Religious Organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia 9780429825101, 9781138330856, 9781032644677, 9780429447570

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“This book is as comprehensive as can be given the wide-​ranging and vastly under-​researched field of religious organisations in Sub-​Saharan Africa and South Asia that it tackles. Rakodi has accomplished a feat of synthesis and, most importantly, analysis that elevates the research field to new heights. A must-​read for students and researchers, along with the first volume, this book clarifies the key concepts and parameters of what can be an unwieldy research field because of the complex and ever-​changing nature of religious and societal interaction. In this volume on connections to society and the state, Rakodi unveils the entanglements of religious organisations in national and local political and social movements, demonstrating why blind attempts at co-​ option of religious assets for humanitarian and development ends are problematic. Instead, it is the kind of contextual analysis presented in this book, as tied to an understanding of key concepts and frameworks, that development programming with religious organisations needs.” Olivia Wilkinson, PhD, Director of Research, the Joint Learning Initiative on Faith and Local Communities, Washington, DC “It is hard to think of anyone with a broader knowledge of the intersection of religious studies and development studies than Carole Rakodi, who directed an ambitious research programme on Religions and Development at the University of Birmingham, England, between 2005 and 2011. Since the programme closed, Rakodi has consolidated her mastery of a wealth of published material and she now offers a fair-​minded and conscientious synthesis, always aware of the dangers of bias and overgeneralization, and leaving space for readers to arrive at their own conclusions. She documents in fine detail how religions (however we define the term) are double­edged swords –​nowhere more problematically than as analysed in her original and deeply considered chapter on the conflicting positions taken by religious movements on LGBT+​issues.” Jonathan Benthall, Honorary Research Fellow, Department of Anthropology, University College London, and Director Emeritus, Royal Anthropological Institute

Religious Organisations in Sub-​Saharan Africa and South Asia

This book explores the links between religion, states, social welfare and social change in Sub-​Saharan Africa and South Asia. Building on the author’s previous analysis of how religious beliefs, practices and values influence social behaviour and relationships, especially within families, this book focuses on the organisational characteristics of religions and societies. The book considers how Muslim, Christian, Hindu and Buddhist organisations working in different contexts express the religious values of charity and compassion in practical activities to improve social welfare. Drawing on extensive empirical research, the book maps the organisations involved, identifying the factors that explain their choice of activities, sources of funding and modes of organisation, and highlighting similarities and differences between the religious traditions. It considers the involvement of religious actors in school-​level education, as well as in international humanitarian relief and reconstruction, and addresses the claim that religious organisations have distinctive features that give them comparative advantages. Finally, the book reviews research on the roles of religious values and organisations in resisting or promoting social change, focusing on women’s movements, especially their campaigns for changes in family law, and the quest for social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities. The book’s wide coverage of two subcontinents in the Global South and several important religious traditions will be of interest to researchers and students in the fields of sociology, international development, religious studies, anthropology and area studies, as well as to those engaged in policy and action who are looking to improve their understanding of the complex social, cultural, political and religious contexts in which they work. Carole Rakodi is Emeritus Professor at the International Development Department, School of Government and Society, University of Birmingham, UK.

Routledge Research in Religion and Development

The Routledge Research in Religion and Development series focuses on the diverse ways in which religious values, teachings and practices interact with international development. While religious traditions and faith-​based movements have long served as forces for social innovation, it has only been within the last ten years that researchers have begun to seriously explore the religious dimensions of international development. However, recognising and analysing the role of religion in the development domain is vital for a nuanced understanding of this field. This interdisciplinary series examines the intersection between these two areas, focusing on a range of contexts and religious traditions. Series Editors: Matthew Clarke, Deakin University, Australia Emma Tomalin, University of Leeds, UK Nathan Loewen, University of Alabama, USA Editorial board: Carole Rakodi, University of Birmingham, UK Gurharpal Singh, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, UK Jörg Haustein, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, UK Christopher Duncanson-​Hales, Saint Paul University, Canada Religious Organisations in Sub-​Saharan Africa and South Asia Connections to Society and the State Carole Rakodi

For more information about this series, please visit: www.routle​dge.com/​Routle​dge-​Resea​rch-​in-​ Relig​ion-​and-​Deve​lopm​ent/​book-​ser​ies/​RRRD

Religious Organisations in Sub-​Saharan Africa and South Asia Connections to Society and the State Carole Rakodi

First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 Carole Rakodi The right of Carole Rakodi to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-​in-​Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: 978-​1-​138-​33085-​6 (hbk) ISBN: 978-​1-​032-​64467-​7 (pbk) ISBN: 978-​0-​429-​44757-​0 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/​9780429447570 Typeset in Times New Roman by Newgen Publishing UK

Contents

List of tables List of boxes Preface

ix x xi

PART I

Religions, societies and states: An introduction

1

1 Conceptual building blocks

3

2 Analysing religion, societies and states

24

3 Developing an understanding of the roles of religious organisations

48

PART II

The social roles of religious organisations in Sub-​Saharan Africa and South Asia: Practical efforts to improve welfare

77

4 The social roles of Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-​Saharan Africa

79

5 Christian organisations in Sub-​Saharan Africa and South Asia: Traditional and new patterns of social engagement

110

6 Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement in social welfare activities

139

viii  Contents

7 Religious organisations as education providers: Alternatives to or allies of governments?

164

PART III

Religious values and organisations: Resisting or promoting social change?

197

8 Religious involvement in women’s movements: The quest for changes in family law

201

9 Religious actors in movements seeking social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities

234

10 Conclusion

268

Index

282

Tables

3.1 Analysing state–​religion relationships 4.1 Services provided by organisations associated with religious traditions in India

62 86

Boxes

3.1 Are FBOs distinctive? Religious and secular NGOs’ approaches to HIV/​AIDS-​related work in Nigeria 4.1 Microfinance and the Islami Bank of Bangladesh 5.1 An international aid chain in Nigeria: The complexities of religious partnership 5.2 Local links in the aid chain: Case studies in Rajasthan, India 5.3 World Vision International (WVI) 5.4 Tearfund: A UK-​based evangelical Christian NGO 6.1 Swaminarayan and the Bochasanwasi Shri Akshar Purushottam (BAPS) 6.2 The Mata Amritanandamayi Mission 6.3 The Vivekananda Kendra 6.4 The Sarvodaya Shramadana Movement (SSM) in Sri Lanka 7.1 Nigeria: The pre-​independence roles of Islamic and Christian education providers and their legacy 7.2 DRC: Unconventional partnerships between a weak state and religious education providers 7.3 Madrasa reform programmes in South Asia and SSA 8.1 The roles of religious beliefs and actors in an attempt to domesticate CEDAW in Nigeria 8.2 The roles of religious actors in improving the protection of widows in Nigeria 8.3 An attempt to reform family law in Mali 8.4 The roles of religious actors in land law reform in Tanzania 8.5 Mobilising for Muslim women’s rights in India 9.1 Uganda: Anti-​homosexual rhetoric and action –​an engineered moral panic? 9.2 Campaigning for recognition of sexual minority rights in South Africa 9.3 Seeking legal change in South Asia

58 102 121 122 129 132 148 151 153 157 173 182 185 207 208 209 212 219 245 249 252

Preface

For a variety of reasons, in 2011, at the conclusion of one of the first major comparative research programmes that sought to examine the links between religion and development, which I directed, the intended synthesis of the collaborative work undertaken during the programme was not produced. At the time the Religions and Development Programme was designed (2004/​5), religion was neglected in development studies and many of the disciplinary traditions on which it drew, especially economics, political science and geography, although less so anthropology and sociology. After significant attention by many of the ‘founding fathers’ of the latter discipline, interest within sociology was mainly confined to a subfield of the sociology of religion, which was strongly oriented to North America and Europe and peripheral to the main discipline. Religious studies, Islamic studies and theology were not regarded as fields of study relevant to development studies. In many respects, therefore, the research undertaken was ground-​breaking: it sought to assemble a multidisciplinary research team with members from UK universities and the academic community in its focus countries (India, Pakistan, Nigeria and Tanzania), to draw on this multidisciplinary expertise to develop a framework for analysing the links between religion and development, and to undertake a number of comparative research projects relevant to the concerns of development studies and policy (including those of the funder, the UK’s then-​Department for International Development, since 2020 the Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office). In addition to a Working Paper series, papers based on these research projects appeared in a variety of edited collections and journals in Europe, North America, India and Nigeria. However, not only are these publications scattered, no synthesis was produced and by the end of the programme it had become clear that the focus on two countries in Sub-​Saharan Africa (SSA) and two in South Asia and the necessarily selective choice of research questions neglected much relevant empirical research and limited the scope for comparative analysis. SSA and southern Asia are extensive regions, but their boundaries are, of course, arbitrary. In this volume, my search for relevant research has focused on the ex-​colonies of SSA, somewhat arbitrarily including countries such as Mali

xii  Preface and Niger when relevant research is available, but excluding Sudan, Ethiopia and Madagascar. In southern Asia, my focus is on South Asia, including Pakistan, India, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, but excluding Afghanistan, Nepal and southeast Asia, although there is a substantial volume of relevant research on several southeast Asian countries. This is the second of two linked volumes that seek to address some aspects of the interactions between religion and society, formulating an analytical framework that can provide a launch pad for improving understanding of the links between religion, societies and states, and reviewing the available empirical evidence, not to develop an overarching theory that explains the nature and effects of those links but to weave a more comprehensive and nuanced picture of the links between religions, societies and states in two large areas in the Global South. For the most part, given the variety of social, cultural, economic and political contexts and religious traditions in these areas, the aim is not to produce generalisations, but to provide readers with insights drawn from illustrative case studies and identify some of the factors that explain the similarities and differences in empirical findings. Nor is the aim to review the content and outcomes of development interventions or produce policy recommendations because many of the studies undertaken in recent decades reflect the discourse and concerns of the ‘development industry’, not least because much of the research has been funded by development agencies. Rather, my aim in these volumes is, first, to provide readers with basic literacy in the main faith traditions in SSA and southern Asia (Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam and some folk religious traditions) (see also Le Roux and Pertek, 2022; Seiple and Hoover, 2021a, b). In addition, I seek to review the ‘state of the art’ with respect to relevant empirical research at the beginning of the third decade of the twenty-​first century, and to provide an analytical framework and provisional conclusions that might inspire urgently needed research in the years to come. During the six years of designing, implementing, reporting and disseminating the results of the Religions and Development (RaD) programme and the subsequent years of editing, consolidating and broadening my own knowledge and understanding, and writing, I have accumulated far too many debts to acknowledge here. I am grateful to all those researchers based in various universities in the UK and overseas who participated in the research, especially Gurharpal Singh, the Deputy Director of the programme, members of the programme’s advisory group, our link advisers at DFID and those who coordinated the research teams in Nigeria, Tanzania, India and Pakistan. I am particularly grateful to Nida Kirmani and Emma Tomalin, research associates based in Birmingham and Leeds, respectively. My own university (the University of Birmingham) and department (the International Development Department) have enabled me to bring this work to fruition by appointing me as Emeritus Professor, providing me with continued access to the resources of the university’s excellent library collection. More recently, I have appreciated the practical and critical support of the editors of the Routledge Research in

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Preface  xiii Religion and Development series, Nathan Loewen, Michael Clarke and especially Emma Tomalin. The first of these companion volumes, published in 2019, explored how religion is intertwined in the social lives of (ordinary) people in contemporary SSA and southern Asia. It considered what religion means to people and the influences it has on their values and social practices. This volume builds on that analysis of religious beliefs, practices and values, and how these influence the institutions (informal and formal rules) that underpin social behaviour and relationships. However, it shifts the focus to organisational aspects of religions and societies to examine the links between religion, states, social welfare and social change. Like the first volume, its multidisciplinary approach, wide coverage of two subcontinents in the Global South, several important religious traditions and key features of contemporary societies will be of interest to researchers and students in a variety of social science disciplines, including the sociology of religion, development studies, religious studies, anthropology, geography and political science, as well as those engaged in policy and action who recognise the importance of improving their understanding of the complex social, cultural, political and religious contexts in which they seek to intervene. References Le Roux, E. and Pertek, S.I. (2022) Why Religion Matters in Violence Against Women and Girls, London: Routledge. Seiple, C. and Hoover, D.R. (2021a) A case for cross-​cultural religious literacy, The Review of Faith and International Affairs, 19, 1, 1–​13. Seiple, C. and Hoover, D.R. (eds.) (2021b) The Routledge Handbook of Religious Literacy, Pluralism, and Global Engagement, London: Routledge.

Part I

Religions, societies and states An introduction This book is the second of two linked volumes which seek to provide a rounded picture of the varied roles that religion plays in the lives of individuals and the societies in which they live in contemporary Sub-​Saharan Africa (SSA) and South Asia. The volumes analyse the interplay between religious beliefs, values and practices, and individual lives, and the roles of religious organisations in social welfare and movements for social change. Their purpose is to identify the key factors that influence and explain the roles played by religion in people’s personal lives and social relationships, as well as the ways in which religion is intertwined with social organisations and sociopolitical dynamics. The first volume, Religion and Society in Sub-​Saharan Africa and Southern Asia, considered how religion is entangled in people’s lives, in terms of individuals’ spirituality (their religious ideas and practices), the influence religion has on their values and attitudes, and the ways that religion is reflected in their day-​to-​day social relationships with others, especially their families. This book builds on the material presented in the first volume and draws on its findings, although it can be read as a stand-​alone volume. The first chapter sets out the purpose and rationale of this book, outlining why it is important to improve understanding of the links between religion, societies and states, and explaining its focus on the interactions between religious traditions and organisations and other sociopolitical actors in different historical, social, cultural and political contexts. It builds on the conceptual building blocks relevant to the analysis in the first volume (religion, culture, society, ethnicity, philanthropy, justice and equality), adding a consideration of state, governance, civil society, organisations and institutions. Chapter 2 further develops the analytical framework developed in the first volume to incorporate religion not only as a source of institutions (rules and norms) that underpin social relationships, but also as a social field that is organised at different levels, enabling religious and other sociopolitical organisations to interact. To understand these interactions, it is argued that four domains of religion need to be explored: discourses and beliefs, practices, the character of religious groups and their organisational arrangements. In this context, religious organisations include not only DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-1

2  Religions, societies and states: An introduction non-​governmental organisations (NGOs)- but also religious hierarchies and bureaucracies, congregations and other local faith actors. The chapter identifies five dimensions that are key to understanding the nature and dynamics of religious organisations, their connections with each other and with states, and their roles in social change –​these inform the reviews of research in subsequent chapters. The chapter concludes with a brief discussion of the methodological implications of addressing the aims and expectations of research in this field. In Chapter 3, some of the reasons for increased research interest in the social roles of religious organisations are identified, the ways in which they have influenced the research agenda discussed and the contributions of this research reviewed. Early approaches focused on mapping the organisations involved and the development of taxonomies. The involvement of religious actors in the international humanitarian relief and reconstruction system gave rise to an increased volume of research in the early years of the twenty-​first century. The claim that religious organisations have features that distinguish their social activities from those of governments and secular NGOs, which may give them comparative advantages, was a third reason for the increased research interest. Research on the engagement between religious actors and states was initially informed by the international debates about secularism and secularisation. It examines interactions between religion and politics at the national level and how the transnational links of religious and political actors influence interactions between them.

1 Conceptual building blocks

Introduction Religious views and practices are reflected not only in individual lives and social relationships, but also in social action by religious organisations and movements for social change. Historically, religious ideas and experiences have provided ways of understanding the world, conveying meaning, and defining ethics and norms for individual, family and collective life. Interpretations of religious texts, symbols and discourses may play important roles in identifying these ideas, meanings and values, but whether and how such interpretations influence individual lives and social relationships in practice also need to be understood. In the first of these two companion volumes, attention was given to the teachings and practices of the main religious traditions in SSA and South Asia (Islam, Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism and folk religion) in order to provide readers unfamiliar with the teachings and practices of these traditions (especially those other than their own) with a basic level of literacy, to build a common foundation for the subsequent analysis. It is recognised that the ideas, practices and experiences of people affiliated to a particular religious tradition vary within that tradition and may evolve over time. While this variety is acknowledged and crucial aspects of it explored where possible, it is impossible to reflect its full extent in the broad overviews which these volumes seek to provide. Just as religion cannot be fully understood without considering whether and how it provides ways of explaining the world and defining values and norms for individual and collective life, society cannot be fully understood without examining the complex and changing ways in which religious beliefs, practices, values, institutions and organisations influence individuals and social institutions at every level. While our understanding of how they do so in contemporary developing countries is growing, the empirical evidence is uneven with respect to its coverage of issues and contexts. Also the outputs of relevant research are scattered. In the first of these linked volumes, I identified some of the main sources of relevant research and writing on the roles of religion in societies and provided an overview and synthesis of the available research in Sub-​Saharan African DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-2

4  Religions, societies and states: An introduction and southern Asian countries. The aim of the review was to identify what is known about how some important dimensions of religion are reflected in the world views and everyday lives of individuals and some of the social and religious institutions with which they interact on a day-​to-​day basis, particularly their intimate relationships and families. In this volume, I build on this analysis of religious beliefs, practices and values to examine how people’s religious adherence and participation influence the institutions (formal and informal rules) that underpin social interactions more broadly. The aim of this book is therefore to examine the links between religion and social systems, with a focus on the organisational aspects of religions and societies, especially with respect to social and political action, broadly defined. It will, therefore, analyse two broad areas of interaction between religion, societies and states: the roles played by religious groups and organisations in attempts to improve social welfare and in movements for social change, taking into account the relationships between religious groups and political and governance systems. The focus and objectives of the review of each of these areas will be discussed as the analysis proceeds. Here it is only necessary to note that no local expression exists in isolation. While the influence of wider processes of social, economic and political change will be acknowledged where appropriate, the analysis does not focus on the international dimensions of change, economic or cultural globalisation, or political relations. Like its companion volume, it seeks to deepen understanding of the social and political contexts of SSA and southern Asia. These are the contexts in which development policies are devised and implemented and the governments and diplomats of richer countries operate, together with multilateral and bilateral development agencies. While international forces and actors are influential to a greater or lesser extent in different contexts and at different times, I am primarily concerned with sociopolitical and religious characteristics and trends at the subcontinental, national and local levels, rather than international relations or the organisation and functioning of the international development ‘industry’. Any research-​ related activity requires an analytical framework which suggests ways of seeing the world, identifies the key components of the research phenomenon(or phenomena) under study, provides conceptual tools to develop an initial understanding of the relevant characteristics of these components, guides examination of the available evidence and draws conclusions which enable the framework to be confirmed or amended (Ragin and Amoroso, 2011). Today the belief that it is possible to develop a single ‘grand theory’ or metanarrative, such as modernisation or neo-​liberalism, has been discredited (although it is not dead). For many social scientists, it has given way to a view that research can better be seen as starting from and generative of middle level theory, based on evidence and testable by empirical investigation. The analytical framework adopted here therefore seeks to rotate between theorising, generating research questions and analysing empirical data to increase understanding and suggest explanations. Such a flexible framework

Conceptual building blocks  5 can be used to identify the key features or aspects that differentiate between contexts and cases in particular social settings and to make sense of the phenomenon (or phenomena) of interest (Ragin and Amoroso, 2011). The development of such a framework entails several steps. First, an overall perspective is needed. Second, the building blocks of the analysis are the concepts commonly used to understand the links between religion, societies and states. In the first of these companion volumes, the building blocks were the concepts used to understand the links between religion, people’s values and attitudes, and their everyday practices and basic social relationships, especially the central concept of religion, but also those used to understand the contexts in which religion is manifest in everyday lives –​culture and society. All three are crucial to analysing the links between religion, societies and states with which this volume is concerned. The first volume teased out how religious teachings influence beliefs, religious practices, values and attitudes, and social behaviour. In this volume, the analysis is extended to explore the implications of links between religions, societies and states for attempts to improve social welfare and bring about social change. This requires additional concepts: state, governance and institution/​organisation. The third element in the analytical framework involves identifying relevant dimensions of the sociopolitical field in which religions and societies are embedded, specifying the levels at which analysis is required and making an initial identification of the domains that need to be considered and the anticipated links between them. It is set out in Chapter 2. The central pillar of the analysis is the concept of everyday lived religion. In the earlier volume, this focused on the ways in which religion is understood and practised by individuals and small social and religious groups. The starting points of the analysis were the texts on which religious traditions draw to construct the discourses that form the basis for their beliefs, values and practices; their official interpreters; and the established structures of authority within religious traditions. However, not only do the official teachings and patterns of religious organisation vary enormously within each religious tradition and, to a differing extent, evolve over time, but also the experience of religious people is not necessarily identical to institutionally defined beliefs and practices (McGuire, 2008). Lived religion is expressed in local interpretations of religious teachings and individuals’ responses to them. These in turn interact with other influences on the ways people understand the world, relate to others and exercise agency. To the extent that people recognise a spiritual dimension in all the domains of life and base their beliefs and values on (their interpretations of) religious teachings, their religious understanding and experience shape their perceptions of the world, everyday relationships and social behaviour (Ammerman, 2014). In addition to being located in individual consciousness, religion is expressed in and through the idioms and organisational structures of religious communities and in social processes and practices. Thus, it lives in the world through individuals who participate in various social and political groups and organisations,

6  Religions, societies and states: An introduction are part of more than one community and have multifaceted identities. In the first volume, I considered the ways that lived religion is revealed by how people carry out their religious duties, envision an order in which those duties are meaningful and interact with each other in religious and non-​religious settings. In this volume, the emphasis shifts to how religious beliefs, values and practices are expressed through religious adherents’ and organisations’ engagement in humanitarian activities, welfare and service delivery, which are linked to political ideologies and religion–​state interactions. It was emphasised in the earlier volume that to understand how religion influences people’s lives and social relationships, it is important to focus primarily on the ordinary and enduring, rather than uncommon phenomena, dramatic changes and extreme positions, even though there is only limited research on the everyday, mundane and long lasting aspects of religion. In practice, researchers tend to be drawn to studying uncommon phenomena, whether unusual beliefs or breakaway religious groups, resulting in a neglect of quotidian views and practices. Similarly, their attention is often caught by radically different rather than mainstream perspectives, although analysis needs to focus on the mainstream to throw light on the religious lives of the majority. Researchers also tend to be drawn to studying rapid change rather than enduring attitudes and institutions, despite the need to document and understand the persistence of religious discourses, institutions and organisational structures. It is, nevertheless, also important to analyse the drivers, manifestations and implications of processes of religious, social, economic and political change. In the first volume, the scale of movements for religious revival and reform and their significance for the lives of ordinary people in SSA and southern Asia were explored, focusing on the so-​called ‘piety’ movements rather than on ‘extremist’ or violent movements. Alongside the long-​term interactions between religious individuals and groups, social organisations, social movements and states, this volume is concerned with whether and how adherents of various religious traditions seek to influence wider changes in the societies and polities within which they practise their religion. In the social sciences, concepts play a central role in the discourses associated with different cultures and societies, as well as in developing an understanding of complex social phenomena. Dimensions of social life, all are constructed and reconstructed over time. Often, they are contested. None have precise or universally accepted meanings and definitions: their theoretical interpretations vary between scholars and disciplinary traditions, they have gained ideological loadings and the boundaries between them are imprecise. Thus, they should not be attributed with an essential and unchanging meaning. Nevertheless, they play a key analytical role and so it is important to clarify them so that the ways they are used in the subsequent analysis are consistent and understandable to readers from different cultural, religious and disciplinary backgrounds. In addition, while definitions may be problematic, they are potentially useful,

Conceptual building blocks  7 helping to identify the most characteristic elements of a phenomenon and creating sufficient consensus for a productive discussion. The concepts most central to the concerns of the previous volume were religion, culture and society. The discussion in Rakodi (2019, pp. 32–​41) is not repeated in full here, but because these complex and contested concepts are relevant to the analysis in this volume (and for readers who have not (yet) read the previous book), their key characteristics are summarised, together with brief discussions of related concepts important to the discussion in succeeding chapters: sexuality and gender, ethnicity and caste, identity and social capital. Finally, some additional concepts are discussed: state, governance and civil society, and organisations/​ institutions. Religion The concept of ‘religion’ emerged in the West out of a long historical process during which the Christian churches sought to claim the authority to define ‘true religion’, undermine popular religion and, following a long period of conflict between churches and states, separate religion from political power (Asad, 1993; McGuire, 2008). The emergence of a binary division between the sacred or transcendent realm and the profane, mundane or secular realm was thus closely associated with Christianity. Regarded by many Europeans as the only religion capable of becoming universal, Christianity was inextricably linked to colonialism. The European encounter with other religious traditions was marked by a tendency to regard them as conceptually the same as Christianity, that is, primarily a set of beliefs and practices defined by ecclesiastical authorities and distinct from the secular sphere. This perception bedevilled much social scientific analysis and continues to undermine the development of mutual understanding between and comparative analysis of religious traditions today. The assumption that ‘a religion’ is characterised by one (or several) valid interpretations of the texts on which it draws is associated with the idea that religions can be differentiated on the basis of their distinct beliefs and practices, that clear boundaries can be drawn between them, and that people belong to one (with a change to another requiring conversion). Such a conceptualisation downplays the extent to which people, ideas, rituals, values and organisational structures have travelled internationally, interacting with other religions to produce particular religious configurations in different places (Levitt, 2012). The European conception of religion is theist. Like all the monotheist religions, it holds that there is a supreme being, which/​whom religious language treats as objectively existing. This conception of God is often extended to ‘gods’ or ‘the sacred’, used theologically to refer to manifestations of the supernatural or transcendent that operate outside the ability of rationality (i.e. science) to explain them. It can also refer to areas of life and space which are ‘set apart’, valued because of their religious significance and marked off from

8  Religions, societies and states: An introduction the mundane or profane, meaning the ordinary world that can be observed and can, it is asserted, be explained by human reason –​the secular. Thus, religion and science may be regarded either as competing ways of knowing and establishing truth, or as complementary and compatible (Evans and Evans, 2008). The concept of religion is associated with a variety of other terms and concepts (e.g. belief, faith, and divine), giving rise to conceptual and practical difficulties when comparing different traditions and different cultural contexts, especially as the terms often have no precise equivalent in languages other than English. The implication is that for analytical purposes, it is dangerous to rely on etic perspectives and concepts. An understanding of the emic conceptualisations held by adherents and revealed by their own discourses and practices is therefore crucial, although developing such an understanding poses considerable methodological challenges (Beckford, 2003; Lincoln, 2006). Many of the attempts to conceptualise and define religion adopt either a substantive or a functionalist view.1 The former concentrates on what religion is, often focusing on the cross-​cultural attributes that distinguish it from other social phenomena, particularly belief in a transcendental reality or spiritual being(s); religiosity (signified by adherence to a set of core beliefs and engagement in religious or ritual practices); and affiliation with a religious identity or organisation. Functional conceptualisations, in contrast, are concerned with what religion does –​the roles it plays in the construction of people’s worldviews, identity and social relationships, and in wider sociopolitical organisation. The previous volume addressed questions concerning whether and how religions offer answers to questions about the nature of being, humanity and the divine; the meaning of life, suffering and death; as well as ways of sustaining the cosmological, social and moral order, in particular by specifying principles for human interaction and ethical behaviour. It explored these characteristics of religion, identified the basic teachings and beliefs in each of the religious traditions under consideration and drew, when possible, on analyses of the discourses of adherents in different parts of SSA and South Asia, to identify the implications of the beliefs held by people for their lives. It also explored the nature, prevalence and meaning of religious practices. Finally, it examined some of the links between beliefs and practices and values related to freedom, rights and justice; wellbeing, poverty and inequality; and gender equality, sexuality and the family. While necessarily simplified and far from comprehensive, the review reinforced the dangers of adopting a solely theistic and binary view of religion, in which the sacred or religious is set apart from the mundane or secular. In addition, it revealed some of the ways in which wider social and economic changes, as well as processes of globalisation, mutual exchange and interaction, influence and are influenced by lived religion. This volume builds on that analysis to consider the roles religion plays in social activities and organisations. Both substantive and functionalist views of religion have been critiqued and so my preference is for a conceptualisation

Conceptual building blocks  9 that contains elements of both, drawing on that advanced by Lincoln (2006, 2014). This is elaborated in the next chapter. Culture Like ‘religion’, the concept of ‘culture’ has been defined in various ways and there is no consensus on the nature and extent of its overlap and interaction with other spheres of social life, especially religion. Various attempts to conceptualise it were briefly reviewed in Rakodi (2019, pp. 37–​38). Each emphasises different dimensions and has merits for the analysis in these volumes. Beckford (2003), for example, suggests that culture may be regarded as a way of life, a social institution, a framework for action or a set of meanings “that are generated, transformed, challenged and transmitted in the course of social interaction over time” (p. 186), while Riesebrodt (2006, p. 604) defines it as “the cognitive, moral and emotional repertoire of a given society, through which practices are regulated”. Beckford’s recognition that culture is ‘codified in symbolic forms’ is echoed by Verhelst and Tyndale (2002) in the first of the three dimensions of culture they identify –​a symbolic dimension that may be expressed through myths, religious symbols and practices, and values. These in turn offer insights into how individuals and groups experience their personhood, identity and social world, and how they explain internal/​personal, community and wider power struggles and conflicts (Lincoln, 2014). The second dimension of culture they identify, the social, is comprised of family and community linkages and systems for decision-​making and conflict resolution. These echo Beckford’s and Riesebrodt’s emphasis on culture as a constantly changing product of social interaction which, inter alia, provides a framework for regulating social practices. Verhelst with Tyndale (2002) also recognise a third dimension, the ‘technological’, referring to the material ways in which ways of life and understandings of the relations between humans and their natural, physical and social environments are reflected and reproduced, including skills and techniques for organising production and reproduction, the arts and architecture. For Lincoln, the latter are shared non-​verbal systems of signification which, together with distinctive activities (e.g. speaking a common language, with its repertoire of myths, stories and rituals), express cultural affinity. This serves to identify insiders and outsiders, although such a distinction may conceal internal hierarchies within a cultural community and is unlikely to be clear cut (Lincoln, 2014). Culture, Lincoln suggests, has three dimensions: aesthetics, ethics and religion. The latter invests human preferences related to the former two with transcendent status, insulating them against criticism and assisting their transmission from one generation to another. While legitimating discourses, including that of religion, remain persuasive, he suggests, social integration persists, but if they are challenged, social competition and fluidity

10  Religions, societies and states: An introduction increase and the ability of religion to maintain hegemony over culture may be undermined. Thus, social interaction is regulated by social and cultural institutions. These are in turn influenced by religious ideas and beliefs, while culture influences the shape of religious spaces, the identities and practices associated with them, and interactions within them. It is, therefore, difficult to conceive of culture and religion as distinct spheres and probably impossible to analyse them separately. Indeed, in institutionally undifferentiated societies, they are often more or less coterminous. Especially in societies where folk religious traditions persist, institutions and practices may be seen as ‘cultural’ rather than ‘religious’. In contrast, in heterogeneous, pluralist, and institutionally differentiated societies, religion may be regarded as one element of culture (Beckford, 2003). Society Social scientists can be broadly divided into those who regard individuals as the key to understanding society and those who view the social units that make social, political and economic life possible through a collective lens. This is not, of course, a clear distinction, but it is the case that economic and psychological theory is essentially individualistic, while sociological and anthropological theory seeks to explain how groups form and operate. Thus, economic theory assumes that individual producers and consumers seek to further their own interests by rational choices, so that economic behaviour can, it is asserted, be understood by aggregating individual decisions. Further, psychological theory seeks to explain individuals’ behaviour and mental processes in terms of their motivation, personality, cognition, need, identity and well-​being (Wulff, 2001). In contrast, society and the social groups of which it is constituted are governed by social institutions –​the norms and rules that may be constitutive, making certain forms of activity, behaviour and interaction possible, or regulative, indicating which behaviour and relations are permitted or prohibited. Functionalist perspectives see society as made up of interdependent elements (including cultural dimensions, legal institutions, family and kinship patterns, political institutions and economic organisation), each of which performs functions that support other elements and maintain the whole. In this view, religion plays functional roles in the social system, providing norms that influence adherents’ behaviour and the functioning of society; promoting moral values and rituals that give meaning to life and enable individuals to live with uncertainty; and either sustaining social institutions, groups and forms of social organisation, or facilitating socio-​economic change (Lidz, 2010). Indeed, structural functionalist theory holds that social structures determine how their members behave and relate to each other. Both these theoretical perspectives have been criticised, individualism for ignoring the fact that people need to interact with others to be what they are and structural functionalism for downplaying individual agency (Furseth and Repstad, 2006). Instead, it is argued, individuals and societies are “mutually

Conceptual building blocks  11 constitutive in the sense that individuals construct social collectivities and cultural meanings, and, conversely, social and cultural configurations shape the properties of individuals” (Beckford, 2003, p. 199). Here, ‘society’ refers to the structure, organisation and functioning of the collectivity (or collectivities) in and through which people live. It is the outcome of the interplay between social structure and individual or collective action, which produces, reproduces and changes the social system. A consistent theme concerns the extent to which the resulting system is integrated and cohesive or differentiated and conflictual. Social cohesion refers to connectedness and solidarity among groups in society, typically conceived of as having two main dimensions: a sense of belonging and positive relationships among community members, based on high levels of trust, norms of reciprocity, tolerance of diversity and rich stocks of social capital (see below) (Manca, 2014). Regarded as a desirable state of affairs, it has received growing policy attention, despite lacking conceptual clarity and tending to confuse the end with possible means of achieving it, such as building shared values, reducing inequality, encouraging collaboration and developing ways of resolving conflicts (Chan et al., 2006; Fonseca et al., 2019; Manca, 2014). In practice, societies and social groups are invariably differentiated in a variety of respects related to sociocultural characteristics such as age, gender and ethnicity. Age, sexuality and gender

Age is associated with different contributions, needs and entitlements, reflected in intergenerational and family relations. Age and gender differences and relationships have both bio-​genetic and sociocultural aspects, although the roles and relative importance of biology and culture are contested. Some of the ways in which religion is intertwined in the construction of gender and sexuality, with implications for sexual relations and fertility behaviour and the functioning of social units, especially families, were explored in the previous volume (Rakodi, 2019, Ch. 9). The discussion attempted to avoid the tendency of some analysis to treat ‘religion’ and ‘women’ as (often undifferentiated) categories and social groups in terms of binaries (women/​men, feminine/​masculine, oppressed/​empowered). Drawing on a variety of case studies of different religions and contexts, it reviewed religious perspectives on gender equality; bodies and sexuality; fertility, contraception and abortion; attitudes to HIV/​ AIDS and homosexuality; and marriage and the family, including marital relations, work, property and inheritance and the education of children. The chapters that follow will build on this analysis to examine various aspects of socio-​religious organisations and social movements. Ethnicity and caste

Ethnicity refers to “a sense of group belonging, based on ideas of common origins, culture, experience and values” (Castles, 2004). Socially constructed

12  Religions, societies and states: An introduction and changeable, it links a subjective dimension of ‘peoplehood’ with a more objective dimension of common social, political and economic interests. Initially associated with co-​residence and similarities of culture, language, law, economic practices and/​or territory, its salience and the rigidity of many ethnic boundaries have increased because of the attempts of colonial powers to make sense of and codify social organisation and of post-​colonial governments to regulate access to state resources. In addition, ethnicity may be associated with religion, including both indigenous or folk religious traditions and imported religions such as Islam or Christianity, giving it a strong emotional load and creating the potential for instrumentalisation (Castles, 2004; Handelman, 2005). At the outset of the colonial era, many people had quite vague and changeable ideas about their ethnic identity, but experience of discrimination, a desire for recognition and struggles for equality, as well as the mobilisation of ethnic identity for other purposes, have often hardened their sense of identity. Nevertheless, within ethnic groups dominant factions (perhaps based on socio-​ economic inequalities) may seek to privilege their own interests. The use of ethnic identity (in interaction with/​alongside religious affiliation) by politicians to build their own political base, by groups to advance their own interests vis-​ à-​vis their rivals, or by states to allocate limited resources will be referred to in later chapters. The social and political salience of ethnic identity varies from place to place. Largely confined to South Asia, especially India, a similar marker of social identity and stratification is caste. Based on jatis (the basic social units that govern marriage, social networks, rituals and food taboos), it is a social system based on principles of inclusion/​exclusion, hierarchy and interdependence, in which castes follow a rule of endogamy, have a place in the caste hierarchy and are associated with traditional occupations. Inherited caste identity is an important determinant of life opportunities, not only in the past, but also in contemporary India. The association of caste with Hinduism is much contested. Cast by missionaries and the colonial government as an archaic cultural and ritual phenomenon distinct from the political economy, the government of independent India inherited this view of caste as a residual problem to be tackled through remedial measures such as welfare provisions and reservations, rather than embedded in the unequal power structures that perpetuate privilege and disadvantage. A basis for more general social stratification, caste is not only associated with Hinduism: Muslims, Buddhists, Christians and Sikhs observe some aspects of caste-​ related behaviour. Changes in the caste system have resulted from both wider socio-​economic change (including urbanisation) and the political mobilisation of Dalits to address the relational inequalities they face. However, efforts to address the relative disadvantage associated with membership of certain caste groups have hardened the boundaries between castes and reinforced and politicised caste identity (Mitra et al., 2006; Mosse, 2012, 2015, 2018; Srinivas, 1996; Viswanath, 2014).

Conceptual building blocks  13 Identity

In this discussion of culture and society, the concept of identity has come up several times, as an important aspect of people’s selfhood and relations between them, especially with respect to religion, culture, ethnicity, caste, gender and sexuality. The conceptualisation, formation and expression of identity in social organisation and processes of social change will be a recurrent theme in the analysis that follows. The concept has been prominent in the social sciences since the 1960s, with psychologists seeing identity primarily as an attribute of individuals and sociology placing its essence in the interactions between self and others, hence Greil and Davidman’s two-​part definition: “ ‘identity’ is the sense of who one is as a social being [which] is a dynamic product of interaction with significant others” (2007, p. 549), often leading to identification with a collectivity. Psychologists have sought to develop a precise concept of individual identity that is amenable to measurement and assessment, to explain how a person’s sense of identity develops and changes over the life course and what determines the roles and group identities that become salient in social situations. These aspects may partly be addressed by conceiving of identity as narrative, in which people use their experiences to make sense of their selfhood in changing social circumstances. In this context, culture or religion is not a defined set of axioms, values and rules, but a repertoire from which people can draw to construct identities for themselves (Greil and Davidman, 2007). This is an individualistic view that emphasises the possibility of choice, reflecting the transition of religious identity in parts of the world from a stable, ascribed and collective form to a dynamic, individualised and achieved form. In this perspective, the resurgence of fundamentalism in both Christianity and Islam may be explained in terms of the appeal of strict religious groups as a response to the fluid, voluntaristic and differentiated religious identity characteristic of late modernity. Arguably the latter fails to recognise the continued importance of ascribed roles, categories and conceptions of the self –​the idea of ‘dwelling’ in a prescribed religious space rather than ‘seeking’ a religious identity. Fundamentalism is also said to provide ways of coping with rapid and dislocating social and economic change and/​or to be a reaction to syncretism between different religious traditions and belief systems. In contrast, social identity theory concentrates on group identity, in which affiliation with a social category becomes a “crucial basis for behavior and self-​ regulation” (Greil and Davidman, 2007, p. 553). While some see religion, ethnicity, nationality and so on as primordial sources of identity, others believe that people identify with groups when they perceive it as in their interest to do so. In this case, analysis needs to focus on the social construction of identity and the processes by which identity categories come to exert power over individuals and groups and to influence social relations and actions.

14  Religions, societies and states: An introduction The roles religion plays in individual and group identity construction vary between and within religious traditions, related, for example, to the nature of a religious group and its beliefs and practices and the balance between ascription and agency. Thus, there are differences between religious traditions that root an individual’s identity in the community itself (e.g. Islam) and those that allow individuals more autonomy, at least in spiritual and ethical matters (e.g. Hinduism and Buddhism). In practice, not only are most individual and group identities multi-​stranded, they may also be impermanent. Members of minority groups, for example, often see themselves as faced with a choice between assimilation (in which they seek or are forced to become indistinguishable from the majority) and separation (in which they try to preserve what distinguishes them) (Ammerman, 2014). Because age, gender, ethnicity, religion and class are socially defined, they vary between social, cultural and political contexts, each intersecting with other axes of social difference. They are constructed, relational, contested and changeable, requiring intersectional analytical approaches to describe and explain their characteristics and the ways in which they influence people’s expectations, identities, the social roles they perform, their ability to exercise agency, and their interactions in a variety of social and political situations and groups. The playing out of and interaction between these social differences affect access to economic, social and political resources, resulting in (or exacerbating) social stratification and inequality at different levels and scales of social organisation. Long-​term trends associated with the different phases and forms of globalisation, involving the movement of ideas, people, information, technology, goods and cultural influences between societies, have interacted with societal characteristics in particular local, regional and national contexts to produce context-​specific social, economic and political outcomes. Social capital

The concept of social capital emerged to analytical and policy prominence in the 1990s as a way of conceptualising social resources in a context in which the limitations of conventional state and market-​led approaches to development had become apparent and attention, especially among economists, moved to a supposed ‘missing dimension’, which they conceptualised as social capital. At an individual level, this refers to the norms and attitudes that shape social relationships, for good (e.g. trust and reciprocity) or for ill (e.g. stigma and shame) (Narayan, 2002; Woolcock, 2002). It is conceived of as ‘capital’ –​a stock or asset that can be built up, maintained, drawn down, eroded and potentially replenished. Unlike human capital, which refers to the skills and capabilities of individuals, it refers to the knowledge, links and influence an individual acquires by virtue of membership in a group, which potentially provide access to resources which can be called on in a crisis and leveraged for material gain. In the 1990s, the concept was rapidly adopted by economists and other social scientists, especially those involved in development policy and practice,

Conceptual building blocks  15 on the basis that access to social capital enables individuals to obtain knowledge and advance their interests, and organisations to perform better because of the trust-​based relationships between their members and the access to horizontal and vertical links they provide, which enable them to function as channels for information and facilitators of coordinated action (Berger and Redding, 2010). Those communities endowed with a diverse stock of social networks and civic associations are, it is asserted, in a strong position to confront poverty and vulnerability and take advantage of new opportunities, while the absence of such assets may lead to or exacerbate social exclusion. Despite the emergence of a theoretical, methodological and empirical critique, the idea of social capital rapidly became influential in analysis, advocacy and policy, especially in the field of development studies and practice (Harriss, 2006). For example, from 1998 to 2002, the World Bank’s social capital initiative led to the establishment of Social Funds, which sought to build community social capital by funding participatory projects. Religion was rarely referred to in the research and policy literature on social capital. However, one strand of the debate suggested that the amount of religious capital individuals can amass depends on their attachment to a particular religious tradition and the amount of labour/​time invested in religious activities. It may be drawn on to achieve social advancement (e.g. by seeking a role as a religious expert or leader) (Verter, 2003). Religious capital also refers to the social capital that inheres in religious organisations: the human, material and organisational resources that enable them to maintain their authority, legitimacy and power over adherents and the wider world (Berger and Redding, 2010). However, questions of what type of social capital inheres in religious groups and organisations, at what level and with what effects were neglected, for example, whether it provides bridging ties that transcend other social divides and whether it adds to or works against the dominant sources of economic and political capital. State, governance and civil society A state is conventionally defined as the “political association that establishes sovereign jurisdiction within defined territorial borders and exercises authority through a set of permanent institutions and organisations” (Heywood, 2000, p. 39). It is an associational entity, in which people within a territory may be mere members/​subjects or the ultimate source of political power. Sovereignty implies that a state has authority as a (or the sole) source of law within a given territory. Its authority and law are upheld by an apparatus of rule or governing arrangement. A state can therefore be conceptualised as the arena in which the main elements of the political sphere (territory, people and governing apparatus) are articulated. It is not only a created historical reality and an expression of sociopolitical relations, but also an abstract entity based on one or more philosophical and political ideas (Hay, 2001). Ideas about the state confer meaning and intelligibility on political institutions and are, in turn, influenced

16  Religions, societies and states: An introduction by the material setting in which the state operates (the extent, location and resources of its territory and the cultures of the people who are its members). States have been theorised in three basic ways. First, a state may be conceived of as the constellation of interests that exert power, albeit with widely varying capacity to do so. This conceptualisation implies that power can potentially be exercised by a wider group of actors and organisations than those that are officially part of government (the security forces, the judiciary, the legislature and the civil service bureaucracy), including political society (political parties, lobby groups, etc.) and civil society (a realm of (semi-​)autonomous groups and organisations distinct from states, political society and families) (Heywood, 2000). Second, liberal perspectives tend to take capitalist economic organisation for granted and regard society as a collection of competing interests and the state as either a neutral arbiter between them or as acting on behalf of whichever groups dominate political power. In this view, state legitimacy is based on accountability to the population being governed, whose general interest the state has been charged with articulating and defending, often through a system of representative democracy (Hay, 2001). In the liberal view, it is assumed that social and economic interests have equal opportunity to exert pressure on the state, although views differ on whether they are equally able to do so. In addition, the extent of state autonomy from particular interests is debated. Third, in a Marxist view, the state is regarded as the superstructure which creates the conditions for a particular configuration of economic and social relations to preserve and expand capital and the capitalist mode of production. In this view, the state is controlled by powerful economic interests, enabling it to maintain its hegemony over society and operate as an instrument of class oppression, especially if government officials share the interests of the ruling class. States are, therefore, seen as being shaped by struggles between different elements of capital and different classes, although a state may have a degree of autonomy from class interests, enabling it to maintain stability in an unequal class system (Hay, 2001). The nature of a state may be influenced by the extent to which it is associated with nationalism: culturally, a nation is a group of people bound together by a common language, history, traditions and possibly religion. In this instance, national identity is rooted in a common heritage that may long predate the quest for and/​or achievement of becoming a political nation, bound together primarily by statehood and shared citizenship, but often encompassing significant cultural, ethnic and sometimes religious variety. While some regard the nation (and the nation state) as the central (even natural) principle of political organisation, critics argue that “nations are political constructs, ‘imagined’ or ‘invented’ communities whose purpose is to prop up the established order in the interests of rulers and elite groups” (Heywood, 2000, p. 252). Advocates argue that the nation (state) is a natural political vehicle for shared cultural identity, but others believe that the nationalist ideal is often used to further political ends and/​or ethnic distinctiveness and superiority and fear its potential to

Conceptual building blocks  17 be intolerant and oppressive. The former underpinned anticolonial movements and postcolonial attempts at ‘nation-​building’, but in recent decades nationalist sentiment has been mobilised in support of political interests and associated with discrimination against ethnic and religious outsiders or minorities. There is considerable debate about the significance, necessity and desirability of nationalism as the basis for states. Nation-​states that demonstrate cultural cohesion and political unity may command popular allegiance and be regarded by their citizens as meaningful, legitimate, even ‘quasi-​religious’. However, critics argue that nations are ‘imagined’ or ‘invented’ communities whose purpose is to prop up the political order in the interests of rulers and elite groups, often by fuelling rivalry between ethnic or religious groups. In practice, globalisation and the rise of quasi-​state international organisations such as the United Nations (UN) have reduced states’ ability to exercise sovereignty and ensure control over territory, influencing the context in which they operate and their forms and functioning. Government is the means by which state power is exercised: it involves an apparatus of rule, comprised of the security forces, legislature, judiciary and administrative bureaucracy, with powers to make and enforce decisions, generally within the bounds of a constitution or similar mechanism. Government therefore refers to the processes by which order is maintained and collective action facilitated, particularly the legislative, executive and judicial processes (Heywood, 2000; Sharma and Gupta, 2006). Governance is broader than the organisations and activities of governments. At the most general level, it can be defined as the process of social and economic coordination and management, exercised through markets, hierarchies and networks. Markets are said to coordinate social life through a price mechanism structured by the forces of supply and demand; hierarchies operate via the exercise of top-​down authority, as in bureaucracies; and networks are flatter organisational forms characterised by more informal relationships between supposedly equal agents. In the political sphere, for example, governance implies recognition that there are many mechanisms and processes through which citizens and groups can articulate their interests, exercise their legal rights and mediate their differences, involving participation not just in the formal legislative and administrative arms of the state, but also in the informal groups, movements and institutions of civil and political society. Civil society is an associational sphere based on notions of equality before the law and the right to free association –​an arena in and through which it is, in theory, possible to address and reconcile individual interests and the social good (Francis, 2002). It refers to civil society organisations (CSOs), the non-​ governmental and not-​for-​profit organisations that have a presence in public life, including institutionalised groups such as trade unions, business associations, international and national NGOs, and religious organisations; local organisations, such as farmers’ associations, community associations and religious congregations; and looser forms of association, such as networks or gangs. The relations between such groups and the connections between them

18  Religions, societies and states: An introduction and the formal political and governmental apparatus, as well as the existence and nature of the social capital inhering in them, have implications for political control and governmental effectiveness. Temmink (2012), for example, distinguishes in contemporary developing countries between self-​organised civil society (including both traditional and new actors) and CSOs linked to the aid environment, which are functional, instrumental, depoliticised and dominated by NGOs. The interactions between these different types of CSOs and political society, private business and the state change over time, are associated with different ways of dealing with societal challenges and may be conflictual or collaborative. While nominally an independent realm of sociopolitical activity, in which those involved are equally able to exert influence, CSOs are always in danger of becoming subordinated to political actors and interests. In practice, ‘civil society’ is heterogeneous, fragmented, infused with power inequalities, and conflictual, so care needs to be taken in generalising about it, let alone supporting the idea that it might be desirable to support and develop it (Francis, 2002). Views differ with respect to whether religious groups and organisations regard themselves and/​or should be regarded as part of civil society. Feminists have stressed that, like the economic sphere and the state, civil society is infused with existing gender relations –​those characterising the patriarchal family. Organisations and institutions Organisations can be defined as “vehicles for the promotion or protection of a mix of individual and shared interests and/​or ideas” (IPPG, 2010, p. 12). They may be formal or informal. The former, including public bureaucracies, banks, professional or business associations, and some religious bodies, such as mainline religious denominations, have internal systems of rules. In much political theory, they are regarded as the vehicles/​mechanisms through which interests are aggregated and articulated (e.g. farmers’ organisations or trade unions), and which thus embody the links between individuals; different social, political, economic and religious groups; and the decision-​making organs of the state. Informal organisations, in contrast, generally lack a written constitution, bureaucratic structure, formal ways of operating and even a public profile. They may include political factions, community organisations, some religious groups and congregations, criminal gangs and cartels. Many organisations are hybrids, that is, they combine different ‘institutional logics’ and may have a mixture of formal and informal features (Scott, 2014, p. 106). Institutions, in contrast, can be conceived of as the ‘rules of the game’ that shape individual and group behaviour in economic, social and political life (North, 1990). They are social and political constructions, not administrative arrangements, but because they influence behaviour, it is necessary to understand how they are forged and evolve and, because many are not overtly enforced, the conditions which ensure that they are implemented rather than evaded. They are the durable social rules and procedures, formal and informal, which structure (but do not determine) relations between those

Conceptual building blocks  19 affected by them. Formal institutions are created, written and intentional, including constitutions, laws, legal agreements and contracts. They are explicit and usually enforceable. Informal institutions are the norms, customary practices and conventions which are widely accepted and embedded in culture and society (Heywood, 2000; IPPG, 2010; Sindzingre, 2006). They may support the formal institutions, but can also undermine, compromise or subvert them, as, for example, in the rules governing patron–​client relationships. While there are some formal institutions governing social, cultural and religious life, most are informal –​the commonly understood conventions that regulate social behaviour and relations between individuals and social groups, especially those pertaining to age or gender. Although the most common distinction when discussing institutions is between formal and informal, critics warn that such a binary distinction is unlikely to capture differences between institutions with respect to their form, function, enforceability and effectiveness (Sindzingre, 2006). The authors of IPPG (2010) use the analogy of football to illustrate how a stable and repeated ‘game’ is established when the rules are understood and accepted by all the players and are consistently applied –​productive political and economic activities, they argue, require (a) agreement about the political, economic, social or religious rules or institutions; (b) individual or organisational players to abide by the rules and (c) systems of regulation and enforcement to ensure that desirable institutions are maintained; avoidance, evasion or infringement is reduced to a minimum and penalised when it occurs; and/​ or discriminatory rules that marginalise some social groups (e.g. ethnic or religious minorities, women) are reformed. In practice, the concepts of institutions and organisations are often used interchangeably. However, analytically, it is desirable to maintain (and refine) the distinction and to understand how particular institutions are formed, maintained and evolve; the ways in which they are (or are not) accepted as legitimate; and the ways in which they influence individuals and organisational structures. Concluding comments Like the other basic concepts that form the building blocks of the analytical framework adopted in this volume, such as society, culture and religion, it is useful to see the concepts of state, government, governance, civil society, institutions and organisations as analytically distinct. In practice, as discussed above, the concepts have contested meanings, overlap and are mutually dependent, so it may be difficult to maintain the distinctions. For example, some consider that a conceptualisation of the state as a constellation of interests is abstract and imprecise, pointing out that states lack meaning unless they are embodied in and expressed through a political and bureaucratic apparatus. They may instead suggest a focus on the ‘political system’, implying a need to examine the mechanisms of rule and the working of power through both the formal and informal organisational, social and political networks of civil and political society.

20  Religions, societies and states: An introduction The relations between religions, societies and states are manifest in a variety of ways. For example, those between religions and states may be expressed through political and legislative systems (including constitutions), the organisational apparatus of the state and the interactions between government and non-​governmental actors and organisations. Each is based on ideas and principles, makes claims of authority and legitimacy, assumes responsibility for various functions and influences organisational arrangements. The distribution of power, responsibilities and resources between government and societal actors at the national, regional and local scales, the ways they operate, and the extent of their autonomy vary between polities and over time. The roles of religious groups within these configurations are the subjects of the remainder of this volume. They will be taken up in the next chapter, in which the concepts discussed above are used to develop a framework for the analysis that follows. Finally, in the third chapter in Part I, some of the themes, approaches and findings of the research that began to emerge in the 1990s are identified. In Part II, empirical evidence on the efforts of organisations associated with several religious traditions to improve the welfare of societies in SSA and South Asia is assembled and reviewed. Such reviews of the activities of religious organisations in different social, political and geographical contexts can be organised in different ways. I have chosen here to consider in turn the roles of social welfare organisations associated with Islam, Christianity, Hinduism and Buddhism (Chapters 4–​6). Religious organisations have long played roles in the delivery of services, especially health and education. Because research on the former is extensive and relatively accessible, Chapter 7 examines the role of religious organisations in the provision of basic education. Lastly, religious actors play important roles in social change, either resisting or promoting what may be seen by other social, political and government actors as desirable changes. As with other issues, the coverage of recent empirical research is uneven. Religion plays a central role in defining and realising human rights related to sexuality, gender and the family, so Chapters 8 and 9 in Part III will review recent research on the roles of religious actors in campaigns to change personal/​family law and to recognise the rights of sexual minorities. In the final chapter, the main findings and insights from the analysis are summarised. It focuses on the ways in which the activities of religious groups and organisations reflect their beliefs and values, the organisational arrangements associated with different religious traditions, and the wider social and political contexts in which they are located, to identify the factors that are most important to explaining the nature and evolution of their social welfare activities, roles in service delivery and engagement in movements for social change. Note 1 Reviews of attempts to conceptualise and define religion include Droogers (2009), Furseth and Repstad (2006), Tomalin (2013) and Woodhead (2011).

Conceptual building blocks  21 References Ammerman, N. (2014) Finding religion in everyday life, Sociology of Religion, 75, 2, 189–​207. Asad, T. (1993) Genealogies of Religion, Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Beckford, J.A. (2003) Social Theory and Religion, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Berger, P.L. and Redding, G. (2010) Introduction: spiritual, social, human and financial capital, in Berger, P.L. and Redding, G. (eds.), The Hidden Form of Capital: Spiritual Influences in Societal Progress, London and New York: Anthem Press, 1–​13. Castles, S. (2004) What is ethnic identity and how can it be studied? Oxford: Centre for Research on Inequality, Human Security and Ethnicity, newsletter no 1. Chan, J., To, H.-​P. and Chan, E. (2006) Reconsidering social cohesion: developing a definition and analytical framework for empirical research, Social Indicators Research, 75, 273–​302. Droogers, A. (2009) Defining religion: a social science approach, in Clarke, P.B. (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of the Sociology of Religion, Oxford: Oxford University Press, online edition. Evans, J.H. and Evans, M.S. (2008) Religion and science: beyond the epistemological conflict narrative, Annual Review of Sociology, 14, 87–​105. Fonseca, X., Lukosch, S. and Brazier, F. (2019) Social cohesion revisited: a new definition and how to characterize it, Innovation: The European Journal of Social Research, 32, 2, 231–​53. Francis, P. (2002) Social capital, civil society and social exclusion, in Kothari, U. and Minogue, M. (eds.), Development Theory and Practice: Critical Perspectives, Basingstoke: Palgrave, 71–​91. Furseth, I. and Repstad, P. (2006) An Introduction to the Sociology of Religion: Classical and Contemporary Perspectives, Aldershot: Ashgate. Greil, A.L. and Davidman, L. (2007) Religion and identity, in Beckford, J.A. and Demerath, J.A. III (eds.), The Sage Handbook of the Sociology of Religion, London: Sage, 549–​65. Handelman, H. (2005) Ethnicity and ethnic conflict, in Haynes, J. (ed.), Palgrave Advances in Development Studies, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 160–​80. Harriss, J. (2006) Social capital, in Fine, B. and Jomo, K.S. (eds.), The New Development Economics: After the Washington Consensus, Delhi and London: Tulika and Zed Books, 184–​99. Hay, C. (2001) State theory, in Jones, R.J.B. (ed.), Routledge Encyclopedia of International Political Economy, London and New York: Routledge, Vol. 3, 1469–​75. Heywood, A. (2000) Key Concepts in Politics, Basingstoke: Macmillan. IPPG. (2010) Beyond Institutions: Institutions and Organizations in the Politics and Economics of Growth and Poverty Reduction –​A Thematic Synthesis of Research Evidence, Manchester: University of Manchester, Institutions for Pro-​Poor Growth Research Programme, Institute for Development Planning and Management. Levitt, P. (2012) Religion on the move: mapping global cultural production and consumption, in Bender, C., Cadge, W., Levitt, P. and Smilde, D. (eds.), Religion on the Edge: De-​centring and Re-​centering the Sociology of Religion, Oxford: Oxford University Press (Online version published 2013).

22  Religions, societies and states: An introduction Lidz, V. (2010) The functional theory of religion, in Turner, B.S. (ed.), The New Blackwell Companion to the Sociology of Religion, Oxford: Wiley-​Blackwell, 76–​102. Lincoln, B. (2006) Theses on method, Method and Theory in the Study of Religion, 8, 225–​7. Lincoln, B. (2014) Discourse and the Construction of Society: Comparative Studies of Myth, Ritual and Classification, New York: Oxford University Press. Manca, A.R. (2014) Social cohesion, in Michalos, A.C. (ed.), Encylopedia of Quality of Life and Well-​being Research, Dordrecht: Springer, 6026–​8. https://​doi.org/​10.1007/​ 978-​94-​007-​0753-​5_​2​739 McGuire, M. (2008) Lived Religion: Faith and Practice in Everyday Life, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mitra, S., Wolf, S.O. and Schöttli, J. (2006) A Political and Economic Dictionary of South Asia, London and New York: Routledge. Mosse, D. (2012) The Saint in the Banyan Tree: Christianity and Caste Society in India, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Mosse, D. (2015) Caste and the conundrum of religion and development in India, in Tomalin, E. (ed.), The Routledge Handbook of Religions and Global Development, London: Routledge, 200–​14. Mosse, D. (2018) Caste and development: contemporary perspectives on a structure of discrimination and disadvantage, World Development, 1, 10, 422–​36. Narayan, D. (2002) Bonds and bridges: social capital and poverty, in Isham, J., Kelly, T. and Ramaswamy, S. (eds.), Social Capital and Economic Development, London: Edward Elgar, 58–​83. North, D.C. (1990) Institutions, Institutional Change, and Economic Performance, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ragin, C.C. and Amoroso, L.M. (2011) Constructing Social Research, Los Angeles: Sage, 2nd ed. Rakodi, C. (2019) Religion and Society in Sub-​Saharan Africa and Southern Asia, London: Routledge. Riesebrodt, M. (2006) Religion in global perspective, in Juergensmeyer, M. (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Global Religions, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 597–​609. Scott, W.R. (2014) Institutions and Organizations: Ideas, Interests and Identities, Los Angeles: Sage. Sharma, A. and Gupta, A. (2006) Introduction: rethinking theories of the state in an age of globalization, in Sharma, A. and Gupta, A. (eds.), The Anthropology of the State: A Reader, Oxford: Wiley Blackwell, 1–​42. Sindzingre, A. (2006) The relevance of the concepts of formality and informality: a theoretical appraisal, in Guha-​Khasnobis, B., Kanbur, R. and Ostrom, E. (eds.), Linking the Formal and Informal Economy: Concepts and Politics, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 58–​74. Srinivas, M.N. (ed.) (1996) Introduction, in Srinivas, M.N. (ed.), Caste: Its Twentieth Century Avatar, New Delhi: Penguin, ix–​xxxviii. Temmink, C. (2012) Which civil society is at the crossroads? Ontrac No 50, 4–​5. www. int​rac.com Tomalin, E. (2013) Religions and Development, London: Routledge. Verhelst, T. with Tyndale, W. (2002) Cultures, spirituality and development, in Eade, D. (ed.), Development and Culture, Development in Practice Reader, Oxford: Oxfam. Verter, B. (2003) Spiritual capital: theorizing religion with Bourdieu against Bourdieu, Sociological Theory, 21, 150–​74.

Conceptual building blocks  23 Viswanath, R. (2014) The Pariah Problem: Caste, Religion, and the Social in Modern India, New York: Columbia University Press. Woodhead, L. (2011) Five concepts of religion, International Review of Sociology 21, 1, 121–​43. Woolcock, M. (2002) Social capital in theory and practice: where do we stand? in Isham, J., Kelly, T. and Ramaswamy, S. (eds.) Social Capital and Economic Development, London: Edward Elgar, 18–​39. Wulff, D.M. (2001) Psychology of religion: an overview, in Jonte-​Pace, D. and Parsons W.B. (eds.), Religion and Psychology: Mapping the Terrain, London: Routledge, 15–​29.

2 Analysing religion, societies and states

An analytical framework for identifying the domains that need to be considered to understand contemporary lived religion and its links with other social phenomena, delineate the dimensions of the social field in which religion and society are intertwined, specify the levels at which analysis needs to be undertaken and make an initial identification of some of the links between them was developed in the first of these linked volumes, building on the central concepts of religion, society and culture (Rakodi, 2019). The elements of the framework, it was suggested, can each be seen as an axis along which differentiation occurs, producing a matrix within which the empirical analyses that followed were placed and drawing attention to the elements that emerged as key to understanding. The same conceptual building blocks are used to develop a framework for the analysis in this volume, with the addition of concepts of the state, government, governance, civil society, organisations and institutions, as explored in the previous chapter. The framework suggested here has a similar basic structure to that outlined, used and refined in the first volume, extended to encompass the domains, dimensions, levels and links relevant to, first, developing an understanding of how religion and sociopolitical organisation are entwined and, second, reviewing the available evidence on how this manifests itself in contemporary Sub-​Saharan Africa and South Asia. Some of the methodological issues raised by any attempt to examine the links between religion, societies and states are discussed in the final section, while emerging approaches to increasing understanding of these phenomena are explored in the following chapter, with an assessment of their contribution. Dimensions of the social field The social sciences seek to understand and explain human society in terms of personal qualities (the characteristics and behaviour of individuals) and social relations (the interactions between people, as individuals and as members of social groups, and between social groups, characterised by more or less formal identities and forms of belonging). Explanations of individual and social behaviour may be sought in the characteristics of individuals and social units DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-3

Analysing religion, societies and states  25 (such as households, businesses or voluntary associations), the patterns or regularities identified, and the relationships detected between specific variables or characteristics. However, many social scientists hold that individual views and actions, identities and patterns of social allegiance and behaviour cannot be understood without referring to characteristics of the social system, underlying social structures and wider forces, although views differ on the extent to which these determine human actions (Beckford, 2003; Furseth and Repstad, 2006). Often, analyses focus on one of these dimensions, but the framework adopted here incorporates all three:

• A personal dimension that acknowledges the social and religious characteristics, identity and agency of individuals. This dimension is relevant to the identification of key religious beliefs, practices and values among adherents of the main religions in Sub-​Saharan Africa and South Asia and the exploration of their implications for people’s lives and worldviews that formed the core of the first volume. It is based on a conception of religion that recognises it as involving cognition, experiential and bodily engagement on the part of individuals, for whom it has meaning, informing their views, motivations and behaviour. • A social dimension that sees individuals as linked to each other in complex relationships patterned by the social, political, economic and religious institutions (norms and rules) associated with the relevant social spheres, similar to Bourdieu’s conception of social fields (Echtler and Ukah, 2016; see also Tomalin, 2021). As a result of these interactions, social, political and religious groupings are mutually constituted. The previous analysis focused on social and religious groups and interactions at the relatively small, even intimate, scale of interpersonal and family relationships. In this volume, the focus shifts to a larger scale, at which not only day-​to-​day interactions in the social, political and religious spheres may reveal key aspects of the roles played by religion in societies and states, but also explanations may need to be sought in the deeper structures of society and wider processes of social change. • An organisational dimension that recognises the potential importance of different patterns of social, political and religious organisation in explaining, first, how societies and religions seek to sustain and reproduce themselves and sometimes expand and, second, the ways in which religious and sociopolitical organisations interact with each other. Level of analysis Analyses often seek to identify and explain the characteristics and dynamics of social phenomena at one level, whether individual socio-​ economic characteristics or religiosity; small-​scale or local organisational structures, such as the household, congregation or ‘community’; regional or national social, political and economic systems (including national or intermediate religious levels

26  Religions, societies and states: An introduction such as churches, sects or denominations); or transnational affiliations, flows and trends. In the analysis in these two volumes, I seek to understand not only the interactions between the personal, social and organisational dimensions at each level, but also the links between levels. In the previous volume, I explored how historical and contemporary interactions between religious traditions and groups have shaped the traditions themselves and given rise to hybrid assemblages of beliefs and practices, which continue to evolve. That volume concentrated on the ways in which individual views and lives are shaped not only by small-​scale social organisations, especially families, but also by religious organisations at the local, denominational, national and international levels. In this volume, the levels of interest include those which reveal how religious adherents and groups act in the world through religious organisations and movements but also, and often more importantly, through their individual and organisational participation in wider sociopolitical processes and systems. The domains of religion The starting point for the analytical framework adopted here, as in the previous volume, is Lincoln’s conceptualisation of the role of religion in society as having both substantive and functional elements and being understandable in terms of four inter-​related domains, all of which need to be considered, although the extent to which they are developed and their relative importance vary between and within groups, over time, and in their relevance to the social phenomenon being examined. In addition, Lincoln recognises that each may be coherent, homogenous, stable and well-​coordinated, or contended, heterogeneous, competing and dynamic (Lincoln, 2006). In situating the four domains he identifies within wider social theory and using them to frame the analysis in the earlier volume, I found that some adaptations are needed, which are reflected in the discussion below.

• A discourse whose concerns “transcend the human, temporal and contingent, and that claims for itself a similarly transcendental status” (Lincoln, 2006, p. 5). Thus, a discourse is religious because of its content and also because of the nature of its claim to truth and authority. It enables people to describe an experienced reality in which material and spiritual dimensions are intertwined. • A set of practices which embody the religious discourse and render it operational. These ritual and ethical practices acquire a religious character by being connected to a discourse that constitutes them as such and which they translate from the realm of speech and consciousness into action. • A community whose members associate themselves with a religious discourse and its attendant practices. What they have in common is reference to the same texts (whether written or oral), adherence to the same precepts (derived from the texts and associated commentaries) and engagement in the same sorts of practices (which are grounded in the texts and precepts).

Analysing religion, societies and states  27

• Organisational arrangements which are needed to regulate “religious discourse, practices and community, reproducing them over time and modifying them as necessary, while asserting their eternal validity and transcendent value” (Lincoln, 2006, p. 7). These organisational arrangements are underpinned by institutions (norms and rules), may be formal or semi-​formal, and vary widely. To understand any religious group (tradition, branch, sect, denomination, or congregation),1 all four domains must be analysed, although the extent to which they are developed and their relative importance vary between groups and over time. The analysis, Lincoln suggests, must identify whether each of the four has a distinctive character and logic that justify it being conceived of as religious (Lincoln, 2007). The extent to which the analysis should rely on an emic or an etic lens may be contested –​both are influenced by the cultural and religious preconceptions of the observer, as well as their research approach. Discourses and beliefs

The analysis of religious discourses in the earlier volume (Rakodi, 2019, Part II) revealed how beliefs provide an idiom that enables people to describe an experienced reality in which material and spiritual dimensions are intertwined –​ for many, supernatural forces (God, deities, the ultimate reality, benevolent and malevolent spirits) appear to be present and active and people have what they interpret as religious experiences. Their beliefs provide those who hold them with a meaning system and ways of dealing with some of the questions that preoccupy human beings, such as death, evil and the relative importance of fate and agency. Adherents realise that many aspects of the world and their lives are beyond their control, but they also seek to marshal various powers pragmatically to ensure their own well-​being and protect themselves and others from harm, through participation in (individual and group) rituals and religiously important occasions such as festivals and pilgrimages, as well as devoting resources to the construction and maintenance of spaces and buildings perceived as sacred. However, religion is not purely instrumental: adherents do not participate merely to secure well-​being and social acceptance, or to counter evil and misfortune, they also find it rewarding –​it enables people to construct a sense of their individual and social personhood and identity, and also helps them respond to catastrophes and social change. Thus, adherents usually stress that people have agency: their behaviour and actions are thought to matter in evading fate, achieving prosperity, overcoming evil and coming to terms with death. In the first volume, the analysis of beliefs sought to distinguish, in particular, between the official/​authoritative interpretations of religious teachings and those of local religious leaders and ordinary adherents, although the extensive geographic scope of the coverage, involving comparisons between five religious traditions, inevitably resulted in a fairly basic discussion of core beliefs and

28  Religions, societies and states: An introduction only limited attention to variations between historical, geographical and cultural contexts and subdivisions of the religious traditions. It was recognised that, while ‘religious beliefs’ can sometimes be described as a ‘set’ of beliefs, they are not necessarily coherent and stable. Religious specialists are more likely than lay adherents to articulate the beliefs associated with a particular religion, sect or denomination comprehensively and coherently. However, in practice all the religious traditions are constructed in the interactions between (versions of) the texts, historical experiences, cultural contexts and contemporary social trends, and many adherents’ beliefs are inchoate and/​or syncretic. Elaborating on the role of discourse, Lincoln (2014) examines how specific modes of discourse (myth, ritual and taxonomies) contribute to the construction, deconstruction and reconstruction of society, and replicate or undermine social groups and identities through the construction of social borders. He notes that discourse can be used for ideological persuasion, to mystify social inequities and win the consent of those over whom power is exercised, and to transform coercive power into legitimate authority by obviating the need for direct use of force. Myth and ritual are genres or instruments of discourse that can contribute to a sense of affinity or estrangement, leading to (re-​)interpretations of collective identity that are in turn associated with wider social changes. Classification, he suggests, is another tool in the construction of social groups, with hegemonic taxonomies serving to reproduce the hierarchical system of which they are a product. Often, he notes, in a discussion of the caste system and Hinduism, taxonomies are derived from the apparent underlying patterns of the natural order, but are then imposed on social groupings, which are treated as if they are inevitable manifestations of the cosmic order. However, discourse can also enable subordinated groups to demystify, delegitimate and deconstruct the established norms and institutions that play a role in their subordination. Thus, alternative taxonomic discourses can enable subordinated groups to press for changes in the accepted social order. Hjelm (2014) agrees with Lincoln’s belief in the crucial role of discourse analysis in understanding religion and its role in the discursive construction, reproduction and transformation of social inequality, because discourse is not merely reflective of systems of knowledge and belief, identities and social relationships, but actively constitutes them. It therefore contributes not only to social reproduction but also, potentially, to social change, by constructing religion not only as a marker of identity or difference (alongside ethnicity, gender, etc.) but also as a means of legitimating or challenging power relations. Practices: ritual and ethics

One pathway between religion and everyday life depends not only on individual religious consciousness but also on participation in religious practices. Lincoln groups all the practices associated with religion in a single domain. Ritual, he suggests, can be understood as a powerful instrument for the evocation of those sentiments (affinity and estrangement) which serve to construct

Analysing religion, societies and states  29 ‘community’ or ‘society’ (Lincoln, 2014). Ethical practices, in contrast, are more to do with the derivation of values from religious teachings and the ways in which they are translated into attitudes, morals and behaviour. For analytical purposes, therefore, it makes sense to distinguish between ritual and ethical practices, even though there may be overlaps, links and contradictions between them and adherents may not see them as distinct. In the previous volume, a range of everyday and occasional practices associated with each tradition were considered, paying attention to the ways they embody religion, play a part in the daily lives of adherents, enable participants to make sense of their religious and daily experiences, and play roles in constructing and reinforcing a sense of identity. It was noted that the nature, frequency and regularity of participation and the significance of religious practices in people’s concepts of themselves vary between both religions and individuals. Some of the practices that are important in Sub-​Saharan African and South Asian religious life are relevant to the discussion that follows, especially religious giving and socialisation into a religion through education. Religion is said to provide a source of values, moral norms and processes of moral reasoning, an ethical framework that governs behaviour and social practices. However, the links between religious adherence, values and morals on the one hand and everyday practices and behaviour on the other hand are complex –​not only are they influenced by many factors other than religious teachings, but also it is methodologically difficult to identify them with any degree of confidence. It is often assumed that a religion provides a coherent value system, because its teachings are based on revelations or sacred texts, or because it has organisational arrangements for specifying, teaching and enforcing norms, but in practice the importance and influence of religion vary widely between traditions, individuals and contexts. Moral behaviour does not necessarily bear much resemblance to formal religious teachings, because many situations pose ethical dilemmas, societal changes lead to changes in the contours of ethical fields and non-​religious influences are often important (Bochow et al., 2017). Attitudes are shaped by class, level of education, cultural context and political regime. In addition, differences within religious groups, often along a conservative-​liberal spectrum, give rise to ambivalences and tensions. In Part IV of the previous volume, some of the ways in which the values and ethical stances of religious adherents in Sub-​Saharan Africa and southern Asia are (or are not) influenced by their religious affiliation and commitment and reflected in their lives and social relationships were explored. Despite the well-​ known hazards of doing so, religious teachings related to the values and norms selected for discussion were benchmarked against internationally accepted norms, typically those of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. The discussion, illustrated where possible with quantitative or qualitative evidence on the prevalence, interpretation and influence of particular ethical stances, considered freedom, rights, integrity and honesty; attitudes to well-​being, poverty and inequality (including the values of altruism, philanthropy and service); and gender equality, sexuality and the family.

30  Religions, societies and states: An introduction As noted above, the nature of their affiliation not only affects adherents’ attitudes to official teaching and the intensity and frequency of their engagement in religious practices, but also influences the relative importance of religious and other factors in influencing their attitudes, behaviour and social relationships. Often these all vary as much within religions as between them. Even though its members may disagree over interpretations, values and practices, a community is held together by a sense of affinity that is fostered by aspects of discourse and practices. Those who identify with a broad religious tradition are bound together by a general sense of affinity, while differences of history, interpretation and practice serve to delineate geographical, religious and social boundaries between one group (sect, denomination, etc.) and another, reinforced by disciplinary mechanisms. For many, their religious affiliation provides behavioural norms and instantiates norms, practices and habits for individual behaviour and interactions with wider social groups. Thus, a second pathway for religious influences is through social relationships, in which the idiom and practice of religion provides ideas about the right ordering of relationships in families and wider social groups. However, Osella and Osella (2014) warn that religion should not be essentialised and privileged over other aspects of the everyday because it is not the only source of norms. In practice, there are often ambivalences and tensions between particular values and also between the international emphasis on individual rights, the teaching, attitudes and behaviour of religious organisations, leaders and adherents, and communal conceptions of society. Beliefs and values influence the attitudes of religious groups to spreading their ideas and recruiting new adherents, as well as the ways they are organised. Religious groups

Therefore, third, the religious and social fields infuse each other through ideas, values and relationships. Together, these influence not only the lives of those affiliated with a religious group, but also the roles religion plays in wider society and politics. As was explored in the earlier volume, religion and the family are central to (the organisation of) primary group relations, while religious bodies and families are the key social institutions that deal with persons, enabling them to cope with stress and change. It is clear from the analysis in the earlier volume that the role and relative importance of families and these other channels vary between individuals, between contexts and over time. Religious communities are held together not just by common beliefs but, as noted above, by boundary-​defining discourses and practices, the refinement, reproduction and regulation of which require an organisational framework. Religious organisation. … . refers to the fact that… .the religious life is practised through the medium of regular, structured, social relationships. The form of these relationships varies widely from group to group, and over time as well. Their salience in the lives of practising religionists is also

Analysing religion, societies and states  31 variable. But their general importance to the production and reproduction of religious thoughts, feelings and actions cannot be seriously doubted…the social organisation of religious groups is an important key to a sociological understanding of their structures and processes. (Beckford, 1984, p. 84) To analyse religious fields (or sub-​fields), Echtler and Ukah (2016) suggest, it is useful to start by identifying the religious actors involved, their position and function within the field and the nature and sources of the social, cultural and symbolic resources available to them. This helps define the extent of the field, determine its social function, indicate the degree of autonomy it has and specify the rules of the social game in which the actors are involved. I use the term ‘religious organisation’ rather than the recently popularised ‘faith-​ based organisation’ (FBO), which has a particular pedigree and connotations that pose hazards for analysis and limit the coverage and generalisability of findings. Tomalin (2012) examines the entry of the term into development discourse and policy, in which it originally applied mainly to organisations that became prominent because of the US-​led faith agenda spurred on by the religious right during some recent American political regimes, although other factors were also influential. Subsequently, it has become the most favoured term in development discourse, although many of those who use it have reservations (Clarke and Jennings, 2008; Haugen, 2019; Jeavons, 2004; LeBlanc and Audet Gosselin, 2016). Some researchers (e.g. Marshall, 2011, p. 33) prefer the label ‘faith-​inspired’ to ‘faith-​based’ because ‘faith’ is said to reflect a broader set of spiritual approaches and beliefs than ‘religion’ and ‘inspired’ because this is said “to capture a broader range of entities whose work has a faith inspiration but which may not have a formal religious affiliation. It refers to organisations… .includ[ing] networks, non-​profit entities, programmes, projects, facilities, congregations, community groups and small groups of individuals” (Berkley Center, 2012, p. 6). However, the term ‘faith’, with its strong Christian connotations, poses if anything more problems than ‘religion’, so does not in my view solve the terminological problem. Organisational arrangements

The organisational arrangements associated with religious traditions, fields or groups are diverse, reflecting their different origins, histories, beliefs and values. They ‘house’ the leaders and religious specialists who assume (or are given) responsibility for interpreting and disseminating a group’s defining discourse, performing and supervising its rituals and other religious practices, promoting and enforcing its ethics, and defending and advancing the interests of the community. Because the organisational forms of religion are central to the analysis in this volume, attention will be given here to their forms and dynamics, as well as the themes emerging from relevant research.

32  Religions, societies and states: An introduction Religion-​supporting organisations appoint (or recognise), train and support leaders and other professionals, and manage the upkeep of places of worship and other meeting places and buildings. In addition, they may seek to proselytise, provide social and welfare services, and interact with social and political movements. Some also engage in ecumenical or inter-​faith activities, which often result in the formation of additional networks or organisations, and it may be at this level that consultative or political interactions occur (Beckford, 2015). Early studies, mainly of Christianity, focused on the identification of types and sub-​types of religious organisation, in particular based on Weber’s ideal-​ typical distinction between churches and sects. Church-​type organisations (large, territorially based and inclusive in terms of membership) are thought to be able to exercise power, but to lack vitality and attractiveness. In contrast, sect-​type organisations, typically generated by schism, are voluntaristic, relatively small and exclusive in membership terms. They can be distinguished from cults, defined as small groups of people engaged in esoteric religious practices. Sects (and cults) generally emerged in reaction to the mainstream churches’ perceived loss of ideological purity. The church-​sect distinction did what ideal-​types always do –​it gave concrete status to a distinction that was overdrawn in the first place, with the term ‘church’ covering a variety of forms, especially related to the tension between top-​down control and local autonomy within denominations. This in turn led to a distinction between (a) the Catholic or Episcopal type, in which power flows downward from ecclesiastical officials at the top of the denominational structure; (b) a model in which power is concentrated in regional councils that make the crucial decisions and (c) a congregational form, often associated with Protestant Christianity, in which local units have considerable autonomy (Demerath and Farnsley, 2007). This and similar classificatory schema dominated sociological studies of religion until the 1970s, reflecting a desire to understand how new religious organisations ensure the conditions of their own survival and reproduction. It led to examinations of the dynamic relations between ideology, organisational structures, and resource mobilisation and use (Beckford, 1984). Subsequent research has continued to try and capture the variety of organisational forms associated with the evolution and expansion of Christianity, including independent churches, Pentecostal churches, mega-​churches and basic ecclesial communities (Adogame, 2013; Beckford, 2015; Holden, 2009). There have also been a few studies of the organisational arrangements associated with other religions, including Hindu and Buddhist shrines and temples and Buddhist monasteries (see, e.g., Kasturi, 2018; Malik and Mirza, 2015; Presler, 1987; Reynolds and Hallisey, 1987) and Muslim brotherhoods (e.g. Bop, 2005). However, the characteristics of a religious culture/​ philosophy such as Hinduism, which involves devotion to a variety of gods and goddesses with different statuses and powers and is linked in complex ways to sociocultural arrangements, mean that ‘organisations’ per se may be less

Analysing religion, societies and states  33 important to expressions of religion than the enormous range of functionaries required to help adherents fulfil their religious obligations. Hertel (1998), for example, identifies nine clusters of positions, according to their duties and the services provided. Not all these functionaries are responsible for maintaining temples or overseeing temple or shrine rituals –​many are family members, extrafamilial household priests and their assistants, experts in predicting the future, or specialists in health or protection. They are generally supported by donations or fees for the services they provide. Some are caste-​specific, but not all, with male Brahmins being key providers, especially for rites of passage and worship at the temples of major deities. Local (voluntary or ascriptive) religious units or communities provide adherents with ties to a larger religious identity and organisational structure, are communication channels for conveying beliefs and practices, generate resources, make decisions and exercise authority and power. However, in the African and Asian contexts, research into patterns and trends in the establishment and operation of these units is patchy and limited. In addition, at supra-​local levels, what research there is on religious organisational structures has tended to focus on the new and unusual, rather than the persistence of and changes in mainstream and long-​standing forms of religious organisation. A dominant theme in the available research concerns whether and how religious organisations are distinctive (Hinings and Raynard, 2014). However, many of these efforts founder on the difficulty of defining various types of ‘religious’ and ‘non-​religious’ organisations, an issue to which I will return in Chapter 3. Research has focused more productively on the dynamics of religious organisation and here Echtler and Ukah’s (2016) conceptualisation may be useful. If there is competition and conflict between old and new players, what is at stake is the ability to modify the worldviews and practices of lay people to inculcate in them a new religious habitus. Newcomers in a religious field, they suggest, can only do this by undermining the legitimacy of established actors, but because they operate within the existing structures and institutions in a field, they may or may not succeed in changing the characteristics of that field, the resources available to the actors concerned, the rules of the game and/​or a particular sub-​field’s relationship with other sub-​fields. This conceptualisation, they claim, is useful for analysing the evolution of a particular religious field or sub-​field, encounters between it and other religious traditions or groups (see, e.g., Soares, 2016) and relations between a religious group and wider society (e.g. in the political arena, see Lincoln, 2006, 2014). Religious organisations’ internal dimensions and external links Five dimensions have emerged as salient in understanding the internal organisation of religious groups and their relations with states, governments and wider social groups (Beckford, 2015; Hinings and Raynard, 2014). Evidence on the importance of these factors in understanding the characteristics and

34  Religions, societies and states: An introduction social roles of contemporary religious groups will be reviewed in the subsequent chapters. Institutionalisation and bureaucratisation

Organisational theory suggests that the elaboration of organisational elements (e.g. specialisation, formalisation and decentralisation) occurs with the increasing age and scale of organisations. Although religious organisations reflect specific beliefs and exist to facilitate various religious practices, they are also characterised by such generic features –​for example, the emergence of specialist personnel to support the main operations of an organisation reflects increasing size, a long history and a commitment to achieving wide or complete geographical coverage (Hinings and Raynard, 2014). The mainline Christian denominations, for example, typically seek complete geographical coverage. This requires a national or regional organisational framework, although in practice most operate through local units (typically parishes or congregations) that may not wholly conform to the values and practices promoted by those at the top of the denominational hierarchy. With the division of religious labour and the need to reproduce themselves, religious movements become more systematised religious organisations that may seek to monopolise religious knowledge, symbols, spaces, and the training and recognition of religious specialists. Alternatively, in addition to differences over beliefs, opposition to the established religious hierarchy and bureaucracy may fuel the emergence of religious movements (within or outside an established religious organisation) which resist routinisation and eschew a formal organisational structure. In practice, therefore, there is a continuum of forms of religious governance, with large complex formal organisations that require their members to accept centrally imposed dogmas and practices at one end and loosely structured fellowships at the other end (Beckford, 2015). In addition, the shape that a basic organisational form takes may vary in different contexts, for example, the Episcopal form in the worldwide Anglican Communion. Thus, religious organisational structures and the social and cultural contexts in which they operate influence each other. For example, theory and practice in realms such as the delivery of social services may influence religious bodies (see Chapter 7). There are parallels between the organisational forms of congregational religion and those of civil society, which are both based on a logic of voluntarism and localism. Typically, autonomous local units have insecure leaders who are rewarded for keeping their congregations satisfied and so may be influenced more by the local social system and political circumstances than a national hierarchy. Even in the Roman Catholic Church, which Weber considered to be an archetypal centralised bureaucracy, elements of a more differentiated and decentralised organisational structure have started to emerge, in response to the need or demand for religious revitalisation (see, e.g., the discussion of Catholic Basic Ecclesial Communities in Chapter 5).

Analysing religion, societies and states  35 While organisational differences are influenced by the scale of a religious body and its resources, they also reflect differences in beliefs about authority (see below) and the respective roles of religious specialists and individual adherents. Far less attention has been paid by social scientists to the organisational features of Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism than to those of Christianity, in part because these religions do not have centralised authority structures. However, some of the bodies associated with these religious traditions have become institutionalised and bureaucratised, especially those that seek to have wide influence over religious specialists and adherents, or which interact with governments (see Chapters 6 and 7). Not only do religious organisations undertake the tasks needed to operate on a day-​to-​day basis (e.g. interpreting doctrine, performing rituals, religious socialisation, mobilisation and management of resources, and the construction and maintenance of buildings), they may also seek to witness to their religious beliefs and principles through proselytisation and charitable, welfare and other work. Because religious functionaries may have no training or interest in these activities, parallel organisational structures may arise, with different decision-​ making arrangements. Authority and decision-​making

The question of how adherents access God/​ the ultimate/​ the sacred, it is suggested, affects the organisational form of a religion, because it implies that (a) divine being(s) and the texts are the sources of authority. Those who mediate between it/​them and adherents derive authority from their access to the sacred. For example, the Roman Catholic Church internationally and at diocesan level has a centralised authority system based on the theological rightness of an ecclesial, hierarchical organisation. Thus, many religions assert that the basis of their authority is external to the social order –​it is said to have a theological basis, often explicitly articulated, and those with religious authority seek to control access to the desired ends –​the divine, salvation, orthodox interpretations of texts, appropriate practices and ethical guidance. In contrast, religious traditions and groups that uphold the view that adherents can access the divine without intermediaries are likely to have less hierarchical organisational structures, with local bodies, leaders and individual adherents having more autonomy. In these circumstances, authority is more likely to be derived from charisma, religious knowledge or legitimacy based on local/​ denominational support. Often, sources of authority are contested, producing organisational conflict, with the outcomes dictated by the differential access of competing elites to resources and popular support. Islam, for example, lacks a centralised authority structure. Instead, its “complex organisational tapestry…consists of multiple –​and sometimes competing –​sources of theological, legal, spiritual, political and moral authority. The authoritative figures include learned

36  Religions, societies and states: An introduction experts, jurists, hereditary sheiks, leaders of brotherhoods, and clergy (among the Shi’ites)” (Beckford, 2015, p. 4). How far authority rests with a priesthood with special religious status or a wider set of congregational leaders may also affect the commitment of adherents –​if the latter feel they have more control, this may result in greater commitment (indicated by satisfaction, identification and involvement). Nevertheless, while the idea of a ‘priesthood of all believers’ may give adherents a sense that they are entitled to a say in religious decision-​making, in practice, organisational features such as denominational/​congregational size and the requirements of day-​to-​day management also influence authority and decision-​making (Hinings and Raynard, 2014). Leadership

The primary roles, responsibilities and training of religious leaders and professionals/​specialists vary between the religious traditions, although they share a similar form of authority grounded in their knowledge, expertise and faithfulness to the religious organisation they serve. Historically, they have almost always been men (Nesbitt, 2007). Ideas about the source and nature of sacred power shape the pattern of roles at all organisational levels (Beckford, 2015): thus, leaders of organisations that identify religious power exclusively with scriptures and laws derive their authority mainly from their acquired capacity to read and interpret these texts, an authority which is recognised as legitimate by others (Nesbitt, 2007). As noted above, scholars, teachers and jurists exemplify this pattern of leadership in Islam. The various forms of priesthood that are characteristic of Christianity or Hinduism combine reverence for the sacred texts with belief in the capacity of priests to perform rituals allowing human beings to interact with divinities and sacred power. The effectiveness of this power is believed to be conditional on the proper conduct of rituals. (Beckford, 2015, p. 5) Traditionally, influenced by Weber, a distinction has been drawn between the priesthood (those who hold leadership status by virtue of their office) and prophetic leadership (in which an individual advocates radical reform or founds a new religious organisation, securing followers by means of charisma, example or persuasive power). Sometimes, priesthood is inherited (e.g. through a priestly caste in Hinduism) but more often priests are recruited from among the ranks of those who show interest or expertise. Such individuals may be apprenticed to a religious leader or teacher, join a monastic community to gain religious knowledge or attend a religious school/​seminary for more systematic training (Nesbitt, 2007). Leaders who focus on preaching, exposition of the texts, the need for conversion or redemption, and pastoral care (sometimes called pastors) may or may not be formally trained. Virtuosi such as monks,

Analysing religion, societies and states  37 nuns and others “who exercise leadership on the strength of their discipline, asceticism, devotion and selflessness” are often highly respected (Beckford, 2015, p. 5). Local religious leaders are usually attached to buildings where they teach, conduct rituals or have pastoral functions. Some also have spiritual oversight over related organisations, such as schools, youth groups, orphanages, health facilities or pilgrimage sites (Hinings and Raynard, 2014). Although temples and mosques operate as ritual and sometimes pastoral centres for people in their vicinity, they are accountable to their private owners/​funders or management committees, rather than integrated into higher level structures, and those who officiate in them are not employees or agents of the religious organisational hierarchy (Beckford, 2015). Because religious leadership is highly gendered, access to leadership positions has emerged as an important theme in research on religion and gender (see, e.g., Bano and Kalmbach, 2012; LeBlanc, 2014). Formal structures do not necessarily reveal much about the exercise of leadership, which involves the organisation or mobilisation of people and resources in pursuit of particular ends and is shaped by power and gender relations within a religious group and its historical, political and cultural context. In practice, the leadership offered by occupants of different roles varies and there are often tensions between religious professionals, who are appointed to roles in institutionalised/​bureaucratised religious organisational settings, expected to have formal training and qualifications, and may be subject to supervision and specific arrangements for succession, and those who exercise influence informally, through personal charisma and perceived spiritual effectiveness, and are accountable only to their followers (Nesbitt, 2007). The characteristics and exercise of religious leadership are relevant to understanding the involvement of religious organisations in social welfare and movements for social change. For example, much of the recent research in the South is concerned with Christianity, especially the growth of Pentecostalism. Among other themes, this has explored the potential career opportunities offered by leadership in Pentecostal congregations and denominations (e.g. Lauterbach, 2017), its gender dimensions (e.g. Soothill, 2015) and the recent tendency for Pentecostal leaders to become engaged in politics (e.g. Burgess, 2012, 2020). Resourcing

The source and scale of the resources available to religious organisations at every level have implications not only for the reproduction (and expansion) of the religious group but also for its ability to engage directly or indirectly in activities such as service provision. Some religious groups have acquired land, property and wealth, often under state auspices. This is inherited by their successors but can be a source of tension and conflict. If challenges arise or the civic standing of a religious group changes (perhaps because of a change

38  Religions, societies and states: An introduction of regime), both inherited wealth and ongoing state support (e.g. exemption from taxes) may be lost, undermining the group’s operation (Beckford, 2015). It is generally considered desirable to distinguish between giving for religious purposes and philanthropy, which may be seen as a moral imperative; although not everyone would make this distinction, the dividing line between the two is not precise and donors’ motives are complex (Rakodi, 2019, pp. 143–​ 7, 210–​6). For many religious organisations with missionary origins in Sub-​Saharan Africa and southern Asia, political independence was associated with rising tensions between the need for foreign finance, variable flows of such support and the desire for autonomy, with implications for their ongoing roles in service provision (see Chapter 7). In practice, most religious organisations rely on the day-​to-​day generation of financial resources through religious and charitable giving. Some supplement these sources with revenue from the sale of services (e.g. performance of rituals or rites of passage) and products (e.g. sacred artefacts, ritual clothing), while more recently, some religious organisations in parts of Sub-​Saharan Africa and southern Asia, including Muslim brotherhoods and Pentecostal churches, have developed business ventures alongside their religious operations. Religious specialists may be supported in different ways, ranging from itinerant monks or preachers, who perform services where required or live off donations, to bureaucratic structures where a clergy class is paid for by contributions from a congregation and/​or regional or national organisation. Economic dependence may encourage religious officials to represent the interests of their religious community or organisation or, where government support is provided, to defend the interests of the state (Nesbitt, 2007). While lack of transparency over sources of funding and other resources often makes research difficult (especially where religion–​state relationships are sensitive and/​or there are suspicions that religious organisations are associated with terrorist activity), the question of how religious organisations are resourced is important in understanding their characteristics, trajectories, roles in providing social welfare and services, engagement in movements for social change and political interactions. Regulation

All societies and religions have means of enforcing compliance with social and religious norms and requirements among adherents and in wider society. Although much compliance occurs because the norms and values are taken for granted, internalised and have become part of the habitus of adherents and societies, specific disciplinary mechanisms are also used. Although informal rules/​institutions may be as, if not more, important than formal rules and hierarchical authority structures, for a religion to ensure compliance, an institutional and organisational apparatus able to enforce the prescribed sanctions is needed. These mechanisms are, of course, entangled with those of other social institutions which also play a role in regulating social relations and behaviour,

Analysing religion, societies and states  39 including families, schools, communities and governments. Religion is both an agent of regulation and the object of regulation by external agencies (Beckford and Richardson, 2007). Self-​regulation involves the constitutive rules that mark the main beliefs, practices and organisational forms of a religion. The importance attached by many religious traditions to the control of belief and practice is matched by the centrality of agencies for inculcating basic principles and norms, familiarity with which may need to be demonstrated to enter a religion or its corps of specialists. Closely linked to the constitutive rules are regulatory means for monitoring and, if necessary, correcting the thoughts and actions of office holders and adherents. The authority to regulate compliance with the constitutive rules and administrative arrangements for doing so vary between religious traditions: in some the rules are implemented by judges and court-​like bodies, in others by the exhortations of religious teachers or the example provided by gurus. For example, the Roman Catholic Church’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith is a formal central body responsible for regulating the Church’s doctrines and morals. In contrast, “Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism lack single authoritative organisations for regulating their … activities. Nevertheless, certain scholars, seminaries, universities, mosques, temples and monasteries are able to shape the values, principles and norms that regulate the development of these faith traditions” (Beckford and Richardson, 2007, p. 399). The degree of regulatory centralisation and formality, as well as the extent of competition and disagreement between regulatory bodies, varies not only between but also within religious traditions. In addition to internal regulation, many religious bodies seek to regulate social mores and behaviour more widely. They may spawn campaigns that attempt to address wider social and moral problems and perceived misbehaviour and/​or urge governments to regulate citizens’ lives in accordance with their values and beliefs. The ability of such religious mobilisations to influence governments depends on their location in the political system. Even in an ostensibly secular system, religion may be instrumentalised by governments seeking to regulate citizens’ lives, perhaps even providing a source of legitimacy for a political regime (see, for example, Pew Research Center, 2017). At the same time, governments seek to regulate religion. Most attention has been given to the possibility that state regulation might limit the freedom of minority religions (e.g. Tadros, 2022a, 2022b), but until recently there has been little research into the ways in which majority religions are regulated and moulded by state administrations (see, e.g., Sezgin and Künkler, 2014). Religion and social change Views differ about whether religion is an obstacle to social change or can promote it, informed by understandings of its influence on values, ideas of right social ordering and sociopolitical relationships. In the face of economic, social and cultural globalisation and rapid social change, religion may be seen as a

40  Religions, societies and states: An introduction source of social order and cohesion. From this perspective, any tampering with the religious tradition may be resisted as a source of potential social instability. If the social order is thought to be breaking down, religious actors may seek to realise their values through witnessing to them in their own lives, influencing the religious tradition with which they are associated, possibly as participants in the piety, fundamentalist or revivalist movements discussed in Rakodi (2019), or seeking to change the wider society in which they live, perhaps by supporting a state that favours one or more official or preferred religions (Pew Research Center, 2017). Many religious adherents regard social conservatism as desirable to counteract a perceived decline in religiosity, increase in immorality and deterioration of social relationships. They therefore see the desire to embed or restore religious values and attitudes as ‘reformist’ and progressive. However, many, including both external observers and adherents, consider religious values to be inherently socially conservative and thus supportive of oppressive social relationships and resistant to desirable changes in attitudes and practices, especially regarding sexuality, gender and family relationships. For religious adherents, leaders and organisations, the perception that social attitudes and practices or government laws and policies contradict religious values and teachings may lead to them taking on active roles in movements for ‘progressive’ social change, for example, improving social welfare, challenging inequality, realising human rights or trying to resolve conflict. As well as seeking to achieve such changes through modifying the practices of their own religious group, they may engage politically and collaborate with other religious or civil society groups. While social change can occur and religious influence on society can be exerted through diffuse social channels and relationships, the discussion here will focus on attempts by religious actors to contribute to change. The concept of social movements refers to processes of mobilisation that are sustained over time and space: while formal organisations can be part of social movements, movements are more than formalised actors and also include the more nebulous, uncoordinated and cyclical forms of collective action, popular protest and networks that serve to link organised and dispersed actors in processes of social mobilisation. (Bebbington et al., 2010, p. 1306) This is a dynamic and relational definition that, rather than concentrating solely on the actors involved and their activities or attributing a coherent history and fixed identity to a movement, focuses on the relationships between social actors and powerholders, as the former coalesce around a common issue or set of issues to effect social changes, leading to resistance, accommodation or capitulation by the latter. The evolution, identity and aims of a social movement are typically “contested and constantly in the process of construction through the narratives of those involved in the movement itself

Analysing religion, societies and states  41 and those who stand outside, including those who work with or against the movement” (Kirmani, 2008, p. 4). The characteristics and composition of movements, the scales at which they emerge and operate, the strategies and tactics they adopt and the outcomes of their activities are diverse. Part of civil society, they are concerned with associational life linked to but outside the formal arena of politics. There is a need to understand how different actors understand their political opportunities and form alliances, which issues and interests they tackle and the political capacity of different groups to mobilise for collective action and engage in politics. McAdam et al. (1996) suggest that their emergence and development can be explained in terms of four broad sets of factors: (i) framing processes that motivate and legitimate collective action, (ii) mobilising structures, including organisations and networks and their strategies and tactics, (iii) the availability and nature of political opportunities and (iv) the tactics employed, including reference to international debates and the use of international links. Much of the available research in SSA and South Asia has concentrated on the ways in which religious organisations seek to restore or establish a social and political order through political and legal reforms. Political action and constitutional reform at the national and international levels may indeed be necessary to bring about social change. However, it is not possible to do justice to this body of research in this volume. Instead, the review in Part IV will focus on locally driven social movements that have sought to realise the rights of women through reforming personal or family law and the roles of religious actors in movements for the social and legal recognition of people with diverse sexual orientations and gender identities. Researching the sociopolitical roles of religious organisations: some methodological considerations The analysis of the beliefs, practices and values associated with each of the religious traditions under consideration in Rakodi (2019) draws on a variety of secondary sources. It refers to both quantitative and qualitative studies to consider how teachings are interpreted and reflected in social relationships at the local level. Quantitative analyses require clearly defined and precisely specified variables referring, for example, to professed religiosity, the holding of specific beliefs, values and attitudes, and patterns of social behaviour, such as affiliation with a ‘religious organisation’. This requires concepts that are straightforwardly applicable in different contexts. With sufficient comprehensive and comparative data, such an approach can reveal patterns and may suggest general explanations. However, it has limitations when studying social phenomena that are influenced by the historical and cultural contexts in which they occur and are complex and multidimensional. That positivist approaches have some value when studying religions and societies was demonstrated by their use, when available, in the first of these volumes. However, their contribution is limited by their use of simplistic indicators of complex beliefs, practices

42  Religions, societies and states: An introduction and attitudes, constraints on the availability of data and failure to appreciate research subjects’ own interpretations of the many dimensions of religion that are relevant to the changing contexts in which they live. In practice, the availability and contribution of such research is limited and uneven. Because the available international data sets do not enable in-​ depth comparisons, analyses or explanations, they were complemented in the first volume by illustrative case studies of particular phenomena and social groups. Alongside surveys and publicly produced data (e.g. censuses and administrative information), a case study can permit the use of interpretive approaches based on discourse analysis (see Hjelm, 2014; Lincoln, 2014) and ethnographic methods. These enable the complexity of the social phenomenon of interest to be appreciated and propositions to be generated that can challenge the existing understanding and be refined and tested by additional case studies (Hantrais, 2009). Such case studies can generate rich description and theoretical insights. However, their coverage of issues, contexts and religious groups is selective. Often, they focus on the new, dramatic or alarming rather than the quotidian and enduring. In addition, they often rely on elite informants (educated groups or religious specialists and leaders), tend to reflect the identities and assumptions of the researchers concerned, including the use of religious and social concepts foreign to the people and groups under study, and reveal features that cannot be explained by reference to a single case. Thus, some research questions can only be addressed by means of comparative research (Freiberger, 2018). Ideally, the selection of comparative case studies is driven by a defined theoretical starting point, and each covers the same topics, addresses the same research questions and uses a common design. The criteria used to select case studies need to deliver a set that can be compared along the dimensions identified as important in the research, for example, the cultural or historical factors relevant to the roles played by religious actors, organisations and doctrines in the phenomenon under study (Altinordu, 2012). Systematic selection of case studies may be feasible in a well-​developed research field, but frequently it is necessary to adopt a more pragmatic approach. First, no single theoretical framework, using concepts that can be defined and stretched into travelling concepts suitable for study in different locations, is available, necessitating the adoption of a provisional framework that serves to indicate the scope and framing of the analysis. Second, case studies may have to be selected for reasons of convenience, such as the availability of funds and interested/​suitable researchers. Third, the evidence available prior to the research commencing and collected during it is likely to vary between contexts and organisations, reflecting differences in the publicly available data, inconsistent survey results or differences in the findings of ethnographic studies (Hantrais, 2009, 2014; Brenner, 2014; Wiktor-​Mach, 2012). In practice it is difficult to ensure that researchers and research teams engaged in comparative studies have a shared understanding of the relevant concepts,

Analysing religion, societies and states  43 share the same disciplinary or religio-​cultural outlook, and are willing and able to use the same research tools. Indeed, some suggest that a thoroughly theory-​driven approach and strictly comparative methodology are neither feasible nor necessary, making a virtue of a more iterative approach. Fountain and Feener (2017) advocate the use of multi-​sited ethnographies to realise the full potential of case studies. Because few such studies are available, they also recognise the potential of multi-​ authored edited volumes. These, they suggest, can assemble several studies of the entanglements between religious organisations and societies and allow different cases to be brought into conversation with each other. This can open up new spaces for critical reflection on the interactions and tensions between religion, charitable giving, societies and politics (Bolotta et al., 2019). My interest in this book is in the contemporary situation, but as all social structures and processes are situated not only in space but also in time, it is not possible to understand and explain the present without examining the historical trajectories of the phenomena under study and the contexts in which they are observed. An example is Soares’ (2016) exploration of Muslim–​Christian encounters in West Africa. Skocpol (1987) makes a strong case for comparative historical studies in sociology. Which time period is relevant depends on the research question. Sometimes it is appropriate to study a single case over an extended period to reveal and seek explanations for changes; in other circumstances a historical understanding derived from secondary sources can be combined with information provided by contemporary actors. Concluding comments The framework outlined here provides starting points for the analysis in subsequent chapters. Although interest in the sociopolitical roles and links of religious traditions and organisations never disappeared, it received only limited attention in most of the social sciences during the later twentieth century and the early years of the twenty-​first century. The reasons for the subsequent increased interest in the social and political roles played by religious organisations shaped the questions addressed, disciplinary engagement and the geographical focus of the research. Some of the main themes of the emerging research are reviewed in Chapter 3, paying attention to their theoretical underpinning and contribution. These have influenced the subsequent research agenda, with implications for the questions addressed and the methodological approaches adopted. The content, findings and contributions of subsequent empirical research are discussed in the following chapters, based on a wide-​ ranging review of research on the social roles of religious organisations. Note 1 As in the previous volume, I use the term ‘religious tradition’ to refer to a movement that to a greater or lesser extent shares a history, culture and common body of

44  Religions, societies and states: An introduction teachings, but is comprised of more than one branch, sect or denomination, each with more or less distinctive teachings, practices and organisational forms. While a tradition may aspire to coherence, it is typically internally diverse and contestable. There is no universal term that can be used to denote local religious groups or units –​ often I use the word ‘congregation’ to refer to the group of adherents who associate themselves with a local leader or place of worship, although I am aware that this is an essentially Christian concept, reflecting an organisational form that is different from that of other religious traditions.

References Adogame, A. (2013) Reconfiguring the global religious economy: the role of African Pentecostalism, in Miller, D.E., Sargeant, K.H. and Flory, R. (eds.), Spirit and Power: The Growth and Global Impact of Pentecostalism, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1–​24, online. DOI: 10.1093/​acprof:oso/​9780199920570.003.0009 Altinordu, A. (2012) Toward a comparative-​historical-​sociology of religious politics: the case for cross-​religious and cross-​regional comparisons, in Bender, C., Cadge, W., Levitt, P. and Smilde, D. (eds.), Religion on the Edge: De-​centering and Re-​centering the Sociology of Religion, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bano, M. and Kalmbach, H. (eds.) (2012) Women, Leadership and Mosques: Changes in Contemporary Islamic Authority, Leiden: Brill. Bebbington, A.J., Mitlin, D., Mogaladi, J., Scurrah, M. and Bielich, C. (2010) Decentring poverty, re-​working government: social movements and states in the government of policy, The Journal of Development Studies, 46, 7, 1304–​26. Beckford, J.A. (1984) Religious organisation: a survey of some recent publications, Archives de sciences sociales des religions, 29, 57.1, 83–​102. Beckford, J.A. (2003) Social Theory and Religion, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Beckford, J.A. (2015) Religious organisations, in Wright, J.D. (ed.), International Encyclopedia of the Social and Behavioral Sciences, 2nd ed., Amsterdam: Elsevier, Vol. 20, 406–​12. Beckford, J.A., and Richardson, J.T. (2007) Religion and regulation, in Beckford, J.A. and Demerath, N.J. (eds.), The Sage Handbook of the Sociology of Religion, London: Sage, 1–​24, online. Berkley Center. (2012) Faith-​Inspired Development Work: Lessons Learned and Next Steps: Appraising the Luce/​ SFS Program on Religion and Global Development, Summary Report, Washington DC: Georgetown University, Berkley Center for Religion, Peace and World Affairs. https://​berkle​ycen​ter.geo​rget​own.edu/​publi​cati​ ons/​faith-​inspi​red-​deve​lopm​ent-​work-​app​rais​ing-​the-​luce-​sfs-​prog​ram-​on-​relig​ion-​ and-​deve​lopm​ent Bochow, A., Kirsch, T. and van Dijk, R. (2017) Introduction: new ethical fields and the implicitness/​explicitness of ethics in Africa, Africa, 87, 3, 447–​61. Bolotta, G., Scheer, C. and Feener, R.M. (2019) Translating religion and development: emerging perspectives from critical ethnographies of faith-​based organizations, Progress in Development Studies, 19, 4, 243–​63. Bop, C. (2005) Roles and the position of women in Sufi brotherhoods in Senegal, Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 73, 4, 1099–​1119.

Analysing religion, societies and states  45 Brenner, P.S. (2014) Testing the veracity of self-​reported religious practice in the Muslim world, Social Forces, 92, 3, 1009–​37. Burgess, R. (2012) Pentecostals and political culture in Sub-​Saharan Africa: Nigeria, Zambia, and Kenya as case studies, in Wilkinson, M. (ed.), Global Pentecostal Movements: Migration, Mission, and Public Religion, Leiden: Brill, 17–​42. Burgess, R. (2020) Nigerian Pentecostalism and Development: Spirit, Power and Transformation, London: Routledge. Clarke, G. and Jennings, M. (eds.) (2008) Development, Civil Society and Faith-​Based Organizations: Bridging the Sacred and the Secular, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Demerath, N.J. III and Farnsley, A. III (2007) Congregations resurgent, in Beckford, J.A. and Demerath, N.J. III (eds.), The Sage Handbook of the Sociology of Religion, London: Sage, 1–​13, online. Echtler, M. and Ukah, A. (2016) Introduction: exploring the dynamics of religious fields in Africa, in Echtler, M. and Ukah, A. (eds.), Bourdieu in Africa: Exploring the Dynamics of Religious Fields, Leiden: Brill, 1–​32. Fountain, P. and Feener, M. (2017) Navigating a world of religious NGOs: ethnography, abstraction, and views of the horizon, Geography Compass, 11, e12328. DOI: /​ 10.1111/​gec3.12328 Freiberger, O. (2018) Elements of a comparative methodology in the study of religion, Religions, 9, 38, 1–​14. Furseth, I. and Repstad, P. (2006) An Introduction to the Sociology of Religion: Classical and Contemporary Perspectives, Aldershot: Ashgate. Hantrais, L. (2009) International Comparative Research: Theory, Methods, and Practice, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Hantrais, L. (2014) Methodological pluralism in international comparative research, International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 17, 2, 133–​45. Haugen, H.M. (2019) What is gained and what is lost by the faith-​based organization (FBO) term? Mission Studies, 36, 262–​88. Hertel, B.R. (1998) The variety of Hindu priests and assistants: a brief introduction, in Cousineau, M. (ed.) Religion in a Changing World: Comparative Studies in Sociology, Westport, CT: Praeger, 79–​88. Hinings, C.R. and Raynard, M. (2014) Organisational form, structure and religious organisations, in Tracey, P., Phillips, N. and Lounsbury, M. (eds.), Religion and Organisational Theory, Bingley, UK: Emerald Publishing, 159–​86. Hjelm, T. (2014) Religion, discourse and power: a contribution towards a critical sociology of religion, Critical Sociology, 40, 6, 855–​72. Holden, W.N. (2009) Post modern public administration in the land of promise: the Basic Ecclesial Community movement of Mindanao, Worldviews: Global Religions, Culture and Ecology, 13, 180–​218. Jeavons, T.H. (2004) Religious and faith-​based organizations: do we know one when we see one? Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Quarterly, 33, 1, 140–​5. Kasturi, M. (2018) Gurus and gifting: Dana, the math reform campaign, and competing visions of Hindu sangathan in twentieth century India, Modern Asian Studies, 52, 1, 99–​131. Kirmani, N. (2008) The Relationships between Social Movements and Religion in Processes of Social Change: A Preliminary Literature Review, Birmingham: University of Birmingham, Religions and Development Research Programme, WP 23.

46  Religions, societies and states: An introduction Malik, A. and Mirza, R.A. (2015) Religion, Land and Politics: Shrines and Literacy in Punjab, Pakistan, Washington DC: International Food Policy Research Institute, USAID Pakistan Strategy Support Program, WP 030. McAdam, D., McCarthy, J.D. and Zald, M.N. (1996) Introduction: opportunities, mobilizing structures, and framing processes –​toward a synthetic, comparative perspective on social movements, in McAdam, D., McCarthy, J.D. and Zald, M.N. (eds.), Comparative Perspectives on Social Movements: Political Opportunities Mobilizing Structures, and Cultural Framings, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1–​20. Lauterbach, K. (2017) Christianity, Wealth and Spiritual Power in Ghana, New York: Palgrave Macmillan. LeBlanc, M.N. (2014) Piety, moral agency, and leadership: dynamics around the feminization of Islamic authority in Côte d’Ivoire, Islamic Africa, 5, 2, 167–​98. LeBlanc, M.N. and Audet-​Gosselin, L. (eds.) (2016) Faith and Charity: Religion and Humanitarian Assistance in West Africa, London: Pluto. Lincoln, B. (2006) Holy Terrors: Thinking about Religion after September 11, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2nd ed. Lincoln, B. (2007) Concessions, confessions, clarifications, ripostes: by way of response to Tim Fitzgerald, Method and Theory in the Study of Religion, 19, 163–​8. (For Ch 1) Lincoln, B. (2014) Discourse and the Construction of Society: Comparative Studies of Myth, Ritual and Classification, New York: Oxford University Press. Marshall, K. (2011) Development and faith institutions: gulfs and bridges, in Ter Haar, G. (ed.), Religion and Development: Ways of Transforming the World, London: Hurst & Co, 27–​53. Nesbitt, P. (2007) Keepers of the tradition: religious professionals and their careers, in Beckford, J.A. and Demerath, N.J. III (eds.), The Sage Handbook of the Sociology of Religion, London: Sage, 1–​28 online. Osella, F. and Osella, C. (2014) Introduction, in Osella, F. and Osella, C. (eds.), Islamic Reform in South Asia, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, xi–​xxviii. Pew Research Center. (2017) Many Countries Favor Specific Religions, Officially or Unofficially, Washington DC: Pew Research Center. http://​ass​ets.pewr​esea​rch.org/​ wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​sites/​11/​2017/​09/​29162​847/​FULL-​REP​ORT-​FOR-​WEB.pdf Presler, F.A. (1987) Religion Under Bureaucracy: Policy and Administration for Hindu Temples in South India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rakodi, C. (2019) Religion and Society in Sub-​Saharan Africa and Southern Asia, London: Routledge. Reynolds, F.E. and Hallisey, C. (1987) Buddhism, in Eliade, M. and Adams, C.J. (eds.), The Encyclopedia of Religion, New York: Macmillan, Vol. 2, 334–​51. Sezgin, Y. and Künkler, M. (2014) Regulation of religion and the religious: the politics of judicialization and bureaucratization in India and Indonesia, Comparative Studies of Society and History, 56, 2, 448–​78. Skocpol, T. (1987) Sociology’s historical imagination, in Skocpol, T. (ed.), Vision and Method in Historical Sociology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1–​21. Soares, B. (2016) Reflections on Muslim-​Christian encounters in West Africa, Africa, 86, 4, 673–​97. Soothill, J. (2015) Gender and Pentecostalism in Africa, in Lindhardt, M. (ed.), Pentecostalism in Africa: Presence and Impact of Pneumatic Christianity in Post-​ colonial Societies, Leiden: Brill, 191–​219. Tadros, M. (2022a) Religious equality and freedom of religion or belief: international development’s blindspot, The Review of Faith and International Affairs, 20, 2, 96–​108.

Analysing religion, societies and states  47 Tadros, M. (2022b) Introduction: redressing religious inequalities and challenging religious otherization: global perspectives and encounters, in Tadros, M. (ed.), What About Us? Global Perspectives on Redressing Religious Inequalities, Brighton: Institute for Development Studies. DOI: 10.19088/​CREID.2022 www.ids.ac.uk/​publi​cati​ons/​ what-​about-​us Tomalin, E. (2012) Thinking about faith-​based organisations in development: where have we got to and what next? Development in Practice, 22, 5–​6, 689–​703. Tomalin, E. (2021) Religions and development: a paradigm shift or business as usual? Religion, 5, 1, 105–​24. DOI: 10.1080/​0048721X.2020.1792055 Wiktor-​Mach, D. (2012) Measuring Muslims: the problems of religiosity and intra-​ religious diversity, in Berzano, L. and Riis, O. (eds.), Annual Review of the Sociology of Religion, Vol 3: New Methods in the Sociology of Religion, Leiden: Brill, 207–​27.

3 Developing an understanding of the roles of religious organisations

Introduction Long before the emergence of contemporary efforts to contribute to societal transformation, including the colonial mission to ‘civilise’ societies perceived as ignorant and backward, and the even more recent attempts to achieve ‘development’, religious groups were involved in charitable activities intended to alleviate poverty and suffering. Compassion is a central value in all the major religious traditions, implying an obligation to those in distress, especially if their suffering is seen as undeserved. Expressed through the provision of assistance to the poorest and most vulnerable, this has, for centuries, been associated with a range of services offered by religious bodies, including temples, mosques, churches and monasteries. The obligation to show compassion to those in distress extends to distant strangers (who may or may not be fellow adherents), with religious teachings offering guidance on how to balance moral obligations to proximate communities with those to all humans. In addition to giving for explicitly religious purposes, charitable giving and service persist today, although their characteristics and functions were neglected by the emerging social science disciplines of the twentieth century. This started to change in the 1980s and the 1990s. The aim of this chapter is, first, to identify some of the reasons for increasing research interest in the social roles of religious organisations; second, to examine how these influenced the research agenda; and, third, to assess the contribution of research that emerged in the 1990s and the early years of the twenty-​first century. As societies modernised, it was expected that they would also secularise, manifest as a decline in the prevalence of religious beliefs and practices, differentiation between religious and other institutions associated with the political, economic and scientific spheres, and a relegation of religion from the public to the private sphere and to the remit of religious organisations. Social science research in the first half of the twentieth century was informed theoretically and empirically by this expectation. However, by mid-​century, it had become clear that outside Europe and North America, and religions other than Christianity, while institutional differentiation seemed to be occurring, processes of secularisation were diverse and uneven. Whether or not they DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-4

Understanding of the roles of religious organisations  49 were under way, shared similar features, had become entrenched or had been reversed varied (Rakodi, 2019, pp. 18–​9). Interest in the characteristics and social roles of religious groups gradually increased, both in Europe and North America and in countries in the Global South. In the aftermath of the Second World War, it was assumed in Europe and (to a lesser extent) North America that the primary responsibility for ensuring economic recovery and transformation and establishing nationwide welfare systems rested with governments. This view informed social and economic development thinking in the international organisations established to facilitate reconstruction in war-​torn Europe, governance arrangements in newly independent countries in Asia and SSA, development planning and policies, and research interest in the outcomes of the latter. It was not anticipated that religious organisations would continue to play significant roles in governance or the provision of welfare, especially in the ex-​colonies of the main colonial powers in Africa and Asia (Britain and France). While it was impossible to ignore the role of religion in politics in some (most notably in the Indian subcontinent), the ideology of secularism informed the political and governance arrangements in most newly independent countries. Except perhaps for anthropologists, who were less present and influential in newly independent countries than they had been in some colonial situations, social scientists tended to share the prevailing attitudes to and expectations of religion. For much of the twentieth century, the ongoing social roles of religious groups and organisations in Asia and SSA and their relationships with governments were rarely the subjects of social science research. Alongside the efforts of governments and international organisations to provide relief in the aftermath of the Second World War, NGOs were founded for this purpose. Although the organisations themselves were not associated with the Christian churches, the founders of some of the most prominent, such as Oxfam and ActionAid, were religiously inspired. In addition to secular NGOs, new forms of organisation emerged within both the Roman Catholic and Protestant churches and ecumenical organisations such as Christian Aid and World Vision were established. External funding for religious organisations had, of course, a considerable history, through the contributions of Christians in Europe and the US to evangelisation and the associated social endeavours of missionaries and religious orders. The volume of these funds, especially from Europe, tended to decline after the 1950s, but some missionaries and Christian NGOs involved in development activities continued to attract significant funding from individual supporters. In addition, from the 1970s, funding from the petro-​monarchies of the Middle East to fellow-​Muslims increased, followed later by contributions from diaspora communities made up of the descendants of migrants to Europe and North America, especially from Asia. In parallel to the emergence of an international development ‘industry’, a perceived moral obligation to distant others and the need for rapid large-​ scale mobilisation of resources in the face of natural or man-​made emergencies, disasters and conflicts resulted in the growth of a humanitarian sector

50  Religions, societies and states: An introduction comprised of UN agencies, governments and NGOs and largely distinct from the efforts of governments and NGOs to facilitate the economic, political and social development of Asian and African countries. ‘Humanitarian’, in “colloquial speech…can mean nothing more specific than compassionate. More technically, the term is … . Sometimes used as a synonym for ‘relief’, in the sense of helping people recover from a state of immediate need” (Benthall, 2008, p. 87). The increasingly structured and regulated modern humanitarian system, which brings together international agencies, governments, military establishments, NGOs and private companies, is based on the principle of universal human rights. Extensive informal networks operate alongside it. Although ostensibly non-​religious, it is rooted in nineteenth and twentieth century Christianity and, gradually, the prominent role religious organisations play in the burgeoning field began to be recognised by analysts and researchers (Barnett and Stein, 2012; Ferris, 2005, 2011). In the 1980s, donor disillusion with the capacity of African and Asian governments to operate services or produce lasting developmental change at the national and subnational levels led to increased interest in alternative service providers, channels for funding and agents of development. This initially led to policy and research interest in the private sector and NGOs, and then in religious organisations as a subset of NGOs, especially once the early enthusiasm for civil society and NGOs had been tempered by realism and experience. Thus, evolving development discourse and policy had implications both for the availability of bilateral and multilateral funding and for the aims and activities of religious organisations. While religious organisations seemed to have features NGOs lacked, such as durability, local roots, wide reach, trust and authority, relationships with them were tricky for many secular Northern governments to navigate. Many religious organisations were accustomed to seeing their activities as charity, which in the broadest sense “means a gift freely offered without expectation of reciprocity –​though with some expectation of spiritual benefit for the donor and/​or a measure of worldly recognition” (Benthall, 2008, p. 88; see also Kuah-​Pearce and Cornelio, 2015; Rakodi, 2019, pp. 210–​16).1 They often claimed to be distinct and separate from both governments and NGOs/​ CSOs, responding to spiritual imperatives, relying on self-​generated funding, answering to religious authorities and adopting distinctive approaches. Some of the studies of religious organisations were associated with a desire to persuade funders of development programmes (and research) to ‘take faith seriously’, recognise the (sometimes considerable) contributions of religious organisations and work with them (see, e.g., Marshall and Keough, 2004; Marshall and Van Saanen, 2007; Tyndale, 2006). Increased recognition of their ongoing roles, especially in the provision of basic services, led to attempts to quantify their contributions. The need to do so was especially urgent in contexts where they appeared to be the sole or largest providers of welfare services, for example, in conflict-​affected regions where state provision had deteriorated or broken down (Wodon et al., 2014).

Understanding of the roles of religious organisations  51 From the late 1980s on, economic liberalisation was accompanied by a rolling back of the state and promotion of public management ‘reforms’, which saw increased subcontracting to and other arrangements with private and non-​governmental providers, including religious organisations. The theoretical underpinning of these reforms and the attempts to recruit religious organisations as service providers had implications for them and their relations with commissioning and funding agencies, particularly in the education and health sectors. More and more case studies of religious organisations started to appear, but these were disparate and scattered, thus difficult for the main (Northern) research funders to access and not necessarily geared to answering their priority questions or producing recommendations for changes in policy and/​or practice. Moreover, researchers and many agencies were not prepared to accept the claims and perceptions of religious organisations at face value, leading to research focused on the issue of their distinctiveness and/​or comparative advantage. At the same time as governments and international agencies sought to harness the potential contribution religious organisations could make to the realisation of development objectives, interest in indigenous traditions and patterns of giving revived. This was encouraged initially by a desire on the part of governments and multilateral organisations to explore the potential of Islamic traditions of giving (especially instruments of Islamic finance) to contribute to economic and social development at levels beyond the individual and local (Weiss, 2020). Subsequently, interest in indigenous charity and philanthropy grew, especially in Asia, including its roots in religious morality and its interactions with economic practices and political calculations and dynamics. Many of the emerging strands of research have continued to influence research agendas and approaches in recent years. Five are discussed in the remainder of this chapter. Conscious of the potential of religious organisations as alternative channels for funding and ‘partners’ for achieving development goals, but also of their lack of knowledge and the difficulties of navigating the contentious field of religion in both their countries of origin and developing country contexts, the first priority for many donors was to identify the overall dimensions of the religious field in the countries in which they and religious organisations operate, leading to a significant strand of research using taxonomic approaches. This is reviewed below, followed by research that seeks to document the roles of religious organisations in the international humanitarian sector. A third theme addresses the question of whether religious organisations are distinctive and have comparative advantages; a fourth theme seeks to analyse the links between religion and politics, which influence the settings in which religious organisations operate; and a fifth one concerns the ways in which religious bodies are connected to national governments and international bodies, influencing their funding, choice of activities and modes of operation. Other strands of research, including the relationships between religious organisations and governments in the provision of services (specifically

52  Religions, societies and states: An introduction education) and the sociopolitical relationships that influence religious engagement in social movements, are reviewed in later chapters. Approaches based on mapping and the development of taxonomies In the absence of systematic sources of data on the scale and scope of religious organisations’ activities, a logical first step seemed to be to supplement the limited available sources with impressionistic ‘maps’ of the organisations of interest and the sectors and activities in which they are involved.2 Critics draw attention to the conceptual underpinnings of such exercises and their potential functions, especially as instruments in development discourse and practice (Fountain and Feener, 2017; Jones and Juul Petersen, 2011). Reviewing attempts to map ‘religious NGOs’ involved in development, Fountain and Feener point out, like many geographers and colonial historians before them, that maps are not neutral tools –​rather than representing the world, they construct it, entailing decisions about what is included and excluded, manipulating scale and design to highlight some features and conceal others, and freezing dynamic processes into static representations, thus fulfilling instrumental functions, in this instance for one or more sections of the international development industry. Similarly, Olivier (2016), in her review of attempts to map religious engagement in the health sector, argues that these have successfully persuaded some key decision-​makers to recognise that religious communities and institutions make (sometimes considerable) contributions to the development effort, enabling religious actors to influence policy and gain access to funding. Dissatisfaction with the absence of comprehensive databases and the lack of precision and completeness of the resulting ‘maps’ have led some researchers to attempt to map religious organisations and their activities more systematically. For example, Iyer et al. (2014) carried out a random sample survey of all the religion-​based organisations registered as charities in selected districts of seven Indian states in 2006–​2010. Affiliated with the Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Sikh and Jain religious traditions, these included a variety of organisational forms providing religious and non-​religious services. Not all mapping efforts used or gave rise to typologies. However, when interest in the social roles of ‘FBOs’ in the US increased, to make sense of the large numbers and great diversity of religious organisations in most geographical contexts in SSA and South Asia, as well as their growing visibility in the UN system, observers devised various classifications for types of ‘FBOs’. Early typologies developed in the US were adapted for use in the discourses and practices of development at the international and national levels (e.g. Clarke, 2008; Hefferan et al., 2009; Thaut, 2009). They were also applied in selected countries, for example, LeBlanc et al. (2013), in Burkina Faso (see also Tomalin and Leurs, 2011, for a comparative analysis of the country mapping exercises undertaken by the RaD programme) and to the activities of large international FBOs such as World Vision (Mitchell, 2016).

Understanding of the roles of religious organisations  53 The use of typologies as a means of identifying and categorising religious organisations involved in development renders them visible and comprehensible in ways that are potentially useful to the ‘humanitarian system’ and ‘international development industry’ (Fountain and Feener, 2017). When used by researchers, they can potentially perform other useful functions, for example, enabling theoretically and practically significant organisational and operational dimensions of religious organisations and their activities to be identified. These can then be used to inform the design of research projects concerned, for example, with organisational evolution over time (Rae and Clarke, 2013); the links between religious organisations and institutionalised religious organisational structures (James, 2009; Jennings, 2013); and the ways in which religious principles and institutional ties are reflected in the operations of organisations, the roles they adopt or the activities in which they are involved (Clarke, 2008; Frame, 2021; Hefferan et al., 2009; Mitchell, 2016; Thaut, 2009; Occhipinti, 2015). Critiques of attempts to develop typologies identify a number of conceptual and methodological problems: first, the lack of an agreed-​upon definition of an ‘FBO’, which in any case reflects a Western model associated with Christianity; second, a supposedly clear distinction between ‘religious’ and ‘secular’, which is unhelpful in identifying organisational expressions of religiously inspired welfare and development activity; and, third a failure to recognise the diversity, complexity and fluidity of ‘FBOs’, to examine how religious beliefs are incorporated into their activities, to include missionaries and to examine how programmes are shaped by local contexts (Smith, 2017; Tomalin, 2012). For example, Smith (2017) notes that of the 48 sources and typological frameworks he reviews, 38 do not mention missionaries. Many do not see the latter as engaged in development activities, five regard them as a problem because of their potentially insensitive and coercive proselytising activities or association with colonialism, and five stated that they did not know how to locate them in relation to other ‘FBOs’. Attempts to improve the typologies available (e.g. Hefferan et al., 2009; Jennings, 2013; Occhipinti, 2015; Smith, 2017) recognise some of their conceptual and practical shortcomings and seek to improve their descriptive and analytical value. For example, as the boundaries between categories are often blurred, some suggest that it might be more appropriate to position organisations along a continuum or in a matrix (Aiken, 2010; Hefferan et al., 2009; Occhipinti, 2015; Smith, 2017; Thaut, 2009; Ware et al., 2016), strategies that can potentially facilitate comparative analysis to address and explain differences in characteristics without having to neatly pigeonhole individual organisations. Aiken suggests that the ways in which ‘faith’ impacts on organisational culture influence how development is defined, programme design and implementation, and interaction with a wider community of beneficiaries and non-​beneficiaries. Hefferan et al. (2009) posit a continuum of ways faith can influence various organisational features, processes and programmes and their outcomes, ranging from faith permeated to secular. Occhipinti suggests that

54  Religions, societies and states: An introduction FBOs may be understood in terms of the different ways in which they are faith-​ based, the activities in which they are engaged and the degree of formality of their relationships with other faith and non-​faith structures. Smith advocates an analytical framework in which ‘material’ and ‘sacred’ influences on development actors can be teased out by questions relating to their affiliation, aims, activities, beliefs and values, as well as how the material and sacred interact to influence the approaches they adopt, outcomes and their standing in the eyes of other stakeholders. Using Lincoln’s four domains of religion, Ware et al. (2016) attempt to map claims of faith impacts by undertaking a systematic review of about 50 papers that sought to investigate ways in which, it is asserted, faith shapes FBOs’ beliefs, behavioural expectations, approaches to development, activities and outcomes (both positively and negatively). Illustrating the challenges of scale and scope, however, they exclude all religious organisations that do not resemble NGOs and resort to examining assertions rather than evidence. Frame (2021) suggests that, in addition to the development contexts in which they work, the ways in which religion ‘infuses’ Christian organisations, through their goals, missions, motivations, approaches to care and conceptions of success, need to be taken into account. The roles of religious actors in humanitarian relief and reconstruction The International Red Cross and Red Crescent (IRCRC) movement defines humanitarian relief as the provision of life-​saving assistance in emergency settings –​armed conflict, natural disasters and other emergencies. Based on recognition of the rights of those affected and international humanitarian law, its commitment to helping people in need is based on seven principles: humanity, impartiality, neutrality, independence, voluntary service, unity and universality.3 In practice, the term includes not only relief but also measures to assist reconstruction and reduce vulnerability. In the view of Paras and Stein (2012), the principles of universality, impartiality, independence and neutrality to which most major humanitarian actors sign up give their sphere of activity ‘sacred’ status and also have instrumental value, enabling them to gain access to all people in danger, regardless of their political allegiance, diminish the likelihood that they will become the targets of violence and enable them to demarcate protected areas such as humanitarian corridors or refugee camps. Since the founding of the Red Cross movement in 1863, the need for rapid large-​scale responses, government failures and the weakness of many international agencies has fuelled the emergence of a handful of (largely Western-​ based) NGOs as key actors in conflict and emergency settings. The evolution of the international humanitarian system is well documented (see, e.g., Barnett, 2011; Barnett and Weiss, 2008; Walker and Maxwell, 2009). In these accounts, the extent to which the system’s roots in the religious humanitarian tradition, the roles played by religious organisations and the influence of religion on its evolution and functioning are acknowledged vary, not least because of the central roles played by the UN system and Western

Understanding of the roles of religious organisations  55 governments, which base their activities on the ideology/​principle of secularism. Nevertheless, several trends have highlighted the continued importance of religion in the international humanitarian sphere:

• The religious identity claimed by some of the largest NGOs • The changing dynamics of religion and politics since the end of the Cold War • The rapid growth of evangelical and Pentecostal Christianity, associated with a growth in international missionary work and challenges to the doctrinal and organisational dominance of the Roman Catholic and mainline Protestant denominations • Recognition that, alongside growing petro-​ dollar-​ based prosperity and Muslim revivalism, in many countries characterised by poverty, conflict and vulnerability to disasters, the majority (or a substantial minority) of the population are Muslim. These have led to changes in the organisation of the system and increased attention by social scientists. For example, to improve coordination between and increase the accountability of the agencies, NGOs and religious organisations involved, a common code of conduct has been developed and institutionalised.4 In addition to Christian organisations, some relatively recently established Muslim relief organisations have become major international players (Juul Petersen, 2012), including the Saudi Arabia-​based International Islamic Relief Organisation and UK-​based Islamic Relief Worldwide and Muslim Aid. The growth in Muslim and evangelical Christian engagement has added to the tensions experienced by established religious (largely Christian) organisations (Agensky, 2013; Ferris, 2005). Three trends in the research undertaken since the early years of the century can be identified. First, the dramatic expansion in the scale and international reach of the largest religious humanitarian organisations has given rise to a number of studies of individual organisations, for example, Freeman (2018, 2020) on Tearfund, Khan (2012) on Islamic Relief Worldwide, King (2011) and Thaut (2009, pp. 344–​6) on World Vision, Thaut (2009, pp. 342–​ 4) on Samaritan’s Purse, Paras and Stein (2012) on Caritas Internationalis and Islamic Relief and Huang (2009) on the Buddhist organisation Tzu Chi. These studies are primarily concerned with the organisations’ international operations, central policies and fundraising strategies. They pay less attention to their programmes and impact at the local level. Second, in-​depth research has been undertaken on several recent disasters in southern Asian countries and their aftermath. The insights these offer into people’s understanding of disasters were summarised in Rakodi (2019, pp. 99–​ 113), particularly the ways in which myth, spiritual and religious interpretations, and attributions of causality sit alongside (at least partial) scientific explanations; the role of religion in coping with trauma and loss; and the effects of disasters in reinforcing or rupturing existing beliefs, creating opportunities and incentives for conversion. Because of the scale and severity of the impacts

56  Religions, societies and states: An introduction of disasters and the availability of research capacity, research on the roles of religious organisations in the immediate and longer term aftermath of disasters has focused on Southeast Asia, especially the impacts of the December 2004 tsunami, which affected several countries around the Indian Ocean, with about 300,000 people killed and more than five million affected by the loss of family members, homes and livelihoods (Benthall, 2008, 2012; Bush et al., 2015; Daly and Feener, 2016; Feener and Daly, 2016; Nurdin, 2015). In Sri Lanka, research on the aftermath of the tsunami highlights the influence of complicated interfaith relationships in a context of growing Sinhala Buddhist nationalism and political tensions associated with the protracted conflict (1983–​2009) between the government and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eeelam (LTTE) in the north and east of the island (Chen, 2015; Hertzberg, 2015; Rajkopal, 2020, Chs 6–​10; Samuels, 2016). In addition, Wilkinson analyses the aftermath of Typhoon Hainan in the Philippines (Wilkinson, 2018a, 2018b, 2020). In South Asia, there has been research on the aftermath of disasters in Pakistan in 2005 and 2010 (Aijazi and Panjwani, 2015; Cheema et al., 2014). Third, some research has examined the involvement of religious organisations in assisting refugees. Humanitarian responses to forced displacement are often deeply rooted in religious tradition and thought, both Christian and Muslim (Ager and Ager, 2015; Hollenbach, 2016; Kirmani and Khan, 2008). There are few recent independent empirical studies of religious engagement in crises of forced migration and their aftermath in South Asia and SSA. Examples include studies of Karen and Rohingya refugees in the Myanmar borderlands in Thailand and Bangladesh (Bird, 2019; Horstmann, 2011; Palmer, 2011) and refugees in Kenya (Stoddard and Marshall, 2015). Assessing the distinctiveness and comparative advantages of religious organisations In the second half of the twentieth century, the relative neglect of religious organisations by social scientists and actors in international development was based on a perception that they are frequently obstacles to improving well-​ being because of their conservative social teachings, intolerance of other views, exclusive nature (which leads them to restrict beneficiaries to their own adherents), unwillingness or inability to scale up their operations, lack of professionalism and/​or tendency to accompany social work with proselytising (de Kadt, 2011; Mitchell, 2017; Occhipinti, 2015). In contrast, religious organisations themselves (and funders which support them) often claim their distinctiveness and comparative advantage. These, they assert, enable them to play more acceptable social roles, deliver more appropriate programmes and services and achieve their goals more effectively than non-​religious organisations (including the state); reach population groups that are beyond the reach of other organisations (including local people who are themselves religious adherents); and undertake activities on a longer-​term basis than non-​religious CSOs (Clarke and Jennings, 2008; James, 2009; Tomalin,

Understanding of the roles of religious organisations  57 2012). Their distinctiveness and comparative advantage are said to be based on their (Candland, 2000; Hoffstaedter and Tittensor, 2013; Jennings, 2013; Mitchell, 2017; Occhipinti, 2015; Tyndale, 2006; Ware et al., 2016):

• Trustworthiness, legitimacy and moral authority • Motivation and commitment to work for the public good and serve the needy • Longevity, which provides them with knowledge, networks and legitimacy, improving the prospects for longer-​term sustainability

• Vision of the good life that differs from mainstream development policy and practice, in particular a holistic view of people and their lives

• Cultural proximity, leading to sensitivity to and empathy with local social mores

• Ability to draw on symbolic resources, including moral values and a religious idiom that resonates with various cultural groups and enables them to back up their recommendations by reference to religious teachings • Ability to access material and other resources through institutional networks that span classes and geographical locations, freeing them from dependence on official (national and international) funding sources, and enabling them to respond flexibly to local needs and changing circumstances • Reach, referring to their ability to access communities through established networks, especially in remote rural areas and where they have a common religious affiliation. Most of the accounts of religious organisations are case studies, generally of a single organisation, although sometimes of more than one in a single location, or of several locations. The number of such studies increased in the first few years of the twentieth century, although their rigour, depth and independence vary. The selection of organisations for study is often based on their apparently positive contribution to relief and development efforts. Although not entirely uncritical, these case studies are generally descriptive and normative and so can more accurately be labelled advocacy (by religious organisations and their supporters) (e.g. Clarke, 2011; Clarke and Jennings, 2008; Marshall and Keough, 2004; Marshall and Marsh, 2003; Marshall and van Saanen, 2007; Ter Haar, 2011). Many of the case studies focus on international religious organisations engaged in humanitarian and development work (see above). Most of these are Christian, but more recently organisations associated with other religious traditions have increased the scale and reach of their operations and have become the subject of study. As noted above, many of the studies focus on the organisations’ international policies and operations and their fundraising strategies, with varying attention to their field programmes. The number of case studies of single organisations increased in the first few years of the twentieth century. Although still mostly of Christian organisations, increasingly they described indigenous and non-​ Christian organisations and initiatives and were written by local researchers. Some authors provide an overview

58  Religions, societies and states: An introduction illustrated by a number of case studies (e.g. Tyndale, 2006) but for the most part the accounts are scattered in a variety of books, edited collections and journals. In-​ depth case studies with a relatively objective perspective are ethnographic studies of selected organisations or contexts, which yield a detailed understanding of the organisations under study. Much cited is Bornstein’s study of the evangelical Christian international NGO World Vision and Christian Care (the welfare and development arm of the Council of Churches) in Zimbabwe (Bornstein, 2005). Bradley (2006) focuses on a British-​based FBO with a twenty-​year presence in rural Rajasthan. While insightful, such studies do not produce generalisable conclusions or enable religious organisations’ claims of distinctiveness and comparative advantage to be systematically assessed. By the 1990s, secular governments’ and aid agencies’ growing interest in the potential of religious organisations as ‘partners’ in development programmes led to funding for research aimed at testing their claims. Early findings of research in Uganda using data from 1999/​2000, although not published for several years, found that religious not-​for-​profit health facilities are more likely to provide services for the poor and to charge lower prices than for-​profit facilities, because they have lower pay rates for qualified staff and provide pro-​ poor services, leading the authors to conclude that ‘working for God’ appears to matter (Reinikka and Svensson, 2010). Restricting the research to a single sector (primary health care) in a single context enabled the researchers in this study to use a rigorous methodological approach, demonstrating that such research is both feasible and revealing. One of the projects undertaken under the auspices of the Religions and Development research programme sought to compare religious and secular organisations, to identify the distinctive characteristics (and possibly comparative advantages) of the former. However, the research teams’ experience of designing and conducting research in four markedly different religious contexts across a range of FBOs involved in welfare and development activities revealed some of the likely pitfalls of such an approach. Only in Nigeria was it possible to address the research question, and then only by restricting the research to religious organisations and ‘non-​religious’ NGOs engaged in activities related to HIV/​AIDS, the main sphere of activity for many CSOs because of the recently increased availability of funding for HIV/​AIDS prevention and treatment (see Box 3.1).

Box 3.1  Are FBOs distinctive? Religious and secular NGOs’ approaches to HIV/​AIDS-​related work in Nigeria Despite relatively low prevalence, from the early 1990s the Nigerian government sought to curb the increase in numbers of HIV-​positive people and much international funding was made available for this

Understanding of the roles of religious organisations  59 purpose, leading to a proliferation of NGOs engaged in awareness-​ raising, counselling and testing, care, treatment and providing support for people living with HIV/​AIDS (PLWHA) and their families. Eight comparable well-​established organisations (five FBOs and three NGOs) were selected for the study in one or two local government areas in Kano and Lagos states (the former a largely Muslim state in northern Nigeria with an Islamic government that had recently adopted shari’a law and the latter a religiously mixed state in the south). Based largely on interviews with key informants in the organisations under study and local branches of government, with a few focus group discussions with programme beneficiaries, the study sought to analyse whether FBOs’ approaches differ from those of secular NGOs engaged in similar activities in the same local contexts (Davis et al., 2011; Jegede et al., 2010; Leurs, 2012). The research did not find significant differences in the aims, values, activities or management style of the FBOs and NGOs, although the former (both Christian and Muslim) justify their activities in religious terms, while the latter express their mission and values in secular language, even when their founders, employees and volunteers have religious motivations, as many do. Despite this, observers consider NGOs to be less willing and able to adhere to religious principles in their practices, which emphasise physical well-​being rather than holistic approaches that have both material and spiritual aims. In addition, the content of their HIV/​AIDS-​related programmes varies, with FBOs often opposing the use of condoms and excluding groups of whose behaviour they disapprove, such as sex workers. While all the organisations have a top-​down management style, this is stronger in the FBOs, where the authority of senior individuals is reinforced by their perceived status as leaders in wider religious bodies. Religious affiliation affects staff recruitment and the display of religious symbols. Many of the beneficiaries felt that FBOs in general had advantages over NGOs (e.g. a long history, an ongoing presence, higher levels of trust, greater financial independence and autonomy to develop locally responsive development agendas), although all the NGOs and several of the FBOs studied relied on international donor funding, especially through the US President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), which was channelled through the government and consortia of FBOs and other organisations. Organisations’ relations with each other and the government vary, with effects on their performance that may exceed any religious/​secular difference. The researchers concluded that, especially in the absence of evaluations of the effects of the programmes, it is not possible to reach a general conclusion on the question of whether FBOs are markedly distinct from and have advantages over secular NGOs.

60  Religions, societies and states: An introduction In contrast to Nigeria, where most informants understood the category ‘FBO’ and accepted that FBOs might be different from NGOs, attempts to design and implement similar research in Pakistan and Tanzania foundered. In the former, an analysis of six large indigenous philanthropic organisations and several professional development organisations in Karachi and Sindh concluded that it is misleading to categorise organisations into faith-​based and non-​religious, as in Pakistan the term FBO is associated with radical religious organisations with extreme views, while religion influences all organisations engaged in welfare and development work in complex and varied ways, even those that frame themselves as non-​religious. The research found that, in Pakistan, the role of religion in organisations is tied to their funding sources (individual religiously mandated giving vs. national and international institutional donors), the political and ideological views of their members, and their location within local, national and international networks which influence, inter alia, their choice of activities (charitable and welfare-​oriented or aimed at socio-​economic transformation and long-​term development). A broad distinction between local charities and professional development organisations is, the researchers conclude, more appropriate than one between faith-​based and non-​religious organisations (Kirmani, 2012). The difficulty of categorising many organisations is illustrated by the case of the Aga Khan Development Network (AKDN), part of the Ismaili Shia Muslim community (Karim, 2014). It is administered by the Imamat under the leadership of the Aga Khan and tasked with ensuring the welfare of Ismaili Shia communities worldwide and realising the social conscience of Islam by improving the quality of life of nearby communities through an under-​ researched network of organisations and initiatives concerned with economic, social and cultural development. Despite their religious affiliation, the organisations in the AKDN claim to be non-​religious because their programmes seek the betterment of all recipients regardless of their religious adherence. In Tanzania, where a ‘civil society sector’ with roles in governance and development is a recent, largely externally driven phenomenon superimposed on existing social and religious organisations, research in the Magu and Newala districts (the former a prosperous and predominantly Christian and the latter a remote, poor and mainly Muslim district) found that CSOs are mostly small, heavily dependent on external donor funding and so oriented towards HIV/​ AIDS prevention activities and welfare support for orphans and vulnerable children. In such an environment, where small CSOs competing for funds have proliferated, the assumed boundaries between CSOs, NGOs and FBOs are blurred, the organisations pursue similar aims and activities, and most of the individuals involved are religious adherents. FBOs do not appear to be especially close to the poor or to have a distinctive religiously informed view of development, although it is difficult to judge in a context where religious values are influential in most settings and evaluations of the outcomes of the activities funded are limited by their short-​term and intangible nature (Green et al.,

Understanding of the roles of religious organisations  61 2012). Similarly, the author of a study of a rural community development organisation in Uganda supported by two international NGOs that raise the bulk of their funds from child sponsorship programmes (Tearfund, a Christian FBO, and ActionAid, a non-​religious organisation) observes that in Uganda staff frequently switch between religious and non-​religious organisations. He concludes that there is little evidence that religious organisations are distinctive or more effective (Jones, 2013, 2015). These studies illustrate the difficulties encountered in attempting to compare religious and non-​religious organisations,5 even in contexts where the concept of an FBO makes sense. Some conclude that distinctiveness (or the lack of it) may be more to do with an organisation’s source of funding, whether it is indigenous to a country or (a branch of) an international body, and whether changing incentives and pressures require organisations to adapt in ways that may further blur the distinctions between those that assert an explicitly religious identity and those that do not. Others critique the concentration of many studies on NGO-​like organisational forms, leading them to analyse why, in comparison with the limited impact and durability of NGOs, other types of religious organisation have succeeded in creating durable institutions with the capacity to organise social life. For example, Jones (2013) and Burchardt and Swidler (2020) single out Pentecostal congregations. Many conclude that ‘comparative advantage’ is not a researchable question when applied generically to ‘religious’ vis-​à-​vis ‘non-​religious’ or ‘secular’ organisations, although this has not deterred all analysts. Interactions between religions and states In the early 2000s, the main driver of research on the modes and practices of engagements between religion and states was the debate about secularisation. Secularism, the political ideology which holds that religious organisations should play no role in the machinery of states, was born from a European history of conflict between states and religious institutions. It contrasts with a common but not universal interpretation of Islamic teaching, which holds that to create an environment in which human beings are able to fulfil the purpose of creation (to worship God) (i.e. a society characterised by the welfare of all, social justice and harmony), a state (caliphate) governed by Islamic law (shari’a) is necessary (Tibi, 2005; Deneulin with Bano, 2009; Haynes, 2009). In practice, very few political regimes are either purely secular or fully integrate religion and the state. Instead, the relationships between religion and states lie on a spectrum from strictly secular to theocratic. Where on the spectrum they lie influences governments’ reactions to expressions of political ideology (such as political parties), the source of legitimacy on which they draw (such as a democratic mandate or support from leaders of social and religious groups) and other matters of politics, law and policy. Interactions between religions and states and the extent of differentiation or integration

62  Religions, societies and states: An introduction Table 3.1 Analysing state–​religion relationships Kind of political regime

Consensual Religious and state actors and citizens agree with the degree of separation/ integration

Differentiated

conflictual The degree of differentiation/ integration is contested

Religion and the state are constitutionally separate; they have autonomy to govern themselves: to appoint officeholders, choose policies and carry out activities Religion and the state are integrated

Integrated Source: Based on Singh, 2011, p. 9, adapted from Philpott, 2007, p. 508.

are continually renegotiated, so they not only change over time but are also characterised by a greater or lesser degree of consensus or conflict, with implications for political arrangements, social dynamics and the roles played by religious bodies in politics and society (Singh, 2011). The differentiated/​ integrated and consensual/​ conflictual dimensions of state–​religion relationships are captured diagrammatically in the matrix shown in Table 3.1, which can be used both to locate a regime at one point in time and to track changes over time. The extent to which the relationships between states and religions under successive regimes are consensual/​conflictual and differentiated/​integrated may change, with implications for the relative status and influence of religious organisations. Analyses using this framework focus on identifying and explaining the changing nature and extent of secularisation, as well as the extent to which it is accepted or contested. They anticipate that no association between national prosperity and the degree of religion–​state integration is either straightforward or static, with implications for religious institutions and organisations and their interactions with governments, as well

Understanding of the roles of religious organisations  63 as politics.6 This analytical framework was used to compare the four countries studied between 2005 and 2010 as part of the Religions and Development research programme (India, Pakistan, Nigeria and Tanzania), making it possible to locate these countries in the matrix at independence and to examine how state–​religion relationships had changed over the previous and subsequent decades as the countries escaped colonial rule, established constitutional settlements and attempted to institutionalise democratic political systems. The comparative analysis demonstrates that country-​specific secularisms are always compromises –​the product of their religious and political histories, subsequent attempts to maintain or challenge the ideology of secularism and its manifestations, and contemporary relationships between religion and politics (Singh, 2011). More recently, Gorski (2018) reconsiders the conceptual basis for secularity, agreeing with Singh that ‘founding moments’, especially the writing of constitutions and/​or legal codes, are important; the power relationships associated with ‘systems of secularity’ privilege certain actors, communities and types of religiosity over others; and both the underlying principles and the institutional form of the separation of religion and politics vary. He suggests that internationally four models can be identified, all of which are unstable. The interactions between religion and politics have been amply documented and analysed for the Indian subcontinent. These accounts often focus on attempts to promote equality while upholding the constitutional principle of secularism and challenges to processes of secularisation, for example, Islamisation in Pakistan and communalism and Hindu nationalism in India (see, e.g., Battaglia, 2017; Chatterji et al., 2020; Jaffrelot, 2016; Mahajan, 2010, 2013, 2020; Rehman, 2016; Shaikh, 2018; Singh, 2004; Varshney et al., 2021). In Nigeria, secular politics is undermined by inter-​religious and inter-​ethnic competition and conflict, particularly arising from the desire of Muslims in the northern States to Islamise law and the newfound desire of evangelical Christianity to ‘Pentecostalise’ politics (Burgess, 2020; Nolte, 2013; Nolte et al., 2009; Obadare, 2018; Ukiwo, 2003; see also Lindhardt, 2015). The predominant concern with secularism and secularisation in discussions of the relations between religion and politics has, in recent years, been overtaken to some extent by political trends that may or may not have religious overtones. These include growing authoritarianism and populism and the roles played by religious nationalism in politics, which have implications for the ability of religious groups to maintain autonomy and avoid co-​option, the governance of religious diversity (especially religious freedom and the position of religious minorities) and the religious dimensions of conflict and violence (see, e.g., Auriol and Platteau, 2017; Neo and Sharffs, 2021; Varshney et al., 2021). The relations between governments and religious groups are affected not only by the general relationships between states and religions but also by the regulatory arrangements established by the former. Regulatory powers, including requirements for registration, are underpinned by constitutional provisions and codes of law and may be implemented by the judiciary and/​or the bureaucracy. They are often accompanied by covert or formal arrangements whereby

64  Religions, societies and states: An introduction religious groups and organisations can gain access to government policy and decision-​making (Olarinmoye, 2014; Sezgin and Künkler, 2014). Künkler (2018) comments that most attention has been paid to the possibility that state regulation, which appears to have increased since around 1990, will limit the freedom of minority religions. Until recently, as noted in Chapter 2, there has been little research on the ways in which majority religions are regulated and moulded by governments, which have implications for the roles played by religious groups and organisations in society, politics and governance. The form of such regulation and its outcomes depend on which religion is predominant, the colonial legacy, regime type, the prevalence and characteristics of intra-​ religious contestation and whether governments opt for bureaucratic or judicial arrangements. Many factors can contribute to day-​ to-​ day collaboration and conflict between religious and political forces and groups, with outcomes for the nature and scope of their influence on the social roles of religious organisations. Of these, emerging research indicates that five appear to be the most significant. These are influenced in turn by the teachings and organisational structures of religious groups in specific contexts, which determine the sources and nature of authority, the variations between subgroups within religious traditions and how the social roles of religious groups are defined and performed, which will be discussed in subsequent chapters. i. The roles played by religion in adherents’ values and social networks, including its influence on the attitudes and behaviour of politicians and bureaucrats. These are discussed extensively in Rakodi (2019) and underlie much of the analysis in succeeding chapters. The extent to which religious bodies promote socially conservative values and behaviour or seek social change is particularly relevant (see Part III). ii. The extent to which governments rely on religious organisations to assist with various government functions, especially welfare and service delivery. Religious agency and links with government related to attempts to improve social welfare and provide education are explored in Chapters 4 to 7. iii. The dimensions of identity politics –​the religious and ethnic composition of a country, the extent to which the identity of sub-​national groups is tied to religious or other social characteristics such as ethnicity or deprivation, and how this is addressed in constitutional provisions and political arrangements and practices are important. Whether or not religious political parties are permitted and the roles they play in politics and in encouraging non-​religious political parties to appeal to religious sentiments and seek religious legitimacy seem to be influential, for example, in Nigeria (Nolte, 2013). iv. Regulatory arrangements, which may include registration requirements for religious bodies, legislation (e.g. personal law), the regulation of finances (including inflows of foreign funds) and the administration of religiously mandated taxation, as well as the bureaucratic arrangements

Understanding of the roles of religious organisations  65 for implementation of these mechanisms, such as Ministries of Religious Affairs. v. The prevalence and nature of inter-​or intra-​religious competition and mechanisms to manage it: competition that erupts into localised violence seemingly leads to increased social and spatial segregation and spillover effects beyond the locality where the violence occurs through revenge attacks and flows of refugees and internally displaced persons. The national and transnational roles and relationships of religious organisations Early accounts of the links between northern religious organisations and their local branches in SSA and Asia focused on the primary motivation of the former –​to spread the faith. In addition, in the case of relatively well-​ documented Christian organisations, accounts of the missionary endeavour generally acknowledge the roles played by missionaries in the introduction of European and North American models of education and health care, as well as their agricultural and other activities. In the 1980s and 1990s, the links between local bodies and their international parent organisations and/​or aid agencies were often portrayed in favourable terms, although they are generally not problematised. The attention paid to them in the relevant social science literature is patchy and theoretically underdeveloped and the implications of the power differentials between them are explored superficially, if at all. By the 2000s, this had started to change, particularly in analyses of NGOs but also in studies of religious organisations. For example, Kirmani and Zaidi’s comparison of charitable and development organisations in Karachi and Sindh found a significant difference between local philanthropic organisations, whose main source of funding is individual donations (generally religiously motivated) and which focus on welfare and service delivery, and organisations which receive institutional funding and are more concerned with long-​term development and community mobilisation and empowerment. As emerges from their case study of the religious organisation in the latter category (the Pakistan branch of Caritas), the international development discourse that accompanies its funding has steered its analysis and choice of activities in a different direction to many of the local organisations (Kirmani, 2012). Similarly, Green et al.’s (2012) analysis of religious and non-​religious CSOs in rural Tanzania emphasises the role of international funding, not only in fostering a proliferation of small CSOs but also in steering them towards HIV/​AIDS-​related activities, whatever the motivations of their founders and areas of expertise. By the middle of the first decade of the century, it was widely recognised that the organisations involved, whether long-​standing denominations and religious orders, missionary societies, (semi-​)independent religious NGOs or emerging transnational and diaspora organisations, have different sources of authority, finance and legitimacy. In SSA and South Asia, their relationships

66  Religions, societies and states: An introduction are international as well as local or national and are characterised by marked power imbalances, affecting Southern actors’ scope for action and the resources available to them. Kinney’s (2012) account of the links between American and European Episcopal Churches and the Episcopal Church in newly independent South Sudan, under the umbrella of the Anglian Communion, is an example of this more nuanced analysis. Promising frameworks for analysing these relationships are provided by Morse and McNamara (2006, 2012) and Bebbington and Kothari (2006) in their analyses of ‘institutional partnerships’ and ‘development networks’, respectively. Morse and McNamara adopt the term ‘development chain’ to capture the relationships between donors, intermediaries operating in a developing country context and the intended beneficiaries of their activities. Drawing on a narrated history of a 35-​year relationship between Catholic Churches in Europe and their field partners in Abuja Ecclesiastical Province, Nigeria, they suggest that the donor domain may be comprised of government agencies, religious and non-​religious NGOs and, potentially, commercial organisations, each with their own structures, mandates, procedures and sources of funding. Agencies operating in an intermediary domain may also be government, nongovernmental or commercial organisations, while the domain of intended beneficiaries typically includes individuals, households and communities, as well as various types of organisations. The desired relationships, especially between the first two categories, are often referred to as ‘partnerships’, although this term can incorporate a variety of arrangements, ranging from contractor–​subcontractor relationships to links based on shared goals, long-​lasting interaction and mutual respect. Often, ‘partnership’ is taken to be a self-​evident good, but Morse and McNamara stress that it is important to assess the effectiveness and outcomes of such arrangements, based on an analysis of the power relations between ‘partners’. To capture the dialectical relationships between those involved, their interdependence, changing assumptions, goals and practices, and accountability, as well as tensions and how they are managed, need to be analysed. Many of the available case studies, they suggest, analyse single partnerships involving a limited number of actors over a relatively short period, whereas many relationships involving religious actors are long term and evolve as the context and the organisations involved change (Morse and McNamara, 2006). Bebbington and Kothari (2006) suggest that the relationships between actors can better be conceptualised as ‘networks’ that extend across space and time and through which uneven flows of resources (including ideas, practices and finance) are channelled. These are embedded in precolonial and colonial economic and political relationships, as well as having contemporary organisational and sociopolitical features. Both influence the resources NGOs can mobilise, where and to whom resources flow, for what purposes, and which organisations are included or excluded. To understand the effects of network links it is necessary to analyse how actions are accepted, resisted and reworked by the actors involved, which involves using a variety of data sources. While

Understanding of the roles of religious organisations  67 such an analysis is methodologically challenging, it can illustrate the ways in which institutions, ideas and social relationships interact to form development networks, changing and shaping the work that is done through them. Conclusion This volume reviews research on the interactions between religious traditions, groups and organisations and wider sociopolitical phenomena. Its departure points include the concepts discussed in Chapter 1; an analytical framework based on Lincoln’s work, which seeks to examine the ways in which interactions between religious, cultural and political discourses and the use of power and coercion shape social and political forms and identities, as set out in Chapter 2; and the review in this chapter of research that emerged in the 1990s and early 2000s, including the reasons for increased research interest, the initial research themes, some of which have continued to preoccupy researchers, and some theoretical and methodological challenges. In the remainder of the volume, reviews of the available social scientific research seek to provide an overview of the contributions of organisations associated with the main religious traditions. The discussion in this chapter demonstrates the breadth of emerging research and highlights some of its contributions, but also reveals its uneven scope and coverage. It has tended to concentrate on large organisations able to draw on institutional funding, which in the humanitarian sphere tend to dominate because of their capacity and willingness to respond “immediately, visibly and often effectively to large scale humanitarian emergencies” (Ferris, 2005, p. 318). These are well documented and accessible to researchers based in the Global North. In contrast, individual and informal assistance and the activities of long-​established religious organisations, including denominations, welfare organisations, churches, mosques and temples, have been neglected (Agensky, 2013). Also, the geographical coverage of research is uneven. For example, although SSA is as susceptible to disasters and conflict as South Asia, research coverage of religious engagement in humanitarian assistance in the former is limited. In addition to the methodological issues discussed in Chapter 2, others have emerged from the discussion in this chapter: mapping approaches are restricted by the difficulty of specifying the relevant categories and the limited availability of data; undertaking research during and in the immediate aftermath of disasters and conflict faces practical difficulties; attempts to assess the claimed distinctiveness and comparative advantages of religious organisations address questions that are at best difficult and at worst impossible to research; and analyses of the transnational and other relationships in which religious organisations are embedded face methodological and practical challenges. A consistent theoretical challenge concerns the question of whether relations between states and religious groups can appropriately be analysed in terms of the ideology of secularism and processes of secularisation. Frequent reference is made to the tensions between religious and secular organisations,

68  Religions, societies and states: An introduction which are linked to tensions between local and international ideas, practices and flows of funding, religious and other ideals (such as the Humanitarian Code of Practice) and reality on the ground, as well as questions of accountability. In addition, researchers struggle to take into account the complexity related to the different identities of those concerned; the historical, geographical and political contexts in which religious bodies operate; the duration of organisations’ local and national presence; the supposed cultural proximity of local organisations to intended beneficiaries; the power imbalances between different actors; and the implications of actors’ local and international links for the discourses they employ, their funding streams and their political relationships. Notes 1 Benthall (2019) offers a brief discussion of the evolution and implications of terms such as ‘charity’, ‘philanthropy’ and ‘humanitarianism’ in English and other languages, for example, Arabic. https://​allegr​alab​orat​ory.net/​a-​note-​on-​human​itar​ ian-​term​inol​ogy-​muhum-​2/​ 2 Examples of such exercises include (i) mapping of the activities of ‘faith-​based organisations in development’ in the four countries on which the Religions and Development Research Programme, funded by the UK government and based at the University of Birmingham, focused: Pakistan (Iqbal and Siddiqui, 2008), India (focusing on Maharashtra) (Jodhka and Bora, 2012), Nigeria (selected states) (Odumosu et al., 2009, 2010) and Tanzania (Leurs et al., 2011). http://​epap​ers.bham. ac.uk/​view/​ser​ies/​RaD_​Wo​rkin​g_​Pa​pers​_​Ser​ies.html (ii) the Berkley Center for Religion, Peace and World Affairs and World Faiths Development Dialogue programmes to map ‘faith-​inspired work’ in eight development sectors in six countries and in all the major world regions (Berkley Center, 2012); four sectors in four countries between 2013 and 2016, and four countries in 2018/​19, with the avowed intention of identifying examples of ‘best practice’. https://​ berkle​ycen​ter.geo​rget​own.edu/​proje​cts/​mapp​ing-​of-​faith-​inspi​red-​organi​zati​ons-​by-​ world-​reg​ion-​and-​coun​try 3 The movement has two main constituents: the International Committee of the Red Cross and the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies, with a joint Standing Commission. See IRC&RCM (2015) The Fundamental Principles of the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement: Ethics and Tools for Humanitarian Action. www.ifrc.org/​sites/​defa​ult/​files/​2021-​07/​FP-​broch​ure-​2015. pdf. International humanitarian law, initially based on the four Geneva Conventions of 1949 and subsequent protocols, constitutes a set of rules which seek to limit the effects of armed conflict. 4 The Steering Committee for Humanitarian Response (1994) developed the NGO, Red Cross and Red Crescent Code of Conduct. Subsequently institutionalised as the Sphere Project (now Association), in 1997 it produced a charter and set of standards: Sphere Association (2018) The Sphere Handbook: Humanitarian Charter and Minimum Standards in Disaster Response, 4th ed., Geneva: Sphere Association. 5 See also Clarke and Ware (2015), who use the review of 50 attempts to distinguish between FBOs and NGOs referred to above (Ware et al., 2016), to identify six views

Understanding of the roles of religious organisations  69 of ‘FBOs’’ role and position in relation to ‘NGOs’, concluding (not particularly helpfully) that, while FBOs are distinct, they share some characteristics of NGOs and operate as part of four types of bodies engaged in development activities –​communities, religious organisations, FBOs and civil society. 6 Durham (2011) provides an alternative framework, with axes relating to religious freedom and the extent of state identification with religion, varying from adopting an official religion to secularity. He uses this matrix to identify 11 ‘pattern types’ of religion–​state relationships.

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Understanding of the roles of religious organisations  75 Walker, P. and Maxwell, D. (2009) Shaping the Humanitarian World, London: Routledge. Ware, V.-​A., Ware, A. and Clarke, M. (2016) Domains of faith impact: how ‘faith’ is perceived to shape faith-​based international development organisations, Development in Practice, 26, 3, 321–​33. Weiss, H. (2020) Muslim NGOs, Zakat and the provision of social welfare in Sub-​ Saharan Africa: an introduction, in Weiss, H. (ed.), Muslim Faith Based Organisations and Social Welfare in Africa, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1–​38. Wilkinson, O. (2018a) ‘Faith can come in, but not religion’: secularity and its effects on the disaster response to Typhoon Haiyan, Disasters 42, 3, 459–​74. Wilkinson, O. (2018b) Secular humanitarians and the postsecular: reflections on Habermas and the Typhoon Hainan disaster response, Journal of Contemporary Religion, 33, 2, 193–​208. Wilkinson, O.J. (2020) Secular and Religious Dynamics in Humanitarian Response, London: Routledge. Wodon, Q., Olivier, J., Tsimpo, C. and Nguyen, M.C. (2014) Market share of faith-​ inspired health care providers in Africa, The Review of Faith and International Affairs, 12, 1, 8–​20.

Part II

The social roles of religious organisations in Sub-​Saharan Africa and South Asia Practical efforts to improve welfare The values of charity and compassion that are central to the teachings of all the religious traditions have, as discussed in Chapter 3, led religious organisations and adherents to seek to improve human welfare through a range of practical activities including caring for orphans and vulnerable children, the indigent, disabled and elderly. These vary between and within religious traditions and take different forms, including charitable or humanitarian activities and attempts to improve welfare and reduce poverty. It is not possible to comprehensively review social science research on the social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia in this volume. First, there are many relevant studies, whose aims, methodological approaches, thematic focus and quality vary. Second, the available studies are patchy with respect to their geographical coverage, the topics addressed, the research questions posed and the methods adopted. Third, religious bodies are active in a large array of social arenas. As well as humanitarian activities, these include welfare provision, service delivery and community development, the choice of which may be explained by religious teachings; the values espoused by a religious tradition, sect or denomination; historic origins and experiences; the geographical distribution of the religions; and their organisational characteristics. Fourth, the activities pursued vary both between and within religious traditions. Finally, although many of the empirical analyses relating to SSA and South Asia have been published in the English language academic press, others are part of the advocacy or grey literature, or are written in languages other than English. These are, for the most part, excluded from this review. Much of the research on religious involvement in attempts to improve welfare has focused on Christian organisations because of the Western origins of many of the social scientists and research funders involved and their familiarity with the missionary and colonial history of such activities and the organisational DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-5

78  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia arrangements associated with churches and mission societies (see also Adams, 2016). To unsettle the perception that these religious organisations play the dominant social roles in the countries of SSA and South Asia, this section will first review the available social scientific outputs on Muslim organisations, with a view to identifying the factors that explain their choice of activities, sources of funding and modes of organisation and, if possible, assessing the outcomes of their involvement in social welfare activities. It will then examine the material on Christian organisations before attempting to cover similar ground for organisations associated with the Hindu and Buddhist traditions. Where possible, similarities and differences in the roles played by organisations in different contexts and associated with different strands in each tradition are explored and ‘religious’ organisations are compared with ‘secular’ organisations engaged in similar activities. Throughout, attention will be paid to the influence of religious values and beliefs on motivations and strategies, and the social, cultural, political and economic characteristics of the contexts in which religious organisations operate. However, my ability to achieve these objectives and reach general conclusions is constrained by the limited availability of suitable studies. Religious organisations also play central roles in the delivery of health and education services. The provision of health care in SSA, South Asia and beyond has been a major focus of research and analysis, within which the attention paid to the roles played by religious organisations has increased significantly in the last 20 years, not least due to the efforts of the International Religious Health Assets Programme (IRHAP). Formerly the African Religious Health Assets Programme, this has been based at the University of Cape Town since 2002 (www.irhap.act.ac.za). It is an international network of researchers and practitioners which has assembled a database of several thousand publications and carried out a series of research projects, resulting in many publications, including recent issues of journals and several systematic reviews. In addition to health, religious actors have been most involved in education, and so Chapter 7 will focus on their roles in this sector.

4 The social roles of Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-​Saharan Africa

In Islam, charitable and humanitarian activity is mandated by the Qur’an. The core motives are moral and social: fi sabilillah (for the sake of Allah) and in the hope of thawah (rewards) for pious deeds in the afterlife. Alms and charitable giving are regarded as morally purifying because they are seen as countering individuals’ egoism and greed (Weiss, 2020a). A distinction is made between zakat (mandatory giving) and sadaqa (voluntary giving) (see also Khan, 2012; Rakodi, 2019, pp. 211–​14; Tittensor et al., 2018). Rather than being used to support religious institutions, zakat is used to directly improve the material well-​being of recipients, especially the poor and needy. The categories of people eligible for such support are specified in the Qur’an and, because the payment of zakat is regarded as a way of purifying wealth, recipients are considered to be entitled to such support, which has traditionally been donated individually and informally to known individuals or those in need in local mosque communities (Benthall, 2016). Waqf, in contrast, is an endowment of movable or, mostly, immovable property for private, religious and public welfare purposes. It is inalienable and must be used by the designated administrators and their successors for the purpose originally declared. Equivalent to a charitable trust or foundation, it is a complex institution, which in South Asia has been used for more than a thousand years to provide individuals in need with direct assistance, including food, shelter and educational stipends; generate benefits such as fresh water and cultural and ritual performances for communities; and operate physical facilities and social institutions such as mosques, schools, libraries, cemeteries, dispensaries and hospitals. The institution has adapted to different contexts and over time. In practice, in addition to the prescriptive and near-​universal nature of Islamic teachings, which strongly influence individual Muslims’ motivations and behaviour, the ways in which the religious tradition is organised and its relationships with states are key to understanding the characteristics and social roles of Islamic charity. The organisation of the religion centres on local mosques (and, in Sufi Islam, shrines of the pirs –​saints or spiritual guides). These are influenced by the teachings of prominent scholars and jurists, regard DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-6

80  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia themselves as being affiliated with individual sects (mainly the Sunni and Shi’a branches of Islam, but potentially a minority such as Ahmaddiyah or Ismaili) and may be associated with wider formal or informal organisations (such as the tariqa or brotherhoods associated with Sufism). In addition, they are often linked to the recognised schools of jurisprudence and important madrasas. In addition to Islamic teachings and the basic organisational arrangements within the religious tradition, the evolution of Islam in particular contexts has been affected by their historical, economic, geographical and cultural characteristics. This is not the place for a general history of Islam in South Asia or SSA, but the ways in which the social roles of various types of organisations associated with the tradition have evolved can only be understood in the light of such a wider understanding. The evolution of Islamic organisations and their social engagements have some common features in South Asia and SSA, but there are also many significant subcontinental, regional and national differences.1 These are explored here for South Asia and the parts of SSA for which research is available. Among a range of social welfare activities, many of the organisations considered provide education, health care and support for vulnerable children –​their roles in education will be considered in more detail in Chapter 7. By the 1970s, the inability of poor people to access the services offered by the formal banking sector and their reliance on moneylenders was recognised to be trapping them in debt and constraining their ability to escape poverty. An alternative model emerged, based on group-​ based savings and credit. Microfinance NGOs proliferated, especially in Bangladesh and elsewhere in southern Asia, and early research showed positive results. However, Muslim concern that financial services comply with Islamic teachings (especially on riba, unjustified profit, often loosely translated as interest) first led to the emergence and spread of an Islamic finance sector, especially in the Middle East and North Africa. By the 2000s, this had become one of the fastest growing segments of the global finance industry (Karim et al., 2008) and interest in the potential for Islamic microfinance to make similar shari’a-​compliant products available to low-​income borrowers grew. Although much of the writings on Islamic finance is advocacy, empirical research on the Islamic microfinance sector has also emerged, mostly in Asia, where the microfinance sector is most developed. It is discussed in the last section of this chapter. South Asia: a shared history and contemporary engagement of religious organisations in social welfare The religious and political history of the Indian subcontinent in brief

The Mughal rulers of the South Asian subcontinent and their predecessors engaged in many philanthropic activities. Muslim rulers and members of the elite granted revenue-​free lands to support people, established madrasas and built shrines (dargah) in the names of Sufi pirs, many of whom established

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  81 spiritual lineages that can last for generations (Bano with Nair, 2007, p. 4). Detailed studies of philanthropic giving in the cities of Surat in south Gujarat and Allahabad in Uttar Pradesh demonstrate that the patterns of giving of Muslim notables (also Hindus and Parsis) were tailored to gaining social recognition and exercising political influence among their co-​religionists and the rulers of the time: Mughal nobles and later British officials, who needed the assistance of local zamindars (landed magnates) to govern. This enabled wealthy donors to mediate between local communities and higher levels of authority, secure princely titles for themselves and control webs of patronage (Bayly, 1971; Haynes, 1991). The shrines, which were (and continue to be) dependent on donations, including waqf, became centres of spirituality, learning and social welfare. Devotees visit to pay their respects and pray in the hope of spiritual benefits, especially the saint’s intercession and blessing. Khanqahs (lodges) were often built adjacent to shrines to accommodate pilgrims, devotees and their administrators. In addition to providing free communal food (langar) and other social services for their residents and people living in the surrounding area, regardless of religion or caste, a shrine was often associated with a madrasa (Iqbal and Siddiqui, 2008; Rehman and Lund-​Thomsen, 2014). Fauzia et al. (2018) identify three waves of waqf studies: some are concerned with historical and legal aspects, some situate awqaf in their economic and political contexts, and others investigate the revival of awqaf and their potential roles in improving welfare and reducing poverty. Until recently, especially in South Asia and SSA, there were few studies of changing waqf practices (Fauzia et al., 2018; Singer, 2018). However, in the last 15–​20 years, as part of the general upsurge of policy, practice and research interest in Islamic finance, there has been a significant increase in the attention paid to waqf, including the possibility of using cash waqf to increase the availability of cheap capital for addressing poverty. There is insufficient space to explore this literature here but see Sukmana (2020) and Abdullah (2020) for recent reviews. The earliest and still the most prevalent social roles of waqf endowments are provisions for the religious education of adherents (children, adults and religious specialists) in mosques and madrasas. Under Muslim rulers, madrasas produced scholars, civil servants and judicial officials. However, colonial regimes deprived them of state patronage and many students from more affluent families sought an education in English, which opened up better economic opportunities. By the mid-​ nineteenth century, when Muslims’ sociopolitical and economic conditions were worsening, the growth of an educated middle class was associated with the emergence of Islamic movements, especially those associated with the Deobandi, Firangi Mahal and Aligarh schools of thought (Rakodi, 2019, p. 65; Robinson, 2008). These aimed to “protect Islamic interests from Western-​educated Hindus, who were rapidly gaining the status of indigenous elite; [they were] a reaction to Christian missionary criticism of Islam; [and also] a response to British cultural and political hegemony” (Jodhka and Bora, 2012, p. 78). They sought to perpetuate and restore weakened traditional

82  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia institutions, for example, those responsible for collecting zakat, preserving waqf properties and sponsoring schools and universities, to enable the Muslim community to respond to the new challenges. In both India and Pakistan today, perhaps a fifth (and growing) proportion of Sunni Muslims follow the literalist Deobandi revivalist movement, while about two-​thirds follow the Barelvi school, which emerged at the beginning of the twentieth century in response to growing Deobandi influence. The latter emphasises personal devotion to God and the Prophet and seeks a synthesis of shari’a with Sufi practices such as the veneration of saints. Sufi khanqahs were less affected than madrasas by the loss of state patronage: during the Mughal era they had already received substantial land grants, because such patronage strengthened Muslim rulers and increased the obligations owed to them by the descendants of the saints, a strategy emulated by the British (Bano with Nair, 2007). British colonial policies and actions, which involved separate electoral representation for religious communities, led to religion becoming a badge of identity and not just a source of moral or spiritual guidance, made ‘communities’ the subject of political discourse, and homogenised them, as if their interests were uniform (Engineer, 2004; Mahajan, 2010; Simeon, 2016). Religious communities began to see themselves as distinct groups whose claims needed to be accommodated, based on the concept of a nation state: the idea that each ethnic group (delineated by markers of identity, including religion) needs a territorial space of its own, in which it is the majority (although politico-​legal instruments might be needed to protect the rights of minorities). The idea of India as naturally Hindu, which had taken hold in the late nineteenth century, led to Muslims being regarded as a ‘minority community’. In the early twentieth century, the struggle for independence sought to establish a united India that would recognise and protect the rights of all based on a political philosophy of secularism. However, after failed attempts in the 1920s and 1930s to negotiate a power-​sharing formula between the Indian National Congress and the Muslim League, Muhammad Ali Jinnah, the leader of the latter, started to argue for a two-​state solution. Indian Muslims were opposed to this, lower class/​caste Muslims because they expected that any new homeland would primarily benefit the elite and many of the ulama because they felt that it would create divisions within the ummah (the wider community of Muslims). Nevertheless, the idea of a separate homeland for Muslims was eventually agreed, involving division of the Punjab and Bengal. Following partition and independence in 1947, India and Pakistan became separate states and, after a civil war in 1971, East Bengal/​East Pakistan became Bangladesh. Although the plan for partition called for safeguards for minorities in both India and Pakistan, hostility between Hindus and Muslims and a breakdown of law and order resulted in massive population movements. The 1951 census shows that 7.23 million Muslims, including many members of the elite, went to Pakistan from India, while 7.25 million Hindus and Sikhs moved in the opposite direction. It is estimated that between 10 and 12 million people were displaced and up to a million died in violent clashes or from hardship during

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  83 their flight (Engineer, 2004). Between 1941 and 1951, the number of Muslims in India fell from 42.4 to 35.4 million (10% of the population), although more remained than became part of the population of Pakistan. Following independence, the governments of India, Pakistan and later Bangladesh initially set out to be ‘secular’ and/​or ‘modernist’. The Constitution of India (agreed in 1950) specified that the government would treat all the existing communities as equal and create an environment in which they could flourish, if necessary by positive discrimination in favour of the disadvantaged, identified primarily in caste or regional terms. Thus, each recognised religion (Hinduism, Islam, Sikhism, Buddhism, and Jainism) was awarded equal status and every citizen guaranteed equal civil and political rights. At the same time, the Constitution recognised and protected cultural heterogeneity and the rights of minorities, including the right to establish political parties, permitting them to bring their concerns into the public domain and influence policy and decision-​making. Religious groups were guaranteed the right to profess, practise and propagate their religion, preserve their language and culture, and establish and administer educational institutions, which were entitled to state funding (Articles 25 and 30). Each of these rights and the financial aspects of religious institutions were subject to state regulation, subject to moderation by the Supreme Court, but also received state protection and sometimes government funding. Thus, the state was secular in the sense of not being “permanently aligned with any one community but also was never completely distanced from any of them” (Mahajan, 2013, p. 87). In contrast, in the predominantly Muslim states of Pakistan and Bangladesh, belief in the indivisibility of religion and the state led both to declare Islam the state religion and the formation of religious political parties to be permitted by their constitutions. Initially, the newly independent governments in all three countries adopted ‘modernist’ approaches to development, adopting a state-​ led model and showing little appreciation for religious organisations and their social roles. Nevertheless, such organisations continued to be the main non-​ state service providers. The shared history of Muslim organisations in South Asian countries provides the background to their contemporary roles, which are discussed for each country in turn. Muslim organisations providing social welfare in contemporary India

By the time of the 2011 census, Muslims in India numbered 172 million (14% of the population), largely because of their higher fertility rate (although this has subsequently declined). Nearly half live in 15 states, including Uttar Pradesh, West Bengal, Bihar and Maharashtra, although only two provinces have a Muslim majority. The remainder are scattered, although within states they are concentrated in 110 districts, where they constitute 20% or more of the district population. It is estimated that over 85% are Sunni and 13% Shia, with many in both groups considered to be Sufis. They faced insecurity and poverty from the outset, while clashes between Hindus and Muslims continued

84  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia to occur and the political discourse gradually hardened (Engineer, 2004; Alam, 2010). The idea of a national identity anchored in the culture of the majority was promoted, with Hindu organisations in the Sangh Parivar (the ‘family’, made up of political parties, including the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), trade unions, welfare and women’s organisations, educational institutions and other societies) adopting an increasingly aggressive Hindu nationalist position and seeking to access power at the national level by mobilising the religio-​cultural majority to become a political majority. Muslims were demonised as being ‘anti-​national’ and disloyal. In the 1950s, welfare policy focused on groups perceived as socially and economically marginalised, the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes, who were defined as ‘development subjects’. Policies of positive discrimination, including reservations, sought to provide members of these groups with access to government jobs and higher education. In contrast, Muslims were perceived as ‘cultural subjects’ and more attention was paid to the implications of their right to adhere to Muslim personal law than to the processes by which they were socially and economically excluded and neglected by government policies. Eventually, the Congress-​ led national government recognised Muslims’ disadvantaged economic and educational status and in 2005 set up the Sachar Committee with a mandate to assess their socio-​economic conditions. The Committee’s report, published in 2006,2 recognised that the problems Muslims faced were a combination of those faced by the poor, those faced by all minorities and some that exclusively affected Muslims (Basant, 2007). It found Muslim levels of school enrolment, educational attainment and literacy were lower than those of other socio-​religious groups. They were also concentrated in poorly paid occupations, especially manufacturing and retail, often self-​ employed or home-​based, with a disproportionately low share of government posts. In addition, fewer Muslims were able to obtain credit from banks and their access to physical and social infrastructure was relatively poor. The result was a higher incidence and greater intensity of poverty, especially in urban areas. Where there had been improvements in any of these, they were less than those experienced by other social and religious groups, including the Scheduled Castes. In addition, the report identified constraints on the use of waqf for community benefit, including government encroachment and poor management. It concluded with five sets of policy recommendations (Mahajan, 2010). The report drew on the work of other bodies during the 1990s and much of its content was not new, but its systematic assembly of data attracted public and government attention. For the first time, a ‘development’ checklist dealing with material and economic concerns and not just religious and cultural needs or political representation was prepared with a religious community as the unit of analysis. Critiques of the report noted that, although it made some reference to the presence of caste-​like structures, gender divisions and class differences, the Muslim ‘community’ was taken as a single unit and compared to other socio-​religious groups. The report was also criticised for some of its research methods and for failing to explain either processes of

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  85 discrimination and impoverishment or differences within the community (Basant, 2007; Wilkinson, 2007; Mahajan, 2010; Robinson, 2007). In 2013 an evaluation committee (the Kundu Committee) was appointed to take stock of progress. It found that, although a start had been made on implementing the Sachar Committee’s recommendations, bottlenecks (including the limited scale of government interventions, poorly designed and targeted programmes, inadequate structures for implementation and lack of NGO response) had hindered progress.3 This institutional paralysis had been compounded by an increase in anti-​minority communalism (Naqvi, 2017). At independence, although there were no attempts to stop religious organisations undertaking the social reform and welfare activities in which they had been engaged since the 1820s, the rapid expansion of the state in sectors such as education and health diminished their influence and importance. The largest organisation of the Hindu nationalist movement, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), which was founded in 1925, currently claims between five and six million members. An ideological group aimed at the cultural and spiritual regeneration of the Hindu community, it was later merged into the Sangh Parivar (Battaglia, 2017). A rough Muslim equivalent is the Jamiat-​Ulama-​i-​Hind, established in 1919. Although development is not its focus, one of its wings, the Jamiat Ulama-​i-​Hind Trust (set up in 1986), manages all its education and social welfare activities (Naqvi, 2017). By the 1980s, it was clear that the state-​led approach to development had strengthened bureaucratic control over the economy and not led to economic growth. Policy shifted to the promotion of economic liberalism and the private sector, and a more pluralistic approach to achieving development objectives, creating space for the voluntary sector (including religious organisations) and resulting in a proliferation of NGOs (Jodhka and Bora, 2012). By 2005, a survey estimated that the non-​profit sector in India was comprised of roughly 1.2 million organisations.. The vast majority were small, only a few had a national or global presence and nearly half were unregulated. Collectively, it was estimated that they employed nearly 2.7 million full-​time paid workers and mobilised another 3.4 million volunteers, not far behind total government employment. The survey found that most of their funds were generated from local sources, including individual donations, with foreign funds making up only about 7% of the total, largely because of strict state regulations.4 One-​ fifth of the organisations were working in community or social services, one-​ fifth in education, 18% in sports and 7% in health-​related activities, while over a quarter were involved with religion in one way or another (Srivastava and Tandon, 2005, in Jodhka and Bora, 2012, p. 79). Data on the numbers of Muslim social organisations in India and their activities are derived from a limited number of studies, none of which document either their relations with overseas funders and partners or the operations of transnational Muslim organisations in India. Iyer et al.’s 2006–​10 survey enumerated religion-​based organisations registered as charities in seven Indian states (Iyer et al., 2014). Of the 568 organisations in their sample, 248 are

86  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Muslim (a much larger proportion than the share of Muslims in the population). They vary in size, from fewer than 1,000 to 500,000+​‘adherents’. Most provide ‘religious services’, especially religious education and propagation of the faith. They also provide non-​religious services, especially education (including computer education) (82% of the organisations), followed by food distribution, health care, childcare and a variety of others, such as flood relief, homes for the elderly and women’s welfare programmes (see Table 4.1). The proportion of organisations engaged in these services had increased since 1991 in response to increased inequality and poverty, especially in those states with poor public provision. While motivated by a desire to improve the welfare of other Muslims, many claim that the services they provide are open to everyone. Researchers carrying out a small survey of ‘FBOs’ in the Maharashtran cities of Pune and Nagpur in 2007 were able to identify and visit 133 organisations engaged in welfare and development activities, of which 18 were Muslim (in a state where, like India as a whole, about 80% of the population are Hindu and 11% are Muslim). Almost all the latter were small organisations with a single branch, operated locally among other Muslims, and had been established either before independence or since the 1980s, following economic liberalisation. Of the 18 organisations, 16 classified themselves as charitable/​ Table 4.1  Services provided by organisations associated with religious traditions in India Non-​religious services provided since 1991a

Education Health Food distribution Employment Childcare Other No. of organisations in the sample

Organisations associated with each religious traditionb Hindu

Muslim

Christian

%

%

%

39.7 45.6 59.9 9.2 16.5 17.7 272

81.5 35.5 55.2 13.7 24.2 11.3 248

80.0 72.0 20.0 4.0 48.0 16.0 25

Other (Sikh and Jain) % 52.2 43.5 65.2 4.4 30.4 21.7 23

Total % 60.2 42.3 56.3 10.7 21.8 15.0 568

Source: Iyer, S., Velu, C., Xue, J., and Chakravarty, T. (2011) Divine Innovation: Religion and Services Provision by Religious Organizations in India Religion Survey 2006–​10, Cambridge: University of Cambridge Faculty of Economics, mimeo, p. 26. See also Iyer, S., Velu, C. and Weeks, M. (2014) Divine Competition: Religious Organisations and Service Provision in India, University of Cambridge, WP in Economics 1409, p. 21. Notes: a  Religious services include propagation of the faith; religious education; and weddings, funerals and divorces. b  Sample survey of religious organisations listed by the Registrar of Charities in selected districts of the States of Maharashtra, Karnataka, Madhya Pradesh, Jammu and Kashmir, Uttar Pradesh, West Bengal and Gujarat.

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  87 development organisations engaged in educational activities, mostly associated with madrasas (Jodhka and Bora, 2012). Prompted by the apparent failure of mainstream NGOs to work with Muslims despite the evidence of their disadvantage produced by the Sachar Committee and others and increased awareness of continuing discrimination against them, Naqvi (2017) set out to identify NGOs working with Muslims, the issues on which they are working and the resources they deploy. The study (2011–​13) documents the work of NGOs in eight States with significant Muslim populations and the Mewat region in Rajasthan and Haryana, a poor area with a large Muslim population. Three types of NGOs were identified through assembling a snowball sample of 359: mainstream NGOs, Muslim NGOs and faith-​based Muslim organisations. The study sought to examine the extent to which non-​profit organisations (NPOs) concerned with development, especially education, livelihoods and income-​generating activities, health care, credit provision and skills development, work with Muslims. It excluded large higher education institutions (including colleges), service providers (e.g. hospitals), advocacy organisations unless they are also doing development work and FBOs with a primary focus on promoting religion or providing religious education. Its reasons for doing so are attributed to the role religious values seem to play in maintaining the social status quo, including unequal gender relations, and the potential for legitimising the role of local clergy, who may have an anti-​development stance on social issues. It found, across states and in both rural and urban areas, that many mainstream and Muslim NGOs work with Muslims on aspects of development. Some respond to expressed needs. However, many simply fit Muslims into predetermined agendas and project designs (such as self-​help groups for women, education for girls and scholarships as a way of tackling educational disadvantage), the majority adopt a welfare rather than a rights-​based approach and many have an anti-​Muslim institutional culture. The mainstream NGOs surveyed obtain support from institutional donors and most stress that they are secular (i.e. work with all marginalised groups/​ castes). Many are unwilling to acknowledge that they work with religious groups, especially Muslims, lest this be seen as divisive. Although such works had increased in the 1980s and 1990s, often because they had come across Muslims in their area of operation, most do not work with Muslims at scale, even since the publication of the Sachar Report. Moreover, although programmes that combine education, livelihood training and job placement are valuable, they do not tackle the structural disadvantages Muslims face. Similarly, in the health sector the emphasis is on charitable service delivery approaches (such as women and child health programmes that seek to reduce infant and maternal mortality) rather than securing equal access to public health services. In addition, unless an NGO has female leadership, the study found, resistance from the religious patriarchies constrains efforts to address women’s rights, leading NGOs to play safe with welfare programmes, vocational training and self-​help groups.

88  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Muslim NGOs were defined as those expressing an affinity with the Muslim community, for whose benefit they work. The extent to which they display their Muslim identity and reach out to non-​Muslims varies. They include some large organisations running Muslim educational institutions, hospitals and allied services, and providing financial services, but most are small local organisations that rely on charitable giving and rarely obtain institutional donor funding. With individual donations of food and money, as mandated by Islamic teachings, they seek to meet immediate needs or provide services, perpetuating the religious and patriarchal status quo rather than challenging it. Few adopt a rights-​based approach or attempt to mobilise people to hold the state to account, tactics that are, in any case, riskier for Muslim organisations or those working with Muslims. The main sectors in which NGOs working with Muslims operate are the provision of elementary education, livelihoods support, health care, higher education and women’s rights and empowerment. Relying on information provided by key informants from the organisations identified, the study lists those in its sample that work in these sectors and describes their activities but did not seek out independent research or evaluations. It finds that 45% of the 359 organisations studied had been established by Muslims (and these are more likely to have worked with Muslims from the outset); 52% had a current Muslim leadership; and on average a third of their staff were Muslim. Muslim leaders tend to come from the elite. Although a newer generation of such leaders is emerging and they are often keen to tackle rights-​based issues, they tend to be constrained by a lack of education, know-​how, social networks and access to funds. Despite the establishment of a Ministry for Minority Affairs and the first attempts to address Muslim development concerns at the national level in the Eleventh Five-​Year Plan 2007–​12, NGOs still had no official role in policy formulation or delivery. The Twelfth Five-​Year Plan (2012–​17) established a Steering Committee on minority empowerment to facilitate interaction between minority groups and government, and incorporated measures to promote partnership with NGOs and empower minority communities in general (e.g. through the development of leadership). However, the BJP government that came to power at the national level in 2014 had not, at the time Naqvi was writing, started to implement the plan proposals, there had been an upsurge in communitarian violence, increasing the vulnerability and insecurity experienced by Muslims, and relationships between the NGO sector and the government had become increasingly strained (Naqvi, 2017). Muslim voluntary and welfare organisations in Pakistan

In Pakistan, voluntary and welfare organisations provide welfare and social services for a significant proportion of the population. Mandatory and voluntary religious giving (zakat and sadaqah) is still common, although attempts to assess its volume based on self-​reported behaviour have produced conflicting

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  89 results, unsurprisingly given that in Islam charitable giving is supposed to be private, individual and anonymous (Khan and Arif, 2016; Kirmani, 2012). Immediately after partition, NPOs such as the All-​ Pakistan Women’s Association and the Edhi Foundation were established, initially to assist refugees from India, although they have continued to be active in relief and welfare activities to the present day. In addition, ethnic and clan-​based organisations respond to the needs of specific communities. During the first period of martial law (1958–​71), the government took over Sufi shrines and the awaqf associated with them and placed them under the control of the Ministry of Religious Affairs (MORA). Despite the large number of Muslims who are Sufi devotees (e.g. in rural Sindh and Punjab), mistrust of government officials led to reduced donations and a decreased role in social service provision, although these trends also led to the establishment of voluntary religious organisations associated with the shrines. The religious and ritual functions of shrines, as well as their political, religious and moral roles, have been extensively studied. However, contemporary studies of their social welfare activities are lacking and there do not appear to be any published assessments of their effectiveness and overall contribution to social welfare. Two ethnographic studies were identified. Data Darbar near Lahore is Pakistan’s largest Sufi shrine, now under the jurisdiction of the MORA. It offers madrasa education and social welfare services, as well as a platform for other actors to provide services, which seem to be more acceptable to those in need because of their association with a shrine. Strothmann’s (2013) study describes the many organisations and activities associated with the shrine. In contrast, Rehman and Lund-​Thomsen (2014) reveal the complex connections between a smaller Sufi lodge in southern Punjab, the family which manages its religious and welfare functions, disciples and visitors. During the period of General Zia ul Haq’s rule (1977–​88), his Islamisation drive and increased flows of foreign funds enabled many existing Muslim organisations to flourish and the number and scope of organisations with a sectarian and militant outlook to grow. During the years that followed, relations between the regime in power and Islamist social organisations fluctuated between mutual support and hostility. The government’s perceived failure to provide basic social services and an influx of foreign funds during the Afghan war led to a rapid expansion of the non-​profit sector. Prominent organisations such as the Aga Khan Rural Support Programme, which works predominantly in the Northern areas, as well as national branches of international organisations, were established at this time. Today, large organisations with social roles (often alongside religious functions) include both the welfare trusts or relief organisations associated with prominent mosques and independent associations. They generally provide education, orphan support, alms for the poor and/​or healthcare. Charitable giving may be channelled to organisations with no political affiliation or those whose core ideology includes a commitment to establishing an Islamic state, such as the welfare wings of religious political parties, of which the Al-​Khidmat

90  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Foundation (the welfare wing of the Jama’at-​i-​Islami) is the most prominent (see Bano, 2012; Kirmani, 2012; Rakodi, 2019, Box 8.4, p 213). The latter provide a range of welfare and social services, including health care, education, emergency relief, water supply and orphan support. Bano concludes that these activities are regarded as critical for their identity as parties and for mobilising party members –​the possibility that providing welfare might win votes appears to be a less important motivation. A large survey at the beginning of the twenty-​first century identified approximately 45,000 NPOs, of which just under 16,000 self-​identified as ‘Islamic’ (Ghaus-​Pasha and Iqbal, 2003; Iqbal and Siddiqui, 2008, p. 20). The latter included 13,000 madrasas, the largest group of registered NPOs. Of the Islamic organisations providing educational and welfare services, many of which also organise religious ceremonial activities, three quarters operated at the local level, linked to the mosque-​based decentralised nature of Islamic organisation, and two-​thirds in urban areas. They are mostly funded through zakat, either officially or privately. In the official system, the MORA collects zakat from Sunni Muslims annually (2.5% of the value of specified financial assets). Local zakat committees distribute the proceeds to the poor and madrasas. However, a lack of trust in the government leads most Muslims to give zakat individually rather than through the official system (Candland, 2000, p. 359).5 Alongside attempts to assess the overall scale and operations of Islamic and other NPOs, research attention has focused on the largest NPOs and those providing madrasa education. Case studies of well-​established local NPOs dependent on voluntary (generally religiously motivated) donations reveal that they focus on welfare and service delivery, concentrate on meeting immediate needs, and provide health-​related services, while organisations that access funding from institutional donors, both within Pakistan and internationally, focus more on long-​term development and community mobilisation and empowerment. In addition, the research shows, many welfare organisations are reluctant to identify themselves as either ‘NGOs’ (because the general public, government officials, the media, the religious elite and activist groups tend to regard NGOs as insincere, elitist and corrupt) or ‘faith-​based’ organisations, in the face of international suspicion of and government ambivalence towards Islamic organisations, many of which have a sectarian affiliation, even though they may not discriminate with respect to the services they deliver (Kirmani, 2012). Because of these sensitive relationships, most large voluntary welfare organisations do not explicitly identify themselves as ‘faith-​based’ and nor are they viewed as such by the public, even though their initiators were often religiously inspired. Radical Islamist organisations draw their ideology and funding from prominent madrasas, religious political parties and, in some instances, the state. Some have links with local and regional violent jihadi networks. Although many have been banned as terrorist groups, others continue to conduct relief operations under changed names or through front organisations. Although the government is suspicious of them, it also relies on them for the provision of relief and social services in remote areas (Iqbal and Siddiqui, 2008).

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  91 In addition to the domestic Muslim organisations, several international organisations are active, especially Islamic Relief and Muslim Aid. They are engaged in development activities and disaster response and work with local religious and secular partners, in some cases through their own country offices. Unlike most of the Pakistani organisations, which rely on funds generated by religious giving, either locally or from diaspora communities, they can mobilise funds from multi-​and bilateral donor agencies, international foundations, and corporations, in addition to donations from members of diaspora Muslim networks. They concentrate on the provision of social services (e.g. education and health) and also relief. Although they may contribute to public discourse on women’s rights and social justice, they are rarely active in the areas of women’s rights, reproductive health or HIV/​AIDS prevention and treatment, because these are regarded as reflecting a Western non-​Islamic agenda. Bangladesh

Bangladesh shares the history and heritage of Mughal and then British colonial India until 1947, difficult relationships with Pakistan between 1947 and 1971, and subsequent independence as an impoverished largely agrarian country. The post-​independence government’s promise of socialist reform was ended by a coup in 1975, with the following 15 years a period of military rule and economic stagnation. In this low-​lying region subject to seasonal flooding, communities were small and mobile. The Mughal rulers distributed land using the existing administrative system (samaj), in which local Muslim leaders had the primary responsibility for governance and encouraged permanent settlement and rice cultivation. Unlike West Bengal, slow economic development inhibited the emergence of a feudal system of large landowners and a middle class, reinforcing the ties between local Muslim leaders and the peasantry and leading to the emergence of Islamic movements to address peasant discontent during the colonial era. In addition to fear of being subsumed in a Hindu India, Muslims’ identity in East Bengal was thus forged from their experience of geographical and social marginalisation (Adams, 2016; Salehin, 2016). A long history of religiously motivated endowments to help the poor and the spread of education among the privileged and middle classes in late nineteenth and early twentieth century Bengal contributed to the emergence of NPOs with social reform objectives, notably the Bangladesh Academy for Rural Development in the 1960s, which introduced the Comilla model of rural cooperatives for agricultural and community development. In the 1970s, following independence, NGOs proliferated, compensating for the lack of state capacity (a result of decades of under-​investment by the British and West Pakistan authorities). They took on service provision roles for the then war-​torn and cyclone-​devastated country. The largest contemporary NGOs emerged at this time, including the Grameen Bank, the Association for Social Advancement, the Bangladesh Rural Advancement Committee (BRAC) and

92  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Proshika (Salehin, 2016). Neoliberal economic policies were adopted in the 1980s and continued following democratisation in 1991, coinciding with the emergence of large-​scale export-​oriented ready-​made garment manufacturing, which provides employment for about 5.5 million workers, of whom 80% are women, mostly in Dhaka and the surrounding region. Growth in the number and size of NGOs continued, encouraged by increased flows of external aid and funders’ preference for NGOs over inefficient and corrupt government institutions. By 2005, a World Bank study estimated that there were 206,000 NPOs, of which 189,000 were termed ‘religious’, although relatively few were formally registered (about 2,000 with the NGO Affairs Bureau and 45,000 with the Ministry of Social Welfare) (Adams, 2016, p. 16; Salehin, 2016, p. 47). By the early 2000s, it was estimated that over a quarter of foreign aid was channelled to NGOs pursuing an agenda dominated by microcredit, education and health programmes. By 2000, these had reached 90% or more of rural communities, provided two-​thirds of institutional credit in rural areas and were a major source of employment. Critics of the country’s dependence on NGOs allege that it undermines the development of state capacity and legitimacy, erodes democratic accountability, reinforces dependence on external funds and makes the government susceptible to donor pressure to commercialise and privatise services. As the number and scale of organisations providing microcredit (and other financial services) grew, concern among Muslims over non-​compliance with shari’a (particularly with respect to the prohibition of riba) increased and attempts to establish alternatives multiplied, some of which are discussed below. NGOs were also criticised for downplaying conscientisation and social mobilisation in favour of service delivery, turning beneficiaries into clients rather than citizens with entitlements. Their efforts to empower women and other marginalised groups and their expansion into rural areas threatened both the economic dominance of landlords and money lenders and the authority of religious leaders, who maligned the NGO-​backed vision of social progress as a Western imposition, deplored their dependence on Western funding, criticised their microcredit programmes for charging exorbitant interest rates and exploiting the poor, and perceived diverse pre-​existing and emergent Muslim organisations as being neglected and undermined by the government, external funders and secular NGOs alike (Adams, 2016; Salehin, 2016). State downsizing and privatisation of the economy were accompanied by government-​ sponsored Islamisation, reflected in electoral competition between the secular Awami League and the pro-​religious Bangladesh National Party, with the former making concessions to Islamist groups to bolster its political power. As the scope and power of NGOs increased, so did government crackdowns –​in 2010 alone nearly 3,000 organisations were shut down in 16 districts (and perhaps 20,000 altogether in recent years), for a range of infractions including a lack of financial transparency, expired registrations or alleged involvement with militant Islamist groups (Adams, 2016, p. 20).

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  93 ‘Religious’ NGOs became more prominent in the 1990s. These include indigenous Muslim organisations, many with a history of religious activities including daw’a; large Christian transnational NGOs such as Caritas and World Vision; and, more recently, transnational Muslim organisations, such as Islamic Relief and Muslim Aid. Initially engaged in relief work, they later started to provide other social services. An attempt to ‘map’ Muslim organisations involved in charitable activities, relief and development or community work classified them into four groups: organisations that consider themselves Sufi in orientation (including individual shrines and those associated with a tariqa or Sufi order); ‘orthodox’ Sunni organisations which reject both Sufi practice and political Islam; ‘mainstream’ groups which do not identify with any particular movement or sect (including some of the largest and best-​funded organisations, such as the local branches of transnational relief and development organisations); and those linked to political Islam, mostly associated with Jamaat-​e-​Islami, the largest religio-​political party (Adams, 2016). By the beginning of this century, it was estimated that there were perhaps 600 organisations, mostly of indigenous origin. Just under a fifth of these were engaged only in microcredit, 60% in microcredit plus programmes involving non-​formal education, health, water and sanitation, etc., and a smaller number of them in daw’a, relief and rehabilitation, or educational work (Salehin, 2016, pp. 52–​3). Sri Lanka

The role of Islamic organisations in Sri Lanka has received little attention. The Muslim minority (10% of the population) are mostly Sunni Muslims of Malay or Indian origin. They are concentrated in the capital, where they make up 36% of the population. Tamil speakers mostly work in low-​paid precarious jobs and live in inner city low-​income neighbourhoods, although a middle-​ class elite rose to commercial prominence during the colonial period and has benefited from economic liberalisation since the late 1970s. Charitable activities are linked to individual religious obligations to give zakat and sadaqa. In the colonial period, the emergent bourgeoisie endowed awqaf, including mosques and educational institutions, as well as supporting the education, health and other philanthropic initiatives of the colonial administration and British businesses. Their charitable activities were a means to establish status, gain the goodwill of the administration and build political careers, although they also fuelled economic and social competition and political differences between the merchant dynasties. However, economic success and public visibility at a time of emerging Sinhala-​Buddhist nationalism spawned anxiety about the dominance of Indian commercial enterprises (Osella, 2017; Osella and Widger, 2018). After independence and the nationalisation of education, the institution of waqf lost its appeal and donations to educational institutions dried up. For the wealthy and socially mobile, zakat and sadaqa became the main channels for

94  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia religious and philanthropic giving, amidst ongoing debates about the appropriate balance between giving directly to eligible recipients and delegating the responsibility for collection and distribution to organisations such as the Ceylon Baithulmal Fund (established in 1956) and the Islamic Welfare Society (started in the early 2000s). In response to criticisms that giving zakat and sadaqa to individuals merely encourages begging, and that charitable organisations compete, wasting resources and creating opportunities for corruption, it is suggested by some that such organisations have positive features. They can, it is claimed, be trusted to establish professional management practices, ensure that zakat is distributed to eligible beneficiaries and, in addition to ensuring merits in the afterlife and business success in this, that it can be used to transform the lives of poor Muslims. In practice, evidence is scarce. Zakat and/​or sadaqa are also given by middle and low-​income Muslims. While most Sri Lankans agree that charitable organisations can be effective, they prefer to support individuals with whom they have personal relationships (relatives, employees and poor neighbours), both in the city and in their ancestral villages. The research shows that the Qur’anically mandated duty of care to kin, neighbours and the wider community, as well as the unknown poor, is backed up by a belief that not only is the financial help provided by kin and neighbours more accessible and reliable than assistance from organisations, it also fosters a sense of belonging to a community (Osella, 2017; Osella and Widger, 2018). Muslim welfare organisations in Sub-​Saharan Africa Unlike South Asia, where a single colonial power dominated the history, politics and government of the subcontinent, and there are relatively few post-​ independence polities, SSA has a complex colonial history and is fragmented into nearly 40 independent countries, the religious composition of which varies from eight Muslim-​majority countries to 23 in which less than 20% of the population is Muslim (an overall average of 30%) (Rakodi, 2019, p. 14). It is, therefore, difficult to summarise the historical development of Muslim organisations at the subcontinental or country level. Although their links to states are clearly important for their proliferation, growth and operation, research on their social roles is limited and uneven, so this section presents a general discussion, illustrated by individual studies where these are available. In SSA the organisational arrangements for fulfilling religious functions, generating funds and providing welfare are predominantly local and informal. Historically, there have been some Muslim-​majority states and jurisdictions (e.g. the Hausa-​Fulani kingdoms in what is now northern Nigeria, which in the nineteenth century were absorbed into the Sokoto caliphate, or Zanzibar in east Africa, which was under the control of the Sultan of Oman from the late seventeenth century until the establishment of a British protectorate in 1890). However, in most contexts, Muslim activities, including religious education and

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  95 contributions to the welfare of the poor and needy, were (and have remained) mosque based. Mosques are enduring social institutions that may be identified by the allegiance of their imam to a particular sect or tariqa (Sufi brotherhood). Their flourishing is related to the learning and charisma of the imam and their involvement in organising welfare or development activities depends on his inclinations (or, in some instances, those of the mosque elders or committee). The alms collected provide a (partial) source of income for the imam and are also distributed to destitute individuals who congregate in and around the mosque. Although the number of mosques grew rapidly between the 1970s and 9/​ 11, as external funding from wealthy Muslims supplemented local donations, not all are engaged in welfare/​development activities. For example, in Tanzania, the Secretary General of the main Muslim umbrella organisation estimated that of nearly 9,000 mosques nationwide, more than two-​thirds are engaged solely in religious activities, which include the provision of assistance to the very poor, but fewer than a third are involved in development activities such as education and health provision (Leurs et al., 2011, p. 28). Large-​scale Islamic organisational arrangements, most notably the tariqa (Sufi orders such as the Mouriddiya and Tijanniya), played an important role in the expansion of Islam south of the Sahara.6 Today, they remain strong only in selected locations (notably Senegal and the Gambia). They are primarily religiously motivated and are organised in groups (dahiras) in which marabouts (spiritual leaders or sheikhs) command the loyalty (and labour) of their disciples (young men who receive a religious education that stresses piety, integrity and service). They are engaged in the construction and maintenance of mosques (typically with adjacent madrasas) and organising other religious activities, such as pilgrimages. In addition, especially in Senegal, the Mouriddiya have in the past and continue today to play important economic roles, especially in agriculture and trade, as well as the mobilisation of funds for humanitarian relief and the construction of social infrastructure, including hospitals and educational institutions (Linden, 2004; Mbacke, 2016). In addition to other West African countries, the tariqa have developed extensive national and transnational connections in Europe and North America. They are politically influential, although their relations with both colonial and postcolonial regimes have fluctuated between close political alliances and tense standoffs. In the immediate post-​independence period, governments in SSA were intolerant of independent voluntary associations because they expected to take responsibility for achieving development goals and providing services, and CSOs were seen as potential threats to their political sovereignty and stability. However, in the 1970s and 1980s, droughts, civil wars, economic crises and reduced government revenue stimulated the emergence of indigenous NGOs engaged in humanitarian relief. In addition, the failure of states to develop and maintain nationwide education and health services and awareness of the ability of established Christian organisations to contribute to filling the gaps

96  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia increasingly led governments to accept the potential for these and other religious organisations to play positive roles in service delivery and development. International support catalysed or stimulated the process, with implications for the characteristics of the organisations and the evolution of relationships between indigenous Muslim initiatives and external actors, including governments and other official funding agencies, Muslim organisations and individuals. Until the turn of the century, much of the funding for Muslim organisations came from individuals. Initiatives were directed at poor Muslims and indigenous organisations were established that were not necessarily associated with mosques. Some were responses to Muslim suspicions that Christian organisations use their relief and welfare activities to proselytise (Juul Petersen, 2012). In Malawi, for example, the increasing prosperity of Muslims of Asian origin and external interest stimulated by concern about conversions to Christianity has led to the emergence of various organisations, most of which are, like elsewhere,7 primarily concerned with the education and welfare of the Muslim community rather than poverty reduction more generally (Saddiq, 2009). Faced with continued male domination of religious teaching and mosque organisation, Muslim women’s organisations have also emerged, mainly to improve women’s access to education. Flows of funds from Muslims resident in the West and oil-​rich Arab countries increased in the 1980s, fuelling the growth of Muslim organisations. Based on local registers of NGOs, Salih (2002) estimated that between 1980 and 2000, the number of NGOs operating in 17 African countries increased from fewer than 2,000 to nearly 6,000. Of these, the proportion that were Muslim grew from about 7% in 1980 to 15% in 2000. Motivated variously by a desire for religious and social renewal, the Islamisation of society, conversion of non-​Muslims, rejection of Western values and access to resources, these were typically involved in religious activities (especially mosque construction). Their activities also focused on the construction and operation of primary and secondary schools offering religious and secular education to Muslim children (especially the poor), improving water supply, poverty alleviation and care for vulnerable children (especially orphans) and women (especially widows) (Weiss, 2020a). The number of transnational Islamic organisations active in Africa and the proportion of funds channelled through them increased after 2000. Salih (2002) identified seven major and many smaller transnational Islamic organisations. Ten years later, Juul Petersen (2012) estimated that there were approximately 400 worldwide, based in the US and UK as well as Arab Muslim countries.8 Associated with sects, governments or wealthy individuals, they are engaged in promoting Islam as well as relief and development activities; have formed partnerships with UN agencies; and have forged networks with other secular and religious transnational NGOs. The largest is the Saudi Arabia-​ based International Islamic Relief Organisation (a government-​sponsored NGO), established in 1979, which provides relief and rehabilitation to those affected by

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  97 conflicts and disasters in several African countries and plays a leading role in international NGO, Arab and Muslim networks of relief organisations. It works in Muslim communities and employs Muslims but claims to provide relief irrespective of religion or ethnicity, unlike organisations that proselytise among both Muslims and non-​Muslims. For example, the Libya-​based World Islamic Call Society, the Saudi Arabia-​based World Muslim League and the Kuwait-​ based African Muslim Agency seek, through the establishment of da’wa centres, translation and distribution of Qur’ans and other materials, and provision of support to new Muslim converts, as well as relief operations, to encourage both increased piety among Muslims and conversion of non-​Muslims. In addition to mosque construction, transnational Islamic organisations may be involved in a range of welfare activities, for example, in Tanzania: education, health, orphan care and drilling wells (Leurs et al., 2011, pp. 70–​1, 75–​6; see also WFDD, 2019). As the numbers of indigenous and foreign Muslim NGOs increased, concerns about the limitations of local Muslim organisations and the implications of dependence on foreign funding were expressed. For example, Saddiq’s (2009) survey of ten organisations in Malawi reveals their limited financial base, competition over access to resources, organisational weakness, reliance on non-​Malawian professional staff, and paternalistic and male-​dominated decision-​making. In addition to the long-​standing animosity between Muslims with Asian and African heritage, these undermine their potential social contribution.9 Moreover, Muslim organisations’ ability to challenge women’s subordination is limited at the local level by the position of individual imams and at the national level by personality conflicts, sectarian affiliation or political competition (Linden, 2004). In addition to concerns about the sustainability of external funding, there has been mounting suspicion of the motives of transnational Islamic organisations, especially the alleged association of these organisations and the indigenous organisations they support with political Islam and violent jihad (Juul Petersen, 2018).10 In the 1990s, decreased funding and increased interest in the potential bridge-​ building role of ‘moderate’ Muslim NGOs meant that it was in the interest of both these organisations (such as the UK-​based Islamic Relief and Muslim Aid) and international funders of their relief and development activities that these be kept separate from their religious activities. This has enabled such organisations to supplement their traditional sources of income from Islamic charitable giving with funding from official donors, enabling them to extend their reach to non-​Muslim populations and to forge partnerships with secular and Christian NGOs. However, as suggested in Chapter 3, tensions in their countries of origin and operation may be challenging to negotiate. Some of the tensions and contradictions in donor–​Muslim relationships in Tanzania are explored by Becker (2015). They include donors’ failure to recognise the complex nature of relationships between the Tanzanian government and Muslim organisations, the informal networked structures of Muslim communities, and the limited feasibility of relying on ‘volunteers’ given the diversified livelihood strategies that Tanzanians must necessarily adopt. Kaag (2011, 2012) compares

98  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia the approaches of transnational Islamic relief organisations in Chad and Senegal, focusing on the ‘charity chain’ through which they attempt to ‘build the umma’ (the global Muslim community) by disseminating a modernist Salafi version of Islam in Sufi-​oriented contexts and promoting Arabisation through a combination of da’wa-​oriented activities, support for education and health care, and the provision of wells and orphan care. She outlines their activities and the types of connections they build, noting that these differ depending on the role Islam plays in local and national power dynamics and the ways in which ‘development’ and ‘civil society’ are organised, with different effects in the two countries. In a more recent contribution, Kaag and Sahla (2020) explore the importance of trust-​building by these organisations in the web of relationships that they forge in Chad, Senegal and the Gambia. The tensions in Tanzania reflect a limited understanding of the organisational structures of the Muslim religion and its associated educational and charitable institutions on the part of many Western donors, American and European academics and even governments of Muslim minority countries. Kaag’s comparative analysis (2012) demonstrates that transnational NGOs’ work modalities, as well as the source and nature of local responses to their religious messages and the material resources they provide, are influenced by local models of development, religious and civil society characteristics, as well as political dynamics. The connections between Muslim organisations and their transnational partners vary not only with the latter’s mission and base country, but also with their sectarian affiliation, as illustrated in Leichtman’s (2020) fine-​grained analysis of Shi’a organisations in Tanzania and Langewische’s (2020) account of the social welfare activities of the Ahmadiyya communities in Ghana and Burkina Faso (see also Skinner, 2010). Alongside indigenous Muslim welfare organisations, Islamist reform movements (often Wahhabi or Salafi influenced), motivated by a desire to advance Islam and apply shari’a law, have grown in importance and militancy, especially but not only in northern Nigeria. Affiliated to different sects, they have divergent doctrines and compete for transnational support and funding. The most radical have engaged in violent jihad in their attempts to win supporters and Islamise societal and government structures. Their alleged involvement in violent attacks, such as those on the US embassies in Kenya and Tanzania, led to increased control over them, freezing of their assets and many being banned by Western and African governments (Salih, 2002; Juul Petersen, 2012). The proliferation of Muslim organisations operating educational, medical and other facilities and engaged in da’wa, and the international links they develop in their search for funds and legitimacy, has led some governments to require registration, introduce or reinforce regulatory systems, attempt to improve their financial management and establish national federations of Islamic organisations. Based on his analysis of Ghana, the Gambia and Sierra Leone, Skinner (2010) concludes that all such attempts have failed, mainly because of the disparate characteristics of Muslim communities, in which

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  99 competition for members and resources is intense and is reinforced by the attempts of transnational agencies and foreign governments to promote their own interests, mutual suspicion between Muslim organisations and politicians, and limited government capacity. In addition, as in Tanzania, not only do rival Muslim sects establish their own networks, but also political issues lead governments to establish a federation themselves or favour one federation over another (Becker, 2008; Leurs et al., 2011; WFDD, 2019). Concerns about the limitations of local Muslim organisations, the stubborn persistence of widespread poverty despite the proliferation of indigenous and transnational organisations, and the failure of states to develop and maintain nationwide provision of education, health and welfare services have led analysts, Islamic organisations and some governments to pay attention to the potential for religious giving, especially obligatory but also voluntary, to be harnessed to strengthen efforts to address poverty. Until the early 1980s, much of the discussion was concentrated in the Middle East, Pakistan and Sudan, but since then, the potential for improving the collection and deployment of zakat, sadaqah and waqf has been more widely explored in SSA. Following research in Ghana in the 1990s, Weiss (2002) commented that the ability of Muslim organisations to scale up their provision of facilities, such as hospitals, schools and orphanages, was restricted by suspicions that they (like government departments or secular NGOs) might not be well managed and that the diversion of zakat and sadaqah to providing services which the government had failed to deliver might generate tensions with the religious functionaries dependent on these forms of giving. Nevertheless, his and others’ conviction that there was unrealised potential for Muslim organisations to use Islamic financial institutions to meet basic needs and reduce poverty has informed various attempts to realise that potential. Although there are few Muslim-​majority countries in SSA in which the collection and distribution of zakat is regarded as a national government function, regional government systems for this purpose were established in 2011 in Zanzibar and in the 12 Muslim majority states of northern Nigeria, starting with Kano State in 1983. Because payment of zakat to these government organisations is not compulsory and many are poorly managed and not trusted, some Muslim organisations have established their own zakat units, as described by Weiss (2020b) in Muslim-​minority Ghana. However, various initiatives to encourage Muslims to give zakat and to organise its collection and distribution more effectively failed to take off, partly because of the divided and fractious nature of the Ghanaian Muslim community. Eventually, the Muslim caucus in Ghana’s parliament established a non-​ governmental zakat and sadaqah trust fund, although only Muslim MPs and state employees support it, limiting its activities to a scholarship programme. Since then, a couple of other Islamic organisations have launched zakat funds that emphasise meeting the educational needs of Muslims. Weiss (2020a, p. 23) identifies 14 zakat management organisations established since the 1970s in a range of Sub-​Saharan African countries. Overall, however,

100  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia such attempts to institutionalise zakat collection and distribution have made only limited progress (Weiss, 2020b; see also Mumuni, 2002; Skinner, 2010). Islamic microfinance Institutions for supporting household financial management and income-​ generating activities have long existed, typically in the form of rotating savings and credit associations (ROSCAs). In addition to their need for means of household consumption smoothing, continued high levels of poverty were attributed to poor people’s inability to raise capital for investment in small-​ scale farming and other enterprises. Since the 1970s, new microfinance institutions (MFIs) have been established (see above). Many of these use a group-​based savings and credit model, in which access to collateral-​free credit depends on demonstrating an ability to save regularly, while peer pressure within groups and eligibility for successive loans ensure high repayment rates. Lured by the apparent ability of microfinance to enable poor households, especially women, to develop economic enterprises and escape poverty, religious organisations started similar programmes.11 However, interest rates tend to be quite high because it is costly to administer micro-​loans, even NGOs providing microfinance products are expected to become financially self-​sustaining, and commercial banks started to enter the market and to obtain commercial capital (loans or share issues) to fund their lending programmes. In addition, because of the Qur’anic prohibition of riba in economic transactions, Muslims’ alarm at the reliance of the growing Islamic financial sector, including MFIs, on charging interest increased. As part of the general surge of interest in the characteristics and potential of Islamic finance, there was increased interest in the potential of microfinance (El-​Zoghbi and Tarazi, 2013; Kustin, 2015). In the early years of the twenty-​ first century, Muslim organisations began to establish Islamic microfinance institutions (IMFIs), urged by the main industry think tank, the Washington DC-​based Consultative Group to Assist the Poor (CGAP) (Mader and Sabrow, 2019). Like much of the writing on Islamic finance, that on microfinance is mostly advocacy, drawing on Islamic teachings to identify possible instruments for offering shari’a-​compliant services, and identifying their theoretical and practical strengths and weaknesses (e.g. Karim et al., 2008; Khan and Thaut, 2011; Yumna, 2014). Here, some of the limited empirical research on the scale and characteristics of the Islamic microfinance sector is reviewed. In 2007, it was estimated that IMFIs, which were concentrated in Indonesia, Bangladesh and Afghanistan, accounted for less than 1% of total microfinance outreach, with fewer than 400,000 clients (Karim et al., 2008; Khan and Thaut, 2011). However, another CGAP survey in 2011 found that the number of providers had doubled and the number of clients using shari’a-​compliant microfinance products had increased fourfold (to an estimated 1.28 million, of whom 445,000 were in Bangladesh, about the same number in Sudan and 181,000 in Indonesia) (El-​Zoghbi and Tarazi, 2013, p. 6). At that time,

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  101 although the institutional arrangements for Islamic microfinance varied, the sector was still dominated by a few providers in a few countries, mostly offering two products: murabaha (in which the IMFI’s fee is added to the purchase price of a good, for which the borrower pays in instalments) and quard hasana (an interest-​free loan). By the early twenty-​first century, many evaluations of MFIs (and, since 2010, several meta-​analyses of such studies) had been carried out, mostly in Asia, where the microfinance sector is most developed. Some of the early evaluations, which claimed to have found positive poverty reducing effects, were questioned, and some long-​standing advocates and analysts have admitted that access to microfinance is not the panacea once thought. Also, inadequate regulation fuelled reckless lending, resulting in the failure of several large MFIs in Bangladesh, India, South Africa and Nigeria and ‘micro-​credit meltdowns’, for example, in Pakistan and Andhra Pradesh, in India. After 2012, the global microfinance industry appeared to shrink and MFIs have faced increased scrutiny by regulators and the public, while donors and investors have become more wary (Bateman, 2018; Hannam and Ashta, 2017). Nevertheless, a recent survey of MFIs included in three international databases obtained 507 responses from the countries in Asia and SSA of interest here. Of these, 41 in southern Asia and 23 in SSA are Islamic MFIs (Ahmad et al., 2020, p. 7). Ahmad et al.’s findings confirm the geographical distribution and choice of products revealed in the earlier study. Their analysis of a data set of 543 conventional and 101 IMFIs shows that the latter are more likely to receive their funding from donors, governments and (for a small number) religious giving, and to serve farmers and, on average, poorer clients. For both, nearly two-​thirds of their clients are women and just over half are already above the poverty line. The small number of studies that consider the religious affiliation of MFIs mostly seek to compare the performance of conventional and religious MFIs rather than carry out nuanced assessments of their impact on beneficiaries or levels of poverty (Ahmad et al., 2020; Mersland et al., 2013). In addition, case studies of individual Islamic MFIs have proliferated, with varied aims, methodological approaches and findings. These include a description of the Wasil Foundation in Pakistan, which finances small farmers through salam (advance payments against future delivery) (El Zoghbi and Alvarez, 2015), a study of Akhuwat Islamic Microfinance (AIM), the largest MFI in Pakistan (Silva Afonso et al, 2020), and ethnographic studies in Bangladesh (Dhaka and Cox’s Bazaar), in which Kustin (2015) shadowed clients of AIM, Islamic Relief Pakistan and the Islami Bank of Bangladesh, examining the implementation and outcomes of the organisations’ programmes, particularly for women, and also seeking to evaluate the outcomes of Islamic Relief (IR) Pakistan’s microfinance programme. The Islami Bank of Bangladesh’s engagement in microfinance has been most extensively studied, as explored in Box 4.1. Overall, however, empirical research on the forms, outcomes and impact of Islamic microfinance is still limited and inconclusive.12

102  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Box 4.1  Microfinance and the Islami Bank of Bangladesh The first commercial bank in southern Asia and SSA to offer shari’a-​ compliant banking services was the Islami Bank of Bangladesh Ltd (IBBL), established in 1983 and still dominant in 2008 despite intense government scrutiny, especially when a more secular Awami League government suspicious of its alleged links with Jama’at-​i-​Islami and the Gulf states is in power (Kustin, 2015, p. 26). It defines its mission as being to establish Islamic banking through a ‘welfare-​oriented’ banking system. In 1991, to achieve its social welfare objectives, it established a sadaqah-​financed charitable arm, the Islami Bank Foundation (IBF). This finances relief and rehabilitation, education (including madrasas), free or subsidised health care, da’wa and income-​generating programmes, including two microfinance programmes (Kroessin, 2011; Salehin, 2016). The first is funded by the IBBL itself through its Rural Development Scheme (RDS), established in 1995. In this programme, recipients of interest-​free loans with flexible repayment plans must commit to following other religious practices in their daily lives and business practices. In addition, since 2008 the IBF has participated in the Fael Khair programme, which is funded by the Islamic Development Bank, as well as receiving support from the UK-​based NGO Muslim Aid. This programme is being implemented in 12 cyclone-​affected districts by four Bangladeshi NGOs. The RDS uses the Grameen Bank group lending model, lent legitimacy by scriptural references, grounded in a vision of development as encompassing social and spiritual as well as economic dimensions, and backed up by frequent reiteration of ethical and practical messages (Kroessin, 2011). The rural scheme was extended to urban areas in 2012. By 2013, 209 of its 286 branches operated microfinance programmes, providing services to more than 800,000 members in more than 17,000 villages (Hassan et al., 2017, p. 5). Microfinance collectives near IBBL branches are comprised of 10–​40 clients, subdivided into groups of five, whose members bear liability for each other’s weekly repayments. Members are required to open murabaha savings accounts and are eligible for loans for business purposes, while quard hasan (interest free) loans are available for projects such as the construction of latrines or tube wells (Salehin, 2016). The programme aims to increase incomes and improve clients’ (particularly women’s) standard of living by providing credit to finance investment in the farm and non-​farm activities of their households (Hassan et al., 2017). Thus, rather than reaching the poorest, the services are aimed at enabling small agricultural producers or other businesses to grow. Hassan et al. claim that their survey demonstrates that the monthly income of female recipients of loans had increased on average by 49% compared with women members who had not yet or had only recently

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  103 received a loan. In addition, borrowers’ assets had increased and more children from their families were attending school, although no clear impacts on health or ‘family harmony’ were detected. Informants reported that their incomes supplemented the income of their households, helped them to manage without borrowing from friends, families, or neighbours, and that their self-​confidence and self-​reliance had improved. However, they also identified challenges, including competition, lack of business knowledge and the urgency of everyday household needs. Hassan et al. claim that their findings demonstrate that loan recipients had been able to break the cycle of poverty, although their evidence seems rather weak. They also note that the RDS performs as well as the microfinance programmes of non-​religious providers, such as the Grameen Bank, with respect to growth, dropout rates and operational efficiency. However, the programme consistently runs at a loss and is portrayed by the IBBL as demonstrating commitment to Islam and social justice, rather than making a profit.

Conclusion The exploration of traditional forms of Islamic giving and their organisational arrangements in this chapter reveals their strengths and potential for improving welfare but also some of their limitations. Because of the history of the South Asian subcontinent, not only do Muslim philanthropic activities have a common textual basis, they also share a history and have many similar characteristics today, although whether Islam is a majority or minority religion in the contemporary states and the implications of this for political dynamics make a difference to the ways in which Muslim organisations and their welfare activities have evolved since independence. However, assessments of the outcomes of Muslim (especially indigenous) organisations’ involvement in welfare activities are lacking. In the last couple of decades, increased attention has been paid to the potential for institutionalising the management of zakat collection and distribution, to increase yields and enable more systematic reductions in poverty and increases in welfare to be achieved (Benthall, 2016; Fauzia, 2013; Weiss, 2020a). However, the results have been limited. This can be attributed partly to the limited trust Muslims and Muslim organisations have in their governments, even in Muslim-​majority Islamic states, but also to many Muslims’ preference for giving zakat and sadaqah in traditional ways, through established religious and mosque-​based channels, to directly benefit those perceived as being in most need, even if this precludes more strategic use to tackle the underlying structural causes of poverty. Similar issues apply to the institution of waqf. The endowment of a waqf is not only a pious act but can also convey prestige

104  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia and legitimacy on those making the endowment, but the legal constitution of awqaf has never completely insulated such endowments from mismanagement and political interference, including attempts by Muslim, colonial and post-​ colonial rulers to confiscate them (Singer, 2018). Waqf endowments often contribute to public welfare and the well-​being of Muslim communities. However, in the South Asian context they have been criticised for, in the name of maintaining waqf endowments in perpetuity, being a legal instrument that is too inflexible to adapt to social change. In particular, Singer points out, awqaf generally fund activities that reinforce dominant values and social hierarchies rather than eradicating poverty or redistributing wealth, while entitlements to the benefits they yield are unequally distributed. In addition to inter-​religious and Muslim-​state interactions at the national level, the nature and financing of Islamic philanthropic organisations are affected by the evolution of transnational links, most obviously in the increased flow of financial resources since the 1980s, but also in the relationships between national and foreign governments and indigenous and transnational organisations. For example, Kaag’s (2012) comparison of Chad and Senegal demonstrates that transnational NGOs’ work modalities, as well as the source and nature of local responses to their religious messages and the material resources they provide, are influenced in complex ways by religious and civil society characteristics as well as local models of development and political dynamics. While the growth of microfinance and emergence of Islamic microfinance as a way of encouraging the growth of small-​scale enterprises and improving well-​being has occurred around the world, much of the earliest and largest scale development occurred in southern Asian countries, and much of the limited independent research on Islamic microfinance focuses on this region. Like microfinance in general, Islamic microfinance demonstrates promise and sometimes appears to be successful and sustainable. However, the microfinance sector is clearly vulnerable and recent research has tempered early enthusiasm for its potential role in poverty reduction, while empirical evidence on the outcomes and impact of Islamic microfinance is still limited and inconclusive. Notes 1 There are both similarities and contrasts between South Asia and Southeast Asian countries. Research published in English is available for Muslim-​majority Malaysia and Indonesia. The latter, as well as being relatively well-​researched, has developed a distinctive organisational framework for Muslim philanthropic activities, in which the mass membership organisations of Muhammadiyah and Nadhlatul Ulama play important roles (see, e.g., Barton, 2014; Fauzia, 2013; Sakai, 2012). 2 SCR (2006) A Report on the Social, Economic and Educational Status of the Muslim Community of India. http://​mino​rity​affa​irs.gov.in/​news​ite/​sac​har/​sach​ar_​c​omm.pdf 3 Post-​Sachar Evaluation Committee (2014), Final report presented to the Ministry of Minority Affairs.

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  105 4 Although transnational voluntary organisations provided funds for indigenous NGOs and some operated programmes in India, no data on these organisations or studies of their operations were identified. 5 In the World Values Survey (2010–​14) in Pakistan, 89% of respondents said that they trusted religious organisations, but only 8% reported that they had a ‘great deal of trust’ in government. www.worldv​alue​susr​vey.org/​WVSon​line​jsp (accessed 10/​8/​17). 6 See Becker (2008) for a detailed study of their expansion in the east African coastal area, especially in the towns, and Vikør (2002) for an account of the organisation of the Sanusi brotherhood as it expanded economically and socially on the eastern fringe of the Sahara, today encompassing parts of Sudan, Somalia and Libya. 7 See, for example, Skinner (2010) on the Gambia, Ghana and Sierra Leone. 8 Tok and O’Bright (2017) describe the recent entry of Qatari organisations into various SSA countries, often focusing on the provision of education facilities. For example, they provided relief in northern Mali, where the Qatar Red Crescent was the only humanitarian organisation to be granted access, building on its funding of madrasas, schools and other activities since the 1980s. 9 Muslim organisations in Tanzania have similar organisational weaknesses, limiting their contribution to poverty reduction (WFDD, 2019). 10 See also, for example, Chembea (2020) on Muslim charitable organisations in Kenya. 11 Despite the high cost of processing microloans, Christian organisations, which raise their capital from donations, can charge more modest interest rates than secular NGOs. However, because of their religious obligation to serve the poor, recipients expect them to tolerate non-​repayment, so they often fail to achieve high repayment rates (Wong and Richards, 2014). 12 The experience of Indonesia, where a distinctive model, the Baitul Maal wat Tamwil, has emerged, is relatively well documented in studies published in English (Fianto et al., 2019; Handayani et al., 2018; Rahayu, 2020; Sakai, 2008, 2010, 2014).

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108  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Mader, P. and Sabrow, S. (2019) All myth and ceremony? Examining the causes and logic of the mission shift in microfinance from microenterprise credit to financial inclusion, Forum for Social Economics, 48, 1, 22–​48. Mahajan, G. (2010) Religion, community and development, in Mahajan, G. and Jodhka, S.S. (eds.), Religion, Community and Development: Changing Contours of Politics and Policy in India, New Delhi: Routledge, 1–​35. Mahajan, G. (2013) India: Political Ideas and the Making of a Democratic Discourse, London and New York: Zed Books. Mbacke, S. (2016) The Mouride Order, Washington DC: Georgetown University, Berkley Centre for Religion, Peace and World Affairs and World Faiths Development Dialogue. Mersland, R., Espallier, B. and Supphellen, M. (2013) The effects of religion on development efforts: evidence from the microfinance industry and a research agenda, World Development, 41, 145–​56. Mumuni, S. (2002) A survey of Islamic non-​governmental organisations in Accra, in Weiss, H. (ed.), Social Welfare in Muslim Societies in Africa, Uppsala: Afrikainstitutet, 136–​59. Naqvi, F. (2017) Working with Muslims: Beyond Burqa and Triple Talaq –​Stories of Development and Everyday Citizenship in India, Gurgaon: Three Essays Collective. Osella, F. (2017) ‘A poor Muslim cannot be a good Muslim’: Islam, charitable giving, and market logic in Sri Lanka, in Rudnyckyj, D. and Osella, F. (eds.), Religion and the Morality of the Market, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 217–​39. Osella, F. and Widger, T. (2018) ‘You can give if you only have ten rupees!’: Muslim charity in a Colombo housing scheme, Modern Asian Studies, 52, 1, 297–​324. Rahayu, N.S. (2020) The intersection of Islamic microfinance and women’s empowerment: a case study of Baitul Maal Wat Tamwil in Indonesia, International Journal of Financial Studies, 8, 37. DOI: 10.3390/​ijfs8020037 Rakodi, C. (2019) Religion and Society in Sub-​Saharan Africa and Southern Asia, London: Routledge. Rehman, U. and Lund-​Thomsen, P. (2014) Social support at a Sufi lodge in Punjab, Pakistan, Contemporary South Asia, 22, 4, 377–​88. Robinson, C. (2008) Islamic reform and modernities in South Asia, Modern Asian Studies, 42, 2–​3, 259–​81. Robinson, R. (2007) Indian Muslims: the varied dimensions of marginality, Economic and Political Weekly, March 10, 839–​43. Saddiq, N. (2009) Capacity Building and Islamic FBOs: Insights from Malawi, Oxford: INTRAC. Praxis Note No. 48. Sakai, M. (2008) Community development through Islamic microfinance: serving the financial needs of the poor in a viable way, in Fealy, G. and White, S. (eds.), Expressing Islam: Religious Life and Politics in Indonesia, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 267–​85. Sakai, M. (2010) Growing together in partnership: women’s views of the business practices of an Islamic savings and credit cooperative (Baitul Maal wat Tamwil) in Central Java, Indonesia, Women’s Studies International Forum, 33, 412–​21. Sakai, M. (2012) Building a partnership for social service delivery in Indonesia: state and faith-​based organisations, Australian Journal of Social Issues, 47, 3, 373–​88. Sakai, M. (2014) Establishing social justice through financial inclusivity: Islamic propagation by Islamic savings and credit cooperatives in Indonesia, Trans-​Regional and -​ National Studies of Southeast Asia, 2, 2, 201–​22.

Muslim organisations in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa  109 Salehin, M.M. (2016) Islamic NGOs in Bangladesh: Development, Piety and Neoliberal Governmentality, London and New York: Routledge. Salih, M.A.M. (2002) Islamic NGOs in Africa: The Promise and Peril of Islamic Voluntarism, Copenhagen: University of Copenhagen, Centre of African Studies Occasional Paper, ISBN 87-​91121-​01-​9. Silva Afonso, J., Cox, J. and Thorpe, A. (2020) Business Performance and Heterogeneity among Islamic Microfinance Clients: Evidence from Pakistan, Portsmouth: University of Portsmouth Business School, WPs in Economics and Finance 2020–​03. Simeon, D. (2016) The philosophy of number, in Rehman, M. (ed.), Communalism in Postcolonial India, London and New York: Routledge, 51–​79. Singer, A. (2018) Replace stasis with motion to fathom the persistence of waqf: the complex histories and legacies of a Muslim institution, The Muslim World, 108, 4, 702–​16. Skinner, D.E. (2010) Da’wa and politics in West Africa: Muslim Jama’at and non-​ governmental organisations in Ghana, Sierra Leone and The Gambia, in Bompani, B. and Frahm-​ Arp, M. (eds.), Development and Politics from Below: Exploring Religious Spaces in the African State, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 99–​130. Srivastava, S.S. and Tandon, R. (2005) How large is India’s non-​profit sector? Economic and Political Weekly, 40, 7 May, 1948–​52. Strothmann, L. (2013) Giving comfort, dispelling fear: social welfare at the shrine of Data Ganj Buksh in Lahore, Pakistan, Erdkunde, 67, 1, 49–​61. Sukmana, R. (2020) Critical assessment of Islamic endowment funds (Waqf) literature: lesson for government and future directions, Heliyon, 6, e05074 (p 1–​14 online). Tittensor, D., Clarke, M. and Gümüş, T. (2018) Understanding Islamic aid flows to enhance global humanitarian assistance, Cont Islam, 12, 193–​ 210. (Springer) DOI: 10.1007/​s11562-​018-​0414-​1 Tok, M.E. and O’Bright, B. (2017) Reproducing spaces of embeddedness through Islamic NGOs in Sub-​Saharan Africa: reflections on the post-​2015 development agenda, African Geographical Review, 36, 1, 85–​99. Vikør, K.S. (2002) Sufism and social welfare in the Sahara, in Weiss, H. (ed.), Social Welfare in Muslim Societies in Africa, Uppsala: Afrikainstitutet, 79–​96. Weiss, H. (2002) Reorganising social welfare among Muslims: Islamic voluntarism and other forms of communal support in northern Ghana, Journal of Religion in Africa, 32, 1, 83–​109. Weiss, H. (2020a) Muslim NGOs, Zakat and the provision of social welfare in Sub-​ Saharan Africa: an introduction, in Weiss, H. (ed.), Muslim Faith Based Organisations and Social Welfare in Africa, Palgrave Macmillan, 1–​38. Weiss, H. (2020b) Discourses on zakat and its implementation in contemporary Ghana, in Weiss, H. (ed.), Muslim Faith Based Organisations and Social Welfare in Africa, Palgrave Macmillan, 273–​303. WFDD. (2019) Faith and Development in Focus: Tanzania, Washington DC: World Faiths Development Dialogue and Berkley Centre for Religion, Peace and World Affairs. https://​berkle​ycen​ter.geo​rget​own.edu/​wfdd/​publi​cati​ons Wilkinson, S. (2007) A comment on the analysis in Sachar Report, Economic and Political Weekly, Mar 10, 832–​6. Wong, K. and Richards, D. (2014) Commercialization and microfinance interest rates: usury or just prices? Journal of Markets and Morality, 17, 2, 381–​404. Yumna, A. (2014) Applying Islamic finance principles to microfinance, in Clarke, M. and Tittensor, D. (eds.), Islam and Development: Exploring the Invisible Aid Economy, Abingdon: Routledge, 109–​34.

5 Christian organisations in Sub-​Saharan Africa and South Asia Traditional and new patterns of social engagement

In Christianity, charity motivated by biblical injunctions is urged on individual Christians and associated with churches and religious orders. It seeks to improve the welfare of the most vulnerable, such as widows and orphans, to provide health care, or to provide education to the poor as well as church (and often state) functionaries. As first Catholic missionary orders and then Protestant missionaries from the mainline churches arrived in Sub-​Saharan Africa and South Asia to proselytise, they were accompanied by their existing charitable mandates and experience.1 Mission stations needed to cater for the social and economic needs of both their expatriate and locally recruited staff. In addition, it was recognised that the provision of welfare services, especially in societies where individuals relied on their (not always very supportive) families and communities, was a potent incentive for conversion. The contemporary social roles of Christian organisations bear an indelible legacy of their association with trade, mission and colonialism, refracted through interactions between this history and pre-​existing religious traditions, cultural patterns and political histories. They reflect differences between various branches of the Christian tradition in terms of their beliefs, practices and organisational arrangements, influenced by the political, economic, social and cultural contexts into which they were inserted. Layered on top of these histories are the post-​independence trajectories of different countries, during which new variants of the tradition, especially charismatic and Pentecostal Christianity, emerged and spread. The first part of this chapter therefore examines the history of Christian mission in SSA and South Asia, paying particular attention to the social welfare activities with which the missions were associated and their legacy for postcolonial societies. Only a broad overview of this complex picture is sketched here, to set the stage for a review of recent research on the social roles of Christian organisations. The aim of the second part of the chapter is to examine the contemporary roles of Christian organisations seeking to address social needs and problems. The analysis pays attention to their theological beliefs, organisational arrangements, and political and institutional relationships, all of which vary between denominations and over time, implying a need for DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-7

Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  111 historically rooted comparative studies. In practice, these are scarce –​historical studies of missionary activities often stop short of analysing their social roles, investigators seem to be more attracted to studying new and dramatic expressions of Christianity than enduring organisational arrangements, attempts to identify the distinctive features of organisations and their activities often simplistically categorise them as either ‘religious’ or ‘secular’, and much of the existing research on contemporary religious organisations takes the form of case studies of a single context or organisation, with many of the studies focusing on the largest transnational FBOs. Nevertheless, it is possible to obtain insights into the characteristics and dimensions of Christian organisations’ historical and current social roles. Christianity in SSA and South Asia during the missionary era and its legacy The earliest Christian missionaries reached southern India and Sri Lanka in the fourth century AD (and possibly as early as the first century), leading to the establishment of a Syrian Orthodox church (Thangaraj, 2013). From the fifteenth century onwards, Roman Catholic missionaries arrived on the coasts of the Sub-​Saharan African and southern Asian subcontinents, associated with Portuguese and Spanish political expansion and trade. However, their impact was limited until the 1860s, when six male (and later female) religious orders (the members of which take religious vows for life) sent members abroad to promote their faith and/​or perform ministries of service. Subsequently, many religious orders have been active in missionary work. In addition, missionary societies (the members of which do not take vows) have played important roles. In the Roman Catholic Church, the central body responsible for missionary work and associated activities is the Congregation for the Evangelisation of Peoples (Propaganda Fide), rather than the Congregation for Bishops, which administers the Catholic Church and its archdioceses and dioceses worldwide. Propaganda Fide was founded in 1622 to foster the spread of Catholicism in the face of Protestant missionary activities in areas under British and Dutch control. Although the orders themselves are self-​financing, this central body based in Rome is responsible for organising financial support for missionary activities and the administrative arrangements for pre-​diocesan missionary jurisdictions, particularly in poorer countries. In the Catholic Church, therefore, before and during the colonial period, centralised organisations and foreign priests, monks and nuns played key roles. Religious orders provided education and health care, as well as other social welfare services. Their relations with colonial governments were complex, as revealed, for example, in Somé’s account of Burkina Faso (2001; see also Taithe, 2012). The contemporary Protestant missionary movement began at the end of the seventeenth century, when the Dutch colonial administration planted a Dutch Reformed Church in Sri Lanka. It gained added momentum in the eighteenth century, with the establishment of the Baptist, London and Church Missionary Societies. Within a century, denominations from every European and North

112  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia American country had begun to participate (Blevins, 2019; Bradbury, 2013). Like the Catholic missions, Protestant evangelism was accompanied by investment in education, health care, agriculture and social welfare, particularly in Africa but also in Asia. Church-​based education was seen as crucial for literacy (to enable converts to read the Bible), to produce people able to play a role in transforming societies and, later, to train future leaders in the churches and politics. During the twentieth century, the number of mission organisations and missionaries continued to grow rapidly, to 4,300 agencies and 320,000 missionaries by 1994 (Hearn, 2002, p. 37). Although Roman Catholic missionaries still outnumbered those associated with other churches, the share of American Protestants in the total grew from 27% of 18,000+​missionaries in 1900 to 59% of about 76,000 by 1992, backed up by increased and sustained funding, although the number of long-​term American missionaries fell and the number of short termers and local missionaries rose. Hearn attributes “[t]‌he strength of the evangelical missionary project [to] its self-​confidence, its resources and above all its success” (p. 40). The proportion of evangelical Christians living in developing countries (especially in Africa and Asia) rose from 7% in 1900 to just over 50%by the 1980s. The history of Christian mission in SSA, its social welfare activities and their legacy

Insights into the religious practices and identities of successive generations of Roman Catholics in East Africa are provided by Kollman (2012). In some cases, local Roman Catholic communities with a shared identity were formed. Sometimes such communities had a common ethnic identity, for example, when converts followed a king or chief who converted, or those practising a folk religious tradition discovered a congruence between their existing and new beliefs, practices and sociopolitical arrangements. Sometimes, community links were reinforced by competition, for example, between Catholic and Anglican converts in Uganda, and sometimes converts were motivated by access to education and the employment opportunities with which conversion was associated. Despite the importance of foreign missionaries, from the beginning of the enterprise, most local congregations in SSA were founded and led by African pastors, catechists and evangelists. Missionary successes in SSA are attributed, variously, to the protection offered to them by colonial and settler regimes with which they mostly (although not invariably) had close and mutually supportive links; their long-​ term presence in local societies; their ability to act as intermediaries between local groups and colonial governments; the value placed on mission health care and education by local people; and, especially for Protestant missionaries, their introduction of congregational religion. Local people sought protection at mission stations during tribal conflicts, while missionaries sometimes mediated to improve relationships between local groups and the colonial authorities. Although many missionaries supported the establishment of European

Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  113 control, believing that it would create a more favourable environment for evangelism, others opposed the conquest and exploitation of indigenous people (Bompani, 2015; Bradbury, 2013; Burchardt and Swidler, 2020; Deacon and Tomalin, 2015). The missions left enduring legacies. Despite the expansion of independent/​ indigenous churches (see below), more than half of all Christians today are Catholic in some ex-​French, Portuguese and Belgian colonies in SSA and about half in some Anglophone countries, although their share is a third or less in others. In addition, a significant proportion are affiliated with the mainline Protestant missionary churches (Öhlmann et al., 2020, p. 11). Once a group of converts were drawn to live, work and be educated at a mission station, they were under the governance of missionaries and subject to sources of authority beyond the existing social structures. Also the missionaries provided training as pastors or teachers, offering a new career to promising adherents (Burchardt and Swidler, 2020). Thus, not only were the mission stations themselves a new institutional model, they also introduced new practices and resources to surrounding communities, including ‘western’ education, allopathic medical care and agricultural and other innovations. Pritchett (2011), for example, examines the complex interactions between existing social systems and missionary aims, methods and resources through case studies of a Roman Catholic and an evangelical Protestant mission in north-​west Zambia. Fountain (2015) identifies a range of studies that document the impacts of (mainly Christian) missionaries on a wide range of current development issues, including poverty alleviation, health care, literacy and language, education, agriculture, nation building, disaster relief and peacebuilding. He suggests that missionary activities have had wider and longer-​term social influences through two processes: cascading (referring to the ripple effects whereby individual conversions have wider societal impacts) and catalysing (focusing on reactions to social activities, including, for example, the establishment of schools with a secular curriculum in Muslim areas to compete with church-​run schools). Missionary activities and the location of mission stations varied spatially, linked to the policies and administrative systems of the colonial powers, proximity to the coast and investment in transport infrastructure to enable the exploitation of mineral-​rich regions or areas of high agricultural potential. As part of a wider research agenda to assess the long-​term legacy of colonial rule, the recent capacity to geo-​reference and digitise early maps and gazetteers of mission stations has given rise to a series of studies which seek to quantitatively assess whether there are correlations between the location of early mission stations and spatial variations in selected contemporary socio-​ economic indicators. Michalopoulos and Papaionnou (2020) review a number of these studies, many of which use a 1924 map of large mission stations and recent Afrobarometer or Demographic and Health Survey data to analyse correlations between the location of mission stations and characteristics such as adherence to Christianity, educational attainment, aspects of health and the incidence of polygyny. Alongside colonial government policies, they conclude

114  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia that the location and activities of Christian missions have had lasting effects, especially where an increasing proportion of the work was undertaken by African converts rather than foreigners. Cagé and Rueda (2016, 2017), for example, purport to demonstrate correlations between the location of printing presses in some early twentieth century mission stations and contemporary values and attitudes, newspaper readership and HIV prevalence. Using a map of the 1920s mission stations in the south, central and eastern regions of the Gold Coast (today Ghana), Boateng et al. (2020) found that regional disparities in household wealth today are significantly associated with the intensity of missionary activities during the colonial era, even allowing for other factors such as geographical and climatic differences between regions. Critics of these studies point out that mission stations where most of the workers were Africans are absent from the most commonly used early maps, which show missions with a sizeable number of European settlers. The latter were generally located in better connected areas with more favourable geographical conditions. In addition, the analyses do not permit the identification of causal effects, the mechanisms at work, potential interactions between missionary activities and other investments (e.g. the construction of railways), the differing characteristics of precolonial societies, religious competition, or differences in the types and quality of the education provided. From early in the twentieth century, disillusion with the mainline churches and processes of indigenisation led to the emergence of revivalist movements. Some of these resulted in the proliferation and growth of independent churches, especially in southern Africa and Nigeria, but also elsewhere (Adogame, 2010; Bompani, 2006, 2008, 2010, 2015; Maxwell, 2006; Öhlmann et al., 2020). This was both enabled by and contributed to the spread of congregations independent of clan, village or lineage ties, some of which have become multi-​ congregation denominations. Christian missions, welfare activities and their legacy in southern Asia

In India in 2011 there were nearly 28 million Christians (about 2.3% of the population), concentrated in three regional enclaves: south and parts of central and northeast India, each linked to missionary activity (Abreu, 2009; Daughrity, 2012; Embree, 2006; Robinson, 2006, 2010; Thangaraj, 2013). Syrian Orthodox Christians continue to be concentrated in Kerala, while Catholicism in Goa and various locations inland, especially in Tamil Nadu, was spread by Portuguese missionaries. A few Catholic missionary efforts further north gave rise to small Christian communities, for example, in Bettiah, in the contemporary state of Bihar, where a local ruler patronised the mission (Kalapura, 2015). From the beginning of the eighteenth century, Protestant missionaries from Britain (Baptist, Anglican and Methodist), Germany (Lutheran and Reformed), other European countries and, later, North America were active in various areas, especially in the northeast, where up to 90% of the population of

Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  115 some small states became Christians (Kim and Kim, 2008). Thus, most of the converts were in outlying regions on the margins of the agrarian plains. Today, it is estimated that about 7% of Christians in India are Orthodox, nearly half Catholic, 40% Protestant and 6% members of indigenous churches, although figures from different sources vary. According to the 2001 census, about half live in the south Indian states of Kerala, Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh (Robinson, 2010, p. 153). Catholics are concentrated in Goa, Kerala and the city of Mumbai and are divided into 128 dioceses, with 14,000 diocesan priests, and 300 religious orders/​congregations (70 for men and 230 for women) (Robinson, 2006, p. 10). The links between missionary activity and British colonialism were complex. Initially the British East India Company was hostile to missionary activity lest it threaten its commercial activities, leading the early colonial government to fund Anglican churches and clergy to cater for its own employees. In the early nineteenth century, however, in response to pressure from missionaries and returned civil servants, a more tolerant view of missionary activity was adopted and, in the tribal areas in the northeast, it was encouraged. Especially in this region, the colonial government’s hope was that missionaries, through evangelisation and education, “would be able to civilize and domesticate the unmanageable tribes in a terrain hard to administer and govern directly” (Robinson, 2006, p. 4). However, uprisings against British rule and Hindu and Muslim opposition to missionary activities led in 1858 to the adoption of a policy of religious neutrality, which was “more or less adhered to for the rest of British rule and after much debate was essentially affirmed in [India’s] constitution in 1950… and in 1976 by the amendment that declared India a secular state” (Embree, 2006, p. 362). The influence of missionary activity varied between and within religious traditions and denominations. In the early nineteenth century, Catholic and mainline Protestant missionaries founded colleges for men and women and hundreds of schools, translated the Bible into many Indian languages and campaigned against social practices such as infanticide and sati (the immolation of widows on their husbands’ funeral pyres). At the same time, some Roman Catholic missionaries attempted to root Christianity in the Hindu cultural ethos and practices, including the caste system (Thangaraj, 2013). From the outset, both Catholic and Protestant missionaries had been faced with the dilemma of whether to seek to win over the high castes in the hope of changing society from the top down, especially through the provision of education, or to preach to the lowest castes. The social services they provided reflected these different strategies. From the mid-​nineteenth century, those pursuing the first strategy founded Christian tertiary education colleges, for women as well as men, to produce converts and church leaders (although in most, the majority of students were Hindu). In addition, from the early nineteenth century, almost all the missionary societies established hospitals in the areas where they worked and trained generations of nurses, who until 1947 were almost all Christian because nursing was considered an unsuitable occupation for women

116  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia by both Hindus and Muslims (Embree, 2006). From the 1860s onwards, medical missions were recognised as possible auxiliaries in proselytisation, and the numbers of medical missionaries, mission health facilities and patients treated increased. Using the 1910 Statistical Atlas of Christian Missions and data from the 2003 India World Health Survey in seven States, Calvi and Mantovanelli (2018) documented a positive association between proximity to a Protestant medical mission and both lower mortality rates in the 1930s and current individual health outcomes, probably driven by changes in health habits and access to maternal and child health care rather than conversion or the presence of infrastructure. At the same time, many missionaries engaged in charitable activities among the poor. While the mission societies continued to regard proselytising as important, many also started to stress ‘integral mission’, based on a holistic understanding of people and their well-​being as having both spiritual and bodily dimensions. In this approach, spiritual activities and training for church leaders sit alongside practical responses to social problems. The ways in which Christians were linked into political, trading and caste relationships and statuses therefore varied enormously, with some gaining access to political power and influence, lucrative trading opportunities and the potential for upward social mobility, while others remained socially disadvantaged (Louis, 2007; Robinson, 2006). The community became “influential and well-​ accepted …due to its vast network of education and health care institutions and social work initiatives” (Abreu, 2009, p. 66). Also, from the middle of the nineteenth century, there were mass conversions of ‘untouchables’, as individual caste groups saw opportunities to disengage themselves from oppressive caste structures and access government protection, socio-​economic opportunities and enhanced dignity and self-​respect, although often with little success, within or beyond the churches (Kim and Kim, 2008; Louis, 2007; Robinson, 2006; Thangaraj, 2013). Daughrity (2012, p. 248) estimates that about a quarter of Christians are from the upper castes, just over half are from the ‘untouchable’ castes and 15–​20% are from tribal backgrounds, although the Sachar Committee’s estimates show about one-​third in each category. In theory Christians do not recognise the institution of caste (see Chapter 1) but in practice the religious tradition is pervaded by aspects of caste-​related attitudes and behaviour. Underprivileged Christian groups today are constructing a category of ‘Dalit Christians’ and challenging their disadvantaged position, both within the churches and in wider society. These groups often try to forge links with other Dalit organisations by, for example, demanding that the benefits of reservation (aimed at Scheduled Castes) are extended to Dalit Christians. Within the churches, such efforts bring them into competition and conflict with upper caste and upper class, largely urban elites (Louis, 2007). Protestant missionary activity resulted in a multitude of denominational and national missions and churches. Starting in the first half of the twentieth century, lengthy negotiations led to the union of the mainline Protestant churches (episcopal and non-​episcopal) into the churches of South India,

Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  117 North India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. In 1947 the Anglican, Methodist, Congregational, Presbyterian and Reformed churches became the Church of South India (CSI), with 3.8 million members and 14,000 congregations in 21 dioceses. The Church of North India (CNI) was not inaugurated until 1970, with about 1.25 million adherents organised in 26 dioceses (Robinson, 2006). Although a self-​declared Islamic state, at independence Pakistan assured its two small religious minorities (Hindu and Christian, each with about a million adherents) of freedom of worship, as are the relatively small number of Bangladeshi Christians (0.4%, or about 600,000 adherents). As in India, the Protestant churches in Pakistan and Bangladesh formed unions, in 1970 and 1971, respectively. In the latter, the largest churches are Roman Catholic and Baptist (and Christians are a majority in tribal areas along the border with India). Sri Lankan Christians were a powerful minority in the sixth and seventh centuries, but today’s Christians have more recent origins –​Roman Catholics since the sixteenth century and Protestants since the Dutch colonial period. With equal numbers of Tamil and Sinhalese adherents, the Roman Catholic Church is said to be an important facilitator of Christian-​Buddhist dialogue (Kim and Kim, 2008). While the Christian churches have played disproportionately large social roles through the networks of education, health and other facilities and development programmes they run, today many members of these minority communities are both relatively poor and subject to everyday discrimination and periodic attacks. For example, although the Christian churches fared somewhat better than the Hindu community during the years after Pakistan was formed in 1947, Christian colleges were mostly taken over by the government, while attacks on churches and Christians, often for alleged blasphemy or their perceived association with American attacks on Muslims in Afghanistan or elsewhere, have increased in recent years (Embree, 2006).2 The social roles of Christian organisations since independence The social welfare roles played by missionary orders and societies and their relationships with governments evolved throughout the colonial period, so that in many contexts, political independence was marked by the continuation of existing practices and links, although there were also discontinuities in policy, practices and organisational arrangements. After independence, European paternalism and the sense of cultural and racial superiority with which many missions were associated remained strong in some missionary orders and societies and the mainline denominations with which they were linked. In addition, foreign funding was available to support the existing mainline churches until the middle of the twentieth century, so the aim of establishing autonomous churches/​ denominations initially progressed only slowly. However, unlike NGOs, the key institutional innovation of congregational religion has taken root and become self-​replicating (Burchardt and Swidler, 2020; Swidler, 2013). During the post-​independence period, three main trends affecting Christian

118  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia churches can be identified, each with earlier roots and implications for their social roles: first, continued or new attempts by the older-​established mainline churches to adapt to postcolonial political, economic, social and religious developments; second, the continued emergence of indigenous alternatives to inherited denominational structures; and, third, the growth of charismatic/​ evangelical Christianity. Alongside changes in the political contexts in which the churches operate, government and international aid agency policies, and the nature of transnational relationships, these trends have influenced their ongoing social roles in ways that are explored in the remainder of this chapter. Because the available research is rarely comparative and is selective and uneven in its coverage of activities, churches and geographical contexts, the contemporary social engagement of Christian religious organisations cannot be comprehensively described and assessed. Instead, the available research on their social involvement is considered, with a view to suggesting explanations of perceived trends and patterns, identifying internal and external influences on the nature of their social involvement, examining the financial and organisational arrangements which have evolved and assessing some of the outcomes. The social objectives associated with mainline churches’ attempts to adapt and address the need for internal renewal

The earlier and larger denominations and the missionary orders and societies associated with them continued to institutionalise (and, gradually, to indigenise) their governance and organisational arrangements, although efforts to indigenise the churches were often accompanied by leadership struggles, initially between foreign and local domination of leadership positions, and later between men and women, as the latter challenged male leadership. They were also influenced by the mission churches’ and orders’ theological and human links to and financial dependence on their parent denominations. Especially since the 1970s, in the face of social change, increased inequality, continued middle class domination of church leadership and institutions (e.g. education) and the loss of members to newer churches, revivalist movements emerged within the historical missionary churches, sometimes resulting in schisms and the founding of offshoot churches (Caplan, 1991; Lindhardt, 2015). For example, Anderson (2013, pp. 213–​4) estimates that about half of the 10 million+​Catholics in India have been affected by charismatic revivalist movements. These pressures have influenced churches’ theological evolution, social relationships within and beyond their own organisations, their presence in the public sphere (through popular culture, public debate and engagement in politics) and their desire and ability to provide social services (Lindhardt, 2015). After independence, the mainline churches continued to provide social and welfare services based on their existing institutional infrastructure of hospitals, clinics, schools and orphanages, etc., especially to underserved populations in rural areas. Comprehensive analyses of their social welfare activities are lacking, although a few studies analyse a whole country, activity sector or

Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  119 denomination. For example, Trinitapoli and Weinreb (2012) report on an in-​ depth study of the HIV/​AIDS-​related engagement of churches (and mosques) in Malawi, covering awareness, prevention, combating stigma and caregiving for the sick and orphans at the national, denominational, local and congregational levels. Barrera (2019) attempts to provide an overview of the contemporary social welfare and development work of Roman Catholic orders and congregations known for their missionary work in ‘emerging nations’, by reporting on a descriptive survey of their extensive contemporary activities in the health, education and social service sectors. Despite having to rely on the websites of those organisations which have them, he concludes that there is sufficient evidence to substantiate their claims that today they reach the very poor with integrated programmes in remote locations, provide long-​term services, develop and maintain local trust and moral authority, and adapt to social change, while admitting that his ability to evaluate their claims, assess criticisms of their activities and ascertain their impact is limited. The priorities and characteristics of the Catholic Church have changed over time, most significantly since the 1960s, when the Second Vatican Council (1962–​5) agreed that the priorities of the worldwide Church should be to indigenise, inculturate (adapt to local cultures) and pursue social justice. Basic Christian (or Ecclesial) Communities (BCCs, BECs) were first established in Latin America, with the aim of revitalising the Church by empowering ordinary Catholics, partly to counter clerical authority and control, but also to enable the Church to challenge unjust social structures (Holden, 2009). The movement spread internationally, although its aims, leaders, forms and outcomes vary between dioceses and localities. After independence in Africa, for example, BECs were established to support Catholics in areas where priests were stretched (Kollman, 2012; Maxwell, 2006). Available studies indicate that those who become members of BCCs/​BECs generally have positive opinions about the social support they provide, although many remain liturgical groups that have not engaged in social action. In Africa, studies of BCCs/​BECs are available for urban Zambia and Kenya, eastern Uganda, Burkina Faso and rural Malawi (Bodewes, 2010; Hickey, 2005; Jones, 2013; Somé, 2001; Von Doepp, 2002). These studies show that their ability to transform the Church or make an impact in their sociopolitical contexts is limited, in part because they are a top-​down initiative dependent on clerical leadership, and in part because of the strength of the structural constraints that result in widespread poverty. Many links between mainline churches in the North, their denominational or ecumenical development arms and their overseas branches (mostly now independent churches with their own development arms) have been maintained post-​independence, but there are few independent studies of their characteristics, the changing nature of their relationships and the implications for their social and development activities. As noted in Chapter 3, these relationships may be conceptualised as aid chains or networks, within which financial flows, power and influence are unequally distributed, with implications for the approach adopted by an indigenous organisation and the evolution and

120  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia sustainability of the transnational relationships. Morse and McNamara provide a study of a partnership between Catholic organisations in Europe and Nigeria (see Box 5.1) and Wiles and Mallonee (2020) analyse a recent positive partnership between an American FBO and local churches in the water and sanitation sector in urban Zimbabwe. Although Bradley, in her study of the links between a donor faith-​based NGO, village communities and intermediate organisations in Rajasthan, India (see Box 5.2), does not conceptualise them as an aid chain, her study is another example. Initially, the limited capacity of newly independent governments and the coming into power of indigenous political leaders who were members of the mainline denominations enabled the latter to continue providing education and health services, especially in rural areas, and often to diversify into areas such as water, the promotion of women’s empowerment and care for the environment, using their track record and international connections to access funding from church bodies overseas and, later, aid agencies (Maxwell, 2006). However, the adoption of government-​led approaches to achieving development objectives and the desire of governments to take charge of national health care and education provision meant that the relationships between religious and government providers often became tense and contradictory. Especially under leaders with socialist ideologies, missionaries and the mainline churches lost control over some or all education and health provision. For example, Christian educational facilities in Ghana were nationalised in 1959 and in Mozambique in 1975, and Catholic institutions in Burkina Faso in 1969 (Somé, 2001). Relationships between religious organisations and governments with respect to the roles of the former in the provision of social services continued to change. Some governments sought to take on these roles themselves, retaining access to the infrastructure and services provided by religious organisations to realise their policy objectives and/​ or negotiate changes to existing arrangements. In some countries, disputes over the ownership of land and buildings and the varying availability of trained staff, as well as problems of funding and government mismanagement, jeopardised continued cooperation and service delivery. Elsewhere, cooperation between the government and religious service providers meant that the latter continued to make a significant contribution. For example, in Cameroon, while the French part of the Catholic medical mission Ad Lucem withered, the mission Africanised its work, becoming the second largest provider of health care after the state (although in the eyes of some, its health care targets and mechanisms to ensure accountability have distracted its attention from proselytisation) (Taithe, 2012). Today, the Cameroonian government and external funders have both maintained long-​ standing and forged new collaborative arrangements with several types of Christian health providers. The result is a complex health system, with effects on the quality of care and training provided, coordination and accountability (Herzig van Wees, 2020; Herzig van Wees and Jennings, 2021; Herzig van Wees et al., 2021). Some of the outcomes of nationalisation and the ongoing negotiation of relations between service providers, governments and overseas funders are explored with respect to education in Chapter 7.

Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  121 Box 5.1  An international aid chain in Nigeria: The complexities of religious partnership Morse and McNamara (2006) analyse a partnership between the development arm of one of the six dioceses of Abuja Ecclesiastical Province, Nigeria (the ‘diocesan development agency’ (DDA)) and an unnamed major Roman Catholic organisation in Europe labelled ‘the donor’. Each diocese in Nigeria has a Justice, Development and Peace Commission (or DDA), the performance of which “depends on longevity, capacity and connections [plus] … . potential sources of assistance” (p. 328). Between the 1960s and the 1990s, missionaries played a significant role in the Justice, Development and Peace Commission (JDPC) system. Although by the 1990s there were few non-​Nigerians in senior positions in the DDAs, the DDA under study was coordinated during the whole period by a European member of a missionary order. Between 1972 and 1998 it was supported by a European Catholic donor agency, which assisted with the costs of personnel and basic facilities. Initially modest, the volume of assistance for personnel, administrative and technical inputs increased after positive evaluations in 1976, 1982 and 1997, enabling improvements in agricultural technology and the provision of health care at the diocesan level. However, dependence on a donor was accompanied by increased interference in the affairs of the DDA, including pushing for rapid indigenisation of its leadership and imposing trials of imported agricultural technologies, as well as, in 1998, unilaterally ceasing to fund it. In Morse and McNamara’s view, the donor failed to understand both the constraints on rapidly indigenising the DDA’s leadership and the Nigerian agro-​ecological context, as well as occasionally failing to communicate the reasons for its decisions. From the perspective of the DDA leadership team, neither replacement of the coordinator nor the introduction of imported agricultural technologies was feasible. When imposed by the donor, they had adverse or contradictory outcomes. Despite rapid staff turnover in the donor organisation and a lack of local understanding and expertise, its position as the main funder enabled it to exercise power over the DDA. Nevertheless, the relationship between the two organisations was, for much of the 35-​year period studied, characterised by extensive dialogue, mutual appreciation and interdependence. It was, in Morse and McNamara’s view, a partnership that was sufficiently valued by both partners to survive the donor’s unilateral cessation of funding.

122  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Box 5.2  Local links in the aid chain: Case studies in Rajasthan, India Bradley (2005, 2006, 2009a, b) examines in detail some local links in the aid chain, focusing on a donor faith-​based NGO, village communities in rural Rajasthan and Gandhian organisations that play intermediary roles between the two. Her analysis brings together two perspectives. First, she is concerned with the design and implementation of development projects intended to improve the lives of Rajasthani villages, in particular the ways in which external and intermediary organisations seek to understand village communities and work with them to plan interventions. Second, she uses ethnographic approaches to provide insights into the local social context and explores ways in which these could be utilised by development organisations to improve their understanding and thus work more successfully. Based on ethnographic studies produced by others and insights from her own fieldwork (Bradley, 2006), she explores how Rajasthani women are portrayed –​ their position in society, their gendered roles and their experiences of domestic violence. The perspectives and work of the donor and intermediary organisations are then examined, with reference to the ways they understand women’s lives and how this understanding influences their approaches and the outcomes of their work. In 2001 she observed a UK-​based Christian donor organisation which had, despite setbacks, been working in an area of rural Rajasthan for nearly 20 years. Members were committed Christians (Anglican and Roman Catholic). The organisation sought to forge relationships with poor rural people and had made important contributions to improving water harvesting and conservation and increasing literacy, based on the Christian notion of compassion and images of Jesus helping the poor. These underlie the organisation’s dedication, long-​ term commitment and desire to assist the poor. However, Bradley comments, “Compassion operates through symbolic projections of an objectified image of suffering. In order for compassion to be expressed it must be directed towards an object of pity” (Bradley, 2005, p. 341). To generate funds from its supporters in the UK, Bradley argues, the organisation constructs and uses an “image of the suffering Rajasthani villager [which] is fictitious and blocks the emergence of a complex picture of life in this region” (p. 337). Rajasthani women are portrayed as lacking agency and universally poor. Her own ethnographic work and that of others, she argues, show that this is an oversimplified picture, and blinds the donor organisation to villagers’ experiences and real needs, because it blocks dialogue between the visitors, workers in the intermediary organisations and the villagers themselves. The donor organisation’s assumption that it understands villagers’ needs means that it believes that its actions will, because they

Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  123 are motivated by compassion, bring good results and benefit the less fortunate. In practice, this prevents accurate diagnoses of problems and careful assessment of its impact. The donor organisation works with local intermediary organisations, assuming that by doing so, it will be providing interventions which villagers want. It perceives these organisations, which are based on Gandhian religio-​ philosophical ideas, as appropriate local partners in a largely Hindu context (Bradley 2009b). However, Bradley’s observations reveal differences between intermediary organisations –​one had developed trusting relationships with (groups of) villagers and had a good understanding of their situation and preferences, while others were less deeply rooted. Dialogue between the donor organisation, one of its partner organisations and a group of women engaged in sex work was, she observed, inhibited by preconceived ideas, and resulted in a less than successful project to assist the women and their children (Bradley, 2005, 2010). In contrast, the working methods of another illustrate the value of an in-​depth understanding of Hinduism in building trust and good working relations between the donor organisation and its local partner and providing support for victims of domestic violence (Bradley, 2009a, 2009b, 2010). Today the Roman Catholic Church in India continues to run a range of educational institutions, from kindergartens to the tertiary level, and engages in many other social welfare activities including health services (dispensaries and 704 hospitals), orphanages and homes for the destitute, disabled and aged (Embree, 2006). The CSI and CNI’s social service wings took over most of the institutions established by the mainline Protestant denominations. Each now runs a large number of schools, colleges and vocational training centres, as well as rural development projects dealing with livelihoods and food security, indigenous rights and gender equality (Robinson, 2006, pp. 10–​11). In contrast to Hinduism and Islam, the churches’ social engagement is characterised by formal religious organisations. For example, in Maharashtra, a state in which a mere 1% of the population is Christian, a snowball sample of 133 religious organisations in the cities of Pune and Nagpur identified 70 Christian organisations, compared to 30 Hindu (80% of the population) and 18 Muslim (11% of the population) (Jodhka and Bora, 2009, 2012). Since the 1970s, the political and economic difficulties experienced by countries following a government-​ led development model have led donor governments and agencies, especially the IMF and the World Bank, to insist on political and economic liberalisation. These resulted in democratisation and increased the scope for for-​ profit and not-​ for-​ profit non-​ government organisations to become involved in economic activities and the provision of social services. The implications of these developments for the engagement of religious organisations in the education sector are discussed in Chapter 7.

124  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia The social roles of locally initiated churches

A second trend was the emergence of indigenous alternatives to inherited denominational structures. Öhlmann et al. (2020) distinguish three waves of African initiated Christianity: secessionist movements from the mainline churches in search of greater autonomy, followed in the early twentieth century by churches that synthesise African spiritual worldviews with Christian beliefs (such as the Aladura churches in West and Zionist/​Apostolic churches in southern Africa) and, from the 1970s on, Pentecostal churches that have much in common with both the second wave African Initiated Churches (AICs) and American Pentecostalism, although the prosperity gospel they preach mostly attracts adherents from the upwardly mobile urban middle classes (see also Freeman, 2012). For much of the twentieth century AICs were small, poorly endowed and generally refused to participate in politics and development activities, lest such engagement should interfere with evangelisation. Today, some locally initiated congregations have grown into sizeable churches and their members constitute a significant proportion of Christians in some countries (estimated at 44% in Ghana and South Africa, 34% in Nigeria and 28% in Kenya) (Öhlmann et al., 2020, 11; see also Burgess, 2020). Their view that individuals are responsible for leading moral lives and their foregrounding of family life tend to be associated with socially conservative views, affecting their attitudes to gender equality and sexual rights. In addition, belief in the power of prayer and spiritual healing influences their approaches to ill health. In the early days of these churches, their priorities were the planting of new churches and training their leaders, with welfare activities mainly confined to their own members. While they play important roles in local associational life, their practical support to poor communities is mostly small scale and informal. For example, in South Africa it appears to focus mainly on initiatives such as ROSCAs and burial societies (Bompani, 2010, 2015, p. 106) However, as they have grown, they have become involved in larger scale welfare and relief activities, which are described in a variety of accounts (e.g. see Adeboye, 2020 and Burgess, 2020 on the Redeemed Christian Church of God in Nigeria). Öhlmann et al.’s (2020) edited collection includes theological reflections on the links between AICs’ values, beliefs and conceptions of development and descriptions of their social welfare activities in Nigeria, Ghana, Burkina Faso, Zimbabwe and South Africa. The purpose of the research was to identify the potential of AICs as actors in social welfare and partners with funding agencies, so the case studies, which are mostly based on the knowledge and opinions of the contributors and a small number of interviews with church leaders, are limited and descriptive. As might be expected in the absence of independent in-​depth analysis, the conclusions are positive, although some possible pitfalls are also identified. Overall, however, there has been very little independent research on the characteristics and outcomes of the social welfare programmes of locally initiated churches.

Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  125 The evolving social roles of Pentecostal and evangelical churches

A third major trend has been the growth of Pentecostal and evangelical Christianity. Religious revival in the southern US in the first half of the twentieth century was a reaction to the increasingly middle class and settled nature of the established Protestant churches and their perceived abandonment of evangelism in favour of social action. The priority given by evangelical and Pentecostal Christians to conversion was rooted in their belief in the imminent second coming of Jesus Christ and led, as noted above, to a dramatic increase in overseas missionary work by American missionaries (Adogame, 2010; Anderson, 2013; Hearn, 2002; Lindhardt, 2015; Martin, 2001; Pew Forum, 2006, 2010; Pew Research Center, 2011; see also Rakodi, 2019, pp. 84, 104–​5, 121–​2). Pentecostal churches were established in many parts of the world, including SSA and southern Asia, as a result of both foreign (especially American) and indigenous missionary activity. For example, Pentecostal missionaries started to operate in SSA, especially in South Africa and Liberia, in the early years of the twentieth century. Over the next 50 years, Pentecostal churches were established all over the subcontinent (Burgess, 2020; Lindhardt, 2015). The first Pentecostal churches were established in southern India at the same time and one estimate suggests that, a hundred years later, 20% of South Indian Protestants are Pentecostals (Kim and Kim, 2008, p. 196). Initially, ‘born again’ Christians’ belief that conversion would lead to better life habits and the promotion of a ‘prosperity gospel’ meant that escaping poverty was seen as a largely individual or family matter. Although attention was paid to providing practical assistance to those in need, this was ad hoc and seen by both American missionaries and local preachers and converts as a moral responsibility rather than an integral part of evangelism (Ware et al., 2013). However, thinking in Pentecostal churches and charismatic movements about the balance between evangelism and social concern has changed over time, with many evangelical and Pentecostal Christians worldwide starting in recent years to engage more with social and political matters (Burgess, 2020). Today, many share a vision of ‘Christian development’, ‘integral mission’ and ‘lifestyle evangelism’, although this change of emphasis is not universal and has sometimes been contentious. For example, competition between the theologically and socially liberal and conservative wings of Protestantism, especially in the US, has implications for their international activities (Blevins, 2019). As evangelical and Pentecostal churches in Africa and Asia have grown and their funding base expanded, their engagement in health, education, livelihoods support and sometimes advocacy has increased, as shown in Burgess’s (2020) in-​ depth account of Pentecostalism in Nigeria. As well as having more resources for social programmes, they have, as Burgess demonstrates, become more institutionalised, although compared to the mainline churches they are still rather fragmented and often lack the organisational structures and specialised

126  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia wings that might take a lead on development activities, human rights issues or political engagement. Evolving ideas about how to respond to the religiously inspired desire to alleviate suffering and poverty are not confined to evangelical churches and movements, as illustrated by the contrast between the indigenous Pakistani charitable and welfare organisations analysed by Kirmani (2012) and Caritas Pakistan –​the latter’s focus on community development and empowerment is influenced by its exposure to Catholic social teaching and international development discourse and policy, reinforced by its different funding sources. International development policy and funding also account for the similarities between the aims and approaches of religious and secular organisations addressing social needs elsewhere, for example, in Uganda (Jones, 2013). A trend associated with the expansion of evangelical and Pentecostal churches and their increased engagement in social welfare has been the emergence of autonomous or semi-​autonomous religious NGOs, which may be affiliates of a denomination, non-​denominational ecumenical organisations or independent of any religious body. Some are extremely large, although many, based on initiatives by individuals, remain small. The largest Christian organisations with social roles originated and are based in the Global North (especially the US) and many operate at scale in multiple contexts in the Global South. According to King (2011), by 2004/​5, six of the ten largest American international NGOs (INGOs) were religious organisations (accounting for almost half of total INGO revenue). Their denominational affiliation has changed over time. In 1940, 38% of US-​based relief and development NGOs were associated with the Catholic Church, 15% with the mainline Protestant denominations and 7% with evangelical churches (as well as 25% with Jewish and other religious groups). By 2004/​5, 45% were associated with evangelical churches, 11% with the mainline Protestant denominations, 9% with the Catholic Church and 7% were ecumenical (as well as 5% Jewish and 2% Muslim and other). In the 1990s, Kniss and Campbell (1997) analysed 57 US religious and relief/​ development organisations, using financial reports and the tax returns that larger organisations are required to file, together with their mission statements and narrative descriptions. Alongside their relief and development activities, many were engaged in evangelism, church extension and religious leadership/​theological training. About 40% provided funding for the programmes of other organisations in their target countries and 45% operated their own programmes. A more recent study by Heist and Cnaan (2016), based on the tax records of international development charities in the US, found that 59% (of the total of 3,505 such organisations) were faith-​based. Many of these are small, raising funds to support a relief effort or project sponsored by an individual church. Information from the websites of a small sample of these charities did not reveal any significant difference in the kinds of service provided by them and non-​religious organisations. The larger religious organisations receive

Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  127 substantial funding from the US government. However, to maintain their independence, they seek to depend less on it than non-​religious organisations. Unlike the many studies that focus on American religious organisations, Vander Zaag (2013) examines the access of Canadian religious NGOs (almost all Christian) to official Canadian aid funds. He finds that faith-​based NGOs comprise about a sixth of all Canadian civil society organisations involved in international development assistance but consistently received about a third of the government funding over the 15-​year period prior to his study. From this he deduces that the Canadian government considers religious NGOs to be at least as capable and effective as their secular peers, underpinned by the willingness of most to maintain a distinction between evangelism and secular relief and development work and to adopt results-​focused approaches to programme management. He also notes that their membership-​based fundraising capability means that they can avoid becoming mere contractors to the government aid agency. Their development programme is strongly oriented to short-​ term relief and food security, through the Canadian Foodgrains Bank, the specialised humanitarian assistance arm of 15 denominational organisations, which receives two-​thirds of all the funds allocated to religious organisations. This focus on relief, food security and rural communities, he suggests, reflects not only the biblical narrative that emphasises ‘feeding the hungry’ but also a preference for working in contexts where development problems are more easily understood as natural than social or political. By 2013, the four US-​based international development organisations with the largest volumes of private support were religious organisations: Food for the Poor, World Vision, Feed the Children and Compassion International, which together accounted for a quarter of the total donations for international activities (down from a peak in 2008 due to the impact of the financial crisis on charitable giving). Large North American NGOs and religious organisations alike have prominent public profiles and widespread name recognition in both the US and aid-​receiving countries, good connections with governments and international agencies, substantial incomes from individual donors as well as national and international sources, and full-​time professional staff. Their histories, approaches and programmes are typically well documented, usually by themselves or their supporters, resulting in accounts that are often descriptive or promotional. The independent studies that are available also focus disproportionately on these large transnational religious organisations, especially World Vision (see Box 5.3) and Tearfund (Box 5.4), partly because aid agencies are interested in these potential collaborators and partly because they are relatively accessible to researchers. However, others do not appear to have been the subject of independent research and published assessments of the outcomes and impact of their relief, welfare and development activities are, given the scale of the sector and the size of some of the organisations, surprisingly scarce. Unlike the large transnational FBOs, the ongoing social roles of churches, congregations and small organisations that work in Africa and Asia have

128  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia generally been neglected by independent researchers (although for exceptions see the research on Malawi by Trinitapoli and Weinreb referred to above; Burgess’s research on the relationship between Pentecostal spirituality and development in Nigeria (Burgess, 2020); and Schnable, 2016). The case studies presented in Boxes 5.3 and 5.4 do not examine the dynamics of the transnational relationships in which the WVI and Tearfund country programmes are embedded in any depth, even though the roles and operations of churches and other religious organisations in SSA and southern Asia are clearly affected by their relationships not only with the governments of these countries but also those with their transnational partners, both religious and secular. In contrast, Burgess’s (2020) detailed but essentially descriptive account is concerned with the evolution of various Pentecostal churches distinguished by their theological and sociological characteristics and links with diasporic communities, influenced by various contextual factors including Pentecostalism’s encounters with Islam. Unusually, Schnable’s (2016) study focuses on small religious organisations in the US, which have proliferated since the late 1990s. It is centrally concerned with their transnational links. Typically started by individuals with ties to a developing country through immigration, work or previous tourism, she finds that these organisations face legitimacy problems among both potential supporters and their partners overseas. In this situation, she suggests, Religion affords particular resources to groups that operate outside the budgets and professional paradigms of large-​scale aid. First, it provides frames, or ways of thinking about relief and development work that imbue [such groups] with legitimacy. … .. Second, religion can offer networks for recruiting donors and volunteers, and for gaining entrée into aid-​receiving communities. Finally, religion affords modes of action that link the NGO, supporters, and local aid recipients. (pp. 229–​30) Although she does not examine the practical value or effectiveness of multiple small development organisations and their partnerships, these modes of action, she suggests, enable the organisations and their founders to forge affective bonds with both their American supporters and their Southern counterparts, inter alia identifying suitable tasks for American volunteers. Concluding comments The engagement of Christian organisations, initially missionary and later indigenous, in social welfare activities in South Asia and SSA is motivated by biblical teaching and charitable aims that focus on the provision of assistance to the poor and vulnerable but may extend to activities that seek to tackle the structural factors underlying poverty and inequality at the individual, family and societal levels. Contemporary patterns of engagement can only be

Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  129 Box 5.3  World Vision International (WVI) Bornstein’s 1990s study of World Vision’s work in Zimbabwe (2001, 2002, 2005) is complemented by that of King (2011), creating a rounded picture of the largest Christian humanitarian organisation and the eighth largest humanitarian organisation in the US, with offices in nearly 100 countries and about 40,000 employees. King discusses the organisation’s American evangelical origins and changes in its identity, conceptualisation of its mission and operational practices between its founding in 1950 and the 1970s (see also King, 2019, in which he elaborates on his earlier history of the organisation). World Vision was founded during the Korean War to raise funds to support missionaries and orphans. From its early days, it focused on child sponsorship as a reliable way of generating a significant income stream from large numbers of evangelical Christians keen to support foreign missions. By the 1960s, its growth and new partnerships necessitated a more sophisticated planning and delivery system and improved accountability. Taking advantage of television for fundraising in the 1970s, it began to express its message in more general Christian terms. It also, with the assistance of a grant from USAID in 1975, expanded its support for individual orphans to large-​scale programmes, with the proportion of its funds going to relief and development increasing to 90%. Its operations changed in response to its operational experiences and changes in the wider environment. These included

• The shift in global evangelicalism to integrate evangelism, social • • • •

concerns and development work, reflected in its dropping of the term ‘evangelism’ in favour of ‘Christian witness’ The formation of partnerships with Christians of other denominations and Muslim organisations Internationalisation of its funding and governance, following challenges from its own staff Acceptance of the need to play an advocacy role, previously seen as political meddling Increased employment of trained professionals –​although it continues to ask its Christian staff to profess their faith, it sometimes employs non-​Christians.

Bornstein set out to compare the work of WV in Zimbabwe in 1996–​ 7 with that of Christian Care (CC), the development arm of the Zimbabwe Council of Churches (the association of the mainline Christian denominations), by means of a case study of two rural development projects in different parts of the country. Her field work was

130  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia accomplished by accompanying staff members of WV’s country programme to project sites and interviews with members of WVI and CC’s staff in their Harare offices and WVI staff in its US offices in 1994. She found many similarities between the two organisations:

• A shared holistic approach to poverty and well-​being as having both spiritual and material dimensions

• A commitment to bearing witness through ‘lifestyle evangelism’, in which development has a moral and religious basis by which a Christian witnesses to Christ by living a life characterised by love and caring for others. Such a witness, it is hoped, might inspire non-​ Christians to seek conversion • A strategy of working ecumenically with other churches, local communities and the state (although staff members’ respect for indigenous religious beliefs varied) • A long-​term presence (WV had been present since the 1970s, when it began assisting children orphaned during the independence struggle). The faith base of Christian Care and the spiritual lives of its staff arise from its “structural linkages to local churches that constitute its membership and governing bodies”, whereas for the employees of WVI in the US and Zimbabwe “corporate rituals provide structure for the faith of its employees and recipients of its aid” (Bornstein, 2002, p. 6). Thus, in its Harare office, religion framed employees’ day-​to-​day work world: prayers reinforced the idea of a WV community linking employees in the US with those in the country office and engaged in field activities, while religion provided a moral standard by which they judged the organisation and each other, enforced through codes of behaviour and prayer. For the organisation and many of its employees, therefore, while their Christian faith provided a motivation for engaging in development work, a discourse offering the potential for transformative spiritual and material change, and a basis for mutual support, it also required conformity and was thus, in Bornstein’s view, a means of exercising corporate discipline (Bornstein, 2002). Bornstein describes WVI’s view of the role of child sponsorship in forming personal links across national borders and cultures and identifies some contradictions inherent in these links. She also notes that the organisation’s conceptions of individual, social and economic transformation and well-​being are compatible with (government-​espoused) neoliberal approaches to economic development but does not discuss the potential contradictions between this view and the widening inequality that generally accompanies such economic policies. Instead, she locates responsibility for development among those targeted rather than the wider political and economic forces that constrain it, or the moral intolerance

Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  131 sanctioned by the religious tradition with which it is associated, which may exacerbate social exclusion (Connor, 2011). Today the organisation focuses on relief, large-​scale community development programmes and advocacy. It is widely seen as successful, with many attributing its success to its ability to reconcile an evangelical motivation with secular approaches to development and management, although King (2011) argues that this fails to capture its ability to re-​articulate and maintain its religious identity in the face of the need to appeal to broader audiences internationally, in the US and in the countries where it works, work with new partners and transform its operations. Mitchell (2017) uses a set of eight reports produced by country offices in various eastern European and African countries where WV Australia works to assess its ability to partner with local churches. He identifies considerable potential but also notes that informants in the countries studied reported that many local churches lack organisational capacity and are socially passive, resistant to change, stuck in a charitable paradigm, and adhere to teachings which are incompatible with development goals. WVI has developed and implemented a variety of approaches in one or more settings and some independent evaluations of these are available. For example, Bartelink and Wilson (2020) describe the outcomes of its Channels of Hope (CoH) programme, which seeks to challenge attitudes and behaviour related to gender inequality and gender-​based violence among Christians in ten communities in five Sub-​Saharan African countries. They find evidence of increased awareness among individuals and religious leaders following participation in the CoH programme, but comment that the programme itself does not address the structural roots of gender inequality. Le Roux and Olivier (2020) examine a specific ‘toolset’ used in the programme to address gender dimensions and other issues. A Training of Trainers approach has been used for years by development organisations. This study evaluates its use by WVI in religious contexts in South Africa and Uganda, identifying both benefits and challenges associated with its implementation. Today, among other approaches, WVI advocates an approach to livelihoods improvement that embraces the psychosocial dimensions of poverty. Alongside constraints in their local and wider environments which limit access to livelihood opportunities, it seeks to address supposed ‘dependency mindsets’. The aim is to empower individuals as part of an integrated approach to improving livelihoods. Developed in 2016 as part of a livelihood improvement programme in Tanzania, this approach is seen as a tool to address fatalism and motivate individual and community action. It is now being used in other sectors and 26 countries, mainly in SSA, but also in India. A recent evaluation of the Empowered Worldview Training programme among poor smallholder farmers in Zambia documented generally positive results (Lenhardt et al., 2021, 2023).

132  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Box 5.4  Tearfund: A UK-​based evangelical Christian NGO Tearfund was established in 1968 and today is one of the ten largest development NGOs in the UK, working in more than 50 countries (Freeman, 2018, 2020; see also Powell and Boyd, 2019). It has worked less with evangelical missionaries than with local churches, which in the 1970s were setting up their own development wings. It separated its evangelical and relief and development work in the late 1970s and shifted its focus from relief to development in the 1990s. Since then, in conjunction with the Micah Network of 500+​evangelical relief and development agencies in more than 80 countries, it has sought to develop ideas of ‘Christian development’ and ‘integral mission’. Today, about one-​third of its funds is devoted to disaster response and nearly one-​third to community development programmes. A significant proportion of the latter is used to fund its Church and Community Mobilisation Programme (CCM), which it has supported through local churches in 41 countries since the turn of the century. This programme seeks to change individual attitudes and beliefs, strengthen social relationships and improve material well-​ being (Copestake et al., 2019). Funded mostly through private donations, Tearfund seeks to work with local churches and congregations to build self-​ belief and agency, promote social mobilisation and support partnerships between congregations and local communities. It seeks to facilitate a five-​step process through which, starting with Bible study, churches, congregations and communities can agree their own priorities, identify local resources, develop their own vision and plan for its realisation. Tearfund trains facilitators in the churches (who in turn train facilitators in individual congregations) and provides technical knowledge (including livelihood training). The organisation has operated in Uganda since 1973 and currently works with 11 local Christian agencies in 30 districts; by 2017 it estimated that it had reached 300 congregations, partnering with the Church of Uganda (the second largest denomination in this predominantly Christian country) and the smaller Pentecostal Assemblies of God. A 2016 study in two districts where, unlike in Uganda as a whole, the incidence of poverty had been increasing, provided mixed but generally positive feedback on the CCM approach (Copestake et al., 2019). However, Daehnhardt (2020) identifies some barriers to the mobilisation of churches, associated with tensions within and between churches and their local communities, and between the priorities and objectives of Tearfund’s own headquarters and country offices.

Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  133 understood by tracing the history of missions and acknowledging their close but contradictory relationships with both colonial and post-​ independence governments. As outlined in Chapter 3, the theological beliefs held by religious organisations, their political and institutional relationships and their organisational arrangements vary between denominations and have evolved over time. However, the comparative historical studies needed to fully understand their implications for organisations’ contemporary approaches to welfare and development are scarce. Studies conducted by ‘insiders’, which are often descriptive and uncritical, are of limited value in making balanced assessments of the operations and outcomes of Christian organisations’ activities, while many of the available independent studies have been conducted by Northern researchers, influencing the perspectives adopted and the organisations and topics covered. Many studies are concerned with religious organisations based in the Global North and are often case studies of individual organisations or programmes, so the scope for identifying general patterns and explanations is limited. Independence was marked by both continuities and discontinuities in policies, practices, and organisational and governance arrangements. The institutionalisation and indigenisation of missionary churches and organisations, albeit at a pace that varied between denominations and economic and sociopolitical contexts, the emergence of locally initiated churches and the growth of evangelical/​Pentecostal Christianity are reflected in different ways in the social roles of Christian organisations. In both SSA and South Asia, they have each had implications for Christian organisational structures, the social roles of Christian bodies and relations between churches, secular organisations, governments and transnational organisations. Evolving theological thinking, the organisational structures associated with different Christian denominations pre-​and post-​independence, and the close if sometimes contradictory links between political and bureaucratic actors and churches help to explain the important (and sometimes disproportionate) roles that local, national and international Christian organisations play in the provision of social and welfare services. The available studies illustrate the variety of institutional arrangements characterising Christian bodies in different contexts, their embeddedness in local social and political relationships, and their transnational links (see Chapter 2). These are influenced by and have implications for their theological perspectives, conceptions of development and well-​being, funding and day-​to-​day operation. International links can facilitate innovation and foster the independence of indigenous organisations. However, they can also give rise to tensions related to the aid-​giving/​recipient relationship and a tendency to instrumentalise local organisations, while external organisations’ failure to participate in religious spaces and understand the differences between the ideas and practices of different religious traditions can undermine their appreciation of local perspectives, understanding of their partner organisations and ability to design and implement successful interventions (Wilkinson and Kraft, 2020). Overall, given the number and scale of Christian organisations, their involvement in welfare and anti-​poverty initiatives and their national

134  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia and transnational organisational structures and links, the limited scope and coverage of recent independent research is remarkable. Notes 1 The usual definition of missionaries as members of a religious group sent to evangelise or witness tends to focus attention on foreign missions, even though many missionary activities are undertaken by adherents in their own country. The contribution of the latter to evangelism and church expansion, the indigenisation of foreign churches and the provision of locally initiated religious and social services has, as a result, often been overlooked. 2 See also Shaikh (2018, pp. 77–​8) on the political marginalisation of Hindus and Christians in Pakistan.

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Christian organisations in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia  137 King, D.P. (2011) World Vision: religious identity in the discourse and practice of global relief and development, The Review of Faith and International Affairs, 9, 3, 21–​8. King, D.P. (2019) God’s Internationalists: World Vision and the Age of Evangelical Humanitarianism, Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press. Kirmani, N. (2012) The role of religious values and beliefs in charitable and development organisations in Karachi and Sindh, Pakistan, Development in Practice, 22, 5–​6, 735–​48. Kniss, F. and Campbell, D.T. (1997) The effect of religious orientation on international relief and development organisations, Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 36, 1, 93–​103. Kollman, P. (2012) Generations of Catholics in Eastern Africa: a practice-​centered analysis of religious change, Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 51, 3, 412–​28. Le Roux, E. and Olivier, J. (2020) Cascading theology: experiences of the implementation of a Training-​of-​the-​Trainers model for faith-​based gender-​based violence intervention, in Kraft, K. and Wilkinson, O. (eds.), International Development and Local Faith Actors: Ideological and Cultural Encounters, London: Routledge, 74–​88. Lenhardt, A., Diwakar, V., Simbaya, J. and Tumusiime, E. (2021) Empowered Worldviews: Assessing the Role of Behaviour-​Change Programming on Mindsets and Livelihoods in Zambia, London: Chronic Poverty Advisory Network and World Vision, working paper. Lenhardt, A., Diwakar, V., Tumusiime, E., Simbaya, J. and Moonga, A.M. (2023) A behavioural livelihoods approach to address psychosocial constraints to empowerment, International Journal of Social Welfare, 1–19. DOI: 10.1111/ijsw.12610. Lindhardt, M. (2015) Introduction: presence and impact of Pentecostal/​Charismatic Christianity in Africa, in Lindhardt, M. (ed.), Pentecostalism in Africa: Presence and Impact of Pneumatic Christianity in Postcolonial Societies, Leiden: Brill, 1–​53. Louis, P. (2007) Dalit Christians: betrayed by state and church, Economic and Political Weekly, April 21, 1404–​8. Martin, D. (2001) Pentecostalism: The World their Parish, Oxford: Blackwell. Maxwell, D. (2006) Post-​colonial Christianity in Africa, in McLeod, H. (ed.), Cambridge History of Christianity, Vol. 9, World Christianities c. 1914–​c. 2000, 401–​21. Michalopoulos, S. and Papaioannou, E. (2020) Historical legacies and African development, Journal of Economic Literature, 58, 1, 53–​128. Mitchell, B. (2017) The church and its shadow: the ambiguous role of church partnerships in World Vision’s development practice, Missiology: An International Review, 45, 3, 283–​98. Morse, S. and McNamara, N. (2006) Analysing institutional partnerships in development: a contract between equals or a loaded process, Progress in Development Studies, 6, 4, 321–​36. Öhlmann, P., Grӓb, W. and Frost, M.-​ L. (2020) Introduction: African Initiated Christianity and sustainable development, in Öhlmann, P., Grӓb, W. and Frost, M.-​L. (eds.), African Initiated Christianity and the Decolonisation of Development: Sustainable Development in Pentecostal and Independent Churches, Abingdon: Routledge, 1–​30. Pew Forum. (2006) Spirit and Power: A 10-​Country Study of Pentecostals, Washington DC: Pew Forum. http://​pewfo​rum.org/​upload​edfi​les/​Orph​an_​M​igra​ted_​Cont​ent/​ pento​cost​als-​08.pdf Pew Forum. (2010) Tolerance and Tension: Islam and Christianity in Sub-​Saharan Africa, Washington DC: Pew Forum. http://​pewfo​rum.org/​upload​edFi​les/​Top​ics/​Belie​f_​an​ d_​Pr​acti​ces/​sub-​saha​ran-​afr​ica-​full-​rep​ort.pdf

138  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Pew Research Center. (2011) Global Christianity: A Report on the Size and Distribution of the World’s Christian Population, Washington DC: Pew Research Center. Pew-​ Templeton Global Religious Futures Project. http://​ass​ets.pewr​esea​rch.org/​wp-​cont​ ent/​uplo​ads/​sites/​11/​2011/​12/​Chris​tian​ity-​ful​lrep​ort-​web.pdf Powell, L. and Boyd, S. (2019) Tearfund: Fifty Years of Faith in Action, Teddington: Tearfund. www.tearf​und.www.org Pritchett, J.A. (2011) Christian mission stations in South-​Central Africa: eddies in the flow of global culture, in Englund, H. (ed.), Christianity and Public Culture in Africa, Athens, OH: Ohio University Press, 27–​49. Rakodi, C. (2019) Religion and Society in Sub-​Saharan Africa and Southern Asia, London: Routledge. Robinson, R. (2006) Christian communities of India: a social and historical overview, unpublished paper. Robinson, R. (2010) Indian Christians: trajectories of development, in Mahajan, G. and Jodhka, S.S. (eds.), Religion, Community and Development: Changing Contours of Politics and Policy in India, New Delhi: Routledge, 151–​72. Schnable, A. (2016) What religion affords grassroots NGOs: frames, networks, modes of action, Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 55, 2, 216–​32. Shaikh, F. (2018) Making Sense of Pakistan, London: Hurst and Company. Somé, M. (translated C Bennett) (2001) Christian base communities in Burkina Faso: between church and politics, Journal of Religion in Africa, 31, 3, 275–​304. Swidler, A. (2013) African affirmations: the religion of modernity and the modernity of religion, International Sociology, 28, 6, 680–​96. Taithe, B. (2012) Pyrrhic victories? French Catholic missionaries, modern expertise, and secularizing technologies, in Barnett, M. and Stein, J.G. (eds.), Sacred Aid: Faith and Humanitarianism, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 166–​87. Thangaraj, M.T. (2013) South Asian Christianity: practicing tradition today, in Pechilis, K. and Raj, S.J. (eds.), South Asian Religions: Tradition and Today, London and New York: Routledge, 161–​92. Trinitapoli, J. and Weinreb, A. (2012) Religion and AIDS in Africa, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Vander Zaag, R. (2013) Canadian faith-​ based development NGOs and CIDA funding, Canadian Journal of Development Studies/​Revue canadienne d’études du développement, 34, 2, 321–​47. Von Doepp, P. (2002) Liberal visions and actual power in grassroots civil society: local churches and women’s empowerment in rural Malawi, Journal of Modern African Studies, 40, 2, 273–​301. Ware, V.-​ A., Ware, A., Clarke, M. and Buchanan, G. (2013) Why Western-​ based Pentecostal mission organizations undertake community development in South East Asia, in Clarke, M. (ed.), Handbook of Research on Development and Religion, Cheltenham: Edward Elgar, 430–​49. Wiles, J. and Mallonee, N. (2020) Mobilisation towards what? Moving beyond an instrumental view of local faith actors in WASH programmes, in Kraft, K. and Wilkinson, O. (eds.), International Development and Local Faith Actors: Ideological and Cultural Encounters, London: Routledge, 17–​30. Wilkinson, O. and Kraft, K. (2020) Identifying the encounters between local faith communities and international development actors, in Kraft, K. and Wilkinson, O. (eds.), International Development and Local Faith Actors: Ideological and Cultural Encounters, London: Routledge, 1–​14.

6 Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement in social welfare activities

Introduction The difficulty of distinguishing between religious giving and philanthropy (see Chapter 2) is illustrated nowhere more clearly than in the Indic religions (Hinduism, Buddhism, Sikhism and Jainism) and their predominantly southern Asian settings. In these religious traditions, giving alms to mendicants and beggars, in addition to priests, monks and nuns, and helping the old, destitute, disabled and socially excluded to survive, brings merit to the donor, and is said to avoid adverse consequences in the next birth (Bornstein, 2012a; Clarke, 2011, Ch 3; Rakodi, 2019, 215–​6). This expectation that merit can be achieved through good deeds underlies the Hindu practices of charitable giving and service (seva). Traditionally, these were regarded as individual obligations, but under colonial and Christian influences more and more institutions for social service were established. These ranged from schools, orphanages and hospitals to cultural, service and political organisations (Bhattacharjee, 2016a; Patel, 2010). In Buddhism, the concept of making merit is relevant to both ordained and lay Buddhists –​for the former, merit is earned through religious practice, including meditation and prayer, while for the latter it can be earned by giving alms as well as adhering to the Eightfold Path. Ordained Buddhists rely on alms to satisfy their own basic needs, while donations also enable temples to provide social services to the needy and destitute. As in other religious traditions, there is a long history of social involvement by Hindus and Buddhists and the social organisations affiliated with these faith traditions are referred to in historical accounts of the motivations and activities of individual religious organisations (temples, monasteries, endowments, trusts, etc.). Accounts of their contemporary involvement may examine their religious motivations; guidance for mandatory or voluntary giving for the establishment and maintenance of places of worship and pilgrimage; the sustenance of worthy recipients, such as priests, mendicants, monks, nuns, sadhus (world renouncers) and the needy (including orphans, the aged and the destitute); and social service programmes sponsored by religious organisations (see, e.g., Bornstein, 2012a, 2012b; Feener and Keping, 2020; Osella, 2018). In addition, reviews examine patterns and trends in religious charitable and DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-8

140  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia philanthropic giving; the sociocultural practices that are associated with individual decision-​making and the modalities of giving; the relationships between religiously motivated philanthropy and economic and political change; types of charitable giving and social engagement; and attempts by governments to regulate and/​or tap into the significant organisational infrastructures, service delivery capacities and flows of funds involved. The purpose of this chapter is to examine recent research published in English on the social roles of religious organisations associated with Hinduism and Buddhism, including their choice of activities; the ways in which religious values, beliefs and ways of doing things manifest themselves in their modes of operation; and available evidence on the outcomes of their activities. This will be addressed by identifying and reviewing the social scientific literature on their motivations, purposes, organisational arrangements, choice and outcomes of activities, economic and financial basis, and relations with the wider social, political and administrative contexts in which they operate. Considering the number (and size) of Hindu and Buddhist organisations with social programmes and the scale of the sector as a whole,1 such studies are remarkably scarce and rarely comparative, so only a few of the thousands of organisations that are socially engaged can be examined here. The evolution of Hindu philanthropic organisations For Hindus, involvement in humanitarian activities has two main dimensions: dana (voluntary giving; dana in Sanskrit, dān in Hindi) and seva (service). While some consider suffering to be related to destiny, chance or fate, most consider both dana and seva to be expressions of duty or righteous action (dharma), the former an obligation, the latter an expression of love. The texts contain instructions and guidance covering a variety of gifts in money and kind; identify appropriate occasions and places for giving (places of worship or pilgrimage, monasteries); and specify expectations, for example, that a donor gives anonymously, without any expectation of a return or strings attached, although there is always a desire to benefit oneself spiritually and thereby win wealth, fortune and auspiciousness in this life, or merits for the afterlife, for example, release from cycles of rebirth (Bornstein, 2012b; Kalapura, 2015; Osella, 2018). Giving alms to worthy recipients (mendicants and beggars, also temples and priests2) brings the most merit to donors, although helping the old, destitute and disabled out of compassion also brings some merit. Personal charity is thus best captured by the idea of dana punya (charity that leads to a gain in spiritual merit), while seva, in theory, denotes selfless service directed to God or one’s guru, one’s parents or the less fortunate (Bhattacharjee, 2016a). Interpretations of the texts vary between religious scholars and leaders, social groups and changing socio-​religious contexts. Traditionally, dana and seva are regarded as personal obligations. Individuals engage with need in daily life by giving in cash or kind to temples, beggars on the street, charitable trusts and other religious organisations. In 2001 it was

Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement  141 estimated that about three quarters of donations were made to individuals and only a fifth to organised humanitarian efforts, often NGOs registered with the state (Sampradaan Indian Centre for Philanthropy, quoted in Bornstein, 2012a). Mostly, therefore, dana is informal, untaxed and unaccounted for in this large unregulated sector, in which many individual donations are impulsive responses to immediate need. Because dana is expected to be anonymous, donors do not expect a response from individual recipients and avoid developing personal relationships with them.3 However, there is a tension between giving to proximate strangers in need and giving to organized charity. While traditionally, the various categories of recipients were not entitled to dana, practices have been influenced by contemporary human rights discourses that identify certain categories of (disadvantaged) citizens as entitled to assistance, at least from the state. The continued prevalence of impulsive giving to individuals, Bornstein and others suggest, tends to perpetuate social inequality (Bornstein, 2012b). Before the colonial era, religious and philanthropic giving was guided not only by customary practice and Hindu law, but also by political considerations. Precolonial Hindu kings in southern India derived moral and political legitimacy from their donations to temple deities and Brahmins, enabling them to integrate fragmented polities. In addition, such donations demonstrated landowning or merchant elites’ pursuit of piety, status and reputation (Osella, 2018). Across southern Asia, land granted to temples and monasteries was rented out to various constituencies. In Southern India the revenues from endowments were used to make interest-​bearing loans to traders and farmers, while merchants could use such endowments as a reserve of capital to finance debts or obtain credit, allowing them to access new markets and expand their trade networks in southern Asia and beyond. Thus, pious dispositions and economic/​political interests were mutually constitutive. By the 1830s, business elites, whose interests had become linked with the colonial economy (including the opium trade with China), were encouraged to donate their alms and make religious endowments to charitable institutions linked to the colonial administration, including patronage of the arts. These afforded members of the emerging indigenous elite new ways of establishing their status and trustworthiness, gaining the goodwill of colonial administrators, and building their political careers (Osella, 2018). Many contemporary Hindu cultural/​spiritual and political organisations originated during the colonial period, during which pluralist Hindu traditions were reconceptualised as an organised ‘religion’, influenced by missionary activities and colonial attempts to make sense of the religious tradition (see Chapter 1). Many Hindu organisations are based on a matrix of ideas, activities and practices elaborated through the concept of seva. Closely associated with the conception of Hinduism as a religion is Hindu nationalism, an ideology (Hindutva) which seeks to provide a basis for organising and mobilising the population across castes, classes, ethnic groups and gender (see Chapter 3). During the colonial period, emulating the Christian organisational tradition,

142  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia new religious groups formed around the figures of gurus, to create communities of believers able to query the role of the state and its dominant religion. These sangathanas organised around various activities called seva, which among other aims sought to enable individual sevaks (volunteers) to acquire a new religio-​political identity, that of an imagined Hindu nation. Their activities included discourses by the gurus, training programmes for the sevaks and service activities such as disaster relief, education and health care. By the early years of the twentieth century, colonial state officials had devolved responsibility for social welfare to missionaries and natives, based on an interpretation of the discrimination and disadvantage associated with low caste status as a religious and social problem, rather than a question of unequal human rights, to be tackled by the enforcement of rights or redistribution of wealth and political power (Viswanath, 2014). The gurus who emerged tended to be upper caste and educated in English. They oriented their discourses to the upper and middle classes, encouraged complete obedience and loyalty, adopted a personality-​based hierarchical structure for the organisations they founded and generally did not seek to undermine the basis of social order, the caste system. For example, the Ramakrishna Mission (RKM) was inspired by Sri Ramakrishna (1836–​86), who became involved in Hindu priestly activities in Calcutta in 1849 and, alongside others, explored the Hindu philosophical heritage as set out in the Vedas and Upanishads, as well as tackling some social issues, such as the abolition of child marriage and untouchability. After his death, his disciple, Swami Ramakrishnananda (1863–​1911) became the central figure in the movement, establishing the first monastery at Belur in West Bengal in 1886. Another disciple, Swami Vivekananda (1863–​1902), honoured the devotional tradition, but sought to present Sri Ramakrishna’s ideas in a way that appealed more widely, especially to members of the middle class, as well as advocating active social service as a religious path for both men and women and mobilising new groups to join this institutionalised structure that resisted colonial subjugation (Patel, 2010). In 1909, under his leadership, the RKM was registered, and its management vested in a governing body consisting of the trustees of the Belur Math, its current headquarters. Today, the mission operates in 20 countries worldwide. Pandya (2014a) interrogates the concept of seva that was central to the teachings of Swami Vivekenanda and underlies the activities of the contemporary organisation, based on content analysis of texts and archives and discussion with members of the monastic order in 2011 at the movement’s headquarters in Howrah, near Calcutta, and in Mumbai. Rather than being equated with charity, this vision of seva as selfless action is based on a recognition that people are embodiments of God. For monastics, renunciation and seva need to co-​exist; for householder devotees, spiritual aims are to be realised through both religious practice and this-​worldly endeavours. Influenced by Vivekananda’s ideas, this formulation of Hinduism and seva was expressed in the formation of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), a cultural organisation established by Hedgewar in 1925, which sought to

Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement  143 organise and train male volunteers of all castes to fight to protect Hinduism. Under its second leader, Golwalkar, the RSS’s idea of a band of self-​disciplined male volunteers was integrated with the Ramakrishna Mission’s ideas about humanitarian service. By 1940 it had 500 branches and by 1997 there were 2,866 units of seva activity across the various organisations associated with it, reaching an estimated 7% of the Indian population (Patel, 2010, p. 109). In this incarnation, seva implied the creation of a band of volunteers to spread the message of Hinduism and the construction of a Hindu self through (i) organised vigilante political actions to challenge state power and target minorities; (ii) educating oneself on Vedic precepts, by participating in religious discourses and prayers and (iii) providing voluntary services for Hindus, including schools, hospitals and disaster relief. In the 1940s and 1950s, the RSS was not very active, but in the 1960s/​1970s, it was reinvigorated, and a distinction emerged between

• Openly communal sangathanas that it set up to formalise and train groups committed to promoting the idea of a ‘Hindu nation’, including three youth and student organisations, alongside others for tribal people, industrial workers and women, and • Other organisations affiliated with the RSS that shared its interest in building a Hindu national/​international community but did not openly participate in communal activities. This history and the tensions between religious and sociopolitical aims inform the analysis of contemporary Hindu organisations’ social involvement that follows. Hindu religious organisations and the state

In the Indian subcontinent, the colonial government struggled with the existing system of uncodified law and the unrecorded and unregulated nature of most individual giving. In the first half of the nineteenth century, it set out to codify the law and regulate the associated organisations and their activities. The process of legal codification was informed by British common law, although the government also relied on religious texts and scholars, giving rise to a system of Anglo-​Hindu personal law. With respect to the law governing philanthropic giving, new legal forms emerged, notably the charitable trust. In Britain, a distinction was made between private trusts (those designed to benefit dependents) and public trusts (to administer charitable donations intended to benefit abstract others, eventually defined as excluding religious teaching or worship). However, in India, this distinction was obscured by the “relational webs of affiliation that had historically supported social welfare through extended family networks, family temples, family deities, and merchant castes” (Bornstein, 2012b, p. 148).4 These modes of giving concerned the British, because they seemed to keep large amounts of finance out of

144  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia circulation in the wider economy, so early colonial legislation attempted to distinguish private from public welfare. From 1860 onwards, organisations concerned with the latter were required to register (Bornstein, 2012a; Osella, 2018). Disputes over the management of temple complexes expressed the tensions between those concerned with the social welfare of an abstract public and those concerned with the welfare of members of a group such as a religious group. The distinction was reinforced in the 1880s by exempting charity (gifts to an abstract public) from taxation, while religious giving remained outside charity law. In the 1920s, as the independence movement gained momentum, continued concerns over the mismanagement of large temples, mosques and monasteries led to further legislation. Debates about how to deal with the wealth of monasteries, how these establishments might contribute to the wider religio-​political project and whether they should be regulated by government are discussed by Kasturi (2018), who describes the uneasy relationship between monasticism and emerging Hindu cultural and political consciousness in North India between 1920 and 1940. While during the nineteenth century, monastic institutions supported private charities for the benefit of their monks, devotees and patrons, the twentieth-​century debates led many, especially the larger institutions, to establish educational and philanthropic trusts to administer activities intended to benefit broader groups. During the struggle for independence and since, the history of social reform movements, together with other influences, such as Gandhi’s emphasis on sarvodaya (welfare for all) and seva (service), led monasteries to maintain diverse portfolios of charities benefiting their own tradition. In addition, they and other Hindu associations, as well as wealthy merchants and industrialists, established hospitals, educational institutions and welfare schemes for the benefit of wider society. These philanthropic activities enhanced both their spiritual and symbolic capital and their influence in various sociopolitical networks (Kasturi, 2018). Attempts to codify Hindu personal, temple management and charitable law continued in the years after independence, as the newly independent Indian state attempted to maintain its constitutional commitments to treating all religious groups equally, by respecting and protecting their legitimacy and autonomy. It sought to tap financial contributions to organisations associated with Hinduism for social welfare purposes, while at the same time increasing fiscal control. Its favoured model of state-​led socio-​economic development was associated with increased involvement in social welfare and a lull in the expansion of non-​governmental engagement in such activities. For example, of 133 religious organisations engaged in social welfare identified in a snowball sample in the cities of Pune and Nagpur, Maharashtra, more than a quarter had been established during the colonial period and none during the 1950s, although the numbers increased again in the 1980s (Jodhka and Bora, 2009, p. 23). Of the 55 organisations that self-​identified as faith-​based charitable/​development organisations, 25 are Hindu, six Buddhist, six Sikh, Jain or

Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement  145 Parsi, and the remainder Christian. Their primary source of funds is private donations, although they also charge fees and receive government funding. Since economic liberalisation in the 1990s, the federal and state governments have continued to channel funds for social welfare and development purposes through both NGOs and government bodies. Nevertheless, today, as in the past, individual Hindus respond to their perceived duty to give, emerging elites use charitable contributions to legitimise their newly acquired wealth, philanthropists claim that the benefits of their donations trickle down to society as a whole and businesspeople and members of the elite use charitable donations as a vehicle for negotiating their relations with the state. Because mistrust of secular NGOs and state organisations is widespread, much giving continues to be individual and informal, often directed to ostensibly religious organisations such as temples and shrines, the most famous of which receive large amounts of (undocumented) funds (Bornstein, 2012b). Support for Hindu nationalist organisations and their welfare arms is used for purposes that are ostensibly religious (e.g. temple building) or apparently secular (e.g. education). International relationships have always been important in the spheres of religion and philanthropy, long before the postcolonial waves of migration to Europe and North America. For example, South Asian trading communities in the port cities of the Indian Ocean formed networks through which ideas about moral reasoning and individual contributions to the collective good flowed. More recently the economic and intellectual resources of growing diaspora populations have been mobilised to sustain religious, cultural and political life in South Asia by supporting post-​disaster relief, social welfare activities and ethno-​nationalist movements, especially the Hindu nationalist cultural and political movement. Because so much giving is informal, successive colonial and post-​ independence governments have attempted to document and regulate it. Today, however, no single body of law governs non-​profit organisations (NPOs) at either the federal or the state level. In the realm of organised charity, an NPO can register as a public (charitable) trust (1950s legislation), a society (1860 legislation), a company (1956 legislation), a cooperative (1904 legislation) or a trade union (1926 legislation). NGOs find this complex legal landscape difficult to navigate, with the bureaucratic tangles not only creating opportunities for corruption but also scope for negotiation between them and the state. Concerns over money laundering and the tax-​exempt status of ‘religious’ organisations have, since 1976, given rise to determined attempts by the federal government to track and regulate such financial flows, constraining the extent to which philanthropic organisations can rely on diaspora funding. In addition, the emergence of large corporate players and political demands for a greater contribution by private businesses to national development have resulted in the expansion of existing charitable foundations, the growth of corporate social responsibility programmes and additional legislative provisions. Nevertheless, attempts by the colonial and postcolonial state to increase regulation of Hindu

146  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia practices of religious giving continue to be resisted, affecting the financial basis and operations of a range of social welfare organisations (Bornstein, 2012a; Osella, 2018). Emerging research on Hindu social welfare organisations: when do social roles become political?

The dividing line between overtly Hindu nationalist organisations, especially the RSS (see above) and the Vishva Hindu Parishad, which have many affiliates with social welfare aims and activities, and religious organisations, many of which espouse similar ideas about Hindu culture and nationalism, is blurred. In this chapter, my concern is with organisations’ social roles, so more attention is paid to identifying and discussing those with primarily social aims, although the existence and activities of those that are explicitly associated with Hindu nationalist organisations are acknowledged.5 There is no systematic mapping or survey of the many contemporary Hindu religiously inspired organisations that play social roles. It is possible to identify various organisational forms associated with the tradition, although in practice there are many overlaps between them. In addition to the often elaborate organisational arrangements necessary to build, operate and maintain temples, three broad categories can be distinguished: congregational forms, organisational arrangements associated with sects, and guru-​inspired movements and organisations. Accounts of the social welfare activities of the second and third of these are available and are discussed below. Local congregational forms. These refer to groups that engage in religious study and practices, and are sometimes associated with but mostly independent of priests and temples. Most are small and informal, but some have developed into more elaborate and formalised networks and structures with lay leaders (Stroope, 2011). Organisational arrangements associated with sects. Hinduism is often perceived to be a non-​congregational non-​denominational religious tradition, perhaps because much of the early literature dealt with popular/​ village Hinduism, which was largely non-​sectarian at the time. Many Hindus and their families do not belong to any sect; they instead worship selected deities (and perhaps saints and gurus) and their icons at home or in temples. Hindus worship as individuals, performing rituals, celebrating festivals and going on pilgrimages associated with the gods and goddesses. They also read or listen to discourses on a variety of scriptures, individually or in local informal groups. Nevertheless, the word ‘sect’ has been used in studies of the religious tradition for more than two hundred years (Shah, 2006). It is the nearest English equivalent to three Sanskrit words: mārg and panth, meaning path, and sampradaya, which refers to the transmission of teachings from a succession of teachers to their pupils. The proportion of Hindus who belong to a sect is unknown, although it appears that the number of sects with lay and/​or ascetic followers has increased since ancient times, when Buddhism,

Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement  147 Jainism and (much later) Sikhism formed as sects and later became separate religious traditions. Shah (2006) provides an overview of the emergence, nature, characteristics and contemporary religious practices of Hindu sects.6 They have, in his view, been a key component of Hindu religion and society since at least the twelfth century. Every sect, he notes, has a founder, one or more deities, sacred texts and other literature, rituals, caste connections and an elaborate social organisation, although limited research attention means that little evidence is available on their contemporary social composition, organisational form or geographical spread. Many originated in cities, with upper caste and class leaders and devotees, because many of the relevant debates were conducted in Sanskrit. Their spread in rural areas has been uneven. The founder of a sect is often an educated man with a new and powerful message, who recruits a sizeable number of disciples (typically from among non-​sectarian Hindus) and possesses the organisational skills necessary to ensure growth and succession. Sects vary in size, age, the relative significance and roles of ascetics and lay devotees, their caste connections and their organisational characteristics, including the place of temples and monasteries. During the colonial period, government attempts to regulate religion meant that sects had to learn to operate within the confines of the law. This required formalisation of their organisational arrangements, which changed the relationships between their leaders and lay members, their internal functioning and their relations with the state. For example, Shah (2006) describes the origins, history, social characteristics and caste connections of the Pushti and Swaminarayan sects. The latter has become a very large sect engaged in extensive social welfare activities (see Box 6.1). Guru-​ inspired movements and organisations can be distinguished from organisations associated with sects, although they have many features in common. As noted above, charismatic teachers have historically been important in the evolution of the Hindu tradition and this continues today, with many religious organisations headed by gurus –​teachers who interpret texts, revisit and recast traditional strands of philosophy, and promote a vision, simplifying traditional tenets and linking them with practice. Typically, such a leader gathers a group of disciples by whom he (usually) is revered and adopts strategies that may include meditation, healing/​miracles and a particular lifestyle. Some, who are considered by their followers to embody divinity or to be the incarnation of a deity, are worshipped and not merely venerated. A movement coalesces around its founder, whose success in attracting followers demonstrates his/​her legitimacy and may ensure continuity. In a heterogeneous and non-​hierarchical religious tradition, in which adherents are permitted, even encouraged, to engage in religious practices suitable for their own needs, competition is mainly between rival charismatic leaders rather than institutionalised sects. In addition to marketing ‘salvation goods’, many modern gurus travel widely, build a brand and maintain an online presence. The participation of gurus and their devotees in social issues varies, depending on their ideological leanings –​the seva (service) on which they focus implies spiritual devotion to a guru or deity

148  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Box 6.1  Swaminarayan and the Bochasanwasi Shri Akshar Purushottam (BAPS) The Swaminarayan movement is a devotional sect that emerged at the beginning of the nineteenth century alongside various Hindu social reform movements campaigning, for example, against female infanticide and sati and for education of women. The sect’s founder, Sahajanand Swami (1781–​1830) (Swaminarayan), was an ascetic in the Ramanjuja sect in Gujarat. During his 28 years as leader, he inducted large numbers of ascetic and lay followers, produced several texts and established six large temples. Following the emergence of tensions in the ascetic order, he involved householder devotees in the management of the sect and revived his links with his family, installing two of them as acharyas (preceptors) of the major temples at Ahmedabad and Vadtal, declaring their positions hereditary and carving out for them territorial jurisdictions similar to dioceses. The sect continued to grow after his death, with the 1872 census indicating a membership of nearly 300,000. Shah (2006) notes that today it appeals to members of the middle and upper castes with limited knowledge of Sanskrit, while excluding lower caste, Dalit and tribal groups. This membership enables it to raise significant funds for temple building in India and overseas. However, periodic tensions between the monastic and lay strands have led to the establishment of some breakaway movements (Brahmbhatt, 2014; Clarke, 2011, pp. 40–​50; Marshall and van Saanen, 2007). In 1907, the leader of one of these founded a new community which became BAPS (Bochasanwasi Shri Akshar Purushottam Swaminarayan Sanstha). By the time he died in 1951, he had built five temples, initiated 50 sadhus, and spread the movement beyond Gujarat, as Gujaratis migrated to British colonies in East Africa (Kenya and Uganda), the US and the UK. Today this sect has more than 1,100 temples and 3,300 centres worldwide, while the number of sadhus increased from about 200 in 1980 to nearly 900 by 2010 (Brahmbhatt, 2014, p. 103). BAPS was registered as a religious trust in 1947 and a separate charitable trust in 1950. The latter is managed by an administrative committee headed by the spiritual and administrative leader of the movement acknowledged in 1971. In the 1950s, as temples were built and membership increased in East Africa, a similar administrative apparatus was set up there under lay leadership. Today there are five charitable trusts in India and similar autonomous organisations in the US, UK and elsewhere. Under the international headquarters in Ahmedabad, this administrative structure has, according to Brahmbhatt (2014), enabled the efforts of 900 sadhus and about 55,000 lay volunteers worldwide to be managed effectively.

Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement  149 The movement’s early service activities were responses to immediate needs: hostels for pilgrims, famine relief and water projects. Its sadhus were urged to mitigate suffering, reflecting a view of seva as bhakti (devotion), a religious practice in which God is served by serving human beings. The duty to serve others, initially the leader and fellow devotees, and later humanity in general, was reinforced by the Christian missionary challenge. The well-​established duty to give (dana) for accommodating pilgrims and digging wells expanded to include the founding of educational institutions, hospitals, etc., not least to earn symbolic capital with British officials. In the 1970s, BAPS’ social service activities in India and (on a smaller scale) overseas expanded to include relief work, schools, hospitals and other medical services. Since the 1990s, it has continued to emphasise the provision of relief alongside establishing and operating its own services, requiring more structured organisational arrangements. This evolution resembles that of the Ramakrishna Mission, although unlike the latter, it has continued to emphasise its relief work, extending it to include the rehabilitation and reconstruction of houses and villages. These activities have required collaboration with a range of external entities, including several government-​sponsored social service initiatives, such as literacy campaigns in Gujarat in 1991 and 1993 (Brahmbhatt, 2014). The Swaminarayan sect and the BAPS organisation are best known for their asceticism, reforming tendencies, emphasis on non-​violence and social service activities. Seva guided and inspired by religious devotion helps to bind devotees into the religious community. Ascetics claim that it is non-​political –​its leader publicly condemned the anti-​Muslim violence in Gujarat in 2002 and met with local political and social leaders to discuss ways of avoiding further violence, while BAPS centres around the world offered prayers for all the victims. However, it must stay on the right side of the Gujarat state government to operate and is suspected of being connected to right wing Gujarati politics and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). but may also be interpreted as serving suffering humanity and/​or contributing to the construction of a unified ‘Hindu nation’, leading them to ally themselves with the political Hindutva movement (Pandya, 2013, 2016a, 2016b). Much of the research on these movements focuses on the teachings and roles of their gurus, documents their history and expansion within India and overseas, and analyses the characteristics of religious disciples and lay devotees, who are the volunteers, donors and/​or full-​time workers on which the headquarters, ashrams and retreat centres rely. Commonly, the available studies are qualitative, focus on a single movement or organisation and are based on the use of documentary sources and a few interviews with senior workers.

150  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia The social service initiatives of one of the older guru-​centred movements, the Ramakrishna Mission, focus on education, medical services, rural and tribal development initiatives, and relief work, as documented by Pandya (2014a). Ethnographic studies of one of its centres in Pune, Maharashtra (Bradley, 2011) and an ashram in Gwalior, south of Delhi (Gold, 2015) describe their local organisational arrangements and sources of funding, demonstrating the complexity of supporters’ attitudes to welfare work and gender. Studies of other organisations affiliated with or closely aligned to the RSS are provided by Dyahadroy (2009), who examines the women’s wing of Dnyana Prabodhini (an experiment in education), founded in Pune in the 1960s; Bhattacharjee (2016a, 2016b), who analyses the relief and reconstruction activities of RSS-​affiliated organisations after the 2001 earthquakes in Gujarat and Assam and how these have strengthened the political base of the Hindu Right in these states; and Chidambaram (2014), who examines how the social activities of Seva Bharati, the welfare wing of the RSS, have increased support for the Hindutva political agenda in slums in Chennai, but not in Bangalore, where stronger civil society organisations enable the poor to bargain with existing clientelist and political networks for improved services. Patel (2010) compares the ideological stances, organisational structures and mobilisation strategies of the Sadhu Vaswani Mission (SVM) and the Patit Pawan Sanghathana (PPS). The former operates in the education, health and social spheres, providing education and health services and village development programmes. It calls itself a humanitarian organisation. However, its priority is to create a worldwide Sindhi community by providing support, education and medical services to its 1.5 million members, who are mainly urban upper-​ class Hindus originating from Sindh in Pakistan. Although it appears to have religio-​cultural and social aims, this public profile, Bradley (2011) suggests, conceals a covert political ideology and objectives. Like most Hindu welfare organisations, SVM advocates a socially conservative interpretation of Indian culture and religion and, although its focus on women’s role and responsibilities is unusual, its support for women aims to socialise them into roles that are complementary rather than equal to those of men. PPS, in contrast, is a local political affiliate of the RSS, which recruits youths from the lower and backward castes in Pune to produce sevaks and operates in a grey zone between political parties and banned organisations (Patel, 2010). Here, I will focus on two organisations and studies which throw some light on their social roles: the Mata Amritanandamayi Mission (MAM) and the Vivekananda Kendra (VK) (Boxes 6.2 and 6.3). Both the MAM and the VK promote a unified religiously inspired Hindu national identity and encourage their devotees to participate in social welfare activities. While neither the Mata’s rhetoric nor the MAM’s practical links are overtly Hindu nationalist, the VK, Kanungo (2012) concludes, “manifests a fusion of the ideals of the Math [as expressed by the spiritual leader Vivekananda] with the ideology of the Sangh” (p. 138). Both are religiously inspired, but unlike the MAM, the VK is critical of popular ‘guru culture’. It

Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement  151 Box 6.2  The Mata Amritanandamayi Mission The MAM was founded in 1981 in Kerala to fulfil its leader’s perceived spiritual duty to ‘alleviate humanity’s suffering’. Born in 1953, the Mata (mother, also called Amma) portrays her teaching, which draws on the Vedic texts and veneration of deities in the Hindu pantheon, as promoting universal values of peace and harmony, irrespective of caste, sex, nationality or ethnicity (Pandya, 2013, 2016a). Today, the MAM depends on several hundred male and female monastic disciples trained at its headquarters, novice adherents, who follow the spiritual path but have not yet achieved transcendence, and several hundred thousand lay devotees. The MAM markets the Integrated Amrita Meditation Technique worldwide, although it is taught free by Amma, her monastic disciples and other volunteers during regular tours of India and the overseas countries where the MAM operates, in schools, businesses, and, at the request of the Indian government, to 1.3 million members of the paramilitary. The mission has an active social media presence, which, alongside its publications and audio-​visual products, emphasises the ‘embrace’ central to Amma’s image. Demonstrating a charisma like that of other gurus, she interacts in person with many individual followers, embracing them during her marathon darshan sittings, which are greatly valued by her devotees. In the Hindu tradition, darshan refers to the act of ‘seeing’ and ‘being seen by’ a deity. The Mata hosts 6–​8 darshan sittings a week around the world, each lasting for 10–​18 hours, and claims to have embraced more than 32 million people (Lucia, 2014). Rooted in the MAM’s ethic of care and compassion, devotees are encouraged to participate in social welfare activities, depending on their age, health, income and other commitments, with older people being more likely to participate (Lucia, 2014; Warrier, 2003). Through the MA Mission Trust and Embrace the World respectively, the MAM runs a network of charitable and other institutions in India and internationally. Pandya (2013) describes its many social initiatives, which include emergency and long-​term welfare assistance; disaster relief and reconstruction; education and health facilities; a range of educational provisions for the disadvantaged, including scholarships, distance learning and vocational training for men and women; and social welfare programmes including orphanages and homes for the aged. It also runs village development programmes, including projects for tribal people, livelihood support programmes (including microfinance) and environmental initiatives. MAM branches typically contain an audience/​prayer hall, offices and residential quarters, and sometimes a temple. For example, the centre in Pune contains a prayer hall, temple, dormitory for visitors,

152  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia bookshop, and primary and secondary schools. Its welfare programmes include feeding programmes for the poor and mobile clinics in the city’s slums (Bradley, 2011). Warrier (2003) and Bradley (2011) seek to explain the appeal of guru-​ led religious and social movements to Hindus today. It is often argued that people find themselves insecure and isolated in rapidly changing urban environments: they are said to be increasingly out of touch with their religious traditions, lack a sense of community and find the rapid pace of change stressful and alienating. However, based on fieldwork among MAM devotees, Warrier (2003) concludes that its appeal cannot be attributed to such experiences, which devotees do not recognise. Instead, she attributes it to a sense of dissatisfaction with ‘mechanical’ and ‘ritualistic’ Hinduism and a search for greater meaning in their own lives (pp. 213–​4). Gurus facilitate this process, she suggests, enabling their followers to construct religious lives as modern Hindus in a post-​colonial world of consumerism, individual choice and telecommunications. In this world, gurus’ concerns with solving devotees’ problems and alleviating suffering are religiously legitimised and contribute to their appeal. Bradley (2011) focuses on the underpinning ideology of the movement and its seva activities. She observes that the MAM’s ethic of care and compassion encourages participation in welfare activities (but does not challenge the caste system), the empowerment of women (but retains the traditional Hindu emphasis on men and women having separate and complementary roles, so does not challenge unequal gender relations), and seva, although, while seva activities may help to meet the basic needs of beneficiaries, they imply a hierarchical relationship between givers and recipients rather than restructuring social relations. Undertaking seva with poor women thus does not destabilise caste and gender relations, although unlike other gurus, Amma has a vision of a gender equal world in which womanhood is not conflated with motherhood, both men and women are responsible for showing compassion and mothering, and women are free to choose their own destinies (Bradley, 2011).

also considers monasticism to have organisational and professional limitations, so was set up as a lay-​led and staffed organisation, although Pandya (2014a, p. 117) cautions that “What lies underneath a benign agenda of social service are strong assertions of Hindu nationalism, communal othering and subtle patriarchal norms”. The social roles of Buddhist organisations: a snapshot Although the search for enlightenment and escape from samsara, the cycle of death and rebirth, does not carry an obligation to actively fulfil social roles,

Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement  153 Box 6.3  The Vivekananda Kendra The Vivekananda Kendra (VK) is closely related to both the Ramakrishna movement and the RSS. The Kendra was founded in 1972, based on the principles promoted by the Ramakrishna Math and Swami Vivekananda, as translated after his death by Eknath Ranade, a senior member of the RSS. Today it is an all-​India organisation with Hindu nationalist leanings that sees itself as a lay counterpart to the monastic Ramakrishna Mission and distinguishes itself from more militant RSS affiliates (Beckerlegge, 2010; Gold, 2015; Kanungo, 2012). Its ideology is based on Vivekananda’s teaching that equates seva with worship, aimed at both inner and social transformation. Ranade added some Gandhian ideas and RSS thought to this, portraying Hinduism as embracing both universal pan-​ Indian spirituality and an ideology that roots Hindu nationalism in India’s glorious past, as well as an indigenous response to colonialism which he sought to revitalise for the modern era. As noted above, the RSS was founded with the twin objectives of ‘man-​ making’ (character building) and ‘nation-​ building’ (forging a Hindu identity). It is a cadre-​based organisation which emphasises physical alongside other elements of training, became involved in relief work in the years before independence and openly promotes the ideology of Hindu nationalism (Pandya, 2014b). Ranade was selected to organise the erection of a memorial to Vivekananda at the southern tip of the subcontinent, which is still the site of its headquarters. He then sought to create a service organisation on the lines of the Ramakrishna Mission, but run by lay workers rather than monastics, because he felt that asceticism, including the wearing of orange robes, distances monks and nuns from ordinary people. A training centre was established near the memorial to produce a cadre of dedicated men and women workers and the Vivekananda Kendra was founded as a self-​proclaimed ‘spiritually oriented service organisation’ and affiliate of the RSS (Kanungo, 2012; Gold, 2015). The organisation seeks to achieve its twin aims of ‘man-​making’ and ‘nation-​building’ by a range of educational and training programmes for young people and adults in urban areas, environmental initiatives in rural areas and spiritual retreats and yoga camps at its regional centres. Rather than charitable projects targeted at the needy, the religiously motivated moral and nationalist education it offers seeks to mould participants into good citizens of the Indian nation it envisions (Beckerlegge, 2010; Gold, 2015). It proselytises among Hindu youth to spread spiritual knowledge; enable recruits to master themselves through this new religious idiom, ascetic practices and training; encourage them to engage in welfare and charitable activities; and eventually weld the supposedly scattered Hindu

154  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia nation into one (in India and beyond) by “integrating Hindu, spiritual, nationalist and patriotic elements”, so that the collective national spirit associated with the Bharat Mata, or motherland, is regarded as an extension of the individual self (Pandya, 2013, 2014b, p. 118). Unlike the RSS, it is not militant or stridently Hindutva –​instead its idiom is one of spiritual inclusiveness and service (Gold, 2015). Because of the VK’s focus on service to humanity and its desire to foster Hindu identity, many of its activities are concentrated in marginalised areas in the northeast and south of India, where there is competition from Christianity. As well as realising its ideals, the organisation’s social service activities aim to produce tangible results. Like the RSS and many Sangh Parivar groups, it is run by a cadre of dedicated workers (Beckerlegge, 2010; Gold, 2012; Kanungo, 2012). These include lifetime workers (unmarried men and women graduates who undergo an extended training programme and join for life), workers (primarily householders) who offer time-​limited service (typically 2–​3 years) and volunteers (retired people, those who continue in ordinary employment and/​or fulfilment of family responsibilities, and students). The workers are deployed to its centres and projects by the organisation. Women are associated with purity, intellect and strength, although it is acknowledged that reforms are needed to address their lack of access to education, health and livelihoods. While maintaining binary male–​ female roles, the VK believes that women can provide service to society by committing to monogamous marriage, refraining from remarriage or lifetime celibacy. The latter is also advocated for young people, to free them for work (Pandya, 2014b). The VK’s lifetime workers thus include women as well as men, but they are not expected to marry because this might limit the work they can undertake, especially as many of the Kendra’s centres are in remote and difficult locations (Beckerlegge, 2010). The VK is active across most of India, through several hundred welfare and service projects and various subsidiary organisations. It collaborates with the state, NGOs and funding organisations and draws on a Gandhian model that is based on the values of love, compassion, devotion and respect for indigenous knowledge. Education and training programmes are a priority. It runs schools and balwadis (informal pre-​ schools) and provides vocational training, etc. Its rural development initiatives include self-​ help groups and livelihood training, while its Natural Resource Development Programme addresses environmental degradation through the promotion of alternative technology, including renewable energy, water management, organic agriculture, alternative medicine and cost-​effective housing construction. In Arunachal Pradesh in the north-​east of India, the Kendra seeks to bring indigenous communities under the canopy of Hinduism through an inclusive agenda. At the same time, it promotes the exclusivist

Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement  155 agenda of Hindutva by supporting communities which resist Christian missionary efforts. In the late 1970s, it was invited by the then state governor to provide schools, as a way of resisting the entry of Christian missionaries into the education sector. It started six schools in 1977 and by 2010 was running 30, with more than 10,000 pupils. Residential schools in which teachers live with the students provide a modern education while emphasising the need to preserve traditional culture. According to Kanungo (2012), the schools are popular because they offer good-​quality affordable education and promote desirable values and discipline, while graduates have been able to access professional occupations and government employment. Alongside the schools, Arun Jyoti, an affiliate of the Kendra, is a youth organisation whose district branches run balwadis, youth and women’s programmes, health promotion activities and cultural activities, as well as providing vocational training. Tyndale (2006, pp. 61–​8) describes a Kendra organisation working among semi-​ nomadic Soliga tribespeople in Karnataka. Started in 1979 by a doctor who had worked for the Ramakrishna Mission and been inspired by Swami Vivekananda’s teachings, the organisation’s programmes include a school, primary health care (a hospital and village health workers), vocational training, support for cottage industries and community environmental management. At the time of Tyndale’s account, it had between 120 and 150 workers and volunteers and its programmes had apparently been recognised and emulated by government and other organisations. However, her description is uncritical and not gendered; she does not refer to any independent assessment of the outcomes of the programmes described; and she fails to recognise the VK’s links to Hindu Right thought or organisations. Gold (2015) provides a more independent account of the Vivekananda centre in the city of Gwalior, which was originally intended as a regional base for the national organisation in North Central India. Started in 1995 as a centre for providing VK training sessions, yoga camps and retreats, it was established by a Maharashtrian couple using funds from middle class and wealthy residents and members of the local Maharashtrian community. Initially, an education programme was started to provide for disadvantaged children from outlying villages. The founders also had an environmental vision focusing on cost-​effective locally adapted housing and water management (tube wells and rainwater harvesting), as well as a centre offering ‘natural cures’. However, as noted above, the VK disapproves of life-​workers being married to each other, so that it can post them as required and ensure their primary loyalty is to the organisation rather than to a local community. While the centre’s focus on ecology, education and naturopathy was compatible with VK programmes, it had, in the eyes of VK leaders, too much autonomy. In 1998, it split from the national VK and was

156  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia eventually renamed the Anada Kendra. The VK then established its own organisation in the city, focusing on standard VK ‘man-​making’ activities through (mixed age and often mixed gender) discussion groups and religious celebrations. In 1998 the national organisation sent a worker to Gwalior to re-​establish the Kendra’s authority, leading to disputes over the name of the local organisation, ownership of the site on which the original centre was located and programmatic priorities. The result was divisive –​the centre drew on ‘new agers’ interested in yoga and naturopathy, while the VK was able to expand its local middle-​class base. At the time of Gold’s fieldwork in 2011, its future remained uncertain. in practice Buddhist monasteries play an important role in society. For centuries almsgiving has enabled monastics to pursue the spiritual path ordained by the Buddha. In addition, donations have enabled temples, pagodas, etc., to provide social services to the needy, based on the values of compassion and altruism. However, until the recent articulation of ‘socially engaged Buddhism’, institutionalised social welfare work has been less central to Buddhist discourse and practice than in other religious traditions (Rakodi, 2019, pp. 179–​80, 207–​9, 216) and activities to improve welfare and work for social justice vary between and within Buddhist traditions (see, e.g., Bhatewara and Bradley’s (2012) comparison of Tibetan Buddhism in Dharamsala and Ambedkarite Navayana Buddhism in Pune, and Rajkobal (2020, pp. 48–​55) on Sri Lanka). Across South Asia rulers granted land to temples, pagodas, and monasteries and were legitimated through these gifts to the sangha (monastics) and the laity (Osella, 2018). Relations between the monastic and political authorities have therefore been central to the evolution of Buddhism and the roles various branches and monastic orders have played in society have evolved in different directions since the pre-​colonial era, depending on state approaches to governance, the impact of communism and attempts to reform Buddhism, particularly the sangha (Cantwell and Kawanami, 2009).7 Today, perhaps the best-​known Buddhist rural development organisation is the Sarvodaya Shramadana Movement in Sri Lanka (see Box 6.4).8 More widely, in contexts where mass conversions of Hindus to Buddhism to escape the social marginalisation associated with the caste system and active Christian engagement in proselytisation have increased tensions, the discourses and practices of religious giving have been reshaped (Feener and Keping, 2020). The proselytising activities of increased numbers of evangelical Christian organisations are, critics assert, based on ‘allurement’, leading to accusations that the ‘gift of aid’ is being used by Western NGOs and Christian organisations to sever the bonds between religious institutions and villages and between Buddhism and the state. Monastics played important roles in providing post-​disaster aid and welfare to lay people in the aftermath of the 2004

Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement  157 Box 6.4  The Sarvodaya Shramadana Movement (SSM) in Sri Lanka Founded in 1958 by A.T. Ariyaratne, the SSM was registered as an NGO in 1972, and since then has expanded its operations, gained wide local support and attracted international funding. Based on Buddhist principles and local institutions and practices, influenced by Gandhian ideas, it gives equal attention to people’s spiritual and material needs, basing its development practice on sarvodaya (the awakening of all), shramadana (shared labour) and a five-​stage model for developing village-​ level organisation, i.e., a holistic approach that has spiritual, cultural, socio-​economic and political dimensions. Other than Bond’s sympathetic historical accounts of its evolution until the early 2000s (2004, 2006) and shorter accounts by many others (e.g. Candland, 2000; Daskon and Binns, 2012; Marshall and van Saanen, 2007, pp. 117–​28; Tyndale, 2006, pp. 9–​28), the most thorough account is by Rajkobal (2020). Initially working in individual villages, in the 1970s the SSM grew rapidly, gained international recognition and began to partner with a government sympathetic to its approach to rural development. However, in the 1980s and 1990s, it faced financial and political challenges arising from its rapid growth and dependence on external funding, as well as the accession of a government which emphasised Sinhala Buddhist nationalism. By then, it had evolved into a large and rather bureaucratic NGO, under pressure from international funders to de-​ emphasise religious practices and introduce formal accounting and evaluation. In addition, tensions between the government and Tamils living in the north and east of the country, where the SSM was working, grew, culminating in inter-​ ethnic violence in 1983. Encouraged by international donors, Sarvodaya became an important peacebuilding organisation, leading to the Sri Lankan government withdrawing its funding. At the same time, external donors sought to increase the conditionality of their support. Eventually, a change of regime in 1993 enabled the organisation to work again with both the government and international donors, not only in its village development and relief projects but also in conflict resolution. By 2007, it was active in nearly half the villages in Sri Lanka and had launched a variety of additional initiatives. Drawing on its earlier experience of providing post-​disaster relief, the SSM was well placed to assist in the relief efforts following the December 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami. Rajkobal analyses its role in the post-​ tsunami reconstruction of three villages between 2004 and 2012 in some detail. She uses Sarvodaya’s own conceptual framework for village development as the basis for her analysis, although many of her findings echo those of studies of (contemporary) participatory approaches to rural development that are not explicitly inspired by religious concepts and local practices.

158  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Despite its working relationships with the government and international donors, Sarvodaya came under suspicion because of a perception that it, like other NGOs, was mismanaged and corrupt, had favoured Tamils during the civil war and concealed proselytising activities behind a cloak of involvement in relief and service delivery. This forced it to pay more attention to its underlying Buddhist ideology, decentralise and adopt a more critical relationship with the government. Many of the published accounts of the SSM, its village development programme and its other activities are not based on in-​depth empirical assessments. They generally accept the claims of the SSM itself (whose programmes have indeed received international recognition). However, Bond (2004) questions the realism of the founder and his son’s vision that village-​based development can produce an alternative economic and political system at the national level, and Marshall and van Saanen (2007) wonder how its proclaimed Buddhist principles and way of working are perceived by other religious groups in conflict-​torn Sri Lanka. Further, Rajgobal (2020) suggests that its holistic development framework and practices are based on “fixed and outmoded notions of religion and spirituality and romanticised ideals of rural communities” (p. 170), although in her view its approach needs to be modified to increase its relevance and effectiveness in the face of contemporary cultural, economic and political realities, rather than abandoned. Indian Ocean tsunami. In this and similar contexts, Hertzberg (2020) argues, the distribution of resources for relief and rehabilitation was influenced by pre-​existing patrimonial networks, reinforcing some and disrupting others, and providing a potent tool for political mobilisation by religious nationalists, especially in Sri Lanka and Burma. The increased resistance to Christian proselytisation in majority Hindu and Buddhist countries has, in some, led to attempts to introduce ‘anti-​conversion’ legislation. The strength of these trends and the outcome of attempts to combat proselytisation vary, depending on the relative strength of social activist and pietist strands within Buddhism and between branches, countries and political regimes. Conclusion The summaries of available research relating to Hindu and Buddhist organisations presented in this chapter reveal several common features, notably the inspiration derived from Hindu and Buddhist ideas of religious devotion and service, and engagement in a similar range of social service activities. Sri Ramakrishna’s vision of seva, Pandya (2014a) suggests, drew not only on the Hindu scriptures, but was also a response to colonialism and the Christian/​ Western challenge. It is a vision in which “ ‘Hindu India’ is presented as an

Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement  159 embodiment of the divine and the focus is on service of the ‘Hindu nation’ ” (p. 90). Over and above assisting the needy, this vision of seva gives devotees a way of being good Hindus or Buddhists –​it is a form of religious practice for individuals, rather than a way to change society or address structural problems of poverty and inequality (Gold, 2015). The development-​oriented approach of socially engaged Buddhism is an exception. In practice, many of the available studies describe organisations’ social roles and programmes. Few analyse the choice, design and administration of these activities in any depth, and fewer still produce evidence of their outcomes for the organisations or their devotees, workers and intended beneficiaries. Much of the research concentrates on the intentions and practices of givers, paying less attention to the needs, characteristics and reactions of intended beneficiaries, leading Osella and Widger (2018) to stress the need to examine the latter, since beneficiaries are seldom passive and indeed may prefer the lesser but more reliable help of their equals to unpredictable charitable donations or programmes dependent on government or international donor funding. Perhaps because leaders, devotees (and many researchers?) see charitable and social welfare activities both as religiously mandated, discharging religious obligations and bringing merit, and as self-​evident goods valued by beneficiaries, volunteers and paid staff alike, the published social science literature appears to almost completely neglect their outcomes and impact. Rajkobal’s (2020) recent study of the Sarvodaya Movement is an exception although, with the exception of her study of post-​tsunami village reconstruction, her evaluation of the organisation’s wider programmes is partial, in particular underplaying intra-​organisational arrangements and dynamics. Most of the studies focus on a single large organisation or one of its branches. Research on small organisations and comparative studies are less common. However, there are some examples, for example Pandya (2013, 2016a) compares her own research at the organisational headquarters and Mumbai centres of four prominent organisations founded between the 1950s and the early 1980s; Bradley (2011) compares aspects of the Pune operations of three organisations; and Rajkobal (2020) compares three post-​tsunami village reconstruction processes. In the absence of comprehensive mapping or comparative studies, the scope for generalisation is limited. Like the Sarvodaya movement, many of the modern sectarian and guru-​ inspired organisations in India operate at a considerable scale, owning and managing large institutional and financial empires and maintaining an international presence. Tyndale’s (2006) comparison of the SSM in Sri Lanka and the Swadhyaya movement in India draws attention to some of the tensions and challenges such organisations face. These include the danger that hereditary and personalised central leadership becomes authoritarian and top-​ down; the difficulty of reconciling adherence to principles while cooperating with government; and the challenges of working with external funders with different models of social welfare and development, requirements for formal accountability and the expectation, even requirement, that outcomes can be

160  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia achieved and impact demonstrated within the relatively short time scale of project funding. The organisations attract followers largely from the educated, middle-​ class sections of the population, both in India and Sri Lanka and in the diaspora population (Warrier, 2003). Inspired by Hindu reformist traditions and Christian missionary practices, organisations like MAM bring together charitable principles and market practices to deliver services, especially related to education and health (Pandya, 2013). For the most part, the social characteristics of their devotees and supporters seem to limit their desire or ability to challenge the status quo. In India, for example, most appear to accept the government’s strategy of addressing caste-​based social discrimination and inequality through positive discrimination policies such as reservations and welfare programmes rather than campaigning for the enforcement of legal rights. In addition, although the characteristics of both donors and ‘worthy recipients’ are gendered, researchers’ accounts are often not and the organisations themselves are generally socially conservative with respect to gender roles. While Gandhi’s call for women to do seva for the nation apparently opened up the public sphere of Indian civil society to women, and many of the devotees of the organisations studied are female, gendered conceptions of appropriate roles have influenced the ways in which they are involved, for example, being confined to ‘acceptable’ roles such as social work (Osella, 2018). There are other gaps in the research coverage. For example, the larger organisations have extensive networks of affiliates engaged in their social programmes, but the institutionalisation of the movements and their organisational arrangements are seldom the focus of research attention. In addition, some analysts are as interested in the global expansion of Hindu religious movements as their recent evolution within India, even though the scale of their indigenous operations far exceeds even the most ambitious and successful overseas recruitment and fundraising. Notes 1 In 2000 the Charities Aid Foundation estimated that India had close to a million registered voluntary organisations (Bornstein, 2012b). However, according to the CAF 2019 World Giving Index (an average of the proportion of respondents in the Gallup World Poll reporting that they had helped a stranger who they did not know (34%), donated to a charity (24%) or volunteered (19%)), of 128 countries surveyed in at least eight of the previous ten years, it ranked only 82nd (CAF, 2019, p. 24). The report does not discuss how respondents might have interpreted the questions or advance any explanations for the findings. 2 To be distinguished from fees paid to priests for specific religious services they render. 3 Unlike gifts to kin, which are interested, relational and may be reciprocated (Bornstein, 2012b). 4 For example, during the colonial period Parsee public charitable trusts replaced customary inheritance as a means of circulating wealth across generations. As a result,

Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement  161 support for education, medical care and the poor gave way to programmes intended to shore up the community as a whole (Osella, 2018; Vevaina, 2018). 5 There is a prolific literature on Hindu religious movements, but the sources are primarily concerned with their origins, growth, ideology, contemporary form, spread (especially among diaspora Hindus) and influence on religious, cultural and political change in India. The literature is largely historical, descriptive and/​or ethnographic. It maps the growth trajectories of individual movements and their follower profiles, strategies and praxis (Pandya, 2013). 6 See also Pandya (2013), who identifies a literature on Hindu faith-​inspired movements, seeks to distinguish between hagiographical and more objective accounts, notes the limited attention paid to sects by contemporary Indian social scientists and distinguishes them from religious movements founded since independence. 7 For example, Southard (2016) considers the changing patterns of monastic engagement in development in Northeast Thailand and Adams with Carroll (2012) examine the changes in Buddhist religious organisation and relations with the state prior to, during and since the period of Khmer Rouge persecution in Cambodia. 8 The Tzu Chi Foundation, a large Buddhist organisation based in Taiwan, is active throughout Asia. Founded by a nun in 1966, it grew slowly until the late 1980s, when it raised funds for building its first hospital, but subsequently expanded rapidly. Focusing on humanitarian relief and community service rather than Buddhist spiritual development, it is active in the health and education sectors. It first undertook overseas relief work in the People’s Republic of China in 1991 following floods. Today, although its core staff are nuns, it relies heavily on volunteers and claims to have about ten million members worldwide and chapters in nearly 50 countries. The two main English language studies of the organisation merely describe its history, precepts and some of its activities (Huang, 2009; Yao, 2012).

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Hindu and Buddhist religious organisations’ involvement  163 Osella, F. (2018) Charity and philanthropy in South Asia: an introduction, Modern Asian Studies, 52, 1, 4–​34. Osella, F. and Widger, T. (2018) ‘You can give if you only have ten rupees!’: Muslim charity in a Colombo housing scheme, Modern Asian Studies, 52, 1, 297–​324.99999 Pandya, S. (2013) Charisma, routinisation, and institution building: Hindu-​inspired faith movements in contemporary India, Sociological Bulletin, 62, 3, 389–​412. Pandya, S.P. (2014a) Seva in the Ramakrishna Mission movement in India: its historical origins and contemporary face, History and Sociology of South Asia, 8, 1, 89–​113. Pandya, S.P. (2014b) The Vivekananda Kendra in India: its ideological translations and a critique of its social service. Critical Research on Religion, 2, 2, 116–​33. Pandya, S.P. (2016a) Governmentality and guru-​ led movements in India: some arguments from the field, European Journal of Social Theory, 19, 1, 74–​93. Pandya, S.P. (2016b) ‘Guru’ culture in south Asia: the case of Chinmaya Mission in India, Society and Culture in South Asia, 2, 2, 204–​32. Patel, S. (2010) Seva, Sanganathanas and Gurus: service and the making of the Hindu nation, in Mahajan, G. and Jodhka, S.S. (eds.), Religion, Community and Development: Changing Contours of Politics and Policy in India, New Delhi: Routledge, 102–​28. Rajkobal, P. (2020) The Sarvodaya Movement: Holistic Development and Risk Governance in Sri Lanka, Abingdon and New York: Routledge. Rakodi, C. (2019) Religion and Society in Sub-​Saharan Africa and Southern Asia, Abingdon and New York: Routledge. Shah, A.M. (2006) Sects and Hindu social structure, Contributions to Indian Sociology, 40, 2, 209–​48. Southard, D. (2016) Collaboration or Appropriation? Development Monks and State Localism in Northeast Thailand, Singapore: National University of Singapore, Asia Research Institute, WP Series No. 244. www.nus.ari.edu.sg/​pub/​wps.htm Stroope, S. (2011) Hinduism in India and congregational forms: influences of modernization and social networks, Religions, 2, 676–​92. Tyndale, W. (2006) Visions of Development: Faith-​based Initiatives, Aldershot: Ashgate. Vevaina, L. (2018) Good deeds: Parsi trusts from ‘the womb to the tomb’, Modern Asian Studies 52, 1, 238–​65. Viswanath, R. (2014) The Pariah Problem: Caste, Religion and the Social in Modern India, New York: Columbia University Press. Warrier, M. (2003) Processes of secularization in contemporary India: Guru faith in the Mata Amritanandamayi Mission, Modern Asian Studies, 37, 1, 213–​53. Yao, Y.-​S. (2012) Taiwan’s Tzu Chi as Engaged Buddhism: Origins, Organization, Appeal and Social Impact, Leiden: Brill.

7 Religious organisations as education providers Alternatives to or allies of governments?

Introduction After independence, in many South Asian and Sub-​Saharan African countries, the political imperative to deliver economic growth and improved living standards for all was underpinned by the dominant ideology of the time, which allocated responsibility for achieving these aims to the state, through direct involvement in economic production and service delivery. Because market institutions were weak and indigenous entrepreneurs were scarce, only the state, it was felt, could implement the policies needed. In the 1950s and 1960s, state provision of services, including health and education, expanded dramatically. The significant role already played by religious bodies in providing services and the foreign origins of many Christian organisations in countries which had only just freed themselves from European domination raised tricky questions for governments. Thus, the early post-​independence period was associated with efforts to dislodge or bypass religious bodies in the delivery of key services. The education and health facilities of private and religious (especially Christian) providers were expropriated (e.g. in Nigeria, Tanzania, Pakistan and Bangladesh); incorporated into the state system through various arrangements, such as the provision of state funding; or sidelined (e.g. in Malawi) (Batley, 2006; Dilger, 2013). External donors anticipated and were ideologically committed to secularisation, despite the continued role of religious organisations in providing health and education in some of their countries of origin. There was little research interest in the ongoing contribution of religious organisations to the delivery of health and education services. However, in the late 1970s and 1980s, the state-​led bureaucratic model came under pressure, giving way to neoliberal economic policies and governance reforms. Government agencies came to be seen as monopoly providers of services, not only inefficient but also, especially in newly independent countries, overextended (Batley and Larbi, 2004). In response, economists advocated economic liberalisation, privatisation and a reduced role for the public sector, as well as new approaches to management which would, it was expected, fix the problems of the old public administration. The new policies emphasised management over policy, competition over monopoly, results or outcomes over DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-9

Religious organisations as education providers  165 procedural rules and ‘freedom to manage’ over hierarchical control. Powerful actors, especially the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank, advocated (and often imposed) rather uniform approaches, especially on those African and Asian countries that experienced economic and debt crises in the early 1970s. Despite some advocates recognising the need for reforms to reflect varied economic, political, cultural and social contexts, a standard prescription that included the liberalisation of economic policy and ‘rolling back the state’ was imposed on highly aid-​dependent countries that had little choice but to accept, lest their requests for loans, grants and technical assistance be denied. Improvements in service delivery were to be achieved through market-​style reforms in public management and working with private and non-​government actors. These were first implemented in the early 1980s, during a period of economic crisis and structural adjustment, which involved major restrictions on public expenditure. The cuts disproportionately affected services such as basic education and primary health care. As the 1990s progressed, the number and variety of non-​state providers (NSPs) increased, experience of implementing new mechanisms for service delivery grew, policy aims were modified and renewed attention was paid to ensuring that governments had the capacity to make policies, perform necessary administrative functions, work with private partners and ensure the provision of infrastructure and public services.1 Under these arrangements, it is considered appropriate for governments to directly provide some services but thought that others can be better provided by enabling or contracting with independent providers, including both private and non-​governmental actors, underpinned by appropriate policies and regulatory arrangements, potentially opening the door to recognition of the continued role of religious organisations and changes to the working relationships between them and governments. Subsequent research projects have assessed reform efforts in sectors that are important to achieving development goals in a range of South Asian and Sub-​Saharan African countries, developed analytical frameworks and built a store of knowledge of different service sectors, and the outcomes of attempts to improve government capacity and service delivery outcomes (Batley, 2006; Batley et al., 2012). For the most part, this research does not mention the roles played by religious organisations, except in passing. More recently, recognition that the provision of services is influenced not only by the characteristics of individual sectors, but also by the political context led to analyses of the political economy of service provision and diagnoses of why countries may fail to deliver adequate services despite improved policies, increased funding and organisational reforms (Batley and Mcloughlin, 2015; Harris et al., 2013). The aim of this chapter is to review research on the roles of religious organisations as social service providers, focusing on education. The religious traditions have long had formal and informal arrangements for the socialisation of children and the provision of religious education for potential converts, adult adherents and prospective religious professionals. All provide education on their values and beliefs to ensure that children understand

166  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia the basic tenets of the tradition, sect or denomination. The education provided often has additional aims, such as meeting a perceived need to provide children with basic knowledge, as well as life and vocational skills, to equip them for adult roles as religious professionals or in the service of rulers. Some aspects of socialisation through religious education were discussed in Rakodi (2019), including the ways in which contemporary movements for Muslim revival have been accompanied and underpinned by new channels for learning, especially for women (pp. 66–​7); the roles of families, formal and informal religious education and the media in religious learning (pp. 148–​54); and the provision of education for both boys and girls (pp. 244–​8). In addition to identifying some of the forms and channels through which education is provided, much of that discussion was concerned with attitudes to education. This chapter is concerned with the provision of basic general education for children, although religious bodies may not make a clear distinction between primary and secondary schooling and religious education, affecting both their approaches and their relationships with political decision-​makers. The chapter focuses on provision rather than pedagogical issues. First, the contribution of religious actors to education provision is considered, examining their historical roles and then the evidence on their roles in contemporary societies. The claims made by religious organisations and their advocates that they reach the poor and disadvantaged and provide good-​quality affordable services that appeal to both parents and governments are considered in subsequent sections. The roles of religious organisations in providing education Religious groups’ precolonial and colonial involvement in education in South Asia

The links between religion and education in South Asia are ancient. The Hindu institutions of guru-​shishya and gurukul provided education to young boys under the guidance of spiritual teachers. This involves the transmission of knowledge from a guru to a student/​disciple and has been central to Hindu institutions throughout history, with instruction taking place in a gurukul, including some established in recent decades and some catering only for boys (Tomalin, 2009, p. 47–​8). Ashrams (residential centres of religious thought) also provided education, as did Buddhist monasteries, while mutts (cloisters) attached to Hindu temples became centres of religious studies. Hindus reacted in various ways to the cultural, social and political critiques of Hinduism during the colonial era. Mishra (2008) outlines some of the socio-​religious reform movements that emerged, noting the different ways in which protagonists’ exposure to English language education, their attitudes to Indian and European culture, and their prescriptions for social and religious reform influenced their ideas, the organisations they founded and the tactics they advocated. For example, the Arya Samaj, founded in Punjab in 1875 to reform Hinduism, established boarding schools for both boys and girls. The movement combined an appeal to the Vedantic tradition, in opposition to

Religious organisations as education providers  167 Islam and Christianity, and social radicalism. The first Indian organisation to provide Western-​style education, it founded Anglo-​Vedic schools and colleges in many parts of the subcontinent. Today, the movement, which claims eight million followers in India, manages 800+​Anglo-​Vedic schools and colleges in most major Indian cities. Islam entered the subcontinent through Arab traders along the Kerala coast and then Sufi saints, who converted many local people, especially from the lower classes. Only from the seventh century onwards did Muslims invade parts of northern India, alternately fighting and colluding with Hindu rulers (and each other) and imposing their own religion, ideas and rule on existing societies (Engineer, 2004). Muslim schools operate with an open-​ended structure that allows each student to pursue an individual course of study, with no division into primary, secondary and tertiary levels comparable to that in Western schooling and no rigid timetable or formal examinations. Knowledge, ranging from basic classes in memorising and reciting the Qur’an, learning Arabic to read the Qur’an and other written sources, to advanced religious knowledge and jurisprudence, is acquired primarily through master–​disciple relationships and face-​to-​face oral instruction. Patterns of schooling vary between different sects and parts of the world (d’Aiglepierre and Bauer, 2018; Dev et al., 2016). Education for Muslims in South Asia was provided in Islamic institutions, including maktabs (informal schools providing basic Islamic education) and madrasas (seminaries). Institutionalised in about the eleventh century, the latter were sponsored by Muslim rulers, many of whom granted large amounts of land to them. During the Mughal period between the sixteenth and late eighteenth centuries, they were centres of higher knowledge, training religious scholars and officials for civil bureaucracies and court systems, and exercising significant political influence (Nair, 2009). Initially, the British East India Company valued Mughal practices and expertise, but in 1828 it decided to acquire all the waqf property of madrasas. After the British seizure of power in 1857, the importance of Muslim administrative expertise declined rapidly, as English became the official language of administration and rule (Riaz, 2008). In response to the threats posed by colonial rule, various revivalist schools of thought arose, each claiming an understanding of ‘true’ Islam and seeking to resist British threats to traditional Islamic learning by separating religious education in madrasas from worldly education. An important example was the Dar-​ul-​Uloom madrasa established at Deoband in northern India in 1867, which soon became the most respected school of thought in the subcontinent. It aimed to preserve traditional Islamic learning, based on a literalist interpretation of Sunni Islam, but also introduced formal classes and a fixed syllabus (Riaz, 2008; Robinson, 2008; see also Bano, 2013). It has had wide influence, not least through training male religious scholars, who have travelled widely and established an extensive network of madrasas throughout southern Asia. Other reform movements of the era were less rigid than the Deobandi movement. For example, education was regarded as essential, even for women, to impart correct religious knowledge, purify religious practice by

168  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia expunging un-​Islamic customs or acquire knowledge useful in everyday life (Jeffery et al., 2004). During the second half of the nineteenth century, better off Muslim families began to send their children to English medium schools because a madrasa education did not offer access to jobs in the colonial administration, so madrasa students increasingly came from lower class and poor households attracted by the free education and board madrasas offered, as well as the prospect of livelihoods as imams or madrasa teachers (Nair, 2009). The crises of identity and status associated with Muslims’ declining influence led to an emphasis on religious education and a struggle to protect it by separating it from modern secular education, which was thought to be tainted with un-​Islamic (Hindu and British) ideas. The earliest Christian elementary and secondary schools in the Indian subcontinent were established by Portuguese and French missionaries in pockets of coastal territory between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries. Both established Jesuit schools for boys (John, 2008; Lankina and Getachew, 2012). These were also set up in other locations, such as Bengal (then including Assam), to reach Buddhist Tibet (Singh, 2008). At that time, for example, in Sikkim and Arunachal Pradesh in what is now Northeast (NE) India, the large Buddhist minority populations had little access to ‘modern’ education, although Buddhist monasteries provided religious education that enabled students to become monks. While Christian missionaries were initially banned from the territories controlled by the British East India Company, they were later treated with more latitude, and Protestant joined Catholic missionaries (Bellenoit, 2007). In the eighteenth century, missionary schools spread throughout the subcontinent. In the nineteenth century the British introduced a grant-​in-​aid system whereby private schools for girls and boys, many of which were missionary run, became eligible for a subsidy and the number of schools grew further. After the first war of independence in 1857 (the ‘Mutiny’), English became the official language and the Company was replaced by the British crown, which sought to establish control over every aspect of Indian life, including education. In line with its policy of not interfering in religious beliefs and practices, government schools were banned from including religious instruction in the curriculum. These changes had a detrimental effect on madrasas and contradictory effects on missionary schools, since on the one hand the government restricted evangelism to avoid upsetting Indian religious sensibilities, while on the other hand, especially in NE India, the cash-​strapped education department came to rely on missionaries (Bellenoit, 2007). In the mountainous border regions, which were inhabited by a wide range of small ethnic groups (the hill tribes), many following a variety of folk religious traditions, the government struggled to cope with the region’s ethnic and cultural diversity, remote location and unstable political conditions. In the nineteenth century, in addition to the established Catholic orders, Protestant missionaries became active in the

Religious organisations as education providers  169 region. Before attempting proselytisation, the missionaries’ strategy was to win acceptance by offering education in English and local languages (sometimes with government financial support) and establishing health and other facilities. The government hoped that, in addition to missionaries assisting with social service provision, Christianity might be a unifying force. In practice, missionary schools rarely secured large-​ scale conversions. However, they were popular with Indian parents because of the opportunities they provided for socio-​economic advancement, access to social welfare and their perceived promotion of high moral standards. As the number of Protestant missionaries grew throughout India, access to education for both low caste and elite women expanded. Missionaries’ emphasis shifted from evangelism to ameliorating socio-​economic backwardness and transforming Indian society. However, missionary activity, whether overtly proselytising or indirectly seeking influence through education, literacy and development projects, was often (and continues to be) condemned by Hindu nationalists (Bellenoit, 2007; Lankina and Getachew, 2012). Religious groups’ precolonial and colonial involvement in education in SSA

Religious organisations’ involvement in the provision of basic formal education in Africa can also be traced to the effects of Islamic expansion and Christian missionary activities. For the most part, indigenous learning, especially agricultural knowledge and production skills, which were (and still are, for many) key to survival, was organised through extended families or village communities and has not been replaced by formal education (Frankema, 2012). Islam spread mainly along trade routes across the Sahara (to West Africa) or the Indian Ocean (to East Africa), becoming consolidated over the centuries in mainly landlocked states in the former and along the coast of East Africa. It was accompanied from the fourteenth century onwards by an education system that focused on socialising successive generations into the religious tradition and was linked to political institutions associated with successive Islamic regimes (see Box 7.1). The perceived relevance of Islamic education to colonial economic and political requirements varied and, in general, documentation of Qur’anic education was limited, because the system did not provide students with skills valued in a capitalist market economy or by European colonial administrators and neither Muslim rulers nor colonial governments kept good records (Dilger and Schultz, 2013; Izama, 2014). During the colonial period, many Christian missionary organisations provided schools and hospitals for the indigenous population (and their own staff), while typically colonial administrations provided services for their own employees. Western-​type education was introduced in the settler colonies of southern Africa from the seventeenth century and then along the West African slave coast and throughout SSA from the late eighteenth century onwards. Although the details varied, reliance on the missions to provide schooling was

170  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia in the interests of the churches themselves, many individual converts, and colonial governments. Protestant mission schools were initially more numerous than Catholic ones because the Catholic European colonial powers were still recovering from the Napoleonic wars and the Protestant denominations prioritised literacy, stemming from the view that every Christian was expected to read the Bible for himself or herself. Moreover, given the inhospitable conditions for and cost of European missionaries, the mission societies needed African evangelists to spread the Christian message. Figures assembled by Frankema (2012) demonstrate the numerical preponderance of African missionaries and teachers in the 1920s and 1930s, although the proportion of European teachers varied by denomination: in Catholic schools, celibacy enabled the missionary orders to recruit young priests willing to live in basic conditions, whereas Protestant missionaries’ lifestyles required higher living standards and salaries. Protestant missionary education not only produced the evangelists, pastors and teachers the churches needed, it was hoped that by enrolling as many children as possible, it would contribute to the social transformation the churches wished to see. It provided both an incentive to conversion, and access to opportunities as teachers, clerks and interpreters serving the needs of the missionary education system itself, the colonial administration and commercial enterprises. Except in their settler colonies, the British adopted various systems of indirect rule, generating a need for administrators who were literate in both English and vernacular languages. Lacking the resources to introduce primary education throughout their domains, they generally welcomed missionaries of all denominations, who could provide education relatively cheaply because they could call on other sources of funds, enabling the school system to expand with only limited government subsidies. Nevertheless, much of the cost had to be met from fees, even in the richer colonies. Because missionaries saw little evangelistic purpose in post-​primary education, missionary societies and Catholic orders alike initially concentrated largely on primary education, coinciding with the view of the British government, which feared that educating Africans to the secondary or tertiary level might encourage anti-​colonial sentiment. In contrast, the French government favoured secular administration, direct rule and assimilation, so invested in centralised education systems to produce an indigenous elite educated (mainly) in public/​government schools in French. As pressure for independence grew, some missionary societies also established secondary schools aimed at educating members of the future political and church elites. The share of mission schools in total enrolment in Anglophone Africa exceeded 90% in the early decades of the twentieth century, whereas enrolment was split more evenly between missionary and state-​run schools in the French colonies (Frankema, 2012). While governments in the settler colonies allocated more funds for education, they were largely invested in schools for the children of settlers, whose education was thus subsidised by African taxpayers (Frankema, 2012, p. 344).

Religious organisations as education providers  171 The postcolonial legacy of precolonial and colonial engagement of religious groups in education

Recent comparative research on the legacy of pre-​independence engagement in education by religious groups focuses on two disparate themes: first, the associations between missionary educational activity and contemporary patterns of school enrolment, and, second, the educational disparities between Christians and Muslims. These patterns are described for Nigeria in Box 7.1. A spate of recent studies, mostly by economists, seek to analyse quantitatively the long-​term legacy of mission dominance of education provision in the nineteenth century, partly because of the availability of new sources of data and analytical techniques, including georeferenced historical maps and administrative records, and recent socio-​economic surveys. Most of the studies focus on Anglophone Africa. They use historical maps of mission stations, many of which had associated schools, and purport to demonstrate that access to basic education during the early twentieth century has had a positive effect on contemporary ‘educational attainment’ (years of schooling, literacy, etc.). Michalopoulos and Papaionnou (2020) review a range of these studies. Sceptical commentators point out several problems with the analyses. Most relevant here is that the early atlases showing the location of missions generally only include the minority at which a European missionary was stationed, so may underestimate the role of African Christians (Frankema, 2012). The second issue which has received considerable research and policy attention is the legacy of schooling arrangements that differ for Muslims and Christians. Today the public/​government school system in many ex-​colonies in SSA is built on an infrastructure of Christian missionary schools, some now run by governments and others still church-​run. The Christian missionary domination of and Muslims’ reluctance to obtain or exclusion from formal education have produced lasting differences between predominantly Christian and predominantly Muslim countries, regions and populations. Today, despite the expansion of government education provision, Christian–​Muslim educational differences persist because the gap inherited at independence was wide, geographical inequality in the location of schools is lasting and the perceived value of schooling, which influences parents’ choices for their children, differs between Christians and Muslims (Izama, 2014). Most frequently commentators attribute Christian–​ Muslim differences in school attendance and educational achievement to Muslim resistance to missionary or government education and reliance on Qur’anic schools, many of which provide few learning opportunities apart from memorising and reciting the Qur’an, although increasingly today Islamic schools offer secular curricula alongside Islamic education (Launay, 2016). In a quantitative analysis, Manglos-​Weber (2017) finds that contemporary differences between religious groups are primarily due to their embrace of state-​sponsored schooling. She contends that since independence, Muslims’ inherited mistrust of state schools has continued to shape their attitudes to state-​sponsored

172  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia education, maintaining and even increasing the Christian–​Muslim education gap. However, others (e.g. Launay, 2016) argue that Muslims’ and women’s persistent disadvantage is driven less by attitudinal than structural constraints, including the level of economic development, which limits governments’ ability to provide universal education in the face of rapid population growth. Contemporary roles of religious organisations in the provision of education

Comparative international evidence on the contemporary role played in the provision of school education by religious bodies is scarce.2 Only two relevant studies were identified. First, Tsimpo and Wodon (2014) used data from 16 nationally representative household surveys in African countries between 2003 and 2010 that distinguish between the types of primary and secondary schools attended by children (public/​government, private secular and ‘faith-​inspired’). The surveys indicated that on average 14% of children in these countries were enrolled in faith-​inspired primary schools, varying from less than 10% in 12 countries to 55% in war-​torn and impoverished Sierra Leone and 70% in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC, formerly Zaire). Eleven per cent of secondary school pupils were attending such schools, ranging from a very small share (under 10%) in 14 countries to 66% in the DRC. Overall, the increase in numbers of children enrolled in faith-​inspired schools (FISs) was below the average annual growth rates in total enrolment, meaning that their share has decreased (Tsimpo and Wodon, 2014; Wodon, 2019a). Tsimpo and Wodon’s apparently simple categorisation conceals some of the obstacles to assembling reliable data, especially the conceptual and terminological difficulties of defining ‘religious’ or ‘faith-​based’ organisations, as revealed in discussions of taxonomic and mapping approaches to studying the sector (see Chapter 3). Wales et al.’s (2015) review of 61 studies published between 2008 and 2013 focused on schools not founded or owned by governments, managed largely independently of them, and not classified as private. However, the categories are blurred. For example, ‘non-​state schools’ are generally registered and regulated by the state, adopt all or part of the national curriculum and may participate in national examination systems. Wales et al. define private schools as those which charge fees. However, even if government schools do not charge fees, parental contributions are often needed, while some philanthropic and religious private schools charge fees. They therefore resort to classifying providers as philanthropic or religious based on the founder’s ideology, or combining the two categories. Schools operated by religious organisations are categorised separately in some national studies, but terminological difficulties and historical experiences hinder assessments of their roles in overall education provision. As noted above, mission schools were ‘nationalised’ soon after independence in many countries. In some (e.g. Malawi), most continue to be ‘owned’ by religious organisations, although many are funded by the state and integrated into the public system, while elsewhere governments’ limited ability to manage

Religious organisations as education providers  173 Box 7.1  Nigeria: The pre-​independence roles of Islamic and Christian education providers and their legacy Islamic education and scholarship had been established in northern Nigeria, a region populated largely by Hausa, Fulani and Kanuri ethnic groups, since the arrival of the religion from the north in the fourteenth century. For example, in the sixteenth century, rulers in Hausaland and its main (and ancient) city of Kano encouraged the establishment of Qur’anic schools. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the Fulani Islamic leader Usman dan Fodio led a jihad (struggle) against Kano, removing its Hausa king and reforming the government and religious authorities.The Fulani emirs dominated until, in 1903, British forces captured Kano. Faced with politically centralised Muslim states, notably the Sokoto Caliphate in the northwest and the Borno emirate in the northeast, the British government introduced one of many versions of indirect rule, respecting and even reinforcing existing rulers and institutional structures, including the Muslim schooling system. This was (and remains) informal. It is based on basic/​elementary Qur’anic schools, which focus on recitation and memorisation of the Qur’an, and Illimi schools, institutions of higher religious learning, which enable students considered to have acquired sufficient knowledge to open their own schools (Bano, 2009). It is estimated that there were about 25,000 Qur’anic schools in the north of the country. Christian mission stations were located mainly in the south because of its accessibility by water, lower levels of risk, the priority given to ethnic groups most affected by the slave trade and the availability of ex-​ slaves from North America and the Caribbean or freed from slave ships and settled further along the coast. Some of the latter spoke Nigerian languages, especially Igbo and Yoruba, and were keen to return to their areas of origin, where they could serve as evangelists and teachers. In contrast, the north was difficult to access, especially before railways were built (to Kano in 1911 and Kaduna in 1926). Missionaries sought to curb the slave trade, counteract the spread of Islam and convert as many people as possible to Christianity. Between 1855 and 1900, in the face of resistance by the existing Islamic states, attempts to establish mission stations in the north had varying success. Unlike in the south, if the rulers of these states protested the establishment of Christian mission stations, the colonial government backed them. In the absence of mission stations and schools, the colonial administration itself took on responsibility for the provision of non-​religious education. However, it lacked the resources for significant investment. Thus, by 1914, when the north and south of the country, areas with roughly similar populations, were merged, there were 37,500 primary schools in the south,

174  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia where Catholic and Protestant missionaries competed for converts, but only 1,100 in the north (and fewer than 15 secondary schools overall) (Dev et al., 2016). Resistance to non-​Islamic education and the uneven distribution of primary schools were reflected in lower literacy rates among the Hausa/​Fulani/​Kanuri ethnic groups of northern Nigeria, where lower levels of enrolment in formal schools have persisted, although lower literacy levels have not prevented the main Muslim ethnic groups from exerting considerable political power since independence. Okoye and Pongou (2014) examined the long-​term impact of the education provided by the main mission stations. Using a 1924 map of these stations and data from the 2008 Demographic and Health Survey for a large nationally representative sample of individuals aged 15–​59 years, they found a strong correlation between the location of colonial missions and contemporary schooling (years of education), especially for women. Muslims who lived near opportunities to obtain primary education in the past have significantly higher levels of schooling than other Muslims today: in particular, Yorubas, in the south of the country, nearly half of whom are Muslims, have on average 6 years of education, while predominantly Muslim Hausas from the north have only 0.82 years. This difference, Okoye and Pongou (2014) suggest, is explained by the intergenerational transmission of the desire and ability to acquire primary school education, with parents who benefited from formal education keen and able to invest in the education of their children. In addition, Dev et al. (2016) found that Muslim children from smaller ethnic groups are today more likely to seek formal education because they need it to get on, as they cannot rely on ‘ethnic capital’ for access to opportunities and political influence.

the schools led to various ‘partnership’ arrangements with their previous operators. In most countries today, the incorporation of mission schools into the government education system and rapid expansion of the latter means that only a small proportion of children attend ‘religiously motivated’ Christian or Muslim schools, whereas the proportion attending private schools (which may or may not be registered and state-​assisted) has grown rapidly, especially in urban areas. The main exceptions identified by Tsimpo and Wodon (2014) are the DRC and Sierra Leone, where many students attend ‘faith-​based’ (mainly Roman Catholic3) primary schools (see Box 7.2). No comparable studies are available for South Asia, although Iyer et al. (2014) found that of their sample of 568 religious organisations in seven Indian States, about 80% of Muslim and Christian, 40% of Hindu and 50% of other (Sikh and Jain) religious organisations are engaged in education.

Religious organisations as education providers  175 Rather than the overall contribution of religious actors to the provision of basic education, much of the available research focuses on the claims made by advocates or the religious organisations themselves that they reach the poor and disadvantaged, offer good-​quality education that appeals to parents, and are cost effective and financially sustainable. Research that addresses these questions is reviewed below. Do religious schools reach the poor and disadvantaged? Wales et al. (2015) found that there is strong evidence that religious schools (particularly non-​formal Islamic schools) do reach the poor and marginalised, partly because of their location in rural areas. However, systematic assessment of the affordability and financial sustainability of religious schools is hindered by a lack of data and when these are available, the evidence on whether the schools serve the poor, either in general or in rural areas, is ambiguous. Tsimpo and Wodon’s data enabled them to assess whether different providers reach the poor (defined as households in the bottom quintile of the welfare distribution). They suggest that 16% of pupils in FISs in the nine African countries they analysed come from households in the bottom quintile, while 25% come from the top quintile. Thus, while FISs do reach the poor, they also serve the better off, especially as most rely on cost recovery because they do not receive public funding. In addition, under the impetus of the international goal of Education for All, governments, with donor support, have been able to expand their networks of schools, while most religious networks have been unable to do the same, and even when they build new schools, these are not necessarily in the most underserved areas with the poorest populations (Wodon, 2020a). The data also show that attending an FIS is, on average, more expensive than attending a government school because of the religious organisations’ need to be financially self-​supporting by charging fees or requiring other parental contributions (Wodon, 2019b). As a result, children attending schools run by religious organisations may not come from the poorest groups. However, religious bodies’ commitment to meeting the needs of the disadvantaged often leads them to make special efforts to reach the poor, through providing scholarships, fee waivers and/​or supplementary assistance such as free meals (Barrera, 2019; Tsimpo and Wodon, 2014). The availability and type of education provided by religious organisations, including the urban or rural location of schools and whether the education they offer is formal or informal, also make a difference. For example, in the Muslim-​majority countries in West Africa studied by d’Aiglepierre and Bauer (2018), children in the poorest households do not attend school, while richer Muslim parents choose formal Arab-​Islamic schools and the needs of intermediate households are met by traditional (non-​formal) Qur’anic schools. In Nigeria, in contrast, rather than leaving their children out of school altogether, the poorest Muslim households prefer to send them to informal or formal Islamic schools.

176  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia In some countries affected by conflict and civil war, as noted above, religious organisations play a major role in the provision of education. For example, in Sierra Leone, when civil war in the 1990s ended, the state lacked the capacity to provide adequate education or rebuild schools destroyed in the conflict, and religious organisations took on an increased role. According to Nishimuko (2009), three quarters of primary schools in the country are owned and managed by religious organisations (with salaries and teaching materials funded by the government) and evidence from the 2004 Integrated Household Survey shows that 58% of primary school students in rural areas and 46% in urban areas (48% and 41% of secondary school students, respectively) attend faith-​based schools (Wodon and Ying, 2009), in which the students tend to be poorer than those in government schools. The situation in the DRC is examined in Box 7.2. Of the South Asian countries with large Muslim populations, the evidence is most extensive for Bangladesh. At the primary (ebtedayee) level, according to Sommers (2012, p. 16, quoted in Wales et al., 2015), 86% of madrasas are in rural areas and two-​thirds of the households with children attending them are classified as being extremely poor (see also Roy et al., 2020). Nevertheless, parental contributions (including payments, the provision of materials, transport, uniforms and snacks) make up, on average, over half the annual per student expenditure in every type of school, including Aliyah madrasas, which are registered, teach elements of the government curriculum and receive subsidies for teachers’ salaries (Wales et al., 2015; see also Box 7.3). In Pakistan, in newly developed or underserved areas, both urban and rural, communities often establish a mosque and madrasa. Although the schools serve mainly lower middle-​income families and only a small proportion of students attend full-​time, about 30% of the latter come from poor families (whereas part-​time enrolment, which is more common, cuts across social classes) (Bano, 2011a). In Uttar Pradesh in India, Alam (2008) found that madrasas largely serve children from non-​or semi-​literate labouring or petty trading families, who find the provision of free board and lodging helpful. In India, as noted above, a significant minority of Hindu organisations are engaged in education –​they provide education at all levels and have some of the largest programmes of all religious organisations. For example, Vidya Bharati (VB), the education branch of the RSS, today manages one of the largest private school networks in India –​about 13,000 schools, providing education to perhaps 63.5 million children. These schools are located mostly in urban and semi-​urban areas, vary from one-​room village schools to city schools with thousands of students and cater mostly for lower middle-​class (high caste) pupils (predominantly boys), although they also attract poor children and girls (Bhatty and Sundar, 2020; Nair, 2009; Sundar, 2004). Another affiliate of the RSS, the Vivekananda Kendra, has 270+​branches that fund a variety of service projects (see Chapter 6). Like the VB, it seeks to woo marginalised groups, including tribal people, in 2008/​9 providing 53 boarding schools for 21,000+​ pupils in Arunachal Pradesh, in NE India, partly to counter missionary entry into the education sector (Kanungo, 2012). As discussed in Chapter 6, such

Religious organisations as education providers  177 RSS-​affiliated bodies may portray themselves as religiously motivated private organisations, but they promote the political ideology of Hindutva through the education they offer and have close links with sympathetic political parties, especially the BJP (Bhatty and Sundar, 2020). Gender is another important axis of social disadvantage. Wales et al. (2015) found some evidence for greater gender parity in enrolment in philanthropic and religious schools compared to other schools, but commented that most studies do not look at other relevant indicators such as retention rates and attainment. Overall, however, the evidence on girls’ access to the education provided by religious organisations is fragmentary and mixed. In some African countries, non-​formal madrasas provide a significant number of girls with education (e.g. 64% of pupils in Qur’anic schools in Nigeria) and formal Islamic schools may also do so (59% of pupils in formal Franco-​Arab schools in Senegal) (d’Aiglepierre and Bauer, 2018). However, the drop-​out rates for girls are often high. In Bangladesh, overall enrolment in madrasas has increased and rising female enrolment has resulted in gender parity in some types of madrasas, although others remain male-​dominated. This change can be attributed to an effective government reform programme (see Box 7.3) (Asadullah and Chaudhury, 2013; Bano, 2007a, 2011a; Thompson and Rob, 2021). The Female Secondary School Assistance Programme, which provides stipends for girls who attend school, was introduced in 1993. Prior to this, the Aliyah madrasa system was predominantly male. The share of girls rose from 8% in 1990 to 52% in 2008 (a third of the overall growth in girls’ secondary school enrolment). By 2013, more than 90% of Aliyah madrasas admitted female students, although, as Asadullah and Chaudhury comment, they tend to promote traditional gender roles. However, the level of female enrolment in madrasas offering secondary education remains lower than in primary schools and it also falls off at the higher levels of madrasa education (from higher secondary to completion of an undergraduate degree), probably because girls cannot access positions as religious professionals and so have less incentive to study up to this level. Indeed, in the unregistered Quomi madrasas, which primarily train local religious leaders, more than 90% of students are male (Sommers, 2012). In Pakistan, Bano (2007b, 2010a) documents a surge in demand for madrasas for young women (mostly 16+​years) from middle income families since the 1970s. In addition to religious revival, she suggests that this is a response to increased demand for education, the access to jobs it provides and the moral values promoted, which stress the importance of being a good Muslim, wife and mother. It is regarded as a complement to, rather than a substitute for, secular education and is perceived by both parents and their daughters as encouraging piety and family-​ oriented values, improving girls’ marriage prospects. In addition, her research shows that the education provided by these madrasas provides knowledge and social contacts, especially for girls from remote areas: it improves their social status in their communities of origin, where they can play roles in the dissemination of Islamic knowledge to girls and

178  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia women and establish independent girls’ madrasas as income-​generating activities. Nevertheless, almost five times as many boys are enrolled in madrasas as girls and (unlike in Bangladesh) madrasa education remains gender segregated. The quality and performance of religiously motivated education providers Religious education providers often claim that their schools provide better-​ quality education because they have dedicated staff, are embedded in local communities and may be able to learn from international experience. Wales et al. (2015) emphasise the need for comparative assessments of learning outcomes in religious, philanthropic, government and private-​ for-​ profit schools but comment on their scarcity and methodological shortcomings. Where evidence from direct assessments of quality and performance is available, the results are inconclusive (see, e.g., Asadullah et al.’s (2009) study of secondary schools in rural Bangladesh). Instead of direct assessments of performance, many studies focus on parental perceptions and their influence on school choice (or satisfaction), with some parents choosing non-​state providers, including religious organisations, because the education they offer is perceived as being higher quality than that offered in state schools. The studies Wales et al. (2015) identify all focus on the choice of a madrasa education. Parents choose Islamic schools for many reasons, the relative importance of which varies. They generally emphasise religious motives, affordability and the lack of state provision rather than the quality of the education provided, although many religious schools have adapted to parental (as well as government) demand by offering secular and vocational subjects, even though their ability to do so may be constrained by a lack of suitable teachers and resources (see, e.g., Asadullah et al., 2015; Park and Nyozov, 2008;). Studies in various African countries where the numbers of and enrolment in Islamic schools have increased since the late twentieth century have found a similar mixture of parental perceptions and choices. Push and pull factors both play a role: the choice of non-​formal Islamic education may be driven by the increasing costs and declining quality of government education, as well as religious and social reasons and the growing proportion of Islamic schools offering secular subjects (Boyle, 2014; d’Aiglepierre and Bauer, 2018). Data from seven west and central African countries suggest that faith-​based schools often have parental satisfaction rates that are higher than public/​government schools (73% compared to 57% of primary school parents, 76% compared to 61% for secondary schools). However, this does not mean that either public or faith-​based primary schools are performing well with respect to providing foundational skills in literacy and numeracy so that children can progress to secondary school. Based on his work in several African countries, Wodon concludes that the quality of faith-​based schools is relatively poor, unsurprisingly given the limited resources available to them. Moreover, satisfaction rates among parents with children attending faith-​based schools are lower among

Religious organisations as education providers  179 those in the lowest welfare quintile, probably because the schools are generally of poorer quality (Wodon, 2020b). In Burkina Faso and Ghana, Gemignani et al. (2014) found that parents who choose to send their children to Christian schools cite the quality of the education such schools offer, with values and religion playing a secondary role. In contrast, the main reason as to why parents choose Islamic schools is their desire to provide their children with a religious education (and in some cases a knowledge of Arabic), while location is a deciding factor in the choice of government schooling, followed by academic quality and the absence of school fees. In Ghana, parents’ satisfaction with the school of their choice is related to the provision of religious education in Islamic schools and a focus on values in Christian schools, although the level of satisfaction with the academic performance of private secular primary schools is higher (Adoho et al., 2014). Relationships between religious education providers and states The relationships between faith-​based education providers and governments are important determinants of quality, performance and the nature and outcomes of education reforms. Based on the principle of public–​private ‘partnership’, Batley (2006) identifies several key dimensions of government-​service provider relationships: policy dialogue, regulation and arrangements for collaboration and/​or contracting, varying from loose arrangements for collaboration to tight hierarchical contracts. Policy dialogue

Informal dialogue between governments and non-​ state actors has always occurred. However, in the late 1990s and early 2000s, at the insistence of aid agencies, formal dialogue processes were advocated and tried out, for example, in the preparation of sector-​wide programmes. To ensure appropriate provision, governments were urged to include both providers and users in these dialogues. Marshall (2010, 2018), for example, has for many years advocated the involvement of religious actors in policy dialogue at international and national levels, noting how infrequently it occurs and suggesting that, while close and positive working relationships between religious groups and states are possible in some contexts, relationships are non-​existent, distant or adversarial in others. In some countries, a long history of service provision by religious and civil society organisations has resulted in amenable relationships between them and the state, conditioning the latter to accept an increased role for some non-​state actors. In the 1990s, attempts at involving such actors in policy dialogue were associated with the formation of umbrella organisations, to strengthen their voice and secure government recognition of their contribution. The most frequently established and best organised of these were often associations of

180  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia for-​profit private enterprises, although other formal NSPs such as churches were also able to use existing or form new associations to facilitate their interactions with governments. For example, in Tanzania, a memorandum of understanding between the government, the mainstream Protestant churches (represented in the Christian Council of Tanzania) and the Roman Catholic Tanzania Episcopal Conference became the basis for the Christian Social Service Commission, which focuses on education and health. Its formation was accompanied by a government pledge not to re-​nationalise schools and hospitals and a commitment by its members, the government and international donors to cooperate (Dilger, 2013).4 In practice, research has shown that policy dialogue was often tokenistic, sometimes resulted in relationships that were more antagonistic than collaborative, and reflected tensions between an attempt to influence policy (although generally with limited success) and a desire to avoid interference (Rose, 2006). Dominant actors, such as the larger religious organisations, are likely to have more influence on the outcomes of any dialogue, skewing policy in their favour and reinforcing their dominance (Batley and Mcloughlin, 2015). Regulation

Registration and other forms of regulation may seek to ensure that NSPs provide good-​ quality education by specifying minimum requirements for setting up and operating a school or determining its eligibility for subsidies. Registration, implying recognition of the provider’s legitimacy, usually focuses on inputs designed to control entry rather than improve outcomes. However, the requirements may constrain schools’ ability to fill the enrolment gap, especially if the bureaucratic hurdles involve several administrative agencies or create opportunities for corruption. For example, recognition tied to a requirement to admit more students can lead to increased class sizes and rising pupil–​ teacher ratios, with an adverse impact on the quality of education provided, as seen in some Roman Catholic schools in Uganda (Biziouras and Birger, 2013). Faith-​based schools may be incentivised to comply with certain regulations, for example, adopting the national curriculum to enable pupils to take national exams at the end of primary school (for entry into secondary school) or secondary school (for entry into higher education institutions). As reported in Box 7.3, the registration of Aliyah madrasas in Bangladesh and their integration into the government education system has produced positive outcomes, but the results have been mixed elsewhere. Self-​regulation is a possible alternative, through the creation of voluntary associations of NSPs with their own accreditation bodies, for example, madrasa boards, although the effectiveness of these varies. Another alternative is increased accountability to communities, which is often encouraged by donors, but if it places demands on poor communities that they cannot meet or enmeshes them in a clientelist local political system, may be ineffective.

Religious organisations as education providers  181 Cooperation, partnerships and contractual arrangements

Government facilitation of NSPs is most often through ‘partnerships’. Collaboration between a government and religious providers can produce good results in some circumstances. For example, the provision of financial incentives (especially teacher salaries), teacher training and additional resources can encourage madrasas to broaden their curriculum, even in less successful reform programmes such as that in Pakistan (Asadullah and Chaudhury, 2013; Bano, 2010b; Rose, 2010). However, the ability of states to engage with, coordinate and strengthen the capacity of NSPs is often weak and the outcomes uneven because of governments’ own limited capacity, lack of relevant information and skills on both sides, and the divergent interests of the actors involved. Where formal contractual arrangements are attempted, they are often less than satisfactory, because the roles and responsibilities of the contractual partners are unclear, levels of mutual trust are low and government capacity to design and monitor contracts and providers is limited (Rose, 2006). There is also a danger that ‘partnerships’ with NSPs will reinforce a parallel non-​state education sector rather than improving government provision. The effectiveness and outcomes of cooperation thus vary depending on the nature of state/​nonstate relations and state capacity. For example, delays and shortfalls in promised public funds may be damaging to the operation of schools (e.g. Roman Catholic schools in Uganda, Biziouras and Birger, 2013). Partnership seems to work more effectively where the arrangements are flexible and can build on established collaborative arrangements, for example, in the otherwise fragile DRC (see Box 7.2). Attempts to reform the education sector may, inter alia, seek to increase government control over NSPs, including religious organisations, or to harness their contributions to help realise government aims and objectives, through policy directives, legal requirements or conditional funding. The content, implementation and outcomes of reform attempts vary. Influenced by international and domestic pressure to expand and improve basic (and secondary) education, take advantage of established systems of Islamic education and, perhaps, counter accusations that Islamic schools promote radicalisation and political Islam, attempts to ‘reform’ or ‘modernise’ madrasa education are now quite widespread and increasingly well documented. They demonstrate how interactions between political regimes, policy dialogue, regulation, financial provisions and partnership arrangements explain the content and outcomes of reform attempts (see Box 7.3). The importance of political dynamics and incentives and relationships between religious and political actors in determining government policies towards Islamic education providers is highlighted by the contrast between clientelist political regimes which depend on elite interest groups and those which need to secure wide electoral support. This is demonstrated by the

182  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Box 7.2  DRC: Unconventional partnerships between a weak state and religious education providers The colonial state in the Belgian Congo granted a near monopoly of school provision to Roman Catholic and Protestant groups. As a result, until 1946 most schools were mission schools and the few government schools were staffed by missionaries, an arrangement that continued after independence in 1960. Five years of violent conflict were followed by a military coup in 1965, which brought President Mobutu to power. In 1974 private schools were nationalised, to control them and contain the influence of the dominant Roman Catholic Church. After initial post-​independence growth in school enrolment, it stagnated and the whole education system nearly collapsed. Parents demanded that schools be returned to the churches (which in their view provided both moral instruction and better-​quality education). At the same time, oil price increases, a rapid decline in the world price of the country’s main export (copper), dysfunctional governance and economic mismanagement resulted in an economic crisis which lasted from the mid-​1970s until the mid-​1990s (Bakiny-​Yetna and Wodon, 2009; Leinweber, 2013; Titeca and de Herdt, 2011; Yeboua et al., 2021). In 1977, the Mobutu government proposed a ‘convention’ with the four major religious organisations (the majority Roman Catholic and Protestant churches and the minority Kimbanguiste and Islamic groups). Agreements were entered into between it and each of the groups. These agreements require schools run by religious organisations to register with the government, which in turn provides the salaries of staff, including teachers and administrators. They stipulate that the faith-​based schools must adopt the national curriculum and system of student assessment, as well as complying with norms on class size, teacher qualifications and salaries. Thus, the schools remain government-​owned but are managed by the religious networks, each of which has an administrative structure for the purpose. For example, in every Roman Catholic diocese there is a coordination office, the staff of which receive government salaries and organise inspection services. Political instability and economic crisis persisted: reduced government resources following the imposition of liberalisation policies in the 1980s and the withdrawal of US assistance following the end of the Cold War in the early 1990s had further adverse effects on the education sector, leading to a series of strikes by teachers in 1992. Subsequently, it was agreed between schools and parents that teachers would return to work, motivated by top-​ups to their salaries from parental contributions. In practice, therefore, parents provide the bulk of funding, including for

Religious organisations as education providers  183 teachers’ salaries, in both government and faith-​based schools. There have been improvements in some education indicators, such as enrolment and gender parity. However, there is limited funding for new school construction or improving existing schools, teacher–​pupil ratios are low and the quality of education is poor. Repeated negotiations between the government, the religious networks and parents are needed to agree the level of parental contributions, which are collected at the school level, partly used locally and partly passed up the system to finance the government and religious organisations running it. The system does not run smoothly: the government does not necessarily pay its contributions, teachers’ salaries fail to keep pace with inflation or are paid late or not at all, and there are regular teachers’ strikes and actions by the religious networks. Despite the DRC’s size and resources, the government lacks the capacity to perform all its functions, so the quality of education is poor overall (Yeboua et al., 2021, p. 15). Moreover, long-​ lasting economic crisis was followed by an influx of 1.3 million Hutus following the Rwandan genocide in 1994 and civil war between 1995 and 2002. The latter resulted in massive loss of life and had a devastating effect on the already weak economy. Nevertheless, despite a current population of 85 million+​and continued high fertility rates, a higher proportion of children attend school than in many other African countries. At the beginning of the twenty-​first century, 70% of primary and secondary school students were enrolled in religious schools (79% of primary pupils in rural and 51% in urban areas, compared to 17% and 23%, respectively, in government schools, and 28% in private schools in urban areas). Although theoretically education in public primary schools is free, much of the cost of the public education system must be met by parental contributions, leading 64% of households in a 2008 survey to cite financial constraints as the main obstacle to their children’s education. Two-​thirds found private schools unaffordable, but also 22% and 27%, respectively, found government and faith-​based schools too costly. With respect to outcome indicators (ability to read and write in French and the likelihood of a child remaining enrolled in school between the ages of 13 and 18), there was little difference between government and faith-​based schools (Bakiny-​Yetna and Wodon, 2009). There is a convention between the government and Islamic groups, but Muslims remain a marginalised minority. Leinweber (2012, 2013) describes how the small, disadvantaged, isolated and quiescent Muslim community, mostly living in the eastern province of Maniema, has organised to provide various services and community projects, including education. The number of primary and secondary schools run by the Muslim network increased in the 2000s. These hybrid state–​religious public schools are part of the national education system, about half the children who attend are non-​Muslim and the state (in theory) pays

184  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia teacher salaries, in return for which the religious community manages them and is permitted to teach Islamic education classes (although most Muslim pupils also attend part-​time Qur’anic schools). Although often regarded as a failed or weak state, analysts conclude that in the DRC, the government retreat from the public sector “has not led to a vacuum, rather to the filling of this public arena by a range of other actors, who play a crucial role in the provision of public services” (Titeca and de Herdt, 2011, p. 230). The resulting mode of governance has been constructed jointly by state and non-​state actors, with the provision and regulation of education services negotiated between them rather than governed by formal state rules. Some actors have more resources and power than others and making the system work takes constant negotiation: Titeca and de Herdt’s examples of how such negotiations play out at the provincial level demonstrate how innovations that secure agreement from all the relevant actors can be implemented, while unilateral actions by one actor (including the government) fail if they do not secure wider agreement. Often, state actions are incoherent, but ultimately the state and religious groups have proved willing to participate in the ‘negotiating arena’, the former to survive and maintain its authority and the latter to provide schools and other services that are “hybrid institutions… .created, managed, regulated, and financially supported by a partnership between the central state and FBOs” (Leinweber, 2013, p. 112). differing political approaches taken in India and Pakistan on the one hand and Malaysia on the other hand. In the latter, the political demography has encouraged and rewarded government investment in the education sector and in the provision of public sector schooling. Rather than underfunding education and ineffective attempts to reform the madrasa education system, the Malaysian government has made government schools appealing to Muslim parents by including Islamic religious education in the state school curriculum, although here, as elsewhere, competition between traditionalist and reformist Muslim funders and teachers has increased, fuelling intra-​Muslim tensions (Baba, 2012). There are relatively few studies of other reform attempts that seek to increase control over religious actors, collaborate with them or influence the approaches they adopt. In Francophone Africa, unsuccessful efforts to encourage enrolment in government schools in Niger, Mali and Senegal in the 1990s were succeeded by different approaches in the three countries. In Niger, policy shifted to revitalising and expanding existing official Franco-​Arabic schools; in Mali to encouraging large non-​formal madrasas to adopt the official curriculum alongside their existing focus on religious education; and in Senegal to incorporating

Religious organisations as education providers  185 Box 7.3  Madrasa reform programmes in South Asia and SSA Comparative research on government attempts to reform madrasa education in Bangladesh, Pakistan, India and Kano State in Nigeria enables Bano to identify the factors which shape relations between madrasas and states and the approaches and outcomes of attempted reforms (Bano, 2010b, 2011b, 2013). In Bangladesh, government reforms focused on fiscal incentives, first to traditional all-​male madrasas to encourage them to register as Aliyah madrasas and include maths and science subjects in their curriculum, and then (in 1994) to encourage all secondary schools, including registered madrasas, to admit female students by providing a stipend to girls attending school. Today, most madrasa secondary schools follow a modern curriculum alongside traditional religious subjects and half of the enrolled students are girls. In both madrasas and secular schools, almost the entire cost of teachers’ salaries is met by the government, students take similar examinations in Grade 10, madrasa graduates are eligible for admission to mainstream institutions for higher education, and they can compete with graduates of other secondary schools for public sector employment. In contrast to the dramatic changes in the operation of Aliyah madrasas, the government has failed to change the mode of operation of Quomi madrasas, which remain unregulated, offer a traditional Muslim religious education, and train religious leaders (Asadullah and Chaudhury, 2013; Bano, 2007a, 2010a, 2010b). In Pakistan, in contrast, little progress has been made: the reform programme had enrolled fewer than 200 of the 16,000 registered madrasas at the time of Bano’s research. She highlights two main reasons for the madrasas’ ability to resist state-​ led reform. First, she suggests that the political will to implement reform is weak because successive governments’ legitimacy has depended on their links with Islamic groups. Thachil (2009) confirms that incentives in the Pakistan political system have consistently, under both elected and military regimes, encouraged them to rely on the support of elite and religious groups by protecting their sources of patronage. In particular, he suggests, consistent under-​ spending on education and economic liberalisation have created opportunities for the maintenance of traditional and establishment of new Islamic schools. Reform efforts, Bano (2010b) concludes, are perceived as illegitimate, because the government has failed to enlist the support of the largest elite madrasas, whose ulema have few incentives to support the introduction of secular subjects into the madrasa curriculum. This reinforces smaller madrasas’ reluctance to participate. In India, large numbers of madrasas serve the minority Muslim community, but they are funded in different ways, associated with different

186  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia schools of thought/​sects, each with their own organisation, and many are independent. There are madrasa education boards (with varying functionality) in only six states and there is no umbrella organisation able to negotiate with the federal government, while the federal and state government bodies dealing with madrasas are also fragmented (Nair, 2009). Madrasas are concentrated in the states with significant Muslim populations and most children attend them part-​time. Only a small proportion are enrolled solely in madrasas (2002 estimates vary between 4% and 10% –​over a million boys and just under a million girls). Until the 1980s, there was little interaction with the government. In 1993–​4, a programme to include secular subjects in madrasa curricula was launched, but it has limited funds and many madrasas are unwilling to participate. Nair (2009) examines the implementation of the programme in West Bengal and Uttar Pradesh, noting that many madrasas are unwilling to participate because they are suspicious of government motives (especially in West Bengal) and those that do opt in complain of government inefficiency and the poor performance of state-​appointed teachers (especially in Uttar Pradesh). Nair’s and Bano’s research demonstrates that, in India, state attempts to reform/​modernise madrasas are limited by the nature of state–​religion relationships, the bargaining power and organisational structure of Muslim education providers and the limited demand for alternatives to ‘traditional madrasas’ that specialise in the teaching of religious knowledge. Alam (2018) reviews the successor to the original programme, the Scheme for Providing Quality Education in Madrasas (SPQEM), which claims to have supported nearly 23,000 madrasas between 2009 and 2013 (although some of these are recipients of repeat grants). Most of the funds went to Uttar Pradesh (about two-​thirds in 2013/​14), mainly for teachers’ salaries. However, the recruitment of teachers without adequate qualifications and the small amount of funding devoted to teaching materials lead him to label the programme a ‘job creation’ scheme, with little prospect of improving the quality of maths and science teaching in the madrasas reached. As a result of the programme’s confused aims and design, as well as implementation flaws, madrasa students are not provided with education of sufficient quality to enable them to progress in the mainstream education system. Alternatives are increasingly being provided by Muslim organisations themselves. Sikand (2009), for example, describes the ‘numerous’ madrasas established since the 1940s to provide ‘modern’ secular subjects (often based on the official government curriculum) alongside Islamic studies, either to produce ulema who are also possessors of duniya (worldly knowledge), and so more able to understand and contribute to the contemporary world than graduates of traditional madrasas, or to educate pious Muslims for secular careers. Although unable to provide

Religious organisations as education providers  187 an estimate of the scale of such initiatives because of the lack of data, he concludes that they are responding to a demand for education that enables Muslims to embrace ‘modern’ knowledge while retaining their faith and counter Hindu nationalist allegations that Muslims are resistant to ‘modern’ education. As noted in Box 7.1, in Northern Nigeria, where the longstanding inadequacies of public sector education deter Muslim parents from sending their children to government schools, children mostly attend non-​formal madrasas. Between government lack of interest in Qur’anic schools and their malams’ (teachers’) resistance to interference, the religious education they provide to poor rural children has persisted largely unchanged despite the emergence since the 1950s of Islamiyya schools catering to better off households in urban areas, some of which offer an integrated curriculum (Antoninis, 2014; Baba, 2012; Bano, 2009). In the last 20 years, international and domestic pressure to consider the potential role of traditional madrasas in expanding basic education through providing secular as well as religious subjects has given rise to a Kano State government programme of support for Qur’anic and Islamiyya schools. Inadequate implementation arrangements and limited funding have hindered progress and reactions among Islamic school teachers and parents are mixed. However, a 2010–​14 pilot programme in which students from non-​formal Qur’anic schools in three Local Government Areas were provided with a condensed primary school curriculum in non-​ formal neighbourhood schools had positive outcomes, demonstrating that malams and Muslim parents are not resistant in principle to their children being taught secular subjects (Bano, 2020). Bano’s comparative research (2010b, 2011b, 2013) enables her to identify the factors which shape relations between madrasas and states and thus the approach and outcomes of attempted reforms. These include the characteristics and adequacy of the financial incentives provided, whether the religious communities and their leaders trust the motives of their respective governments, and the ideological allegiance and practical commitment of the ulema. Muslim religious elites may have relatively harmonious relations with or strong bargaining power vis-​à-​vis states. Good relations are manifest in the willingness of governments to engage with madrasas, rather than merely trying to regulate and control them, but are undermined if conflicts of interest are not addressed. The ‘political will’ to design and implement reforms, Bano asserts, depends on the political interests of Muslim religious elites. Her analysis of ‘political will’ is somewhat superficial and is usefully complemented by Thachil’s (2009) comparison of madrasa reform in Pakistan, India and Malaysia, which sets it within a deeper analysis of how domestic factors shape attempts to reform religious schooling.

188  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia Islamic education in all government schools and creating official government Franco-​Arabic schools (Booth and Cammack, 2013; Villalón and Tidjani-​ Alou, 2012). In all three countries, the government has retained its role as the primary actor in the education sector, while ways have been found for the education provided to be infused with local religious and cultural preferences. Hybrid Islamic secular schools are popular with parents, resulting in increased demand for the education they provide; they have attracted girls, especially at primary school level; and their quality and performance (in terms of pupils passing official examinations) are as good as or better than classic government schools. However, the research also identifies some challenges: too few teachers are qualified to teach in both French and Arabic, supplies of textbooks and curricular materials are inadequate and there is a danger that incorporating religious education into the curriculum of government schools overloads it. Relationships between the Roman Catholic Church and the state in Uganda and Kenya are positive. However, government funding for Catholic schools and the associated control over the selection and management of students, heads and teachers have resulted in the orientation of teaching towards ensuring good grades in national examinations and the appointment of a significant number of non-​Roman Catholic teachers. Heads and school managers report that the latter undermines their ability to forge a coherent Catholic school identity and ethos (d’Agostino, 2017; d’Agostino et al., 2019; see also Adhiambo, 2019). Funding from international donors and religious organisations can provide an incentive to attempt reforms and an alternative to inadequate or unreliable public funds. It may strengthen state capacity to support and regulate religious education providers, but analysts assert that reliance on such funding may also lead to a misalignment between the priorities of international funders, recipients and governments, undermining the latter and resulting in over-​ dependence on external resources, as well as fragmentation and short-​termism (Bano, 2011b; Park and Nyozov, 2008). Conclusion Religious actors’ engagement in the provision of basic education for children raises questions about the roles they play in contemporary contexts where education is regarded as a government responsibility, including their claimed commitment and ability to provide access to education for the poor and disadvantaged and deliver good-​quality schooling that appeals to both parents and governments. Sometimes, religious providers seek to protect their autonomy. Their ability to do so depends on their relationships with successive governments and their sources of funding, which may be institutional or reliant on individuals (religious adherents and/​or parents). Their roles have had to evolve in response to emerging policy agendas, changing political and economic circumstances, and governments’ desire to take advantage of their resources and regulate their activities. Factors that explain the nature and extent of their contemporary education activities include their religious and

Religious organisations as education providers  189 philanthropic motivations, financial base and relationships with governments and external actors, all of which vary between the religious traditions and the contexts in which they operate. The extent to which their contributions can be assessed and explained in the religious, political and cultural contexts of South Asia and SSA is governed by the availability of evidence-​based research. However, despite the significant roles played both historically and often today by educational institutions founded and run by religious organisations, varying from the highly organised and institutionalised arrangements associated with the Roman Catholic missionary orders to the widespread but generally more informal institutional arrangements associated with Islam, research on the contemporary roles and characteristics of religious organisations is scarce, methodologically challenging and concentrated on a limited number of countries and on Islamic education. As a result, it is difficult to draw general conclusions. To understand the nature and outcomes of involvement in the provision of education by different religious groups and in different contexts, a range of explanatory factors need to be considered, including the religious values and beliefs of parents and providers, the roles of (and possible competition between) religious and other NSPs, the financial resources available and the relations between religious education providers, governments and international agencies. Political dynamics and incentives and the relationships between religious and political actors, which have deep historical roots, are key determinants of policies towards religious education providers and their outcomes. This is highlighted by the contrast between clientelist political regimes which depend on the leadership of key religious bodies and those which need to secure wide electoral support, as illustrated by, for example, the approach to and outcomes of madrasa reform policies. Working with religious education providers may improve or undermine social cohesion, depending on the context and the approach adopted. Religious actors often claim that they seek to improve the integration of disadvantaged groups into society and enable them to fulfil their potential, but the activities of some may undermine social equality and cohesion because of the values they promote or their role in reinforcing sectarian divisions, for example, Hindu organisations in India that promote the ideology of Hindutva to the disadvantage of minority religious traditions. Religious education providers’ financial base is key to the scale on which they can operate, their responsiveness to government policy and their ability to provide good-​quality education to children from socio-​economic groups differentiated by their level of prosperity, religious (and ethnic) identity and gender. However, systematic data on the volume and role of different sources of funding (including government grants, international and local sponsorship, and parental contributions) are unavailable, so it is difficult to assess claims that religious bodies provide educational opportunities that are both accessible to the poor and financially sustainable. Dependence on external funding, especially government grants, may give rise to tensions over the aims and content

190  The social roles of religious organisations in SSA and South Asia of the education they provide and threaten their organisational coherence and autonomy. While some religious education providers receive sufficient funding from their sponsors, fees or government contributions, many face financial challenges which adversely affect their ability to make significant contributions to education provision and policy debates and play only minor roles as alternative providers. Notes 1 The first systematic evaluation of the outcomes of these ‘new public management’ reforms was undertaken between 1996 and 2000. It examined reforms in four sectors (health, agriculture, trade and business development, and urban water supply), focusing on four countries (Zimbabwe, Ghana, Sri Lanka and India) (Batley and Larbi, 2004). The research teams found that government capacity to perform their envisaged roles generally remained weak and implementation of the ambitious reforms had been patchy. Various explanations were advanced: the complexity of institutional reform, resistance from vested interests within the public sector and at the political level, and the fact that the reforms were often undertaken at the behest of donors and external advisers, rather than politicians, sector professionals or users. 2 Research on the growth of non-​state provider involvement in education has focused on private providers, especially for-​profit entities, e.g. Dixon (2015); Macpherson et al. (2014). 3 The Roman Catholic Church globally (and in several individual countries) is the largest education provider among the Christian denominations and assembles data on the educational activities of its missionary institutions and dioceses. This has enabled researchers, especially Wodon, to undertake research that focuses on the Catholic Church. Barrera (2019), however, cites the lack of systematic data on the development and educational work of Catholic missionaries as a reason for adopting an approach that relies on publicly available information from the websites of orders and congregations to document their educational activities, identify their characteristics and assess their claimed contribution to filling gaps in provision and ability to mitigate market and government failures. 4 Neo-​Pentecostal churches, which were not members of the CSSC, have only recently become involved in the provision of school education. The establishment of the Commission both exacerbated Muslim grievances and encouraged new educational initiatives, especially by Muslim revivalists, fuelling increased competition in the education market. In Dilger’s view (2013), these have increased social inequality in access to education.

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Part III

Religious values and organisations Resisting or promoting social change? Many religious traditions are concerned with the need for change in individuals’ beliefs and behaviour. The significance of religious beliefs, values and practices in the lives of women and their social relations, especially those related to gender equality, sexuality and the family, were explored in the first of these linked volumes (Rakodi, 2019, especially Chapter 9). In addition, changes in individual behaviour can result in wider social change. For many adherents, their religious beliefs imply a concern or responsibility to change the society in which they live, by restoring or establishing a social and political order in which their interpretations of religious teachings and values are reflected in laws and policies enacted by the state. To achieve this, they may play active roles in wider movements for social change. Part of civil society, social movements concern associational life outside the formal political system, but linked to it, for example, in attempts to secure political and constitutional reform or regime change. In this arena, people mobilise in organisations, campaigns and coalitions that link citizens to each other and the state, so there is a need to identify which issues they tackle, assess the capacity of different groups of citizens to mobilise for collective action, and analyse how actors position themselves in the political terrain, understand their political opportunities and form alliances (Stokke and Oldfield, 2004). Religious organisations have played important roles in mobilising and influencing many social movements across the world, whether they are secular or religious in orientation. However, much North American and European scholarship has failed to recognise this, not only because of the influence of secularisation theory but also because it has been concerned with movements in which religious groups have not played key roles. Here, the focus is on movements seeking changes in gendered social relations, especially their implications for women and sexual minorities. The discussion is concerned with strategies for achieving or resisting change –​the dynamics of social movements and the roles played by religious actors in them. This focus is unusual in analyses of social movements in the DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-10

198  Religious values and organisations Global South, which generally focus on the issues (in this instance discrimination against women and sexual minorities) or attempts by social actors, including governments, NGOs and international organisations, to tackle the problems and their outcomes. Much of the available research is religion-​blind, focuses on a single religious tradition or sociopolitical context rather than comparative, or is concerned with policy and practice implications, limiting the potential for a comprehensive discussion. Here, the focus is on reviewing research on social movements concerned with changing family law to improve gender equality and recognising the rights of sexual minorities. The wider literature on the roles and characteristics of religious social mobilisation identifies three potential contributions religious adherents and groups can make to broader social movements (Devine et al., 2015; Levine and Salvatore, 2005; Nepstad and Williams, 2007): they can (i) offer a theological frame, expressed in religious discourse, which can equip participants with a shared consciousness, sense of collective identity, ideology and motivations; (ii) provide religious spaces, both physical and institutional; and (iii) link movement grievances or demands with political and social dynamics in the contexts in which religions are enmeshed. Existing analytical frameworks and empirical studies point to several explanatory factors, which are considered in the analyses in Chapters 8 and 9:

• The influence of teachings and attitudes • The history of religious traditions in local and national contexts • Whether religious identity is associated with power or disadvantage and discrimination

• The ways in which religious traditions are organised, including their leadership patterns and internal power dynamics

• The evolution and characteristics of civil and political society • Wider domestic and international influences. Many studies of social movements adopt a single or comparative case study approach. However, if the focus is on a single organisation, there is a risk that the space a movement provides for new ideas and relationships, which may be more important than any individual organisation, is downplayed (Nepstad and Williams, 2007). It is suggested that network approaches, based on identification of the main domains of movement activity, the key organisations involved and interactions between domains and organisations have advantages (Bebbington et al., 2010). References Bebbington, A.J., Mitlin, D., Mogaladi, J., Scurrah, M. and Bielich, C. (2010) Decentring poverty, re-​working government: social movements and states in the government of policy, The Journal of Development Studies, 46, 7, 1304–​26.

Religious values and organisations  199 Devine, J., Brown, G.K. and Deneulin, S. (2015) Contesting the boundaries of religion in social mobilization, Journal of South Asian Development, 10, 1, 22–​47. LeVine, M. and Salvatore, A. (2005) Socio-​religious movements and the transformation of ‘common sense’ into a politics of the ‘common good’, in Salvatore, A. and LeVine, M. (eds.), Religion, Social Practice, and Contested Hegemonies: Reconstructing the Public Sphere in Muslim Majority Societies, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 29–​56. Nepstad, S.E. and Williams, R.H. (2007) Religion in rebellion, resistance and social movements, in Beckford, J.A. and Demerath, N.J. III (eds.), The SAGE Handbook of the Sociology of Religion, London: Sage, 419–​37. Stokke, K. and Oldfield, S. (2004) Social movements, socio-​economic rights and substantial democratisation in South Africa, in Harriss, J., Stokke, K. and Tornquist, O. (eds.), Politicising Democracy: The New Local Politics of Democratisation, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 128–​47.

8 Religious involvement in women’s movements The quest for changes in family law

Introduction Women’s movements include those that are committed to realising women’s rights and reducing gender inequality and those that mobilise in support of an existing, often ‘traditional’/​conservative gender order. Those who emphasise the role of patriarchy in oppressing women in both the political and economic spheres and the private domain of home and family and base their advocacy on the idea of universal human rights are sometimes termed ‘secular feminists’, but both components of this label can be problematic in contexts where most people, including women activists, are religiously observant and ‘feminism’ is eschewed because of its Western origins and association with individual rights and liberal democracy. Instead, it may be more appropriate to distinguish between religious adherents who do not see (or ignore) contradictions between human rights principles and their religious beliefs and those who believe that it is necessary to reinterpret religious teachings and values to reconcile women’s rights and gender equality with the patriarchal interpretations and sources of authority within their religious tradition. The extent to which the latter is occurring varies between sociopolitical contexts and religious traditions (Bradley and Kirmani, 2015; Kirmani and Phillips, 2011). In the literature, a distinction tends to be made between efforts to achieve change within a religious tradition and in wider society. Here, I am mainly concerned with the latter. However, the validity of the distinction varies between religions and contexts, depending, for example, on the prevalence of religious adherence, the majority/​minority status of religious traditions and groups, and the historical and contemporary relationships between religious groups, political society and the state. Women’s movement strategies include practical programmes; efforts to recognise and entrench women’s rights and representation in political systems through constitutional reform, often at critical junctures such as political independence, secession, democratisation and after conflict; and subsequent attempts to realise women’s rights. The first may seek to improve the welfare of disadvantaged women through improving their access to education, health care and other services and enabling them to develop more secure livelihoods DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-11

202  Religious values and organisations through training or improved access to financial services (see the discussion of the roles played in social welfare provision by religious organisations in Part II). Second, a constitutional settlement is necessary to ensure that individual laws promote gender equality. Many accounts of political struggles, regime change and constitutional reform do not foreground the roles of religious groups and their leaders and nor are they gendered. However, there are exceptions. Sometimes religious differences are so central to struggles for political change that analysts cannot ignore them, for example, in South Asia and parts of SSA, such as Nigeria. Even when they appear to be less central, subsequent analyses may draw attention to the roles of religious groups in, for example, struggles to restore democracy in previously autocratic, military or single-​party regimes (e.g. Gifford, 1995, 1998). Constitutions set out the principles for political representation and decision-​making, specifying where a state lies on a theocratic-​secular continuum and influencing the need and scope for subsequent legislation. The extent to which struggles for political and regime change and constitutional reform adopt the principle of gender equality and address the needs of women varies. Accounts of political change are not always gendered and often they do not examine the role of women’s movements. However, there are exceptions. For example, a pathbreaking comparative analysis of women’s movements in SSA since the late 1980s focuses mainly on their role in increasing women’s roles and representation in politics, achieving constitutional change and contributing to peacemaking in the aftermath of conflict (Tripp et al., 2009).1 It is not possible to do justice to the literature on the role of religious groups in regime change and democratisation here, but the main argument advanced by Tripp et al. is summarised below because it provides a valuable launch pad for deepening understanding of struggles to realise the rights and improve the situation of women, press for implementation of existing laws (through political campaigning or legal challenges) and introduce and implement new policies and legal provisions, especially those relating to family and personal law.2 No similar comparative analysis is available for South Asia, where consideration of gender equality and women’s rights in the available accounts of regime change and constitutional reform at the national level is uneven. However, Bradley and Kirmani (2015) outline links between religion and women’s movements in India and Pakistan, focusing on the ways in which women’s bodies remain a battleground for competing discourses on gender and sexuality and how “the increasing intertwinement of conservative and patriarchal interpretations of religion with the state has placed constraints on activism related to gender equality” (p. 221), justified the denial of rights to women and fuelled gender-​based violence. Third, changes to individual laws are generally necessary (although not sufficient) for women’s rights to be realised. Legal reform is, therefore, an important focus for many women’s movements, because it can influence policies and the allocation of government resources, encourage changes in (as well

Religious involvement in women’s movements  203 as reflecting) social attitudes and behaviour, and provide a means for those affected to seek legal redress, either individually or collectively. Understanding whether and how campaigns for legal change are successful can usefully draw on studies of social movements, which require attention to be paid to the dynamics and details of mobilisation. This chapter focuses on movements seeking changes in personal or family law that are relevant to both women and religious groups, with a focus on campaign strategies and their outcomes rather than the detailed content of the laws concerned or their implementation, which is dependent on many other factors and needs to be assessed on a long-​term basis. Campaigns for legal reform in Sub-​Saharan Africa Tripp et al. (2009) describe how in SSA the parliamentary representation of women has increased since the introduction or restoration of democratic politics, often in the late 1990s. They identify the roles of women’s movements in lobbying for revised constitutions that include gender equality and anti-​ discrimination clauses, their attempts to secure new legislation to expand women’s rights and their representation, for the first time, in national level post-​conflict peace talks. They ask how and why women have become more visible in politics and begun to affect policies, and why the governments of some countries but not others have been persuaded to pass legislation that seeks to advance women’s rights. Those countries which made more progress, they demonstrate, saw the convergence of four trends:

• The emergence of active and autonomous3 women’s organisations in the 1980s and 1990s, following an earlier era characterised first by the contributions made by women to movements for national independence, and later by the dominance of women’s organisations established by or under the control of authoritarian or one-​party political regimes (Para-​ Mallam, 2006, 2010). The new women’s movements moved away from the welfare and development approach of earlier organisations to focus on promoting women’s rights, advocacy and political participation. • International developments that facilitated and influenced the proliferation and strengthening of women’s organisations during this era, including the increasing acceptance of norms regarding women’s rights and representation through the UN system, as seen in the UN conferences on women in Nairobi in 1985 and Beijing in 1991, and the development of institutional mechanisms to spread these norms internationally. Under pressure from such bodies and national women’s organisations and networks, governments signed up to international conventions, especially the 1979 Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), providing domestic organisations with a lever through which to hold them to account.

204  Religious values and organisations

• Increased prosperity: countries with relatively higher per capita GDP are, Tripp et al. (2009) note, more likely to implement women-​friendly policies (such as universal primary education). In addition, the increasing aid dependence of many African governments was associated with donor pressure to comply with international women’s rights norms and conditionality related to democratisation and rolling back the state, which created opportunities and access to new resources for CSOs wishing to address women’s rights and needs. • Regime change, including both democratic transitions and the end of civil conflicts, which opened up political space for activists to advance their causes, in particular through processes of constitutional revision: between 1990 and 2008, 38 national constitutions in SSA were rewritten and six underwent major revisions. Post-​1990s rights-​based advocacy has argued for equal gender representation in political and other institutions, sought equal rights for women, challenged customary practices that affect gender and familial relationships, sought to protect women’s bodily integrity through legislation related to reproductive rights and domestic violence, and tackled women’s rights to a livelihood by improving their access to land, property, credit, etc. Although Tripp et al. (2009) do not evaluate outcomes, they assert that, despite implementation difficulties, progress is being made. Rather than this being a result of democratisation or increased donor funding, they argue, it can be attributed to the growth of active women’s movements, changing international norms, major societal upheaval that created opportunities for women’s rights activists to advance their agendas, and the availability of resources to carry out reforms, a conclusion that, they suggest, also applies to women’s movements in other parts of the Global South. In addition, differences in the relative importance of these factors largely explain the differences between their case study countries. Tripp et al.’s arguments are convincing. However, there is a major lacuna in their analysis: they attribute progress to women’s movement mobilisation; supportive parliamentarians; alliances between the latter, gender ministries and CSOs; sympathetic media; donor support; and endorsement by key societal coalitions. Conversely, they assert that organised resistance from religious groups and traditional authorities has constrained progressive change (Tripp et al., 2009, p. 127). This is one of the few sections of their analysis that refers to religion. However, it lacks evidence-​based analysis, elides ‘traditional’/​local and ‘religious’ actors, and associates ‘religion’ with failure to progress women’s rights. This blind spot is also evident elsewhere in their analysis: they do not examine whether and how the religious composition of individual countries has influenced their social characteristics and political trajectories; in what ways the beliefs and practices of adherents of different religious traditions and denominations influence values, participation in politics and attitudes to legal reforms; variations in attitudes to gender equality within religious traditions,

Religious involvement in women’s movements  205 often along a liberal-​conservative spectrum; or the roles played by religious organisations in politics and advocacy. Various international and regional agreements and conventions provide an authoritative if often controversial framework for national constitutions, which are in turn the basis for more specific legislation, enabling a series of court judgements to interpret laws and build up a body of precedent, especially in the common law systems that typify Anglophone Africa. For the principles to which signatories of international agreements have acceded to be realised at the national level, they need to be reflected in new or revised national legislation, a complex matter in the plural legal systems of most African countries.4 In turn, this provides scope for governments to be held to account if there are discrepancies between national laws and policies and the principles, standards and targets to which national governments have signed up. Arguably, apart from the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Convention on the Elimination of all Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) and the subsequent Maputo Protocol to the African Charter on Human and People’s Rights (1981) on the Rights of Women in Africa (2003) are the most significant for women’s rights in SSA.5 CEDAW was ratified by several African governments, including, in 1985, that of Nigeria. As elsewhere in SSA, the space for activism by CSOs and individuals expanded with a return to democratic rule in 1999, enabling more active campaigning for social change. In Nigeria, to enshrine the provisions of international agreements in national legislation, laws must first be enacted at the federal level. State governments then have a degree of autonomy to enact their own laws. In 12 northern largely Muslim States, they have used this to extend existing shari’a-​based laws, a process which has raised political questions about who has the authority to adopt law that is non-​compliant with the international conventions signed by the national government and principles enshrined in the Nigerian constitution, for example, with respect to gender equality. Some state governments have introduced laws that seek to reduce discrimination against women by reforming various aspects of family law, including those relating to marriage, divorce, child custody, inheritance and property rights. In most African societies, cultural beliefs and practices have religious elements (see Rakodi, 2019, pp. 38, 74–​5). Although they play important social and legal roles, many Africans do not regard them as ‘religious’ traditions –​ increasingly, ‘religion’ is used to describe the monotheistic traditions, primarily Islam and Christianity. Generally, countries have three sources of law (state law, shari’a and customary law) and all are officially recognised, although their significance varies. While governments regard state law as pre-​eminent, it is often unenforced and unenforceable, especially with respect to family law and land tenure, because of the widespread acceptance and practice of customary and/​or Islamic law. Research in Nigeria in 2008/​9 examined two campaigns for legal reform related to the rights of women. It sought to identify the ways in which the campaign actors engaged with religion and to assess whether and how this

206  Religious values and organisations engagement explained the outcomes: domestication of the CEDAW convention in Nigerian federal law (see Box 8.1) and an Anambra State law that sought to prohibit practices that discriminated against widows and widowers (Box 8.2). The first ended in failure and the second in success. The case studies first identified the principal actors in the campaigns, the roles they played, the strategies and tactics they adopted and the resources they contributed, and second, assessed whether and how religion influenced the nature and outcomes of the campaigns. Each was based on documentary evidence and semi-​ structured interviews with members of secular and religious NGOs, religious leaders and government representatives (Adamu et al., 2010, 2011; Adamu and Para-​Mallam, 2012; Para-​Mallam, 2010; Para-​Mallam et al., 2011). Research on an attempt to reform family law in Muslim-​majority Mali is presented in Box 8.3.6 Finally, a campaign to redress unequal gender rights to land and property in Tanzania is discussed (Box 8.4). Men’s and women’s access to land and property is rooted in customary economic arrangements and patriarchal social relationships. Laws reflect colonial economic and political histories, postcolonial governments’ development visions and international influences. Generally, contemporary state law gives men and women equal status in law, accompanied by the right to acquire and dispose of land. However, in practice, women’s access to land and property is limited, constraining their livelihood options, affecting the distribution of benefits from their labour and jeopardising their security following divorce, separation or widowhood. While they can often buy land, their economic disadvantage precludes this, affecting their ability to choose not to marry. In practice, customary and/​or Islamic law often has more influence than state law. The former is tied up with kinship systems which disadvantage women, especially if they are patrilineal and patrilocal. In addition, it may not be codified, inhibiting women’s ability to secure legal recourse. The “complex and distinctive forms of land tenure and land rights found in Muslim societies” (Sait and Lim, 2006, p. 1) and their interplay with other land administration systems have generally been neglected. Sait and Lim’s review considers women’s rights to acquire, hold, use, administer and dispose of land and property, paying particular attention to inheritance and the basis and outcomes of reforms. Given the key role played by land and property in household security and livelihoods, women’s tenure rights are important in the campaigning strategies of many African women’s movements, often subsumed within campaigns for changes in personal and family law. For example, Tripp et al. (2009) note that women have mobilised against discriminatory land policies and practices in the countries included in their comparative analysis and have been active in a variety of alliances fighting for land rights and against the privatisation of communal rights. Muslim women are involved in movements pressing for attitudinal change within the religious community and legal reform through reinterpreting shari’a in the light of contemporary social and economic change and revisiting its interactions with other legal traditions and conceptions of land and property rights.

Religious involvement in women’s movements  207 Box 8.1  The roles of religious beliefs and actors in an attempt to domesticate CEDAW in Nigeria CEDAW was ratified by the Nigerian government in 1985. However, this only gave it moral force, so after 1999, a 50+​strong coalition of secular and religious organisations and networks, especially women’s groups, prioritised its incorporation into federal law. In 2006, a bill was presented to the National Assembly by the Federal Ministry of Women’s Affairs but in 2007, unlike in other African countries, it was voted down. This failure was widely attributed to religious opposition. It emerged that the CEDAW coalition members had underestimated the extent to which religious actors would regard aspects of the bill as controversial, as well as their capacity to mobilise opposition by lobbying members of the National Assembly. The coalition made few attempts to engage with religious leaders and their communities, traditional/​community leaders or grassroots women. As a result, many of the religious leaders interviewed, including those opposed to the bill, were unaware of CEDAW’s specific content. Both Muslim and Christian religious leaders and activists and many members of the overwhelmingly male National Assembly expressed reservations about the concept of ‘gender equality’, referring to conservative interpretations of religious texts and indigenous cultural norms, although it was difficult to disentangle opposition on religious grounds from men’s fears that their dominant roles in society might be undermined by the legislation. Although the Ministry of Women’s Affairs had consulted influential religious women’s organisations, only limited efforts were made to enlist their support in the campaign. Christians and Muslims had similar views on some aspects of the proposed legislation, but not others. Opposition focused on three articles related to reproductive rights (especially Christians, but also Muslims), the minimum age of marriage (Muslims) and women’s rights in marriage and its dissolution (both Christians and Muslims). The bill was regarded by many of its opponents as anti-​family, anti-​God and part of a Western feminist agenda. Many, especially Catholics, spearheaded by the Catholic Women’s Organisation, saw it as a surreptitious attempt to legalise abortion. Some informants highlighted the role of the media, referring to the part they played in perpetuating misconceptions about CEDAW and also to the coalition’s ineffective use of the media to support its campaign. Despite the failure of the bill, the campaign was ongoing at the time of the research, despite lacking financial resources. The coalition had submitted its own reports to the UN Committee that reviews national progress towards achieving CEDAW’s aims, to counter what it perceived as the Nigerian government’s exaggerated claims. In addition, some religious leaders and organisations have identified scriptural references to use in campaigning, arguing that, unlike traditional culture, both Christianity and Islam recognise women’s rights.

208  Religious values and organisations Box 8.2  The roles of religious actors in improving the protection of widows in Nigeria Many of the rituals and practices with which widows in many parts of SSA were and still are expected to comply are inhumane, degrading and incompatible with women’s human and constitutional rights. This is the case in largely Igbo and Christian Anambra State (for more detail, see Adamu et al., 2011, pp. 16–​21; Adamu and Para-​Mallam, 2012, pp. 811–​ 2). Widows are discriminated against by Igbo inheritance rules, which prescribe that property is inherited through the male line. Women cannot inherit land through their fathers and are not entitled to any share of the property of their deceased husbands, even if acquired during marriage. The inheritance rules and rituals, which are associated with traditional cultural practices, are enforced by the male and female relatives of the deceased man. They are humiliating and can reduce widows and their children to destitution. Protests against widowhood practices started in the late 1980s but were uncoordinated. By the 2000s, however, the Coalition of Eastern NGOs (CENGOS), an umbrella organisation of 100+​NGOs (including Catholic and Anglican women’s organisations) in the nine States of the old Eastern Region, including Anambra, was formed to spearhead a campaign for legal reform. Growing concern over the maltreatment of widows, including their own members, led the religious organisations to become involved, along with associations of professional women and journalists. The Catholic Women’s Organisation, together with the Mothers’ Union and Women’s Guild, both associated with the Anglican Communion, initiated and led community-​level campaigns to obtain support from their own members, religious leaders and traditional leaders, especially men. The campaign was justified using religious language and beliefs, for example, the incompatibility of Christian and traditional funeral rites. Community-​level support increased the legitimacy of the state-​level campaign and gave rise to local pressure for changes in practices. Although secular NGOs and professionals led on the main campaign, the religious organisations’ role in lobbying State Assembly members and obtaining the support of religious leaders was vital. Churches functioned as a platform for campaigners to spread their message, including to Assembly members, and provided legitimacy, pastoral support, prayer and material resources. Tactical compromises, for example, including widowers as well as widows in the provisions, reduced opposition from men. The Act was passed in 2005. Pressure for implementation of the law was maintained in subsequent years, with an emphasis on educating women about their rights and providing support to those seeking redress through mediation or the courts. Informants reported increased awareness of their rights and the law among women and a decline in harmful traditional practices. However,

Religious involvement in women’s movements  209 at the time of the research, implementation of the inheritance provisions, which are key for women, was proving difficult because of the complexity of land and property issues, while campaigning momentum had been lost because the coalition had dispersed and many of the organisations had moved on to other priorities.

Box 8.3  An attempt to reform family law in Mali Islam spread through much of Mali in the twentieth century and the country has become increasingly Islamised in recent decades. As in many Sub-​Saharan South African societies, state law, largely uncodified customary law and shari’a co-​ exist and overlap. In practice, social institutions, including marriage, divorce and inheritance, are mostly governed by Islamic law. Some provisions in the 1962 Marriage Code, which was designed to improve women’s position in marriage and divorce, were accepted because they were compatible with both customary law and the Maliki school of Islamic jurisprudence prevalent in Mali. However, other provisions in the code were not adhered to and most marriages continued to be regulated according to Islamic and customary law (Soares, 2009). By the 1980s, with the emergence of women’s rights activists and organisations, social change and international influences, the need for legislative change had become pressing. In 1991, authoritarian single-​party rule ended, fostering the emergence of CSOs and a Muslim piety movement in which women are prominent (Schulz, 2008, 2011; see also Rakodi, 2019, p. 66). In 2000, an attempt was launched to reform the family code, to improve women’s and children’s rights and eliminate discrimination by, for example, providing for women to become household heads in the event of divorce or widowhood and to have access to an equitable portion of a deceased husband’s inheritance. The women’s ministry worked with women’s rights activists, NGOs, religious organisations and international agencies to conduct public education campaigns about women’s rights, inform citizens of the government’s intentions and seek public contributions to a consultative process. For example, the UN Food and Agriculture Organisation, working with Muslim organisations (l’Association Malienne pour l’Unité et la Progrès de l’Islam (AMUPI) and Union des associations de femme musulmanes de Mali (UNAFEM), commissioned a report designed to increase people’s knowledge of women’s rights and duties according to (a particular) reading of Muslim jurisprudence. Working with a network of women’s rights NGOs, this initiative sought to dialogue with religious

210  Religious values and organisations leaders by using an authoritative version of Islam that foregrounds women’s rights. In 2002, a draft revised family code was presented to the National Assembly. It sought to make men and women equal in marriage and inheritance through, for example, raising the legal minimum age of marriage for women to 18 (the same as men) and removing the so-​called ‘obedience clause’. Opposition to the bill was widespread, leading the government to withdraw the draft, which was not reintroduced until the second term of the next president, in 2009, when it was approved. However, in the face of continued opposition, it was returned to the National Assembly for further consideration (de Jorio, 2009; Soares, 2009). The stalemate had not been resolved at the time of writing. Opposition was both internal and external. For example, the Ministry of Justice, still committed to the principle of state/​religion separation and the primacy of state law, favoured reform of the judiciary to improve implementation of existing laws, while critics perceived the whole process as an effort by successive presidents to improve the government’s respectability in the eyes of donors and the consultations referred to above as a means for politicians and NGO leaders to obtain income (Schultz, 2011). The fiercest debates concerned the bill’s proposals related to inheritance, the so-​called ‘obedience clause’ and the registration of religious marriages. While Muslims, including UNAFEM, argued that Islamic inheritance law would improve the position of women compared to customary law, even if their rights to inherit are not equal to those of men, women’s rights activists insisted that the rights accorded to women under both Islamic and customary laws are unconstitutional. They sought to reduce men’s legal rights (e.g. to choose a household’s place of residence) to reflect women’s increased contribution to family subsistence and decision-​making, especially among lower classes in urban areas, where precarious economic conditions had started to undercut husbands’ authority. Male government officials and AMUPI blocked many of the proposed changes (Schultz, 2011). In particular, while women’s rights activists and the Ministry of Justice wish to restrict registration to civil marriages, many Muslims wanted religious marriages to be recognised by the state. Frustrated at its reluctance to do so, AMUPI, UNAFEM, the Haut conseil islamique du Mali and the reformist Association Islamique pour le salut (AISLEM) sought to develop and promote the use of Muslim marriage contracts (Soares, 2009). The failure of the proposed legal reforms was blamed by many observers on opposition from Islamists/​conservative Muslims. However, according to Schultz, 2011, the real explanations are more complex. First, they demonstrate tensions between men’s and women’s perspectives. Second, they reveal diversity in women’s interests, based on class and differing religious interpretations. Third, they expose struggles for power and

Religious involvement in women’s movements  211 authority between state and religious bodies. Lastly, and most importantly, they reflect the failure of those promoting the legal reforms to recognise the limits to state legitimacy and the breadth of public support for Muslim laws, practices and authorities. Thus, a rift emerged between the Western-​educated female elite and male government officials, with the latter allying with Muslim defendants of patriarchal norms, both men and women. In addition, women’s rights activists’ main concerns were those of rural and lower-​class urban women, who endorsed the AMUPI demand that religious marriage should be given civil recognition and Islamic inheritance laws adopted, on the grounds that these provisions would strengthen women’s position (Schultz, 2011). Many Muslims agreed that women’s rights should be recognised and promoted, leading them to support some of the proposed provisions, but to advocate the recognition and registration of Muslim marriages. Within the state, some defended women’s constitutional rights and sought to limit the influence of Muslim authorities, while others were reluctant to interfere in religiously and socially sensitive matters. AMUPI was in an ambiguous and so relatively weak position: government officials and NGOs saw its religious values as clashing with the ideology of secularism, while its partial alignment with the state led it into conflict with other Muslim organisations, which questioned its right to speak on behalf of all Muslims. Although successive governments argued that liberal democracy enabled various groups to claim recognition of their cultural and religious rights and participate in public debates and used this to claim legitimacy in the eyes of international actors, their use of the idiom of cultural authenticity and Islam enabled conservative forces to mobilise opposition to the proposed reforms (Schultz, 2011). The long struggle for reform and its inconclusive outcome thus reflected an ongoing tussle between the state and Muslim clerics over authority (Soares, 2009). Despite the detrimental effects of unequal access to land and insecurity of tenure for women, there has been little analysis of the links between religious values and organisations and women’s engagement in land-​related struggles and campaigns to change the legal basis for tenure in SSA. Tanzania is an exception: in 2008/​9 studies examined the roles of women’s organisations in the drafting and enactment of the 1999 Land Act (Mallya, 2005) and whether and how the organisations that campaigned for improvements to the proposed legislation engaged with religious beliefs and organisations (Killian, 2011) (see Box 8.4). In the campaigns described in Boxes 8.1–​8.4, support or opposition to the proposed legislation was directly related to whether it was seen as being compatible with religious teachings and beneficial to religious groups and their members. For example, unanticipated levels of opposition from Muslims and

212  Religious values and organisations Box 8.4  The roles of religious actors in land law reform in Tanzania At independence in 1961, Tanzania inherited a plural legal system that included customary law and practices, Islamic personal law and a statutory legal system influenced by English common law. The Tanzanian government has tried ever since to reform the system to achieve its development objectives while keeping effective control over land in the hands of the state (Killian, 2011, pp. 15–​19). However, by the time political and economic liberalisation occurred at the beginning of the 1990s, the legal and administrative system governing land was characterised by multiple contradictions, ambiguities and inconsistencies. Announcing its intention to enact reforms, the government established a commission of enquiry to review the existing system and identify necessary changes. Two alliances of NGOs were formed to lobby for the land needs of disadvantaged groups to be addressed: a 14-​member National Land Forum and a 7-​ member Gender Land Task Force (GLTF). Campaigning focused on the draft Land Bill (1996), which was eventually enacted in 1999 as the Land Act No. 4a and the Village Land Act No. 5. Two-​ thirds of Tanzanian women claim agriculture as their main activity. Rural land is governed mainly by customary law, even for many Muslims. This varies between communities and over time, with differing implications for women’s access to land (Becker, 2008; Odgaard, 2005; Yngstrom, 2002). In the mostly patrilineal kinship systems that typify Tanzania, women are discriminated against with respect to the ownership and control of land. In response, the campaign adopted a rights-​ based approach focused on ensuring that the constitutional principle of gender equality was incorporated in the new legislation. It succeeded in including clauses that seek to (a) ensure women’s equal rights to use, occupy and control land; (b) safeguard married, widowed and divorced women’s rights through an (at the time) innovative provision for certificates of occupancy to be put in the names of both spouses and (c) provide for women’s representation in village-​level bodies with land-​ related responsibilities. Even though not all its demands were met, the GTLF saw its campaign as successful, due to its organisational capacity, professional skills (especially in law) and the contributions of the Dar es Salaam-​based NGO members of the task force. Despite the spiritual dimensions of some customary beliefs and practices related to land, Tanzanians see these as custom and culture rather than ‘religion’. Thus, those involved in campaigning for reforms to (or, by some, the abolition of) customary tenure did not perceive these as having a ‘religious’ dimension, although Killian speculates that this may also have been because the women’s land rights movement was largely urban and did not directly seek to mobilise rural women (which also

Religious involvement in women’s movements  213 limited its grassroots support). Shari’a regarding property ownership and inheritance is available to but not always used by the one-​third or more of Tanzanians who are Muslims. Even though it specifies unequal entitlements for men and women, the women’s land rights movement chose not to tackle gender inequality in Islamic law, to avoid antagonising Muslims in a climate of increasing Christian–​Muslim tension. Although almost all Tanzanians are either Christian or Muslim, to ensure wide support for the campaign GLTF members did not claim a religious motivation for their involvement and avoided the use of religious discourse, criticism of religious beliefs and practices, or bringing in matters not directly related to land (e.g. polygyny). Registered CSOs, most of which are women’s organisations, have proliferated since the introduction of multiparty democracy in 1992. However, they, including religious organisations, are prohibited from engaging in party politics, so the women’s land rights movement had to negotiate a delicate political terrain. No religious organisations joined the GLTF, although some, notably the Roman Catholic Church (the Tanzania Episcopal Conference), the Christian Council of Tanzania (an umbrella organisation of Protestant churches) and, to a lesser extent, the Evangelical Lutheran Church and BAKWATA (National Muslim Council of Tanzania, the main Muslim umbrella organisation), all of which have women’s desks, helped to raise awareness of the issues among their members to generate public support for the GLTF’s demands. Implementation of the 1999 Acts arguably exceeds the capacity of the Tanzanian legal and governmental system and has been very slow (WFDD, 2019). Odgaard (2005) notes that implementation is constrained by the complicated and locally specific character of struggles over land rights, as well as weaknesses in the legislation. Although the National Land Forum continued to organise an annual meeting, the organisations involved in the 1990s campaign have tended to pursue other issues and little evidence on the outcomes of the legislation for women’s land rights was available at the time of the study.

others to some clauses in the CEDAW domestication bill in Nigeria and the Malian revised family code resulted in their defeat, despite the support of many religious leaders and other constituencies for the principles on which the proposed laws were based and much of their content. Thus, opposition to the aspects of the CEDAW domestication bill that were regarded by Christians and Muslims in Nigeria as incompatible with religious tenets outweighed the support for enacting CEDAW into law. Male domination of the National Assembly and senior religious leadership contributed to the outcome. In Mali, the ideology of laïcité adopted by the political and intellectual elite that dominated post-​colonial governments in Francophone countries led to

214  Religious values and organisations resistance to the registration of religious marriages on the grounds that this would compromise religion–​state separation. In contrast, in Anambra State, the legislation to protect widows was seen as beneficial to members of the mainline churches, compatible with their religious teaching and a way of further undermining traditional religious beliefs.7 The campaigns for widowhood rights in Anambra State and women’s land rights in Tanzania demonstrated how, if influential religious groups perceive that discriminatory practices adversely affect the rights of their own members as well as women in general, they can help to change social attitudes and bring significant organisational resources to bear, even if they do not formally affiliate themselves with a campaign coalition. Such resources include access to potential supporters, including both grassroots and national political and social leaders. A related issue, especially in the context of the HIV/​AIDS epidemic, is widow inheritance (levirate marriage). For example, research among the mainly Christian Luo in western Kenya shows how responses to widow inheritance vary between churches: in this area, some African Independent Churches support the practice, Pentecostal and evangelical churches oppose it, and Roman Catholic and Anglican churches have been trying to reshape it. Alliances opposing the practice, comprised of women’s rights activists and some Christian groups, have found that they can be more effective if their claims are expressed in Christian rather than human rights idioms (Prince, 2009). Other important characteristics of the individuals and organisations supporting or opposing campaigns for women’s rights are their motivations, power and legitimacy. Although coalitions formed and dominated by NGOs may act as brokers between grassroots movements and the state in advocating for social change, they are often formed and run by members of the elite, influenced by foreign ideas and dependent on external funding, so may be regarded with suspicion and lack the legitimacy and reach of religious bodies. The strategies and tactics adopted in the various campaigns discussed above influenced the numbers and influence of supporters and opponents and contributed to the outcomes. Thus, in Nigeria, the failure of the CEDAW coalition to enlist support from the broader women’s movement, especially grassroots organisations concerned with women’s welfare, or from traditional and religious leaders, can be contrasted with the centrality of such tactics to the widowhood rights campaign in Anambra State and implementation of the 2005 law, with religious women’s organisations being able to mobilise their own resources and link into wider church structures, seen in their ability to harness the resources of the main religious networks in Tanzania. Similarly, the failure of the CEDAW coalition to develop effective links with the media can be contrasted with the deliberate strategy of the Anambra State coalition to mobilise support from a range of potential allies that included the media. Third, comprehensive legislation, as in the quest to domesticate CEDAW in Nigeria and reform family law in Mali, is more likely to contain provisions likely to provoke serious opposition and antagonise some potential supporters, including religious groups, while more focused legislation can build support

Religious involvement in women’s movements  215 by appealing to those likely to benefit from its provisions. Finally, reluctance to compromise may jeopardise the success of campaigns for legal reform. The willingness of campaigners in Anambra State to agree to extending legal safeguards to widowers succeeded in pre-​empting male opposition, although an attempt to work within a particular interpretation of Islamic teachings was less successful in Mali, where conflicting political, bureaucratic and religious interests could not, in the end, be reconciled. Although the campaigns showed that women’s organisations can collaborate with each other and orchestrate support from external actors and organisations, the research also shows how their choice of strategies and tactics can reflect the sometimes-​divided views and loyalties of their backers. Campaigns for legal reform in South Asia South Asian countries share a common colonial experience, superimposed on a patchwork of varied social systems and political histories. The origins of movements concerned with women’s needs can be traced to the colonial period when the subcontinent was under British rule. With independence, however, the divergence of political experience and religious composition had different implications for the evolution of different countries. Features of the two dominant religious traditions (Hinduism and Islam), interactions between them, political dynamics and the majority/​minority status of religious groups are crucial to understanding the aims, characteristics and strategies of women’s movements and their campaigns for legal reform. Calls for greater gender equality and rights for women began to be heard throughout British-​ruled India well before independence. Between the 1850s and the 1930s, social reform movements emerged in which educated upper class men responded to the colonial rulers’ view of Indian society as backward, based on practices like sati8 and child marriage, by campaigning for their abolition and advocating education for girls and women. The debates around these issues and the resulting legislative changes demonstrated the centrality of gender in the process of religious identity construction that characterised the ruling strategy of the colonial administration. In addition to the colonial administrators, members of the indigenous elite, including judges, as well as Hindu and Muslim reformist organisations, played important roles. Previously varied and fluid social practices were codified in separate systems of personal law based on particular interpretations of the religious texts (Ghosh, 2009; Kirmani, 2009a, Nazneen, 2017; Saigol, 2016). Sati was banned in 1829, although the practice persisted, and girls’ access to education increased. During the second phase of the women’s movement, from about 1919 to 1940, the issues of women’s suffrage and further reforms to personal laws were taken up, although women’s participation in the nationalist struggle tended to be symbolic, with men continuing to dominate the leadership (Kumar, 2015). Gender-​related issues initially united women across the religious divide, for example, in the sub-​committee on women of the 1939–​40 National Planning

216  Religious values and organisations Committee, appointed by the Indian National Congress, which focused on women’s empowerment through equal opportunities in education and employment, political rights and an enabling legal framework based on a common civil legal code. However, women’s struggle for further rights was subsumed in the nationalist struggle and then in early post-​independence nation-​building projects (Nazneen, 2017; Saigol, 2016). The women’s movement and religion in post-​independence India

In India after partition, the ruling Congress Party adopted a policy of secularism (meaning religious neutrality) and granted equal rights to all citizens, regardless of religion or gender (Engineer, 2004; Govinda, 2013), while also recognising the need for collective group rights and autonomy for religious minorities. As a result, the latter were able to retain systems of personal law that sometimes conflict with the constitutional guarantee of equal rights, raising questions of whether group rights for minority communities are likely to increase social instability in divided societies and how the desire of a religious group for political recognition and cultural preservation can be balanced with the need to protect the human rights of individual members of that group (Harel-​Shalev, 2017a, 2017b). It was against the background of partition, increasingly entrenched religious identities and communal sentiments, and Muslim fears that shari’a would not be respected after Muslims became a minority that Nehru persuaded the Constituent Assembly not to press for a Universal Civil Code (UCC). Instead, the 1950 Constitution permitted existing family laws (e.g. shari’a personal law) to remain in force for the time being (Ghosh, 2009). Debates over an appropriate system of personal law have been a major concern of the women’s movement ever since. While activists called for a UCC or at least common rights standards across diverse communal laws, between 1947 and 1973, the Indian government alternated between trying to unify and secularise personal laws and recognising and reinforcing religious laws in response to pressure from conservative elements within the Hindu and Muslim electorates. Thus, between 1954 and 1956 Hindu personal law was revised in a series of Acts governing marriage, divorce, succession and maintenance, while attempts to reform shari’a largely failed in the face of Muslim opposition, even though several components contravene individual rights (Künkler and Sezgin, 2016; Narain, 2013). The contemporary women’s movement emerged in India during the 1970s, at a time of political upheaval and increased state repression. Despite the difficult political situation, the UN Declaration of 1975 as International Women’s Year prompted the government to establish a Committee on the Status of Women, which produced a landmark report that highlighted major disparities in the status of women compared to men in terms of education, health and political participation, associated with discriminatory practices in the spheres of law, education and social norms and practices (e.g. dowry), as well as emphasising the violence to which women were subjected in the domestic and

Religious involvement in women’s movements  217 public spheres. The new women’s groups which emerged at this time were more radical than their predecessors and more explicitly feminist in their ideology. Influenced by the international feminist movement, which generally rejected religion as irredeemably patriarchal, they promoted secularism, either avoiding questions related to religion or criticising religious beliefs and practices (such as sati, dowry and Muslim personal law), while continuing to make use of some Hindu religious symbols, especially goddess imagery, to counter the perceived Western bias of feminism (Omvedt, 1998). Whether promoted by advocates of Hindutva ideology or merely a reflection of the cultural worldview of leading women’s movement activists, who were mainly upper caste and upper-​class Hindus, in Govinda’s (2013) view the use of Hindu symbols contributed to non-​Hindu women feeling alienated from the movement. During the 1980s and 1990s, local, regional and national women’s movements shared a platform of opposition to subordination and violence in the spheres of family, community and the state, as well as exploitation in the spheres of work and livelihoods. Lobbying by women’s movements resulted in several pieces of supposedly progressive legislation being passed, despite adverse reactions from some Hindu religious leaders and Hindu right-​wing groups. For example, Subrahmanian et al. (2014) describe the attempts of the National Commission for Women, a government body established in 1991, to influence law-​making by drafting a bill intended to strengthen earlier laws against dowry by providing legal protection against all forms of domestic violence. However, despite extensive public and intra-​governmental consultations, the bill eventually introduced in 2002 emphasised keeping families intact rather than preventing violence against women. Influenced by opposition from some Hindus, the limited leverage of the NCW compared to male-​dominated government departments and Parliament and despite protests from women’s groups, the Act passed in 2005 did not reflect many of the concerns expressed during the wider consultations. Thus, dowry has continued to be associated with the marriage of underage girls; sex selection, leading to skewed sex ratios, has continued, especially in Punjab and Haryana; and families are complicit in dowry deaths, foeticide, infanticide and marital violence (Bradley and Kirmani, 2015; Kumar, 2015). Women (especially rural women) emerged as a significant political and electoral force through reservations in institutions of local governance (Basu, 2008; Roy, 2015). However, women’s groups soon realised that the new laws were failing to reduce violence against women, while many government institutions continue to be imbued with anti-​poor, anti-​minority and anti-​women mindsets (Kumar, 2015). There has been little progress with implementing the legal reforms and feminists fear that they have increased the power of the state, deepened the policing of women’s lives and strengthened rather than subverted the conservative and patriarchal ideologies that are associated with the religious traditions (Roy, 2015). Since the 1980s, in addition to the differing theological and organisational characteristics of Hinduism and Islam, the women’s movement has been

218  Religious values and organisations undermined by broader economic and political changes, including economic liberalisation, increasing inequality, the failure of the state to provide basic health and education services and the rise of identity politics, especially right-​ wing Hindu communalism. Women’s ability to take advantage of the opportunities resulting from economic liberalisation has been uneven, resulting in increased poverty and inequality, exacerbated by government failure to provide adequate access to education and health care. Some organisations seek to address the problems faced by disadvantaged women, but others fear that the metropolitan and upper caste Hindu orientation of the national women’s movement has undermined its understanding of and willingness to address increases in poverty and social inequality. Many women are active members of women’s organisations associated with the Hindu right, including the women’s wings of religious political parties and Hindu nationalist organisations, whose notions of womanhood and gender relations differ from those of other women’s groups, undermining cooperation (Berglund, 2011; Kirmani, 2009a; Kumar, 2015; Mukhopdyay and Paul, 2003). Although the wider women’s movement fought for Muslim women’s rights throughout the 1980s and 1990s, few Muslim women were present in the leadership, and it remained uncomfortable with issues related to the links between gender equality and religious identity. Attempts to reform Muslim personal law made little headway, with opposition from the All India Muslim Personal Law Board (AIMPLB) and government fears of a Muslim backlash preventing action by Parliament (Harel-​Shalev, 2017a). The apparent incompatibility of Muslim personal law (Rakodi, 2019, pp. 173–​5, 238–​44) and the constitutional guarantee of equal gender rights came to a head in a 1985 court case, in which, based mainly on government law, the courts ruled in favour of a Muslim women’s maintenance claim, fuelling the ongoing debate on the status of Muslim personal law vis-​à-​vis the commonly voiced demand for a UCC. While Muslim women themselves had earlier been largely absent in public debates about their own conditions, the situation has changed since the 1980s, with the emergence of networks of activists and groups that have sought to achieve social change by expanding Muslim women’s access to power and resources and realising their rights, especially through legislation. One of their strategies focused on the formulation and promotion of a more gender-​equitable marriage contract (see Box 8.5). The networks described in Box 8.5 engage with religious discourses and actors as part of their advocacy strategies, asserting Muslim women’s voice and agency and challenging the authority of male-​dominated bodies such as the AIMPLB to represent the whole Muslim community (see also Tschalaer, 2015, 2017). However, they face ongoing challenges arising from their differing views on the best way forward (Vatuk, 2008). While relations between women’s movements in India and the government have vacillated between cooperation and confrontation, relations with religious leaders and groups, especially those at the conservative end of the spectrum within both Hinduism and Islam, have generally been difficult (Kirmani,

Religious involvement in women’s movements  219 Box 8.5  Mobilising for Muslim women’s rights in India In 2008, research documented the emergence of the Muslim Women’s Rights Network (MWRN) and the Bharatiya Muslim Mahila Andolan (BMMA, Hindi for ‘The Indian Muslim Women’s Movement’), through interviews with members of both networks, the AIMPLB and other women’s organisations in four cities (Kirmani, 2009a, 2009b, 2011; see also Bradley and Kirmani, 2015, p. 217). The study focused on whether and how the MWRN and BMMA had engaged with religious discourses and actors as part of their strategies to secure women’s matrimonial rights. It examined the perceived effectiveness of their attempts to lobby the All India Muslim Personal Law Board (AIMPLB) and explored their advocacy of a revised nikahnama (marriage contract) as a means of securing women’s rights within the current legal framework. In 1999, some members of a Mumbai-​based Muslim women’s group Awaaz-​e-​Niswan joined with other organisations to form the MWRN, a loose national network of groups and individuals that focuses on issues related to Muslim personal law and women’s matrimonial and sexual rights. The BMMA was formed in 2005 by organisations working with Muslim women across India, as well as many individuals (according to its organisers, 10,000 in 2008) spread mainly across Maharashtra, Gujarat and Uttar Pradesh. It campaigns for reforms in Muslim personal law, seeks to improve the socio-​economic status of the Muslim community as a whole and encourages women to take leadership roles. The strategies and tactics adopted by the networks have common features but also differ in some respects. For example, Tschalaer (2015) examines how the leaders of three ideologically different Muslim women’s rights networks in Lucknow, including the BMMA and AIWPLB, have operated to carve out spaces for women in a male-​dominated political and legal landscape. She shows how they have re-​interpreted Islamic teachings and increased their presence and visibility in public spaces, using tactics that include adopting ‘respectable’ behaviour and deploying the media to change public perceptions of Muslim women as confined to the private sphere. Both the MWRN and the BMMA seek to educate women about their options, including the Special Marriages Act, which exempts women from the strictures of shari’a personal law, and both advocate changes in Muslim personal law. However, Kirmani’s research reveals that, while members of the MWRN have adopted a liberal-​secular human rights perspective and challenge religious arguments if these are used to oppose women’s right, the BMMA actively engages with Islamic texts. By advocating a progressive understanding of Islam, it aims to work within a framework that is acceptable to the Muslim community as a whole.9

220  Religious values and organisations The MWRN and BMMA, along with other individuals and organisations, promote the nikahnama as a means of correcting some of the weaknesses of Muslim personal law. In India, the nikahnama signed on the occasion of every Muslim marriage usually includes basic details of the bride and groom and the signatures of two male witnesses. It can include additional stipulations by both parties, although in most cases it does not. A ‘model nikahnama’ was put forward by the non-​sectarian All India Women’s Conference as early as the 1930s. Since the 1980s, the use of such a contract has been promoted to protect and expand women’s ability to claim their rights within an Islamic framework, typically by prohibiting polygamy, giving women the right to divorce and claim their mehr (an obligatory gift given by a husband to his wife) and maintenance, but protecting them from arbitrary divorce (Vatuk, 2008). The campaign has been conducted at both the national and local levels, the latter through community education and the performance of individual marriage ceremonies. The AIMPLB has been lobbied to publish its own nikahnama. Following a consultative process (see Suneetha, 2012, for details), this was finally published in 2005, although it was regarded by most women activists as disappointing. Although the improved nikahnama had not been widely adopted at the time of Kirmani’s research and does not pose a radical challenge to male-​dominated power structures, members of the MWRN and BMMA believed that the campaign to promote its use had been successful in raising awareness among Muslims on the issue of women’s rights and had helped to consolidate the networks. Nevertheless, many network members have become frustrated with religious conservatism and male dominance in general and with the AIMPLB’s perceived unwillingness to respond to their concerns. Some of Kirmani’s informants reported that they had stopped trying to influence the Board, although others continue to engage with it and the ulema more generally. In addition, the right of the AIMPLB to speak on behalf of all Muslims has been challenged by the establishment of other Muslim law boards. For example, an All India Muslim Women’s Personal Law Board was set up in 2005 and released its own shari’a nikhanama, as did the Shia Personal Law Board. Although these alternative law boards have not yet achieved the prominence of the AIMPLB, their emergence is a sign that the latter’s rigidity, elitism and authority are under challenge.

2009a, 2009b; Kumar, 2015). Overall, the movement has tended to fragment in the face of the instrumentalisation of religion in the construction of community identities, economic liberalisation, increased uncertainty and inequality, and increased state restrictions on CSOs (CIVICUS, 2017). With government funding diverted to NGOs that take on the roles of contractors providing

Religious involvement in women’s movements  221 services on behalf of public sector or external actors, the ‘NGO-​isation’ of previously autonomous organisations funded by their supporters has, Roy (2015) claims, edged out more protest-​oriented forms of organising. The women’s movement in Pakistan: divided by tensions between Muslims and political regimes

The Constitution of Pakistan recognises Islam as the state religion, but its role in the new state was contested from the outset, with implications for women and the law. Following partition, which was accompanied by extensive violence and mass migration, and within a well-​established tradition of religiously motivated philanthropy, urban upper and middle-​ class women continued their relief and welfare work, especially with migrants and refugees. They also founded NGOs working in education, health and rural development. However, according to Saigol (2016), the struggle for women’s rights was piecemeal, reliant on the support of elite urban women and mostly non-​ threatening in the political arena, although organisations such as the state-​ sponsored All-​Pakistan Women’s Association lobbied for reform of Muslim family laws, resulting in the 1961 Muslim Family Law Ordinance, which required the permission of a man’s wife/​wives before he can take another wife, abolished divorce by repudiation (talaq) and improved safeguards for women after divorce (Nazneen, 2017; Shaheed, 2010). During a period in which the women’s movement collaborated with rather than confronted the state and both civilian and military regimes were prepared to accommodate some demands and resist the opposition of conservative ulema to selected reforms, there were some gains for women. These included provisions in the 1973 constitution adopted after Bangladesh’s secession that guaranteed the equality of all citizens under the law; prohibited discrimination based on sex, religion, race or caste; and committed to ensuring the full participation of women in all spheres of national life (Saigol, 2016). The origins of the contemporary women’s movement can be traced to the subsequent period of military rule. Supported by the political party Jama’at-​ e-​Islami and other religio-​political elements, President Zia ul-​Haq proclaimed that he had been given a mission by God to bring Islamic order to Pakistan and adopted an Islamisation programme centred on the imposition of a Sunni interpretation of shari’a. His agenda included the Islamisation of education, making Islamic studies mandatory at all levels of education, revising textbooks to refashion history, setting up an Islamic university and academies to train imams and encouraging the establishment of madrasas (Masud, 2005). Gender was central to the measures, which aimed to curtail women’s liberties by pushing them back into chador aur chardiwari (the veil and four walls of a homestead) (Shaheed, 2007). The accompanying discourse constructed an ideal Muslim Pakistani woman as modestly dressed, educated in segregated institutions and selected subjects, and preferably confined to the domestic sphere (Shaheed, 2010).

222  Religious values and organisations In 1979, some of the new laws were grouped as the Hudood Ordinances, which covered a wide variety of matters, including crimes such as theft, the consumption of alcohol and various aspects of marital and sexual relationships, and introduced extreme punishments, such as amputation, public whipping and stoning to death. Worst for women was the Zina Hudood Ordinance, which criminalised all extra-​marital sex (including both fornication and adultery, while failing to distinguish between rape and consensual sex), placed the onus of proof on women and specified severe punishments. Further, in 1984 a new law of evidence was passed that equated a woman’s testimony to half that of a man (Bradley and Kirmani, 2015; Jamal, 2005; Saigol, 2016; Shaheed, 2007, 2010; see also Shaikh, 2018, pp. 105–​6). Resistance to the Islamisation programme concentrated on the urgent need to combat the legal changes, even though the social and attitudinal changes the programme promoted have arguably contributed to a long-​term shift towards an intolerant orthodoxy and orthopraxy. This is seen, for example, in the penalties for offences such as failing to adhere to the Islamic dress code in public, which have been meted out by non-​state actors, especially men, apparently acting with impunity (Shaheed, 2010). While the new laws were supported by revivalist elements within Islam, resistance to them was led by middle-​and upper-​class women, who had gained most from the rights already granted. Critics argued that the Ordinances give a different legal status to women and minorities and contravene human rights to which the government had signed up (Jamal, 2005). However, the regime’s crackdown on civil society activism muted protest until the first case was brought to court under the Zina Hudood Ordinance in 1981. This provoked a public outcry orchestrated by a Karachi-​based collective, Shirkat Gah (Women’s Resources Centre), which had been formed in 1975 by a group of young professional women angered by increased harassment in the streets, challenges to their status in the workplace and home, and the erosion of their legal rights (Shaheed, 2007; see also Imran and Munir, 2018). A new organisation, the Women’s Action Forum (formed by Shirkat Gah in 1981), brought together individual women and women’s groups from across the political spectrum in a series of attempts to counter the state’s attacks on women’s legal rights and presence in the public arena (Jamal, 2005; Saigol, 2016). Despite recognising that bringing about change would require working with ordinary women, this was not a mass movement. In defence against the accusation that feminism is a ‘foreign ideology’, women attempted to use new interpretations of Islam, gaining support from both ‘moderate’ Muslim feminists and Islamists, although the latter distanced themselves from demanding the repeal of the Hudood Ordinances (Zia, 2009a, b). Their tactics included research, press campaigns and street agitation, so that their ability to get the government to amend or drop measures “depended on how much nuisance value they could muster on the streets, international embarrassment, and allies within or with access to the corridors of power” (Shaheed, 2007, p. 8; see also Imran and Munir, 2018; Saigol, 2016).

Religious involvement in women’s movements  223 Women’s resistance to the Islamisation programme and the imposition of the Hudood Ordinances led in the 1980s to an increase in the numbers of women-​centred NGOs, which carried out research on women’s position; discussed issues previously considered taboo in the public domain, such as honour killing, violence against women and discriminatory sociocultural practices; and urged trade unions and political parties to include women’s issues in their agendas (Imran and Munir, 2018). A few organisations, such as Sindhiani Tehreek, a peasant and Sindhi nationalist movement, engaged in advocacy and direct action, but most of the limited women’s activism sought to resist the erosion of rights by both military and civilian regimes (Saigol, 2016). The resulting network of activists committed to realising women’s rights within a framework of democratisation, human rights and individual freedoms was, however, relatively small and had limited influence (Shaheed, 2019). In the 1990s, when Benazir Bhutto (1988–​90 and 1993–​6) and the Pakistan People’s Party vied for power with Nawaz Sharif (1991–​3 and 1996–​9) and the Muslim League, activists realised that different skills were needed to lobby effectively for legislative change and that they needed wider support from women and human rights organisations (Shaheed, 2007). They attempted to build a consensus through discussion forums that brought together diverse actors, with their demands being articulated by the Women’s Action Forum (Bradley and Kirmani, 2015). Attention focused on two main areas: women’s representation in electoral politics at all levels and the increase in violence against women associated with enforcement of the Hudood Ordinances. Although they had more influence on policy during Bhutto’s regime, even she failed to remove any of the Islamic laws Zia had introduced (Shaheed, 2007; Weiss, 2004). Moreover, Nawaz Sharif’s electoral victory was marked by unprecedented success for the religious political parties, which took control of the government in the North West Frontier Province (now Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Baluchistan) and later increased their share of seats in the National Assembly to a quarter, resulting in the women’s movement losing ground to religious revivalism and political conservatism (Zia, 2009a, 2009b). Nevertheless, during the 1990s, increased political space and resources, especially funding from international donors, resulted in the establishment of more women’s organisations, which had a wider geographical and social spread than in earlier years (Shaheed, 2007, 2010). The Sharif government was succeeded in 1999 by another period of military rule. Although General Pervez Musharraf continued to ally with religio-​ political groups and sponsor religious orthodoxy, he was also more modernist than Zia ul-​Haq, promoting a more moderate version of Islam “[d]‌ue to his eagerness to present himself to the world as an enlightened, liberal and modern leader” (Saigol, 2016, p. 27). Women made a few significant gains during his regime. For example, in 2002, reserved seats for women at the national, provincial and local government levels resulted in a dramatic increase in women’s representation in the political arena. However, while some women’s organisations continued to challenge the state, sanctions against them led

224  Religious values and organisations most to adopt a more pliant stance. In 2000, Musharaf established a National Commission on the Status of Women, which in 2003 recommended the repeal of the Hudood Ordinances, despite opposition from Jama’at-​e-​Islami women activists. Between 2001 and 2013, under his and the subsequent democratically elected regime, several laws favouring women’s rights were passed (Kirmani and Bradley, 2015). For example, in 2006, the Women Protection Act placed rape within the jurisdiction of the criminal code, ending the conflation of rape and adultery and removing the teeth of the zina laws. However, the alliance between Musharraf and the religious right and the proliferation of externally funded NGOs engaged in service delivery as sub-​contractors to government or implementors of donor-​influenced programmes, which provided paid employment to many activists, ‘took the steam out’ of the women’s movement, including the Women’s Action Forum. Some women are involved in non-​ political piety movements (Rakodi, 2019, pp. 25, 104, 158–​9), while a significant number are affiliated to religious political parties or other institutions, such as madrasas, and support their advocacy of Islamically prescribed social practices, including gender segregation, purdah and conventions of dress, and their drives against practices perceived to be un-​Islamic (Jamal, 2011; Saigol, 2016; Yasmeen, 2016; Zia, 2009a, 2009b, 2013). Shaikh (2018) suggests that the post-​2018 regime of Imran Khan, which supported some of the demands of the religious political parties, reinforced rather than countered the Islamisation of politics and society. Thus, despite social and political opposition, it has proved slow and difficult to reverse the Islamisation of Pakistan’s laws, even during civilian regimes. Successive governments and supposedly secular parties have appeased conservative and Islamist elements and religious political parties at the cost of women’s rights. There have been limited legal reforms but, despite the efforts of women’s rights NGOs, the women’s movement today is relatively weak and fragmented. In addition, the social changes associated with Sunni religious orthodoxy seem to be long-​lasting and even harder to reverse than legislation, although Marsden’s (2008) study of a small town in the northwest shows that the effectiveness and influence of Islamist movements was complex and still unclear. The tensions between literalist and liberal strands within Islam, the rise of religion-​based and sectarian violence, unresolved issues related to the role of religion vis-​à-​vis the state, government suppression of non-​compliant organisations and the donor dependence and elite character of most NGOs have led, in Saigol’s view (2016), to a hiatus in the contemporary women’s movement. This, she asserts, lacks a common understanding, collective vision and shared strategies. The women’s movement and religion in Bangladesh

Between 1947 and 1971, participation by women in the Bengali nationalist movement’s demands for autonomy and democracy increased their consciousness of their rights and entitlements. However, Bengali nationalism proved an

Religious involvement in women’s movements  225 ambiguous basis for Bangladesh’s identity. The overthrow of the increasingly unpopular Awami League government by a military coup in 1975 and lifting of the ban on religious political parties accelerated the regeneration of Islamic consciousness in Bangladeshi culture and politics (Hossain, 2012). Initially, women’s organisations and the government focused on the rehabilitation of victims of rape and war widows, but the post-​war period was marked by political turmoil, famine, economic crisis, the breakdown of traditional kinship support networks, widespread chronic poverty and increasing inequality. It saw the emergence of today’s large domestic NGOs, providing microcredit, health care, education and support to rural development. Increased awareness of gender discrimination in society and policy led to the establishment of the first national membership-​based women’s rights organisation –​Mahila Parishad. Women’s organisations sought to document women’s precarious situation, provide legal aid to victims of dowry-​related violence and mobilise in support of women’s political participation, economic empowerment and reforms to religious personal law. In addition, as the rapid growth of the readymade garment industry, assisted by economic liberalisation in the mid-​1980s, led to increased migration of rural women to urban areas, especially Dhaka, they started to advocate for the rights of women workers (Salehin, 2016). The ideological position of these organisations varied: those associated with leftist political parties were inspired by Marxist political thinking, while groups working on development policy research and implementation were influenced by liberal feminist analysis and the transnational Women and Development discourse. Since the founding of Bangladesh, both military leaders and political parties have used Islam to legitimise their position (Hossain, 2012; Salehin, 2016). Between 1975 and 1988, the coup leaders amended the secular constitution, which guaranteed religious freedom and gender equality, culminating in a declaration by General Ershad, who had come to power in a coup in 1982, that Islam is the state religion. The two main parties, despite their differing interpretations of Islam, have courted Islamist parties to enable them to form governments, furthering the integration of religious and political forces. By the 1980s, NGOs and women’s groups were strong enough to mobilise against state attempts to introduce laws seen as harmful to women. However, in the face of political repression, many chose to be apolitical, focusing on awareness-​raising and service delivery rather than challenges to the state. Women’s study groups promoted individual piety and moral reform rather than social activism, although a 1999–​ 2003 ethnographic study of Bangladesh Islam Chatri Sangstha (BICSa), a female students’ organisation affiliated to the Jama’at-​ e-​Islami, revealed that it sought not only to improve women’s safety through individual pious observance (e.g. bodily modesty), but also to promote non-​ violent activism aimed at reforming sociopolitical structures, to realise the ideal of an Islamic society and state (Huq, 2009; Huq and Rashid, 2008). The post-​1988 Islamisation programme was accompanied by rising levels of violence against women, despite the role played by the women’s movement in

226  Religious values and organisations building public resistance and legal challenges to religious edicts (fatwas) detrimental to women, campaigning to reduce violence against women, forming coalitions to press for reproductive and health rights and pushing for changes in family law. In Bangladesh, Muslims, Hindus and Christians retain their own family laws. Shari’a, which applies to the 90% of the population who are Muslim, permits polygamy and discriminates against women with respect to divorce, rights to marital property and inheritance, forcing them to endure abusive marriages or become impoverished following the end of a marital union (Adams, 2016). Female lawyers and women’s movement actors have lobbied for legal unification and developed a draft Uniform Family Code. However, this is resisted by religio-​cultural minorities (especially the ethnic minority groups living in the Chittagong Hill Tracts, who wish to maintain a separate identity in a largely Bengali Muslim country) and by conservative Muslims. The complex outcomes of colonial and post-​colonial legal pluralism are illustrated by an example of Christian women’s ostensibly equal but in practice unequal rights to land (Das, 2016). After the restoration of democracy in 1991, relations between the women’s movement and the state became more cooperative, fostered by the participation of movement actors, especially Women for Women, a research and policy group established in the early 1970s, in the consultations prior to the 1995 Beijing Conference. Economic liberalisation and democratisation were followed by dramatic growth in the numbers and scale of operation of national and international NGOs, including Islamic NGOs. Many are filling gaps in government service delivery: they are oriented towards women as clients of the services they provide, especially education, health and microcredit. However, organisations promoting women’s rights and gender equity have also emerged. Since 2000, the women’s movement has been most effective when creating coalitions to mobilise on specific issues, often involving links with other social movement actors, for example, We Can for anti-​domestic violence campaigning and STEPS to coordinate shadow reporting on progress with achieving international targets related to women to which the government has signed up. These campaigns have resulted in positive legal and policy changes (e.g. the Domestic Violence Act of 2010, the Hindu Marriage Registration Act and the National Women’s Development Policy of 2011). In addition, the rural focus of most NGOs and the formation of networks and coalitions have reduced the urban bias of the early women’s movement. Since the 1970s, there have been significant improvements in women’s well-​being and political representation and influence in Bangladesh, to which NGOs and women’s organisations have made important contributions. While some policies and laws have been modified to respond to women’s needs and rights, successive military and civilian governments, which depend on alliances between the two main centrist political parties and Islamic parties, have been reluctant to address male privilege or reform religious personal laws. Moreover, many men, religious parties and leaders have reacted negatively to efforts to empower women and enable them to participate in public spaces, arguing that

Religious involvement in women’s movements  227 these are based on Western gender norms, threaten family structures, violate purdah and challenge their moral authority (Adams, 2016; Salehin, 2016). Increased engagement with Islamic teachings and practices, not least through women’s study groups and religious organisations, has contributed to the emergence of a public sphere dominated by a single literalist interpretation of Islam, reinforcing patriarchal norms, polarising relationships between secular and religious forces, including within the women’s movement, and posing barriers to realising gender equality (Adams, 2016; Nazneen, 2017; Riaz, 2013). Thus, socio-​economic and religious pressures have resulted in increased marital age disparities (and a failure to implement the minimum official age of marriage for girls, which is now 18), increased demand for dowry and a rise in dowry-​related and other types of domestic violence (Adams, 2016). In addition, the reliance of many NGOs on external funding, their susceptibility to international influences and their focus on development and individual empowerment has, critics assert, depoliticised the women’s movement and undermined its capacity for collective mobilisation to achieve structural change (Nazneen, 2017). Conclusion This chapter has discussed the ways in which women’s movements engage with religious actors to contribute to or resist social change that advances women’s rights and gender equality and/​or enables women to reflect religious values more faithfully in their individual and social lives. It demonstrates that, while an international, national or regional/​local women’s movement is often referred to, in practice women’s movements are fragmented and dynamic, only coming together from time to time to campaign on particular issues. Those involved may see religious beliefs, practices and values as inimical to gender equality and have antagonistic relationships with religious groups, develop a symbiotic relationship with religious feminists engaged in attempts to reinterpret and reclaim their own faith traditions, or ally with religious actors and use religiously inspired discourses and organisational resources as part of their mobilising strategies. The available research on the evolution of women’s movements is often neither comparative nor comprehensive. Where comparative research is available (e.g. Tripp et al., 2009, in SSA or, for two countries, Bradley and Kirmani, 2015), it does not necessarily reveal much about the dynamics of movements and their constituent formal and informal groups and organisations, consider the roles played by religious actors or offer explanations of the outcomes of advocacy and campaigning, let alone any social changes that occur as a result. However, some focused studies reveal the dynamics of a national movement or particular campaign, enabling the interactions between women’s movement and religious actors to be analysed and the implications for achieving gender equality to be explored. The lack of comparative research and constraints on space mean that this chapter’s coverage of individual countries, movements and issues is partial

228  Religious values and organisations rather than comprehensive. The analysis has focused on an agenda that is generally central for both women’s movements and religious actors –​the desire to reform family law –​but is certainly not the only focus for campaigns, which may, for example, prioritise awareness-​ raising, securing adequate political representation for women, or resisting the gender-​based violence which so many women experience in the domestic and social spheres. The research reviewed demonstrates that the ways in which women’s movements engage with religion (and religious actors with women’s movements) depend on the religious, cultural and political context as well as the particular women’s rights issues at stake. If an issue is not religiously sensitive, religious groups and organisations can facilitate a campaign to improve women’s rights and contribute to the formation of a successful coalition of actors who are affected by the issues and effective advocates, even if such coalitions are often sustained for only a limited period. However, many legal reforms regarded as essential by women’s rights activists are religiously contested. It may sometimes be possible to secure the support of religious groups and organisations by appropriate preparatory activities, strategic choices and particular tactics. However, in other instances, opposition from some or all religious groups and adherents, ambiguous gender-​related views and practices within a religious tradition (e.g. Pentecostal Christianity, see Soothill, 2015), as well as wider social attitudes and institutions (especially the patriarchal values that underlie gender relations, family and community life, political systems and religious bodies) may constrain campaigners’ ability to secure legal reform. In the area of family and personal law, the changing religious characteristics and cultural and political make-​up of a country seem to be particularly significant, especially but not only in contexts in which literal interpretations of Islamic teachings are associated with increased piety and social conservatism. However, the extent of religious and legal pluralism, reflected in, for example, the majority/​minority status of Islam and Muslims’ desire for and expectation of political power, is also significant, making much legal change complex and contentious. Thus, while some of the characteristics and dynamics of women’s movements and their priorities for legal reform differ between Muslim majority and Muslim minority countries, intra-​ religious variations and differences between countries arising from their political and cultural history may be as, if not more, relevant. Notes 1 See also a companion volume, in which the contributors analyse the history of women’s mobilisations in Ghana, Kenya, Tanzania, Sierra Leone and South Africa and the editors identify the factors that have created the conditions for the flourishing of African women’s activism since the 1990s, including the diffusion of international norms regarding gender equality, new donor strategies, political liberalisation and the decline of conflict (Badri and Tripp, 2017).

Religious involvement in women’s movements  229 2 Family or personal law refers to the area of private law pertaining to family matters and domestic relations, generally including marriage, divorce, adoption, authority within families, entitlement to land and property, and inheritance. 3 Meaning not affiliated to a political party or the government in power. 4 In plural legal systems, two or more systems of law are officially recognised, although their status may differ. State law, typically common law in Anglophone African countries and civil law in Francophone and Lusophone Africa, is enforceable through a government judicial system. Islamic law (shar’ia) may form the basis for state law in Muslim-​majority countries or be recognised as an alternative system. It is based on religious teachings and enforced through a separate court system. The importance of customary law, which may or may not be codified, varies between ethnic groups and is generally enforceable through individuals in positions of social authority, often at the sub-​national level, and an associated system of formal or informal courts. 5 Most Muslim countries have ratified CEDAW, and some have reformed their laws to comply with their CEDAW commitments. However, many have made and retained reservations, some on religious grounds, and some, Mayer (1995) concludes, to achieve national and international objectives. 6 The legal framework in Senegal is similar to that in Mali. Pressure to revise the 1972/​ 3 Family Code increased after the mid-​1980s, due to international influences and the emergence of a Senegalese women’s movement, while in 2003, a new Islamic association was founded to demand reform and increase the code’s fit with Islamic law, especially with respect to marriage, divorce and inheritance (Sieveking, 2007). 7 For a more comprehensive description of cultural practices and traditional beliefs that inhibit the realisation of women’s rights in Nigeria, see Alewo and Olong (2012). Nwokoro and Ogba (2019) assess the sources of support available to widows in Abia State, also in southeast Nigeria, concluding that the support provided by aid agencies, based on a perception of widows as vulnerable, disempowers recipients because of their lack of control over the use of funding and other resources, whereas home-​ grown support mechanisms, such as nsusu groups (ROSCAs) and Christian widows’ groups, as well as providing practical support, enhance their agency, social bonds and self-​esteem. 8 Sati, which can be traced to Hindu religious texts, refers to the practice of widow immolation, in which a widow immolates herself on her husband’s funeral pyre. 9 For example, producing a draft Indian Muslim Family Act in 2015. http://​newa​geis​ lam.com/​Isla​mic-​sha​ria-​laws/​dr-​noorje​han-​safia-​niaz/​a-​draft-​of-​ind​ian-​mus​lim-​fam​ ily-​act-​prepa​red-​by-​bharat​iya-​mus​lim-​mah​ila-​ando​lan/​d/​104​457

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9 Religious actors in movements seeking social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities

Like values such as freedom and tolerance, sexual rights and responsibilities are principles against which to benchmark religious teachings and the social practices with which they are associated. Questions of reproduction, sexuality and gender are central to every religious tradition, expressed through discourses concerning values and norms and how these are reflected in ethical codes (Lincoln’s first and second domains of religion –​see Chapter 2). The translation of these codes into social practices varies between and within religious communities (Lincoln’s third domain), reflecting the religious authorities’ interpretations of official teachings and approaches to enforcing norms (the fourth domain). The links between discourses related to religiously ordained values and ethics and action/​behaviour have personal, social and organisational dimensions, some of which were explored in the first of these linked volumes (Rakodi, 2019, pp. 165–​220), concentrating on individual and group attitudes and behaviour with respect to sexuality (fertility, including contraception and abortion), homosexuality and HIV/​AIDS, pp. 224–​37). It was noted that Heteronormative sexuality is the ideal for all faith traditions, based on the view that the purpose of sexual activity is procreation rather than pleasure. Homosexuality is widely regarded as sinful and morally wrong, paving the way for widespread homophobic attitudes, discrimination against people who express alternative sexualities and resistance to the introduction or enforcement of laws that make homosexual acts between consenting adults legal. (Rakodi, 2019, p. 236) Global debates about sexual orientation and gender identity have become widespread in recent decades. This reflects, first, the pressure exerted by lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT+​)1 people and their supporters for recognition of their rights in international conventions; second, the intersections between sexual rights, religion and politics that have come to the fore at the national level in many countries; and third, the emergence of social movements pressing for recognition of diverse sexualities and gender identities, as well as DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-12

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  235 the decriminalisation of same-​sex relations. Globalised discourses are made meaningful in and reshape local contexts, but anti-​homosexual rhetoric and politics resonate more strongly in some places and historical moments than others (McKay and Angotti, 2016). As noted in the introduction to Part III, the focus in this part of the book is on the roles played by religious actors in movements seeking or resisting social change. In this chapter, the discussion focuses on how religious actors engage with attempts to define and obtain recognition for sexual and gender rights by facilitating or resisting attitudinal change and attempting to influence law and policy. The idea of universal human sexual instinct glosses over the variability of cultural meanings attached to gender and sexuality and informs moral stances relating to sexual behaviour (Corrêa, 2015). Religious and societal contention over fertility and sexual practices was and is reflected in the pro-​natalist stances of most religious groups and attitudes to same-​sex relations, including their widespread criminalisation by colonial governments. These are briefly explored in the first section of this chapter. As noted in the previous chapter, attitudes towards gender inequality have changed at a global level, as reflected in CEDAW in 1979 and subsequent campaigns to improve women’s access to political representation, education, livelihoods and health care. Regional charters, constitutional provisions and national laws concerned with specifying and realising women’s rights followed, although attempts to secure ‘progressive’ legal reforms have often been opposed and ‘conservative’ religious and social values have become increasingly influential. Contextual and attitudinal changes have also affected sexual and gender minorities and their quest for recognition, as discussed in the remainder of this chapter, using an analytical framework drawn from wider research on social movements to identify the factors influencing the emergence of movements seeking the recognition and realisation of the rights of sexual and gender minorities and the outcomes of their campaigning in SSA and South Asia. Religious roots and the colonial legacy In the Sub-​Saharan African context, traditional religions “provide a guide to achieving harmonious relations between people and a moral framework to manage or cope with the material world” (Epprecht, 2013, p. 68). Cultural institutions evolved to deal with individuals’ inability to fulfil their responsibilities and transgressions of the norms. For example, homosexual orientation and transgender identity were respected if thought to be caused by spirit possession and/​or manifest in physical differences, removing blame from an individual who did not conform to heterosexual norms and sometimes providing for him or her to perform specialised cultural and religious services. While some converts to Islam and Christianity abandoned indigenous beliefs and practices, more commonly these were adapted. In addition, same-​sex activities and relationships were tolerated if they served instrumental purposes for

236  Religious values and organisations settler governments and mining companies, were discreet and did not threaten kinship networks, for example, in South Africa (see Box 9.2) and Northern and Southern Rhodesia, now Zambia and Zimbabwe (Epprecht, 2013). Epprecht (2013) explores at some length the textual bases for condemnation of same-​sex behaviour in both Islam and Christianity, identifying the apparent denunciations of homosexuality in the biblical and Islamic tests, but also noting the relatively limited and ambiguous nature of many of the verses (see also van Klinken and Chitando, 2015). Christianity is marked by contested interpretations of the scriptures –​the homophobic stance of many Christian leaders is, Epprecht notes, based on six verses from the Old Testament, while the reports of Jesus’s teachings in the New Testament do not refer to same-​sex sexuality. He suggests that the form of Islam that became dominant in SSA, Sufism, is amenable to cultural adaptation, but that literalist, generally Sunni, Islam has been associated with less tolerant homophobic interpretations.2 The early Roman Catholic missionaries, who arrived in SSA from the fifteenth century onwards, drew on the Augustinian tradition which regarded all sex outside heterosexual marriage as sinful, honoured celibacy among a learned elite and sought to punish sodomy by death. Not until the arrival of Protestant missionaries at the end of the eighteenth century did Christianity expand significantly. They, and a new generation of Catholic priests and nuns, were hostile to many cultural practices related to gender and sexuality, which they expected converts to renounce. They promoted ideas about individual morality, respectable gender roles and sexual propriety, often tied to the promise of salvation in heaven and wealth in this world. During the colonial period, both missionaries and colonial administrations were concerned with policing African practices of sex, intimacy and relationships, and with reshaping their underlying cultural values and meanings, as part of the mission of “civilising the natives”. Polygamy and traditional initiation rites were among the most contested issues of the time but were embedded in a broader sexual politics of promoting Victorian values of “decency” and “morality”. (van Klinken and Obadare, 2018, p. 562) Although the precolonial existence of same-​sex relations was acknowledged by some, it was denied by others. Many Africans resisted the imported culture and were disappointed by the failure of colonial governments and the missionary churches to bring prosperity, leading to the emergence of national independence movements and establishment of thousands of independent churches. In Britain, sex between men (using the concepts of buggery and sodomy) had been outlawed since the sixteenth century and in 1885 the more general offence of ‘gross indecency’ was created in criminal law, although sex between women remained unregulated (Jjuuko, 2013; Lennox and Waites, 2013a).

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  237 English criminal law was replicated in the penal codes introduced in the colonies, starting with the Indian Penal Code in 1860 (Gupta with Long, 2008). Most such laws contained broad prohibitions which applied irrespective of consent. Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code referred to ‘unnatural offences’ or ‘carnal intercourse (meaning penetration) against the order of nature with any man, woman or animal’, crimes that were punishable by long prison sentences and fines. Similar laws were introduced elsewhere, as colonial administrations sought to impose British morality on local populations. Despite the adoption of new constitutions following independence, these British colonial penal codes remained on the statute books of most newly independent states and are still used to regulate homosexuality today, even though decriminalisation has been progressively implemented in England and Wales since 1967 (Lennox and Waites, 2013a). In 1791, the revolutionary government of France removed sodomy and crimes against nature from its penal code, which applied directly to the four communes in Senegal and later to the rest of its empire. Portugal also decriminalised same-​sex behaviour, although it was re-​criminalised in France in 1886 and in Portugal in 1941. France then imposed anti-​sodomy laws as a means of social control in some of its African colonies (e.g. Cameroon and Senegal) (Gupta with Long, 2008; Lennox and Waites, 2013b). M’baye (2013) describes how the policing of sexual behaviour was part of the French colonial civilising mission. The earliest texts and art associated with Hinduism contain references to same-​sex attraction and practices among both men and women and, although no term equivalent to homosexuality exists in Indian languages, its existence was recognised. While some of the foundational texts, such as the Manusmriti (‘Laws of Manu’), do forbid homosexuality, the penalties they recommend are minor (Kuriakose and Iyer, 2020; Trivedi, 2014). Islam’s stance has always been less tolerant, with the Mughal Empire mandating punishments for homosexuality. In general, gender identity was perceived to be less binary than in other parts of the world and categories distinguishable from male and female were recognised and often tolerated, although local terms for them vary and often cannot be accurately translated into contemporary terms such as gay, lesbian or bisexual. In an effort to align Indian culture more closely with British attitudes, modernise Indian society and ingratiate themselves with the colonial ruling class, several 19th century Indian social reformers set about excising eroticism, including homosexuality, from Indian literature, education and religion. Partly as a result of such efforts, a repressive attitude toward sexuality in general and homosexuality in particular became deeply entwined with Indian nationalism and…by the middle of the twentieth century the country had become far less liberal on matters of sexuality. (Trivedi, 2014, p. 23)

238  Religious values and organisations As noted above, the attitudes of the main colonial powers towards sexual and gender minorities, as well as the teachings and practices of the mainline churches, were reflected in laws and administrative practices. Section 377 of the 1860 Penal Code criminalised non-​procreative sexual practices (sodomy), facilitating the persecution of homosexuals and serving as a barrier to equal citizenship for sexual and gender minorities (Puri, 2016). Despite the ex-​colonies’ new constitutions, their Penal Codes, including the section criminalising same-​sex sexual activity, remained on the statute books, for example, in India after 1947, although it was little used except to deal, in the absence of any other law, with child sexual abuse. Transgender identities and sexual relationships were also recognised in precolonial and colonial South Asia. Perhaps the most visible group are hijras. This and other local terms such as kothi refer to a ‘male to female’ subject who may identify as ‘male’, ‘female’ or a ‘third gender’ (Loh, 2018). Kothi and other local terms (e.g. khwaja siras in Pakistan, see Bradley and Kirmani, 2015) refer to a man or boy who takes on a feminine outward appearance and a ‘female’ (submissive) role in same-​sex relationships. Hijras are generally born males, although some may have genital variations, and some undergo an initiation rite involving castration. They have a recorded history traceable to the Delhi Sultanate (13th–​16th centuries) and the Mughal Empire (16th–​18th centuries), when hijras held positions such as servants for elite households, political advisers, military commanders and guardians of the harem. Today, most are Hindu, although some are Muslim. They have sought textual justification (in stories from the Ramayana and Mahabharata) and some refer to the Puranas to claim ‘divine’ roles, which they perform on occasions such as weddings and childbirth, when they sing, dance and confer blessings. They live in intentional communities with designated leaders and a distinctive culture. However, they were targeted by the British colonial authorities, who sought to eliminate them, criminalised their practices under Section 377 of the Penal Code of 1860 and in 1871 labelled them a ‘criminal tribe’ subject to compulsory registration, surveillance and forced child removal. This encouraged wider anti-​hijra sentiment, leaving them with little choice but to beg or engage in sex work, typically with heterosexual men who may be married, exacerbating their subsequent stigmatisation (Loh, 2018; Puri, 2016). Seeds of change After independence in the Global South, societal attitudes to sexual minorities generally remained hostile, colonial laws that criminalised homosexuality were not revised (although they have not necessarily been widely enforced) and movements to recognise the rights of sexual and gender minorities were incipient or absent. This began to change as movements claiming recognition and rights for LGBT+​people in the Global North emerged and began to influence debates elsewhere, HIV/​AIDS became a major health threat and political dynamics at the national level (especially relationships between religious

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  239 and political actors) changed, creating both opportunities for and obstacles to change. First, at the international level, none of the nine core human rights treaties explicitly mentions sexual orientation and gender identity or the rights of LGBT+​people, although the rights to non-​discrimination and privacy that are enshrined in these treaties have been incorporated in most constitutions in SSA and southern Asia and cited in many campaigns and court cases. In 2006, the failure of international conventions to recognise the rights of sexual and gender minorities was addressed by the Yogyakarta Principles for the Application of Human Rights in Relation to Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity, which were agreed by a group of international human rights experts and lawyers and have become widely accepted (Corrêa, 2015).3 In 2011, a resolution submitted to the UN Human Rights Council by South Africa requesting a study of discrimination related to sexual orientation was approved. The High Commissioner for Human Rights Report found that violence against LGBT persons was common and noted that 76 countries retained laws used to criminalise certain people based on their sexual orientation or gender identity and in at least five, offences related to consensual adult homosexual conduct may be punishable by death. Despite the different views of member countries, a second resolution in 2014 called for a report on best practices in combating discrimination and various UN agencies have incorporated the need to reduce discrimination against sexual and gender minorities into their public statements and work programmes. The committees that monitor the interpretation and application of the international treaties consider changes in social relations, political practices and legal provisions at the regional and national levels. In their responses to national reports they may refer to recognition for and progress towards realisation of the rights of LGBT+​people, providing ammunition for activists and campaigners and exerting pressure on governments to address these issues, although, as for gender equality, these international debates and processes are a mixed blessing for campaigners at the national level (Kirichenko, 2019; Lennox and Waites, 2013a). Second, because in its early years HIV/​AIDS disproportionately affected male gay communities in the US and beyond, it fed negative public and governmental attitudes to homosexuality. These coloured initial reactions to increased HIV infections in countries of the Global South, until it became clear that infection patterns, especially in Africa, were largely heterosexual. By the end of 2018, the Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/​AIDS (UNAIDS) estimated that about 38 million people worldwide were infected with HIV, the virus that causes AIDS, with 16.4 million of them in SSA. Unsurprisingly, therefore, in addition to international flows of resources, much policy and research attention has been paid to the epidemic, focusing mainly on Africa. While the relatively voluminous public health literature focused on the question of whether religion is detrimental to the goal of preventing HIV transmission or can be useful in tackling the epidemic, early sociological analyses (e.g. Barnett and Whiteside, 2002) largely neglected the role played by religion,

240  Religious values and organisations referred to it in passing, or mentioned it in one or two examples of effective attempts to address the problems, for example, in Senegal (Meda et al, 1999). When social scientists did start to study religious involvement, in addition to questions of morality and sexuality, their analyses considered the role of religion in how people deal with illness and death and the provision of treatment and care for the sick, as well as, in a few instances, the influence of the epidemic on religious beliefs and practices. At the national level, movements for the restoration of democracy and multi-​ party political arrangements were associated with the emergence and strengthening of CSOs, including religious organisations, not least because of the increased flows of funding for governmental, non-​governmental and faith-​based HIV prevention, treatment and care. Since 2000, analyses have dissected the links between religious organisations and governments, international organisations and NGOs, many of them related to funding. Already some of the most established, influential and well-​funded CSOs in most African countries, religious organisations were among those that received funding from the three main transnational programmes: the World Bank Multi-​Country AIDS Programme (MAP, established in 2000 to fund community responses and capacity building), since 2002 the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, TB and Malaria (which allocated about one-​third of its funding to prevention activities during its first five years of operation) and the largest, the US President George Bush’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR, launched in 2003, which devoted a fifth of its spending to prevention initiatives and initially channelled its funding mainly through large American FBOs such as World Vision) (Blevins et al., 2016). Religious actors have played roles in efforts to change sexual behaviour to prevent transmission and to address the stigma and discrimination which inhibit disclosure of HIV status, exclude HIV+​people from adequate health care and further impoverish them. They broadly agree that abstaining from sexual intercourse (A) is the most effective way to avoid infection, especially among unmarried adolescents and young people. However, because marriage is almost universal in SSA and South Asia, a high proportion of new infections occur within marriage, whether between spouses or because of extramarital relations, as reflected in the high proportion of couples in Sub-​Saharan African countries who are sero-​discordant. Thus, fidelity within marriage is promoted (B). Religious groups agree on both points (A and B), but there is disagreement within and across religious organisations about the desirability of promoting condom use –​ C (see, e.g., Allen and Heald, 2004; Asekun-​Olarinmoye et al., 2013; Chitando, 2010; Mantell et al., 2011; Pugh, 2010; Trinitapoli and Weinreb, 2012). The available research focuses on the messages about HIV and AIDS that have been transmitted and whether they have been influential. Some also consider the co-​option of religious leaders to spread messages about HIV and AIDS. Although many have been prepared to participate in disseminating information, they do not relay public health messages verbatim, rather infusing them with spiritual interpretations of the disease as well as moral directives. For example, some religious groups and leaders perceive extramarital sex as

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  241 sinful, regard AIDS as God’s punishment for individuals or a whole group whose moral standards have become lax and hold “judgemental views of sexual transgression” (Campbell et al., 2010, p. 2). Although some actively promote the use of condoms because of their demonstrated efficacy in preventing transmission, others, especially the Roman Catholic Church, oppose their use because they are regarded primarily as a method of contraception and are thought to encourage promiscuity. In practice, many religious leaders accept the use of condoms, albeit unenthusiastically, although their actual use generally remains low, partly because official religious teachings on them are less common than teachings on A and B and may be ambiguous, and partly because religious messages compete with other social mores (Allen and Heald, 2004; Pugh, 2010; Trinitapoli and Weinreb, 2012). The views of some religious leaders and groups and the language they use stigmatise HIV+​people, which can limit open discussion, contribute to shame and self-​stigma, decrease willingness to be tested and exacerbate discrimination (Campbell et al., 2010). In contrast, some religious groups and leaders have developed alternative theologies of acceptance and compassion, encourage preventive behaviour and challenge stigmatising ideas and practices, with some of the available research showing that their participation can have a dampening effect on stigmatisation (Ansari and Gaestel, 2010; Asekun-​Olarinmoye et al., 2013; Trinitapoli and Weinreb, 2012). In addition to prevention, significant resources have been channelled through both Christian and Muslim religious organisations for treatment, including the rollout of anti-​retroviral drugs (ARVs), and the provision of care and support (Burchardt et al., 2013). Today adult prevalence in SSA varies from about a quarter in the so-​called AIDS belts of high-​prevalence countries in Southern and Eastern Africa to less than 1% in some West African countries, such as Mali and Senegal. In the latter, low prevalence is generally attributed to early government efforts to raise awareness and prevent transmission, in which religious leaders were involved, as well as religious practices among Muslims, including male circumcision, low alcohol consumption and polygyny (Meda et al., 1999). Most of the prevention messages, attempts to encourage behaviour change and treatment provisions are targeted at heterosexual sexual activity, both prior to and within marriage. However, during the first decade of the twenty-​first century, the vulnerability of ‘most at risk’ populations (commercial sex workers, people who use intravenous drugs and men who have sex with men –​MSM), who have higher prevalence rates than the population as a whole and face social stigma by care workers and punitive legal systems that create barriers to effective prevention, treatment and support programmes, was recognised and in 2012 they were identified as PEPFAR priority groups (Blevins and Corey, 2013). Third, with the emergence of social movements pressing for recognition of diverse sexualities and gender identities, as well as the decriminalisation of consensual same-​sex relations, the intersections between sexual rights, religion and politics at the national level have come to the fore in many countries. McKay and Angotti (2016) attribute this to social and economic changes on

242  Religious values and organisations the one hand and the instrumental value of the issue in politics on the other hand, but changes within religious traditions are also relevant. Debates about homosexuality in Africa today have been shaped not just by colonial attitudes and actions, but also by recent trends in Christianity and Islam, in particular the growth of charismatic and neo-​Pentecostal Christianity and literalist Sunni Islam since the 1970s, fuelled by continued economic and political turmoil and widespread disillusion with post-​ independence governments (Lindhardt, 2015; Rakodi, 2019). Many argue that the neo-​ Pentecostal churches provide people with the spiritual and practical means to cope with social change and economic hardship, give them a sense of agency and control over their lives, and help them navigate ethical ways of living (Freeman, 2012). Initially these functions took precedence over wider social and political engagement, but more recently Pentecostal and Charismatic Christians have become active in the public sphere, not least in morality politics. In their worldview, in which political and spiritual power are intertwined, the world is perceived as an arena for battle between divine and demonic forces, shaping the ways in which the churches engage in the public sphere. For them individual spiritual conversion is linked with national moral transformation, with implications for issues of gender and sexuality, inter-​religious relations and the political influence they exert (Bompani and Valois, 2017; Burgess, 2012; Heuser, 2015; Obadare, 2015; van Klinken and Obadare, 2018). By the 2000s, especially in areas affected by conflict, anxiety over economic stagnation, stymied aspirations for social mobility, the de-​centring of kin and community-​based authority in favour of the rights and desires of individuals, the perceived breakdown of family values and relationships, moral permissiveness and the need to protect young people had become prevalent. In such contexts the issue of sexual identities and rights could be (and was) used by politicians to deflect attention from the performance of existing regimes, deter public debates and gatherings, and denigrate opponents. The organisational composition and strategies of social movements In analysing the characteristics of the LGBT+​movements that have emerged, the general literature on social movements is useful. It identifies two key dimensions of mobilisation: first, the actors involved and their organisational platforms and, second, the mobilisation strategies devised. The latter include framing the issues and defining goals, influenced by whether or not organisations are able to take advantage of political opportunities, the resources they can mobilise and the tactics they employ. Religious actors can, it is suggested, contribute in four ways, by

• Offering a theological rationale or critique, expressed in religious discourse, that contributes to the framing process

• Linking movement aims to political and social dynamics in the contexts in which religions are enmeshed at the local and national levels

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  243

• Providing religious spaces and institutional resources • Enabling national actors to make links to international debates and organisations through religious traditions’, denominations’ and groups’ own international links. Actors in social movements and their organisational platforms

Actors and their organisational platforms can be formal and institutionalised (e.g. NGOs) or loose and informal (e.g. networks and alliances) –​they can provide a means of exchanging information, developing a common discourse and providing leadership and/​or administrative support. The environment for nascent social movements concerned with LGBT+​recognition and rights is usually hostile, so strong organisational platforms are likely to be needed to enable activists to cope with the many obstacles they face, including social disapproval, stigma, harassment and violence. LGBT+​organisations did not emerge in SSA and South Asia until the 1990s. Activists responded to international discourses and movements for LGBT+​recognition and rights with a desire to acknowledge their own sexual identities and counter opprobrium and discrimination within their families, peer groups, religious bodies and society at large. They formed throughout SSA, in response to prosecutions brought under the existing laws that criminalise same-​sex sexual behaviour; harassment, stigma and violence; and discrimination against homosexuals in employment and access to health care. In South Asia, where HIV/​AIDS was less widespread, groups celebrating gay culture and providing support for homosexual people did not emerge until later in the decade, especially in Bangladesh and Pakistan (Bradley and Kirmani, 2015). Depending on the amount of hostility they encounter, the resources they can access and the alliances they can form, in some countries only one or two LGBT+​organisations have emerged, whereas in others multiple organisations now exist, networks and coalitions have formed, and a range of strategies have been developed. Typically, as in India, the movements have been dominated by homosexual men, with lesbians playing a secondary role (Joseph, 1996, p. 2229). Most of the available research refers to African countries, where attitudes, although varied, have tended to become more polarised, and attempts to change existing or introduce new legislation aimed at decriminalising same-​sex sexual activities have been particularly controversial.4 In the following sections, general discussions and country-​specific research studies are reviewed to identify the actors involved, factors that account for the recent rise in public and religious expressions of homophobia in many countries, and the mobilisation strategies adopted by actors seeking or resisting recognition of the identities and rights of sexual and gender minorities. Contrasting priorities, strategies and outcomes are analysed in more depth for South Africa, Uganda and South Asia (Boxes 9.1–​9.3).

244  Religious values and organisations Lennox and Waites (2013b) note that by the end of the first decade of the twenty-​first century, in virtually all the Anglophone countries discussed in their volume, at least one and generally more NGOs are working at the national level on sexual orientation and gender issues. These NGOs have varying scopes and more or less ambiguous names, for example, Alliance Rights Nigeria, Freedom and Roam Uganda, Friends of Rainka (Zambia, van Klinken, 2017), the Botswana Centre for Human Rights (Ditshwanelo) and Lesbians, Gays and Bisexuals of Botswana (LeGaBiBo) (Tabengwa with Nicol, 2013), National Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission of Kenya (Mugo, 2019) and Gays and Lesbians of Zimbabwe. By 1997, the latter had become a predominantly black association that had supported activists in Botswana and Namibia to form their own associations (Epprecht, 2013). Often these organisations are the primary, sometimes the only, actors involved in framing the issues and engaging in advocacy. For example, Malawi’s government has a strong anti-​homosexual minority rights stance and the incipient LGBT+​movement is hindered by an inhospitable political climate (Currier, 2014; Currier and McKay, 2017). In several contexts, LGBT+​organisations have allied with human rights NGOs, with varying degrees of success, for example, the Technical Working Group on Most at Risk Populations in Malawi, the Civil Society Coalition on Human Rights and Constitutional Law in Uganda (see Box 9.1) and the National Coalition for Gay and Lesbian Equality in South Africa (see Box 9.2). The broader the base of such a coalition, Lennox and Waites observe, the more likely it is to be successful, enabling the Western gay and lesbian movement’s focus on identity to be downplayed in favour of an emphasis on universal human rights. However, not all national NGO coalitions welcome LGBT+​ organisations. For example, the Council for NGOs in Malawi denounced LGBTI activism, possibly under pressure from the government, and the Botswana Council of NGOs was unwilling to register LeGaBiBo until, in 2016, a court upheld the organisation’s right to register and operate as a non-​profit (Mugo, 2019; Tabengwa with Nicol, 2013). International NGOs and networks, including human rights, LGBT+​and religious bodies, have sometimes lent support to LGBT+​activists’ calls for equal rights and protection from discrimination and violence, but sometimes have fuelled religiously conservative views and homophobia (e.g. in Uganda, see Box 9.1). Appeals to the UN human rights system and the Yogyakarta Principles have been helpful and some international religious bodies have supported LGBT activists’ calls for respect for human rights. In addition, groups with a shared framework of authoritative knowledge, including associations of lawyers (e.g. in India, see Box 9.3) and health professionals, have provided legitimacy to southern movements based on their perceived expertise and independence, although support for African LGBT+​organisations from labour unions is rare and from political parties unpredictable. The domestic and international media may or may not be supportive –​while sometimes they provide sympathetic coverage, they are inclined to reflect societal intolerance and/​

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  245 Box 9.1  Uganda: Anti-​homosexual rhetoric and action –​an engineered moral panic? In pre-​colonial Uganda, homosexual practices were neither condoned nor totally suppressed –​rather, conduct was regulated by various institutions and transgressions were punished by communities or kingdoms. British colonial laws related to homosexuality were enacted in 1894 and incorporated in the Penal Code 1950. This criminalises ‘unnatural offences’, specifically prohibiting ‘carnal knowledge’ ‘against the order of nature’, and ‘gross indecency’. Although amended subsequently and rarely used, the Code was adopted at independence in 1962 and largely survives in the same form today (as Penal Code Act Cap 120). In addition, a 2005 constitutional amendment prohibited same-​sex marriages. Although homosexuality itself is not criminalised, homosexuals fear arrest, blackmail and mob justice. In the late 1990s, voices calling for homosexuality to be curtailed and demanding recognition and rights for homosexuals both became louder. The “anti-​gay rights group views the law as necessary and in fact too weak to fight the ‘Western’ evil of homosexuality that they feel is threatening to tear apart the very fabric of Ugandan society” (Jjuuko, 2013, p. 382). Efforts by President Yoweri Museveni and parliamentarians to further criminalise homosexuality began with an Anti-​Homosexuality Bill tabled in 2009 and culminated in the Anti-​Homosexuality Act of 2014. Although the Act was invalidated by Uganda’s Supreme Court shortly after it was enacted, parliamentary debate on homosexuality and calls for the enactment of a new law continued (Johnson and Falletta, 2019). Researchers have documented and critiqued the legal content and parliamentary consideration of successive bills (Jjuuko, 2013; Johnson, 2015; Nyanzi and Karamagi, 2015). Politicians have used homophobic language and discriminatory legislation to unify public support as components of a political strategy designed to deflect attention from governance failures and allow the Museveni administration to keep political control, while maintaining the relationships with the international agencies and donors on which Uganda is highly dependent (Bompani and Valois, 2017; McKay and Angotti, 2016; Nyanzi and Karamagi, 2015). Traditional customs and culture still play an important role in Ugandans’ lives and customary law is recognised as a source of law, although today 98% of Ugandans are Christian (87%) or Muslim (12%) (Rakodi, 2019, p. 15). The elite political and religious actors who monopolise public discourse manipulate social anxiety about the destabilisation of family relationships, economic crisis and the HIV/​AIDS epidemic, promoting moralities based on the heterosexual family and portraying same-​sex sexuality and gay identities as a threat to family life, procreation

246  Religious values and organisations and ‘material exchange’ (meaning the economic relations associated with marriage and childbearing) (Sadgrove et al., 2012). The increased visibility and assertiveness of LGBT+​people are thus seen as a threat not only to cultural and religious values but also to social relations centred on families and communities. The row over the 2009 Bill placed sexuality and sexual activity at the core of Uganda’s national project. Intended to fill gaps in the existing law, it was introduced as a private member’s bill by a born-​again Anglican MP and “galvanised the hitherto nascent and rather disorganised LGBTI rights movement to focus on the Bill” (Jjuuko, 2013, p. 383). Using the judiciary, the legislature, the executive, coalition building, awareness campaigns and international advocacy, activists worked to oppose it, despite the fears of many that public activism would generate adverse responses from the police and society at large. About ten LGBT+​groups work on different aspects, one of the most visible being the umbrella organisation Sexual Minorities Uganda. In addition, the Civil Society Coalition on Human Rights and Constitutional Law was formed, made up of 40+​CSOs, including organisations working for the rights of women, refugees, sex workers and HIV+​people. The coalition coordinated local and international protests, which were particularly loud because the bill proposed the death penalty for ‘aggravated homosexuality’ (same-​sex activities with a minor, a disabled person or where the offender is HIV+​, a parent or guardian of the victim or uses drugs to overpower the victim). The anti-​gay movement has been championed by religious groups. Seventy-​eight per cent of the 85% of Ugandans who are Christians are affiliated with the mainline Catholic and Protestant churches. These have been central to the political and cultural life of the country for over a century, with the former having a larger membership among the peasantry, while the latter have co-​opted local leaders and elites and occupied many political, government and judicial positions. Both play important roles in providing education, have nationwide organisational structures of parishes and congregations, and include many politicians among their members. They share a sense that Christian and Ugandan understandings of sexuality and family life are the same, even though they oppose marital practices, such as polygyny; that Christianity is an integral part of what it means to be a Ugandan (despite the presence of a Muslim minority); and that Uganda should base its national ethic on Christianity. Although explicit teaching on sexual ethics is relatively rare, due to a cultural reticence to publicly discussing sexuality, they often denounce immorality, especially drinking, womanising and, increasingly, homosexuality. Both the Church of Uganda (part of the worldwide Anglican communion) and the Roman Catholic Church are opposed to same-​sex sexual activity. The Anglican position is generally harder, reflecting the discourse of sin and repentance associated with the Balokole revival

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  247 tradition and the Church’s desire to counter American and English liberal Anglicanism (Ward, 2015). Since an evangelical revival movement in the 1920s, the Balokole or born-​again movement in the Church of Uganda has been known for its conservative social ethics, which have influenced the Church and public life for many decades. In competition with the rapidly growing Pentecostal churches and seeking continued influence on the national narrative, many of its leaders have denounced same-​sex relationships, although views within the Church are not unanimous and some senior clergy support LGBT+​people. It became involved in international debates about homosexuality through its participation in international Anglican Communion conferences from the late 1990s. When, in 2003, the US Episcopal Church ordained an openly gay bishop, the Church of Uganda broke off relations and formed an alliance with other African Anglican churches which shared its views. Then, in 2009, some Anglican leaders supported the Anti-​Homosexuality Bill. They have continued to support subsequent bills and the 2014 Act, although while welcoming some aspects, they criticise others as excessive (Dreier, 2018; Sadgrove et al., 2012; Ward, 2015). The Roman Catholic Church, subject to a powerful central source of religious doctrine and authority in the papacy, has a more unified stance than the Anglican Communion. Officially, the Church sees homosexuality as a disorder and teaches that, although gay people should seek rehabilitation, it is wrong to discriminate against them. Even though there is a charismatic movement within the Church, and organisations and parish fellowships promote the values of family life and chastity, the Church is more forgiving of failures to live up to these values than the contemporary Church of Uganda and its views of same-​sex activities are tempered by its concern for human rights (Ward, 2015). Despite the dominance of the mainline churches, some regard the role played by Pentecostal churches as crucial, partly because their opposition to the bill was backed at pivotal moments by evangelical American Christians, and also because locally, the pastors of two important Pentecostal organisations spearheaded a coalition which formed links with Muslim leaders, generated a massive petition against the bill and used the media to portray homosexuality as promoted by foreigners, and a danger to children and Uganda’s national identity (Jjuuko, 2013; Bompani and Brown, 2015; Bompani and Valois, 2017; Sadgrove et al., 2012). Although the Pentecostal churches in Uganda are diverse, by the 2000s they had taken advantage of the PEPFAR funding available for HIV/​AIDS prevention, refocused their theological stance from personal holiness among their members and proselytisation to building a future for the country, established their own media outlets and were seeking to contribute to national debates about morality and the importance of supporting heterosexual families, increasing their influence in the public sphere.

248  Religious values and organisations Proponents and opponents of the bill and its successors have used a variety of tactics including appeals to the High Court and Constitutional Court, judicial review, awareness raising and lobbying among MPs, engagement in public consultations related to proposed legislation, obtaining assistance from international NGOs such as Amnesty and Human Rights Watch, and using UN systems, for example, submitting information to committees responsible for monitoring compliance with conventions ratified by the Ugandan government (Jjuuko, 2013; Nyanzi and Karamagi,2015). Both religious and LGTB+​groups have sought to use the domestic and international media, which pay considerable attention to the views of religious as well as political leaders. Since 2009, the high profile of the debate and its salience in public life have been demonstrated in various ways, including prohibiting or breaking up meetings, attacks on activists, and banning NGOs. For example, in 2012, 38 NGOs were banned for promoting homosexuality and undermining the national culture, and in 2017 the planned Pride Uganda event had to be cancelled following threats from the police and government. In 2011 a second attempt was made to pass the legislation, but it was shelved once again. Finally, in December 2013, the modified Act, in which the proposed death penalty for aggravated homosexuality had been dropped in favour of life imprisonment, but which included a new crime of same-​sex marriage, was passed and assented to by President Museveni in February 2014. In June, as a result, sanctions were imposed by the US, the World Bank and some bilateral agencies. A petition was made to the Constitutional Court for the Act to be quashed on the basis that it was unconstitutional, and in August 2014, the Court ruled that there had been procedural irregularities, not least that Parliament was inquorate at the time of the vote. While the Attorney General wished to appeal against this ruling to the Supreme Court, he dropped this plan following a directive from the President, who was concerned about further adverse foreign reactions. Most recently, on 28 February 2023, a new bill was introduced, following months of anti-​ sexual minority rhetoric and government crackdowns on organisations supporting LGBT+​communities. Threats against and attacks on LGBT+​people immediately intensified. Despite some internal and widespread international condemnation, the bill was signed into law on May 26. It restricts the rights of LGBT+​people and introduces more severe sanctions, ostensibly to tackle gaps in the (unenforced) 2014 Act and protect ‘traditional family structures’. It criminalises same-​sex conduct, creates new crimes such as the ‘promotion of homosexuality’, increases prison sentences and introduces the death penalty for ‘aggravated homosexuality’. Despite his personal anti-​ homosexual views, therefore, Museveni has vacillated between a desire

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  249 for ever-​tougher legislation to be passed, to bolster his domestic support and enable him to preserve his long domination of political power, and the need to avoid antagonising important providers of aid (Amusan et al., 2019).

Box 9.2  Campaigning for recognition of sexual minority rights in South Africa In South Africa, sodomy was a criminal offence under common law from at least the eighteenth century, with subsequent statutes under the Roman Dutch legal code prohibiting all sexual acts between men. With the support of the Dutch Reformed Church (DRC), which until the 1990s cited the Bible as justification for white supremacy and condemned homosexuality as a sin, the apartheid regime upheld the laws that criminalised sodomy and unnatural practices. For a long time, homosexuality was associated with white society, to be rejected along with apartheid. It was, for example, associated with the practice of ‘mine marriage’, which arose in the context of circulating labour migration and the accommodation of migrant workers in large all-​male compounds. With relatively few African women migrants, the practice of ‘boy-​wives’ emerged, by which older men took on a role as protectors of new mine workers in return for both material and sexual services. The younger men were able, on their return to rural areas, to acquire land and cattle and to marry. Apart from occasional attempts to suppress this practice to placate religious critics, the DRC and the government tolerated it because of the need for male migrant labour (Epprecht, 2013). Nevertheless, South Africa was the first Sub-​Saharan African state to introduce an anti-​discrimination clause in the 1990 Bill of Rights which preceded its Constitution (1994 interim, 1997 final). The newly established Constitutional Court decided that the criminalisation of sodomy contravened fundamental rights to dignity, equality, privacy and non-​discrimination and declared common law and the existing statutory provisions to be unconstitutional. This was followed by the prohibition of discrimination in employment from 1996 and incitement to hatred in relation to sexual orientation from 2000. Same-​sex marriage was recognised in 2006, the only country in SSA to do so to date. What explained these dramatic shifts in attitudes towards and the legal framing of homosexuality? First, in the 1970s and 1980s, mainly white gay activists formed groups to establish safe spaces and promote self-​esteem in a context of intensifying

250  Religious values and organisations homophobia, followed by lobbying for an end to police harassment of consenting adult relationships and reform of the laws prohibiting sodomy and unnatural offences. Their lobbying did not result in legal reforms and failed to gain credibility among black South Africans, whose sexuality the government did not try to control, providing that it did not cross the racial divide (Ward, 2013). However, by the mid-​1980s, white gay anti-​apartheid activists formed the Organisation of Lesbian and Gay Activists and, by putting anti-​racism at the top of their agenda, were able to build an alliance with the United Democratic Front, a coalition of about 400 civic, church, student, workers’ and other organisations formed in 1983 (Lennox and Waites, 2013b). During the same period, many of the leaders of the anti-​apartheid struggle, including white gay activists, experienced exile, during which they engaged with civic and political movements, including gay rights groups. The contribution of these groups to the anti-​apartheid struggle was recognised in 1987 when Thabo Mbeki (then the African National Congress’s Director of Information) assured the international press that a future ANC government would respect sexual orientation as a human right (Lennox and Waites, 2013b). Second, the political opportunity structure opened up with the release of Nelson Mandela from prison and the transition to multi-​racial democracy. Gay and lesbian activists participated in the consultations on the draft Bill of Rights in 1990: this specifically referred to equal rights with respect to sexual orientation, a commitment that was later reflected in the new Constitution, not least because the new state desired to ensure its constitutional legitimacy in the eyes of the international community (Lennox and Waites, 2013b). Third, since the 1990s, campaigns for sexual rights have linked up to the public health agenda. For example, African Men for Sexual Health and Rights was established in 2009 to address the vulnerability of some groups (particularly MSM) to HIV infection by asserting the right to health and access to appropriate services (Epprecht, 2013). The position of religious groups has been ambiguous throughout. Some key figures have provided support to the movement, especially Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu (1931–​2021). Although the Dutch Reformed Churches have officially repented for their participation in apartheid, and they and the Anglican and the Uniting Reformed Church (a union of the former Coloured, Black and Indian Reformed Churches) no longer discriminate based on race, opinion within them is divided about support for gay causes, especially same-​sex marriage (Ward, 2013). Pentecostalism has grown dramatically since the 1990s, gaining followers by addressing spiritual uncertainties linked to post-​apartheid social transformations, offering protection against witchcraft, which many saw as rampant, and denouncing the failures of the democratic state (Burchardt, 2018). Self-​ consciously apolitical, Pentecostal Christianity has criticised the secular

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  251 orientation of the ruling party, offered new notions of masculinity based on heteromasculine dominance and women’s obedience to men, and argued for a return to traditional family and ethical values and a rejection of homosexuality, including a reversal of the 1996 constitutional guarantee of the rights of LGBT+​people and the provision for same-​sex marriage (Burchardt, 2018; Ward, 2013). Popular opinion is based on the lasting influence of African Traditional Religion and socially conservative religious communities. The first, encouraged prior to 1994 by a state keen to immunise black South Africans from Western values, continues to influence how many view the world and make moral decisions, especially with respect to norms of marriage and procreation, while many are members of the latter. Popular opinion is thus less convinced of the benefits of a gay-​friendly state than supporters of South Africa’s progressive liberal framework. In 2018, 72% of South Africans still thought that same-​sex sexual activity is morally wrong. However, there is strong respect for the human rights provisions of the Constitution and the non-​racial democratic society being created, with half feeling that gay South Africans are entitled to the same rights as other citizens. In practice, therefore, the conservative religious right has little political influence and ongoing discussions about LGBT rights are more moderate than in many other Sub-​Saharan African countries. However, constitutional rights, legal protection from discrimination and the production in 2018 of a national HIV plan to address the specific needs of LGBT+​people do not always translate into societal acceptance, as demonstrated by high levels of homophobic crime and violence. These continue to be a concern for activists, with various legal and other initiatives under way to combat discrimination and hate crime (Mendos, 2019). or sensationalise the issues, while many outlets are controlled by governments or religious organisations. However, links between LGBT+​movements and Northern actors have widely given rise to perceptions of cultural imperialism, reactions against foreign agenda setting and accusations of aid conditionality, as in Uganda and other Sub-​Saharan African countries (McKay and Angotti, 2016). Sometimes, links with regional actors, such as the committee responsible for monitoring compliance with the African Charter on Human and People’s Rights, have been more productive than those with international actors outside SSA because of their shared discourses and experiences (Lennox and Waites, 2013b). At the national level, the interpenetration of state and religious actors, which varies between and within countries, may make either negative or positive contributions to LGBT+​people’s claims for equality and non-​discrimination. For example, while laws may appear to be outdated or dormant, they may

252  Religious values and organisations Box 9.3  Seeking legal change in South Asia Under the banner of AIDS Bhedbhav Virodhi Andolan (ABVA), the first organised LGBT+​groups in India campaigned for freedom and equality. They also demanded that Section 377 of the Penal Code (which criminalises sexual activity ‘against the order of nature’) be repealed, the constitution changed to include equality before the law in terms of sexual orientation and the Special Marriage Act amended to permit same-​ sex marriage (Joseph, 1996), even though other laws, including those concerning vagrancy and public nuisance, are easier to enforce and so likely to have more impact on same-​sex sexualities than the anti-​sodomy law, especially on those vulnerable due to their gender expression and social class, including Muslims, women and hijras. In 2001, following years of campaigning, the Naz Foundation (India) Trust (a gay rights and HIV/​AIDS advocacy organisation set up in 1994), which had found the provisions of Section 377 to be a hindrance to its work on HIV/​AIDS with MSM, together with the Lawyers Collective, filed public interest litigation at the Delhi High Court, the LGBT rights movement’s first “highly visible, collective effort” (Trivedi, 2014). The writ asked the court to exclude private adult consensual sex from the purview of Section 377, arguing inter alia that it was driving same-​sex sexual activity underground, exacerbating the public health hazard HIV/​AIDS represented. Initially, in 2004, the Court dismissed the case, fuelling popular and media criticism. Critics thought that the Foundation’s orientation to the state and law, its single-​handedness and its failure to consult more widely had lost an opportunity to influence public opinion and build the wider LGBT+​movement in order to achieve longer term gains for sexual minorities. The Lawyers Collective then organised consultations with various constituencies, to enable a decision to be taken about whether and how to contest the Delhi High Court’s ruling. In 2005, an appeal was made to the Supreme Court challenging the High Court’s dismissal of the writ. It in turn instructed the High Court to reconsider the original writ (Puri, 2016). By this time, the National Coalition of Sexuality Rights had been formed in Bangalore and Voices Against 377 in Delhi. A legal initiative initially led by a single organisation had morphed into a national campaign to inform public discourse on same-​sex sexualities and decriminalise homosexuality, helped by the English language media. Voices Against 377 filed an intervention supporting the Naz writ on behalf of a broader coalition, urging the justices to see LGBT+​groups as a minority in need of protection (like Dalits or children) (Puri, 2016). Eventually, in 2009, the Delhi High Court declared Section 377 to be unconstitutional on the grounds that it violates Articles 21 (which

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  253 guarantees the protection of life and personal liberty), 14 (equality before the law) and 15 (prohibition of discrimination). This effectively decriminalised consensual homosexual sex between adults, although it held the section to be valid with respect to non-​consensual sex and intercourse with minors and expressed a hope that Parliament would address the issue. This was initially embraced as a victory. However, not only did a nationwide poll shortly after the verdict find that 73% of Indians believed that homosexuality should be illegal, a “coalition of conservative religious and political groups immediately appealed the decision to the Supreme Court, arguing that homosexuality was an offense against public morality and Indian cultural values” (Trivedi, 2014; see also Bradley and Kirmani, 2015; Loh, 2018; Puri, 2016). In 2013, following petitions by various bodies, including some Christian churches and the All India Muslim Personal Law Board, the Supreme Court overturned the ruling on several grounds, including its belief that very few Indians are homosexual,5 the limited use of Section 377 (showing that there was no real cause for action) and that the Naz Foundation had no locus standi (was not itself aggrieved by the law). The Court reinstated Section 377, recriminalising homosexuality. Hindutva, Muslim and some Christian organisations welcomed the decision. Despite the increased visibility of LGBT organisations, campaigning by Voices Against 377 and others, divided government views, increased attention to sexual matters in the media and changing attitudes (especially among young people), a volatile political situation (imminent elections), coupled with support from the Hindu Right and Muslim leaders, meant that Parliament did not take up the issue until 2015/​16, when private members’ bills seeking to decriminalise the section were rejected by large majorities. However, Supreme Court rulings on subsequent cases, examined in detail by Al Baset (2018), Loh (2018) and Puri (2016), recognised sexual orientation as intrinsic to an individual’s identity and protected by the right to privacy, declared Section 377 unconstitutional with respect to consensual sexual acts between adults, extended constitutional safeguards to the rights of sexual minorities and established that those who do not subscribe to a binary frame can identify as a third gender, with positive results for transgender persons and hijras. Puri (2016) identifies lasting gains from these efforts to ensure justice for gender and sexual minorities, including increased media attention and political visibility, helping to overcome legal defeats and contributing to wider visions for social justice, although she also recognises the limits to relying on the government to protect women and others from sexual violence and enable them to access adequate health care (see also Al Baset, 2018). Although analysts and campaigners express a concern that tackling discrimination head on by seeking to change the law risks giving rise to

254  Religious values and organisations a social backlash, the 2009 judgement influenced developments in other South Asian countries which had inherited similar Penal Codes (Baudh, 2013). For example, in Bangladesh, Section 377, together with vagrancy and anti-​prostitution laws, was used by law enforcement agencies to harass LGBT+​people and Section 54 to detain people suspected of criminal activity. In 1998, the latter was challenged in the Supreme Court by the Bangladesh Legal Aid and Services Trust on the grounds that it violates constitutional rights, a charge that the court found to be valid. In addition, NGOs have been able to take a public health approach to working with working class MSM and hijra groups on HIV/​ AIDS matters, although Hossain (2019) identifies limits to this strategy, including the dominance of well-​funded NGOs and the lack of opportunities it provides for campaigning for sexual rights and the ultimate repeal of Section 377. Since 2000, in contrast, activism by Western-​influenced, informally-​networked, English-​speaking middle-​class gays and lesbians has experienced a sometimes violent backlash from an increasingly hostile state, leading LGBT+​activists to leave the country or go into hiding and rendering organisations working on the sexual health of MSM susceptible to increased police surveillance. In Sri Lanka, Section 354A of the Penal Code 1883 criminalises same-​sex sexual activity. This was challenged in 1995 on the basis that it discriminated against men, but the outcome was that ‘men’ was altered to ‘persons’, enabling it to be used against women, and the offence changed to ‘gross indecency in private or public’. The changes had had little effect by 2011, although vagrancy and other laws continued to be used to persecute homosexuals by social service providers and employers and to force them into heterosexual marriages. Organisations campaigning for human, women’s and LGBT rights and access to HIV/​AIDS prevention and treatment expressed concerns that without attitudinal change, repealing sections of the Penal Code would have little effect and fear of a backlash might drive LGBT+​people further underground. In Pakistan, Bradley and Kirmani (2015) describe how opposition from the government and conservative religious groups has hindered the ability of homosexual people to organise and secure recognition of their rights. Today, there are hijra communities throughout South Asia, but they are socially and economically marginalised, experience violence from the police and wider public, face human rights violations and discrimination in access to health care, housing, education and employment, and are considered by many to be ‘disreputable’. They have lobbied for recognition as a third gender, gaining this in 1994 in India and 2009 in Pakistan, which has provided them with some civil rights. In 2014 the Indian Supreme Court ruled that transgender people should be treated as a socially and economically ‘backward class’ with constitutional and

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  255 legal rights and access to education and employment; in Bangladesh they are eligible for priority access to education and some low-​paid jobs; and in Pakistan a third gender category was added to national identity cards in 2011. However, hijras are sometimes excluded by the homosexual community (Loh, 2018), leading them to adopt distinctive tactics to tackle their socio-​economic exclusion, including campaigning on human rights grounds (Bradley and Kirmani, 2015), establishing a transgender organisation, the Kinnar Akhara, to reclaim their Hindu religious status (Bevilacqua, 2022) and seeking ‘respectable’ employment in NGOs engaged in HIV/​AIDS related work (Mount, 2020). also be used by police and courts to justify practices harmful to LGBT+​ people, including the extraction of bribes or harassment. Constitutional and Supreme Courts may play positive roles in legislative reviews and appeals, as in South Africa (see Box 9.2) and India (see Box 9.3), although this depends on their composition and independence as well as their interpretation of the law (Baudh, 2013; Jjuuko, 2013). There are many examples of religious bodies opposing LGBT+​claims and the decriminalisation of same-​ sex behaviour, for example, Rebirth, Renaissance and Advancement Initiative of Nigeria, which aims to reorient future elites away from immorality and homosexuality (McKay and Angotti, 2016); the Evangelical Fellowship of Botswana (Tabengwa with Nicol, 2013) and the Kenya Christian Professionals Forum. However, religious actors are not uniformly hostile. The complex and often tolerant attitudes to same-​sex relationships associated with indigenous religious beliefs and cultural practices challenge the view that homosexuality is a Western colonial import. The moralistic attitudes and criminal laws associated with colonialism have had lasting effects, but some clergy in the mainline churches most closely associated with colonial administrations (e.g. the Anglican Church in South Africa, see Box 9.2) have called for tolerance and inclusion. In contrast, where inter-​or intra-​religious competition is rife, some religious bodies may be homophobic, intolerant and hostile, while others are more sympathetic (Ukah, 2018). In addition, although the public pronouncements of religious leaders are reported in the media and influence legal and political debates, their rhetoric, whether tolerant or intolerant, may or may not reflect the views of their members and the wider public. Strategies for mobilisation

Although the strategies adopted by social movements are constrained by social, cultural and political factors, the actors involved have a degree of agency in the way they frame issues and their goals, whether or not they are able to take advantage of political opportunities when they occur, the resources they are able to mobilise and the tactics they employ.

256  Religious values and organisations The frames used by organisations and networks campaigning on issues of sexuality and gender vary. The rights of sexual minorities and recognition of gender identities may be set within a wider human rights framework, enabling LGBT+​activists to draw on human rights discourse (McKay and Angotti, 2016). International conventions and national constitutions provide rights to equality, non-​discrimination, privacy, health and peaceable assembly, etc., although generally selected rights are invoked. For example, citizenship rights (the right to participate in the public sphere) and the principle of non-​ discrimination on the basis of sexual discrimination are important in South Africa, where they are explicitly referred to in its 1996 Constitution (see Box 9.2). Discrimination in the workplace because of sexual orientation has been declared illegal in Botswana and Mozambique (Mugo, 2019). Whether or not inherited Penal Codes comply with national constitutional rights has been central to attempts to repeal Section 377 in India (see Box 9.3). LGBT+​activists often base their claims on the right to privacy, questioning whether it is reasonable for states to regulate the actions of individuals in the private sphere. This frame has been successful in some countries where civil society support for LGBT+​equality is not widespread, although rights based on privacy are more limited than the full set of rights enjoyed by heterosexual people. Human rights and moral frames can be bypassed by concentrating on the public health imperative, especially in the context of the HIV/​AIDS epidemic. LGBT+​people are forced to conceal their sexual feelings and choices by stigma and the criminalisation of same-​sex behaviour, resulting in furtive relationships that often hide behind concurrent heterosexual relationships, expanding the circle of people at risk of contracting sexually transmitted infections and exposing those engaging in same-​sex activities to higher risks. Since the 1980s, a public health approach based on removing the incentive for secrecy and providing information as a basis for responsible decision-​making has provided an alternative for organisations concerned with the needs and rights of sexual and gender minorities (Obadare, 2018). In 2008, the first workshop on MSM and HIV/​AIDS brought together activists and public health officials from ten countries in Nairobi (Epprecht, 2013). International pressure to provide MSM with access to antiretroviral therapies has given LGBT+​ organisations a space for political mobilisation, for example, in Cameroon (Kojoué, 2017), Bangladesh and Malawi (Currier, 2014; Currier and McKay, 2017), although they may encounter opposition from religious figures and public health officials and there is a risk that other groups engaged in same-​sex activities (including women engaged in same-​sex activities and also female sex workers, widows, street children and intravenous drug users) are overlooked. In some cases, the approach has worked. For example, in Zimbabwe and Bangladesh, health care for MSM has been incorporated into the National Strategic Plans for HIV/​AIDS despite widespread homophobic rhetoric and in Kenya today the government does not oppose the provision of health care for MSM, a change of attitude that coincided with the emergence of LGBT+​ organisations and a Kenyan Human Rights Commission report that called,

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  257 inter alia, for the decriminalisation of sodomy (Epprecht, 2013). McKay and Angotti (2016) note how public health framing has been more important for LGBT+​campaigning in Malawi, a high prevalence country, than in Uganda and Nigeria. There has been enough evidence of success for public health approaches to be backed by the World Health Organization, UNAIDS and the World Bank, although there is a danger that short-​term success (e.g. improving access to treatment) may be achieved at the cost of depoliticising the wider issue of LGBT+​recognition and rights. Campaigns to raise awareness, promote prevention and reduce stigma are only one element in the strategies needed to tackle the HIV/​AIDS epidemic. This emerges from the experience of Uganda, where religious leaders were involved at various levels and prevalence was reduced in the 1990s. Subsequently, despite a resurgence of conservative attitudes to homosexuality and condom use, large-​scale provision of care and treatment has been rolled out, although an authoritarian political culture and leadership failures have constrained the ability of civil society organisations to influence policy or hold the state to account, while anti-​LGBT+​rhetoric and action by political and religious leaders and many citizens have increased (Grebe, 2016). Frames may use local cultural references, including indigenous concepts and terms, to circumvent the accusation that, because local languages do not contain a word that translates exactly as ‘homosexuality’, the latter is a Western import, although cultural tolerance of same-​sex activities and relationships varies between and within countries. The frames used by religious groups rely on textual references, religious moral teachings, claims of authenticity and the threats posed by homosexuals to the religious character of a nation, for example, in Zambia (van Klinken, 2017), Senegal (M’Baye, 2013) and Nigeria (Obadare, 2015; Ukah, 2018). Such discourses are performed in public, justify harassment and intimidation and are targeted against groups vulnerable to rights violations, thereby denying them constitutional and citizenship rights and affecting the mobilisation strategies open to them. Political opportunities may enable activists to draw attention to their concerns and advance their objectives. They may arise fortuitously at the national or international level, or be created by the actors involved. They include regime change, which is often accompanied by a constitutional review process (as in South Africa and India), international events and alliances with government bodies. However, Lennox and Waites (2013b) note that such bodies tend to be weak allies for LGBT+​groups, commonly claiming that their responsibility only relates to issues decreed by the government to be lawful. A public health approach can provide an opportunity to ally with a Ministry of Health. However, the power and influence of ministries and other bodies vary and an alliance with a relatively weak body may yield few benefits. For example, van Klinken (2017) notes the ambiguous stance of the Zambia Human Rights Commission in the face of calls to name LGBT+​people in a revised constitution. In addition, such bodies may work against each other. For example, in Malawi, while LGBT+​activists gained support from the Ministry of

258  Religious values and organisations Health, the Ministry of Information and Civic Education has tried to discredit LGBT+​people. While in some instances international events (such as global conferences, the agreement or revision of a treaty or convention, or the periodic need to produce reports on country progress on human rights) can provide opportunities for activists to lobby their governments and hold them to account, Lennox and Waites (2013b) comment that, in the cases they reviewed, there is little evidence that LGBT+​activists have been able to make use of the African Charter and Commission on Human and People’s Rights. Political trends and developments also create opportunities for opponents of homosexuality and decriminalisation. Frequently, homosexuals are scapegoated for government failure, social decay and economic crisis, for example, in Malawi (Mwaksungula, 2013; Currier, 2014; Currier and McKay, 2017), Senegal (M’Baye, 2013) and Cameroon (Ndijo, 2013). Presidents desiring an extra (unconstitutional) term of office and ruling parties seeking re-​election may capitalise on religious and popular opposition to homosexuality and attempts to decriminalise same-​sex behaviour by using a homophobic rhetoric of political and cultural sovereignty and resistance to neo-​colonialism to build their support base and smear the opposition, as in Uganda (see Box 9.1) and Nigeria (Amusan et al., 2019; Obadare, 2015; Ukah, 2018). As noted above, the growing salience of morality politics in general and LGBT+​politics in particular in the 2000s has been linked to increased religious and political competition. Born-​again Christians are more likely to believe that homosexuals pose a threat to society, specifically to the family. Framed in this way, personal morality affects all members of society and invites state regulation of morality and the family. Based on an analysis of trends in media coverage between 2003 and 2018 in 28 African countries, Grossman (2015) suggests that homophobia alone is insufficient to explain political salience, as evident in the low saliency of LGBT politics in most Muslim-​majority African countries (although this does not mean that LGBT+​people are safe from human rights violations). Politicians and political parties only tend to respond to issues when they face growing levels of political competition and are thus under pressure to distinguish themselves by securing popular support, building a political reputation or branding their opponents negatively. LGBT+​politics are appealing because of the high rewards of religious legitimacy, the mobilisation capacity of religious organisations, the low information barriers citizens and politicians face when participating in morality debates and the weakness of organisations and networks campaigning for recognition and rights. Thus, “opposition to LGBTs offers a way for politicians to gain religious legitimacy and credibly signal their responsiveness to popular will” (Grossman, 2015, p. 340). He concludes that the evidence from media coverage demonstrates that LGBTI-​related issues are more politically salient in the countries with the highest proportion of renewalist Christians, including Zimbabwe, Ghana, Nigeria, Kenya, Uganda and Zambia. In their analysis of newspaper coverage in Uganda, Malawi and Nigeria from 2008 to 2014, McKay and Angotti (2016) note that active discourse is episodic –​spikes coincide with attempts to

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  259 introduce new legislation, prosecutions, electoral years and political transitions. Throughout the period, the coverage was dominated by the views of religious and political leaders, but in the later part of the period, increased coverage of alternative views, they suggest, reflects the growing visibility and organisation of LGBT+​and human rights organisations and those concerned with public health issues. Bacchetta (1999) considers whether anti-​LGBT+​attitudes are intrinsic to Hindu nationalism, drawing on the internal literature of the RSS (founded 1925, with about 2.5 million members and 200 affiliated organisations by the end of the 1990s), the BJP and the Hindu Shiv Sena. Based on the RSS’s valorisation of virile, militaristic masculinity, combined with obligatory asexuality for Hindu nationalist leaders and forced heterosexuality for the masses, she concludes that not only LGBT+​people but also Muslims are regarded as outside heterosexual normativity, seen as undermining the Indian state and are, as a result, perceived as legitimate subjects of persecution. Social movement theory suggests that a movement’s access to and ability to mobilise resources is crucial in determining its success. At present, many LGBT+​organisations in SSA and South Asia lack expertise and access to research as well as financial resources. For example, where international resources are mentioned in the case studies Lennox and Waites review, they are generally for ‘information politics’, for example, making statements and condemning human rights abuses, rather than direct support for campaigning, partly because foreign funding is contentious. The resources available for tackling HIV/​AIDS have provided an incentive for organisations to adopt a public health approach, although in contexts hostile to sexual minorities, individuals’ reluctance to acknowledge their sexual identities can prevent them from obtaining access to health care, endangering their own lives and those of others, potentially engendering an even fiercer backlash (Epprecht, 2013). The tactics used by movements concerned with sexual orientation and gender identity are similar to those used by other social movements, although the frequency with which different tactics are employed seems to differ and also, as expected, to vary between contexts. Some are identified in Epprecht (2012, 2013) and Lennox and Waites (2013b), although neither makes many references to religious actors. Common tactics include:

• Creating safe spaces for LGBT+​people (such as a community centre near Kampala set up by a member of the Anglican clergy, with assistance from a sympathetic American church). • Using a public health approach to make a case for LGBT+​recognition and rights (as in Malawi, Uganda and Bangladesh). • Pursuing decriminalisation through litigation or legislative review, as in India. Despite the limited use of inherited colonial laws criminalising same-​ sex sexual activities, activists in a number of countries, including India and Bangladesh (see Box 9.3), have made decriminalisation the focus of their campaigns.

260  Religious values and organisations

• Dividing campaigns into two stages, in which euphemistic or vague language is used initially to win allies, postponing explicit rights-​based claims until circumstances are deemed more favourable. • Using public campaigns to change attitudes. • Commissioning research that can be used in legal challenges. • Sometimes protests and demonstrations. Religious groups adopt a variety of tactics to promote or resist LGBT+​ recognition and rights. National church organisations must face up to the issues within their own organisations, in their own countries and in a variety of international contexts. Churches are members of international church organisations with differing degrees of authority over them, which they can respect or challenge. An analysis of the tactics adopted by Anglican and Lutheran churches in African countries concludes that, as their international partner churches take steps to become more inclusive of sexual and gender minorities, they adopt a strategy of symbolic resistance (Dreier, 2018). They mostly share a view of LGBT+​identities as un-​African, accuse sexual minorities of threatening African identities, scapegoat them for social ills and dismiss norms deemed incongruent with local values on the grounds that they are neo-​colonial impositions, thereby reinforcing social rejection. Those African churches which rely least on American counterparts, Dreier suggests, resist the adoption of gay-​friendly doctrines and practices by dissociating themselves entirely. The rest, while denouncing LGBT inclusion, maintain their bilateral partnerships. For example, all but one of the 12 Anglican churches in SSA denounced the US Episcopal Church, which ordained homosexual clergy and decided to perform same-​sex marriages. However, of the 12, only one formally disassociated from the US church, while two maintained strained and four maintained stable relationships. Dreier discerned a similar pattern of behaviour among Lutheran churches. While those which dissociated were able to obtain funding from religiously and socially conservative actors, this new funding did not fully compensate for the funds lost. Nevertheless, such tactics enabled them to claim the moral high ground and gain symbolic capital, which is useful in the domestic religious competition in which they are engaged. Those facing increased Pentecostal (and Muslim) competition, she suggests, are likely to denounce their American partner churches, while those which are larger, longer-​established and more financially independent are, in addition, more likely to dissociate from them (Dreier, 2018). The Anglican churches in Nigeria and Uganda are prime examples. That raising awareness, promoting prevention and reducing stigma are only one element in the strategies needed to tackle the HIV/​AIDS epidemic emerges from the experience of Uganda, where religious leaders were involved at various levels and prevalence was reduced in the 1990s. Subsequently, despite a resurgence of conservative attitudes to condom use and homosexuality, large-​scale provision of care and treatment has been rolled out, although an authoritarian political culture and leadership failures have constrained the ability of civil

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  261 society organisations to influence policy or hold the state to account, while anti-​LGBT+​rhetoric and action by political and religious leaders and many citizens have increased (Grebe, 2016). South Africa presents a marked contrast and it is revealing to consider some of the reasons why, despite a not dissimilar religious make-​up, this is the case (see Box 9.2). Concluding comments In SSA and elsewhere, the dominance of conservative religious and social values, the political salience of LGBT+​rights and the relative weakness of LGBT+​organisations and networks in the face of religious bodies and governments which have public support and overwhelming organisational resources are manifest in the failure to repeal oppressive laws and moves to further criminalise same-​sex relationships. The Ugandan government’s repeated attempts to do so were discussed in Box 9.1. Anti-​homosexuality measures were passed in several other countries, including Burundi in late 2009, Malawi (which had outlawed same-​sex relations between women in 2010) in 2011/​12, Nigeria in 2013/​14 (adding same-​sex marriage to existing laws criminalising same-​sex behaviour and prohibiting the registration and operation of LGBT+​ organisations) and Liberia in 2012 (making homosexuality a second degree felony and same-​sex marriage illegal) (Grossman, 2015). In the highly religious countries of SSA and South Asia, anti-​LGBT+​sentiment is associated with the prevalence of conservative morality, and its value to states that are ostensibly powerful but also vulnerable to repeated economic crises and widespread public criticism of their political record. The political salience of LGBT+​recognition and rights is evident in moral panics. Kuriakose and Iyer (2020) identify two strands within the LGBT+​movement worldwide: assimilationism, which emphasises realising rights through claims based on the principles of equality and non-​discrimination, pursued through legal challenges, and radicalism, meaning the pursuit of alternative sexual preferences and gender identities through everyday practices. The first, they suggest, has contributed to a political environment in which campaigns seek to use the law as an instrument of social change. This strategy focuses on demands for rights and building a more organised LGBT+​politics. More than any other institution, law and attempts to reform and enforce it to match the aspirations of citizens have come to define the interface between sexuality and states, as the latter seek to define sexual normality, discipline bodies and control populations, enabling them in turn to gain legitimacy and expand or modify governance agencies and practices. When wide public support can be maintained, backlashes against either LGBT+​groups or the state itself may be avoided. However, the law is also important to citizens, including sexual and gender minorities and other marginalised groups seeking justice, and so states tend to resort to authoritarian means of enforcing it, potentially provoking a backlash not only from those affected but also from international bodies (Puri, 2016).

262  Religious values and organisations There has been a tendency to blame ‘religion’ for resistance to realising women’s rights but, as became clear from the research reviewed in Chapter 8, this can be an oversimplification, as the attitudes and roles of religious actors vary between and within religious traditions, over time and in interaction with the cultural, economic and political contexts in which they operate. While conservative religious bodies may play important political roles in bolstering governments and hindering the realisation of LGBT+​rights, the research reviewed in this chapter shows that these outcomes are neither universal nor inevitable. Internationally, there is a widespread tendency for social attitudes to become more liberal, leading to recognition of multiple sexual and gender identities within institutions of global governance, many national governments, especially in the Global North, and some religious bodies. In addition, CSOs and social movements have developed international and national alliances and mobilised support for the realisation of human rights. Increasing numbers of LGBT+​groups seeking to realise the rights of LGBT+​people have been formed in Sub-​Saharan African and South Asian countries in recent years. Their ability to form alliances and coalitions at the national and international levels and to learn from their experience of alternative strategies and tactics may, despite setbacks, eventually result in their increased effectiveness as social movements. Notes 1 Arguments have been made for and against adding other orientations and identities claimed by sexual and gender minorities, including transgender, intersex and queer, to the acronym. Here, I use LGBT+​to recognise that such additional claims may form part of the overall picture of sexual and gender diversity. 2 This is seen in the increasingly active and influential role played by the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC). Made up of 57 Muslim-​majority countries, the OIC is, according to Blitt (2018), “at the vanguard of…[a]‌vocal block of states committed to denying human rights protection based on sexual orientation and gender identity”. It provides support for opposition to the recognition and realisation of the rights of sexual minorities in member countries. 3 The Yogyakarta Principles were launched in 2007 and supplemented in 2017. Their definitions of the concepts of sexual orientation and gender identity have become widely accepted (The Yogyakarta Principles and The Yogyakarta Principles +​10, http://​yogya​kart​apri​ncip​les.org, accessed 5/​5/​2020; 28/​3/​2023) •  Sexual orientation refers to each person’s capacity for emotional and sexual attraction to, and intimate sexual relations with, individuals of a different, the same or more than one gender. • Gender identity refers to each person’s experience of gender, which may or may not correspond with the sex assigned at birth, including the personal sense of the body and other expressions of gender, including physical appearance, speech, mannerisms, behavioural patterns, names and personal references. 4 A useful source is Lennox and Waites (eds.) (2013a), which emerged from a meeting of activists and researchers from Commonwealth countries, and so includes examples from both SSA and South Asia. Participants sought to analyse struggles for human

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  263 rights related to sexual orientation, with a focus on campaigns for the decriminalisation of same-​sex sexual behaviour, although the case studies vary in focus, quality and depth. 5 A sample of 500 adults as part of the Ipsos LGBT+​Pride 2021 Global Survey found that 17% of the Indian population identify as not heterosexual, including 3% identifying as homosexual and 9% as bisexual. www.ipsos.com/​en/​lgbt-​pride-​2021-​glo​bal-​sur​vey-​poi​nts-​gen​erat​ion-​gap-​aro​und-​ gen​der-​ident​ity-​and-​sex​ual-​att​ract​ion

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266  Religious values and organisations Innovation. www.afric​apor​tal.org/​featu​res/​decr​imin​alis​ing-​same-​sex-​cond​uct-​afr​icapart-​i/​ Mwakasungula, U. (2013) The LGBT situation in Malawi: an activist perspective, in Lennox, C. and Waites, M. (eds.), Human Rights, Sexual Orientation, and Gender Identity in the Commonwealth: Struggles for Decriminalisation and Change, London: Institute of Commonwealth Studies, 359–​79. Ndjio, B. (2013) Sexuality and nationalist ideologies in post-​colonial Cameroon, in Wieringa, S. and Sivori, H. (eds.), The Sexual History of the Global South: Sexual Politics in Africa, Asia and Latin America, London: Zed Books, 120–​43. Nyanzi, S. and Karamagi, A. (2015) The social-​ political dynamics of the anti-​ homosexuality legislation in Uganda, Agenda, 29, 1, 24–​38. Obadare, E. (2015) Sex, citizenship and the state in Nigeria: Islam, Christianity and emergent struggles over intimacy, Review of African Political Economy, 42, 143, 62–​76. Obadare, E. (2018) Pentecostal Republic: Religion and the Struggle for State Power in Nigeria, London: Zed. Pugh, S.A. (2010) Examining the Interface between HIV/​AIDS, religion and gender in Sub-​Saharan Africa, Canadian Journal of African Studies /​Revue canadienne des études africaines, 44, 3, 624–​43. Puri, J. (2016) Sexual States: Governance and the Struggle over the Antisodomy Law in India, Durham and London: Duke University Press. Rakodi, C. (2019) Religion and Society in Sub-​Saharan Africa and Southern Asia, London: Routledge. Sadgrove, J., Vanderbeck, R.M., Andersson, J., Valentine, G. and Ward, K. (2012) Morality plays and money matters: towards a situated understanding of the politics of homosexuality in Uganda, Journal of Modern African Studies, 50, 1, 103–​29. Tabengwa, M. with Nicol, N. (2013) The development of sexual rights and the LGBT movement in Botswana, in Lennox, C. and Waites, M. (eds.), Human Rights, Sexual Orientation, and Gender Identity in the Commonwealth: Struggles for Decriminalisation and Change, London: Institute of Commonwealth Studies, 339–​58. Trinitapoli, J. and Weinreb, A. (2012) Religion and AIDS in Africa, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Trivedi, I. (2014) The Indian in the closet: New Delhi’s wrong turn on gay rights, Foreign Affairs, 93, 2, 21–​6. Ukah, S. (2018) Pentecostal apocalypticism: hate speech, contested citizenship, and religious discourses on same-​sex relationships in Nigeria, Citizenship Studies, 22, 6, 633–​49. Van Klinken, A. (2017) Sexual orientation, (anti-​)discrimination and human rights in a ‘Christian nation’: the politicization of homosexuality in Zambia, Critical African Studies, 9, 1, 9–​31. Van Klinken, A. and Chitando, E. (2015) Masculinities, HIV and religion in Africa, in Tomalin, E. (ed.), The Routledge Handbook of Religions and Global Development, London: Routledge, 127–​37. Van Klinken, A. and Obadare, E. (2018) Christianity, sexuality and citizenship in Africa: critical intersections, Citizenship Studies, 22, 6, 557–​68.

Social and legal recognition for sexual and gender minorities  267 Ward, K. (2013) Religious institutions and actors and religious attitudes to homosexual rights: South Africa and Uganda, in Lennox, C. and Waites, M. (eds.), Human Rights, Sexual Orientation, and Gender Identity in the Commonwealth: Struggles for Decriminalisation and Change, London: Institute of Commonwealth Studies, 409–​27. Ward, K. (2015) The role of the Anglican and Catholic Churches in Uganda in public discourse on homosexuality and ethics, Journal of Eastern African Studies, 9, 1, 127–​44.

10 Conclusion

Religion continues to play a variety of roles in the lives of individual adherents and the societies in which they live. Basic literacy in the nature of lived religion and its interactions with social characteristics and roles is important for researchers, policymakers at the national, transnational and global levels, and those who work in Africa and Asia (Seiple and Hoover, 2021a, 2021b). The aim of the two linked volumes, of which this is the second, is to contribute to an evidence-​based understanding by a comparative discussion of five major faith traditions (Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam and some folk religious traditions) in a range of countries in SSA and South Asia. In the first volume (Rakodi, 2019), the interplay between religious beliefs, values, practices and individual lives and social relationships was considered, examining how various dimensions of religion are reflected in the world views and everyday lives of individuals and some of the social and religious institutions with which they interact on a day-​to-​day basis, particularly their intimate relationships and families. This volume builds on the earlier discussion but can be read as a stand-​alone volume. It examines the ways in which religious actors are intertwined with social systems and sociopolitical dynamics and recognises the importance of the organisational aspects of religions and societies. It is concerned with social and political action, broadly defined, focusing on efforts to improve social welfare and achieve social change. The first part of the volume provides a conceptual grounding and analytical framework. It identifies some of the reasons for social scientists’ increased interest in the roles of religion in contemporary societies in Africa and Asia in the later years of the twentieth century and the early years of the twenty-​first century and identifies some of the main contributions of research undertaken during this period. First, the conceptual building blocks for analysing the links between religion and societies are identified, summarising and building on the discussions of religion, culture and society (including age, sexuality, gender, ethnicity, caste and identity) in the earlier volume and adding a consideration of the concepts of social capital, states, governance and civil society, and institutions and organisations. Although these concepts have contested meanings and overlap DOI: 10.4324/9780429447570-13

Conclusion  269 with each other, it is useful to see them as analytically distinct. The connections between religions, societies and states may be expressed through political and legislative systems (including constitutions), the organisational apparatus of states, and interactions between government and nongovernmental actors and organisations. Each of the actors involved draws on ideological beliefs, makes claims to authority and legitimacy, and influences organisational arrangements, including the distribution of power, responsibilities and resources. The ways they operate and the extent of their autonomy vary, with implications for the roles of religious groups. The reasons for increased research interest in the social roles of religious organisations since the 1990s include a recognition that secularisation (a decline in religious beliefs and practices, differentiation between religion and other institutions in the political, economic and scientific spheres, and the relegation of religion from the public and private spheres to the remit of religious organisations) has occurred unevenly, and particularly not in the Global South, with the possible exception of institutional differentiation. In the mid-​twentieth century, governments in North America, Europe and the socialist bloc took on responsibility for economic development and service delivery and assumed that governments in newly independent countries in SSA and South Asia would do likewise (as did the governments themselves). Governance relationships informed by the ideology of secularism were, therefore, established in most newly independent countries. Nevertheless, an international humanitarian system capable of responding rapidly and on a large scale to the need for reconstruction and relief following conflicts and disasters emerged, which depended on international agencies and governments and, to a considerable degree, large international NGOs, including some with religious origins and affiliations. The international system gradually attracted the attention of social scientists, as did the NGOs that, in the face of newly independent governments with limited capacity, took on some of the long-​standing roles played by religious bodies in providing services and social welfare, evolved to meet needs for economic and social development that were not being met by governments, or were formed for this purpose. By the 1980s, multi-​and bilateral donor disillusion with the capacity of Asian and African governments to operate services and produce lasting developmental change led to increased interest in alternative service providers and agents of development, including, eventually, religious organisations. From the late 1980s, promotion of economic liberalisation and public management reforms by multilateral and bilateral financial institutions led to the proliferation and growth of NGOs acting both independently and as contractors to donors and governments and gave rise to research into the characteristics and development outcomes of their involvement. The introductory discussion in this volume provides a foundation for summarising and developing the analytical framework developed in Rakodi (2019), which builds on Lincoln’s work (2006, 2014). The aim is not to produce a single overarching theory. Rather, each of the elements of the framework,

270  Religious values and organisations it is suggested, can be seen as an axis along which differentiation occurs, producing a matrix within which empirical analyses can be located to identify the elements that are key to understanding the interactions between religions and societies. This incorporates religion not only as a source of institutions (rules and norms) that underpin social relationships, but also as a social field that has personal, social and organisational dimensions organised at different levels, including the household; ‘congregation’ or ‘community’; regional and national levels of social, economic and political systems (including national or intermediate religious organisational levels such as churches, sects and denominations); and transnational dimensions. It is in this multilevel context that religious and other sociopolitical organisations interact with each other. To understand these interactions, four domains of religion need to be explored: discourses and beliefs, practices, the characteristics of religious groups and their organisational arrangements (Beckford, 1984, 2015; Hinings and Raynard, 2014; Lincoln, 2006, 2014). Religious organisations are conceived as including NGO-​like organisations, religious hierarchies and bureaucracies, congregations and other religious actors. Both their internal organisation and their relations with states, governments and wider social groups are important in understanding their characteristics and social roles, the processes by which they become institutionalised and bureaucratised, their structures of authority and decision-​making, including patterns and practices of leadership, the sources and scale of resources they can mobilise and the regulatory mechanisms to which they are subject or which they impose on adherents. Views differ about whether ‘religion’ is an obstacle to social change or can promote it, depending on its influence on values, ideas of right social ordering and relationships with other social and political actors. Some consider that religious values are inherently socially conservative, although whether this is regarded as positive, implying a need to defend its role in maintaining the existing socio-​ religious order, or negative because it hinders ‘progressive’ social change, varies between religious groups, individual adherents and external observers. Emerging research highlighted themes that are considered key to understanding the characteristics and dynamics of religious organisations and their connections with each other within and across religious traditions and with states and various levels of government. Early approaches to developing an understanding of the characteristics of religious actors and the social roles they play in diverse social, economic, political and cultural contexts focused on the development of taxonomies and ‘mapping’ the organisations involved. Newly conscious of the potential of religious organisations as ‘partners’ in achieving development goals, and, for donors, alternative channels for funding, they and researchers recognised their lack of knowledge of the inherited and evolving roles of religious organisations. This led initially to attempts to ‘map’ the field and to categorise the organisations involved, identify their activities and assess the ways in which religion is reflected in their operations. Many of these attempts to map the social field were impressionistic because of the lack of systematic data, the cost and effort involved in producing such data,

Conclusion  271 and conceptual and methodological challenges, especially the complexities of defining ‘religious organisations’. Early typologies of religious organisations were followed by attempted improvements, generally by identifying various ways in which religious beliefs and practices infuse their priorities and modes of operation. While satisfactory typologies and systematic data remain elusive, the practical value of categorisation to governments, donors and researchers sustains continued interest in this research theme. Following a period of neglect by actors and researchers operating in the international relief and reconstruction system, the ongoing involvement of religious actors was increasingly recognised by international, governmental and civil society actors and social scientists, reflected in studies of the largest individual organisations, albeit focusing mainly on their international operations, central policies and fundraising strategies rather than their programmes and impact at the local level. There has been considerable research interest in the roles played by religious actors in the aftermath of recent disasters such as the December 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami. However, the focus of research attention has been uneven geographically, partly (although not only) because research in emergency, post-​disaster and conflict situations characterised by extensive damage, forced displacement of residents and political tensions can be particularly challenging. A third reason for increased research interest was the claim by religious actors and others that they have features which distinguish them from governments and secular NGOs and give them comparative advantages. Mitchell (2017), for example, provides a useful summary of the reasons why churches are said to make a positive contribution to social welfare and development. Some compare religious organisations with secular NGOs, while others compare evangelical Protestant churches with older mainline hierarchical churches. For example, Jones (2013) distinguishes between the durability of recently formed Pentecostal churches in Uganda, where congregations have become integral to the physical space of villages, people’s interpretive frameworks, their lives and social relationships, unlike the limited legacy of religious and secular NGOs. Burchardt and Swidler (2020) continue this theme, suggesting reasons why missionary Protestantism in general, especially in Africa, has resulted in the emergence of self-​sustaining institutional forms (voluntarist religious congregations largely autonomous from social groupings based on the competing logics of nationalism or ethnicity) with the capacity to organise social life and replicate, while NGOs have not taken root and for the most part remain donor dependent. Most of the research has produced case studies, some of which produce evidence to support the claims of religious organisations, although many are descriptive and/​or normative, lack methodological rigour and forfeit the benefits to be gained from comparative research, if the definitional and practical challenges of the latter can be overcome. The research on which Jones, Burchardt and Swidler base their claims refers to Christian organisations in SSA, and does not reference the different and enduring forms of Muslim, Hindu and Buddhist organisations. Mitchell

272  Religious values and organisations (2017) also offers a critique of the claims of churches or their advocates that they offer comparative advantages. In addition, care must be taken to avoid downplaying the roles of religious organisations in reproducing and sustaining social inequality and making overgeneralised claims about the distinctiveness and comparative advantage of particular categories of organisations. Fourth, informed by international debates about the ideology of secularism and the apparent process of secularisation in North America, Europe and beyond, this strand of research involves assessing the interactions between religious and political actors within countries. In some Sub-​Saharan African and South Asian countries, there has been extensive research on the interactions between religion and politics at the national and sub-​national levels. These are particularly significant during periods of regime change (e.g. the attainment of independence, or constitutional reform following democratisation or civil conflict) and in the light of recent political trends, including growing authoritarianism, populism and religious nationalism. While it has not been possible in this volume to do full justice to these important issues, some of the factors most likely to explain evolving relationships between religion and politics can be identified from existing research, and have informed the analysis, including the roles played by religion in the values, attitudes and social networks of religious actors, politicians and bureaucrats; the extent to which governments call on religious organisations to assist with various government functions, especially welfare provision and social service delivery; the roles and dimensions of identity politics; regulatory arrangements; and the prevalence and nature of inter-​and intra-​religious competition and how it is manifested and managed. A final research theme concerns the transnational connections of religious organisations, which have historically played important roles in their evolution and operation and continue to do so today, through changing channels for funding, structures of authority and sources of legitimacy. These relationships are often described as ‘partnerships’. However, they influence the resources secular and religious organisations can mobilise, the transmission of values and ideologies, and power relationships between linked organisations, and therefore require more nuanced analysis than existing research typically provides. The review in Chapter 3 of emerging strands of empirical research in the later years of the twentieth century and the early years of the twenty-​first century demonstrated the breadth of emerging research and highlighted some of its contributions, but also revealed its uneven scope and coverage:

• The early lack of a suitable theoretical framework. Although the analytical framework drawing on Lincoln’s work and developed and modified in the first of these volumes has provided a reasonably robust starting point for the review of research in this volume, inevitably further conceptual clarification and development is required. • Its concentration on large religious organisations, especially those accessible to Northern researchers, rather than the provision of welfare by individuals

Conclusion  273 and informal arrangements and the activities of long-​established religious organisations. • Its interest in dramatic new trends (such as the rise of neo-​Pentecostal Christianity or Islamic microfinance) and new or growing types of organisations (e.g. NGOs), rather than enduring religious institutions and organisations (e.g. traditional forms of religious philanthropy in Hinduism and Islam, such as zakat and waqf, indigenous arrangements for welfare provision or the activities of mainline Christian denominations). • Its geographical and thematically uneven coverage, influenced by the assumptions and understanding of Northern researchers and the interests of Northern research funders and relief and development actors. • The methodological and practical challenges that deter the comparative research that is needed to understand different religious traditions and denominations; economic, social and political contexts; and religious organisations with distinctive characteristics, histories and organisational arrangements. Each of these adds layers of complexity to the design and implementation of comparative research. The reviews of available research in the more detailed chapters that follow demonstrate how some of the emerging research themes have lost momentum. Although new themes have emerged, the more recent research coverage continues to be thematically and geographically uneven and is not necessarily available in the English language academic press, on which this review largely relies. Religious bodies and adherents are active in many social arenas –​as well as humanitarian relief, these include welfare provision, service delivery and many other development activities. In Part II, the aim was to identify the factors that explain their choice of activities, sources of funding and modes of organisation, to compare the roles played by organisations associated with different strands within each tradition in different contexts and to examine the outcomes of their involvement. Their choice of social activities can be explained by religious teachings and values, historical origins and experiences, the geographical distribution of religious traditions and denominations, their organisational characteristics and their interactions with political actors, governments, transnational organisations and funders. However, my ability to systematically address the aims and draw general conclusions has been constrained by the limited availability, differing aims and uneven geographical coverage of the available research. A review of research on the social welfare activities of religious organisations can be organised in different ways. In Part II, it is organised by religious tradition, considering the roles played in the South Asian and Sub-​Saharan African contexts by Muslim, Christian and Hindu and Buddhist organisations in turn. The three largest countries in South Asia (India, Pakistan and Bangladesh) share a colonial history in which Islam has historically and continues to play a central although controversial role and missionary Christianity, initially

274  Religious values and organisations during the colonial period, has left an enduring legacy of organised involvement in social welfare, while Hinduism’s and Buddhism’s different organisational arrangements mean that their involvement in social welfare is more informal and diffuse. The large number of countries in SSA and their different religious and colonial histories, especially the divide between Anglophone and Francophone Africa, means that it is more difficult to generalise about the roles played by religious organisations (mainly Muslim and Christian) in welfare provision, especially as sources of funding and post-​independence trends differ between the religious traditions and therefore between countries. Much of the research on religious involvement in attempts to improve welfare has focused on Christian organisations because of the Western origins of many of the social scientists and research funders involved and their familiarity with the missionary and colonial history of such activities and the organisational arrangements associated with churches and mission societies. It demonstrates the considerable legacy of colonial activities and organisational arrangements, despite the post-​independence hiatus during which newly independent governments sought to replace inherited facilities and organisations, and the influence and importance of evangelistic activities, as well as their controversial nature. Although the decision-​making structures of the mainline churches have now been indigenised, they can, to a greater or lesser extent, access international religious and non-​religious sources of funds, and are influenced by the religious values and attitudes and development thinking of their international partners. Mitchell (2017) summarises the positive contributions of many churches to development work, but also identifies their potential shortcomings. Given the institutional strength of both the long-​ established mainline churches and the rapidly growing Pentecostal churches, which are becoming increasingly involved in social and political activities, the patchy research attention to their contemporary social roles continues to be surprising. Islam provides a common textual basis for philanthropic giving, influencing the practices of individuals and the traditional organisational arrangements for providing welfare. As explored in Chapter 4, these are also influenced by historical, intra-​religious, political and contextual differences. An exception to the often-​sketchy research coverage is the recent explosion of policy interest and funding for research on the Islamic microfinance sector, although like other research on the roles of informal and formal Islamic organisations in welfare delivery, there are few empirical studies given the scale of Muslim giving for welfare purposes and few of those available focus on the outcomes and impact of the activities in which Muslim organisations are involved. Religious traditions share the value of compassion and its practical expression in informal and formal activities by religious adherents, groups and organisations intended to reduce the effects of poverty and improve the welfare of recipients of assistance. Sometimes they recognise the structural factors that cause poverty and inequality, such as gender inequality or political marginalisation, and seek to address them. For example, Roman Catholic organisations

Conclusion  275 may be influenced by Catholic social teaching and organisations associated with any of the religious traditions by secular development theory and policy. However, the research reviewed in Chapter 5 reveals that this is less common than might be expected, perhaps because many local religious organisations are not exposed to relevant international thinking, or they have to navigate relationships with political actors who may be suspicious of the potential threat posed by CSOs with care. In addition, international funders and development organisations’ knowledge and understanding of the universe of religious organisations is limited, making it less likely that they will appreciate the scope for radical departures from the traditional social approaches of religious organisations. Considering the number (and size) of Hindu and Buddhist organisations with social programmes and the scale of the sector, studies of the great variety of local, national and international organisations drawing on religious and philanthropic giving and seva (selfless service) to improve social welfare are remarkably scarce and rarely comparative. For the most part, the available research is confined to studies of the largest and highest profile organisations. These are content to describe the religious underpinnings of their growth and activities and the scale of their operations. They may or may not acknowledge some organisations’ overt or covert political agenda of religious nationalism. The studies concentrate on understanding organisations’ interpretation of religious teachings, but rarely produce independent analyses of the outcomes and impact of their activities for the intended beneficiaries. In addition, the research considered in Chapter 6 shows that the social characteristics of their devotees and supporters seem to limit their desire or ability to challenge the status quo with respect to social structures, the processes by which inequality is reproduced or the adverse effects of government policies. Religious organisations also play central roles in the delivery of health, education and other services. Because assembling evidence on their role in providing health care, analysing the evidence and reporting findings has been the subject of sustained effort by the International Religious Health Assets Programme since 2002 (www.irhap.uct.ac.za), the review of research in this volume focuses on the education sector. It examines the historical involvement of religious organisations in the provision of basic schooling, responses to post-​ independence changes in policy, and changes in government and international funding agencies’ attitudes to non-​state providers. Quantitative research on the legacy of precolonial and colonial engagement of religious groups in education has recently proliferated. It focuses for the most part on developing an understanding of contemporary differences in access to education and levels of educational achievement by Muslim and Christian groups in SSA and Muslim and Hindu populations in India. The recent surge of interest in the potential of NSPs (non-​state providers) to provide school education and alleviate under-​provision by governments has focused on private sector, especially for-​profit, providers rather than religious organisations. Comparative international evidence on the contemporary roles

276  Religious values and organisations played by religious bodies in the provision of school education is scarce, in part because of definitional problems. Rather than the overall contribution of religious actors to the provision of basic education, much of the available research is concerned with the claims made by advocates or the religious organisations themselves that they reach the poor, defined in terms of income and social disadvantage; offer good-​quality education that appeals to parents; and are cost-​ effective and financially sustainable. There is evidence to support each of these claims, although the situation varies between religious traditions and countries and the nature of relationships between religious education providers and governments. The latter influence the possibility of religious education providers influencing policy, being subject to regulation and being able to negotiate appropriate formal or informal contractual relationships. The effectiveness and outcomes of cooperation depend on the characteristics of state/​ civil society relations and state capacity. Research demonstrates that collaboration between governments and religious education providers can sometimes deliver positive results even in conflict-​affected weak states, especially where arrangements are flexible, built on established links and are regarded, despite their deficiencies, as mutually beneficial. Political dynamics and incentives and the relationships between religious and political actors are important determinants of the outcomes of attempts to harness the existing capacity of religious providers, as revealed by research on the content and varying outcomes of madrasa reform programmes in a number of countries, including Bangladesh, Pakistan, India and Nigeria. Religious providers’ ability to protect their autonomy depends on their motivations, relationships with governments and external actors, sources of funding and willingness to adapt their curriculum content and admissions policies. Despite their often significant historical and contemporary roles, research on the characteristics and content of school education provided by religious bodies is limited, methodologically challenging and concentrates on a limited number of countries where Islamic education is available. Religious education providers may promote or undermine social cohesion, depending on the context, the values and ideologies they promote, and the approach funders and governments adopt. Lack of data makes it difficult to assess their claims that they provide education opportunities that are accessible to the poor (although undoubtedly some do, even if on a relatively small scale) and financially sustainable. For many adherents and religious groups, their religious beliefs imply a concern or responsibility to change the society in which they live, by protecting, restoring or establishing a social and political order in which their religious values are reflected in government laws and policies. Religious groups may (simultaneously) be agents and mediums of social change, both affecting and being affected by wider social and political changes. While their moral values and vision may endure, even these may be influenced by changes in the personal and collective identity of their adherents and leaders, internal changes, conflict and increased access to mass and social media. Their influence is also

Conclusion  277 likely to depend on whether their beliefs and practices are instrumentalised for the legitimation of authority and privilege or to produce changes in the distribution and exercise of sociopolitical power (Beckford and Demerath, 2007; Riesebrodt, 2006, p. 605). To achieve their goals, they may influence and participate in wider social movements, in which participants mobilise in organisations, campaigns and networks that link those involved to each other and the state (see Chapter 2). In this volume, research on locally driven social movements concerned to change family law as a means of contributing to increased gender equality and recognition of the identity and rights of sexual and gender minorities has been sought out and analysed. The analysis is informed by McAdam et al.’s (1996) identification of the factors that can explain the characteristics and scope of social movements: framing processes; mobilising structures, including organisations and networks and their strategies and tactics; the availability and nature of political opportunities; and the tactics employed, including links to international debates and actors. The validity of this framework is borne out by the review of available research in Chapters 8 and 9. Comparative in-​depth research on women’s movements in SSA and South Asia is limited and much of it reveals little about the dynamics of the movements and their constituent formal and informal groups and organisations. Nor does it always offer adequate explanations of the different outcomes of advocacy and campaigning. Many factors other than the activities of social movements influence processes of social change. Nevertheless, the studies reviewed in Chapters 8 and 9 enable the dynamics of some national movements and particular campaigns to be captured and a picture to be built up from which more general conclusions on the roles played by religious organisations can be drawn and the implications for actors in women’s movements and sexual and gender minorities’ quests for recognition and rights can be identified. Religious participation in social movements is often not the most important driver of the mobilisation and action that produces social movements and may or may not be welcomed. Although religious actors can bring new groups into an existing social movement and establish new pathways of influence, their participation, like that of other social actors, may be tokenistic or welcomed for instrumental reasons. In addition, it may involve them in a political or bureaucratic system for which they are ill-​prepared, leaving them at risk of being either co-​opted or ineffective. The acceptance of religious actors by others and a movement’s ability to achieve its aims are likely to be influenced by the religious composition of a country, for example, the presence of and competition between religious majorities and minorities. Even limited success in achieving a movement’s aims may also lead to reinforcement of traditional social mores or increased repression. Religious values and beliefs can offer a theological frame providing participants with a shared discourse and sense of collective identity, give social movement actors access to both tangible and intangible religious spaces, and link movement priorities and demands with political and social dynamics in

278  Religious values and organisations the contexts in which religious actors are embedded. However, religious participation in social movements may be limited because of religious actors’ reluctance to associate with other groups involved (e.g. secular feminists/​women’s rights organisations), the danger of jeopardising other social and political relationships (e.g. with funders) or because their organisational form does not lend itself to such participation (although at times institutional innovations may occur that make it possible, for example, in response to challenges such as Christian/​Muslim competition in Nigeria). Social movements seeking to sustain an existing gender order or change it to increase recognition of the rights of women and sexual minorities adopt a variety of strategies and tactics, often including changes to the legal framework, although it is generally acknowledged that changes to the content and enforcement of laws, while necessary, are not sufficient to achieve attitudinal and social change, may divert resources from alternative tactics and may give rise to a sociopolitical backlash that leads to campaign failure. However, the analysis also demonstrates that careful cultivation of allies, ‘appropriate’ use of religious idioms and a wise choice of aims and tactics can make a difference between campaign failure and success. The social movement literature on campaigns for legal reform notes that the nature of the legal changes sought may influence the outcome of campaigns. For example, it is sometimes asserted that laws dealing with technical areas, which require legal or other expertise to understand (e.g. property rights), may be crafted by experts and more easily adopted, although the available research demonstrates that the situation is more complex where land law is linked to underlying social and religious dynamics and in plural legal systems (Sait and Lim, 2006). Changes related to the principle of equality and equal treatment with respect to access to services such as education or political representation/​participation may be relatively easy to achieve, especially during political opportunities, for example, the redrafting of constitutional provisions and state laws at moments of regime change (Tripp et al., 2009). It is also suggested that specific legal changes may be easier to achieve than portmanteau legislation. The latter may promise many actors what they want. However, it also provides plenty for everyone to object to, potentially hindering the adoption of uncontentious elements. Some of the research reviewed in Chapter 8 throws light on these issues. Moreover, legal changes related to moral norms tend to generate heated debate because states and other actors may use religious ideas about gender morality and the family instrumentally in their nation-​building and development rhetoric and practice, to distract citizens’ attention from social, economic and political insecurity, or to fuel moral panics by identifying aspects of social behaviour (e.g. same-​sex relationships) as a moral threat, leading to restrictions on freedom, enforcement of disciplinary mechanisms, even vigilantism.1 Campaigns promoting such changes in family law may also be undermined by the spectrum of conservative/​liberal views that exists within most religious traditions.

Conclusion  279 The outcomes of religious actors’ engagement in social movements are thus influenced by their understanding of religious teachings, the local history of religious traditions, whether religious identity is associated with power or disadvantage, the ways in which religious traditions are organised and operate, the characteristics of civil and political society, and wider national and international influences. The coverage and quality of available research on the roles played by religious actors in social movements, like those played by others, vary. For example, attention to the growth and characteristics of Pentecostalist Christianity and revivalist/​pietistic Islam and their implications for attitudinal and social changes and campaigns for the rights of women and sexual and gender minorities to be recognised and realised outweighs the attention paid to the still vitally important mainline Christian denominations and everyday Muslim, Hindu and Buddhist practices. There is, therefore, an outstanding need for research on the religious mainstream, which considers both local religious life (church congregations, mosques temples etc.) and wider religious organisation (denominations, brotherhoods, etc., both national and transnational); examines whether and how these bodies’ interpretations of religious teachings, practices, values and behaviour, organisational arrangements and leadership are changing, with what effects; and the changing relationships between these bodies and ‘non-​religious’ social and political structures. There is also a need for more comparative research in different contexts with varying social characteristics, because religious and ethnic composition and socio-​ economic characteristics and differences influence the nature and effects of relationships between religious bodies and between them and wider sociopolitical institutions. Such research needs to be intersectional, recognising the importance of social identities related to sexuality, gender, ethnicity, etc., and reflected in access to social, economic and political resources and opportunities. One of the most significant and under-​researched resources is land, for the construction of religious and associated buildings, for social facilities (e.g. education and health services) and for economic activities, especially agriculture. Religious bodies have in the past accessed land through a variety of mechanisms, some of which continue to operate today. Often the tracts of land in their ownership are extensive, and their ability to access and retain land is linked to their political influence.2 Religious organisations’ inherited, contemporary and future access to land, acquired and held under a variety of tenures, influences the social, economic, political and cultural dimensions of their relations with each other, local communities and governments. Notes 1 See, for example, Platt et al’s (2018) exploration of the perceptions of morality which have fuelled political change, both opening and foreclosing opportunities to increase respect for human rights and tolerance on matters of gender and sexuality, in a special issue of Asian Studies Review.

280  Religious values and organisations 2 See Alava and Shroff (2019) for a perceptive study of disputes over land owned by Roman Catholic and Anglican churches in Uganda and how they demonstrate transformations in the relations between churches, communities and the state.

References Alava, H. and Shroff, C. (2019) Unravelling church land: transformations in the relations between church, state and community in Uganda, Development and Change, 50, 5, 1288–​1309. Beckford, J.A. (1984) Religious organisation: a survey of some recent publications, Archives de sciences sociales des religions, 29, 57.1, 83–​102. Beckford, J.A. (2015) Religious organisations, in Wright, J.D. (ed.) International Encyclopedia of the Social and Behavioral Sciences, Amsterdam: Elsevier, 2nd ed., Vol. 20, 406–​12. Beckford, J.A. and Demerath, N.J. III (2007) Introduction, in Beckford, J.A. and Demerath, N.J. (eds.), The Sage Handbook of the Sociology of Religion, London: Sage, 1–​16. Burchardt, M. and Swidler, A. (2020) Transplanting institutional innovation: comparing the success of NGOs and missionary Protestantism in sub-​Saharan Africa, Theory and Society, 49, 335–​64. Hinings, C.R. and Raynard, M. (2014) Organisational form, structure and religious organisations, in Tracey, P., Phillips, N. and Lounsbury, M. (eds.), Religion and Organisational Theory, Bingley, UK: Emerald Publishing, 159–​86. Jones, B. (2013) The making of meaning: churches, development projects and violence in Eastern Uganda, Journal of Religion in Africa, 43, 74–​95. Lincoln, B. (2006) Holy Terrors: Thinking about Religion after September 11, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2nd ed. (for Ch 1 FN & Ch 2). Lincoln, B. (2014) Discourse and the Construction of Society: Comparative Studies of Myth, Ritual and Classification, New York: Oxford University Press. McAdam, D., McCarthy, J.D. and Zald, M. (1996) Introduction: opportunities, mobilising structures and framing processes –​towards a synthetic comparative perspective on social movements, in McAdam, D., McCarthy, J.D. and Zald, M. (eds.), Comparative Perspectives on Social Movements: Political Opportunities, Mobilizing Structures and Cultural Framings, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1–​20. Mitchell, B. (2017) The church and its shadow: the ambiguous role of church partnerships in World Vision’s development practice, Missiology: An International Review, 45, 3, 283–​98. Platt, M., Davies, S.G. and Bennett, L.R. (2018) Contestations of gender, sexuality and morality in contemporary Indonesia, Asian Studies Review, 42, 1, 1–​15. Rakodi, C. (2019) Religion and Society in Sub-​Saharan Africa and Southern Asia, London: Routledge. Riesebrodt, M. (2006) Religion in global perspective, in Juergensmeyer, M. (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Global Religions, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 597–​609. Sait, S. and Lim, H. (2006) Land, Law and Islam: Property and Human Rights in the Muslim World, London: Zed Books. Seiple, C. and Hoover, D.R. (2021a) A case for cross-​cultural religious literacy, The Review of Faith and International Affairs, 19, 1, 1–​13.

Conclusion  281 Seiple, C. and Hoover, D.R. (eds.) (2021b) The Routledge Handbook of Religious Literacy, Pluralism, and Global Engagement, London: Routledge. Tripp, A.M., Casimoro, I., Kwesiga, J. and Mungwa, A. (2009) African Women’s Movements: Transforming Political Landscapes, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Index

Note: Endnotes are indicated by the page number followed by “n” and the note number e.g., 229n7 refers to note 7 on page 229. Page numbers in bold refers to Tables. Abdullah, M. 81 Abreu, S. 114, 116 Abuja Ecclesiastical Province (Nigeria) 66, 121 (box) ActionAid 49, 61 Adams, N. 78, 91, 92, 93, 161, 226, 227 Adamu, F.L. 206, 208 Adeboye, O. 124 Adhiambo, J.M. 188 Adogame, A. 32, 114, 125 Adoho, F. 179 aesthetics 9 African Charter on Human and People’s Rights 205, 255, 258 African Initiated Churches (AICs) 124 African Men for Sexual Health and Rights 249 (box) African National Congress (ANC) 249 (box) African Traditional Religion 250 (box) Aga Khan Development Network (AKDN) 60 age 11 Agensky, J.C. 55, 67 Ager, A. 56 Ager, J. 56 Ahmad, S. 101 aid agencies 58, 65, 120, 127, 179, 229n7 aid chains 119–​120, 121 (box), 122–​123 (box) AIDS Bhedbhav Virodhi Andolan (ABVA) 251 Aijazi, O. 56 Aiken, A. 53 Al Baset, Z. 252

Alam, A. 176, 186 Alam, J. 84 Alava, H. 280n2 Alewo, A.J.M. 229n7 All India Muslim Personal Law Board (AIMPLB) 218, 219–​220 (box), 252 (box) All-​Pakistan Women’s Association 89, 221 Allen, T. 240, 241 Alliance Rights Nigeria 250 Altinordu, A. 42 altruism 29, 156 Alvarez, K. 101 Ammerman, N. 5, 14 Amnesty 247 (box) Amoroso, L.M. 4, 5 Amusan, L. 248, 258 analytical framework 24–​44, 269–​270; authority and decision-​making 35–​36; dimensions of social field 24–​25; discourses and beliefs 27–​28; domains of religion 26–​27; institutionalisation and bureaucratisation 34–​35; leadership 36–​37; level of analysis 25–​26; methodological considerations 41–​43; organisational arrangements 31–​33; regulation 38–​39; religion and social change 39–​41; religious groups 30–​31; resourcing 37–​38; ritual and ethics 28–​30; state-​religion relationships 61–​65 Anambra State (Nigeria) 208 (box), 214, 215 Anderson, A. 118, 125 Anglican Communion 34, 208, 245–​246

Index  283 Angotti, N. 235, 241, 244, 255, 256, 257, 258 Ansari, D.A. 241 anti-​retroviral drugs (ARVs) 241 Antoninis, M. 187 apartheid regime (South Africa) 248 (box) Arif, G.M. 89 Asad, T. 7 Asadullah, M.N. 177, 178, 181, 185 Asekun-​Olarinmoye, I.O. 240, 241 Ashta, A. 101 Assemblies of God 132 (box) Association for Social Advancement (Bangladesh) 91 Association Islamique pour le salut (AISLEM) 210 (box) Augustinian tradition 236 Auriol, E. 63 authority 35–​36; regulation and 38–​39; sovereignty of states and 15–​16 Awami League 92 Baba, N.M. 184, 187 Bacchetta, P. 259 Badri, B. 228n1 Bakiny-​Yetna, P. 182, 183 BAKWATA (National Muslim Council of Tanzania) 213 (box) Balokole revival tradition 245–​246 (box) Bangladesh: Christian churches in 117; creation of 82; emergence of NPOs 91; family laws 226; Female Secondary School Assistance Programme 177; HIV/​AIDS 243, 253 (box), 254, 256; Islam state religion 83; Islami Bank 102 (box); Islamisation 92; LGBT+​ rights 259; madrasas 176, 177, 180, 185–​187, 276; microcredit programmes 92; microfinance 80, 100, 101; Mughal and colonial history 91; NGOs 91–​93; women’s movements 221, 224–​227 Bangladesh Academy for Rural Development 91 Bangladesh Legal Aid and Services Trust 253 (box) Bangladesh National Party 92 Bangladesh Rural Advancement Committee (BRAC) 91 Bano, M. 37, 61, 81, 82, 90, 167, 173, 176, 177, 181, 185, 186, 187, 188 Barnett, M. 50, 54 Barnett, T. 239 Barrera, A. 119, 175, 190n3

Bartelink, B.E. 131 Barton, G. 104n1 Basant, R. 84, 85 Basic Christian (or Ecclesial) Communities (BCCs, BECs) 32, 34, 119 Basu, A. 217 Bateman, M. 101 Batley, R. 164, 165, 179, 180, 190n1 Battaglia, G. 63, 85 Baudh, S. 253, 255 Bauer, A. 167, 175, 177, 178 Bayly, C.A. 81 Bebbington, A.J. 40, 66, 198 Becker, F. 97, 99, 105n6, 212 Beckerlegge, G. 153, 154 Beckford, J.A. 8, 9, 10, 11, 25, 31, 32, 33, 34, 36, 37, 38, 39, 270, 277 beliefs 27–​28 Bellenoit, H.J.A. 168, 169 Belur Math 142 Benthall, J. 50, 56, 68n1, 79, 103 Berger, P.L. 15 Berglund, H. 218 Bevilacqua, D. 254 Bharat Mata 154 (box) Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) 84, 88, 149 (box), 177, 259 Bharatiya Muslim Mahila Andolan (BMMA) 219–​220 (box) Bhatewara, Z. 156 Bhattacharjee, M. 139, 140, 150 Bhatty, K. 176, 177 Bhutto, Benazir 223 Bill of Rights (South Africa 1990) 248 (box), 249 (box) Binns, T. 157 Bird, J.N. 56 Birger, N. 180, 181 Biziouras, N. 180, 181 Blevins, J. 112, 125, 240, 241 Blitt, R.C. 262n2 Boateng, G.O. 114 Bochasanwasi Shri Akshar Purushottam (BAPS) 148–​149 (box) Bochow, A. 29 Bodewes, C. 119 Bolotta, G. 43 Bompani, B. 113, 114, 124, 242, 244, 246 Bond, G.D. 158 Booth, D. 188 Bop, C. 32 Bora, P. 62n2, 81, 85, 87, 123, 144 born-​again Christians 125, 258

284  Index Bornstein, E. 58, 129–​130, 139, 140, 141, 143–​144, 145, 146, 160nn1&3 Botswana Centre for Human Rights (Ditshwanelo) 250 Boyd, S. 132 Boyle, H. 178 Bradbury, S. 112, 113 Bradley, T. 58, 120, 122–​123, 150, 152, 156, 159, 201, 202, 217, 219, 222, 223, 224, 227, 238, 243, 252, 253, 254 Brahmbhatt, A. 148, 149 Brenner, P.S. 42 British colonial penal codes 237 Brown, S.T. 246 Buddhism: education provision 166, 168; Eightfold Path 139; identity and 14; regulation and 39; shrines, temples and monasteries 32–​33, 156; Sinhala nationalism 56, 93; social roles of organisations 152–​158, 275; status in India 83; Tzu Chi 55, 161n8 Burchardt, M. 61, 113, 117, 241, 249, 250, 271 Burgess, R. 37, 63, 124, 125, 128, 242 Burkina Faso 111, 119, 120, 179 Bush, R. 56 Cagé, J. 114 Calvi, R. 116 Cameroon 120, 237, 256, 258 Cammack, D. 188 Campbell, C. 241 Campbell, D.T. 126 Canadian Foodgrains Bank 127 Canadian religious NGOs 127 Candland, C. 57, 90, 157 Cantwell, C. 156 Caplan, L. 118 Caritas 55, 65, 93, 126 Carroll, E. 161n7 caste 12, 28, 115, 116, 142, 147, 148 (box); Scheduled 84 Castles, S. 11, 12 Catholic Basic Ecclesial Communities 32, 34, 119 Catholic or Episcopal type 32 Catholic Women’s Organisation 207 (box), 208 (box) CEDAW see Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women Ceylon Baithulmal Fund 94 Chan, J. 11

Channels of Hope (CoH) programme 131 (box) Chatterji, A.P. 63 Chaudhury, M.N. 177, 181, 185 Cheema, A.R. 56 Chembea, S.A. 105n10 Chen, Ted Yu Shen 56 Chidambaram, S. 150 Chitando, E. 236, 240 Christian Aid 49 Christian Care (CC) 58, 129–​130 (box) Christianity: fundamentalism in 13; leadership and 36, 37; linked to colonialism 7; mission schools 169–​170; missionary era 111–​112; organisational types 32, 35; organisations in SSA and South Asia 110–​111; politics and 63; same-​sex behaviour and 236, 242; social roles since independence 117–​134; welfare activities in South Asia 114–​117; welfare activities in SSA 112–​114 Church and Community Mobilisation Programme (CCM) 132 (box) Church of North India (CNI) 117, 123 Church of South India (CSI) 117, 123 Church of Uganda 132, 245–​246 church-​type organisations 32 Civil Society Coalition on Human Rights and Constitutional Law (Uganda) 245 (box), 254 civil society organisations (CSOs) 17–​18, 150, 179, 257 Clarke, G. 31, 52, 53, 56, 57 Clarke, M. 57, 68n5, 139, 148 Cnaan, R.A. 126 Coalition of Eastern NGOs (CENGOS) 208 (box) colonialism: Bangladesh 91; education in South Asia 166–​169; education in SSA 169–​170; ethnicity and 12; Hindu organisations and the state under 143–​146; Hinduism under 141–​142; homosexuality as Western import 255; laws in Uganda 244 (box); legacy of 274, 275; legacy of in education 171–​172; linked to Christianity 7; mission to ‘civilise’ societies 48; missionary activity and 112–​114, 115, 117; philanthropic giving and 141; sexual and gender minorities 235–​238, 255; Sri Lanka 93; uncodified law and 143–​146; women's movements and 215

Index  285 Comilla model of rural cooperatives 91 Compassion International 127 condoms 59, 240–​241 ‘congregation,’ use of term 44n1 Congregation for the Evangelisation of Peoples (Propaganda Fide) 111 congregational form 32, 146 Congress Party (India) 216 Connor, J. 131 conservative social teachings 56 constitutional reform 197, 201, 202, 272; social change and 41 Consultative Group to Assist the Poor (CGAP) 100 Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) 203, 205, 206, 207 (box), 213, 214, 229n5, 235 Copestake, J. 132 Corey, E. 241 Cornelio, J.S. 50 cults 32 culture: concept of 9–​10; social dimension 9; symbolic dimension 9; technological 9 Currier, A. 254, 256, 258 customary law 205, 209 (box), 210 (box), 212–​213 (box), 229n4 Daehnhardt, M. 132 D’Agostino, T.J. 188 D’Aiglepierre, R. 167, 175, 177, 178 Dalits 12, 116, 148, 251 Daly, P. 56 dana 140–​141, 149 Das, J. 226 Daskon, C. 157 Daughrity, D.B. 114, 116 Davidman, L. 13 Davis, C. 59 de Herdt, T. 182, 184 De Jorio, R. 210 De Kadt, E. 56 Deacon, G. 113 Demerath, N.J. 32, 277 Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) 172, 174; unconventional partnerships between weak state and religious education providers 182–​184 (box) Deneulin, S. 61 Dev, P. 167, 174 development chain 66

Devine, J. 198 Dilger, H. 164, 169, 180, 190 disasters 55–​56 discourse 26, 27–​28 Dixon, P. 190n2 Dnyana Prabodhini 150 domains of religion 26–​33, 234 domestic violence, Bangladesh 226–​227 donor disillusion 50, 269 dowry 217, 225, 227 Dreier, S.K. 246, 260 Droogers, A. 20n1 Durham, W.C. Jnr 69n6 Dutch Reformed Church (DRC) 111, 248 (box), 249 (box) Dyahadroy, S. 150 ecclesial communities 32 Echtler, M. 25, 31, 33 economic liberalisation 51, 86, 93, 145, 164–​165, 185, 212, 218, 220, 225, 226, 269 Edhi Foundation 89 education 164–​195; Christian missionary schools 168–​169, 169–​170; contemporary roles of religious groups in provision of 172–​175; DRC partnership 182–​184 (box); hybrid Islamic secular schools 188; Islamic schools 181–​188; madrasa reform programmes 185–​187 (box); partnerships 181–​188, 182–​184 (box); policy dialogue 179–​180; poor and disadvantaged 175–​178; postcolonial legacy of religious groups in 171–​172; precolonial and colonial in South Asia 166–​169; precolonial and colonial in SSA 169–​170; quality and performance 178–​179; regulation of 180; relationship between providers and states 179–​188; unconventional partnerships between weak state and religious education providers in DRC 182 (box); Vedantic tradition 166–​167; Vivekananda Kendra (VK) 153–​156 (box) Eightfold Path 139 El-​Zoghbi, M. 100, 101 Embree, A.T. 114, 115, 116, 117, 123 Empowered Worldview Training programme 131 (box) Engineer, A.A. 82, 83, 84, 167, 216

286  Index Episcopal Churches, national and transnational funding 66 Episcopal form 34 Epprecht, M. 235, 236, 248, 249, 250, 256, 257 ethics 28–​30 ethnicity 11–​12 ethnographic studies 42–​43, 58, 89, 101, 122, 150 Evangelical Fellowship of Botswana 255 Evans, J.H. 8 Evans, M.S. 8 faith, problematic terminology 31 faith-​based organisations (FBOs) 31; compared to secular NGOs in Nigeria 58–​59 (box); conceptual and methodological problems 53; ‘religious organisation’ terminology 31 family law 201–​229; attempt to reform in Mali 209 (box) Farnsley, A. 32 Fauzia, A. 81, 103, 104n1 Feed the Children 127 Feener, M. 43, 52, 53, 56, 139, 156 Ferris, E. 50, 55, 67 Fianto, B.A. 105n12 folk religious traditions 10, 12, 168, 268 Fonseca, X. 11 Food for the Poor 127 forced migration 56 Fountain, P. 43, 52, 53, 113 Frame, J. 53, 54 France 237 Francis, P. 17, 18 Frankema, W.H.P. 169, 170, 171 Freedom and Roam Uganda 250 Freeman, D. 55, 124, 132, 242 Freiberger, O. 42 Friends of Rainka 250 fundamentalism 13 funding 37–​38; bilateral and multilateral 50; economic liberalisation 51; international in Tanzania 65; national and transnational 65–​66 Furseth, I. 10, 20n1, 25 Gaestel, A. 241 Gandhi, Mahatma 144, 154 (box), 157 (box), 160 Gays and Lesbians of Zimbabwe 250 Gemignani, R. 179

gender 11, 201–​229, 234–​263; leadership and 37; MAM and 152 (box); parity in madrasas 177–​178; WVI approach to inequality 131 (box) Gender Land Task Force (GLTF) 212–​213 (box) Geneva Conventions 68n3 Getachew, L. 168, 169 Ghana 98, 99, 105n7, 114, 120, 124, 179, 190n1, 228n1, 258 Ghaus-​Pasha, A. 90 Ghosh, P.S. 215, 216 Gifford, P. 202 Global Fund to Fight AIDS, TB and Malaria 240 globalisation 4, 8, 14, 17, 39 God 27, 61; AIDS ‘punishment’ 240–​241; authority 35; conception of 7; working for 58 Gold, D. 150, 153–​154, 155, 156, 159 Gorski, P. 63 governance 17 government 17; regulation of religion by 39 Govinda, R. 216, 217 Grameen Bank 91 Grebe, E. 257, 261 Green, M. 60, 65 Greil, A.L. 13 Grossman, K. 258, 261 group identity 13–​14 Gujarat 148–​149 (box), 150 Gupta, A. 17, 237 gurus 142; movements and organisations 147–​150 Gwalior 155–​156 (box) Hallisey, C. 32 Handayani, W. 105n12 Handelman, H. 12 Hannam, M. 101 Hantrais, L. 42 Harel-​Shalev, A. 216, 218 Harris, D. 165 Harriss, J. 15 Hassan, F.A. 102–​103 Haugen, H.M. 31 Hay, C. 15, 16 Haynes, D.E. 81 Haynes, J. 61 Heald, A. 240, 241 health 78; Cameroon Christian mission 120; HIV/​AIDS 240, 243, 249, 251,

Index  287 252, 253, 254, 256, 257, 259; mission facilities in India 116 Hearn, J. 112, 125 Hefferan, T. 52, 53 Heist, D. 126 Hertel, B.R. 33 Hertzberg, M. 56, 158 Herzig van Wees, S. 120 Heuser, A. 242 Heywood, A. 15, 16, 17, 19 Hickey, S. 119 hierarchical organisation. 35 hierarchies 17 hijras 238, 251 (box), 252 (box), 254 (box) Hindu nationalism 63, 84, 85, 141, 145, 146, 152, 153 (box), 218, 259 Hindu Shiv Sena 259 Hinduism 139–​160; Bochasanwasi Shri Akshar Purushottam (BAPS) 148–​149 (box); caste and 12, 28; education 166–​167, 176; homosexuality and 237; identity and 14; Indian national identity 84; Indian population 86, 123; leadership and 36, 39; Mata Amritanandamayi Mission (MAM) 150, 151–​152 (box); personal law 216, 217; philanthropic organisations 140–​143; regulation and 39; religious organisations and the state 143–​146; shrines and temples 32; social welfare organisations 146–​152; status in India 83; Vivekananda Kendra (VK) 150, 153–​156 (box) Hindutva 141, 149, 150, 154–​155 (box), 177, 189, 217, 252 (box) Hinings, C.R. 33, 34, 36, 37, 270 HIV/​ AIDS 11, 234, 238–​241, 243; India 251 (box); Malawi 119; Pakistan 91; public health issue 256, 259; religious and secular NGOs approaches in Nigeria 58–​59 (box); Sri Lanka 253 (box); Tanzania 60, 65; Uganda 257, 260 Hjelm, T. 28, 42 Hoffstaedter, G. 57 Holden, W.N. 32, 119 Hollenbach, D. 56 homophobia 243, 249 (box), 254, 258 homosexuality 234; biblical and Islamic texts on 236; colonialism and 235–​238; debates in Africa about 242; diverse church tactics 260; HIV/​AIDS and

239, 257; indigenous religious beliefs and 255, 257; offences relating to 239; politics and 258; social movements and organisation platforms 243; south Asia 251–​254 (box); Uganda anti-​ homosexual rhetoric 244–​248 (box) Hoover, D.R. 268 Horstmann, A. 56 Hossain, A. 225, 253 Huang, C.J. 55, 161n8 Hudood Ordinances 222–​223, 224 Human Rights Watch 247 (box) humanitarian relief 54–​56, 95, 161n8, 273; World Vision International (WVI) 129–​131 (box) humanitarian relief and reconstruction 54–​56 humanitarian sector/​system 49–​50 Huq, M. 225 Huq, S. 225 identity: concept of 13–​14; national 16–​17 Igbo inheritance rules 208 (box) Imran, R. 222, 223, 224 India: caste system 12; Christian missions and welfare activities 114–​117; Christian organisations since independence 117–​123; early Christian missionaries 111; education of poor and disadvantaged 176–​177; Jamiat Ulama-​i-​Hind Trust 85; local links in aid chain: case studies in Rajasthan 122–​123 (box); mobilising for Muslim women’s rights in 219–​220 (box); Muslim organisations providing social welfare 83–​88; number of voluntary organisations 160n1; Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) 85, 142–​143, 146, 153 (box); religious and political history of 80–​83; Sachar Committee 84–​85, 87, 116; Scheduled Castes and Tribes 84, 116; Section 377 of Penal Code (1860) 237, 238, 251–​252 (box), 256; services provided by organisations 86 Indian Muslim Women’s Movement see Bharatiya Muslim Mahila Andolan (BMMA) Indian Penal Code (1860) 237, 238 indigenous traditions, patterns of giving 51 individual identity 13

288  Index institutionalisation and bureaucratisation 34–​35 institutions 18–​19 international development ‘industry’ 4, 49, 52, 53 International Islamic Relief Organisation 55, 96 International Monetary Fund (IMF) 123, 165 International Red Cross and Red Crescent (IRCRC) 54, 68n3 Iqbal, A. 90 Iqbal, M.I. 68n2, 81, 90 Islam: Bangladesh organisations 91–​93; education providers in Nigeria 173–​174 (box); family law reform in Mali 209–​211 (box); homophobic interpretation of texts 236; identity and 14; interactions with states 61, 63, 83; lacks centralised authority 35–​36; madrasa reform programmes 185–​187 (box); Muslim revivalism 55; Muslim welfare organisations in Sub-​Saharan Africa 94–​100; social role 79–​80; Sri Lanka 93–​94; Tanzania land law reform 212–​213; voluntary and welfare organisations in Pakistan 88–​91; women’s movement in Bangladesh 224–​227; women’s movement in Pakistan 221–​224; women’s rights in India 219–​220 (box) Islami Bank of Bangladesh 101, 102 (box) Islamic finance 51, 80, 81, 100 Islamic microfinance institutions (IMFIs), growth of 100–​101 Islamic Relief Worldwide 55, 91 Islamic Welfare Society (Sri Lanka) 94 Islamisation 63, 89, 92, 96, 221–​222, 223, 224, 225–​226 Islamiyya schools 187 (box) Ismaili Shia communities 60 Iyer, D.K. 237, 261 Iyer, S. 52, 85, 174, 237, 261 Izama, M.P. 169, 171 Jaffrelot, C. 63 Jamal, A. 222, 224 James, R. 53, 56 Jamiat Ulama-​i-​Hind Trust 85 Jeavons, T.H. 31 Jeffery, P. 168 Jegede, A. 59

Jennings, M. 31, 53, 56–​57, 120 Jjuuko, A. 236, 244, 245, 246, 247, 255 Jodhka, S.S. 68n2, 81, 85, 87, 123, 144 John, T.A. 168 Johnson, P. 244 Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/​AIDS (UNAIDS) 239, 257 Jones, B. 61, 119, 126, 271 Joseph, S. 243, 251 Justice, Development and Peace Commission (JDPC) system (Nigeria) 121 (box) Juul Petersen, M. 52, 55, 96, 97, 98 Kaag, M. 97, 98, 104 Kalapura, J. 114, 140 Kalmbach, H. 37 Kanungo, P. 150, 153, 154, 155, 176 Karamagi, A. 244, 247 Karim, K.H. 60, 80, 100 Karim, N. 80, 100 Kasturi, M. 32, 144 Kawanami, H. 156 Kenya 119, 188, 214, 256–​257 Kenya Christian Professionals Forum 255 Kenyan Human Rights Commission 256–​257 Keping, W. 139, 156 Khan, A. A. 55, 56, 79, 100 Khan, Imran 224 khwaja siras 238 Killian, B. 211, 212 Kim, K. 115, 116, 117, 125 Kim, S.C.H. 115, 116, 117, 125 King, D.P. 55, 126, 129, 131 Kinney, N.T. 66 Kirichenko, K. 239 Kirmani, N. 41, 56, 60, 65, 89, 90, 126, 201, 202, 215, 217, 218, 219, 220, 222, 223, 224, 227, 238, 243, 252, 253, 254 Kniss, F. 126 Kojoué, L. 256 Kollman, P. 112, 119 Kothari, U. 66 kothi 238 Kraft, K. 133 Kroessin, R. 102 Kuah-​Pearce, K.E. 50 Kumar, R. 215, 217, 218, 220 Künkler, M. 39, 64, 216 Kuriakose, T. 237, 261 Kustin, B. 100, 101, 102

Index  289 land law reform, roles of religious actors in Tanzania 212–​213 (box) Langewische, K. 98 Lankina, T. 168, 169 Larbi, G. 164, 190n1 l’Association Malienne pour l’Unité et la Progrès de l’Islam (AMUPI) 209 (box), 210 (box), 211 (box) Launay, R. 171, 172 Lauterbach, K. 37 Lawyers Collective (India) 251 (box) Le Roux, E. 131 leadership 36–​37 LeBlanc, M.N. 31, 37, 52 Leichtman, M.A. 98 Leinweber, A.E. 182, 183, 184 Lenhardt, A. 131 Lennox, C. 236, 237, 239, 249, 250, 254, 255, 257, 258, 259, 262n4 Lesbians, Gays and Bisexuals of Botswana 250 Leurs, R. 52, 59, 68n2, 95, 97, 99 LeVine, M. 198 Levitt, P. 7, 21 LGBT+​: actors in social movements 243–​255; anti-​homosexual rhetoric and action in Uganda 244–​248 (box); campaigning for recognition of sexual minority rights in South Africa 248–​250 (box); seeds of change 238–​242; seeking legal change for gender and sexual minorities in South Asia 251–​254 (box); strategies for mobilisation 255–​261 Liberia 125, 261 Lidz, V. 10 Lim, H. 206, 278 Lincoln, B. 8, 9, 26, 27, 28–​29, 33, 42, 54, 67, 234, 269, 270, 272 Linden, I. 95, 97 Lindhardt, M. 63, 118, 125, 242 lived religion 5–​6 Loh, J.U. 238, 252, 254 Long, S. 237 Louis, P. 116 Lucia, A.J. 151 Lund-​Thomsen, P. 81, 89 Lutheran churches 260 Macpherson, I. 190n2 Mader, P. 100 madrasas 80–​82, 89, 90, 95, 167–​168, 176, 177–​178, 180, 181, 221, 224; reform

programmes 184, 185–​187 (box), 189, 276 Mahabharata 238 Mahajan, G. 63, 82, 83, 84, 85 Malawi: BCCs/​BECs 119; HIV/​AIDS 119; homosexual minority rights 254, 256, 257, 258, 259, 261; Muslim organisations 96, 97; nationalisation of mission schools 172 Mali 105n8, 184, 241; attempt to reform family law in 209–​210 (box), 213–​214, 214–​215 Malik, A. 32 Mallonee, N. 120 Mallya, E. 211 Manca, A.R. 11 Mandela, Nelson 249 (box) Manglos-​Weber, N.D. 171 Mantell, J.E. 240 Mantovanelli, P.G. 116 Manusmriti (‘Laws of Manu’) 237 mapping 113–​114; and the development of taxonomies 52–​54, 68n2 Maputo Protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples' Rights on the Rights of Women in Africa 205 markets 17 marriage 240; attempt to reform family law in Mali 209–​210 (box), 213–​214, 214–​215 Marsden, M. 224 Marshall, K. 31, 50, 56, 57, 148, 157, 158, 179 Martin, D. 125 Masud, M.K. 221 Mata Amritanandamayi Mission (MAM) 150, 151–​152 (box) Maxwell, D. 54, 114, 119, 120 Mayer, A.E. 229n5 Mbacke, S. 95 M’Baye, B. 237, 257, 258 Mbeki, Thabo 249 (box) McAdam, D. 41, 277 McGuire, M. 5, 7 McKay, T. 235, 241, 244, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258 Mcloughlin, C. 165, 180 McNamara, N. 66, 120, 121 Meda, N. 240, 241 mega-​churches 32 Mendos, L.R. 250 Mersland, R. 101 methodological considerations 41–​43

290  Index Micah Network 132 (box) Michalopoulos, S. 113, 171 microfinance 80, 100–​101, 102–​103 (box), 104 ‘mine marriage’ 248 (box) Mirza, R.A. 32 Mishra, U. 166 mission stations 110, 112, 113–​114, 173–​174 (box) missionaries 49, 53, 65, 111–​117, 134n1; Pentecostal 125 Mitchell, B. 52, 53, 56, 57, 131, 271, 274 Mitra, S. 12 moneylenders 80 moral norms 29, 278 Morse, S. 66, 120, 121 Mosse, D. 12 Mothers’ Union 208 (box) Mount, L. 254 MSM (men who have sex with men) 241, 249, 251, 253, 256 Mughal empire/​rulers 80, 91, 167, 237, 238 Mugo, K. 250, 254, 256 Mukhopadhyay, K. 218 Mumuni, S. 100 Munir, I. 222–​223 Museveni, Yoweri 244 (box), 247 (box) Musharraf, Pervez 223, 224 Muslim Aid 55, 91, 93, 97, 102 Muslim brotherhoods 32, 38 Muslim Women’s Rights Network (MWRN) 219–​220 (box) Myanmar 56 myth 28, 55 Nair, P. 81, 82, 167, 168, 176, 186 Naqvi, F. 85, 87, 88 Narain, V. 216 Narayan, D. 14 National Coalition for Gay and Lesbian Equality (South Africa) 254 National Coalition of Sexuality Rights (India) 251 (box) National Commission for Women (India) 217 National Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission of Kenya 250 nationalism/​national identity 16–​17 Naz Foundation (India) 251 (box), 252 (box) Nazneen, S. 215, 216, 221, 227 Nehru, Jawaharlal 216

Neo, J. 63 neo-​Pentecostal Christianity 190n4, 242 Nepstad, S.E. 198 Nesbitt, P. 36, 37 networks 17, 66–​67 NGOs 17–​18; Tearfund 132 (box) Nicol, N. 250, 254, 255 Niger 184 Nigeria: attempt to domesticate CEDAW 207 (box); distinctiveness and comparative advantages of FBOs vs. NGOs 58–​59 (box); international aid chain in 121 (box); pre-​independence roles of Islamic and Christian education providers 173–​174 (box); protection of widows 208–​209 (box); secular politics 63 Nishimuko, M. 176 Nolte, I. 63, 64 non-​profit organisations (NPOs), financial regulation in India 145–​146 norms 29–​30 North, D.C. 18 Nurdin, M.R. 56 Nwokoro, C.V. 229n7 Nyanzi, S. 244, 247 Nyozov, S. 178, 188 Obadare, E. 63, 236, 242, 256, 257, 258 O’Bright, B. 105n8 Occhipinti, L.A. 37, 53, 56 Odgaard, R. 212, 213 Odumosu, O. 68n2 Ogba, F. 229n7 Öhlmann, P. 113, 114, 124 Okoye, D. 174 Olarinmoye, O.O. 64 Old Testament 236 Oldfield, S. 197 Olivier, J. 52, 131 Olong, M.A. 229n7 Omvedt, G. 217 Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) 262n2 Organisation of Lesbian and Gay Activists (South Africa) 249 (box) organisational dimension 25, 31–​33 organisations, definition 18 Osella, C. 30 Osella, F. 30, 93, 94, 139, 140, 141, 144, 146, 156, 159, 160, 161 Oxfam 49

Index  291 Pakistan: Aga Khan Rural Support Programme 89; Al-​Khidmat Foundation 89–​90; distinctiveness and comparative advantages of religious organisations 60; international Muslim organisations in 91; Islamisation 63, 89; madrasas 90; Ministry of Religious Affairs (MORA) 89, 90; Muslim Family Law Ordinance (1961) 221; Muslim voluntary and welfare organisations in 88–​91; NPOs 89, 90; radical Islamist organisations 90; Sufi shrines 89; women’s movement in 221–​224 Palmer, V. 56 Pandya, S. 142, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 158, 159, 160, 161nn5&6 Panjwani, D. 56 Para-​Mallam, O.J. 203, 206, 208 Paras, A. 54, 55 Park, J. 178, 188 partnerships 58, 66, 181–​188 Patel, S. 139, 142, 143, 150 Patit Pawan Sanghathana (PPS) 150 Paul, P. 218 Pentecostal churches 32, 55, 124, 125, 126, 128, 246 (box), 271, 274; business ventures 38; leadership 37 personal dimension 25 philanthropy 29, 38, 51, 68n1, 139, 140, 221, 273 Philpott, D. 62 ‘piety’ movements 6, 209, 224 Platt, M. 279n1 Platteau, J.-​P. 63 plural legal systems 205, 226, 228, 229n4, 278; Tanzania 212 (box) polygamy 220, 226, 236 polygyny 113, 213, 241, 245 Pongou, R. 174 Portugal 237 Powell, L. 132 practices, religious 28–​30 President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) 59 (box), 240, 241, 246 (box) Presler, F.A. 32 Pride Uganda event 247 (box) priesthood 36 Prince, R. 214 Pritchett, J.A. 113 proselytisation 35, 56, 116, 120, 156–​158, 169, 246

Proshika 92 Protestant Christianity 32 Pugh, S.A. 240, 241 Puri, J. 238, 251–​252, 261 Pushti and Swaminarayan sects 147 Qur’an 79, 94, 97, 100, 167, 169, 171 Qur’anic schools 171, 175; DRC 184 (box); Nigeria 173 (box), 177, 187 (box) Rae, L. 53 Ragin, C.C. 4, 5 Rahayu, N.S. 105n12 Rajasthan, India (case study) 122–​123 (box) Rajkopal, P. 56 Rakodi, C. 7, 9, 11, 24, 27, 38, 40, 41, 49, 50, 55, 64, 79, 81, 90, 94, 125, 139, 156, 166, 197, 205, 209, 218, 224, 234, 242, 244, 268, 269 Ramakrishna, Sri 142, 158 Ramakrishna Mission (RKM) 142, 143, 149 (box), 150, 153 (box), 155 Ramakrishnananda, Swami 142 Ramayana 238 Ranade, Eknath 153 (box) Rashid, S.F. 225 Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) 85, 142–​143, 146, 150, 153–​154 (box); school provision by 176 Raynard, M. 33, 34, 36, 37, 270 Rebirth, Renaissance and Advancement Initiative (Nigeria) 255 Redding, G. 15 Redeemed Christian Church of God (Nigeria) 124 refugees 56, 65, 89 regulation 38–​39, 64–​65 Rehman, M. 63 Rehman, U. 63, 81, 89 Reinikka, R. 58 religion: concept of 7–​9; European conception of 7 Religions and Development research programme 58, 63, 68n2 religious capital 15 religious fields 31 religious groups 30–​31 religious organisations: authority and decision-​making 35–​36; compassion as central value 48; distinctiveness and comparative advantages of

292  Index 56–​61; institutionalisation and bureaucratisation 34–​35; leadership 36–​37; regulation 38–​39; resourcing 37–​38; social roles 48–​49; transnational roles 65–​66 religious practices 28–​30 religious right 31, 224, 250 Repstad, P. 10, 20n1, 25 resources 37–​38 Reynolds, F.E. 32 Riaz, A. 167, 227 riba 80, 92, 100 Richards, D. 105n11 Richardson, J.T. 39 Riesebrodt, M. 9, 277 ritual 28–​30 Rob, A.B.A. 177 Robinson, C. 81, 167 Robinson, R. 85, 114, 115, 116, 117, 123 Roman Catholic Church: authority and decision-​making 35; Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith 39; Congregation for the Evangelisation of Peoples (Propaganda Fide) 111; dominant education role in DRC 182 (box); education in India 123; emergence of NGOs 49; funding of schools in Uganda 188; homosexuality in Uganda 246 (box); largest education provider 190n3; missions to South Asia 114–​115; missions to SSA 110, 111, 112, 113; organisational structure 34; renewal in India 118; social welfare activities in SSA 112–​114 Rose, P. 180, 181 Roy, S. 176, 217, 221 Rueda, V. 114 Sabrow, S. 100 Sachar Committee 84–​85, 87, 116 sadaqa 79, 88, 93–​94 Saddiq, N. 96, 97 Sadgrove, J. 245, 246 Sadhu Vaswani Mission (SVM) 150 sadhus 148–​149 (box) Sahla, S. 98 Saigol, R. 215, 216, 221, 222, 223, 224 Sait, S. 206, 278 Sakai, M. 104n1, 105n12 Salehin, M.M. 91, 92, 93, 102, 225, 227 Salih, M.A.M. 96, 98 Salvatore, A. 198 Samuels, J. 56

sangha 156 sarvodaya 144 Sarvodaya Shramadana Movement 156, 157–​158 (box), 159 sati 115, 148 (box), 215, 217, 229n8 Scheduled Castes 84, 116 Scheme for Providing Quality Education in Madrasas (SPQEM) 186 (box) Schnable, A. 128 Schulz, D. 209 Scott, W.R. 18 Second Vatican Council 119 Second World War 49 sects 32, 146–​147 secularisation/​secularism 48–​49, 61, 62, 63, 67–​68, 269, 272; India 82, 216, 217 secularisation theory 197 Seiple, C. 268 Senegal 95, 98, 184, 229n6, 237, 240, 241, 257, 258 seva (service) 139, 140, 141–​143, 144, 147–​149, 149 (box), 152 (box), 153 (box), 158–​159, 160, 275 sevaks (volunteers) 142, 150 sexual/​gender minorities 234–​263 Sexual Minorities Uganda 245 (box) Sezgin, Y. 39, 64, 216 Shah, A.M. 146–​147, 148 Shaheed, F. 221–​223 Shaikh, F. 63, 222, 224 shari’a law 205–​206, 209 (box) Sharif, Nawaz 223 Sharma, A. 17 Shroff, C. 280n2 Siddiqui, S. 68n2, 81, 90 Sierra Leone 172, 174, 176 Sieveking, N. 229n6 Sikand, Y. 186 Silva Afonso, J. 101 Simeon, D. 82 Sindzingre, A. 19 Singer, A. 81, 104 Singh, G. 62, 63 Singh, K.I. 62, 63, 168 Sinhala-​Buddhist nationalism 93, 157 (box) Skinner, D.E. 98, 100, 105n7 Skocpol, T. 43 slave trade 173 (box) Smith, J.D. 53–​54 Soares, B. 33, 43, 209, 210, 211 social behaviour 5, 19, 24, 41, 278 social capital 14–​15

Index  293 social change 39–​41 social conservatism 40, 228 social dimension 25 social field 24–​25 Social Funds 15 social interaction 9–​10 social movements 40–​41, 197–​198, 242–​243; social movement theory 259; religious participation in 277–​279 social phenomena, level of analysis 25–​26 social sciences 48, 49, 65, 77, 159 social systems 4, 113, 215, 268 social welfare: Christian missions in southern Asia 114–​117; Christian mission in SSA 112–​114; Christian social role since independence 118–​128; Hindu organisations 146–​152; Islami Bank Foundation 102 (box); Muslim organisations in India 83–​88; social roles of Buddhist organisations 152–​158 society, theoretical perspectives 10–​11 sociopolitical roles 41–​43 sodomy 236, 237, 238, 248–​249 (box) Somé, M. 111, 119, 120 Sommers, C. 176, 177 Soothill, J. 37, 228 South Africa, campaigning for recognition of sexual minority rights in 248 (box) South Asia, seeking legal change for gender and sexual minorities in 251–​254 (box) South Sudan 66 Southard, D. 161n7 Sphere Association 68n4 Sri Lanka: early Christian missionaries 111, 117; Islamic organisations in 93–​94; Sarvodaya Shramadana Movement (SSM) 157–​158 (box), 159; Section 354A of Penal Code 253 (box); tsunami humanitarian relief 56 Srinivas, M.N. 12 Srivastava, S.S. 85 state, the 15–​17, 19–​20; analysing state-​ religion relationships 62; definition 15; education providers and 179–​188; Hindu religious organisations and 143–​146; Indian subcontinent 80–​83, 85; interactions between religions and states 61–​65, 69n6; nationalism and 17; ‘Pentecostalise’ politics 63; regulation

of religion 39; regulatory powers 63–​64; three theories of 16 Stein, J.G. 50, 54, 55 Stoddard, E. 56 Stokke, K. 197 Stroope, S. 146 Strothmann, L. 89 substantive and functionalist views of religion 8, 26 Sufi Islam 79–​80 Sufism 236 Sukmana, R. 81 Sundar, N. 176–​177 Suneetha, A. 220 Sunni Islam 167, 236, 242 Svensson, J. 58 Swadhyaya movement (India) 159 Swaminarayan movement 148–​149 (box) Swidler, A. 61, 113, 117, 271 Syrian Orthodox church 111 Tabengwa, M. 250, 254, 255 Tadros, M. 39 Taithe, B. 111, 120 Tandon, R. 85 Tanzania: Christian Social Service Commission 180; CSOs in 65; FBOs vs. NGOs 60–​61; health and education facilities expropriated 164; land law reform 212–​213 (box), 214; livelihood improvement programme 131 (box); Muslim welfare organisations 95, 97, 98, 105n9 Tarazi, M. 100 tariqa 80, 93, 95 taxonomies 28, 52–​54 Tearfund 55, 61, 132 (box) Technical Working Group on Most at Risk Populations (Malawi) 254 Temmink, C. 18 temples 32–​33, 37, 39, 140, 141, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148 (box), 156 Ter Haar, G. 57 Thachil, T. 185, 187 Thangaraj, M.T. 111, 114, 115, 116 Thaut, L.C. 52, 53, 55, 100 Thompson, S. 177 Tibi, B. 61 Tidjani-​Alou, M. 188 Titeca, K. 182, 184 Tittensor, D. 57, 79 Tok, M.E. 105n8

294  Index Tomalin, E. 20n1, 25, 31, 52, 53, 56, 113, 166 Training of Trainers approach 131 (box) transgender identities 238, 253–​254 (box) transnational roles 65–​67 Trinitapoli, J. 119, 128, 240, 241 Tripp, A.M. 202, 203, 204, 206, 227, 228n1, 278 Trivedi, I. 237, 251, 252 Tschalaer, M.H. 218, 219 Tsimpo, C. 172, 174, 175 tsunami 56, 156–​158, 157 (box), 159, 271 Tutu, Archbishop Desmond 249 (box) Tyndale, W. 9, 50, 57, 58, 155, 157, 159 Typhoon Hainan 56 Tzu Chi Foundation 55, 161n8 Uganda: anti-​homosexual rhetoric and action 244–​248 (box); Catholic/​ Anglican competition 112; distinctiveness and comparative advantages of FBOs vs. NGOs 61, 271; partnerships 58; Roman Catholic and state relations 188; Roman Catholic schools 180, 181; Tearfund 132 (box) Ukah, A. 25, 31, 33, 255, 257, 258 Ukah, S. 255, 257, 258 Ukiwo, U. 63 Union des associations de femme musulmanes de Mali (UNAFEM) 209 (box), 210 (box) United Nations (UN) 17; conferences on women 203; Food and Agriculture Organisation 209 (box); Human Rights Council 239 Universal Civil Code (India) 216 Universal Declaration of Human Rights 29, 205 US Episcopal Church 246 (box), 260 Uttar Pradesh 186 (box) Valois, C. 242, 244, 246 values, ethical practices and 29–​30 Van Klinken, A. 236, 242, 250, 257 Van Saanen, M. 50, 57, 148, 157, 158 Vander Zaag, R. 127 Varshney, A. 63 Vatuk, S. 218, 220 Verhelst, T. 9 Verter, B. 15 Vevaina, L. 161n4

Vikør, K.S. 105n6 Villalón, L.A. 188 Vishva Hindu Parishad 146 Viswanath, R. 12, 142 Vivekananda, Swami 142, 153 (box), 155 (box) Vivekananda Kendra (VK) 150, 153–​156 (box), 176 Voices Against 377 251 (box), 252 (box) Von Doepp, P. 119 Waites, M. 236, 237, 239, 249, 250, 254, 255, 257, 258, 259, 262n4 Wales, J. 172, 175, 176, 177, 178 Walker, P. 54 waqf 79, 81–​82, 84, 93, 99, 103–​104, 167, 273 Ward, K. 246, 249–​250 Ware, V.-​A. 53, 54, 57, 68n5, 125 Warrier, M. 151, 152, 160 Weber, M. 32, 34, 36 Weinreb, A. 119, 128, 240, 241 Weiss, A.M. 223 Weiss, H. 51, 79, 96, 99–​100, 103 Weiss, T. 54 Whiteside, A. 239 Widger, T. 93, 94, 159 widows 208–​209 (box) Wiktor-​Mach, D. 42 Wiles, J. 120 Wilkinson, O. 56 Wilkinson, S. 85 Williams, R.H. 198 Wilson, E.K. 131 Wodon, Q. 50, 172, 174, 175, 176, 178–​179, 182, 183, 190n3 Women’s Guild 208 (box) women's movements: Bangladesh 224–​227; CEDAW domestication in Nigeria 207 (box); family law reform in Mali 209–​211 (box); land law reform in Tanzania 212–​213 (box); legal reform campaigns in South Asia 215–​227; legal reform campaigns in SSA 203–​215; Muslim women's rights in India 219–​220 (box); Pakistan 221–​224; post-​independence India 216–​221; protection of widows in Nigeria 208–​209 (box) Wong, K. 105n11 Woodhead, L. 20n1 Woolcock, M. 14

Index  295 World Bank 123, 165, 247 (box); Multi-​Country AIDS Programme (MAP) 240; social capital initiative 15 World Vision 49, 52, 55, 58, 93, 127, 240; work in Zimbabwe 129–​131 (box) Wulff, D.M. 10 Yao, Y.-​S. 161 Yasmeen, S. 224 Yeboua, K. 182, 183 Yngstrom, I. 212 Yogyakarta Principles for the Application of Human Rights in Relation to

Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity 239, 254, 262n3 Yumna, A. 100 zakat 79, 82, 88, 90, 99–​100, 103, 273; Sri Lanka 93–​94 Zambia 119, 131 (box), 236 Zia, A.S. 222, 223, 224 Zia-​ul-​Haq, Muhammad 89, 221, 223 Zimbabwe 58, 120, 256 Zimbabwe Council of Churches 129–​130 (box) Zina Hudood Ordinance 222