items used to gather data for each dimension.

Dimensions of Muslim piety IDEOLOGICAL DIMENSION This dimension comprises the religious beliefs a Muslim is expected and indeed required to hold and adhere to. The belief structure of Islam, as with other religions, can be divided into three types. The first type warrants the existence of the divine and defines its character. The second type explains the divine purpose and defines the believer’s role with regard to that purpose. The third type provides grounds for the ethical strictures of religion. In sociological discourse, the three are generally described as warranting, purposive and implementing beliefs.10 In Islam, great emphasis is placed on warranting and purposive beliefs. Mere emphasis on the beliefs, however, avoids the issue of their salience and function in the life of a believer. These can be assessed indirectly through the believer’s ritual behaviour, which also relates to the other dimensions of religiosity or piety. A large number of doctrinally inspired core beliefs were identified from the sacred Islamic texts and were presented to the focus groups and to key selected informants. The following beliefs were most commonly mentioned and, therefore, were chosen to ascertain the magnitude and intensity of the ideological dimension: belief in Allah; belief in the Qur’anic miracles; belief in life after death; belief in the existence of the Devil; and belief that only those who believe in the Prophet Muhammad can go to heaven. All five are primarily warranting and purposive beliefs.

RITUALISTIC DIMENSION Rituals are an integral part of formal religion. They include acts of religious practice such as worship, devotion and ‘the things people do to carry out their religious commitment’.11 All religions include rituals of praise, petition, penance and obedience, although the emphasis on each of these rituals varies among different formal religions. In sociological analysis, rituals are regarded as playing an extremely important role in the maintenance of religious institutions, the religious community and religious identity. Participation in collective religious rituals plays a similar role in the socialization of the individual through unconscious appropriation of common values and common categories of knowledge and experience.12 Analysis of religious rituals can be approached in at least two ways: it can focus on distinguishing individuals in terms of the frequency with which they engage in ritualistic activities, and it can focus on the meaning of ritual acts for the individuals who engage in them. The analysis undertaken here will focus primarily on the first perspective, but it will attempt to explore the question of meaning as well. Islam is a ritual-rich religion. Muslims are required to perform specific rituals as an

expression of their faith. Rituals such as salat (daily prayers) and wudu (the cleansing of hands, face and feet before performing the prayers) have always been and remain significant in promoting a sense of religious community among Muslims. The frequency with which religious rituals are observed is a useful and meaningful indicator of an individual’s religiousness or religiosity. In view of these considerations, the following rituals were selected to study this dimension: performance of salat five times or more a day; recitation of the Holy Qur’an daily or several times a week; observance of fasting during the month of Ramadan; and payment of zakat tax for the poor. The analysis focuses on the frequency of their observance. One of the assumptions made was that these rituals are interrelated at both individual and collective levels.

DEVOTIONAL DIMENSION This dimension is akin to the ritualistic dimension. Rituals are highly formalized aspects of religious expression and commitment. Often, a religious person participates in personal and somewhat private acts of worship. Social pressure and other non-religious considerations can sometimes motivate people to participate in formal religious rituals. This is especially true in Islam, given the pervasiveness of religious rituals in daily life and the ease with which a person can participate in ubiquitous rituals such as daily prayers. In other words, participation in religious rituals might or might not indicate religious commitment or piety. This, however, does not apply to acts of devotion that are private and often spontaneous. For these reasons, devotionalism is a good indicator of religious commitment. Two meas ures of devotionalism were used in this study: consulting the Qur’an to make daily decisions, and private prayers.

EXPERIENTIAL DIMENSION This dimension is the cognitive dimension of religiosity. It includes feelings, knowledge and emotions arising from or related to some type of communication with, or experience of, ultimate divine reality. These experiences are generally ordered around notions of concern, cognition, trust, faith or fear.13 Such expectations are found in all religions.14 Sufi traditions, as well as many traditions of ‘folk’ or ‘popular’ Islam, place great emphasis on personal religious experience or communication with the divine as an affirmation of individual piety.15 This dimension invariably involves subjective feelings, sensations or visions that arise from an individual’s presumed contact with a supernatural consciousness. Religious experience encompasses occasions defined by those undergoing them as encounters, or contacts, between themselves and some supernatural consciousness. In this study, five feelings were used to assess religious experience: a feeling of being in the presence of Allah; a sense of being saved by the Prophet Muhammad; a sense of being afraid of Allah; a feeling of being punished by Allah for some wrongdoing; and a feeling of being tempted by the Devil. Experiences of this character can be described as confirming, responsive, salvational,

sanctioning and temptational respectively.16

CONSEQUENTIAL DIMENSION All religions concern themselves with the effects of religion on believers and their daily lives. Some religions are more explicit about these effects than others. In Islam, submission to its religious teachings is seen as the certain way of achieving divine merit in this world and spiritual salvation in the other. Rewards are sometimes immediate and include such things as peace of mind, a sense of well-being, personal happiness and even tangible success in activities of daily life. Islam also warns of the consequences of not subscribing to its fundamental religious beliefs and teachings. In Islam, for example, great emphasis is placed on warranting beliefs about the existence of Allah and the divine creation of life. Disbelievers are declared to be kafir (infidel) who are condemned to eternal damnation. In this study, two conceptions were identified as defiance of divine injunctions. Respondents were asked the following questions in an attempt to measure the strength of their warranting beliefs: ‘Would you agree that a person who says there is no Allah is likely to hold dangerous views?’ and ‘Do you agree or disagree with Darwin’s theory of evolution?’ The stronger their warranting beliefs, the more likely they were to feel that disbelievers were dangerous and that Darwin’s theory could not possibly be true.

International comparisons of Muslim piety IDEOLOGICAL DIMENSION Belief in Allah Respondents in Indonesia, Pakistan, Kazakhstan, Turkey, Iran, Malaysia and Egypt were asked about their belief in the existence of Allah. The findings reported in table 2.1 show that, in all countries except Kazakhstan, the overwhelming majority of respondents agreed with the statement, ‘I know Allah really exists and I have no doubts about it’. In Kazakhstan, the response was strikingly different. Only about a third (31 per cent) of the respondents believed in the existence of Allah without any doubt, and 25 per cent agreed with the statement, ‘While I have some doubts, I feel I do believe in Allah’. Another 15 per cent of Kazaks said, ‘I find myself believing in Allah some of the time but not at other times’, and the same proportion said, ‘I don’t believe in a personal Allah, but do believe in a higher power of some kind’. TABLE 2.1: Belief in the existence of Allah (percentage)

(a) Refers to the percentage of people agreeing with the statements: ‘I don’t know whether there is an Allah and I don’t believe there is any way to find out’, ‘I don’t believe in Allah’, ‘None of the above responses represents what I believe about Allah’, ‘What I believe about Allah is . . .‘ The number of respondents (N) surveyed for the different countries were as follows: Indonesia = 1472, Pakistan = 1185, Kazakhstan = 970, Egypt = 786, Malaysia = 803, Turkey = 527 and Iran = 614. These figures apply to all the tables presented in this chapter.

Belief in the Qur’anic miracles For this part of the survey, respondents were asked: ‘The Qur’an tells of many miracles, some credited to the Prophet Muhammad and some to other prophets. Generally speaking, which of the following statements comes closest to what you believe about Islamic miracles?’ Their responses are presented in table 2.2. Almost all Pakistanis, Malaysians and Egyptians believed that miracles happened the way the Qur’an says they did. They were closely followed by Indonesian, Turkish and Iranian respondents. Interestingly, a significant minority

of respondents in Kazakhstan, Indonesia, Iran and Turkey subscribed to the belief that these events can be explained by natural causes. The answers given by the Kazak respondents were strikingly different from those by respondents in the other countries. Only 29 per cent believed in the Qur’anic miracles, and almost half of them did not believe in the miracles at all. A smaller proportion in Turkey and Iran held similar beliefs. TABLE 2.2: Belief in miracles (percentage)

Life after death Respondents were asked to indicate how certain they were that there is life after death. The results reported in table 2.3 show that more than 90 per cent of Indonesian, Pakistani, Malaysian and Egyptian respondents completely believed in life after death, and 84 per cent of Iranian and 71 per cent of Turkish respondents subscribed to the same belief. Only a small proportion (13 per cent) of Kazaks completely believed in life after death, but 34 per cent said it is probably true that there is life after death. Unlike their fellow Muslims from the other six countries, 31 per cent of Kazaks said they did not know whether there is an afterlife and another 17 per cent were not sure, which again reflects the influence of communist rule on Kazak life. TABLE 2.3: ‘There is life after death’ (percentage)

Belief in the Devil The question asking respondents how certain they were that the Devil really exists (table 2.4) generated almost an identical pattern of response to that about belief in an afterlife. More than 90 per cent of Indonesian, Pakistani, Malaysian and Egyptian respondents believed the Devil really exists. In Iran and Turkey, 73 per cent and 69 per cent respectively held the same belief. In contrast, only 7 per cent of Kazaks shared this belief and another 29 per cent said the Devil probably exists. More than 60 per cent of Kazaks were not sure, or did not believe or know, the Devil exists; 17 per cent of Iranian and Turkish respondents fell into this category. TABLE 2.4: ‘The Devil actually exists’ (percentage)

Belief in salvation through the Prophet Muhammad Muslim piety entails complete faith in the divine revelations and that these revelations will lead the faithful to the righteous path of salvation. One of the most significant acts of faith for a Muslim is to believe in the Prophet Muhammad as a saviour. Following his example— Sunnah—is the path towards a pious Muslim life and hence salvation. For Muslims, the Prophet Muhammad is the most revered human being and the object of their total devotion and affection. The responses from different countries to this question are reported in table 2.5. The analysis shows that 77 per cent of respondents in Pakistan, 65 per cent in Malaysia, 61 per cent in Indonesia, 47 per cent in Egypt and 39 per cent in Turkey believed it was completely true that only those who believe in the Prophet Muhammad would go to heaven. Only 20 per cent of the Iranians and 9 per cent of the Kazaks shared this conviction. Surprisingly, 70 per cent of Kazaks, 40 per cent of Turks and 50 per cent of Iranians were either not sure or did not display as strong a conviction. Even in Pakistan, Malaysia, Indonesia and Egypt, a sizeable proportion of respondents, ranging from 18 per cent to 38 per cent, were either not sure or did not subscribe to the belief of salvation through Prophet Muhammad. The pattern of response to this belief among Muslims from different countries differs significantly from those patterns observed for other beliefs examined here. TABLE 2.5: ‘Only those who believe in the Prophet Muhammad can go to heaven’ (percentage)

IDEOLOGICAL DIMENSION (RELIGIOUS BELIEFS) An index of orthodoxy was constructed using the following methodology. The response ‘I know Allah really exists and I have no doubt about it’ was given a score of 1; all other

responses were scored as 0. A score of 1 was given to the response ‘I believe that miracles happened the way the Qur’an says they did’; other responses were scored as 0. Similarly, the response ‘completely true’ to ‘There is life after death’, ‘The Devil really exists’ and ‘Only those who believe in the Prophet Muhammad can go to heaven’ were scored as 1; all other answers were scored as 0. Using these scores, an index of ideological orthodoxy was constructed. In this index, the highest score of 5 signifies high orthodoxy and a score of 0 signifies low orthodoxy. Table 2.6 reports the results of the index of orthodoxy for the seven countries studied. Pakistan, where 76 per cent of the respondents scored 5, was the most orthodox country in terms of religious beliefs, followed by Malaysia (55 per cent), Indonesia (49 per cent), Egypt (39 per cent), Turkey (33 per cent) and Iran (14 per cent). Islamic religious orthodoxy did not seem to exist in Kazakhstan. If we combine the scores of 4 and 5, then more than 80 per cent of the Pakistani, Malaysian, Indonesian and Egyptian respondents and 60 per cent of the Turkish and Iranian respondents were orthodox, but the Kazak respondents were the polar opposite, with a large majority (75 per cent) scoring 0 or 1. TABLE 2.6: Index of orthodoxy of religious beliefs (percentage)

Further analysis of the evidence showed that the level of orthodoxy was influenced by sociodemographic factors. In general, gender had no effect, with older persons being slightly more orthodox in their beliefs. In Egypt and Indonesia, higher levels of education were associated with higher levels of orthodoxy, but not in Pakistan, Iran and Turkey, where the trend was reversed. In Egypt, Turkey and Indonesia, religious elites were more orthodox than the general public. However, in Pakistan, Muslim professional elites were less orthodox than the general public. In Kazakhstan, the religious beliefs of the general public and the elite were more or less homogeneous.

RITUALISTIC DIMENSION Four religious rituals commonly performed by Muslims were used to ascertain the ritual dimension in this study: performance of daily prayers; payment of zakat; fasting during Ramadan; and recitation of the Holy Qur’an. The results of the investigation are reported in

the following section. Performance of daily prayers All adult Muslims are required to observe prayers five times a day as a religious duty. Respondents were asked: ‘How often do you perform salat?’ They were offered a number of responses, which are listed in table 2.7. The responses in Iran were slightly different, but they have been made comparable with those in the other countries. Indonesian respondents were the most diligent in observing their duty to pray, with 96 per cent of them praying five times or more daily. They were followed by the Egyptians, with 90 per cent. Only 57 per cent of the Pakistanis prayed five times or more a day. The Kazaks were the least observant of daily prayers, with only 5 per cent indicating that they prayed five times or more a day. Indeed, an overwhelming proportion of Kazaks never prayed or prayed only sometimes. The evidence, therefore, reveals significant diversity among Muslims in observing mandatory daily prayers. TABLE 2.7: ‘How often do you perform salat?’ (percentage)

Payment of zakat and fasting Two other practices expected of a Muslim are the payment of zakat and fasting in the month of Ramadan. Respondents were asked if they had paid zakat and observed fasting during the previous twelve months. The results reported in table 2.8 show that, for zakat, the Indonesians, Egyptians and Malaysians took their obligations the most seriously, followed by

the Turks and Pakistanis. Even the Kazaks, who do not in general actively practise their religious obligations, appeared to be more active in fulfilling their zakat obligations, with half of them saying they had paid their dues. The Iranian respondents were the least observant of this practice, with only 31 per cent saying they had paid zakat (note that around 30 per cent of the respondents did not respond to the question). Iranians, being Shi’ah Muslims, differ slightly from Sunni Muslims in their zakat practices, which might account for the low proportion reported. Overall, the pattern of response was similar to the one observed in the case of prayers. The Indonesians, Malaysians and Egyptians were significantly stricter in observing their zakat obligations than the Pakistanis, Iranians and Kazaks. In relation to fasting, the Indonesians, Malaysians, Egyptians and Pakistanis reported almost universal observance, whereas only 19 per cent of the Kazaks reported having fasted during the previous year (table 2.9). TABLE 2.8: ‘Have you paid zakat in the past twelve months?’ (percentage)

(a) The total for Iran does not equal 100 per cent as 30 per cent of respondents did not answer this question.

TABLE 2.9: ‘Have you fasted in the past twelve months?’ (percentage)

Recitation of the Holy Qur’an All Muslims are expected to read the Holy Qur’an since it is the most important sacred text of Islam. Its recitation alone is regarded as a source of merit for the individual. This recitation, therefore, is a very common practice among Muslims. Respondents in the study were asked: ‘How often do you read the Qur’an?’ They were presented with several possible responses and asked to choose the one that most applied to them. The choices and the responses are given in table 2.10. The results show that about half of the Indonesian, Malaysian, Pakistani and Egyptian respondents read the Qur’an regularly; that is, at least once a day or several times a week. The corresponding figures for the Turks and Iranians were 14 per cent and 25 per cent respectively. These patterns were in sharp contrast to that for the Kazaks, of whom only 5 per cent acknowledged reading the Qur’an regularly. TABLE 2.10: ‘How often do you read the Qur’an?’ (percentage)

RITUALISTIC DIMENSION (RELIGIOUS PRACTICE) To obtain an overall estimate of the observance of religious practices, an index of ritual behaviour was constructed as follows. Responses indicating performance of prayers five times or more a day were scored as 1 and all other responses as 0; ‘yes’ responses to having paid zakat and fasted during the previous year were scored as 1 and ‘no’ responses as 0; responses indicating reading of the Qur’an once a day, or several times a week regularly, were scored as 1 and all other responses as 0. The resulting index ranged from 4 (indicating a high score) to 0 (indicating a low score).

Table 2.11 shows the distribution of respondents in the various categories. The findings corroborate the evidence presented for the individual items. The Indonesians, Malaysians and Egyptians showed the highest degree of commitment to Islamic rituals, followed by the Pakistanis, Iranians and Turks. The Kazaks displayed a strikingly different pattern. Only 4 per cent of them had scores of 4 or 3, and 84 per cent scored 1 or 0, indicating a very low degree of commitment to religious rituals. These findings clearly indicate similarities and differences between Muslim populations in their religious commitments as measured by the index of religious rituals. TABLE 2.11: Index of religious practice: ritualism (percentage)

There were some important variations in religious practice when data was analyzed with reference to the sociodemographic characteristics of the respondents. In Egypt, Pakistan, Turkey and Indonesia, women were more observant of religious rituals than men, and the difference was especially pronounced in Egypt and Indonesia. Kazak men and women were the least likely to observe religious practices. In general, age was positively associated with performance. Educational attainment was also a major factor in making people stricter observers of religious rituals. In general, education tended to be inversely related to religious practices. The religious elites were significantly stricter in practising religious rituals than the general public or Muslim professionals. The Kazaks were the least diligent in practising religious rituals.

DEVOTIONAL DIMENSION Stark and Glock identify devotion as a dimension of religious commitment.17 The difference between devotion and ritual is that, whereas ritual acts are highly formalized and typically public, acts of devotion are typically personal acts of worship and contemplation. All religions encourage such acts of devotionalism. In Islam, many Muslims pray privately, an act that goes beyond their formal religious duties. One act of devotion that is both private and spontaneous for Muslims is their commitment to the Holy Qur’an and the belief that its teaching is the best guide to behaviour. Consequently, many Muslims consult the Qur’an for guidance in their daily lives.

Consulting the Qur’an In this study, the respondents were asked: ‘Thinking now of your daily life and the decisions that you have to make about how to spend your time, how to act with other people, how to bring up your children, presuming you have them and so on, to what extent does what you have read in the Qur’an help you in making everyday decisions?’ The respondents were given a number of options and asked to indicate the one that applied to them most closely. The responses, as well the distribution of respondents in the seven countries, are given in table 2.12. The findings show that if we combine the two response categories, ‘I can remember specific times when it has helped me in a very direct way in making decisions’ and ‘I often consult the Qur’an to make specific decisions’, then the Indonesians were the most devoted, followed by the Egyptians, Iranians, Pakistanis, Malaysians and Turks. The Kazaks, once again, were the least devoted. This finding is consistent with the findings reported above about ritualism. TABLE 2.12: ‘How does the Qur’an help you in making everyday decisions?’ (percentage)

Private prayers Information as to whether the respondents prayed privately showed that about half of the Indonesians, Egyptians and Iranians and two-thirds of the Pakistanis, Malaysians and Turks performed private prayers. Only 40 per cent of the participants from Kazahkstan responded to this question; of these, half prayed privately. Women were more likely to pray privately than men, and older people were more likely to pray privately than younger people.

DEVOTIONALISM An index of devotionalism was constructed as follows. An affirmative response to the question about private prayers was scored as 1; a negative answer was scored as 0. Response categories 3 and 4 for the question about how the Qur’an helped the person in making

everyday decisions were scored as 1; all other responses were scored as 0. The index score, therefore, ranged from 2 (highly devoted) to 0 (not devoted). The index of devotionalism showed that about one in four respondents in all countries were highly devout and a majority were moderately devout. The Kazaks were the least likely to express their religiosity through ritual observance or acts of religious devotion.

EXPERIENTIAL DIMENSION The experiential dimension relates to some kind of personal communication with or experience of the ultimate divine reality. It is an expectation found in all religions. In Islam, there are well-known Sufi and other religious traditions that place great emphasis on divine experience of some kind as an affirmation of an individual’s religiosity. Data for the experiential dimension was collected only from Indonesia, Pakistan, Iran, Turkey, Malaysia and Egypt. The questions about this dimension were not answered by a significant number of the Kazak respondents; therefore, they were not included in the analysis. The responses to the experiential questions are reported in tables 2.13–2.17. Respondents were asked whether they had felt they had been in the presence of Allah, a sense of being saved by the Prophet, a sense of being afraid of Allah, a sense of being punished by Allah or a sense of being tempted by the Devil. The findings show some striking differences and similarities across countries. TABLE 2.13: ‘Have you felt you were in the presence of Allah?’ (percentage)

TABLE 2.14: ‘Have you felt a sense of being saved by the Prophet?’ (percentage)

TABLE 2.15: ‘Have you felt a sense of being afraid of Allah?’ (percentage)

TABLE 2.16: ‘Have you felt a sense of being punished by Allah for something you did?’ (percentage)

TABLE 2.17: ‘Have you felt a sense of being tempted by the Devil?’ (percentage)

A large majority of respondents in all the countries listed in table 2.13 reported that they were either sure they had been in the presence of Allah or thought they had. The proportion for Pakistanis, Indonesians and Malaysians was significantly higher than for the other countries. However, only about a third to a quarter of the respondents were certain they had felt a sense of being saved by the Prophet. If the two positive responses are combined, then the proportion of persons having this experience increased to 63 per cent in Pakistan, 58 per cent in Indonesia, 73 per cent in Malaysia, 67 per cent in Iran, 49 per cent in Turkey and 45 per cent in Egypt. Most of the Egyptians had not experienced the sensation of being saved by the Prophet. In terms of being fearful of Allah, the Indonesians, Malaysians, Turks, Iranians and Pakistanis were almost universal in their agreement if the two positive responses are combined. In contrast, in Egypt, more than a third (35 per cent) of the respondents reported not having experienced this sensation; still, it should be noted that 64 per cent gave positive responses. This evidence suggests that, for an overwhelming number of respondents from all six countries, Allah was fearsome. Is this merely a function of the question? This might be the

case, but the similarity in the responses across the six countries suggests that some underlying sociological and psychological factors produce this image of Allah, as evidence from the next question will indicate. The response to the question ‘Have you felt a sense of being punished by Allah for something you did?’ showed a pattern similar to the one noted above. Almost two-thirds of respondents in Pakistan, Egypt, Malaysia and Iran reported a sense of having been punished, and about half of the Turkish and Indonesian respondents felt the same way. The general conclusion that can be drawn from this evidence is that, for a large majority of Muslims, a sense of fear and punishment is an important part of their experience of the divine reality of Allah. At the same time, there are significant differences among Muslims in terms of not having had such experiences. Both the similarities and the differences point to the sociological and psychological foundations of these experiences of the divine, which raises some important questions. These questions will be explored in a separate section (Note on experiential religiosity). Finally, responses to the temptation question (a sense of being tempted by the Devil) display a pattern that is generally similar to that revealed by the divine punishment question.

INDEX OF EXPERIENTIAL RELIGIOSITY An index of the experiential dimension was constructed using the following methodology. The response category ‘Yes, I am sure I have’ was scored as 1 for all five questions; all other responses were scored as 0. This produced an index ranging from 0 to 5. The distribution of respondents from the six countries is shown in table 2.18. The Indonesian and Pakistani respondents were more likely to have had a divine experience than respondents from the other countries. The index also shows that, in all six countries surveyed, most of the Muslim respondents had undergone some religious experience of the divine reality. TABLE 2.18: Experiential dimension index (percentage)

Analysis of the data also reveals that, in general, there were no significant gender differences in experiential religiosity. However, other factors such as age and educational level seemed to have some bearing. In Indonesia, the younger respondents had undergone

more occasions of religious experience, whereas in Pakistan, Iran, Turkey and Egypt, the pattern was the opposite and religious experiences increased with age. In Indonesia, Egypt and Pakistan, the more educated respondents had encountered more instances of religious experience, but in Iran and Turkey, the trend was reversed. In general, the religious activists scored higher on the index of experiential religiosity. The Muslim professionals tended to have lower scores in all countries. A significant number of respondents from the general public also reported having had religious experiences but, in most instances, their proportions were lower than for the religious activists. Note on experiential religiosity Perhaps one of the most notable findings was the widespread presence among the respondents of feelings related to being afraid of Allah and to a sense of having been punished by Allah. In all the countries surveyed, a majority of the respondents feared Allah; this feeling was especially pronounced among Indonesians, Pakistanis, Malaysians and Iranians. A large majority of the respondents in all the countries where this issue was investigated reported that they felt they had been punished by Allah for something they had done. What sociological factors might account for these differences in religious commitment? What factors might account for these findings? Sociological insights from Émile Durkheim and Mary Douglas’s sociology of religion provide a useful framework in which to answer these questions. One of the key analytical concerns of Durkheim’s sociology is the social control of cognition. He explores this problem through a sociological analysis of religion. His analysis of religious life and behaviour is based on a fundamental postulate that ‘the unanimous sentiments of the believers of all times cannot be purely illusory’.18 However, he still sees these sentiments as partly illusory, because he does not accept the explanations and justifications offered by the faithful for their beliefs and practices. He argues that ‘the reality’ on which religious experience is based is not always the reality expressed by the believers. This does not mean that religious experience is ‘false’. On the contrary, he claims that all religions are true in their own fashions and there are no religions that are false. They are true in the sense that they state and express—in a non-objective, symbolic, or metaphorical form—truth about the ‘reality’ underlying them and giving them their ‘true meaning’. The ‘reality’ according to Durkheim is ‘society’. He argues that the believer is ‘not deceived when he believes in the existence of a moral power upon which he depends and from which he receives all that is best in himself: this power exists, it is society’.19 For Durkheim, religion is a system of ideas that enable individuals to construct for themselves a representation of the society of which they are members and the obscure but intimate relations that they have with it.20 Religion, therefore, can be seen as ‘representing’ society and social relations in a cognitive sense to the mind or intellect. In this sense, religion affords a means of comprehending or rendering intelligible social realities, as well as expressing or symbolizing social relationships. In other words, for believers, religious

beliefs, experiences and practices are a particular way of understanding their society and their relations with it, as well as a way of expressing and dramatizing these aspects of their lives in a particular symbolic idiom. Building on Durkheim’s sociology of religion, Douglas explores a question of particular interest to students of religion: what social circumstances encourage particular kinds of religious sensibility? She argues that the ways in which social reality constructs consciousness are as important as the ways in which reality is itself socially constructed. Certain social settings encourage certain ways of seeing the world. Douglas’s grid/group theory is designed to explain this relationship.21 In her work, she offers a sociological theory regarding the plausibility of different forms of religion, world view and ideology. She attempts to relate different varieties of belief to different types of society. Individuals in different social settings, she argues, are biased towards different cosmologies. People do not believe what makes no sense to them, and what makes sense to them depends on their social environment. Her theory emphasizes the human drive to achieve consonance in all layers of experience as the bridge by which cosmology and social experience are connected. She argues that the symbolic world of a people becomes structured like its social world. Provided above are only abbreviated sketches of selected aspects of Durkheim and Douglas’s analyses of the relationship between beliefs and social structure. They are offered as an explanation of the findings about the aspects of experiential religiosity related to conceptions of the divine. Why is the Muslim experience of the divine characterized by a feeling of fear and a sense of being punished for something they have done? As mentioned above, a fundamental postulate of Durkheim’s sociology of religion is that ‘the unanimous sentiments of the believers . . . cannot be purely illusory’.22 However, he argues that the real bases of religious experience are not those expressed by the faithful; instead, they are grounded in the nature and ‘reality’ of the society. He sees religion as a system of ideas that individuals employ to construct a representation of the society they belong to and of their relations with it. From this perspective, the Muslim representations of the divine (Allah) as fearsome and punitive can be taken as symbolic or metaphorical representations of the society of which they are a part and their relations with it. It is interesting to note that only in Turkey—the most democratic and relatively economically advanced country of the ones included in this analysis—did about half of the respondents score 0 or 1 on the experiential dimension index.

CONSEQUENTIAL DIMENSION The consequential dimension refers to the secular effects of religious belief, practice and experience. Religious beliefs and ideologies invariably compete with other beliefs and ideologies (i.e. magic, science) in a society to provide answers or explanations for questions dealing with the meanings and nature of the ultimate divine reality and the nature and purposes of human life, conditions and destiny. In modern times, science has become religion’s main rival in this endeavour to explain the nature, purposes and meanings of human conditions and destiny. Beliefs and statements that counter some core religious beliefs

usually place the individual under considerable social and psychological pressure to reject such beliefs. In this study, two questions were used to investigate consequential religiosity: ‘Do you agree that a person who says there is no Allah is likely to hold dangerous political views?’ and ‘Do you agree or disagree with Darwin’s theory of evolution?’ These questions were chosen because they challenged two fundamental religious beliefs widely held by Muslims. For each question, the respondents were offered multiple-choice-type responses, indicated in tables 2.19 and 2.20. TABLE 2.19: ‘Do you agree that a person who says there is no Allah is likely to hold dangerous political views?’ (percentage)

TABLE 2.20: ‘Do you agree or disagree with Darwin’s Theory of Evolution?’ (percentage)

TABLE 2.21: Index of consequential religiosity (percentage)

An overwhelming majority of respondents in Indonesia, Pakistan, Malaysia and Egypt agreed that a person who does not believe in Allah is likely to hold dangerous views. In Iran, 37 per cent of the respondents gave a positive response; in Turkey, 46 per cent. In Kazakhstan, the case was reversed as most respondents either disagreed or were uncertain about the consequences of disbelief in Allah. A similar pattern of responses was observed for Darwin’s theory of evolution. The theory was held to be false by a majority of the respondents in Indonesia, Pakistan, Malaysia and Egypt, as well as in Turkey. In Kazakhstan, the case was again reversed, with 37 per cent of the respondents showing support, either qualified or unqualified, for the theory—more than four times the corresponding proportion in Egypt, more than triple that in Malaysia and more than double that in Pakistan. A third of the Kazak respondents said they had never thought about the theory. The Darwin question was not used in the Iranian survey because of concern about religious sensitivities.

INDEX OF CONSEQUENTIAL RELIGIOSITY An index of consequential religiosity was constructed using the following methodology. Agreement with the statement that a person who says there is no Allah is likely to hold dangerous political views was scored as 1 and other responses as 0. For the Darwin question, the response that the theory could not possibly be true was scored as 1 and all other responses were scored as 0. Almost half of the respondents in Pakistan, Indonesia and Egypt scored the highest possible score of 2; in Malaysia and Turkey, the corresponding proportions were 40 per cent and 32 per cent respectively. The Kazaks followed an opposing trend, with 71 per cent scoring 0. Further analyses of the data showed that, in general, men were likely to be more conservative than women and conservatism increased with age. In general, religious activists were more conservative than the public or Muslim professionals. In Egypt, all groups were equally conservative. In Kazakhstan, gender and age had no effect on consequential religiosity but, as was the case in Turkey, the more educated respondents were less conservative.

Conclusion This survey is probably the first attempt to ‘map out’ different aspects of Muslim religious commitment quantitatively. As such, it has several limitations, the most important of which is

whether the analytical approach used is the appropriate way to carry out such a study. Sociological methodology relies on proxy variables to study and understand social reality. These variables focus on the manifestations of social reality and not on its ‘essence’. That task is left to the theorists with sociological imagination and serendipitous insights based on the evidence. This opens the quantitative approach to a legitimate criticism of whether the chosen variables are in fact the most appropriate ones. The analytical approach adopted in the analysis of Muslim religious commitment discussed in this chapter has relied largely on the work of the Berkeley Research Program in Religion and Society and especially on the work undertaken by Glock and Stark. The research publications arising from this program have made some seminal contributions to the sociology of religion. The Berkeley research, however, was devoted primarily to the study of Christianity. It could be argued that the dimensions of religious commitment used in the Berkeley project might not be appropriate for the analysis of Muslim religious commitment. In my view, this contention would not be valid for two reasons. First, the analytical framework used in the Berkeley studies is distinctively sociological and generic and can be applied to the study of religious commitment in other religious contexts.23 Second, assuming that this objection has some theoretical validity—in the sense that the framework developed by Stark and Glock, among others, is specifically predicated on some broad understanding of the key theological principles of Christianity—my response would be that, like Christianity and Judaism, Islam is an Abrahamic religion and shares several theological and philosophical principles with them. Under these conditions, one could argue that it should be possible to study and analyze religious commitment in all Abrahamic religions using a common analytical framework. These and other similar arguments might not satisfy the purists, but if sociological scholarship is to advance theoretically as a distinctive approach to the study of social reality, then comparative studies are a major imperative. It is also likely that some of the severest criticisms of my analysis of Muslim piety will come from Muslim scholars. In response to such appraisals, it should be mentioned that the methodology was not used uncritically. A serious and time-intensive attempt was made to evaluate the methodology through focus group discussions and intensive interviews with informed Muslim respondents in two of the seven Muslim countries studied: Indonesia and Pakistan. This evaluation led to several modifications of the analytical framework, including identification of additional distinctive dimensions of Muslim piety, which were incorporated into the methodology. The findings of this study lend themselves to some important conclusions. First, the findings indicate that, in several major Muslim countries, a religious renaissance is taking place or has already done so. The evidence shows a robust religious commitment among Muslims from all walks of life. This commitment is characterized by a strong commitment to Islamic beliefs, rituals, religious devotion and experiential religiosity. Muslims share a common self-image of Islam, which is grounded in traditions of scripturalism. Religion also plays an active role in the everyday activities of large numbers of Muslims. In other words, religious commitment is characterized by Islamic theology and a pragmatic orientation that is

usefully applied in everyday life. The evidence also suggests that Muslim piety is socially constructed. This social construction is influenced by several factors, which include the general religious conditions or climate at the global and societal levels, as well as the social and political conditions and social structure at the individual country level. Since its origin, Islam has been a universal religion. This fact is reflected in the size and composition of its following across the world. In the contemporary world, Muslims reside mostly in developing countries, but Islam plays a visible role in global affairs. Islamic religious activism is an important political force in Muslim countries as well as in international affairs. Global inequalities have provided Muslims with the impetus to seek the creation of a more just social order at both the national and the international levels. For many Muslims, Islam provides a powerful model for the establishment of such a social order. These attributes of Islam find regular expression in the national and international media. This global fascination with Islam is an important factor influencing the religious climate in Muslim countries. It also influences religious commitment among Muslims. That national social and political conditions play a critical role is evident from the nature of religious commitment in the seven countries studied in this research project. Unlike the other six countries, Kazakhstan was, until 1991, a communist country very hostile to religion. Teaching and propagation of religion, although not banned, were controlled strictly. The result is that the Kazak Muslims’ piety is very different from that of the respondents from the other countries. In Indonesia, Pakistan, Malaysia, Iran and Turkey, piety is strongly grounded in the knowledge of sacred texts, religious rituals, devotion and religious experience, but in Kazakhstan, it appears to be influenced by sociocultural conditions. In Kazakhstan, Muslim consciousness is grounded in the historical identity of the Kazak nation. This conscious ness coexists with a very secular perspective and outlook evident in the data that has been presented and discussed. The social structural factors that might influence religiosity relate primarily to the family. Recent research has shown that religiosity, like social class, is inherited largely from the family. In this respect, the first factor to influence religiosity is the religiosity of the family. This conclusion runs counter to previous research, which indicated that, with age, the influence of parental religiosity declined24; more recent research has shown that this is not the case.25 Another factor that influences religiosity is the characteristics of the household. Research shows that people raised in traditional family households with both biological parents, who are happily married, are likely to resemble their parents in religious beliefs.26 Empirical evidence shows that socialization in traditional family structures maximizes the transmission of religiosity. In short, since most people inherit religiosity, parental religiosity, the quality of family relationships and a traditional family structure play important and positive roles in the inter-generational transmission of religiosity.27 The pattern of religiosity reported here offers some support for these findings. The family organization in Indonesia, Pakistan, Iran, Turkey, Malaysia and Egypt tends to be

characterized by traditional family structures and the presence of two parents. These features, therefore, could explain the existence of a high degree of traditional religiosity in these countries. Kazakhstan was communist for more than seventy years. Under communism, family organizations were radically transformed, giving women equal rights, which had a major impact on the gender division of labour. Religious institutions were suppressed and devalued. This could partly explain the non-traditional religiosity of Kazak Muslims. The empirical evidence also lends itself to the development of a typology of Muslim piety. There appear to be two types of religious commitment. One type is characterized by ideological orthodoxy, a strong emphasis on ritualism and devotionalism, and an image of Islam grounded in traditional readings of sacred scriptures and personal religious experience. The other type is characterized by a lack of ideological orthodoxy, a lack of emphasis on ritualism and devotionalism, and a non-traditional image of Islam. We can call the first type traditional Muslim piety; the second, non-traditional. The first type, as the evidence has shown, characterizes the majority of the Muslim respondents in Indonesia, Pakistan, Malaysia, Turkey, Iran and Egypt, and a small minority in Kazakhstan. The second type characterizes the majority of the Muslim respondents in Kazakhstan and a minority in the other six countries. The design of the study has also provided evidence of the multidimensionality of religious commitment. The findings have revealed the two types of religious commitment that have been identified and described above. What makes this finding conceptually and methodologically interesting is that the two types of commitment are broadly segregated. The traditional type of religious commitment characterizes Indonesia, Pakistan, Malaysia, Egypt and Iran. The non-traditional type is largely a characteristic of Kazak Muslims. The Turkish case falls in between the two types. The evidence of multi dimensionality inheres in the fact that, in all dimensions, Kazak Muslims display patterns of responses different from those displayed by their fellow Muslims in the other six countries. This finding also helps confirm the interrelatedness of various dimensions because of the pattern of their temporal clustering. In this respect, the empirical evidence provided in this chapter makes a unique and useful contribution to the comparative study of religious commitment in the modern world. The findings that a majority of the Muslim respondents in all the countries studied except Kazakhstan display a high level of religious commitment also challenge the validity of the criticisms levelled against Muslims about their religious commitment by some leading Islamists. For example, such Muslim scholars and activists as Sayyid Abul A’la Maududi and Syed Qutb have argued vigorously that the Muslim masses and elites possess a superficial and weak sense of religious commitment because of their exposure to godless secular education. Consequently, they are incapable of thinking Islamically. Muslims, these Islamists have argued, are unable to wriggle themselves out of Western modes of thinking and practice even though they are eager to establish the Islamic way of life. According to Maududi and Qutb, their secularism is also reinforced by the influence enjoyed by Western thinkers and policy-makers in Muslim countries.28 The evidence reported here clearly shows strong Muslim piety across social classes and countries, especially in the six major Muslim

countries studied. The question that then arises concerns the nature and type of evidence used by Islamists in the construction of their critical discourse. Frequently, Islamists identify the absence of genuine Islamic education as the cause of growing Westernization and secularization in Muslim societies, which is regarded as endangering the distinctive Islamic identities of Muslims. This was the position taken by the participants in the First World Conference on Muslim Education held in Mecca, Saudi Arabia, in April 1977. According to the participants, Muslims in the twentieth century were passing through a period of self-doubt that was threatening their religious identity. The main cause is the Western system of education adopted by Muslim-majority countries in order to gain intellectual and material advancement. The advent of this educational system created cultural duality in the Muslim world: traditional Islamic education, which is still practised, supports the traditional Islamic groups, whereas modern secular education produces secularists who are indifferent to Islamic values or pay only lip service to them. The conference participants shared the concerns of Muslim thinkers who argue that, under the dominant influence of the secular education system, the Muslim world will lose its identity by losing its Islamic character and will thus suffer the same moral disintegration and confusion as the West. The Muslim world can preserve that identity and save the ummah from confusion and the erosion of Islamic values if Muslims receive a truly Islamic education.29 Interestingly, such criticisms are internalized by Muslims. The evidence gathered from this study clearly contradicts such self-perceptions and shows emphatically a high and strong level of religious piety among the respondents surveyed. Indeed, the findings provide some support for Gellner’s observation about Muslim identity. In his discussion of civil society and Islam, Gellner argues that the Muslim world is marked by the astonishing resilience of its formal faith.30 He attributes the weakness of civil society in Muslim countries to the rise of what he calls ‘High’ puritanical and fundamentalist traditions of Islam, to which most modern and modernizing Muslims transfer their social allegiance in their quest to seek the establishment of a just and egalitarian social order. His observation about the incompatibility of ‘High’ puritanical Islam and civil society, in my opinion, is uncharacteristically deterministic and pessimistic. However, his observation that modern or modernizing Muslims tend to transfer their allegiance to ‘High’ puritanical Islam appears to be well grounded. The evidence shows that the Muslim world displays a strong resilience in its commitment to Islam, especially today, when it has fallen behind the Western world in economic and technological terms, as indicated by the following facts. In terms of scientific output (i.e. publications of scientific papers in professional journals), between 1990 and 1994, Switzerland alone produced as much as forty-five Muslim-majority countries.31 In the thousand years since the Caliph Mamoun, the Arabs have translated from other languages as many books as Spain translates in a single year.32 According to a study by the Brookings Institution in Washington, DC, over the past quarter-century, GDP per person in most Muslim states has either fallen or remained at the same level.33 A general conclusion that can be drawn from this evidence of scientific, technological and economic stagnation is that the

quality of human capital in Muslim countries is at severe risk; when this is combined with conditions of low educational attainment, gender bias and widespread poverty, one could argue that the situation is likely to get worse in the foreseeable future. In the ‘third industrial revolution’, with its ‘knowledge economy’, the creation of wealth will depend primarily on skills, and these conditions will have serious repercussions for the economic and social position of the world’s Muslim countries. The conditions mentioned above coexist with a high degree of religious commitment in Muslim countries, as shown by the evidence discussed here. Can we then pose the provocative question: is religion a drag on the economic and technological development of the Muslim world? The question concerning the role of religious beliefs in economic action goes back in sociology to German political scientist and sociologist Max Weber’s work on the role of the Protestant ethic in the rise of capitalism. Since then, there have been numerous studies of the ‘Weberian thesis’, which have produced mixed results. Statistical analyses across different countries have shown that, while religious belief might influence economic performance, generally speaking, there is no strong relationship between adherence to any one religion and economic performance, once economic fundamentals are taken into account. When examining the below-average performance of Muslim countries, one might find that fiscal policies and widespread corruption provide a better explanation than religion does. Notwithstanding these observations, when we examine the link between the degree of religious commitment and the Human Development Index34, we see that there is a relationship between the two (table 2.22). Malaysia is one exception: it displays a high degree of religious commitment as well as a high HDI score. Does the Malaysian case negate or confirm the association? The country has a multiethnic society, with around 40 per cent of the population being non-Muslims, mainly Chinese and Indians. Is the high HDI value in Malaysia a function of the contribution of its non-Muslim population, which is economically more prosperous than the Muslim Malays? It is not possible to answer this question categorically on the basis of the evidence at hand. TABLE 2.22: Religious commitment and human development in Muslim countries

3 JIHAD AND CONFLICT RESOLUTION IN MUSLIM SOCIETIES

Jihad is one of the foundational concepts in Islamic religious and sociopolitical thought. It appears in numerous verses of the Qur’an and with varying connotations (see appendix 2). There is no single ‘reading’ of the Qur’anic verses that can claim primacy. Consequently, in Islamic history, competing meanings of jihad have vied for authenticity and legitimacy. An important feature of the meanings ascribed to jihad and the doctrines that have evolved around it is that these meanings have been profoundly shaped by the prevailing political, social and economic conditions in Islamic societies. This chapter will examine the Qur’anic genesis of the jihad and associated doctrines. It will offer a periodization of jihad doctrines to show how they have evolved in historical terms in various Muslim societies and will conclude with a discussion of contemporary Muslim opinions on conflict resolution.

Qur’anic origins of jihad The concept of jihad pre-dates Islam and has its origin in pre-Islamic Arabia. Etymologically, the word jihad is derived from the Arabic word jahada or juhd, meaning ability, exertion or power. In this sense, it literally means the use or exertion of one’s utmost power, efforts, endeavours or ability to contend with an object of disapprobation, which might be a visible enemy, the Devil, or nafs (one’s self).1 In modern Arabic, the word jihad has a wide semantic spectrum. It has been used to mean class struggle and the struggle between the old and the new. Even when it is used in an Islamic context, it does not always denote armed struggle. It might mean spiritual struggle for the good of Islamic society or inner struggle against one’s own evil inclinations.2 This etymology of the word jihad is reflected in its usage in the Qur’an. It can denote any effort made towards a subjectively praise-worthy aim, which need not necessarily have anything to do with religion. The meaning ascribed to it in the Qur’an was influenced by the ideas and warfare practices prevalent in northern Arabian tribes. Among these tribes, war was a normal state and a lawful act if it was undertaken as a means of defence against aggression by other tribes. Warfare protocols followed by combatants in tribal wars forbade the killing

of non-combatants, children, women or the aged. These rules were also incorporated into the jihad doctrines.3 There is a consensus among scholars that, in the Qur’an, the word jihad is used mostly in calls to believers to support jihad by surrendering their properties and themselves in the path of Allah. The principal purpose of jihad is to ‘establish prayer, give zakat [alms], command good and forbid evil’ (Qur’an 22:41). Jihad also enjoins believers to struggle against unbelievers to convert them to Islam. The first type, which entails peaceful means, has been described as ‘jihad of the tongue’ and ‘jihad of the pen’, and is regarded as ‘the greater jihad’. The second type, involving struggle and aggression, is regarded as ‘the smaller jihad’.4 The main verses of the Qur’an that relate to jihad are identified in appendix 2. The earliest verse sanctioning the fighting of unbelievers was revealed soon after Hijrah, the Prophet’s migration from Mecca to Medina: ‘[They are] those who have been expelled from their homes in defiance of right, except that they say “Our Lord is God” ’. (Qur’an 22:40.) The early Qur’anic verses are primarily ‘instructive’ in the sense that they stipulate the broad nature of jihad. The Qur’an calls upon believers to surrender their properties and themselves in the path of Allah in order to achieve its principal purpose: to command good and forbid evil—in short, to establish an Islamic socio-moral order.5 As the social and political circumstances of Muslims changed after the establishment of a nascent Islamic state in Medina, the Qur’anic revelations expanded to include the promise of a ‘reward’ for those killed in the jihad and to threaten non-participants with severe punishment in the hereafter (Qur’an 9:81, 48:16). Unlike the earlier verses, with their ‘instructive’ orientation, these verses are oriented towards ‘motivating’ and ‘mobilizing’ believers to participate in jihad. There is disagreement among scholars about whether the Qur’an allows fighting unbelievers as a defence against aggression or under all circumstances. Both positions are supported in the Qur’an (2:190, 9:5, 9:13, 9:29). Islamic scholarship appears to have favoured interpretations of jihad under all circumstances. The verses that are invoked to support this position are known as the ‘sword verses’. Within a century of its rise, Islam had spread to much of the Middle East and had become an empire. This was a period of great Muslim conquest and consequently engendered the need for a comprehensive treatise on the nature and law of jihad. Such a treatise was written by Abd-al Rahman Al Awzai (d. 774) and Muhammad al-Shaybani (d. 804) and was the result of the consolidation of discussions and debates that had taken place on the subject since the origin of Islam. They reflected the needs and exigencies of prevailing social and political conditions. Over time, as these conditions changed with the fragmentation of the Islamic empire into several autonomous empires, the meanings of jihad doctrines also changed. Jihad was transformed into a barely disguised ideology of power, resistance and ‘business’.

Periodization of jihad doctrine

FORMATIVE STAGE In table 3.1, I offer a preliminary periodization of the jihad doctrine. The underlying logic of this periodization is that material conditions—and by that I mean prevailing political, social and economic conditions—have been instrumental in shaping the dominant meaning(s) of the doctrine. My argument is that ideas have consequences; it is the exigencies of the consequences desired or sought by scholars in different periods of Islamic history that have shaped the dominant nature and meaning of the doctrine of jihad. TABLE 3.1: Historical trajectory of the jihad doctrine

(a) Aceh War 1873–1904; Mahadist movement of Muhammad Ibn Abdallah, Somalia (1899–1920); Tobacco Revolt of 1891 in Iran; Tariqa-i-Muhammadi jihad/resistance movement of Sayyid Ahmed Barelwi (1786– 1831); Faraidi movement (1781–1840); Algerian resistance led by Abd Al-Qadir against the French (1832–52); Mahadist movement of Mohammad Ahmad, Sudan; Egyptian resistance led by Ahmad Urabi against the

British; Sanusi resistance against Italians in Libya in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; the Ottoman Jihad declaration of 1914; Palestinian resistance against British colonialism and Zionism in the early and midtwentieth century. (b) Jamaat-e-Islami in South Asia and the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt and other Middle Eastern countries (key ideologues: Abu-al Ala Maududi and Sayyid Qutb, Muhammad Abd al-Salam Farajj).

During the early stages of the rise of Islam in the seventh century, practical realities would have made the political and social well-being of the Muslim community (ummah) a sacramental value for Muslims. If ummah prospered, it was an indication that Muslims were living according to Allah’s will. The experience of living in a truly Islamic community was both a cause and a consequence of observing the sacred commands. A defining characteristic of this period is that the Qur’an calls upon believers to undertake jihad, which is to surrender ‘your properties and yourselves in the path of Allah’, the purpose of which in turn is to ‘establish prayers, give zakat, command good and forbid evil’.6 During this period, the dominant function of the ideology of jihad was ‘instructive’: instructing believers to strive to establish the Islamic social and moral order. Jihad was an independent variable: a ‘theology of identity’ seeking to establish a distinctive Islamic identity and community. As long as Muslims were a small, persecuted minority in Mecca, jihad as a positive organized thrust of the Islamic movement was unthinkable. Meccan surah (chapters) of the Qur’an are circumspect on the subject of the use of violence and generally appear to counsel its avoidance.7 When hijrah (emigration) was forced upon the Prophet Muhammad and his followers by Meccan opponents of Islam, resulting in their migration in 622 to Medina, all that changed. The Qur’anic revelation, ‘To those against whom war is made, permission is given [to fight] because they are wronged . . . and verily, Allah is most powerful for their aid’ (22:39), essentially granted permission to take up arms against the Meccan opponents. After the establishment of the Islamic state in Medina, the situation changed, and hardly anything, with the possible exception of prayers and zakat, received greater emphasis than jihad.8 The mandate for force granted at Medina was eventually broadened (2:191, 217) until, apparently, war could be waged against non-Muslims at almost any time or any place. Qur’an 9:5—‘Slay the pagans wherever you find them . . .’—gives broad permission for war against unbelievers. According to the traditional Muslim understanding of this revelation, the verse was thought to have abrogated all earlier limitations on the use of violence against unbelievers.9 During this period, jihad was viewed as a duty to achieve greater piety and in order to establish Islam’s moral and social order. It was carried out under the aegis of ummah. It was, in short, a means to construct and establish an Islamic identity.

EMPIRE STAGE The period from the eighth to the sixteenth centuries was remarkable for two reasons: this was a period of full tide for Muslim expansion, and it was marked by the fragmentation of the Muslim empire into several autonomous empires ruled by local political and Islamic

elites. Expansion of Islam during this period brought Muslims into contact with non-Muslims who had become their subjects in the conquered territories. This new order forced Muslim religious and political elites to face the question of how to coexist with other religious ideologies and their followers now that they had come under Islamic rule. The expansion of the Islamic empire, its subsequent fragmentation and its coming into contact with other ideological systems created the need to develop a coherent doctrine of jihad. This led Muslim jurists al-Shaybani (d. 804) and Shaffii (d. 820) to bring together the Qur’anic texts and hadith (sayings) about jihad to formulate a doctrine of jihad. In this doctrine, the world was divided into the Abode of Islam (Darul-Islam) and the Abode of War (Darul-Harb). In the first, Islamic law and sovereignty prevailed; the second included lands that were not yet under the moral and political authority of Islam. According to this doctrine, the Abode of Islam would be in a permanent state of warfare with the Abode of War until the latter submitted. Jihad was the instrument by which that subjection would be accomplished. Hostilities between the two spheres might be suspended by armistice or truce, but they would never be concluded by peace, only by submission. This doctrine also stipulated the duty towards jihad, the people eligible to participate in it, the conditions under which jihad might be invoked and the rules of warfare.10 Jihad doctrine from the early days of Islam stipulated that there was a religious obligation for Muslims to resist the enemies of Islam. The division of the world into Darul-Islam and Darul-Harb, besides delineating the boundaries between ummah and enemies, also implied that the threat to the Islamic community came from external sources. During the period of rapid expansion of Islam and the subsequent fragmentation of the Islamic empire, it became apparent that Islam also had internal enemies who threatened the faith, either as apostates or because they refused to meet their Islamic obligations, such as payment of zakat. By the thirteenth century, the problem of internal enemies had come to include Muslim rulers such as the Mongols. The Mongols, after conquering and destroying the heart-lands of Islam, had converted to Islam and become its rulers. Did the doctrine of jihad make it permissible to rebel against these destructive Muslim warlords? According to noted Syrian jurist Ibn Taymiyah (d. 1328), profession of Islam was not enough. Although, under the criterion of shahada (declaration of belief), they were Muslims, the Mongols violated the broader requirements of Islam. They still lived according to their own pagan law, which rendered them unbelievers. According to Ibn Taymiyah, a true Muslim must live according to Islamic law and must not attack the lives and wealth of Muslims. He argued that ‘any trespasser of the law should be fought . . . provided he had knowledge of the mission of the Prophet. It is this knowledge that makes him responsible for obeying the orders, the prohibitions and the permits [of the shari’ah]. If he disobeys these, he should be fought’.11 As the Mongols lived according to their own personal law, which rendered them unbelievers, it was an Islamic duty to fight them. Jihad against them was not only licit but required. Ibn Taymiyah’s fatwa (legal rulings or opinions by Islamic scholars) still resonates today among fundamentalist Muslims. In short, during this and subsequent periods, jihad

could be described as a dependent variable: a theology for the defence of Islam against external and internal enemies, as well as a defence for Islamic expansion and colonization of the ‘other’. Throughout Islamic history, governments and opposition movements have declared their Muslim opponents to be heretics or unbelievers (kafir) in order to justify their struggle against these opponents. The fatwa of Ibn Taymiyah influenced the views of such ideologues of modern Islamic radicalism as Sayyid Abul A’la Maududi and Sayyid Qutb and are often invoked by contemporary radical Islamic groups to give legitimacy to their use of arms against the Muslim rulers they oppose. This view was articulated forcefully in the pamphlet Al-Faridah Al-Ghaiba (The Absent Duty) authored by Abd al-Salam Faraj, the leader of the jihad organization that assassinated President Anwar Sadat of Egypt in 1981.12 Al-Qaeda’s leaders have used similar reasoning to incite Muslims in Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and other countries to take up jihad against the ruling elites in these countries. Financial support for jihad during the empire stage came from the state and from war booty, which was distributed among the fighters.

COLONIAL PERIOD Between the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries, much of the Muslim world was conquered and colonized by European countries. The political aspects of colonialism effectively resulted in the disenfranchisement of Muslim elites. The economic consequences of the expansion of capitalism under colonialism resulted in a massive economic dislocation of the Muslim bourgeoisie, craftsmen, peasants and a whole range of other groups. This economic and social dispossession was accompanied by cultural devaluation. Sociologically, it was not surprising that colonial rule—and the political, economic and cultural domination that followed—led to the development of resistance movements in all Muslim countries. Resistance among the local populations against the foreign rulers, at least in the initial stages, was organized by politico-religious movements under the banner of jihad (see table 3.1). In the resistance against Western colonialism, the doctrine of jihad was of paramount importance. However, it was not the only religious doctrine invoked by the leaders of these movements. Just as the Prophet did during his lifetime, they often accompanied the call for jihad with a call for emigration (hijrah) from territory ruled by unbelievers. Another concept employed frequently in these movements belongs to the realm of Islamic eschatology. This is the belief in the coming of the Mahdi, the rightly guided one and prophesied redeemer of Islam, who will restore justice on earth and put an end to corruption and oppression.13 These movements were also Islamic revivalist movements, striving for reforms in order to ban all pernicious religious innovations (bid’ah) and to achieve an amelioration of the corrupt society then in place, with political and social organizations working for the liberation of the Muslim community from unbelievers. All these movements enjoyed popular mass support among the rank and file of local Muslims. Some contemporary jihadi movements trace their roots to these movements or were inspired by their example. They were very much motivational in mobilizing movements for defensive and offensive jihad,

and it is this legacy that they passed on to contemporary jihadi movements. The emphasis of the jihad doctrine during the colonial period was on offensive jihad. Financial support came from non-state organizations and from individual Muslims and Muslim religious institutions. .

POST-COLONIAL AND COLD WAR PERIOD By the middle of the twentieth century, most Muslim countries had achieved independence from direct colonial rule. This period was also characterized by the ‘Cold War’ between the two global superpowers: the Soviet Union and the USA. The independence of Muslim countries from colonial rule did not bring the promised economic, political and social rewards by way of improved economic opportunities or political and social freedom and stability. Most Muslim countries were ruled by authoritarian, oppressive and corrupt regimes. In short, the ‘national project’ had failed dismally. These conditions shaped the nature and scope of jihadi movements in the Muslim world. The ideology of jihad advocated by these movements had some historical continuity with the preceding epochs, but certain new features were added to the jihad doctrine. The failure of the ‘national project’ had given rise to the ideology of the Islamic state. While there is no clear enunciation of this concept, it generally involved the introduction of Islamic economics and Islamic shari’ah law. The idea of the Islamic state probably originated in the works of Pakistani social thinker Abul-A’la Maududi. In his voluminous writings, Maududi argues that Islam is much more than a set of rituals. He holds that it encompasses all domains of human existence, including politics, law, art, medicine and economics.14 He also argues that the realization of an Islamic utopia requires the establishment of an Islamic state. Given the erudition and scope of Maududi’s scholarship, this is puzzling since, of the 6666 verses of the Qur’an, fewer than 300 refer to institutional rules. Other seminal contributions to the notion of the Islamic state came from Egyptian Sayyid Qutb and Iraqi scholar Muhammad Baqir al-Sadr. The genesis of the notion of an Islamic state can be traced back to the classical formulations of Darul-Islam and Darul-Harb. The essential character of Darul-Islam was territory: the territory of Islam that had been taken over first by the infidel colonial rulers, then by the secular Muslim elites who were subordinated to the former rulers. The idea that Islamic identity could be realized only in an Islamic state was an expression of territorial identity politics.15 The realization of this identity would be aided by improved literacy and greater urbanization and industrialization.16 In short, driven by their need to establish, maintain and defend their Muslim territorial identity, jihadi movements sought to explain the failure of the national project in the Muslim world during the post-colonial period. Individuals derive inner satisfaction from a secure and unambiguous identity. Such an identity was found to be wanting in most Muslim lands because of economic and social dispossession during colonialism and because of their dismal economic and political performance. Just as a person whose house suffers damage will undertake repairs, people whose identity has lost focus or become depreciated will try to redefine themselves and establish a clearer sense of who they are. This was the sociological driver behind the search

by Muslim intellectuals for an Islamic state governed by divine law.17 The establishment of an Islamic state in the lands of Islam, Darul-Islam, required ridding Muslim countries of secularist pro-Western ruling regimes. Jihadi activities were spearheaded by generally well-organized Islamic organizations, which were funded through Islamic institutional philanthropy and private donations in cash and kind. Some of these organizations began to receive financial support from Iran after the Islamic Revolution of 1979. And the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan from 1979 to 1989 created new sources for aiding the activities of the jihadi groups fighting this occupation. The territorial identity politics aimed at the establishment of an Islamic state provided the inspiration for a number of Muslim organizations that advocated jihad for its realization. These included Jamaat-e-Islami, the Muslim Brotherhood, Islamic Jihad, Hezbollah, Hamas, Jemaah Islamiah, the Islamic Salvation Front, the Islamic Republican Party, the Taliban and al-Qaeda. Many of these organizations now have several splinter groups and affiliates striving for jihad in most Muslim countries and non-Muslim countries with Muslim minorities. The failure of the ‘national project’ had become the defining characteristic of all Muslim countries. The absence of any viable secular revolutionary alternative had led to the entrenchment of repressive authoritarian regimes of all ideological persuasions: Islamic, secular, fascist, nationalist, socialist. Muslim societies had generally failed to incorporate the growing numbers of young people into productive economic activities. Key societal institutions—such as the public education system, judiciary, public bureaucracy and municipalities—began to lose public support. The result was the large-scale alienation of a growing segment of the population, especially the young, from the national economy and polity. This period coincided with the growth of globalization, the communication revolution led by computers and the Internet, and the growth of global capital and labour markets. The relationship between the Islamic world and the West was redefined in the after math of two tumultuous events in the Muslim world, namely the Islamic Revolution of Iran in 1979 and the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan in the same year. These events acted to strengthen the political alliance between the two Muslim countries and the West. Western countries had been very hostile towards and at best suspicious of the ‘independent nationalistic movements’ led by such Muslim leaders as Mohammed Mosaddeq of Iran, Gamal Abdel Nasser of Egypt and Muammar al-Qaddafi of Libya and were keen to support regimes sympathetic to Western political and economic interests. The Iranian Revolution and Soviet occupation of Afghanistan galvanized US support for Afghan resistance against the Soviet Union’s policies. In 1980, the so-called Carter Doctrine declared that attempts by outside forces to gain control of the Persian Gulf would be regarded as an assault on the vital interests of the USA and would be repelled by any means necessary, including military. Following President Jimmy Carter’s defeat in the US presidential elections later that year, the administration of the newly elected President Ronald Reagan continued the Carter administration’s policy, but shifted the focus more to the Soviet

occupation of Afghanistan. The Reagan National Security Decision Directive 166 called for the Soviet expulsion from Afghanistan by all means. It joined Saudi Arabia in mobilizing International Islamic Solidarity and gave billions of dollars through Operation Cyclone to fund jihadi mobilization.18 Saudi Arabia and other Arab monarchies coordinated this campaign, which served as an important outlet for growing Sunni militancy in the Arabian Peninsula and served also to counter the daily taunts of Iranian clergy. The US support package included organizational, logistics, military technology and ideological support for sustaining and encouraging Afghan resistance. An alliance of American counter-insurgency experts and Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence organized operations by mujahideen (warriors for the faith) inside Afghanistan. These activities created an international linkage to bring in men and materiel from around the Arab and Muslim world through worldwide advertisements financed by the US Central Intelligency Agency (CIA). To maintain the appearance of non-US involvement in the Afghan resistance, the CIA procured arms of Soviet manufacture captured by Israelis in various Middle Eastern wars and also manufactured Soviet arms in clandestine factories. In the absence of strong Soviet reactions, the CIA began to supply the fundamentalist wings of Afghan mujahideen with Blowpipe and Stringer ground-to-air missiles with which to attack Soviet helicopters. The Reagan administration also provided ideological support through extensive propaganda and by giving millions of dollars to the mujahideen-operated Education Centre for Afghanistan, managed by the University of Nebraska, to publish schoolbooks exhorting Afghan children to kill their communist enemies. These books are still widely available in Pakistan and Afghanistan; years after they first appeared, they were approved by the Taliban regime as madrassa (religious schools) textbooks. A ‘bodies for rent policy’ was designed under the aegis of the US, Saudi and Pakistan governments to fund the growth of madrassa in northern Pakistan. In 1980, there were 700 madrassa in Pakistan; the figure grew at a rate of 3 per cent annually. According to one estimate, by the late 1990s, there were 7000 madrassa drawing students from Afghan refugee camps and poor Pakistani families and from other Arab/Muslim countries.19 It has been suggested that Muslim parties, even after the Iranian Revolution, were unable to organize as an effective force and generate a coherent political strategy. The Afghan jihad was the real break-through. It pitted Sunnis against communist infidels and gained full support from the world’s most powerful nation, the USA. The Afghan movement’s superb organizational skills, massive human and technical resources and single-minded dedication to anti-communism enabled it to create potent and unified Islamic entities. No early twentiethcentury Muslim ideologue could have even dreamed of such spectacular success. The global jihad industry had finally come into its own.20 US and Saudi funds for the Afghan jihad ceased after the Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan in 1989. Nevertheless, the jihadi industry established during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan succeeded in bringing the Taliban to power in Afghanistan, with far-reaching and destructive social, cultural, political and economic consequences. Ironically, after the devastating 9/11 attacks in New York and

Washington, DC, the USA had to invade Afghanistan to overthrow the Taliban regime, which sheltered Osama bin Laden and other al-Qaeda leaders. After the demise of the Taliban regime, jihadi organizations continued to sponsor terrorist attacks in Europe and Asia. Funding for their activities came from private sources, including Islamic charities and donations, which led to the privatization of jihadi organizations and their activities.21 There is also some evidence that jihadis are also being funded by an international network of terrorist organizations. According to one estimate, the global terrorist economy could be as large as US$500 billion.22 There are now hundreds of religious and sectarian jihadi organizations in Pakistan alone, and the same pattern might well prevail in other Muslim countries, although there are as yet no reliable estimates. The movement towards privatization has added a new dimension to jihadi activities in many Muslim countries. The ideology of jihad is driven by the need to repair the Muslim identity, with the honour of Islam having been damaged by the ruling classes, who are seen as secular and anti-Islamic. Jihadi ideologue Osama bin Laden has declared that the profanation of Islam’s holy places justifies jihad against the ruling elites and the Western powers that support them. He has also declared that, when an enemy enters the land of Islam, jihad becomes individually obligatory. This territorialized religious identity is a resistance identity. It offers no program of reform and only relatively vague notions of establishing an Islamic state. There are significant differences between different jihadi organizations as to what these notions might mean in practice and reality. Privatization has transformed jihad activities into a kind of ‘business’. The madrassa are given money to recruit young men for jihad. The teaching imparted in these madrassa is limited to particular and often uncritical reading of the sacred texts. From imam masjid (mosque leader or director) to madrassa teachers and ulema (Islamic scholars), jihad recruitment is just something they do as a ‘job’ and not out of a deep ideological commitment based on an understanding of Islamic teachings and history. During my fieldwork in Pakistan in early 2005, I came across examples of the businesslike orientation to jihad. According to a report in the English-language newspaper International News23, Islamic ‘terrorists’ arrested in Lahore for a series of rocket attacks against international and national targets were unemployed youths and small-time ‘hoodlums’. They were reported to have admitted that they had close contacts with a senior al-Qaeda operator in Lahore.24 According to another press report, the Pakistan government paid huge amounts of money to four of the most wanted Islamic militants fighting Pakistani armed forces in northern Waziristan who had surrendered and signed a peace deal with the authorities. The payment was made to enable them to repay al-Qaeda, which had given them money to fight Pakistani forces.25

JIHAD IN THE CONTEMPORARY MUSLIM WORLD It is important to note that not all Muslims are jihadis but all jihadis are Muslims. Recent studies show that the Muslim world is undergoing a religious renaissance. Islam plays an

important role in the lives of an increasing number of Muslims around the world. For a very large majority of Muslims, this entails increasing their commitment to the observance of Islamic tenets. Many Muslims are sympathetic to re-establishing the purity of their faith by following its practice during the Prophet’s time. Many also believe in the establishment of an Islamic state based on Islamic law and in strengthening the concept of ummah.26 These Muslims, who constitute a large majority, may be described as Islamists. Jihadis on the other hand would include Muslims who combine these beliefs with reviving the anti-imperial warrior tradition, adding the duty of qital (combat against enemies). They add active aggression and qital to devotional religiosity.27 This chapter deals with the latter group, who represent a very small segment of Muslims. Jihadi religious movements now span the Muslim world. Most of them are loosely structured national movements. These include Jemaah Islamiah, Laskar Jihad, Indonesia; Kumpulan Mujahideen, Malaysia; Pattani United Liberation Front, Thailand; MILF and Abu Sayyaf Group, the Philippines; Laskar-e Toiba, Hizbul Mujahideen, Joishe Mohammad, Harkutul Jehad, Pakistan; Taliban, Afghanistan; Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan; Hamas, the Palestinian Territories; the Armed Islamic Group of Algeria (GIA); Egyptian Islamic Jihad (Tanzim al-Jihad); Al-Ansar Mujahdin of Chechnya; Ansar al-Islam and Abu Musab Al-Zarqawi Network in Iraq.28 A few, such as al-Qaeda and Hizb ut Tahrir, are loosely organized international networks. There is little unity to be found in the various jihad doctrines enunciated by these and similar groups. Their interpretations and practices depend on the political and strategic positions taken by their leadership. However, there are some common threads that bind them. They subscribe to the ideologies of such Islamic ideologues as Sayyid Qutb and Abul A’la Maududi, holding that the lands of Islam have been corrupted by un-Islamic and secularist regimes in Muslim countries and by their Western allies, which has resulted in the profanation of these lands. To establish an authentic Islamic identity, these regimes must be overthrown and replaced by an Islamic state.29 The Declaration of Jihad by the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan (see appendix 3) is typical of such declarations. Modern jihadi movements are largely secretive, cellular organizations led by charismatic leaders. Their members are drawn from a cross-section of society. Most of these organizations do not enjoy active mass support, although many Muslims might be passively sympathetic to their cause for a variety of reasons. According to one study (based on 130 cases), ‘international jihadis’ are a heterogeneous group. About 60 per cent came from core Arab countries, mostly Saudi Arabia and Egypt; 30 per cent from Maghreb Arab countries; and 10 per cent from Indonesia. Two-thirds came from established upper- and middle-class backgrounds. Most of the remainder were alienated Maghreb immigrants or Western Christian converts. They came from intact families, and most, but not all, were devoutly religious. The average age for joining the jihadi movement was twenty-three for Arabs and thirty for Indonesians; the overall average was twenty-six years.30 Those jihadis studied were well educated, with more than 60 per cent having some tertiary education. Only the Indonesians were exclusively educated in religious schools. Most had

good occupational training. Only a minority were unskilled and had limited economic prospects. Three-quarters were married, and most had children. None suffered from mental illness or showed any common psychological predisposition to terrorism. More than 80 per cent had joined the jihadi movement while they were living in another country, away from family and friends, where they felt cut off from their cultural and social origins. The most striking feature revealed by the study was that these jihadis felt isolated, lonely and emotionally alienated.31 The funding of these jihadi activities is primarily through private sources and Islamic charitable donations. The sponsoring organizations tend to be male-dominated and are often characterized by misogynist attitudes and male chauvinism.32 The ideologies of Islamist movements in general and jihadi movements in particular have been criticized as being seriously flawed as they lack viable economic and political programs. In addition, their highly skewed interpretations of Islamic texts and Islamic history and their sanctioning of the killing of innocent Muslims and non-Muslims have been criticized.33

Attitudes towards conflict resolution Given that jihadi organizations span the Muslim world and are actively pursuing their agendas, does this mean that they have popular support among the Muslim masses? There is no empirical evidence that can provide a reliable answer to this question. There is evidence, however, that has an indirect bearing on this question. An increasingly popular tactic used by some of the main jihadi organizations against their perceived enemies is suicide bombing. If we look at the attitudes of the Muslim public towards this phenomenon, we might be able to glean some idea of whether they support jihadi movements or at least this particular jihadi tactic. In 2003, the Pew Research Center in Washington, DC, surveyed attitudes of Muslim respondents in Turkey, Pakistan, Morocco and Jordan towards suicide bombings by Palestinians against Israelis and by Iraqi jihadis against Americans and Westerners in Iraq. The findings, reported in figure 3.1, show that a significant majority in Morocco and Jordan supported the bombings against Israelis and against Americans and Westerners in Iraq; about half of the Pakistanis expressed the same attitude. Only in Turkey did a majority of respondents not support the bombings. If we were to use the level of sup port for suicide bombings as a proxy for support of the jihadis, it would indicate that these tactics command moderate to significant levels of support in the countries surveyed. The reasons for the support probably would vary from one Muslim country to another. From this evidence, one can infer that jihad might have popular support in some if not all Muslim countries.

FIGURE 3.1: Attitudes of Muslims towards suicide bombings Another indirect way to ascertain support for jihadi activism might be through examining the attitudes of Muslims towards war and the place of war in conflict resolution. As part of the study presented here, more than 6300 Muslim respondents were asked the question: is war justified when other ways of settling international disputes fail? The results of the survey, reported in table 3.2, show an interesting divide among Muslim countries. TABLE 3.2: War is justified when other ways of settling international disputes fail (percentage)

Percentages are rounded to the nearest whole number. Agr = Agree; Dis = Disagree; Un = Uncertain.

The agreement rates in the four South Asian and the Middle Eastern countries ranged from 58 per cent in Iran to 63 per cent in Egypt and 66 per cent in Pakistan and Turkey. The rates for respondents in the two South-East Asian Muslim countries, Indonesia and Malaysia, were significantly lower and ranged from 37 per cent in Malaysia to 33 per cent in Indonesia. The Kazak Muslims posted the lowest rate, with only 11 per cent agreeing with the statement. In Indonesia, Malaysia and Kazakhstan, the disagreement rates were also significantly higher than in the other countries. An analysis of the data by gender, age and education shows that university-educated respondents in Egypt, Iran, Kazakhstan and Turkey were the least inclined to agree that war was justified even when other ways of settling disputes had failed. In Pakistan, education had no effect on the disagreement rate but, in Indonesia and Malaysia, the higher the educational level, the higher the rate of agreement. In Malaysia, Pakistan and Turkey, men posted higher agreement rates than women. Perhaps the most significant variable, relative to the lower level of support for war as a vehicle to resolve international issues, was the level of education. What are the implications of these findings for jihadi activities? It is difficult to draw definitive and firm conclusions. It is reasonable to suggest that the prevalence of lower educational levels in the populations of Muslim countries could be more conducive to generating support for jihadi activities. The levels of support might vary depending on who the perceived ‘enemies’ are. In this respect, these findings reinforce the importance of the success of nation-building and development for resolving religious, political and social conflicts through peaceful means.

Conclusion Jihad in Islamic history has served as an ideology of personal striving to achieve superior piety and collective struggle in order to establish an Islamic moral and social order to ‘command good and forbid evil’. In the centuries following the rise of Islam, the meaning of jihad was expanded to legitimize the Muslim conquests of non-Muslim lands. After the European colonization of Muslim territories, jihad became an ideology of resistance against colonial rule (and rulers). For militant Islamic groups in the contemporary Islamic world, it has become an ideology of resistance and armed struggle allegedly against ‘oppressive’ and ‘apostate’ Muslim regimes and their ‘infidel imperialist’ supporters. Increasingly, it has come to symbolize the armed struggle for the establishment of an Islamic state and a ‘purer’ Islamic identity. In recent years, the strategy of armed struggle has been replaced by acts of national, sectarian and international terrorism. I have argued that the nature of the jihad doctrine and its expression have been profoundly shaped by historical and material conditions prevailing in Muslim societies.34 The sponsorship of jihad has ranged from individual Muslims to ummah, Islamic rulers and ‘private’ jihadi organizations funded by Muslim charities. The privatization of jihadi activities appears to be evolving into a ‘business’. The sponsorship of jihad also has been shaped by historical conditions. This chapter has noted that, while all jihadis are Muslims, not all Muslims are jihadis. In fact, only a very small fraction of Muslims actively support jihadi organizations and their activities. The lack of public interest and support during the trials and subsequent convictions of the Bali bombers in Indonesia is just one illustration of that. Jihadi organizations are cellular and secretive, and run by charismatic leaders who command intense loyalty among their followers. The evidence reviewed in the chapter shows that attitudes towards war, as a vehicle for resolving international disputes, vary significantly in Muslim countries. While South Asian and Egyptian Muslims surveyed show greater proclivity towards using war as an instrument for resolving international disputes, Muslims in the South-East and Central Asian countries of Indonesia, Malaysia and Kazakhstan were less likely to share that view. More educated Muslims were less likely to support war as an instrument of conflict resolution. In this respect, these findings reinforce the significant role of education among Egyptian elites as a moderating influence on attitudes towards violence and terrorism. The chapter has also indicated there is increasing and substantial evidence that the Muslim world is undergoing a religious renaissance. Will this development increase support for jihad among Muslims? The evidence suggests this might not be the case. Religious piety in Muslim countries appears to be associated with a decline in support for militant organizations. Most Muslims do not belong to jihadi movements. Religiosity, in fact, appears to be positively associated with democratic and tolerant attitudes. This might be a factor contributing to the increasing militancy of jihadi movements, because declining support increases their isolation, which in turn makes them more secretive, assertive and violent. The ruthlessness of their acts of violence reflects a desire to gain public attention and is

symptomatic of their desperation.35 As French sociologist Gilles Kepel has observed, the 9/11 attack on the USA was a desperate symbol of the isolation, fragmentation and decline of the jihadi movement, not a symbol of its strength and irrepressible might.36 It is also possible that jihadi organizations might have a degree of passive support among Muslims. That could be attributable not to the efficacy of their message but to the imperialistic policies—what Michael Mann has called the New Militarism37—being followed by Western powers, especially the USA. These include the ‘war on terrorism’, which is viewed by many in the Muslim world as a ‘war on Islam’. Jihadi groups also receive support arising from their co-religionists’ concern over Muslim sufferings that have resulted from a long list of transgressions against Muslims over the past fifty years. These include: the killing of a million or so Afghans in the war with the Soviets and of tens of thousands more through American bombing the death of a million Iraqis from the 1991 Gulf War and subsequent Western-inspired sanctions the killing of more than 100 000 Iraqis since the 2003 Iraqi invasion the killing of thousands in the Balkan, Chechnya and Kashmir conflicts, as well as in Algeria, following the overturning of democracy at the prospect of an Islamist victory. The scale of Muslim suffering—termed a holocaust by some38—invests those who espouse jihad as a defence against its perpetrators with moral stature and a sense of justifiable rectitude. This development could severely affect the legitimacy of secular and modernist Muslim leaders and their reform agenda, which would have serious long-term implications.

4 POLITICAL ORDER AND RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS

What types of political system are compatible with Islam? Are Islam and democracy compatible? In general, the relationship between politics and religion in Muslim societies has become a focus of intense debate among scholars of Islam. A commonly stated view of many Western and Muslim scholars of Islam is that Islam is not only a religion but also a blueprint for social order and therefore encompasses all domains of life, including law and the state.1 It is further argued that this characterization sets Islamic societies apart from Western ones, which are based upon the separation of state and religious institutions. In reality, Muslims have experienced a wide range of governments including the Caliphate, monarchy, military dictatorship, dictatorship, communism, national socialism, theocracy, religious fascism and democracy. This would suggest that, like other religious traditions, especially Christianity, Islam possesses intellectual and religious resources that could provide the foundation for a wide range of political systems. According to King Fahd of Saudi Arabia, the democratic system prevalent in the West is not appropriate for the Middle East because the election system has no place in Islam. The Islamic creed calls for a government of advice and consultation and holds the ruler fully responsible before the people. His views are widely supported by such Islamists as Sayyid Abul A’la Maududi and are echoed by fundamentalists who seek to impose an authoritarian Islamic government. 2 However, Islamic scholar Khaled Abou El Fadl takes a different position, claiming that ‘democracy is an appropriate system for Islam because it both expresses the special worth of human beings— the status of vicegerency—and at the same time deprives the state of any pretence of divinity by locating ultimate authority in the hands of people rather than the ulema’.3 Other Muslim leaders take different reformist positions. Former Iranian president Mohammad Khatami has suggested that existing democratic systems do not follow one path. Just as democracy can lead to a liberal or socialist system, it can also accommodate the inclusion of religious norms in the government. He was obviously referring to the Iranian model.4 Former Indonesian president Abdurrahman Wahid has suggested that Muslims have two choices: to pursue a traditional, static and legal-formalistic Islam or to follow a more

dynamic, cosmopolitan, universal and pluralistic Islam. He rejects the notion of an Islamic state, which he regards as a ‘Middle Eastern tradition’. For Indonesia, he advocates a moderate, pluralistic and tolerant Islam that treats Muslims and non-Muslims equally and one that can form the basis of a state in which religion and politics are kept separate.5 These differing views of prominent Islamic political and intellectual leaders further illustrate that the Islamic world might not offer an ideal functioning democracy, but neither does it offer an ideal functioning Islamic polity. Although their views differ, these views essentially reflect the political reality of the Muslim world, which encompasses a variety of ‘functioning’ political systems. Are these differences indicative of vastly different political attitudes? The most comprehensive and up-to-date empirical evidence suggests otherwise. A comparison of political values and attitudes shows remarkable similarities between Muslim and Western countries. For example, the approval rates posted for indicators of ‘democratic performance’ and ‘democratic ideals’ and the disapproval rates posted for strong leaders are identical for Muslim and Western countries. There are, however, significant differences in rates posted for social values (approval of gender equality, homosexuality, abortion and divorce). Another difference lies in the significantly greater disapproval rate posted for religious leaders in Western countries: 62 per cent, as opposed to 39 per cent in Muslim countries.6 While a comparison of political and social values in Muslim and Western countries could shed significant light on current debates concerning the clash of civilizations theory, as formulated by American political scientist Samuel Huntington, it does not provide many insights about how attitudes towards various institutions, in particular Islamic ones, vary in Muslim countries. This was one of the main foci of my research. I was particularly interested in exploring differences in attitudes towards key Islamic institutions and the sociological factors producing these differences. It is to this analysis I now turn. A number of scholars of Muslim societies, including American historians Ira Lapidus and Nikki Keddie7, have disputed the view that Islamic societies are differentiated from Western ones by the fact that Islam is not only a religion but also a blueprint for social order. They have pointed out that, notwithstanding several examples of state control of religion in Western societies, these differences are commonly used to account for the different developmental trajectories of Western and Islamic societies. Western societies, with their separation of church and state, of civil and religious law, are said to have promoted an autonomous domain for secular culture and civil society, which together form the bases of modernity. In Islamic societies, the lack of differentiation between the secular and the sacred has inhibited such development.8 Lapidus concludes that the history of the Muslim world reveals two main institutional configurations.9 Characteristic of lineage or tribal societies, the undifferentiated state– religious configuration can be found in a small number of Middle Eastern societies. In contrast, the historical norm for agro-urban Islamic societies is an institutional configuration that recognizes the division between state and religious spheres. Despite the common statement (and the Muslim ideal according to some) that the

institutions of state and religion are unified and that Islam is a total way of life that defines political as well as social and family matters, most Muslim societies did not conform to this ideal, but were built around separate institutions of state and religion.10 Keddie has described the supposed near-identity of religion and the state in Islam as ‘more a pious myth than reality for most of Islamic history’.11 Similar views of Islamic history have also been advanced by others.12

Relationship between state and religion The weight of historical scholarship indicates that the institutional configurations of Islamic societies can be classified into two types: (1) differentiated social formations (i.e. societies in which religion and state occupy different spaces) and (2) undifferentiated social formations (i.e. societies in which religion and state are integrated). While a majority of Islamic societies have been and are ‘differentiated social formations’, a small but significant number of them have been and are ones that can be classified as ‘undifferentiated social formations’. A label commonly used in contemporary discourse for undifferentiated Muslim social formations is the ‘Islamic state’. Irrespective of the historical evidence, relations between the state and religion are an important issue in contemporary Muslim countries. Many Muslim countries are a product of the process of decolonization during the twentieth century, during which nationalist movements were spearheaded by relatively secular leaders. These new states have defined their identities in nationalist terms and, in many cases, have preserved secular legal, educational and political institutions inherited from the colonial era. However, Islamic revival movements have emerged in many Muslim countries and, in general, they denounce the trend towards secularization, calling for the return to a state that represents and embodies Islam and enforces an Islamic way of life.13 Whereas in the past only Saudi Arabia defined itself as an Islamic state, now such countries as Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan and Sudan have become or aspire to become Islamic states and, while all of them define themselves and function as Islamic states, they differ from one another in many significant ways. Algeria has endured a bloody struggle for the establishment of an Islamic state and, while the situation is now relatively peaceful, the Islamist struggle remains a source of political tension. Similar trends appear to be occurring in predominantly Muslim regions of Nigeria. In Turkey, the power of the Kemalist secular state has come under muted challenge from the rise of Islamic parties as dominant political actors, as signified by the now ruling Justice and Development Party. The relationship between religion and politics is influenced by the internal dynamics of Muslim societies. These dynamics are grounded in the relationship between the two traditions of Islam, namely the ‘high Islam’ of the ulema and the ‘folk’ or ‘popular’ Islam of the masses. These two traditions provide a built-in mechanism for self-rectification and purification, which periodically manifests in ‘differentiation’ and ‘de-differentiation’ between religion and politics in Muslim countries. The dynamics of the relationship between these

two traditions offer the possibility for Muslim societies to move from one to the other.14

Institutional configurations and trust in religious institutions Although relations between the state and religious institutions represent a significant concern for the Islamic world, there has been no empirical study of the attitudes of Muslims towards different institutional configurations. The issue here is whether religious institutions enjoy more or less trust in the public mind in differentiated Muslim social formations (in which religion and the state are separate) than in undifferentiated Muslim social formations (in which religion and the state are closely integrated). Public trust in institutions of the state and civil society is an important symbol of the political legitimacy of the state and its agencies. This issue can now be examined by drawing on empirical evidence gathered as part of my multicountry study. The respondents in all seven countries were asked how much trust they had in key institutions of the state and civil society. The specific question that elicited this information was: ‘I am going to name a number of organizations. For each one, could you tell me how much you trust them to tell the truth and to do what is best for the country? Is it a great deal of trust, quite a lot of trust, not very much trust or none at all; or do you not know?’ Readers who are familiar with the World Values Survey will recognize that this is a modified version of the question posed there. The institutions about which the respondents’ opinions were sought were the following: ulema parliament press universities imam masjid courts television schools pir/kyai civil service major companies intellectuals political parties armed forces.15 In Iran, the institutions of ulema, pir and the armed forces were excluded from the main survey (number of respondents = 469), but they were included in an exploratory survey (number of respondents = 66).

Trust in institutions Relations between the state and religious institutions and communities are a central concern in the Islamic world, yet there have been no systematic empirical investigations of the subject. The findings reported here fill an important gap in our knowledge. The general issue examined was the level of trust in religious institutions and the institutions of civil society, in undifferentiated Muslim social formations (i.e. Islamic states) and in differentiated Muslim social formations. For the computation of the trust scores from the data reported here, the two categories of ‘a great deal of trust’ and ‘quite a lot of trust’ were combined to arrive at a composite index of trust. The findings of the survey data are reported in table 4.1. They show wide variations as well as similarities among respondents in the seven countries. Kazakhstan stands out as a country whose Muslims univer sally have very low confidence in key institutions of society. This is most likely a function of the dramatic changes that have occurred in Kazakhstan since the 1990s. The impression gathered during the fieldwork in the late 1990s was that most people were disoriented by the economic and social changes that followed the collapse of the former Soviet Union. These changes reduced the total worth of Kazakhstan’s GDP by half, thus adversely affecting the lives of ordinary citizens.16 TABLE 4.1: Trust in key institutions in selected Muslim societies (percentage)

(a) These percentages are from a subsample of 66 respondents.

Many Kazaks were disillusioned and very apprehensive about the future, and the data reflects this view. In relative terms, roughly three out of ten respondents trusted the armed forces, the press, television, universities and intellectuals. However, the religious institutions of the ulema, imam masjid and pir enjoyed much more trust than the key institutions of the state. This is rather surprising, given that most Kazaks were not actively involved in religion during the Soviet era. Kazakhstan would need to be considered a special case. The other six countries can be compared with greater confidence. Indonesia, Egypt, Turkey, Iran and Pakistan, unlike Kazakhstan, are large, predominantly Muslim countries that have been ruled by the indigenous ruling classes for at least half a century. Malaysia is closer to Kazakhstan demographically in terms of size and composition. However, the Malays, unlike the Kazaks, are well known for their devotion to Islam. Key state institutions—namely, parliament, the courts, the civil service and political parties— enjoyed moderate to low levels of trust in the public mind. Political parties were held in especially low public esteem in Pakistan, Kazakhstan, Iran and Turkey. Levels of trust in state institutions were lowest in Kazakhstan and Iran and highest in Malaysia. The armed

forces were trusted by a considerable majority of the respondents in all countries except Iran and Kazakhstan. In Malaysia, Pakistan and Egypt, the armed forces enjoyed comparatively higher levels of trust and were among the most trusted institutions in the public mind. The most striking differences between the countries, however, relate to trust in Islamic institutions. In Indonesia, Malaysia and Egypt, the ulema and the imam masjid were the most trusted institutions of civil society. The institutions of pir, kyai and ustaz (religious experts) were trusted very highly in Malaysia and Indonesia and moderately in Egypt. In Pakistan, Kazakhstan, Turkey and Iran, the level of trust in religious institutions was low. The main survey in Iran ascertained only the level of trust in imam masjid, and it was found to be the lowest among the countries surveyed. In Iran, a smaller survey did include the questions about trust in ulema and pir, and the findings revealed a very low level of trust in these institutions. The preliminary survey surveyed mainly middle- and upper-middle-class respondents from Tehran. However, for proper comparison, only the data pertaining to imam masjid should be considered as comparable. The institutions of pir, kyai and ustaz were very highly trusted in Malaysia and Indonesia. In general, less than half of the respondents trusted religious institutions in Pakistan, Kazakhstan, Iran and Turkey. In contrast, a large majority in the other three countries trusted these institutions. Three other institutions that were trusted by a significant majority of the respondents in Indonesia, Malaysia, Egypt, Turkey and Pakistan were intellectuals, universities and schools. The level of trust in these three institutions was particularly high in Indonesia and Malaysia. Mass media institutions did well in winning public trust in Indonesia and Malaysia; moderately well in Egypt, Pakistan, Kazakhstan and Iran; but abysmally in Turkey. Perhaps the most surprising result is the low levels of trust in religious institutions in Iran and Pakistan. These are the only countries in the study that can be categorized as undifferentiated societies (i.e. Islamic states). These findings were counterintuitive. The patterns discerned in the differentiated societies were mixed. Indonesia, Malaysia and Egypt displayed very high levels of trust, but that was not the case in Turkey and Kazakhstan, which can be regarded as a special case. This leaves Turkey as the only differentiated society with low public esteem in religious institutions. However, this does not mean that religious institutions there do not enjoy public trust and influence. The success of the Justice and Development Party in Turkey during the 2007 election clearly suggests that they do. The evidence reported in table 4.1 and recent political developments in Turkey themselves allow us to conclude cautiously that religious institutions enjoy a higher level of public trust and influence in differentiated Muslim social formations. These findings are interesting because intuitively, one would expect that, since Iran and Pakistan are the only undifferentiated (Islamic) states among the seven countries under study, the level of trust in religious institutions should be relatively high, yet the results show the exact opposite. It is also worth mentioning that one does not hear that religious institutions are held in such high esteem in Indonesia, Malaysia and Egypt. In relative terms, even the trust shown in religious institutions in Kazakhstan as compared with state institutions was surprising. In view of the evidence reported above, we can say that the lines between religion

and political institutions in contemporary Indonesian, Malaysian and Egyptian societies are very clearly delineated. State institutions were held in low to moderate esteem and religious institutions were held in the highest esteem. In Iran and Pakistan, both state and religious institutions were held in low esteem, and a similar pattern prevailed in Kazakhstan. The pattern in Turkey was more complex. With the exception of the courts, institutions of the state were held in low public esteem. Religious institutions enjoyed more consistent levels of public trust. While the level reported in the study was relatively low, the victory scored by the Justice and Development Party during the last Turkish election would suggest that religion does enjoy a significant level of trust among the Turks. Are these differences an artifact of the statistics or survey methodology? Indirect confirmation of the level of trust in religious institutions was provided by the findings of a 1996 Gallup Pakistan survey on Important Social Issues. A randomly selected sample of 821 urban respondents was asked how much they trusted the following institutions: the military, religious scholars, industries, the courts, newspapers, parliament, politicians, government officials and the police. The results were: the military 78 per cent, religious scholars 44 per cent, industries 38 per cent, the courts 34 per cent, newspapers 29 per cent, parliament 21 per cent, politicians 19 per cent, government officials 17 per cent and the police 10 per cent.17 These results are remarkably similar to the results of my study and provide an external validation of my findings as they relate to Pakistan.

Is trust in religious institutions linked to trust in political ones? In this study, we were also able to examine the relationship between the level of trust in religious institutions and that in key institutions of the state. It was hypothesized that the relationship between the level of trust in religious institutions and the level of trust in key institutions of the state would be stronger in an undifferentiated Muslim social formation than in a differentiated one. In order to test this hypothesis, the average percentage of respondents expressing trust in each of the four institutions of the state (namely, parliament, political parties, the civil service and the courts) was calculated separately for respondents expressing a lot of trust, not very much trust or no trust in the three religious institutions (namely, ulema, imam masjid and pir/kyai/ustaz). The category ‘a lot of trust’ includes the responses ‘a great deal of trust’ and ‘quite a lot of trust’, while the ‘not very much trust’ and ‘no trust’ categories repre sent those responses alone. The percentages refer to the pro portion of respondents who indicated that they had ‘a great deal’ or ‘quite a lot’ of trust in institutions of the state. In Iran, the main survey did not include questions about trust in ulema and pir, so the level of trust in religious institutions is based solely on the data pertaining to trust in imam masjid. The findings of these calculations are reported in table 4.2. These findings show that an increase in trust in religious institutions is associated with increased trust in institutions of the state in all countries. Another notable trend indicated by the data is that the average percentage of

respondents who trusted religious and key state institutions was significantly lower in Kazakhstan and Turkey than in Egypt, Pakistan, Iran and Indonesia. TABLE 4.2: Level of trust in key institutions of the state by level of trust in religious institutions (percentage)

(a) For the Iranian sample, the term ‘religious institutions’ refers only to imam masjid.

On the basis of the evidence reported above, we can now conclude that the differences in the levels of trust in the surveyed countries were most likely produced by political and social dynamics and not by cultural dynamics or methodological biases, and that low levels of trust in religious institutions in society negatively affected the level of trust in state institutions. Further attempts were made to ascertain the relationship between institutional configurations of the state and attitudes towards the role of religious institutions in society. To achieve this, all respondents in Turkey, Iran and Malaysia were asked the following: There is much debate these days about the appropriate role that religious institutions should play in a modern society. Please indicate which one of the following statements comes closest to expressing your opinion. A. Religious institutions should focus on religious affairs only. B. Religious institutions should be involved in political matters whenever it is necessary. C. Religious institutions should play an important role in the government. The countries were selected on the basis of their contrasting or different institutional configurations. Turkey was selected because it is the most secular country; strict separation between religion and the state is enshrined in its constitution. Iran was selected because, under its constitution, it is an Islamic state and the state is expressly required to govern the country according to Islamic law. This fusion of politics and religion is also enshrined in its constitution. Malaysia is different; it is a constitutional monarchy and, although religion and state are theoretically separate, Islam is the official religion of the state. The role of Islam has

been increasing gradually in political and public affairs. In some states (provinces) of Malaysia, the Islamic party PAS wields significant political influence; in the state of Kelantan it has been a ruling part for the past two decades. It was also the ruling party in the state of Trengganu for several years until it lost power in the 2004 elections. The evidence reported in table 4.3 shows striking differences in the attitudes of Turkish, Iranian and Malaysian respondents. In strictly secular Turkey, 74 per cent of respondents said religious institutions should focus on religious affairs. Only 11 per cent favoured religious institutions playing an important role in the government; another 14 per cent favoured an interventionist role for religious institutions when necessary. Respondents from the Islamic Republic of Iran saw the role of religious institutions differently. Unlike the Turkish Muslims, only 5 per cent of Iranians were in favour of religious institutions confining their role to religious affairs only. Of those surveyed, 43 per cent favoured religion playing an important role in society; 52 per cent favoured involvement of religious institutions in politics whenever necessary. The outcome of the 2005 Iranian parliamentary elections, which elected a majority of Islamic activists, is consistent with this evidence. TABLE 4.3: ‘What is the role of the religious institution?’ (percentage)

A = Religious institutions should focus on religious affairs only. B = Religious institutions should be involved in political matters whenever it is necessary. C = Religious institutions should play an important role in the government.

The results for Malaysia were different from those for Turkey and Iran. The pattern was almost the direct opposite of that seen in Turkey. Two-thirds of Malaysians were in favour of religion (i.e. Islam) playing an important role in government; the remaining respondents were divided roughly equally between the other two stated roles for religious institutions. These results clearly show that different institutional configurations influence public attitudes. Most Muslim countries are probably closer to the Malaysian state in their institutional configurations. And if Malaysian attitudes are an indicator of public attitudes, then we should expect vigorous support for a more interventionist role for religion in governmental affairs. A state that wishes to confine the role of Islam to religious affairs only might have to frame a constitution similar to Turkey’s and have the political will to ensure that constitutional provisions about the role of religion are strictly enforced. The analyses of survey data by gender, age and educational level reveal some interesting patterns. In Iran and Turkey, men were more inclined than women to say that religious institutions should play an important role in government. In Turkey, women were more in favour of the role of religion being restricted to religious affairs. In Malaysia, there was no similar correlation between gender and attitudes towards the role of religion. Interestingly, in Malaysia and Iran, younger respondents were more inclined to favour an active role for religion in government whereas, in Turkey, it was the older respondents who expressed this view. The more educated in Turkey were less likely to favour active involvement of religion in government, and they were also more likely to be in favour of confining the role of religious institutions to religious affairs. In Malaysia, education had little effect on attitudes; the majority of respondents across all education levels were in favour of religion playing an important role in government. Level of education did not markedly influence the attitude patterns of Iranian respondents, although the more educated and the least educated respondents were more likely to favour involvement of religion in political affairs when necessary, and those with high school education and some of those with tertiary education favoured an active role for religion in government. While gender, age and education did produce some differences in attitudes, it is worth noting that the overall pattern did not alter significantly.

Implications What could be a possible explanation of these findings, and what are their sociological implications? An explanatory hypothesis could be constructed in the following way. Given that, in all of the societies under study, there is a relatively low level of trust in key state institutions, we could hypothesize that a dialectical process is created by the social and political conditions within which key state institutions enjoy only low levels of esteem—and consequently political legitimacy—among citizens. The main business of the state is to govern and manage the affairs of society in a fair and unbiased manner. When the state or its key institutions lack social or political legitimacy in the public mind, the state must use varying degrees of coercion to ensure compliance.

Citizens will inevitably resist such an approach, which in turn produces a more authoritarian state response. This generates further resistance, and so a cycle of authoritarian response and resistance develops. The state ultimately comes to be seen as authoritarian, oppressive and unfair, and this leads to political mobilization against the state. The institutions of civil society that act as the mobilizer of this resistance gain public trust and consequently come to enjoy high levels of esteem and legitimacy among the public. This model could explain the high level of trust in religious as well as other institutions of civil society—such as schools, universities and public intellectuals—in Indonesia and Egypt. Since both these societies are examples of what we have called differentiated Muslim social formations, religious institutions play a vital public role in the mobilization of resistance to the state, thereby increasing the esteem with which they are held in the public mind. Universities, schools and public intellectuals are also held in high esteem for the same reason. In Pakistan and Iran, however, the situation is different. Pakistan and Iran, as we have argued, are undifferentiated social formations in which religious institutions are integrated into the state structures. The erosion of trust in state institutions, therefore, also corrodes trust in religious institutions that are perceived as part of the state. Schools, intellectuals and universities are probably trusted because of their role as mobilizers of resistance against a state perceived as weak, ineffectual and authoritarian. The low level of trust in religious institutions in Pakistan and Iran further reduces the trust in state institutions. In the case of Kazakhstan, the disintegration of the former Soviet Union has resulted in unparalleled political, social and economic insecurity and the low level of trust in all institutions is probably indicative of that insecurity, but again, the logic behind the model applied in the case of Indonesia, Egypt, Iran and Pakistan can also be applied to Kazakhstan. The high level of trust in the armed forces could be a function of the underlying dynamics of the proposed model. The state’s lack of legitimacy might create or aggravate an underlying sense of insecurity among the people. It might be that this sense of insecurity produces a positive perception of the armed forces that helps compensate for the perceived sense of insecurity. In Pakistan, the very high level of trust in the armed forces could also stem from public perceptions of a military and political threat from India, which the Pakistan government promotes as a matter of public policy to justify its huge allocation of public revenue to the armed forces. An alternative explanation of the findings can also be constructed by applying the late German sociologist Niklas Luhmann’s typology of the role of religion in modern society. According to Luhmann, institutional differentiation and functional specialization form a distinctive feature of modern society.18 They give rise to autonomous ‘functional instrumentalities’ such as polity, law, economy, science, education, health, art, family and religion. One consequence of the increased institutional autonomy in modern societies is that major institutions become independent of religious norms and values, a process that Luhmann calls ‘secularization’. In such conditions, the degree of public influence that religion enjoys depends on how it relates to other social systems in society. Luhmann uses the terms ‘function’ and ‘performance’ to analyze this relationship.

‘Function’ in this context refers to ‘pure’ religious communication, variously called devotion and worship, the care of souls, the search for salvation and enlightenment. ‘Function’ is the pure, social communication involving the transcendent and the aspect that religious institutions claim for themselves on the basis of their autonomy in modern society. Religious ‘performance’, in contrast, occurs when religion is ‘applied’ to problems generated in other institutional systems but not solved there or simply not addressed anywhere else, such as economic poverty, corruption, political oppression, and so on. Religious institutions gain public influence through the ‘performance’ role by addressing these non-religious or ‘profane’ problems. The functional problem of religion in modern society is a performance problem. Religious institutions gain public influence when they efficiently carry out their performance role. This requires religious institutions to be autonomous vis-à-vis the state and other institutional subsystems. A logical deduction from this premise is that religious institutions will gain greater public influence in institutional configurations in which they are autonomous from the state. If they are not, then they cannot carry out their performance function effectively. This model is articulated in table 4.4. In the context of my study, this means that religious institutions will enjoy, at least theoretically, greater public influence in a differentiated social formation than in an undifferentiated state social formation. These findings would appear to support Luhmann’s analysis. TABLE 4.4: Differentiated vs undifferentiated social foundations by functional vs performance roles

These findings might have important implications for the institutional configuration of the state in Muslim countries. An Islamic state that lacks trust—and consequently political legitimacy—in the public mind might in fact cause an erosion of trust in Islamic institutions, thereby further weakening the fabric of civil society. For the religious elite in Muslim countries, the message conveyed by these findings is that an Islamic state might not always be in the best interests of Islamic institutions and the religious elite. To promote a constructive sociocultural, moral and religious role for religious institutions within a Muslim society, it might be prudent to keep faith-lines separate from the state and thereby prevent them from becoming the fault lines of the political terrain. These findings also have implications for the ruling elite, particularly in differentiated Muslim societies. As we have noted, the findings show a feedback effect. The level of trust in religious institutions is directly related to the level of trust in institutions of the state (see

table 4.2). This means that attempts to disestablish Islam could have adverse consequences for the level of trust in the state and for the legitimacy of the state itself. The implication for the international community is that if an Islamic state (i.e. an undifferentiated Muslim social formation) were to come into existence through democratic and constitutional means, support for such a state could in the long run pave the way for the development of a kind of differentiated Muslim social formation. As in the case of Pakistan and Iran, the Islamic elite might need to make some compromises with the state over time to ensure a stronger sociocultural, moral and political role for religion in the society at large. We could call this a type of ‘secularization’ of religion that manifests itself in calls to limit the political role of religion.

Conclusion In summary, the findings reported in this chapter show that the integration of religion and the state in Muslim countries might not always be in the best interests of Islamic institutions and the religious elite, because when a state fails to inspire trust in its citizens, public trust in religious institutions is also eroded. This could have serious social, cultural, political and religious implications. For example, if the public lacks trust in the institutions of the ulema and imam masjid, this could significantly undermine the economic and social well-being of these institutions and lead them to create circumstances or support demands that might not be conducive to the profession and promotion of their universality. (Here one can speculate about the influence of the madrassa (religious schools) in Pakistan on the rise of the Taliban political and religious movement in neighbouring Afghanistan.19) If this hypothesis is accurate, one inference seems to be that religious institutions within a Muslim society continue to play a constructive social, cultural and religious role when religion is kept separate from the state and when these institutions enjoy an appropriate place in the institutional configurations of the society. It might be prudent, therefore, to keep faith separate from the state. Because of the feedback effect related to the level of trust in religious institutions noted earlier, my findings might also have implications for the relationship between the state and religion in Muslim countries. As the level of trust in religious institutions is related directly to the level of trust in institutions of the state, it follows that attempts to destabilize Islam might have adverse consequences for the level of trust in the state and for the legitimacy of the state itself. It has also been argued that the undifferentiated Muslim social formation tends to evolve over time towards a kind of differentiated Muslim social formation. An Islamic state, therefore, might also provide a route to the social and political development of Muslim societies in which religion and state coexist in an autonomous but mutually cooperative relationship. There is, of course, the logical possibility of a Muslim society that is characterized by high levels of trust in and esteem for the state and in which there is also a high level of trust in religious institutions. However, as far as we know, there are no contemporary examples of

such a situation. This raises the interesting question of why this is so. Does it mean that such a situation is not possible, or could such a situation possibly come about under circumstances in which different political arrangements prevail between Islam and the state? I hope that this question as well as my findings will stimulate further debate and discussion on the relationship between the state and religious institutions in Muslim countries.

5 EXPRESSIONS OF RELIGIOSITY AND BLASPHEMY

Until recently, a widely held view in sociology was that the conditions of modernity inevitably lead to the secularization of society. It was further argued that, in a secular society, religion becomes increasingly a private concern of the individual and hence loses much of its public relevance and influence. The conditions of modernity were seen as conducive to promoting a religious pluralism in which people were voluntary adherents to a plurality of religions, none of which could claim a position of hegemony in society. These and similar views appeared in the works of a number of prominent scholars, including Talcott Parsons, Thomas Luckmann, Peter Berger and Robert Bellah.1 The secularization thesis is predicated on the nature of modernity and its sociological consequences. Institutional differentiation and functional rationalization are seen to be the core attributes of modern society. Functionally differentiated societal institutions engage in specialization around specific kinds of activities; for instance, polity, economy, law, science, education, art, health, religion and family. These institutions not only perform specialized functions but are also relatively autonomous. In other words, they develop their own norms to evaluate performance and were largely free from the interference of other societal institutions in carrying out their specialized tasks. Under these conditions, religious institutions also occupy a specialized functional domain, which deals purely with religious matters such as the sacred, religious beliefs, rituals and morality. Secularization is thus a consequence of the institutional differentiation and relative independence of various institutional spheres from religious norms, values and justifications. A logical and necessary outcome of this process is that religion not only retreats from many public aspects of social life but also comes under pressure to develop a specialized institutional sphere of its own. These conditions encourage privatization of religion. While religion can still direct the lives of the individuals and subgroups, it becomes essentially a private concern of the individual. As a result, institutional religion cannot compete in the new structural environment and thus weakens, leaving the religious tasks of constructing and guaranteeing holistic meaning systems primarily with the individual and a multitude of voluntary organizations.2 In short, institutional differentiation in modern societies leads to

secularization as it restricts the influence of religious norms and values on other institutional spheres. As mentioned above, in modern societies, religious institutions also come under pressure to develop their own specialized functions and public roles in society. Until recently, this question was not adequately addressed in sociological theory because it was assumed that religion would continue to weaken in modern society and would eventually lose its public influence and social relevance. However, the continued strength of religion in modern societies such as the USA, Australia and European societies, as well as in newly modernizing societies such as India, the Philippines, Singapore, Brazil and Mexico and in Muslim societies, has raised important questions about the validity of the conventional explanation of its status and role. Religion is proving to be resilient not only in terms of the number of adherents and the degree of their involvement in religious organizations, but also in terms of its public influence.3 To better understand this phenomenon, we turn again to the work of Niklas Luhmann. He agrees that the central feature of modern society lies in its institutional differentiation and functional specialization, with specialized institutions operating as relatively autonomous functional instrumentalities. However, he argues that, while the functional autonomy is real, it is conditioned by the fact that the other institutions are also operating within the same milieu. This leads him to explore the difference between how an institution relates to society and to other institutional systems. He uses the terms function and performance to explore this area. The term function refers to religious communication and such actions as worship, devotion, salvation, morality and spirituality. Function, in other words, revolves around communications involving the sacred and aspects of religion that religious institutions claim for themselves as the basis of their autonomy in modern society. Religious performance, in contrast, occurs when religion is ‘applied’ to such problems as economic poverty, political oppression, human rights abuse, domestic violence, environmental degradation, racism and so on, generated in the domains of other institutional systems, but not solved or addressed there or elsewhere.4 Performance thus is concerned purely with the profane. It is through the performance relations that religion establishes its importance for the profane aspects of life and in the process reinforces the autonomy of religious action. There is a tension between the two, which is accentuated in certain strata of modern societies, but function and performance are in fact inseparable and mutually reinforcing. In Australia and elsewhere in the Christian West, for example, churches have been historically involved in education, social welfare and health care, and the same type of involvement is present in Muslim societies from Indonesia to Morocco and Nigeria. For Luhmann, the functional problems faced by religion in the modern world are in fact problems of performance. As mentioned earlier, increasing pressure towards secularization and privatization of religion under conditions of modernity tends to place religion in a position of disadvantage. The solution to this problem lies in finding effective religious applications and not in more religious commitment and practice.5 The main reason is that, if religion as an institution remains concerned purely with its functional role of promoting the

sacred as an all-encompassing reality, then it is adopting a pattern that will become a handicap, as this pattern runs counter to the specialized and instrumental pattern adopted by the other dominant institutional systems. The functional role of religion in the past involved religious performance through moral codes that were used to explain the existence of social problems as consequences of sin and other contraventions of religious codes. Under these conditions, religious codes favoured morality as a privileged form of social regulation. This is precisely what is undermined by the social structural conditions of modern society. The decline in the central regulatory role of morality is the principal cause of the functional problems, including the decline in the public influence of religion in modern society.

Religion and blasphemy What are the implications of these developments in the role of religion in modern society for acts of blasphemy? I will examine this question after a brief overview of the concept of blasphemy. The word is derived from a Greek term meaning ‘speaking evil’. In the JudeoChristian tradition, blasphemy refers to all acts of verbal offences against sacred values. A seventeenth-century Scottish jurist described it as ‘treason against God’.6 In Catholic theology, it is defined as ‘any word of malediction, reproach, of contumely pronounced against God’ and is regarded as a sin.7 It exists to prevent challenges to the notions of the sacred in organized religion. Blasphemy acts as a litmus test of the standards that a society feels it must enforce to preserve its religious beliefs and morality and to prevent mockery of its gods. Blasphemy constitutes an intolerable affront to the sacred, the priestly class, the deeply held beliefs of believers and the basic values a community shares. Its commission invariably evoked severe punishment. In Judeo-Christian and Islamic traditions, its commission was punishable by death and remains so in many instances. Denying the existence of God or reviling God is also recognized as an offence under common law. From the seventeenth century onward, blasphemy increasingly became a secular crime in most Western European jurisdictions, and that tradition was followed in England and the USA. The state began to supplant the church as the agency mainly responsible for instigating and conducting prosecutions. The connection between religious dissent and political subversion and the belief that a nation’s religious unity augmented its peace and strength accounted in part for the rising dominance of the state in policing serious crimes against religion. In the early modern period in Europe, laws pertaining to blasphemy and sacrilege required a special institutional configuration and the concept of the sacred. In Western European Christianity, the sacred was understood in terms of the earthly presence of a transcendental divinity. It was the mediation of this divinity in this world by special persons, places and things that made them sacred and made other persons, places and things profane. In this context, blasphemy occurred when sacred persons, places or things were abused or violated.8 Throughout the medieval and early modern period, European Christendom was more than just a spiritual locus; it was a formidable earthly force that exercised direct political and juridical power through a network of armed prince-bishop political communities

whose function was to enforce the law of the most powerful prince-bishop: the Bishop of Rome.9 Under these conditions, there was no clear distinction between the religious and political community or between the Christian and the citizen. Blasphemy was thus both a spiritual and juridical felony that invited severe criminal punishment. The emergence of blasphemy as a sin, therefore, required a particular set of cultural and political circumstances. Broadly, this involved a transcendental, sacralizing religion that could exercise overwhelming political and juridical powers both through its own authority and that of the secular ruler.10 These conditions led to almost two centuries of religious warfare in Western Europe. When in the sixteenth century Western Christianity split into a diversity of churches, one important consequence was that it lost its capacity to exercise direct juridical power, and that development laid the foundation for a process under which acts of blasphemy and sacrilege could be transformed from public crimes into personal offences. After the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648 ended decades of murderous religious conflicts between the main confessional communities of Catholicism, Lutheranism and Calvinism, they were all recognized and tolerated under imperial law. One political consequence of the treaty was that maintaining social peace became the sovereign’s prime duty, as opposed to defending the faith or enforcing religious laws as God’s viceroy on earth.11 This led to the secularization of the political domain. The political, legal and moral critiques of Christian Thomasius and Samuel von Pufendorf, seventeenth-century German jurists and philosophers, laid the legal foundations for the emerging new polity and its main objectives. They argued that the state had no religious objectives and that its duty was restricted to the ends of maintaining internal and external peace. For this reason, they argued against laws relating to sacrilege, heresy and blasphemy unless the actions associated with these offences gave rise to violence or civil disorder, in which case offenders would be punished for that reason and not because they had profaned the community of the faithful. These arguments were based not on religious tolerance or the doctrine of natural rights but on dual imperatives: to spiritualize religion and to desacralize the state. These political developments created the space that would allow the rise of the persona of the citizen as distinct from that of the Christian.12 As a direct consequence of these developments in several Western European jurisdictions, laws pertaining to blasphemy and sacrilege were abolished and, where they remained on the books, they lost their sacral character. In the modern period, it was no longer the violation of persons, things and places inhabited by a transcendental divinity that defined a crime, but something else altogether: the giving of offence in a manner that might lead to civil disorder or violence that could be punished under laws relating to sedition and obscenity and other laws relating to the maintenance of public order. This was broadly the position taken in Australia by the New South Wales Law Reform Commission in its Blasphemy Report of 1994. The commission argued that elements of the law concerning offensiveness likely to cause civil disturbance obviated the need for a special law on blasphemy, as this element was well covered by other laws governing public order and anti-discrimination.13

In Western countries such as the USA and the UK where blasphemy laws are still on the books, they are rarely used. For example, there have been no prosecutions in the USA since 1969, and the last successful blasphemy prosecution in England was in 1977. There has been no prosecution in Massachusetts since the 1920s, but in 1977, the state legislature refused to repeal its 300-year-old act against blasphemy. In general in the Anglo-American world, the conditions of modernity have made legal prosecutions against blasphemy not only rare but also obsolete. People seem to have learnt that Christianity is capable of surviving without penal sanctions and that God can avenge His own honour. Sentiments against blasphemy in the religious segments of the population, however, continue to persist.14 In Islam, there is no exact equivalent of the Christian notion of blasphemy, but offering insult to God (Allah), to the Prophet Muhammad or any part of the divine revelation constitutes a crime under Islamic religious law. From the perspective of Islamic law, the act of blasphemy can be defined as any verbal expression that gives grounds for suspicion of apostasy. Blasphemy also overlaps with infidelity (kufr), which is the deliberate rejection of Allah/God and revelation. In this sense, expressing religious opinions that are at variance with standard Islamic views could easily be regarded as blasphemous.15 The cases of Dr Younus Shaikh in Pakistan, Dr Nasr Hamed Abu Zeid in Egypt (both described in chapter 1), Salman Rushdie in 1988 and Dr Hashem Aghajari (Iran) in 2003 signify that religious sanctions against blasphemy and apostasy have a powerful presence in contemporary Muslim countries and can have real legal and personal consequences for the accused persons. Rushdie’s fourth novel, The Satanic Verses, first published in 1988, gives a fictional account of a prophet who is misled by the Devil into uttering verses that deny the unity of God. As the account is similar to certain narratives that recount how the Prophet Muhammad was at one point tempted into uttering such verses but later rejected them, it was held to be a blasphemous depiction of the Prophet himself. The novel offended Muslims around the world and, in 1989, a fatwa (legal ruling or opinion by Islamic scholars) was issued by the then supreme religious leader of Iran, Grand Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, declaring that the novel was blasphemous and calling upon Muslims to kill the author. Rushdie had to go into hiding to avoid being killed. In 1998, the then Iranian president Mohammad Khatami distanced the government from this fatwa, but Iranian ayatollah (esteemed religious scholars) maintain that the fatwa is irrevocable. Dr Hashem Aghajari is a history professor at an Iranian university. He is a disabled veteran of the 1980–88 Iraq/Iran war. He is an active member of the reformist Organization of the Mujahideen-e-Enqelab-e Eslami (the Mujahideen of the Islamic Revolution). In a speech in August 2002, Aghajari called for a religious renewal of Shi’ite Islam and declared that Muslims were not ‘monkeys’ and ‘should not blindly follow’ religious leaders. For these pronouncements, he was declared an apostate by the clergy and sentenced to death by an Iranian court for blasphemy and apostasy. The decision caused a huge uproar in Iran and led to large student demonstrations. Iran’s supreme religious leader, Grand Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, ordered a judicial review, as a result of which the death sentence was quashed by

Iran’s Supreme Court and the case sent back to the lower court for retrial. In April 2004 the court upheld the original verdict, but after national and international condemnation of the sentence, Khamenei intervened and asked the Supreme Court to review the sentence. In late 2004 the Supreme Court set aside the death sentence. I will use Pakistan as a case study to highlight the situation in Muslim countries in which such laws might also exist. During the Islamization campaign of the late Pakistani president Zia ul-Haq, several new sections relating to religious offences were added to the Pakistan Penal Code. In 1980, Section 298-A was introduced, which made the use of derogatory remarks in respect of persons revered in Islam an offence, punishable with up to three years’ imprisonment. In 1986, the Penal Code was further tightened up, with the insertion of an offence directed specifically at the person of the Prophet. Defiling the name of the Prophet Muhammad was declared a criminal offence, which under Section 295-C was punishable with death or life imprisonment. According to Section 295-C, ‘Use of derogatory remarks, etc., in respect of the Holy Prophet: whoever by words, either spoken or written or by visible representations or by any imputation, innuendo or insinuation, directly or indirectly, defiles the sacred name of the Holy Prophet (peace be upon him), shall be punished with death or imprisonment for life and shall also be liable to fine’. In October 1990, the Federal Shariat Court, Pakistan’s highest Islamic court, ruled that ‘the penalty for contempt of the Holy Prophet . . . is death and nothing else’, and directed the government of Pakistan to effect the necessary legal changes. As the government did not appeal this decision, the death penalty has thus become the mandatory punishment for blasphemy in Pakistan. Since their introduction, the new laws relating to religious offences against Islam, including Section 295-C, have been extensively abused to harass members of religious minorities such as Christians and Ahmadis, as well as members of the Sunni majority. According to Amnesty International, hundreds of people have been charged under these sections. In all cases, these charges have been arbitrarily brought, founded on malicious accusations, primarily as a measure to intimidate and punish members of minority religious communities or non-conforming Muslims. Reports suggest that such factors as personal enmity, professional envy, economic rivalry and politics play a significant role in these prosecutions. A common feature of these accusations of blasphemy is the manner in which they are uncritically accepted by the prosecuting authorities, who themselves might face intimidation and threats should they fail to accept the accusations.16 Amnesty International has also reported that Pakistani authorities have introduced administrative measures to prevent abuse of the Section 295-C blasphemy law. These measures appear to have been more successful in the case of Pakistani Christians, but not in the case of Muslim minority sects, such as the Ahmadis. The administrative measures do not alter the legal position of blasphemy law. Nor do they alter the practical consequences for those accused of blasphemy. While death penalties have been imposed under Section 295-C, all have been quashed on appeal to the higher courts. However, at least four persons who

were acquitted on appeal have so far died at the hands of armed attackers alleged to be religious extremists. In 2000, I submitted the manuscript of my book Faithlines: Muslim Conceptions of Islam and Society, which has been accepted by Oxford University Press in Pakistan for publication. When the page proofs of the book arrived, I noticed that the letters PBUH (peace be upon him) were inserted in parentheses every time the name of Muhammad appeared in the manuscript. I did not find this practice appropriate for an academic text and contacted my editor at Oxford University Press in Karachi, Pakistan, to convey my opinion. She responded promptly and without any hesitation, saying that the protocol pertaining to the use of PBUH was ‘the in-house policy of the Press’. She then went on to say that it was all right for authors who were safely overseas to object, but it was the Press and its staff who had to face the wrath of the people who felt that such omissions were offensive. I had no choice but to accept the Press’s policy, although I do not believe that it is an appropriate thing to do in an academic text.

Attitudes towards blasphemy in Muslim countries and Australia In addition to my study of Muslim attitudes in seven countries, in 1999–2000 I also carried out a survey of Muslim and Christian religiosity in Australia.17 These surveys included a question about attitudes towards blasphemy. More specifically, the respondents were asked: Suppose a person publicly admitted that he/she did not believe in Allah/God, would you agree or disagree that the following actions should be taken? 1. A book he/she wrote should be removed from the library. 2. He/she should be fired from a job in the government. 3. He/she should not be allowed to teach in a university/school. 4. He/she should be tried for heresy. 5. He/she should not be allowed to preach his/her beliefs. 6. He/she should not be allowed to hold public office. The findings for all countries surveyed are reported in table 5.1. TABLE 5.1: ‘Suppose a person publicly admitted that he/she did not believe in Allah, would you agree or disagree that the following actions should be taken against him/her?’ (percentage agreeing)

The empirical evidence shows that there were significant variations in attitudes towards blasphemy among Muslims in different countries. In general, attitudes towards blasphemy were weakest in Kazakhstan, followed by Turkey. They were strongest in Egypt, Pakistan and Malaysia. Australian Muslims displayed moderate attitudes, but Australian Christians showed very weak attitudes. Attitudes towards blasphemy were classified into three categories as follows. For each item, if more than 60 per cent of respondents in a country agreed with the statement, that country was classified as ‘high’; if the agreement rate was between 40 per cent and 60 per cent, it was classified as ‘medium’; and if the rate was less than 40 per cent, it was classified as ‘low’. This classification was applied to Australian Muslims and Christians as well. A further procedure was undertaken to classify countries as having ‘strong’, ‘moderate’ or ‘weak’ attitudes towards blasphemy. If, for four to six statements, a country had scored ‘high’, it was regarded as having ‘strong’ attitudes towards blasphemy; if it had scored ‘medium’, it was classified as having ‘moderate’ ones; and if it had scored ‘low’, it was classified as having ‘weak’ ones. The results obtained from the application of this procedure showed that Turkey and Kazakhstan had ‘weak’ attitudes towards blasphemy, Iran had ‘moderate’ ones and Egypt, Pakistan, Indonesia and Malaysia had ‘strong’ ones. Australian Muslims had ‘moderate’ attitudes and Australian Christians ‘weak’ ones.

Attitudes towards blasphemy and religiosity Blasphemy exists wherever there is organized religion. It is a powerful and effective check on actions deemed by believers as undermining core beliefs pertaining to the sacred. Does this mean that the intensity of attitudes towards blasphemy is related to the level of

religiosity? Religiosity refers to the degree of religious commitment or piety. In this study I have used the approach proposed by Rodney Stark and Charles Glock.18 Their approach conceptualizes religiosity as a multidimensional phenomenon consisting of five dimensions; namely, ideological, ritualistic, intellectual, experiential and consequential. I used a modified version of this approach with very useful results.19 I will use the values of only one dimension of religiosity here. This dimension in my study was labelled as ideological (see chapter 2). It corresponds to Stark and Glock’s intellectual dimension and refers to the fundamental beliefs to which a religious person is expected and often required to adhere. For my purposes, this dimension is clearly relevant since it refers to the knowledge of core religious beliefs a person must hold as a believer.20 The degree and intensity of religiosity was measured by aggregating scores in rows 4 and 5 in table 2.6 (Chapter 2). It should be obvious that this dimension of religiosity has a direct bearing on whether or not certain acts are blasphemous. With this in mind, I will use the findings of my survey pertaining to the ideological dimension to ascertain whether the level of religiosity is related to the strength of attitudes towards blasphemy. The results reported in table 5.2 show that the level of religiosity is strongly associated with the forcefulness of these attitudes. TABLE 5.2: Attitudes towards blasphemy, religiosity and human development in selected countries

(a) This index was constructed from my unpublished survey data (see the text for an explanation of the methodology used). (b) Religiosity refers to the knowledge of core beliefs a Muslim is required to hold and, in the case of Christians, it refers to adherence to the core beliefs of Christianity. The numbers refer to the percentage of those classified as ‘orthodox’. (c) HDI values are from the UNDP, Human Development Report (2002).

Religion, modernity and blasphemy If we follow the widely held view that, under conditions of modernity, religion loses its relevance and public influence, it could be argued that attitudes towards blasphemy in modern society are likely to be weak. This is a difficult issue to explore without an appropriately executed sociological study. In the absence of such a study, is there any evidence that can be used to examine this issue? I will attempt to do so by using the Human Development Index (HDI), a composite index published annually in the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) Human Development Report. It measures the quality of physical, human and social capital in modern societies using a number of indicators. While the index is not ideal or flawless, it is a useful measure that is now widely used in social analysis and to rank modern societies in terms of the quality of human life enjoyed by members of these societies. The HDI values extracted from the 2002 Human Development Report for the countries covered in this chapter are included in table 5.2 as well.21 With the exception of Malaysia, the general trend appears to be that countries with lower HDI values tend to have high levels of religiosity and strong attitudes towards blasphemy. This trend appears to support the argument that if we accept the HDI as a proxy measure for modernity, then the trend reported in table 5.2 would support the sociological hypothesis about the relationship between modernity and religion.

Implications The findings reported in table 5.2 and discussed above identify two possible trends about the relationship between religiosity and modernity. The first trend indicated by all countries except Malaysia is that the HDI is negatively related to the intensity of religiosity. This trend is consistent with the relationship posited by the sociological theories of Parsons, Berger and others, as discussed in the introductory section of this chapter. The second trend characterizes Malaysia, where the level of modernity is positively related to the intensity of religiosity. One plausible reason might be that Malaysia’s demography is different from that of the other countries. About 62 per cent of its population consists of Muslim Malays; the remainder consists mostly of non-Muslims, largely of Chinese origin. The Chinese are also economically much more prosperous than the Malays. This economic disparity could be a factor in producing the higher HDI score for Malaysia. Another plausible explanation of this second trend might be that ethnic diversity and economic disparities between the Malays and non-Malays in Malaysia are a significant factor in this relationship. The Malays, unlike the other ethnic groups, use Islam as the defining feature of their ethnic identity. One consequence of that might be a greater level of religious consciousness among the Malays, which is reflected in a stronger degree of religiosity. The relationship between religiosity and attitudes towards blasphemy is positive and consistent with sociological theory. However, again, there is the interesting case of Iran, which is an Islamic republic and is the only country among the Muslim countries examined in this chapter in which religion performs an overarching function in affairs of the state and

society. Under such circumstances, one might expect that both the level of religiosity and the intensity of attitudes towards blasphemy would be stronger than indicated by the data in table 5.2. A possible explanation of this unexpected finding might be that institutional configurations play a critical role in shaping the public influences of religious institutions and patterns of personal religiosity. As I have argued in chapter 4, there are institutional configurations in which religion is fused with the state and public trust in religious institutions tends to decline, which might also influence expressions of religiosity at the individual level. In other words, the existence of an Islamic state, as is the case in Iran, can have a depressing effect on religiosity at the individual level. The converse could also be true. The existence of a secular state in which religion and state occupy separate and distinct spaces might produce a high level of personal religiosity. This could happen when religious institutions act as a mobilizer of resistance against an authoritarian state that lacks political legitimacy. In other words, as suggested by Luhmann, when religion plays a strong applied role in a modern society, its public influence increases, which might also produce higher levels of personal religious commitment at the individual level.22 There is another sociological implication of a strong relationship between the level of religiosity and blasphemy in a Muslim society. According to Ernest Gellner, in Muslim society, strong religiosity is conducive to reinforcing Islamic communalism rather than civil society.23 This view is highly contested among scholars of Islam and Muslim society. For example, Bernard Lewis, Daniel Pipes and Samuel Huntington hold similar views24, but other scholars, such as Saad Eddin Ibrahim, Masoud Kamali, Pippa Norris and Ronald Inglehart, and Robert Hefner25, strongly contest the view that Islam and civil society are incompatible. As suggested by Gellner, if the core of civil society is the idea of an institutional and ideological pluralism that prevents central institutions of the state from establishing a monopoly over power and truth in society, then it can be argued that religious traditionalism (as reflected by strong religiosity) can act as an impediment to the functioning of a robust civil society.26 One can argue that persecutions of religious minorities for blasphemy and other deviations from traditional religious beliefs are indicative of a relatively weak civil society in Pakistan. Similarly, in Iran, the enforcement of laws relating to women’s dress codes as well as pressure to conform to a particular reading of the sacred texts are also infringements of civil liberty and human rights. Furthermore, if an important condition for the existence of civil society is that there should be an independent public sphere that is relatively autonomous of the state and whose legitimacy is normatively protected, then historical as well as contemporary variants of Muslim societies display elements of these conditions. The most visible representation of this public sphere is the position of the ulema (Islamic scholars and teachers), whose access to the menbar (pulpits) to influence public opinion on a wide variety of issues is universally acknowledged. The importance of menbar in propagating and legiti mizing some political ideas, delegitimizing others and mobilizing support is part of Islamic history. In recent

history, the fortunes—and survival—of political leaders have been strongly influenced by the activities of the ulema through menbar in Pakistan, Indonesia, the Palestinian Territories, Malaysia, Lebanon and Algeria, and similar developments are now evident in the US– British-occupied Iraq. The ulema can also influence state policies through their access to the market (bazzar). It can, therefore, be argued that elements of religious ideology in Islam can also underpin the existence of an independent and strong civil society of a particular type. It is through these mechanisms that Iran, notwithstanding the theocratic nature of the state and conservatism of the ruling Islamic party, has undergone remarkable developments that have opened up space for political activism by professional bodies, women’s organizations and reformist elements from within the Shi’ite Islamic clergy and the ruling party. Similar developments have taken place in Indonesia in the post-Suharto era.

Conclusion Modernity plays a significant role in shaping the role of religion in modern society. It is conducive to increasing secularization as well as revitalizing the role of religion. Using empirical evidence, I have explored the relationship between modernity, religiosity and blasphemy in several Muslim countries and Australia. This chapter has also explored the sociological implications of prevailing religious traditionalism in Muslim countries and, in particular, its implications for the functioning of a robust civil society.

6 VEILING, PATRIARCHY AND HONOUR KILLING

The evidence examined in chapter 1 indicated deeply entrenched misogynist and patriarchal attitudes in the modern Muslim consciousness. The strong emphasis on the observance of Islamic dress codes by women was noticeably pronounced in Malaysia, Indonesia, Pakistan, Egypt and Iran. This signified strong support for exclusionary practices with regard to women. Strong misogynist and patriarchal attitudes and an obsessive fascination with the sexual lure of women were also evident. Women are viewed as a sexually driven and lustful species and a potent source of fitnah (civil disorder, trial, upheaval) and hence need to be segregated so that men can be protected from temptation. These views are demeaning and insulting not only for women but also for men. This chapter will examine in greater detail the specific evidence about women and gender issues first explored in chapter 1 and will provide a historical context for the development of these issues.

Historical context of gender issues For many Islamic and Western scholars of Islam, the status, role and position of women are important distinguishing features of Muslim societies that set them apart from their Western counterparts. Many people in the West regard the status of women in Muslim society as symptomatic of their oppression in Islam.1 Moreover, it is argued that gender relations in Islam have been shaped primarily by the religion’s Arabian origins. However, although it is true that Islam has borne the mark of its Arabian origins, the Prophet Muhammad introduced a variety of reforms that would, in particular, alter the position of women within his community.2 Islam was instrumental in introducing wide-ranging legal and religious enactments to improve the position and status of women in Arabian society and to protect them from male excesses. In the pre-Islamic period, Arabia had preserved attitudes towards women that had prevailed before the Axial Age; that is, the period from 800 BCE to 200 BCE, which German philosopher Karl Jaspers saw as a pivotal and uniquely transformative age in terms of the history of human thought.3 Polygamy was a common practice, and, while elite women

enjoyed considerable power and prestige—for example, Muhammad’s first wife, Khadija, was a successful and highly respected merchant—most women were on a par with slaves and had no political or human rights. Female infanticide was widely practised. Women were among some of the earliest converts to Islam, and their emancipation formed a central plank of Muhammad’s ‘social project’. The Qur’an strictly forbade the killing of female children and gave women legal rights of inheritance and divorce: most Western women had nothing comparable until the nineteenth century. Several chapters of the Qur’an frequently address women explicitly—something that rarely happens in Jewish or Christian scriptures.4 Numerous Qur’anic injunctions give effect to these changes in the public and private spheres, most importantly by recognizing a woman’s full-fledged personality.5 Islamic scholar Fazlur Rahman provides an overview of the reforms introduced by the Qur’an: The Qur’an immensely improved the status of the woman in several directions but the most basic is the fact that the woman was given a fully-[f]ledged personality. The spouses are declared to be each other’s ‘garments’: the woman has been granted the same rights over man as man has over his wife, except that man, being the earning partner, is a degree higher. Unlimited polygamy was strictly regulated and the number of wives was limited to four, with the rider that if a husband feared that he could not do justice among several wives, he must marry only one wife. To all this was added a general principle that ‘you shall never be able to do justice among wives no matter how desirous you are [to do so]’ ([Qur’an] IV, 3, 128). The overall logical consequence of these pronouncements is a banning of polygamy under normal circumstances. Yet as an already existing institution, polygamy was accepted on a legal plane, with the obvious guiding lines that when gradually social circumstances became more favorable, monogamy might be introduced. This is because no reformer who means to be effective can neglect the real situation and simply issue visionary statements. But the later Muslims did not watch the guidelines of the Qur’an and, in fact, thwarted its intentions.6 Other scholars have made similar observations. Because the Prophet Muhammad sought to establish an Islamic movement based upon principles of humanitarianism, egalitarianism, social and political justice, righteousness and solidarity, the consensus among scholars of Islam is that the protection and improvement of the status of women and children formed an important plank of Muhammad’s ‘social project’.7 Yet, through selective, literal, noncontextual and ahistorical interpretations of Qur’anic injunctions, a majority of Muslim scholars and rulers have chosen to thwart rather than to follow and promote these principles.8 As with Christianity, the religion later was hijacked by the men, who interpreted the sacred texts in a way that was negative for Muslim women.9 Baydawi, a respected Sunni scholar of the thirteenth century, reflected this tendency when he set out to classify the ways in which men stand superior to women. Allah has favoured the

one sex over the other, according to Baydawi, in the matter of mental ability and good counsel and in their power for the performance of duties and for the carrying out of (divine) commands. Hence to men have been confined prophecy, religious leadership, saintship, pilgrimage rites, the giving of evidence in the law-courts, the duties of the holy war, worship in the mosque on the day of assembly (Friday), etc. They also have the privilege of selecting chiefs, have a larger share of inheritance and discretion in the matter of divorce.10 Baydawi’s observations and conclusions were based upon a selective reading and interpretation of the sacred texts that ignored the intellectual message of the Qur’an.11 Another Muslim scholar, Sheikh Muhammad Hasanayn Makhlouf, claiming the authority of Islamic law, issued a fatwa (legal rulings or opinions by Islamic scholars) in June 1952 declaring that the Islamic social system lacked the authority to give women the right to vote or to be elected to parliament, given their inherently unsuitable nature.12 The South Asian Islamic scholar Maududi made similar pro nouncements about the role and position of women in Islamic society. He quoted a saying (hadith) attributed to the Prophet Muhammad, ‘Those who entrust their affairs to a woman will never know prosperity’13, and warned of catastrophes that will befall those who leave their affairs in the hands of a woman: ‘Some nations have given woman the position of governor over man. But no instance is found of a nation that raised its womanhood to such a status and then attained any high position on the ladder of progress and civilization. History does not present the record of any nation that made the woman the ruler of its affairs and won honour and glory or performed a work of distinction’.14 Moroccan sociologist Fatima Mernissi and Islamic jurist Khaled Abou El Fadl, in their works on women and Islam, dispute the authority of this hadith and cogently argue that its use is a clear illustration of how Islamic scholars—who have almost always been male and have enjoyed close relations with the ruling classes—have manipulated the sacred texts to ensure male hegemony and control.15 The interpretative communities developed around the inter pretations of the sacred texts by such scholars as Baydawi, Makhlouf and Maududi have shaped the average Muslim’s views and attitudes towards women. They express the commonly held Muslim view of women as beings who are incapable of and unfit for public duties. For them, as for other Islamic scholars, women’s autonomy and independence pose a problem for the general functioning of society, particularly in regard to the family and marital relations. Female autonomy constitutes a deviation from the divinely ordained, legally upheld and historically enforced duties of a wife and can therefore be construed only as disobedience. Female autonomy threatens to infringe upon male prerogatives.16 A recent example of misogynist attitudes in contemporary Muslim culture is given by Lebanese scholar al-Sadiq Abdul Rahman al-Ghiryani. According to al-Ghiryani: a Muslim

wife may not worship God by fasting without her husband’s permission because her husband might want to have sex with her during the day; a woman may not speak with her fiancé over the telephone because she might seduce him; a woman engaged to a man may not go out with him in public because she might seduce him; a bride riding with her groom in a car driven by a relative must be sure not to wear perfume because she might seduce the driver, who is not her husband; a woman who wishes to go a mosque to learn the Qur’an must obey her father if he forbids her from going and the father need not express any reason for his opposition; a man who marries a woman with the intention of divorcing her after having pleasure with her but fails to inform her of his intention does not commit a sin and the marriage is valid; a woman may not refuse her husband sex unless she is ill, and refusing a husband sex without compelling justification is a grave sin. On the other hand, a husband may refuse his wife sex if he has a reason or even if he has no reason at all; from a legal perspective, the voice of woman is not an awrah (private part that ought to be covered by clothing) that must be concealed from all except a mahram (i.e. unmarriageable kin with whom sexual intercourse would be considered incestuous), but nonetheless because of its seductive powers, the voice of a woman should not be heard in public or in a private setting where it might cause sexual enticement; women should not mix with men in public even if women are wearing the hijab (head scarf); women should not travel unaccompanied by a male mahram; a woman may not chew gum because it is seductive; women may not dance in front of other women at a wedding even if there are no men around because it might be sexually arousing; and women may not shorten their head hair because doing so is considered as imitating men. However, women must remove any facial hair, such as a beard or moustache, because it is more feminine to do so and because a woman must be sexually appealing to her husband; women should not attend funerals or gravesites or convey their condolences to foreign men, so as to avoid sexual enticement.17 In one of the most authoritative, historically grounded and sociologically informed books dealing with Islamic law and women, Khaled Abou El Fadl shows that the determinations mentioned above are not objectively mandated by Islamic sources. He argues that such determinations are examples of what he calls ‘textual authoritarianism by abusing the text’, which allows such Muslim scholars as al-Ghiryani to frequently misinterpret divinely ordained law in order to justify and sanction injustices against women in Muslim society. Abou El Fadl shows that Islamic law has become a playing field for shabby scholarship, political sloganism and ideological demagogues. More often than not, these scholars have minimal training in Islamic scholastic tradition. Consequently, they tend to reconstruct Islamic law into sets of highly simplified and dogmatic commands. According to these socalled reformative formulations, Islamic law has become a poorly justified and nonpersuasive set of rules and not a methodology for an open process of discourse and determination.18 To illustrate this, Abou El Fadl uses the example of the responsa or fatwa issued by jurists who make up the Permanent Council for Scientific Research and Legal Opinions (CRLO), the official institution in Saudi Arabia entrusted with issuing legal opinions that often serve

as the basis for law and that often have a wide influence on other Muslim societies. All the jurists are well known in the Arabic-speaking world at the juristic and popular levels. Abou El Fadl’s analysis covers many responsa related to women issued by the council. In all its responsa, the council adheres to the wahhabi school of thought. Below are some of its responsa. In its response to whether the wearing of brassieres is permissible under Islamic law, council jurists declared that some women have adopted the habit of wearing brassieres to create the impression that they are young or virgins and, if that is the case, then this is a prohibited form of fraud. However, if a woman wears a brassiere for health or medical reasons, then it is permissible. In other words, if the brassiere lifts the breasts but the intent is to defraud, then it is prohibited. The responsum is derived from the well-known principle that fraud is illegal in Islamic law. However, there is no mention of clothing such as turbans that make men look taller or undergarments that make a man look muscular or clothing that makes a man look thinner. One is left to wonder: if the legal principle being established here is a matter of truthful physiological disclosure, then how far are the jurists willing to take the principle? The most honest physiological disclosure would be nudity. Is it, therefore, more ‘truthful’ to discard all clothing that might lead to the creation of a wrong or fraudulent impression, in favour of nudity? The underlying undisclosed value in this responsum is that women are a source of fitnah, so everything related to the functionality of women is seen from that perspective. The underlying principle prohibiting women from driving is also based on the possibility that it might lead to fitnah and thus to evil. The CRLO jurists seem to assume that anything that might possibly lead to any degree of evil is to be prohibited. Regardless of the amount of good that driving or wearing a certain type of clothing could achieve, and regardless of how speculative the fears of possible evils might be, they believe that women should bear the burden of the sacrifice and loss of rights.19 The CRLO jurists were asked about the effect of a woman passing in front of a man at prayer. The CRLO responded that if a man is praying and a woman passes in front of him without a screen separating them, the man’s prayers are invalidated and must be repeated. In support, the CRLO cites a hadith transmitted by Abu Hurayrah, a companion to the Prophet and noted hadith narrator, which attributed to the Prophet the statement, ‘The passage of a woman, donkey and black dog in front of man invalidates his prayer’.20 In another response, the council asserted that some women are bad omens and, therefore, divorcing them is justifiable. To support this response, it cited a Prophetic tradition stating, ‘If bad omens exist in anything, they exist in [some] houses, women and mounts’.21 Other traditions, cited in the context of mandating the veil or in prohibiting the mixing of sexes, draw an association between women and the Devil. For example, a tradition attributed to the Prophet proclaims, ‘A woman comes in the image of a devil and leaves in the image of a devil’. These determinations of the CRLO are clearly demeaning for women and are based on traditions of the Prophet that have very dubious chains of transmission; early scholars disagreed on the authenticity of Abu Hurayrah’s traditions and alternative versions that are never taken into account.22 The CRLO does not use these reports in order to explicitly

demean or defile women. Ironically, according to the CRLO, its determinations honour and protect women from all forms of degradation. Of course, the CRLO makes this point by asserting that Islam, which it claims to represent, fully honours and protects women. The reports used in the council’s responsa are utilized in making technical decisions on particular legal issues. However, having employed reports that draw a connection between women and unflattering symbolism, the CRLO is able to draw upon social constructs or typologies of womanhood with devastating results. Significantly, this is done with an air of condescending benevolence and not confessed malignity.23 One further observation from Abou El Fadl’s work also illustrates the doctrine of fitnah and its relationship to women. The key feature of the legal determinations that impose a strict dress code on women and exclude them from public life is the obsessive reliance on the notion of fitnah. Women are viewed as walking and breathing bundles of fitnah. The CRLO responsa dealing with women invariably include references about the seductiveness of womanhood. For example, women may attend mosques only if it does not lead to fitnah; women may listen to men reciting the Qur’an or giving a lecture only if it does not lead to fitnah; women may go to the marketplace only if it does not lead to fitnah; women may not visit graveyards because of the fear of fitnah; women may not say amen aloud in prayer because of the fear of fitnah; a woman praying by herself may not raise her voice in prayer if it leads to fitnah; a woman may not even greet a man if it leads to fitnah. Veiling and segregation of women are based on the doctrine of fitnah. It does not seem to occur to the jurists who make these determinations that this presumed fitnah that accompanies women in whatever they do is not an inherent quality of womanhood; rather, it is a projection of male promiscuity. By artificially constructing womanhood as the embodiment of seduction, these jurists are not promoting a norm of modesty; rather, they are promoting one of immodesty. Instead of turning the gaze away from the physical attributes of women, they obsessively turn the gaze to women as a mere physicality. In essence, these jurists objectify women as items for male consumption, and that is the height of immodesty.24 The fitnah traditions do not describe an empirical reality but a normative principle that women are dangerous, and one must accept the principle, believe it and act on it irrespective of whether it can be empirically verified. These historical and contemporary interpretive communities have profoundly affected the Muslim consciousness about the status, role and position of Muslim women. The remainder of this chapter examines attitudes and practices pertaining to three aspects of this problem, namely dress codes and veiling, patriarchy and honour killing in contemporary Muslim societies.

Veiling and seclusion of women Misogyny, the exclusion of women and patriarchal attitudes are deeply entrenched in the Muslim consciousness. One expression of these attitudes that attracts special attention from Muslim and Western feminist scholars is the tradition of the Muslim dress code for women and veiling.

The tradition and custom of veiling in Islam can be attributed to Islamic history and texts, as well as to the traditional role of men in positions of power and authority in Muslim society. Historically, veiling became a customary practice of the Islamic community as a result of its presence in pre-Islamic Mecca. It was generally observed in urban areas of preIslamic Arabia, but not among the Bedouin women who lived in the desert. The women of the Prophet Muhammad’s own tribe observed veiling. In pre-Islamic Mecca, it was the custom for unmarried daughters to dress in fine clothes once a year and walk about unveiled in order to attract suitable suitors, but once a husband was found, they resumed veiling.25 Furthermore, in the early years when Muhammad and his followers were subjected to insults and harassment, he commanded his own wives and daughters to identify and protect themselves by wearing long veils whenever they went out in public.26 He also commanded his followers not to enter his home freely and asked his wives to talk to strangers from behind a veil. He also enacted rules for proper conduct in the public and private domains, which included exhortations to women not to display their beauty and charm except in the presence of their husbands or close kin. This was reflected in the following Qur’anic edicts: ‘Say to the believing men that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty . . . And say to the believing women that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty; that they should not display their beauty and ornaments except what (ordinarily) appear thereof; that they should draw their veils over their bosoms and not display their beauty except to their husbands, their fathers . . .’ (Qur’an 24:30–1) Evidence from the first two centuries of Islam indicates that Qur’anic injunctions did not prevent women from praying in the mosque with men, and while they were expected to dress modestly, women were not required to veil. However, towards the end of the second century, women were forbidden to pray in public assembly and, over time, mosque attendance became a male prerogative. This came about despite evidence that the Qur’an does not discriminate between men and women regarding public prayer. It is most likely that the veiling and seclusion of women became a common Islamic practice under the influence of Muslims from Persia, where the practice of veiling was widespread. By the third century of Islam, the veiling and seclusion of women had become a widely established custom. Even then, the practice varied according to economic conditions; in rural and tribal areas, observance was less than universal. The tendency to veil and seclude women and therefore limit their role and function in society is intertwined with the management of sexuality in Islam. Unlike Christianity, which idealizes and strongly sanctions celibacy, Islam explicitly prohibits celibacy and enjoins its followers to enjoy sexual pleasures as long as they do so within the limits prescribed by the sacred texts. In fact, as Mernissi suggests, the lives of the most sacred personae of Christianity and Islam, namely Jesus Christ and the Prophet Muhammad, clearly demonstrate the attitudes of their respective religions towards sexuality and its management.27 In Islam, women are seen not only as sexual beings but also as the very embodiment of sex. In this sense, veiling explicitly conceals sexuality. The underlying concern is that women might excite men’s sexuality through immodest dress or exposure of their bodies.28 For many

Muslims, the sexual conduct of males is not dependent upon that of females because sexual relations are a matter of male discretion. Female sexuality exists in service to male sexuality and for reproductive purposes.29 According to a respected Islamic commentator, ‘the whole of the body of a free woman is to be regarded as pudendal and no part of her may lawfully be seen by anyone but her husband or close kin, except in case of need, as when she is undergoing medical treatment or giving evidence’.30 Consequently, men view women as objects that exist and retain value only in relation to themselves. Women are to be owned and controlled. They are objects of desire, to be veiled and secluded. They exist as an indispensable commodity that adds to a man’s sense of power and virility.31 Over the centuries, the ulema (Islamic scholars) issued decisions on the veiling and seclusion of women that grew ever more elaborate and rigid, far more so than is required by the Qur’an. They extended the veiling requirements once imposed on Muhammad’s wives and daughters to all women. They justified these decisions on the grounds that, since it was laudable for Muslims to follow the Sunnah (practice) of the Prophet in all matters, it was also commendable for women to follow the custom of Muhammad’s womenfolk.32 The cumulative effect of the ulema’s decisions on veiling as an Islamic requirement has been a normative requirement for veiling and seclusion that, by and large, is universally accepted throughout the Islamic world. However, observance of the requirement varies according to economic conditions. In rural and tribal areas where women are actively engaged in economic activities, veiling is less universal. In most South-East Asian Islamic communities, the practice is generally not as rigidly observed.33 With some notable exceptions, the general practice of veiling and seclusion has become a potent symbol in the Islamic world. The practice is in keeping with the supremacy of male over female as postulated by the Qur’an. The vagueness of these provisions has allowed the ulema greater authority in interpreting the religious texts and sayings, thus providing them with the opportunity to influence or to reinforce local customs and thereby gain favour with the dominant male elite. Some ulema, including those belonging to the CRLO, have apparently even invented ‘traditions’ that might in reality be in conflict with Qur’anic statements and with the intellectual message of the Qur’an, in order to bolster their own interpretations.34 Efforts by Muslim female activists to interpret Islam from a feminist perspective have not been very successful in Muslim countries because they pose a threat to the way Islam has historically been interpreted. Women in the Muslim world lack the power or authority necessary to popularize their interpretations of the Islamic texts. According to Muslim feminists, the interpretations of the male Muslim clergy threaten the status and potential of Muslim women who want to challenge oppressive patriarchal traditions. Women are seen as the marker of identity in Muslim communities, and it is therefore critical for patriarchal states to safeguard women’s morality and ensure that women conduct themselves in the manner prescribed by traditional interpretations of Islam.35 Issues related to patriarchy and the veiling and seclusion of women have now become an

important focus of debate among women, Islamicists and secularists, not only in Islamic countries but internationally as well. One of the most common Western stereotypes of Islam is that it oppresses women.36 Because of this general prejudice, Islamic religious fundamentalist movements, which often advocate the veiling and seclusion of women, are given wide media coverage in the West. This helps to confirm Islam’s unequal treatment of the sexes. Little attempt is made to investigate the underlying factors responsible for the rise of so-called fundamentalist movements. While women in general have enjoyed lower citizenship status than men, today at least, a number of Muslim countries have made concerted efforts to remove or at least reduce obstacles to gender equality. Reforms in Turkey, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, Malaysia and Indonesia have sought to remove some of these obstacles as they relate to veiling and patriarchy. The former Soviet republics of Central Asia, now independent states, have maintained former socialist policies banning veiling and discrimination based on gender while promoting equal rights for women in marriage and the family. Some reforms have been moderately successful, but in some cases, such as Iran and Pakistan, the pendulum has swung back to more traditionalist views of the role, status and function of women, and these views have gained favour with the current ruling elites. In general, however, the reforms are having a positive effect in most Muslim countries even while obstacles remain. Obstacles will continue to exist until such time as the dominant ulema change their rigid attitudes or lose their relevance for the general body of Muslims through a decline in their religious authority. Other features of the institutional framework that manages and satisfies human sexuality by imposing control over women arose from the stipulation of woman as the principal actor responsible for preserving the sanctity of the family and social reproduction. This concept led to strict injunctions on the type of role that women could play in the public sphere. Strong social and cultural traditions evolved that placed serious obstacles in the way of women seeking to succeed in public roles. Men, on the other hand, were assigned all public roles as providers, protectors and arbiters, and this reinforced their power in the domestic domain as well. Patriarchal family structures thus became more functionally suited to ensuring the perpetuation of the institutional framework for the management of the family. There now exists a respectable body of historical, ethnographic and sociological scholarship documenting the universality of norms for gender roles, veiling and patriarchy in Muslim countries. Given the significance of these practices for future social and political developments, it is rather surprising that there have been no systematic comparative sociological studies documenting the attitudes of Muslims towards these practices in different countries. In addition to providing valuable empirical evidence, such information could be useful in the formulation of social policy. Most importantly, comparative studies could provide data on the variations, if any, in attitudes towards these practices across Muslim countries and could be useful in developing plausible sociological explanations of these variations. This chapter seeks to fill this knowledge gap. In chapter 1, the strength of salafabist consciousness in Muslim countries was ascertained using a series of statements (listed in table 1.1) about which the respondents were asked to

give their opinion. Among these statements, there were three that were applied to ascertain attitudes towards veiling, Muslim dress codes for Muslim women and patriarchy: 1. Women are sexually attractive, and segregation and veiling are necessary for male protection. 2. Women should observe Islamic dress codes. 3. If men are not in charge of women, women will lose sight of all human values and the family will disintegrate. TABLE 6.1: ‘Women are sexually attractive, and segregation and veiling are necessary for male protection’ (percentage agree)

‘No answer’ was treated as missing data and thus not included in this analysis.

The respondents in all seven Muslim countries surveyed were asked what they thought of these statements: whether they ‘strongly agreed’, ‘agreed’, were ‘unsure’, ‘disagreed’ or ‘strongly disagreed’. The responses to these questions were analyzed according to gender, lifecycle stage and educational attainment (i.e. cultural capital). In the analysis, a composite index called the ‘agreement rate’ was computed by combining the ‘strongly agree’ and

‘agree’ response categories. The findings of these analyses will be examined in some detail in the following sections. The agreement rates for the statement ‘Women are sexually attractive, and segregation and veiling are necessary for male protection’ (reported in table 6.1) show that the Muslim world is not an undifferentiated block universe. The evidence reveals significant differences between countries and other demographics. Globally (meaning all respondents surveyed in the seven countries), a significant majority of 70 per cent agreed with the statement. The agreement rate for men is significantly higher than for women, and while the majority of the respondents in all age groups expressed agreement in most countries, the rate was highest among those aged 41–55 years. The rates by level of education display a bimodal type of distribution, with the least educated and most educated respondents displaying higher rates. The agreement rates by country were markedly different. In Malaysia, Indonesia, Pakistan and Egypt, the rates were the highest, ranging from 77 per cent for Egypt to 89 per cent for Malaysia. The Iranian rates were lower (63 per cent) and the rates in Turkey and Kazakhstan were half that level, coming in at 33 per cent and 28 per cent respectively. Obviously, the impact of Islamic doctrines on veiling and segregation of women has been moderated by the local political, social and religious factors prevailing in different countries. The attitudes of Egyptian, Pakistani, Indonesian and Malaysian Muslims have been more significantly influenced by misogynist Muslim doc trines than the attitudes of Kazak and Turkish Muslims. The analysis by gender shows that the agreement rates were almost identical between men and women in Indonesia, Malaysia, Turkey and Kazakhstan, but there were significant differences in Egypt, Pakistan and Iran. In these countries, women tended to display significantly weaker misogynist attitudes than men, which was consistent with the global trend. Lifecycle stage also had an effect on attitudes. In Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan and Kazakhstan, there seemed to be no discernible relationship between age and the agreement rates. In Turkey, the rates increased significantly with age, which was the opposite of the trend in Iran. In Egypt, the rates were lower among the very youngest and oldest respondents than among those aged 26–55 years. Education levels had different effects on the agreement rates than age did. In Indonesia and Malaysia, the education level did not have any effect. Among Iranians and Turks, while the rates were different, there was an inverse relationship between educational level and agreement rates, and the opposite trend prevailed among the Kazaks. In Egypt and Pakistan, the pattern was again different, with high school graduates displaying stronger misogynist attitudes than those with lower or higher levels of educational attainment. The data clearly shows that the production and reproduction of misogynist attitudes is profoundly influenced by local social and cultural processes, particularly state ideology and sectarian religiosity. In Kazakhstan for example, which was under communist rule for much of the twentieth century, the population was not indoctrinated by Islamic beliefs about veiling and the seclusion of women. Likewise in Turkey, a secular republic, the state exercised strict control over the role of religion, which had a profound effect on misogynist religious beliefs.

Iran, by contrast, is a Shi’ah-dominated country with its own religious traditions concerning women that differ from Sunni beliefs. The attitudes of respondents in Egypt, Pakistan, Indonesia and Malaysia were closer to salafabist attitudes because of the overriding influence of religious and cultural ideas influenced by salafabism.

Observance of Islamic dress codes Related to the veiling and seclusion of women is the belief that women should observe Islamic dress codes. In fact, one can argue that the objective of veiling and social and physical seclusion is best achieved through the observance of these codes. Implied in the Islamic dress code norm is the objective of preventing women from expressing or displaying their bodies, which are regarded as a powerful source of fitnah, primarily by provoking sexual misdemeanour in men. A secondary objective is to promote a moral code that accords respect to women and enables them to interact with ‘honour’. The respondents in this study were, therefore, specifically asked about their attitudes regarding women’s observance of Islamic dress codes. Attitudes towards Islamic dress codes were ascertained using the statement, ‘Women should observe Islamic dress codes’. The results (reported in table 6.2) show that, globally, there was almost universal agreement, with 83 per cent of all respondents concurring with the statement. The agreement rate among women was slightly lower, and there were no significant differences among the different age groups. The high school graduates were less likely to agree than their less or more educated counterparts. Between 92 per cent and 98 per cent of respondents in Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan and Egypt agreed with the statement. Surprisingly, for Iran, where women are mandated to observe Islamic dress codes under the laws of the Islamic republic, the agreement rate was 76 per cent. The lowest rate was in Kazakhstan (38 per cent), followed by Turkey with 56 per cent. The Kazakhstan rate reflected the communist lineage of the country, and the Turkish rates were obviously affected by the secular policies of the Turkish republic. This again reveals how significant the state institutional configuration is in influencing religious attitudes. TABLE 6.2: ‘Women should observe Islamic dress codes’ (percentage)

‘No answer’ was treated as missing data and thus not included in this analysis.

As for gender differences, in Egypt, Indonesia, Malaysia and Pakistan, the evidence shows almost universal acceptance, with both men and women agreeing that women should observe Islamic dress codes. In Iran, the agreement rate was 78 per cent for men and 72 per cent for women. Predictably, the Kazakhstan rates were the lowest, with only 39 per cent of men and 36 per cent of women agreeing with the statement. Next was Turkey: although a majority of men and women favoured observance, the agreement rate was slightly lower among women, as was the case in other countries. Nine out of ten respondents in all age groups in Egypt, Indonesia, Malaysia and Pakistan approved of the Islamic dress code norm. In Iran, the agreement rate was inversely related to age, but the opposite was true in Kazakhstan and Turkey. In these two countries, as noted above, the rates were the lowest but directly related to age, with older respondents significantly more in favour of observance. In Iran, younger respondents, whose social attitudes had been significantly shaped by the 1979 Islamic Revolution, showed comparatively a higher rate of agreement. However, in Kazakhstan and Turkey, the strict secular state ideology embraced for most of the twentieth century had produced a pattern characterized by greater acceptance of religious norms among older respondents who, in accordance with the universal pattern in religiosity, had become more

religious and hence more accepting of Islamic dress code norms for women. As in the case of age, education level appeared to have no effect on agreement rates in Egypt, Indonesia, Malaysia and Pakistan. In Turkey and Iran, however, there was an inverse correlation between education and approval of dress code norms, and agreement rates declined with education level. Kazakhstan had a unique bimodal distribution.

Hijab The Arabic word hijab has multiple meanings. It can refer to an obstruction, a shield, shelter, protection, cover, a screen or seclusion, and it can also mean to obscure or hide. It is most commonly used to describe the veil with which a Muslim woman covers her head but not her face. In Islamic history, the notion of hijab is related not to fitnah but to social status and physical safety. In classical juristic discourse, hijab is related to covering certain parts of the body while performing prayer and is related to the concept of awrah (private parts that ought to be covered by clothing). In prayers, Muslim men and women are required to cover their awrah or what Islamic law considers to be the private parts of a human being. Hijab in this sense means whatever covers the private parts.37 However, in modern times, hijab has become the symbolic representation of the dress code for Muslim women. It has also become the subject of numerous studies, public debates and state policies not only in Muslim countries but also in the West. In order to explore and understand some aspects of the meaning attached to hijab by Muslims in the modern world, the respondents in Iran, Malaysia and Turkey were asked how they felt about the following three statements: ‘Hijab is an Islamic duty’, ‘Hijab enhances femininity’ and ‘Hijab contributes to sexual modesty’. The respondents were asked to choose whichever one of the following responses came closest to their opinion: ‘agree’, ‘disagree’ or ‘do not know’. Tables 6.3–6.5 report the findings using only the ‘agree’ response. TABLE 6.3: ‘Hijab is an Islamic duty’ (percentage)

TABLE 6.4: ‘Hijab enhances femininity’ (percentage)

TABLE 6.5: ‘Hijab contributes to sexual modesty’ (percentage)

HIJAB AS AN ISLAMIC DUTY There was almost total consensus among Malaysian respondents that hijab is an Islamic duty, and that attitude was not affected by gender, age or education. The same view was shared by more than 80 per cent of the Iranian respondents but, while gender did not influence their attitudes, age and education did. The proportion of Iranians who consider hijab an Islamic duty increased with age, rising from 80 per cent for those aged twenty-five years or under to 91 per cent for those aged fifty-six years or over. Education level had the opposite effect, with 78 per cent of university graduates agreeing with the statement, compared with 95 per cent for those with less than high school education. Turkish respondents displayed a very different pattern. Only half regarded hijab as an Islamic duty, with men displaying a slightly higher agreement rate than women. The agreement rates increased significantly with age among the Turks, and education level had an inverse effect on the rates, which dropped from 65 per cent for respondents with less than high school education to only 28 per cent for those with university education. These patterns approximate those exhibited with respect to the intensity of salafabist religious consciousness in these countries as examined in chapter 1. These findings again show the effect of political and religious trends in these three societies. In Malaysia, there is intense competition between the two Malay political parties, UMNO and PAS, to win the hearts and minds of Malay Muslim voters, and the ruling party UMNO

has gradually placed greater emphasis on its Islamic credentials. This is obviously one of the factors behind the near-total agreement among Malaysian respondents that hijab is an Islamic duty. The Iranian attitude probably has been reinforced under the ruling Islamic government but, even before the Islamic Revolution of 1979, there was widespread observance of hijab by Iranian women. Turkish attitudes clearly have been influenced by the strict secularist political culture of the Turkish republic. There are strict restrictions in Turkey on the observance of hijab. Public servants and students are prohibited from wearing hijab under Turkish law, although new developments—including the electoral victory by the Justice and Development Party and Turkey’s application for membership of the European Union—have placed these laws under closer scrutiny as possible infringements of citizens’ democratic rights. Nevertheless, for now at least, past and present policies are the most plausible reason for Turkish attitudes towards hijab.

HIJAB AND FEMININITY The Malaysian attitude that hijab enhances femininity closely follows the pattern described above, although the agreement rate was slightly lower. Still, more than 90 per cent of the respondents agreed with the statement. A majority of Iranians also agreed that hijab contributes to greater femininity. Iranian men showed a slightly higher agreement rate than Iranian women, but age and education appeared to have a much greater impact on their attitudes. The agreement rate was positively correlated with age: younger respondents showed significantly lower rates than older ones. In Turkey, only one in four respondents agreed with the statement, and the rate was significantly higher among Turkish men than women. Only 20 per cent of Turkish women agreed that hijab made them more feminine. Age once again was positively correlated with these attitudes, and education was inversely correlated, with only 19 per cent of university graduates agreeing with the statement, compared with 32 per cent for those with less than high school education. The reason for these differences between the three countries can most likely be traced to the same factors mentioned above.

HIJAB AND SEXUAL MODESTY Attitudes towards hijab as contributing to sexual modesty displayed patterns similar to those observed for responses to the question about hijab being an Islamic duty. Among Malaysian Muslims, there was almost universal agreement with the statement, and gender, education and age had no significant effect on this attitude. Among the Iranians, their attitudes towards hijab as an Islamic duty were repeated. The same applied to the Turkish respondents. In short, the findings show that almost all Malaysian Muslims perceived various meanings of hijab in very positive terms. Among the Iranians, pro-hijab attitudes became more pronounced when the respondents were considering female modesty and Islamic duty, but not when they were asked whether hijab enhanced femininity, although the majority agreed that

it did. About half of the Turks accepted hijab as an Islamic duty and as a symbol of sexual modesty, but only a minority subscribed to the view that it enhanced femininity.

Patriarchy Patriarchy can be conceptualized as gender and generation domination. The emphasis here will be on gender (i.e. male domination), primarily as determined by the available survey data. As stated earlier, attitudes towards patriarchy were ascertained by the responses to the statement, ‘If men are not in charge of women, women will lose sight of all human values and the family will disintegrate’. The findings reported in table 6.6 show that patriarchal attitudes varied significantly between the seven countries. TABLE 6.6: ‘If men are not in charge of women, women will lose sight of all human values and the family will disintegrate’ (percentage)

‘No answer’ was treated as missing data and thus not included in this analysis.

Globally, 62 per cent of all respondents agreed with the statement and, as one would expect, there were significant differences between countries. The agreement rates for women

were significantly lower than for men, and they increased with age and declined with education level, with the more educated displaying significantly lower rates. Egypt, with 86 per cent, had the highest agreement rate, followed closely by Indonesia, Malaysia and Pakistan. About half of the Iranian respondents and a third of the Kazak respondents agreed with the statement. Turkey had the lowest agreement rate. In all countries, female respondents posted significantly lower rates than their male counterparts. One would have predicted that patriarchal attitudes would be more pronounced among men, and that is what the data shows. Age had a mixed effect on patriarchal attitudes. The most pronounced effect was in Turkey, where patriarchal attitudes increased significantly with age. Somewhat weaker relationships between age and patriarchal attitudes prevailed in Indonesia, Malaysia, Iran and Egypt. In several countries, education had a depressing effect on patriarchal attitudes. In general, the evidence shows that the older, less educated men were more patriarchal in their outlook. Why were the prevailing attitudes in Egypt, Indonesia, Malaysia and Pakistan more patriarchal than those in Turkey and Kazakhstan? The answer once again is to be found in the institutional configurations that mediate strict separation of religion and politics. The Iranian situation fell somewhere in between but was somewhat surprising because, given the theocratic nature of the Iranian state, one would have expected a higher prevalence of pro-patriarchal attitudes. The evidence shows that, while about half of the Iranian men displayed such attitudes, the Iranian women were much less inclined to do so. This trend helps explain why there is considerable opposition in Iran among women to public policies that enforce dress codes for women. The nature and prevalence of patriarchal attitudes were further explored in Malaysia, Iran and Turkey. The respondents in these countries were asked: ‘In order to keep the family unit strong and cohesive, whose role is more important in managing the family?’ The respondents were asked to choose one of three response categories: ‘wife’, ‘husband’ or ‘not sure’. The findings are reported in table 6.7. TABLE 6.7: ‘Whose role is more important in managing the family?’ (percentage)

The evidence confirms the findings reported above: that Malaysian Muslims were significantly more patriarchal, in terms of assigning greater importance to the husband’s role in the family, than the Iranians and Turks. What was really significant was that, in Malaysia, these views were so pronounced and closely matched, regardless of the sex of the respondents. Among both the male and female respondents, 80 per cent chose the husband as being more important in the family; only 10 per cent chose the wife. Age and educational attainment had only a marginal influence on these attitudes. In Turkey, on the other hand, while 70 per cent of men chose the husband, women were divided almost equally, which suggests significant disagreement between Turkish men and women as to who is more important in the family. In Iran, male attitudes were similar to those exhibited among the Turks, but Iranian women were more inclined than Turkish women to choose the husband as being more important. Interestingly, although the husband was still considered more important by 60 per cent of those aged fifty-six years or older, the proportion of those who felt the wife was more important increased significantly with age, rising from 21 per cent among those aged twenty-five years or younger to 36 per cent among those aged fifty-six years or older. Among the older Turkish respondents, the significance of the husband’s role increased with age while that of the wife’s declined. In all three countries, the less educated the respondents were, the more likely they were to say that the husband was more important

in the family.

Honour killing Honour killing is another ugly label that has come to be associated with Muslim countries. In Pakistan and other Muslim countries, prominent feminist organizations have taken up the cause to stop its occurrence. In Pakistan, the feminist organizations Shirkat Gah and Women Living Under Muslim Law have been most vocal and active in campaigning against this practice and have published well-researched reports.38 The prevailing misogynist and patriarchal practices in Muslim countries have created an association between Muslim countries and honour killing in the public mind. However, according to UNICEF, the practice of honour killing is an ancient one and involves men killing female relatives in the name of family honour for forced or suspected sexual activity outside marriage, even when the women have been victims of rape. In many historical as well as contemporary societies, the concept of honour is also closely intertwined with social status, the sexual chastity of female relatives, moral behaviour and men’s honour.39 History tells us that violence against women is not confined to Muslim society. Many civilizations and religions have had controlling and patriarchal attitudes towards women. These attitudes date back to agrarian and tribal societies for which control of land, livestock and women were key to the survival of the community, and any loss produced shame and dishonour. Before the rise of Islam in Arabia, husbands had the right of life and death over their wives, and female infanticide was a common practice.40 In a study of violence against women in South Asian countries, Pakistani psychiatrist Unaizi Niaz argues that it is the common culture or tradition of a country that is responsible for discriminatory attitudes towards women.41 These cultural traditions pre-date Islam. Niaz suggests that, after Islam spread through what were predominantly Hindu or Buddhist territories, it absorbed their patriarchal attitudes and gradually changed its view of women’s status, until women began to be regarded as chattels in most of these lands. Pakistani society exemplifies these attitudes. How Islamic is honour killing? In a review of violence against women around the world, Canadian psychiatrist Gail Erlick Robinson shows that—despite differences in religion, ethnicity, culture and income—gender-based violence is learnt behaviour that is linked to male power, privilege and dominance in the family and in society.42 It is born of gender inequalities, which lead to the acceptance by a society of fixed social roles and the subordination of women to men. Studies of violence against women in Arab and Islamic countries report that incidents of intra-familial violence have been attributed to family privacy, reputation and solidarity. Wife-battering, for example, is widely regarded as justifiable and not to be reported because it threatens the privacy of the family. The sociocultural context of Arab society is patriarchal and advocates male dominance and the subordination of women in public, in accordance with religious strictures. According to Islamic law, a refractory or disobedient wife has no legal right to object to her husband’s right to exercise his disciplinary authority. This is based on the Qur’anic injunction that permits a

husband to beat a wife under some circumstances. (The verse referred to is ‘you may beat them as a last resort’; see Qur’an 4:34.) However, scholars have also pointed out that, even when texts have implied that violence is permissible, they do not state that it is desirable. After examining the Qur’anic injunctions, the Hadith and the Sunnah, Tunisian psychiatrist Saida Douki et al. conclude that violence and abuse of women cannot be traced to any revelatory text.43 In Pakistan, the laws defining the strictures that adversely affect women’s lives are described as the ‘operative Islamic law’, as opposed to any law derived from the sacred texts.44 To further examine the issue, the following section considers two case studies, one from Pakistan and the other from the Middle East.

HONOUR KILLING IN PAKISTAN In all societies, religion begins to permeate social and cultural patterns eventually. Herein lies the power of religion over social and cultural life, as well as the paradox that the very practices prohibited by religion sometimes come to symbolize it. As mentioned above, there is no theological rationale in Islam that sanctions honour killing; nevertheless, in Pakistani society, the practice of honour killing has come to be associated with religion. According to historical sources, the tradition of honour killing can be traced back to pre-Islamic cultural practices in the tribal areas of north-western Pakistan. From there, it spread to the region of Sind, where it is known as karo kari (karo being man and kari being woman; the term refers to honour killings where the victims are accused of having an illicit relationship). In such acts, murderous violence is carried out against a woman in response to any behaviour by her that her male relatives regard as having ‘dishonoured’ the family or the community. Over time, the boundaries that a woman must not cross have been extended beyond adultery or premarital sex. She can also put her life at risk if she asserts her autonomy in the areas of marriage or divorce. In the cultural logic of Pakistani society, especially in tribal and rural areas, women are included among the three most coveted possessions of men: zan (woman), zar (gold) and zamin (land). According to one study, about half of the honour killings in Sind were motivated by land disputes or by previous disputes.45 Declaring an act to be karo kari allows other retributive acts to be transformed into ‘acceptable’ killing. The killer becomes entitled to compensation for his dishonour and thus murder becomes a profitable transaction. The police might charge a fee not to register an honour killing and often work in collusion with local leaders. Incidences of honour killing are now being reported from Pakistan’s urban areas as well, not just the tribal and rural areas. According to one estimate, in 2000, almost a thousand or 25 per cent of the world’s honour killings occurred in Pakistan.46 As mentioned in chapter 1, the introduction of the hudood laws in Pakistan in 1979 exacerbated the situation and appeared to provide official sanction for the oppression of women. The case of Samia Sarwar provides some insights into the practice of honour killing in Pakistan. The judicial system treats honour killing with leniency and offers to reduce the sentence or

impose a lesser sentence for those charged with honour killing if they are prepared to negotiate a settlement with the victims. Samia Sarwar Samia Sarwar’s case is in many ways emblematic of the situation in Pakistan. On 6 April 1999, Samia was shot dead in her lawyer’s office in Lahore for seeking a divorce. A 29-yearold mother of two, she came from a prominent upper-class family in Peshawar in the NorthWest Frontier Province. Her mother was a medical doctor and her father a prominent businessman. She was studying law when she was killed. Her crime was seeking a divorce from her husband, who was also her maternal cousin. A wife who initiates divorce proceedings on her own brings shame to the extended family. Samia had suffered years of abuse by her husband and had returned to her parents’ home to live with them, which they accepted. What they would not accept was a divorce, even after several years of separation from her husband. While her parents were performing the hajj (pilgrimage), Samia sought aid from a prominent feminist lawyer who arranged for her to live in a women’s refuge. Upon hearing the news, her parents returned and sought a meeting with her, but she refused to meet them. After a prominent politician intervened, Samia’s lawyer agreed that she could meet her parents at the lawyer’s office. The meeting lasted ten minutes. At a second meeting, Samia agreed to meet only her mother and no one else. The mother arrived with Samia’s paternal uncle, who was asked to wait in the lobby, and an unidentified man whom the mother said was her ‘helper’ because she needed assistance with walking. Upon entering the lawyer’s office, the ‘helper’ pulled out a gun and shot Samia in the head; he also tried to kill the lawyer but fortunately she escaped. The assassin was then shot dead by a security guard at the law office, but the mother and uncle escaped by taking the firm’s paralegal coordinator as a hostage. The paralegal was released after the mother and uncle reached their hotel, where they joined Samia’s father, who asked whether ‘the job was done’. There have been no arrests and no prosecution. This was no crime of passion but a meticulously planned murder. Samia’s influential parents knew they could kill their daughter with impunity. The killing precipitated a storm of protest among women and human rights organizations in Pakistan. The state was resolutely silent while, in the Pakistan Senate, the country’s lawmakers argued in defence of honour killing, saying it was part of the country’s cultural tradition, and refused to pass a resolution condemning the murder of Samia Sarwar.47

HONOUR KILLING IN THE MIDDLE EAST Honour killings are also occurring in Arab countries. There have been reports of such killings in several countries including Jordan, the Palestinian Territories, Egypt, Syria and Lebanon. As in the case of Pakistan, the pre-Islamic origin of the practice and its evolution through the centuries as a cultural practice have become intertwined with religion.48 Honour killings are not committed by Arab Muslims alone; they also occur among Arab Christian minorities in Egypt, Jordan and the Palestinian Territories.

Basma (Palestinian Territories) It took six years for the al-Goul family to find their daughter Basma and kill her. She had run away with a man, afraid for her life once her husband suspected her of infidelity. Her husband divorced her, after which she married the other man while in hiding. In her village, where a woman’s chastity is everyone’s business, contempt for her family kept spreading. Basma belonged to a prominent village family. According to her mother, ‘We were disgraced. Even my brother and his family stopped talking to us. No one would even visit us. They would say only, you have to kill her’.49 The mother went looking for her carrying a gun. In the end, it was Basma’s 16-year-old brother, just ten when she ran away, who pulled the trigger. ‘Now we can walk with our head held high’, said Anal, her 18-year-old brother. In the cultural logic of Palestinian society, the act of Basma’s killing had restored the honour of the al-Goul family. What is honour? Abeer Allam, a young Egyptian journalist, remembered how a high school biology teacher explained it as he sketched the female reproductive system and pointed out the entrance to the vagina. ‘This is where the family honour lies’, the teacher declared. More than pride, more than honesty, more than anything a man might do, female chastity is seen in the Arab world as an indelible line, the boundary between respect and shame. An unchaste woman, it is sometimes said, is worse than a murderer, affecting not just one victim but also her family and her tribe.50 It is an unforgiving logic, and the product, for centuries now, has been murder: the killing of girls and women by their relatives, to cleanse honour that has been soiled. Across the Arab world, in Jordan, Egypt, Syria, Lebanon and the Palestinian Territories and among Israeli Arabs, a new generation of activists has begun to battle these killings. These activists are often accused of assault on Arab ways and culture. In Jordan, the government under King Abdullah II has promised to join the fight, following the example set by the late King Hussein and Queen Noor, who helped to bring honour killings into the public domain. At a conference in Jordan in early June 1999, delegates from the region were asked to develop ways to respond sensitively to the situation. However, those engaged in the battle say it is hard to exaggerate the magnitude of the opposition they face.51 As mentioned earlier, honour killings have been reported across the world, including in Jordan, Yemen, Lebanon, the Palestinian Territories, Syria, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Morocco, Kosovo, Uganda, India, Pakistan and Bangladesh, as well as in Muslim communities in Germany, Norway, Italy, the USA and the UK (see table 6.8). This practice has also occurred in countries surrounding the Mediterranean, such as Greece, Italy and Spain.52 Until very recently, Brazil, Peru, Venezuela and Haiti extended leniency to those who claimed they had acted in legitimate defence of their family’s honour. These legal provisions can be traced back to the French and Portuguese colonial legal system.53 In most Muslim countries, there are provisions within the judicial systems to grant leniency or a lesser sentence to those charged with such crimes or to allow them to negotiate a settlement with the victims. Attempts to repeal these special provisions have not been very successful.

TABLE 6.8: Estimates of honour killings in different countries

Campaigns condemning the practice of honour killing have been led by international and national organizations including Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, Women Living under Muslim Laws, World Women Lawyers, Shirkat Gah, the Aurat Foundation, UNICEF and the UN. Resolutions condemning the practice have been drafted in the US House of Representatives and in the UN. A UN draft resolution seeking to eliminate extrajudicial, summary or arbitrary killing was discussed in 2002. In response, the Organization of the Islamic Conference tabled amendments to the resolution, including one to remove from it a list of investigative priorities for governments, including ‘all cases of killings in the name of passion or in the name of honour’. This amendment was rejected. The operative Paragraph 6 of the resolution—which asserted the rights of people and which dealt with the killings that governments should investigate thoroughly—was passed with ninetytwo votes in favour, thirty-four in opposition and twenty-eight in abstention. Egypt, Pakistan, Syria, Malaysia, Iran, Libya and Lebanon spoke against the paragraph and stated they would vote against it. In stating their grounds, they argued that the terms ‘execution’ and ‘killing’ had become exchangeable and that ‘sexual orientation’ had been included in the list of reasons why people might be subject to discrimination leading to violence and killing.54 The cruel reality is that the practice of ‘honour killing’ as an ugly expression of violence against women is embedded in the cultural practices of many Muslim countries, including Pakistan; the governments of Muslim countries are reluctant to bring the full rigour of the law to bear on this practice in order to eliminate it.

Discussion All human societies are confronted with three challenges that they must meet to ensure their survival: the death of their members, the replacement of these members with new ones, and proper socialization of new members to acquaint them with the society’s mores and cultural practices. An elaborate institutional structure operates in all human societies to meet these universal problems. Religion plays an important role in meeting these challenges. It provides explanations of death and dying to the living and, through its moral and ethical codes, it also provides mechanisms to regulate human sexuality, which is vital for reproduction and human socialization. The Abrahamic religions—Judaism, Christianity and Islam—have been very successful in enabling their believers to reach an acceptance of the reality and mystery of death and to manage human sexuality. I would like to focus on one key aspect, namely the management of human sexuality. My argument is that the social control of women in Islam— as expressed or symbolically represented by veiling, female segregation, patriarchy and honour killing—is intimately related to the management of sexuality in Islam. Among the Abrahamic religions, Islam was the first to lay the theological and social grounds for improving the status of women and, most importantly, giving them a full-fledged personality. Muhammad’s attempts to improve the status of women and children were thwarted by a majority of Muslim scholars and rulers through selective, literal, non-

contextual and ahistorical interpretations of the sacred texts. These men, who interpreted the sacred texts in ways that affected women adversely, hijacked the religion and redirected it. In an important and well-researched book on the position of women in Islam, Khaled Abou El Fadl has shown that misogynist attitudes in Islam are related primarily to the doctrine of fitnah.55 In numerous determinations about veiling, dress codes and patriarchy that have institutionalized misogyny over the centuries, Muslim scholars have been concerned mainly with the avoidance of fitnah. However, as we have seen, most determinations of fitnah are based on the dubious logic that women must pay for the impious failures of men. By artificially constructing womanhood as the embodiment of seduction, the Islamic scholars do not promote modesty but a norm of immodesty. Instead of turning the gaze away from the physical attributes of women, they turn it to a view of women as a mere physicality. In doing so, they objectify women into items of male consumption, and that is the height of immodesty. The fitnah tradition does not describe an empirical reality but a normative principle that must be accepted as the revealed truth. Fitnah determinations are based on an abusive treatment of evidence and an unwillingness to apply critical insight to that evidence. As a result, intolerable injustice is inflicted upon half of the Muslim population. The historical and contemporary interpretative communities have profoundly affected the Muslim consciousness in terms of the status, role and position of women in Muslim societies, as reflected by the data presented in this chapter. In general, hijab as an Islamic duty and as an expression of female modesty is viewed significantly more positively than it is as an enhancer of femininity. The evidence concerning veiling, meanings of hijab, female segregation, patriarchy and honour killing indicates that attitudes towards these issues are an outcome of complex processes, including the prevalent social, economic and political conditions in each country, which mediate between traditional Islamic norms and their actual practice in the local milieu. The political and material conditions in individual countries more strongly influence the shaping of attitudes towards these issues than does traditional Islamic ideology. The question on veiling specifically investigated whether women are perceived as sexually provocative and capable of casting lures over men and whether the veiling and seclusion of women is seen as necessary and desirable in order to avoid the possibility of sexual misconduct by men. The statement was deliberately phrased so as not to raise questions concerning men’s role in arousing sexual desire. It implied that only women bear the responsibility for maintaining appropriate sexual conduct. The question about women observing Islamic dress codes was essentially an extension of the question about veiling and secluding women as a means of ensuring appropriate social and sexual conduct between men and women. The results reveal strong support among the respondents. The support was overwhelming in Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan and Egypt and more pronounced among men than women. The Iranian pattern was similar, but the support was more moderate. The surprisingly strong support for veiling and segregation among women in Indonesia, Malaysia and Pakistan and the slightly less pronounced support in Iran and Egypt signify the

power of the dominant normative structures. The lack of such a structure would explain the low level of support for veiling and segregation in Kazakhstan and Turkey. The level of education appeared to affect attitudes about veiling and segregation, but in different ways. In Egypt, Pakistan, Indonesia and Malaysia, it had no effect; in Iran and Turkey, there was an inverse correlation; and in Kazakhstan, the relationship was direct and positive. The attitudes towards dress codes for Muslim women form patterns that are slightly elevated in intensity, but otherwise are very similar to the patterns noted in relation to veiling. The question concerning patriarchy sought to explore the attitude that women need the guidance of men to conduct themselves in an appropriate manner in order to ensure the stability of the family and society. If this were so, the domination of men over women would be justifiable. Given that the underlying logic behind patriarchy is gender domination, responses to the question directly reflect the prevalence of patriarchal ideology. Support for patriarchy was strongest in Egypt, Indonesia, Malaysia and Pakistan. It was moderate in Iran and comparatively weak in Kazakhstan and Turkey. As one would expect, women’s attitudes towards patriarchy were significantly weaker than men’s. In general, patriarchal attitudes were positively correlated with age and showed a negative correlation with education; this pattern was particularly strong in Turkey and Iran. Some of the findings are counterintuitive. If we compare Egypt, Indonesia, Malaysia and Pakistan, we find that women in Indonesia, Malaysia and Egypt enjoy a higher quality of citizenship than those in Pakistan. Why is it, then, that attitudes are more conservative in those countries where women have relatively more freedom? Data from the UN’s Human Development Report56 shows that the Gender-Related Development Index (GDI)—an index constructed for the purpose of assessing whether women and men are able to actively participate in economic and political life and decision-making; it uses the same variables as the Human Development Index (HDI), disaggregated by gender—is comparatively higher for all countries except for Pakistan.57 The GDI focuses, among other things, on the relative degree of empowerment or enfranchisement of women in aspects of public life compared with their male counterparts. In short, the index can be regarded as a proxy summary measure of the quality of women’s citizenship. In advanced industrial countries, index values exceed 0.9. For Indonesia, the value is 0.685; for Egypt, 0.634; for Turkey, 0.746; for Iran, 0.713; for Kazakhstan, 0.761; and for Pakistan, only 0.471. The question raised by this comparison of countries in terms of GDI value is why support for patriarchy is comparatively weaker in Pakistan than in Egypt, Malaysia and Indonesia, which are Islamically more traditional. One possible explanation is the relationship between gender equality and the status of men. The GDI values cited above clearly indicate that the quality of female citizenship in Egypt and Indonesia is significantly superior to that in Pakistan. This means that, relative to men, women in Egypt and Indonesia have achieved greater equality. One sociological consequence of this phenomenon is that, relative to women, men have experienced a loss of status in Egypt and Indonesia. In Pakistan, the quality of women’s citizenship is relatively underdeveloped; in terms of a loss of status, Pakistani men have therefore not suffered as much as men in Egypt and Indonesia.

One plausible conclusion we can draw is that the degree of status loss experienced by men is related to attitudes towards veiling, seclusion and patriarchy. In Muslim societies where men have experienced greater status loss than women, they have compensated for that loss by developing more conservative attitudes towards women, including support for veiling, seclusion and patriarchy. This would explain the variation in attitudes exhibited by men in Malaysia, Egypt, Indonesia and Pakistan. One implication is that, as the status and position of women in Muslim countries improve further as a result of government policies, Muslim women can expect to encounter new forms of social resistance. One possibility would be the emergence of fundamentalist Islamic movements that seek to establish Islamic norms, including the regulation of gender relations along the lines prescribed by traditional norms. This model, however, does not explain the prevalence of relatively traditional views among female respondents in the four countries mentioned above. The most likely explanation is that the conditions that favour male domination and control act as powerful socializing influences on women’s world views and, therefore, women do not regard their own views on veiling and patriarchy as problematic. The data suggests another possible explanation. In general, individual loyalty to social groups tends to vary according to the perceived ability of the group to meet and satisfy the individual’s needs and aspirations. The individual’s loyalty to and identification with the group increases if the group is seen as satisfying the individual’s needs. This would suggest that societies that are more successful in promoting conditions of institutional equality for women would also generate greater identification with the society and its dominant values among women. The data from this study provides some sup port for this hypothesis when we compare women’s attitudes towards these values and the quality of female citizenship in Malaysia, Indonesia, Pakistan and Egypt. This observation, however, might not be applicable to Kazakhstan, Iran and Turkey because of the role played in these countries by the dominant state ideology, rather than by Islamic values, in shaping individual and collective identities. Finally, the overall structure of the findings pertaining to attitudes in the surveyed countries towards veiling, the seclusion of women and patriarchy also bears out the proposition presented here that socially enforced cultural practices might be an effective means of managing human sexuality. Human sexuality is one of the most culturally regulated forms of behaviour in all societies.58 No human society can survive without such regulation. Most of the norms that have evolved around this regulation are directly or indirectly related to ensuring the survival of new members of the society and conferring appropriate social identities within the prevailing kinship systems. In much of human history, there has been a strong nexus between sexuality and reproduction, so many regulatory norms have imposed greater restrictions on female sexual behaviour and, consequently, on the private and public social roles of women. However, with the severing of the nexus between sexuality and reproduction in the twentieth century, many of these norms are losing their relevance and regulatory roles. Reproduction is no longer an inevitable consequence of sexual union. In industrialized societies, this process is much more advanced than in less industrialized ones. Notwithstanding strong cultural practices in many countries, including Islamic ones, the

weakening of regulatory norms affecting sexuality will eventually become universal. As that happens, women could gain greater freedom from the antiquated, culturally embedded norms that have played an instrumental role in curtailing their social roles and status in society.

Conclusion Over the centuries, skewed interpretations of the sacred texts have developed a conceptualization of human sexuality in Muslim societies that stipulates that women are not only sexual beings but also the embodiment of sexuality. Women need to be controlled and curtailed because they are sexually provocative and capable of casting lures towards men. The veiling and seclusion of women are seen as esirable in order to avoid the possibility of sexual misdemeanour by men, as well as to ensure the stability of the family. Related to this is the dominant role ascribed to men in the private sphere of the family to ensure its proper functioning. The evidence reported and reviewed in this chapter provides very strong support for the hypothesis that attitudes towards veiling, the seclusion of women and patriarchy are related to the management of human sexuality. In Egypt, Pakistan, Malaysia, Iran and Indonesia, where there are strong sanctions against any sexual contact between men and women outside marriage and the family, attitudes towards veiling and patriarchy were the strongest and most conservative. In Turkey and Kazakhstan, where such practices might receive cultural approval but where there are fewer politically enforced restrictions on premarital sex, the attitudes towards veiling and patriarchy were the opposite of those expressed by respondents in Egypt, Pakistan, Malaysia, Iran and Indonesia. The sociological implication of the argument presented here is that, as attitudes towards human sexuality change, attitudes towards veiling, the seclusion of women, patriarchy and honour killings will also undergo transformation.

7 GLOBALIZATION AND THE ISLAMIC UMMAH

Islam is the world’s second-largest religion, having an estimated 1.3 billion followers who constitute about 20 per cent of the world’s population. Of these, about a billion live in fortyfive Muslim-majority countries; the remaining 300 million live as minorities in 149 countries. For Islamic scholars, the Muslim world constitutes an ummah: a universal community based on shared faith and implementation of its law.1 This chapter will examine the concept of ummah before exploring the influence of globalization on this universal community of believers.

History The concept of ummah has inspired the imagination of Muslims, especially intellectuals, since the earliest days of Islam. The term ummah appears more than sixty times in the Qur’an, where it takes on multiple and diverse meanings ranging from followers of a prophet or followers of a divine plan of salvation to a religious group, a small group within a larger community of believers, misguided people and an order of being.2 According to Scottish historian and Islamic scholar William Montgomery Watt, ummah was a malleable concept that could be given a new shade of meaning, and it was capable of further development. 3 Indeed, the vague nature of the term allows Muslim leaders and ideologues to manipulate its meaning and usage in order to conduct their affairs and those of society in accordance with contemporary political and social circumstances. From its numerous and sometimes vague meanings in the early days of Islam, it came to symbolize and embody the very notion of an Islamic community, gradually acquiring socio-legal and religious connotations. Sociologically, ummah became a transformative concept in the sense that it played a significant role in changing, first, the Arab tribes into an Arab community and, later, as Islam began to expand to non-Arab lands, different groups of Muslims into a community of believers.4 Ummah as a community of believers entailed a consciousness of belonging to a community whose membership was open equally and without any qualification or restriction, except those required by the faith, to all believers. In this sense, it embodied the universalism

of Islam. It became a means of establishing a religious and cultural identity that was independent of the Muslim state. This means of constructing a religious and cultural identity made the spiritual development and sense of cohesion borne of being part of the ummah independent of the transitory territorial states. The life of the new ummah was marked by a pervasive new moral tone, derived from the individual relationship to God and not by old primordial loyalties and maintained by the expectations prevalent in the group as a whole and given form in the corporate life of its members. 5 Over time, ummah became a state of mind, a form of social consciousness or an imagined community uniting the faithful so that they could lead a virtuous life and safeguard and even expand the boundaries of the autonomous ummah. Ummah became a framework for maintaining religious unity and accommodating the cultural diversity of the believers. This generated a strong sense of unity, which permeated the Muslim world and was instrumental in submerging or overriding the significant ethnic and cultural differences on the level of the ideal. It thus became a critical basis for expansion that allowed for a certain disregard of the realities of life. Psychologically speaking, the term ummah provided for an existence on two levels—an existence caught in a tension that, never to be completely relieved, is still an important element in the inner unrest besetting significant parts of the Muslim world. In the modern Muslim world, the notion of ummah is an integral part of religious, political and ideological discourses on Islam. Its foundation is constructed on the bases of the Qur’anic revelations and on the collective memories of the political grandeur of Islamic history. In the Muslim imagination, the ummah lives under a divine law whose protector is the ummah itself. The temporal political authority is neither a source nor a guarantee of the law. The legitimacy of the ummah is recognized as long as it guarantees the preservation and expansion of religion.6 While this type of volitional orientation is very much in tune with contemporary globalization trends, it is also an inherent source of political instability and unrest in the modern Muslim world. This is reflected in the ideologies of several major modern Muslim social and political movements, such as Jamaat-e-Islami and the Muslim Brotherhood. For these organizations, the Muslim ummah is a transnational geographical entity whose heart lies in the modern Arabic Middle East. According to their ideologues, the dignity and political authority of the ummah have been severely undermined by the past five centuries of Western political and military domination. Western attempts at keeping the ummah forever ineffective are now being resisted by a newly emerging Islamic revival. Jamaat-e-Islami attributes this Islamic resurgence to the divine plan by invoking the Qur’anic verse, ‘and the unbelievers plotted and planned and God too planned and the best of planners is God’ (Qur’an 111:54). This view illustrates the fact that, for many Islamic activists, the notion of ummah is an important and integral part of the contemporary Muslim consciousness that originated in Qur’anic revelations, but has evolved in meaning and usage in conjunction with developments in the Islamic world. Ummah manifests itself at the ideological, cognitive,

behavioural and ethical levels. For Muslims and especially Muslim activists and intellectuals, it is a sociological reality. It is a unique principle of social identity in Islam that acts as a basis of collective consciousness and community organization. There is a consensus among Muslim scholars that the ummah refers to a spiritual, non-territorial community distinguished by the shared beliefs of its members. A key architect of the ideology of Muslim nationalism in British India, which eventuated in the establishment of Pakistan in 1947, was Sir Muhammad Iqbal. Also one of the most eminent poets in the Urdu and Persian languages, he declared in a 1918 poem, Secrets of Selfishness: Our essence is not bound to any place; The vigour of our wine is not contained In any bowl; Chinese and Indians Alike the shard that constitutes our jar, Turkish and Syrian alike the clay Forming our body; neither is our heart Of India, Syria, or Rum, Nor any fatherland do we profess Except Islam.7 However, the Islamic world is not immune from the ideology of nationalism. In Muslim countries, nationalism has often incorporated the concept of ummah. While most Muslim countries, like their Western counterparts, have been strongly influenced by nationalism, Islamic revivalist movements invariably make the existence of a Muslim ummah an important part of their political platforms. These movements argue that loyalty to the ummah overrides any other ethnic, linguistic and geographical loyalties. The political reality, however, is that while most Muslims regard the idea of ummah as an important source of their collective identity, nationalism and nationalist movements are also part and parcel of life in most Muslim countries. Hence, Muslims tend to have dual or multiple social identities made up of national or ethnic and Islamic identities. In a sociological sense, the concept of ummah refers to an ideal state—an all-encompassing unity of Muslims that is often invoked but never completely realized.

Sociology of the ummah As a sociological phenomenon, ummah can be viewed from at least two analytical perspectives: as a ‘community’ and as a ‘collective identity’. The two are related, of course, but it might be useful to examine the phenomenon from the two perspectives separately because both can contribute to the analysis of its future development and evolution. In sociology, community types of social organization are characterized by social homogeneity, and they are based largely on primordial and organic ties and have a moral

cohesion, often founded on common religious sentiments. Social organizations of this type are transformed and dissolved by growing social differentiation that results from the increasingly complex division of labour, individualism and modern capitalistic competitiveness; this differentiation gives rise to a society based on associational types of relationship. The significance of the transformation is that the new and emerging associational society relies on individualism, individual autonomy, institutional differentiation and contractual relationships as the bases of its social integration and social cohesion.8 From the second perspective, the ummah can be viewed as a collective identity. Collective identity is grounded in the socialization process in human societies. Individuals develop it by first identifying and then internalizing the values, goals and purposes of their society. This process, besides constructing the individual identity, also constructs the collective identity. Rituals and ritualized behaviour of the society further reinforce it and give the members a sense of similarity, especially against the ‘others’ whose collective identities are different. The key role in the construction of a collective identity is played by symbolic systems of shared religion, language and culture, which also act as boundary-defining mechanisms of the collective identity. The boundaries can be crossed or changed through incorporation or shedding of symbolic domains such as those entailed in religious conversion or excommunication. Some sociologists have suggested that collective identity is constructed through major ‘codes’ of primordiality, civility and transcendence or sacredness. These codes are ideal types as real coding invariably combines different elements of these ideal types.9 The construction of a collective identity is not purely a symbolic affair unrelated to the division of labour, to the control of resources and to social differentiation. Collective identity and social solidarity entail consequences for the allocation of resources and for the structuring of entitlements to members of the collectivity as against the outsider. From this perspective, ummah would constitute a collective identity of Muslims in the sense that it refers to their identification with the sacred domain of Islam and the incorporation of that domain into their individual consciousness. Ummah is a result of social construction in which social structure and social processes play critical roles, so one implication of viewing it as a frame for a Muslim collective identity is that, as these framing devices change, they also produce changes in the nature of the collective identity. In other words, Muslims, besides partaking in a common faith, also live their lives in the contexts of their respective societies and, as these societies change under the impact of modernization, industrialization, political development and globalization, that transformation will also influence the Muslim collective identity. For example, for Muslims of the Indian subcontinent, the social structural and political contexts of their societies have undergone vast changes since the partition of the subcontinent in 1947, then again following the breakup of Pakistan in 1971. These changes have in turn affected the collective identities of the subcontinent’s Muslims.

Ummah consciousness and modernity If ummah is a kind of collective identity or an imagined community, can we detect its presence in contemporary Muslim consciousness? One approach to answering this question involves measuring ‘ummah consciousness’ in terms of religious consciousness or piety. Through analysis of the empirical evidence gathered here, it is possible to ascertain the degree of ‘ummah consciousness’ among Muslims in the seven Muslim countries studied: Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan, Egypt, Kazakhstan, Iran and Turkey. An ummah consciousness index was constructed by averaging the agreement rates for respondents when they were asked about selected Muslim beliefs and practices: (1) whether they believed without any doubt in the existence of Allah, (2) whether they believed firmly in the Qur’anic miracles, (3) whether they had fasted during the month of Ramadan, (4) whether they believed in life after death and (5) whether they believed that persons who deny the existence of Allah are dangerous. The values of the ummah consciousness index thus derived for each country, together with the corresponding values for ‘modernity’ as indicated by the Human Development Index (HDI) in the UNDP’s Human Development Report for 2002, are reported in table 7.1. TABLE 7.1: Ummah consciousness and modernity in Muslim countries

The evidence confirms that religiosity—the surrogate measure used here to ascertain ummah consciousness—is an integral part of Muslim identity in all countries except Kazakhstan, which is unique among the countries included in the study. Because Kazakhstan was part of the Soviet Union until its disintegration in 1991, the Kazak Muslim identity became grounded in ethnicity and history rather than religiosity, and this appears to be confirmed by the evidence in table 7.1. In all other countries included in the study, Islam is a powerful and ubiquitous part of public and private life, and it plays a pivotal role in religious identity and ummah consciousness, as reflected in the data. This consciousness shaped the image of the ‘self ’ as well as that of the ‘other’. It allows Muslims to identify with other Muslims who are subjected to oppression, violence and

injustices by the ‘other’. This is why the conflict in the Palestinian Territories and the proIsraeli policies of the West, especially those of the USA, have created a feeling of intense anti-Americanism in Muslim countries. For the same reasons, conflicts in Bosnia, Chechnya, Iraq and Afghanistan have provoked anti-Western feelings and attitudes. One could argue that ummah consciousness also underpins the so-called jihadi Islamic movements that are actively involved in violent resistance movements in a number of Muslim countries in SouthEast, South and Central Asia and the Middle East. Their activities in Iraq, the Palestinian Territories, Chechnya, Kashmir, Afghanistan, Pakistan and elsewhere provide the most commonly reported stories. In short, one could argue that ummah consciousness is an important factor in forging Muslim resentment of and hostility to the West. Does this mean that ummah consciousness also acts as a catalyst for Islamic unity? The most likely answer is no. The clearest evidence would be the fragmentation of the Islamic world into forty-five Muslim-majority countries, many of which are hostile to each other, as well as endemic ethnic and sectarian violence in many Muslim countries. Other indicators are the lack of, or poor, mass support for Islamic political parties in almost all Muslim countries, the conflict between radical Islamist movements such as al-Qaeda and Jemaah Islamiah, and existing political structures. For the seven countries included in the study, table 7.1 also reports values of an indicator of modernity, the HDI, which captures the consequences of literacy, urbanization, industrialization and technological progress on the effectiveness of public services, health, well-being, per capita income and so on. It is now widely regarded as a useful summary measure of the prevailing material and social health of a country. Because material conditions play a pivotal role in shaping social consciousness, this index could be used to speculate about and possibly predict the social, economic and political trajectories of a country. The data in table 7.1 shows an interesting pattern of association between ummah consciousness and modernity. Kazakhstan, Iran and Turkey displayed relatively low levels of ummah consciousness and high levels of modernity. Malaysia showed a high level of modernity and a high level of ummah consciousness. Egypt and Indonesia displayed high levels of ummah consciousness and moderate levels of modernity. For Pakistan, the level of ummah consciousness was similar to the levels for Egypt and Indonesia, but the level of modernity was relatively low. The level of modernity could have a significant influence on institutional development, differentiation and specialization, which might lead to a decline in the public influence of religious institutions in society while at the same time leading to a greater emphasis on personal religiosity. Such developments would obviously have consequences for the development of religious and political pluralism or at least their greater acceptance as social and political norms. My argument is that political culture in Muslim countries will evolve in response to national aspirations and not to the ummah’s aspirations. If this argument has any validity, the future of the Islamic ummah would not be a unitary social reality but a differentiated one, and one consequence of this differentiation would be the ‘decentring’ of the Islamic ummah. This topic will be discussed in more detail below.

Globalization’s impact on the ummah Modern technology has resulted in rapid communication over unlimited space. This technology is now in existence nearly all over the world. The potential for worldwide rapid communication has been translated into practice. We now live in a globalizing social reality in which previous effective barriers to communication no longer exist. The world is fast becoming a global village and ‘a single place’. Therefore, in order to understand the major features of social life and emerging religious and political trends in contemporary Muslim societies, we need to go beyond local and national factors and situate the analysis in the global context. In the pre-globalized world, the ‘knowing’ of all Islamized people was seriously constrained or even rendered impossible by the limitations of technology. At best, only a small number of people were able to travel to other cultures and societies. Now, the wonders encountered by explorers Ibn Battuta and Vasco da Gama during their legendary travels have become a commonplace reality experienced by thousands of business and recreational travellers every year. In the pre-globalized world, ummah consciousness was determined largely by the observance of the practice of the ‘five pillars’ of Islam (oath of belief, payment of zakat or alms, performance of hajj or pilgrimage, daily prayers and fasting) and certain other key beliefs. The existence of these beliefs and practices was seen by many believers everywhere as evidence that the entire culture of the Muslim societies was Islamized; that is, it had come to resemble the Arabian culture from which Islam had originated. This transformation of all Islamized people was considered to be an integral part of Prophet Muhammad’s social and religious mission. It was naively assumed by many Islamic intellectuals in the Middle East that such a cultural trajectory was the common destiny of all Islamized people. The difficulties of communication and contact with people in far-off regions fed this belief. However, the reality was that Islamized cultures invariably added Islamic layers on top of the various other cultural layers. The work of American anthropologist Clifford Geertz in Java provides an excellent illustration of this phenomenon.10 Similar conclusions can be drawn from the study of the customary laws of Muslim countries, which continue to play a significant role in the social and cultural affairs of Muslim communities.11 Globalization is prompting a reformulation of the common Muslim belief that Islam is not only a religion but also a complete way of life, which in Islamic discourse is known as the ‘one religion, one culture’ paradigm. Instantaneous and worldwide communication links are now allowing Muslims and non-Muslims to experience different Islamic cultures. Such experiences reveal not only what is common among Muslims but also what is different. For example, gender relations and dress codes for Muslim women are structured in different ways in such countries as Indonesia, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Turkey and Uzbekistan. While the first consequence makes us conscious of the social and cultural diversity of the Muslim ummah, the second produces a reaction of rejection of this cultural and social hybridity and a desire to replace it with the authentic ‘Islamic way’. The struggle between ‘hybridity’ and ‘authenticity’ perhaps constitutes the most important challenge of

globalization for the Muslim ummah and is one of the underlying factors behind the emergence of Islamic fundamentalist movements. Islamic fundamentalism refers to a strategy by which Islamic ‘purists’ attempt to reassert their construction of religious identity and social order as the exclusive basis for a re-created political and social order. They feel this identity is at risk and is being eroded by cultural and religious hybridity. They try to fortify their interpretation of religious ways of being through selective retrieval of doctrines, beliefs and practices from a ‘sacred’ past. Islamic fundamentalists are drawn largely from members of the wahhabi and salafi movements. In the face of the increasingly visible hybridity of the Islamic ummah, they insist on returning to the original sources of the Qur’an and Sunnah (the deeds and sayings of the Prophet Muhammad) to establish pure and pristine Islam by eradicating all deviations from these sources. They defend this position by claiming that any deviations from their interpretation of the true Islam is a failure of the past in fulfilling God’s will, which can be rectified only by returning to the true and authentic Islam. As a slogan, this statement displays an apparent sagacity that is difficult to dispute, but a closer scrutiny of the argument will reveal how incoherent it is. It denies the history of Islam and Islamic communities and is hopelessly simplistic and naive because a return to Islam and the Sunnah in a vacuum would be impossible. Furthermore, the insistence on returning to the pure tradition of Islam is highly selective, opportunistic and unsystematic. The fundamentalists’ claim to authenticity is largely dependent on the assertion that their opinions are representative of the true orthodoxy. This naturally invites the questions of what is authentic and how to define it. The dogmatic claim that whatever is in accord with the Qur’an and Sunnah is authentic conceals a great deal of ambiguity towards the interpretative communities of the past. It also raises the question of whether the only relevant authenticity is that which is represented by the interpretative communities of the authors. As Khaled Abou El Fadl has argued, the Qur’an and Sunnah do not interpret themselves—they require interpretative agents that invariably form interpretative communities.12 A logical extension of this position is that the only relevant, authentic and orthodox interpretive community is that which the fundamentalists regard as their own. This claim is untenably absurd and displays the inherent authoritarianism of the fundamentalists’ position and claim. Religious fundamentalism thus is a problem produced by the encounter between modernity and the Muslim ummah in all its diversity and cultural hybridity. The strength of this fundamentalism varies according to the intensity of attitudes towards diversity and cultural hybridity. For example, in the context of Indonesia, Islamic scholar Azyumardi Azra has observed that Islamic radicalism there is predicated on the perception that indigenous Indonesian Islam is syncretic and hybrid and needs to be purified and transformed into ‘authentic’ Islam by the application of the radicals’ interpretations of the sacred texts. According to Azra, this ‘literalist’ interpretation forms the root of radical Islamic fundamentalism in Indonesia.13 This observation is applicable not only in the case of Indonesia but also to other Islamic countries as well. In a globalizing world, diversity and cultural crossovers will become a matter of routine.14

Instead of eliminating hybridity, this might indeed transform different Islamic countries and regions into autonomous cultural systems, thus posing a challenge to the conventional categorical oppositions of ‘us’ and ‘them’, ‘Muslim’ and ‘other’. This type of dev elopment would have far-reaching implications for the Muslim ummah. Islamic countries in different parts of the world could be transformed into unique religious and cultural systems, each claiming acceptance and recognition as the authentic tradition of Islam. This transformation could lead to the decentralization of the Muslim world as it shifts from its supposed cultural and religious centre in the Arabic Middle East to a multicentred world. Five such ‘centres’ can be readily identified, namely Arabic Middle Eastern Islam, African Islam, Central Asian Islam, South-East Asian Islam and the Islam of the Muslim minorities in the West. Differences in demographic characteristics (e.g. the size, diversity and age structure of the population) between individual Muslim countries will further accentuate the movement towards decentralization. Over time, these traditions might find strength and consolidate with the support of their followers. The decentralization of the ummah will confer a kind of legitimacy on the regional ummah, and this might lead them to chart their development—religious, political, economic, social and cultural—along distinctive lines appropriate to the history and temperament of their people. For example, one of the most widely acknowledged characteristics of Indonesian Islam in particular and South-East Asian Islam in general is their malleable, syncretic and multivocal nature. These characteristics might be more congenial to the history, temperament and ecology of Indonesian Islam and Indonesians than Saudi Arabian Islam, which is characterized by moral severity and aggressive piety.15 Azra has suggested that Islamic radicalism and most of Indonesia’s radical Islamic organizations, such as Front Pembela Islam (FPI), Majelis Mujahidin Indonesia (MMI) and Jamaat Muslimen Indonesia (JAMI), are led by Indonesians of Arabic descent who reject the indigenous Indonesian Islam in favour of their ‘salafi’ and ‘authentic’ Islam, which is closer to Arabian Islam. He explicitly criticizes radical Indonesian Islamists and their organizations for advocating Arabian Islam and rejecting the accommodative Indonesian Islam.16 His position illustrates the defence of the ‘particular’ character of Indonesian Islam by local Muslim intellectuals—a defence that also emphasizes Indonesian Islam’s compatibility with the history and temperament of the Indonesian people. Globalization, while corroding and challenging inherited or constructed cultural identities, also encourages the creation and revitalization of particular identities as a way of competing for power and influence in the global system. This will be aided by the unique affinity of religion for particularistic identities. And because religion in a globalizing, modernizing world is marginalized, it uses new opportunities and ways to gain public influence and legitimacy. Under conditions of globalization, religion is confronted with two main routes through which to gain public influence: one from the subglobal or what we could call the regional perspective; the other from the global or universal perspective. However, even the global or universal perspective paradoxically acquires particularistic characteristics. My point here is that, far from losing public influence, religion might gain public influence under

conditions of globalization. This influence, nevertheless, will be mediated by a subglobal religious tradition that can adapt and encourage the applied role of religion with greater success than the inherited global tradition can.

Conclusion In light of the points made above, the Islamic ummah of the future will gain strength not as a unified and unitary community, but as a differentiated one consisting of separate ummah that represent different Islamic regions. Each regional ummah will embody a unique character moulded by the history and temperament of its people. It will chart its own course to gain material and ideological influence in a global system; at the same time, it will act as a supportive and effective constituent of Islamic civilization. This trend will also produce strong liberal and conservative movements, and each regional Islamic ummah will have to find unique ways to meet the challenge posed by these movements. The looming challenge for the Muslim world is not religious but intellectual. At present, the Islamic ummah is in the doldrums, not because of the weakness of commitment to the faith, but because of intellectual stagnation brought about by political, social and cultural conditions generated by colonialism, neo-colonialism and economic underdevelopment, some of which can be attributed to the increasing devotional religiosity of the masses. This stagnation is most dramatically manifested in the scientific and technological backwardness of the Muslim world. The real challenge for the differentiated Muslim ummah will be to find political, social and cultural ways to fuse a high degree of piety with a high degree of intellectual activity geared towards scientific advancement. The empirical evidence and my observations have led me to the conclusion that strong religious piety is reinforcing the traditionalistic self-image of Islam in Muslim countries. This is producing a kind of cultural conditioning that is not conducive to the pursuit of rational, objective and critical scholarship because of the ideological control imposed by the traditionalistic self-image of Islam. Let me illustrate this by referring to the three categories of thought proposed by French–Algerian anthropologist Mohammad Arkoun. He labels these categories as the ‘thinkable’, the ‘unthinkable’, and the ‘unthought’. The cultural conditioning emanating from the traditionalistic self-image appears to encourage the majority of Muslim masses and intellectuals to think only in terms of the ‘thinkable’ and the ‘unthinkable’, and to discourage cognitive processes leading to the ‘unthought’.17 The conditions that prevent the realm of the ‘unthought’ from flourishing and that now prevail in most Muslim countries constitute perhaps the most significant barriers to the development of science and technology in these countries. Muslims, like non-Muslims, will be called upon to address and solve modern problems beyond those related to the development of science and technology—problems such as equality of citizenship for women and children, the management of human sexuality, environmental degradation, the rule of law, and political and cultural freedoms. A proper understanding and resolution of these and other problems would require a common understanding based on rational scientific

knowledge. One obvious way to approach the problem of the absence of the ‘unthought’ would be to provide relative autonomy for various institutions from all stifling hegemonic political, cultural or religious influences. This objective is not an easy one to achieve, but human history bears testimony to its achievability. The challenge for Muslims is to explore as-yetunimagined pathways to achieve this objective. This task might be easier to undertake under the conditions of a differentiated Islamic ummah, which, as I have argued in this chapter, is now evolving under conditions of modernization and globalization.

8 PHILANTHROPY AND SOCIAL JUSTICE

Like other world religions, Islam is opposed to great inequalities in the distribution of material resources. Some of its key teachings relate to reducing social and economic inequalities, although not necessarily eliminating them. Islam enjoins its followers to ‘give’ for individual and collective well-being. The three main institutionalized instruments of Islamic philanthropy and wealth redistribution are sadaqa (charity), zakat (tax for the poor) and waqf (foundations or trusts). These traditions of philanthropy have been shaped by Islamic history. At the time of the rise of Islam in Mecca, the spread of commerce and rapid urban development changed the social organization of Meccan society from nomadic kinbased groupings to class-like groupings. This transformation resulted in social upheaval and general malaise. Islam arose as a moderating religious and ethical movement under these social conditions.1 Islam addressed these conditions by placing special emphasis on distributive justice. The main principle laid down in the Qur’an for promoting distributive justice is that ‘wealth should not circulate only among the rich’ (Qur’an 59:7). The Qur’an envisages the task of the Muslim community as commanding good, forbidding evil, establishing prayer and paying zakat. Reiterating a persistent theme, the Qur’an commands Muslims ‘to establish a political order on earth for the sake of creating an egalitarian and just moral-social order’.2 This chapter will focus on zakat as an instrument of Islamic philanthropy and wealth redistribution.

Genesis of zakat as an Islamic institution The Arabic word zakat derives from the verb zaka, which means to purify and also connotes growth or increase. Under the norms of pre-Islamic Meccan society, the rich were urged to use a portion of their wealth for ‘good causes’ in order to purify it. Islam continued this tradition and made it a religious obligation. In the formative years of Islam, zakat signified an act that purified the soul. The moral element was conspicuous but, as yet, legal compulsion and official pressure had not been incorporated as elements.3 In AH 9 (631 CE), after the establishment of an Islamic state in Medina, zakat became a mandatory tax obligation. It was

confirmed as part of one’s service to God, as a technical part of the worship in the sense of ibada (service to God). For Muslims, zakat became closely linked with prayer and is held to purify both the givers and the wealth they give.4 Islamic law stipulates that any sum remaining after the owner has deducted what he/she needs to cover his expenses for a year shall become liable to a charge of 2.5 per cent, which goes towards meeting social welfare needs as stated in the key Qur’anic verse about zakat: ‘The zakat is only for the poor and needy, those who work to collect them, those whose hearts are to be won, the ransoming of slaves, debtors, in Allah’s way [for good works like scholarship, missionary projects, charitable, cultural and educational institutions] and the wayfarer’. (Qur’an 9:60.) Zakat rates are not uniform. Different commodities attract different rates, and computations for various types of property can be complicated.5 Money, gold and silver are taxed at the rate of 2.5 per cent per annum. Agricultural produce is taxed at the rate of 10 per cent. Other forms of property are taxed at different rates. The categories of property liable for zakat are: (1) cash, gold and silver; (2) merchandise used in trade (but not personal possessions used in ordinary living, such as cars, clothing, houses and jewellery); (3) minerals extracted from the ground; (4) ancient treasure; (5) cattle; and (6) crops from tilled land. Before zakat is owed, a minimum amount of each type of wealth must be owned, called nisab. In general, zakat is meant to meet local needs; once those have been met, it is permissible to spend the sums collected on distant causes and needs.6 Until the advent of colonialism, zakat was collected by the government and distributed according to set patterns among the various categories of recipient in all Muslim territories. Because of its place in Islamic theology, the general populace considered zakat giving a religious and moral duty, and the authorities had few problems in collecting it. Colonialism heralded the introduction of a secular system of government and tax, and authorities in most Muslim states largely abjured Islamic codes of law, including zakat. As a result, zakat lost its once prominent position in Muslim life.7 In the words of one prominent Muslim scholar, ‘. . . were it not for the concern of some Muslim individuals and institutions, zakat would have been completely eradicated from Muslim life’.8 In post-colonial Muslim societies, the situation has changed, and we see a spectrum at one end of which is the complete incorporation of zakat by the state and, at the other, its marginalization to the individual conscience, with a number of intermediary solutions. Several Muslim countries, including Pakistan, Sudan, Malaysia, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Libya, Jordan and Iran, now have institutionalized some form of centralized zakat collection by the government. Pakistan and Saudi Arabia have also introduced some major innovations concerning coverage and rates. Traditionally, zakat was levied only on individuals, but Pakistan and Saudi Arabia have extended the obligation to companies on the grounds that companies are juristic persons. They have imposed a flat zakat levy on certain types of deposit. Saudi Arabia levies zakat on imports at rates varying from commodity to commodity, and Pakistan levies zakat on all farm output at the rate of 5 per cent regardless of irrigation mode. Other Muslim countries

continue to follow the traditional model of zakat collection and distribution, but even they are obliged to introduce some innovations. For example, the Malaysian system exempts industrial workers, bureaucrats, businessmen and shopkeepers, along with rubber and coconut growers, none of whom are mentioned explicitly in classical texts.9

Zakat payment in contemporary Muslim societies During the early days of Islam, zakat was collected under a centrally administered obligatory system. However, for much of Islamic history, it has been administered in a decentralized manner, enforced by the fear of God, individual conscience and peer pressure.10 How widespread is the practice of zakat in modern Muslim countries? Until recently, there was no reliable comparative evidence with which to attempt an answer to this question. However, a recent study of Muslim philanthropy funded by the Ford Foundation has indicated that 43 per cent of Egyptians, 40 per cent of Turks and 61 per cent of Indonesians report having paid zakat.11 The findings of my study show that between 80 per cent and 90 per cent of the respondents in Malaysia, Egypt and Indonesia reported zakat payment, compared with 50 to 60 per cent for Kazakhstan, Pakistan and Turkey. Only a third of the Iranian respondents reported payment. The data also shows that, in all countries, age appeared to be positively related to zakat payment. Why do older people tend to be more inclined towards religiously mandated giving? The most likely reason is that wealth accumulation usually occurs with age, thus making older people eligible for paying zakat as well as able to pay it. Another plausible reason might be that, as individuals age, their religiosity, especially the dimension related to religious practice or observation, also tends to intensify. Religiosity also tends to be inversely related to education level. We found that in Egypt and Indonesia, the more educated respondents gave larger amounts; and in the other countries, larger numbers of educated respondents practised zakat giving. What these findings show is first that zakat giving is practised quite widely and globally as a religious duty among Muslims. A secondary but equally important observation is that there exists considerable variation as to the degree to which this duty is practised in different Muslim societies. In other words, as table 8.1 clearly shows, there is a great deal of variation not only from individual to individual but also from country to country. Below, we first provide a tour d’horizon across Muslim societies and try to provide as accurate a picture of zakat practices as the available data allows. TABLE 8.1: ‘Performed zakat in the preceding year’ (percentage)

Percentage figures have been rounded to the nearest whole number. Empty cell = No data available.

The scale of zakat receipts There is again a scarcity of reliable data about how much money is given through zakat. The Istanbul conference in August 2004 on the Ford Foundation study of Muslim philanthropy

provided some rough estimates of the amount involved. The study estimated that the cash value of Muslim philanthropy in Indonesia amounted to US$1.65 billion, and it is reasonable to assume that a significant portion of that sum came in the form of zakat. In Turkey, zakat payments were estimated at US$214 million.12 Estimates from Malaysia indicate that zakat collections over the five years from 2002 would exceed 378 million Malaysian ringgit;13 in Pakistan, collections totalled 4 billion rupees. While these amounts might appear large, they represent only a very small fraction of each country’s GDP. For 1987–88, zakat collections in Pakistan came to only 0.35 per cent of GDP; for 1970, corresponding estimates for Saudi Arabia came to between 0.01 per cent and 0.04 per cent of GDP.14 Proceeds from zakat, as mentioned earlier, are earmarked for specific categories, including the needy poor and disadvantaged persons. The evidence from countries for which data is available shows that, in Turkey, a ‘needy acquaintance or relative’ represented the most common category of zakat recipients.15 Indonesians gave zakat mainly to zakat-based charity organizations or directly to individuals who presumably were known to the zakat-giver.16 Similar patterns are likely to prevail in other Muslim countries. In Pakistan, zakat collection is centralized and carried out by the state, and zakat is widely perceived as a government tax. By 1999, there were 40 000 zakat boards run by local government. Their operation is so corrupt and non-transparent that devout Pakistanis feel obliged to contribute a second time to ensure that their zakat obligation has indeed been met.17 Unfortunately, the problem of corruption in zakat collection and utilization exists in most Muslim countries, but it is especially notice able in countries that have centralized, state-based zakat systems. Malaysia, Saudi Arabia and Pakistan are among the countries where zakat is administered by the state. In all three countries, there is evidence of widespread corruption and zakat evasion. In Malaysia, restrictive coverage and substantial evasion constrain the yield. Further more, the burden of zakat falls almost exclusively on rice growers, most of whom lie below the country’s poverty line. In 1988, the rate of compliance was only 8 per cent. In the state of Perlis, rice growers accounted for 93 per cent of zakat collections in 1985. Thus, in Malaysia, zakat does not necessarily transfer resources to the poor; indeed, it might be transferring resources away from them.18 A detailed study of zakat collections for a village in the state of Kedah showed that the rate of compliance between 1977 and 1979 was only 15 per cent, which means that most of the farmers evaded their zakat obligations. The evasion took the form of disguising or underdeclaring cultivated acreage, underreporting crops and handing over spoiled or adulterated grain to the zakat collector.19 In Pakistan, there is widespread evasion because the public does not trust the government’s zakat collection and distribution system. According to some estimates, the total amount donated to charity in Pakistan came to 170 billion rupees per annum in the 1990s whereas total zakat collections amounted to only 4 billion rupees; this disparity indicates the low credibility attached by Pakistanis to the government-run zakat system. This system has about a million beneficiaries, which represents only 10 per cent of those Pakistanis situated below the official poverty line. The government’s own reports suggest that the state-administered

system has had little effect on the reduction of inequality. The corruption, evasion and maladministration of zakat in the country, besides making people lose faith in the system, is also eroding the belief that Islam offers a better economic order. In Saudi Arabia, in addition to the traditional items, zakat is levied on imports at rates that vary from commodity to commodity. That total zakat revenue in Saudi Arabia during the 1970s came to only 0.01 to 0.04 per cent of GDP is evidence of restrictive coverage, evasion and extensive loopholes.

Motives for giving At the macro level, zakat serves as an instrument to create an egalitarian and just moral and social order, as repeatedly emphasized in the Qur’an. Another macro sociological rationale for zakat is that it heightens and strengthens social cohesion. It strengthens horizontal relationships between Muslims through the giving of one’s wealth. At the cognitive level, if zakat is paid according to Islamic law, it ‘purifies’ both the givers and the wealth they give. The recipient, likewise, is also purified from jealousy and hatred of the well-off. In theory at least, if zakat is observed widely, the rich do not become poor but the poor cease to be poor. All these factors would contribute to heightening social solidarity and a sense of belonging to the ummah (community of believers). These are powerful symbols of Islam’s sense of community.20 Studies of individual motivations for paying zakat show that spiritual and religious motives predominate. Indonesians pay zakat in order to ‘purify body and soul’ and to meet obligations to the poor.21 In Egypt, the main motives are the promotion of religious values, the purification of soul and wealth, and protection of the rights of the poor.22 Similar motivations have been reported in a Pakistani study.23 In Jordan and the Palestinian Territories, zakat is widely viewed as building ‘communal trust’ and as ‘door-to-door welfarism’.24 The predominance of individual and parochial motivations has led some researchers to observe that such giving leads poor people to help the poor and rich people to help the relatively rich. This parochial orientation to religiously motivated giving might prevent poverty from exploding, but it is not likely to have any significant influence on social justice.25 Muslims frequently claim that the institution of zakat is a major instrument for promoting social justice in that it creates a more equitable redistribution of wealth and resources that prevents concentration of wealth and reduces poverty. Islamic writings present zakat as almost a panacea for the world’s ills. For Islamists such as Sayyid Qutb and Maududi, zakat is superior to the Western concept of the welfare state. For them, it is the outstanding social pillar of Islam, enabling individuals’ efforts to be steered towards the creation of a just and equitable society, the Muslim ummah.26

Critical assessment

How effective is zakat as an instrument for promoting the redistribution of resources and social justice? This question is often raised and discussed in Islamic discourses. Muslims everywhere see great merit in this religiously mandated philanthropy. Nevertheless, this view tends to be more an expression of their faith than an objective assessment. Obviously, for the individual giver, there is a genuine sense of psychological satisfaction after having fulfilled a deeply held religious obligation that prima facie contributes to promoting the social wellbeing of the receiver. However, can we move beyond this individual psychological and spiritual experience and offer an objective assessment of this act of religious philanthropy? We can start our assessment by looking at media reports. In Pakistan, where zakat collection has been centralized as a state activity since 1980, there are frequent reports on its operation, and they are almost universally critical of the system. The criticisms relate to the failure of the system to reduce poverty, massive zakat evasion and bureaucratic corruption. Such criticisms are also common in other countries with centralized zakat collection systems. Figures from Malaysia for the early 1980s show that the poor received only 11 to 13 per cent of zakat disbursements, with zakat collectors and religious causes claiming much of the rest.27 Perhaps the best analysis of zakat collection and the effect of zakat on social justice has been conducted by American economist Timur Kuran. After examining records from different countries, he concludes that decentralized, voluntary zakat collection tends to be biased against poor people without proper connections and has little or no effect on the alleviation of poverty. Centralized systems are similarly flawed. The essential difference between the two modes lies neither in fairness nor in ability to reduce poverty. ‘It lies, rather, in the connections to which they confer value. Decentralized zakat confers value to economic connections, especially ones based on employment; state-administered zakat confers value to political connections, particularly ones touching on religion. Thus, under Malaysia’s old decentralized system, the surest way to obtain regular zakat payment was to work loyally for a wealthy landlord; under the current centralized system, it is to enrol in a religious school or work for the zakat office.’28 Kuran’s analysis also leads him to conclude that zakat has not made a major dent in Muslim poverty and inequality. While it has obviously redistributed some income and wealth, it has not conferred substantial benefits on the poor as a group. According to Kuran, ‘One must recognize in this connection that, in its Islamist interpretation, zakat constitutes a rather conservative means of redistribution. Touching neither on productive assets like land and physical capital nor on consumption goods like housing and furniture, it allows limited transfers involving a restricted menu of goods and assets. Even in the best of circumstances, the distributional impact of such a scheme would be modest. Poor management has compounded the disappointment’.29 Almost identical conclusions have been reported in a report on the utilization of zakat in the health sector in Pakistan.30

What is gained by zakat giving?

In light of the discussion above, the following observations can be made: A significant proportion of Muslims continue to pay zakat. For individual Muslims, religious and social motives—meeting religious obligations and helping the poor—are the main reasons for paying. When zakat collection is centralized and collection and utilization become the state’s responsibility, the result is evasion, corruption, mismanagement and misallocation, and zakat delivers no greater tangible benefits to the poor than voluntary systems do. In early Islamic history, zakat was one of the main sources of state revenue for looking after social welfare, but these days, revenue from state taxation systems performs the same functions, making the payment of zakat problematic. The existing evidence indicates that zakat is given mainly on parochial grounds rather than strategic ones. Finally, while Islamists and even some Islamic economists have touted zakat as an unmatched instrument of inequality reduction, careful and grounded analyses indicate that it has made no significant dent in Muslim poverty. Today, zakat is probably an anachronistic tax as modern states have their own taxation and welfare systems, which manage the redistribution of income and wealth and other matters of public welfare. Zakat obviously redistributes some income and wealth, but it does not confer substantial benefits on the poor. The amount of zakat collected in Muslim countries runs into billions of dollars. The collections might be insignificant when seen as a proportion of GDP; nevertheless, the sums involved are substantial. Why do significant numbers of Muslims from all walks of life continue to pay zakat over and above the other taxes they pay? All available evidence suggests that people in the modern world go to extraordinary lengths to evade paying taxes. They will take any opportunity to minimize their tax payments. Economic analysis also suggests that lower tax rates make people work harder and more happily, and this is not related to cultural differences or institutional factors.31 To explain the practice of zakat in contemporary Muslim societies, we need to take sociologist Émile Durkheim’s perspective and ask: what is the symbolic meaning of zakat for Muslims? The answer will involve not a cost-benefit economic analysis but an understanding of the social reality experienced by the individual society. As believers, Muslims envisage Islamic society to be one that is fair, just and ethically grounded, as enunciated by Islamic doctrine. Yet the social reality they experience is anything but that. The government is seen as instrumental in creating or at least allowing the existence of a system that is unjust, corrupt and consequently ineffective in delivering social justice; it is therefore seen as having helped to undermine the social cohesion of the ummah. Muslims might resist payment of zakat through the government because of this perception and not because they are not charitable, for that is obviously not the case. Another reason might be their orientation to fulfilling their religious obligations through orthopraxy (correct practice) and not orthodoxy (correct teaching). In Pakistan, the government’s zakat collections of 4 billion rupees per annum pale

into insignificance when compared with the 170 billion rupees Pakistanis give in charity each year. Islam places great emphasis on communal solidarity and social cohesion as embodied in the concept of ummah. For Muslims, the ummah is a social reality whose well-being has been divinely ordained. A strong ummah is a sign of the true expression of the faith. Islam’s ritual richness creates and reinforces a strong sense of fellowship among its believers, a kind of ummah consciousness that is free from class and social distinctions. The Islamic ritual of prayer (salat or namaz), performed collectively five times daily, is an eloquent symbol of that. However, the existential reality of the ummah, at the local and global levels, as experienced by ordinary Muslims is that it falls short of the idealized level it should have reached. Poverty, lack of social justice and class divisions are some manifestations of this shortfall. The blame is laid not on a flawed conceptualization of the ummah but on the failure of the public authorities to create conditions conducive to its existence. The act of zakat thus becomes both an indictment of the government and a personal contribution towards the strengthening of the ummah through a shared fellowship of common faith. This transforms it into a powerful symbolic act for creating a strong community of believers as ordained by Islam. Its practice by individuals is also compatible with the tradition of orthopraxy rather than orthodoxy in Islam. For Muslims, the act of giving zakat thus takes on a symbolic as well as an instrumental meaning. The symbolic content has to do with the expression of their faith in the existence of a strong, just, fair and ethical community of believers: the ummah. The instrumental meaning of the act lies in its contribution to the creation of such a community. The instrumental meanings exist only because governments have failed to establish the ideal Muslim ummah. The ultimate symbolism of zakat giving is ‘doing good’ by fulfilling the divinely ordained commitment to the ummah. It goes beyond the pleasure or usefulness of accumulating wealth. What is gained by giving is the creation of an ideal ummah, a fellowship of shared faith and the belief that doing good matters.

9 ISLAM AND CIVIL SOCIETY

Civil society has become a powerful slogan for political reform and democracy in modern times. In South-East Asian countries, it underpins movements that have come to be known as ‘people power’, reformasi (the Malaysian term for reform), masyarakat madani (the Indonesian term for civil society), ‘democratic governance’, ‘human rights’, ‘free elections’, ‘rule of law’ and ‘economic liberalism’, as well as other, mass movements that seek an inclusive, participatory democratic government committed to economic liberalism. International organizations, such as the Asia Foundation, the Ford Foundation, the World Bank, UNDP and the Sasakawa Peace Foundation, run programs in many developing countries that are geared towards strengthening civil society movements; most of these programs are managed by non-governmental organizations (NGOs). The idea of civil society pre-dates its modern expressions. The origins can be found in the post-Enlightenment theories of liberalism, democracy and individualism, all of which in one way or another are concerned with articulating the proper relationship between individual autonomy, the economy and the coercive power of the state. Some of the earlier conceptualizations of civil society can be found in the works of eighteenth-century philosophers Adam Ferguson and George Hegel. Ferguson treated it as a state of civility characterizing superior Western civilizations that emphasize individualism, democracy and property rights. For Hegel, civil society was an intermediate institution between the family and the state. The term came to sociology through the works of nineteenth-century philosophers Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, in which civil society was described as an ensemble of the social and economic relations of production and as the primary source of legal, social and political developments. It was, in other words, the core infrastructure underlying political, social and cultural superstructures. These and other similar conceptualizations sought to provide empirical and theoretical frameworks for understanding the relationship between the economy, society and the state. With the development of sociology, these earlier conceptualizations of civil society began to undergo a significant change, as reflected in the works of one of its most important contemporary theorists, social anthropologist Ernest Gellner. In his book Conditions of Liberty, published a year before his untimely death in 1995,

Gellner argued that the core of civil society was the idea of institutional and ideological pluralism, which prevented central institutions from establishing a monopoly of power and truth in society. More specifically, he defined civil society as ‘that set of diverse nongovernmental institutions which is strong enough to counterbalance the state and, while not preventing the state from fulfilling its role of keeper of the peace and arbitrator between major interests, can nevertheless prevent it from dominating and atomizing the rest of society’.1 Other theorists place greater emphasis on the individual’s autonomy to pursue his or her goals unhampered by the state. American sociologist Craig Calhoun, for example, defines civil society as a civil sphere in which people organize their daily lives without the intervention of the state.2 Another strand of contemporary social theory places explicit emphasis on social solidarity, as opposed to the economy (markets) and states, as reflected in the works of American sociologist Jeffrey Alexander, who writes: ‘Civil society should be conceptualized as a realm of solidarity, a “we-ness” that simultaneously affirms the sanctity of the individual and these individuals’ obligations to the collectivity. The solidarity sphere, in principle and in practice, can be differentiated not only from markets and the states but from other non-civil spheres such as religion, family and science’.3 Gellner’s characterization of civil society probably incorporates its essential features, namely political–coercive centralization with accountability and rotation of political and economic elites who receive fairly low rewards for manning the political apparatus and economic pluralism. The key institutions of the society are relatively autonomous and functionally differentiated. Such a society is based not on tyranny and superstition perpetrated by kings and priests but on the rule of reason and nature. Unlike the traditional society, in which social order was based on the tyranny of strongly held conviction and faith in civil society, a free order is based not on true and firm conviction but on doubt and compromise. Social solidarity and loyalty do not presuppose a shared faith but its absence—or at least a faith that is not universally shared or upheld. If there is one overarching conviction, it is that everything should and can change without threatening the moral order. Human relations are contractual, rational, instrumental and flexible. Human personality is based on American sociologist David Reisman’s ‘other directedness’ rather than ‘inner directedness’.4 Gellner calls this type of personality ‘modular man’.5 Gellner goes on to examine the two rivals of civil society: Marxism and Islam. For Marxism, the idea of the plurality of institutions—opposing and balancing the state and in turn controlled by the state—is a façade for a hidden and maleficent domination. The actual practice of Marxism has produced a society that features a near-total fusion of political, ideological and economic power and produced a single, centralized hierarchy that wields an unambiguous monopoly over decision-making. Modern technology at the service of such centralization has not aided economic performance, but only endowed it with authoritarianism and with an altogether new form of totalitarianism. Far from creating a new social being committed to the ideal ‘from each according to his ability to each according to his need’, and freed from commodity fetishism, competitiveness

and greed, the system created an isolated, amoral, cynical and individualistic social person skilled at double-talk but incapable of effective enterprise.6 Ironically, both the system and the person that Marxism created led to that system’s demise and disintegration. By the 1980s, much of the Marxist world had lost faith in its own central doctrine and was yearning for civil society. In contrast, according to Gellner, the other rival of civil society, the Muslim world, is marked by ‘the astonishing resilience of its faith and a merely weak, at best, striving for civil society. Its absence is not widely felt to be scandalous and stirs up relatively little local interest. On the contrary, ruthlessly clientelist, winners-take-all politics are largely taken for granted and accepted as inherent in the nature of things’.7 He goes on to argue that the widely held sociological thesis, that in industrial or industrializing societies, religion loses much of its erstwhile hold on people and society, has been borne out in much of the non-Islamic world, although the extent and nature of secularization vary a good deal and there are occasional marked countercurrents. However, in the Islamic world, the hold of Islam over the populations has in no way diminished in the course of the past hundred years. Furthermore, this hold is not restricted to certain layers of society, but extends to ruling and urban classes, cultural elites and the masses. This characteristic is marked among traditionalist regimes as well as those committed to social radicalism. This continued hold over a wide cross-section of society has been made possible by the simultaneous presence of two divergent traditions of Islam—namely, ‘high Islam’ and ‘folk Islam’—a phenomenon that can be found in other religions as well. The high Islam of the ulema (Islamic preachers and scholars) and commercial urban classes is scripturalist, ruleoriented, puritanical, literal, sober, egalitarian and anti-ecstatic. The larger and mostly rural folk Islam is mystical, ecstatic and lax and has a penchant for reverence of saintly cults and personalities. Whereas high Islam is akin to a ‘charter’ more suited to people of scholarly temperament, folk Islam acts as an ‘opium’ for the masses that allows them to escape from their miserable conditions. The two traditions interpenetrate each other and, for much of the time, exist in amiable symbiosis. Yet there is also a latent tension between them that surfaces from time to time in the form of puritan, fundamentalist revivalist movements aimed at transforming folk Islam into the image of High Islam. The intensity of this tension has increased under the impact of modernity and globalization. For Gellner, one of the defining features of Islamic history is the struggle between these two traditions of Islam, which always involves a transfer of loyalty away from the saint cults towards a scripturalist, fundamentalist variant of Islam. This struggle has formed the essence of the cultural history of Islam over the past hundred years. What was once a minority accomplishment or privilege, a form of faith practised by a cultural elite, has now come to define the society as a whole.8 The Muslim world displays a strong tendency towards the establishment of an ummah, an overall community based on a shared faith and implementation of its laws, as we have already discussed in chapter 7. The Muslim world thus possesses a viable social form, an

absolute moral community, that appears to work tolerably well in a modern or quasi-modern context. The persistence of these societies indicates that they are an option that we must understand and which constitutes an important variant of the current political condition. Islamic societies exemplify a social order that seems to lack much capacity to provide political countervailing institutions or associations and that is atomized without much individualism and operates effectively without intellectual pluralism.9

Islam and civil society Gellner’s rather pessimistic assessment of the prospects for civil society in the Islamic world is based mainly on his conceptualization of the ummah as a cohesive ideological community, as a consequence of which there is no room for ideological or institutional pluralism. Indeed, one can infer from his analysis that the strength of the ummah will promote only Islamic communalism rather than civil society. This conclusion paradoxically resonates with the assessment of American political scientist Samuel Huntington that the Islamic world does not share the values conducive to the development of civil society, democracy, economic liberalism and human rights.10 Other contemporary Western intellectuals also hold the view that the Islamic world is characterized by undifferentiated social formations, which do not allow for the separation of religion and politics; as a consequence, they feel that Muslim societies have a greater proclivity for being authoritarian and undemocratic. They see Islam as inherently antidemocratic.11 However, these views are not universally shared; indeed, they are now being hotly contested by a growing number of Western and Islamic scholars. In recent years, there has been a growing number of studies on this subject, including a two-volume compendium of papers edited by Augustus Norton, as well as works by Saad Eddin Ibrahim, Masoud Kamali, Mitsuo Nakamura, Robert Hefner and Khaled Abou El Fadl.12 One of the problems with Gellner’s conclusion recounted above about the nature of Islamic social formations is that he offers no empirical evidence about the nature of the Islamic ummah. Is it really as undifferentiated as he claims on the basis of his theoretical analysis? What about the assertions that the political cultures of Muslim countries are incompatible with democracy and civil society? These are interesting questions in one very important respect. They are a priori questions because they are based on a priori assumptions about Muslim societies and not on empirical evidence. Fortunately, we now have some empirical evidence that has a bearing on these issues. First, the evidence about the political values: in a paper published in 2003, American political scientists Pippa Norris and Ronald Inglehart examine this question using evidence from the World Values Surveys.13 They offer evidence from both Western Christian countries (Australia, Britain, Canada, Denmark, Finland, Iceland, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Northern Ireland, Norway, Sweden, the USA and West Germany) and Islamic countries (Albania, Azerbaijan, Bangladesh, Egypt, Iran, Jordan, Morocco, Pakistan and Turkey) about democratic political values (democratic performance, democratic ideals, disapproval of

religious leaders and strong leaders) and liberal social values (gender equality, homosexuality, abortion and divorce). Their findings, summarized in table 9.1, showed a remarkable similarity in the approval of democratic performance and democratic ideals and disapproval of strong leaders. In terms of political values, the main difference between the Western and Islamic countries surveyed appeared to lie in the disapproval of religious leaders. In the Islamic countries, the figure was 39 per cent; in the Western ones, 62 per cent. The evidence shows that the main difference between the Western and Islamic countries surveyed was to be found in social values. TABLE 9.1: Democratic and social values in Muslim countries (percentage)

(a) Democratic performance: ‘Democracies are indecisive and have too much squabbling.’ ‘Democracies aren’t good at maintaining order.’ (b) Democratic ideals: ‘Democracy might have its problems but it’s better than any other from of government.’ ‘Approve of having a democratic political system.’ (c) Religious leadership: ‘Politicians who do not believe in God are unfit for public office.’ ‘It would be better for [this country] if more people with strong religious beliefs held public office.’ (d) Strong leadership: ‘Approve of having experts, not government, make decisions.’ ‘Approve of having a strong leader who does not have to bother with parliament and elections.’ Source: Norris and Inglehart, ‘Islamic culture and democracy’.

This evidence shows that, in keeping with Huntington’s ‘clash of civilizations’ thesis, culture does matter and indeed matters a lot. Nevertheless, Huntington and other commentators, such as Bernard Lewis and Daniel Pipes, are clearly mistaken in assuming that the core clash between the West and Islamic worlds concerns democracy. Given the similarity in political values, one can conclude that, if democracy is taken as a proxy for civil society, then we need to revise our opinions about the absence of civil society values in the Islamic world. What about Gellner’s hypothesis that the Muslim world displays a strong tendency towards the establishment of an ummah? The analysis presented in his book Conditions of

Liberty, which explores this thesis in detail, is rich in theoretical exploration and weak in offering empirical evidence. It is now possible to test Gellner’s hypothesis using empirical evidence drawn from my study of Muslim religiosity. The ummah consciousness was ascertained using a number of indicators of core Islamic beliefs and practices in the seven Muslim countries studied: Indonesia, Pakistan, Malaysia, Kazakhstan, Egypt, Turkey and Iran. The beliefs and practices used to measure ummah consciousness are presented in table 9.2. There is strong evidence of the presence of ummah consciousness among the respondents. However, this consciousness was by no means uniformly distributed. The Kazak Muslims showed a significantly weaker ummah consciousness; the Iranian and Turkish Muslims, while sharing some aspects of this consciousness, displayed markedly different patterns in its other dimensions (see chapter 7). TABLE 9.2: A profile of religious consciousness in Muslim countries (percentage)

Did all the respondents want the implementation of shari’ah law? In response to the question, ‘Muslim society must be based on the Qur’an and shari’ah law’, the proportion of respondents who agreed with the statement was as follows: Indonesia 93 per cent, Malaysia 91 per cent, Pakistan 93 per cent, Kazakhstan 51 per cent, Egypt 93 per cent, Iran 72 per cent and Turkey 29 per cent. Again, the empirical evidence shows that, while there were similarities between respondents from Indonesia, Pakistan and Egypt, there were marked

differences between them and respondents from Kazakhstan, Iran and Turkey. Gellner’s contention that the Muslim world displays a strong tendency towards the establishment of an ummah receives only qualified support. The evidence reveals that the Islamic world is not a block universe, everywhere the same in content and outlook. On the contrary, there are significant differences between Muslim countries, which require as much attention as the similarities that exist between its different parts. Does Islamic ideology support the emergence, presence and legitimation of civil society values and institutions? One important condition for the existence of civil society is the presence of a relatively independent public sphere that is relatively autonomous of the state and whose legitimacy is normatively protected. In Muslim society, the position of the ulema and their access to the menbar (pulpits), which allows them to influence public opinion on a wide variety of issues, are universally acknowledged. As Kamali has argued, the importance of menbar in propagating and legitimizing some political ideas, delegitimizing others and mobilizing support goes back to the beginnings of Islam.14 Iran offers a good illustration. The constitutional revolution of 1905–09 and the Islamic Revolution of 1979 show the importance of the menbar in influencing and mobilizing people. The ulema have not been alone in using the menbar to influence public opinion against the opposition; in many instances, the state has also done so. The legitimacy of this institution is grounded in the ulema’s monopoly over shari’ah law and not in statesanctioned law. In recent history, the fortunes and survival of political leaders have been strongly influenced by activities of the ulema channelled through menbar in Pakistan, Indonesia, the Palestinian Territories, Malaysia, Lebanon and Algeria; this is also evident in current developments in USA–UK-occupied Iraq. (In the post-9/11 world and following the bombings in London on 7 July 2005, a number of Western countries, including Australia, the USA and the UK, have grown so concerned about this issue that they are planning to introduce legislation to deport ‘radical’ Islamic imam (religious leaders) and ulema.) The ulema can also influence state policy through their direct access to state actors and through their traditional alliance with and support from the bazaari (bourgeoisie), channels that have underpinned their autonomy from the state. Another channel through which the ulema can influence public opinion in Muslim society is ijithad (innovation and reinterpretation of Islamic texts and injunctions). Other institutions that are embedded in Islamic ideology and that can influence and strengthen civil society are the waqf (religious trusts), madrassa or pesantren (religious schools) and the mosque. In Afghanistan, the course of political developments and of civil society since the 1980s has been powerfully influenced by Islamic institutions. The Taliban was a product of these institutions. One can argue that the social solidarity of the Islamic ummah is under pinned by the institutions of the ulema and the bazzar (markets). We can thus argue that powerful elements in Islamic ideology can under pin the existence of an independent and strong civil society in Muslim societies and have done so. In fact, one characterization of Muslim social formations has been ‘strong society and weak state’. Many observers of Muslim countries have argued that the state is far too powerful in these countries to allow the existence of a

thriving civil society and democracy. This contention needs closer critical examination. The observation might hold true in some cases, but the relationship between civil society, democracy and the state is dialectical. A strong civil society and a democratic order can be built through state power, but it cannot be built without it. The problem often is that, when the state introduces political reforms to promote civil society and a democratic order, the operation of these reforms can produce consequences that are inimical to the state’s power, and the reforms therefore are used by the state to reimpose its authoritarian rule. This is what happened in Algeria in the 1990s. The authorities justified the annulment of the election results in 1991 as being necessary to prevent the rise of an Islamic fundamentalist and authoritarian political order. Ironically, in Iran, the establishment of an Islamic state has led to greater ‘democratization’ of Iranian society whereas, in Algeria, the prevention of an Islamic state has led to a more repressive and authoritarian political order. There is, however, another implication that requires further examination. This has to do with the point made previously that, in Muslim societies, the menbar and ulema have been important institutions in terms of creating space for civil society. The legitimacy of these institutions in influencing public opinion is sanctioned by Islamic ideology. Evidence from my study reveals the overwhelming strength of ‘traditional’ Islamic beliefs.15 If we classify thought into what is ‘thinkable’, ‘unthinkable’ and ‘unthought’, then the traditionalism of Islamic beliefs is likely to be conducive to promoting the ‘thinkable’ and ‘unthinkable’, but not the ‘unthought’. This could have serious consequences for the development of creative, innovative and new modes of thinking in Muslim societies. In other words, while the two institutions might be instrumental in creating space for the development of civil society, they might also be instrumental in thwarting the development of an intellectual and social environment conducive to creativity and the ‘unthought’.

Civil society in contemporary Muslim countries If we conduct some stocktaking of the status and condition of civil society in the contemporary Muslim world, we find they vary remarkably. An excellent account of this variation can be found in Civil Society in the Middle East.16 In the Middle East, political systems are often authoritarian and impose severe restrictions on the functioning of NGOs and on the free and contested elections that are the life-blood of a robust civil society. Violations of human rights occur that are often sanctioned or at least ignored by state authorities, including the judiciary. Such conditions now prevail in varying degrees in many Muslim countries, such as Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Egypt and Nigeria. However, there are promising developments in many countries that are opening up political space for civil society. There has been an impressive growth in the number of associations over the past four decades. For example, in Egypt between the 1960s and 1980s, NGOs increased in number from 20 000 to 70 000, about half of which are still viable and functioning effectively.17 Another powerful indicator is the emergence of new political parties, including forty-six in Algeria, forty-three in Yemen, twenty-three in Jordan, nineteen

in Morocco, thirteen in Egypt, eleven in Tunisia and six in Mauritania.18 Professional associations of lawyers, doctors, scientists and businesspeople are also playing a role in opening up political space. In Lebanon, an alliance of trade and professional unions resisted the destructive powers of the militia during the 1975–90 civil war and was instrumental in thwarting the country’s fragmentation into sectarian enclaves. In Kuwait, the press is relatively free, compared with Saudi Arabia. Cultural clubs and professional associations are an important part of civil society. The traditional institution of diwaniyyah— a gathering of men, and more recently of women, to socialize and discuss sports, social and political issues—provided the birthplace of Kuwait’s pro-democracy movement. In Jordan, the state legalized political parties in 1992 and held freely contested elections. Professional associations (niqabat) are active in articulating political positions. Similar developments have taken place in Tunisia. In almost all Middle Eastern countries, there are small but active women’s and human rights movements. The domain of civil society is fairly developed and politically entrenched in Turkey. In Iran, notwithstanding the theocratic nature of the state and conservatism of the ruling Islamic party, remarkable developments have opened up space for political activism by professional bodies, women’s organizations and reformist elements from within the ruling party. The fact that lawyer and human rights activist Shirin Ebadi became the first Iranian citizen—and the first Muslim woman—to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize signifies the strength of the human rights movement in Iran. Whereas in the 1980s Iran’s neighbours were wary of Iran exporting its Islamic Revolution, they are now wary of Iran exporting democracy. In non-Middle Eastern Muslim countries, similar political trends are discernible. In the post-Suharto era in Indonesia, reformasi and masyarakat madani have become increasingly popular slogans for public political discourse on democratic reforms and the protection of human rights. Abdurrahman Wahid (formerly president of Nahdatul, the world’s largest Muslim organization) and Dr M Amien Rais (formerly president of Muhammadiyah, the world’s second-largest Muslim organization) have been powerful voices for promoting democratic pluralism in Indonesia. The election of Wahid as the fourth president of Indonesia represented a dramatic victory for the voices calling for civil society. Similarly, Muhammadiyah’s commitment to community development through its vast network of schools and universities provided another powerful thrust for the advancement of civic values. In his book Civil Islam, American anthropologist Robert Hefner argues that Indonesian Islamic culture can generate a democratic culture as well as a self-limiting state, both of which are conducive to the development of a civil society compatible with Islam and democratic values.19 The situation under Wahid’s successors has become more complex because of conflicts in Aceh and other places, but the general trend towards greater liberalization of the economy and society is continuing. Trends in neighbouring Malaysia also indicate that the public appetite for civil society (masyarakat madani) has remained robust even following the arrest and jailing of its leader, Anwar Ibrahim. The slogan masyarakat madani is becoming a rallying point for a

democratic, transparent and accountable government. Until the end of 2006 in Pakistan, the fight for a more democratic government and society was spearheaded by an alliance of Muslim parties represented by Muttahida Majlis-i-Amal (MMA). MMA is perhaps the most vocal opponent of the Legal Framework Ordinance (LFO), which gives President Pervez Musharraf powers to dismiss the government and the elected parliament and to amend the constitution. The Human Rights Commission of Pakistan is also making significant headway in improving human rights conditions for women and minorities. Since mid-2007 the opposition to President Musharraf’s government has expanded to include most nationalist and populist parties, including the People’s Progressive Party and the Muslim League. The examples cited above by no means signify that civil society has become pervasive and entrenched. Indeed, the struggle for a civic order that can no longer be dictated to and intimidated by the state and its powerful bureaucracy is far from over. However, there appears to be a movement in most Muslim countries, albeit fragile at times, towards a new covenant and contract between the state and organizations of the civil society for democratic political structures and economic liberalism. In this chapter, I have attempted to demonstrate that there exists at least some evidence that movements towards a civil society are not out of the question and are indeed gaining momentum in the Muslim world; and in many cases, religious-based organizations and Islamic ideology are aiding this process.

Conclusion Civil society has become a powerful slogan for political reform, democracy, the rule of law and economic liberalism. The core idea of civil society—institutional pluralism, which prevents central institutions from establishing a monopoly over power and truth in society— is finding increasing support among cross-sections of Muslim populations. Contentions by Western commentators that Islam and civil society are incompatible are contested on empirical and theoretical grounds. Empirical evidence shows that the political ideals of civil society are equally supported in Muslim and Western countries, but these countries do differ on social values. At the theoretical level, ideas, institutions and structures grounded in Islamic ideology (such as ulema, waqf and menbar), whose functioning creates avenues for resistance against state authorities, have been instrumental in creating and expanding the space for civil society. Encouraging signs exist indicating that movements for civil society in Muslim countries are gaining momentum and that movement towards a functioning and robust civil society is not simply out of the question in Muslim countries or incompatible with Islamic ideology. It has also been pointed out that while ulema and menbar might be conducive to creating space for civil society, they might also be an instrument for thwarting the development of an environment conducive to generalized creativity and ‘unthought’.

10 MUTUAL SUSPICIONS

In many Western debates, Islam is seen as a monolithic religion often equated with fundamentalism and characterized by ideas of aggression, brutality, fanaticism, irrationality, medieval backwardness and misogyny. Reports in the Western media are replete with such terms as ‘the Islamic threat’, ‘the sword of Islam’, the ‘roots of Muslim rage’, the ‘green peril’, and ‘Islam’s new battle cry’. In Western discourse, the Islamic world is also seen as the polar opposite of the West. Western discourses that highlight the Islamic threat speak of Muslims as crazed Islamic zealots who are warlike, conquest-hungry and anti-Christianity. In his book De l’Islam en General et du Monde Moderne en Particulier, French author Jean-Claude Barreau writes that ‘what is indeed present in the basic disposition of the Muslims, can be explained by the origin of their religion: it is warlike, conquest-hungry and full of contempt for the unbeliever’.1 Islam is seen as the aggressor against the West and as embodying a theology of conquest and victory and no theology of defeat. According to journalist Bruce Nelan, writing in the American news magazine Time, ‘this is the dark side of Islam which shows its face in violence and terrorism, intended to overthrow modernizing, more secular regimes and harm the Western nations which support them’.2 The concept of ‘holy war’ (jihad) often crops up in these accounts. By uncritically linking such concepts as aggression, jihad and so on with Islam, Western experts extend the scope of the Islamic threat from the religious domain to the cultural and psychological and, at the same time, rule out from the very outset any possibility of communication and dialogue. Instead, they stress the irreconcilable differences between the West and Islamic countries.3

Islam and religious fundamentalism Many Western scholars view Christianity not as a religion but a cultural influence. Yet, when they look at Islam, they hardly ever view it as a cultural category, seeing instead a medieval religion that rejects modernity and produces fanatics and fundamentalists. According to a survey conducted in 2005, a majority of the people in the UK, Germany, France, Canada, the USA, the Netherlands and even India held the view that ‘Islamic identity’ and Islamic consciousness were ‘growing’ among Muslims.4 There is an increasing tendency among the

Western media to regard the pronouncements of Islamic fundamentalists as the only possibility, and media reports proceed to transform these pronouncements into Islamic injunctions without any critical examination of Islamic norms and injunctions. These negative stereotypes have become a part of collective Western consciousness. For example, 75 per cent of French people questioned in a recent survey thought that the word fanatical best applied to Islam. Former US ambassador to the UN Jeanne Kirk-patrick is reported to have questioned the ability of Arabs to make rational decisions: ‘The Arab world is the only part of the world where I have been shaken in my conviction that, if you let the people decide, they will make fundamentally rational decisions’.5 Such stereotypes sharpen the polarization between Islam and the West. As a result, the modern West is seen as progressive, rational, enlightened and secular, and the backward Muslim world as more or less crazy, unpredictable and dangerous, as well as fanatical and fundamentalist. These stereotypes pervade much of the Western reporting on and discussion of suicide terrorism. Suicide attacks have been increasing in frequency around the world for two decades, but there is general confusion as to why.6 Since many such attacks, including those on the World Trade Center, have been perpetrated by Muslim terrorists professing religious motives, it might seem obvious that Islamic fundamentalism is the main cause. This presumption has fuelled the belief that future 9/11s can be avoided only if there is a wholesale transformation of Muslim countries. This was the core reason for the broad public support for the invasion of Iraq. Not only is the presumption that there is a connection between suicide terrorism and Islamic fundamentalism wrong but also it encourages domestic and foreign policies that are likely to worsen the USA’s situation. The data produced by US political scientists Robert Pape and Mia Bloom and US anthropologist-cumpsychologist Scott Atran of suicide bombing between 1980 and 2003 clearly shows there is little connection between suicide terrorism and Islamic fundamentalism—or any religion, for that matter.7 In fact, during this period the largest number of suicide attacks have been carried out by Sri Lanka’s Tamil Tigers, a Marxist–Leninist group whose members are from Hindu families but are adamantly opposed to religion. (But since the invasion of Iraq in 2003 by the USA and its allies, the phenomenon of suicide bombing has been transformed. Between December 2003 and December 2006 there have been 457 suicide attacks in Iraq alone, and most of them have been carried out by Islamic militants, many of whom had no prior affiliation with Islamic militant organizations but were radicalized by the Iraq war.) What nearly all suicide campaigns have in common is the pursuit of a specific secular strategic goal. Religion is often not the root cause, although it is frequently cited by terrorist organizations when recruiting volunteers to carry out their broad strategic objectives.8 In the first Gulf War, Western dominance was demonstrated in its ability to kill more efficiently. To justify the military action and the death of many innocent victims during this war, stereotypes that portrayed Arabs as inferior and therefore of less value were evoked. ‘We caught them with their pants down. They were still in their sleeping bags. It was just like shooting turkeys’, was how US company commander Jess Farington expressed himself after a helicopter gunship attack on Iraqi positions during the war. War was seen as turkey

shooting, people as turkeys. Does this stance illustrate the civilizing superiority of the West? It does so only if we measure civilizing superiority in terms of the standards of modern technology.9 Some commentators have suggested that the need to demonize the Islamic world is related to the demise of the Cold War enemy of the West: communism and the USSR. The loss of this enemy has led to a search for a replacement. Islam has presented itself as one, particularly since the Gulf War. Other commentators have suggested that the anti-Islamic image of the enemy is part of a more extensive fear of the Third World. Dangers and threats that are more often of a political or cultural nature than of a military one also seem to come from the poor ‘south’.10 According to a recent Pew Research Center survey, about half of white evangelical Americans view Islam as encouraging violence more than other religions. The survey results also suggest that, since 9/11, there has been a shift in US attitudes. In 2005, 55 per cent of Americans had a favourable opinion of Muslim Americans. Ironically, this figure is significantly higher than the 45 per cent holding similar views in March 2001.11 This shift can be attributed to greater interest in Islamic teaching since the 9/11 attacks. In general, however, the Third World as a whole—and not just the Muslim world—is seen as a place of instability and insecurity, tribal and civil wars, incomprehensible violence, disease and many other evils. These regions of poverty, misery and unrest stand in marked contrast to the apparently well- and clearly ordered West. The fear of the Third World is, in one sense, a fear of poverty, a fear of being infected again by its evils. This is another reason migration from Islamic countries is perceived to be so threatening to the prosperous, peaceful and culturally different West.12 The treatment of refugees and asylum seekers from Afghanistan, Iraq and Iran in Australia, Western Europe and the USA, and the policies now being formulated with regard to these unfortunate people, bear eloquent testimony to the negative perceptions of Muslims in Western countries. The treatment of refugees and the policies governing them are linked to the Western image of the ‘south’ as ‘the enemy’, which is not only strengthening prejudice but also breeding racism and creating a fortress mentality in Western countries.13

Muslim perceptions of the ‘other’ In my survey of Muslim attitudes, perceptions among Muslims of the ‘other’ were ascertained by examining their perceptions of how influential Islam, Christianity, Judaism and atheism will become and their perceptions of attitudes towards Islam held by the governments of major non-Muslim countries. The focus on Christianity, Judaism and atheism was prompted by their historical as well as contemporary relevance to debates about present and future civilizational conflicts in the world. Muslim perceptions of the attitudes of some major non-Muslim countries indirectly expand the discussion by including other religions, such as Hinduism and Buddhism, which are also practised in some of the surveyed countries. A secondary reason for undertaking this

analysis was to explore a phenomenon that can be described as ‘moral polarization’. By moral polarization, I refer to the widespread view held by many Muslims that, in the modern world, only Islam offers and promotes a real moral and ethical alternative to the permissiveness, consumerism, hedonism, moral relativism and individualism associated with and promoted by modern Western cultures. Indirectly, therefore, this chapter seeks to ascertain the extent of this moral polarization from the empirical evidence. The existence of moral polarization has important consequences for the relationship between the West and the Islamic world. Respondents were asked how they felt about the future of Islam, Christianity, Judaism and atheistic beliefs. They were asked to indicate which one of the following five responses came closest to expressing their opinion about each of the four beliefs: (1) it will probably gain more and more influence; (2) it will continue about the way it is now; (3) it will probably lose some influence; (4) it will probably grow rather weak; (5) do not know. In the analysis, response categories 3 and 4 were collapsed into one category (‘lose influence’). There were very few ‘do not know’ responses. Only those who had chosen the reconstituted response categories 1–3 were included in the analysis. For the purpose of ascertaining whether respondents perceived some non-Muslim countries as pro- or anti-Islamic, respondents were asked the following question: what kind of attitudes do you think the governments of the following countries have towards Islam? The list of countries included the USA, the UK, Germany, France, Russia, China, Australia, Singapore, Japan and India. Respondents were asked to indicate which one of the following responses came closest to expressing their views: pro-Islamic, anti-Islamic, do not know. Findings about perceptions of the future of Islam, Christianity, Judaism and atheism are reported in table 10.1. In Indonesia and Pakistan, an overwhelming majority of the respondents believed that the influence of Islam would increase. In Kazakhstan, Malaysia, Turkey and Egypt, a comparatively smaller majority expressed that view. The proportion fell because a much higher proportion of respondents in these countries than was the case in Indonesia and Pakistan thought the influence of Islam would remain the same. If we combine the response categories ‘stay the same’ and ‘gain influence’, then the evidence clearly indicates that, overall, a majority of the respondents felt the influence of Islam would increase or remain the same. Only in Turkey was the position reversed, with about one in five respondents saying that Islam would lose influence. TABLE 10.1: Respondents’ perceptions of the future of Islam, Christianity, Judaism and atheism (percentage)

This question was not asked in Iran.

There was a significant variation in the responses about the future of Christianity. In Indonesia and Kazakhstan, the majority of the respondents said the influence of Christianity would remain the same. In Pakistan, Turkey, Malaysia and Egypt, the proportion of the respondents expressing a similar view ranged from 22 per cent to 33 per cent. In Pakistan and Turkey, a majority of the respondents saw the influence of Christianity declining. About a

third of the Indonesian and Malaysian respondents expressed the same view. In Egypt and Kazakhstan, the corresponding figure was 15 per cent. Only in Egypt did a majority of the respondents agree that Christianity would gain influence. A majority of the respondents in Indonesia, Pakistan, Turkey and Kazakhstan agreed that Judaism would lose influence. Among the Malaysian Muslims, the same view was held by 44 per cent. However, among the Egyptians, an overwhelming majority (86 per cent) felt that the influence of Judaism would increase, and only 3 per cent thought it would decline. Responses regarding the future of atheism followed broadly the same pattern as that noted for Christianity. Further analysis of the data showed no significant effect of gender, age, education or sample type on the attitudes of Indonesian respondents towards Islam, Christianity and atheism. The only exception was that the more educated were less likely to say that Judaism would lose influence; even so, the majority (64 per cent) of those with university education said Judaism would indeed lose influence. In Pakistan, the independent variables listed above did not influence opinions about the future of Islam, but were found to have some effect on attitudes towards other religions. Pakistani women were significantly less likely than Pakistani men to say that Christianity, Judaism and atheism would lose influence and more likely to say that they would gain influence. Furthermore, in Pakistan, more educated respondents were more likely than the less educated to say that atheism would lose influence and less likely to say that it would gain influence. In Kazakhstan, among those who felt Islam would gain influence, the more educated significantly outnumbered those with lower educational attainments. A majority of the Kazaks saw the influence of Christianity as remaining unchanged. Women and younger respondents were more inclined to say that its influence would increase. The Kazak Muslims were equally divided about the future of Judaism. About half thought that its influence would decline, but the other half did not see much change in its future role. However, a majority of them felt that the influence of atheism would decline. This view was especially pronounced among older respondents and university graduates. The majority of Egyptian Muslims—as was the case with respondents from Indonesia, Pakistan and Kazakhstan—saw Islam gaining influence. This view was much more widely held by Egyptian women (79 per cent) than men (53 per cent). One unique feature revealed by the Egyptian data was that, compared with Muslim professionals and the public, a significantly larger proportion of the religious activists thought the influence of Islam would decline. Egypt was the only country to display this pattern; this suggests that, among Egyptian social groups, views about the future direction of Islam in Egypt and the world showed considerable polarization. Another unique feature revealed by the Egyptian data was that a majority of the respondents (60 per cent) saw the influence of Christianity and atheism increasing, and even a larger majority (86 per cent) saw Judaism gaining influence. In general, these views were much more widely expressed by the more educated respondents as well as by those who were Islamic activists. These findings showed that, on the future of Christianity, Judaism and atheism, the

Egyptian Muslims held views that differed sharply from those of their fellow Muslims from the other countries. In addition, these views were more widely subscribed to by Islamic activists. If this pattern can be generalized to the overall populace, then it would suggest that, comparatively speaking, Egyptians hold a much more pluralistic view of future religious and ideological developments and that the internal evolution of Egyptian society might follow a pattern different from that of the other five countries. One feature might be a greater polarization among Egyptian Muslims, which could lead to a pattern of religious activism different from that in the other countries. In Turkey, the perception that Islam would gain influence was inversely correlated with education and positively correlated with age. Only 62 per cent of respondents with less than high school education held this view, against 41 per cent who had university education. Among those who were aged twenty-five years or below, 44 per cent agreed that Islam would gain influence, against 60 per cent for those aged forty-one to fifty-five and 53 per cent for those aged fifty-six or above. Men were significantly more likely (56 per cent) than women (47 per cent) to agree that Islam would gain influence. In Turkey, the younger and those who were more educated were more likely to express the opinion that Islam would lose influence. In Malaysia, as in Turkey, men were more likely to agree that Islam would gain influence, and education had no effect on the response rate. Also, as in Turkey, older respondents were more likely to hold the same opinion. This evidence lends itself to one broad conclusion. In general, Muslim perceptions of the ‘self’ are very positive; that is, Muslims see Islam gaining greater influence both nationally and internationally. Their perceptions of the ‘other’, on the other hand, are markedly different. In Indonesia, Pakistan, Malaysia, Turkey and Kazakhstan, respondents generally felt the influence of Christianity, Judaism and atheism would decline or at best remain the same. The exception was Egypt, where respondents thought Christianity, Judaism and atheism would also gain influence. These national differences in perceptions of the ‘other’ would suggest that the dynamics of the relationship between Islam and Christianity, Judaism and atheism are going to follow a complex pattern, which should be shaped in part by social factors unique to each country. One interesting question is what social factors were instrumental in producing the observed differences in perceptions of the ‘other’. The evidence suggests that future relationships between Islam and the West are likely to experience periodic political and social tensions and conflicts. This should provide a challenging opportunity for those individuals and organizations interested in promoting harmonious relationships between the two major world civilizations.

Muslim perceptions of major countries Muslim perceptions of the ‘other’ were explored further through a question on the respondent’s opinion about the attitudes of some major non-Muslim countries towards Islam. Respondents were asked: what kind of attitude do you think the governments of the

following countries have towards Islam? They were asked to indicate which one of the following responses came closest to their opinion: pro-Islamic, anti-Islamic or do not know (if they had no opinion). The categories ‘pro-Islamic’ and ‘anti-Islamic’ are broad and open to wide interpretation. However, a pre-test of the question before the fieldwork was carried out showed that most respondents were able to make a choice; if they did not have an opinion or were unsure, they chose the ‘do not know’ response. The decision to include the listed countries in this study was guided by the intention to include all those countries generally regarded as comprising the ‘West’; because of the influence of these countries in international and/or regional affairs, most of the respondents would have been aware of them. The findings are reported in table 10.2. TABLE 10.2: Respondents’ perceptions of the attitudes towards Islam held by governments of selected countries (percentage)

The figures represent the proportions of those respondents who held the specified view. The figures for ‘do not know’ responses are not indicated above, but can be calculated by adding the figures for the two responses given above and subtracting the answer from 100.

About half of the Indonesian respondents said the attitudes of the governments of the USA and Russia were anti-Islamic, and 44 per cent expressed a similar view about the Chinese government. When asked about the other countries, a majority of the Indonesians were not sure or did not know what those governments’ attitudes towards Islam were. On the whole, only a small minority of the Indonesians thought the governments of major Western countries were pro-Islamic. The major exceptions were Singapore and India, which were seen as proIslamic by 23 per cent and 17 per cent of the respondents respectively. About one in ten Indonesian respondents thought the Japanese and Australian governments were pro-Islamic; about the same proportion saw them as anti-Islamic. The governments of Singapore and Japan were seen as the least anti-Islamic, followed by the Indian and Australian governments. This data was collected before the 1999 East Timor conflict, in

which Australia was seen by many Indonesians as taking an anti-Indonesia position; it would be interesting to assess whether events surrounding the East Timor conflict, the Bali bombings and the treatment of asylum seekers have resulted in a shift in the attitudes of Indonesians towards Australia. About a third of the Indonesian respondents regarded the attitudes of the other major Western powers—the UK, France and Germany—as anti-Islamic but, interestingly, a majority of them expressed no opinion about these attitudes. The perceptions of the USA as being anti-Islamic (the survey in Indonesia was conducted in 1997–98) could be attributed to US policies towards the Palestinians and Bosnian Muslims. For Russia, anti-Islamic attitudes could be attributed largely to its treatment of Chechnyan Muslims and to its past atheistic policies. Attitudes towards China were probably shaped to a large extent by its past support of Indonesian communists as well as its atheistic communist ideology, which was seen to be against the teachings of Islam. The Pakistani responses clearly demonstrate how national political dynamics and concerns shape individual perceptions of the ‘other’. Expectedly, given Pakistan’s deep concern about India and the history of military and political conflicts between the two countries, an overwhelming majority of Pakistani respondents saw the Indian government as anti-Islamic. The proportions of those Pakistanis who considered the US, Russian and British governments anti-Islamic were almost as high. These perceptions again appeared to be influenced by the conflicts involving Muslim populations in the former Yugoslavia, the Palestinian Territories, Kashmir and Chechnya. At the time the data was collected for this study, the Bosnian conflict was raging, and many respondents blamed the Western countries for not doing enough to stop the massive human tragedy enveloping the Bosnian Muslims. In addition, Pakistanis viewed these countries as supporting India in its conflict with Pakistan. The USA was often seen as blatantly pro-Israel in its conflict with Palestinians and the Arabs and, in general, hostile to such Islamic countries as Iran, Iraq and Libya. The German and French governments were also perceived as anti-Islamic, probably for similar reasons, by about two-thirds of the respondents; the remaining third had no opinion about the two countries. China has been long seen as a close ally of Pakistan in its conflict with India. Not surprisingly, although China is a communist country, about a third of the Pakistani respondents saw its government as pro-Islamic and only 38 per cent as anti-Islamic. For Australia, Singapore and Japan, about half of the respondents were unsure or had no opinion, while slightly fewer than half felt they were anti-Islamic. The majority of the Kazaks were surprisingly uncertain or neutral about their perceptions of various countries. About one in ten Kazaks felt that the major Western countries were proIslamic; a slightly larger proportion felt that most of the countries listed in the survey were anti-Islamic. The governments of major Western countries and Russia were seen as slightly more anti-Islamic than those of Japan, Australia, Singapore and India. Among the Egyptians, perceptions were somewhat similar to those of the Pakistanis and Indonesians. A large majority regarded the US government as anti-Islamic; this view was probably shaped largely by their perceptions of the pro-Israel policies of the Americans in

Israel’s conflict with the Arabs. A large majority also saw the Russian government as antiIslamic; the primary reason is probably its policies towards Muslim minorities in Chechnya and the former Yugoslavia. The French government was seen as the most pro-Islamic, although a majority of Egyptians saw the British, French, German and Chinese governments as anti-Islamic in their policies. Unlike the Pakistanis, the Egyptians did not see India as antiIslamic. In fact, most Egyptians said they did not know what India’s policies were. Slightly fewer than half of the respondents thought the Singaporean, Australian and Japanese governments were anti-Islamic; this view probably arose largely because they were perceived as allies of the major Western countries, which, in turn, were seen as hostile towards Islam. A majority of Turks felt the major Western countries—the USA, the UK, Germany, France and Russia—were anti-Islamic. The proportion of Turks holding a similar opinion about China was slightly lower. About a third to a quarter of the Turkish respondents considered Australia, Singapore, India and Japan anti-Islamic. Given the relationship between the USA and Iran following the Islamic Revolution, it was not surprising that 67 per cent of the Iranians considered the USA anti-Islamic. Surprisingly, the figure was lower than those reported for Pakistan and Egypt, the major US allies in the Muslim world. Fewer respondents in Iran considered the UK, France and Germany antiIslamic when compared with their fellow Muslims in several other countries. On the whole, comparatively larger proportions of the Iranians saw the Singaporean, Japanese and Indian governments as pro-Islamic. Proportionately more respondents in Malaysia than in Pakistan considered the US government anti-Islamic. Malaysian respondents also felt the UK, Australian and Singaporean governments were anti-Islamic. About a quarter of the respondents held similar views about China, Japan and India. About a fifth considered the Indian and Chinese governments pro-Islamic. The most striking finding of the study is that a significant majority of Muslims in all the countries surveyed except Kazakhstan perceived the US government as anti-Islam, and this attitude was more pronounced in the countries that are closely allied to the USA. Similar but less pronounced attitudes prevailed in relation to some of the other major Western countries. The findings of a 2005 Pew Research Center survey of the views of Christians and Muslims in five ‘Western’, predominantly Christian countries and in three predominantly Muslim ones (reported in table 10.3) largely confirm the findings reported and discussed in this chapter.14 TABLE 10.3: Attitudes towards Christians and Muslims in selected Western and Muslim countries (percentage)

Source: Pew Research Centre, ‘Views of Muslims’.

The findings of an Indonesian study that used a qualitative methodology to examine perceptions of the ‘other’ also provide some interesting insights into the dynamics influencing perceptions in Muslim societies. This study investigated perceptions of the ‘other’ among the eaders and members of two religious organizations, Majelis Mujahidin Indonesia (MMI) and Hizbut Tahrir Indonesia (HTI). It used the speeches of the leaders and official publications of the two organizations to collect the data. In this study, ‘other’ referred to all non-Muslims.15 The research findings show that ‘the discourse of antagonism and conflict attitudes, such as anger, hatred, distrust and suspicion towards the “other”, are strong in the publications and leaders’ speeches of MMI and HTI’. Antagonistic discourse and conflict attitudes were derived largely from two sources: first, verses in the Qur’an that were confrontational to the ‘other’, and showed a tendency to ignore or reinterpret ‘friendship’ verses in the Qur’an; and second, the history of conflicts between Muslims and non-Muslims. The study identified four patterns of antagonistic and conflict attitudes: (1) ideologization in social and conflict analysis; (2) demonization of the ‘other’; (3) imagining the victory of Islam; and (4) an emphasis on the inevitability of a clash between Islamic civilization and all other civilizations The study did not find evidence to show that these images of the ‘other’ had led to any physical violence. It argued, however, that stigmatization and stereotyping of non-Muslims as the enemy of Islam, as being in perpetual conflict with Muslims and as a threat to Islam, could give rise to ‘symbolic violence’.16

Conclusion In general, the Muslims surveyed were very optimistic and positive about the future influence

of Islam. A large majority of them saw Islam gaining influence in world affairs. Respondents in all surveyed countries held this view almost universally. This positive view was especially pronounced among the Pakistanis and Indonesians. While, comparatively speaking, fewer Turks, Malaysians, Kazaks and Egyptians held this view, a large proportion of them still believed that Islam’s influence would remain unchanged. Opinions about the ‘other’ were more complex and appeared to be influenced by national factors such as the demographic composition of the individual populations and perceptions of the influence held by the ‘other’ in national affairs. For example, in Pakistan, the population is largely homogeneous in terms of religious composition, with Muslims constituting more than 95 per cent. This fact obviously affected Pakistani perceptions of the ‘other’, with the majority of the respondents expressing the opinion that Christianity, Judaism and atheism would lose influence. This demographic homogeneity in Pakistan precludes other religions influencing national affairs there. The Turkish pattern was similar, ostensibly because Turkey’s population is also predominantly Muslim. The populations of Kazakhstan, Egypt, Malaysia and Indonesia are less homogeneous. Sizeable proportions of the populations in these countries are Christians; consequently, the opinions of these populations about the future role of Christianity are less skewed. In Egypt, Kazakhstan, Malaysia and Indonesia, Christians historically have not only made up a sizeable proportion of the population but also held a very prominent role in national affairs, especially in politics and the economy. Consequently, significant proportions of respondents in these countries held the view that the role of Christianity would increase or stay the same. Only the Egyptian respondents expressed the view that Judaism would gain influence. This might be attributed to the impact of Egyptian and Israeli political and military conflicts on the national perceptions of Egyptians. Not only is Israel militarily and economically more powerful than Egypt but it also enjoys the support of much of the West. All these factors obviously influenced the perception of Judaism among Egyptian Muslim respondents, thus producing the pattern revealed by the data. Atheism still appeared to be viewed by many Pakistani, Turkish and Egyptian respondents as gaining influence in the future, but this was not the case among the Indonesians, Malaysians and Kazaks. Once again, perceptions were influenced by specific national factors. For example, the Kazaks, having been part of the former communist Soviet Union, probably did not wish to see the restoration of atheism to primacy; and Indonesians and Malaysians also probably made their assessment on the basis of the decline of communism in their countries after a protracted conflict in the 1950s and 1960s. They might have also been influenced by the fall of communism in the former Soviet Union and in Indochina, where only Vietnam remains a communist country and is now part of the Association of South-East Asian Nations. However, Pakistanis and Egyptians did not face similar perception-altering ‘change’ factors. It is difficult to identify what factors might have influenced their attitudes. One explanation could be that these countries have very robust and influential Islamic organizations seeking to establish an Islamic state. Their influence might be a factor in

shaping attitudes towards atheism. The attitudes of respondents in these countries could also have been shaped by the increasing economic, military and political influence of the West in their countries, which is largely viewed as secular and non-religious. The widely held view among the respondents that the governments of the major Western countries were anti-Islamic raises important questions about the nature of Muslim political consciousness and public opinion in Muslim countries. This perception contrasts sharply with Western perceptions, in which Islam is linked with images of aggression, violence, irrationality, fanaticism and backwardness. These stereotypes of Muslim countries sharpen the polarization between the West and the Muslim world. These perceptions tend to suggest the possibility of an increasing moral polarization globally between the Muslims and the ‘other’. For many Muslims, their perceptions are based on the evidence they see around them. As noted in chapter 2, there is a visible increase in religious piety in Muslim countries. Muslims also see the evidence, in portrayals by the mass media of the popular cultures of Western countries, of declining religious piety and increasing secularization. What popular culture, however, fails to reveal is that, in Western countries, the decline in religious piety has been accompanied by an increase in social morality, which emphasizes public responsibility towards collective social well-being and equal citizenship. However, irrespective of whether Muslims’ perceptions of themselves and of moral and religious life in Western countries are valid, the perception of an increasing moral polarization does not augur well for the promotion of a better political relationship between the Western countries and the Muslim world. Just as Muslim perceptions of the future role of Islam in the world might be exaggerated out of considerations of self-esteem, so the perceptions of many Muslims that most Western countries are anti-Islam might also be exaggerated. In this construction, the Muslim view of their religious superiority and of their relative material poverty possibly plays some role. Whether or not Muslim views about Islam and the West are exaggerated, the findings provide a glimpse of a social reality that requires the attention of all those interested in promoting a better under standing between the Muslim world and other religions and cultures, for the purpose of fostering a harmonious future for humanity in the twenty-first century.

EPILOGUE

Islamic consciousness—expressions of Islamic identity, doctrines and religiosity—is a multidimensional phenomenon that has been profoundly shaped by the interpretive communities that emerged to contextualize the meanings of the sacred texts. These communities have developed explanations of existential conditions in order to reinforce the moral foundation of the group. This symbolic universe of religious beliefs, convictions and ideals act as primary texts with which to index social realities. Some of the key characteristics of contemporary Islamic consciousness—salafabism—are an intense belief in the self-sufficiency of the Islamic texts, literalist interpretations, a supremacist and arrogant mindset, pervasive misogynist attitudes and hostility towards the indeterminacy of the modern world. Salafabism is a product of the historical experience of a majority of Muslims over the past three centuries. In particular, it can be traced to the challenges posed by colonialism, modernity, globalization and a generalized failure of national development in the Islamic world. It compensates for feelings of alienation and powerlessness arising from economic, social, military and technological backwardness. Acts of extremism and practice of the shari’ah law and punishments can be viewed as manifestations of a way of thinking that has come to value a superficial sense of independence, control, security and power, regardless of their antecedents or consequences. Islamic jurist and scholar Khaled Abou El Fadl sees salafabism as a dominant and pervasive ideology that makes Muslims politically hyperactive, which often leads to infighting, divisiveness and inter- Muslim persecution and moral lethargy. He is pessimistic about the ability of Muslims to shake off this moral lethargy. What is required is an intellectual commitment and activism that honours the Islamic heritage by critically engaging it to confront Islamic extremism fed by salafabism. As Abou El Fadl correctly points out, salafabism is actively cultivated and supported by Saudi Arabia and, as long as it continues to receive Saudi financial and ideological support, it will survive.1 The Muslim world might have to face this challenge by checking the reach of Saudi money and ideology. One way might be to circumvent Saudi Arabia’s moral and religious authority over the control of Mecca and Medina, Islam’s holy cities, by internationalizing their control and management. This would deny the Saudi Arabian state the political and religious authority to legitimize its medieval tribal traditions as Islamic. Unfortunately, this is not likely to occur in the near future and, when it does occur, it would most likely follow major religious and political

upheavals in the Muslim world. These conditions do offer grounds for pessimism.2 However, the findings reported in the preceding chapters, especially chapter 1, offer signs of cautious optimism. The evidence, while supporting the general thrust of Abou El Fadl’s position, shows that salafabism is not uniformly distributed across the Muslim world. Its pervasiveness and influence are mediated through the historical conditions and experience of individual Muslim countries. A salafabist consciousness was strongest among the survey respondents in Sunni Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan and Egypt, but comparatively weak in Shi’ah Iran and secularist Turkey and especially so in Kazakhstan. This finding substantiates one of the contentions of this study about the role of macro social factors in the development of salafabism. As these social factors are influenced by social and political or simply evolutionary change, some of the foundations on which the salafabist consciousness was erected will be undermined. There are further grounds for optimism. The findings show that gender, age and education also tend to mediate Islamic consciousness. Among the respondents surveyed in this study, women, older respondents and high school graduates displayed only a weak salafabist consciousness. While salafabism was very strong among all respondents in Malaysia, Pakistan and Egypt, that was not the case in the other countries. In Indonesia, a strong attachment to salafabism was inversely correlated with age. Salafabism was rejected by Iranian and Kazak women; in Turkey, it was directly related to educational attainment and, in Kazakhstan, there was an inverse correlation. These diverse patterns are a product of social conditions, some of which are unique to individual countries. One could argue that these patterns signify a kind of democratization of Islamic theology. If these trends continue, there are good grounds to believe that diversity of religious consciousness is likely to flourish, and this would lead to open and diverse patterns of Muslim religiosity, thus ending the current near-hegemonic status of salafabism. It has also been noted that the ideals of civil society—which include the adoption of an institutional and ideological pluralism that prevents central institutions of the state from establishing a monopoly over power and truth—are also gaining support among all sections of Muslim populations. The evidence in chapter 9 shows that the political ideals of civil society find equal support in Muslim and Western countries, although the two civilizations differ in social values. Western and Muslim analysts of Muslim societies often fail to see that the ideals and institutions grounded in Islamic ideology are functioning to create and expand space for civil society in contemporary Muslim countries. For example, civil society movements are acting as the vanguard for political and democratic reforms in Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan, Egypt, Iran and Turkey. Even in Pakistan, where the survey results indicated that salafabism has pervaded society irrespective of gender, age or educational level, opposition to some of the key aspects of salafabism, such as the hudood and other Islamic laws, is increasing. In June 2006, the Council of Islamic Ideology—mandated under the Pakistani Constitution to advise the government on the Islamization of the country’s laws to make them conform with shari’ah law and Qur’anic injunctions—recommended that the state should rewrite the hudood and

Islamic laws and make them part of the Pakistan Penal Code and the Criminal Procedures Code. The council acknowledged that these laws are being widely abused and that it felt compelled to make these recommendations following intense campaigning by the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan and civil society organizations since the 1980s. These developments are taking place in the face of vigorous resistance from sections of the Islamic political establishment.3 One important consequence of these developments in Pakistan is likely to be that the state, by recognizing the fact of religious diversity, will not be seen as privileging a particular group or religious sect by enforcing its interpretations of the sacred texts. This might lead to the recognition that endowing Muslims with special rights or advantages would ultimately undermine the rights of citizenship. Violations of Islamic laws such as blasphemy, heresy and adultery can be dealt with under national criminal laws related to the disturbance of public order and similar laws aimed at maintaining and strengthening law and order in the country. Such developments would inevitably lead to the decline of the hegemonic status of religiously inspired ideologies such as salafabism. This study also shows that Muslim ideals of charity, compassion and mercy continue to coexist with salafabist consciousness. Muslims around the world ‘give’ billions of dollars through religiously mandated philanthropy in order to reduce social and economic inequalities and to contribute towards building a strong ummah (a community of believers). The practice of zakat has symbolic as well as instrumental dimensions that are also intertwined with Muslim ideals of civil society. The symbolic content is related to religious obligations that seek to promote the establishment of a strong, fair, just and ethical community of believers. The instrumental meanings imply a criticism of the political structures for failing to create such a community. At the most fundamental social level, what is gained by giving is understanding that doing good matters, and this knowledge transcends the pleasure and usefulness of accumulating wealth.

Piety and development Religious commitment, a multidimensional phenomenon, is an integral part of Muslim identity. The evidence pertaining to piety shows that Muslim countries are undergoing a religious renaissance, that piety is socially constructed and that its intensity and nature vary between countries. These variations can be broadly captured in two categories, namely traditional and non-traditional. Traditional piety, as one would expect, is characterized by ideological orthodoxy and an emphasis on ritualism and devotionalism, and is grounded in traditional readings of the scriptures. The non-traditional type is characterized by the lack of ideological orthodoxy, a lack of emphasis on ritualism and a greater emphasis on ethnicity and cultural heritage. A majority of respondents in Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan, Egypt, Turkey and Iran and a minority in Kazakhstan could be classified as traditional. The reverse could be said of non-traditional piety, which typified a majority of Kazak respondents and a minority of those in the other six countries. An emerging arena of conflict in Muslim

countries is likely to revolve around the provision of equal political, social and cultural spaces for these two types of piety and the corresponding Muslim identities. There appears to be a strong nexus between the intensity and strength of piety and the Human Development Index, which suggests a direct correlation between piety and development most likely nurtured by salafabist consciousness. While the data from the study presented here does not permit us to draw firm conclusions about the relationship between piety and the economic and technological backwardness of Muslim countries, it does raise a number of issues for further study. Years ago, the now-deceased Pakistani Nobel laureate Dr Abdus Salam noted that ‘of all civilizations on this planet, science is weakest in the lands of Islam’.4 He and others have pointed out that this weakness poses a major threat to the honourable survival of Muslim countries because future wealth creation will be driven by a ‘knowledge economy’, which in turn will depend on scientific and technological skills and knowledge. These concerns are supported by evidence regarding the scientific productivity of Muslim countries. In the study cited in chapter 2, Anwar and Abu Bakar show that, between 1990 and 1994, the scientific output of all Muslim-majority countries constituted a meagre 1.17 per cent of the global total, less than that of Spain and India.5 The output of all Arab countries constituted only 0.55 per cent; in contrast, Israel alone chalked up 0.89 per cent. It is highly unlikely that this situation has changed in recent years. One reason for this low productivity is the meagre resources allocated by Muslim countries to research and development. On average, Muslim countries spend 0.45 per cent of GDP on research and development; for OECD countries, the comparable figure is 2.30 per cent.6 These conditions are a legacy of the colonialism experienced by most Muslim countries for extended periods over the past two centuries, during which they endured some of the worst excesses of racial and economic exploitation, which have stalled their development. However, their present predicament can be attributed largely to prevailing cultural and political practices. Other countries, such as South Korea, Taiwan, Singapore and India, have made notable strides in the fields of science and technology and are now among the major emerging economies. Islamic ulema (scholars and preachers), such as Sayyid Abul A’la Maududi and Sayyid Qutb, offered their own explanations of this predicament. They maintained that the true cause of the Muslim world’s technological and economic backwardness was the weak and superficial religious commitment that had become common among both the Muslim masses and elites because their exposure to godless secular education had prevented them from thinking Islamically. They also argued that this exposure had resulted in a pervasive sense of self-doubt among Muslims, which was threatening their religious identity and character and in turn affecting their intellectual creativity. Many ordinary Muslims themselves appear to have internalized similar views. Very few Islamic intellectuals have attempted to engage critically with these issues, and those who do are accused of undermining Islam by adopting a pro-Western perspective on the issues. Such evaluations become a further obstacle to any critical engagement with the problems. The prevalence of strong traditional piety seems to be reinforcing the salafabist self-image

of Islam in Muslim countries. This is producing a kind of cultural conditioning that is not conducive to the pursuit of rational and objective scholarship because of the ideological control imposed by traditionalistic piety. Let me illustrate this point by referring once again to the three categories of thought proposed by French–Algerian anthropologist and Islamic studies scholar Mohammad Arkoun, namely the thinkable, unthinkable and unthought.7 Cultural conditions emanating from the salafabist consciousness encourage Muslim masses and many intellectuals to think only in terms of the thinkable and the unthinkable and discourage cognitive processes leading to the unthought. Some evidence of this predilection can be gleaned from the strong agreement evinced by survey respondents with such statements as ‘The Qur’an and Sunnah contain all the essential religious and moral truths required by the whole human race from now until the end of time’ and ‘The Qur’an and Sunnah are completely self-sufficient to meet the needs of present and future societies’ (see table 1.1). Another very telling feature of contemporary Islamic societies is the near-absence of world-class public universities. The state of publicly funded universities is dismal by international standards. Non-availability of funds surely cannot be offered as a reason in such countries as Saudi Arabia and Kuwait, which reportedly earn US$500 million a day from their oil exports alone. One encouraging sign, however, is that as academic and administrative conditions in public sector universities have declined, the private sector has responded by establishing well-resourced universities. Illustrating this trend is the emergence of the Aga Khan University and Lahore University of Management Sciences in Pakistan and Bilkent University in Turkey. Unfortunately, the fee structure of such universities makes them almost inaccessible to ordinary students. The conditions now prevailing in Muslim countries that prevent the realm of the unthought from flourishing constitute perhaps the most significant barriers to the development of science and technology. Muslims, like non-Muslims, will be called upon to address and solve modern-day problems such as global warming, environmental degradation and the dangers of nuclear technology and to decide where they stand on the rule of law and human rights. A proper understanding and resolution of these and similar issues would require a common understanding based on rational scientific knowledge in all areas of learning. To achieve this end, Muslim societies would require the presence of a robust civil society operating within a framework of societal institutions that function in relative autonomy and that are free from hegemonic cultural, religious and, more importantly, political influences. As I have indicated above, there are signs that these developments are occurring in Muslim countries, with varying degrees of success and speed. Nevertheless, much more needs to happen before the realm of the unthought begins to flourish.

Islam and women Islam introduced wide-ranging measures to improve the status and position of women. The Qur’anic injunctions expressly demanded reforms of customs and beliefs that adversely affected the status of women and sought to confer a full-fledged personality on women.

However, selective and sometimes deliberately manipulative interpretations of the Islamic texts appear to have thwarted these aspects of Muhammad’s vision. From the evidence presented in chapter 1 and more particularly in chapter 6, there were widespread views among the survey respondents that autonomy and independence for women posed a problem for the general functioning of society and the family. Most Muslim countries are trying to overcome male resistance and introduce changes to laws and customs that subordinate women to men in public and private domains. On the whole, progress in this area has been very slow, and women continue to be deprived of full citizenship rights in most Muslim countries. There also appears to be an elective affinity between attitudes towards patriarchy, veiling, social segregation of women and traditional Muslim piety. Men in countries with greater salafabist consciousness are likely to hold attitudes supporting patriarchy and veiling and segregation of women. Attitudes supporting patriarchy and veiling tend to be more intense in predominantly Sunni countries than in Shi’ah Iran, secular Turkey and Kazakhstan. Again, this indicates the influence of macro social, political and cultural factors in the construction of such attitudes. In Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan, Iran and Egypt, strong patriarchal attitudes might prevail because men fear losing their dominant status as a result of public policies aimed at improving the quality of citizenship for women. These countries also tend to have robust Islamic fundamentalist movements. Viewed from this perspective, these movements can also be seen as a way of compensating for a relative loss in male status. One implication of this reactionary tendency might be that advancement in the position of women resulting from public policies could also generate more resistance from religious fundamentalist movements. It is paradoxical that progressive trends in relation to gender equality coincide with the development of a more strongly political and ideological Islam. Attitudes towards seclusion, patriarchy and honour killing are directly or indirectly related to the management of human sexuality in Islam. Over the centuries, interpretations of the holy texts by male ulema have developed a conceptualization of human sexuality that stipulates that women are not only sexual beings but also an embodiment of sexuality. As indicated by empirical evidence in chapter 6, women are viewed as sexually provocative and capable of casting lures towards men. Veiling and segregation are seen as necessary in order to avoid the possibility of sexual misdemeanour by men that could lead to fitnah and undermine the stability of the family. As our survey results show, attitudes towards veiling and patriarchy were strongest in Egypt, Pakistan, Malaysia, Iran and Indonesia; these countries were also the ones with relatively strong sanctions against any sexual contact between men and women outside marriage and the family. In Turkish and Kazakh societies, where such practices might not be approved of culturally, but where there are fewer politically enforced restrictions on premarital sexual contact between men and women, attitudes towards veiling and patriarchy were the opposite of those found in the other countries. Another relevant factor is that Muslim societies have institutionalized frameworks that act as catalysts in the cultivation of misogynist attitudes. Perhaps the most influential of these

frameworks is the CRLO in Saudi Arabia. The Saudi state has entrusted this body with the issuance of legal opinions that serve as the basis of Saudi state law; these opinions also influence the legal codes of other Muslim countries. The CRLO has issued numerous responsa on sexual matters and the position of women in Muslim societies; the common thread running through these opinions is that veiling, patriarchal practices and seclusion of women are related to the doctrine of fitnah. Fitnah traditions do not describe an empirical reality but a normative principle that women are dangerous; yet, irrespective of its empirical validity, the principle must be accepted, believed and acted upon. Together with historical interpretations of the sacred texts, these contemporary institutions continue to profoundly affect Muslim consciousness about the status, role and position of women in Muslim societies.

Religion and politics Islam, like Christianity, possesses intellectual and religious resources that can provide justifications for a wide range of political systems including monarchy, dictatorship, socialism, theocracy and democracy. A counterintuitive finding of the study was that levels of public trust in religious institutions varied significantly according to the institutional configurations of Muslim societies. In societies where religion and politics were fused, religious institutions tended to lose public trust and influence and, consequently, political legitimacy—more so than societies in which religion and politics occupied a separate space. The reason appears to be related to the roles that societal institutions play in modern societies. According to the sociologist Niklas Luhmann’s model, societal institutions carry out ‘performance’ and ‘functional’ roles (see chapter 4). Religious institutions gain public influence and trust when they are able to carry out their performance role efficiently and effectively. They are able to do so when they are independent of the state and other institutional subsystems. If they are not, they cannot carry out their performance role effectively. This finding has several important implications for the institutional configuration of the state in Muslim societies. When an Islamic state (i.e. a state in which religion and politics are integrated) lacks trust and consequently political legitimacy in the public mind, this lack could cause an erosion of trust in Islamic institutions. Among other things, it could severely weaken the fabric of civil society. The message to be garnered from this finding for Muslim religious elites seeking to establish an Islamic state is that such a state might not be in the best interests of Islamic institutions and religious elites. The broad conclusion that follows from this message needs to be restated: in order to promote a constructive social and cultural, political, moral and religious role for religion (which the Islamist movements seek) within Muslim societies, it might be prudent to keep faithlines separate from the state and thereby prevent them from becoming the fault lines of the political terrain. Contrary to the claims of many Islamicist intellectuals and other scholars of Muslim societies who claim that institutions of the state and religion are unified in Islam and that

Islam is a total way of life, most Muslim societies did not and still do not conform to this model. Indeed, most Muslim societies were built around disparate institutions of the state and religion. In other words, an Islamic state has not been the historical norm for Muslim social formations. The norm was and remains the differentiated state-society formation in which religion and politics occupy different spaces (see chapter 4). The findings of this study also have important implications for the ruling elites in the majority of those contemporary Muslim societies that are differentiated social formations; that is, formations in which religion and politics are not integrated. These implications arise from the finding that the level of trust in religious institutions is related directly to the level of trust in institutions of the state; that is, to the ‘feedback effect’ (table 4.2). In other words, attempts by the ruling elites of differentiated Muslim societies to promote radical secularist public policies that seek to diminish and disestablish Islam might have adverse consequences for the level of trust in the state and for the political legitimacy of the state itself. Some of the most dramatic illustrations of this ‘feedback effect’ have been the demise of the Pahlavi regime in Iran and of the communist regime in Afghanistan, as well as the political and social tensions in a number of other Muslim societies, including Turkey, Egypt and Indonesia. There is also a message in these findings for the international community: we need to reach a better understanding of the possible ramifications for the political and social trajectories of those Muslim societies in which religion and politics are integrated into an Islamic state. If such an Islamic state were to come into existence as a result of democratic, constitutional or even revolutionary means, international support for such a state could in the long run pave the way for the development of a kind of differentiated Muslim social formation. The rationale for this hypothesis is that, when in power, the Islamic ruling elites would probably have to make compromises with the state over time to ensure political stability and, more importantly, to gain political legitimacy. I have called this development a type of ‘secularization of religion’ that manifests itself in calls to limit the political role of religion in society. Recent political developments in Iran illustrate this secularization. The last presidential election revealed serious public disillusionment with the mullahs (religious leaders or teachers) because of allegations of corruption, economic mismanagement and the general failure of political and social reforms. This disillusionment was behind the election in 2005 of a non-cleric, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, as president. Ahmadinejad fully exploited these feelings of disillusionment, displaying a calculated ruthlessness. In his election campaign, he frequently referred to the ‘sixteen years of decline, despotism and theft’. Most Iranians knew he was referring to the years when Ayatollah Ali Khamenei had been the ‘supreme guide’ and two mullahs had held the presidency, each for an eight-year term. For many Iranians, the election of Ahmadinejad signified not the rejection of the mullahs but the ushering in of a new era that heralded the rise of the new and better-educated Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps. This new era represents a new phase in the political evolution of the Iranian state and is marked by a different kind of economic, political and Islamic radicalism. In many respects,

Iran is more democratic today than it was under the Shah’s regime. Notwithstanding imperfections in its electoral system, it has enjoyed more elections than any of its Arab neighbours. Iran is now involved in a major confrontation with the West over its nuclear program and support for the Lebanese party Hezbollah and is receiving very negative press. While the Islamic Revolution has been oppressive, particularly in enforcing dress codes for Iranian women, Iran has also made progress in educating the masses and in promoting birth control. Perhaps the most significant evidence of Iran’s theocratic accommodation of the ‘secular’ domain of society was the 1989 amendment to the constitution, which was personally sanctioned by Ayatollah Khomeini. It empowers the government to set aside shari’ah principles, including such fundamental pillars of the faith as prayers and fasting, if doing so is in the general interest of the Muslim nation. The amendment also gives the government far-reaching powers to decide when the provisions of Muslim law are or are not binding. Given that the ‘tenets of Islam’ are the ultimate constitutional limit on legislation and the power of the government, their effective suspension affords the government and parliament unlimited powers. This kind of development could have occurred only in an Islamic state. The general lesson to be gleaned from the Iranian situation is that, over time, the undifferentiated Islamic state tends to evolve into a kind of differentiated Muslim social formation. An Islamic state, therefore, might also provide a route to the social and political development of Muslim societies in which religion and state coexist in an autonomous but mutually cooperative relationship.

The challenge of hybridity The concept of ummah is an important part of historical as well as contemporary discourse. Historical analysis credits the concept as an important contributing factor in the rise and development of Islam and Islamic civilization. In contemporary discourse, ummah has been used as an analytical concept to explain current social, economic and political conditions in the lands of Islam. Using appropriate empirical indicators, I have examined the presence of ummah consciousness in Muslim populations. Analysis indicates its presence in varying degrees among Indonesian, Pakistani, Egyptian, Iranian, Turkish, Malay and Kazak Muslims. The variation in the degree of ummah consciousness can be attributed to the broader reality of the Muslim world, which is now characterized by structural and cultural pluralism as well as a high level of fragmentation, which I suggest are the outcome of two processes of structural and cultural change, namely modernization and globalization. The major consequences of modernization are institutional differentiation and functional specialization. Muslim societies have experienced these consequences just as other societies have. One major consequence of institutional differentiation has been the emergence of specialized ‘performance roles’ for various institutions, which are becoming the basis of their public influence in society. In order to carry out their performance roles effectively, these institutions must be

independent of the state. In Muslim societies, these consequences of modernization are producing political struggles over the roles and functions of religious institutions. While these struggles are continuing in many Muslim countries, the general trend appears to be that religious institutions are adjusting to the institutional configurations of differentiated Muslim social formations. Even in Iran, the only theocratic country among the seven studied (and perhaps the best example of the undifferentiated Muslim society), the trend appears to be a gradual but unmistakable movement towards the separation of religion from politics. This shift is clearly indicated by Iran’s 1989 constitutional amendment, which empowers the government to suspend or even abrogate shari’ah principles if doing so is in the general interest of the Muslim nation. The modernization process has also been contributing to the spread of globalization, another source of social and structural change in the modern world. Modern information technology has now made rapid communication a reality. As a result, the world is becoming a global village and a ‘single space’. One major implication of this development for the Muslim world is the impact of information technology on ummah consciousness. In the preglobalized world, the ‘knowing’ of all Islamized people was seriously constrained or even rendered impossible by the limitations of technology. These limitations have now been removed. In the pre-globalized world, ummah consciousness was determined largely by the practice of the ‘five pillars’ of Islam and certain key beliefs. The existence of these Islamic beliefs and practices was seen as evidence that the entire culture was Islamized; that is, it had come to resemble the foundational Arabian Islamic culture. This transformation of all Islamized people was considered to be an integral part of the ‘Islamic project’. Islamic intellectuals assumed rather naively that such a cultural trajectory was the common destiny of all Islamized people. Limited communication and contact with people of far regions perpetuated this myth. A common Muslim belief is that Islam is not only a religion but also a complete way of life, which in Islamic discourse is known as the ‘one religion, one culture’ paradigm. This belief has now been shattered. Instantaneous and worldwide communication links are now allowing Muslims as well as non-Muslims to experience different Islamic cultures. Such experiences reveal not only what is common among Muslims but also what is different. One consequence has been the realization that the Muslim world is in fact a socially, culturally and even religiously ‘hybrid’ world. This realization has provoked an unfavourable reaction among some Islamic intellectuals towards this ‘hybridity’, and has given rise to some Islamic movements that seek to replace ‘hybridity’ with the ‘authentic’ Islamic way of life. The struggle between ‘hybridity’ and ‘authenticity’ represents perhaps the most important challenge of globalization for the Muslim ummah. Fundamentalism refers to the strategy used by Islamic ‘purists’ to assert their own construction of religious identity and Islamic social order. Such purists feel that Islamic religious identity is at risk and is being eroded by cultural and religious hybridity. They try to fortify their interpretations of religious ways of being through their selective retrieval and particular reading of Islamic doctrines and practices from a sacred past.

Religious fundamentalism is, in other words, a problem produced by the encounter between modernity and the ummah in all its diversity and cultural hybridity. The strength of fundamentalism varies according to the intensity of attitudes towards these features. In a globalizing world, cultural diversity and cultural crossovers will become a matter of routine. This fact, instead of eliminating hybridity, might indeed transform it into an autonomous symbolic universe, thus posing a challenge to conventional categorical oppositions against existing symbolic systems. Such a challenge would create the conditions for cultural reflexivity and might confer on hybridity its own symbolism, with a unique character and powers that would claim coexistence and recognition alongside existing symbolic universes. Developments of this type would have far-reaching implications for the Muslim ummah. Islamic regions might be transformed as unique religious and cultural systems claim acceptance and recognition as authentic traditions of Islam. This transformation could lead to the ‘decentring’ of the Muslim world as it moves from a supposedly unicentred cultural and religious perspective to a multicentred one. In chapter 7, five such centres of a decentred Islamic world have been identified: Arabic Middle Eastern Islam, African Islam, non- Arabic Middle Eastern Islam, South-East Asian Islam and the Islam of the Muslim minorities in the West. Demographic pressures in Muslim countries would further accentuate the movement towards regional ummah. A decentred Muslim ummah would confer a kind of legitimacy on the regional ummah; as a result, they might chart their own social, political, economic, religious and cultural courses, along distinctive lines suited to the history and temperament of their own people. This would provide new opportunities for Muslim ummah to again strive for the intellectual, cultural and material superiority that was achieved by the ummah in its formative centuries. In such a scenario, the Islamic ummah would gain strength not as a unified and unitary community but as a differentiated community consisting of various regional ummah all striving to gain material and ideological influence in a global system. These developments might also produce their own opposing and supporting movements that would require each ummah to seek appropriate responses. In a culturally and religiously differentiated ummah setting, it is possible that the political and cultural leanings of one or several of the regional ummah might not find approval with the governors of the holy centres of Mecca and Medina. This could pose difficulties for members of these regional ummah who might be denied free access to these centres to perform their religious duties. This in turn could necessitate the formulation of new and appropriate governing structures for Mecca and Medina. In the course of this research, many comments were noted that expressed an interest in reforms in the management and governance of the holy cities, including their placement under internationally constituted political structures that represent the entire ummah and are independent of the political authority of the Saudi Arabian government. Such comments were often prefaced with expressions of great dissatisfaction with the current management of these centres and the idiosyncratic policies of the Saudi ruling class. Such policies and practices as barring adult single women who are not accompanied by a male member of their immediate

family and banning non-Muslims from visiting the centres were seen as inappropriate, anachronistic and unsuitable for the conditions of modern times. While these and similar issues might initially pose difficulties, they could also be harbingers of the new futures that await a differentiated Muslim ummah in the modernization and globalization of the world in the twenty-first century.

Jihad and terrorism The meaning of jihad has become the subject of intense debate between Islam and the West. Most Western commentators see jihad as an Islamic holy war in the tradition of ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ in Christianity, especially in the Catholic faith. However, in Islamic theology, war is never holy: it is either justified or not; if it is justified, then those who are killed are regarded as martyrs.8 In Islamic history, meanings of jihad have been profoundly influenced by prevailing social, political and material conditions. Jihad, in other words, is not a fixed category of Islamic thought, but reflects changing understandings about the scope and meaning of worldly actions and has a complex and contested history. Juristic definitions or assessments of jihad have included personal striving for the achievement of superior piety, justification for early Arab conquests of non-Muslim land, a struggle for Islamic authenticity, resistance against colonialism and, lately, a struggle against perpetrators of what sections of Islamists have labelled the ‘Muslim holocaust’. Both Muslim and non-Muslim states have also exploited the notion of jihad in order to conveniently outsource their ‘wars’ to ‘jihadis’ to avoid international sanctions and disapproval. For contemporary Islamists, jihad is neither simply a blind and bloody-minded scrabble for temporal power nor solely a door through which to pass into the hereafter. It is in fact a political action in which the pursuit of immortality and martyrdom is inextricably linked to a profound this-worldly endeavour to establish a just community on earth. It is more than anything else a form of legitimate political action whose pursuit realizes God’s plan on earth and immortalizes human deeds undertaken in its pursuit. The penultimate focus of jihad centres on the conviction that human beings must change so that they may change the world. From this perspective, jihad can be viewed as a revolutionary process with stages that proceed from the spiritual to the temporal realm of politics.9 This interpretation runs counter to prevailing, primarily Western conceptions that view jihad in terms of the destruction and sufferings inflicted by religious fanatics on unsuspecting civilian populations. Such a view portrays jihad as a pure and simple repository of bloodyminded impulses. These conceptions ignore the political dimension of the action. In doing so, they completely ignore the violence, genocidal killings and coercion that have been undertaken in the name of democracy. The current situation in Iraq is one of the many illustrations.10 Throughout history, humans have entered the public domain to carry out actions that allow them to create something that immortalizes them and the group in whose name the actions are carried out. In this respect, modern-day Muslim jihadis have much in common with the

‘constant warfare’ waged by the puritan saints of the Reformation in Europe against their own natural inclinations and the Devil and his worldlings, in order to fulfil their visions of a rightly ordered society and government and to improve their chances of divine salvation. By linking military action and politics to scripture, puritan Christians were transformed into political revolutionaries, instruments of God for whom action in pursuit of the Holy Commonwealth on earth became the ultimate expression of faith.11 The irony of modern jihadi revolutionaries is that their consciousness was cultivated, nurtured and generously funded by the very people who now label them terrorists. Structures and institutional frameworks were created to sustain this consciousness, and these structures continue to exist to this day. The jihadis, recruited from across the Muslim world, were asked to focus their minds and faith on the sufferings of the people of Afghanistan living under the cruel and unjust occupation of the evil Russian infidels. The creators of this consciousness knew then and know now that Russians too were involved in political consciousness-raising actions to create a communist utopia for the Afghan people. The jihadi consciousness that sought to defeat these evil infidel occupiers of Muslim lands who were inflicting sufferings on fellow Muslims—the ummah—has now been extended to include ‘other infidels’ currently occupying Muslim lands and inflicting further sufferings on fellow Muslims. According to the findings of this study, this injustice is what is now occupying the minds of jihadis. Having won the jihad against the Russian infidels in Afghanistan, they are now turning their attention to the new occupiers and the continuing Muslim suffering. The ‘war on terror’ might succeed because of the unquestioned economic and military superiority of the USA and its allies, but this very imbalance will continue to inspire jihadis to improvize and create weapons that their enemies do not possess. Thus, the ‘war on terror’ will go on, at least for the foreseeable future. To understand what is driving a large segment of those involved in jihadi movements would require an understanding of the political nature of the jihadi action. To portray jihad and the jihadis as incarnations of evil and as ‘Islamic fascists’ would be counterproductive because it would only reinforce the pervasive view in the Muslim world that the ‘war on terror’ is a ‘war on Islam’. This view would act as a powerful catalyst for the recruitment of potential jihadis. If, as argued in political theory, war is the failure of politics, then it would seem that political action is a prerequisite to prevent war. In the course of this research, I was struck, especially in the Middle East, by the all-pervasive sense of humiliation that arose from the inability of the Arab countries to match the military and economic superiority of Israel. This sense of humiliation is a major underlying cause of Islamic militancy and terrorism. Feelings of humiliation are reinforced by the economic power and absolute technological superiority of the West vis-à-vis Muslim countries and the privileged treatment accorded to Israel by the USA in its foreign policy. For jihadis, their actions are not motivated simply by a blind bloody-mindedness or by an overwhelming desire to book a comfortable place in the hereafter. For them, their jihad is religion in practice and is fundamentally a political action through which they are pursuing the establishment of a just society as ordained in the

scriptures and, in the process, seeking to immortalize their actions beyond their own earthly lives in the eyes of their community. From this perspective, jihad is ultimately a this-worldly political action and, therefore, amenable to resolution through negotiation with all parties being accepted and treated as equal citizens of a globalizing world. Such a dialogue and the negotiations it would entail would also help alleviate some of the mutual suspicions between the Islamic world and the West.

APPENDIX 1 METHODOLOGY

The study was carried out in two phases. Phase 1 was carried out between 1997 and 2000 and involved interviewing more than 4000 Muslim respondents in Indonesia, Pakistan, Egypt and Kazakhstan. The second phase of the study was carried out in 2002 and 2004 and involved interviewing 1945 Muslim respondents in Malaysia, Iran and Turkey. Some of the findings from Phase 1 have already been published in my book Faithlines: Muslim Conceptions of Islam and Society.1 Similar methodology was employed in the two phases. The data was collected through a structured survey questionnaire consisting of nine parts, which examined the following areas: the sociodemographic, educational and occupational backgrounds of the respondents social and political attitudes religious socialization, beliefs and practices images of Islam social class, lifestyle and housing self-esteem media exposure attitudes towards the ‘other’ household composition. The details of how the questionnaire was developed are also provided in the appendix of Faithlines. The questionnaire was professionally translated into the languages of the countries surveyed, namely the Indonesian, Urdu, Arabic, Russian, Kazak, Persian, Malay and Turkish languages. The rationale for the inclusion of these seven countries was shaped by pragmatic and theoretical considerations. Indonesia and Malaysia were chosen because they represented South-East Asian Islam. Pakistan represents South Asian Islam, and Turkey and Iran represent non-Arabic Middle Eastern Islamic traditions. Egypt, which was selected because of its position in the Middle East, represents Arabic Middle Eastern Islam. Kazakhstan represents West Asian Islamic traditions, which have been influenced by communism. In

addition, Iran represents the Shi’ah tradition of Islam, whereas the other countries represent mainly Sunni Islam. These countries have a combined population of about 600 million, which is equivalent to more than 60 per cent of the population of the world’s Muslimmajority countries. The survey fieldwork was carried out by well-established social science research centres or academic social scientists in Indonesia, Pakistan, Egypt, Kazakhstan, Iran and Malaysia, and by a market research firm in Turkey. In Indonesia, the survey was carried out by the Population Studies Centre of Gadjah Mada University in Yogyakarta, Java, and was coordinated by the director of the centre, Dr Agus Dwiyanto, and its deputy director, Dr Sukamdi. In Pakistan, the fieldwork was carried out by the Social Science Research Centre of the University of the Punjab, Lahore, under the direction of its then director, Professor Muhammad Anwar, and his associates Dr Muneer Ahmad, Mrs Razia Rafiq and Mr Shaukat Abbas. In Kazakhstan, the research was carried out by the Kazakhstan Institute for Strategic Studies in Almaty and was coordinated by the then director of the institute, the late Dr Oumirseric Kasenov, and its deputy director, Dr Sabit Jousupov. In Egypt, the survey was conducted by the Ibn Khaldun Centre for Development Studies in Cairo, under the direction of its director, Professor Saad Eddin Ibrahim, and coordinated by Dr Hassan Eisa. The Faculty of Social Sciences of the University of Tehran under the direction of its dean, Dr Taghi Azadarmaki, carried out the fieldwork in Iran. In Malaysia, survey fieldwork was carried out by the School of Social Sciences of Universiti Sains Malaysia under the direction of Professor Johan Saravanamuttu and Professor Mazana Mohammad. The highly reputable market research firm Frekans Research Field and Data Processing, based in Istanbul, carried out the Turkish survey fieldwork under the direction of its chief executive, Mr Caglayan Isik. The aim of the study was to focus on individuals and groups who influenced the governance of the societies being studied. The initial plan was to focus on a randomly selected sample of the elite as well as the general public in each country. This plan could not be realized because of funding and logistical constraints. Perhaps the greatest constraint was imposed by suspicions about the study. Unfortunately, one lesson I learnt while carrying out the study was that, in the late twentieth century, the Muslim mind is very susceptible to conspiracy theories, which invariably involve some vision of a Western villain trying to undermine the Islamic world, and, in particular, Islamic resurgence, in order to keep Muslim countries weak and dependent on the West. Some permutation of this theory was pervasive in all social classes. Under such conditions, the resources required to carry out a survey of randomly selected individuals would have made the exercise highly resource-intensive. Given the resource and time constraints (the funding agencies required the research to be completed within a stipulated time frame), modification of the sampling frame became necessary. Following consultations with the country coordinators, it was decided to administer the questionnaire to a purposively selected sample in each country. The composition of the sample, however, was maintained. The elite focus was modified to a focus on highly educated professional individuals and groups. Wherever possible, the individuals interviewed

were those who held a formal management position in an organization. In all countries, concerted attempts were made to include Muslim professionals, religious activists and the general public. The Muslim professionals were individuals, mostly with a university education, who were employed in professional occupations or were active on the management boards of professional organizations. They included university teachers, other teachers, businesspeople, medical professionals, engineers, bureaucrats, army officers, journalists, trade unionists and managers. The religious activists were selected from among people who were active in legal religious organizations, as either members of management boards or religious functionaries such as imam masjid (mosque leader or director) or ulema. In most cases, they had a university education or were trained as religious functionaries. The general public respondents were drawn from working-class areas. In terms of proportion, each group made up approximately a third of the sample. These subsamples were also stratified by gender to ensure that, in each country, if possible, at least 20 per cent of the respondents were females. All respondents in the study were Muslims and so were the interviewers. The focus of the study was on the individuals and groups who influence the governance of society, as mentioned previously. Insights based on sociological theory indicate that the middle classes are key in determining the state and success of public institutions as well as the health of the civil society. The general sociodemographic profile of samples from the seven countries is provided in table A1.1. In each country, the sample was recruited by the country coordinators using a snowball-sampling technique. TABLE A1.1: Sociodemographic profile of sample (percentage)

The Indonesian respondents were drawn mostly from the province of Yogyakarta. In Pakistan, the majority of the respondents were selected from the city of Lahore, although some respondents from other cities were also included. In Kazakhstan, the respondents came from regions around the cities of Almaty and Shymkent. In Egypt, all respondents came from the Cairo metropolitan area. In Indonesia, 1472 respondents were interviewed. In Pakistan and Kazakhstan, 1185 and 1000 respondents respectively were interviewed. In Egypt, the target of 1000 interviews could not be met because political and media pressure caused the fieldwork to be stopped after only 788 interviews. In Iran, the 614 respondents were selected mainly from the Tehran province, but there were some respondents from the holy city of Mashad. In Malaysia, 804 respondents were drawn from the states of Selangor, Penang and Kedah (ruled by UMNO) and the states of Kelantan and Trengganu (controlled by PAS at the time of the survey fieldwork). In Turkey, the sample of 527 respondents was drawn from the cities of Istanbul, Ankara and Izmir. In each country, the collaborating research centre selected the interviewers. Almost all

interviewers had social science degrees and were experienced in conducting field research. Each interview took between sixty and ninety minutes. As mentioned earlier, all samples were purposive and not random. The findings of the study therefore cannot be generalized to the overall populations of the countries. They reflect only the views of the respondents who were interviewed. However, given the sizes of the samples, they provide a unique data set with which to explore and investigate Muslim perceptions of religion and society.

APPENDIX 2 QUR’ANIC FOUNDATIONS OF THE DOCTRINE OF JIHAD

Surah 2:190 Fight in the cause of Allah those who fight you but do not transgress limits; for Allah loveth not transgressors. Surah 2:191 And slay them wherever ye catch them, and turn them out from where they have turned you out; for persecution is worse than slaughter but fight them not at the sacred mosque unless they [first] fight you there; but if they fight you, slay them. Such is the reward of those who reject faith. Surah 2:193 And fight them on until there is no more persecution and the religion becomes Allah’s. But if they cease, let there be no hostility except to those who practice oppression. Surah 2:195 And spend of your substance in the cause of Allah, and make not your own hands contribute to [your] destruction; but do good; for Allah loveth those who do good. Surah 2:216 Fighting is prescribed upon you, and ye dislike it. But it is possible that ye dislike a thing which is good for you. And that ye love a thing which is bad for you. But Allah knoweth, and ye know not. Surah 2:217 They ask thee concerning fighting in the prohibited month. Say: ‘Fighting therein is a grave [offence]; but graver is it in the sight of Allah to prevent access to the path of Allah, to deny him, to prevent access to the Sacred Mosque, and drive out its members.’ Tumult and oppression are worse than slaughter. Nor will they cease fighting you until they turn you back from your faith if they can. And if any of you turn back from their faith and die in unbelief,

their works will bear no fruit in this life and in the Hereafter; they will be companions of the Fire and will abide therein. Surah 2:244 Then fight in the cause of Allah and know that Allah heareth and knoweth all things. Surah 3:157 And if ye are slain, or die in the way of Allah, forgiveness and mercy from Allah are far better than all they could amass. Surah 3:158 And if ye die, or are slain, lo! it is unto Allah that ye are brought together. Surah 3:169 Think not of those who are slain in Allah’s way as dead. Nay, they live, finding their sustenance from their Lord. Surah 3:170 They rejoice in the bounty provided by Allah: And with regard to those left behind, who have not yet joined them [in their bliss], the [martyrs] glory in the fact that on them is no fear, nor have they [cause to] grieve. Surah 3:171 They rejoice in the Grace and the Bounty from Allah, and in the fact that Allah suffereth not the reward of the Faithful to be lost [in the least]. Surah 3:172 Of those who answered the call of Allah and the Messenger, even after being wounded, those who do right and refrain from wrong have a great reward. Surah 4:74 Let those fight in the cause of Allah who sell the life of this world for the Hereafter. To him who fighteth in the cause of Allah—whether he is slain or gets victory—soon shall We give him a reward of great [value]. Surah 4:75 And why should ye not fight in the cause of Allah and of those who, being weak, are illtreated [and oppressed]?—Men, women, and children, whose cry is: ‘Our Lord! Rescue us from this town. Whose people are oppressors; and raise for us from Thee one who will protect; and raise for use from Thee one who will help!’ Surah 4:76 Those who believe fight in the cause of Allah, and those who reject Faith fight in the cause of

Evil [Tagut]: so fight ye against the friends, of Satan: feeble indeed is the cunning of Satan. Surah 4:84 Then fight in Allah’s cause—thou art held responsible only for thyself—and rouse the Believers. It may be that Allah will restrain the fury of the unbelievers; for Allah is the strongest in might and in punishment. Surah 8:39 And fight them on until there is no more persecution, and religion becomes Allah’s in its entirety but if they cease, verily Allah doth see all that they do. Surah 8:61 But if the enemy incline towards peace, do thou [also] incline towards peace, and trust in Allah: for He is the One that heareth and knoweth [All things]. Surah 8:65 O Prophet! Rouse the Believers to the fight. If there are twenty amongst you, patient and persevering, they will vanquish two hundred: if a hundred, they will vanquish a thousand of the Unbelievers: for these are a people without understanding. Surah 9:5 But when the forbidden months are past, then fight and slay the Pagans wherever ye find them, and seize them, beleaguer them, and lie in wait for them in every strategem [of war]; But if they repent, and establish regular prayers. And pay zakat, then open the way for them: for Allah is Oft-forgiving, Most merciful. Surah 9:13 Will ye not fight people who violated their oaths, plotted to expel the Messenger, and attacked you first? Do we fear them? Nay, it is Allah Whom ye should more justly fear, if ye believe! Surah 9:14 Fight them, and Allah will punish them by your hands, and disgrace them, help you [to victory] over them, Heal the breasts of Believers. Surah 9:15 And still the indignation of their hearts. For Allah will turn [in mercy] to whom He will: and Allah is All-Knowing, All-Wise. Surah 9:20 Those who believe and emigrate and strive with might and main, in Allah’s cause, with their goods and their persons, have the highest rank in the sight of Allah: they are the people who will achieve [salvation].

Surah 9:29 Fight those who believe not in Allah nor the Last Day, nor hold that forbidden which hath been forbidden by Allah and His Messenger, nor acknowledge the Religion of Truth, from among the People of the Book, until they pay the Jizya with willing submission, and feel themselves subdued. Surah 9:81 Those who were left behind [in the Tabuk expedition] rejoiced in their sitting back behind the Messenger of Allah: they hated to strive and fight, with their goods and their persons, in the Cause of Allah: they said, ‘Go not forth in the heat.’ Say, ‘The fire of Hell is fiercer in heat’, If only they could understand! Surah 9:91 There is no blame on those who are infirm, or ill, or who find no resources to spend [on the Cause], if they are sincere [in duty] to Allah and His Messenger: no ground [of complaint] can there be against such as do right: and Allah is Oft-forgiving, Most Merciful. Surah 9:123 O ye who believe! Fight the Unbelievers who are near to you and let them find harshness in you: and know that Allah is with those who fear Him. Surah 22:39 To those against whom war is made, permission is given [to fight], because they are wronged —and verily, Allah is Most Powerful for their aid. Surah 22:40 [They are] those who have been expelled from their homes in defiance of right—[For no cause] except that they say, ‘Our Lord is Allah.’ Did not Allah check one set of people by means of another, there would surely have been pulled down monasteries, churches, synagogues, and mosques, in which the name of Allah is commemorated in abundant measure. Allah will certainly aid those who aid His [cause]—for verily Allah is Full of Strength, Exalted in Might, [Able to enforce His Will]. Surah 22:41 [They are] those who, if We establish them in the land, establish regular prayer and give Zakat, enjoin the right and forbid wrong: with Allah rests the end [and decision] of [all] affairs. Surah 22:78 And strive in His cause as ye ought to strive [with sincerity and under discipline]. He has chosen you, and has imposed no difficulties on you in religion; it is the religion of your father Abraham. It is He who has named you Muslims, both before and in this [Revelation]; that the

Messenger may be a witness for you, and ye be witnesses for mankind! So establish regular Prayer, give zakat and hold fast to Allah! He is your Protector—the best to protect and the Best to help! Surah 25:52 Therefore listen not to the Unbelievers, but strive against them with the utmost strenuousness, with the [Qur’an]. Surah 29:69 And those who strive in Our [Cause]—we will certainly guide them to Our Paths: for verily Allah is with those who do right. Surah 47:4 Therefore, when ye meet the Unbelievers [in fight], smite at their necks; at length, when ye have thoroughly subdued them, bind [the captives] firmly: therefore [is the time for] either generosity or ransom: until the war lays down its burdens. Thus [are ye commanded]: but if it had been Allah’s Will, he could have certainly exacted retribution from them [Himself]; but [He lets you fight] in order to test you, some with others. But those who are slain in the way of Allah—he will never let their deeds be lost. Surah 48:16 Say to the desert Arabs who lagged behind: ‘Ye shall be summoned [to fight] against a people given to Vehement war: then shall ye fight, or they shall submit. Then if ye show obedience, Allah will grant you a goodly reward, but if ye turn back as ye did before, He will punish you with a grievous Chastisement.’ Surah 48:17 No blame is there on the blind, nor is there blame on the lame, nor on one ill [if he joins not the war]: But he that obeys Allah and His Messenger, [Allah] will admit him to Gardens beneath which rivers flow; and he who turns back, [Allah] will punish him with a grievous Chastisement. Surah 61:11 That ye believe in Allah and His Messenger, and that ye strive [your utmost] in the Cause of Allah, with your wealth and your persons: that will be best for you, if ye but knew!

APPENDIX 3 THE CALL TO JIHAD BY THE ISLAMIC MOVEMENT OF UZBEKISTAN

Excerpted from Rashid, Jihad: The Rise of Militant Islam in Central Asia, pp. 247–9. Original document issued in Uzbek in August 1999. Emphasis as in original. In the Name of Allah the Most Compassionate the Most Merciful A Message from the General Command of the Islamic Movement Uzbekistan ‘And fight them until there is no more fitnah and the religion is all for Allah.’ Al Anfaal: 39 The Amir (commander) of the Harakatul Islamiyyah (Islamic Movement) of Uzbekistan, Muhammad Tahir Farooq, has announced the start of the Jihad against the tyrannical government of Uzbekistan and the puppet Islam Karimov and his henchmen. The leadership of the Islamic Movement confirm the following points in the declaration: This declaration comes after agreement by the major ulema and the leadership of the Islamic Movement. This agreement comes based on clear evidence on the obligation of Jihad against the tawagheet as well as to liberate the land and the people. The primary objective for this declaration of Jihad is the establishment of an Islamic state with the application of the Sharia, founded upon the Qur’an and the Noble Prophetic sunnah. Also from amongst the goals of the declaration of Jihad is: The defence of our religion of Islam in our land against those who oppose Islam. The defence of the Muslims in our land from those who humiliate them and spill their blood.

The defence of the scholars and Muslim youth, who are being assassinated, imprisoned and tortured in extreme manners—with no rights given to them at all. And the Almighty says: ‘And they had no fault except that they believed in Allah, the All Mighty, Worthy of all praise!’ Al Buruj: 8 Also to secure the release of the weak and oppressed who number some 5000 in prison, held by the transgressors. The Almighty says: ‘And what is the matter with you that you do not fight in the way of Allah and the weak and oppressed amongst men, women and children.’ An Nisaa: 75 And to reopen the thousands of mosques and Islamic schools that have been closed by the evil government. The Mujahedeen of the Islamic Movement, after their experience in warfare, have completed their training and are ready to establish the blessed Jihad. The Islamic Movement warns the Uzbek government in Tashkent from propping up or supporting the fight against the Muslims. The Islamic Movement warns tourists coming to this land that they should keep away, lest they be struck down upon by the Mujahedeen. The reason for the start of the Jihad in Kyrgyzstan is due to the stance of the ruler Askar Akayev Bishkek, in arresting thousands of Muslim Uzbeks who had migrated as refugees to Kyrgyzstan and were handed over to Karimov’s henchmen [i.e. Uzbek regime]. The Most High says: ‘Verily the oppressors are friends and protectors to one another.’ The Islamic Movement shall, by the will of Allah, make Jihad in the cause of Allah to reach all its aims and objectives. It is with regret that Foreign Mujahedeen [Al Ansaar] as of yet have not entered our ranks. The Islamic Movement invites the ruling government and Karimov leadership in Tashkent to remove all items from office—unconditionally, before the country enters into a state of war and destruction of the land and the people. The responsibility for this will lie totally on the shoulders of the government, for which it shall be punished. Allah is Great and the Honour is for Islam. Head of the Religious Leadership of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan Az Zubayr Ib ’Abdur Raheem 25th August, 1999

NOTES

Introduction 1 CIA Factbook, 2005, https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-worldfactbook/index.html; Islamweb, http://islamweb.net/ver2/mainpage/indexe.php (accessed 12 November 2007). 2 Gellner, Conditions of Liberty. 3 Hassan, Faithlines. 4 Geertz, ‘Which way to Mecca?’ 5 CIA Factbook, 2005, https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-worldfactbook/index.html (accessed 12 November 2007) 6 World Bank, World Development Report. 7 Hassan and Effendi, ‘Social structure and access to education in Indonesia’. 8 Strauss et al., Indonesian Living Standards Before and After the Financial Crisis. 9 Hodgson, The Venture of Islam; Woodward, Islam in Java. 10 Geertz, The Religion of Java. 11 Geertz, ibid. and Islam Observed. 12 Wahid, ‘The Nahdatul Ulama and Islam in present day Indonesia’; Peacock, The Muhammadiyah Movement in Indonesian Islam. 13 World Bank, World Development Report. 14 Binder, Religion and Politics in Pakistan; Hassan, ‘Islamization’; Syed, Pakistan. 15 M. Ahmad, ‘Islamic fundamentalism in South-East Asia’ and ‘Pakistan’; Hassan, ‘Islamization’; R. Ahmad, ‘Redefining Muslim identity in South Asia’; Nasr, The Vanguard of the Islamic Revolution. 16 World Bank, World Development Report. 17 Altoma, ‘The influence of Islam in post-Soviet Kazakhstan’; Olcott, ‘Kazahkstan’; Akiner, Islamic Peoples of the Soviet Union; Voll, ‘Central Asia as part of the modern Islamic world’. 18 Mustafina, as cited in Altoma, ‘The influence of Islam in post-Soviet Kazakhstan’; Olcott, ‘Kazahkstan’; Akiner, Islamic Peoples of the Soviet Union; Vakhabov, Muslims in the USSR. 19 Olcott, ‘Kazahkstan’; Altoma, ‘The influence of Islam in post-Soviet Kazakhstan’. 20 World Bank, World Development Report.

21 Ibrahim, Egypt, Islam and Democracy. 22 Auda, ‘The “normalization” of the Islamic movement in Egypt’; Esposito, The Islamic Threat. 23 Ibrahim, Egypt, Islam and Democracy. 24 Esposito, The Islamic Threat. 25 ibid.; Ibrahim, Egypt, Islam and Democracy; Auda, ‘The “normalization” of the Islamic movement in Egypt’. 26 Esposito, The Islamic Threat, p. 124. 27 F. Ahmad, ‘Turkey’. 28 World Bank, World Development Report. 29 Akhavi, ‘Iran’; Arjomand, The Shadow of God and the Hidden Imam; Abrahamian, Iran between Two Revolutions; Hassan, ‘Iran’s Islamic revolutionaries’. 30 World Bank, World Development Report. 31 Hersh, ‘The Iran plans’. 32 Abbasi-Shavazi et al., ‘Changes in family, fertility behaviour and attitudes in Iran’. 33 World Bank, World Development Report. 34 Hasan, ‘Malaysia’. 35 Roff, The Origins of Malay Nationalism; Mauzy and Milne, ‘The Mahathir administration in Malaysia’; Hasan, ‘Malaysia’.

1 Exploring Islamic consciousness 1 Government of Pakistan, 1979a and b. 2 For further details of this and preceding cases, see Shirkat Gah, Why the Hudood Ordinances Must be Repealed. 3 R. Ali, The Dark Side of ‘Honour’; N. Ahmad, ‘The superior judiciary’. 4 R. Ali, The Dark Side of ‘Honour’. 5 M. T. Hashmi, Hudood Ordinances. I attended a seminar organized by the Aurat Foundation in Lahore, on 30 December 2004, at which Dr Hashmi presented his main arguments and launched his book. I was surprised by the strength of the opposition to his key arguments by a significant number of Pakistani participants. 6 Jahangir, From Protection to Exploitation. 7 This is a summary of the statement made by Dr Shaikh to the Panel on Apostasy, Human Rights, Religion and Belief on Wednesday, 7 April 2004, the UN Commission on Human Rights, Geneva; see also Ahmed, ‘Pakistan’s blasphemy law’. 8 Jahangir, From Protection to Exploitation; HRCP, State of Human Rights in 2003. 9 As cited in Abou El Fadl, ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’, pp. 65–6; for violations of human rights in Saudi Arabia, see Simons, Saudi Arabia. 10 Powell, ‘Aceh warms to flogging as gambler gets six of the best’. 11 Kuran, Islam and Mammon; Benthall, ‘Financial worship’; Bremer, ‘Islamic philanthropy’; also see chapter 8.

12 Dwiyanto, Arfani and Yusuf, Governance, Reform and Regional Autonomy in Indonesia; Ibrahim, Egypt, Islam and Democracy. 13 UNHCR, Refugees by Numbers. 14 Abou El Fadl, ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’, p. 39. 15 For an elaboration of this argument, see Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name and ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’. 16 See Wolf, ‘The social organization of Mecca and the origin of Islam’; Watt, ‘Economic and social aspects of the origin of Islam’; Hodgson, The Venture of Islam; Rahman, Islam and Islam and Modernity; Hamidullah, The Emergence of Islam. 17 Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name, ‘The orphans of modernity and the clash of civilizations’ and ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’; Rahman, Islam and Modernity and Major Themes in the Qur’an. 18 See Abou El Fadl, ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’; Smith, Islam in Modern History. 19 Abou El Fadl, ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’, p. 45. 20 Abou El Fadl, ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’; Rahman, Islam and Modernity. 21 Al-Attas, Aims and Objectives of Islamic Education. 22 Abou El Fadl, ‘Islam and the theology of power’ and ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’. 23 In the discussion of wahhabism, I have relied mainly on Abou El Fadl, ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’, and Rahman, Islam. 24 A. Dallal, ‘The origins and objectives of Islamic revivalist thought’; Abou El Fadl, ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’. 25 ibid. 26 Kuran, Islam and Mammon, p. 101. 27 Abou El Fadl, ‘The orphans of modernity and the clash of civilizations’ and ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’. 28 Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name, ‘Islam and the theology of power’, ‘The orphans of modernity and the clash of civilizations’ and ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’. 29 See Abou El Fadl, ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’, pp. 60–1. 30 Hassan, ‘On being religious’. 31 Mernissi, Women and Islam; Rahman, Islam. 32 Kuran, Islam and Mammon; Hassan, ‘On being religious’. 33 Hassan, ‘On being religious’.

2 Patterns of religious commitment 1 Bellah, ‘Religious evolution’; de Tocqueville, Democracy in America; Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. 2 Rahman, Major Themes in the Qur’an; Maududi, Purdah and the Status of Women in Islam; Qutb [Kotb], Social Justice in Islam; Watt, What is Islam?; Esposito, Islam: The

3

4 5 6 7

8 9

10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Straight Path; M. M. Ali, The Religion of Islam. Glock, ‘On the study of religious commitment’; von Hugel, The Mystical Element of Religion; Pratt, The Psychology of Religious Belief; Faulkner and DeJong, ‘Religiosity in 5-D’; Stark and Glock, American Piety and the Nature of Religious Commitment. Glock and Stark, Religion and Society in Tension; Stark and Glock, American Piety and the Nature of Religious Commitment. Stark and Glock, American Piety and the Nature of Religious Commitment, pp. 11–21. Stark and Glock, American Piety and the Nature of Religious Commitment. King and Hunt, ‘Measuring the religious variable: Amended findings’, ‘Measuring the religious variable: Replication’, ‘Measuring the religious variable: National replication’, ‘Measuring the religious variable: Final comment’. DeJong, Faulkner and Warland, ‘Dimension of religiosity reconsidered’. ibid.; Hilty and Stockman, ‘A covariance structure analysis of DeJong, Faulkner, and Warland’s religious involvement model’; Himmelfarb, ‘Measuring religious involvement’. Glock and Stark, Religion and Society in Tension. Stark and Glock, American Piety and the Nature of Religious Commitment, p. 15. Bell, Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions. Glock and Stark, American Piety and the Nature of Religious Commitment, p. 31. James, The Varieties of Religious Experience. See Gellner, Muslim Society; Geertz, The Religion of Java. Stark and Glock, American Piety and the Nature of Religious Commitment. ibid. Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, p. 417. ibid., p. 225. ibid., p. 226. Douglas, Natural Symbols. Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life. Glock and Stark, Religion and Society in Tension; Stark and Glock, American Piety and the Nature of Religious Commitment. Cornwall, ‘The influence of three aspects of religious socialization’; Erickson, ‘Adolescent religious development and commitment’. Myers, ‘An interactive model of religiosity inheritance’. ibid. ibid. Maududi, The Islamic Law and Constitution; Qutb [Kotb], Social Justice in Islam. See Watt, ‘Self image of Islam in the Qur’an and later’; al-Attas, Aims and Objectives of Islamic Education. Gellner, Conditions of Liberty. Anwar and Abu Bakar, ‘Current state of science and technology in the Muslim world’. UNDP, Human Development Report, 2002.

33 Economist, 13 September 2003. 34 HDI: a widely used composite index of economic and physical well-being.

3 Jihad and conflict resolution in Muslim societies 1 Ghunaimi, The Muslim Conception of International Law and the Western Approach; R. Peters, Islam and Colonialism; Hashmi, ‘Jihad’. 2 R. Peters, Islam and Colonialism, p. 3; Abou El Fadl, The Great Theft. 3 R. Peters, Islam and Colonialism; Khadduri, War and Peace in the Law of Islam. 4 F. E. Peters, Islam; Rahman, Islam, 1989; Khadduri, War and Peace in the Law of Islam. 5 Rahman, Islam, p. 37. 6 Rahman, Major Themes in the Qur’an. 7 R. Peters, Islam and Colonialism; Rahman, Islam. 8 Rahman, Islam, p. 37; Armstrong, Islam, p. 6. 9 R. Peters, Islam and Colonialism; F. E. Peters, Islam; Rahman, Islam, pp. 37–8. 10 F. E. Peters, Islam, pp. 206–8; R. Peters, Islam and Colonialism; Hamidullah, The Emergence of Islam; Khadduri, War and Peace in the Law of Islam. 11 As cited in F. E. Peters, Islam, p. 212. 12 R. Peters, ‘Jihad’. 13 R. Peters, Islam and Colonialism, pp. 42–4. 14 Kuran, Islam and Mammon, chapter 2. 15 Castells, The Power of Identity, pp. 112–15. 16 Hassan, ‘Islamization’; Marty and Appleby, Fundamentalism Observed and Fundamentalisms and Society; Tamney, ‘Modernization and religious purification’. 17 Kuran, Islam and Mammon, pp. 82–102; Sageman, Understanding Terror Networks; Marty and Appleby, Fundamentalism Observed and Fundamentalisms and Society. 18 Rana, A to Z of Jehadi Organizations in Pakistan; Stern, ‘Pakistan’s jihadi culture’. 19 Rana, A to Z of Jehadi Organizations in Pakistan, p. 85. 20 Hoodbhoy, ‘Afghanistan and the genesis of global jihad’. 21 Some jihadi organizations in Pakistan collect donations by force; see Rana, A to Z of Jehadi Organizations in Pakistan, chapter 1. 22 Napoleoni, Modern Jihad. 23 International News, Pakistan. 24 Butt, ‘Small-time hoodlums being used for terror’. 25 Khan, ‘Militants were paid to repay al Qaeda debt’. 26 Hassan, ‘On being religious’; Kepel, Jihad. 27 Kepel, Jihad; Mann, Incoherent Empire; Rashid, Jihad; Sageman, Understanding Terror Networks; Abou El Fadl, ‘Islam and the theology of power’. 28 Mann, Incoherent Empire, chapter 6; Napoleoni, Modern Jihad; Kepel, Jihad; Rashid, Jihad; Ramakrishna, ‘Jemaah Islamiah’. 29 Mann, Incoherent Empire.

30 31 32 33 34

35 36 37 38

Sageman, Understanding Terror Networks. ibid., chapter 3. Rana, A to Z of Jehadi Organizations in Pakistan, chapter 1. Kuran, Islam and Mammon; Rashid, Jihad; R. Peters, ‘The political relevance of the doctrine of jihad in Sadat’s Egypt’; Kepel, Jihad. Similar conclusions have also been reported by Euben, ‘Killing (for) politics’; Sachedina, ‘The development of jihad in Islamic revelation and history’; Devji, Landscapes of the Jihad. Hassan, ‘On being religious’. Kepel, Jihad, pp. 375–6; also Atran, ‘Facing catastrophe’. Mann, Incoherent Empire. Ali, ‘Islam, power and political legitimacy in Pakistan’.

4 Political order and religious institutions 1 Maududi, The Islamic Law and Constitution; Lewis, Islam and the West; Huntington, ‘The clash of civilizations’; Rahman, Islam and Modernity; Weber, Economy and Society; Gellner, Muslim Society. 2 Esposito, ‘Practice and theory’. 3 Abou El Fadl, Islam and the Challenge of Democracy, p. 36. 4 Esposito, ‘Practice and theory’. 5 Wahid, ‘Reflections on the need for a concept of man in Islam’. 6 For a description of the indicators and further details, see Norris and Inglehart, ‘Islamic culture and democracy’. 7 Lapidus, ‘State and religion in Islamic societies’; Keddie, ‘The revolt of Islam, 1700 to 1993’. 8 Weber, Economy and Society; Crone, Slaves on Horses; Lewis, Islam and the West; Huntington, ‘The clash of civilizations’ or The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. 9 Lapidus, ‘State and religion in Islamic societies’. 10 ibid., p. 24. 11 Keddie, ‘The revolt of Islam, 1700 to 1993’, p. 463. 12 Zubaida, Islam, the People and the State; Sadowski, ‘The new orientalism and the democracy debate’; Ayubi, Political Islam. 13 Lapidus, ‘State and religion in Islamic societies’; Beinin and Stork, Political Islam; Esposito [1995]; Marty and Appleby, Fundamentalisms and Society. 14 Gellner, Muslim Society and Postmodernism, Reason and Religion; Rahman, Islam and Modernity; Beyer, Religion and Globalization; Hassan, ‘Pirs and politics’ and ‘On being religious’. 15 Ulema refers to scholars, jurists and teachers learned in the Islamic sciences. Imam masjid are the leaders of the daily mandatory prayers in Muslim mosques. Pir and kyai

16 17 18 19

are leaders of folk or popular Islam. The nomenclature used to describe or refer to this institution varies in different countries. For a general discussion of the nature and functions of the Islamic institutions of ulema, imam masjid and pir/kyai, see Keddie, Scholars, Saints, and Sufis; Mayer, ‘Pir and Murshid’; Gellner, Saints of the Atlas; and Dhofier, ‘The Pesantran tradition’. UNDP, Human Development Report (1996b). Gallup Pakistan, Pakistan Public Opinion on Important Social Issues. Luhmann, Funktion der Religion and The Differentiation of Society. For an elaboration and discussion of this issue, see Rashid, ‘Pakistan and the Taliban’.

5 Expressions of religiosity and blasphemy 1 Parsons, ‘Some comments on the pattern of religious organization in the United States’; Luckmann, The Invisible Religion; Berger, The Sacred Canopy; Bellah, ‘Religious evolution’. 2 Beyer, Religion and Globalization; Berger and Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality. 3 Beyer, Religion and Globalization; Tamney, Resilience of Conservative Religion; Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart. 4 Luhmann, The Differentiation of Society, pp. 238–42; Beyer, Religion and Globalization, pp. 70–81. 5 Beyer, Religion and Globalization. 6 Alex Tyler cited in L. Levy, ‘Blasphemy’. 7 L. Levy, ‘Blasphemy’. 8 Brown, ‘Society and the supernatural’; Hunter, ‘Sacrilege’. 9 Padoa-Schioppa, ‘Hierarchy and jurisdiction’. 10 Hunter, ‘Sacrilege’. 11 Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies. 12 Hunter, ‘Sacrilege’. 13 New South Wales Law Reform Commission, Blasphemy Report 74. 14 L. Levy, ‘Blasphemy’. 15 Ernst, ‘Islamic concept’; Adams, ‘Kufr’. 16 Amnesty International, Report on Pakistan. 17 Details are reported in Hassan, ‘On being religious: A study of Christian and Muslim piety’. 18 Stark and Glock, American Piety and the Nature of Religious Commitment; Glock, ‘On the study of religious commitment’. 19 See chapter 2. 20 Stark and Glock, American Piety and the Nature of Religious Commitment. 21 UNDP, Human Development Report (2002). 22 See Hassan, Faithlines; Beyer, Religion and Globalization.

23 Gellner, Conditions of Liberty. 24 Lewis, Islam and the West; Pipes, Militant Islam Reaches America; Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. 25 Ibrahim, Egypt, Islam and Democracy; Kamali, ‘Civil society and Islam’; Norris and Inglehart, ‘Islamic culture and democracy’; Hefner, Civil Islam. 26 Gellner, Conditions of Liberty.

6 Veiling, patriarchy and honour killing 1 Esposito, The Islamic Threat, p. 5; Armstrong, A History of God, p. 184. 2 R. Levy, The Social Structure of Islam, p. 91; Rahman, Islam; Ali, ‘The position of woman’; Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name. 3 Arthur, The Philosophy of Karl Jaspers. 4 Armstrong, A History of God, p. 184. 5 Ali, ‘The position of woman’, pp. 55–9; Armstrong, A History of God, chapter 5. 6 Rahman, Islam, p. 38. 7 ibid.; R. Levy, The Social Structure of Islam; Watt, ‘Ideal factors in the origin of Islam’; Mernissi, Women and Islam. 8 Rahman, Islam; Mernissi, Women and Islam; Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name. 9 Armstrong, A History of God, p. 184; Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name. 10 Baydawi, as cited in R. Levy, The Social Structure of Islam, p. 99. 11 Rahman, Islam and Modernity. 12 Islamic Review [August 1952], as cited in R. Levy, The Social Structure of Islam, p. 99. 13 Sahih al-Bukhari 9:18, as cited in Maududi, Purdah and the Status of Women in Islam, pp. 170–1. 14 Maududi, Purdah and the Status of Women in Islam, p. 111. 15 Mernissi, Women and Islam, chapter 3; Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name, chapters 6–7. 16 Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name; Haeri, ‘Obedience versus autonomy’. 17 As cited in Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name, pp. 75–6. 18 ibid., p. 172. 19 ibid., pp. 172–8. 20 Mernissi, Women and Islam. 21 Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name, p. 224. 22 ibid., pp. 215–31. 23 ibid., p. 224. 24 ibid., pp. 235–6. 25 R. Levy, The Social Structure of Islam. 26 Mernissi, Women and Islam; Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name. 27 Mernissi, Women and Islam. 28 Haeri, ‘Obedience versus autonomy’; Hardacre, ‘The impact of fundamentalisms on

29

30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

women, the family, and interpersonal relations’; Higgins, ‘Women in the Islamic Republic of Iran’. Hardacre, ‘The impact of fundamentalisms on women, the family, and interpersonal relations’; Bullough, The Subordinate Sex; Rugh, Reveal and Conceal; Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name. Baydawi, as cited in R. Levy, The Social Structure of Islam, p. 126. Haeri, ‘Obedience versus autonomy’. R. Levy, The Social Structure of Islam; Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name. Nash, ‘Islamic resurgence in Malaysia and Indonesia’. Levy, The Social Structure of Islam; Rahman, Islam and Modernity; Mernissi, Women and Islam; Rugh, Reveal and Conceal; Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name. Bari, ‘Women and the 15th Amendment’. Esposito, The Islamic Threat. See Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name, pp. 232–5. R. Ali, The Dark Side of ‘Honour’. Warrick, ‘The vanishing victim’. Douki et al., ‘Violence against women in Arab and Islamic countries’. Niaz, ‘Violence against women in South Asian countries’. G. Robinson, ‘International perspectives on violence against women’. Douki et al., ‘Violence against women in Arab and Islamic countries’. McMorris, ‘Lawyers argue laws, not repress women’. R. Ali, The Dark Side of ‘Honour’. Aftab Nabi, as cited in R. Ali, The Dark Side of ‘Honour’. This is an abridged version of the case as described in R. Ali, The Dark Side of ‘Honour’, pp. 30–3. Dabbagh, Suicide in Palestine. Quoted in Jehl, ‘Arab honor’s price’. This is an abridged version of an article by journalist Douglas Jehl entitled ‘Arab honor’s price: A woman’s blood’. Jehl, ‘Arab honor’s price’. R. Ali, The Dark Side of ‘Honour’. Warrick, ‘The vanishing victim’. UN Third Committee, ‘Report on draft resolution, news release in M2 Press Wire’. Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name. UNDP, Human Development Report (1996a and 2004). UNDP, Human Development Report 2004, Table 24. Hassan, Ethnicity, Culture and Fertility.

7 Globalization and the Islamic ummah 1 Chaudhri, The Muslim Ummah and Israel; Dallal, ‘Ummah’; Rahman, Major Themes in

2

3 4

5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

the Qur’an; von Grunebaum, ‘Nationalism and cultural trends in the Arab Near East’; Ahmad, Muslim Ummah at the Threshold of the 21st Century. Dallal, ‘Ummah’; von Grunebaum, ‘Nationalism and cultural trends in the Arab Near East’ and Modern Islam; Rahman, Major Themes in the Qur’an; van Nieuwenhuijze, ‘The ummah’; Denny, ‘The meaning of ummah in the Qur’an’; Giannakis, ‘The concept of ummah’. Watt, ‘Ideal factors in the origin of Islam’. Denny, ‘The meaning of ummah in the Qur’an’; Giannakis, ‘The concept of ummah’; Rahman, ‘The principles of shura and the role of the ummah in Islam’; Watt, ‘Ideal factors in the origin of Islam’. Hodgson, The Venture of Islam. Von Grunebaum, Modern Islam. As cited in F. Robinson, ‘Islam and the West?’. Tonnies, Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft [Community and Society]. Eisenstadt and Giessen, ‘The construction of collective identity’. Geertz, The Religion of Java. See, for example, Hooker, Islamic Law in South-East Asia. Abou El Fadl, ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’. Azra, ‘Agama dan Otentisitas Islam’. Werbner and Modood, Debating Cultural Hybridity. Geertz, Islam Observed. Azra, ‘Agama dan Otentisitas Islam’. Arkoun, Rethinking Islam.

8 Philanthropy and social justice 1 Wolf, ‘The social organization of Mecca and the origin of Islam’; Watt, ‘Economic and social aspects of the origin of Islam’, ‘Ideal factors in the origin of Islam’ and Mohammad at Mecca; Armstrong, Islam; Rahman, Major Themes in the Qur’an; Denny, An Introduction to Islam. 2 Rahman, Major Themes in the Qur’an, p. 62. 3 Hamidullah, The Emergence of Islam, p. 234; Denny, An Introduction to Islam, pp. 115– 16; Al-Sheikh, ‘Zakat’. 4 Denny, An Introduction to Islam; Benthall, ‘Financial worship’; Hamidullah, The Emergence of Islam. 5 Denny, An Introduction to Islam; Hamidullah, The Emergence of Islam. 6 Denny, An Introduction to Islam, pp. 115–16; Benthall, ‘Financial worship’; Hamidullah, The Emergence of Islam, pp. 234–5; Kuran, Islam and Mammon, pp. 19–28. 7 Al-Sheikh, ‘Zakat’; Benthall, ‘Financial worship’; Bremer, ‘Islamic philanthropy’; Hamidullah, The Emergence of Islam. 8 Yusuf al-Qaradawi, as cited in Al-Sheikh, ‘Zakat’, p. 368.

9 Kuran, Islam and Mammon, pp. 21–2. 10 ibid., p. 22. 11 Sutherland and Hassan, Proceedings of the Philanthropy for Social Justice in Muslim Countries Workshop. 12 Carkoglu, Philanthropy in Turkey. 13 Hassan, ‘Terrorists and their tools’. 14 Kuran, Islam and Mammon, p. 21. 15 Carkoglu, Philanthropy in Turkey. 16 Centre for Language and Culture, ‘Philanthropy for social justice in Muslim societies’. 17 Aga Khan Development Network, as cited in Bremer, ‘Islamic philanthropy’. 18 Kuran, Islam and Mammon, pp. 21–2. 19 Scott, ‘Resistance without protest and without organization’. 20 Denny, An Introduction to Islam, p. 115. 21 Centre for Language and Culture, ‘Philanthropy for social justice in Muslim societies’. 22 ibid. 23 Civil Services Academy, Utilization of Zakat Fund in Health Sector, Both Public and Private Hospitals. 24 Benthall, ‘Financial worship’. 25 Carkoglu, Philanthropy in Turkey. 26 Benthall, ‘Financial worship’; Maududi, The Economic Problem of Man and Its Islamic Solution. 27 Mustapha, ‘Zakat in Malaysia’. 28 Kuran, Islam and Mammon, p. 26. 29 ibid., p. 28. 30 Civil Services Academy, Utilization of Zakat Fund in Health Sector, Both Public and Private Hospitals. 31 Prescott, ‘Happiness is . . . a lower tax rate’.

9 Islam and civil society 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Gellner, Conditions of Liberty, p. 4. Calhoun, ‘Nationalism and civil society’. Alexander, ‘The paradox of civil society’, p. 115. Reisman, The Lonely Crowd. Gellner, Conditions of Liberty. ibid. ibid., p. 14. ibid., p. 22. ibid., pp. 28–9. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. Lewis, Islam and the West; Pipes, Militant Islam Reaches America.

12 Norton, Civil Society in the Middle East; Ibrahim, Egypt, Islam and Democracy; Kamali, ‘Civil society and Islam’; Nakamura et al., Islam and Civil Society in Southeast Asia; Hefner, Civil Islam; Abou El Fadl, Islam and the Challenge of Democracy. 13 Norris and Inglehart, ‘Islamic culture and democracy’. 14 Kamali, ‘Civil society and Islam’. 15 Hassan, ‘On being religious’. 16 Norton, Civil Society in the Middle East. 17 Ibrahim, Egypt, Islam and Democracy. 18 Norton, Civil Society in the Middle East. 19 Hefner, Civil Islam.

10 Mutual suspicions 1 Barreau, De L’Islam en General et du Monde Moderne en Particulier, as cited in Leug, ‘The perceptions of Islam in Western debate’. 2 Nelan, ‘The dark side of Islam’. 3 Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order; Lewis, What Went Wrong?; Pipes, Militant Islam Reaches America; Schwartz, The Two Faces of Islam; Akbar, The Shade of Sword. 4 Pew Research Center, ‘Views of Muslims’. 5 As cited in Leug, ‘The perceptions of Islam in Western debate’. 6 Hassan, ‘Terrorists and their tools’. 7 Pape, Dying to Win; Bloom, Dying to Kill; Atran, ‘Genesis of suicide terrorism’. 8 Pape, Dying to Win; Hassan, ‘Global rise of suicide terrorism’. 9 Leug, ‘The perceptions of Islam in Western debate’. 10 Hippler and Leug, The Next Threat. 11 Pew Research Center, ‘Views of Muslims’. 12 Hippler and Leug, The Next Threat. 13 Brennan, Tampering with Asylum. 14 Pew Research Center, ‘Views of Muslims’. 15 Ahnaf, ‘The image of the enemy’. 16 ibid.

Epilogue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Abou El Fadl, ‘The ugly modern and the modern ugly’. On this issue, see Peters, ‘Blood borders’. Mansuri, ‘CII wants hudood law reformed’. Hoodbhoy, Islam and Science. Anwar and Abu Bakar, ‘Current state of science and technology in the Muslim world’. Butler, ‘The data gap’. Arkoun, Rethinking Islam.

8 9 10 11

See Abou El Fadl, The Great Theft, chapter 11. Euben, ‘Killing (for) politics’. On these points, see Mann, Incoherent Empire and The Dark Side of Democracy. Walzer, Revolution of the Saints; Euben, ‘Killing (for) politics’.

Appendix 1 1 Hassan, Faithlines.

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INDEX

Abou El Fadl, Dr Khaled, 36–7, 39, 45, 47, 48, 130, 175, 176–7, 179, 209, 229, 287 Abu Zeid, Dr Nasr Hamed, 33–4, 158 Afghanistan: Islamic institutions, 259; Islamic state, 133; jihad, 115, 118; refugees, 36; Soviet occupation, 115, 116, 118; US support for, 116–18 Aghajari, Dr Hashem, 158, 159 Alevi Muslims, 18 Algeria, 133, 259–60 Allah, experience of: associated with non-belief, 91–2, 93; belief in existence, 67, 71, 75–6, 93; fear of, 70, 86–7, 88–9; presence of, 70, 85; punishment by, 70, 86, 87, 88–9 al-Naqshabandi, Abd al-Karim, 31–3 al-Qaeda, 47, 112, 115, 119, 120 apologetics, 39–41, 43, 46 Australian Muslims, 163, 164 ayatollah (esteemed religious scholars), 159 Baydawi, 174 beheadings, 31–3 bin Laden, Osama, 118, 119 blasphemy, 4–5; attitudes in Australia, 162, 163, 164; attitudes in Muslim countries, 162–4; attitudes to and religiosity, 164–6, 167–8; concept of, 154–61; in Judeo-Christian tradition, 154–8 civil society: conditions for, 258; features, 250–2; ideals, 249–50, 263–4, 288–9; and Islam, 253–60; origins, 6–7, 248–52; political and democratic values, 254–6; and power of the state, 259–60; role of religious trusts, 7, 259; ummah consciousness, 256–8 Cold War period, 113 colonialism, 39–41, 46 conflict of conscience, 34–6 consequential dimension of piety, 66, 70; index of, 91–3 CRLO (Permanent Council for Scientific Research and Legal Opinions) on status of women, 177–80, 183–4, 296 cruelty, 37–8

Darul-Harb, 108, 110, 114 Darul-Islam, 108, 109, 110, 114, 115 Darwin’s theory, belief in, 70, 91–2, 93 Devil, belief in, 67, 74, 75, 76, 86, 87 devotional dimension of piety, 66, 69; international comparisons, 82–4 Douglas, Mary, 89, 90 dress codes, 50–3, 55–6, 168–9, 171, 189–91, 211 Durkheim, Émile, 89–90, 91, 245–6 economic development and religiosity, 100–2 education and secularization, 99–100 Egypt, 8; background, 14–16; blasphemy, 4, 162–4; civil society, 261; dress codes, 189–91; hisbah doctrine, 34; influence on Islamic learning, 15; Muslim Brotherhood, 15, 16, 47, 109, 115, 219; patriarchy, 196–8, 295–6; perceptions of the ‘other’, 271–5, 282–5; piety, 16, 71–102; religiosity, 48–53, 54–6; salafabism, 57–60, 287–8; Sunni Muslims, 14; trust in institutions, 135–44, 148; ummah consciousness, 223–6, 256–8; zakat, 237, 238–42 experiential dimension of piety, 65, 66, 69; index of, 87–90; international comparisons, 85–7 fasting during Ramadan, 68, 78–9 fatwa (legal ruling by scholars), 174 fitnah (civil disorder), 171, 178, 179–80, 189, 209–10, 296 fundamentalism, 302–3; claimed ‘authenticity’ against ‘hybridity’, 228–30, 303; countering modernity, 50–3, 56; development, 6, 184, 213; and Islam, 266–9; and loss in male status, 213, 295; rationale, 228–9; and terrorism, 267–8; from wahhabi and salafi movements, 228 Gellner, Ernest, 7, 100, 168, 249, 250–1, 253–4, 256, 257–8 gender issues, 5; equality in texts, 55–6; historical context, 171–80; see also dress codes; hijab; honour killing; patriarchy; veiling and seclusion Gender-Related Development Index (GDI), 212–13 globalization, 5–6, 116; impact on ummah, 226–32, 302; and modernity, 301–2; and religion, 231–2 Glock, Charles, 64, 65–6, 82, 94, 164–5 hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca), 65 Hamas, 115, 120 Hanafi school of Islamic law, 11, 12 Hezbollah, 115, 299 hijab (head covering); and femininity 192, 193, 195–6, 210; an Islamic duty, 192, 193, 194– 5; meanings, 5, 191–2; and sexual modesty, 192, 194, 196 hisbah (guarding against infringements), 34 holy war, 3 honour killing: activism against, 206, 208; estimates in different countries, 206, 207, 208;

history of, 200–1; in the Middle East, 205–8; in Pakistan, 200–5, 207; in patriarchal society, 5, 201–2; Samia Sarwar, 203–5 hudood laws, Pakistan, 36, 203, 289; abused, 26–7, 29–30; offences, 24–6, 27; punishments, 25–6, 27; purpose, 24–5; and salafabism, 38–9; support for enforcing, 50–3, 54; Zina Ordinance, 28 Human Development Index (HDI): and attitudes to blasphemy and religiosity, 165, 166; indicator of modernity, 225; and piety, 101–2, 291 ideological dimension of piety, 65–6, 67; international comparisons, 71–7 ijithad (innovation), 259 Indonesia, 8; background, 9–10; blasphemy, 162–4; civil society, 262; dress codes, 189–91; floggings, 33; fundamentalists, 230; Islamic radicalism, 230–1; patriarchy, 196–8, 295–6; perceptions of the ‘other’, 271–5, 282–5; piety, 71–102; post-Suharto, 169; religiosity, 48– 53, 54–6; salafabism, 57–60, 287–8; shari’ah punishment, 33; Sunni Muslims, 9; trust in institutions, 135–44, 148; ummah consciousness, 223–6, 256–8; zakat, 237, 238–42 institutions: configuration, and trust in religious institutions, 134–5, 140–2, 148; differentiated, 132, 133, 145, 147–8, 301; evolution to differentiated, 147–8, 150; functional roles, 147–8, 297; independent of state, 301; performance roles, 147–8, 297, 301; secularization, 146–7; trust in, 135–40, 145, 146; undifferentiated, 132, 147–8; see also religious institutions intellectual dimension of piety, 65–6 International Islamic Solidarity, 116 Iqbal, Sir Muhammad, 220 Iran, 8; Afghan refugees, 36; background, 19–21; blasphemy, 4, 162–4, 167–8; civil society, 258, 261–2; dress codes, 168–9, 189–91; hijab, 192, 193, 194–6; Iraq/Iran war, 20; Islamic Revolution, 19–20, 116, 159, 300; Islamic state, 133; menbar, 258; patriarchy, 196–8, 295–6; piety, 71–102; religiosity, 48–53, 54–6; salafabism, 57–60, 287–8; secularization, 299–300; Shi’ah sect, 20; trust in institutions, 135–44, 148; ummah consciousness, 223–6, 256–8 Iraq: US invasion, 21, 267; war with Iran, 20 Islam: blueprint for social order, 129, 131, 132; and civil society, 253–60; and colonialism, 39–41, 46; compatible with political systems, 129–30; conflict of conscience, 34–6; decentring Muslim world, 303; demonizing, 268–9, 280; ‘five pillars’ of, 227; and fundamentalism, 266–9; ‘high’ and ‘low’ Islam, 133, 252; public roles of, 3–4; radicalism, 230–1; refugees from, 269; religious renaissance, 2, 95, 120, 127, 290; size of following, 5; state and religion, 132–4; universities, 293; Western perceptions of, 265–9; women’s status improved, 172, 294–6; see also ummah Islamic state: countries functioning as, 133; failure of ‘national project’, 109, 113–114, 115; genesis of notion, 114–15; ideology of, 114; influence of ummah on policy, 257–8; realised by jihad, 115, 126; and religion, 132–4; revival movements call for, 133; trust in religious institutions, 134–50, 145, 146, 149–50, 296–9; undifferentiated institutions, 132, 147–8

Jamaat-e-Islami, 12, 44, 47, 109, 115, 219–20 Jemaah Islamiah, 115, 120 ji’had movements, 225; Afghanistan, 115, 118; charismatic leaders, 121, 127; and conflict resolution, 122–6; financial support, 112, 113, 115, 116, 118, 122, 126; global, 3, 118; ideologies, 120–1, 122; jihadis all Muslims, 120, 126; loosely structured, 120; meanings, 3, 103–6, 305–6; membership, 121–2, 127; motivation, 128, 306–8; ‘of the sword’ (smaller), 104, 105; ‘of the tongue’ (greater), 104; passive support for, 128; periods, 106– 22, 126; privatization, 109, 118–19, 126; purpose, 104, 105, 106–7, 126; Qur’anic origins, 103–7, 110; to realise Islamic state, 115, 126; significance of 9/11, 127; support for activism, 122–5, 126, 128; and terrorism, 127, 305–8; treatise on, 105; Western conceptions of, 266, 306–7 Jordan, 15, 261 kafir (unbelievers), 70 Kazakhstan, 8; background, 12–14; blasphemy, 162–4; dress codes, 189–91; patriarchy, 196– 8, 295, 296; perceptions of the ‘other’, 271–5, 282–5; piety, 71–102; religiosity, 48–53, 54–6; salafabism, 57–60, 287–8; Soviet rule, 13; Sunni Muslims, 12; trust in institutions, 134–44, 148; ummah consciousness, 223–6, 256–8; zakat, 238–41 kufr (infidelity), 158 Kuwait, 261 Lebanon, 261 life after death, 67, 73, 74 Luhmann, Niklas, 146–7, 153–4, 168, 297 madrassa (religious schools), 117, 119, 149, 259 Mahdi, 112–13 Malaysia, 8; background, 21–3; blasphemy, 162–4; civil society, 262–3; dress codes, 189–91; hijab, 192, 193, 194–6; Islamic Party (PAS), 23, 47; modernity and religiosity, 166–7; patriarchy, 196–200, 295–6; perceptions of the ‘other’, 271–5, 282–5; piety, 71–102; religiosity, 48–53, 54–6; salafabism, 57–60, 287–8; trust in institutions, 135–44, 148; ummah consciousness, 223–6, 256–8; zakat, 237, 238–43 Marxism, 251 Maududi, Sayyid Abul A’la, 44, 98–9, 114, 130, 174–5, 242, 292 Mecca, 65, 287, 304–5 Medina, 107, 287, 304–5 menbar (pulpits), 169, 258, 260, 264 misogyny, see patriarchy modernity: and fundamentalism, 50, 56; and globalization, 301–2; HDI indicators of, 225; and religion, 151–4, 166–7, 170; and religiosity, 166–8, 170; and ummah consciousness, 223–6, 300–2 Mongols, 110–11

moral polarization, 7–9, 270, 284–5 Muhammad: salvation through, 67, 70, 74–5, 76, 85, 86; and status of women, 172, 173, 209; and veiling, 181, 183 Muhammadiyah, 10, 35–6, 262 mujahideen (warriors for the faith), 117, 159 mullahs (religious leaders/teachers), 299 Muslim Brotherhood, 15, 16, 47, 109, 115, 219 Muslim identity: and Islamic economics, 44–5; and salafi ideology, 44; survey of beliefs about, 50–3, 54–5 Muslim perceptions: of the ‘other’, 8, 269–75, 282–5; of other countries, 2, 8, 275–81, 282– 5; of ‘self ’, 8, 271–5, 282; of transgressions against, 128 Muslim society: differentiated social formations, 132; establishment of ummah, 253; hold of Islam over population, 252; undifferentiated social formations, 132; see also civil society Nahdatul Ulama, 10, 35–6 ‘national project’, 109, 113–14, 115 nationalism and ummah, 221 Nigeria, 133 9/11, 61, 118, 127, 267, 269 Pakistan, 8; Afghan refugees, 36; background, 10–12; blasphemy, 4, 28–30, 36, 159–61, 162–4; civil society, 263; dress codes, 189–91; fundamentalists, 12, 44; honour killing, 200–5, 207; hudood laws, 24–8, 36, 50–3, 54, 203, 289; Islamic state, 133; patriarchy, 196–8, 295–6; perceptions of the ‘other’, 271–5, 282–5; piety, 71–102, 94–102; religiosity, 48–60; salafabism, 57–60, 287–8, 289, 290; Sunni Muslims, 11, 160; trust in institutions, 135–44, 148; ummah consciousness, 223–6, 256–8; zakat, 237, 238–43 patriarchy (gender domination), 69; attitudes to, 211–15, 294–5; and honour killings, 5, 201– 2; surveys on, 50–3, 55–6, 196–200 philanthropy, see zabat piety, 2–3; commitment level, 98–9, 284; debate about nature and content, 62–3; and development, 290, 291; dimensions of, 64–70; education and secularization, 99–100; and HDI, 101–2, 291; index of ritual behaviour, 81–2; international comparisons, 71–93, 102; little analysis of, 62–3; nature and expression of, 64–7; non-traditional, 98, 290–1; religious renaissance, 2, 95, 120, 127, 290; and salafabist self-image of Islam, 292–3; scepticism about, 63–4; traditional, 97–8, 290–1, 292 private prayers, 69, 83 Qur’an, 11; belief in miracles of, 67, 71–2, 73, 76; consulting, 69, 83, 84; on distributive justice, 234–5; origins of ji’had, 103–7, 110; reciting, 68, 80–1; sanctity and inviolability, 49–53, 54; status of women, 172–3, 174, 294; and ummah, 217, 219, 220; on veiling and seclusion, 181–2, 183, 184

Ramadan, fasting during, 68, 78–9 refugees and asylum seekers, 36, 269 religion: ‘function’ role of, 143, 147, 148, 153–4; and globalization, 231–2; and modernity, 151–4, 166–7, 170; ‘performance’ role of, 147, 148, 153–4; privatization of, 152, 154; relationship with state, 132–4; secularization of, 299 religiosity: and blasphemy, 164–6, 167–8; and economic development, 100–2; effect of global interest in, 96; and household structure, 97; inherited from family, 97; meanings, 63–4; and modernity, 166–8, 170; orthodoxy of beliefs, 75–7; part of Muslim identity, 224; rewards, 70; and social structure, 89–91, 95–7; survey of, 48–60; see also piety religious experience, 65, 66, 69–70, 85–7 religious institutions: independent of other institutions, 297; influence, 147; institutional configurations and trust in 134–5, 140–2, 148; ‘performance’ role, 147; role of, 141, 142– 4; trust in, 135–40, 141, 143, 145, 146, 149–50, 296–9 religious renaissance, 2, 95, 120, 127, 290 ritualistic dimension of piety, 65, 68–9; index of religious practice, 81–2; international comparisons, 77–82; rituals studied, 77–81 Rushdie, Salman, 158–9 sadaqa (charity), 234 salafabism: extreme forms, 47–8; factors in development, 47–8, 60–1, 288; features, 45–6, 286–7; and hudood laws, 38–9; influence, 47, 48, 60–1, 287–8; Islam the antithesis of the West, 46–7; orientation to, 56–9; role of Islamic texts, 46–7; self-image of Islam, 292–3 salafism, 228; genesis, 42–3; ideology, 43–4; and Islamic economics, 44–5; merging with wahhabism, 43, 45 salat (daily prayers), 68, 77–8 salvation, 67, 70, 74–5, 76, 85, 86 Sarwar, Samia, 203–5 Saudi Arabia, 116, 133, 261; abuse of laws, 31–4; beheadings, 31–3; blasphemy, 4; CRLO, 177–80, 183–4, 296; management of holy cities, 287, 304–5; misogyny, 296; salafabism, 45, 287; and spread of wahhabism, 42; zakat, 237, 239–40, 241 seclusion, see veiling and seclusion sexual insecurity, 60 sexuality, management of, 295; celibacy prohibited, 182; men’s attitude towards control, 55; by veiling and seclusion, 182–4, 211, 214–16; women provoke misconduct, 50–3, 55; see also fitnah Shafi’i school of Islamic law, 9, 22, 23 Shaikh, Dr Younus, 29–30, 158 shari’ah law, 20, 33, 50–3, 56, 258 Shi’ah Islam, 18, 20 social structure and religiosity, 89–91, 95–7 Stark, Rodney, 64, 65–6, 82, 94, 164–5

state, see Islamic state Sudan, 133 Sufi (popular Islam), 9, 12, 17, 69 suicide bombings, 122–3, 267–8 Sunnah, 11, 74 Sunni Muslims, 9, 11, 12, 14, 20, 116–17, 160 Taliban, 47, 115, 117, 118, 149, 259 terrorism, 127, 267–8, 305–8 thought, categories of, 233, 260, 292–3 Turkey, 8; Alevi Muslims, 18; background, 16–19; blasphemy, 162–4; civil society, 261; dress codes, 189–91; hijab, 192, 193, 194–6; honour killings, 206, 207; Islamic state, 133; Kemalism, 17; military regimes, 18; patriarchy, 196–200, 295, 296; perceptions of the ‘other’, 271–5, 282–5; piety, 71–102; religiosity, 48–53, 54–6; salafabism, 57–60, 287–8; Sufi influence, 17; Sunni-Hanafi Islam, 18; trust in institutions, 135–44, 148; ummah consciousness, 223–6, 256–8; zakat, 237, 238 ulema (male Islamic scholars), 5, 12, 169, 183–4, 185, 258–9, 260, 264 ummah (community of believers), 6, 120; collective identity, 221, 222–3; as a community, 221–2; concept of, 217–21, 300–1; cultural conditioning from traditional self-image, 232– 3; decentring, 226, 230, 232, 303–4; democratic political values, 254, 255, 256; and fundamentalism, 229–30; in the future, 232–3; history of, 217–21; impact of globalization, 226–32, 302; influence on state policy, 257–8; and Islamic resurgence, 219–20, 221, 225; and modernity, 223–6, 300–2; monopoly over shari’ah law, 258; and nationalism, 221; and Qur’an, 217, 219, 220; regional/global, 231–2, 303–4; social values, 254, 255, 256; sociology of, 221–3; tendency towards establishment, 256–8; use of menbar, 258, 260; and zakat, 242, 246–7, 290 United States: blasphemy laws, 157–8; demonizing Islam, 268–9, 280; invasion of Iraq, 21, 267; perceived as anti-Islamic, 278, 280; privileged treatment of Israel, 308; support for Afghanistan, 116–18 universities, 293 ‘unthought’, 233, 260, 292–3 veiling and seclusion, 5, 50–3, 55–6, 186–9; based on fitnah, 180; and management of sexuality, 182–4, 211, 214–16; Muhammad’s requirements, 181, 183; observance, 183; Qur’an on, 181–2, 183, 184; tradition, 181–3; ulema decisions on, 183–4, 185 waaf (religious trusts), 7, 35, 234, 259, 264 wahhabism, 41–2, 43, 45, 228 war: and conflict resolution, 123–4, 125, 127; holy war, 3; on terror, 3, 307 women: common Muslim views, 175–7; CRLO responsa, 177–80, 184, 296; dress codes, 50–3, 55–6, 168–9, 171, 189–91, 211; embodiment of seduction, 180, 210; feminists, 184,

200; fitnah, 171, 178, 179–80, 189; historical context, 171–80; honour killing, 200–8; in Muhammad’s ‘social project’, 172, 173–4; no power to interpret Islamic texts, 184; private prayer, 83; provoking misconduct, 50–3, 55; in public roles, 185; Qur’an on status, 172–3, 174, 294; reforms, 184–5; salafabist attitudes, 46, 47; status improved, 172, 294–6; unequal citizenship rights, 56; see also hijab; patriarchy; veiling and seclusion wudu (cleansing body before prayers), 68 zakat (obligatory giving), 35; amount given, 239–41, 245, 246; and belonging to ummah, 242, 246–7, 290; beneficiaries, 240, 241, 243–4; collection, 236–7, 243, 244; distribution, 240; effectiveness, 242–5, 246; evasion, 240–1, 243, 245; gains from, 244–7; genesis of, 235–7; motives for giving, 6, 241–2, 243, 244–7; patterns of giving, 237–9, 245; payment of, 68, 78–9; sources, 237, 241, 244; symbolism of giving, 245–6, 247, 290 Zina Ordinance, 28