Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties 2020039396, 2020039397, 9780197545362, 9780197545386

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Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties V I N E E TA   YA DAV

1

3 Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and certain other countries. Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America. © Oxford University Press 2021 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above. You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer. Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​Publication Data Names: Yadav, Vineeta, author. Title: Religious parties and the politics of civil liberties / by Vineeta Yadav. Description: New York, NY : Oxford University Press, [2021] | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020039396 (print) | LCCN 2020039397 (ebook) | ISBN 9780197545362 (hardback) | ISBN 9780197545386 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Political parties—Islamic countries. | Religious institutions—Islamic countries. | Islam and politics— Islamic countries. | Civil rights—Islamic countries. | Islamic countries—Politics and government. Classification: LCC JQ1852.A979 Y33 2021 (print) | LCC JQ1852.A979 (ebook) | DDC 324.2/184091767—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020039396 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020039397 DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197545362.001.0001 1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2 Printed by Integrated Books International, United States of America

Dedicated in thanks to the peaceful warriors, both religious and secular, who fight for the dignity and rights of everyone, every day

Contents List of Illustrations  Acknowledgments 

ix xiii

1. Introduction 

1

2. Religious Parties and Religious Organizations: The Fruits of Partnership 

30

3. Religious Parties, Religious Organizations, and the Decline of Civil Liberties 

67

4. The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations in Muslim-​Majority Countries: Statistical Evidence 

97

5. Civil Liberties in Muslim-​Majority Countries: Statistical Evidence 

141

6. The Fall of an Icon: Institutionalization of Religious Organizations in Turkey 

173

7. Resilience and Decline: Religious Parties, Religious Organizations, and Institutionalization in Pakistan 

206

8. The Fall of an Icon: The Decline in Civil Liberties in Turkey 

244

9. Resilience and Decline: Civil Liberties in Pakistan 

273

10. Conclusion: Summary and Implications for Future Research 

302

Appendix  References  Index 

321 325 365

Illustrations Tables 4.1. Muslim-​Majority Countries in the Sample 

133

4.2. SEI: Main Results for RO Institutionalization 

134

4.3. SEI: Robustness Checks 

136

4.4. SEI: First-​Stage Probit Selection Equation Results 

138

4.5. SEI: Second-​Stage Probit Selection Equation Results 

139

5.1. Civil Liberties: Main Results from OP Model 

166

5.2. Civil Liberties: Robustness Test Results 

168

5.3. Civil Liberties: First-​Stage Probit Selection Equation Results 

170

5.4. Civil Liberties: Second-​Stage Probit Selection Equation Results 

172

8.1. Results for Civil Liberty-​Related Policies in Turkey 

271

9.1. Results for Civil Liberty-​Related Policies in Pakistan 

299

A.4. Definition and Data Sources for Control Variables in Tables for Chapters 4 and 5 

321

Figures 1.1. Muslim-​majority countries in the sample 

2

1.2. Global share of Muslim-​majority countries with religious parties 

2

1.3. Illustration of the theoretical argument 

25

4.1. Moving average of RO institutionalization in the full sample 

106

4.2. Distribution of RO institutionalization 

107

4.3. Distribution of seat concentration 

109

4.4. Seat concentration, inflation crisis, and RO institutionalization 

115

4.5. Marginal effect of seat concentration on RO institutionalization in the absence of inflation crisis 

118

x Illustrations 4.6. Marginal effect of seat concentration on RO institutionalization when inflation crisis occurs 

119

5.1. Distribution of civil liberties and civil rights 

144

5.2. Moving average of civil liberties and civil rights 

144

5.3. RO institutionalization, religious partner, and civil liberties 

151

5.4. RO institutionalization, religious partner, and civil rights 

152

5.5. High levels of RO institutionalization and civil liberties when religious partner is equal to 1  155 5.6. Low levels of RO institutionalization and civil liberties when religious partner is equal to 1 

155

5.7. Effect of religious partner on civil liberties when RO institutionalization is low 

156

5.8. Effect of religious partner on civil liberties when RO institutionalization is high 

156

5.9. Low levels of RO institutionalization and civil liberties when religious partner is equal to 0 

157

5.10. High levels of RO institutionalization and civil liberties when religious partner is equal to 0 

157

6.1. Turkey: Distribution of elite support for universal human rights versus religiously defined rights 

185

6.2. Turkey: Distribution of elite support for freedom of expression 

187

6.3. Turkey: Distribution of elite preferences on policies affecting civil liberties  188 6.4. Seat concentration and seat index for Turkey, 1970–​2016 

190

6.5. Annual inflation rates in Turkey, 1956–​2016 

191

7.1. Pakistan: Distribution of elite support for universal human rights versus religiously defined rights 

220

7.2. Pakistan: Distribution of elite support for freedom of speech 

222

7.3. Pakistan: Distribution of elite support for civil liberties 

223

7.4. Annual inflation rates in Pakistan, 1960–​2016 

226

8.1. Turkey: Marginal effects of religious party membership on support for universal versus religious human rights, by RO influence 

247

8.2. Turkey: Marginal effects of religious party membership on support for media censorship, by RO influence 

248

8.3. Turkey: Marginal effects of religious party membership on support for mandatory religious education and support for criminalization of adultery, by RO influence 

249

Illustrations  xi 8.4. Moving average of civil rights in Turkey, 1985–​2010 

268

9.1. Pakistan: Marginal effects of religious party membership on support for universal vs. religious human rights, by RO influence 

276

9.2. Pakistan: Marginal effects of religious party membership on support for media censorship, by RO influence 

278

9.3. Pakistan: Marginal effects of religious party membership on support for mandatory religious education and, support for criminalization of adultery, by RO influence 

279

9.4. Moving average of civil rights in Pakistan, 1988–​2016 

297

Acknowledgments I would like to thank my colleagues in the Department of Political Science at Penn State University for providing an intellectually stimulating, cheerful, and supportive environment. Conducting surveys, particularly of elites, is an expensive and time-​consuming business! It would not have been possible without the institutional support of sponsors such as the National Science Foundation. I gratefully acknowledge support from the NSF to conduct three rounds of surveys and additional field research in Turkey. Round 1 in May 2015 was funded through NSF Grant #1545180. Rounds 2 and 3 were funded through Grant #1602190. The survey in Pakistan was funded by Penn State University. I am especially grateful to the scholars, supervisors, and staff at the two institutes in Turkey and Pakistan who actually fielded the surveys for me—​Frekans in Istanbul and the Pakistan Institute of Peace Studies in Islamabad. Their advice, support, and in-​country expertise were invaluable in successfully pulling these surveys off, and their excitement was infectious! I am also grateful to Omer Yalcin and Caner Simsek for their outstanding research assistance for this project and Rebekah Zwanzig for the Arabic transliteration. Finally, I very much appreciate the willingness of the survey respondents and interviewees in both Turkey and Pakistan to share their time, expertise, and experiences. One of the greatest joys of this project for me was to see the generosity, thoughtfulness, and kindness of the many Pakistanis who chose to share their time and knowledge with me irrespective of the politics between our countries. Thank you—​you give me for great hope for our future. At Oxford University Press, I would like to thank my editor, David McBride, for his encouragement, immense patience, and helpful advice. They were especially invaluable in this project. I  am also indebted to Holly Mitchell, who guided the manuscript through the production process at Oxford University Press. Finally, I would like to thank three anonymous referees for their insightful comments, encouragement, and advice. This book has improved substantially as a result of their encouragement and constructive criticisms. The final errors are of course all mine. As always, my family and friends have been patient, supportive, encouraging, and (convincingly) enthusiastic through the long life of this project. My parents Ramesh and Shashi Yadav and many, many other family members sat through rants, panic attacks, highs, and happy jigs on the long, challenging journey to complete this project. My friends Ravi, Katie, Alexandra, Ritu, Subbu, Vidhi, Alison, and Sonali have always been there for me. I cannot tell you how lucky

xiv Acknowledgments I feel that you count me among your friends. Finally, to the people who bore the brunt of the good and bad associated with this project, my husband Bumba and my son Reyhan, go the biggest thanks! This was a marathon that I could not have completed without both of you. Hopefully, the COVID crisis ends soon so we can take that well-​earned, fabulous vacation (hopefully not to Disney World)!

July 30, 2020

Vineeta Yadav

1

Introduction Religious parties are increasingly common and increasingly active in politics in countries across the world.1 Their political energy on issues directly related to basic civil liberties has been particularly striking. For example, the Jathika Hela Urumayo, a political party led by Buddhist monks in Sri Lanka, has repeatedly proposed bills to criminalize conversions out of Buddhism, most recently in 2011 (USCIRF 2018: 5). In Poland, under the Christian Democratic Law and Justice Party liberal women’s groups advocating for gender equality and LGBTQ rights have suffered police raids and cuts in state funding and access aimed at discouraging their participation in public rallies and forcing their closure (HRW 2019). The religious Pan-​Malaysian Islamic Party in Malaysia, a country with a 62% Muslim population, introduced bills in 2016 and 2017 to adopt the Islamic penal code (hudūd), which would criminalize apostasy, slander, adultery, and alcohol consumption for all citizens (USCIRF 2017: 16), while in Kuwait, parliamentarians affiliated with religious parties passed laws requiring the segregation of men and women in public (in 1996) and private (in 2000) universities (Gulf News, June 3, 2013). These examples, illustrating how religious parties have challenged liberal freedoms of religion, association and assembly, expression and movement across religious traditions have raised fears of an inevitable decline in civil liberties when religious parties succeed in politics. This fear has perhaps been most prominent in Muslim-​majority countries (MMCs) where religious parties have demonstrated a meteoric rise in political prominence over the last five decades. Figure 1.1 illustrates all the MMCs in the world in 2016 and figure 1.2 shows the number of religious parties over time in these countries. As figure 1.2 shows, in 1970 only 6% of MMCs had a religious political party, and none had multiple religious parties. By 1995, the share of MMCs with at least one religious party had increased almost sixfold, to 34%. By 2016, almost half (49%) of MMCs had religious parties, and 55% of these countries had multiple religious parties. Impressively, between 1970 and 2016, religious parties formed part of the ruling coalition in 34% of all country-​years in democratic and autocratic MMCs. This is also a trend that has strengthened over time. While 23% of ruling coalitions in MMCs between 1985 and 2000 1 See, for example, Madeley 2011; Kurzman and Naqvi 2015; Kuperus 2013; van der Vyver and Green 2008; Ward 2013; Mantilla 2018; Mkentane 2019. Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties. Vineeta Yadav, Oxford University Press (2021). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197545362.003.0001

2  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

Figure 1.1  Muslim-​majority countries in the sample Dark-shaded colors indicates Muslim-majority countries in which more than 50% of domestic citizens are Muslims. Data to illustrate this map is drawn from the United Nation’s Statistics Division Demographic database. 60

Percentage

50 40 30 20 10

16

14

20

12

20

10

20

08

20

06

20

04

20

02

20

00

20

98

20

96

19

94

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92

19

90

19

88

19

86

19

84

19

82

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80

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78

19

76

19

74

19

72

19

19

19

70

0

Year % Countries w/Islamist Parties

% Countries w/Multiple Islamist Parties

Figure 1.2  Global share of Muslim-​majority countries with religious parties

included religious parties, this share rose to 35% between 2000 and 2016. What these numbers unequivocally show is that religious parties have become an increasingly popular mode of mobilization among religious elites and voters in MMCs. Does this rise suggest that MMCs with religious parties are inevitably headed into a future of illiberal rights and liberties? This is the question that this book seeks to address. Skeptics point to examples such as those cited above to answer yes to this question (Pipes Dec. 11, 2012; Ali Feb. 28, 2011; Tibi 2008). Optimists argue that participation in electoral politics teaches and incentivizes religious political parties to moderate their orthodox positions regarding the role of religion in society and state, including their opposition to liberal civil liberties and their advocacy of

Introduction  3 religiously defined civil liberties.2 They point to examples such as the Ennahda Party’s support for a 2017 bill recognizing marriage between non-​Muslim men and Muslim women in Tunisia (BBC, Sep. 15, 2017), the Jamiat Ulema-​e-​Islam-​ Fazlur’s support for a bill protecting the rights of women working outside the home in mixed-​gender settings in 2010 in Pakistan (Weiss 2014), and the willingness of Algeria’s religious Movement for National Reform (MRN) party to place women at the top of its electoral lists during elections (Driessen 2014: 182) as illustrating such moderation. A  study examining how support for legal equality for religious minorities and women evolved in the party manifestos of 83 religious parties in MMCs over time found that these parties did not follow a single trajectory of increased or decreased support for equality (Kurzman and Naqvi 2015: 104–​106). Instead, confounding both pessimists and predictions of moderation, parties adopted very different strategies across countries and across time within the same country in liberal and illiberal directions. Despite the heated academic and policy debates about the impact of religious parties on civil liberties, religious parties are surprisingly absent in studies examining civil liberties in the civil liberties literature. These studies instead have tried to explain changes in civil liberties in MMCs by analyzing their political and economic structures and the nature of their international ties.3 Thus, the question of how religious parties affect de facto civil liberties in MMCs remains an open one. In this book, I address this puzzle by building on insights from research on special interest group politics to examine the relationship between religious interest groups and religious parties, the conditions that strengthen and weaken their relationships, and the impact of this relationship on the policies and actions religious parties adopt regarding civil liberties in MMCs. Religious organizations in MMCs have been the subject of numerous insightful and valuable studies.4 These studies have largely analyzed religious organizations (hereafter ROs) in the theoretical context of their role as members of larger Islamic social movements. This theoretical lens has been useful for understanding outcomes affected by the actions taken by the movement as a whole, particularly in opposition to government policies. However, while different religious parties and ROs may be allies in pushing for a state and society based on religious beliefs and preferences, they are often rivals when it comes to attracting voters, followers, donors, and state patronage (Brown and Hamzawy 2010; Hefner 2011; Werenfels 2014; Pew 2016). In addition to these institutional 2 See Schwedler 2011, 2013; Mecham and Hwang 2014; and Brocker and Künkler 2013 for recent reviews of this extensive literature. 3 See Inglehart and Welzel 2005; Esposito and Voll 2001; Khan 2006; Turam 2007; Davenport 2007; Fish 2011; Conrad 2011; Dabashi 2012; Bradley 2012; Kubicek 2014; Møller and Skaaning 2014; Miller 2015. 4 This is an extensive and rich literature. For some recent examples see Cesari 2018; Hamid 2014; Hashmi 2009; Bayat 2007b.

4  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties interests, ROs often have competing policy visions, including on the correct conceptualization of religiously defined civil liberties and the acceptability of compromising them to accommodate more liberal civil liberties (Brown and Hamzaway 2010; Hefner 2011; An-​Na’im 2011; Werenfels 2014; Hamid 2014; Dunn 2015). As scholars note, the social movement perspective provides less theoretical leverage in understanding how competition and alliances between members of the same social movement can affect their tactics and the policy outcomes they are mobilizing for (Diani 1992; Della Porta and Diani 2006; McAdam and Tarrow 2013; Mair 2013; Hunter, Kriesi, and Lorenzini 2018). This is particularly true when the movement includes entities who are in government as well as in opposition (McAdam and Tarrow 2013; Mair 2013; Hunter, Kriesi, and Lorenzini 2018). Fortunately, this is precisely what theories of special interest groups focus on. A rich literature on special interest groups tells us that organized interests deploy their organizational resources using inside and outside lobbying tactics to seek out and influence political actors capable of influencing state patronage and policies in their favor.5 Analyzing religious interest groups in particular, scholars find that lobbying by churches in Western, Eastern, and Central Europe (Grzymala-​Busse 2015; Braun-​Poppelaars and Hanegraff 2011; Warner 2000), Africa (Kuperus 2013; van der Vyver and Green 2008; Ward 2013), and Latin America (Htun 2009; Hagopian 2009) and by professional religious lobbies in the United States (Adkins et al. 2013; Herzke 2010; Heaney 2010; Yamane 2005) is common and can influence government policies significantly. Given the prominence of implementing religiously defined civil liberties in the beliefs and policy agendas of ROs in MMCs, we would expect that the capacity of organized religious interest groups to influence religious parties and the susceptibility of religious parties to such lobbying could potentially influence the policy positions that religious parties adopt on policies important to religious groups. This book builds on insights from the special interest lobbying literature to systematically analyze (a) how particular political and economic conditions influence the strength of the relationship between religious political parties and religious interest groups in a country and (b) the conditions under which interactions between these two sets of religious actors lead to declines in the civil liberties of its citizens. By doing so, it contributes directly to research on political parties, special interest lobbying, civil liberties, and the moderation of religious parties. I first argue that nongovernmental da ‘wa organizations and Sufi orders with a country-​wide presence led by nationally prominent leaders are the religious interest groups of analytical interest in MMCs. To address the first question, 5 For recent overviews of the lobbying literature see Herzke 2010; Hojnacki et al. 2012; Lowery 2013; and de Figueiredo and Richter 2014.

Introduction  5 I consider when and how religious parties that see these ROs as valuable potential political allies are able to strengthen these organizations. I  argue that when (i) religious parties are present in the legislature as a highly concentrated religious-​party bloc and (ii) an inflationary crisis creates a serious political threat for non-religious parties, religious parties are able to effectively champion ROs as agents who can mitigate the political impact of this economic crisis and convince other parties to adopt policies that strengthen ROs. These policies allow ROs to increase their material assets and social reach by strengthening their presence in the education and welfare sectors and expanding it into the commercial and media sectors, a process I label the socioeconomic institutionalization (SEI) of ROs. Absent one or both of these conditions, non-religious parties prevent policies favorable to ROs from being passed, thus preventing ROs from gaining such organizational reach and strength. High SEI transforms these ROs into formidable political players with valuable political resources, but, I argue, this can prove a mixed blessing for religious parties. While religious parties benefit from the resources and support of highly institutionalized ROs during elections, they also face the threat of the considerable political damage highly institutionalized ROs can inflict on them should they choose to deviate from the shared religiously inspired policy agenda that motivated ROs to support them in the first place. For this reason, I argue, when religious parties do well in elections and join the government, their ability to moderate their policy positions on civil liberties in order to broaden their popular appeal, to legislate, and to govern with non-religious allies will depend on whether or not they face highly institutionalized ROs. If they do, they will choose not to moderate and de facto civil liberties will decline. Conversely, if they don’t face highly institutionalized ROs, religious parties will prefer to moderate, and civil liberties will not decline due to their ascent to office. Thus, only when religious parties win office and are operating in the political context of highly institutionalized ROs should we expect to see a decline in de facto civil liberties. I test these arguments by combining “large-​N” time-​series cross section (TSCS) statistical analyses of all 49 MMCs from 1970 to 2016 with an in-​depth comparative case study of two carefully selected countries—​Turkey and Pakistan. For the large-​N empirical analysis, I construct and analyze a novel data set that builds on primary and secondary sources to code new data on religious parties in government, the legislative concentration of these parties and an original measure of the SEI of nongovernmental, national-​level ROs for this entire set of countries. For the case study chapters, I use open-​ended interviews with political party leaders and ROs, among others, along with original within-​country surveys of politicians from religious and non-religious parties in Turkey and Pakistan to analyze politicians’ preferences on civil liberties and their responsiveness to

6  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties religious interest groups on these issues. This analysis is supplemented by quantitative and qualitative evidence from secondary sources to test the causal logic of these theoretical claims. Collectively, this approach allows me to test the generalizability of the theoretical framework and to assess the causal mechanisms leading to the main theoretical predictions. The findings in this book suggest that instead of viewing the political rise and success of religious parties with undiluted skepticism or with enthusiastic optimism, analysts must first identify and understand the various political and economic conditions that shape and limit the strategic options and independence of religious parties. One such important condition is the strength of organized social and economic actors with different agendas in these societies, and the nature and extent of their relationships with all political parties, including religious parties. Another condition relates to understanding the effects of economic conditions on the relationship between various interest groups and religious political actors. The insights on the dynamic relationship between religious lobbies and religious parties presented in this book promise theoretical leverage over many open questions in comparative politics and comparative political economy. For example, understanding how the lobbying strategies of various kinds of special groups, including religious, business, labor, and environmental groups, affect the political calculations of religious and non-religious parties in MMCs may help us better understand phenomena such as the independence of the judiciary, the regulation of banking and financial markets, the nature of welfare programs, the conduct of foreign policy, and democratic consolidation in these countries. Finally, while this book focuses on MMCs, the arguments underlining the evolution of RO-​religious party relationships and the ability of ROs to constrain the political choices of religious parties do not rely on specific details of MMCs or Islam. This opens up many new and intriguing avenues of research for researchers and policymakers examining how well these arguments are able to explain the evolution of the RO-​religious party relationships and their consequences in other developing countries. The rest of the chapter proceeds as follows. I begin by defining two key terms used in this book—​civil liberties and religious parties in MMCs. I then discuss why religious parties face a dilemma in choosing to support or oppose liberal civil liberties by contrasting them with civil liberties as articulated by orthodox religious positions in Islam. I then highlight the surprisingly limited attention both the literatures on the moderation of religious parties and on civil liberties have paid to the role and influence of organized religious interest groups in shaping the incentives of political actors on this issue, and the reasons why this omission is important. The rest of this chapter then previews the theoretical argument and research design and describes the organization of the rest of the book.

Introduction  7

Definition: Civil Liberties Civil liberties are part of a broad spectrum of rights and liberties that are considered to comprise the human rights of individuals in a liberal democratic regime. The 1948 United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) has become the global reference point for defining the liberal standard for human rights and has influenced the formulation of these civil liberties in sovereign constitutions and regional charters on human rights in countries across the world.6 For these reasons scholars and advocacy groups have used UDHR principles as a yardstick for measuring how liberal the de jure and de facto civil liberties provision is in any country.7 In this book, I follow their lead in defining and focusing on the following liberal civil liberties in accordance with the articles of UDHR: Freedom of Movement—​Article 13 1. Everyone has the right to freedom of movement and residence within the borders of each State. 2. Everyone has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country. Freedom of Religion—​Article 18 Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice worship and observance. Freedom of Expression—​Article 19 Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers. Freedom of Assembly and Association—​Article 20 1. Everyone has the right to freedom of peaceful assembly and association. 2. No one may be compelled to belong to an association.

6 For example, even the 1981 Universal Islamic Declaration of Human Rights, issued by the London-​based Islamic Council; the 1990 Cairo Declaration on Human Rights in Islam issued by the Organization of Islamic States; and the 2004 Arab Charter of Human Rights all directly reference UDHR 1948 and use its language to frame their principles, even as they depart from many of its key principles (Dunn 2015; An-​Na’im 2011). 7 See, for example, Cingranelli and Richards 2010; Møller and Skaaning 2014; Grote and Rödder 2015; Witte and Green 2011; and Chase and Hamzawy 2006 among academics, and Freedom House, Amnesty International, and Human Rights Watch among human rights advocacy groups.

8  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties These definitions allow us to identify the types of laws, decrees, policies, behaviors, and actions that strengthen and undermine civil liberties. While the passage of legislation and issuance of executive decrees are the most visible and verifiable ways to observe whether civil liberties are being strengthened or weakened by governments, informal norms, practices, and institutions can also do considerable harm to the state of civil liberties in a country (Mahmoudi 2016; Witte and Green 2011). For example, while laws mandating the censorship of art shows violate the freedom of speech, using excessive force only against liberal women’s groups or targeting only their organizations for tax audits violates their freedom to assemble and associate. Following other scholars,8 I focus on these civil liberties as a collective outcome rather than focusing on them individually.9 This choice is influenced by the interdependent nature of civil liberties and, as discussed later, by the nature of sharia-​based principles regarding civil liberties. The full exercise of one civil liberty frequently requires the ability to exercise others freely as well (Mahmoudi 2016; Witte and Green 2011; An-​Na’im 2011; Mayer 2007; Mernissi 1992; Milani 2011). For example, to exercise their freedom of religion, citizens need to be able to establish religious foundations that allow them to manage their religious affairs, to meet collectively in public places to observe communal rituals together, and to freely discuss and share their beliefs about their faith. The first requires freedom of association, the second freedom of assembly, and the last freedom of expression. Furthermore, as I  discuss later in more detail, orthodox interpretations of sharia impose values and rules of behavior that simultaneously affect multiple civil liberties as articulated by UDHR. This makes their consequences for civil liberties inseparable and, as scholars note, makes it logical to study their impact as a collective (Dunn 2015; Gerges 2013; An-​Na’im 2011; Chase and Hamzawy 2006). For example, if as champions of orthodoxy argue, women must ask the permission of their male head of household to venture outside of their home, they are denied not only their freedom of movement but also their freedom to join voluntary associations of their choice or participate in public gatherings of their choice. Similarly, if religious minorities are denied the freedom to proselytize, they are denied their freedom of religion and their freedom of speech. For these reasons I believe that to understand how the political success of religious parties affects civil liberties, we must study their impact on all of these liberal civil liberties collectively. 8 See Burgat 1997; Nasr 2001; Esposito and Voll 2001; Khan 2005; Peters 2005; Bayat 2007b; Turam 2007; An-​Na’im 2011; Mayer 2007; Liouw 2009; Bradley 2012; Dabashi 2012; Møller and Skaaning 2014; Dunn 2015. 9 These are substantial literatures. For example, see Evans 2009, 2011; Hare and Weinstein 2009; Cross 2015; Fox 2015; and Perry 2011.

Introduction  9 As political parties, religious parties have extensive policy agendas covering a wide range of social, economic, institutional, security, and foreign policy issues. The specific focus on civil liberties in this book is motivated by many substantive concerns. First, the provision of basic civil liberties—​the freedoms of expression, religion, movement, association, and assembly—​is considered essential for allowing individuals to live lives of dignity safe from persecution by the government and the majority (UDHR 1948).10 These civil liberties are also considered essential for allowing the procedural components of democracy, such as elections and lawmaking, to function democratically and for providing responsiveness and accountability, which are vital for building high-​quality democracies (Linz and Stepan 1996; Diamond and Morlino 2005; Haggard and Kaufmann 2016). Third, the state of civil liberties in a country also influences its business environment, potentially affecting domestic and foreign investment, productivity, innovation, and the development of important components of economic growth, such as financial markets (Younis and Younis 2011; Woodberry 2012; Lawrence, Morton, and Khan 2013; Grim, Clark, and Snyder 2014; Binmahfouz 2017). Finally, since imposing religiously defined constraints on civil liberties has featured prominently in the founding platforms of religious parties, understanding when and why parties maintain this policy commitment and when they moderate or sacrifice it is important for understanding the evolution of civil liberties as well as the evolution of religious parties as political parties. Liberal civil liberties pose unique challenges for religious parties in MMCs for several reasons. As political actors, religious parties benefit directly from the ability to exercise these freedoms themselves. In countries where religious groups and parties have faced suppression from their governments, this lesson can be particularly potent among these politicians, giving them strong strategic incentives to support these liberties. Yet politicians in MMCs often face citizen majorities who favor democracy, as exemplified by direct, multiparty elections for office, but not liberal civil liberties.11 This puts politicians in the politically delicate position of favoring for strategic reasons positions that voters do not necessarily support. Finally, while sharia does not specify specific institutional arrangements as religiously appropriate, it does specify what kind of civil liberties Muslims are religiously entitled to and the limits to those claims (An-​Na’im 2011; El Fadl 2016; Mahmoudi 2016). This makes it easier for politicians to frame their preferred institutional choices as religiously condoned but poses a problem for justifying liberal civil liberties on religious grounds. Politicians therefore face

10 For example, see Berlin 2002; Ishay 2004; Keith 2002; and Hathaway 2002. 11 Most recently see polls by Gallup (35 countries, 2001–​2007), Tessler, Jamal and Robinson 2012 and Pew (39 countries, 2008–​2012).

10  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties a thornier problem in supporting liberal civil liberties compared to supporting liberal democratic institutions.

Definition: Religious Parties in MMCs In MMCs, religious parties inspired by Islam are referred to by scholars as Islamist parties. In this book, I use common scholarly definitions of Islamist parties as represented here by Schwedler (2011) and Mecham and Hwang (2014) to identify religious parties inspired by Islam in MMCs. Schwedler’s (2011: 349) definition of Islamists is that they are “highly diverse political actors who, in varying ways, find the blueprint for social, moral, political, and economic reform in the teachings of the Islamic faith.” Her definition includes both individual politicians and political parties. Mecham and Hwang (2014: 3) elaborate on her definition in the case of parties to define religious parties in MMCs as political parties that seek to win votes in the electoral arena, and that articulate a political agenda derived in large part from an Islamic worldview. They are political parties that use Islamic religious narratives to make political claims on the state, which may include concerns for Islamic social and cultural norms, Islamic models of governance, or resource allocation toward religious institutions. Often, but not universally, Islamist parties articulate some degree of support for the application of Islamic law in their societies.

Some scholars only consider parties whose platforms explicitly include a commitment to create an Islamic legal and political structure as Islamist parties (Cammett and Luong 2014; Yavuz 2009; Bayat 2007b). However, in the first large-​scale analysis of the electoral platforms of 83 religious political parties in MMCs, Kurzman and Naqvi (2015: 104–​105) show that this is neither an intrinsic nor a constant feature of such parties as a category or, importantly, even of individual parties over time. They find that, while all religious parties are founded on platforms derived directly from orthodox interpretations of sharia, many, but not all, parties adjust their stated positions on sharia and the role they propose it play in society with some regularity. For these reasons, most scholars continue to define parties in MMCs as religious based not on their demand for an Islamic state but rather on their extensive reliance on Islam as the source for ideological and policy inspiration.12 This is the definition I use to identify religious parties in MMCs, also referred to as Islamist parties, in this book. Finally, 12 See, for example, Yavuz 2012; Schwedler 2016; Brown and Hamzawy 2010; Yadav 2010; Nasr 2005.

Introduction  11 once a religious organization declares itself to be a political party and starts participating in elections, it is no longer considered to be a civil society organization but is considered to be a political party.

Why Would Religious Parties Protect or Oppose Liberal Civil Liberties? Almost all religious parties in MMCs start their political lives with manifestos and platforms that are either based directly on or draw substantial inspiration from orthodox interpretations of sharia for their policy proposals, procedures, and institutions (Kurzman and Naqvi 2010, 2015; Rumi 2014; Gerges 2013; Hefner 2011; Brown and Hamzaway 2010).13 Policies supporting religiously defined civil liberties based on orthodox interpretations of sharia occupy a very prominent place in the platforms of religious parties in MMCs (Kurzman and Naqvi 2015; Gerges 2013; Hefner 2011; Brown and Hamzawy 2010). As I discuss later, these religiously defined civil liberties are in striking contrast to liberal civil liberties as defined by the UN charter. Changing positions from religiously defined to liberal civil liberties would therefore indicate a very substantial shift in the ideological and policy platforms of Islamist parties. In order to understand (i) why pursuing a religiously defined set of civil liberties would weaken civil liberties protections for citizens in MMCs, (ii) why shifting support to uphold liberal civil liberties would involve significant ideological and policy compromises, and (iii) when and why religious parties are willing to make such compromises, it is important to first understand how civil liberties articulated on liberal principles differ from those articulated based on orthodox interpretations of the Quran and the Sunna.

Orthodox Religious Views of Civil Liberties Proponents of orthodox positions on civil liberties believe that all human liberties are enshrined in sharia and may only be elaborated in the spirit of sharia 13 Sharia is commonly defined as “the totality of the normative system of Islam, ranging in subject-​matter from doctrine of belief and ritual worship practices, to ethical principles and social institutions” (An-​Na’im 2007: 1). Both the strictly legal and normative aspects of sharia draw upon two sources—​the Quran and the Sunna. The Sunna is defined as “the canonical words and deeds of the Prophet (known collectively as the Sunna [traditions] of the Prophet) as recorded in the authenticated accounts knows as the hadith” (Hefner 2011: 8). Importantly, there are many rich traditions of interpretation of both the Quran and the Sunna and thus, many traditions of interpreting sharia (see An-​Na’im 2007, 2011; Hefner 2011; El Fadl 2007, 2015; Ramadan 2009; and Vikor 2005 for discussions of these various traditions).

12  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties (An-​Na’im 2011; El Fadl 2016; Dunn 2015).14 For example, Abou El Fadl (2003: 122) notes that the champions of this orthodox view believe that “whatever rights human beings are entitled to enjoy, they are entirely within the purview of Shari‘ah law,” and Mayer (2007: 60) notes that “the authors of the Islamic human rights schemes . . . cling to the ideas and attitudes of traditional orthodoxy.” The second important aspect of this conceptualization of civil liberties among orthodox Islamists, as scholars note, is that they believe that religiously condoned civil liberties in Islam are in direct opposition to liberal civil liberties as articulated by the UN human rights charter. El Fadl (2003: 126), for example, notes that orthodox Islamists have a “defiant stance toward contemporary international human rights claims,” and An-​Na’im (2011: 63) emphasizes that they “reject openly the idea of universal human rights as an imperial Western imposition.” These definitions and differences are expounded and emphasized widely in the writing of influential religious scholars and intellectuals representing this orthodox position on civil liberties. The orthodox position on the freedom of expression is represented by Maulana Maududi, one of the most influential figures in the Islamist movement globally, as follows: “Islam gives the right of freedom of thought and expression to all citizens of the Islamic State on the condition that it should be used for the propagation of virtue and truth and not for spreading evil and wickedness. . . . Under no circumstances would Islam allow evil and wicked-​ness to be propagated” (Maududi 1978: 28). In this conceptualization of freedom of expression what is evil and wicked is largely subjective and most authoritatively identified as such by pious leaders with the appropriate moral and religious authority (An-​Na’im 2011; Kramer 2015; Mahmoudi 2016). Such leaders may use their authority to recognize specific speech, literature, or art as blasphemy, heresy, or apostasy and invoke a variety of penalties for any transgressions ranging from exclusion from the community of Muslims (takfīr) to the death penalty (An-​Na’im 2011; Kramer 2015; Mahmoudi 2016). Importantly, this religiously constrained freedom of expression directly limits the ability of individuals to criticize any religious beliefs, practices, and institutions and potentially religious leaders to demand rights not condoned by orthodoxy, to speak out against religiously condoned practices that violate their civil liberties, or to use speech to mobilize 14 Scholars broadly define an orthodox view of these rights as driven by the belief that sharia as revelation provides a complete guide to all rights and situations at all times and a reformist view as one that believes that sharia needs to be reinterpreted by humans in order to speak to the contemporary issues of different eras. Orthodox and reformist scholars draw on different sets of verses to justify their interpretations, and they often differ on how literally individual verses are to be interpreted. Finally, among orthodox followers, all legitimate reinterpretations of the Quran and the Hadith ended in the eighth century and the interpretations after this date are unacceptable. Reformists have contested this claim (An-​Na’im 2011). For further discussion of different reformist trends within Islam see Dunn 2015; An-​Na’im 2011; Rumi 2014; and Bayat 2007b, 2013.

Introduction  13 others in the cause of such rights (An-​Na’im 2011; Hefner 2011; Dunn 2015; Mahmoudi 2016). Orthodox interpretations of sharia also forbid people from assembling for causes deemed un-​Islamic and from creating entities that promote such causes (An-​Na’im 2011; Hefner 2011; Dunn 2015; Mahmoudi 2016). Again, the standard of what can be considered un-​Islamic is to be determined only by pious leaders with the appropriate moral and religious authority (An-​Na’im 2011; Kramer 2015; Mahmoudi 2016). Orthodox interpretations of sharia also endorse the enforcement of various injunctions regarding the religious practices of religious minorities that directly limit the freedoms of religion, association, and assembly. Forsaking Islam for another religion or for secularism is considered apostasy (ridda), is explicitly forbidden, and is punishable under the mandatory hudūd provisions of sharia in an orthodox framework (Kramer 2015:  181; An-​Na’im 2011:  64). To ensure that Muslims are not lured into joining another religion, champions of orthodoxy argue for limiting the rights of religious minorities “to assemble for religious purposes, to establish charitable institutions, to write and circulate religious publications, to celebrate religious holidays, and to participate in similar activities” (Mahmoudi 2016: 541). Recognized religious minorities may be allowed to practice their faith in a pious Muslim society as long as they recognize the superiority of Islam, but they should be barred from holding any office that requires the application of sharia law and principles (Mahmoudi 2016; Lerner 2011; Kramer 2015; An-​Na’im 2011; Mayer 2007).15 Since Islam is believed to offer a complete way of life, this principle can potentially be applied to bar religious minorities from holding any office at any level, including the judiciary, the military, high administrative offices, and high political offices (Mahmoudi 2016; Lerner 2015; Kramer 2015; An-​Na’im 2011). Thus, even this limited religious freedom would come at the cost of social, political, economic, and legal discrimination, and the freedoms of expression, movement, association, and assembly of religious minorities would be seriously limited. Finally, orthodox interpretations of religious injunctions regarding the rights and status of women and their role in their households and in society place severe limits on the ability of this half of the population to engage in free expression, to move freely, or to exercise their freedom to assemble, associate, or choose a religion (Mernissi 1992; Ahmed 1992; Hajjar 2004; Mayer 2007; Milani 2011; Mir Husseini 2019; Chaudhry 2015). Chaudhry (2015: 264) observes that 15 Traditionalists distinguish between religious minorities who are considered people of the book (Christians and Jews, termed dhimmis) and other religious minorities (for example Hindus, Sikhs, and the Baha’i). While dhimmis are accorded some protections, non-​dhimmi minorities are not recognized under sharia and are afforded no explicit protections regarding their ability to practice their faith or enjoy equal civic and legal rights at all (Kramer 2015; An-​Na’im 2011).

14  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties orthodox scholars use “verses on marital discord (Q.4:34), polygamy (Q.4:3), the higher rank of men over women (Q.2:228) and women’s testimony (Q.2:282) to establish an asymmetrical relationship between men and women in both private and public spheres . . . to limit women’s participation in the public sphere and the political process.” Similarly, Milani (2011: 2) notes that the Quranic injunction to practice modesty is used by supporters of orthodox views to justify “the exclusion of women from public debate and the public sphere.” Supporters of orthodoxy advocate placing limits on the movement of women in order to avoid mixed-​gender settings and requiring them to obtain the permission of their male guardians for all major life decisions and for decisions to step out of the home (Milani 2011; Mernissi 1992; Mir Husseini 2019; Hajjar 2004; Ahmed 1992). Thus, women would require the permission of the male head of the household in order to access education, take up a job, perform in public, travel to any event, or join any organization. Such restrictions would therefore effectively prevent women from exercising their freedom to join associations of their choice; participate in public rallies, demonstrations, or other public events; choose their religious affiliation or exercise free speech (Mayer 2007; Milani 2011; Mernissi 1992; Mir Husseini 2019; Hajjar 2004; Ahmed 1992). Finally, the orthodox view of the relationship between citizens and the state has important implications for civil liberties as well. In this view, the state is the protector of the moral soul of society and the manifestation of a pious community’s will to police its morality (Maududi 1978; Bayat 2007b; An-​Na’-​im 2011; Dunn 2015; El Fadl 2016). Individuals who criticize or challenge societal norms, rules, or an Islamic state are therefore seen to pose a threat to this moral society (Maududi 1978; An-​Na’im 2011; Dunn 2015; El Fadl 2015). Since the state is considered responsible for ensuring that its citizens live according to the true principles of sharia, the state must protect society from such individuals (Dunn 2015; An-​Na’-​ im 2011; Yavuz 2011; Maududi 1978). This view, which seeks to protect society from the individual, is fundamentally different from that of liberal democracy, in which civil liberties protect citizens from repression by the state and society (Mayer 2007; An-​Na’-​im 2011; Dunn 2015). As this brief overview highlights, orthodox views on the rights that citizens in MMCs can enjoy are in stark contrast to the liberal civil liberties embodied by the UN human rights declaration discussed earlier. Importantly, the orthodox interpretation is not the only interpretation of sharia. Rather, there is a rich and passionate debate on how to interpret sharia for modern societies using the principle of human reasoning (ijtihād) to support liberal democracy and civil liberties.16 Participants in this debate include not just 16 See, for example, the work of Ahmed 1992; An-​Na’im 2008, 2011; Soroush 1994, 1998; Abou el-​ Fadl 2005; Mir Husseini 2011; and Dunn 2011, among many others.

Introduction  15 orthodox Islamists, who are against the principles of reinterpretation, but also “modernists,” who argue in favor of reinterpreting classical sources for contemporary times in the context of an Islamic society, and “Muslim secularists,” who argue for a separation between the state and religious authorities, with religion as a private activity (Hefner 2011: 6–​10; An-​Na’im 2011; El Fadl 2016; Dunn 2015).17 The range of this debate suggests that politicians and parties looking for religious justifications to support liberal civil liberties can potentially find them in more liberal interpretations of sharia (Mayer 2007; An-​Na’im 2011; El Fadl 2016; Dunn 2015). Furthermore, the long and rich history of Muslim emperors and kings demonstrates that there was no single set of authoritative homogenous practices with regard to governance and law in Islamic societies and neither policies nor law in practice took the strict scripturalist approaches that contemporary traditionalists promote.18 Instead, rulers adopted flexible and tolerant interpretations of sharia and deviated from it in order to accommodate the interests and rights of their diverse populations.19 Such deviations from the strict letter of sharia were never formally written down but were “accepted adaptation of the Sharia” (Vikor 2005: 16). Thus, as Hefner (2011: 20) observes, “One irony of recent efforts to restore the Sharia, then is that the legal imaginary to which its less scholarly proponents rally shows the imprint, not of a thousand years of Islamic legal practice, but of Western positive law and its partner in governance, the high modernist state.” This diversity of perspectives regarding sharia among religious scholars and intellectuals and the rich history of flexible, tolerant, and diverse practices of implementing sharia in societies ruled by Muslim rulers provides religious parties with many potential religiously grounded arguments and historical precedents to support a liberal interpretation of civil liberties that is rooted in Islamic, not Western, tradition. This suggests that religious parties who want to support liberal civil liberties can find religiously acceptable frames to do so. The intriguing question therefore is when religious parties are motivated to do so. Next, I draw on a rich literature analyzing the conditions under which religious parties choose to moderate their ideology, their policies, and their behaviors for insights that can help us answer this question.

17 Abduh Rahman and Madjid are examples of modernists, while Soroush, An-​Na’im, and El Fadl are considered Muslim secularists (Hefner 2011: 6–​10; An-​Na’im 2011; El Fadl 2015; Dunn 2015). 18 Hefner 2011: 19; Ramadan 2009; Kamali 2008; Vikor 2005; Berkey 2003; Lapidus 2003; Zubaida 2003; Bulliet 1994. 19 Hefner 2011; Ramadan 2009; Kamali 2008; Vikor 2005; Berkey 2003; Lapidus 2003; Bulliet 1994.

16  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

When Do Religious Parties Moderate? As political parties, religious parties must choose their ideological platforms, their positions on various policies, and their tactics to attract voters, donors, and supporters and make tactical decisions about whether to ally with other parties. Building on earlier work studying the moderation of leftist parties in Europe and Latin America20 (e.g., Przeworski and Sprague 1986; Huntington 1993; Mainwaring and Scully 2003; Sokhey 2007)  and Christian Democratic parties in Europe (e.g., Kalyvas 1996, 2000; Warner 2000), scholars argue that when religious parties in MMCs choose to participate in elections, their decisions on policies and tactics become increasingly influenced by the many strategic compulsions of electoral politics, and these in turn lead religious parties to moderate their positions on policies.21 The most important such incentives highlighted in extant research are the need to expand a religious party’s voter base beyond its loyal religious partisan base and the temptation to form coalitions with other parties to increase its chances of winning seats and forming governments (Langohr 2001; Schwedler 2006; Yadav 2010; Wickham 2013; Mecham and Hwang 2014). These scholars argue that to accomplish these goals, religious parties must change their traditional positions on policies dear to less religious or secular voters and parties to positions that they will find acceptable. Consequently, religious parties change their positions on many policies from the orthodox doctrinal position they adopted in their founding documents to more moderate positions. This new position may be a genuinely liberal position or the position that is more “normal” (be it liberal or illiberal) in that country’s general party landscape, and parties may adopt moderate positions only for the period of time they find politically expedient (Mecham and Hwang 2014). Other scholars, however, argue that electoral participation can lead to permanent changes in policy positions among religious parties if the new and diverse perspectives they are exposed to through their interactions with diverse voters and parties induce genuine cognitive changes in leaders and members of religious parties (Kurzman and Naqvi 2010; Yadav 2010; Tezcur 2010; Wickham 2013). These arguments therefore suggest that religious parties in MMCs should start modifying their stands on civil liberties to more moderate and less orthodox positions when they enter electoral politics. Research on political parties suggests that this move should become more common as religious parties become bigger in size; become more mainstream; face more competitive elections, particularly 20 For the moderation of socialist and Christian Democratic parties in various contexts see, for example, Przeworski and Sprague 1986; Huntington 1993; Kalyvas 1996, 2000; Warner 2000; Mainwaring and Scully 2003; Sokhey 2007; Grzymala-​Busse 2015; and Driessen 2013. 21 See Schwedler 2016, 2011; Somer 2011; Mecham and Hwang 2014; and Brocker and Künkler 2013 for recent reviews of this extensive literature.

Introduction  17 in their ideological niche; and if they develop poor valence reputations (Adams 2014; Chadi and Orlowski 2012; Somer-​Topcu 2009, 2015). The design of electoral and executive institutions may also strengthen or weaken these incentives as they affect the share of votes parties need to win seats and form governments (Masoud 2014a). However, even when religious parties do decide to moderate their policy positions, they may have strong “red lines” in terms of policies on which they are not willing to compromise their positions (Schwedler 2006; Yadav 2010). After all, too much compromise on policies held dear by a party’s core voters and workers could alienate them from the party (Aldrich 2011; Adams et al. 2014). Importantly, from the perspective of the question this book wishes to address, scholars find that many of these red lines are on policies regarding the freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and the status of religious minorities and women—​ issues that directly impact civil liberties.22 These red lines therefore pose the following important question: what determines where these red lines are for religious parties and when they shift? Extant research argues that factors that can influence which policies parties decide will fall inside or outside these red lines are the presence of charismatic party leaders who can persuade rank-​and-​file members of the legitimacy and political viability of new policy positions (Yadav 2010), the organizational willingness of religious parties to hold open internal debates to determine their platforms (Yadav 2010; Schwedler 2006; Wickham 2004), and clientelistic rather than ideological foundations of voter attachment to religious parties (Lust 2009; Blaydes 2010; Gerges 2013; Corstange 2012; Wegner2017). These analyses are consistent with findings from a larger literature on political parties that argues that the level of internal party democracy and public opinion are highly influential in shaping the policy platforms of political parties.23 However, surprisingly, a set of actors that the larger literature argues is central to policymaking and party politics in most regimes—​special interest groups—​has received less attention in the analyses of religious parties. Like all other political parties, religious political parties need money, managerial and policy expertise, volunteers, and permanent staff to run their organizations, organize competitive campaigns, turn out voters, draft policy positions and bills, and challenge the policies of others. Non-religious parties obtain these vital resources from a wide variety of interest groups, including business associations and chambers, labor unions, women’s groups, environmental groups, professional associations, and so on. To build and maintain their relationship 22 See Mahmoudi 2016; Masoud 2013; Brown and Hamzawy 2010; Ottoway and Hamzawy 2010; Yadav 2010; Schwedler 2006, 2011. 23 See, for example, Dalton 2014; Ceron 2016; Hellwig 2012; Heaney 2010; Scarrow 2004; Adams et al. 2004.

18  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties with parties, these interest groups use tactics from a repertoire that includes inside lobbying tactics (donating money, sharing technical policy information and political intelligence) and outside lobbying tactics (sponsoring media ads and campaigns and holding public rallies and demonstrations by members and supporters).24 Parties that receive these valuable political assets from interest groups and win elected office can reciprocate in a variety of ways. They can provide allied interest groups with preferential access to the policymaking and policy implementation processes, appoint personnel favored by interest group allies to influential positions in government, and sponsor laws and policies that favor these groups.25 The more dependent parties are on specific interest groups, the more likely these groups are to gain influence over the policies and tactics parties adopt and over internal party decisions, such as the choice of the party’s election candidates, organizational leaders, and even party leaders (Kolodny and Dwyer 2017; Desmarais et al. 2014; Bawn et al. 2012; Warner 2000). This research finds that powerful interest groups could influence whether parties hold an internal debate on certain policies, whether internal elections are held fairly or held at all, and who holds influential positions in the party leadership. Recall that these are the factors that existing research on moderation of religious parties suggests influences which policy issues are considered red lines by such parties. There is no a priori reason to believe that religious parties would be in less need of politically valuable assets than other parties if they want to be competitive in their country’s politics. If so, their policy positions could also be influenced by the policy agenda of the interest groups that choose to offer them resources such as funds, volunteers, staff, expertise, and media exposure or to pressure them using outside lobbying tactics such as protests and media attacks (Kalyvas 1996; Warner 2000; Htun 2009; Hagopan 2009; Braun-​Poppelaars and Hanegraff 2011; Gryzmala-​Busse 2015, 2016). This extensive body of research on the relationships between parties and special interest groups therefore suggests that if we want to understand when and why religious parties change their policy positions to become more supportive of liberal civil liberties or why they choose not to change their positions, we need to ask a new set of questions: what kind of interest groups do religious parties typically receive these political resources from? What are the policy agendas of these special interest groups? When are parties able to resist the policy demands of these groups, and when are they unable to do so? 24 See de Figuerido and Richter 2014; Lowery 2013; Hojnacki et al. 2012; Yadav 2011; Baumgartner et al. 2009; Duvanova 2007; and Frye 2000 for extensive discussions of these tactics and the conditions under which they are used and are more effective. 25 This is an extensive literature; see de Figuerido and Richter 2014; Lowery 2013; Hojnacki et al. 2012; Yadav 2011; and Baumgartner et al. 2009 for more recent discussions.

Introduction  19 Extant literatures in political science, sociology, and anthropology have examined the beliefs and practices of various types of ROs in MMCs, such as Sufi orders; da ‘wa organizations; Islamic student, professional, labor, and women’s associations; and charitable foundations.26 How these different organizations engage with their political systems to lobby for the institutional and policy goals they seek, including regarding civil liberties, has received less attention. As I discuss extensively in c­ hapter 2, using the theoretical lens of special interest group lobbying to understand the politics of civil liberties offers us several advantages. First, social movements theories that have informed the majority of studies on Islamic ROs and special interest group theories have different theoretical strengths. Social movements are “networks of informal interactions between a plurality of individuals, groups and/​or organizations” forged “on the basis of a shared collective identity” (Diani 1992: 3), but the individual participants in a social movement are autonomous entities with their own organization-​specific institutional interests and policy interests (Della Porta and Diani 2006; McAdam and Tarrow 2013; Mair 2013; Hunter, Kriesi, and Lorenzini 2018). While different interest organizations may come together as part of a social movement to advocate for shared policy interests, their institutional interests do not overlap and, in fact, are often directly opposed to each other. For example, consider the political Islam movement in Egypt and Pakistan. Broadly speaking, the Muslim Brotherhood, various Salafi da ‘wa organizations, individual Salafi preachers such as Muhammed Maqsoud and Safwat Hegazy, almost 80 Sufi orders, TV preachers such as al-​Qaradawi and Mohammed Hassan, institutions such as Al-​Azhar, and a plethora of religious parties are all considered part of the Egyptian movement to revive Islam and to realize a genuine sharia-​based state and society (Cesari 2018; Hamid 2014; Hashemi 2009; Bayat 2007b). Despite these shared policy goals, organizations such as the Muslim Brotherhood, various Salafi organizations such as Salafi Dawa, and many Sufi orders have a long history of being direct rivals for followers, donors, and state patronage (Hamid 2014; Hoffman 2014; Brown and Hamzawy 2009). Similarly, in Pakistan various Sufi orders, Sufi organizations such as the Minhaj-​ul-​Quran and Dawat-​e-​Islami, Deobandi organizations such as the Tablighi Jamaat, and Salafi organizations such as Ahle Hadith and Markaz Da ‘Wa Wal Irshad, along with prominent TV preachers such as Aamir Liaqat Hussein, Junaid Jamshed, and Farhat Hashmi and more than 25 religious political parties form the larger Islamic movement (Rana 2011; Khan 2011; Philippon 2014a). Again, while Pakistani ROs share a common goal of realizing an orthodox sharia-​based state,

26 See, for example, Gilsenen 1967; Trimingham 1976; Hoffman 1995, 2013; Westerlund and Svanberg 1999; Vikor 2000; Schulze 2000; Hedin et al. 2004; Kramer 2003; Bayat 2007b, 2013; Howell 2012; Howell and van Bruinessen 2007.

20  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties they have long been bitter rivals for followers, public status, resources, and state patronage (Rana 2011; Khan 2011; Jalal 2017). Importantly, such rivalries between ROs are common across MMCs and form an intrinsic feature of the strategic environment that ROs operate in in these countries.27 Protecting and pursuing their own institutional interests in these competitive environments is vital for the survival of ROs and for strengthening their resource base and public reach (Gill 1998; Warner 2000; Hojnacki et al. 2012; Lowery 2013; Gryzmala-​Busse 2015). In turn, ROs’ institutional strength directly affects their capacity to realize their own organization’s policy goals. The more competition there is between ROs in a country, the more important securing institutional interests will be to a group’s survival and policy success. ROs must also compete against other interest groups, such as business associations, labor unions, and women’s groups, among others, to secure the attention and loyalty of followers and influence policy. Furthermore, most governments, including those in MMCs, regulate ROs extensively and selectively allocate valuable public resources and policy access to preferred groups (Pew 2016: 68–​72).28 For all of these reasons, we should expect that ROs should actively lobby governments and elected officials not just to influence policy, but also to secure their institutional interests. Importantly, they should do so as individual organizations, not as a larger social movement, since another organization’s gain in funding or patronage could come at their expense. Since the institutional capacity of ROs determines the political resources and benefits they can offer to political parties, understanding the determinants of ROs’ institutional capacity should in turn help us understand the willingness and ability of religious parties to accommodate the policy interests of ROs. This suggests that the relationship between religious parties and ROs should be shaped significantly by the nature and magnitude of ROs’ institutional interests and the capacity of political parties to meet ROs’ institutional needs. Interest group theories offer a rich body of research to understand precisely this dynamic. For this reason, insights from the lobbying literature have been fruitfully applied to the study of ROs, including to churches by Gryzmala-​Busse (2015), Braun-​Poppelaars and Hanegraff (2011), Warner (2000), and Kalyvas (1996) in Europe; Elgar (2014), Htun (2003, 2009), and Hagopian (2009) in Latin America; Dowd (2015) and Kuperus (1999) in Africa; and in American politics (e.g., Adkins, Layman, and Campbell 2013; Herzke 1988, 2010; Yamane 27 See Eickelman and Piscatori 1996; Vikor 2000; Voll 2007; Villalon 2010; Driessen 2012; Howell 2012; Werenfels 2014; Hamid 2014, 2018; Cesari 2018. 28 This study of 198 countries found that 89% had mandatory registration for ROs, and in 54% such procedures affected organizations adversely; in 96% of countries ROs received government favors, but in 74%, government favors only went to select organizations (Pew 2016: 68) and in 88% governments provided funds to ROs, but in 67% governments displayed favoritism in allocating funds (Pew 2016: 69). See also Finke 2013.

Introduction  21 2006). While research on Islamic movements has offered rich insights into the interactions between movements and governments in pursuit of collective movement goals, interest groups theories seem more suited for understanding how the individual ROs that participate in Islamic social movements pursue their own specific institutional interests. The second advantage of using this approach is that it helps us to understand the political preferences and tactics not just of ROs that form their own parties, but importantly of the vast majority of ROs that do not from their own parties but are actively involved in politics and policy advocacy and in securing their institutional interests. It is vital to remember that even though most scholarly attention has understandably focused on the largest ROs, such as the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt and the Nahdlatul Ulama in Indonesia, which have their own political parties, the vast majority of ROs in any country do not have their own party. This means that most ROs choose which party to lobby and build relationships with. For example, in Egypt by the 2011 elections, the majority of ROs did not create their own political parties (Ottoway 2011; Brown 2012). The range of religious parties they could choose from included multiple Salafi parties, such as al-​Nour, al-​Asala, and al-​Fadila; two prominent Sufi parties, the Sawt al-​Hurriya and Tahrir al-​Misri; and even multiple parties associated with the Muslim Brotherhood’s ideology, including the Freedom and Justice Party, al-​ Wasat, al-​Tayyar al-​Masry, and al-​Reyada (Ottoway 2011). Since these ROs can command funds, media assets, and followers that could translate into votes and volunteers, their ability to choose which party benefits from these resources gives them significant bargaining power with religious and non-religious parties. Even political parties with close ties to established ROs, such as the Freedom and Justice Party and the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt and the National Awakening Party (PKB) and the Nahdlatul Ulama in Indonesia, have found that the resource wealth of their sister organizations is dwarfed by the sheer amount of resources needed to compete in elections and in politics (Masoud 2014b; Hamid 2014: 175; Barton 2011; Tanuwidjaja 2010). Consequently, they have reached out aggressively to other ROs, including ideological rivals, to secure more of these valuable political assets (Masoud 2014a; Hamid 2014: 175; Barton 2011; Tanuwidjaja 2010). While we can expect that religious parties founded by ROs will actively champion their ROs’ institutional and policy interests, the leverage of the book’s theory comes from exploiting an interest group approach to explain when and why even parties with loose formal ties or no organizational ties to ROs will nevertheless find it in their interest to champion ROs’ interests and may be effectively constrained by the ROs’ policy agendas, and when ROs may not find religious parties useful for their purposes. For the reasons discussed here, I  believe that to explain the policy choices and behaviors of religious parties, we must take into account their

22  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties interactions with ROs regarding policy and institutional interests of ROs and that the literature on special interest group politics offers valuable theoretical leverage in analyzing these choices when it comes to civil liberties. A handful of studies have examined the relationships between specific ROs and specific religious parties, for example, the Muslim Brotherhood and Salafi Dawa in Egypt, and the parties they founded and the Jamaat-​e-​Islami in Pakistan and the party it founded.29 However, to the best of my knowledge, a systematic examination of the lobbying behavior of organized religious groups and their impact on policies for the comprehensive set of all MMCs has not yet been undertaken. A key reason for this, perhaps, has been the challenge of identifying who the relevant organized religious actors in MMCs are. Islam does not have the equivalent of a supranational authority such as the Vatican or a clear hierarchy at the domestic level such as a national church (Bayat 2007b; Hefner 2011; An-​Na’im 2011). Thus, there is no self-​evident institutional actor such as the church whose actions scholars can focus on in MMCs. Furthermore, none of the MMCs legally regulate lobbyists or lobbying practices (OECD 2013). Thus, there is no available database that can be used to identify the religious groups that are active in these countries, as scholars have done to study religious advocacy in the United States. Therefore, in order to address questions about ROs’ institutional capacity and their influence over civil liberties, one must first identify the relevant organized religious actors in these countries. This book takes one step in this vast agenda by identifying these religious actors and then analyzing the factors that shape their institutional capacity to exert influence over religious parties. This in turn, allows us to examine the impact their relationships with religious parties have on de facto civil liberties in MMCs. Next, I provide a brief summary of the arguments explaining who the appropriate religious actors to focus on in MMCs are and present the theoretical arguments articulating their effects on civil liberties.

Brief Summary of the Theoretical Framework In order to address the question posed in this book—​whether the success of religious parties leads to a decline in civil liberties in MMCs—​I pose and answer three questions: who are the relevant religious interest groups in MMCs and what are their policy and institutional interests? What shapes the strength of the relationship between these religious interest groups and religious parties in MMCs? 29 For example, see Wickham 2004, 2013; Schwedler 2006; Nasr 1996, 2005; Grare 2001; Yadav 2010.

Introduction  23 What are the consequences of this relationship for the ability of religious parties to moderate or not when it comes to policies and tactics, including civil liberties? In this book, I argue that those da ‘wa organizations and Sufi orders that are nongovernmental, private ROs, have a national presence, and are led by individuals who are nationally prominent civic figures in their countries are the relevant religious interest groups in MMCs.30 These ROs satisfy the definition of formal special interest groups, as they comprise individuals with shared interests, have formal rules of membership and operations, and work to advance the interests of their members.31 These ROs have clear ideological doctrines that favor more orthodox interpretations of sharia, and their beliefs have in turn translated into concrete policy positions on the role of government, the legal system, and a range of social and economic policies, including civil liberties.32 Importantly, as ­chapter 2 discusses in detail, considerable evidence shows that these ROs actively seek out and lobby political actors, including political parties, using inside and outside lobbying tactics to protect their institutional and policy interests.33

Religious Party-​RO Alliances and the Socioeconomic Institutionalization of ROs ROs’ success in gaining favorable outcomes will depend crucially on (i) finding political allies who are ideologically and strategically inclined to support their goals and (ii) possessing politically valuable assets that can be used to persuade potential political allies to champion ROs’ interests. Shared ideology provides a common and strong foundation for interest groups and parties to build relationships on (Grossman and Helpman 2000; Herzke 2010). Given their religious platform, religious parties are the most natural ideological allies for ROs (Grzymala-​Busse 2015; Hagopian 2009; Htun 2009; Warner 2000; Kalyvas 1996; Baumgartner et al. 2009). Like all political parties, religious parties need vital political resources such as funds, professional staff, volunteer, media exposure, political intelligence, policy expertise, and so on. However, non-religious civil 30 Da ‘wa organizations are missionary organizations founded to revive Islamic beliefs among Muslims and propagate them among non-​Muslims (Bayat 2000). Sufi orders are religious orders built around a founding figure, a religious teacher, who provides guidance and inspiration for followers (Vikor 2000). 31 See Becker 1983; Grossman and Helpman 2000; Nownes 2006; Herzke 2010; Grzymala-​Busse 2015; Braun-​Poppelaars and Hanegraff 2011; Hagopian 2009; Warner 2000. 32 Chapter 2 will discuss these details and variations among these groups in more detail. See Vikor 2000; Nasr 2001; Lapidus 2003; Kramer 2003; Westerlund and Svanbarg 2004; Hedin et al. 2004; Voll and Esposito 1996; Hefner 2011; Howell 2012; Hicks 2013; Rubin 2014; Schulze 2014. 33 See Eickelman and Piscatori 1996; Vikor 2000; Nasr 2001; Lapidus 2003; Kramer 2003; Westerlund and Svanbarg 2004; Hedin et al. 2004; Voll and Esposito 1996; Hefner 2011; Howell 2012; Hicks 2013; Rubin 2014; Schulze 2014; Werenfels 2014.

24  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties society organizations typically have either hostile or ambiguous attitudes toward religious parties and non-​religious parties exhibit the same attitudes toward ROs, making potential allies scarce for both religious parties and ROs (Beinin and Vairel 2013; Hamzawy and Brown 2010; Ottoway and Hamzawy 2010; Abdelrahman 2007). These practical strategic realities reinforce the ideological bond between religious parties and ROs. ROs are therefore highly motivated to provide these valuable resources to religious parties if they have them. For these reasons, I argue that religious parties will find it in their own strategic interest to invest in ROs’ institutional growth when they can. In ­chapter 3, I argue that religious parties find such an opportunity when (i) the country is hit by an inflation crisis and (ii) they form a concentrated legislative bloc in parliament.34 Unlike a recession or an exchange rate crisis, an inflation crisis affects citizens across class, ethnic, religious, and regional lines (Fischer 1993; Barro 1995; Easterly and Fisher 2001; Gupta and Uwilingiye 2008), creating a serious political threat for ruling parties in democracies and autocracies, particularly from religious parties (Grewal et al. 2019; de la O and Rodden 2008). Ruling coalitions therefore look for immediate and effective ways to meet citizen needs in order to protect their own political base and reduce political support for competitors. When religious parties form a concentrated legislative bloc, they pose a more serious political threat to the incumbent and are able to exert more legislative influence. In the context of an inflationary crisis, this concentrated religious bloc champions ROs as an effective tool the ruling coalition can use to address inflation-​related political concerns. This is a persuasive argument because ROs are typically active in meeting educational and welfare needs in society on some scale at all times and already possess organizational capacity and expertise in these areas. In the context of the potential political threat posed by an inflationary crisis and a concentrated legislative religious parties bloc, non-religious ruling parties support laws and policies that allow ROs to expand the scale and sectoral scope of their organizational activities in order to meet these threats. As a result, Hypothesis 1 postulates, ROs are able to increase their organizational penetration into society by increasing the scale of their existing educational and welfare operations and by entering and expanding their presence in nontraditional activities, including the private business and media sectors. I refer to this expansion by ROs as the socioeconomic institutionalization (SEI) of ROs. In the absence of an inflation crisis, non-religious governments and parties do not face a serious political threat that needs to be addressed by supporting

34 An inflation crisis is commonly defined in the macroeconomic literature as an inflation rate that is higher than two-​standard deviations from that country’s long-​term mean (Easterly and Fischer 2001; Barro and Sala-​i-​Martin 1995).

Introduction  25 Low Legislative Seat Concentration

High Legislative Seat Concentration

HIGH Inflation (Inflation Crisis)

LOW Inflation

HIGH RO Socioeconomic Institutionalization

Rel. Parties in Government

Civil Liberties Decline

Non-Rel. Parties in Government

HIGH Inflation (Inflation crisis)

LOW Inflation

LOW RO Socioeconomic Institutionalization

Rel. Parties in Government

Non-Rel. Parties in Government

No Effect on Civil Liberties

Figure 1.3  Illustration of the theoretical argument

ROs’ expansion (Corollary 1). If the legislature lacks a concentrated religious-​ party bloc during an inflationary crisis, non-religious incumbents will not perceive religious parties as a viable threat and will not court ROs to neutralize them (Corollary 2). When both conditions are absent, religious parties have no capacity to push for policies favorable to ROs, and non-religious parties have no reasons to enact such policies either. Hence, the SEI of ROs will stay low under these three conditions. The top half of figure 1.3 summarizes these arguments and the outcomes these different conditions result in.

The Decline of Civil Liberties When religious parties participate in government, either as part of a coalition or as a single party, they are in a position to use their legislative influence to pass bills that enact policies and institutional changes consistent with their religious agenda, to use their appointment powers to stack government agencies with

26  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties religiously committed appointees, and to use their budgetary powers to favor public agencies, private actors, and civil society groups that share their agenda. However, as moderation theory suggests, religious parties in office become more willing to accept a status quo which includes the free exercise of basic civil liberties and more willing to create and support a legal and political system which protects these rights for both tactical and ideological reasons (Schwedler 2006, 2011; Somer 2011; Wickham 2013; Tezcur 2010; Wegner and Pellicor 2009; Langohr 2001; Mecham and Hwang 2014). However, ROs whose agenda remains unchanged, now have high expectations that their religious policy agenda will be finally implemented by the religious parties they have previously supported. Moderation by religious parties that results in the lack of progress on a shared religiously inspired policy agenda is not a desirable or acceptable outcome from the point of ROs. I argue that ROs will therefore act aggressively to counter the incentives parties face to moderate, but their ability to do so successfully will depend strongly on the political value of their assets. When ROs are highly socioeconomically institutionalized, in addition to moral legitimacy they control a powerful portfolio of assets that can be used to support or undermine political actors. More extensive education and welfare networks expand the number of beneficiaries and followers who can be mobilized and influenced by RO leaders to support or oppose religious parties. Owning businesses gives ROs the capacity to fund election campaigns and party organizations, generate economic outcomes that make the government’s economic performance look good or bad, and provide patronage for party workers. Media assets, particularly television channels and radio stations, allow ROs to offer parties a friendly public platform that can be used to reach a national audience and to frame the actions and policies of parties in ways that benefit them politically. Since all these assets can be offered to rival parties instead, the opportunity cost of alienating ROs can be very high for religious parties. As a result, in countries where ROs are highly socioeconomically institutionalized, religious parties in the government will face a set of organized lobbies willing and able to wield a powerful set of carrots and sticks to ensure that religious parties stick to their shared agenda of curbing liberal civil liberties in line with religious beliefs. This will compel religious parties to reduce civil liberties through change in de jure laws and in de facto practices. Consequently, I hypothesize, in c­ hapter 3, that when religious parties are in government and ROs are highly socioeconomically institutionalized, the level of civil liberties enjoyed by citizens in that country will decline. In contrast, in countries where ROs are weakly institutionalized socioeconomically, they will lack the assets necessary to successfully pressure religious parties, and, consequently, religious parties will find it more beneficial to moderate their positions on civil liberties (Corollary 1). When ROs are highly

Introduction  27 institutionalized but there are no religious parties in office, ROs will lack a political partner willing to legislate and reliably implement a policy agenda of curbing civil liberties for religious reasons (Corollary 2). When both conditions are absent, both religious parties and ROs lack the ability to implement their civil liberties agenda. Importantly, as this argument highlights, the mere ascent to power by religious parties will not necessarily lead to a decline in the civil liberties that citizens enjoy in a country. Rather, as the bottom half of figure 1.3 illustrates, ceteris paribus, it is only when religious parties are in government and ROs are highly socioeconomically institutionalized that civil liberties will decline.

Empirical Research Design I adopt a multi-​methodological approach to test Hypotheses 1 and 2, the corollaries associated with each of these two hypotheses, and the causal arguments I  have presented. To test the generalizability of both hypotheses, I  use a new time-​series cross section dataset of all 49 MMCs from 1970 to 2016. In this data set, I develop and present an original ordinal measure of ROs’ SEI that measures the extent of their participation in the education, welfare, business, and media sectors; expand substantially on Kurzman and Naqvi’s 2015 data set on the electoral participation of religious parties in MMCs; and provide new data that records the participation of religious parties in government in these countries.35 I also use multiple measures of civil liberties, the key dependent variable in the analysis. To test Hypotheses 1 and 2 and their corollaries, I estimate a variety of ordered probit models that account for temporal dynamics, serial correlation, and country-​specific heterogeneity in the Muslim-​majority country-​year sample. I explicitly control for alternative explanations and employ different estimation techniques that address potential econometric issues such as endogeneity of political liberalization in autocracies to inflationary crisis and potential bias due to selection of countries into being more inclusive of religious parties and supporting liberal civil liberties. The statistical results are robust and strongly support the predictions in Hypotheses 1 and 2 and their corollaries. The theoretical arguments presented in this book focus on elite behavior, that is, the effects of ROs on politicians and parties. However, data to test these mechanisms at this appropriate level are simply not available for any country. In the absence of such data at a cross-​country level, I adopt a comparative case study of two carefully selected cases—​Turkey and Pakistan—​and use a “within-​ subjects” design to test the validity of the causal mechanisms articulated in both 35 As described in c­ hapter 4, the temporal and cross-​sectional range of my sample of MMCs is determined by the availability of data for the dependent and independent variables.

28  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties hypotheses in this book. Turkey and Pakistan offer many advantages as cases. As discussed in detail in the research design section in c­ hapter 4, these two countries share many features that existing theories argue influence civil liberties. Importantly, both countries exhibit considerable variation over time in the key independent variables in my theory—​inflation rates, the legislative concentration of religious parties, SEI, and the presence of religious parties in government. Furthermore, both countries have gone through periods of democracy and autocracy. This is a characteristic that is shared by many MMCs. These features—​ within-​case variation in the theoretically relevant parameters and variation in regime—​therefore allow us to evaluate the validity of the causal mechanisms in both democratic and autocratic contexts while minimizing variation in unobservable country-​level factors.36 I use open-​ended interviews with party leaders, RO leaders, bar associations, journalists, and human rights groups, among others; elite-​level data from original surveys of political elites conducted in 2017 and 2018; as well as qualitative and quantitative data from secondary sources to evaluate the theoretical mechanisms. These cases collectively provide strong support for Hypotheses 1 and 2 and all their corollaries.

Book Outline Chapters 2 and 3 are devoted to developing the book’s central theoretical framework. In ­chapter 2, I discuss the strategic challenges that religious parties face in order to survive and succeed politically in MMCs. The rest of the chapter then discusses the characteristics, theoretical distinctiveness, as well as the institutional and policy preferences of national private ROs in MMCs. It introduces the concept of socioeconomic institutionalization, discusses why ROs desire to increase it, and how increased SEI translates into increased capacity and effectiveness in lobbying for ROs. Chapter 3 then presents the main theoretical arguments of this book. I first develop my theoretical argument explaining why ROs experience an increase in their institutionalization when a country is experiencing an inflationary crisis and there is a concentrated bloc of religious parties in parliament and why the absence of even one of these conditions undermines the chances for their increased institutionalization. This argument leads to the prediction in Hypothesis 1 and its two corollaries. Next, I analyze why religious parties are compelled or not to curb liberal civil liberties when they are in government. Hypothesis 2 predicts that this happens only when religious parties are operating in the political context 36 Also referred to as a “within-​subjects” design. See Gerring 2005, 2007; McDermott 2002; and Kinder and Palfrey 1993 for further discussions of this technique.

Introduction  29 of highly socioeconomically institutionalized ROs. In the absence of institutionalized ROs, religious parties find it politically expedient to moderate their positions on civil liberties, with the result that their presence in government does not lead to a significant religiously-​motivated decline in civil liberties. Chapter 4 begins the empirical analysis in this book by presenting the details of the research design adopted to test the two hypotheses and their associated corollaries and evaluate the validity of the causal arguments presented in c­ hapters 2 and 3. The rest of the chapter introduces the new measure of RO institutionalization and the sample and presents results from the large-​N statistical tests to evaluate Hypothesis 1 and its corollaries. Chapter 5 presents the statistical results from models testing support for Hypothesis 2 and its corollaries. Chapters  6 through 10 then provide in-​depth analysis of the cases of Turkey and Pakistan. Chapters 6 and 7 evaluate the support for Hypothesis 1 and its corollaries for Turkey and Pakistan, respectively. Chapters 8 and 9 then evaluate the support for Hypothesis 2 and its corollaries for Turkey and Pakistan, respectively. In the concluding chapter, I summarize the main findings presented in this book and discuss their theoretical and empirical contributions to research on the politics of religious parties, religious interest groups, and civil liberties in MMCs. I present some evidence that suggests that the insights from this book can travel to countries other than MMCs. Finally, I discuss how understanding the dynamics of religious interest group lobbying may help us better understand policy choices and outcomes in diverse areas, such as democratic backsliding, judicial independence, and environmental policies. The appendix presents detailed descriptions of the data sources used for this project and the sample and methodology used for the elite surveys, provides the full survey questions used in the case studies, and reports some key characteristics of the sample of political parties surveyed.

2

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations The Fruits of Partnership

When citizens, scholars, and policymakers discuss the impact of religious parties on democracy, it is often their impact on nonprocedural aspects of democracy, particularly civil rights, that cause the most debate. Yet, as discussed in the introduction, scholarly research has yet to focus on the actors that policymakers and activists argue play a considerable role in shaping the civil liberties practiced in societies—​civil society interest groups. Civil society in MMCs, however, is dominated by religious organizations whose work is either tied directly to the propagation and revival of Islam or inspired by religious principles.1 The liberal civil society groups that policymakers and scholars have credited with bringing about democratic change and consolidation of democratic values and behaviors in Central and Eastern Europe and Latin America are weak, alienated, and unpopular organizations in MMCs, and their democratic potential in MMCs has been questioned as well (Jamal 2007).2 Conversely, religious civil society groups are genuinely embedded in these societies and are highly respected by most citizens. Research on special interest groups suggests that these groups should be actively pursuing their institutional and policy goals by lobbying political parties, including religious parties. In this chapter, I focus on the nature of the interactions between religious political parties and religious groups, the special interest groups that I argue are most relevant for understanding the nature and extent of lobbying pressures religious parties face with respect to civil liberties in MMCs. I begin by discussing the severity of the challenge that religious political parties face in mobilizing resources and support for their parties and the range of options they have for meeting these resource challenges. The next section then identifies and discusses religious organizations as the key set of interest groups in

1 Mecham 2017; Cammett and Luong 2014; Beinin and Vairel 2013; Brown 2012; Abdelrahman 2007; Piro 2001. 2 Mecham 2017; Cammett and Luong 2014; Beinin and Vairel 2013; Brown 2012; Abdelrahman 2007. Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties. Vineeta Yadav, Oxford University Press (2021). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197545362.003.0002

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  31 MMCs that have both the motive and the means to influence the agenda of religious parties regarding civil liberties. The rest of the chapter then discusses who these organizations are, their policy and institutional interests, and the factors that shape their alliances with political parties. In ­chapter 3, I build on this foundation to present the full theoretical framework explaining when the relationship between these ROs and religious parties leads religious parties to adopt and implement policies that lead to a decline in civil liberties, and when it doesn’t do so.

Political Challenges That Religious Parties Face Religious parties in MMCs face many of the same challenges that non-religious political parties in their own countries face in running for elections, serving in parliament and in office, and running their organizations. Parties must raise funds to finance a variety of organizational expenses as well as election campaigns. They must acquire political intelligence about voters and their preferences and about their rivals, and acquire technical and substantive expertise in various policy issues and in the procedural aspects of policymaking and implementation. They must also develop and finance their organizational ability to communicate their message and platforms effectively to wide audiences and the expertise and capacity to mobilize supporters, members, and the general public in supporting their goals. In addition to these tasks, religious parties face specific challenges because of their character as religious parties. In studies of voting behaviors in MMCs, scholars find that voters vote for religious parties primarily for three reasons: to access clientelistic goods, to protest the incumbent regime and its policies, and to have their own ideological and policy preferences represented in government and policies. Clientelism is a feature of politics in almost all MMCs, as it is in many other parts of the world (Blaydes 2010; Gerges 2013; Corstange 2016; Lust 2009; Jamal 2007). In this landscape, voters cast their votes for the political party they believe can provide them with the best access to clientelistic goods and services. Clientelistic goods and services can include free or subsidized education and healthcare, access to cheap credit, jobs, donations, food, clothes, bureaucratic access, and so on. As long as religious parties can provide voters with such clientelistic goods, voters may choose to reward them with their votes (Blaydes 2010; Gerges 2013; Corstange 2016; Lust 2009). This line of argument suggests that the ability to credibly demonstrate that they can reliably supply voters with desirable clientelistic goods, especially relative to the ability of incumbents and other parties in the system to do so, may be of vital political importance to religious parties in MMCs. Other scholars have noted that religious parties have most frequently been founded as opposition groups and have therefore tended to attract the support

32  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties of voters who want to protest the incumbent regime and its policies (Mecham and Chernov-​Hwang 2014). This suggests that the ability to keep voter sentiment against the government riled up will be especially important for the electoral success of religious parties. To accomplish this, religious parties must have access to good communication tools through various networks that allow them to reach out into different socioeconomic communities. Access to the general media is likely to be especially crucial since it allows religious parties to reach non-religious voters and constituents who may not be in their party or social networks. Finally, voters may vote for religious parties because they genuinely believe that these parties represent their ideological beliefs, values, and policy preferences (Wegner and Cavavorta 2016). As scholars have observed, the divide between those who want to see their society and state organized to promote and reflect Islamic values and those want to see society structured on secular liberal principles is deep and highly polarizing (Brown 2012; Hamzawy and Ottoway 2010; Haqqani 2008; Abdelrahman 2007). These social divisions are reflected in the wide array of parties that organize to promote these distinct social and political visions in their agendas (Lynch 2010a; Masoud 2014a; Brown, Hamzawy and Ottoway 2006). Religious parties hope to win the votes of voters who are strongly committed to realizing a religious vision in their country. Since their religious credentials are their defining and most politically valuable feature in the political landscape of these societies, especially for these voters, the legitimacy of these credentials and the moral authority it provides them with is a crucial asset for religious parties (Lynch 2016; Masoud 2014a; Voll 2007). Accordingly, ensuring that their reputation as unimpeachably religious and dedicated to the religious cause is vital to the ability of religious parties to attract supporters, resources, and votes. Distinguishing their commitment to the Islamist agenda from that of other parties, especially center-​right parties, may be particularly important if other parties respond to the presence of religious parties by attempting to appropriate policies from the Islamist agenda into their own platforms (Hamid 2014). The important question then is, how do religious parties strategize to meet the challenges they face as political parties and as religious political parties in particular? Where can they hope to raise the funds and find the political and policy expertise and access to communication networks they need? How can they acquire the ability to dispense clientelistic goods, burnish their religious credentials, and reach out to seek the support of voters who may not necessarily share their worldview? In societies polarized along religious and secular worldviews, religious parties are unlikely to receive material or moral support from those opposed to their religious worldview (Masoud 2014a; Brown 2012; Yadav 2013; Lynch 2011, 2013). This makes it unlikely that left-​leaning labor unions, rent-​seeking business associations, or liberal advocacy groups will support them. Instead, their

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  33 allies are most likely to be found among other religious actors who share their vision and could potentially offer them some of the resources and assets they need. In the case of countries with dominant churches in Central and Eastern Europe (Grzymala-​Busse 2015, 2016; Warner 2000; Kalyvas 1996), in Latin America (Htun 2003, 2009; Hagopian 2005, 2009; Mainwaring and Scully 2003), and Africa (Dowd 2016; Kuperus 2013), scholars have focused on the institutional and policy interests of this church and its interactions with political parties and the incumbent government. In countries where multiple churches command large and significant congregations, for example, the United States and Canada, scholars have focused on the lobbying interests and strategies of churches, congregations, and the professional lobbyists sometimes hired by them (Grzymala-​Busse 2015, 2016; Warner 2000; Herzke 2004, 2010; Yamane 2005). The challenge in MMCs is that there is no such hegemonic or clearly identifiable institutional actor whose interests and activities scholars can focus their attention on (An-​Na’im 2011; El Fadl 2015; Lapidus 2002). In order to understand how religious actors are influencing political actors and policies especially regarding civil liberties, we need to first identify the religious actors relevant to the politics of these countries, and their institutional and policy goals, and then analyze their actions and their impact on civil liberties in MMCs. There are two categories of actors that could potentially be the relevant foci of our analysis—​individual religious leaders and religious organizations. Many imams of individual mosques, national and transnational religious media personalities, and popular religious leaders are highly influential among ordinary citizens and may command considerable moral authority among them (Eickelman and Piscatori 1996; Lapidus 2002; Schulze 2002). The rise of cable television has led to the rise of influential public intellectuals such as Yusuf al-​ Qaradawi, Zakir Naik, Abdullah Gymnastiar, and Tareq al-​Suwaidan, who have international audiences and recognition (Moll 2010, 2017; Kocamaner 2017; Azam 2016). These personalities have the ability to influence the public debate regarding the role of Islam and its relationship to liberal civil liberties in many societies. However, they lack the organizational and grassroots infrastructure to follow up on their media messages to mobilize elites or citizens and actively pursue their political positions in the political arena (Lynch 2017; Moll 2010, 2017; Kocamaner 2017; Azam 2016). Furthermore, they lack the organizational infrastructure and resources—​financial and logistical—​to mobilize public support on a scale that could influence regime policies and behaviors (Westerlund et al. 1999; Lapidus 2002). Thus, individual religious leaders and personalities seem unlikely to be the appropriate actors for understanding the influence of religion on politics in MMCs. The second category of religious interests of potential relevance for politics is that of organized religious groups. The range of civil society groups established

34  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties on religious principles is vast, ranging from groups that focus only on charitable work, education, and women’s rights, for example, to powerful multifunctional organizations led by charismatic religious leaders.3 Scholars consistently find that the vast majority of these groups are explicitly apolitical in their actions and goals and are reticent about taking public positions on the role of Islam in society, in law, and in state institutions.4 The exceptions are religious organizations that pursue Islamic revival defined in terms of both personal spiritual revival and social renewal through the institutionalization of Islamic laws and practices in the state (Mecham 2017; Lapidus 2002; Eickelman and Piscatori 1996). These organizations potentially possess the attributes that influential religious actors in other religions often possess, including moral authority, financial resources, and extensive social networks, among other assets.5 It is also well established that they have been among the most prominent participants in social movements mobilizing on the basis of political Islam in MMCs.6 This combination of means and motives, I  will argue in the next section, suggests that these are the religious actors whose institutional and policy goals and whose assets and lobbying strategies we need to analyze in order to understand the design and conduct of civil liberties by political parties in MMCs.

Religious Organizations In this book I focus on nongovernmental religious organizations founded for the purpose of inspiring an Islamic revival among Muslims, as the key religious actors of interest for the analysis of the politics regarding civil liberties in MMCs. The most common and the most prominent organizations that comprise this category of religious actors are da ‘wa organizations and Sufi orders. As I discuss subsequently, these organizations share four key characteristics—​(i) they were founded to renew Islamic belief and practices among Muslims, (ii) they are autonomous, nongovernmental organizations, (iii) they have a national organizational presence, and (iv) their leaders are public, nationally prominent, civic figures in their societies. Da ‘wa organizations were traditionally founded by preachers to propagate the teachings of Islam among non-​Muslims (Schulze 2002; Bayat 2013; Lapidus 2002). Starting in the early twentieth century, da ‘wa organizations have focused 3 Mecham 2017; Cammett and Luong 2014; Beinin2014; Abdurrehman 2009; Berman 2002; Esposito 2003; Wickham 2003; Schulze 2002. 4 See studies cited in previous footnote. 5 Rubin 2009; Lapidus 2002; Schulze 2002; Vikor 2000; Westerland et al. 1999; Eickelman and Piscatori 1996. 6 See Bleck and Michelitch 2011; Howell 2012; Voll 2007; Lapidus 2002; Vikor 2000; Westerland et al. 1999; Eickelman and Piscatori 1996.

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  35 on providing religious education and guidance to Muslims (Esposito 2003; Utvik 2003; Schultz 2014; Bayat 2013) with the goal of reviving “the heritage of personal religious identity and communal responsibility” (Lapidus 2002:  871). Contemporary da ‘wa organizations have been founded by religious teachers with formal clerical training, for example, the Muhammadiya and the Nahdlatul Ulama in Indonesia founded by Ahmad Dahlan and Hasjim Asjari (Howell 2012), or by charismatic pious Muslims who are not clerics, such as the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt and the Jamaat-​e-​Islami in Pakistan, founded by Hasan al Banna and Maulana Maududi respectively (Wickham 2013; Grare 2001). Importantly, these organizations are present in all MMCs, and they tend to be one of the most common types of organizations through which devout Muslims engage individually and as a community with their religion (Westerlund et al. 1999; Lapidus 2002; Berman 2002; Hedin et al. 2004; World Bank 2007; Schulze 2002). They are organizations composed of members who share a distinctive worldview that, with very few exceptions, is based on orthodox interpretations of Islam.7 Based on this religious worldview, members of these organizations share similar preferences over the policies and institutions they would like to see established in their countries and are often willing to engage in collective actions and invest resources in pursuing these goals.8 They are well-​defined organizations with clear structures, rules and staff, and a formally stated organizational mission (Lapidus 2002; van Bruinessen and Howell 2007; Howell 2012). As such, these organizations fit the definition of organized special interest groups used by scholars in the literature on special interest groups.9 Sufi brotherhoods and orders (turuq) were founded by religious leaders who trained with a specific master and then propagated his school of thought (silsila) or founded their own (Yavuz 2003; Vikor 2000; Westerlund et al. 1999; Trimingham 1971). All Sufi orders teach and promote the beliefs in the Quran and the Sunna as the principles by which devout Muslims can revitalize their own faith (Westerlund et  al. 1999; Hefner 2011:  40; Vikor 2000; Voll 2007; Werenfels 2014; Yavuz 2003). These are also nongovernmental organizations. Despite the association of Sufism with mystical practices in the popular imagination, the most popular Sufi orders, such as the Naqshbandi, the Qadiri, and the Shadhiliyya, among others, are in fact quite orthodox (Westerlund et al. 1999; Hefner 2011: 40; Voll 2007; Howell 2012; Vikor 2000; Yavuz 2003). Westerlund et al. (1999: 14), for example, note that the Qadiri and Naqshbandi orders, the two oldest and most globally widespread orders, are close to “more orthodox forms of Islam and opposed to popular excesses.” Like da ‘wa organizations, modern 7 OIS 2017; Lapidus 2002; Eickelman and Piscatori 1996; Krämer 2003: 536. 8 See references in previous footnote. 9 Becker 1983; Warner 2000; Helpman and Grossman 2000; Thomas and Hrebenar 2008; Hall and Deardorff 2006; Baumgartner et al. 2009; Herzke 2010; de Figuerido and Richter 2014.

36  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Sufi orders tend to be structurally well-​defined organizations with clear rules of membership, their own staff, and stated missions (Howell 2012; Vikor 2000; Trimingham 1971). Sufi orders also tend to be highly hierarchical, and disciples are expected to show obedience to the master of the order (Howell 2012; Vikor 2000; Trimingham 1971). Members meet regularly as a community to receive religious guidance, establish and assign organizational tasks, and socialize (Howell 2012; Vikor 2000; Trimingham 1971). Thus, Sufi orders comprise a well-​defined group of members who share policy preferences and goals, and these preferences and goals are consistent with an orthodox religious worldview. Furthermore, members are willing to invest their resources and engage in collective action in order to pursue their shared policy preferences (Lapidus 2003; Westerlund et al. 2004; Howell 2012; Werenfels 2014). These characteristics fit the classic definition of an organized interest group used by scholars of interest group politics, as any association of individuals or organizations, usually formally organized, that, on the basis of one or more shared concerns, attempts to influence public policy in its favor.10 Thus, we are able to identify Sufi orders and da ‘wa organizations in MMCs as special interest groups who share a common ideological worldview and interests, and are active on policy issues derived from that religious worldview. In this book, I refer to these religious Islamist organizations—​that is, organizations founded initially to engage in religious revival based on orthodox interpretations of sharia, as religious organizations, or ROs. These ROs are distinct from the thousands of religious nongovernmental organizations that are independently founded to carry out charity work to fulfill the religious injunction of charity in Islam. The latter are founded solely to engage in charitable work and do not provide religious guidance. The former are founded primarily to provide religious education and guidance and may additionally carry out charitable functions as well. These ROs are also distinct from organizations that are either part of the government’s official religious establishment or were explicitly founded by the state to compete with nongovernmental ROs.11 Instead, they are founded and managed as independent nongovernmental organizations. ROs are also structurally and operationally domestic organizations. Even though some da ‘wa organizations are present in multiple countries, their national organizations are distinct organizations that operate autonomously

10 See references cited in previous footnote. 11 In most MMCs, governments have established an extensive formal set of institutions and organizations to manage and regulate religious activity (Brown 2017; Pew 2016; Fox 2008; Esposito 2003). Many MMC regimes have also invested in setting up parallel organizations, referred to as governmental nongovernmental organizations (GONGOs), which work in the same issue areas as genuine civil society organizations, whether religious or secular, in order to undermine these organizations (Abdelrahman 2007; Beinin 2014).

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  37 and make tactical and political decisions based on their domestic conditions.12 Lapidus (2002: 829), for example, notes that the Muslim Brotherhood and the Jamaat-​e-​Islami organizations located in various countries “operate independently within the political framework of their home countries.” I explicitly do not consider international da ‘wa organizations such as the Muslim World League or the Islamic Call society because these are most often created and supported by the government (Vikor 2000; Esposito 2003; Hedin et al. 2004), serve as tools of diplomacy and government policy, and lack autonomy from the government. Similarly, the various lodges or suborders established by disciples of the same order are not run as elements of a single unified multinational organization. Instead, they operate entirely autonomously, making ideological, operational, and strategic decisions independently of the original order to which their masters may trace their lineage (Eickelman and Piscatori 1996; Vikor 2000; Lapidus 2002; Westerlund et al. 2004; Voll 2007; Howell 2012). In addition to their origins as religious organizations and, being private, nongovernmental domestic organizations, these ROs share two other features that I will argue are important in defining their organizational capacity and political value—​they are national in their geographic scope and are led by individuals who are part of the pantheon of civic figures of national prominence in these countries. I focus on ROs that have a national organizational presence; that is, their formal organization extends to most parts of a country rather than being geographically limited to the locations where they were initially established, only to the countryside or only to urban areas. This characteristic helps distinguish between the relevant ROs and powerful individual religious leaders who may have strong local networks and followings in limited locations but lack a formal organizational presence on a national scale. As I will argue later, an RO with a national organizational reach can potentially pose a formidable challenge to a regime due to the geographic scope of its organizational capacity to disseminate information and mobilize citizens, its claim to be representative of the nation, its knowledge of political and policy dynamics in different parts of the country, and the scale of resources required of any regime to repress its operations. A highly popular religious leader with only a local following will not typically possess these attributes, while charismatic televangelists will lack the organizational wherewithal to seriously challenge the regime as well.

12 While many different countries have a Muslim Brotherhood organization and suborders of the same Sufi order may be found across many continents, these are not part of some comprehensive, coordinated spiritual or managerial structure akin to the Vatican (Lapidus 2002; Voll 2007; Hefner 2011). Instead, each organization exercises complete autonomy over its message and its management, with only occasional contact with other organizations from other countries (Lapidus 2002; Voll 2007; Hefner 2011).

38  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Finally, another important attribute that these organizations have is that their leaders tend to be widely known public figures in their countries and their recognition is clearly associated with their positions leading their organizations. For example, the most influential figures in the emergence of political Islam and the articulation of its goals, strategies, and vision, Maulana Maududi and Hassan al Banna, founded da ‘wa organizations, while Sayyid Qutb held leadership positions at the highest levels in the Muslim Brotherhood (Wickham 2013; Grare 2001). Nor are they unique. Current leaders of organizations such as the Nahdlatul Ulama in Indonesia, the Tijaniyya brotherhood in Senegal, and the Jamaat-​e-​Islami in Bangladesh are figures of national prominence who command considerable name recognition as leaders of their ROs (Howell 2012; Villalon 2010b; Hossain 2010). This means that whether or not various citizens agree with their teachings and are part of their organization formally or informally, they are likely to recognize the leaders of these ROs as representing legitimate and significant religious Muslim communities in that country.

Institutional and Policy Interests of Religious Organizations Religious organizations (ROs) focus first and foremost on the goal of reviving Islam as a matter of personal faith and practice among Muslims (Krämer 2003; O’ Fahey and Ratke 1993). In order to engender an Islamic revival among Muslims, ROs have sought to articulate an “authentic Islamic identity” for individuals based on the values and practices preached in the Quran and the Sunna that would bring to “the center of attention the socio-​moral reconstruction of Muslim society” (Rahman 1996: 23). The scope of this societal reconstruction, as Westerlund et al. (1999: 23) note, “is that Islam and its revealed law, the sharia, shall permeate the whole society as well as the lives of individuals. . . . In all respects—​religious, political, economic, social, moral and cultural—​they aim at a renewal and work out Islamic programs for changing existing conditions.” These ROs aim to inspire Muslims to personally forsake cultural habits, lifestyles, and intellectual values based on Western culture and to create the kind of social and political environment they believe is necessary for Muslims to live a life consistent with Islam (Ayoob 2008; Wickham 2003, 2013; Krämer 2003). As I will discuss later, ROs have translated this ideological agenda into a set of concrete policy goals that directly impact the civil liberties citizens can exercise in these countries. Importantly, however, the ability of ROs to pursue these policy goals is shaped by their institutional capacity as organizations. As I will discuss after that, ROs are therefore compelled to identify the best ways to pursue their institutional interests.

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  39

Policy Preferences In defining an authentic Islamic identity, ROs have identified the Quran and the Sunna as the only sources on which a legitimate Islamic identity can be based. They have adopted and promote a policy agenda based almost entirely on the orthodox scripturalist principles discussed in detail in ­chapter 1. This defines a traditional family as the foundation of a virtuous society, a Muslim male as head of the household and the community, and puts the community’s welfare above that of any individual’s.13 In contrast to liberal values on civil liberties, they support policies that limit the rights and liberties individuals can enjoy to those sanctioned by orthodox interpretations of these religious sources and make the state responsible for enforcing them. These orthodox interpretations, and the policy prescriptions derived from them, are not representative of the entire Islamic community in these countries nor of all groups in these societies. They are, however, representative of ROs. For example, the Jamā’at Tajdĭd al-​Islām (Society for Renewal of Islam), one of the most prominent da ‘wa organizations in Nigeria, aspires to the following goals: “1) having an individual Muslim obeying God; 2) creating a Muslim house on the basis of Islamic education; 3) development of an Islamic Society; 4) development of an Islamic State on the basis of the Qur’ān and Sunna; 5) making the Islamic revival a reality; 6) re-​establishment of the Islamic Caliphate” (Amara 2011: 139–​140). Different Sufi orders in Nigeria, including the Qadiriyya and the Tijaniyya, similarly actively promote the policy of establishing a social community and legal system based on sharia (Amara 2011: 334). The Jamaat-​e-​Islami in Bangladesh (Hossain 2010), the Rabitat al Dawa in Algeria (Driessen 2014), the Naqshbandi Sufi order in Syria (Weismann 2007), and the Shadhiliyya in Egypt (Hoffman 2013), for example, all articulate similar programs and goals for their organizations. As discussed in ­chapter  1, these positions espousing the Quran and the Sunna as the only foundations for a righteous Muslim society have been directly translated by these organizations into a set of policy positions that promote a religiously defined set of civil liberties that would significantly limit the freedoms of expression, movement, assembly, association, and religion as promoted by a liberal version of civil liberties.14 In line with their orthodox interpretations of sharia, ROs strongly support banning any alternative interpretations of these basic sources and declaring any criticism of religion and any cultural depiction of religion or social behaviors deemed un-​Islamic as

13 Howell 2012; Howell and van Bruinesen 2007; Voll 2007; Westerlund et al. 1999; Lapidus 2002; Vikor 2000; Hedin et al. 2004. 14 Howell 2012; Howell and van Bruineses 2007; Voll 2007; Westerlund et al. 1999; Lapidus 2002; Vikor 2000; Hedin et al. 2004.

40  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties blasphemous.15 In addition to preaching these principles, these organizations have demonstrated their commitment to these positions by taking leading roles in defending them by engaging in various public and legal actions. For example, in Egypt the Muslim Brotherhood and the Salafi Dawa both mobilized against Professor Abu Zayd’s research challenging traditional interpretations of the Quran (Moustafa 2010; Hoffman 2013). In Tunisia, Salafi da ‘wa organizations repeatedly took the lead in organizing protests against the screening of a French-​ Iranian movie Persepolis, which depicted conversations between a young Iranian girl and God deeming it offensive to Islam (Huffington Post, Aug. 22, 2012). In Bangladesh, secular bloggers have repeatedly faced public threats about their writings on religion from the Jamaat-​e-​Islami leadership (US Department of Justice 2016). Thus, the concept of freedom of expression supported by ROs does not conform to its liberal counterpart. ROs’ policy positions and actions regarding the rights and legal status of religious minorities reflect orthodox interpretations and severely undermine their civil liberties. For example, prominent Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood leaders argued that apostates converting out of Islam should be executed and no non-​Muslims should be appointed to senior government positions (Hoffman 2013: 84; Stilt 2011). In Bangladesh, the Jamaat-​e-​Islami actively encouraged its supporters to attack temples, churches, and shrines belonging to other religions and religious sects within Islam because it did not support the practice of religious freedom for all religions and Islamic sects (Amnesty International 2015). The Muslim Brotherhood in Kuwait tried to mobilize support for granting citizenship only to Muslims (Freer 2015) while the Qadiriyya and Tijaniyya Sufi orders in Nigeria actively opposed the appointment of non-​Muslims to any senior positions in government (Hefner 2011; Amara 2011). In Morocco, the Salafi Reform and Renewal Movement (Haraket al-​Islah) criticized the government’s actions in allowing public celebrations of Christmas as un-​Islamic, while in Bangladesh the Jamaat-​e-​Islami opposed the public celebration of Hindu and Christian festivals (US Department of Justice 2016). These orthodox positions are widely shared by ROs and directly restrict freedoms of association, assembly, and religion in MMCs. In addition to their support for limiting the ability of religious minorities to organize associations necessary for carrying out the management of their religious practices, and to assemble in public spaces to observe their religious rituals and celebrate their festivals, ROs also oppose on principle the right of anyone to organize or assemble for any purpose deemed to be un-​Islamic under orthodox interpretations. The most common targets of ROs in this regard have 15 See footnote 7 for references. OIS 2017; Lapidus 2002; Eickelman and Piscatori 1996; Krämer 2003: 536.

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  41 been non-​Islamist liberal women’s organizations and LGBTQ organizations, as both are seen to represent un-​Islamic values by supporters of orthodoxy (Hefner 2011; Dunn 2011; An-​Na’im 2011). Reforms in the legal code governing family law that would enhance women’s liberties, including freedom of movement, assembly, and association, have incited strong RO mobilization against the existence and actions of women’s groups in Mali (Soares 2005), Morocco (Werenfels 2014), and Egypt (Masoud 2014a). Liberal women’s groups advocating for similar reforms in family law were sued by ROs for apostasy in Jordan (Alatiyat and Barari 2010: 130) and for blasphemy in Pakistan (The Guardian, Sep. 20, 2019). A legal prohibition on gender mixing has been actively pursued by Sufi orders and da ‘wa organizations in Mali (Soares 2005: 90), Senegal (Soares 2005: 92), Nigeria (Amara 2011; Hefner 2011), and Pakistan (Grare 2001), and curbs on political participation by women were pursued by the Muslim Brotherhood in Kuwait (Freer 2015). In Indonesia, ROs have used an antipornography law to curb the freedom of movement of women by seeking to criminalize non-​ Islamic dress and actions (Robinson 2016). The most direct implications of these positions are to place severe limits on women’s ability to join associations of their choosing and to mobilize on issues of their choosing using tactics and venues they deem appropriate, and on their freedom of movement. Similarly, Salafi groups in Mali organized protests against efforts to form an organization by homosexual citizens ((Soares 2005). In Nigeria, the Izala Movement and the Tijaniyya and Qadiriyya orders were instrumental in rallying support for a bill that criminalized creating any organizations representing or advocating for LGBTQ Nigerians, arranging meetings or marches on issues of concern to the LGBTQ community, or creating any clubs or nongovernmental association to serve them in any way (The Guardian, Jan. 13, 2014). As this discussion indicates, ROs support civil liberties based on orthodox scripturalist interpretations of sharia and lobby political actors actively using a variety of tactics to enact policies to implement their preferred civil liberties. As discussed earlier, as part of their orthodox interpretation of religious sources, ROs firmly believe that the state has an essential and central role to play in facilitating and safeguarding the ability of individuals and the entire community to live based on the values and rules of sharia.16 To this end, ROs often identify requiring mandatory compliance of all legislation and decrees with sharia as one of their central policy demands (Ahmed and Ginsburg 2014; Lombardi 2013) and want to create religious councils composed of religious scholars and others deemed appropriately qualified to conduct an Islamic judicial review of

16 See Dunn 2011; An-​Na’im 2011; Voll 2007; Esposito 2003; Utvik 2003; Eickelman and Piscatori 1996; Maududi 1978.

42  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties all legislation in order preempt any deviant judicial interpretations (Stilt 2011; Brown and Revkin 2015; Lombardi 2013; Sultany 2014; Feldman 2010). While these policy preferences regarding civil liberties are shared by ROs participating in various Islamic social movements in a country, the individual ROs participating in them are distinct organizational entities. They are often rivals who compete fiercely for followers and donors and for the legitimacy of their specific version of orthodox policies, and they differ in their willingness to compromise their principles and policies. Since the ability of individual ROs to affect changes that realize their preferred policies is likely to depend on their survival and strength as organizations, we need to identify what their institutional interests are as organizations and how these institutional interests affect their organizational strength.

Institutional Interests There are three distinct sets of institutional interests that, I argue, will be central in determining the capacity of ROs to pursue their policy agendas. First, ROs must deal with the bureaucracy and the government to perform the secular, routine, organizational tasks critical for their financial and operational survival and success. Second, ROs must interact and negotiate with the official establishment that regulates religions and their practices in MMCs. Finally, since no single authority is recognized as “the” legitimate religious flag bearer for Islam in any country, ROs must compete with each other for that status, including by seeking out state patronage. As I will now argue, these core institutional interests strongly motivate ROs to seek out political allies who can help them achieve these goals. First, just like firms and other NGOs, ROs negotiate national labor and currency laws, obtain and renew municipal licenses, deal with land-​zoning regulations, and seek out special exemptions from various government regulations and requirements in the routine course of running their organizations (Brown 2017; Pew 2016; Gryzmala-​Busse 2015; Fox 2015; Howell 2012; Van Bruinessen and Howell 2007; Hedin et al. 2003; Warner 2000; Gill 1998). ROs are therefore compelled to interact with various bureaucracies and elected officials in order to obtain favorable outcomes on these routine secular organizational tasks through the passage of new laws and amendments, and the favorable implementation of existing laws and policies. Favorable outcomes in these interactions can make a substantial difference to ROs’ financial bottom lines and their operations. A striking example is that of the Mouride order in Senegal, which has convinced multiple regimes to support tax-​free status for the entire city of Touba, where it is headquartered. The size of this benefit can be gleaned from the fact that in a single year, 2008, it was able to receive $20 million

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  43 of remittances tax free, an amount twice the size of the Ministry of Agriculture’s budget for the year (Hoover 2014: 32). Second, ROs face several institutional challenges that stem specifically from their identity as religious organizations. Studies show that most countries in the world, including MMCs, heavily regulate the practices of religions and ROs,17 and MMCs tend to have the highest number of government regulations and restrictions in the world (Pew 2016; Fox 2015; Finke 2013). The creation of dedicated ministries of religion, with their jurisdiction in terms of regulating content, operations, and the geographic scope of ROs, can enhance or damage the financial and logistical ability of ROs to function. Regulations and rules governing religious practices and organizations allow officials in various ministries to interfere and regulate the most critical functions that ROs need to perform in order to survive as organizations and in order to succeed in their religious and policy goals. For example, government officials control the establishment, regulation, and administration of the charitable endowments of land, businesses, and funds set up for ROs by pious donors (Brown 2017; Voll and Ohtsuka 2017; Malik 1996). These endowments typically are the largest sources of income for ROs (Esposito 2003; Voll and Ohtsuka 2017; Brown 2017). Religious ministries often control ROs’ abilities to establish a new mosque or religious seminary, hire preachers, and publish newsletters to inform the public of the organizations’ teachings and activities (Brown 2017; Ndagi 2012; Van Bruinessen 2007). They can exert influence over the curriculum used in RO-​run schools and over the content of sermons preached at ROs’ mosques and religious centers, and regulate the licensing, content, and frequency of religious media output, including print, radio, and television (Brown 2017; Van Bruinessen and Howell 2007). Studies show that such regulations are pervasive. For example, almost 62% of MMCs had restrictions pertaining to the building, leasing, and maintenance of religious places of worship, 36% regulated the ordaining of clergy, 49% engaged in harassment, detentions, and arrests of religious figures for various activities, and 56% required all ROs to register (Fox 2015:  146, 154). As scholars note, formal powers underestimate the extent of interference by government authorities in the everyday operations and organizational decisions of ROs (Brown 2017; Fox 2015; Hamid 2014; Howell 2012; Van Bruinessen and Howell 2007). The result, as Brown (2017) notes, is that “the ubiquity of the state in the religious realm means that those who have religious interests, pursue religious activities, and show religious inclinations often do so on state terrain.” Since these routine and strategic tasks are essential to the ability of ROs to function as religious organizations and to maintain their doctrinal autonomy, 17 For example, 89% of 198 countries require mandatory registration of religious organizations, and in 54% such procedures affected organizations adversely (Pew 2016: 68).

44  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties ROs are compelled to interact with and lobby officials of the various religious state bodies in order to obtain favorable outcomes on such state decisions. These incentives are further strengthened by MMC governments, which typically staff these positions with clerics and personnel belonging to different ROs (Brown 2017; Esposito 2003). These practices transform these government bodies into arenas of ideological contestation among different groups, with damaging consequences for ROs that fail to place their own members in these organizations (Kuru 2018; Brown 2017; Pew 2016; Hamid 2014; Hoffman 2014; Werenfels 2014; Yavuz 2012). For example, in Mali, different Sufi orders and Salafi movements often clashed publicly and privately with each other in their efforts to obtain appointments to the High Islamic Council, a government body to represent Mali’s religious institutions at the state level (The Guardian, May 3, 2013). Sufi orders in Egypt (Brown 2017; Hamid 2014) and Turkey (Yavuz 2003; Kutlu 2008) have similarly competed to get their own members and leaders appointed to the ministries of religious affairs in these countries. For all of these reasons, ROs try to protect their own organization’s institutional interests by cultivating strong relationships with those in positions to influence regulatory, policy, and staffing decisions in their favor. Finally, as has been widely noted, there is no single RO in Islam akin to the Vatican in Roman Catholic countries that can claim to possess a “monopoly on the management of the sacred” (Kane 1992: 9). Accordingly, there is no RO that can by virtue of its existence automatically be the accepted choice to represent and lead Muslims in any country (Filali-​Ansary 1999; Hefner 2011). For example, in Egypt Salafi Dawa and the Muslim Brotherhood compete with each other but also compete with the popular Khalwatiyya, Burhaniyya, and Muhammadiyya Shadhiliyya Sufi orders for religious hegemony (Hoffman 2013; Howell 2012). In Mozambique, various Sufi orders compete with each other but then also compete with Salafi and non-​Salafi da ‘wa organizations (Bonate 2008). In Senegal, the primary competition has been between Mouridiyya and Tijaniyya Sufi orders, but they are now facing increasing competition from Salafi da ‘wa organizations (Villalon 2010). In Niger, the Qadiriyya, the Tijaniyya, and the anti-​Sufi Izala Movement compete against each (Ndagi 2012). In Indonesia, the well-​established da ‘wa organizations Muhammadiyya and Nahdatul Ulama compete with each other and with Sufi orders such as the Naqshbandi and the Qadiriyya for moral authority (Hicks 2012; Howell 2012). Such competition is not restricted to these few examples but, is as widely noted, characteristic of all MMCs.18 As Eickelman and Piscatori (1996: 58) note, in MMCs 18 See, for example, Esposito 2003; Bayat 2007b, 2013; Weismann 2007; Hefner 2011; Howell 2012; Hedin et al. 2003; Mecham 2017.

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  45 the institutionalization of sacred authority entails multiple individuals and groups which hope to speak for the divine presence. . . . As elsewhere, the contention in Muslim societies over control or “appropriation” of symbols is intense and authority is in part defined by one’s position relative to competitors.

Scholars find that in countries where no single religious authority dominates the religious market, ROs are compelled to compete with each other in order to attract followers and resources to their particular organization.19 One direct consequence of this competition in MMCs is that ROs must compete intensely against each other to gain sacred and moral authority and to attract followers and resources. In order to do so, ROs must be able to offer citizens from different socioeconomic groups the various types of support, services, and goods they seek. As I will discuss in detail next, such goods and services, including education, healthcare, credit, and so on, often require official permissions and official goodwill. ROs also obtain moral authority and access over valuable resources for their organizations by seeking state patronage. Most governments in the world, including in MMCs, offer access, funds, and other privileges to ROs, and studies find that most governments do so selectively.20 ROs favored by the state can obtain preferential access to public funds, public officials, and state-​owned media, see their members and leaders appointed to key positions in the state bureaucracy, and benefit from benevolent and generous application of state regulations (Brown 2017; Pew 2016; Hamid 2014). While such benefits are valuable in all environments, they can provide ROs with crucial advantages in MMCs, where ROs must compete with other each other to establish the moral, financial, and logistical foundations for their success. ROs therefore must devise strategies that allow them to successfully obtain such state patronage. To summarize, ROs seek to (i) revive Islam among fellow Muslims by inculcating Islamic values and practices that are consistent with orthodox scripturalist interpretations of sharia and (ii) create an Islamic society characterized by such values and practices by supporting an active role for government in instilling and enforcing these values. The policy agenda that emerges from this orthodox 19 Studies find that in countries where there is no dominant religious church, for example, in the United States (Grzymala-​Busse 2015; Hayer 2006), Canada (Grzymala-​Busse 2015), Latin America (Elgar 2014; Driessen 2014; Trejo 2012; Hagopian 2009; Htun 2003, 2009), Africa (Dowd 2015; Driessen 2014; Woodberry 2012), and Europe (Grzymala-​Busse 2015; Popelaars and Hannegraff 2011; Warner 2000), churches are compelled to compete with each other in order to attract followers to their particular church. 20 A Pew study of state laws, policies, and actual practices regarding religion in 198 countries found that religious organizations received government favors in 96% of countries, but in 74% these favors went only to select religious groups and organizations (2016: 68); in 88% governments provided funds to religious groups, but in 67% of countries they displayed favoritism in allocating them (69). Governments also favored certain groups over others when it came to providing fund or resources for religious education (47%), religious property maintenance (28%), other religious activities (45%).

46  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties RO agenda contrasts strongly with liberal civil liberties and aims to curtail them. To accomplish these policy goals, ROs seek to influence the preferences and actions of ordinary citizens and elites. However, their ability to do so is shaped by their organizational ability to survive and thrive in highly competitive religious environments in which they must struggle for legitimacy, followers, and resources. As organizations, ROs also face three key institutional challenges—​ they must negotiate and interact with the state in order to (i) perform routine organizational functions common to all organizations, (ii) survive and function in their capacity as ROs, and (iii) seek out state patronage to survive and thrive in competitive religious markets. Meeting these core institutional interests subsequently empowers ROs to push effectively for their policy agendas. How have ROs attempted to realize these policy and institutional goals in MMCs?

The Tactical Toolkit of ROs I will now argue that in order to pursue their organizational mission to revive Islam, implement religiously derived policies, and survive and prosper in the face of competition among ROs, ROs try to establish and expand their presence in the following four sectors in their countries—​education, social welfare, business, and media. ROs’ success in establishing themselves in these four spheres strengthens their capacity to realize their policy and institutional interests, and strengthens their future capacity to lobby political actors to protect and serve these interests. At the same time, however, getting the legal, regulatory, and administrative support necessary to be able to expand in these sectors requires ROs to lobby political actors as well. These motivations, I argue, incentivize ROs to seek out and build alliances with religious parties.

Education Establishing a wide-​ranging presence in the education sector in their countries is important to ROs because it allows ROs to propagate their own specific religious teachings and interpretations among the citizens in their country, to attract and retain a big following among citizens, and to earn revenue. As discussed earlier, even though all ROs teach adherence to sharia, differences in the specific doctrines, interpretations and religious practices they support have led them to compete with each other to establish the legitimacy of their specific teachings and policies and to dismiss those of others (Vikor 2000; Lapidus 2003; Amin 2011; Hefner 2011). In order to propagate their teachings, enhance their moral authority, and instill among citizens the “cognitive matrix” (Mecham 2017) that

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  47 they believe will lead to the morally right policy preferences and demands, ROs like to invest heavily in setting up mosques, schools, and religious educational centers where they can hold religious classes and impart their particular vision of Islam.21 ROs are often the prime sites for such religious education in their countries since they offer an education based in Islamic values and worldviews that is distinct from the secular education that is often provided by government schools and other private schools. Furthermore, well-​off citizens who can afford to go to non-religious schools for their regular education may still seek out ROs’ religious institutions for an education in religious matters because they value it (Wiktorowicz 2004: 11; Hicks 2012; Howell 2012; Siddiqui 2016). Religious education is therefore highly effective in attracting followers among the socioeconomic and political elite and among the economically disadvantaged. Educating followers allows ROs to shape the views and preferences that voters have on religious, social, and economic issues and consequently, influence their preferences over political parties. Importantly, ROs in many cases seek to expand their presence in the education sector, from religious schools to running professional and vocational schools and universities that combine religious and technical education or provide only secular, technical education (Wiktorowicz 2004; Yavuz 2011; Rana 2011; Hicks 2013; Howell 2012). This has two important benefits for them. First, it allows them to attract and retain poor citizens as followers, as these citizens may not have access to formal education through any other channel due to the lack of affordable education options. ROs often fill this gap by subsidizing the costs of education for their low-​income followers by providing scholarships, free books, and free transportation (Berman 2003; Voll 2003; Masoud 2013; Hicks 2012). Second, in addition to the benefit of influencing the beliefs and preferences of their target populations, these schools can also become a major source of revenue for ROs. In many countries, schools, coaching centers, and universities run by ROs provide high-​quality education that attracts paying students from middle and high-​income families (Hicks 2013; Howell 2012; Siddiqui 2016). In some countries, women’s only higher-​education institutes are run by ROs and attract women from well-​off families willing to pay a premium for such an educational facility (Hicks 2012; Howell 2012; Siddiqui 2016; Hicks 2013). The results of such educational endeavors can be formidable. For example, almost 75% of all school-​age students in the formal school system in Nigeria in the early 1990s went to RO-​run schools (Eickelman and Piscatori 1996: 40). Private religious schools run by just the Muhammadiyya and the Nahdlatul Ulama enrolled around 10%–​15% of all school-​age children in 21 See Esposito 2003; Masoud 2013; Berman 2003; Wiktorowicz 2003; and see Cammett and Luong 2014; Mecham 2016 for a recent overview.

48  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Indonesia (Nurhadi 2003: 17; Hicks 2013: 185–​187). Since the Muhammadiyya’s prestigious network of educational institutions returns 10% of profits to the “mother” organization, these schools have been valuable revenue generators for it (Sciortino, Ridarineni and Marjadi 2010: 34). In Bangladesh, the number of such RO-​supported religious schools has increased eightfold and their enrollment has increased 13-​fold in the last 40 years, whereas public primary schools’ numbers and enrollment have only doubled in the same period (Barkat 2013: 10). Furthermore, the highly popular schools, college prep coaching centers, and colleges run by the Jamaat-​e-​Islami Foundation in Bangladesh turn over 10% of their profits to the RO, making it a highly profitable professional business (Bangladesh News Live 2015; Barket 2013). Thus, the establishment and operation of religious and secular educational institutions forms a highly desirable institutional goal for ROs as they struggle to compete ideologically and financially with other ROs to shape the worldviews and policy preferences of Muslims from all socioeconomic backgrounds, to develop their moral authority among citizens and elites, and to raise funds. ROs will therefore constantly seek to further develop their ability to establish religious and secular educational institutions by seeking to influence legislators and governments to increase the scope of these activities through legislation and government policies.

Social Welfare Provision In addition to satisfying the Islamic injunction to engage in charitable works, building up a strong presence in the social welfare sector in their countries provides ROs with many valuable benefits. In countries as economically disparate as Nigeria, Egypt, Mali, Bangladesh, Syria, Indonesia, and Turkey, ROs run vast networks of health clinics with free or subsidized healthcare, drug rehabilitation centers, child care centers, orphanages, soup kitchens, and agencies that offer small loans for funerals, weddings, and self-​employment.22 They distribute free food, clothing, and books, provide free transportation to schools, and help members find housing and jobs.23 For example, in Egypt, ROs ran child care centers and provided free healthcare (Masoud 2013). In Bangladesh, the Jamaat-​ e-​Islami Foundation helped members find jobs in the Gulf and West Asia (Barkat 2013), dug wells in rural areas, and provided interest-​free loans to unemployed 22 For MMCs see, for example, Anwar 1987; Westerlund and Svanbarg 1999;; Hamzeh 2001; Vikor 2000; Voll 2003, 2007; Esposito 2003; Hedin et al. 2003; Berman 2003; Lapidus 2003; UNFPA 2009; World Bank 2010; Hefner 2011; Blaydes 2011; Masoud 2013; World Economic Forum 2013. Research in non-​Muslim majority countries has found that churches and Christian religious organizations in various parts of the world have used similar strategies (Hertzke 2010; Trejo 2012; Woodberry 2012; Gocmen 2013; Dowd 2015; Queen 2017; Manuel and Glatzer 2019). 23 See references in the previous footnote.

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  49 youth for self-​employment (Bangladesh News Live 2015). By their example of charity, the Islamic principles on which such service provision is often modeled, and the dedication and competence of their staff, ROs first and foremost send a strong message of how Islamic organizations perform the work of God and, in serving God, deliver performance superior to that of secular organizations (Cammett and Luong 2014: 200; Malka 2007; Berman 2003). As Berman (2003: 261) eloquently observes in Egypt: Along with the help, however, often came a message:  “Islam is the way.” Sometimes this message was only indirect and implicit, conveyed through the success of Islamic groups in providing services and fulfilling needs that the state could or would not. Sometimes, however, the message was delivered explicitly, as when social services were run according to Islamic norms, (e.g., gender-​ segregated health care and interest-​free loans), or when schools, tutoring, and other education services were used to inculcate particular values.

Providing social welfare goods and services therefore can increase the respect and moral authority ROs command among elite and non-​elite citizens belonging to different ethnic and income groups. Social welfare provision is also a highly effective strategy for attracting and retaining followers among indigent and lower-​income citizens, as such citizens are often strongly influenced to join one RO over another due to its capacity to provide them with such essential goods and services.24 Scholars note that while social welfare and educational efforts are undoubtedly driven in part by the Islamic injunction to perform charitable work, they also “serve the groups’ power-​seeking strategies” (Eickelman and Piscatori 1996: 45). For example, Howell (2012: 372) observes that the TQN Suralaya, a Qadiriyya-​Naqshbandiyya order in Indonesia, was able “to maintain its social importance in the wider community by delivering services using contemporary professional methods.” Chih (2007: 23) notes that in Egypt the Khalwatiyya Sufi order “maintained their presence by catering to the social needs of recent urban migrants with few personal resources.” In Morocco, Daadaoui (2016) notes, al-​Adl wa al-​Ihsane’s “success lies in the social services it provides for thousands of Moroccans in urban and rural areas, including literacy courses and basic welfare in poor urban centers.” Providing such services to the needy allows ROs to cultivate a loyal base of followers whose religious views and political and policy preferences they can shape. As with education, ROs have coupled subsidized welfare to the poor with fee-​ paying services for the more well-​off. In many countries, RO run hospitals and 24 Anwar 1987; Westerlund and Svanbarg 1999;; Hamzeh 2001; Vikor 2000; Voll 2003, 2007; Esposito 2003; Hedin et al. 2003; Berman 2003; Lapidus 2002; Flanigan 2008; UNFPA 2009; World Bank 2010; Hefner 2011; Blaydes 2011; Masoud 2013; World Economic Forum 2013.

50  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties clinics that offer medical and health services comparable and often superior to government-​run and other private facilities (Malka 2007; Mandaville 2010; Rana 2011; Davis and Robinson 2012; Howell 2012). This attracts paying customers, making these service facilities highly profitable for ROs. The revenue they generate allows ROs to finance other organizational expenses, cross-​subsidize service provision to the poor, and, finally, provide funds to political parties of their choice during and after elections. The profits earned by hospitals and clinics run by the Jamaat-​e-​Islami in Bangladesh (Barkat 2013) and the Muhammadiya in Indonesia (Hicks 2012) provide illustrative examples of this phenomenon. Their engagement with welfare also often makes ROs highly knowledgeable and sometimes the only experts on many welfare issues (Gocmen 2013; World Bank 2010; Rodriguez 2009; Kupermas 1999). For example, Jill et al. (2015: 1768) noted in a special issue of the medical journal The Lancet that ROs “often represent the only health infrastructure in a region and have strong cultural ties to the communities.” ROs in Sierra Leone, for example, have become crucial advisers for their government and for international health agencies in tackling the AIDS and Ebola crisis because of their prior work in healthcare (UNAIDS 2015). Pakistani governments have looked to Pakistani ROs to manage disaster relief and rehabilitation efforts because of the prior experience and infrastructure these ROs have in disaster management (Candland and Qazi 2012). UNICEF has sought out ROs in Afghanistan and Bangladesh to work on issues facing children, mothers, and marginalized communities due to their prior work (UNFPA 2009: 51). The World Bank has sought out ROs for projects on poverty and sustainable development and the UN-​Habitat to improve the property rights of Muslim women and to establish sustainable farming practices in Indonesia (UNFPA 2009: 53). Thus, providing social welfare provision can allow ROs to fulfill the religious goal of engaging in charity, increase their capacity to attract and retain followers, earn revenue, and enhance their reputation as policy experts in these areas. Strengthening their organizational capacity to better provide a wide range of social welfare services to increasing numbers of people can therefore serve ROs’ policy and institutional interests. ROs will therefore constantly seek to further develop their ability to deliver social welfare goods and services by seeking to influence legislators and governments to increase the scope of their activities through legislation and government policies.

Business and Commercial Operations Building up a strong presence in the business and commercial sectors in their economy offers ROs at least three key advantages to realize their policy and

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  51 institutional goals. First, such enterprises can earn valuable revenue that can finance other organizational activities. Second, it can increase their value as policy experts with relevant policy expertise in different business and commercial sectors. Third, it can allow ROs to offer valuable employment opportunities to their own members and, importantly, patronage opportunities to political parties. Operating businesses can, first and foremost, provide valuable revenue to ROs. In practice, ROs can choose to establish businesses with religious themes or not. Businesses that have a religious theme include, for example, producing halal consumer products, selling modest fashion lines for women, and establishing Islamic banks that do not charge interest rates, as per Islamic principle of ribā (Binmahfouz 2012, 2017; Yassari 2016). ROs can also enter markets to sell products that have little religious justification, such as housing, non-​halal foods, and transportation, because they are highly profitable (Binmahfouz 2012, 2016; Salim 2015; Yassari 2016). The membership of ROs and their strong social bonds can provide ROs with a ready-​made market for many products, often making such ventures highly profitable for them (Tanyilmaz 2015; Hösgor 2011, 2015). For example, the Jamaat-​e-​Islami in Bangladesh owns banks, insurance companies, and investment companies that are operated on Islamic principles and firms in the transportation, pharmaceuticals, and housing sectors, as well as owning shopping malls (Fatah 2013; Barkat 2013; Bangladesh News Live 2015). Scholars estimate that the Islamic banking and real estate businesses alone provide it with almost a third of its entire revenue (Barkat 2013; Bangladesh Live News 2015). In Algeria, the Alawiya run workshops where management experts from within the order’s membership teach ethical business practices in line with Islamic beliefs, earning money and propagating Islamic principles (Werenfels 2014). In Senegal, the Mouridiyya have become one of the biggest producers of peanuts and are considered the wealthiest Sufi order in the country (Hoover 2014). The Darul Arqam in Malaysia manufactures halal versions of various foods as well as regular soaps and toothpaste (Anwar 1987: 37). In Uzbekistan, the Akrammiyya not only operate halal cafes but also run bakeries and shoe shops, among other businesses (Baran 2013). Importantly, the experience ROs acquire through the financing and operations of their businesses can give them policy knowledge and expertise on business, financial, and labor issues. ROs can also expand their presence in the business sector of their countries by organizing new Islamic business associations, labor unions, and professional associations and by making concerted efforts at penetrating and capturing existing secular associations to remake them along religious lines.25 25 See Abdelrahman 2007; Beinin and Vairel 2013; Lust-​Okar and Zerhouni 2008; Yadav 2010; Brown 2012; Wickham 2013, among others.

52  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Such organizations allow ROs to realize their ideological goals by influencing the values and practices of these organizations so they are guided by Islamic values and principles.26 For example, ROs actively penetrated associations representing a broad spectrum of workers ranging from doctors and engineers to teachers, lawyers, and blue-​collar workers in various industries in Egypt (Abdelrahman 2007; Brown 2012; Wickham 2013), Jordan (Brown 2012), Kuwait (Freer 2012; Brown 2012), Bangladesh (Barkat 2013; Hosain 2010), and Morocco (Werenfels 2014; Bekkaoui and Larémont 2011), among many other countries. Their presence and influence in such associations has in turn led the International Labour Organization to work with them to improve working conditions in these countries (UNFPA 2009: 52). Running their own businesses and labor and business associations also provides ROs with a vehicle through which to demonstrate the relevance and feasibility of applying religious principles in the modern economy. ROs have used their involvement in labor and professional unions to provide benefits and programs for their members that are consistent with orthodox Islamic beliefs (Eligur 2010; Moustafa 2010; Abdelrahman 2007; Piro 2001). For example, in Egypt, the religious takeover of the Lawyers Syndicate was followed by the establishment of sharia committees across Egypt with the aim of offering social and cultural services to lawyers and their families (Moustafa 2010:  617). Furthermore, by providing welcoming forums for the collective mobilization of religiously minded firms, entrepreneurs, and workers (Abdelrahman 2007; Beinin 2014; Masoud 2014a; Lust-​Okar and Zerhouni 2008), these organizations also provide a sense of social solidarity and community among member businesses, professionals, and workers. This was particularly important in countries such as Turkey and Iraq (under the Baath Party), where the public avowal of religious beliefs and practices by members invited discrimination by a secularly inclined state (Abdelrahman 2007; Beinin 2014; Masoud 2014; Lust-​Okar and Zerhouni 2008; Elgür 2010). Their involvement in businesses and unions has therefore served to increase the ROs’ reputation in propagating Islam. Third, depending on the range of businesses they run, ROs can attract and employ people with a wide range of education and skills, from unskilled labor to highly qualified professionals, enabling ROs to penetrate very different socioeconomic segments of society. These businesses can therefore provide a highly effective tool for ROs to attract followers from all professions and income groups. Importantly, these jobs can also potentially be used as valuable patronage opportunities for building alliances with other social actors, including political elites and parties. For example, the Mouridiyya in Senegal raised money within their organizations and then made it available to members for investment purposes and as temporary

26

See references listed in footnote 23.

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  53 income to help out those hit by an economic shock; gave land to poor members to grow peanuts, the primary export crop of Senegal; and then redistributed the land to them after a decade of faithful service (Boone 2003; Hoover 2014). At the same time, they ran the town of Touba, where they are headquartered, hiring their own members to manage all the financial, bureaucratic, and technical tasks such management required (Hoover 2014). Similarly, in Egypt, Salafist ROs hired their followers not just as preachers and teachers but also as finance, media, and information technology specialists to manage their cable channels and their social media assets (Awad 2017). Thus, the business involvement of these ROs allowed them to accommodate followers with different levels of skills and education. Given the many benefits—​modeling Islamic principles, generating revenue, creating jobs, extending patronage, and building communal solidarity—​that entering the business and economic sectors can provide them, ROs consider entry into the business and associational sectors as vital for realizing their religious and policy goals. ROs will therefore seek to further develop their ability to enter and expand their operations in the business and economic sectors in their countries by seeking to influence legislators and governments to increase the scope of their activities through legislation and government policies.

Media Building their strength in the media sector can provide ROs with valuable tools to propagate their religious beliefs and realize their religiously inspired policy goals. It can do so by giving them the capacity to (i) shape the opinions of their followers regarding parties and their policies (ii) expand their audience beyond their loyal followers, and (iii) earn valuable revenue. If ROs are to realize an Islamic revival among all Muslims and in society, they must expand the share of the population that hears their specific messages beyond their immediate memberships. Mass media in particular can provide an effective way to promote religious ideas, challenge rival and official religious dogma and authority, and communicate alternative visions of society (Eickelman and Piscatori 1996: 121–​ 135; Eickelman and Anderson 2003b; Lynch 2007, 2013; Gul 2015). Entering the media sector directly provides ROs with powerful megaphones with which to influence public opinion on a range of social, economic, and political issues, making them more influential actors in society, including in politics. The value of using electronic media assets to do so is increased by two factors. First, large segments of these populations do not read print media because they are illiterate, and even majorities often lack access to the internet. This makes television and radio the media outlets that most citizens use in most MMCs (Lynch 2013; Campbell 2010).

54  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Second, unlike public or private media outlets that have to build their legitimacy with their audiences from scratch, ROs have the advantage that they can “port” their existing organizational reputation and legitimacy to new media forms (Winston 2002; Moll 2010; Kazi 2016). Their high brand value helps ROs attract more advertising revenues and sponsorships, making media assets a lucrative investment (Moll 2010; Winston 2002). Furthermore, their ported branding advantage also makes it easier for ROs to create and run programs that are not just religiously but commercially oriented to raise revenues without running the risk of calling into question their religious motivation and commitment (Moll 2010; Winston 2002). Finally, controlling discourse and content on their own media outlets can help ROs create and maintain a sense of contact, solidarity, and community with their current followers, reducing the threat of losing followers to other ROs (Eickelman and Anderson 2003a; Barkin 2014). Evidence shows that for these very reasons, ROs have often enthusiastically tried to adopt the latest communication technology, publishing magazines, newspapers, journals and books; producing and distributing audio and videocassettes; owning their own radio stations, television stations, and satellite channels; and, most recently, using the internet and various social media platforms.27 Egypt provides an illustrative example of these strategic dynamics. Various military governments strictly controlled ownership of radio and satellite channels until the late 1990s. In 2006, the Mubarak government allowed Salafi groups to run their own television channel in order to counter the public influence of the Muslim Brotherhood (Campbell 2010). The Salafi groups used their channel to attack the Brotherhood and various Sufi orders (Campbell 2010). By 2010, a number of Sufi organizations began planning to set up their own satellite channel to counter the specific ideological vision of Salafism and to protect their own organizational interests. Sheikh Sayf al Azamy, a prominent Sufi leader and head of the Al Azmiyah order, outlined their motives as follows: “It is to stand by the truth, to clear all the misconceptions about Islam. . . . People have diverted from the righteous path, and the satellite would help people understand the right message of Islam and take people back to it.” Referring to Salafi cable channels, he also noted, “There are a lot of satellite stations. All of them attack Sufism and some of them, or many of them—​are [run by] ignorant people” (Bradley 2010). The Muslim Brotherhood, banned from such activities by successive governments, promptly set up its own satellite network, Misr 25, as soon as it was first able to, in 2011. Awad (2017: 49) notes both the ideological and institutional interest behind this media effort: “It represented the image of the Brotherhood for many Egyptians who were never personally familiar. The group had also long 27 See Lynch 2017; Awad 2017; Werenfels 2014; Campbell 2010,; Yavuz 2003; Eickelman and Anderson 2003a; Lapidus 2002.

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  55 talked about how it wished for media in Egypt to be ‘purposeful,’ code for conservative and moral. The network was the Brotherhood’s opportunity to lead by example.” Similar ideological and strategic concerns have motivated the acquisition of media assets by ROs in, for example, Bangladesh (Barkat 2013; Fatah 2013) and Turkey (Yesil 2016). ROs in Mali (Soares 2005) and Indonesia (Barkin 2014) have lamented their inability to make such media acquisitions. ROs therefore seek to meet the multiple goals of consolidating existing communities of followers, expanding their base by attracting new adherents, communicating their teachings and worldviews, influencing policy preferences, and earning revenue by expanding their presence beyond the print media into television, radio, and social media. ROs will therefore seek to further develop their ability to establish a strong presence in the electronic and social media sectors in their countries by seeking to influence legislators and governments to increase the scope of their activities through legislation and government policies. This discussion suggests that ROs appreciate the value of building up their assets and capacity in education, welfare, business, and media sectors for realizing their policy and institutional goals. However, in any country, laws and rules govern what structural forms ROs may take, the sources of funds they may access, and the geographic and functional scope of their activities. Similarly the social, cultural, and economic practices of a country, including legal civil liberties, are also determined by a country’s laws and policies. If ROs want to expand their presence in education, welfare, business, and media sectors in order to realize their policy and institutional goals, they must convince parties in the executive office and the parliament to pass the necessary laws and decrees, to commit appropriate monetary and staff resources to realizing them, and to ensure that the government agencies and bureaucracies implement these policies. Thus, to effectively pursue their various goals, ROs must inevitably and unavoidably seek access to and influence over political parties in government and in opposition across various institutions. Existing research suggests that in order to do that, they must build relationships with these political actors in much the same manner that many other special interest groups in society do. Next, I argue, the organizational capacity ROs have in the four sectors of education, social welfare, business and media provides ROs with varying levels of resources and tools that can be used to lobby these political actors effectively.

Lobbying by Religious Interest Groups: Targets and Tools Studies of religious interest groups in other countries, primarily Christian majority and multireligious countries in Europe (Warner 2000; Braun-​Popelaars and Hanegraff 2011; Grzymala-​Busse 2015; Manuel and Glatzer 2019), Latin

56  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties America (Hagopian 2009; Htun 2009; Mainwaring and Scully 2003; Elgar 2014), Africa (Dowd 2015; Kuperus 1999), and the United States (Adkins et al. 2013; Herzke 2010; Yamane 2006), find that religious interest groups employ strategic tactics that are very similar to the tactics that other interest groups, such as labor unions, business associations, and women’s groups, use in these countries. As Herzke (2010: 1) notes of religious interest groups in the United States, “Although religious interest groups vary widely in organizational style, ideology, and focus, collectively they have engaged in the full range of political activities—​ lobbying legislatures and executive branch officials, mobilizing voters, molding public opinion, and litigating in the courts.” By 2005, more than 415 religious groups were actively lobbying federal, state, and local governments in the United States.28 Nor is religious lobbying restricted to the United States, a country with the most professionalized lobbying establishment in the world. It can be found in all parts of the world where lobbying is not as well regulated, professionalized, and transparent as the United States (Thomas and Hrebenar 2008; Hagopian 2009; Braun-​Poppelars and Hanegraff 2011). For example, Gryzmala-​Busse (2016:  4) notes that Roman Catholic churches in various European countries “sought to form political alliances with incumbent parties, exchanging government policy concessions for electoral mobilization by the Church on behalf of the parties.” Discussing religious lobbying in South Africa, Kuperus (1999: 658) notes of the South African Council of Churches and Southern African Catholic Bishops’ Conference, “Both religious organizations have set up Parliamentary Liaison Offices in Cape Town which are staffed by individuals who monitor parliamentary legislation that can enable church leadership to influence the formation of public policy and help build up the capacity of the church as a part of civil society” (23). Similarly, in autocratic Zimbabwe, Kuperus (1999: 654) finds, Christian ROs such as the Zimbabwean Christian Council and the Zimbabwe Bishops Conference established legal units “to monitor existing and proposed government legislation” on a variety of issues of interest to them. One of the laws that these ROs opposed and lobbied extensively on in Zimbabwe was the Political Parties (Finance) Act (1992), which set out conditions under which parties could qualify for state funding. This reflects their efforts to increase representation of religious interests through political channels (Kuperus 1999: 654). Similarly, Htun (2009: 320) notes that churches in Latin American actively “remind politicians of their Catholic roots, mobilize the electorate, and threaten their disapproval,” bringing their moral and mobilization power “to bear on the legislature and other elected (as opposed to appointed) officials; when elections are imminent; and on bicameral legislatures.” The tactics these scholars report 28 Herzke (2010) cites a personal communication from Henriqus at the New York Times dated July 26, 2007, for this figure.

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  57 ROs using in these countries are similar to those employed by business associations, labor unions, and other civil society-​based special interest groups in these countries (Herzke 2010; Gryzmala-​Busse 2015; Kuperus 1999; Htun 2009). Thus, existing research in countries in different regions of the world suggests that ROs lobby actively to champion their institutional and policy interests and that they do so by using tactics that other interest groups in their societies use. This body of research suggests that as special interest groups, ROs in MMCs should be engaging in similar tactics to pursue their policy and institutional goals. The most basic decisions about lobbying strategies require interest groups to decide which target (or venue) to lobby and which tools or resources to use in their lobbying efforts. Interest groups choose from a variety of lobbying tactics to try to access and influence political actors.29 They can use inside tactics such as donating money, providing political intelligence, and providing policy expertise to directly influence parties, or use outside lobbying tactics such as sponsoring media campaigns and mobilizing followers in public demonstrations to influence political elites indirectly by shaping the public opinion to which parties are likely to respond.30 Research from the United States and Western Europe suggests that outside lobbying tactics are adopted by less powerful groups that lack the organizational capacity to have inside access and connections, while inside lobbying tactics are used by those who are insiders in the corridors of power and do have such access (Thomas and Hrebenar 2008; Baumgartner et al. 2009; Binderkrantz and Krøyer 2012; Dür and González 2013). However, research from developing countries suggests that the tactical repertoires interest groups employ do not align with insider or outsider status. For example, Frye (2000), Ross Schneider (2004), Duvanova (2007), and Yadav (2011), among others, find that business groups known to have good links to the government nevertheless found it useful to engage in protests and media campaigns, which are classic outside tactics. This suggests that ROs in MMCs may be more likely to employ a wide range of lobbying tactics depending on their goals and resources and on the political conditions that enhance or diminish the value of these various tactics. The ability of ROs to lobby political parties and gain their cooperation for realizing various RO goals will be determined by the resources ROs can offer to potential political allies. As discussed later, as ROs invest in education, 29 In most countries in the world, including almost all MMCs, special interest lobbying falls into a gray zone where lobbying is neither illegal nor regulated (OECD 2013). In a handful of countries, nongovernmental organizations and/​or religious organizations are banned from making direct monetary contributions or having “involvement” in politics; such bans are easily circumvented by skirting the law (OECD 2013; Djankov et al. 2010). Importantly, other common lobbying tactics such as using policy expertise, media, or public mobilization are not included in such bans (OECD 2013). 30 See Frye 2002; Duvanova 2007; Cammett 2007; Thomas 2008; Baumgartner et al. 2009; Yadav 2011; and Arriolla 2013 for studies of specific inside and outside lobbying tactics, and Hojnacki et al. 2012; de Figueridoand Richter 2013 for recent overviews of the lobbying literature in general.

58  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties welfare, business, and media assets to promote religious goals, their ownership and operations of RO assets in these sectors provide them with politically valuable resources that are highly sought after by political parties and politicians. Depending on ROs’ ownership of these diverse organizational assets, ROs may be able to use all the typical inside and outside lobbying tactics that other special interest groups in their country do to gain access to political actors and to influence their policy agendas and actions.

Endorsements Research suggests that the moral authority that ROs command due to their religious nature (Kuperus 1999; Htun 2009; Adkins et al. 2013) or their history of being involved in widely respected national struggles for independence or democracy (Gryzmala-​Busse 2015; Hagopian 2009; Kuperus 1999) increases the political value of their endorsements of parties and their policies. This suggests that in the environments of MMCs, where religious legitimacy is highly valued by large segments of the population, ROs’ endorsement of parties and candidates and of their policy agendas could be politically valuable. Furthermore, the more invested ROs are in education and welfare, the more genuine respect ROs will enjoy among religious and non-religious citizens and consequently, their endorsements of political parties will be even more politically valuable to parties. By offering their endorsements strategically to political parties, ROs can therefore gain valuable bargaining leverage with parties.

Voters, Donors, and Volunteers Since RO leaders can influence their members’ decisions and choices, RO membership can represent a significant potential pool of stable, committed donors; volunteers; and votes for parties (Hagopian 2009; Malka 2007; Hamzeh 2001; Kupermas 1999). Extant research suggests that ROs are often the primary means through which non-​elite citizens participate in civic activities (Putnam 2000; Brady, Verba and Schlozman 1995), and citizens involved with ROs tend to be even more highly engaged with the political process in their countries than ordinary citizens (Bloom and Arikan 2012; Putnam 2000). RO members therefore potentially represent a more politically engaged voter base that parties can appeal to. However, whether RO members support a specific party may well depend on the influence that RO leaders have over their members’ political preferences and actions. RO influence may be hard to resist for individual RO members not just because of a sense of religious or moral

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  59 obedience to their leaders but also due to very practical fears of losing valuable material benefits such as education, welfare goods and services, investment capital, and product endorsements provided by an RO, and of damage to the social standing and relationships that stem from the RO itself. Parties seeking every last vote they can get should therefore see ROs’ members as a potential voter base that can be obtained by accommodating their organization’s demands even if they are not sure that voters will in fact follow their RO leaders’ cues when casting their votes (Mkentane 2019; Htun 2009; Hagopian 2009). Similarly, the possibility that RO leaders may be able to influence their members to donate their money, time, and mobilization efforts to support specific parties (Mkentane 2019; Rodriguez 2009; Herzke 2010) will be considered highly desirable by parties. As a result, ROs’ ability to potentially influence the political preferences and actions of their own members will give them considerable leverage in lobbying parties using both insider and outside lobbying tactics.

Funds ROs themselves may give money, legally or illegally, and valuable in-​kind resources to party organizations and campaigns. Given that running election campaigns, operating party organizations, and doing legislative work is very expensive, political parties are in dire need of funds at all times. This is particularly true in developing countries, where high poverty levels reduce the ability to raise funds from ordinary citizens (Yadav 2011). Importantly, this is also true for parties, which often have long-​standing partnerships with specific groups, such as sister ROs, labor unions, or business associations (Yadav 2011; Hamid 2014; Masoud 2014b). The magnitude of funding needed to run parties and election campaigns is very high, and research in MMCs suggests that even parties that have sister ROs who can subsidize some of the affiliated party’s costs, still need additional donors to meet their political expenses (Masoud 2014b; Hamid 2014; Gandhi and Lust 2009). Additionally, ROs may also provide valuable in-​kind contributions to political parties by donating printing and computing facilities; providing space for hosting staff and holding rallies; providing speaking time at meetings; lending parties organizational staff who have essential technical skills, for example, in media marketing, human resources, finance, and accounting, etc. to help parties manage their organizations and campaigns and providing rank-​ and-​file volunteers willing to talk to friends, neighbors, colleagues, and other people to influence their votes and political actions. The ability to offer funds and in-​kind donations should therefore allow ROs to use these powerful inside lobbying tactics to access and influence parties.

60  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

Policy Expertise The experience that ROs acquire through their charity work in education, health, poverty, disaster relief, credit provision, and so on, and through their direct participation in business sectors such as banking, insurance, investment, retail, manufacturing, trade, real estate, transportation, and media, makes them highly knowledgeable about different problems facing these various sectors and the feasibility of different policy solutions to address them (Berman 2003; Beinin and Vairel 2013; UNFPA 2009; World Bank 2010; Werenfels 2014). Similarly, their participation in or organization of labor unions, professional associations, and business associations can give them considerable insights into the problems facing these economic groups, potential solutions to these problems, and the credibility to act as their spokesmen (Berman 2003; UNFPA 2009; Brown 2012; Masoud 2013, 2014). Collectively, the information and knowledge that ROs can gain from their experience participating in these different sectors of the economy gives them valuable policy expertise in politically important sectors, such as welfare, education, and the economy. Such knowledge is highly valued even in rich countries since even rich governments do not have the resources to collect and analyze all the relevant information they need to make effective public policies (Hall and Deardorff 2006; Baumgartner et al. 2009). They are highly prized in developing countries, where state capacity to collect and analyze policy-​relevant information is typically much lower (Kuperus 1999; Frye 2002; Duvanova 2007; Rodriguez 2009; UNFPA 2009; Yadav 2011). ROs can therefore offer such valuable and scarce policy expertise to parties as part of an inside lobbying strategy.

Mobilization of the Public The loyalty of members to their ROs, mobilization of affiliated organized groups such as labor unions, professional associations, and business chambers, and access to their own media outlets provide ROs with the ability to powerfully shape public opinion on political and policy issues. This allows ROs to use outside lobbying tactics such public demonstrations and media campaigns very effectively to gain influence with parties. The ability of ROs to inspire and mobilize members can prove highly effective in organizing protests and demonstrations on the streets (Piro 2001; Weiss 2005; Brown 2012; Masoud 2013, 2014a; Lee 2014; Bleck and Michelitch 2011; Beinin 20143). If ROs own media assets, their ability to put indirect pressure on political parties is significantly enhanced, as they can deploy these assets to shape public opinion for or against parties and their policy initiatives. RO-​run newsletters, radio and television stations, and social media assets can be used to mobilize people to vote a certain way, to join

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  61 or abstain from joining public protests, to give public platforms to favored politicians to make their policy and political cases, to attack parties opposed to ROs’ policy agenda, and to shape the policy agenda and the nature of the policy debates that politicians must contend with at any time. These assets are therefore valuable not just during election campaigns but at any time that public opinion must be mobilized to support or oppose a legislative bill or executive decree or praise or attack the performance of governments implementing various policies. The more commercially oriented media assets are, including diverse portfolios of programs and content types (e.g., news, talk shows, television serials, sports, cooking shows, contests, etc.), the larger and more diverse their audiences, increasing the reach and influence of these assets and therefore their political value. Media assets can therefore provide highly effective carrots and sticks that ROs can offer to parties to gain their ear and their policy support. ROs’ ownership of media assets and their ability to mobilize supporters on the streets allow ROs to mount highly effective outside lobbying strategies. Collectively, this discussion suggests that the assets that ROs want to accumulate to serve their religious mission are also powerful tools that can be used to lobby parties in order to pursue ROs’ institutional and policy interests. ROs therefore want to build up their presence in these four sectors of society and the economy in order to propagate their beliefs but also to strengthen the portfolio of assets and skills they can use to gain the access and influence necessary for realizing their institutional and policy goals in service of their larger religious goals. The more ROs can establish and entrench themselves in each of these four sectors—​education, welfare, business and media—​the more religious and political influence they will have. Since all ROs are established to revive Islam among followers, almost all ROs begin by offering religious education. They then expand their capacity to the provision of a wide variety of social welfare services and goods, from soup kitchens to unemployment bureaus. Expanding beyond these more traditional RO spheres of activity requires entry into nontraditional sectors such as secular education, business, and media. Many ROs enter one of these nontraditional sectors first and then expand into the others. Very few enter both media and business sectors simultaneously. As they expand from education to social welfare to business and media, ROs steadily increase their organization’s reach into the social, cultural, and economic spheres in their societies. I refer to this expansion by ROs formerly involved in traditional education and welfare sectors into commercially oriented education and welfare services and unrelated economic sectors and the media sector as the socioeconomic institutionalization (SEI) of these ROs. Since the laws and rules of a country govern what structural forms ROs may take, the sources of funds they may access, and the geographic and functional scope of their activities, ROs’ ability to undertake investment and build

62  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties up capacity in these sectors will be limited by a country’s laws and policies regarding ROs. How favorable such laws and policies are varies tremendously over time and across MMCs (Brown and Revkin 2015; Fox 2015; Pew 2016). Understanding the capacity of ROs to lobby for their policy goals, including on civil liberties, therefore requires understanding why the environment for ROs’ SEI varies across countries and across time. Just as with policy goals, ROs need to lobby and influence political parties in order to create a favorable legal and policy environment that facilitates their ability to institutionalize further in their countries. To do that, ROs must use whatever resources they can command to build relationships with the political actors who can help them realize such legal and policy changes in much the same way that other special interest groups in society do. Since political parties in the legislature and the executive branches are the actors who formulate policies in a country, ROs will target political parties in order to persuade them to adopt policies that allow ROs to increase their SEI. The important question for ROs then is which political parties should they target with their existing resources.

ROs and Lobbying Venue Choice Special interest theory suggests that ideological compatibility is a key factor in the decisions of interest groups to select targets (also referred to as venues).31 When an interest group and a political actor share an ideological worldview, they tend to have similar policy goals. In this case, the interest group’s assets are not directed at changing the positions of otherwise reluctant parties and politicians to support their position but rather at strengthening the capacity of an ideological fellow traveler to deliver on shared goals (Hall and Deardorff 2006; Baumgartner et  al. 2009; Warner 2000). This can be a significant consideration in forming alliances since quid pro quo bargains between interest groups and political actors are informal understandings; they have no legal force and cannot be enforced like a legal contract (Grossman and Helpman 2000; Warner 2000). Investing in an ideologically compatible political actor reduces the risk that a reluctant political actor who is only persuaded into an alliance for instrumental reasons may break such an unenforceable bargain ex post after enjoying the benefits of an interest groups’ resources and support. In MMCs with parties, ROs can typically choose from religious parties or non-religious parties of various ideological inclinations. Political mobilization has often taken place along religious-​secular divides in MMCs (Masoud 2014; Brown 2012; Hefner 2011). Non-religious political parties can include parties

31

Grossman and Helpman 2000; Hall and Deardorff 2006; Baumgartner et al. 2009.

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  63 opposed to religiously inspired policy agendas as well as parties that are conservative and may not be opposed to some religiously inspired policies but are opposed to others. Secular parties draw the bulk of their support from voters and groups opposed to a religious agenda (Brown, Hamzawy and Ottoway 2006; Hamid 2014; Cesari 2018). Not only do they have little in common ideologically with Islamists, any alliance with ROs could be politically damaging for them. ROs therefore have little hope of gaining positive influence over these parties and likely little interest in seeking out access to them. Non-religious parties that have moderate attitudes toward religion and are willing to support some but not all the religious goals ROs espouse may be willing to ally with ROs and support their policy goals in exchange for receiving the resources and moral endorsements that ROs can provide them. However, since their collaboration with ROs is likely to be driven by instrumental motivations rather than a genuine commitment to shared goals, ROs cannot be sure that these parties will not renege on their earlier promises if reneging proves more politically beneficial. After all, such bargains cannot be legally enforced. The most promising potential political partners for ROs, therefore, are the religious parties in their country. Unlike conservative center-​right non-religious parties, religious parties genuinely share a social and institutional vision with ROs. For this reason, they are motivated to pursue the policy goals that ROs themselves favor, with or without the active support of ROs. Consequently, they are more likely to exert effort to adopt and implement the kind of policies, including on civil liberties, that ROs desire. ROs should therefore consider these ideologically like-​minded religious parties to be more willing and more trustworthy than other parties when it comes to their policy agenda. Importantly, the ideological motivations of religious parties are also reinforced by strategic considerations. Like all parties, religious parties require various resources, such as funds, expertise, volunteers, and media exposure, to build viable, capable party organizations running election campaigns, participating in policymaking and government, and providing government oversight. However, they are aware that their ideological platform makes them unattractive to a wide range of individuals and groups who own and can supply these valuable political resources. These limits make religious parties acutely aware of the actual and potential political benefits that ideologically compatible interest groups can offer them. ROs, with their highly structured, nationally pervasive, social networks of loyal ideologically sympathetic followers are among the most reliable sources of these assets for religious parties. Therefore, in addition to having ideological reasons to support ROs and their policies, religious parties also have strong strategic reasons to court ROs with policy promises. Their mutual ideological interests and their strategic interdependence will therefore provide both religious parties and ROs with strong incentives to form an alliance. Furthermore, since religious

64  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties parties expect to be the primary beneficiaries of the ROs’ resource strength, they also have strong strategic incentives to support building up ROs’ organizational strength by supporting the enactment of policies to increase their SEI by facilitating their entry and expansion in nontraditional sectors, including secular education, provision of welfare goods and services, the business sector, and the media sector. This argument clearly does not preclude the possibility of non-religious interest groups lobbying religious parties and of ROs lobbying non-religious parties. However, as I will argue in c­ hapter 3, since in the absence of genuine ideological compatibility these tactics are strategically driven, they are worthwhile only under specific conditions. Namely, these tactics are useful for non-religious groups if only religious parties are in government and for ROs if only non-​ religious parties are in government respectively. The point here is that given their strategic foundation, these partnerships are significantly less likely to be as reliable as those between ideologically compatible partners, such as religious parties and ROs, and non-religious parties and non-religious ROs. For this reason, ROs and religious parties will be more strongly incentivized to build a mutually beneficial relationship. Finally, there are rare examples of religious parties and ROs that have from their earliest moments demonstrated a genuine commitment to democracy and secular principles including liberal civil liberties. The Nahdlatul Ulama of Indonesia, which has consistently expressed a commitment to and voted for a secular democratic constitution, is one such religious party (Barton 2011). Nonreligious interest groups may be genuinely more likely to lobby such parties, while conversely, orthodox ROs may be suspicious of the reliability of such liberal religious parties and less likely to support them. However, it is also possible that in societies polarized along religious secular lines, allying with even a relatively liberal religious party may diminish the standing and support of non-religious groups, while allying with a liberal interest group may damage the credentials of the religious party. Furthermore, while there are many religiously inspired civil society organizations, such as Islamist feminist groups and religious charity organizations, that are liberal, liberal ROs as defined in this book to include da ‘wa organizations and Sufi orders, are very rare (Schulze 2002; Werenfels 2014; Bayat 2013; Howell 2012; Hefner 2011; Lapidus 2002; Westerlund et al. 1999). Therefore, in terms of empirical reality, orthodox ROs and conservative religious parties tend to be more common in MMCs, and the strategic calculations outlined previously about the reliability of ideologically compatible and noncompatible political allies should be the dominant mode of strategizing by these actors in MMCs. This discussion therefore posits that religious parties and ROs will be motivated by ideological and strategic concerns to form a political alliance to promote

Religious Parties and Religious Organizations  65 their shared policy goals and their own individual organizational interests. The next question this poses for us is this: are religious parties always able to ensure the adoption of policies that allow ROs to deepen their SEI and implement religiously derived civil liberties? Chapter  3 answers these central questions by (i) developing a theoretical framework that identifies the conditions under which religious parties are able to or fail to deliver on their policy promises to deepen RO institutionalization and then (ii) analyzing how the success or failure of ROs to further institutionalize their organizations in turn affects the capacity of religious parties to take a position on civil liberties that is in line with their own interests, or in other words how ROs’ SEI affects the ability of religious parties to moderate their religiously derived positions on civil liberties.

Summary This chapter has focused on identifying which religious actors are most relevant for understanding the political behaviors of religious parties regarding the evolution of civil liberties in MMCs. Religious political parties in MMCs, akin to other political parties in their country, need various vital resources to succeed in their political aspirations. These range from securing sufficient funds to finance party operations and elections, to a loyal voter base, volunteers, policy expertise, media access, the ability to dispense patronage, and so on. Religious parties must compete with other parties to get these resources from interest groups and citizens. In this crowded political field, groups organized to promote religious interests are the most likely sources of these valuable assets for religious parties. I identify, as the analytically relevant category of religious special interests, ROs that are founded to propagate religious beliefs, are national in the geographic scope of their presence, and are private nongovernmental organizations led by nationally prominent leaders. These ROs are formally organized special interest groups whose members share a set of beliefs and policy goals motivated by these beliefs, and these organizations work to realize these commonly shared policy goals. Importantly, implementing religiously derived civil liberties in their countries is one of the central policy interest that members of ROs share. Furthermore, this chapter discussed the many organizational challenges each individual RO faces as it interacts with various government bodies to perform secular and religious organizational functions, and as it competes with other ROs to attract followers and enhance its influence. This chapter then discussed how ROs try to serve their religious and organizational goals by seeking to expand and entrench their presence in the educational, welfare, business, and media sectors in their countries. The expansion of ROs into these sectors, a process I refer to as the increased socioeconomic institutionalization of ROs, can allow ROs to build

66  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties up a portfolio of assets and skills that are prized by political parties for their political value. However, the policies facilitating such institutionalization need to be adopted by ruling coalitions in a country. Thus, ROs need political allies to champion this cause in the executive and legislative bodies. Religious parties and organizations share many ideological and policy goals and can reliably partner with each other to their mutual benefit. ROs can provide religious parties with whatever resources they have during and after elections. In return, religious parties, if they win representation in the legislature, can try to pass policies that allow ROs to expand their presence in their societies beyond education and welfare. This forms the foundation of a political partnership between these two sets of actors. In ­chapter 3, I analyze the conditions under which religious parties are able to deliver on their side of the bargain by passing policies to facilitate ROs’ further institutionalization, and the effect highly institutionalized ROs have on the ability of religious parties to take their own positions on policies, including on civil liberties. It is worth emphasizing that the ROs identified in this chapter are of course, not the only kind of ROs that exist in MMCs. In fact, most ROs in MMCs are apolitical organizations that focus their energies on various other goals, primarily as charitable nongovernmental organizations. Many MMCs have also experienced significant growth in ROs set up by the government that perform functions that are similar to the ROs identified as theoretically relevant here. The focus on private, national da ‘wa and Sufi organizations is driven by three goals: to focus on religious entities that have active agendas related to civil liberties in MMCs, to conceptualize a set of actors that could be identified in a theoretically and empirically rigorous and consistent way across all forty-​nine MMCs, and to maximize analytical leverage by simplifying the theoretical landscape. For example, some ROs that are only active at a subnational level in a single or few cities may be highly influential in some specific countries for historical reasons or because they have particularly charismatic leaders. Such organizations are not included in the analysis in this book. They should undoubtedly be the target of future research seeking to further expand and elaborate the theoretical framework presented in the next chapter. This book represents a first step.

3

Religious Parties, Religious Organizations, and the Decline of Civil Liberties Recent research has emphasized the importance of understanding how historical context influences the contemporary behaviors of political actors, particularly of religious actors. A key reason for this emphasis is that parties and interest groups “co-evolve” (Heaney 2010), changing in response to each other’s actions, tactics, and the popular support they command (Clemens 1997; Heaney 2010). Warner (2000: 24–​26), for example, examines how history shapes the structures, ideologies, and reputational legacies of religious parties and religious organizations, influencing their incentives to cooperate with each other. Gryzmala-​Busse (2015) examines how churches’ history of supporting or opposing national interests during times of national crisis subsequently affects their moral authority, in turn affecting their ability to influence ruling and opposition parties. In this book, I focus on how ROs and religious parties coevolve in response to specific factors in their environments and how this history of coevolution in turn shapes the ability of religious parties to take on positions on policies that both sets of actors care deeply about, prominently including civil liberties. First, I will argue that the history of electoral success of religious parties and inflationary crises in a country shape the evolution of ROs by influencing the nature and extent of their organizational penetration into their societies, a process I refer to as socioeconomic institutionalization. Different histories on these two factors lead to differences in the levels of ROs’ SEI across countries. These differences in the levels of ROs’ SEI across countries, I will argue, subsequently play a key role in shaping whether or not religious parties decide to implement policies that curb liberal civil liberties when they finally enter government and are in a position to do so. I hypothesize that in countries where the level of ROs’ SEI is high, religious parties face a very high cost for moderating their civil liberties positions when they are in government. Consequently, despite many cognitive and strategic incentives to moderate their opposition to civil liberties, they will implement policies to implement religiously derived civil liberties, and the de facto level of civil liberties will therefore decline. Absent highly institutionalized ROs, however, religious parties respond to moderating incentives by not adopting such policies, and consequently civil liberties will not decline for religious reasons despite the ascent of religious parties to government. Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties. Vineeta Yadav, Oxford University Press (2021). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197545362.003.0003

68  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties In the rest of this chapter I first draw on insights from research on inflationary crises, political parties, and special interest groups to argue that while religious parties and religious organizations will find it mutually beneficial to form an alliance to promote each other’s interests, this alliance will only deliver valuable institutional benefits to ROs when their country is in the grip of a severe inflationary crisis. I then discuss why these arguments do not change in the context of autocracies and then derive the first hypothesis and its corollaries. Next, I build on research on the moderation of religious parties, cognitive psychology, behavioral economics, and political parties to argue that when religious parties enter government, they face a particularly strong set of incentives to moderate their positions on civil liberties. However, their ability to do so depends on the organizational strength that ROs have achieved in their country by that time. I derive the second hypothesis and its corollaries and then conclude by discussing why these arguments do not change in the context of institutionalized autocracies with multiparty legislatures.

Coevolution: Conditions for Socioeconomic Institutionalization of ROs In ­chapter 2 I argued that religious organizations that were private, nongovernmental organizations, national in geographic scope, led by leaders of national prominence, and founded primarily to promote Islam were the key religious actors promoting religiously derived curbs on civil liberties in MMCs, in addition to religious parties founded on orthodox principles. ROs and religious parties therefore are ideological allies and have many policy interests in common. However, the ability of ROs and religious parties to promote this shared agenda depends on their individual strengths and their ability to strengthen each other. In the case of ROs, they need a partner to help them realize their institutional interests in a competitive religious market and a partner willing to implement their shared policy goals, including policies on civil liberties. In the case of religious parties, they need allies who can help them obtain the resources necessary for achieving political success, including winning legislative seats and executive office. When are these allies able to promote each other’s interests and coevolve to strength? In the first part of this chapter, I address this question by arguing that these allies are only able to co-​evolve successfully when two conditions are present: (i) the number of legislative seats that religious parties have won are high and highly concentrated in a few parties, and (ii) the economy is experiencing an inflationary crisis during the tenure of this concentrated religious-​party bloc in the legislature. When legislative concentration of religious parties is high in the

the Decline of Civil Liberties  69 context of an inflationary crisis, religious parties will be able to persuade nonreligious parties to adopt policies that facilitate the expansion of ROs, including into nontraditional sectors, such as businesses and media. This in turn, will significantly strengthen ROs’ resource base and their ability to engage in highly effective inside and outside lobbying strategies.

Legislative Concentration of Religious Parties Religious parties are only in a position to potentially help ROs achieve their institutional and policy goals when they have access to the policy process in the legislature. Even if religious parties are not the dominant legislative actors, their legislative presence can strengthen ROs through actions such as introducing bills and amendments that attempt to enact policies that strengthen ROs, and voting against policies and institutional choices that undermine these organizations, for example, policies that increase regulation over their operations, reduce their ability to qualify for public funds and support, and limit the scope of their work or their ability to perform it. Thus, religious parties first and foremost need to win seats in parliament in numbers that give them an actual say in policymaking. The electoral success of religious parties sends a clear signal to non-religious parties that there are significant numbers of voters who support their values and policy agenda and want to see religion play a more prominent role in society and governance. However, seat numbers alone will be insufficient if they are distributed across a large number of religious parties. If a religious legislative bloc is made up of a large number of religious parties, the political threat they can pose to other parties is considerably weakened, for a number of reasons. It clearly indicates that no single party has enough support among the electorate to seriously challenge other parties, particularly the ruling parties. It suggests that these distinct religious parties, each with its own organizational and political interests, must coordinate their actions to make an effective push for or against any policy. The larger the number of religious parties, the harder it will be for them to coordinate on any issue. Furthermore, the fact that they are all competitors for the same religious voter bloc creates incentives for each to undermine and discredit the policy efforts of others in order to increase their own support. Finally, the more religious parties there are, the greater the chance that other parties might co-​opt one or some of them by offering them positions or logrolling with them in order to break them away from other religious parties’ legislative efforts. Conversely, when religious parties win sufficient seats and those seats are concentrated in very few religious parties, their effectiveness as a cohesive legislative bloc increases substantially. The concentration of votes in one or two religious

70  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties parties will indicate to other parties that these religious parties can pose a significant electoral threat to them and are rivals to be taken seriously. Coordination on policy positions and tactics will be more likely when religious parties are highly concentrated in parliament. This in turn will increase the probability that they can coordinate successfully on legislative actions. The larger the number of seats a concentrated bloc commands, the more influence they will have. For any number of seats in the legislature, a concentrated legislative religious-​party bloc will be able to wield influence over policymaking more effectively. Thus, when religious parties form a highly concentrated legislative bloc, ROs will potentially have not just access to policymaking processes in parliament, but an influential legislative partner as well.

Inflation Crises and the Leverage of ROs An inflationary crisis is typically defined as an inflation rate that exceeds two standard deviations of a country’s long-​run inflation rate (Lucas 2000). Inflationary crisis can be created by internal or external shocks. Internal shocks can include natural disasters, persistent fiscal deficits, foreign debt, and foreign worker remittances (Ha et al. 2019; Coibion et al. 2017; Gerlach-​Kristen 2006; Fischer, Sahay, and Végh 2002; Rodrik 1990). External shocks can include pass through from exchange rate shocks, foreign inflation shocks, and foreign direct investment (Auer, Borio, and Filardo 2017; Lombardo and Ravenna 2014; Krznar, and Kunovac 2010; Edwards 2006; Gerlach-​Kristen 2006). The key feature of an inflationary crisis is that, unlike an unemployment shock or an exchange rate shock, when a country experiences an inflationary crisis, all segments of society, across different social and economic groups, are affected economically by it.1 This happens through two distinct channels. The first is through the direct impact of prices. The increased prices of essentials such as food, fuel, healthcare, and rent decrease the real purchasing power of nominal income. This impacts poor and low-​income citizens the most since most of their income and wealth is held in cash and most of their income is spent on these essentials (Levell and Oldfield 2011; Kaplan and Schulhofer-​Wohl 2017; Weichenrieder and Gurer 2018). An inflation crisis can therefore push poor and low-​income individuals into an existential crisis, making them highly dependent on charity for their survival (Powers 1996; World Bank 2011; Bachmann, Berg, and Sims 2015; Siami-​Namini and Hudson 2017). Middle-​class families and

1 See Beetsma and van Den Ploeg 1996; Lucas 2000; Easterly and Fisher 2001; Rodriguez et al. 2002; Edwards 2006; World Bank 2011; Doepke, Schneider, and Selezneva 2018; Malmendier and Nagel 2016; Siami-​Namini and Hudson 2017; Coibion et al. 2017; Doepke and Schneider 2006.

the Decline of Civil Liberties  71 people living on fixed incomes, such as the elderly or public sector employees, also see considerable erosion in their ability to meet their basic needs (Erosa and Ventura 2002; Albanesi 2007; Rodriguez et al. 2002). Their capacity to invest in building their own and their family’s human capital by spending on education and health also suffers (Schiller 1996; Easterly and Fisher 2001; Williamson 2008; Ledoit 2011; Malmendier and Nagel 2016). Additionally, their ability to save for the future, including for their own old age, declines (Bachmann, Berg, and Sims 2015; Doepke, Schneider, and Selezneva 2018; Loughrey and O’Donoghue 2011; Doepke and Schneider 2006). For the wealthy, the affordability of essentials, education, and health is less of a concern; however, inflation reduces the value of the nominal assets and investments they own significantly, lowering their overall wealth (Cysne et al. 2005; Areosa and Areosa 2006; Barnes, Boyd, and Smith 1999; Palmer and Barth 1977). Thus, an inflationary crisis harms citizens across ethnic, religious, regional, and class lines. Second, an inflationary affects the ability of firms to operate on their current scale, leading to significant increases in unemployment. Business entrepreneurs, particularly small and medium-​sized businesses, employ the bulk of a country’s citizens (World Bank 2010b; Ayyagiri, Demirgüç-​Kunt, and Maksimovic 2008). These firms run their operations on working credit (World Bank 2010b; Ayyagiri, Demirgüç-​Kunt, and Maksimovic 2008). An inflationary crisis directly affects ­financial institutions and financial markets. Banks reduce their borrowing and engage in credit rationing (Boyd, Levine, and Smith 1996; Huybens and Smith 1999; Barnes, Boyd, and Smith 1999). This affects small and medium firms the most, as they find themselves losing access to credit or with reduced credit lines (UNIDO and UNODOC 2007; Ayyagiri, Demirgüç-​Kunt, and Maksimovic 2008). This in turn leads to both layoffs and bankruptcies, which increases unemployment levels fairly quickly (Bruno and Easterly 1998; Cysne et al. 2005; Costamagna 2015; Coibion et  al. 2017). Furthermore, an inflationary crisis reduces further investment by firms, leading to lower job generation and economic growth in the immediate future as well (Ha et al. 2019).2 Additionally, inflationary crises depress financial market development in the long run, as well as reducing access to credit and raising its price, issues that outlast any specific inflationary crises (Boyd, Levine, and Smith 1996; Huybens and Smith 1999; Barnes, Boyd, and Smith 1999). Inflationary crises therefore erode the economic well-​being of individuals and families through their effect on immediate unemployment and the prospects of reduced employment in the near future.

2 The effect of inflationary crisis on long-​term economic growth is a subject of debate in economics. See Ha et al. 2019 for an updated discussion, and see Barro 1995; Bruno and Easterly 1998; Khan and Senhadji 2001; López-​Villavicencio and Mignon 2011; and Eggoh and Khan 2014 for various perspectives.

72  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Collectively, as a result of these effects, inflationary crises put significant pressure on the economic health and prospects of most citizens simultaneously, significantly increasing the demands on governments to address these challenges. The discontent such economic distress produces can pose a credible threat to the ruling coalition’s hold on power precisely because it cuts across socioeconomic, religious, and ethnic divisions, threatening support from many different vote banks simultaneously. Citizens are less likely to support a government they see as incompetent for presiding over an inflationary crisis. Furthermore, citizens often turn to religion (Durkheim [1912] 2008) during times of economic crises, and research finds that this turn to religion can manifest itself as increased support for religious parties (Grewal et al. 2019). Grewal et al. (2019: 14) find “evidence that economic hardship predisposes individuals to exhibit a greater need and desire for divine rewards, and more importantly, that this translates into support for religious parties.” Given the universally negative impact of inflationary crises on all citizens, the government of the day faces a potentially severe threat to its rule. How incumbents manage the economic and social impact of such a crisis to reduce the economic distress of different segments of the population therefore becomes an urgent political issue for the incumbents. Consequently, the ruling coalition will look for immediate and effective ways to meet the needs of these different groups in society. Religious organizations are typically already active in providing food, religious education, healthcare, and small loans to poor citizens in almost all societies, including MMCs (Fridolfsson and Elander 2012; Manow and Van Kersbergen 2011; Göçmen 2013; Masoud 2014b; Khalil 2014; Queen 2017). As a direct result of their prior experience, they tend to have better organizational knowledge than their governments regarding problems and feasible solutions on these issues and better infrastructure for delivering goods and services to meet citizen demands (UNFPA 2009; World Bank 2010a). For this reason, faith-​based organizations are often sought out by governments to fill societal demands for public goods and services during times of economic crisis and retrenchment. For example, during economic crises, faith-​based organizations have been encouraged to expand their provision of goods and services, including free and subsidized food, healthcare, education, housing, and small-​loan provision, in countries as diverse as Sweden (Fridolfsson and Elander 2012), the UK (Göçmen 2013; Manow and Van Kersbergen 2011), Germany (Manow and Van Kersbergen 2011), Ireland (Gryzmala-​Busse 2011), and the United States (Queen 2017; Reingold et  al. 2007). However, these are rich, mature economies with sophisticated, well-​ developed economies and capable states (UNFPA 2009; World Bank 2010a). I argue that in MMCs, which have significantly less developed markets and lower state capacity than these rich countries (UNFPA 2009; World Bank 2010a), the welfare gaps that ROs can fill are much broader and deeper.

the Decline of Civil Liberties  73 An inflationary crisis significantly increases the number of destitute people in MMCs who need the charitable public goods and services provided by ROs. Incumbents therefore find it attractive to allow ROs to expand the number, operational scale, and geographic scope of their facilities in order to meet the demands of poor and low-​income citizens. Furthermore, ROs’ ability to provide low-​cost, subsidized, fee-​paying goods and services, for example vocational or professional education and fee-​based healthcare and child care, can fill critical needs for middle-​income families and families on fixed incomes such as public sector employees and the elderly. Thus, incumbents will find that even in the fields of education and welfare goods and services, allowing ROs to provide for profit goods and services helps to meet the demands of middle-​ income and fixed-​income families for more affordable goods and services. Of course, governments could increase their own spending to meet these increased demands in the education and welfare sectors. However, governments simply do not have the resources to meet the demands of every group in society that is affected by inflation. Instead, they are more likely to direct their limited resources to meet the demands of the more mobilized groups in order to stave off the most organized severe political threats, for example public sector workers who live on fixed incomes (Frye 2002; Weiss 2009; Kim and Gandhi 2010; Trejo 2012; Freer 2016; Yadav and Mukherjee 2016). The demands of other less organized groups in society will still need to be satisfied if incumbent governments are to manage the political threat of inflation effectively. Thus, in the context of an inflationary crisis, incumbent governments will be motivated to allow ROs to significantly expand their existing charitable and for-​profit operations in the education and welfare fields in order to stave off the political threat. ROs, however, can also prove useful in dealing with the employment consequences of inflationary crisis. In a context where access to credit has gone down significantly, the ability of ROs to provide small loans to entrepreneurs and unemployed individuals and to establish banks, including Islamic banks that are based on the principle of interest-​free credit, can provide potential relief to credit-​constrained businesses, particularly in the small and medium-​sized business sectors (Binmahfouz 2012, 2016; Ghouls and Karam 2007). The employment impact of inflation also increases the value of employment-​related services that ROs can provide, such as loans for self-​employment, and employment agencies that place people in domestic and foreign jobs. Finally, it increases the value of jobs that ROs can offer to citizens if they are allowed to establish commercial business enterprises. While private sector jobs may have been preferred by citizens, particularly those with specific skills during good economic times, RO jobs will gain in appeal if other jobs are scarce. Allowing ROs to run businesses producing goods and services with a religious theme (e.g., halal consumption goods, modest fashion) and non-religious products (e.g., bakeries,

74  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties manufacturing, real estate, construction, malls, transportation) allows them to employ people with a variety of educational and skill levels, easing pressure on the government to generate jobs in an inflation-​plagued economy. Furthermore, as providers of spiritual guidance and comfort and a sense of community, ROs also serve an important role in helping citizens manage life’s stresses and crises (Durkheim 1912; Norris and Inglehart 2011). Citizens are particularly likely to turn to religion as a source of solace and comfort during periods of economic crises (Grewal et al. 2019; De La O and Rodden 2008). The nature of religious teachings and participation can influence the political responses of citizens to various challenges, including economic challenges (McClendon and Riedl 2019; Grewal et al. 2019; De La O and Rodden 2008). The potential of ROs to reduce grievance and discontent among the population by supplying different segments of society with such spiritual support will therefore be attractive to incumbents. ROs can gain such capacity on a local scale by building new religious facilities such as more mosques, but to be more effective ROs must be able to reach wider and harder-​to-​reach audiences. This can be done by broadcasting their messages on media that ordinary citizens can access easily, namely electronic media such as television, radio and cable channels and ROs will therefore aspire to own such assets. Of course, RO ownership of these assets can also serve as sources of employment. ROs are well positioned to supply many of these goods and services because of their existing infrastructure for delivering public goods and services in society, because of the trust they have earned and enjoy among communities due to their prior work, and because they have knowledge of and expertise in the appropriate solutions, policies, and delivery mechanisms to provide them (Brooke 2017; Masoud 2014b; Khalil 2014; Pepinsky 2014; World Bank 2010; UNFPA 2009; Wiktorowicz 2004; Berman 2003). However, they often have little or no experience in other areas, such as running factories on a commercial scale or managing radio and TV stations. Religious parties are more familiar with the assets, skills, and capacities of ROs given their alliance and many shared members. However, non-religious parties in the executive and legislative branches are unlikely to have close ties or extensive links with religious organizations (Brown and Ottoway 2010; AbdelRahman 2007; Abdalla 2008). Whether or not nonreligious parties see the provision of these various goods and services by ROs as an acceptable solution to the political threat they face due to an inflationary crisis will depend on whether there is an institutional actor willing to champion ROs’ capacity and ability to provide these goods and services. I argue that religious parties, no matter their parliamentary strength, will attempt to use the opportunity created by the inflationary crisis to push nonreligious parties in government and in parliament to adopt policies giving ROs the ability to increase the scale and scope of their existing activities and to enter and operate in the commercial economic and media sectors since religious

the Decline of Civil Liberties  75 parties will see this as being in their own interest. However, these attempts will succeed only when there is an effective, concentrated religious-​party bloc present in the legislature either as part of the ruling coalition or outside of it. This is for two reasons. First, the presence of a concentrated religious legislative bloc allows religious parties to coordinate their positions to champion ROs, to use their legislative presence and muscle to introduce and debate laws and decrees to implement suitable policies, and to use their legislative platform to advocate publicly for policies that allow for the institutionalization of ROs beyond traditional charitable educational and welfare activities. Thus, ROs have someone to advocate for them and emphasize their abilities, religious motivations, and willingness to provide for public needs that the government cannot meet on its own during this economy-​wide crisis. Second, the presence of this concentrated religious bloc signals to non-religious parties that religious parties may present a credible political threat to them if they do not effectively address the impact of the economic crisis. This threat is strengthened by the inflationary crisis, since citizens who are facing more economic duress (Grewal et al. 2019) and uncertainty about economic policy (Pepinsky and Liddle 2012) are more likely to favor religious parties. Since governments are under considerable political and economic pressure during such crises, and there is a paucity of alternatives to meet the demands of different groups, non-religious parties in government and parliament will agree to religious-​party proposals to expand the role of ROs in society. Collectively, this discussion suggests that if religious parties have won sufficient seats to form an effective legislative delegation and the country suffers an inflationary crisis, religious parties will be able to push through policies that allow ROs to expand beyond their traditional charitable educational and welfare activities into the for-​profit sector in education, services, businesses, and electronic media. Once religious organizations are legally able to enter these sectors and are no longer logistically obstructed by a hostile state, they rely on the expertise and funds of their own members to achieve success in many of these endeavors. These policy changes therefore allow ROs that so desire to increase not just the scope of their work in the social welfare and education sectors but to extend their organizational presence far beyond these sectors into the wider economy by owning and/​or running businesses in sectors unrelated to religious work and into the media sector by owning or running outlets beyond just the print media. As a result, ROs will emerge from these conditions with considerably enhanced institutional assets and a much higher level of penetration into society and the economy. This leads to the following hypothesis: Hypothesis 1: Under conditions of an inflation crisis, a higher concentration of legislative seats held by religious political parties increases the extent of socioeconomic institutionalization of national-​level nongovernmental ROs.

76  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties In the absence of an inflation crisis, non-religious governments and parties do not face a serious political threat that can be effectively addressed by ROs. Hence, they have no incentives to support any religious ​party sponsored measures to expand the scope of ROs’ activities. Furthermore, other parties will fear enacting any policies that strengthen ROs because they will see these as benefiting religious parties but not themselves. Given the religious-​secular division in society and the fact that religious parties have already secured enough seats in parliament, they will be more intent on curbing the capacity of ROs to help religious parties. In this case, the mere presence of a highly concentrated religious-​party delegation in the legislature will not translate into policies that allow ROs to increase and expand the scope of their organizations operations. Therefore, ROs will fail to gain strength. This suggests the following corollary: Corollary 1: In the absence of an inflation crisis, a high legislative concentration of seats held by religious parties will not lead to greater socioeconomic institutionalization of ROs.

If there is an inflation crisis but the legislature lacks a concentrated religious-​ party caucus, then there will be no effective parliamentary champion that can present ROs as a viable and attractive solution to problems created by the crisis. If religious parties win few seats or if the seats are distributed across a large number of competing religious parties, then religious parties as a whole do not pose a credible threat to non-religious parties. Non-religious parties will not feel compelled to cater to religious sentiments since the absence of strong, popularly supported religious parties in parliament will lead them to believe that religiously based policy solutions or platforms are not attractive to constituents. Consequently, no policies favorable to religious organizations will be introduced or passed. ROs will continue to operate in their traditional spheres of providing social welfare to the needy and religious education to the devout but will not be able to expand into the for-​profit education and welfare sectors or enter new sectors in the economy or the media. In this case as well, we would not expect to see an increase in the socioeconomic strength or the reach of these organizations. This suggests the following corollary: Corollary 2: In the absence of a high legislative concentration of seats held by religious parties, an inflationary crisis will not lead to higher socioeconomic institutionalization of ROs.

Finally, if religious parties have not been very successful electorally and thus fail to form an effective religious bloc, and there is no inflationary crisis in the country, no policies that allow ROs to increase their institutionalization will be

the Decline of Civil Liberties  77 passed. Religious parties will lack the strength and the political opportunity to convince other parties of the necessity and value of allowing ROs to enter new domains. Non-religious parties will lack any motive to enact policies favorable to ROs in the absence of an inflation crisis. Conversely, they will have many reasons to block any such policies from being enacted by others since they are not ideologically inclined to strengthen ROs and will see the strengthening of ROs as benefiting religious parties, their political and possibly ideological opponents. The top half of the flow chart presented in fi ­ gure 1.3 in c­ hapter 1 summarizes these arguments and illustrates the outcomes that occur under these different conditions.

RO Institutionalization in Autocracies Are these dynamics specific to MMCs that are democracies? After all, legislatures and parties are adopted and can be discarded at the discretion of ruling elites in autocracies. Religious parties are often opposition parties, and mobilization by civil society groups, including religious interest groups, can be similarly shut down if it becomes politically threatening in these regimes. As I discuss later, a considerable body of research on autocracies suggests that the factors driving RO institutionalization are not specific to democracies but are at work in institutionalized autocracies as well. First, unlike democracies where multiple parties, direct elections, and elected legislatures are established features of the political landscape, in autocracies incumbents choose whether and when to adopt these institutions. This raises a potential concern: is inflation driving the adoption of multiparty elections and elected legislatures in the first place in autocracies? If so, it could be driving the emergence of a religious-​party parliamentary bloc. In this case, unlike democracies, both RO institutionalization and religious-​party concentration in parliament would be endogenous to the inflation crisis in autocracies. Both cross-​country and in-​depth case studies suggest that neither political liberalization nor the emergence of religious parties as a significant parliamentary presence is endogenous to inflationary crises. Cross-​country studies find no relationship between inflationary crises and political liberalization in autocracies (Geddes 1999; Gasiorowski 1995; Miller 2015a). Au contraire, autocracies have adopted elections and elected legislatures at very different points in their lives. Many autocracies adopted multiparty elections and legislatures at their inception (e.g., Indonesia, Malaysia, and Pakistan); others adopted them in response to stimuli such as international pressures, to preempt diffusion of democracy movements, and so on; some regimes adopted them to boost stagnant economic growth in the absence of

78  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties any immediate crisis; and finally some did so in the aftermath of some kind of economic crises (see Geddes, Wright, and Frantz 2012; Wright 2008; Gandhi 2008; Svolik 2012). In Pakistan, for example, these institutions were adopted during its early years in the context of an economic boom (Burki and Butt 2019). Furthermore, inflationary crises occurred in many autocracies decades after they had already adopted these institutions (Baaklini et al. 1999; Geddes 1999; Gasiorowski 1995; Miller 2015). Extant cross-​country evidence therefore suggests that there is no systematic link between inflationary crises and the adoption of multiparty elections and directly elected legislatures in autocracies. Furthermore, at least three studies—​those by Malesky et  al. (2013), Miller (2015), and Yadav and Mukherjee (2016)—​ explicitly address the issue of endogeneity of other outcomes to the process of political liberalization by autocratic regimes in their research designs and still find robust results that institutions have significant effects on sensitive outcomes such as income redistribution, public spending, and corruption in these regimes. There is also substantial research at this point that finds that once autocracies have adopted institutions such as directly elected multiparty elections, these institutions have their own effects on policies and politics (see, e.g., Miller 2015a; Malesky et al. 2012; Boix and Svolik 2008; Svolik 2012; Gandhi 2008; Wright 2008). While regimes do sometimes suspend parliament and delay elections, this is not the modal behavior. Instead more often, autocrats try to tilt the electoral field against opposition parties by using various tactics to reduce their ability to win votes (Blaydes 2010; Gandhi and Lust-​Okar 2009). Collectively, existing evidence suggests that the presence of these institutions is not correlated to the onset of economic crises in the global set of countries or in authoritarian MMCs, and inflationary crises and autocratic institutionalization concur in only a small share of the entire global sample of autocratic countries or country years. The theory presented in this book explains these phenomena for the entire sample of autocracies with all of these institutional experiences. Second, there is no reason why the regime would choose to increase RO institutionalization in particular to deal with an inflationary crisis rather than adopting other policies that are more directly and publicly visible, such as increasing public spending on food and fuel subsidies, providing unemployment benefits, subsiding education or healthcare, and so on. Opposition parties that are leftist or regionally or ethnically based will push for other kinds of policies, for example greater social welfare benefits, higher wages, or regionally concentrated or ethnically concentrated benefits for their voters. It is only when a religious parliamentary bloc wants to see ROs’ institutional capacity strengthened in its own interests that policies expanding ROs’ ability to provide goods and services to all citizens become part of the regime’s strategy for handling the consequences of high inflation. Religious parties, whether in opposition or in the ruling

the Decline of Civil Liberties  79 coalition, demonstrate their commitment to playing by the autocrats’ rules by participating in potentially flawed autocratic elections to parliaments with limited powers (Lust-​Okar 2005; Gandhi 2008; Brown and Ottoway 2010). They are therefore well positioned to assuage any fears autocrats have of antiregime mobilization by ROs and to champion ROs’ utility in helping the regime perpetuate itself. Thus, the emergence of a concentrated parliamentary bloc composed of religious parties is essential for an autocratic regime to consider and adopt policies that increase RO institutionalization as part of their policy response to the political threat posed by an inflationary crisis. Third, the rise of a religious-​party bloc is not an inevitable outcome of elections in MMC autocracies, and therefore it is an independent condition required for the emergence of institutionalized ROs. Just because an autocrat allows elections and opposition parties does not mean that any religious parties will win or that so few religious parties win seats that they can form a concentrated parliamentary bloc of religious parties. Some institutionalized, autocratic MMCs do not have religious parties at all. While religious parties won enough seats to form influential parliamentary blocs in some autocracies, for example, Egypt, Kuwait, and Morocco, they have only sporadically enjoyed electoral success in others, such as Jordan, autocratic Pakistan, and Senegal (Baaklini et al. 1999; Kurzman and Naqvi 2015). In many countries, religious votes are split between many religious parties, creating a fractionalized parliamentary bloc of religious parties. Furthermore, even if autocrats want to manipulate elections to favor religious parties, they are often unable to predictably manipulate the results exactly the way they want to (Gandhi and Lust-​Okar 2009; Hyde and Marinov 2012; Miller 2015). Consider, for example, the 2018 Malaysian elections, the 2010 Kuwaiti elections, or the 2005 Egyptian elections, all of which led to unexpected election results under autocratic regimes (Miller 2015a, 2015b; Gandhi and Lust-​Okar 2009). In fact, scholars find that the volatility of autocratic elections is greater than that of democracies, with many unexpected results suggesting the limited ability of autocrats to generate guaranteed election outcomes (Hyde and Marinov 2012; Miller 2015a, 2015b). Importantly, even when autocrats have the capacity to manipulate election results, they have few incentives to engage in manipulation that creates an effective partisan bloc in parliament other than that formed by the ruling elites. The existence of a concentrated religious parliamentary bloc therefore requires the presence of factors other than the existence of an autocratic regime willing to tolerate it. Collectively, these factors suggest that the presence of a concentrated bloc of religious parties is not inevitable in autocratic MMCs that have multiparty elected parliaments and is not endogenous to the decision to adopt elections and parliaments. Instead, it constitutes an independent condition required for the process of institutionalization even in autocratic MMCs.

80  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Finally, many MMCs have had directly elected multiparty legislatures for decades under the same autocratic regime but headed by different leaders. For example, Malaysia has had six prime ministers from the United Malays National Organisation, Indonesia had Sukarno and Suharto, Egypt had Sadat and Mubarak, and Pakistan had Ayub Khan, Yahya Khan, Zia ul Haq, and Pervez Musharraf, all operating with directly elected multiparty legislatures that allowed opposition party participation (Geddes, Wright, and Frantz 2012). The decision to allow ROs to expand their activities in the 1980s under one set of autocratic leaders is unlikely to be driven by an underlying willingness to adopt institutions by an entirely different set of autocratic leaders in the 1950s. A second set of concerns relates to the ability of civil society groups to form alliances with religious parties and particularly to mobilize in support of such parties under autocratic regimes. Do ROs risk the wrath of incumbents if they choose to collaborate with religious parties, particularly if religious parties are in opposition rather than part of the ruling coalition? If so, ROs in autocracies may not choose to ally with religious parties because they do not want to risk being shut down by the regime for doing so. While repression is the response of some autocratic governments some of the time, there is considerable evidence that autocratic regimes vary tremendously in their tolerance for mobilization by interest groups and for collaboration between civil society-​based special interest groups and political parties across time within the same regime and across countries (Frye 2002; Duvanova 2007; Piro 2001; Trejo 2012; Weiss 2005; Kim and Gandhi 2010; La Croix 2016; Sakhtivel 2015). Moreover, repression is only one of several tactics that autocrats use to manage mobilized civil society groups in their countries. In addition to repression, autocrats use co-​optation (e.g., of religious groups [Brown 2017; Werenfels 2014] and labor groups [Kim and Gandhi 2010]), integration into state structure (e.g., of labor groups in Egypt and Brazil [Kim and Gandhi 2010; Skidmore 1988]), and mimicry (e.g., establishing monarchy-​or state-​sponsored human rights, women’s, and development NGOs in Jordan and Egypt [see Piro 2001; Moore 2004; and Beinin and Vairel  2013]) to influence interest group behaviors. Autocrats can also divide civil society groups by pitting them against each other in order to gain valuable government patronage and resources (Piro 2001; Moore 2004; Lust-​Okar 2005; Sakhtivel 2015). For example, in Morocco, the king played off various groups against each other in order to deal with alliances between parties and interest groups but did not ban such alliances (Sakhtivel 2015). In Egypt, the Muslim Brotherhood was first courted and then distanced by Sadat; then Salafist organizations were courted and occasionally distanced by Mubarak (Wickham 2013; LaCroix 2016). In good periods, Salafists from various organizations secured licenses from Mubarak to run satellite channels; during bad periods, their leaders were arrested (LaCroix 2016). Such tactics try

the Decline of Civil Liberties  81 to incentivize interest groups not to enter into alliances with opposition parties by making such alliances unattractive, but evidence suggests that they do not necessarily prevent them from forming (Yadav and Mukherjee 2016; Trejo 2012; Weiss 2009; Piro 2001). Importantly, when such alliances have formed, autocrats have exhibited a wide range of tactics in dealing with them rather than just using repression against these groups. For example, in Malaysia many religious organizations, labor unions, human rights organizations, and so on, openly allied with and campaigned for opposition parties for years under varying levels of backlash and tolerance from the state (Weiss 2009; Yadav and Mukherjee 2016). In Indonesia, the Nahdlatul Ulama collaborated actively with various civil society interest groups under Suharto’s regime for years to mobilize for various reforms, including democratic reforms (Barton 2011; Hadiwinoto and Schuck 2014). In Jordan, small-​business associations helped opposition parties’ campaign during elections without facing much backlash because they demanded anticorruption policies, not democracy (Yadav and Mukherjee 2016; Moore 2004). In Morocco, the Justice and Development Party (PJD) has always had close links with the Boushtiyya Sufi order, and the order’s members have publicly mobilized in support of the PJD during and after elections (Werenfels 2014). Such collaborations between pro-​regime and opposition parties in Morocco are also found among labor unions, women’s organizations, and human rights organizations, and the Moroccan monarchy has tolerated them for years (Sakhtivel 2015). In Egypt, the Brotherhood successfully dominated elections in many types of professional associations in the 1980s and 1990s, and at the same time participated actively in parliamentary elections, using many resources from these organizations to support its campaign efforts (Masoud 2014; Wickham 2013). Mubarak tolerated these collaborations for years before finally cracking down on them by passing legislation to tamper with association elections (Lust-​Okar 2005; Piro 2001). Along with research on interest group mobilization in autocracies, these examples indicate that various interest groups, including ROs, are able to mobilize and form beneficial alliances with opposition parties in order to pursue their institutional and policy goals. It is important to recall that religious parties often form part of the ruling coalition in autocratic MMCs, for example in Kuwait, Algeria, and Pakistan. In these periods, ROs and their religious-​party allies are part of the ruling coalitions and are unlikely to face repression by these governments. Collectively, this body of research on social mobilization in autocracies suggests that while alliances between interest groups and religious parties can sometimes attract brutal repression by the regime, this is not the only or the dominant pattern. Instead, on many occasions, political mobilization by ROs and their alliances with religious parties prove to be highly productive for ROs and parties alike.

82  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Finally, a third potential challenge about the causal mechanism posed in this chapter for RO institutionalization stems from concerns about the ability of religious parties to have any influence on legislation and regime policies in autocracies. To begin with, it is worth noting that the data collected for this book show that religious parties form part of the ruling coalition in 32% of all country-​years for a comprehensive sample of 49 MMCs, including democracies and autocracies, from 1970 to 2016. As part of the government, these parties have had the influence to shape legislation, make important appointments, and allocate government resources, and they have used their government positions to do so in line with their religious agenda. For example, in Jordan in the 1950s, Muslim Brotherhood–​affiliated figures were given the education and family affairs portfolios and proceeded to implement their religiously inspired policies in these ministries (Baaklini et al. 1999). In Pakistan, the Jamaat-​e-​Islami party was given the education and communication portfolios by General Zia, and its ministers promptly revised the educational curricula, authorized the expansion of RO religious schools, changed the content and censorship of programs on public television, and stacked these bureaucracies with its own appointees (Jaffrelot 2016). In Kuwait, Muslim Brotherhood and Salafi-​affiliated parliamentarians passed legislation segregating men and women in public places (LaCroix 2016). Importantly, when they are in opposition, religious parties do not have to pass legislation to actually influence policy, though they have done so occasionally. Research on autocracies shows that once opposition parties have secured parliamentary election victories, the regime has strong incentives to allow them some influence in policymaking (Svolik 2012; Fearon 2011; Gehlbach and Keefer 2011; Levitsky and Way 2010; Gandhi 2008; Magaloni 2006). These studies show that the presence of opposition parties in parliament often incentivizes autocrats to appropriate the opposition’s agenda in order to reduce the opposition’s appeal and boost the regime’s appeal. At other times, the regime may find it useful to collaborate with opposition parties to formulate certain policies in order to give the policy legitimacy in the public eye (e.g., on anticorruption efforts, see Yadav and Mukherjee 2016) or to share the blame for unpopular policies (e.g., for fiscal austerity and free trade policies, see Wright 2008; Hankla and Kuthy 2013). Importantly, such opposition-​inspired policy changes can happen even on issues that are politically sensitive and impose a significant cost on the regime, for example, increased public spending (Miller 2015a), trade liberalization (Hankla and Kuthy 2013), and a sincere anticorruption effort (Yadav and Mukherjee 2016). Thus, autocrats sometimes work with opposition parties to enact policies and sometimes enact them without opposition collaboration. Thus, the presence of an effective parliamentary bloc of religious parties often influences legislation, policies, and appointments even in autocratic regimes.

the Decline of Civil Liberties  83 Collectively, extant research on the politics of autocracies suggests that in institutionalized autocracies that have multiple parties competing for directly elected legislatures, (i) religious interest groups will have the leverage to mobilize and to form political alliances with religious and non-religious political parties, and that religious parties will be able to seek out and form alliances with various interest groups, and (ii) parties will be able to offer promises to promote the institutional and policy interests of religious interest groups and other interest groups in exchange for their moral, logistical, and material support. Thus, we can expect that the dynamics of the SEI of ROs will be driven by the two factors identified in Hypothesis 1—​the concentrated legislative presence of religious parties and an inflationary crisis. Next, I present a framework that considers how variation in the SEI of ROs and the political fortunes of religious parties affects the level of de facto civil liberties in MMCs.

Religious Parties and the Decline of Civil Liberties The question that motivated this book was whether the political success of religious parties in a Muslim-​majority country inevitably leads to a decline in de facto civil liberties in that country. In this section, I  finally address this question directly by identifying the conditions under which religious parties’ success is more likely to lead to a significant decline in a country’s civil liberties and the conditions under which their success is not likely to be accompanied by such a decline. I first build on insights from existing research on the moderation of religious parties to argue that they face a serious dilemma in choosing their actions on civil liberties when they enter government. While entering government gives them the power to adopt policies to implement their hitherto ideologically preferred, religiously derived positions on civil liberties, their experience in government also motivates significant cognitive changes and creates strong strategic incentives for them to moderate their opposition to liberal civil liberties. To understand how religious parties resolve this dilemma, I analyze how the existing level of ROs’ SEI in a country impacts this decision. I derive the key hypothesis in this book: de facto civil liberties in MMCs will decline only when religious parties are in power and they are operating in a political environment of highly institutionalized religious organizations. If religious parties in government are not operating in the context of highly socioeconomically institutionalized ROs, they will find it more politically expedient to moderate their positions on civil liberties. The participation of religious parties in government alone therefore does not lead to a decline in civil liberties in MMCs.

84  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

Incentives to Moderate: The Effects of Political Participation and Experience When religious parties win power and form the government, they are finally in a position to adopt and implement policies that curb liberal civil liberties in line with religiously derived orthodox limitations. ROs that have supported these parties in prior periods now expect these parties to deliver on their institutional and policy interests including on civil liberties. The question is whether, once in government, religious parties will adopt such policies or whether they now have incentives to do otherwise. Existing research suggests that once they enter government, religious parties have many incentives not to curb liberal civil liberties despite their previous support for such policies. A rich literature analyzing how Christian Democratic parties in Europe, leftist parties, and most recently religious parties in MMCs evolve suggests that once religious parties begin participating in electoral politics, they may moderate their policy positions from dogmatically rigid and pure positions to positions that are less dogmatic and more tolerant of alternative views.3 In addition to moderating their policy positions, religious parties with electoral experience can also change other behaviors that would suggest their values and tactical needs have changed, for example, changing the tone and content of party and campaign rhetoric to be more conciliatory toward positions and people who do not align with a religious party’s positions, choosing more moderate candidates for elected offices and party organizational office, forming pre-​or postelection coalitions with non-religious parties, and interacting with interest groups and voters outside their core constituency and their previous support group.4 Whether such moderating changes in a religious party’s decisions are driven by tactical considerations or sincere changes in beliefs will be of considerable concern to other political participants in the country, particularly religious organizations.5 This is because sincere changes in belief may signal a permanent change 3 Scholars analyzing the behaviors and choices of radical religious groups argued that when radical religious groups were included in the electoral process of a country, they were more likely to moderate their antisystem values, positions, and behaviors. For the moderation of socialist and Christian Democratic parties in various contexts see, for example, Przeworski and Sprague 1986; Huntington 1993; Bermeo 1997; Kalyvas 1996, 2000; Warner 2000; Mainwaring and Scully 2003; Sokhey 2007; Tezcur 2010; special issue on party politics edited by Brocker and Kunkler 2013; Grzymala-​Busse 2015; and Driessen 2014. For religious parties in MMCs see Schwedler 2006, 2013, 2017; Wegner and Pellicor 2009; Mecham and Hwang 2014; Wickham 2004, 2013; special issue on party politics edited by Brocker and Kunkler 2013; Brown 2012; Clark 2006, 2010; Yadav 2010; Tezcur 2010; Browers 2009; Ashour 2009; Tepe 2008, 2012; Turam 2007; Bayat 2007; Caldwell 2006; Hafez 2003; Langohr 2001; Wickham 2003, 2013. 4 See references cited in previous footnote. 5 Ideological moderation can be defined as “a process through which political actors espouse ideas that do not contradict the principles of popular sovereignty, political pluralism, and limits on arbitrary state authority” (Tezcur 2010: 10).

the Decline of Civil Liberties  85 in a religious party’s commitment to its previous agenda of delivering on civil liberties, whereas tactical changes may suggest a temporary hold on the adoption of shared policy preferences (Schwedler 2006; Tezcur 2010; Brocker and Kunkler 2013; Mecham and Hwang 2014). ROs can expect to face different challenges and will need to evolve distinct strategies to realize their goals depending on the underlying driver of party moderation. I now argue that ROs face the most serious challenges regarding the commitment and willingness of religious parties to deliver on their shared policy agenda of curbing liberal civil liberties at the moment of triumph for the RO-​religious party alliance—​when religious parties enter the government. These challenges stem from the many cognitive and strategic changes that religious-​party leaders and politicians undergo as a direct result of gaining experience in government. Moderation scholars argue that the various political experiences political parties and their politicians accumulate as they participate in electoral politics lead to genuine cognitive learning among religious-​party leaders and politicians (Nasr 1995; Schwedler 2006; Wickham 2003, 2013; Kalyvas and van Kersbergen 2010; Somer 2011). This is because political participation exposes them to voters, interest groups, and political peers from diverse backgrounds who hold different values and distinct policy preferences. Politicians learn new perspectives on issues from these diverse interactions. Furthermore, as parties and their politicians participate in politics, they gain a better understanding of the importance of bargaining and making compromises for the political survival and success of their parties. Thus, experience also teaches them new lessons about political and policy decision-​making. These insights are supported by a substantial body of research and evidence in psychology and behavioral economics that finds that individuals with prior experience at a task are more cognitively sophisticated, have significantly different risk preferences, and are more confident in these decisions than those without experience.6 Importantly, however, these studies note that experience produces these effects only when an individual has experience in the same domain in which she has to make her decision. In domains beyond their experience, individuals’ performance deteriorates and becomes subject to many of the same limitations that inexperienced individuals display (Sokolowska and Sleboda 2015; Weber 2010; Cooper et al. 1999). This research therefore strongly suggests that differences in the nature and extent of political experience across political parties, as exemplified by the experience of their leaders and members, will be important in understanding the extent of the cognitive changes that they will undergo and subsequently in the extent of moderation they will exhibit in their beliefs and actions. 6 See Figner and Weber 2011; Hafner Burton Hughes, and Victor 2013; Sheffer et al. 2018; Raue, Lerner, and Streicher 2018 for recent reviews of this research.

86  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties When religious parties enter government, they possess the political experience of elections, party work, and possibly legislative work. By entering government, they gain new experience in the modalities and compulsions of governance. Running a government is an experience distinct from participating in parliament or elections as an opposition party or just another political party. Governments must ensure that the machinery of the state, including, for example, the bureaucracy, the courts, and the media, effectively serve the varied needs of multiple audiences—​firms, citizens, foreign investors, international organizations, labor unions, environmental groups, and so on—​for the country to function and prosper. For example, ROs may want the government to implement interest-​free banking based on Islamic principles, but this policy may be strongly opposed by banks, financial markets, and businesses (Binmahfouz 2012, 2016). ROs may want the government to ban popular Western television shows and movies from being aired, but consumers and commercial media firms may be strongly opposed to this restriction. Labor unions may want more pension benefits and protection against layoffs, but firms and business associations may be opposed to such policies (Roberts 2008). Once in government, religious parties, like all governing parties, must mediate such conflicts by trading off the demands and interests of different interests and groups in society. Failure to make the compromises necessary to accommodate these conflicting demands can hamper important outcomes that all governments care about such as foreign and domestic investment, employment, economic growth, absence of violent protests, delivery of public goods and services, resolution of administrative, contract, or business disputes, and so on (Frye 2002; Schneider 2004; Kim and Gandhi 2010; Trejo 2012; Miller 2015; Yadav and Mukherjee 2016). Once in government, religious parties can expect that citizens will now hold them responsible for such failures and reward them for their successes. These decisions, their wider consequences, and the experience of making and evaluating them are unique to the experience of being in government, that is, to the domain of governance. Religious parties that have served only as opposition parties in the legislature or only participated in elections do not undergo these experiences and hence will not undergo the cognitive changes these domain-​ specific experiences bring. Research in cognitive psychology suggests that such domain-​specific experience changes the objective and subjective assessments of the costs, benefits, and risks participants associate with a decision (Figner and Weber 2011; Bird and Harris 2018), their propensity to take a risk on that decision (Sitkin and Pablo 1992; Sitkin and Weingart 1995; Bird and Harris 2018), and the affect7 associated 7 Affect is defined here as “the experience of feeling emotions, which is often measured in directional or evaluative terms” (Crigler and Hevron 2018: 665).

the Decline of Civil Liberties  87 with risky decisions (Figner and Weber 2011; Slovic 2010;). Domain-​specific experience also allows individuals to develop a deeper awareness of the structure of strategic situations and of other participants, in turn leading them to develop and retain new and better decision-​making heuristics (Sandholm 2010; Fudenberg and Levine 1998; Feltovich, Prietula, and Ericsson 2006: 55).8 These findings therefore suggest that once religious parties gain office, their leaders and politicians are highly likely to undergo cognitive changes that affect their sincere and strategic valuations of the choices and decisions they must now make. I argue that this will extend to their evaluations of the costs and benefits of delivering on the civil liberties agenda they previously shared with ROs. As part of government, religious parties are obliged to consider the consequences of curbing liberal civil liberties beyond realizing a religious goal shared with ROs. For example, curbing freedom of speech can reduce the flow of information important for financial markets and businesses in other sectors, such as entertainment, media, online commerce, and so on (World Economic Forum 2017b; Binmahfouz 2016; Lawrence, Morton, and Khan 2013; Woodberry 2012;), discourage foreign investment (World Economic Forum 2017a, 2017b; Grim, Clark, and Snyder 2014; Browning 2014; Bell 2013; Tarin and Uddin 2013; Rodrik 1996), prevent religious parties from gauging public support for their policies and performance (Bell 2013), and invite international condemnation and bad public relations (Paddock and Suhartono 2019; World Economic Forum 2017a, 2017b). Curbing the freedom of religious minorities to practice their religion may similarly discourage vital foreign investment (Bell 2013; Dolansky and Alon 2006; Alon and Chase 2005), encourage domestic capital and talent to migrate abroad, and lead to a poor international image (Grim, Clark, and Snyder 2014; Grim, Skirbekk, and Cuaresma 2013; Richards, Svendsen, and Bless 2011; Younis and Younis 2011). Limiting freedom of assembly and association could invite violent public demonstrations and strikes by different groups, making the government look ineffective and repressive, creating law-​and-​order crises, and inviting international sanctions (Grim 2012; Grim and Finke 2007, 2011; The Guardian, Nov. 2, 2019). Such civil unrest in turn can affect investment, economic productivity and sectors such as tourism and hospitality (World Economic Forum 2017a; Grim, Skirbekk, and Cuaresma 2013; Bell 2013; Isham, Kaufmann, and Pritchett 1997). Limiting the freedom of movement of women could lower the skill levels of the labor force, discourage domestic and foreign investment, and encourage migration of talented women to other countries (Paddock and Suhartono 2019; Gill 2013; Younis and Younis 2011). Collectively, 8 For example, in a series of studies, scholars found that the vast majority of subjects failed to play the equilibrium outcome associated with common-​knowledge rationality in the first iteration of a game but learned to do so after participating in repeated iterations (Stahl and Wilson 1995; Costa-​ Gomez, Crawford, and Broseta 2001; Costa-​Gomez and Crawford 2006).

88  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties reducing the civil liberties enjoy citizens to align with a religious agenda could create incentives that motivate other social and economic actors to engage in behaviors that undermine important economic, social, and political outcomes. The insights from cognitive psychology research on experience discussed earlier suggest that the domain-​specific experience of being in government will lead religious parties to gain a deeper awareness of these other participants affected by their actions on civil liberties and the larger structure of the strategic situations they face in curbing civil liberties. These cognitive changes in understanding the structure and participants in their decisions should lead them to develop and use new decision-​making heuristics to make choices regarding liberal civil liberties. Furthermore, while religious parties do not have to worry about being responsible for policy outcomes when they sit in the opposition benches in the legislature or are merely electoral parties with no presence in the legislature, they are very likely to be held responsible for these adverse outcomes by the public once they are in government. Experience in government could therefore change whose welfare and preferences religious parties take into account when making decisions and how they make decisions. Experience in government should also change the risk preferences of religious-​party leaders and politicians, making them more willing to take political risks associated with governing (Figner and Weber 2011; Bird and Harris 2018). Thus, religious parties should be more willing to take the risk of accepting information and technical help from non-religious parties, forming alliances with them to formulate and implement policies and accepting political resources and intelligence from them. Importantly, increased willingness to rake risks should also make politicians more willing to take new positions on civil liberties and to incur the displeasure of ROs through these actions. Finally, being in government and having the ability to shape policy, basking in policy victories and suffering defeats, and being responsible for the fate of the country through the party’s policy actions influences the emotions associated with these choices, changing the affect religious parties associate with them. As governing parties, religious parties become genuine contenders for office, not just perennial election losers or opposition parties. This change in political position influences not just their strategic calculations and risk preferences but the affect they associate with policy choices, since their positions could now influence their ability to win office again. Collectively, their changed perspective, the various negative consequences they face in curbing liberal civil liberties, and their new decision-​ making skills in government should therefore cause religious parties to reduce their opposition to liberal civil liberties. Being in government also changes the strategic compulsions and opportunities religious parties face. Some scholars have suggested that once religious parties begin participating in and winning elections, they reevaluate and reframe

the Decline of Civil Liberties  89 their policy positions in order to expand the set of voters they can attract (El-​ Ghobashy 2005; Shehata and Stacher 2006; Warner 2000; Ashour 2009; Yadav 2010). Others, however, note that if parties are policy seekers rather than office seekers (Brocker and Kunkler 2013) or if they face robust competition from other parties within their ideological niche (Hamid 2014), they may not find it attractive to reframe their policy positions in order to expand their target constituency. Research on political parties suggests that parties adjust their policy positions based on their status as mainstream or niche parties, large or small parties, and on the level of competition they face within their ideological niche (Adams 2012, 2014; Hamid 2014; Somer-​Topcu 2009, 2015; Abou-​Abou-​Chadi and Orlowski 2016). Small, niche parties facing stiff ideological competition tend to stick to their policy positions closely as a matter of survival, while large, mainstream parties facing less competition within their ideological niche become more willing to adjust their positions away from their traditional platforms in a bid to attract more voters. This suggests that as religious parties become more mainstream, larger, and more competitive within their ideological niche, they will be more likely to change policy positions in ways they believe will expand their electoral appeal. Religious parties in government are parties that have demonstrated their interest in seeking office and have been successful within their ideological niche. Furthermore, being in government changes the character of the party from that of a niche, small party to a mainstream party. Research on political parties suggests that rather than being worried about being outbid by other small religious parties in the religious niche, the changed status of being a governing party will lead religious parties to target voters beyond their religious core and worry more about being outbid by other mainstream parties that have previously formed or can potentially form the government. Being in government also gives political parties the ability to dispense patronage to religious core voters in order to maintain their support through clientelism in lieu of programmatic commitments (Kitshelt and Kselman 2012). Therefore, to the extent their religious base is motivated by patronage and not just ideology (Lust 2009; Blaydes 2012; Gerges 2013; Corstange 2016; Wegner and Cavavorta 2016), religious parties may not lose these voters by failing to implement some policies as long as they can deliver patronage to their supporters using state resources. Finally, in government, religious parties are able to influence formulation of policies and implementation of policies in a variety of economic, social, and international domains of interest to a variety of special interests. Groups such as business associations, labor unions, women’s groups, environmental groups, foreign chambers of commerce, and so on, routinely lobby governments to influence policies in these areas. These groups have various types of political resources that they offer to the parties in government in all countries (Ellis and

90  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Groll 2019; Yadav 2011; Lessig 2011; Duvanova 2007; Hall and Deardorff 2006; Schneider 2004; Frye 2002). As governing parties, religious parties would now also be the targets of these other interest groups’ lobbying efforts and could gain resources such as funds, policy expertise, political intelligence, mobilization by group members on the streets, and media coverage from them as well. Being in government therefore offers religious parties the ability to gain alternative sources for these valuable political assets and become more independent of their RO allies. Thus, religious parties in government face strategic incentives distinct from those faced by religious parties that have only entered the legislature or only competed in elections, and these strategic incentives will influence the nature and extent of adjustments to their policies religious parties will be willing to make. A big reason why ROs ally with religious parties is their ideological compatibility. Implementing religiously derived positions on civil liberties is a key policy goal for ROs and one of the main reasons that they use their resources to support religious parties during elections. Once religious parties are successful enough to enter government, they gain the statutory, regulatory, and executive power required to adopt and enforce policies that would curb liberal civil liberties to align them with orthodox interpretations of sharia. Therefore, ROs now expect religious parties to deliver on this specific agenda. As discussed earlier, religious parties undergo many cognitive and strategic changes when they enter government, and these changes strongly motivate religious parties not to implement the curbs on liberal civil liberties they had supported in their platforms earlier. Given the prominence of religiously derived positions on civil liberties in the platforms of religious parties and in the attacks non-religious parties typically direct against religious parties (Kurzman and Naqvi 2016; Hamid 2014), I argue that civil liberties will be an area in which religious parties will face strong strategic incentives to moderate their positions in order to outbid other parties, particularly those that are contenders for government. ROs, however, have no reasons to change their support for orthodox civil liberties. ROs therefore face a significant challenge in their bid to realize their goals on civil liberties once religious parties enter government since religious parties now have strong incentives to renege on promises to implement them. Can ROs prevent religious parties from reneging on these promises?

Religious Parties and the Decline of Civil Liberties I now argue that ROs are able to compel religious parties to fulfill their promises to deliver on religiously derived civil liberties only if they are highly socioeconomically institutionalized. High levels of religiosity among citizens do not guarantee

the Decline of Civil Liberties  91 that the demand for religiously inspired policies by citizens will be high or, importantly, that the supply of religiously inspired policies by governments will be high (Livny 2020; Gryzmala-​Busse 2015; Fox 2015). Voters are constrained by time, resources, and the informational and cognitive requirements for monitoring the government’s performance on the adoption of laws on civil liberties and their sincere implementation (Frye 2002; Weiss 2009; Kim and Gandhi 2010; Trejo 2012; Freer 2016; Yadav and Mukherjee 2016). For these reasons, even if voters support such policies, their ability to effectively monitor whether religious parties in government are genuinely delivering on promises regarding civil liberties will be limited. This can give religious parties leeway to pronounce policies that would implement the religious agenda on civil liberties or even to adopt de jure policies that adopt religious limits on liberal civil liberties but ensure that they are not enforced. Or religious-​party governments could adopt some policies that appease religious sentiment but adopt other policies that dilute or neutralize their effect. For example, Ahmed and Ginsburg (2014) find that when MMCs adopt provisions enshrining sharia as the foundation for their constitution, they are also more likely to adopt explicit provisions that guarantee civil liberties. Similarly, MMCS that constitutionalize sharia and create committees to monitor the compliance of governments and their policies with sharia, vary considerably in their composition (Brown 2015; Lombardi 2013). Lombardi (2013) examines the variation in these committees across MMCs and finds it is driven by the desire of many governments to gain the public’s good opinion for constitutionalizing sharia while retaining the government’s ability to avoid genuine compliance in practice if they so desire. Considerable research shows that governments rarely respond to unmobilized diffuse public opinion even in democracies (Geddes 1999; Haggard and Kaufmann 2016). Instead, it is the expression of public opinion mobilized in the form of successful interest groups and social movements that provokes a policy response (Frye 2002; Weiss 2009; Kim and Gandhi 2010; Trejo 2012; Freer 2016; Yadav and Mukherjee 2016). While ideological compatibility between interest groups and parties reduces the risk that the political parties will renege on promises after becoming successful, it does not eliminate it. After all, such deals between interest groups and parties are not legal contracts that can be taken to courts for enforcement but are informal quid pro quos that cannot be enforced. Furthermore, evidence suggests that even if a special interest group establishes its own political party, it is not inevitable that members will work in unity or even collaborate forever. As parties evolve in politics, their relationships with their affiliated organization can change in many different ways (Warner 2000; Schwedler 2006; Heaney 2010; Gryzmala-​Busse 2015). There are several possible outcomes. An interest group and party may stay close, for example, the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt and Jamaat-​e-​Islami in Pakistan and their affiliated parties. They may drift

92  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties apart permanently and work as largely independent bodies for example, Catholic churches set up Christian parties in Italy and France, but they eventually parted company and the parties became autonomous of their founding churches (Kalyvas 1996). They may have a volatile relationship, with some periods marked by close cooperation and others by distance. For example, the Hindu Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) organization created the Hindu Bhartiya Janata Party in India in 1980. Since that time, the RSS and the party have gone through ups and downs, and sometimes the RSS has even endorsed a rival party (Anderson and Dhamle 2019). Finally, the political party can become the dominant partner in the relationship. For example, in Brazil the Partido dos Trabalhadores has its origins in the labor activism of the Conferência das Classes Trabalhadoras labor union. Over time, however, the party has become much more important than its founding organization and consequently more autonomous, even though they are still interconnected. All or some of these outcomes may occur in the same country at the same time. All of these possible outcomes in the relationship between ROs and religious parties are observed across the world. Moreover, the number of ROs far exceeds the number of religious parties in all countries (Brown 2017; Hoffman 2014; Lynch 2015). Most ROs are therefore in a position to shop around for a political party whose agenda, commitment, and ability to deliver institutional and policy interests they like. Given the resource and cognitive constraints voters face in monitoring the performance of religious-​party governments regarding civil liberties and the uncertain reliability of even sister parties, ROs cannot rely on politicians’ incentives to respond to the opinion of voters who have not been successfully mobilized. Instead, they must keep working to compel religious parties to deliver on their shared agenda. ROs’ success in deterring religious parties from deviating from their shared agenda on civil liberties once religious parties win office and enter government will, however, depend on ROs’ capacity to penalize religious parties for reneging on these shared policy goals and to reward them for delivering on them, that is, on the strength of the incentives that ROs can create for religious governing parties to deliver on civil liberties. As the discussion in the previous chapter indicated, the ability to design and offer incentives that are strong enough to ensure religious parties adopt and implement policies to curb liberal civil liberties in line with orthodox beliefs will depend on the level of institutionalization of ROs in a country. Highly institutionalized ROs are more resource rich, and command more resources that are fungible across parties. This gives them the ability to attract other bidders—​ including non-religious parties—​to their cause. This in turn allows them to credibly threaten to exit their alliance with governing religious parties if the party does not deliver on the civil liberties agenda the ROs favor. Moreover, powerful interest groups can gain substantial influence within a party that can allow them

the Decline of Civil Liberties  93 to influence internal party decisions, such as which leaders are promoted up the organizational ladder and win appointments to key positions in the legislature and the cabinet, which policies are debated with the larger membership, and which policies are effectively not open to debate (Bawn et al. 2012; Desmarais et al. 2014; Heaney 2010). Given their resources and influence, highly institutionalized ROs are in a powerful position to influence the level of internal democracy in a party when it comes to the selection of party leadership and the level of internal debate on policies. These factors, which can be the source of moderation in religious parties (Langohr 2001; Schwedler 2006; Yadav 2010), can also fall under the influence of highly institutionalized ROs that can ensure that the right dogmatic leaders climb the party ladder, and that the issue of moderating the party’s position on civil liberties is not opened up for debate within the party itself. In the context of highly institutionalized ROs, religious parties do not have alternative sources for the resource wealth of ROs, including their ability to mobilize citizens and shape public opinion in a context of high moral currency for religion, or effective alternative sources for countering these effects. The opportunity cost of giving up ROs’ resources, only to watch them enrich political rivals instead, is also greater for parties that are in government, as they are in genuine contention for office in the future. In this situation, therefore, religious parties in government will use their legislative and executive powers to adopt and implement policies that reduce liberal civil liberties to align them with the orthodox values and practices that ROs demand. I therefore hypothesize the following: Hypothesis 2: When religious parties are in government and ROs are highly socioeconomically institutionalized, the level of civil liberties enjoyed by citizens in the country will decline.

Conversely, when ROs are not highly institutionalized in a country, they do not command the political resources that can impose meaningful penalties on religious parties for deviating from the agenda of instituting religiously derived curbs on civil liberties, or can reward religious parties for delivering them. ROs also cannot make a substantively impactful, credible exit threat. At the same time, as part of the government, ruling religious parties will find many other special interest groups are eager to offer their resources and skills in order to obtain the favor of the government. Under these conditions, religious parties, influenced by their cognitive learning in government and the altered strategic incentives they face as ruling parties, will prefer to moderate their opposition to liberal civil liberties. Consequently, de facto civil liberties in such a country will not decline despite the participation of religious parties in government. This presents the following corollary to Hypothesis 2:

94  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Corollary 1: When religious parties are in government and ROs are weakly socioeconomically institutionalized, the de facto level of civil liberties enjoyed by citizens in a country will not decline.

If ROs are highly institutionalized but religious parties are not in government, ROs lack a willing partner in government. Non-religious parties may covet ROs’ resources, but the lack of success of religious parties that have failed to win enough seats to enter government signals to non-religious parties in government that public demand for the policy agenda of religious parties is low. Implementing RO-​preferred policies under these conditions not only may fail to confer any political advantages but may be politically costly for these parties, which may lose secular voters without gaining religious voters. Moreover, this civil liberties agenda will not be ideologically appealing to these parties. Just as with religious parties, the experience of running government will reinforce this ideological preference, as non-religious parties will gain a better cognitive appreciation for the negative consequences that reducing civil liberties could bring. Consequently, despite the resources that ROs command, non-religious parties will not ally with them to deliver religious civil liberties in exchange for RO assets. This suggests the following corollary: Corollary 2: When ROs are highly socioeconomically institutionalized but there are no religious parties in government, the de facto level of civil liberties enjoyed by citizens in a country will not decline.

Finally, when religious parties are absent from government and ROs are not highly institutionalized, there is no political actor in government with the motive or the means to implement curbs on liberal civil liberties, and there is no societal actor mobilizing to make such a demand. Under these conditions, ceteris paribus, citizens will not experience a decline in their de facto civil liberties. This argument applies to democracies and institutionalized autocracies with directly elected multiparty legislatures. Recall that existing research suggests that, on average, autocracies enjoy lower levels of civil liberties than democracies (Dabashi 2012; Bradley 2012; Dabashi 2012; Kubicek 2014; Møller and Skaaning 2014). However, studies by Miller (2015a) and Conrad (2011) find that the presence of multiparty legislatures in autocracies is associated with increased civil liberties. The reason, they argue, is that once autocrats have established multiparty elections and directly elected legislatures, they find it politically prudent to respond to the demands articulated by the elected parties. As discussed earlier, this is true even when the autocrat or the autocrat’s party controls the legislature and the demands to be fulfilled are articulated by opposition parties (Yadav and Mukherjee 2016; Miller 2015; Malesky et al. 2012; Kim and Gandhi 2010).

the Decline of Civil Liberties  95 For self-​interested reasons, opposition parties in autocracies are typically strong champions of liberal civil liberties. Religious parties in opposition may face some conflict on this issue because their ideological beliefs and strategic incentives are in conflict. Despite their religious beliefs opposing liberal liberties, politicians and parties expect to get many political and personal benefits from strong civil liberties. However, religious parties in government in autocracies face no such conflict. Therefore, we can expect that they will be able to pursue the agenda on civil liberties that they believe is in their interest. Recall from the discussion on institutionalization that autocrats do not necessarily adopt a strategy of repression toward interest groups in their societies but instead choose from a more diverse repertoire of acts of co-​optation and integration of interest groups (Brown 2017; Sakhtivel 2015; Lust-​Okar 2005). This diversity is particularly reflected in the tactics that autocrats have adopted toward religious organizations (Sakhtivel 2015; Werenfels 2014; Brown 2017). Therefore, ROs will be able to wield their assets and resources to realize the policy changes and institutional interests important to them in autocracies. Thus, religious parties will still be susceptible to ROs’ inducements and threats, depending on RO institutionalization. Consequently, high RO institutionalization will persuade religious parties in autocratic governments to reduce civil liberties, and low SEI will give them the political ability to moderate. If, however, religious parties are not in government, they will not have the capacity to adopt policies of their choosing, and their strategic interests will lie in demanding they be able to enjoy the freedoms of speech, assembly, association, and movement in order to operate. Thus, they will be less inclined to support a policy agenda that reduces these freedoms.

Conclusion This chapter builds on c­ hapter 2 to answer two key questions: How do ROs and religious parties coevolve in their effort to realize their individual organizational and shared policy goals? How does this coevolution affect the actions that religious parties in MMCs take to curb liberal civil liberties, in turn affecting the state of de facto civil liberties in a country? I present a theoretical framework that first identifies the conditions under which religious parties are able to strengthen ROs in order to promote their own political self-​interest and then analyzes how an increase in ROs’ SEI increases their relative bargaining with respect to religious parties. Since these conditions vary across countries, MMCs gradually cultivate ROs of varying levels of SEI across different countries. I then analyze how differences in the relative bargaining powers of ROs and religious parties due to differences in RO’s SEI affect the ability of ROs to ensure that when religious parties enter government, they deliver on the policy agenda that motivated

96  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties ROs to support them, prominently including enforcing religious curbs on civil liberties. I derive two testable hypotheses along with their corollaries. First, I postulate that when religious parties gain a concentrated legislative presence in the legislature and the country is experiencing a severe inflationary crisis, religious parties are able to use the economic crisis to persuade other parties to support the passage of policies that allow ROs to expand their operations beyond education and welfare to business and media sectors, significantly increasing their SEI. In the absence of even one of these factors, religious parties are unable to strengthen their allies. Subsequently, if religious parties are successful enough to enter government, they now gain the powers to institute the civil liberty policies that they shared with ROs. However, in government, religious parties gain new cognitive and strategic perspectives, making them reluctant to implement the civil liberty policies they previously supported along with ROs. I postulate that in this situation, only ROs that are highly institutionalized and therefore command an array of valuable and fungible political assets can compel religious parties to implement this agenda, resulting in the decline of de facto civil liberties in that country. In the absence of highly institutionalized ROs, ROs are unable to successfully influence the actions of religious parties, and, consequently, religious parties will choose to moderate their policies regarding civil liberties. Civil liberties do not decline in such a country simply because religious parties are now in government. In the absence of religious parties in government, even highly institutionalized ROs lack willing partners and are unable to realize their civil liberties agenda. Consequently, civil liberties do not decline. The rest of the book tackles the task of testing these two hypotheses, their corollaries, and their causal mechanisms systematically. Chapter  4 first presents the research design adopted for this task. Chapters 4 and 5 then systematically test Hypotheses 1 and 2, respectively, for the comprehensive set of all MMCs. Chapters  6 and 7 then analyze two cases—​Turkey and Pakistan—​to test the causal logic underlying Hypothesis 1 explaining the SEI of ROs. Chapters 8 and 9 then analyze these two cases to test the logic underlying Hypothesis 2 explaining the decline in civil liberties. The four case study chapters use within-​case temporal variation, employing data from original surveys of politicians, open-​ended interviews, and qualitative data from secondary sources to do so.

4

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations in Muslim-​Majority Countries Statistical Evidence

The goals of this chapter are twofold. The first is to describe the empirical research design strategy that I  employ to evaluate the two testable hypotheses, the corollaries associated with these hypotheses, and the arguments that lead to these hypotheses. The second goal of this chapter is to statistically evaluate the main theoretical predictions presented in ­chapter 3 regarding the socioeconomic institutionalization of ROs and their role in influencing civil liberties in MMCs. Studies of religious parties have typically focused on single-​country studies or the comparative study of a handful of cases.1 While this approach greatly facilitates theory-​building, it does not allow a robust test of the scope or validity of theories since empirical evidence is restricted to the case(s) being analyzed. While all countries undoubtedly have features that are unique to their political environment, the goal of social science is to identify underlying patterns of beliefs, preferences, actions that do extend across countries to drive outcomes. This requires us to test our theoretical predictions on a comprehensive set of countries. Such a large-​N approach allows us to establish the validity of our theoretical predictions in general and the scope of our theoretical explanations. A large-​N approach alone, however, does not allow us to evaluate the validity of the precise mechanisms that form the microfoundations of our theory. This is where detailed, in-​depth case studies can serve a vital function in establishing that the beliefs, preferences, and behaviors of political actors that our theories postulate are leading to the outcome we are investigating are in fact happening as postulated. This chapter describes the mixed-​methods research design that this book employs to test the validity and scope of its theoretical hypotheses and evaluate its causal mechanisms.

1 To the best of my knowledge, Kurzman and Naqvi (2010, 2015) are the only scholars to have systematically collected data on the presence of religious parties in MMCs and their vote shares. Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties. Vineeta Yadav, Oxford University Press (2021). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197545362.003.0004

98  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Recall that the theory in c­ hapter 3 explores the conditions under which religious political parties succeed in empowering national-​level nongovernmental (i.e., privately owned) religious organizations to own and operate welfare and educational institutions, firms, professional associations, and media outlets. Hypothesis 1 posits that during periods of inflationary crisis in Muslim-​majority countries, a higher concentration of legislative seats held by religious political parties leads to more socioeconomic institutionalization of national-​level nongovernmental ROs. In other words, in the context of an inflation crisis, a greater concentration of the religious parties’ legislative seats will be positively associated with the likelihood that ROs will own and operate welfare and educational organizations and firms, business firms, professional bodies, and media outlets. Testing the claim in Hypothesis 1 is challenging, as to the best of my knowledge, there is no publicly available data that operationalize ownership and operation of educational institutions, welfare bodies, firms, professional associations, and media companies by ROs in MMCs. Additionally, country-​year data on the concentration of legislative seats held by religious political parties are also, to my knowledge, not publicly available. In this chapter, I describe the procedure and sources that I use to construct these two measures, describe the sample and the logic behind the choice of various statistical models, and then present the statistical models and the results obtained from the statistical tests of Hypothesis 1. The rest of this chapter is organized as follows. I first describe the research design employed to test Hypotheses 1 and 2 in this book. Next, I describe the sample and the dependent variable that is developed to test Hypothesis 1. I then discuss the operationalization of the independent and control variables that are included in the specification for the statistical tests. This is followed by the description of the statistical methodology that is employed to test Hypothesis 1. After doing so, I proceed to discuss the results obtained from the main statistical tests and several robustness checks. The chapter ends with a conclusion in which I summarize the empirical findings and discuss the implications of these findings. The tables and figures that report the statistical results are presented in the appendix of this chapter.

Empirical Research Design I adopt a multimethodological approach to test Hypotheses 1 and 2, the corollaries associated with each of these two hypotheses, and the causal arguments presented earlier. To test the generalizability of both hypotheses, I  use a new time-​series cross section data set of all 49 Muslim-​majority countries from 1970 to 2016. To test the validity of the causal mechanisms, I adopt a comparative case study strategy that exploits cross case variation in a key factor—​the presence

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  99 of inflation crises—​between Turkey and Pakistan as well as temporal within-​ case variation in the presence of inflation and, other independent variables—​ legislative concentration of religious parties, their presence in government, and variation in institutionalization. The case studies leverage novel data collected for this project from surveys of political elites from religious and non-religious parties; use evidence gathered from original open-​ended interviews with party leaders, RO organizational leaders, and others; and use qualitative evidence from primary and secondary sources for the analyses.

Large-​N Empirical Analysis The large-​N empirical analysis aims to test the generalizability of the theoretical predictions in Hypotheses 1 and 2.  While single-​case studies allow us to home in on particular causal mechanisms with theoretical and empirical confidence about that country, they do not allow us to evaluate how wide-​ranging the predictions of those theoretical mechanisms are. Our goal, of course, is to develop and test a theory that explains the relationship between religious parties and civil liberties in all 49 countries in the world that have Muslim majorities. This is particularly important and challenging because MMCs display a variety of political regimes and diverse economic histories. Such diversity points to the necessity for explicitly accounting for these phenomena in any estimation strategy for testing these theoretical claims. Key challenges include accounting for the selection of MMCs into democratic, institutionalized autocratic, or other autocratic regimes, and the selection of countries into economies undergoing inflationary crises. It is possible that the factors that influence autocrats to create institutionalized autocracies in which religious parties can compete in direct legislative elections are also the factors that influence whether they allow ROs to institutionalize and provide strong civil liberties. Similarly, it is possible that the factors that influence whether a country experiences an inflationary crisis are also the factors that lead regimes to expand RO institutionalization and civil liberties. If so, the presence of a concentrated religious-​party bloc in parliament may be endogenous to the decisions of autocrats to deal with economic crisis by adopting political liberalization. If so, religious parties make no independent contribution to RO institutionalization or civil liberties. It is also technically possible that socioeconomic institutionalization causes the concentration of religious parties’ legislative seats. While c­ hapter 3 explicitly discussed existing theory and evidence that the factors presented in Hypotheses 1 and 2 would still influence outcomes after taking into account such possibilities in some individual countries, it is important to assess this claim empirically across MMCs. Such robust tests can be

100  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties carried out only by using the appropriate statistical tools to test these hypotheses for a comprehensive sample of all MMCs. Results from such large-​N analyses allow us to understand the general patterns driving socioeconomic institutionalization and civil liberties outcomes across MMCs. For these reasons, I adopt large-​N statistical analysis methods to test both hypotheses for a comprehensive time-​series cross section sample of 49 MMCs from 1970 to 2016, and use selection and double selection models to account for the selection of countries into specific regimes and inflationary crises, use instrumental variables to account for potential endogeneity of legislative concentration to socioeconomic institutionalization, and account for alternative explanations in the literature through various control variables. Implementing this large-​N empirical strategy presented several challenges, as there are no existing data that systematically measure the extent of RO socioeconomic institutionalization in MMCs. This is true for any kind of RO, including national-​level organizations. Furthermore, finding reliable, consistent, in-​country information and sources to develop such a measure in a comparable manner is particularly challenging for countries that have received little scholarly attention and do not have extensive media resources. The focus on national-​level ROs, which are substantively the correct units, is helpful in ensuring more consistent operationalization of this measure across all 49 countries for the entire period in question, 1970–​2016. This book develops and presents an original ordinal measure that codes whether national-​level private ROs own and operate educational facilities, welfare facilities, firms or associations, and electronic media outlets for each country-​ year in the TSCS sample of 49 MMCs from 1970 to 2016.2 In addition to this original measure, I also develop three more original measures of legislative concentration of religious parties, inflationary crises in MMCs, and the presence of religious parties in the government for each country-​year in the full sample. Finally, the analyses use multiple measures of civil liberties to ensure that results are not being driven by a particular measure. These estimation strategies, employed in this full comprehensive sample of MMCs using these theoretically appropriate measures of our key concepts, should therefore allow us to robustly test the validity of Hypotheses 1 and 2, explaining the variation in ROs’ socioeconomic institutionalization and de facto civil liberties, respectively.

2 As described later in this chapter, this sample is constructed by first identifying all states in the world in which the majority of the population are Muslims. The temporal and cross-​sectional range of my sample of MMCs is determined by the availability of data for our dependent and independent variables.

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  101

Case Selection The theoretical argument presented in this book focuses on elite behavior, that is, the preferences of religious-​party politicians regarding liberal civil liberties, and the effects of ROs’ organizational capacities on the positions and practices of politicians and parties. However, data to test these mechanisms at this appropriate level are simply not available for any country. Given the sheer amount of funds and time needed to obtain data measuring these elite-​level preferences and positions for all MMCs, I adopted a comparative case study approach to test the validity of the causal mechanisms posited for both hypotheses. Specifically, I collected relevant elite-​level data required for this project through systematic surveys of political elites and open-​ended interviews with political elites and ROs in two carefully selected country cases—​Turkey and Pakistan, which offer both cross-​case and within-​case variation of theoretical interest. Both Hypothesis 1 and Hypothesis 2 posit effects of religious parties that are conditional on the presence of a second factor—​an inflationary crisis for Hypothesis 1 and high RO institutionalization for Hypothesis 2. Testing the validity of the arguments behind them therefore requires selecting cases that vary the presence and absence of each of these conditions systematically. A most similar comparative case study design can offer the important benefit that it keeps other country-​level factors relatively constant while offering variation in the parameters of interest (Gerring 2007). For this book, I apply its selection criteria by choosing two cases—​Turkey and Pakistan—​that are representative of MMCs on many relevant characteristics, and are similar to each other on many important demographic, political, and economic characteristics but have different inflation histories. Furthermore, each of these cases also offers considerable within-​country temporal variation in inflation, the legislative concentration of religious parties, their presence in government, and the levels of socioeconomic institutionalization of ROs, allowing us to test our interactive hypotheses more effectively.3 First, Turkey experienced multiple periods with and without an inflation crisis between 1970 and 2016, but it did not see an influential concentrated bloc of religious parties in parliament until 1995–​96. Pakistan elected several parliaments with concentrated Islamist representation from 1947 to 2016 but experienced high inflation only twice—​in 1974 and 2008–​2009. Hypothesis 1, which posits that an inflation crisis is essential for religious parties to be able to use their parliamentary muscle to strengthen ROs, predicts that we should only see high socioeconomic institutionalization of ROs in Turkey starting in 1996 and in Pakistan starting in 2008 when both conditions were present. Therefore, Turkey should 3 Also referred to as a “within subjects” design. See Gerring 2005, 2007; McDermott 2002; Kinder and Palfrey 1993; and Gibson, Caldeira, and Spence 2002 for further discussions of this technique.

102  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties have highly socioeconomically institutionalized ROs starting in 1996–​1997 but ROs in Pakistan should only achieve high institutionalization starting in 2008. These cases therefore allow us to evaluate the conditional effects of religious parliamentary representation and inflation crisis respectively on RO institutionalization. Turkey experienced both non-religious-​and religious-​party governments after Turkish ROs had achieved high institutionalization, which allows us to evaluate the conditional effect of religious parties in government on civil liberties given a context of high RO institutionalization. Pakistan on the other hand achieved moderate institutionalization starting only in 2008. Therefore, Pakistan allows us to evaluate the conditional effect of religious parties in government on civil liberties in the context of low and moderately institutionalized ROs. In addition to offering these advantages, Turkey and Pakistan are representative of MMCs on numerous dimensions. Their political history includes democratic and autocratic periods (Zürcher 2017; Jalal 2017). Their demographic profiles—​predominantly Sunni Muslim with a small presence of other religious minorities—​are also characteristic of numerous MMCs (Pew 2012). Finally, the presence and types of multiple nongovernmental autonomous religious organizations found in Turkey and Pakistan are nearly universal in MM countries. In the economic realm, they share an economic history common to most MMCs, of adopting import-​substitution policies and then switching to export-​ led market-​oriented models of economic growth, participating repeatedly in the International Monetary Fund’s (IMF’s) stabilization programs and receiving loans from both the IMF and the World Bank. Both countries also share features that existing theories argue influence civil liberties. Both are fighting armed insurgencies on their territory from ethnic minorities and Islamist extremists, are allies of Western countries, and receive significant military and foreign aid from them, and neither relies on oil or other natural resources revenues since they lack such resource wealth (Zürcher 2017; Jalal 2017). However, unlike Pakistan, Turkey was never colonized by a Western power. This difference makes these two countries representative of MMCs that have been created out of a Western colonial experience and those that have not experienced direct colonialism. Both countries have also enacted multiple constitutions, most often by military leaders. These two countries therefore provide a fruitful pair of cases in which to evaluate the validity of the causal arguments proposed in this book. I use a variety of quantitative and qualitative evidence to evaluate the theoretical arguments presented in this book in both countries. Specifically, for each of these two countries, I  develop and use unique data from original surveys of political elites conducted in 2017 in Turkey and 2018 in Pakistan coupled with evidence from open-​ended interviews. Furthermore, for each of the two cases, I analyze in depth both qualitative evidence and quantitative data from

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  103 secondary sources. In Turkey, I find that following the outbreak of inflation crisis episodes and rapid surge in the legislative seat concentration of religious parties (i.e., once these two key conditions were met) in the mid-​1990s, there was indeed a substantial expansion of socioeconomic institutionalization of national-​level nongovernmental ROs during the late 1990s. However, these ROs were only able to exert influence on civil liberties once a government headed by a religious party came to power in 2003 and has since stayed in office. Since then, Turkey has experienced a sharp decline in civil liberties. The case study analysis for Pakistan shows that from 1947 to 2008, Pakistan’s religious parties lacked either legislative concentration or the presence of an inflationary crisis and were unable to successfully push for policies that would allow Pakistani ROs to grow beyond their traditional strengths in religious guidance, education, and charity work and civil liberties did not decline in response to RO demands during this period. However, an inflation crisis in 2008 along with a concentrated religious party bloc in the legislature facilitated policies increasing ROs’ SEI to moderate levels. As a result, Pakistan has experienced a significant decline in its civil liberties after 2008. These cases thus collectively provide strong support for both Hypotheses 1 and 2 and their corollaries.

Sample and Variables Sample and Dependent Variable The predictions in Hypotheses 1 and 2 focus on all Muslim-​majority countries. To construct such an appropriate time-​series cross-​sectional sample of all MMCs I first identify all states in the world in which more than 50% of domestic citizens are Muslims. This produces a sample of 49 MMCs (listed in table 4.1) from 1970 to 2016. The size and temporal range of this sample is determined by the availability of data to operationalize the variables of interest, including the dependent and independent variables. Note, however, that this sample includes all MMCs for which data to operationalize the key variables are available. Table 4.1 indicates that the countries in the sample are distributed across all regions of the world in which Muslim-​majority states exist. Thus, my sample is comprehensive, which enhances the generalizability of the reported empirical results. Importantly, it allows us to study countries in Africa and Asia beyond the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region, which has attracted the most attention from scholars. The dependent variable in Hypothesis 1 is the level of socioeconomic expansion of national-​level nongovernmental (i.e., privately owned) ROs in

104  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties MMCs, or in other words the extent to which these ROs own and operate organizations, firms, or associations across four socioeconomic areas: (i) welfare organizations that provide basic social services to citizens, (ii) educational institutions, (iii) businesses and business or professional associations, and (iv) media outlets such as radio and television channels. I therefore operationalized the dependent variable in Hypothesis 1 (labeled as RO institutionalization) as an ordinal dependent variable. This ordinal dependent variable is constructed in two main steps. For the first step, I employ several regional and country-​ specific primary and secondary sources listed in table A.1 in the book’s appendix to identify all national nongovernmental (i.e., private) ROs for each country-​year in my Muslim-​majority states sample. Examples of these sources (see table A.1) include Burgat (1997), Kurzman’s (1998) Liberal Islam volume, Hassan and Lewis’s (2015) Handbook on Islam and Economic Life, Clark (2004), Clarke and Jennings (2008), Rubin (2009) and International Business Publication’s (2009) Organization of Islamist Conference Handbook. Using these and other sources in table A.1 and the definition stated in ­chapter 1, a national-​level nongovernmental RO is identified as a religious organization that satisfies the following criteria:

• • • •

It is a private (i.e., privately owned) organization. It was established as a religious organization to provide spiritual guidance. It has branches and facilities in multiple cities and towns across a country. Its leaders are public figures of national prominence in the country.

Using these criteria, one finds that there are usually between one to four national-​ level nongovernmental ROs in each country-​year for the MMCs in the sample. Examples of such ROs include Sufi orders such as the Boushtiyya in Morocco, the Tijaniyya and Mouridiyya in Senegal, the Naqshbandi in Syria, the Gülen, Naqshbandi and Qadiri orders in Turkey, and organizations such as the Izala in Nigeria, the Nahdlatul Ulema and Muhammidiya in Indonesia, and the Rabitat al Dawa in Algeria. For the second step, I  employ the relevant primary and secondary sources listed in table A.1 in the book’s appendix to record whether the national-​level nongovernmental ROs in each country-​year own and operate welfare organizations, educational institutions, firms, professional associations, and/​or media outlets. The ordinal RO institutionalization dependent variable is then coded on the following 0 to 4 scale for each country-​year in the sample: 0 National-​level nongovernmental ROs either do not exist or do not own and operate any welfare, educational, media, or professional organizations whatsoever.

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  105 1. National-​level nongovernmental ROs own and operate educational organizations that provide just religious education and charity organizations that provide charitable social services (e.g., food distribution, providing medicines) to citizens. 2. National-​ level nongovernmental ROs own and operate educational institutions that provide religious as well as charitable and for-​profit school education, vocational training, or university-​level education and welfare organizations that provide charitable and for-​profit social services. 3. National-​level nongovernmental ROs own and operate welfare organizations, educational institutions, and either firms and professional and business associations or electronic media outlets. 4. National-​level nongovernmental ROs own and operate welfare organizations, educational institutions, and firms, professional associations, and electronic media outlets. This ordinal dependent variable ranges from the “minimum” of 0, defined previously as the theoretical “minimum” level, to the “maximum” of 4 that captures situations where national-​ level nongovernmental ROs own and manage welfare and educational facilities, firms, professional associations, and media bodies. Hence, the ordinal RO institutionalization measure directly operationalizes the dependent variable in Hypothesis 1, which allows one to test this hypothesis carefully. To get a sense of how this coding was developed, consider the following examples. From 1925 to 1950, ROs were banned in Turkey and prohibited from running any facilities of any kind (Yavuz 2011). Such a situation is coded as a 0. In Bangladesh, we see the evolution of ROs from a 1 to a 4 over the years. From 1971, when Bangladesh was founded, to 1980, the main ROs, including the Jamaat-​e-​Islami, the Maizbhandari, and Baitush Shorof Sufi orders operated religious educational facilities and engaged in providing welfare goods and services only on a charitable basis (Adams 2016). Starting in 1980, these ROs began operating new educational and health facilities that offered charitable and for-​profit services (Adams 2016). In 1983, Jamaat-​e-​Islami established the Islami Bank, which in turn established a variety of business ventures over the next few years in insurance, pharmaceuticals, real estate, and so on (Kumar 2018; Barkat 2013). Finally, the Jamaat-​e-​Islami began establishing a media empire beyond just religious journals by founding Diganta TV in 2007, followed by the Diganta FM radio station (Kumar 2018; Barket 2013). Given these changes, Bangladesh is coded as a 1 from 1971 to 1979, a 2 from 1980 to 1982, a 3 from 1983 to 2006 and a 4 from 2007 to 2016. Consider Senegal as another example. At independence in 1960, Senegal inherited several established ROs, most prominently including the

106  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Mouridiyya, the Tijaniyya, the Qadiriyya, and the Layene (Barro 2017). From 1960 to 2003, these ROs were heavily involved in providing education and social welfare on a charitable and for-​profit basis, they published and circulated various print media. The Mouridiyya and Tijaniyya also ran highly profitable businesses, particularly in agriculture and international trade (Barro 2017; World Faiths Development Dialogue 2016). Subsequently, the Mouridiyya entered the profitable media sector by establishing the first of their own FM radio stations, Disso FM in 2003, and the first of their two television stations (Touba TV) in 2009 (Barro 2017: 6). Soon the other ROs founded their own FM radio stations and television stations as well (Barro 2017: 7). Given these changes, based on the coding scheme outlined earlier, Senegal is coded as a 3 from 1960 to 2002 because it had charitable and for-​profit education and welfare organizations, and it operated commercial businesses. It is coded as a 4 from 2003 to 2016 because in addition to owning their own commercial enterprises, ROs began establishing their own electronic media outlets from 2003 onward. In the full TSCS sample of MMCs, the mean value of RO institutionalization is 2.3, while the standard deviation of this measure is approximately 1. Consider figure 4.1, which illustrates the moving average of the ordinal RO institutionalization variable from 1970 to 2016 in the full sample of MMCs. It indicates that there is substantial temporal variation in this ordinal dependent variable in the sample. Figure 4.2 further shows that the overall distribution of the RO institutionalization measure in the sample largely approximates a normal distribution. This also indicates that there is substantial variation in this measure of the dependent variable in the sample. This variation therefore provides one with sufficient leverage to evaluate Hypothesis 1 for MMCs.

RO Institutionalization

4 3 2 1 0 1970

1975

1980

1985

1990

1995

2000

2005

Figure 4.1  Moving average of RO institutionalization in the full sample

2010

2015

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  107 .8

Density

.6

.4

.2

0 0

1

2 RO Institutionalization

3

4

Figure 4.2  Distribution of RO institutionalization

Independent and Control Variables I first describe the independent variables employed to test Hypothesis 1 and then list the control variables in the specification. Hypothesis 1 posits that the interactive effect of the following two independent variables in MMCs are likely to have a positive influence on the socioeconomic expansion of ROs in MMCs: an inflationary crisis and the legislative concentration of religious parties. Following extant empirical research on inflation crises in macroeconomics,4 I define a binary inflation crisis measure coded as 1 in a given country-​year when • the level of the inflation rate (measured in % terms) in a given country-​year is strictly greater than at least two standard deviations above its country-​ specific sample mean and • the “inflation crisis” phase ends only when the inflation rate is strictly lesser than one standard deviation above its country-​specific sample mean. If these two conditions are not met, then inflation crisis is coded as 0. The results, however, remain robust if inflation crisis is coded as 1 when the annual inflation rate is anywhere between 1.5 to 3 standard deviations above its country-​specific sample mean. For additional robustness tests, I use another binary measure of inflationary crisis, labeled inflation episode, which is coded as 1 when the annual 4 For this, see, for example, works by macroeconomists such as Fischer (1993), Barro and Sala-​i-​ Martin (1995), and Easterly and Fischer 2001.

108  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties inflation rate in a given country-​year is greater than 25% and is coded as 0 otherwise. This is used because the IMF (2010) uses the 25% inflation rate threshold to identify hyperinflation episodes. The results of using this measure of inflation crisis remain robust when I use alternative thresholds that lie in the 20%–​30% range to identify hyperinflation episodes. The data used to calculate the binary inflation crisis measures are listed in table A.4 in the book’s appendix. The second independent variable required for testing Hypothesis 1 is the concentration of seats held by religious political parties in the national legislature. This is operationalized as follows for each country-​year in the sample. To start, I employ the definition of a religious political party provided in c­ hapter 1 of this book to identify all the de facto religious political parties that have held seats in the national legislature per year in each country in the sample. Table A.2 in the book’s appendix lists these parties for each country in the sample. I then use numerous sources to obtain information about the precise number of seats held in the national legislature by the religious political parties for each country-​year in the sample. The region as well as country-​specific primary and secondary sources that I use to identify the religious parties in each MMC as well as the legislative seats that they hold per year are listed in detail in table A.3 in the book’s appendix. Examples of these sources include Kurzman and Naqvi (2010, 2015), the Inter-​Parliamentary Union’s Election Guide, Democracy Assistance and Election News, Spiegel (2015), Lansford (2015), Political Handbook of the World, and Miles (2007), among others. Finally, following studies that measure the legislative seat concentration of parties,5 I use these two pieces of information to operationalize the concentration of legislative seats held by religious political parties as the Hirschman-​Herfindahl index of seat concentration for religious parties in the lower chamber of the national legislature for each country-​ year in the sample. This Hirschman-​ Herfindahl index of the concentration of the religious parties’ legislative seats is computed as the sum of squared seat shares held by these religious parties in the national legislature. This is formally defined for each country-​year (after dropping t for time for notational convenience) as n



∑ s , (4.1) i =1

2 i

where si is the share of each Islamist political party’s legislative seats in the national legislature per year for each country and n is the number of these religious

5 Studies that have used the Hirschman-​Herfindahl index of concentration of legislative seats held by the government or opposition to explore the impact of this concentration on economic or political outcomes include, for instance, Caroll et al. 2007; Stein et al. 1998; and Chhibber 2004.

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  109 2.5

Inflation crisis No Inflation crisis

2.0

Density

1.5

1.0

0.5

0.0 0.00

0.15

0.30 0.45 Seat concentration

0.60

Figure 4.3  Distribution of seat concentration

parties in each country-​year within MMCs. This procedure generates the seat concentration variable, with higher values indicating higher seat concentration for religious parties. It ranges from a minimum of 0 to a maximum of approximately .678 in the full sample with a sample mean of .29. Figure 4.3 shows the distribution of this seat concentration measure for two subsamples: in the subsample of country-​years in which an inflationary crisis event (i) occurred (i.e., inflation crisis = 1) and (ii) did not occur (inflation crisis = 0). Both distributions resemble a log-​normal distribution. These figures thus indicate that variation in the seat concentration variable across inflation crisis and non-​inflation crisis years across the entire MMC sample is substantial and similar. This provides one with sufficient explanatory leverage to test Hypothesis 1. As a robustness test, I use an alternative measure for the legislative seat concentration of religious parties. This index is operationalized for each Muslim-​ majority country-​year as

n

seat index = s1t + ∑ sit2 (2 − sit ), (4.2) i =2

where n is the number of religious political parties in the legislature in each country-​year in the sample, s1t is the share of seats held by the largest religious

110  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties political party in the legislature, sit is the share of seats held by the other religious parties in the legislature, and sit2 is the square of this share. The seat index measure ranges from 0 to .675. Higher values of this index capture greater concentration of legislative seats held by religious political parties for each country-​ year in the sample of MMCs. To test the posited interactive effect stated in Hypothesis 1, where the dependent variable is RO institutionalization, I therefore interact seat concentration measure with the binary inflation crisis measure in the first specification, and interact seat index with inflation crisis in robustness checks, including the relevant individual components of each interaction term in each model.6 Based on the prediction in Hypothesis 1, I anticipate that the statistical association between each of these two interaction terms and the ordinal RO institutionalization dependent variable will be positive. I also include several control variables in the statistical specification. To this end, note that there is to my knowledge little or no comprehensive large-​N statistical analysis of covariates that may influence the ordinal RO institutionalization dependent variable. However, existing research on the role of nongovernmental ROs in MMCs by historians, political scientists, policy analysts, and sociologists identifies several variables that may influence whether and when these religious organizations are likely to own and operate welfare bodies, educational and business organizations, and media outlets (see, e.g., Turam 2007; Yavuz 2009; Masoud 2014a; Khalil 2014; Mecham 2016).7 I follow insights from these studies to identify a list of economic, political, and institutional factors that should be included in our model specifications as control variables. Table A.4 in the book’s appendix provides a detailed definition of these control variables as well as their data sources.

Economic Factors With respect to economic factors, some researchers suggest that greater economic development (operationalized as log GDP per capita) is likely to have a negative influence on RO institutionalization, while others make the opposite claim (e.g., Choueiri 1996; Esposito 2002a; Eickelman and Piscatori 2004).8 The variable log GDP per capita is thus included in the empirical model to account for this debate. Researchers also contend that ROs’ institutionalization

6 For robustness tests, I also interact seat concentration with inflation episode and assess the impact of seat concentration x inflation episode on the Islamist Institution dependent variable. 7 Additional prominent examples of studies in this issue-​area include, for example, Rose 2004; Khan 2005; and Kuru 2007, 2018. 8 This is an extensive debate with sharply polarizing views about the link between economic development and national-​level RO. For examples of other studies that focus on this debate see Nasr 2001; Karatnycky 2002; Bayat 2007; Ramadan 2009; Kuru 2018.

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  111 is more likely to occur in countries that depend heavily on “oil rents” (e.g., Najmabadi 1987; Crystal 1990; Sharabi 1998; Esposito 1996b, 2002b; Ross 2001; Mayer 2007). I therefore control for oil rent to statistically account for this prediction.9 Some scholars suggest that advanced industrial democracies that provide foreign aid to incumbents in MMCs may put pressure on these incumbents to curb the activities of domestic ROs (Eickelman and Piscatori 2004; Mayer 2007; Turam 2007).10 Hence, I include the variable foreign aid per capita compiled by the OECD’s Development Assistance Committee (DAC) and obtained from the World Development Indicators (WDI) to account for this possibility. Recent studies argue that the domestic political unpopularity of governments in MMCs increases sharply when they receive loans from the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank (Esposito 2002b; Talbi 2003; Khan 2005, 2006; Yavuz 2009). Loan-​recipient governments respond to such political unpopularity by providing concessions to ROs to appease conservative sections of society and thus bolster domestic political support (Khan 2005, 2006;; Yavuz 2009). Accordingly, these concessions may provide ROs with more capacity or resources to own and operate educational organizations, business associations, and television channels. I therefore control for World Bank loan (% GDP) and IMF loan (% GDP). A handful of studies hypothesize that MMC governments that are more open to international trade and foreign direct investment will curb the activities of ROs in an attempt to look more “secular” to foreign economic actors (Dwyer 1991; Dwyer and Bruce 1988; Burgat 1997; Eligür 2010). I therefore control for trade openness and FDI flows as well.

Political Factors With respect to domestic political and institutional variables, scholars are far more ambivalent about the link between democracy and the socioeconomic institutionalization of ROs (Wright 1996; Fish 2002; Turam 2007; Khan 2005, 2006; Kuru 2007, 2018).11 Some researchers suggest that ROs thrive and are able to extend their societal reach in Muslim-​majority democracies, while others disagree with this claim (Wright 1996; Rose 2004; Turam 2007; Tepe 2008). I thus include the Polity democracy measure in the specification to account for this debate. A handful of studies contend that military dictators and monarchs in MMCs have often empowered ROs to placate domestic citizens and thus survive 9 Following the World Bank’s (2017) World Development Indicators (from which the oil rent data is drawn from), I operationalize oil rent as the unit export value of oil/​gas exports in $ per barrel. 10 For an opposing perspective on this issue, see Sharabi 1998; Turam 2007; Tepe 2008. 11 This is an extensive debate that has been summarized in ­chapter 1. For additional works that speak to this, see, for instance, Crystal 1991; Chaudhry 1994; Esposito 1996b, 1998; Karl 1997; Talbi 2003; Yavuz 2007.

112  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties in power (Crystal 1990; Mayer 2007; Turam 2007).12 The dummy variables military (coded as 1 for military dictatorships) and monarchy, which are both drawn from Geddes, Wright, and Franz (2014), are added to the specification to account for this claim. Some researchers argue that the existence of a vibrant civil society weakens the presence and reach of ROs (Choueiri 1996; Kubba 2003; Moghadam 2005; Mayer 2007; Barlow 2008). I  control for this by using the Varieties of Democracy’s (2016) core civil society index, which “provide(s) a measure of a robust civil society, understood as one that enjoys autonomy from the state and in which citizens freely and actively pursue their political and civic goals, however conceived.”13 Recent studies suggest that the functions and socioeconomic reach of ROs in MMCs tend to increase when the number of laws and policies based on sharia that are incorporated into the state’s legal code is high (Peters 2005; Khan 2005, 2006; Yavuz 2009). I therefore control for this by using the count variable Islamic laws (drawn from Fox’s “Religious and State Project” database)14 in the specification. This variable measures the extent to which a state incorporates Islamist tenets into state policies and laws by counting the total number of state laws and policies based on sharia law. Finally, the lag of RO institutionalization may have a strong positive association with the current level of this dependent variable. Hence, I add lag RO institutionalization to the specification. I also conduct a battery of specification robustness tests in which I include more covariates. These robustness tests are described later in this chapter.

Statistical Methodology Since the dependent variable RO institutionalization is ordinal, I test Hypothesis 1 by using an ordered probit model that is estimated with cluster-​adjusted robust standard errors that accounts for within-​ country correlation and heteroskedasticity. The ordered probit (OP) is estimated with random effects15 12 Also see, for example, Sharabi 1998 and Eickelman and Piscatori 2004. 13 V-​Dem 2016, Varieties of Democracy Codebook, 61. V-​Dem’s core civil society index is developed by drawing from the point estimates obtained from a Bayesian factor analysis model of three main civil society indicators. These three indicators include the extent to which civil society organizations (CSOs) (i) are repressed, (ii) participate in the political sphere, and (ii) are allowed to form and operate without political interference from the state. 14 This is drawn from the Religion and State Project’s composite variable for “Specific Types of Religious Legislation.” See Jonathan Fox, “The Religion and State Project,” version RAS_​v1.2.2, http://​www.religionandstate.org, accessed April 2017. 15 The results reported later remain robust when the ordered probit model is estimated with country fixed effects. However, as shown by Bester and Hansen (2009) and Carro and Traferri (2009), incorporating fixed effects in an ordered probit model that is estimated on finite samples leads to an incidental parameters problem that engenders inconsistent and inefficient estimates. Therefore, I present the results from the ordered probit models that are each estimated with random effects.

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  113 to account for cross-​sectional heterogeneity as well as time (i.e., year) dummies since a time-​series cross-​sectional (TSCS) data set is employed for the tests.16 That said, I  also present results from OP models that are estimated without random effects and time dummies. While useful, the OP model does not address three main econometric challenges that emerge when testing Hypothesis 1 by using an ordinal dependent variable. The first econometric challenge is that there may exist a potential endogeneity problem between each of the independent variables (particularly, seat concentration) and the RO institutionalization dependent variable; that is, institutionalization could be driving the legislative concentration of seats belonging to religious parties. Diagnostic tests conducted on my data, which are discussed later in this chapter, reveal that there is no endogeneity problem between the independent and dependent variables used to test Hypothesis 1. However, I assess the econometric robustness of the main results by estimating an instrumental variable-​ordered probit model that statistically accounts for endogeneity issues in the context of testing Hypothesis 1. This model and the results obtained from it are discussed later in this chapter. The second econometric challenge stems from the fact that inflation crises do not break out randomly across countries. There may be a selection bias problem wherein the same observable and latent factors that lead to an inflation crisis may also increase the capacity of ROs to own and operate a variety of welfare, educational, business, and media outlets. I address this potential selection bias issue statistically by estimating Greene and Hensher’s (2009, 2010) sample selection-​ ordered probit (OP) model. This selection-​ordered probit model (hereafter S-​ OP model) consists of two stages: the first stage is a probit selection equation in which we estimate the impact of covariates on the likelihood that an inflation crisis may occur, and the second stage is an ordered probit outcome equation that estimates the effect of seat concentration x inflation crisis, the constitutive components of this interaction term, and the control variables listed earlier on the ordered dependent variable, RO institutionalization, while accounting for the bias due to selection into an inflationary crisis. The covariates for the selection equation are drawn from an established literature on the determinants of inflation crises in developing economies since all the MMCs in the sample are developing countries.17 To save space here, I list these covariates in the third section of this chapter. The technical details and log likelihood function of the sample selection-​ordered probit model as well as the procedure for estimating this 16 The results remain robust when I follow Carter and Signorino (2010) and include a cubic polynomial in the specification to account for temporal dependence in the data (not reported, to save space, but available on request). 17 This is an extensive literature as well. For prominent examples, see Ha et al. 2019; Coibon et al. 2017; Gerlach-​Kristen 2006; Calvo and Vegh 1999; Agenor and Montiel 2008.

114  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties statistical model is provided in the chapter’s appendix.18 I estimate the sample-​ selected ordered probit model with random effects and year dummies. The S-​OP model’s results do not alter substantively and significantly in the statistical sense when one estimates the model without random effects and year dummies. The third econometric challenge that emerges in the context of testing Hypothesis 1 is that in addition to the nonrandom outbreak of inflation crisis discussed previously, the number of legislative seats held by religious political parties may itself be determined by the possibility that these parties may have been allowed by ruling elites—​and have opted—​to participate in the national legislature in MMCs. The presence of a concentrated religious-​party bloc in parliament could be endogenous to the decisions of autocrats to deal with an economic crisis by adopting political liberalization. In other words, religious political parties gain legislative representation and thus seats in the legislature (which constitutes the seat concentration independent variable) because of a nonrandom selection process that determines the likelihood of their participation in the legislature. Importantly, it is also plausible that not only observable but also latent factors that influence a nonrandom phenomenon such as the participation of religious parties in the legislature may affect the extent to which ROs operate welfare, educational, business, or media bodies. In short, this is a “double-​selection problem.” This double-​selection problem potentially creates a sample selection bias that results from both (i) the nonrandom occurrence of inflation crisis episodes and (ii) the nonrandom participation of religious political parties in the national legislature of MMCs. The S-​OP model discussed earlier cannot address this double-​selection problem. To statistically address the double-​selection problem, I  estimate a double selection-​ordered probit (DS-OP) model that econometrically accounts for the nonrandom occurrence of inflation crisis, nonrandom participation of religious parties in the national legislature, and consequently the influence of seat concentration x inflation crisis on the ordinal RO institutionalization dependent variable in a joint statistical model. Developed by econometricians,19 this model consists of two stages with probit models that individually account for selection into nonrandom inflation crisis episodes and nonrandom participation of religious parties in the national legislature and a third stage with an ordered probit outcome equation that estimates the effect of seat concentration x inflation crisis, the constitutive components of this interaction term, and the control variables listed earlier on the ordered dependent variable, RO institutionalization, while correcting for selection biases due to 18 I use simulation methods—​specifically, the Geweke-​Hajivassiliou-​Keane (GHK) smooth recursive conditioning simulator—​to evaluate the log likelihood function of the sample selection-​ordered probit (S-​OP) model. The appendix to this chapter describes the technical details of this procedure. 19 The double-​selection model was initially developed by Tunali (1986). Also see Lahiri and Song 1999 for a description of the double-​selection model.

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  115 nonrandom inflationary crises and nonrandom participation of religious parties in elected legislatures. This double-​selection OP model is estimated with random effects and year dummies in the third-​stage outcome equation.20 In the chapter’s appendix, I derive the full functional form of λ m and λ f and describe the procedure for estimating the double-​selection OP model.

Main Statistical Results Figure 4.4 illustrates the percentage of observations in which the ordinal RO institutionalization dependent variable is equal to 4—​which is the highest level of this measure—​for every level of seat concentration in two cases:  Muslim-​ majority country-​years in which (i)  an inflation crisis occurred (inflation crisis = 1) and (ii) there is no inflation crisis (inflation crisis = 0). The plotted results for both the subsample of inflation crisis country-​years and the non-​ inflation crisis country-​years appear together as bar plots in figure 4.4. This figure reveals that among the higher decile values of seat concentration in the sample (such as those ranging from the fourth to the sixth decile), there is a

25

Inflation crisis No Inflation crisis

% IRO Institutional. = 4

20

15

10

5

0

1st

2nd

3rd

4th

5th

6th

Seat concentration (by decile)

Figure 4.4  Seat concentration, inflation crisis, and RO institutionalization

20 The results from the double-​selection OP model do not alter when I exclude random effects and time dummies.

116  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties strong upward trend in the percentage of observations in the highest level of the RO institutionalization measure specifically in years in which MMCs have experienced an inflation crisis. Yet no such upward trend exists in non-​inflation crisis years in the sample of MMCs. This figure thus indicates that there is a strong positive association between the concentration of legislative seats held by religious political parties and the highest level of the ordinal RO institutionalization dependent variable during inflation crisis years in MMCs. This provides initial support for Hypothesis 1. Hence, I next turn to present the results from the OP models. Model 1 in table 4.2 reports the results obtained from estimating the influence of seat concentration x inflation crisis on RO institutionalization from a stripped-​ down OP specification that excludes all control variables but is estimated with random effects, year dummies, and the lag of the dependent variable. The association between seat concentration x inflation crisis on RO institutionalization is positive and significant at the 1% level in this model. Seat concentration x inflation crisis also has a positive and highly significant (1% level) influence on RO institutionalization in the full OP specification in model 2 that includes all the control variables and is estimated with random effects, year dummies, and the lag of the dependent variable. Note, however, that the estimated coefficients of both the individual seat concentration measure and the binary inflation crisis variable in models 1 and 2 are each statistically insignificant. It is thus the interaction of the two independent variables—​rather than each variable individually—​that has a positive and statistically significant association with the expansion of socioeconomic institutionalization of nongovernmental ROs in MMCs. This statistically corroborates Hypothesis 1. The two marginal effect plots in figure 4.6 also reveal another key finding. They show that in the context of an inflation crisis, seat concentration does not have a significant impact on the probability that RO institutionalization is equal to 3 or 4 when this concentration measure lies in the “low range” of .10 and .25 in the sample. This provides empirical support for the claim in Corollary 2, which posits that even during inflation crisis periods, the statistical association between seat concentration and RO institutionalization will be negligible and insignificant as long as the concentration of religious parties’ legislative seats is low. To understand the substantive impact of seat concentration x inflation crisis on RO institutionalization, I turn to numerous substantive effect figures derived from using the full OP specification estimates in model 2 and the formula for computing the marginal effect of interaction terms in ordered probit models (this formula is defined formally in this chapter’s appendix). The figures separately focus on the marginal effect of the interaction term of interest on each of the two highest levels of the ordinal dependent variable: namely for RO institutionalization = 3 and RO institutionalization = 4. I focus on the marginal effect

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  117 for the two highest levels of the ordinal dependent variable because it allows one to evaluate the extent of substantive support for Hypothesis 1 and the two corollaries (Corollaries 1 and 2) associated with this hypothesis. These substantive effects are illustrated in figures 4.5 and 4.6 for two sets of countries: (i) those observed under an inflation crisis and (ii) those not observed under an inflation crisis. To derive these figures, I use the full OP specification estimates in model 2 and parametric bootstraps to compute the marginal effect of seat concentration on the probability that RO institutionalization is equal first to 3 and then to 4 for two sets of MMCs in the sample. I also report the 95% confidence intervals of each marginal effect to account for estimation uncertainty. The two illustrations in figure 4.5 indicate that in Muslim-​majority states that are not observed under an inflation crisis (when the inflation crisis dummy is equal to 0), the effect of seat concentration on the probability that RO institutionalization is equal to 3 (see the first illustration, figure 4.5) and 4 (the second illustration, figure 4.5) is statistically insignificant. This corroborates the claim in Corollary 1, which predicts that in the absence of an inflation crisis, the concentration of legislative seats held by Islamist parties is unlikely to influence ROs’ socioeconomic institutionalization in MMCs. Finally, we can evaluate support for Hypothesis 1. The two plots in figure 4.6 show that when inflation crisis is equal to 1 (indicating an “inflation crisis period”) and all other specification variables are held at their sample means, seat concentration has a sizable positive effect on the probability of both the highest levels of the ordinal RO institutionalization measure. Importantly, as predicted in Hypothesis 1, this sizable positive effect is statistically significant at the 95% confidence level only when the level of seat concentration is sufficiently “high range,” that is, between .40 and .65, in the sample.21 The top plot in figure 4.6 indicates that a one standard deviation increase in seat concentration from its mean of .29 yields a substantial 17% increase in the likelihood that RO institutionalization = 3, which is the probability that ROs own and operate welfare, educational, firms, and either professional (e.g., business) organizations or media outlets in MMCs. Likewise, the bottom plot in figure 4.6 indicates that a one standard deviation increase in seat concentration from its mean of .29 yields a substantial 14% increase in the likelihood that RO institutionalization = 4, which is the probability that ROs own and operate welfare, educational facilities, firms, professional and business associations, and media organizations in MMCs. The figure also shows that this substantive effect is statistically significant at the 95% 21 The effect of seat concentration on RO Institutionalization is only statistically significant when the upper and lower bounds of the 95% confidence intervals (CI) do not encompass the zero line. The two illustrations in ­figure 4.5 show that the upper and lower bounds of the 95% CI do not encompass the zero line when seat concentration is higher than approximately .40, but it does encompass the zero line when seat concentration lies between 0 and .39.

Effect of Seat concentration on RO Institutionalization = 4 when inflation crisis = 0

(a)

Marginal Effect of Seat Concentration

1 .8 .6 .4 .2 0 –.2 –.4

.25

.50 .75 Seat Concentration Marginal effect

1

95% CI

Effect of Seat concentration on RO Institutionalization = 3 when inflation crisis = 0

(b)

Marginal Effect of Seat Concentration

1 .8 .6 .4 .2 0 –.2 –.4

.15

.30 Seat Concentration Marginal effect

.45

.60

95% CI

Figure 4.5  Marginal effect of seat concentration on RO institutionalization in the absence of inflation crisis

Effect of Seat concentration on RO Institutionalization = 3 when inflation crisis = 1

(a)

Marginal Effect of Seat Concentration

1 .8 .6 .4 .2 0 –.2 –.4

.15

.30

.45

.60

Seat concentration Marginal effect

95% CI

Effect of Seat concentration on RO Institutionalization = 3 when inflation crisis = 1

(b)

Marginal Effect of seat concentration

1 .8 .6 .4 .2 0 –.2 –.4

.15

.30

.45

.60

Seat concentration Marginal effect

95% CI

Figure 4.6  Marginal effect of seat concentration on RO institutionalization when inflation crisis occurs

120  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties confidence level. This suggests that there is strong statistically significant and substantive support for Hypothesis 1. There is mixed empirical support for the control variables in the specifications in table 4.2. For instance, the estimate of the economic controls such as log GDP per capita, oil rent, World Bank loan, and IMF loan are each positive but statistically insignificant. The estimated coefficient for foreign aid is, however, negative and significant at the 5% level. This broadly indicates that governments in MMCS that receive higher levels of foreign aid from G-​7 donors are more likely to curb the social and economic activities of ROs. Interestingly, the estimated coefficient for trade openness is negative but weakly significant at the 10% level in all the OP specifications. However, FDI flows is consistently insignificant in each specification. The political controls perform better in the specifications. For example, military and monarchy are each positive and significant. This supports existing claims that suggest that ROs tend to thrive in MMCs ruled by military dictators or monarchs. The estimate of the polity measure of democracy is positive as well but statistically insignificant. The ordinal civil society variable is negative but insignificant in each specification. The count Islamic laws variable is, however, positive and significant in the empirical models. This supports extant views about the positive association between the presence of Islamic laws in the constitution of MMCs and the extent to which ROs operate welfare institutions, educational facilities, firms, and professional and media organizations. Last but not the least, the lag of the dependent variable is positive and highly significant in each OP model.

Robustness Tests Specification Robustness Tests As an initial robustness test, I check and find that the influence of seat concentration x inflation crisis on RO institutionalization remains positive and significant at the 1% level in the fully specified OP model that is estimated without random effects and year dummies (see model 3, table 4.2). I then conduct a battery of specification robustness tests to check whether the main results hold in specifications with additional control variables. For the first specification robustness test, I interact the alternative measure of inflation crisis labeled as inflation episode with seat concentration and then assess the influence of seat concentration x inflation episode on RO institutionalization in the fully specified OP model. The statistical association between this interaction term and the ordinal RO institutionalization dependent variable remains positive and highly significant in the

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  121 OP model (model 4, table 4.3). For the second specification robustness test, I interact the alternative measure of the concentration of legislative seats held by religious political parties described earlier (seat index) with inflation crisis and then evaluate the statistical effect of seat index x inflation crisis in the fully specified OP model. The statistical association between this latter alternative interaction term and the ordinal RO institutionalization dependent variable is also positive and highly significant in the OP model (model 5). The individual constitutive components of these interaction terms are positive but insignificant in their respective specification. The results in models 4 and 5 suggest that the main results remain robust when one employs alternative measures of the independent variable(s). For the third specification robustness test, I assessed whether the key results hold when three additional controls are included in the full OP specification. The first is the dummy variable religious court for countries in the sample in which the state has established religious courts in its judicial system to exercise jurisdiction over religious law.22 The second is a measure of ethnolinguistic fractionalization (elf), and third is the continuous measure of real GDP economic growth. I include religious court and elf because studies suggest that these two covariates are each associated with the possibility of greater institutionalization and thus empowerment of national ROs in MMCs (see, e.g., Burgat 1997; Eligür 2010; Diouf 2013). I add real GDP economic growth because scholars hypothesize that higher levels of economic growth are negatively associated with the extent to which ROs may operate welfare bodies, educational institutes, professional associations, or media outlets in MMCs (Crystal 1991; Esposito and Voll 1996; Al-​ Mughni and Tetreault 2000). The estimated effect of seat concentration x inflation episode on RO institutionalization is positive and significant at the 1% level in the OP specification (estimated with random effects and year dummies) that includes these additional controls (model 6, table 4.3).23 Each of the three additional controls is insignificant in the specification. Seat concentration x inflation episode also remains positive and highly significant in the OP model after adding two more controls, urbanization and tertiary education (results from this specification are not reported to save space).24

22 The binary religious court measure is drawn from the Religion and State Project’s dummy variable for the “presence of religious courts which have jurisdiction over some matters of law.” See Fox, “The Religion and State Project.” 23 The results reported here hold even when each of the augmented OP models is estimated without random effects and year dummies. 24 Results from this specification are available on request. These two additional covariates (urbanization and tertiary education) are included because research suggests that these variables may influence the RO institutionalization dependent variable (Esposito 2002b; Talbi 2003; Kuru 2007).

122  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

Econometric Robustness Tests Two main econometric robustness tests are carried out in this section. To this end, first note that I do not anticipate a reverse causality problem between the RO institutionalization dependent variable and each of the two independent variables: inflation crisis and the concentration of seats held by religious political parties in the national legislatures of MMCs. For instance, there is no feasible reason to believe that ownership and management of educational, business, or media bodies by ROs will lead to high inflation. Further, studies on religious political parties show that the seats that these religious parties win in the national legislature are influenced by numerous economic and political factors rather than the management of welfare, educational, or media bodies by nongovernmental ROs.25 However, out of an abundance of caution, I implemented two tests: Hurlin and Venet’s (2003) Granger causality test for panel data and an instrumental variable-​ ordered probit model to assess the potential endogenous relationship between the dependent variable and each of the two independent variables for the statistical analysis. F-​test statistics from Hurlin and Venet’s (2003) test reveal that an endogeneity problem does not exist between RO institutionalization and the two independent variables, inflation crisis and seat concentration. I then estimate an instrumental variable-​ordered probit (IV-​OP) model to further address potential endogeneity problems. The instrument for the inflation crisis dummy is the binary measure of de facto floating exchange rate regime (labeled floating exchange rate) that is coded as 1 for countries in the sample that use a floating exchange rate. This instrument is highly correlated to the “inflation crisis” measure, as countries with floating exchange rate regimes are prone to suffer from hyperinflation,26 but it is orthogonal to the RO institutionalization dependent variable.27 These features suggest it should be a valid instrument (the validity of this instrument is confirmed by diagnostic tests reported later). Next, I  instrument seat concentration by using indicators of the colonial origins of countries (British-​, French-​, or German-​colonized or noncolonized state) in the sample. This is because a handful of studies suggest that countries, including MMCs, that were colonized by the British were, unlike former French or German colonies or noncolonized states, far more likely to have a national legislature in which political parties of all stripes—​this includes 25 A  set of insightful country-​or region-​ specific studies on Islamic political parties have studied how a variety of exogenous political and economic factors (unrelated to Islamist religious institutions) have influenced the “legislative strength” of Islamist parties. See, for example, Ismail 2001, 2006; Esposito 1997; Bradley 2012. 26 For this claim, see Fischer 1993; Barro and Sala-​i-​Martin 1995 27 This is because it is highly unlikely that financial policies such as the exchange rate regime (in this floating exchange rate regime) choice of governments will influence the socioeconomic institutionalization of ROs.

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  123 religious parties—​hold legislative seats.28 Yet these studies emphasize that it is highly unlikely that the colonial origins of MMCs will directly influence the possibility that ROs will own and operate various educational, professional, or media bodies. These features suggest it should be a valid instrument, which is also confirmed by diagnostic tests.29 The IV-​ordered probit model’s first-​stage results are not reported because of space constraints,30 but the statistical association between seat concentration x inflation crisis and RO institutionalization remains positive and highly significant in the IV-​ordered probit model (reported in model 7, table 4.3) in the presence of the instrumental variables. Hence, my key result is robust when statistically accounting for possible endogeneity concerns via an IV-​ordered probit model. Apart from endogeneity issues, as discussed earlier, factors that influence a nonrandom phenomenon such as the outbreak of an inflation crisis may also influence the ordinal RO institutionalization dependent variable. I estimate Greene’s (2001) sample selection-​ordered probit (S-​OP) model, described in detail in the appendix to this chapter, to address this plausible selection bias problem. Recall that the binary dependent variable in this first-​stage probit selection equation is inflation crisis. Hence, in the probit selection equation of this model, I incorporate variables identified by economists that influence the likelihood of inflation crises in developing economies given that all the MMCs in my sample are developing states (for this see, e.g., Calvo and Vegh 1999; Cavallo 2004; Treisman 2004; Agenor and Montiel 2008). These variables are as follows: output loss, the level of the real effective exchange rate (REER), de facto floating exchange rate regime, oil price shock, government spending (% GDP), public debt (% GDP), terms of trade shocks, and the lag of the “inflation crisis” measure. Scholars have also hypothesized that democratic regimes are less likely to suffer from inflation crises, while the presence of more veto players may exacerbate the level of inflation (Gasiorowski 2000; Treisman 2004). Hence, I introduce the polity measure of democracy and the veto players variable as well in the first-​stage probit selection equation. The operationalization of these variables and their data sources are listed in table A.4 of the book’s appendix. Importantly, the estimated effect of seat concentration x inflation crisis on RO institutionalization remains positive and highly significant in the second-​stage ordered probit outcome equation of the S-​OP model (see model 8, table 4.3). In 28 For prominent examples of these studies that propose this claim, see, for instance, Hirschkind 1996; Ismail 2006; Brown 2012; Bradley 2012. 29 To test whether the instruments are sufficiently strong and valid, I run the joint significance test of the instruments from the model’s first-​stage regression. As shown in the bottom rows of model 8, the estimated Cragg-​Donald F statistics for the IV-​ordered probit model is 14.17. Because this estimated statistic of 14.17 is above the value of 10, which is a rule of thumb suggested by Staiger and Stock (1997), one can conclude with some degree of confidence that the chosen instruments are relevant and sufficiently strong. Finally, the Sargan Test statistics are insignificant in the IV-​ordered probit model, which implies that the orthogonality condition is satisfied and that the instruments are valid. 30 These first-​stage results are available on request.

124  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties the first-​stage probit selection equation, among the covariates suggested by existing theories of determinants of inflationary crises, Democracy and veto players variables are each positive but statistically insignificant and only Output loss, government spending, and terms of trade shocks are positive and statistically significant (see column A, table 4.4). The second selection bias problem described earlier is the issue of double selection created by the nonrandom distribution of inflation crises and participation of religious parties in direct elections. As discussed earlier, I estimate a double selection-​ordered probit (DS-​OP) statistical model, described in detail in the appendix to this chapter, to account for this double-​selection issue by jointly estimating two probit selection equations and a third-​stage ordered probit (OP) outcome equation. The dependent variable is the first-​stage probit selection equation of this double-​selection OP model is the dichotomous inflation crisis measure. The dependent variable in the second-​stage probit selection equation of the double-​selection OP model is the binary participation variable, which is coded as 1 when religious political parties participate and gain seats in the national legislature in MMCs. Finally, in the third-​stage outcome equation of the double-​selection OP model, the dependent variable is the ordinal RO institutionalization. This outcome equation estimates the effect of the interaction term of interest, the individual components of this interaction term, and all the control variables listed earlier on RO institutionalization. The covariates incorporated in the first probit stage selection equation are all the covariates listed previously—​also see column A in table 4.4—​that affect “inflation crisis.” Extant research on the emergence and role of religious parties suggest that the extent of electoral competitiveness (drawn from the Polity IV data set), the level of democracy (given by the Polity IV measure), the presence of religious courts, and the occurrence of economic recession(s) increase the propensity of participation and seat representation for religious political parties in national legislatures of MMCs (see, e.g., Esposito 1997; Brown 2012; Bradley 2012), while the presence of an active civil society (this variable was described earlier), regimes that are military dictatorships, personalist dictatorships, oil rent, banning of Islamist parties from participating in elections (party ban), higher levels of log GDP per capita, and the lag of the “participation” measure (e.g., Harrigan and El-​Said 2009; Brown 2012; Bradley 2012) decrease the prospects of legislative participation of religious parties in MMCs. The operationalization and data sources for these variables are listed in table A.4 in the book’s appendix. These variables are included in the second-​stage probit selection equation of the double-​selection OP model in which the binary participation measure is the dependent variable. The results for the third-​stage OP outcome equation of the double-​selection OP model are reported in model 9 in table 4.3, for the first-​ stage probit selection equation in column B of table 4.4 and for the second-​stage

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  125 probit selection equation in column A in table 4.4. The results from the double-​ selection OP model’s second-​stage probit selection equation in which participation is the dependent variable is reported in table 4.5. As table 4.3 shows, the statistical association between seat concentration x inflation crisis and RO institutionalization remains positive and highly significant in the third-​stage OP outcome equation of the double-​selection OP model (model 9, table 4.3). Thus, the results from the standard sample selection and the double-​selection OP model strongly corroborate the prediction in Hypothesis 1. Diagnostic tests reveal that none of the models reported previously suffer from serial correlation, severe multicollinearity, or omitted variable bias, and that the residuals are normally distributed.31 The results for the first-​stage selection equation are largely the same as those reported for these covariates in the selection equation in column A, table 4.4. In this second-​stage probit selection equation, religious courts, economic recession, and log GDP per capita all have the predicted positive sign and are statistically significant. The estimate of party ban, oil rent, and personalist have the predicted negative sign and are significant. Electoral competitiveness, democracy, and military are each negative but insignificant. The results for these covariates in the second-​ stage probit selection equation support existing claims about the representation and legislative participation of religious parties in MMCs.

Conclusion This chapter presents the research design adopted in this book to test Hypotheses 1 and 2 and their corollaries from ­chapter 3. I explained why a mixed-​methods approach allows us to combine testing the generalizability of these insights with testing for support for the causal logic underlying their microfoundations. I then introduced the country-​year sample of all 49 MMCs from 1970 to 2016 to be used for all analyses in this book. This sample allows us to test—​to the best of my knowledge, for the first time—​theories regarding the influence of religious parties for a comprehensive set of all MMCs. I  developed and presented two new measures required to assess Hypothesis 1. The first is the ordinal RO institutionalization dependent variable, which captures information about whether ROs own and operate welfare, educational, professional, and media bodies and firms. The second new measure measures the concentration of legislative seats

31 The largest and mean VIF value in the OP and “selection corrected” OP models is less than 10 and greater than 1 respectively, which indicates that multicollinearity is not a problem. The Breusch-​ Godfrey LM test failed to reject the null of no serial correlation in the outcome and selection equations respectively in each of the reported models. The RESET test shows that there is no omitted variable bias problem in the models. The Jarque-​Bera test shows that the residuals are distributed normally in all the estimated models.

126  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties held by religious political parties for each Muslim-​majority country-​year in the sample. The institutionalization measure reveals an important and interesting pattern: there is substantial variation in the extent of the institutional reach that national-​level nongovernmental ROs have in the social, educational, business, and media spheres in their societies across countries and across time. This is important given that some policy pundits have claimed that nongovernmental ROs play an active role and operate educational, welfare, and media outlets universally across MMCs. Our data reveal that this is not the case. The remainder of this chapter rigorously tested the empirical support for Hypothesis 1. I analyzed the interactive effect of an inflationary crisis and high legislative concentration of religious parties on the ordinal RO institutionalization dependent variable across several statistical specifications. The results provide robust statistical support for Hypothesis 1.  This analysis reveals that the legislative representation of religious political parties “matters” substantially in Muslim-​majority states. The results from the statistical models clearly suggest that higher legislative seat concentration of religious political parties enhances the societal presence and role of nongovernmental ROs in Muslim-​majority states, especially in the context of inflation crisis. The empirical results reported in this chapter thus add to a growing and rich literature on the political relevance and impact of religious parties in MMCs. The statistical analysis presented in this chapter is the first step in assessing the testable hypotheses developed in ­chapter 3 regarding the relationship between religious parties and the state of civil liberties in MMCs. Next, in c­ hapter  5, I evaluate empirical support for the second link in this relationship by testing Hypothesis 2, which posits that once religious parties enter government and face cognitive and strategic incentives to moderate their opposition to civil liberties, they are unable to do so if and only if they are operating in a political environment inhabited by highly institutionalized ROs. In the absence of such highly institutionalized ROs, however, ruling religious parties respond to their incentives and moderate their opposition to liberal civil liberties.

Appendix Sample Selection-​Ordered Probit (S-​OP) Model Recall from the text that the S-​OP statistical model consists of two stages and is defined (after dropping subscript t for time for notational convenience) as



fi * = α ′z i + ui (4.A1)

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  127 1 if fi * > 0 fi =  0 otherwise



yi* = β ′x i + εi (4.A2)



yi = j if µ j −1 < yi* ≤ µ j



(εi , ui ) ~ N 2 (0, 0,1,1, ρ)

Since yi , x i is observed when f i is equal to 1, the underlying latent variable yi* for yi is thus also given by the following ordered probit (i.e., outcome) equation in the second stage of the S-​OP model:

yi* = β ′x i + θ fi + εi (4.A3)



yi = j



if µ j −1 < yi* ≤ µ j ,

where (εi , ui ) ~ N 2 (0, 0,1,1, ρ) and f i ∈(0,1) is a dichotomous variable with f i = 1 indicating a new democratic regime that is realized from the nonrandom occurrence of a democratic transition. Conditional on f i = 1 , yi is related to the latent variable yi* in (A3) and a boundary or cut-​off parameter µ as follows:

0 1  2 yi =  ... ... J 



if yi* ≤ 0 and fi = 1 if 0 < yi* ≤ µ1 and f i = 1 if µ1 < yi* ≤ µ 2 and fi = 1

(4.A4)

if µ J −1 < yi* ≤ µ J and fi = 1

The log likelihood function of the S-​OP statistical is, according to Greene and Hendershott (2009), defined as

log L = ∑ d = 0 log Φ(− α ′z i ) i

+ ∑ d =0 i

∑

J di = 0

(4.A5)

mij log[Φ 2 (µ j − β′x i , α ′z i , ρ) − Φ 2 (µ j −1 − β′x i , α ′z i , ρ)],

where Φ(.) is the standard normal multivariate distribution. I estimate the log likelihood function in (4.A5) with random effects. Note that maximizing the log likelihood

128  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties function in (3.A5) on a TSCS dataset (which is precisely the kind of data that I  am using) requires calculating normal multidimensional distribution integrals, the dimension of which grows with T where T denotes time. Since evaluating multidimensional integrals of the likelihood presented here is computationally intensive, I use simulation methods—​specifically, the Geweke-​Hajivassiliou-​Keane (GHK) smooth recursive conditioning simulator—​to maximize the log likelihood function in (4.A5). The GHK maximum simulated likelihood (MSL) method is often used by econometricians (see, e.g., Hajivassiliou and McFadden 1998; Train 2009) to evaluate the likelihood in (A3.5) as it is used to calculate multivariate normal probabilities that are required for MSL estimation. The GHK method leads to a simulated log likelihood function, which I maximize with respect to the parameter vectors x i , z i , µ J , and the covariance matrix Ω by using the Broyden-​Fletcher-​Goldfarb-​Shanno (BFGS) numerical optimization method (see Train 2009). Once I obtain the estimates, the variance-​covariance matrix is directly derived by inverting the Hessian evaluated in the obtained maximum likelihood estimators. The estimation of the ordered probit and the S-​OP model is carried out by using R.

Calculation of Interaction Effect Recall that the ordered probit model (and also the ordered outcome equation of the S-​OP model) is given by yi* = β ′x + ε , where yi is related to  yi*  as

yi = J



if µ J −1 < yi* ≤ µ J µx1 x2 . (4.A6)

x3 prob( yi = j) = Φ(µ J − β ′x ) − Φ(µ J −1 − β ′x ) where j = 0,1,2 . . . J is the discrete or-

dered outcome and the μs are the (J − 1) unknown parameters known as the boundary or cut-​off parameters. Assume without loss of generality that there are only three covariates in the x vector of the ordered probit equation in (A3.2), where x2 and x3 are interacted while x1 is not. This implies that β ′x = β1 x1 + β2 x2 + β3 x3 + β23 ( x2 * x 3 ). Suppose further that x2 is the independent variable seat concentration in new democracies and x3 is the inflation crisis independent variable x2 x3 x2 * x3, and the interaction of these two variables is = x2 * x3. The µ ’s and β ′ = (β1 , β2 , β3 , β23 ) are jointly estimated by the GHK maximum simulated likelihood method (mentioned previously). Suppose that ε ~ N (0,1); then the probability for the jth outcome is given by

prob( yi = j) = Φ(µ J − β ′x ) − Φ(µ J −1 − β ′x ), (4.A7)



where Φ is the cumulative standard normal distribution function, which is continuous and twice differentiable. The marginal effect of the continuous variable x2 (seat concentration) on the probability of the jth outcome in the ordered probit model is, according to Mallick (2009: 4), given by



δ 2, j =

∂prob[ yi = j | x ] = ϕ j −1 (.)[β2 + β23 x3 ] − ϕ j (.)[β2 + β23 x3 ], (4.A8) ∂x 2

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  129 where is the standard normal density function, ϕ j −1 (.) = ϕ(µ J −1 − β ′x )ϕ(.) and ϕ j (.) = ϕ(µ J − β ′x ). The marginal effect of x3 is similar to (4.A8) and will hence not be repeated here. Note that the formula in (4.A8) accounts for the fact that the impact of x2 is also dependent on its combined effect of x 2 and x 3 on the dependent variable. Following Mallick (2009: 4), the magnitude of the interaction effect of x2 x 3 on the probability of the jth outcome is obtained by computing the partial derivative of (4.A8) with respect to x3 which leads to

∂2 prob[ yi = j | x ] ∂x 2 ∂x 3 = [ϕ j −1 (.) − ϕ j (.)]β23 − [β2 + β23 x3 ][β3 + β23 x2 ][ϕ ′j −1 (.) − ϕ ′j (.)],

δ 23, j =  

(4.A9)

where ϕ ′j (.) is the first derivative of the density function with respect to its argument. Observe that the expression in (4.A9) is different from the marginal effect formula of interaction terms in ordered probit models in standard software packages, where it is simply calculated as



∂prob[ yi = j | x ] = [ϕ j −1 (.) − ϕ j (.)]β23 . ∂(x2 * x3 )

To understand the asymptotic properties of the interaction effect in (4.A9) and calculate its standard error, we first need to rewrite equation (4.A7) as prob( yi = j) = Fj ( x,β) . Then the estimated value of the marginal effect of x 2 and x3 can be computed as



^) ∂2 Fj (x, β , (4.A10) δ^23, j = ∂x 2 ∂x 3

where β^ is the consistent estimator of β that is estimated via the GHK maximum simu^ is ensured by the continuity of F and lated likelihood method. The consistency of δ 23, j j ^ the consistency of β . One can compute the standard error of this interaction effect by applying the delta method, which is given by



2 ^)  ^ ∂  ∂2 F (x, β ^ ∂  ∂ F (x, β)  (4.A11) ^ 23, j = α Ω    β  ∂β ’  ∂x2 ∂x3  ∂β  ∂x2 ∂x3 

^ is the consistent covariance estimator of ^ 32, j where Ω in the expressions for σ 32, j and α β

2 β^ and δ^23, j ~ N (δ 23, j , σ23 , j ) for all j = 0,1,2 . . . J. Note that the delta method estimates

the variance using a first-​order Taylor approximation. Since a first-​order Taylor approximation may provide a poor approximation in nonlinear functions (such as the ordered probit function), I  follow Spanos (1999:  493–​494) and use a second-​order approximation by replacing the normal distribution with the chi-​square distribution. Finally,

130  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties observe that the t-​statistic, which tests the null that the interaction effect is zero, is

t = σ^23, j /δ^23, j .

Double-​Selection OP Model The double-​selection OP model is formally defined as follows. Let the binary variable f i be equal to 1 when an inflation crisis (this variable was described earlier) occurs and let it be 0 otherwise. Let the binary variable mi denote “participation,” which is equal to 1 when de facto Islamist political parties participate and have seats in the national legislature but is 0 otherwise. Let yi be the ordinal RO institutionalization dependent variable discussed earlier. Each stage of the three-​stage double-​selection OP model is defined after dropping subscript t for time for notational convenience as

             fi * = zi′β2 + ε 2i

1 if fi * > 0 fi =  0 otherwise

             mi* = qi′β1 + ε1i



(4.A12)

(4.A13)

1 if mi* > 0 mi =  0 otherwise yi = xi′β3 + γ 1 λ m + γ 2 λ f + σ3 ε 3i ,

(4.A14)

1 if yi* ≤ µ1 2 if µ < y * ≤ µ  i 1 2            yi =  , * µ µ 3 if < y ≤ i 2 3   J if µ J −1 < yi* ≤ µ J where ε1i , ε 2i , ε 3i are each a standard normal distributed error term and µ J is the vector of boundary parameters.32 The double-​selection OP model in equations (4.A12)–​(4.A14) thus includes a first-​ stage probit selection equation, a second-​stage probit selection equation, and a third-​ stage ordered probit outcome equation that are estimated simultaneously. The first stage

32 Assuming a joint multivariate normal distribution, the conditional distribution of the error terms in equations (4.A12–​4.A14) is given by  (ε1i , ε 2i , ε 3i ) ~ N (0, ∑) .

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  131 in equation (4.A12) is a probit specification in which the dependent variable is the binary inflation crisis described earlier. The covariates in this first-​stage probit specification are presented later in this chapter. The second stage in equation (4.A13) is also a probit model in which the dependent variable is the binary participation measure that is coded as 1 when Islamist political parties participate and gain seats in the national legislature; it is coded as 0 otherwise. The data sources that I use to code this participation variable are listed in table A.3 of the book’s appendix. The set of variables included in the second-​stage probit equation is drawn from studies that explore when Islamist parties may participate and gain seats in the national legislature. These variables are listed later. The dependent variable in the third-​stage augmented ordered probit outcome equation (i.e., equation (4.A14)) of the double-​selection OP model is the ordinal RO institutionalization measure. The variables in this third-​stage OP outcome equation include the seat concentration x inflation crisis interaction term, the individual components of this interaction term, and the remaining controls listed in the previous section that influence RO institutionalization. The parameters λ m and λ f in the third-​stage OP outcome equation are the double-​selection analogs of the inverse Mill’s ratio in the standard Heckman model. Specifically, when estimating the influence of seat concentration x inflation crisis on RO institutionalization, λ m accounts for the sample selection bias that results from the nonrandom participation of Islamist parties in the national legislature, while λ f accounts for the nonrandom outbreak of inflation crisis. Recall that the error terms in equations (4.A12–​4.A14)—​which describe the double-​ selection OP model—​are defined as ε1i , ε 2i , ε 3i . Assuming a joint multivariate normal distribution, the conditional distribution of the error terms in equations (4.A12–​4.A14) is given by (ε1i , ε 2i , ε 3i ) ~ N (0, ∑) , and the elements of the variance-​covariance matrix of ( ε1i , ε 2i , ε 3i ) are



∑

1  =ρ ρ13 

ρ 1 ρ23

ρ13   ρ23  . (4.A15) ρ33 

To estimate the double-​selection OP model described in equations (4.A12–​4.A14) in the chapter’s text, I need to first start by deriving the probabilities corresponding to each of the following four cases: (i) participation = 0, inflation crisis = 0 ( m1*i = 0 , f1*i = 0 ,); (ii) participation = 0, inflation crisis = 1 ( m1*i = 0 , f1*i = 1 ); (iii) participation = 1, inflation crisis = 0 ( m1*i = 1 , f1*i = 0 ); and (iv) participation = 1, inflation crisis = 1 ( m1*i = 1 , f1*i = 1 ). These probabilities are as follows:

r1 ≡ Pr[mi* ≤ 0, fi * ≤ 0] = Pr[ε1i ≤ −qi′β1 , ε 2i ≤ − zi′β2 ] = Φ 2 ( −qi′β1 , − zi′β2 ; ρ) (4.A16) r2 ≡ Pr[mi* ≤ 0, fi * = 1] = Pr[ε1i ≤ −qi′β1 , εi > − zi′β2 ] = Φ 2 (−qi′β1 , zi′β2 ; ρ) (4.A17) r3 ≡ Pr[mi* = 1, fi * ≤ 0] = Pr[ε1i > −qi′β1 , ε 2i ≤ − zi′β2 ] = Φ 2 (qi′β1 , − zi′β2 ; ρ) (4.A18) r4 ≡ Pr[mi* = 1, fi * = 1] = Pr[ε1i > −qi′β1 , ε 2i > − zi′β2 ] = Φ 2 (qi′β1 , zi′β2 ; ρ), (4.A19)

132  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties where Φ 2 is the bivariate standard normal probability function. Given the prediction in Hypothesis 2, we are substantively (and primarily) interested in reporting the estimates for the following case: Pr[ f1*i = 1, m1*i = 1] , which implies that participation = 1, inflation crisis = 1. Focusing on this case means that the third-​stage ordered-​probit equation of the double selection equation is given by



yi = xi′β3 + γ 1 λ m + γ 2 λ s + σ3 ε 3i , 1 2  yi = 3 4   J



if if if if if

(4.A20)

yi* ≤ µ1 µ1 < yi* ≤ µ 2 µ 2 < yi* ≤ µ 3 , (4.A21) µ 3 < yi* ≤ µ 4 µ J −1 < yi* ≤ µ J

where yi = {1, 2, 3, 4, 5} is the ordinal RO institutionalization measure, λ f is the selection-​ correction parameter that accounts for the nonrandom occurrence of inflation crisis, and λ m is the selection-​correction parameter that accounts for the nonrandom participation in the national legislature by Islamic parties. The double-​selection OP model in equations (4.A12–​4.A14 in the text is estimated in two steps. For the first step, I estimate the coefficient vectors β1 , β2 from the first-​and second-​stage probit equations in the double-​selection model by maximizing the following log-​likelihood function: n



Ln(β1 , β2 , ρ) = ∑ { fi mi ln F (qi′β1 , zi′β2 ; ρ) + fi (1 − mi )ln[Φ 2 (q1′i β1 ) i

− F (qi′β1 , zi′β2 ; ρ) + mi (1 − fi )ln Φ 2 (−q1′i β1 )}

(4.A22)

Maximizing the following log-​likelihood function in (4.A22) yields not only ρ but also the full functional form of λ m and λ f , which from Tunali (1986) and Vella (1998) is defined as





 q ′β − ρ z ′β  i 2 ϕ(qi′β1 )Φ  i 1  1-ρ2   λm = (4.A23) Φ 2 (qi′β1 , zi′β2 ; ρ)  z ′β − ρq ′β  i 1 ϕ(zi′β2 )Φ  i 2  2 1-ρ   λf = (4.A24) Φ 2 (qi′β1 , zi′β2 ; ρ)

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  133 In (4.A23) and (4.A24), ϕ(.) corresponds to the univariate standard normal density function and Φ(.) is the cumulative standard normal distribution. λ m and λ f (as defined in (4.A23) and (4.A24) respectively) are included in the third-​stage OP outcome equation in (4.A22) and this third-​stage OP outcome equation is then estimated with random effects and time dummies. Note that estimating the third-​ stage augmented OP outcome equation (with the selection-​correction parameters) in (4.A23–​4.A24) on a TSCS data set (which is precisely the kind of data that we are using) requires calculating normal multidimensional distribution integrals, the dimension of which grows with T where T denotes time. Since evaluating multidimensional integrals of the likelihood presented here is computationally intensive, we use the simulation methods—​specifically, the Geweke-​Hajivassiliou-​Keane (GHK) smooth recursive conditioning simulator—​mentioned earlier to maximize the log likelihood function in (4.A22). The GHK maximum simulated likelihood (MSL) method is often used by econometricians (see, e.g., Hajivassiliou and McFadden 1990; Train 2009) to evaluate the likelihood in (4.A22) as it is used to calculate multivariate normal probabilities, which is required for MSL estimation. The GHK method leads to a simulated log likelihood function, which we maximize with respect to the parameter vector and selection-​correction terms xi′ , λ m , λ s , and µ J , and the covariance matrix Ω by using the Broyden-​Fletcher-​ Goldfarb-​Shanno (BFGS) numerical optimization method (see Train 2009). Once I obtain the estimates, the variance-​covariance matrix is derived by inverting the Hessian evaluated in the obtained maximum likelihood estimators. The estimation of the ordered probit and the double-​selection OP model has been carried out by using R.

Table 4.1  Muslim-​Majority Countries in the Sample Country name

Country name

Afghanistan

Lebanon

Albania

Libya

Algeria

Malaysia

Azerbaijan

Maldives

Bahrain

Mali

Bangladesh

Morocco

Bosnia and Herzegovina

Niger

Brunei Darussalam

Nigeria

Burkina Faso

Oman

Chad

Pakistan

Comoros

Saudi Arabia

Djibouti

Senegal

Egypt

Sierra Leone Continued

134  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Table 4.1  Continued Country name

Country name

Eritrea

Somalia

Ethiopia

Sudan

Gambia

Syria

Guinea

Tajikistan

Guinea-​Bissau

Tanzania

Indonesia

Tunisia

Iran

Turkey

Iraq

Turkmenistan

Jordan

United Arab Emirates

Kazakhstan

Uzbekistan

Kuwait

Yemen

Kyrgyzstan

Table 4.2  SEI: Main Results for RO Institutionalization OP model

OP model

OP model

Baseline

Full specification Full specification

Model 1

Model 2

Model 3

Lag RO institutionalization

.005** (.002)

.007** (.003)

.002** (.001)

Inflation crisis

.034 (.039)

.023 (.032)

.021 (.017)

Seat concentration x inflation crisis

.229*** (.058)

.183*** (.049)

.165*** (.056)

Seat concentration

.167 (.194)

.095 (.198)

.110 (.133)

Log GDP per capita

.037 (.106)

.010 (.018)

Oil rent

.037 (.034)

.028 (.033)

Foreign aid

.017** (.008)

.0** (.005)

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  135 Table 4.2  Continued OP model

OP model

OP model

Baseline

Full specification Full specification

World Bank loan

.035 (.085)

.019 (.061)

IMF loan

−.025 (.079)

.010 (.012)

Trade openness

−.038* (.024)

−.019* (.008)

FDI flows

−.073 (.088)

−.043 (.097)

Civil society

−.034 (.041)

−.022 (.039)

Democracy

.019 (.084)

.036 (.112)

Military

.079 (.120)

.018 (.057)

Monarchy

−.011 (.016)

−.010 (.049)

Islamic laws

.045** (.022)

.050** (.027)

ˆλ

.057** (.022)

.083*** (.026)

.065** (.032)

µ1

.021 (.041)

.077** (.040)

.023 (.049)

µ2

−.012 (.049)

.003** (.001)

−.012 (.049)

µ3

.029* (.017)

−.009 (.025)

.029* (.017)

Constant

−2.05 (2.29)

−1.97 (2.81)

−2.80 (1.95)

log likelihood

−834.7

−1221.6

−917.6

N

1863

1574

1574

Notes: ***, **, *: 1%, 5%,10% significance level. Heteroskedastic-​robust standard errors in parentheses. Each model in the table is estimated with random effects and year (i.e., time) dummies that are not reported because of space constraints.

136  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Table 4.3  SEI: Robustness Checks OP specifications

IV-​OP model

2nd-​stage 3rd-​stage selection double-​ OP selection OP

Model 4 Model 5 Model 6 Model 7 Model 8

Model 9

Lag RO institutionalization

.011*** (.000)

.004** (.002)

.007** (.003)

.002** (.001)

.010*** (.001)

.009*** (.000)

Log GDP per capita

.022 (.031)

.018 (.078)

.023 (.090)

.033 (.041)

.026 (.019)

.010 (.012)

.037 (.106)

.025 (.079)

.043 (.065)

.038 (.087)

.030 (.062)

Seat concentration

.126 (.253)

.109 (.157)

.104 (.135)

.119 (.165)

Seat concentration x inflation crisis

.157*** (.032)

.138*** (.040)

.219*** (.053)

.125*** (.034)

Inflation crisis

Seat concentration x .189*** inflation episode (.033) Inflation episode

.021 (.025)

Seat index

.146 (.475)

Seat index x inflation crisis

.192*** (.064)

Oil rent

.012 (.018)

.027 (.019)

.010 (.072)

.023 (.091)

.050 (.103)

.108 (.104)

Foreign aid

.049** (.025)

.068** (.034)

.041** (.021)

.056** (.029)

.074** (.035)

.019** (.009)

World Bank loan

.026 (.079)

.061 (.098)

.015 (.092)

.036 (.027)

−.043 (.029)

−.035 (.037)

IMF loan

.060 (.091)

.020 (.039)

.010 (.056)

.049 (.086)

−.044 (.095)

−.067 (.054)

Trade openness

−.023** (.011)

−.010** (.005)

−.037** (.020)

−.031** (.012)

−.053*** (.016)

−.032*** (.010)

FDI flows

−.058 (.045)

−.029 (.033)

−.061 (.198)

−.074 (.157)

−.060 (.184)

−.078 (.247)

Civil society

−.023 (.019)

−.016 (.020)

−.021 (.032)

−.024 (.028)

−.030 (.049)

−.016 (.019)

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  137 Table 4.3  Continued OP specifications

IV-​OP model

2nd-​stage 3rd-​stage selection double-​ OP selection OP

Model 4 Model 5 Model 6 Model 7 Model 8

Model 9

Democracy

.036 (.090)

.024 (.087)

.039 (.046)

.040 (.035)

.067 (.088)

.027 (.025)

Military

.016 (.029)

.010 (.034)

.067 (.096)

.019 (.023)

.021 (.045)

.025 (.067)

Monarchy

−.012 (.023)

−.014 (.010)

−.011 (.026)

−.021 (.073)

.009 (.110)

.006 (.097)

Islamic laws

.024** (.012)

.034** (.017)

.038** (.020)

.030** (.017)

.034** (.017)

.027** (.012)

Economic growth

−.058 (.046)

Religious court

.028 (.035)

ELF

.000 (.000)

µ1

−.027* (.013)

−.168 (.200)

−.152 (.170)

−.060 (.326)

−.041 (.215)

.048 (.271)

µ2

.034* (.019)

.071 (.120)

.042 (.067)

.009 (.023)

.002 (.027)

.005 (.010)

µ3

.040*** (.017)

.074** (.035)

.072** (.036)

.040** (.021)

.035** (.018)

.026** (.014)

λ

.088** (.043)

λf

.030** (.015)

λm

.010* (.06)

Wald test of exogeneity

1.93

Cragg-​Donald Wald F

15.126

Sargan tests

.001

Continued

138  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Table 4.3  Continued OP specifications

IV-​OP model

2nd-​stage 3rd-​stage selection double-​ OP selection OP

Model 4 Model 5 Model 6 Model 7 Model 8

Model 9

Constant

−1.09 (1.23)

−1.37 (.950)

log likelihood

−1148.2 −1531.2 −1106.9 −1786.1 −1031.2

−2826.5

N

1574

1463

−1.81 (2.11) 1574

−1.65 (2.35) 1256

−2.29 (2.41)

−1.14 (.883)

1459

1438

Notes: ***, **, *: 1%, 5%, and 10% levels of significance. Heteroskedastic-​robust standard errors in parentheses for models 4-​7. Bootstrapped standard errors in parentheses for models 8 and 9. Random effects and year dummies included in each specification reported in this table.

Table 4.4  SEI: First-​Stage Probit Selection Equation Results Column A

Column B

S-​OP first-​stage selection DS-​OP first-​stage equation results for selection equation results model 8 in table 4.3 for model 9 in table 4.3 Dependent variable

Inflation crisis

Inflation crisis

Lag Inflation crisis

.061** (.029)

.045** (.022)

Output loss

−.006*** (.002)

−.004** (.002)

Oil price shock

.071*** (.019)

.079*** (.030)

Floating exchange rate

−.030 (.042)

−.016 (.029)

REER

−.019 (.023)

−.021 (.045)

Govt. spending

.011 (.010)

.016 (.017)

public debt

.034 (.028)

.032 (.023)

Terms of trade shocks

.067** (.036)

.045** (.022)

The Institutionalization of Religious Organizations  139 Table 4.4  Continued Column A

Column B

S-​OP first-​stage selection DS-​OP first-​stage equation results for selection equation results model 8 in table 4.3 for model 9 in table 4.3 Dependent variable

Inflation crisis

Inflation crisis

Democracy

−.021* (.012)

−.028* (.015)

Veto players

.036 (.090)

.024 (.087)

41.72

39.76

Constant

.212*** (.019)

.298*** (.030)

Log likelihood

−693.2

2 LR χ

Notes: ***, **, *: 1%, 5%, and 10% levels of significance. Bootstrapped standard errors in parentheses. Random effects and year dummies included in each specification reported in this table.

Table 4.5  SEI: Second-​Stage Probit Selection Equation Results DS-​OP second-​stage selection equation results for model 9 in table 4.3 Participation Lag participation

.032*** (.010)

Economic recession

.011 (.040)

Electoral competitiveness

.054** (.025)

Democracy

.037 (.049)

Log GDP per capita

−.017 (.025)

Civil society

.004 (.018)

Continued

140  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Table 4.5  Continued DS-​OP second-​stage selection equation results for model 9 in table 4.3 Participation Party ban

−.057*** (.019)

Military

−.010 (.035)

Personalist

−.022 (.036)

Oil rent

−.009 (.028)

Religious courts

−.020* (.012)

ρ

.098** (.044)

2 LR χ

42.63

Constant

.181*** (.020)

Log likelihood

−708.1

Notes: ***, **, *:  1%, 5%, and 10% levels of significance. Bootstrapped standard errors in parentheses. Random effects and year dummies included in the reported specification.

5

Civil Liberties in Muslim-​Majority Countries Statistical Evidence

The theoretical framework presented in ­chapter 3 produced a testable prediction, Hypothesis 2, that the presence of religious political parties in the ruling coalition as a governing partner will influence incumbents in Muslim-​majority states to curb their citizens’ civil liberties if ROs are highly institutionalized, that is, if they operate welfare, educational, business, professional, and media bodies in these countries. The corollaries to this hypothesis suggests that if either one or both the conditions just mentioned—​religious parties in the ruling coalition and highly institutionalized ROs—​is absent in MMCs, then it is less likely that governments will repress civil liberties. Do the data provide statistical support for the prediction in Hypothesis 2 and its corollaries? In this chapter, I statistically test this hypothesis and its corollaries on a comprehensive time-​series cross-​sectional (TSCS) data set of MMCs. When testing Hypothesis 2, I control for several political and economic control variables that existing theoretical work on domestic politics in MMCs1 and research on civil liberties suggest may influence civil liberties in these countries. The statistical tests therefore allow us to evaluate Hypothesis 2 while controlling for alternative theories explaining government respect (or lack thereof) for civil liberties in the MMCs. The remainder of this chapter is organized as follows. I begin by describing the sample, then follow with a description of the operationalization of the dependent, independent, and control variables included in various empirical specifications for evaluating Hypothesis 2. I then discuss the statistical models that are used to test this hypothesis and its corollaries. After doing so, I report the results obtained from testing this hypothesis and conduct several robustness checks. I conclude this chapter with a summary of the empirical findings and then discuss the implications of these findings.



1

These studies are summarized in a later section of this chapter.

Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties. Vineeta Yadav, Oxford University Press (2021). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197545362.003.0005

142  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

Sample and Variables Sample and Dependent Variable The prediction in Hypothesis 2 summarized previously is confined to Muslim-​ majority countries. Thus, I  employ the time-​series cross-​sectional sample of Muslim-​majority countries listed in table 4.1 and used to evaluate Hypothesis 1 to test Hypothesis 2. The dependent variable in Hypothesis 2 focuses on the extent to which governments in MMCs are likely to curb the civil liberties—​that is, the freedoms of (i) expression, (ii) assembly and association, (iii) movement, and (iv) religion—​of their domestic citizens. To ensure that my results are not driven by any single measure of violation of civil liberties by the government, I use two main measures to operationalize the dependent variable in Hypothesis 2. The first is the well-​known ordinal measure of citizens’ civil liberties drawn from the Cingaranelli-​Richards (CIRI) Human Rights data set—​this measure is denoted as “empowerment rights” in the CIRI data. As described by Cingaranelli, Richards, and Clay (2014:  4), their ordinal civil liberties measure is an additive index that operationalizes the extent of Freedom of Movement (domestic and foreign), Freedom of Speech, Workers’ Rights, Freedom of Assembly and Association, Electoral Self-​Determination, and Freedom of Religion for 202 countries from 1981 to 2013. This ordinal index ranges from a minimum of 0 (no government respect for the aforementioned list of seven civil rights) to a maximum of 14 (full government respect for these seven rights) and is available for all the MMCs in my sample from 1981 to 2013. The ordinal index described previously is labeled civil liberties, and it is used as the first measure of the dependent variable to test Hypothesis 2. The second measure of the dependent variable that I employ is drawn from Møller and Skaaning’s (2014) ordinal index of the civil liberties of domestic citizens. This has been operationalized for 207 countries from 1976 to 2010. Møller and Skaaning (2014) construct their civil liberties index as follows. They first use assessments from the US State Department’s annual Country Reports on Human Rights Practices2 to obtain information to code each of the following four indicators of citizen’s civil liberties for every country-​year in their comprehensive sample: • Freedom of expression:  The extent to which citizens, groups, and the press have the right to hold views freely and to seek, obtain, and pass on

2 This includes country reports that are published annually by the US State Department. These reports provide systematic and detailed information on violations of civil liberties and other human rights across several countries for the last four decades.

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  143 information on political issues broadly understood without being subject to actual limitations or restrictions • Freedom of assembly and association: The extent to which citizens have the right to gather freely and carry out peaceful demonstrations as well as to join, form, and participate with other persons in political parties, cultural organizations, trade unions, or the like of their choice without being subject to actual limitations or restrictions • Freedom of religion: The extent to which citizens have the right to maintain or change their religion of their own choice and the degree to which domestic communities manifest their religion in practice, worship, observance, and teaching in private or public as well as proselytize peacefully without being subject to actual limitations or restrictions. • Freedom of movement and residence: The extent to which citizens have the right to settle and travel within their country as well as to leave and return to their country without being subject to actual limitations or restrictions. Møller and Skaaning (2014) code each of these four civil liberty indicators according to the following ordinal scale: 1 = severely restricted, 2 = fairly restricted, 3 = modestly restricted, and 4 = not restricted. Importantly, their ordinal measure of civil liberties (based on all four aforementioned indicators) is available for all the Muslim-​majority countries in my sample from 1976 to 2010. Information on the four individual liberties recorded by Møller and Skaaning (2014) is then used to generate an additive index of the extent of Freedom of Expression, Freedom of Assembly and Association, Freedom of Religion, and Freedom of Movement and Residence. This index provides an ordinal measure that ranges from a minimum of 1 to a maximum of 12 in the country-​year sample of MMCs. I label this latter ordinal index described here as civil rights and use it as the second measure of the dependent variable to test Hypothesis 2. The civil liberties and the civil rights dependent variables are illustrated in figure 5.1. Each is log-​normally distributed in the TSCS sample of MMCs. Furthermore, figure 5.2 reveals that there is substantial temporal variation in civil liberties and civil rights during the last three to four decades. Hence, the civil liberties and civil rights dependent variables are each characterized by significant variation in the MMC sample, providing satisfactory leverage to test Hypothesis 2. For robustness tests, I use two additional measures of the dependent variable. The first alternative measure is the ordinal Freedom House measure of civil liberties that ranges from 1 (maximum civil liberties) to 7 (no civil liberties). This ordinal measure operationalizes the extent to which governments respect freedom of conscience, freedom of press, freedom of religion, freedom of expression, freedom of assembly, the right to security and liberty, freedom of speech, the right to privacy, and the right to equal treatment under the law and due process.

144  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties 3.5 3.0

Civil liberties Civil rights

Density

2.5 2.0 1.5 1.0 0.5 0.0 4.0

8.0

12.0

Figure 5.1  Distribution of civil liberties and civil rights

15

Ordinal Scale

12 9 6 3 0 1976

Civil liberties Civil rights 1980

1984

1988

1992

1996

2000

2004

2008

2012

Figure 5.2  Moving average of civil liberties and civil rights

I use this measure by rescaling it such that 1 denotes “no civil liberties” and 7 captures “maximum civil liberties” in the sample. This ordinal Freedom House measure of the dependent variable is labeled as liberties. The second alternative operationalization of the dependent variable is Fariss’s (2014) recently developed latent civil liberties protection (labeled civil protection) measure that has been derived from a dynamic Bayesian ordinal Item Response Theory model (abbreviated as “DO-​IRT” model). As described in

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  145 detail by Fariss (2014), this latent civil protection measure explicitly addresses and corrects for key issues that exist in the CIRI empowerment rights (in other words, civil liberties) index. These issues include, for example, uncertainty and measurement error associated with operationalizing repression of citizens’ civil liberties by governments (Fariss 2014; Fariss and Schakenberg 2014). The latent civil protection measure—​which is available from 1987 to 2013 for all the MMCs in my sample—​is continuous and ranges from −3 (no protection of civil liberties) to +3 (maximum protection of civil liberties).

Independent and Control Variables I first describe the independent variables employed to test Hypothesis 2 and then list the control variables included in the various specifications. Recall from ­chapter 3 that Hypothesis 2 posits that the interactive effect of the following two independent variables in MMCs is likely to have a negative influence on civil liberties when (i) religious political parties are part of the governing coalition and (ii) ROs are highly socioeconomically institutionalized. The second independent variable is the ordinal RO institutionalization variable. The operationalization and main features of this ordinal variable are described in c­ hapter 4, where it served as the dependent variable for testing Hypothesis 1. Hence, to save space, I do not repeat the description of this ordinal RO institutionalization variable here. The first independent variable, labeled religious partner, is a binary measure that operationalizes whether (1)  or not ( 0 )  one or more religious parties are part of the governing coalition in that country in a specific year. To operationalize this variable, I  consulted numerous primary and secondary sources for each country in the sample to identify whether religious political parties formally joined and hence participated in the ruling coalition—​whether they were in government—​for each country-​year in the sample. These extensive sources are listed in table A.3 of the book’s appendix. A “ruling coalition” therefore also includes all instances in which “outside” parties or political actors that are not part of the chief executive’s party join the government led by the chief executive’s party (Haggard and Kaufmann 2016). Similar to the significant variation found in the RO institutionalization variable (discussed in ­chapter 4), we find substantial variation in the religious partner measure. Religious political parties joined and participated in about 34% of all ruling coalitions in the sample. These sources reveal that religious political parties frequently join (i) ruling coalitions formed typically by military or personalist dictators in autocracies, and (ii) coalition governments formed by incumbents from the ruling party in democracies. Examples of religious parties in government in autocracies include the Pan-​Malaysian Islamic Party in Malaysia from

146  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties 1974 to 1978 (Weiss 2005) and the Movement of Society for Peace in Algeria from 1998 to 2002 and 2007 to 2009 (Driessen 2012), and examples of religious parties in democratic governing coalitions include the Jamaat-​e-​Islami in Bangladesh from 1991 to 1996 and 2001 to 2006 (Barkat 2013) and the Prosperous Justice Party (PKS), the National Mandate Party (PAN), and the National Awakening Party (PKB) in Indonesia, all of which have served as part of ruling governments at the center (Barton 2011). With respect to temporal variation, one finds that Islamist parties were an integral part of (i) 23% of all ruling coalitions between 1985 and 2000 and (ii) 35% of all ruling coalitions observed from 2000 to 2016. The variation in SEI and religious parties in government provides sufficient explanatory leverage to test Hypothesis 2. To test the interactive effect in this hypothesis, I  interact RO institutionalization with the binary religious partner measure and introduce RO institutionalization × religious partner as well as the individual components of this interaction term in the specification(s) where the dependent variables are civil liberties and civil rights. Based on the prediction in Hypothesis 2, I anticipate that the statistical association between RO institutionalization × religious partner and the ordinal civil liberties and civil rights dependent variables respectively will be negative. To account for alternative theories that seek to explain the observed variation in the de facto civil liberties of countries, I include several control variables in the various statistical specifications. These variables are suggested by existing theoretical research by political scientists, policy pundits, and sociologists in general and in MMCs specifically (see, e.g., Nasr 2001; Khan 2005, 2006; Bayat 2007b; Liouw 2009; Bradley 2012; Kubicek 2015).3 Scholars have suggested that numerous economic, political, and institutional variables may affect the extent of the government’s respect (or lack thereof) for citizens’ civil liberties in Muslim-​ majority countries. Table A.4 in the book’s appendix provides details on the operationalization of all control variables associated with civil liberties and lists the sources from which these variables are drawn.

Political Controls Some scholars have hypothesized that military and personalist dictators in MMCs tend to curb the civil liberties of their citizens more (Esposito and Voll 2001; Turam 2007; Dabashi 2012).4 The two dummy variables military and personalist dictatorship, drawn from Geddes, Wright, and Franz (2014), are therefore included in the specifications to account for this potential 3 It is almost impossible to list all the works that study the civil liberties of domestic citizens in MMCs, as much has been written about this topic. In addition to the works cited already, see the following relevant studies: Waterbury 1994; Wright 1996, 2005; Burgat 1997; Fish 2002; Karatnycky 2002; Khan 2005, 2006; Ramadan 2012; and Badashi 2012. 4 Also see, for example, Mansfield 1991; Sharabi 1998; Eickelman and Piscatori 2004.

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  147 relationship. In contrast, researchers argue that democratic regimes are more “friendly” to civil liberties; others, however, disagree with this claim.5 Hence, I  control for the Polity democracy measure in the OP specification. Unlike the debate about the importance of democracy for civil liberties in MMCs, scholars converge on the perspective that higher levels of ethnolinguistic fractionalization are positively associated with government respect for civil liberties in MMCs (Hefner 2000; Fish 2002; Bradley 2012). I  thus control for ethnolinguistic fractionalization (abbreviated as elf) in the empirical model. A handful of researchers claim that protection of civil liberties is likely to be more robust in MMCs that were colonized by the British (Burgat 1997; Fish 2002; Liow 2009; Ahmad and Siroky 2014). The dummy variable British colony, coded as 1 for countries in the sample that were British colonies, is included in the specification. Finally, some scholars have argued that the degree of civil liberties is likely to be low in MMCs where the number of laws based on sharia that are incorporated into the state’s legal code is high (Pipes 1983; Peters 2005; Khan 2005, 2006; Yavuz 2009). I thus control for the count variable Islamic laws (drawn from Fox’s “Religious and State Project” database), which was described in the previous chapter. I add lag civil liberties and lag civil rights to the respective specifications as well, because it may have a strong positive association with the contemporaneous level of this ordinal dependent variable.

Economic Controls Scholars hypothesize that higher levels of economic development in MMCs tend to be positively associated with civil liberties, although this claim is disputed by other researchers (Fish 2002; Khan 2006; Bayat 2007b; Bradley 2012; Kubicek 2015).6 Hence, I control for log GDP per capita to account for this claim. Some suggest that civil liberties tend to be low in MMCs that depend heavily on “rent” obtained from oil revenue (e.g., Wright 1996; Esposito 1996b, 2002b; Burgat 1997; Badashi 2012).7 Therefore, I  control for oil rent to statistically account for this argument. Some scholars argue that advanced industrial democracies in the West that provide foreign aid to incumbents in MMCs may put pressure on these incumbents to enhance and respect their citizens civil liberties (Mayer 2007; Turam 2007; Esposito 2002a; Eickelman and Piscatori 2004).8 Hence, the variable foreign aid per capita described in ­chapter 4 is added to the specification. Researchers also argue that governments in MMCs that receive loans from 5 This debate is far from settled. But for examples of studies that contribute to this debate, see Espositio 1996b, 1998; Fish 2002; Karatnycky 2002; Talbi 2003; Wright 2005; Yavuz 2007. 6 Researchers who are less optimistic about the positive association between economic development and civil liberties in Muslim-​majority states include Benin and Stork 1997; Burgat 1997; Liow 2009. 7 Also see, for example, Khan 2005; Kuru 2007; Turam 2007; Yavuz 2009. 8 Not all researchers subscribe to this view. For an opposing view, see Sharabi 1998; Tepe 2008.

148  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties the World Bank or the IMF are likely to be compelled by these international institutions to protect the civil liberties of their citizens.9 I therefore control for IMF loan (% GDP) and World Bank loan (% GDP) in the specification. A handful of studies suggest that MMCs that are exposed to economic globalization—​that is, countries that are more open to international trade and are receptive to foreign direct investment flows—​will be positively disposed toward respecting civil liberties (Abootalebi 1999; Barlow 2008; Dabashi 2012). I control for trade openness and FDI flows in the specification to address this claim.

Statistical Methodology Both measures of the dependent variable that I  employ to test Hypothesis 2, civil liberties and civil rights, are ordinal measures. I therefore test Hypothesis 2 by using an ordered probit model that is estimated with cluster-​adjusted robust standard errors that account for within-​ country correlation and heteroskedasticity. Since I employ a time-​series cross-​sectional (TSCS) dataset, I estimate the ordered probit (OP) model with random effects10 and I include year (i.e., time) dummies in the specification as well. I  also present later the results obtained from OP models that are estimated without random effects and year dummies.11 I conduct a battery of robustness tests to assess the consistency of the main results. First, I conduct a series of specification robustness tests to check if the key results hold when I change the main specification by incorporating additional control variables. Second, I check whether the results remain robust after accounting for potential endogeneity problems by estimating the instrumental variable (IV) ordered probit model that was described in the previous chapter. The estimation exercise in which I use this IV-​ordered probit model and the results from this exercise are discussed in a later section of this chapter. Third, I check whether the key results remain robust after correcting for selection bias that may occur from estimating the impact of RO institutionalization on each of the two ordinal “civil liberties” dependent variables. It is possible that the observable and latent factors that influence a nonrandom phenomenon such as the adoption of policies that political elites choose to allow ROs’ 9 For this see Filali-​Ansary 1999; Nasr 2001; Talbi 2003; Mayer 2007. 10 The results reported later remain robust when the ordered probit model is estimated with country fixed effects. However, as shown by Bester and Hansen (2009) and Carro and Traferri (2009), incorporating fixed effects in an ordered probit model that is estimated on finite samples leads to an incidental parameters problem that engenders inconsistent and inefficient estimates. Therefore, I present the results from the ordered probit models that are estimated with random effects. 11 The results reported later in this chapter also remain robust when we include a cubic polynomial (see Carter and Signorino 2010) or splines in the specification to account for temporal dependence in the data.

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  149 institutionalization may also influence their incentives to curb their citizens’ civil liberties. If one does not account for the nonrandom empowerment of ROs when estimating the effect of RO institutionalization and its companion variable (religious partner) on civil liberties, then the obtained results may suffer from selection bias. Correcting for potential selection bias when estimating the effect of institutional factors like the RO institutionalization variable on the extent of de facto civil liberties is statistically challenging, however, because the dependent variable civil liberties (and civil rights) is ordinal, and the measure of RO institutionalization is also an ordinal index. Hence, I can use neither a standard Heckman selection (or Heckit) model nor the sample-​selected ordered probit model discussed in ­chapter 4 to address the selection bias problem in this case. Instead, I use a bivariate-​ordered probit model (BVOP) to evaluate whether the results reported in the standard ordered probit model remain robust after correcting for selection bias. This model is described in detail in the appendix to this chapter.12 Briefly, this model consists of two stages: the selection equation in which I explicitly account for the covariates that influence the likelihood that MMCs in the sample may be characterized by a higher (ordinal) level of RO institutionalization, and the outcome equation in which I estimate the effect of RO institutionalization × religious partner, the constitutive components of this interaction term, and the control variables listed earlier on the ordered dependent variable of ultimate interest in this book—​civil liberties. Finally, a fourth econometric challenge that also emerges in the context of testing Hypothesis 2 is the issue of “double selection” discussed in the preceding chapter. That is, in addition to the nonrandom increase in the SEI of ROs discussed earlier, the presence of religious political parties as a governing partner in the ruling coalition could be influenced by the possibility that these parties have been invited—​and have opted—​to participate in the ruling coalition. This means that the presence of religious political parties in the ruling coalition (which is, in effect, the religious partner variable) also results from a nonrandom selection process. Furthermore, observable and latent factors that influence the nonrandom choice and participation of religious parties in the ruling coalition may also influence the ordinal civil liberties/civil rights dependent variable. For example, some researchers note that religious parties tend to join the ruling “cabal” only when other players in the ruling coalition make a promise that they will curb the civil liberties of certain societal actors, such as minority groups—​ this is a policy promise that the religious parties may favor.13 Thus, latent factors

12 See, for example, Greene and Hensher 2009; Biswas and Das 2002. 13 For studies that explore this issue, see, for example, Bradley 2012; Brown and Revkin 2015; Kurzman and Naqvi 2015, among others.

150  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties such as the policy promises described here that are made to induce religious parties to join the coalition can influence the extent of civil liberties in MMCs. The BVOP model described earlier cannot address this double-​selection problem resulting from (i) the nonrandom SEI of ROs and (ii) the nonrandom participation of religious political parties in the ruling coalition. Hence, I statistically address this double-​selection problem by estimating a double-​selection (DS) ordered probit (OP) model. The DS-​OP statistical model was formally defined in equations (4.5)–​(4.7) in the previous chapter and is thus not described here. Recall that this double-​selection OP model consists of three stages. The first stage is a probit selection equation. The second stage is also a probit selection equation. The third stage is an ordered probit outcome equation that corrects for selection for both the nonrandom SEI of ROs and the nonrandom participation of Islamist parties in the ruling coalition. To apply the DS-​OP model described in the previous paragraph, I first construct the binary Religious organization variable. This binary measure is coded as 1 when the 0–​4 ordinal RO institutionalization variable (operationalized in ­chapter 4) is equal to 3 or 4, or, in other words, the two highest levels of the ordinal RO institutionalization measure. This implies that Religious organization captures whether or not national-​level nongovernmental religious organizations own and operate welfare and educational non-​profits and for-​profit organizations, business firms, professional associations, and electronic media outlets. This variable serves as the binary dependent variable in the first-​stage probit selection equation of the DS-​OP model for evaluating Hypothesis 2.14 The covariates in this first-​stage probit specification include all the variables discussed in ­chapter 3 that influence the ordinal RO institutionalization variable described in ­chapter 4. The dependent variable in the second-​stage probit selection equation of the DS-​OP model is the binary religious partner variable described earlier. The covariates included in this second-​stage probit selection equation are drawn from studies that explore when religious parties may be invited to and may thus opt to participate in the ruling coalition in MMCs. The dependent variable in the third-​stage augmented ordered probit outcome equation of the double-​selection OP model is the ordinal civil liberties/civil rights measure. The variables in this third-​stage OP outcome equation include the RO institutionalization × religious partner interaction term, the individual components of this interaction term, and the remaining controls listed in the previous section that influence civil liberties.

14 The results from the DS-​OP model reported later do not alter statistically or substantively if Islamist organization is coded as 1 when the RO institutionalization variable is just equal to 4.

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  151 Two additional parameters—​namely λ r and λ p —​are also included in the third stage OP outcome equation. λ r and λ p are the double-​selection analogs of the inverse Mill’s ratio in the standard Heckman model. Specifically, when estimating the influence of RO institutionalization × religious partner on civil liberties, λ r accounts for the sample selection bias that results from the nonrandom SEI of ROs while λ p accounts for the nonrandom participation of religious political parties in the ruling coalition. This double-​selection OP model is estimated with random effects and time (i.e., year) dummies in the third-​stage outcome equation. The results from the double-​selection OP model do not alter when I exclude random effects and time dummies.

Main Statistical Results I begin by examining some simple descriptive statistical results. Figures 5.3 and 5.4 illustrate the level of the civil liberties and civil rights ordinal dependent variables respectively for each level of the ordinal RO institutionalization variable for two sets of country-​years in the sample: when the religious partner dummy is (i) equal to 1 or (ii) equal to 0. These two figures show that among the two highest levels of the ordinal RO institutionalization variable (3 and 4), there is a strong negative trend in civil liberties (figure 5.3) and civil rights (figure 5.4) in

14

Religious partner = 1 Religious partner = 0

Civil liberties

12

9

6

3

0

IRO Inst. = 1

IRO Inst. = 2

IRO Inst. = 3

IRO Inst. = 4

Figure 5.3  RO institutionalization, religious partner, and civil liberties

152  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties 12

Religious partner = 1 Religious partner = 0

Civil rights

9

7

5

3

1

RO RO Inst. = 1 Inst. = 2

RO Inst. = 3

RO Inst. = 4

Figure 5.4  RO institutionalization, religious partner, and civil rights

MMCs when religious parties participate in the ruling coalition but not when they are absent from the ruling coalition. This provides support for Hypothesis 2. Furthermore, if we trace the level of civil liberties found in countries with religious parties in government (darkly shaded bars) through all the different levels of RO institutionalization, we see that the level declines substantially for high (3 and 4) levels of RO institutionalization in this set of countries. This comparison of civil liberty levels in all MMCs that have religious parties in government shows that the presence of high RO institutionalization is highly correlated with a substantial decline in civil liberties within this set of countries. This supports the corollary predicting the importance of high RO institutionalization in shaping this relationship. In contrast, when we trace the level of civil liberties found in countries without religious parties in government (the lightly shaded bars), there is no significant decline in civil liberties even among countries with high RO institutionalization scores of 3 and 4. This shows that in the absence of religious parties in government, high RO institutionalization is not associated with a decline in civil liberties. It therefore supports the second corollary predicting the importance of having religious parties in government as a factor explaining declining civil liberties. Finally, comparing the difference in civil liberties between countries with religious parties in government and those without religious parties in government at each level of RO institutionalization in these figures, we see clearly that this difference is significantly higher among countries that

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  153 also have high levels of RO institutionalization (i.e., in the two rightmost sets of bars in each figure). This suggests that it is the interactive nature of religious parties in government and high RO institutionalization that are associated with a significant decline in civil liberties in MMCs. This provides initial support for Hypothesis 2 and its corollary but is clearly not sufficient. Hence, I next turn to report the results from OP models. In table 5.1, models 1, 2, and 3 and models 4, 5, and 6 report the results obtained from estimating the effect of RO institutionalization × religious partner on civil liberties and on civil rights, respectively, from the following three OP specifications. Models 1 and 4 are stripped-​down OP specifications that exclude all the control variables but are estimated with random effects, time dummies, and the lag of the dependent variable. The next four models report the results from the following full OP specifications that include all the controls listed earlier that affect civil liberties: fully specified OP models estimated (i) with random effects and time dummies (models 2 and 5) and (ii) without random effects and without time dummies (models 3 and 6). The statistical influence of RO institutionalization × religious partner on civil liberties is negative and significant at the 1% level in the stripped-​down OP specification in model 1 and the full OP specifications in models 2 and 3, respectively. RO institutionalization × religious partner has a negative and highly significant impact on civil rights (1% level) in the stripped-​down OP specification in model 4, and the full OP specifications in models 5 and 6. The estimate of the individual RO institutionalization measure and the binary religious partner variable in each of the six models in table 5.1 is statistically insignificant. It is thus the interaction of the two independent variables—​rather than each variable individually—​that has a negative and statistically significant association with both civil liberties and civil rights. This statistically corroborates Hypothesis 2. I conduct two empirical exercises to derive and fully understand the substantive effect of RO institutionalization × religious partner on civil liberties in the sample. As described later, the results obtained from these exercises permit careful in-​depth evaluation of Hypothesis 2 and the corollaries associated with this hypothesis. Note that for each of these two exercises, I extract and analyze the substantive effect of the interaction term on the probability that the civil liberties dependent variable is in the 10 to 14 range. This implies that I focus on the degree to which the interaction term of interest influences the probability that the extent of civil liberties is “meaningful” in that there exists freedom of expression, movement, religion, assembly, and association for citizens. I obtain similar results for the substantive impact of the interaction term of interest on the probability that civil liberties is in the 6 to 10 range and hence do not discuss this latter set of marginal effects here. For the first exercise, I use the estimates from the full OP

154  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties specification in model 2, and parametric bootstraps,15 to compute the marginal effect of each level of the ordinal 0–​4 RO institutionalization measure on the probability that civil liberties is in the 10 to 14 range for two sets of Muslim-​majority country-​years: (i) those in which de facto religious parties joined and participated in the ruling coalition (i.e., religious partner = 1) and (ii) those in which religious parties did not belong to the ruling coalition, incumbent party or government (religious partner = 0). Figures 5.5 to 5.8 illustrate the results from this exercise.16 First, as figure 5.5 reveals, in Muslim-​majority country-​years in which religious parties joined and participated in the ruling coalition (i.e., when the religious partner dummy is equal to 1), the two highest levels of the RO institutionalization variable have a sizable negative and statistically significant effect on civil liberties. Specifically, when other variables in the specification in model 2 are held at their mean or mode in the sample in which the religious partner dummy is equal to 1, increasing RO institutionalization from its mean to its highest level of 4 in the sample yields a 17% decrease in the probability that sufficient civil liberties exist in these MMCs. This marginal effect is statistically significant at the 95% confidence level. Hence, there exists strong statistical and substantive support for Hypothesis 2. Next, figure 5.6 shows that in MMCs where the religious partner dummy is equal to 1, the effect of the two lowest levels of the RO institutionalization measure on the probability of civil liberties is statistically insignificant and substantively negligible. This further supports the prediction that when either one of the two conditions is absent or negligible—​in this case, when ROs are not highly institutionalized—​then the influence of religious parties in the ruling coalition on civil liberties will be statistically insignificant. Figure 5.9 indicates that in MMCs when religious parties did not join or participate in the ruling coalition (i.e., religious partner dummy is equal to 0), the effect of each the two lowest levels of the RO institutionalization measure on the probability that sufficient civil liberties exist is positive but statistically insignificant. The first effect corroborates the latter half of Corollary 3, which posits that civil liberties are likely to remain sufficiently high when both the following conditions exist: religious parties are not in the ruling coalition and the extent of the SEI of ROs is low. Figure 5.10 shows that in MMCs where the religious partner dummy is equal to 0, the effect of each of the two highest levels of the RO institutionalization measure on the probability of civil liberties is statistically insignificant and substantively negligible (almost zero). This provides support for the prediction in the first half of Corollary 2, which posits that when either one or of the two conditions is absent—​in this case, the absence of religious parties in the ruling coalition—​ then the influence of even the highest levels of the RO institutionalization measure on civil liberties will be statistically negligible and insignificant.

15 16

For our bootstraps, m = 1,000. All control variables were held to their means or modes. Similar marginal effects analysis for civil rights is available from the author on request.

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  155

RO Institutional. = 3

Change in Prob. civil liberties –0.6

–0.4

–0.2

0.0

RO Institutional. = 4

Change in Prob. civil liberties –0.6

–0.4

–0.2

0.0

Figure 5.5  High levels of RO institutionalization and civil liberties when religious partner is equal to 1

RO Institutional. = 1

Change in Prob. civil liberties –0.2

0.0

0.2

0.4

RO Institutional. = 2

Change in Prob. civil liberties –0.2

0.0

0.2

0.4

Figure 5.6  Low levels of RO institutionalization and civil liberties when religious partner is equal to 1

For the second empirical exercise, I again used the estimates from the full OP specification in model 2, and parametric bootstraps,17 to compute the marginal effect of a 0-​to-​1 change in the binary religious partner measure on civil liberties for two sets of MMCs in the sample: (i) those in which the RO institutionalization variable is at its lowest levels of 1 and 2 and (ii) those in which RO institutionalization is at its highest levels of 3 and 4. The results from this latter exercise,



17

For our bootstraps, m = 1,000. All control variables were held to their means or modes.

156  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Change in Prob. civil liberties 0.0 0.2

0.4

Islamist Partner = 0

–0.2

Change in Prob. civil liberties 0.0

0.2

0.4

Islamist Partner = 1

–0.2

Figure 5.7  Effect of religious partner on civil liberties when RO institutionalization is low

Change in Prob. civil liberties 0.0

0.2

0.4

Islamist Partner = 0

–0.2

Change in Prob. civil liberties –0.4 –0.2

0.0

Islamist Partner = 1

–0.6

Figure 5.8  Effect of religious partner on civil liberties when RO institutionalization is high

which are illustrated in figures 5.7 and 5.8, further confirm the substantive effects reported in the preceding paragraphs. Figure 5.7 shows that the marginal effect of a 0-​to-​1 change in the binary religious partner measure on civil liberties is statistically insignificant and substantively negligible for MMCs in which the RO institutionalization variable is at its lowest levels. But, as illustrated in figure 5.8, the marginal effect of a 0-​to-​1 change in the binary religious partner measure on civil liberties is negative and statistically significant at the 95% confidence level when the associated RO institutionalization ordinal variable in the interaction term is at its highest level of 3 and 4. Once again, this latter figure statistically corroborates Hypothesis 2. These marginal effects are similar for civil rights.

RO Institutional. = 1

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  157 –0.2

Change in Prob. civil liberties 0.2 0.0

0.4

RO Institutional. = 2

Change in Prob. civil liberties –0.2

0.0

0.4

0.2

RO Institutional. = 4

RO Institutional. = 3

Figure 5.9  Low levels of RO institutionalization and civil liberties when religious partner is equal to 0

–0.2

–0.2

Change in Prob. civil liberties 0.2 0.0

Change in Prob. civil liberties 0.2 0.0

0.4

0.4

Figure 5.10  High levels of RO institutionalization and civil liberties when religious partner is equal to 0

Unlike the strong statistical support for Hypothesis 2 and the corollary associated with this hypothesis, there is mixed empirical support for the control variables in the specifications in table 5.1. The coefficients for military and personalist are negative. However, the personalist regime dummy is weakly significant at the 10% level, while the military dictatorship dummy is insignificant. The estimate of the Polity measure of democracy is positive but statistically insignificant. The count variable Islamic laws is negative but weakly significant in the specifications. Lastly, the lag of the dependent variable is positive and highly significant in each OP model. Furthermore, the estimate of the economic controls

158  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties such as log GDP per capita, World Bank loan, and IMF loan is positive for each but statistically insignificant. The estimated coefficient for log foreign aid is, however, positive and significant at the 5% level. Log oil rents is negative and significant at the 5% level in the full OP specifications in the table. This suggests that MMCs in which oil “rents” are a crucial part of the economy are more likely to be characterized by lower levels of civil liberties for their citizens.

Robustness Checks Specification Robustness Tests I conducted several specification robustness tests. For the first specification robustness test, I  assessed the effect of RO institutionalization × religious partner on each of the two alternative measures of the dependent variable: the Freedom House ordinal measure of liberties and Fariss’s (2014) latent civil protection measure. The statistical association between this interaction term and the Freedom House ordinal liberties dependent variable is negative and significant at the 1% level in the OP specification in model 7 in table 5.2. RO institutionalization × religious partner also has a negative and highly significant (1% level) effect on the continuous civil protection measure in the TSCS regression model, which is estimated with the lag of the dependent variable, country and year fixed effects, and panel-​corrected standard errors (PCSEs) that are adjusted to correct for heteroskedasticity and contemporaneous correlation (see model 8). For the next specification robustness test, I assessed whether the key results hold when three additional controls are included in the full OP specification. The first is the dummy variable Communist for MMCs (e.g., states in Central Asia) with a communist legacy, as studies reveal that civil liberties are often repressed in such countries (Benin and Stork 1997; Fish 2002; Dabashi 2012). Since some scholars argue that repression of civil liberties is more likely in MMCs that have formal religious courts in their judicial system (Mahmoudi 2016; Wright 1996; Bayat 2007b; Bradley 2012), I include the dummy variable religious court, coded 1 for MMCs that have formal established religious courts in their judicial system to exercise jurisdiction over religious law, 0 otherwise. Some researchers suggest that governments of MMCs with a higher share of non-​Muslim minority citizens are less likely to curtail their citizens’ civil liberties, while other scholars make the opposite claim (Pipes 1983; Esposito and Voll 1996; Mayer 2007). I therefore add the continuous measure minority (as % of total population) that operationalizes the population share of non-​Muslim minority groups such as Christians, Jews, or Hindus in Muslim-​majority states. RO institutionalization × religious partner has

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  159 a negative and highly significant (1% level) effect on the ordinal civil liberties dependent variable in the OP specification (estimated with random effects and year dummies) that includes the three additional control variables listed previously (model 9, table 5.2).18 The three additional controls are each insignificant in the specification. Finally, RO institutionalization × religious partner remains negative and highly significant in OP specifications when the controls tertiary education, outbreak of civil war, and economic recession—​which some scholars believe influence civil liberties in MMCs—​are included as well. Results from these models are not reported but are available on request.19

Econometric Robustness Tests In addition to the specification robustness tests previously described, I also systematically checked the econometric robustness tests of the main results reported in this chapter. To start, I do not anticipate a reverse causality problem between the civil liberties dependent variable and each of the two independent variables: RO institutionalization and religious partner. Analysis of my data in fact confirms that it is unlikely that an endogeneity problem exists between the civil liberties dependent variable and each of the two independent variables previously mentioned. This is because test-​statistics from Hurlin and Venet’s (2003) Granger causality test and Durbin-​Wu-​Hausman’s test for endogeneity reveal that an endogeneity problem does not exist between the “civil liberties” dependent variable and the two independent variables: RO institutionalization and religious partner. Yet, to be as cautious as possible, I estimate an instrumental variable (IV) ordered probit (IV-​OP) model to further address potential endogeneity problems. The instrument for the RO institutionalization variable is an index of “regulatory efficiency” that is drawn from the World Bank and the Heritage Foundation.20 Specifically, greater regulatory efficiency implies that ROs will, in all likelihood, face substantially less bureaucratic and licensing hurdles to own and manage welfare, educational, business, and media organizations. As a result, greater regulatory efficiency will be positively (and strongly) associated with higher levels of RO institutionalization, while—​at the same time—​it is unlikely that the regulatory efficiency index will directly influence the civil rights of individual cities. Furthermore, diagnostic tests reported later reveal that regulatory efficiency is

18 These reported results hold even when each of the augmented OP models is estimated without random effects and year dummies. 19 Studies that explore how these three additional controls influence “civil liberties” in MMCs include, for example, Sharabi 1998; Khan 2005, 2006; Barlow 2008; Ramadan 2012. 20 I briefly define this regulatory efficiency index and the data sources it is drawn from in table A.4 of the appendix.

160  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties a valid instrument for the RO institutionalization measure. Next, I instrument religious partner with a measure that captures “tax credit” to religious (including Islamist) parties in MMCs, which is drawn from numerous sources listed in table A.4 of the book’s appendix. Tax credits to religious parties could provide these parties with a revenue windfall that, in turn, may increase their presence in the legislature and thus give them greater opportunity to participate in the ruling coalition. Yet a tax credit to religious parties is unlikely to directly influence the civil rights of individuals in MMCs therein—​as confirmed by diagnostic tests as well (reported later)—​making it a valid instrument.21 While I do not report the first-​stage results from the IV-​ordered probit to save space, the statistical association between RO institutionalization × religious partner and civil liberties remains positive and highly significant in the IV-​ordered probit model (model 10, table 5.2) in the presence of the instrumental variables. Hence, the main results that corroborate Hypothesis 2 remain robust when statistically accounting for possible endogeneity concerns via an IV-​ordered probit model. In addition to endogeneity issues, I suggested earlier that selection bias could occur because factors that influence a nonrandom phenomenon, such as the empowerment of ROs, may also influence the civil liberties dependent variable. To address this potential selection bias, I estimate Greene and Hensher’s (2009) bivariate-​ordered probit (BVOP) model. The first stage of the BVOP model is the selection equation (estimated via ordered probit) in which the dependent variable is the ordinal RO institutionalization measure described in c­ hapter 4. In the selection equation, I explicitly account for the covariates that influence the likelihood that MMCs in the sample have higher (ordinal) levels of RO institutionalization. As listed in ­chapter 4, these covariates include the seat concentration × inflation crisis interaction term, the individual components of this interaction term, and numerous control variables listed in the “Statistical Methodology” section that affect the SEI of ROs. The second “outcome equation” stage of the BVOP model (also estimated via ordered probit) includes RO institutionalization × religious partner, the constitutive components of this interaction term, and the controls included in the full OP specification in model 2 (table 5.1) that influence the civil liberties dependent variable. The results obtained for the covariates in the first-​stage probit selection equation of the BVOP model (see column A in table 5.3) are exactly similar to those 21 To test whether the instruments discussed are both sufficiently strong and valid, I  run the joint significance test of the instruments from the model’s first-​stage regression. As shown in the bottom rows of model 10, the estimated Cragg-​Donald F statistic for the IV-​ordered probit model is 15.64. Because this estimated statistic of 15.64 is above the value of 10, which is a rule of thumb suggested by Staiger and Stock (1997), one can conclude with some degree of confidence that the chosen instruments are relevant and sufficiently strong. The Sargan Test statistics are insignificant in the IV-​ordered probit model. This implies that the orthogonality condition is satisfied and that the instruments are valid.

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  161 reported for these covariates in the estimated ordered probit models in c­ hapter 4 (see ­tables 4.2 and 4.3) in which RO institutionalization is the dependent variable. These results are thus not discussed here to save space. More crucially, in the BVOP model’s second-​stage outcome equation (see model 11, table 5.2) estimated with random effects and year dummies, the statistical association between RO institutionalization × religious partner and civil liberties remains negative and significant at the 1% level, while the individual components of this interaction term are each statistically insignificant. These second-​stage outcome equation results in the BVOP model do not change substantively and significantly even when the model is estimated without random effects and year dummies (not reported to save space). Thus the key result that statistically supports the prediction in Hypothesis 2 remains robust after econometrically accounting for potential selection bias in the BVOP model. Finally, I assessed the robustness of this chapter’s main results in the double-​ selection OP (DS-​OP) model. The DS-​OP model in the context of statistically evaluating Hypothesis 2 consists of three equations. The first stage is a probit selection equation in which the binary Religious organization dependent variable is coded as 1 when the 1-​to-​4 ordinal RO institutionalization variable is equal to 3 and 4, which is equivalent to the two highest levels of this latter measure. The covariates in the DS-​OP model’s first-​stage selection equation includes seat concentration × inflation crisis, the individual components of this interaction term, and all the controls listed earlier that influence the two highest levels of the RO institutionalization variable that constitutes the Religious organization dummy. The DS-​OP model’s second stage is also a probit selection equation in which the binary religious partner measure described earlier serves as the dependent variable. There is to the best of my knowledge little or no large-​N statistical research that statistically evaluates when de facto religious political parties are invited to join and when they opt to participate in the ruling coalition in MMCs. However, recent theoretical work suggests that some key variables can account for when incumbents in MMCs induce religious parties to join—​and when the latter either participate in or reject joining the ruling coalition (see, e.g., Najmabadi 1987; Kurzman 1998; Nasr 2001; Bayat 2007b; Liow 2009; Eligür 2010). These variables include the presence of a national legislature in which de facto opposition parties control some legislative seats (labeled legislative opposition), economic recession, vote share of religious parties in national elections, military dictators, the hazard rate of governments or incumbents in office, the share of seats held by religious parties in the legislature (religious party seats), and the lag of the religious partner variable.22 The operationalization and sources for all 22 Other studies that theoretically explore the impact of these factors on the decision of incumbents to “invite” Islamic parties to join the ruling coalition include, for example, Dwyer 1991; Burgat 1997; Hefner 2000; Karatnycky 2002; Khan 2005, 2006.

162  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties these variables are listed in table A.4 in the book’s appendix. I include each of the variables listed in the preceding paragraph in the second-​stage probit selection equation of the double-​selection OP model in which the binary religious partner measure is the dependent variable. Finally, in the third-​stage outcome equation of the double-​selection OP model, I estimate the effect of RO institutionalization × religious partner, the individual components of this interaction term, and all the control variables listed earlier that affect the ordinal civil liberties dependent variable. First, the statistical association between RO institutionalization × religious partner and civil liberties remains negative and highly significant in the third-​ stage OP outcome equation of the double-​selection OP model (see model 12, table 5.3). Thus, the results from the BVOP selection model and the double-​ selection OP model strongly corroborate the prediction in Hypothesis 2.  As shown in column B in table 5.3, the results obtained for the covariates in the first stage probit selection equation of the double-​selection OP model are similar to those reported for these covariates in the selection equation in column A in table 4.4 of the previous chapter. With respect to the second-​stage probit selection equation in which religious partner is the dependent variable, the following covariates have the predicted positive sign and are statistically significant: legislative opposition, vote share, and religious party seats (see table 5.4). The remaining covariates in the second-​stage probit equation are each insignificant. Hence, the estimates reported in the second-​stage probit selection equation provide mixed support for extant theoretical claims about when religious political parties are likely to join and participate in the ruling coalition in MMCs. Diagnostic tests reveal that none of the models reported suffer from serial correlation, severe multicollinearity, or omitted variable bias, and that the residuals are normally distributed.23

Conclusion The main hypothesis that emerges from the theoretical story presented in ­chapter 3 is that governments in MMCs are more likely to curb the civil liberties of their citizens under two conditions: (i) when national-​level nongovernmental ROs are highly institutionalized in that they operate welfare, educational, 23 The largest and mean VIF values in the OP and “selection corrected” OP models are less than 10 and greater than 1, respectively; thus multicollinearity is not a problem. The Breusch-​Godfrey LM test failed to reject the null of no serial correlation in the outcome and selection equations respectively in each of the reported models. The RESET test shows that there is no omitted variable bias problem in the models. The Jarque-​Bera test shows that the residuals are distributed normally in all the estimated models.

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  163 business, professional, and media bodies, and (ii) when religious parties are present as “partners” in the ruling coalition. The corollary to this hypothesis further posits that governments in MMCs will be less likely to violate the civil liberties of their citizens when either one or both of these conditions are absent in these states. The extensive analysis presented in this chapter statistically corroborates this hypothesis. The data also reveal that the level of civil liberties and civil rights is the highest in Muslim-​majority states where religious parties are not present in the ruling coalition and where the level of the SEI of ROs is low. Finally, the empirical analysis reveals that the degree of de facto civil liberties in MMCs that are missing either religious parties in the ruling cabal or highly institutionalized nongovernmental ROs is higher than in MMC regimes that have both religious parties in the ruling coalition and highly institutionalized ROs. Thus, countries with religious parties in the ruling coalition and highly institutionalized ROs have lower levels of de facto civil liberties than MMCs missing one or both of these conditions. The empirical results presented in this chapter have three key substantive implications. The first is that by highlighting how the preferences and actions of religious parties in policy areas respond to the strength of religious groups in MMCs, these results directly contribute to the debate regarding the moderation of religious parties. Scholars have increasingly noted that participation in elections or government alone does not decisively lead to the moderation of religious parties. By systematically analyzing the effects religious organizations have on religious parties’ behaviors, these results identify an important factor that drives the observed variation in the moderation of religious parties that have achieved electoral and political success, including reaching the highest offices in their countries. Furthermore, since the specific policy this book focuses on—​ civil liberties—​is one of considerable prominence and priority in the policy agendas of religious parties and ROs, these results suggest that religious parties can moderate their actions even on policy issues of high political salience if the conditions are right, that is, if they are not constrained by the presence of powerful, highly institutionalized ROs. The second implication of these results is that they show empirically that high SEI of ROs plays a vital role in the issue-​area of individual civil liberties in these countries. This finding highlights the theoretical possibility that “non-​elite” societal actors such as nongovernmental ROs that openly subscribe to certain sociopolitical tenets and beliefs can indeed strongly influence civil liberties in MMCs under certain conditions. Importantly, they show that civil society actors can have a strong negative influence on civil liberties, depending on their ideology. Furthermore, they also highlight the role of political parties and particularly of considering the ideology of parties in analyzing the evolution of civil liberties

164  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties in any country. Accordingly, these findings depart from previous research on civil liberties that focuses on how a varied set of factors, including revenue from oil exports, demographic features, and the presence of religious courts, may influence civil rights in countries where Muslims constitute the majority of the population.24 Third, recent research on democracy in MMCs has started to focus on how the “supply side,” that is, domestic political institutions like legislatures, can influence social and political outcomes in these states.25 Doing so is important to develop parsimonious theories on how and when domestic politics may “matter” in the MMCs. Yet the empirical analysis presented here reveals that it is the interactive effect of the supply side (i.e., the presence of one or more religious parties in the ruling coalition) and the “demand side” (SEI of nongovernmental ROs) that particularly matters for the “politics” of civil liberties in MMCs. Thus, an important conclusion that emerges from the empirical analysis is that researchers may need to examine both the behavior of key societal actors and the features of ruling coalitions to comprehensively understand a variety of issue-​areas, including the conditions under which civil liberties may thrive or falter, in MMCs. In the rest of this book, I shift my focus from the large-​N analysis to an in-​ depth analysis of the domestic politics associated with the politics of civil liberties in two carefully selected MMCs: Turkey and Pakistan. These case studies allow one to move beyond the correlations and associations established in this and the previous chapter toward identifying whether or not the causal mechanisms that produced the main testable hypotheses and their associated corollaries are empirically plausible.

Appendix Log-​Likelihood of Bivariate-​Ordered Probit Model The bivariate-​ordered probit model can be written comprehensively (after dropping the subscript t for time for notational convenience) as

yi*,1 = β1′x i ,1 + εi ,1 (5.A1)





24 25

See, for example, Ismail 2006; Soares and Otayek 2007; Bradley 2012; Brown 2012. For studies on this issue, see, for example, Mayer 2007; Lust and Jamal 2002; Karatnycky 2002.

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  165

yi ,1 = j if µ j −1 < yi*,1 ≤ µ j , j = 0,..., J1



yi ,2 = j if δ j −1 < yi*,2 ≤ δ j , j = 0,..., J 2



 0  1 ρ   εi ,1   ε  ~ N  0 ,  ρ 1  .    i ,2 

(5.A2)

Thus, the joint probability for yi,1 = j and yi,2 = k is, according to Greene and Hensher (2009: 223), given by

Φ [(µ − β1′x i ,1 ),(δ k − β1′x i ,2 ), ρ]  prob( yi ,1 = j, yi ,2 = k | x i ,1 , x i ,2 ) =  2 j   − Φ 2 [(µ j −1 − β1′x i ,1 ),(δ k − β1′x i ,2 ), ρ] Φ [(µ − β1′x i ,1 ),(δ k −1 − β1′x i ,2 ), ρ]  − 2 j .  − Φ 2 [(µ j −1 − β1′x i ,1 ),(δ k −1 − β1′x i ,2 ), ρ]

(5.A3)

Using the information from (5.A1) to (5.A3), the log likelihood function of the bivariate ordered probit model can be defined as

Φ [(µ − β1′x i ,1 ),(δ k − β1′x i ,2 ), ρ]  n  2 j  i =1 j=0 k =0  −Φ 2 [(µ j −1 − β1′x i ,1 ),(δ k − β1′x i ,2 ), ρ] Φ [(µ − β1′x i ,1 ), (δ k −1 − β1′x i ,2 ), ρ]  − 2 j ,  −Φ 2 [(µ j −1 − β1′x i ,1 ),(δ k −1 − β1′x i ,2 ), ρ] N

LL = ∏



J1

J2

∑ ∑m

i , j i ,k

(5.A4)

where mi , j = 1 if yi,1 = j and is 0 otherwise and likewise, ni , k = 1 if yi,2 = k and is 0 otherwise. I  estimate the log likelihood function in (5.A4) with random effects. Maximizing the log likelihood function in (5.A4) on a TSCS data set requires calculating normal multidimensional distribution integrals, the dimension of which grows with T where T denotes time. Evaluating multidimensional integrals of the likelihood presented here is computationally intensive. Thus I  use simulation methods—​specifically, the Geweke-​ Hajivassiliou-​ Keane (GHK) smooth recursive conditioning simulator—​to maximize the log likelihood function in (5.A4). The GHK maximum simulated likelihood (MSL) method is often used by econometricians (e.g., Train 2003) to evaluate the likelihood in (5.A4) as it is used to calculate multivariate normal probabilities, which is required for MSL estimation. The GHK method leads to a simulated log likelihood function, which we maximize with respect to the parameter vectors x i , δ k , z i , µ J , and the covariance matrix Ω by using the Broyden-​Fletcher-​ Goldfarb-​ Shanno (BFGS) numerical optimization method. After obtaining the estimates, the variance-​covariance matrix is directly derived by inverting the Hessian evaluated in the obtained maximum likelihood estimators.

166  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Table 5.1  Civil Liberties: Main Results from OP Model Civil Liberties

Civil Rights

Model 1 Model 2 Model 3 Model 4 Model 5 Model 6 lag civil liberties

.329*** (.075)

.107*** (.033)

.145*** (.023)

lag civil rights

.247** (.054)

.134** (.065)

.166** (.032)

Log GDP per capita

.027* (.015)

.015* (.008)

.019* (.010)

.007*** (.001)

Oil rent

–​.008** (.004)

–​.014*** (.001)

–​.009** (.004)

–​.003** (.001)

Foreign aid

.019** (.010)

.020** (.009)

.010*** (.004)

.017** (.007)

World Bank loan

.010 (.072)

.047 (.099)

.032 (.040)

.053 (.090)

IMF loan

.028 (.033)

.037 (.034)

.031 (.052)

.042 (.063)

IRO institutionalization –​.140 (.193)

–​.096 (.181)

–​.115 (.201)

–​.123 (.142)

–​.139 (.217)

–​.147 (.118)

IRO institutionalization –​.359*** –.​ 134*** –​.242*** –​.267*** –​.125*** –​.198*** x Islamist partner (.072) (.036) (.044) (.053) (.036) (.050) Islamist partner Trade openness

–​.079 (.055)

–​.041 (.077)

–​.051 (.054)

.106** (.054)

FDI flows

–​.070 (.068)

–​.044 (.095)

.056 (.058)

.114*** (.033)

.098** (.047)

.106*** (.027)

.046 (.085)

.018 (.078)

.027 (.088)

Military

–​.002 (.000)

–​.007 (.004)

–​.005 (.010)

–​.017 (.014)

Personalist

–​.021 (.029)

–​.030 (.040)

–​.032 (.045)

–​.044 (.060)

Democracy

.023 (.037)

.015 (.047)

.010 (.072)

.018 (.078)

Elf

.029 (.033)

.041 (.029)

.027 (.025)

.064 (.087)

British colony

.012 (.028)

.052 (.078)

.053 (.037)

.071 (.120)

Islamic laws

–​.032** (.016)

–​.028** (.014)

–​.029** (.015)

–​.039*** (.014)

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  167 Table 5.1  Continued Civil Liberties

Civil Rights

Model 1 Model 2 Model 3 Model 4 Model 5 Model 6

µ1

2.98*** (.602)

1.07** (.523)

.189*** (.046)

.754** (.353)

2.52*** (.439)

2.55** (.923)

µ2

3.49*** (.604)

2.21*** (.419)

1.40** (.062)

1.07** (.534)

4.42*** (1.38)

1.98** (.866)

µ3

1.02** (.580)

.324 (.249)

.122 (.112)

.115 (.580)

1.13** (.554)

2.45** (1.37)

µ4

–​.059 (1.28)

–​.036 (.215)

–​.025 (.079)

.064 (.128)

.049 (.055)

3.14 (5.62)

µ5

.044** (.021)

.064** (.037)

.021 (.073)

.016 (.110)

.000 (.000)

.001 (.004)

µ6

.020 (.034)

.017 (.028)

.004 (.009)

.002 (.011)

–​.183 (.430)

–​.381 (1.09)

µ7

.029* (.014)

.029* (.016)

.027** (.014)

.017** (.008)

.012*** (.002)

.009*** (.003)

µ8

.041 (.215)

.014 (.010)

.060 (.092)

.036 (.126)

.070 (.120)

.184 (.151)

µ9

.007 (.049)

.003 (.067)

–​.000 (.000)

–​.000 (.004)

.034 (.025)

.021 (.036)

µ10

–​.041 (.215)

–​.048 (.271)

.018 (.078)

.053 (.090)

.123** (.068)

.104** (.053)

µ11

.016 (.110)

.006 (.097)

.004 (.039)

.038 (.062)

.116** (.057)

.093*** (.045)

µ12

.002 (.011)

–​.004 (.010)

–​.024 (.100)

–​.092 (.164)

.080 (.087)

.067 (.049)

2 Wald χ

404.20

583.71

703.25

614.96

437.22

679.03

N

1443

1275

1275

1653

1476

1476

Log likelihood

–​522.64 –​726.37 –​621.11 –​610.46

–​542.11 –​875.11

Notes: ***, ** and * denotes significance at the 1%, 5% and 10% level, respectively. Heteroskedastic-​ robust standard errors reported in the parentheses. Models 3 and 6 are estimated without random effects and year dummies. The remaining models in the table are each estimated with random effects and year dummies.

168  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Table 5.2  Civil Liberties: Robustness Test Results Liberties Civil Civil liberties protection OP

xtpcse

Model 7 Model 8 Lag civil liberties Lag liberties

OP

IV-​OP

2nd-​stage 3rd-s​ tage BVOP DS-​OP

Model 9 Model 10 Model 11 Model 12 .122*** (.041)

.119*** (.025)

.103*** (.038)

.106*** (.052)

.025* (.014)

.039* (.023)

.083 (.061)

.030 (.019)

.146** (.055)

Lag civil protection

.454*** (.045)

Log GDP per capita

.058* (.037)

.165* (.097)

Oil rent

−.003** −.042* (.001) (.021)

−.003** (.001)

−.002* (.000)

−.003** (.001)

−.002* (.001)

Foreign aid

.045** (.021)

.160* (.094)

.010** (.004)

.017** (.007)

.021** (.010)

.009** (.004)

World Bank loan

.055 (.079)

.115 (.101)

.014 (.031)

.036 (.033)

.037 (.025)

.026 (.023)

IMF loan

.003* (.002)

.161 (.177)

.044* (.024)

.061 (.085)

.042 (.055)

.057 (.039)

IRO institutionalization

−.133 (.412)

−.364 (.229)

−.154 (.205)

−.172 (.525)

−.125 (.161)

−.143 (.216)

IRO institutionalization −.160*** −.358*** × Islamist partner (.049) (.050)

−.132*** −.169*** −.181*** −.119*** (.024) (.043) (.053) (.037)

Islamist partner

−.026 (.079)

−.105 (.092)

−.043 (.065)

−.023 (.029)

−.018 (.045)

−.029 (.033)

Trade openness

.097*** (.028)

.122*** (.027)

.074** (.035)

.066*** (.013)

.059*** (.014)

.063*** (.012)

FDI flows

.014** (.007)

.040** (.015)

.032 (.018)

.021 (.019)

.004 (.010)

.008 (.012)

Military

−.034 (.019)

−.063* (.042)

−.021* (.011)

−.010* (.006)

−.015 (.019)

−.019 (.021)

Personalist

−.021* (.012)

−.058 (.065)

−.027* (.014)

−.028* (.016)

−.014 (.035)

−.017 (.024)

Democracy

−.060 (.068)

−.010 (.072)

−.058 (.046)

−.023 (.019)

−.016 (.020)

−.021 (.032)

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  169 Table 5.2  Continued Liberties Civil Civil liberties protection OP

xtpcse

OP

IV-​OP

2nd-​stage 3rd-s​ tage BVOP DS-​OP

Model 7 Model 8

Model 9 Model 10 Model 11 Model 12

Elf

.021* (.012)

.053 (.039)

.028* (.015)

.024 (.028)

.030* (.018)

.016 (.019)

British colony

.008 (.036)

.000 (.000)

.000 (.000)

.011 (.034)

.007 (.049)

.003 (.067)

Islamic laws

.049** (.025)

.068** (.034)

.041** (.021)

.056** (.029)

.074** (.035)

.019** (.009)

Religious court

−.030 (.029)

Communist

.020 (.015)

Minority

.034 (.076)

µ1

1.96* (1.08)

.107** (.033)

2.11** (.962)

2.15** (.918)

.050** (.023)

µ2

2.47** (1.08)

.043 (.065)

3.06*** (.885)

2.49** (.918)

.189** (.093)

µ 3  . . . 

−.010 (.015)

−.008 (.010)

.007** (.003)

.032 (.056)

.035*** (.016)

µ13

−.059 (1.28)

−.025 (.079)

.064 (.128)

.049 (.055)

3.14 (5.62)

λ

.027** (.012)

λf

.019* (.010)

λm

.033** (.016)

χ2

404.20

703.25

614.96

Wald test of exogeneity

1.78

Cragg-​Donald Wald F Sargan tests

14.049 .001

437.22

679.03

Continued

170  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Table 5.2  Continued Liberties Civil Civil liberties protection OP

xtpcse

Model 7 Model 8 Adjusted R

2

OP

IV-​OP

2nd-​stage 3rd-s​ tage BVOP DS-​OP

Model 9 Model 10 Model 11 Model 12

.291

N

1421

Log likelihood

−522.64

1261

1219

1275

−621.11 −610.46

1227

1227

−542.11

−875.11

Notes: ***, ** and * denote significance at the 1%, 5%, and 10% level, respectively. Heteroskedastic-​ robust standard errors reported in the parentheses for models 7, 8, 9, and 10. Bootstrapped standard errors reported in models 11–​12. The coefficients for each cut-​off point from µ 4 to µ13 for models 9,10, 11, and 12 are not reported in the table to save space (available on request). The coefficients for each cut-​off point from µ 4 to µ 6 for model 7 are not reported in the table to save space (available on request). Models 7, 9, 10, 11, and 12 are each estimated with random effects and year dummies. Model 8 is estimated with country fixed effects, year dummies, and PCSEs.

Table 5.3  Civil Liberties: First-​Stage Probit Selection Equation Results Column A S-​OP first-​stage selection equation results for model 11 in table 5.2

Column B DS-​OP first-​stage selection equation results for model 12 in table 5.2

Dependent variable

Islamist organization Islamist organization

Lag Islamist organization

.065*** (.020)

.041*** (.014)

Inflation crisis

.022 (.031)

.027 (.053)

Seat concentration × inflation crisis

.205*** (.042)

.189*** (.028)

Seat concentration

.119 (.131)

.126 (.165)

Log GDP per capita

.018 (.093)

.022 (.075)

Oil rent

.011 (.065)

.017 (.040)

Civil Liberties in Muslim-Majority Countries  171 Table 5.3  Continued Column A S-​OP first-​stage selection equation results for model 11 in table 5.2

Column B DS-​OP first-​stage selection equation results for model 12 in table 5.2

Dependent variable

Islamist organization Islamist organization

Foreign aid

.033 (.036)

−.025 (.038)

World Bank Loan

.053 (.049)

.016 (.034)

IMF loan

−.037* (.021)

−.021 (.045)

Democracy

.020 (.032)

.016 (.030)

Trade openness

.025 (.019)

.036 (.040)

FDI flows

−.037 (.035)

−.023 (.013)

Civil society

−.022 (.039)

−.026 (.023)

Military

.015 (.112)

.026 (.065)

Monarchy

−.030 (.020)

−.021 (.045)

Islamic laws

.025** (.011)

.036*** (.012)

LR

44.27

Log likelihood

−503.02

Notes: ***, **, *: 1%, 5%, and 10% levels of significance. Bootstrapped standard errors in parentheses. Random effects and year dummies included in each specification reported in this table.

172  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Table 5.4  Civil Liberties: Second-​Stage Probit Selection Equation Results DS-​OP second-​stage selection equation results for model 12 in table 4.2 Islamist partner Lag Islamist partner

.032*** (.010)

Economic recession

.011 (.040)

Legislative opposition

.054** (.025)

Vote share

−.037** (.019)

Hazard rate

.004 (.018)

Islamist party seats

.057*** (.019)

Military

−.010 (.035)

ρ

.085** (.040)

2 LR χ

59.22

Constant

−.104*** (.036)

Log likelihood

−627.6

Notes: ***, **, *: 1%, 5%, and 10% levels of significance. Bootstrapped standard errors in parentheses. Random effects and year dummies included in the reported specification.

6

The Fall of an Icon Institutionalization of Religious Organizations in Turkey

The AKP’s success in practicing “Muslim politics” without seeking the establishment of an Islamic state—​a state whose constitution declares sharia to be the source of law—​makes it an appropriate and worthy example for Arab Islamists. —​Ahmet Kuru (2013: 1) We are a Muslim country. As a consequence, we must have a religious constitution. . . . Secularism cannot feature in the new constitution. —​Ismail Kahraman, AKP Speaker of parliament, April 26, 2016

As the first quotation, by Ahmet Kuru, an eminent Turkish scholar, indicates, Turkey had in the past often been portrayed as an iconic example of a Muslim-​ majority country that maintained a secular democracy with separation of religion and state and liberal democratic rights. Importantly, some of the biggest gains in increasing democratic accountability and civil rights were made under the initial leadership of a religious party, the Adalet ve Kalkinma Partisi (AKP). In 2003, German foreign minister Joschka Fischer (2003) reflected the thinking of many when he stated: “The Erdogan government, which was originally regarded with much skepticism, has introduced more reforms over the last eighteen months than have been introduced during the last decades. One must recognize this fact even though there is still a lot to do.” For these reasons, many MMCs looked to Turkey and the AKP in particular as potential democratic models, as did enthusiastic Western governments. For example, Rachid Ghannouchi, leader of the religious Ennahda Party in Tunisia, often presented Ennahda as a party modeled after the AKP (Somer 2017). Opinion polls in Egypt in 2011showed that Turkey was the example that most Egyptian citizens looked to for a democracy (Nasr 2013; Gerges 2013). Leaders ranging from Amr Moussa of the Arab League, to President G. W. Bush and Secretary Hillary Clinton of Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties. Vineeta Yadav, Oxford University Press (2021). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197545362.003.0006

174  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties the United States, to Gerhard Schroder, Angela Merkel, and Joschka Fischer of Germany praised Turkey’s democracy as the living example that countered arguments that democracy and Islam could not be combined (Nasr 2005; US Department of State 2007; Karakas 2011). Yet, over the years, the AKP gradually revealed itself to be deeply committed to a religious agenda (Somer 2016; Kuru 2019). The creeping Islamicization of almost all aspects of Turkish society and institutions and the increasingly bold public assertiveness of Islamist ambitions, as articulated by Speaker Kahraman’s words, seem to suggest that a religious agenda is alive and well among Turkish political elites from religious parties. By all measures, civil rights in particular have undergone a steep decline in recent years with extensive formal and informal clampdowns by the Turkish government leading scholars, policymakers, journalists, and many civil society actors to ask whether basic civil liberties are safe in Turkey any more.1 Turkey has sadly lost its democratic luster and its lofty status in recent years.2 Understanding whether it is the religious nature of the AKP, rather than other more universal obstacles to civil liberties such as greed for power and patronage, that has led to this decline is therefore a question of global significance for understanding whether religious parties can be the bricks and mortar of democracy in highly religious developing country democracies or must be the wrecking balls of democracy and civil rights. From the perspective of this study, Turkey provides a very useful case to investigate the validity of the causal mechanisms proposed in this book because of the temporal variation it offers in all the factors this study argues are driving the state of civil liberties in MMCs. Both inflation rates and the legislative seat shares of Islamist parties vary over time from 1950 to 1999, which allows us to evaluate whether religious parties are only able to use their legislative strength to promote RO institutionalization when a country is suffering from high inflation. Furthermore, the level of RO institutionalization and the presence of a religious party in government vary from 1950 to 2016, allowing us to evaluate whether or not religious parties in power reduce civil liberties only when RO institutionalization is already high. In this chapter, I first provide an overview of the pertinent religious organizational actors in Turkey and the institutional and policy goals they aspire to. The rest of this chapter is then devoted to evaluating Hypothesis 1 and its two corollaries. I  focus on analyzing whether higher religious-​party concentration in parliament created a high level of RO institutionalization only during periods of high inflation in Turkey. In my analysis, I combine qualitative evidence from secondary sources with original data from a unique survey of 226 political elites in 1 See Freedom House reports for various years and the analysis of scholars such as Somer 2015; Cornell and Kaya 2015, Esen and Gumuscu 2016; and Turam 2012. These changes are discussed in detail later in this chapter. 2 See Friedman 2015; Esen and Gumuscu 2016; Edelman et al. 2015. for example.

The Fall of an Icon  175 Turkey conducted for this project in 2017. This evidence allows me to evaluate the causal mechanisms posited in Hypothesis 1 directly through an (a) examination of the political and policy goals that Islamist elites from the two most important contemporary religious parties have and (b) an assessment of how distinct or similar they are to the goals of the Turkish ROs and to those of other non-​Islamist parties. Chapter 8 then focuses on analyzing whether the presence of a religious party in government from 2003 until 2016, in the context of highly institutionalized Islamist organizations, led to a decline in civil liberties during this period.

Islam under the New Republic: A Brief Overview The fall of the Ottoman Empire in Turkey as a result of World War I was followed by the establishment of the Turkish Republic in 1923 under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. The overarching principle of republican leaders was to take religion out of public life in Turkey and cultivate citizens who were secular and modern in their public aspirations and beliefs (Koçak 2010; Mardin 2003). Religion in this scheme was to be a matter of private belief (Koçak 2010; Mardin 2003). In line with this system, the republican government took comprehensive and draconian measures to eliminate all organized institutional sources of religious belief and practice that were outside of state control. In 1924 they abolished the caliphate, the position and the office of the Sheikh ul-​Islam and the Ministry of Religious Foundations (Law No. 431/​1924 and Law No. 429/​1924 respectively).3 Only a small Office of Religious Affairs was maintained under the prime minister. In 1924, sharia courts were abolished, and in 1926, a legal system based on the Swiss civil code rather than sharia was introduced as the law of the land. Furthermore, many social practices associated with Islam—​polygamy, marriage by ulema, being deemed an apostate for leaving Islam—​were outlawed (Koçak 2010; Arat 2010a). In 1925, the government passed a law banning all ROs and seized their assets, and in 1926 it passed a new penal code that made any public mobilization in the name of religion a criminal offense (Koçak 2010). These policies had a profound effect in reducing the social capital that ROs and religious parties could command when Turkey began life as a multiparty democracy in 1950.

Religious Organizations in Turkey Turkey had a vibrant religious civil society prior to 1923. The most common and influential ROs were Sufi orders (turuq) and brotherhoods (cemaat) and Islamic

3

See Koçak 2010: 241–​242.

176  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties foundations and charities (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Yavuz 2003, 2011; Mardin 1994). Each brotherhood was organized around a religious teacher, a master, who provided religious guidance and teaching to his followers. Members were linked by close spiritual, organizational, social, and economic bonds that transcended organizational tasks and rituals alone (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Yavuz 2003, 2011; Mardin 1994). Religious foundations and associations were formed by these brotherhoods and also by private citizens to perform charity work, most prominently in the provision of education and in social assistance to needy citizens. The dismantling of existing religious organizations in 1925 was accompanied by a prohibition on forming any new religious organizations and the criminalization of many of the most central activities that ROs and associations had routinely engaged in (Koçak 2010). For example, it prohibited and criminalized criticism of secularism, the laws and decrees passed by governments, and the propagation of policies promoting sharia or promoting disregard for official policies (Articles 163, 241, and 242; Koçak 2010: 243). As a result, most ROs and brotherhoods went underground and focused on spiritual matters and religious education or stayed dormant (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Yavuz 2003, 2011; Mardin 1994). Religious practice became a private affair to be observed within the household. In 1946, the ruling party created by the military, the Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi (CHP), made the decision to introduce multiparty elections in 1949. It tried to preemptively reduce the appeal of any religious parties and religious platforms by relaxing formal rules and informal norms regarding some religious practices, including turning a blind eye to the presence of religious brotherhoods. As a result, many orders and brotherhoods began operating more publicly again despite still being illegal. Among the most influential orders to re-​emerge in Turkey were the Naqshbandi, Qadiri, and Nurcu orders (Çarkoğlu and Biligili 2009: 209; Yavuz 2003; Cornell and Kaya 2015). These orders in turn include several suborders. While these suborders are organized around different leaders, their overall philosophies follow that of their primary order.4 These orders share several important features. First, they command large memberships in Turkey.5 Second, while they are typically headquartered in one city, all of them are national-​level religious organizations with branches in all the major cities, in the Turkish countryside, and in migrant Turkish communities abroad. Third, all of them are nongovernmental organizations and are organizationally and financially autonomous from the government. They are financed 4 The most prominent Naqshbandi suborders are the Iskenderpasa lodge, the Suleymenci, Erenköy, the Isikci, the Menzil, and the Ismail Aga community (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Çarkoğlu and Biligili 2009). The most prominent Nurcu order is the Gülen order (Mardin 1994; Carkoglu and Biligili 2009: 209; Yavuz 2003; Cornell and Kaya 2015). 5 These membership figures are estimates of scholars and journalists. There are no concrete, reliably confirmed membership figures for them available in any public domain (Mardin 1994; Jenkins 2008; Çarkoğlu and Biligili 2009; Cornell and Kaya 2015; Edelman et al. 2015).

The Fall of an Icon  177 by revenues raised by their own activities and donations by their members and are run by a managerial leadership selected from within the orders (Çarkoğlu and Biligili 2009; Yavuz 2003; Eligür 2010; Cornell and Kaya 2015). Finally, the founding figures and the current leaders of these orders are national-​level civic figures who are part of the public civil society leadership in Turkey and are nationally, and indeed internationally, recognized figures. These religious organizations meet the definition of a special interest group as an association of individuals or organizations that share one or more concerns and attempt to influence public policy in its favor (Thomas 2008; Lowery 2013; Hertzke 2010). Individuals join these organizations because they share the beliefs and policy preferences of other members in the organization and the organization works to promotes these shared goals through its various actions (Kuru 2019; Cornell and Kaya 2015; Hendrick 2013; Yavuz 2003, 2011). These organizations have formal rules of membership, and members who join them are expected to subscribe to and abide by the organization’s rules and contribute time and resources to the organization (Kuru 2019; Cornell and Kaya 2015; Hendrick 2013; Yavuz 2003, 2011). They have formal organizational structures, a managerial hierarchy, and their own staff dedicated to carrying out organizational tasks and functions and serving organizational goals (Kuru 2019; Cornell and Kaya 2015; Hendrick 2013; Yavuz 2003, 2011). Therefore, these organizations display all the characteristics of ROs identified in ­chapter 2, which suggests they are the analytically relevant set of actors to examine in the case of Turkey. Next, I consider what the central goals of these orders have been over the years as they strive to realize their Islamist vision in Turkey.

The Aspirations of Religious Organizations The central focus of these Turkish ROs is “the renewal of faith in Islam in order to overcome the spiritual and political conquest of the West and of Western materialist culture. . . . The renewal of Islamic faith and lifestyle is, at the same time, an identity-​formation process that entails a strong rejection of Western values, culture and institutions” (Ayata 1996: 49). The ideal vision of Turkey that these ROs share is that of a society and a state based not on Western models of liberal democracy and secularism, but on orthodox interpretations of sharia (Mardin 1994; Ayata 1996; Kuru 2005; Yavuz 2003, 2011). Furthermore, they believe that this ideal vision of society can be realized only through a bottoms-​up revival of individual faith that is nourished and fostered by the entire community (Mardin 1994; Yavuz 2003, 2011; Cornell and Kaya 2015). For example, Yavuz (2011: 174) notes that members of the Nurcu order believe that “sharia as a social order results from a community of conscious believers. Its realization is only possible

178  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties if people live faithfully by Islamic principles.” Cornell and Kaya (2015) note that the Naqshbandi order has a “firm allegiance to the orthodox Sunni tradition, and its strict adherence to Sharia, with mysticism only a second story subservient to the fulfillment of formal Islamic duties.” Ayata (1996: 49) similarly points out the centrality of the community in Naqshbandi thought: The Naksibendis emphasize the role a righteous community plays in sustaining the self-​reform process. The individual and his/​her community are linked by means of orthopraxy: extremely detailed codes of conduct derived from the Islamic seriat. Those are introduced into the everyday life of devout Muslims, and their observance is enforced by a vigilant community. Such a powerful mechanism of social control leaves little scope for autonomous private action.

In this shared view, it is the moral responsibility of a devout community to clearly identify the set of rules that any individual must follow in order to live a life consistent with sharia, and to police the observance of these rules as a society in order to encourage individual self-​reform (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Mardin 1998; Ayata 1996).6 In the context of contemporary states, this means that to create an Islamic society, the piety and the commitment of the community must be exemplified by and reinforced by the state and state leaders. In line with their accepted interpretation of sharia, these ROs agree on the specific rights that individuals and communities can have in an Islamic society, the priority of a community’s welfare over the individual’s, and the integration of religion into all aspects of governance and government institutions (Mardin 1994; Yavuz 2003, 2011; Somer 2017; Cornell and Kaya 2015; Edelman et al. 2015).7 In this Islamist vision, Muslim males would be privileged over all others in the legal and political spheres, basic freedoms of speech, association, movement, and assembly would be restricted to those sanctioned by orthodox interpretations of the Quran and the Sunna, and women and non-​Muslims would be unequal citizens.8 Religious leaders would be the arbiters of what acceptable civil rights are and would mediate any disputes regarding their constitutionality. Women and men would serve different roles in life as unequal

6 These orders have developed some ideological differences over time, importantly in the level of their hostility toward the West and their anti-​Semitism (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Edelman et al. 2015; Yavuz 2011). 7 Again, I want to reiterate that my goal here is not to adjudicate the intense debate among scholars on whether Islam really is or is not compatible with universal human rights or whether it can be reinterpreted using the power of reasoning (ijtihād) to be compatible. I take as an empirical fact the beliefs that these orders hold, in order to analyze the subsequent actions they take based on that set of beliefs. 8 This discussion draws on Mardin 1994; Yavuz 2003, 2011; Cornell and Kaya 2015; and Edelman et al. 2015.

The Fall of an Icon  179 but complementary partners. The traditional family would be the foundation of society, and homosexuality would be treated as a sin. As I discuss later, these religious beliefs have direct negative consequences for civil liberties of all citizens for ideological reasons. Freedom of expression. ROs support limiting the freedom of expression by banning and penalizing any form of expression that insults Islam. Insults against Islam should be broadly interpreted as any speech or expression that is critical of any aspect of Islamic doctrine or practice, of religious leaders, of leaders of the Islamic community, and of the state’s policies regarding religion. Furthermore, this injunction may be used to repress freedom of speech in general by suppressing any criticisms of Islamist parties and governments because they are the leaders of a pious society and attacks on them signify attacks on the religious values of the societies they lead (Mardin 1994; Ayata 1996; Yavuz 2003, 2011; Somer 2017; Cornell and Kaya 2015; Edelman et al. 2015). Freedoms of association, assembly, and movement. Since Islam would be the defining and organizing principle of the state and of society, forming social groups to engage in discussions and activities that are not sanctioned by Islam and engaging in protests against an Islamic state or against religiously inspired policies would be against Islam. Turkish ROs want such freedoms to be constrained (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Yavuz 2003, 2011; Mardin 1999). They believe that organizations and groups advocating for liberal women’s rights and for equal treatment of religious minorities and secularists should be eliminated entirely or allowed to engage only in limited activities (White 2000; Jenkins 2008; Eligür 2010; Turam 2012; Edelman et al. 2015; Doyle 2016). These ROs also favor gender segregation in public spaces and, importantly, encourage and practice it within their organizations (Jenkins 2008; Eligür 2010; Edelman et al. 2015). Women assembling in public to push for demands such as equal legal rights and the ability to move freely outside the house without the permission of their male guardians have been vilified as un-​Islamic by these ROs (White 2000; Jenkins 2008; Eligür 2010; Turam 2012; Edelman et al. 2015). Activists demanding rights and protections for the LGBTQ community are similarly viewed as undermining the moral foundations of society. These ROs therefore advocate restricting or banning outright the ability of such “un-​Islamic” groups to assemble, associate, or move freely (White 2000; Jenkins 2008; Eligür 2010; Turam 2012; Edelman et al. 2015; Doyle 2016). Freedom of religion. While some ROs support allowing religious minorities to be governed by their own family laws, others want Turks of all religious denominations to be subject to sharia (Yavuz 2003, 2011; Edelman et al. 2015). The latter would clearly violate the freedom of religion directly. These religious organizations also want to ban proselytizing by other religions and to restrict where and how religious minorities can practice their faith (Yavuz 2003, 2011;

180  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Edelman et al. 2015). Importantly, these orders also believe that pious leaders must maintain control over the state in order to create and protect a pious society. Consequently, they want to ban religious minorities from serving in the highest political offices in Turkey (Yavuz 2003, 2011; Edelman et al. 2015).

Institutional Interests The institutional interests of Turkish ROs fall into three broad categories: (i) organizational concerns common to all organizations, (ii) interests specific to religious organizations, and (iii) interests arising from the intense competition among ROs to gain sacred and moral legitimacy, followers, and resources. Each of these types of institutional interests has motivated Turkish ROs to actively and aggressively seek out and lobby political partners to achieve these goals. First, as formal organizations, ROs must undertake the same organizational tasks—​managing personnel, facilities, and finances and fulfilling regulatory requirements—​that any other NGO or firm must do. To meet these organizational obligations, Turkish ROs must obtain tax and legal advantages, licenses to build and operate various facilities, and licenses to provide services such as education and healthcare to their own members and to the general public (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Hendrick 2013). This suggests that cultivating the goodwill of elected officials through organizational efforts is an essential institutional goal for ROs, as it is for private firms. The second set of institutional concerns is unique to ROs because it stems from their identity as religious organizations. Starting in 1950, when the military government informally began allowing ROs to operate, and more explicitly after 1980, when the state began reintroducing a state-​approved version of Islam in society, ROs have had to rely on the government’s goodwill, largesse, and legal authority to perform the tasks central to ROs’ religious aspirations—​providing religious education and welfare to the needy (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Hendrick 2013). For example, governments had the power to regulate the education sector, including the establishment of religious educational institutions, the content of their curriculum, and government recognition of religious degrees (Edelman et al. 2015; Hendrick 2013; Yavuz 2003, 2011). ROs have therefore been compelled to lobby government officials at local, provincial, and national levels in order to operate their schools, hostels, and colleges (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Edelman et al. 2015; Hendrick 2013; Yavuz 2003, 2011). Finally, Turkish ROs face a competitive religious marketplace where they must compete with other Sufi orders and, to a lesser degree with alternative religious schools, such as Wahhabism (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Edelman et al. 2015; Hendrick 2013). Not only do ROs belonging to the various orders vie against

The Fall of an Icon  181 each other for moral legitimacy, donors, and public influence, they also compete for state patronage that facilitates their organizational survival and growth in such a competitive marketplace (Driessen 2014; Shah 2013; Hendrick 2013). ROs can gain significant organizational advantages against their rival ROs if they obtain state patronage in the form of resources, appointments, and visibility. Government regulation of religious activities, including those of ROs, is often implemented by bureaucrats selected from among the various religious communities (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Edelman et al. 2015; Hendrick 2013; Yavuz 2003, 2011). ROs have therefore tried to ensure that their members are appointed to such desirable positions. Appointments in key departments such as religion, minority affairs, education, and communication not only bestow prestige and visibility on ROs, they also allow them to influence the formulation and implementation of policies (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Edelman et al. 2015; Hendrick 2013; Yavuz 2003, 2011). Access to government resources such as public funds, airtime on state-​run media, and government staff boosts ROs’ image among the public and allows them to deliver access and benefits to their followers that they can then take credit for (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Edelman et al. 2015; Hendrick 2013; Yavuz 2003, 2011). To obtain such valuable state patronage, ROs are again motivated to lobby government officials. Collectively, Turkish ROs have a portfolio of institutional and policy goals that they seek to realize. The experience of military coups against Islamist governments and persecution by the secular Turkish army has led some suborders to temper the extent to which their public statements reflect these values and goals, while others have made no such attempts.9 However, the extensive body of written teachings and audiovisual materials recorded by the leaders and spokespeople of these orders and considerable scholarly analysis cited above show that these orders have stayed deeply committed to these values and opposed to values and institutions consistent with liberal democracy, which they associate with the West, over the history of the modern Turkish republic until today. To achieve their policy and institutional goals, ROs can seek out and lobby a variety of political actors. Most notable among these, as ­chapter  3 emphasized, are religious and non-religious political parties. Next I provide a brief overview of religious parties in Turkey. Since they share many ideological and policy positions, religious parties are an attractive target for Turkish ROs. I therefore provide a brief summary of the landscape of Turkish religious parties.

9 For example, facing prosecution in 1997, the Gülen movement announced in 1998 that it no longer aspired to create an Islamic state in Turkey. However, tapes encouraging followers to bide their time until it was right to do so, subsequently emerged online confirming the suspicions with which many had received the initial announcement (Edelman et al. 2015).

182  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

Religious Parties in Turkey Once the military regime announced its decision to allow multiparty elections in 1946, religious parties with explicit references to creating as Islamist state on their platforms formed quickly but were promptly shut down by the courts (Jenkins 2008; Eligür 2010). Once elections began in 1950, unsurprisingly, all political parties began using some level of religious rhetoric and symbols to mobilize voters (Jenkins 2008; Eligür 2010; Edelman et al. 2015). The watershed moment was the founding of Turkey’s first religious party, the Millî Nizam Partisi (MNP) by Necmettin Erbakan in 1970. This party adopted principles and policies that became known as the Millĭ Görüş movement (Öniş 1997; White 2000; Yavuz 2003). This platform supported a society based on the social and economic values and practices condoned by orthodox interpretations of the Quran and the Sunna, a return to a sharia-​based system of law and an Islamic state, it was anti-​Semitic and culturally, socially, and economically anti-​ Western (Öniş 1997; White 2000; Yavuz 2003; Jenkins 2008; Edelman et  al. 2015). The Millĭ Görüş platform has formed the ideological basis for all subsequent religious political parties in Turkey (White 2000; Yavuz 2003; Jenkins 2008; Edelman et al. 2015). The MNP was banned for being antisecular in 1971. Erbakan then reinvented it as the Millî Selâmet Partisi (MSP) in 1971 only to see it banned in 1972. He then founded the Refah (Welfare) Party in 1972. When Refah was banned in 1998 for being antisecular, Erbakan effectively founded the Fazilet Party in 1998 (Eligür 2010). When the Fazilet Party was banned in 2001 for the same reason, its followers split into a more conservative party, the Saadet Party, and an allegedly more moderate party, the Adalet ve Kalkinma Partisi (AKP). These two parties have formed the core of the Islamist political landscape from 2001 until now.10 The extent to which the Millĭ Görüş agenda has been explicitly publicly acknowledged has varied over time in response mainly to two factors—​the strength of the military and public support for joining the European Union (Öniş 1997; White 2000; Yavuz 2003; Jenkins 2008; Edelman et al. 2015). It is important to keep two points in mind when considering the ideological and policy aspirations of these parties and the extent of their overlap with the agenda of the ROs. First, despite the fact that most Turkish parties refer to Islam and use its symbols and language in their campaigns to some extent, there is a crucial distinction between the use of religion by non-religious parties and by the religious parties that emerged after 1970. Religion was used as a mobilization tool by center-​right parties but used to mobilize people for goals compatible with a secular vision of society where religious practice was a private choice and

10

See Toprak 2005; Jenkins 2008; Eligür 2010; Edelman et al. 2015, for details.

The Fall of an Icon  183 activity (Onis 1997, 2010; Tepe 2008; Somer 2015). In contrast, religious parties used Islam to mobilize voters for an explicitly Islamist set of goals that envisioned religion as a public project to be practiced in public space (Onis 1997, 2010; Tepe 2005a, 2008, 2012; Somer 2015). This distinction was true despite the fact that politicians belonging to various center-​right and religious parties belonged to some of the same ROs.11 This is an important distinction because it suggests that while many Turkish governments were willing to make some concessions to the religious sentiment of voters, ROs could only hope to realize their Islamist policy agenda in Turkey when religious parties committed to the same sharia-​based ideological visions of state and society were in power. This suggests that while the freedom to practice Islam publicly was likely to increase under most parties, civil liberties in general were only likely to experience a decline for reasons related directly to religious beliefs under religious-​party governments. Second, religious parties in Turkey have since 1970 faced multiple challenges from the military and experienced bans and coups when attempting to implement religious agendas. Many scholars have argued that the effects of all of these coups and party closures was to create a genuinely moderate religious party in the form of the AKP (Yavuz 2003; Tepe 2008; Nasr 2013; Somer 2015). They point to the lack of legislative effort by the AKP to institutionalize sharia formally in Turkish law or institutions as evidence of this moderation and suggest that the AKP has genuinely distanced itself from the desire to realize a sharia-​based society and state and is now similar to a Christian democratic party. Others disagree and argue that the AKP continues to hold true to its Millĭ Görüş roots, that its moderation is a feint or a deception (taqiyya), and that it intends to gradually implement an agenda inspired substantially and directly by sharia as the opportunities to do so present themselves (Jenkins 2008; Edelman et al. 2015; Somer 2016). This debate makes Turkey fertile ground for testing whether religious organizations are able to influence the policies and actions of religious parties to align with their own preferences. In order to so this, we need to first clarify what their preferences are on the issues that are most important to the Islamist orders’ agenda.

11 For example, Erbakan and Ȍzal, who led various center-​right parties, both belonged to the Iskenderpasa lodge in Istanbul. Despite his personal piety, Ȍzal was known for his liberal, pro-​ Western outlook and his support for a separation of state and religion (Yavuz 2003; Edelman et al. 2015). This was reflected in his policies, his appointments, and his political conduct. He passed policies expanding the scope of religious education in schools and appointed people affiliated with his lodge to various positions in his government, giving them a measure of influence (Yavuz 2003; Edelman et al. 2015). However, when interfactional fighting broke out within the more Islamist-​ leaning conservative and the more liberal-​leaning conservative wings in his party over the initiatives of the religious appointees to promote more religiously oriented policies, he sided with the liberal wing to root out Islamist supporters from all party and government posts (Yavuz 2003; Edelman et al. 2015).

184  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

Ideological and Policy Preferences of Contemporary Turkish Parties: Survey Evidence Given that all political parties are willing to accommodate religious sentiments and appease religious voters to some degree (Çarkoğlu and Rubin 2005; Tepe 2005a, 2005b, 2012), we need to evaluate how different religious and nonreligious parties really are on these issues. After all, it is entirely possible that in a highly religious society such as Turkey’s, secular parties have also responded by modifying their preferences in ways that are significantly more aligned with the agenda of ROs. If so, an Islamist party may no longer be essential for ROs to see their vision implemented in Turkey. To answer these questions, I now present data from a survey of political elites from religious and non-religious parties conducted in April 2017 in Turkey. The survey sampled political elites from all the major religious and nonreligious parties in April 2017.12 Since the most influential political elites win election nominations in a party, this survey aimed to sample politicians whose opinions and actions shape the nature of politics and the design, passage, and implementation of policy in Turkey. A stratified, clustered, random sample was drawn from the population of party members who had stood for the June 2015 parliamentary elections in 85 electoral districts. Istanbul, Ankara, and Izmir were identified as superstrata since they contain multiple electoral districts, while the 78 other electoral districts were treated as clusters. Clusters were then randomly drawn and elites were randomly sampled within each cluster. The face-​ to-​face interviews were conducted in Turkish by an experienced survey research institute based in Istanbul. Further details on the survey and the sample can be found in the appendix. The final sample of 226 politicians was drawn from 47% of Turkey’s 85 electoral districts and the top seven parties. Thus, it is nationally representative in its geographic scope and its partisan coverage. Forty of the interviews (17.7%) were conducted with members of each of the AKP, CHP, Halkların Demokratik Partisi, and Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi, and 41 (18.1%) with Saadet Party members. The remaining 11 interviews (5%) came from the Demokrat Partisi, Anadolu Partisi, and Vatan. The two religious parties—​AKP and Saadet—​are well represented, with 81 interviewees out of 226, or 35.9%. Males made up 69.5% of the sample. The age of candidates ranged from 24 to 78 years, with an average of 47.3 years. Among the interviewees 64.5% had postgraduate degrees and only 7.4% lacked a college education. Roughly a quarter of the sample (28.3%) was of Kurdish ethnic origin. Finally, 51.4% of the interviewees had run for elections before, and almost 35% had also served in 12 I very gratefully like to acknowledge the financial support of National Science Foundation grant #1602190 for conducting this survey.

The Fall of an Icon  185 elected office. Thus, the sample offers us considerable variation in other political and demographic factors, such as age, gender, education, and political experience, that could influence individual support for civil liberties among politicians. The interviews were timed to take place before the constitutional referendum was held on May 6, 2017. While the AKP won the most seats in parliament in the June 2016 elections, it had for the first time failed to win a parliamentary majority then, and its efforts to form a coalition government had failed, leading to snap elections in November 2015. Furthermore, there was a failed military coup attempt in July 2016. If, as scholars argue, participation in competitive elections and the specter of an autocratic regime raised by the attempt at a military coup moderates religious parties, we should expect to find a strong bias in the sample towards moderation and away from the religious agenda of the ROs. This suggests that the opinions expressed by religious-​party politicians, if anything, should be biased against finding overlap with the ROs’ religious agenda and the survey results should provide a stronger test of the overlap between these two sets of religious actors in Turkey. To evaluate the general attitudes of politicians on protecting basic civil liberties, I  asked respondents whether they believed that human rights are universal or that each religion has its own tradition of human rights. I label these responses Religious Human Rights. Figure 6.1 shows the distribution of responses for Religious Human Rights for politicians belonging to religious parties, nonreligious parties, and the entire sample. One-​third (33%) of religious-​party politicians believed that each religion has its own tradition of human rights, but

Non-Religious Parties

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87

79.9

80 Percent

66.7 60 40

33.3

20

20.1

12.9

0

ts

io

lig

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r

ive

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Figure 6.1  Turkey: Distribution of elite support for universal human rights versus religiously defined rights

186  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties only 13% of non-religious-​party politicians held this view. A t-​test shows that this difference between religious-​party and non-religious-​party elites is statistically significant at the 1% level. Thus, religious-​party politicians were significantly more likely to view civil liberties through a framework informed by religion than were non-religious-​ party politicians. This difference became starker as respondents were asked questions about more concrete policies regarding specific civil liberties. Freedom of expression. Respondents were asked two questions that pertained directly to freedom of expression—​(i) whether they believed that the media should be allowed to make autonomous choices in order to promote transparency and accountability or that it was the government’s responsibility to ensure it acted in the interests of social harmony and political stability, and (ii) whether they wanted to see more government oversight of social media, were satisfied with the current levels of oversight, or thought the current levels were too high. I label the responses to these questions as the variables Media Censorship and Social Media Censorship respectively. Figure 6.2 illustrates the distributions of these responses by party type. Among religious-​party politicians 50% wanted government to censor media in the interests of social harmony and 36.5% thought that government needed to provide more oversight of social media, while 17.5% thought the existing level of oversight was appropriate. Among non-religious-​party politicians 29.9% wanted more government censorship of media and only 2.9% thought more government oversight of social media was necessary, while 92% believed there was too much oversight. T-​tests show that for all of these policies, the differences between Islamist and non-​Islamist elites are statistically significant at the 1% level. To put these numbers in perspective, by almost any measure of media freedom, Turkey has had one of the poorest records of media freedom since 2014 (RSF, various years; Freedom House 2016). These numbers clearly illustrate that politicians belonging to these religious parties shared the agenda of ROs that speech should be curbed by the government to protect religious values over and above any consideration of freedom of expression. As discussed earlier, ROs’ vision of a society and state based on orthodox Islamic principles translates into policies that would limit freedom of movement, religion, association, and assembly. To evaluate support for religiously derived limits on these freedoms, respondents were asked whether they believed that religious education should be compulsorily given to all children starting at age six, whether only a Muslim should be head of the government, and whether adultery should be criminalized. The first two questions show attitudes toward religious freedom, while the third gets to a policy that was widely believed to be targeting women to discourage them from mingling with the opposite gender and participating in public life, limiting their freedoms of movement, association,

The Fall of an Icon  187 (a)

Support for Censorship of Professional Media Non-Religious Parties

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60 45.9 36.5

h

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Figure 6.2  Turkey: Distribution of elite support for freedom of expression

and assembly (Edelman et al. 2015; Arat 2010). I label the responses to these questions as the variables Mandatory Religious Education, Head of State and Criminalize Adultery respectively. Figure 6.3 presents politicians’ responses on this selection of policies. Figure 6.3 shows that among religious-​party politicians 76.5% supported mandatory religious education at age six, 56.8% believed that only a Muslim should be the head of government in a Muslim-​majority country, and 85.2% supported

(a)

Support for Mandatory Religious Education at Age 6 Non-Religious Parties

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40 25.5 20 0

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Oppose Support

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60 40

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20 7.6 0

Oppose Support

Oppose Support

Oppose Support

Figure 6.3  Turkey: Distribution of elite preferences on policies affecting civil liberties

The Fall of an Icon  189 criminalizing adultery. In contrast, among non-religious-​ party politicians, 25.5% supported compulsory religious education, 79.3% believed that a citizen of any religious affiliation should be allowed to be head of government in a Muslim-​majority country, and 43.5% supported criminalizing adultery. Again, t-​tests show that for all of these policies, the differences between religious-​party and non-religious-​party elites are statistically significant at the 1% level. Thus, the positions that religious-​party politicians supported on these policies were not typical of all Turkish elites and were consistent with the positions of ROs’ Islamist agenda. Collectively, these results show that despite the long, continuous history of competitive democratic elections and military coups, and in direct contradiction of their publicly presented election manifestoes, religious politicians and parties in Turkey today continue to support principles and policies that are aligned with a long and staunchly held Islamist agenda. This set of policy positions is shared with ROs and is inconsistent with the principles of a secular, liberal constitution. These positions have been consistently held in private, if not in public, by the series of religious parties in Turkey since 1970. The question is whether they led to declines in civil liberties in Turkey and, if so, under what conditions. Hypotheses 1 and 2 suggest that declines should only happen when ROs have become highly socioeconomically institutionalized and a religious party is in power. The rest of this chapter and ­chapter 8 evaluate the validity of this entire argument in Turkey. Next, I briefly summarize Turkey’s history of legislative concentration and inflation. This is followed by an analysis of Turkey to evaluate whether the causal mechanism articulated in Hypothesis 1 is supported in Turkey.

Inflation and Religious Party Legislative Strength in Turkey, 1956–​2016 As I discuss now, Turkey has experienced considerable variation in its level of inflation and religious-​party legislative strength over time. In fact, post-​1950 Turkish history provides us with examples of three of the four potential scenarios that the inflation-​legislative strength combination can provide—​low inflation with low legislative strength (1950–​1976), high inflation with low legislative strength (1977–​1995), and high inflation with high legislative strength (1996–​1999). This temporal variation in the strength of both of the key explanatory factors—​inflation and religious parties’ legislative strength—​makes Turkey a very insightful case for evaluating the validity of the causal mechanisms in this book. To accomplish this analysis, I first briefly describe the history of annual inflation rates and legislative seat strength of Islamist parties over the entire period

190  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties for which data could be reliably obtained, 1956–​2016, and then analyze existing qualitative evidence to assess the causal mechanism identified in ­chapter 3.

The Legislative Concentration of Religious Parties To illustrate religious parties’ legislative concentration in Turkey, I calculate and plot the annual level of each of the two measures of legislative seat concentration of Islamist parties used for the statistical analysis in c­ hapter 3—​seat concentration and seat index. The legislative seat shares are calculated using the official election reports issued by the Supreme Electoral Council of Turkey (Yüksek Seçim Kurulu). Recall that Turkey had no religious parties before 1970; therefore, both these measures are scored 0 for this period. The illustration in figure 6.4 shows that there is sufficient temporal variation in both the seat concentration and seat index measures in Turkey between 1970 and 2016. Broadly, one finds that the level of each of these continuous measures is low from 1970 to around the early 1990s. Then it steadily increases in the mid-​1990s, flattens in 1996–​1998, and then starts increasing from 1999 through early years of this century. After the AKP emerged as the dominant party in the ruling coalition in 2003–​2004, the seat concentration and seat index measures in Turkey remained high until July 2017. The inflation data are from the World Bank’s World Indicators data set. Figure 6.5 shows that inflation rates were well below crisis levels in Turkey from 1956 to 1976. In 1977 inflation started rising above 25%, peaking at 106.3% in 1994.

.50 .45 Seat concentration/Index

.40 .35 .30 .25 .20 .15 .10 .05 0

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Figure 6.4  Seat concentration and seat index for Turkey, 1970–​2016

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The Fall of an Icon  191 120 110 100 90

Inflation

80 70 60 50 40 30 20 10

19 1956 5 19 8 6 19 0 6 19 2 6 19 4 6 19 6 1968 7 19 0 7 19 2 1974 7 19 6 7 19 8 1980 8 19 2 8 19 4 8 19 6 8 19 8 9 19 0 1992 9 19 4 9 19 6 2098 0 20 0 0 20 2 2004 0 20 6 0 20 8 1 20 0 2012 1 20 4 16

0

Year

Figure 6.5  Annual inflation rates in Turkey, 1956–​2016

Between 1995 and 1999, inflation stayed high, ranging from a low of 64.9% in 1999 to a high of 85.7% in 1997. Inflation rates finally started declining in 2002, fell below 15% in 2003, and stayed below this rate through July 2017. Thus, the 1950 to 2016 time period includes both inflationary crisis and non-crisis years. These histories create three different inflation-legislative strength scenarios, which our theory predicts should have different effects on the SEI of ROs in Turkey. (i) Low inflation and low legislative strength, 1950 to 1976. From 1950 to 1972 religious parties had no seats in parliament. From 1973 to 1976, they won a low seat share, but parliament was highly fragmented, giving them a moderate seat concentration.13 In the context of coalition governments, the MSP was invited to enter a ruling coalition that gave it some influence. However, inflation was low during this entire period. The theoretical prediction for this entire time period is of low socioeconomic RO institutionalization.

13 In 1973, the MSP became the first Islamist party to enter parliament. It had 10.7% of parliamentary seats.

192  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties (ii) High inflation and low legislative strength, 1977 to 1995. From 1977 to 1994, Turkey was in a state of a continuous inflation crisis. From 1977 to 1980, religious parties had a low seat share, as figure 6.4 shows; thus, legislative seat concentration was low.14 The prediction for this period therefore is also of low socioeconomic RO institutionalization. (iii) High inflation and high legislative strength, 1996 to 1999. Turkey experienced an inflationary crisis during this entire period. At the same time, Refah won 158 seats, that is, 28.7% of the seats in the 1995 elections, narrowly winning the most seats of any party. It was the only religious party in parliament and formed the government from 1996 to 1997 and then served in the opposition from 1997 to 1999. Both conditions were present during this entire period. Theory therefore predicts that ROs should have experienced significant SEI during this period. Since RO institutionalization is a cumulative process, if institutionalization has reached a sufficiently high level during these years in Turkey, such institutionalization should be self-​sustaining and strengthen with time. I will now argue that evidence drawn from various sources suggests that Turkey’s ROs became highly socioeconomically institutionalized between 1996 and 1999, and by 1999 they commanded considerable financial, media, and organizational resources that gave them formidable socioeconomic reach across all levels of society and all regions of Turkey.

Effects on Institutionalization Scenario 1: Low Inflation and Low Legislative Strength, 1956 to 1976 When multiparty democracy was introduced in1950, the military regime made the informal decision to allow ROs to operate on a limited scale to provide religious education to the devout and social assistance to the poor. This limited social role was allowed by the subsequent center-​right and center-​left democratic governments during this entire period as part of their effort to maintain a secular state in a religious society and religion as a private activity. Consequently, 14 The MSP won only 5.3% of parliamentary seats in the 1977 elections. No other Islamist party entered parliament. These figures represent a combination of high inflation and low Islamist legislative strength. In 1980, the military staged its third coup, justifying it on the grounds of a breakdown in law and order and security due to clashes between the right and the left factions in Turkey, not between secular and Islamist factions (Mardin 2006). Elections resumed in 1983, but all political parties and politicians involved in politics in 1979 were banned from participating in politics by the military for 10 years. No Islamist parties participated in the 1983 elections. When this ban was lifted in 1987, Erbakan founded his third Islamist party, the Welfare Party (Refah Partisi) and competed in the 1987 elections but failed to win any seats. It was the only Islamist party to compete in the 1991 elections and won 13.8% of seats. See Mardin 2006 and Rabasa and Larrabee 2008 for these details.

The Fall of an Icon  193 starting from the late 1950s, many ROs, including the Naqshbandi Menzil, Isikci, Ismail Aga, Süleymanci, and the Nurcu, began mobilizing and organizing members surreptitiously through the establishment of lodges where they delivered their sermons and instructions, and Quranic study circles where members would read and discuss the Quran under the supervision of a religious scholar or imam (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Koçak 2010; Mardin 1999). Notably, over this period, these organizations stayed focused on spiritual work, religious education, and provision of limited social assistance to families in need as part of the Islamic injunction for charity (zakat). These ROs did not expand beyond these basic functions, for example, to providing extensive social services, owning educational institutions, owning business and financial enterprises, or running business associations. When Turkey’s print media were privatized in 1973, ROs began printing a number of news magazines and books (Yavuz 2003). However, the reach of these publications was limited due to moderate literacy levels during this period and low public demand for these media (Yavuz 2003). Thus, ROs had a limited audience beyond the elite intellectual circles in big cities, and their impact on social and political discourse over this period remained “marginal” (Yavuz 2003: 207). The geographic scope of all these activities was also limited. Most orders were active only in a few cities, typically the cities where their founder or most prominent teacher had lived and the major metropolitan cities of Istanbul and Ankara (Yavuz 2003:  207; Aksoy and Robbins 1997). The people who were members in these orders were the primary participants and audiences for all the work conducted by these orders and did not extend significantly beyond them. The socioeconomic Islamic institutionalization level for Turkey during this period is therefore consistent with a score of 1.

Scenario 2: High Inflation and Low Legislative Strength, 1980–​1994 In 1980 the military moved away from an import substitution-​based economic model to a market-​led, export-​oriented growth strategy under the aegis of the World Bank and the IMF. The result was that the economy began pulling out of its low growth cycle as certain export sectors boomed (Öniş 2010). This prosperity was accompanied by high inflation and the dismantling of Turkey’s meager social welfare programs and investment in public goods such as education (Öniş 2010). These changes had devastating consequences for many sections of the Turkish population, including rural residents and the urban poor, especially recent migrants, people on salaries, and people on fixed incomes (White 2000; Öniş 2010). Real wages fell drastically, pushing many low-​income families into outright poverty while critically worsening the plight of the poor (White 2000; Öniş 1997, 2010). These families lacked basic necessities such as food, housing, and basic healthcare. The middle class suffered severely and found it difficult to

194  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties afford good education, a key ingredient for success in the new economy (White 2000; Öniş 1997, 2010). By 1994, Turkey became one of the seven most unequal societies in the world with a Gini coefficient of .50 (World Bank 1996). Consequently, incumbent governments faced considerable public discontent stemming from these consequences of high inflation. These conditions therefore created a dire need for organizations that could provide some of these social services to the population. From 1983 to 1994, successive democratic governments allowed ROs limited public space to step in to provide public services and goods in order to stave off political violence but were careful to constrain them to meeting these needs only (White 2000; Öniş 1997, 2010; Yavuz 2003). As a result of these openings, various orders began setting up affiliated foundations and associations starting in the late 1980s to help provide a range of social goods and services to the poor, including food, clothing, housing, healthcare, small loans, and donations to cover necessary expenses such as marriages and funerals; and to finance new private schools and dormitories, providing scholarships to needy students (Yavuz 2003; Ozdur 2012; Eligür 2010). ROs also invested considerable effort in financing and building private and public religious schools (Imam-​Hatip schools) because they believed these schools would be prime sites for cultivating future generations of Islamists who could transform society into one based on Islamic principles (Özgür 2012; Yavuz 2003). The Süleymanci, the Nur, and the Menzil orders were especially active in this regard (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Özgür 2012; Yavuz 2003). They were aided enthusiastically in this effort by the Refah Party, whose few seats had secured it a cabinet position in an era of shaky coalition governments (Mardin 1998; Onis 1996). From this position the government extended considerable funds for these educational efforts of ROs and appointed some RO officials to the education department (Mardin 1999; Yavuz 2003; Özgür 2012). There are no systematic data available on the number or size of order-​affiliated private schools. However, scholars agree that this period saw a significant increase in the numbers of private order-​run schools and dorms, in their enrollment, and in the effort and success achieved by order-​affiliated foundations, such as Ensar Vakfi and ÖNDER (Association of Imam Hatip Graduates and Members), in establishing Imam-​Hatip schools, which are religious schools (Mardin 1999; Yavuz 2003; Özgür 2012). Data show that their number rose from 715 in 1983–​1984 to 840 by 1994–​1995, while the number of their students rose from 144,798 to 171,439 over the same period (Yavuz 2003: 236). At the same time, even many winners from the liberal reforms were hit hard by the high inflation (White 2000; Tanyilmaz 2015). Successful firms, especially with a religious orientation, found themselves facing real interest rates of over 25% by the early 1990s but were “rationed out” of the banking system, which was an oligopoly controlled by politically connected secular elites (Atiyas,

The Fall of an Icon  195 Bakis, and Gurakar 2016:  5). A  few foreign Islamic banks existed, but these were also focused on large, politically connected firms (Hösgor 2011). These businesses therefore found themselves struggling to raise capital for operations or expansions. Despite their success, these religious firms received little policy attention or response from the government, existing political parties, or the bureaucracy since they lacked connections to them (White 2000; Hösgor 2011, 2015; Tanyilmaz 2015). At the same time, their religiosity and conservative beliefs kept them out of the elite secular business circles and associations with access to the state (Hösgor 2011, 2015; Tanyilmaz 2015). As the inflation situation worsened, their lack of access became more critical for their survival. These religious businesses desperately needed a set of political, financial, and bureaucratic actors who were accessible to them and responsive to their problems. However, Refah, the only party with which these firms had any connections, simply lacked the legislative muscle to help them by passing bills that would address their problems or by manipulating and pressuring the bureaucracy to respond to them. To counter this, two ROs began setting up their own business associations to advocate for their interests. MÜSIAD (Müstakil Isadamlari Dernegi, Turkish Independent Industrialists and Businessmen Association) was set up by the Milli Görüş movement in 1990 and ISHAD (Is Hayati Dayanisma Dernegi, Business Life Cooperation Association) by the Gülen network in 1993. However, the mere establishment of these organizations failed to increase the bargaining power or leverage of their member firms with the government, as they did not compensate for ROs’ lack of connections to political parties in power (Ȍzel 2010). RO efforts to establish professional associations met with similar fates (Ȍzel 2010; Eligür 2010; Hoşgör 2015a). Hence, while these organizations were established, they were ineffective in addressing the demands made by firms with a religious outlook since the nature and extent of this expansion was largely determined by the ruling parties, who were not Islamist (Ȍzel 2010; Eligür 2010; Hoşgör 2015b; Atiyas, Bakiş, and Gurkar 2016). Media. Radio and television were state monopolies until 1993, and secular governments of all stripes maintained tight control over religious content on these media (Yavuz 2003; Oğurlu and Őncu 2015). ROs therefore tried to expand first in the print media. In 1986, the Feza group affiliated with the Gülen network established Zaman newspaper, and by 1996, its circulation rose to 259,000. However, it was far outstripped by Milliyet at 629,000, run by the Dogan group, which was staunchly secular. Over the next few years, the number of religious print media in the forms of newspapers, magazines, and journals rose as more ROs entered the print media; however, their public reach and impact continued to be limited throughout this period (Yavuz 2003; Aksoy and Robbins 1997; Oğurlu and Őncu 2015).

196  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties With privatization of the media sector in 1993, several illegal radio and television channels, including religious ones, sprang up. ROs quickly established two illegal private television channels—​Samanyolu TV by the Feza group affiliated with the Gűlen movement and TGRT by Ihlas Holding, affiliated with the Naqshbandi Qadiri order (Aksoy and Robbins 1997). However, all private channels were quickly banned by the sitting center-​right government under the pressure of a military alarmed by these developments (Kaya and Cakmur 2010:  528). In 1994, a media regulatory body, RTÜK, was set up with expansive punitive powers of regulation. This regulatory agency promptly used these punitive powers to impose damaging financial fines and to suspend the operation of these channels from one to three days at a time for transgressions against the values of the Turkish state, which explicitly included secularism (Aksoy and Robins 1997). Such measures effectively neutralized these channels (Aksoy and Robins 1997). This brief experience with communicating their message and their agenda directly to a national audience of millions of viewers, including people who had little interest in picking up newspapers or magazines, made ROs eager to own their own television and radio assets again. However, their ability to exploit this potential was realized only after 1995. As this illustrates, from 1983 to 1994, ROs were able to play a bigger role in Turkish society than they had previously. However, this role was still limited to the domains of social welfare and education, where the government needed their service and assets. Any attempts to expand their financial, logistical, and media capacities were monitored by the non-religious-​party governments and neutralized quickly. Their level of SEI during this period was therefore consistent with a score of 2 on the index used in the large-​N analysis. This in turn limited their capacity to cultivate popular support in favor of the kind of Islamist social and political agenda that they wanted to see implemented in Turkey, that Refah was campaigning on, and that any other religious-​party would potentially campaign on. This period taught ROs a valuable lesson about the unreliability of non-religious allies and even personally devout allies if they were part of a non-religious party. Turgut Őzal, the leader of the ruling center-​right Motherland Party and Turkey’s prime minister at this time, was affiliated with the Iskenderpasa Lodge of the Naqshbandi and was known to be personally religious. He initially proved to be more accommodating to Refah’s efforts to appoint RO members to the education and social welfare departments. However, when his own party started fighting against moves to increase RO influence through government appointments for RO members, he abandoned this approach and came out unequivocally behind the secularists (Mardin 1999; Őnis 1997; Yavuz 2003; Edelman et al. 2015). ROs therefore learned the value of identifying and allying with parties that genuinely

The Fall of an Icon  197 shared their ideological vision rather allying with parties that instrumentally coveted their assets.

Scenario 3: High Inflation and High Legislative Strength, 1995 to 1999 During the 1995 parliamentary elections the religious Refah Party campaigned on a new platform of “a just economic order” (adil ekonomik düzen) (Öniş 1997; While 2000). This platform echoed traditionally social democratic positions on income redistribution and poverty alleviation, but they were couched in the language of Islamic morality (Öniş 1997; White 2000). It promised government access and patronage to religious businesses (i.e., businesses whose owners, values, and practices publicly identified with orthodox religious beliefs) and associations, and included some specifically Islamist policies, such as the promotion of interest-​free banking (Öniş 1997; White 2000). Many ROs backed Refah, urged their followers to vote for it, and provided it with funds and manpower (Öniş 1997; White 2000). Refah won 21.3% of votes and 28.7% of parliamentary seats. Despite this, Refah and various ROs were acutely aware that this victory was driven by their economic rather than their religious policy agenda (Lord 2017; Cizre 2008: 481; White 2000: 123; Öniş 1997: 760). Given this awareness, Refah believed it was vital to use its term in office to create highly capable and well-​ resourced ROs if it wanted to implement their shared religiously inspired social and cultural agenda in Turkey. Unlike the center-​right Motherland Party, Refah clearly shared an Islamist ideology and a policy agenda of establishing an Islamic state in Turkey with ROs (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Mardin 1998; Yavuz 2003). It also had many party leaders with close personal connections to various ROs that were able to act as brokers between the party and their ROs and facilitate coordination on policies and tactics (Cornell and Kaya 2015; Mardin 1998; Yavuz 2003). It was therefore entirely to Refah’s political benefit to help these ROs realize their institutional interests by enabling them to expand and deepen their organizations in terms of their memberships, and their financial and logistical capacity to reach large segments of the Turkish population beyond their own members. As I will argue next, this is exactly what the Refah Party did from 1995 to 1999, first as the leading coalition partner in the government from 1996 to 1997 and then as a key legislative player from 1997 to 1999. The result was a dramatic increase in the strength and societal penetration of these orders between 1995 and 1999 that extended their organizational presence and influence from the social and education sectors to the business and media sectors. Education and social welfare. While prior governments had been willing to tolerate more activism by the orders in education during the 1980s and 1990s, the form and extent of their participation had been scrutinized closely and restricted (Ȍzgur 2012; Yavuz 2003). Many RO demands regarding education—​for

198  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties example, increasing the hours of mandatory religious education, making religious middle schools an acceptable option, and letting Imam-​Hatip school graduates compete on an equal footing for admission into non-religious university programs—​had been soundly rebuffed by previous governments (Ȍzgur 2012; Eligür 2010). All the ROs and Refah recognized the importance of private and public religious schools as sites for cultivating voters and businessmen who would be firmly committed to their Islamist agenda and could be mobilized in its service, and for cultivating Islamist officials who could be appointed to various state agencies and institutions, transforming the state from within (Ȍzgur 2012: 168–​170; Yavuz 2003: 238–​242).15 After its strong performance in the 1995 elections, Refah began working aggressively on these policies, leading to dramatic improvements in all dimensions of ROs’ SEI. Refah used its tenure in parliament to push through budgets that increased public funding for Imam-​Hatip schools, provided government scholarships for needy students attending private religious schools, and removed bureaucratic obstacles to the establishment of these schools (Ȍzgur 2012; Yavuz 2003). It passed policies that allowed these schools to be recognized as feasible middle school options, and their graduates were allowed to apply to non-religious university programs without discrimination (Ȍzgur 2012; Yavuz 2003). The result was an explosive growth in the number of these schools and their students, from 840 schools enrolling 301,862 students to 1,202 schools enrolling over half a million students within one year (Yavuz 2003: 236). By 1997, almost one-​ third of Turkey’s private schools were owned and run by ROs (Yavuz 2003: 231). Education therefore underwent a seismic change under Refah, increasing the immediate and future influence of ROs. With Refah in parliament holding a significant share of seats, ROs now enjoyed extensive access to policymakers and bureaucrats, and benefited from the generous provision of state funds (Ȍzgur 2012; Eligür 2010). Increased state patronage allowed ROs to ramp up the scale, range, and geographic scope of their traditional welfare activities in poverty relief, health, and employment (Ȍzgur 2012; Eligür 2010). Various ROs now created new Islamist organizations that began campaigning on issues previously dominated by secular associations. These included Islamist human rights groups that advocated for issues such as the freedom to observe religious practices in public spaces and Islamist women’s groups that advocated for the removal of the headscarf ban (Doyle 2016; Arat 2010). These groups changed the nature of the debate about religious freedom and human rights in Turkey, especially regarding the moral nature of secular 15 The curriculum of these schools was significantly more religious than their secular counterparts, students were socialized into an Islamic lifestyle and an Islamic worldview, and their graduates formed tight-​knit communities that monitored and enforced these values well beyond their school years (Ȍzgur 2012: 167).

The Fall of an Icon  199 and Islamic civil liberties (Edelman et  al. 2015; ŐNIS 1997). Importantly, as discussed below, it also allowed them to enter the business and electronic media sectors and become influential players in these sectors. Business and economic dimension. Refah’s rise to power finally opened the doors of policymaking and patronage for religious businesses, business and professional associations, and labor unions. Organizations effectively founded by ROs such as Müstakil Sanayici ve İşadamları Derneği (MUSIAD) and ISHAD (Īş Hayati Dayanişma Dernegi) were now invited to participate in formulating key policies, for example regarding privatization, Islamic banking, and media regulation; their leaders were routinely invited to participate in the government’s foreign trips, often as the head of Turkish business delegations; and their views were given considerable weight (Hoşgör 2015a, 2015b; Tanyilmaz 2015; Eligür 2010). Refah reinforced these concrete benefits by raising the prestige of these religious firms and business associations, for example by the prime minister’s participation in their Iftar dinners and his willingness to attend and give speeches at important organizational events (Ozel 2010: 156). These valuable benefits in turn prompted the formation of many new religious business and professional associations and led to unprecedented increases in the membership and influence of older Islamist unions such as HAK-​IS (Hoşgör 2015a, 2015b; Tanyilmaz 2015; Eligür 2010). MUSIAD alone saw its membership rise from 1,700 in 1993 to 2,200 by 1996 and 3,000 by 1998 (Eligür 2010: 203). Thus, as a result of the favorable environment they experienced for the first time with Refah in power, ROs gained tremendous organizational and economic strength during this period. Furthermore, state patronage under Refah was now redirected from the big, secular firms that had exclusively benefited from them in the past to the religious firms and Islamist labor, professional and business associations affiliated with these orders. For example, religious firms were now allowed to bid and frequently won state contracts to provide various goods and services (Ilhan 2014; Tanyilmaz 2015; Atiyas, Bakis, and Gurakar 2016). MUSIAD was allowed to participate as a collective entity in valuable privatization bids of state-​owned companies (Ilhan 2014; Tanyilmaz 2015). Refah also began appointing ideologically sympathetic Islamist bureaucrats and officials (many trained at RO-​run private religious schools or order-​supported Imam-​Hatip schools) to important government ministries and agencies (Ȍzgur 2012; Yavuz 2011; Eligür 2010). This further facilitated the access and influence of religious businesses and the adoption of religious values and business practices in the government and the market. These changes in the fortunes of ROs under Refah had four very significant effects. First, they encouraged other ROs to enter the financial and economic sectors, giving them significant ownership and influence over a broad swath of

200  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Turkey’s economy (Hoşgör 2015b: 347–​348; Atiyas, Bakiş, and Gurkar 2016: 16; Balkanand Ȍncu 2015). By 1997, it was estimated that the Nurcu order of Gülen owned 203 companies, the Naqshbandis owned 56, the Süleymancis 29, the Kadiris seven, the Yeni Nesil six, and the Yeni Asya six (Eligür 2010: 231; Bilgili 2006). These firms were spread across all Turkish regions and various sectors (Tanyilmaz 2015: 105–​106). Their success served as a powerful magnet for hitherto unaffiliated businesses to begin collaborating and participating as members of these religious business networks, further increasing the sheer weight of religious businesses in general and RO-​affiliated businesses in particular in the Turkish economy. Second, these gains in the business aspects of these organizations directly strengthened other aspects of RO institutionalization in the country. They provided valuable revenue that these groups could use to strengthen their work in the social welfare, education, and media sectors, for example setting up more health clinics, buying and founding more electronic media companies, and providing more scholarships to poor youth. ROs also proved uniquely useful and successful in raising credit for their member businesses by mobilizing the savings of their members, a valuable benefit at a time of high inflation (Hoşgör 2015a:  347–​ 348). Many of Turkey’s biggest holding companies, including Kombassan, Ihlas, Yimpas, and Ulker, for example, were financed through such order-​based networks (Hoşgör 2011: 347–​348; Balkan, Balkan, and Ȍncu 2015). In turn, these religious firms and the various hospitals, schools, and other service facilities ROs owned allowed them to offer jobs to members with a wide range of education and qualifications in these organizations, increasing their ability to provide patronage to followers and, importantly, to parties (Eligür 2010: 203; Yavuz 2003; Hendrik 2013). In an environment of high inflation and uncertain job prospects, these economic benefits created powerful bonds among members and provided powerful inducements to non-members to join ROs (Hoşgör 2015a; Balkan, Balkan, and Ȍncu 2015; Hendrik 2013). Thus, members of these brotherhoods were connected to each other not just through spiritual bonds but also through their professional lives. Finally, through the example their success in the economic sphere, ROs gained tremendous moral legitimacy. Through the success of businesses and organizations that emphasized Islamic values and practices in their workplace and emphasized the piousness of workers in their hiring practices, these ROs sent a powerful message to their own members and importantly to the larger Turkish population—​that it was possible to prosper in a modern world and modern economy with orthodox Islamic values and practices (Eligür 2010:  205; Ozel 2010; Hösgor 2011). This in turn helped build public support among the wider population for the social, cultural, economic, and political agenda of ROs and religious parties. Collectively, from 1996 to 1999, these ROs grew from being a

The Fall of an Icon  201 minimal and ineffective presence in the economy to a powerful, rich, and extensive presence which could not be ignored by policymakers. Media. Television ownership had already crossed 90% by 1995 in Turkey (Oğurlu and Őncu 2015). ROs understood the potential of using media that they could control, especially television, to build from the bottom up a large Islamist constituency that would organically raise the demand for a state based on sharia. Such media would allow excluded groups such as religious businesses, public intellectuals, women, and political parties, the ability to voice their concerns and opinions and articulate an alternative religiously inspired worldview on policies, potentially shape the national debate on important issues, and shape policy by putting pressure on politicians of all stripes to respond to them (Ihlan 2014; Yesil 2016). Finally, the media sector could provide a lucrative source of revenue for these organizations, which could then finance their further growth across all their activities. Religious actors, including Refah and the various ROs, had for years been on the receiving end of active secular efforts to deny them access to the state-​owned or mainstream commercial media (Yesil 2016; Oğurlu and Ȍncu 2015). When Refah finally entered parliament with sufficient legislative strength, it used its institutional access and resources to help ROs expand their capacity in the media industry by facilitating the creation of new religious channels and media empires, directing state advertising revenues to them, and using these channels as the government’s preferred media outlets (Ilhan 2014; Yesil 2016; Oğurlu and Ȍncu 2015). With the help of Refah’s legislative and bureaucratic efforts, by the end of 1996, 64 of 524 private national and local channels were religious, and many of the most prominent and successful national channels had been set up by ROs (Yavuz 2003; Aksoy and Robbins 1997). For example, Mesaj TV was owned by the Qadiri sect, Kanal 7 by the Iskenderpasa lodge of the Naqshbandi, TGRT by the Arvas of the Naqshbandi, and Samanyolu by the Nurcu Gülen group (Aksoy and Robbins 1997:  1947; Bilgili 2006). Many of these groups created multimedia empires owning a collection of newspapers, news agencies, magazines, and television channels and targeted not just domestic but also expatriate audiences of pious Turks abroad (Campbell 2012: 100; Yesil 2016: 46; Elmas and Kurban 2011). When internet-​ based media platforms began appearing, the Gülen network was the first to create an online newspaper site for Zaman (Campbell 2012). Thus, by 1999, ROs had transformed themselves from primarily print-​based media players to being one of the most important players across all media outlets. As this discussion indicates, ROs aggressively used Refah’s active support during this period to substantially strengthen their organizational, logistical, and financial capacity. What is remarkable about this period is that despite the relatively short duration of Refah’s term controlling the legislative agenda in government, the changes it had instigated and continued to support in parliament

202  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties up to 1999 had allowed the ROs to build organizational and financial strength across all dimensions of institutionalization. The implications of this turned out to be critical. The success of this coordinated religious agenda prompted the military to step in through the National Security Council, an advisory body, on February 28, 1997. It gave Erbakan a list of 20 demands and two months to deliver on them. The demands are notable because they directly targeted not Refah itself but the exact foundations of the ROs discussed above. They included reversing most of the changes in the education system that had facilitated the rise of private and Imam-​Hatip schools, revoking the media licenses of and limiting religious media, auditing and investigating various religious firms known to be affiliated with ROs, investigating the finances of ROs, and establishing state mechanisms of control over them (Cornell 1999: 217; Bilgili 2006; Eligür 2010; Hoşgör 2015a, 2015b). These demands clearly indicate that the secular establishment perceived ROs and their actions as the source of the Islamist threat, not just Refah itself. Unlike the previous bans and coups, however, this time the ROs were strong enough organizationally, logistically, and in terms of the popular support they could draw on, that they fought back with some success. When the post-​Refah government set about implementing the military’s demands, ROs were able to coordinate and mobilize opposition to the military’s demands across various social and economic arenas and across Turkey on a scale that had not been possible just two years ago (Eligür 2010). For example, when the new government tabled a bill to extend mandatory schooling to eight years in an effort to eliminate Imam-​Hatip middle schools, MUSIAD, a business association, and ÖNDER, a foundation of Imam Hatip alumni, took the lead in mobilizing thousands of their own members as well as other civil society groups to turn out on the streets, sign petitions, and communicate with their elected representatives against the bill (Eligür 2010). Their actions were extensively covered by all the religious channels and beamed into millions of households; the bill was framed as an attack on Islam itself (Eligür 2010). Such campaigns proved effective in creating public outrage at these actions (Eligür 2010). Instead of facing a brutal crackdown and long jail terms, leaders of order-​affiliated organizations and firms were quietly released after their initial arrests, with monetary fines and suspended jail sentences (Bilgili 2006). Similarly, while the licenses of all channels were revoked and they were now required to have security clearances, such clearances were given, however reluctantly, to religious channels (Bilgili 2006; Yesil 2016). These reversals were unprecedented and underscored for all actors how far the ROs built up their social and organizational penetration and economic strength. Thus, instead of declining, Islamic institutionalization strengthened further across most dimensions by 1999. Imam-​Hatip schools, which were public schools, did suffer a setback until 2003 when the military shut them down, but

The Fall of an Icon  203 private schools and dorms run by the orders continued to grow in numbers and enrollment (Özgür 2012; Yavuz 2003). The number of Islamic channels and radio stations continued to grow, and by 1999, the Gülen movement alone had expanded to six TV channels that reached 114 countries (Campbell 2012: 99). The Qadiri, Nurcu, and Naqshbandi orders had all built their own media portfolios of newspapers, magazines, radio stations, and television stations (Çarkoğlu and Biligili 2009). New Islamist professional associations, representing journalists, teachers, lawyers, and medical personnel, among others, and new business associations, such as ASKON (Anatolian Lions Businessmen Association 1998) and TVYD (Televizyon Yayincilari Derneği, formed 1999) formed again, supported by ROs (Ilhan 2014; Atiyas, Bakiş, and Gurkar 2016; Tanyilmaz 2015). Islamic holding companies, affiliated with various ROs, continued to expand in numbers and in profits (Atiyas, Bakiş, and Gurkar 2016; Hösgor 2015; Tanyilmaz 2015). As a result, by 1999, these organizations were able to (i)  expand their memberships and their audience beyond their own members to a national audience that cut across classes and regions, (ii) diversify and deepen their financial base, which gave them the capacity to finance their own activities and to support the actions of like-​minded entities, including political parties, and (iii) expand their technical and logistical capacity to project their message and shape the social and cultural milieu, including the cognitive matrix of citizens and elites, and the political conversation in Turkey. Turkey therefore reached the highest level of RO SEI that is described in the theoretical framework and measured in the empirical chapters—​a score of 4—​during this period. Moreover, because their business and economic assets and media penetration had allowed ROs to become self-​sustaining, RO institutionalization continued to increase and stayed at the highest levels after 1995–​1996. Turkey is therefore considered a country where ROs reached and operated at the highest level of RO institutionalization starting in 1995–​1996, through the years included in this analysis, until 2016. Collectively, the evidence presented in this chapter provides strong support for Hypothesis 1 and its corollaries. As argued in the first theoretical chapter, ­chapter 3, and suggested by the first large-​N empirical chapter, ­chapter 4, when either one or both conditions for fostering the SEI of ROs—​an inflationary crisis and high concentration of religious parties’ legislative seats—​were absent before 1995–​1996, RO institutionalization stayed at low levels. However, as predicted in Hypothesis 1, when (i) an inflationary crisis occurred and (ii) the concentration of legislative seats held by religious political parties, in this case Refah, increased sharply in 1995, RO institutionalization increased significantly during the remaining years in that legislature’s term to the highest level of 4 and remained at that level through the first decade of this century.

204  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

Conclusion In ­chapter  3, I  proposed a theory that argued that the presence of religious parties and their participation in parliament alone was insufficient for understanding how these parties affect the de facto civil liberties observed in their countries. Instead, it was necessary to understand their relationship with religious interest groups and how this relationship evolved over time, and whether it affected the ability of parties to freely take their preferred positions and actions on policies, including civil liberties. Hypothesis 1 predicted that under conditions of an inflationary crisis and a highly concentrated religious-​party presence in the legislature, religious parties would be able to help ROs substantially increase their level of SEI in order to themselves benefit from ROs’ increased reach into the political, social, cultural, and economic spheres of society. In the absence of one or both of these conditions, the two corollaries to Hypothesis 1 posited, religious parties would be unable to help and ROs would not see a substantial increase in their institutionalization, leaving them with limited political resources and religious parties with weak religious allies. In this chapter I evaluated the validity of these arguments for a specific case, Turkey from 1950 to 2016. The considerable temporal variation in Turkey in both inflation rates and legislative seat concentration allows us to gain leverage over the interactive nature of both the hypotheses presented in this book while holding other factors constant at the country level. I used a combination of quantitative evidence from an original elite-​level survey of religious-​and non-religious-​party elites conducted in April 2017, and qualitative evidence from a wide variety of sources, to evaluate these arguments. I found strong support for Hypothesis 1 in Turkey. When inflation rates were high and religious parties enjoyed high legislative seat concentration, they were able to help Turkish ROs substantially increase their socio-​institutionalization. However, during periods when one or both of these two factors were absent, religious parties were unable to facilitate such policies and ROs failed to strengthen or expand their organizational reach into society. Thus, while the legislative presence of religious political parties was necessary for Turkish ROs to increase their institutionalization, it was not sufficient. It was only when Turkey experienced an inflationary crisis that religious parties were able to use their legislative influence and non-​ Islamist parties found it in their own interest to allow ROs more scope in their operations. In ­chapter 8, I build on this foundation to show that in this context of highly institutionalized ROs after 1999, civil liberties started declining in Turkey but only after a religious party came to power in 2003, not before that. In the next

The Fall of an Icon  205 chapter, I analyze the case of Pakistan, a country that, in complete contrast to modern Turkey, was created in the name of Islam. Despite this beginning, as ­chapter 7 will show, Pakistani ROs did not reach even moderate levels of SEI until 2008, when both conditions of Hypothesis 1 were met for the first time in Pakistan.

7

Resilience and Decline Religious Parties, Religious Organizations, and Institutionalization in Pakistan

In the last chapter, I  discussed how changes in the presence of legislatively concentrated religious parties and inflation rates over time in Turkey affected the socioeconomic institutionalization of Islamist religious organizations. I argued that these dynamics led to a significant increase in the SEI of Turkish ROs despite the presence of a secular state and constitution, and a state with moderate capacity. In contrast, the analysis presented in this chapter will show that despite the repeated presence of religious parties in parliament, weak state capacity, and the prominent role of religion in public and political life, Pakistan did not experience significant increases in the SEI of ROs until 2008. In 2008, Pakistan experienced an inflationary crisis at the same time that a single religious party, the JUI-​F (Jamiat Ulema-​e-​Islam-​Fazlur) presented a concentrated presence in parliament. As Hypothesis 1 predicts, this combination of factors created the incentives that motivated governments formed by nonreligious parties to allow ROs to expand their presence in the education and welfare sectors and obtain a foothold in the media sector. Evidence shows that it is only starting in 2008 that Pakistani ROs were able to increase their SEI to moderate levels. In the rest of this chapter, I first discuss who the relevant ROs in Pakistan are and what their policy and institutional preferences are, followed by a brief overview of religious parties in Pakistan. I then use data from a survey of Pakistani politicians to evaluate their preferences regarding liberal civil liberties. I then present Pakistani trends in inflation and religious-​party legislative concentration in order to identify the theoretical scenarios different periods of Pakistani history correspond to. Finally, I use qualitative and quantitative evidence to analyze whether ROs in Pakistan changed their SEI levels over time as predicted by the theory presented in ­chapter 2. In ­chapter 9, I will then evaluate whether the presence of religious parties in government in the context of low SEI before 2008 and moderate institutionalization after 2008 influenced liberal civil liberties as predicted by Hypothesis 2.

Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties. Vineeta Yadav, Oxford University Press (2021). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197545362.003.0007

Resilience and Decline  207

Pakistan: A Brief Overview Pakistan was created when the British Indian empire was divided into two new independent countries—​Pakistan and India—​in 1947.1 Since then Pakistan has experienced both democratic and undemocratic regimes. From 1947 to 1958, it was governed by interim governments. In 1958, General Ayub Khan initiated the first military coup. The army ruled under him from 1958 to 1969, and under General Yahya Khan from 1969 to 1970. As a consequence of its loss in the second Indo-​Pak war in 1969, Pakistan transitioned to its first democratic regime. Pakistan held its first free and fair election in 1970, but when an East Pakistani party, the Awami League, won the most seats and, consequently, the claim to form the national government, the West Pakistani–​dominated military government and the second largest party, the Pakistan People’s Party (PPP), balked at honoring these results (Malik 2008; Jalal 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). These developments resulted in a secessionist movement by East Pakistan that led to the creation of the sovereign nation of Bangladesh in 1971. From 1973 to 1977, Pakistan experienced its first democratic regime, under the leadership of the PPP and its leader, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto (Jaffrelot 2016; Jalal 2014; Malik 2008). Bhutto was overthrown by General Zia in a military coup in 1977 and executed in 1979. Zia’s military rule lasted until 1988, when he died in a helicopter crash. Pakistan then experienced its second democratic interlude from 1988 to 1999 under a succession of democratically elected coalition governments, none of which served a full term. Governments alternated between those formed by the center-​left PPP under Benazir Bhutto and the center-​right Pakistan Muslim League-​Nawaz (PML-​N) under Nawaz Sharif (Malik 2008; Jalal 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). In 1999, the PML-​N government was overthrown in a third military coup. This regime, under General Musharraf, lasted until 2008, when widespread public agitation influenced the army to allow the next transition to democracy. Pakistan then began its current phase of democratic rule. Coalitions led by the PPP (2008–​2013), the PML-​N (2014–​2018), and the Pakistan Tehreek-​ e-​Insaf (PTI, 2019 to the present), have formed governments during this third democratic period. Pakistan therefore has substantial experience as an autocracy and a democracy. This history makes Pakistan a very insightful case for evaluating whether (i) the evolution of the level of RO institutionalization is explained by the presence or absence of inflationary crises along with contemporary levels of effective parliamentary representation of religious parties, as outlined in Hypothesis 1, and (ii) whether the level of civil liberties is explained by the incumbency status 1 See Jalal 2014 and Jaffrelot 2016 for recent works on Pakistani political history. This discussion draws on these sources, among others.

208  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties of religious parties and the SEI of religious lobbies, as outlined in Hypothesis 2, under both competitive autocracies and democratic regimes.

Islam under the New Republic Pakistan was founded specifically in the name of religion to provide Muslims in the British Indian empire the choice of living in a Muslim-​majority country rather than a secular but Hindu-​dominated India (Malik 2008; Jalal 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). As a result of its struggle for independence, Pakistan inherited a vibrant landscape of highly active, visible, and well-​respected religious organizations and political parties. Religious principles and symbols were a potent source of social and political legitimacy in the public sphere in newly independent Pakistan, and public support for religious influence in politics and government was high (Jalal 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). No political actor could avoid paying homage to religion in public discourse or avoid taking a position with respect to defining the role of Islam in the public and private spheres of Pakistani life (Jalal 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). In contrast, Atatürk’s policies, which drove all religious organizations and activities underground, ensured that religion was absent from public and political debates when Turkey started its democratic life in 1950. Given this context, we might expect that religion should play a substantial role in shaping Pakistan’s public institutions and policies from its inception. However, Pakistani history shows otherwise. The constitutional deliberations from 1947 to 1956 were marked by strong disagreements between modernists, who argued for a secular state and constitution, and religious parties and organizations, who argued for a religious state based on orthodox interpretations of the Quran and the Sunna (Kennedy 1992; Jaffrelot 2016). Since then, all political and social actors have paid homage to the role of Islam in Pakistani society and history, but there has been an intense and sustained struggle between Islamists and progressives regarding the role of religion in state institutions, policies, and constitutional rights, with direct consequences for civil liberties (Cheema 2013; Jalal 2014; Nelson 2015; Jaffrelot 2016). How this struggle has affected the evolution and status of civil liberties through the years in Pakistan is of course the subject of this chapter’s analysis. We begin this analysis by discussing the key religious lobbies and religious political parties in Pakistan.

Religious Organizations in Pakistan In 1947, Pakistan inherited a vibrant landscape of religious organizations belonging to the Sufi, Salafi, Deobandi, and Shia religious schools of thought

Resilience and Decline  209 (Rana 2011; Khan 2019). The Jamaat-​e-​Islami (JI), an organization distinct from these schools, was also active. The number of Pakistani da ‘wa organizations has increased steadily over time, and informed commentators put the total number at around 215 in 2011 (Rana 2011: 1). The theoretically relevant religious actors in Pakistan are national-​level, private, da ‘wa, and Sufi religious organizations led by nationally prominent religious leaders. In Pakistan, the theoretically appropriate religious organizations are the JI, founded in British India by Maulana Maududi; the Qadiri, Naqshbandi, Chishti, and Suhrawardi Sufi orders; the Deobandi da ‘wa organization Tablighi Jamaat, founded in 1926; and the Salafist Markazi Jamiat Ahle Hadith, founded in 1906 (Lorch 2018; Gugler 2011; Philippon 2014a; ICG 2011). The collective of Sufi orders is referred to as the Barelwi school of thought in Pakistan (Khan 2019; Gugler 2011; Philippon 2014). Unlike Turkey, where Sufi orders maintain their organizations and communities as distinct entities, in Pakistan members of different Sufi orders have often come together to form new da ‘wa organizations. It is through these organizations rather than the orders themselves that Pakistani adherents of various Sufi orders have traditionally exerted influence on Pakistani social, cultural, and political life (Khan 2019; Gugler 2011; Philippon 2014). These organizations differ from each other in their leadership, their level of puritanism, and their organizational tactics (Khan 2019; Gugler 20141 Philippon 2014). The most influential Barelwi organizations are the Dawat-​e-​Islami, founded in 1981, the Minhaj-​ul-​Quran, also founded in 1981, and the Sunni Ittehad Council, founded in 2009 (Philippon 2014; Gugler 2011). The leaders and members of these two organizations include followers of various Sufi orders, including the Qadiri and Naqshbandi orders (Philippon 2014a, 2014b; Gugler 2011). The Deobandi Tablighi Jamaat also draws members from the Naqshbandi Sufi order but differs from them in doctrine and practice (Sikand 2002; Reetz 2006). The Markazi Jamiat Ahle Hadith organization follows the very orthodox Salafi school of thought (Ali 2010; Rana 2009). The Jamaat-​e-​Islami is unique among Pakistani religious organizations in not being affiliated explicitly with any of these schools of thought (Nasr 1994, 2001; Grare 2001). Instead their philosophy and tactics draw inspiration from the writings of their founder, Maulana Maududi (Nasr 2001; Grare 2001). Finally, the Shia Tehreek-​e-​Nafaz-​e-​Fiqh-​e-​ Jafaria (TNFJ) was founded in 1979 in order to provide religious guidance and advocacy for Shia Muslims, who form a significant minority in Sunni-​dominated Pakistan. All of these organizations were founded as ROs seeking to provide religious guidance and education to Muslims (Rana 2011; ICG 2011; Gugler 2011). They are voluntary, private organizations that are independent of the government (Gugler 2011; Iqtidar 2011; Rana 2009, 2011; Nasr 2001). They have their

210  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties headquarters in one city but have followers and organizational branches across all of Pakistan, engage in activities on a national scale, and command large national followings (Gugler 2011; Iqtidar 2011; Rana 2009, 2011; Nasr 2001). Their various leaders, including Maulana Maududi, Qazi Ahmed, Siraj ul Haq, Abdul Wahab, Tahir ul-​Qadri, Muhammad Ilyas Qadri, Ehsan Elahi Zaheer, Sajid Mir, Shabbir Ahmad Usmani, Fazlur Rahman, and Allama Mufti Jaffer Hussein, are nationally recognized figures whose statements and positions on religious, policy, and political issues have commanded the attention of followers and critics across the country (Gugler 2011; Iqtidar 2011; Rana 2009, 2011; Nasr 2001). These religious organizations also meet the widely shared definition of a special interest group as an association of individuals or organizations that share one or more concerns and attempt to influence public policy in their own favor (Nownes 2007; Lowery 2013; Hertzke 2010). Individuals join these organizations because they share the beliefs and policy preferences of other members and these organizations work to promote these shared goals through their various actions (Grare 2001; Metcalf 2002; ICG 2011; Rana 2011; Khan 2019). These organizations have formal rules of membership, and members who join them are expected to subscribe to and abide by the organization’s rules and contribute time and resources to it (Nasr 1994, 2001; Sikand 2002; Iqtidar 2011; Rana 2009, 2011; Philippon 2014a; Gugler 2011). They have formal organizational structures, a managerial hierarchy, and their own staff dedicated to carrying out organizational tasks and functions, and serving organizational goals (Nasr 1994, 2001; Sikand 2002; Iqtidar 2011; Rana 2009, 2011; Philippon 2014a; Gugler 2011). Thus, these organizations are the theoretically appropriate religious ROs in Pakistan. This definition excludes thousands of small, local faith-​based Pakistani organizations that are founded and run by local religious leaders out of mosques to serve local populations (Rana 2011; Waseem and Mufti 2009). While these organizations are religiously motivated, typically engage in providing religious education and social welfare to local residents, and are nongovernmental actors, they are not national in scope, do not have national memberships, and are only in rare cases led by nationally prominent leaders (Rana 2011; Kalin and Siddiqui 2014). National organizations that were formulated with a goal other than religious revival are also excluded. The preferences and actions of some of these organizations are surely consequential for some political and policy outcomes and undoubtedly deserve further study. They are not, however, the theoretically appropriate religious actors for our analysis of civil liberties.2 Next, I consider what the central goals of these ROs have been over the years in Pakistan. 2 Militant religious groups are also excluded from the analysis here. Even though some militant groups such as the Jamaat-​ud-​Dawa and Jaish-​Muhammad have, decades after their founding as militant organizations, set up charity and welfare foundations and engage in some similar activities such

Resilience and Decline  211

The Aspirations of Religious Organizations Pakistani ROs from different schools differ in some of their specific doctrinal beliefs and religious practices, and these differences have often led to bitter feuds, sometimes violent, among them.3 Despite these differences, Pakistani ROs share certain basic beliefs and goals: that the true practice of Islam is associated with an orthodox interpretation of the Quran, that it is the responsibility of the state and the Muslim community to ensure that individuals abide by true practice, and that only a state and legal system based on the Quran and the Sunna can realize a truly pious society (Gugler 2011; Jalal 2014; Khan 2011; Iqtidar 2011, 2013). As Rana (2011: 3), for example, highlights, “Their emphasis is on complete Islamization of the state and society. Many of their recommendations have tremendous commonalities and at times it would be difficult to tell one organization’s manifesto apart from that of another if the organization’s name was not mentioned in the document.” It is important to point out that Barelwis, or followers of Sufi schools in Pakistan, have often been portrayed as religious moderates, particularly in the West, because they have taken a stand against terrorism (Rana 2011; Khan 2011). However, as scholars point out and evidence confirms, when it comes to their vision for Pakistani state and society and the goals these organizations have actively worked towards, it is clear that they are strong supporters of orthodox interpretations of the Quran and the Sunna, particularly when it comes to individual rights (Jalal 2014; Iqtidar 2011, 2013; Weiss 2014; Khan 2011; Rana 2011). Khan (2011) emphasizes that “Barelvis are quick to point out that they are orthodox Sunnis, or ‘Ahl-​e-​Sunnat wal Jamaat’ (Followers of the Traditions of the Prophet and Congregation) who adhere to true Islam as it was originally practiced by the Prophet and his companions as well as by various saints (wali) throughout history.” Philippon (2014: 157) in her study of the Dawat-​e-​Islami, the Minhaj-​ul-​Quran, and the Sunni Ittehad Council in Pakistan finds that “the concept of Nizam-​e-​Mustafa, the system of the prophet, is a central one in the political thought of Barelwis . . . it includes more than just worship: it shows the necessity to politicize Islam within the community of believers.” Moreover, like as setting up schools and providing medical care and disaster relief, the primary goal of such organizations is not providing religious guidance and education to citizens but rather to violently overthrow the current system of government in Pakistan and attack foreign targets such as the Indian government in Kashmir and international forces in Afghanistan (Rana 2011; Jalal 2014). Furthermore, these groups do not lobby the government or public through traditional tactics to pursue their goals, nor do they command large memberships. 3 For example, the Sufis belief in the Prophet’s partial divinity and the worship of saints, and their use of music as a means to venerate the divine is considered heretical by the Salafis, the Deobandis, and the JI (Khan 2019; Gugler 2011). The Deobandis and Salafists view each other as heretics as well (Iqtidar 2011; Rana 2011).

212  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties ROs in many other MMCs, these organizations were responding to challenges posed by Western culture’s individualism; their reaffirmation of Islamic identity was therefore clearly defined in terms of rejecting Western values, lifestyles, and institutions including the values and practices articulated in the form of liberal civil liberties as represented in the UDHR (Bayat 2007b; Rana 2011; Iqtidar 2011; Weiss 2014; Khan 2018). All Pakistani ROs have been trenchant critics of liberal civil liberties and have long demanded concrete changes that severely limit or eliminate the freedoms of speech, religion, association, and assembly and women’s freedom of movement (Grare 2001; Metcalf 2002; Iqtidar 2011, 2013; Rana 2009; Khan 2011; Zahab 2014; Khan 2018). While there are some minor differences among these ROs, as noted below, all of them support legalizing liberties only as articulated and supported by orthodox interpretations of the Quran and the Sunna. Freedom of speech. Recall from ­chapter 1 that Maulana Maududi, the founder of the Jamaat-​e-​Islami, argued that only speech that promoted virtue should be allowed, while speech that propagated evil and false values was to be banned (Maududi 1995: 28). Any speech that directly or indirectly criticized religious beliefs, practices, or leaders and any form of artistic expression in any media that violated orthodox interpretations of appropriate behaviors allowed by sharia was considered to be blasphemous and damaging to the piety of society, and as such could not be allowed (Nasr 2009; Ahmad 2013; Ali 2019). Deobandi ROs share this position on blasphemy and also take the position that “every kind of music, dance and recreation activity should be banned in all public and private [education] institutions, [i.e.,] schools, colleges and universities.”4 Salafi ROs want the state to take measures to “arrest vulgarity and obscenity in the media and the public sphere,” where vulgarity and obscenity are in relation to values and behaviors supported by orthodox readings of scripture (Ali 2010: 3). While Barelwis strongly support the use of devotional music to venerate the Prophet, they do not believe that immodest forms of music or dancing should be allowed and have made support for strong blasphemy laws their signature issue (Gugler 2011; Philippon 2014; Khan 2010). Support for blasphemy laws that make punishable as a criminal offense any criticism or any insult to the Prophet, his companions, or his family or to Islamic beliefs and practices in general has therefore been very strong across all ROs since the inception of Pakistan (Khan 2011; Rana 2009; Iqtidar 2011; Zahab 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). However, the definition of what constitutes an insult is vague, and who has the legitimate authority to decide what is an insult or criticism varies across groups (Khan 2011; Rana 2009; Iqtidar 2011; Jaffrelot 2016).



4

Quoted in Moj 2015: 176. Ahmad 2013.

Resilience and Decline  213 Freedom of association and assembly. ROs share a common demand that the freedom of association should be “subjected to the injunctions of Islam with a view to arrest the activities of associations engaged in anti-​Islam activities, or those indulging in defaming Islam.”5 ROs share a common aversion to allowing any groups in society that could present and promote worldviews that differ from the prescriptions of orthodox Islam, and they are firmly committed to limiting their legal and functional ability to organize or mobilize in public space. Primary targets in this case have been secular women’s groups, organizations of religious minorities, and LGBTQ groups among other groups (Khan 2018; Weiss 2014; Zahab 2014; Gul 2009, 2016). As in many other MMCs, aligning the status and role of women in society with those promoted by orthodox interpretations of the Quran and the Sunna has come to signify one of the most important goals for ROs in Pakistan (Khan 2018; Weiss 2014; Iqtidar 2011;). For example, Deobandi ROs argue that “the true perfection of a woman lies in the fact that she should be ignorant of the whole world except for her husband and home.”6 Thus, they support gender segregation and oppose granting women the freedom to participate in organizations of their choice, to participate any form of public assembly, or to speak freely (Metcalf 2002; Sikand 2002; Khan 2018). Maududi’s belief that God had given men authority over women (1953: 176–​178) is still faithfully reflected in the JI’s official website, which states that equality across genders is one of the most misguiding ideas that Western civilization has given Muslim women (cited in Weiss 2014: 362). Given these views, demands to pass laws that make women’s status and civil and political rights more equal to men’s or to seek legislative remedies for social practices such as domestic abuse and honor killings are seen by Pakistani ROs as attacking the foundation of Islamic society and directly contradicting the Quran (Jehangir 2011; Weiss 2014; Gul 2009). For this reason, Pakistani ROs are strongly opposed to giving individuals and organizations that want to organize on these the issues, particularly liberal women’s groups that organize, publicize, and mobilize on women’s rights, the ability to do so (Khan 2018; Weiss 2014;). Most ROs allow women’s wings within their organizations, but these women’s wings are only given the mandate to promote Islamic values and behaviors (Weiss 2014; Metcalf 2002; Ali 2010; Philippon 2014; Khan 2018). Pakistani ROs also oppose allowing religious minorities the opportunity to organize and mobilize in order to freely practice their faith, as such actions are seen as attempts to tempt unsuspecting Muslims away from Islam (Gul 2009; ICG 2011; Ahmad 2013; Zahab 2014). This opposition extends to minority subsects within Islam, such as Ahmadis and Shias. They have long mobilized to

5 Maulana Abdul Hakim of the Salafi MJUI, 1973, Constituent Assembly Debates. 6 This quotation is by Deobandi scholar Thanvi (2003:  11–​17), who lived in British India but whose ideas are central to the beliefs of Deobandi followers in Pakistan.

214  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties prevent Ahmadis, a sect Sunnis consider to be heretics, from forming organizations or engaging in any of the practices that Sunni Muslims do (Khan 2011; ICG 2011). Similar demands are also made about Shia Muslims (Ispahani 2017; Julius 2017; ICG 2011: 18). Since ROs view the traditional family as the foundation of a pious society, they want organizations advocating for LGBTQ rights to be banned (Ahmad 2013; ICG 2011; Nasr 2001). Freedom of movement. The most potent target for curbs on freedom of movement in Pakistan have been Pakistani women. As Ahmad (2013:  317) notes Maududi of JI “singled out women’s visibility in public arenas council, bazaar, college, theatre, restaurant, etc.—​as the greatest threat to morality” and emphatically ruled out any role in politics for women (Nasr 1994; Ahmad 2013). Deobandi ROs similarly “propagate the complete segregation and seclusion of women from the world outside their homes,” and they “condemn the practice of allowing women any leadership roles in society” (Moj 2015: 179). These views resonate among other ROs that have consistently supported the idea that women must require the permission of their male guardians when it comes to decisions that involve education, marriage, employment, and so on that involve moving in public spaces; that they should be supervised in their movements outside their homes by their male guardians; and that their participation in public spaces should be limited to spheres inhabited by women and to activities that allow for engagement with religiously sanctioned activities for women (Khan 2018; Weiss 2014; Gugler 2011). These ROs practice strict veiling and gender segregation in their own organizations and events and do not promote women to leadership positions (Khan 2018). For example, the Dawat-​e-​Islami and the Minhaj-​ul-​ Quran have separate spaces for men and women to pray, and their educational institutions have segregated classrooms (Gugler 2011; Philippon 2014). As in Turkey, the implicit and often explicit implication of Pakistani ROs is that women who participate in mixed-​gender settings and forgo veiling in any setting, including politics, are not virtuous (Weiss 2014). To prevent such interactions, Pakistani ROs want the government to institute gender segregation in all public spaces, including spaces for education, transportation, and service provision, which would severely limit the ability of women to pursue higher education and jobs, seek out medical care, join NGOs espousing different causes, or participate in public demonstrations or in politics (Khan 2018; Iqtidar 2011; Weiss 2014; Fair 2004, 2008). These ROs therefore want the state to impose severe limits on the freedom of movement of women. Freedom of religion. Pakistani ROs support the orthodox belief that Muslims and non-​Muslims are not equal and only Muslims should be allowed to assume leadership roles in a Muslim community (Pirzada 2000:  14; Grare 2001:  37). To this end they have since the earliest years of Pakistan advocated for a constitution that would prohibit non-​ Muslims from holding important state

Resilience and Decline  215 posts, including those of president, prime minister, Speaker of parliament, and deputy Speaker (Pirzada 2000: 92). They have also lobbied for the adoption of an Islamic legal system, including the hudūd provisions of the Quran that do not give equal legal weight to non-​Muslims (Ispahani 2017). For example, non-​ Muslim males would be allowed to be witnesses only when the accused is a non-​ Muslim (Ispahani 2017). In addition, ROs believe that while religious minorities should be allowed to practice their beliefs, such practices should not be allowed to pose any temptations to Muslims (Pirzada 2000: 90–​92; Iqtidar 2011; Zahab 2014). To ensure this, ROs have long lobbied for constitutional amendments and state policies to limit the ability of non-​Muslims, including Christians, Hindus, Sikhs, Jews, and Shia Muslims, to freely practice their religious rituals (Pirzada 2000:  91). Sects within Islam, particularly the Ahmadis, have been viewed as heretics by all ROs, and criminalizing their engagement in Islamic rituals has also been a high priority for all ROs (Rana 2011; Khan 2011; Iqtidar 2011). Another central goal has been preventing the conversion of Muslims out of Islam (Ispahani 2017; Iqtidar 2011; Khan 2011; Pirzada 2001). Consequently, all ROs have demanded the death penalty for apostasy for men and life imprisonment for women (Ispahani 2017). Collectively, the beliefs and demands of ROs fundamentally challenge the freedom of religious minorities to practice their religion and of Muslims to convert to another religion or to become atheists. In addition to these policy interests, Pakistani ROs also have distinct institutional interests that stem from their identity as organizations, the ongoing efforts of the government to control their activities, and the intense competition among different groups to claim religious legitimacy, resources, and followers.

Institutional Interests The institutional interests of Pakistani ROs fall into three broad categories: (i) organizational functional concerns common to all organizations, (ii) interests specific to ROs, and (iii) interests arising from the intense competition among ROs to gain sacred and moral legitimacy, followers, and resources. Each of these types of institutional interests has motivated Pakistani ROs to actively and aggressively seek out and lobby political partners in sustained efforts to achieve these goals. First, as formal organizations, ROs must undertake the same functional tasks—​managing personnel, facilities, and finances and fulfilling regulatory requirements—​that any other Pakistani NGO or firm must do. To meet these organizational obligations, Pakistani ROs routinely lobby elected and appointed government officials to obtain tax and legal advantages, licenses to build and operate various facilities, and licenses to provide services such as education and healthcare to their members and the public (Malik 1996; Pirzada 2000; ICG

216  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties 2011; Jaffrelot 2016). As in many developing countries, the Pakistani state has an extensive presence in the economy and a politicized bureaucracy (Jaffrelot 2016; Jalal 2014). In this environment, Pakistani ROs have been compelled to meet key organizational needs, such as accessing foreign exchange, obtaining electricity or water connections, and buying scarce raw materials such as paper for printing newsletters and magazines, through the state rather than private firms (Malik 1996; Jalal 2014). In order to obtain access to these scarce resources, ROs have had to lobby elected officials who can influence bureaucrats in their favor (Malik 1996; Jalal 2014). Thus, for reasons very similar to those of firms operating in a state-​dominated economy, cultivating the goodwill of elected officials has been essential to the success of ROs and a key organizational goal for them. The second set of institutional concerns is unique to ROs because it stems from their identity as religious organizations. Most prominently, the operation and regulation of waqf endowments, which are foundations and trusts that hold the financial assets donated by pious Muslims to specific orders, shrines, and mosques and for charity, are essential for ROs, as they constitute the main source or a substantial source of income for most ROs in Pakistan (Malik 1996; Grare 2001; Jaffrelot 2016). ROs therefore lobby government officials at local, provincial, and national levels in order to ensure they can access these vital funds (Malik 1996; Pirzada 2000; Jaffrelot 2016). The disbursement of zakat funds is another issue that directly affects the financial capacity and autonomy of ROs and motivates considerable lobbying by them (Malik 1996; Pirzada 2000; Jaffrelot 2016). Governments also have the power to regulate various sectors in which ROs participate, particularly the education sector, which affects the core mission of ROs. Pakistani ROs have therefore had to engage with the state in order to protect their interests in determining the content of their curriculum, their operations and ownership of religious educational institutions, as well as government recognition of religious degrees (Malik 1996; Pirzada 2000; Grare 2001). Finally, Pakistani ROs face an intensely competitive religious marketplace (Ali 2010; Khan 2011; Rana 2011). Not only do ROs belonging to the various schools compete against each other for moral legitimacy, donors, and influence, they often compete with ROs within the same school as well (Ali 2010; Khan 2011; Rana 2011). For example, the Dawat-​e-​Islami and Minhaj-​ul-​Quran are both ROs belonging to the Barelwi school, and the Deobandi JUI split into competing ROs, as did the Shia TNFJ (ICG 2011). These within-​school competitors typically differ in how puritanical their doctrines and practices are, and in their approach to dealing with ROs from other schools of thought (ICG 2011; Khan 2011). Pakistani ROs can gain significant organizational advantages against their rival organizations if they obtain state patronage in the form of resources, appointments, and visibility. Appointments in key departments such as religion,

Resilience and Decline  217 family and minority affairs, education, and communication bestow prestige and public visibility on ROs and allow them to influence the formulation and implementation of actual policies (Malik 1996; Pirzada 2000; Rana 2011; Khan 2011; Jalal 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). Access to government resources including public funds, airtime on state-​run media, and government staff boost ROs’ image among the public and allow them to deliver access, benefits, and patronage to their own followers (Malik 1996; Pirzada 2000; Rana 2011; Khan 2011; Jalal 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). In order to survive as organizations and to compete successfully against their within-​school competitors as well as rivals from other schools, Pakistani ROs therefore actively lobby elected and appointed officials to obtain such state patronage. Collectively, ROs have a portfolio of institutional and policy goals that they seek to realize. In doing so, they can choose to seek out and lobby a variety of political actors. Most notable among these, as c­ hapter 3 emphasized, are religious and non-religious political parties. Next, I provide a brief overview of religious parties in Pakistan. Since they share many ideological and policy positions, religious parties should be an attractive target for Pakistani ROs.

Religious Parties in Pakistan At independence in 1947, Pakistan inherited multiple religious and nonreligious political parties from its pre-​independence era. These included the Muslim League, which had spearheaded the independence movement for Pakistan but was not a religious party, and four religious parties (ICG 2011). Within a year two new religious parties—​the Deobandi Jamiat Ulema-​e-​Islam (JUI) and the Barelwi Jamiat Ulema-​e-​Pakistan (JUP) were established. In 1957, after an intense internal debate, the JI decided to compete in elections as well by establishing a political party with the same name (Nasr 2001). By doing so the JI expanded its role from providing spiritual guidance to participating directly in Pakistani politics and governance. By 1979, the number of religious parties grew to 30, with seven Deobandi, five Barelwi, and four Salafi parties and three JI-​inspired parties led by different JI factions (Rana 2011: 1). This trend of increased proliferation through splits in existing parties and the formation of new parties continued during the 1990s and 2000s (Hassan and Saleem 2018; ICG 2011). By 2018, 14 religious parties were competing in national elections (Hassan and Saleem 2018). This multiplicity of religious parties has meant that religious parties compete with other parties from the same school of thought and with parties representing rival schools of thought. Such party proliferation offers Pakistani ROs a wide choice in selecting which religious party they want to lobby even within their own ideologically

218  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties preferred school of thought. For example, Barelwi ROs could choose to lobby the JUP, the Sunni Tehreek or the Pakistan Awami Tehreek in 1990, or the JUP, JUP-​Noorani, Sunni Itthehad Council, or Tehreek-​e-​Labbaik Pakistan in 2018. Similarly, Deobandi ROs could choose from the JUI-​F, the Jamiat Ulema-​e-​Islam-​Sami, and the Pakistan Rah-​e-​Haq parties, among others in 2018 (Hassan and Saleem 2018; Ullah 2013). Thus, ROs are not intrinsically bound to lobby any specific party and have many choices. Their choice set of parties is further expanded by the fact that religious parties belonging to different schools have on occasion formed alliances for elections and offer ROs an acceptable path to lobbying religious parties from other schools (Hassan and Saleem 2018; Ullah 2013). The sheer number of religious parties suggests that a highly concentrated legislative presence is less likely in Pakistan. On occasion, some religious parties have formed pre-​electoral coalitions with other religious and conservative nonreligious parties, notably the Pakistan National Alliance in 1977 and the Islami Jamhoori Ittehad in 1988, or a coalition exclusively made up of religious parties, notably the Muslim Majlis-​e-​Amal in 2002 and 2018 (ICG 2011; Hassan and Saleem 2018). These coalitions have been marked by bitter infighting and have rarely survived for long (Ullah 2013; Hassan and Saleem 2018). During democratic periods, religious parties have not enjoyed electoral success. Only the JUI-​F has consistently won seats since 1988, but it has never won enough seats to form its own government or even be the formateur of a coalition government. Instead, it has formed postelection coalitions with the center-​left Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) and the center-​right PML-​N party to enter government. The most electorally and politically successful moments for religious parties have occurred during autocratic regimes. From August 1978 to June 1979, the JI was part of Zia’s government (Grare 2001), and in 2002, religious parties won 63 of 342 parliamentary seats with General Musharraf ’s “help” as the general sought to neutralize the PPP and the PML-​N (ICG 2011; Jalal 2014). Thus, only a handful of religious parties have won parliamentary seats in Pakistan’s entire history, and no religious party has ever won enough seats to form its own national government.7 In considering politics since 1988, only the progressive center-​left PPP, the conservative center-​right PML-​N, the religious JUI-​F, and the center-​right Pakistan Tehreek-​e-​Insaf (PTI) parties have been politically relevant at the national level.

7 Religious parties have, however, on many occasions won enough seats to form provincial governments in alliance with other parties in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan (ICG 2011; Hassan and Saleem 2018).

Resilience and Decline  219

Ideological and Policy Preferences of Contemporary Pakistani Parties: Survey Evidence Given Pakistan’s founding as a homeland for Muslims in South Asia and high levels of religiosity among Pakistani citizens, we can expect that all political parties are willing to accommodate religious sentiments and appease religious voters to some degree (Ullah 2013; Jalal 2014; Burki et al. 2019). What we need to evaluate is how different religious and non-religious Pakistani parties really are on these issues. It is entirely possible that the more progressive secular parties have responded to public sentiments by modifying their preferences in ways that make them significantly more aligned with the agenda of ROs as well. If so, a religious party may no longer be essential for ROs to realize their vision in Pakistan. Conversely, given Pakistan’s frequent history of military coups, and the long durations of autocratic regimes in Pakistan, Pakistani politicians have strong strategic incentives to support liberal civil liberties. After all, the freedoms of expression, association, and assembly directly impact their ability to mobilize in pursuit of their political careers during democratic and autocratic eras. While Pakistani ROs and religious parties may share religious preferences for limiting liberal civil liberties, there is no reason for ROs to share the politicians’ strategic appreciation for these civil liberties. Whether politicians’ strategic incentives trump their ideological preferences based on religion is an open question. To answer this question, I now present data from a survey of political elites from religious and non-religious parties conducted in May–​June 2018 in Pakistan. The survey sampled 154 political elites from all the major religious and nonreligious parties. As in Turkey, this survey aimed to sample politicians whose opinions and actions shape the nature of politics and the design, passage, and implementation of policy in Pakistan. Since the most influential political elites win election nominations in a party and election turnover is high, a representative sample was drawn using a stratified, clustered, random sampling design from the population of party members who had stood for the July 2018 parliamentary elections. Respondents were surveyed from the PML-​N, PPP, PTI, JI, and JUI-​F parties from all four provinces (Sindh, Punjab, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and Balochistan). All electoral districts within each province were treated as clusters. Clusters were then randomly drawn and elites were randomly sampled within each cluster. The face-​to-​face interviews were conducted in Urdu or English by members of an experienced survey research institute based in Islamabad. Further details on the survey and the sample can be found in the appendix to the book. The two most politically prominent religious parties—​the JI and the JUI-​F are well represented, with 54 interviewees out of 154, or about 35% of the sample

220  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties (JUI-​F 17%, JI 18%). About 20% of respondents belonged to the center-​right PTI party, which went on to form the government, about 23% belonged to the center-​ right PML-​N party, and 21.6% belonged to the center-​left PPP party. The age of respondents ranged from 27 to 76 years, with an average of 48.6 years; 55% had some college education, 39% had held elected office previously, 47% had run for elected office before, and 6% were women. This sample therefore offers us wide variation in demographic and political characteristics that can potentially influence individual preferences. Open-​ended interviews with RO members and officials, journalists, human rights activists, and academics in Pakistan confirmed that the same questions used to assess support for general civil liberties and specific policies on civil liberties used in Turkey were substantively appropriate for Pakistan. Hence, the questions used to analyze politicians’ civil liberty preferences in Pakistan are identical to those used in Turkey. Support for the principle of liberal civil liberties. To evaluate the general attitudes of politicians on protecting basic civil liberties, I  asked respondents whether they believed that human rights are universal or that each religion has its own tradition of human rights. This variable is labelled as Religious Human Rights. Figure 7.1 shows the distribution of responses for politicians from religious and non-religious parties and for the entire sample. Among religious-​party politicians, 37% believed that each religion has its own tradition of human rights; among non-religious-​party politicians, the figure was 19%. A t-​test revealed that

Non-Religious Parties

Religious Parties

All

100 80.9

Percent

80

74.5 63.6

60 36.4

40

25.5

19.2

20

s ht ig

gh U

ni v

er

sa

lR

Ri us Re lig io

lR sa er

ni v U

ts

s ig

gh Ri us Re lig io

ig lR sa er

ni v U

ht

s ht

ts gh Ri us io Re lig

ts

0

Figure 7.1  Pakistan: Distribution of elite support for universal human rights versus religiously defined rights

Resilience and Decline  221 this difference was statistically significant at the 1% level. Thus, religious-​party politicians were significantly more likely than non-religious-​party politicians to support a view of civil liberties that was informed by their religion. Next, we see that the differences between religious and non-religious parties became starker as respondents were asked questions about more concrete policies regarding specific civil liberties. Support for specific policies affecting civil liberties. As in Turkey, respondents were asked (i) whether they believed that the media should be allowed to make autonomous choices in content order to promote transparency and accountability or it was the government’s responsibility to ensure media acted in the interests of social harmony and political stability (variable labelled as Media Censorship), and (ii) whether they wanted to see more government oversight of social media, were satisfied with the current levels of oversight, or thought the current level was too high (variable labelled as Social Media Censorship). Figure 7.2 illustrates the distributions of these responses by religious-​party type. Almost 70% of religious-​party politicians and 60% of non-religious-​party politicians wanted government to censor media in the interests of social harmony, a difference that was statistically significant at the 10% level. Among religious-​party respondents, 79% thought that government needed to provide more oversight of social media; the corresponding figure was 59% among non-religious-​party respondents, a difference that was statistically significant at the 1% level. To evaluate support for policies that would limit freedom of movement, religion, association, and assembly, respondents were asked whether they believed that (i) religious education should be compulsorily given to all children starting at age six (variable labelled Mandatory Religious Education), (ii) only a Muslim should be head of the government (Muslim Head of State), (iii) the criminalization of adultery should be maintained (Criminalize Adultery), and (iv) the government should mandate segregation by gender in colleges and universities. The first two questions show attitudes toward religious freedom, while the latter two address policies that were widely believed to be targeting women to discourage them from mingling with the opposite gender and participating in public life, that is, reducing their freedom of movement, association, and assembly (Khan 2018; Ispahani 2017; Weiss 2014; Iqtidar 2013). Figure 7.3 presents politicians’ responses on this selection of policies. Figure 7.3 shows that among religious-​ party politicians 98% believed that only a Muslim should be the head of government in a Muslim-​majority country, whereas 71% of non-religious-​party politicians shared this belief. T-​ tests show that this difference was statistically significant at the 1% significance level. Among religious-​party politicians, 98% supported mandatory religious

222  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties (a)

Support Government Censorship of Professional Media Non-Religious Parties

Religious Parties

All

100 69.8

64

Percent

80 60.4

60 40

39.5

35.9

30.2

20 0

Oppose Support

(b)

Oppose Support

Oppose Support

Support Government Censorship of Social Media Non-Religious Parties

Religious Parties

All

79.3

100

66.4

Percent

80 59.4

60 40

33.6

40.6 20.8

20 0

Oppose Support

Oppose Support

Oppose Support

Figure 7.2  Pakistan: Distribution of elite support for freedom of speech

education at age six; the corresponding figure among non-religious-​party politicians was 86%, a difference that was statistically significant at the 1% significance level. Next, 91.8% of religious-​party politicians supported maintaining the status of adultery as a criminal offense, while 85% of non-religious-​party politicians shared this position. T-​tests show that religious-​party politicians were significantly more likely (at the 1% significance level) to support this position than non-religious-​party politicians. Finally, as the bottom-​most bar

Resilience and Decline  223 chart in figure 7.3 illustrates, support for government-​mandated gender segregation in institutes of higher learning stands at almost 93% among religious-​ party politicians and almost 71% among non-religious-​party politicians, a statistically significant difference (5% significance level). These numbers indicate that while support for measures restricting the movement of women is strong among all politicians, again, this support is significantly greater among religious-​party politicians. Collectively, these results show that support for religiously defined rights and the role of the state in enforcing them is high (a)

Support for Mandatory Religious Education Non-Religious Parties

Religious Parties

All

98.2

100

91.5

87.5

Percent

80 60 40 20 0

12.5

8.6 1.8

Oppose Support

(b)

Oppose Support

Support for Non-Muslim as Head of State Non-Religious Parties

80

Religious Parties

All

98.2

100

Percent

Oppose Support

81.5 71.4

60 40

28.6 18.5

20 0

1.8 Oppose Support

Oppose Support

Oppose Support

Figure 7.3  Pakistan: Distribution of elite support for civil liberties

224  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties (c)

Support for Criminalization of Adultery Non-Religious Parties

Religious Parties

100

All

90.7

85.5

88.1

Percent

80 60 40 20 0

14.5

Oppose Support

Oppose Support

Oppose Support

Support for Mandatory Gender Segregation in Colleges and Universities

(d)

Non-Religious Parties

Religious Parties

100

All

92.9 79

80

Percent

11.9

9.3

70.8

60

40 29.2 21.1

20 7.1 0 Oppose Support

Oppose Support

Oppose Support

Figure 7.3 Continued

during a democratic regime across all parties but is significantly higher among religious-​party politicians. In the next section, I evaluate support for Hypothesis 1 by analyzing whether Pakistani ROs did become highly institutionalized when both conditions were finally met: (i) religious parties’ legislative concentration was high and (ii) there

Resilience and Decline  225 was an inflationary crisis. In ­chapter  9, I  will evaluate whether civil liberties declined in Pakistan only when (i) RO institutionalization was high and (ii) a religious party was in government, as Hypothesis 2 predicts.

Religious Parties’ Legislative Concentration and Inflation in Pakistan Despite the prominent role religion played in the idea of Pakistan and continues to play in the daily lives and society of Pakistanis, the combined vote share of all religious parties during democratic regimes has rarely reached double digits, and they have won more than 20 seats only once during Musharraf ’s regime (Ullah 2013; Hassan and Saleem 2018). Religious votes have been split across multiple religious parties (Ullah 2013). There were no direct national elections from 1947 to 1958, and the first national election held in 1965 under Ayub was partyless (Jalal 2017). In the first democratic elections in 1970, the JI (seven), JUI (seven), and JUP (four) won a total of 18 seats out of 300.8 In 1977, each of these three parties won four seats for a combined total of only 12. Zia’s 1985 elections were partyless (Jalal 2014). In the 1988 elections, the JUI-​ F won seven seats, and two smaller religious parties won a total of three seats out of 207 parliamentary seats. The JI ran as part of the conservative Islami Jamhoori Ittehad coalition and is credited with two of the coalition’s 56 seats (Ullah 2013). In 1990, the JUI-​F and the JUP ran independently and won six and three seats, respectively, while the JI was credited with winning three seats as part of the IJI coalition. Thus, 12 seats were distributed across four parties in 1988 and three parties in the 1990 elections. The 1993 and 1997 elections proved to be disasters for religious parties, with the JI winning only three seats out of 207 in 1993 and the JUI-​F winning two seats out of 207 in 1997. Thus, these numbers show that the legislative presence and concentration of religious parties was very low in Pakistan during the era of multiparty elections from 1970 through 1998. In 2002, during Musharraf ’s regime, six religious parties (JI, JUI-​F, JUP, Jamiat-​e-​Ahle Hadith, the JUI-​S, and the Shia Tehrik-​e-​Jafaria Pakistan) competed as a single religious alliance, the Muttahida Majlis-​e-​Amal Pakistan and won 11.4% of the votes and 63 parliamentary seats out of 342. This success came courtesy of General Musharraf ’s military regime, which was attempting to marginalize the mainstream PPP and PML-​N parties in parliament. This legislature presented the first time that religious parties commanded a significant share of 8 All election figures are from the Pakistan Election Commission website, accessed October 15, 2019, and from Hassan and Saleem 2018.

226  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties seats and that that share was consolidated within a single coalition, though this coalition was highly fractious as it included parties representing rival and hostile sects of Islam in Pakistan (Ullah 2013; Jalal 2014). When the next elections were held in 2008, only the JUI-​F entered parliament, with eight seats, giving religious political parties a highly concentrated presence in the Pakistani parliament from 2008 to 2013. In an era of coalition governments, these eight seats earned the JUI-​F a cabinet post in the center-​left cabinet of the PPP from 2008 to 2010 (Ullah 2013). In the 2013 elections, the JUI-​F won 15 and the JI won four of the total of 19 seats won by religious parties out of 342 seats. The JUI-​ F joined the government of the PML-​N from 2014 to 2018 based on this performance. Collectively, this history suggests that only during two periods—​the 2002 parliament under Musharraf and the 2008 parliament during a democratic regime—​have religious parties in Pakistan had a concentrated legislative presence with a sufficiently high number of seats. These trends suggest that religious parties in Pakistan have had the effective legislative ability to influence legislation and executive decisions only during these two periods of multiparty electoral regimes. Figure 7.4 illustrates the history of annual inflation rates for Pakistan from 1960 to 2016 (World Bank 2018). Unfortunately, data on inflation before this period is simply not available, limiting our analysis for Pakistan to the period 1960 to 2016. This figure shows that despite its economic travails over the years, Pakistan has had very few years in which it has experienced crisis-​level inflation rates. From 1960 to 1972, inflation stayed in the single digits. From 1973 to 1975, Pakistan suffered from its first inflation crisis, with annual inflation rates of 23.1%, 26.7%, and 20.9%, all higher than two standard deviations above its 30 25

Annual %

20 15 10 5

19 6 19 0 6 19 2 6 19 4 6 19 6 6 19 8 7 19 0 7 19 2 7 19 4 7 19 6 7 19 8 8 19 0 8 19 2 8 19 4 8 19 6 8 19 8 9 19 0 9 19 2 9 19 4 9 19 6 9 20 8 0 20 0 0 20 2 0 20 4 0 20 6 0 20 8 1 20 0 1 20 2 1 20 4 16

0 –5

Year

Figure 7.4  Annual inflation rates in Pakistan, 1960–​2016

Resilience and Decline  227 long-​term mean and close to the 25% hyperinflation rate defined by the IMF. After 1975, inflation dropped to single digits or low double digits for the next three decades. Even though inflation ranged from 11% to 12% from 1980 to 1981 and from 11% to 13% from 1991 to 1995, these were well within a single standard deviation of Pakistan’s long-​term inflation means and did not signify an inflation crisis. In 2008, Pakistan experienced its next inflation crisis when the annual inflation rose to 20.3%, with monthly inflation exceeding 25% in some months and food inflation in particular exceeding 30% (State Bank of Pakistan 2008). This annual inflation rate is more than two deviations above Pakistan’s long-​term inflation rate, meets the IMF definition of an inflationary crisis, and was seen as an inflation crisis by policymakers and politicians at the time (World Bank 2018; Afzal et al. 2012; Burki, Chowdhury, and Butt 2019). Inflation rates dropped steadily after 2008 during the 2008 legislature’s term and stood at 7.36% when the next parliamentary elections were held in 2013. They stayed below 8% after that as of 2016, the last year in the analysis. This history therefore identifies two inflationary crises in Pakistan: from 1973 to 1975 and from 2008 to 2009. These histories of legislative concentration and inflation rates suggest that from 1960 to 2007 and from 2009 to 2016 Pakistan was missing at least one of the two necessary conditions—​high inflation and high legislative concentration—​ that Hypothesis 1 predicts lead to increased SEI of ROs. From 1960 to 1972, Pakistan experienced low inflation and low legislative concentration. From 1973 to 1975, it experienced high inflation, but religious parties had low legislative concentration. From 1975 to 1977, it experienced low inflation and low legislative concentration. From 1979 to 1988, Pakistan was ruled by General Zia’s unelected regime. Zia appointed a rubberstamp government from August 1978 to June 1979 and held nonpartisan elections in 1985. While religious parties were prominent in both, Pakistan experienced low inflation levels throughout this period. From 1988 to 1999, inflation in Pakistan was low and successive democratic elections in 1988, 1990, 1993, and 1997 yielded low legislative concentrations for religious parties. From 1999 to 2007, inflation stayed low during Musharraf ’s regime. From 2008 to 2009, for the first time in its history Pakistan experienced both the conditions predicting high SEI—​high inflation and high religious-​party legislative concentration: Hypothesis 1 therefore predicts that we should see a significant increase in SEI during and after that year. From 2009 to 2016 inflation fell back to moderate levels and legislative concentration stayed at moderate levels. This history after 2009 suggests that Pakistani ROs could increase SEI from low to moderate or high levels of institutionalization. Collectively, this history leads to the following clear, observable implications for ROs’ SEI in Pakistan:

228  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties (i) From 1960 to 2007: ROs’ SEI should be low. (ii) From 2008 to 2009: ROs’ SEI should experience a significant increase. (iii) From 2009 to 2016:  ROs’ SEI should stay at the level attained during 2008–​2009. In order to evaluate whether these predictions are supported, I now draw on a variety of qualitative and quantitative evidence. The next part of this chapter analyzes whether changes in ROs’ SEI levels in Pakistan correspond to these predictions.

Socioeconomic Institutionalization of Religious Organizations in Pakistan In order to evaluate whether Pakistan in fact experienced the trends in SEI predicted by Hypothesis 1, I  consider changes in all four dimensions of institutionalization—​education, social welfare, business, and media sectors. Hypothesis 1 predicts that from 1960 to 2007, Pakistani ROs should be active in education and social welfare but not in the commercial business or media sectors. Starting in 2008, this should change, with ROs increasing their footprint in the nonprofit and for-​profit segments of the education and welfare sectors but also entering the business and media sectors. Subsequently, we should see ROs maintain this foundation of institutionalization.

Education and Social Welfare When Pakistan became independent in 1947, about half the country was living in poverty and was illiterate (Burki, Chowdhury, and Butt 2019). Thus, the state faced formidable challenges in providing education and welfare. Unlike Turkey where RO-​ run schools and welfare foundations were disbanded, Pakistan inherited 137 schools run by various Sufi orders, the MJUI, and the Tablighi Jamaat (Rehman 2003). The JI did not have a network of schools at this time (Grare 2001). These ROs also had active charitable welfare arms providing food, clothes, and stipends to the poor, small-​scale loans, dowries for the marriage of girls, and funds for burials (Gugler 2011; Ewing 1983). These ROs financed their operations, schools, and welfare activities not just from donations made by wealthy donors but substantially through the income earned by the charity endowments, the waqf endowments, left to specific ROs, shrines, and mosques by pious donors (Rana 2011; Malik 1996; Ewing 1983). Thus, in 1947, Pakistan had a considerable need for the provision of education and welfare, and ROs were potentially in a position to supply these needs.

Resilience and Decline  229 However, successive Pakistani governments, whether autocratic or democratically elected, chose not to use ROs for this purpose. Instead they viewed ROs as “a force that hampered their efforts to control the political and social organization of the country” (Hassanali 2010: 36) and considered their public legitimacy, organizational capacities, and financial autonomy as posing significant strategic challenges to them (Malik 1996; Hussein 2005; Iqtidar 2011). From Ayub Khan’s administration onwards, Pakistani political leaders have been wary of the potential ROs have to become alternatives sites for mobilizing against the state and its agenda (Malik 1996; Hussein 2005; Iqtidar 2011) and have actively pursued strategies for reducing their resources and influence (Malik 1996: 59; Pirzada 2000; Iqtidar 2013). Autocratic and democratic political leaders have managed the challenge posed by ROs by adopting a similar strategy of (i) limiting the financial autonomy of ROs, (ii) limiting their institutional capacity in the education and welfare, and particularly the media and business sectors, (iii) expanding state-​ funded social welfare programs and maintaining state influence over media, and (iv) paying public homage to religious leaders. As a result, as discussed below, despite the prominent place of religion in Pakistani politics and society, the use of these tactics by various autocratic and democratic governments kept Pakistani ROs’ SEI at low levels until 2008. Despite facing high poverty rates, Ayub Khan’s government did not face an inflationary crisis at any point in his regime. Absent an inflationary crisis, Ayub Khan’s government used pro-​business policies, clientelism, and patronage to retain support among key political stakeholders, such as big-​business families and feudal landowners (Burki et al. 2019; Jalal 2014). Consequently, as Hypothesis 1 predicts, his secularly inclined government was able to implement measures to curb and control attempts by these ROs to increase their presence in the educational and welfare sectors by serving poor and low-​income Pakistanis itself. As Malik (1996: 61) emphasizes, the government’s goal was “to reduce the traditional religious authority” and “to represent it as a worldly institution and thus to take away its religious character.” Starting in 1958, the government proceeded on this agenda by stepping in to directly manage Sufi facilities and funds, including their educational and social welfare operations (Malik 1996, 2008; Pirzada 2000; Jalal 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). It appointed bureaucrats with no religious qualifications to perform these tasks and began transforming the identity and function of  ROs’ religious shrines from religious sites to state welfare sites (Malik 1996, 2008; Pirzada 2000; Jalal 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). In 1961, Ayub Khan’s government passed the West Pakistan Waqf Properties Ordinance, which gave the government the authority to take over and manage the charitable foundations that provided the primary sources of funding for ROs in Pakistan (Malik 1996; Hassanali 2010)  and then assumed control of the voluntary donations made by followers in money collection boxes at these shrines, which were significant

230  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties sources of revenue for ROs (Ewing 1983; Malik 1996; Hassanali 2010). Starting in the early 1960s, Ayub set up a regulatory board to supervise the activities of all religious schools, nationalized some schools, required all religious schools to register with government-​staffed boards, revised their curricula to include secular education, and required their teachers to undergo training in secular subjects (Malik 1996: 123–​130). It justified these interventions by publicizing the mismanagement and exploitation of waqf endowments by some individuals (Malik 1990). So effective were these tactics in achieving the state’s goals of curbing ROs’ influence in general and their presence in these sectors, that the democratic regime of Zulfikar Bhutto and the autocratic regime of Zia further strengthened these government abilities through their laws and policies. Bhutto formed the first democratic government in 1970, and by 1973 his economic policies produced Pakistan’s first inflationary crisis, with inflation crossing 25% in 1972–​1973 and 1974–​1975 (Weinbaum 1977; Mushtaq et al. 2012; Afzal et al. 2012). As Weinbaum (1977: 603) noted, “No issue threatened to be more of an electoral handicap for the PPP than rising prices.” Inflation had undermined the real income of poor, low-​income, and middle-​income Pakistanis, as well those on fixed incomes (Weinbaum 1977; Mushtaq et al. 2012; Afzal et al. 2012). These negative effects on income had been reinforced by inflation’s adverse effect on employment rates (Weinbaum 1977; Mushtaq et al. 2012; Afzal et al. 2012). However, the religious bloc in parliament collectively commanded only 18 out of 300 seats, and these seats were divided between the Jamaat-​e-​Islami (four), the Deobandi JUI (seven), and the Barelwi JUP (seven). These religious parties were bitterly divided along sectarian lines and allied with ROs divided along the same sectarian divisions (Pirzada 2001; Jaffrelot 2016). Consequently, they failed to become effective advocates for ROs’ interests (Pirzada 2001; Jalal 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). Bhutto was therefore faced with a serious political challenge in deciding how to deal with the dire economic hardships created by the high levels of inflation but did not have to decide on his strategy in the context of a highly concentrated religious parliamentary bloc. As the corollary to Hypothesis 1 predicts, he responded by adopting measures that did not allow ROs to expand their footprint in society. Instead, his government expanded its own welfare and education programs. To address the need for increased social welfare and access to education, Bhutto increased the government’s social development expenditure to a historic high of 11% of GDP (Tahir 1999: 112), nationalized the education sector (Malik 1996), and implemented a social safety net for public employees ensuring their access to healthcare, education, and pensions (Asian Development Bank 2002; Zaidi 1999). Collectively, his reforms targeted the poor, the middle class, and public employees on fixed incomes who were hurt the most by the inflation crisis (Mushtaq et  al. 2012; Asian Development Bank 2002; Chengappa

Resilience and Decline  231 2002; Zaidi 1999; Burki et al. 2019). At the same time, Zulfi passed the Auqaf (Federal Control) Act to increase effective government control over the finances, personnel, operations, and management of ROs (Ewing 1983; Malik 1996; Chengappa 2002; Hassanali 2010). While his government exempted religious schools from the nationalization drive, he increased government control and supervision of religious schools and their content (Pirzada 2000; Malik 1996, 2008; Chengappa 2002; Ali 2009). Finally, he increased the use of religious facilities as sites for providing government-​funded and government-​administered welfare goods, including credit cooperatives, libraries, hospitals, and information on new agricultural technologies, further undermining and limiting the ability of ROs to become visible and significant providers of social welfare goods (Malik 1996, 2008; Pirzada 2000; Chengappa 2002). Like Ayub Kahn’s and Yahya Khan’s military regimes, his government made the deliberate choice to use religious sites for welfare programs to publicly demonstrate that it was the government that was the source of the welfare benefits dispensed at religious sites at a time of need, not ROs. In 1977, the military overthrew Bhutto and began its second tenure in office under General Zia ul-​Haq. Zia began rolling back Bhutto’s economic policies and oversaw a regime marked by economic growth and the absence of any inflationary crisis (Butt 2009). Thus, his government did not face the kind of cross-​class, cross-​ethnic economic pressures that inflationary crises create and did not have to rely on ROs to supply welfare and educational goods and services to shore up support (Jaffrelot 2016; Jalal 2014; Shafqat 1996). Instead, it focused on building a targeted coalition of business and religious interests through patronage (Jaffrelot 2014; Shafqat 1996). However, lacking other sources of legitimacy, General Zia cultivated public support by projecting an image of great personal piety and stressing his regime’s goal of Islamicizing Pakistan (Nasr 2001; Jalal 2014). To demonstrate this commitment, Zia gave religious-​party leaders and selected RO leaders more prominent roles in his first government and appointed RO members to senior bureaucratic positions (Pirzada 2000; Grare 2001; Jalal 2014). However, despite his avowed religiosity and his need to build up his religious legitimacy among the public, Zia increased, rather than decreased, government control over ROs and limited their organizational expansion into the business and media sectors and for-​profit education and welfare sectors. General Zia took concrete steps to deepen ROs’ financial dependence on the government for financing their institutional operations, social welfare activities, and educational activities (Pirzada 2000; Nasr 2001; Jalal 2014). Instead of allowing ROs more financial or operational autonomy to expand their activities, he nationalized the system for collecting zakat (the donation required by Islam of all financially able Muslims) and put its disbursement under the control

232  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties of local zakat committees appointed by the military regime (Malik 1990, 1996; Pirzada 2000). While he allowed ROs to significantly increase the number of madrasas, from about 1,950 to 2,861, at the same time he also increased government regulation of these educational facilities and their content (Ashraf 2012; Khalil 2014; Siddiqui 2016: 193–​194, 233–​235).Thus, even though he differed from the Turkish military in his public profession of religiosity and his instrumental use of religion in Pakistan, Zia sought to control the content and dispensation of religious education just as the secular Turkish military had in 1980. Malik 1(996:  140) summarizes the thrust of Zia’s policies toward ROs:  “The Government continued through its policy of reform, its attempt to control the DM, in order to deprive them of any political influence.”9 Similarly, while Zia allocated government funding and media time on state-​run television to JI and Deobandi groups, he also pitted them against each other and against secular parties in the competition for such patronage, ensuring their inability to unite in order to promote their demands (Ullah 2013; Grare 2001; Pirzada 2001). Furthermore, after he had successfully decimated the left-​leaning student and labor unions sympathetic to the PPP, Zia banned student unions entirely, ensuring that the most prominent unions remaining, those led by ROs such as the JI, were outlawed (Grare 2001: 40–​41). The JI was also barred from organizing labor unions in the most important public sector firms (Grare 2001: 41). Thus, Zia actively undermined the ability of ROs to expand their influence in the business and public sectors and to mobilize independently of the regime. He also began promoting parties, such as the Muttahida Qaumi Movement, that were trying to compete with religious parties and ROs in their core districts (Grare 2001:41). The collective effect of Zia’s policies was to give ROs more visibility and legitimacy than they had enjoyed before, but few concrete gains in their organizational capacity and reach. ROs failed to effectively use the institutional access they had under Zia to roll back the high levels of government interference and control over RO funding and autonomy or to obtain benefits they desired, such as the ability to independently manage their own schools and welfare facilities. As Grare (2001: 39) notes, in terms of promoting the interests of ROs, the alliance between religious parties and the Zia regime “was to prove a total failure.” After Zia died in a helicopter crash in 1988, Pakistan was governed by a succession of democratically elected governments led by the PML-​N and the PPP until 2007 (Jaffrelot 2016; Jalal 2014; Ullah 2013). Each of the four governments that held power in this decade was a coalition government made up of parties with diverse ideologies. The Jamaat-​e-​Islami supported the center-​right PML-​N government from 1990 to 1993 as part of the Islami Jamhoori Ittehad coalition 9 “DM” refers to dini madaris, the Urdu phrase used to refer to the religious schools run by religious leaders.

Resilience and Decline  233 but was not offered a cabinet post (Jaffrelot 2016). This decade from 1988 to 1998 was marked by the failure of religious parties to achieve a concentrated legislative presence, with three parties winning a handful of seats in 1988, 1990, and 1993 and just the JUI-​F winning two seats in 1997 (ICG 2011). While inflation rose to moderate levels, this period also did not see an inflationary crisis, that is, inflation rates higher than two standard deviations above the previous trend (Butt 2009). This meant that none of the governments faced the kind of cross-​class, cross-​ ethnic economic pressures that an inflation crisis generates, which can motivate parties to seek out nongovernmental sources of welfare and education. Instead, governments led by the PPP and the PML-​N were able to use patronage and pro-​market reforms to shore up support among rural stakeholders, bureaucrats, and business families respectively (Jaffrelot 2016: 239–​249; Ullah 2013). While they received many demands from ROs and from religious parties to allow ROs to expand their autonomy and the spheres in which they could operate (Khan 2011; Ali 2009), these democratic governments were able to continue using their bureaucratic discretion over endowment and zakat funds and the management of religious facilities to influence and manipulate ROs and limit their socioeconomic institutional development (ICG 2012; Ali 2009; Malik 2008). Under General Musharraf ’s autocratic regime, even though the Pakistani economy continued to experience economic problems throughout this period, as figure 7.2 shows, it did not experience an inflation crisis. One of the two conditions in Hypothesis 1 is therefore absent. In this situation the Musharraf government, which was not ideologically inclined to increase the role of religion in Pakistan, did not face economic pressures severe enough to compel it to act against its own policy preferences on religion or to roll back curbs on ROs’ autonomy and operations. Conversely, when foreign funding, particularly from Saudi Arabia for Salafi ROs, started becoming a significant source of funds for the establishment of religious schools in Pakistan, Musharraf ’s military government passed a Madrasa Registration Ordinance in 2002 in an attempt to control such flows and regulate the content of their madrasas’ curriculum (Hassanali 2010).10 In 2008 however, Pakistan experienced high levels of inflation, with consumer price indices rising by almost 23% and food inflation rising by over 30%, both figures being greater than two standard deviations above Pakistan’s long-​term inflation and food inflation rates (State Bank of Pakistan 2009; Hanif 2012; Hou and Hong 2015). Fears that the country could fall into a deep inflationary spiral were widespread (Hanif 2012; Hussain 2008; Jalal 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). High inflation rates were especially damaging for low-​income families and those on fixed 10 This push was undoubtedly strengthened by pressure from the United States after the events of 9/​11 (Ullah 2014).

234  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties incomes, who now required assistance with food, credit, housing, marriages, funerals, and so on (Hanif 2012; Afzal et al. 2012; Mushtaq et al. 2012). At the same time, these families also saw their real incomes drop to levels where education became unaffordable (Hou and Hong 2015; Afzal et al. 2012; Mushtaq et al. 2012). Middle-​income families also worried about the rising cost of education, an increase of 15.4% in one year alone, which affected their ability to finance a quality education for their children (Hanif 2012; Mushtaq et al. 2012; Afzal et al. 2012). Under these conditions, there was a large need for free and subsidized education and for social welfare programs that the incumbent left-​of-​center PPP-​ led government could not meet. The ruling PPP has always been a progressive voice in Pakistani politics and is not ideologically inclined to support expanding the influence of ROs in Pakistani society (Ullah 2013; Jalal 2014; Jaffrelot 2016). However, the JUI-​F party used its eight seats effectively to gain a powerful legislative voice and persuaded the PPP that it was politically prudent to allow ROs to expand their organizational ability to provide subsidized education and various types of social welfare services to the public (Khan 2011; Lilah 2014; Jalal 2014). Facing the political compulsions of being in government during an inflationary crisis and under pressure from a legislative advocate of ROs able to speak with a unified and effective voice, the PPP-​led government allowed ROs to expand their presence in both the nonprofit and for-​profit segments of the educational and social welfare sectors (Lilah 2014; Rana 2011; Jalal 2014; Siddiqui 2016). Over this period, all the major ROs, especially the Dawat-​e-​Islami and Minhaj-​ul-​Quran, substantially increased the number of schools and madrasas and the social welfare organizations associated with them (Gugler 2011; Siddiqui 2016). From 1988 to 2008, the number of madrasas rose by 7201 from 2,801 to about 10,000 (Khalil 2014:  9; Ashraf 2012: 10). Compared to that, the number of madrasas increased by more than 25,000 between 2008 and 2014, from about 10,000 to 35,337 (Khalil 2014: 9).11 Thus, the rate at which new religious schools, most affiliated with ROs, increased after 2008 was more than three times that compared to the rate during the previous twelve years. The expansion of ROs in the for-​profit education sector was particularly dramatic. The Jamaat-​e-​Islami, for example, established four chains of private schools—​Ghazali, Hira, Al Suffa, and Dar-​e-​Aqram—​through various affiliates (Rana 2014). Only 63 Ghazali schools were established during the entire 1990s, and only 78 were founded from 2000 to 2007. This number saw an increase of

11 It is worth noting that the exact numbers for madrasas varies across studies, as different official agencies release different figures that are not always consistent with each other. However, these trends are consistent across the different figures. See, for example, discussions in Khalil 2014; Candland and Qazi 2012; Ashraf 2012; and Andrabi 2006.

Resilience and Decline  235 165 starting in 2008 to more than 306 in 2019 (Ghazali Education Trust website, accessed Nov. 20, 2019). In 2007, there were 200 Dar-​e-​Aqram schools. This number then rose to 425 by 2014 (Iqtidar 2013; Dar-​a-​Aqram website, accessed Nov. 20, 2019). Other ROs made similar gains. The Minhaj-​ul-​Quran, which established its first school and university in 1986, had established 250 schools by 2014 (Minhaj-​ul-​Quran website, accessed Nov. 20, 2019). Since 2009, these ROs have built on this foundation to increase the number and geographic coverage of their schools, universities, and health facilities, and other ROs have entered these sectors as well. What is important about this expansion of RO-​run schools, colleges, and universities is that they have a fee structure that is comparable to highly sought after private English-​medium schools and are clearly meant to generate revenue for these ROs (Khalil 2014; Rana 2014; Yusuf 2010). By attracting fee-​paying clientele through these educational facilities, ROs have increased the scholarships they offer to indigent students at these educational institutions as well. By 2009, there were more than 2,700 foundations and associations providing various social welfare services, and most, though certainly not all of these organizations, were affiliated with ROs (Gugler 2011; Rana 2011; Siddiqui 2016). ROs such as the Minhaj-​ul-​Quran, Dawat-​e-​Islami, and the JI have increased the number of free and subsidized clinics and hospitals since the inflationary crisis of 2008 (Candland and Qazi 2012). The Minhaj-​ul-​Quran, for example, established five hospitals in the last decade (Candland and Qazi 2012). When Pakistan was hit by natural disasters in 2008 and 2010, the government consented to letting ROs become a significant part of the relief efforts rather than relying exclusively on public resources, as it had in the past (Hanif 2012; Candland and Qazi 2012). By 2011, a Berkley Center report noted that ROs had “become a central part of Pakistan’s social safety net.” Similar to the dual use of educational facilities, health facilities such as clinics and hospitals provide services to the poor through subsidized medical fees but also enable ROs to attract substantial donations and collect voluntary fees from well-​heeled clients. As a result, these health facilities have become reliable net revenue generators for these ROs (Candland and Qazi 2012; Rana 2014). Thus, the inflationary crisis of 2008 along with the concentrated presence of the JUI-​F in parliament created the opportunity for Pakistani ROs to expand their societal footprint further into the education and welfare sectors to genuinely serve poor and low-​income families and to generate revenue through profitable enterprises in these sectors. Collectively, this evidence suggests that while Pakistani ROs maintained a presence in educational and welfare sectors of Pakistan until 2007, they strengthened their institutional presence in these sectors substantially after 2008. Their increased organizational capacity in these sectors in turn increased their circle of loyal supporters, the number of Pakistani

236  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties citizens dependent on their goods and services, their ability to mobilize these supporters and clients for causes, and their technical expertise on salient policy issues related to education, health, disaster management, and poverty, and significantly enhanced their reputation for public service.

Media and Business Sectors Independent Pakistan inherited a vibrant print media in the form of daily newspapers and magazines in English, Urdu, and other regional languages (Mezzera and Sial 2010; Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013). Religious organizations such as the Jamaat-​e-​Islami, the MJUI, and the Tablighi Jamaat ran their own newspapers, published scholarly journals and books, and weekly and monthly magazines (Mezzera and Sial 2010: 19). However, in a country with extremely low literacy levels, estimated at around 16% in 1950 (UNESCO 1957), print reached a limited audience even in urban areas (Mezzera and Sial 2010; Infoasaid 2012; Yusuf and Schoemkaer 2013). Instead, radio was the primary means of communication between 1947 and the early 2000s (Mezzera and Sial 2010; Infoasaid 2012; Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013). From 1948 to 2002, the Pakistani government maintained a state monopoly on radio in Pakistan. Similarly, television was a government monopoly from 1964, when Pakistan Television was established, until 2002. In terms of their penetration in the economy, Pakistani ROs had a very small footprint in 1947 (Pirzada 2000; Rana 2011; Burki, Chowdhury, and Butt 2019). Their commercial activities were largely restricted to their publishing business and to the operations of shops and small businesses located in the proximity of famous shrines (Gugler 2011; Rana 2011). While the MJUI and Tablighi Jamaat ran their own network of religious schools, these were largely nonprofits that had to be financed through funds provided by charitable endowments rather than being profitable businesses generating revenues for these organizations (Malik 1996; Pirzada 2000; Ali 2009). ROs recognized the potential electronic media had for reaching the largely illiterate and rural audiences in Pakistan from its earliest years. Maulana Maududi of the Jamaat-​e-​Islami, for example, used Radio Pakistan in early 1948 to lobby public opinion for an Islamic republic when Pakistan’s constitutional assembly was debating the role of Islam in the new country (Iqtidar 2013: 477). However, once the state took control of the media in 1948, its monopoly over radio and eventually television meant that the government was able to control the terms on which religious groups and religious parties were given access to airtime and to regulate their content (Gul 2015; Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013; Batra 2012; Mezzera and Sial 2010). Since the Ayub Khan and Yahya Khan regimes wanted to consolidate a secular foundation for state institutions, ROs and religious parties

Resilience and Decline  237 had little access to radio or TV stations and were unable to use these media to propagate their policy ideas during their regimes (Gul 2015; Hassan 2014; Batra 2012; Mezzera and Sial 2010). This strategy largely continued with Zulfikar Bhutto’s regime in the 1970s (Gul 2015; Mezzera and Sial 2010). Thus from 1948 to 1979, the only religious content Pakistani citizens heard and saw on radio and television was delivered by state-​selected preachers who preached state-​approved sermons and presented state-​approved positions on state-​approved topics using state-​sanctioned language (Jaffrelot 2016; Fair 2004; Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013). At the same time, state media were also replete with stories of prominent government politicians, including Zulfikar Bhutto, paying their respects at the annual festivals of important Sufi saints in Pakistan (Jaffrelot 2016; Fair 2004;). Thus, the state was able to use electronic media to dominate public religious discourse and discussions on the role of religion in Pakistan while also projecting its piety and respect for religion to its citizens (Gul 2015; Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013; Batra 2012; Mezzera and Sial 2010). ROs were effectively restricted to various print media for the propagation of their views, which limited their audience significantly (Yusuf and Schoemkaer 2013; Batra 2012; Mezzera and Sial 2010). Under Zia, the Jamaat-​e-​Islami was initially given the portfolio of broadcasting and information from 1978 to 1979, and it used this opportunity to promote its religious views and its personnel, while ROs belonging to other schools, particularly the Barelwi and Shia schools, saw even less access to state media (Grare 2001; Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013). However, Zia dismissed this government a month after Bhutto was executed. Crucially, even Zia’s government did now allow any ROs to increase their ownership of media assets in the print or electronic sectors. Instead, the regime continued to exercise strict control over the content and publication of ROs’ newspapers and magazines and over all religious television programs (Mezzera and Sial 2010; Batra 2012; Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013). The return to democratic governments during the 1990s did not see a reversal in the media fortunes of ROs. In 1989 and 1995, governments led by Benazir Bhutto undertook the first efforts to establish a private television station and a FM radio station, but these highly profitable opportunities were given to commercial interests that were linked to her party, not to any religious organizations (Mezzera and Sial 2010:  22; Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013). Similarly, Nawaz Sharif–​led center-​right governments from 1990 to 1993 and 1997 to 1999 took no steps to allow ROs any ownership in electronic media (Gul 2015; Hassan 2014; Yusuf 2010). Furthermore, while Benazir’s government had removed the government’s control over allocation of imported newsprint, Sharif ’s government reinstated state-​imposed quotas (Mezzera and Sial 2010; Batra 2012; Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013). ROs had to continue lobbying his government to obtain reliable allocations of newsprint to continue their operations in the print media

238  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties (Mezzera and Sial 2010). Thus, despite having multiple religious parties present in parliament during this entire decade, in the absence of an inflation crisis, ROs could not leverage their ability to provide education and social welfare into the opportunity to expand their presence in the media sector in Pakistan. In 2002, General Pervez Musharraf liberalized the media by allowing private ownership of both radio and television stations and allowing cable and satellite channels, and set up a new regulatory body (PEMRA) to manage the sector (Mezzera and Sial 2010).12 This opening resulted in an immediate explosion of growth in radio and television. From 2002 to 2007, the number of private television channels went from zero to over 50, and the number of FM radio stations went from zero to 106 (PEMRA 2010–​2014 reports cited in JournalismPakistan. com, January 8, 2015: 25). However, no ROs were given licenses to operate a private television channel (Mezzera and Sial 2010). Instead, religious programming was offered by two privately owned commercial media conglomerates, Geo TV and ARY TV, as part of their diverse portfolios of entertainment and news channels (Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013: 16–​18; Ahmad 2014). The public television carrier continued to maintain a monopoly over terrestrial television, allowing private channels only on cable and satellite (Infoasaid 2012; Mezzera and Sial 2010). Given the abysmal reach of cable and satellite in rural areas, estimated at about 11% of rural households (Infoasaid 2012; Ahmed 2014), and the fact that Pakistan was almost two-​thirds rural until 2008, the government’s television monopoly over most of Pakistan’s population continued (Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013). FM radio stations, which boasted much better coverage of rural areas, were not allowed to air original shows and were restricted to transmitters with a range of 50 kilometers (Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013). In contrast, state-​run radio FM stations reached 80% of the Pakistani population (InfoasAid 2012: 35). In the face of these restrictions, ROs such as the Dawat-​e-​Islami and the Minhaj-​ul-​ Quran proceeded to set up an online presence in the form of websites (Hassan 2014; Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013; Gugler 2011). However, since only 2.6% of the Pakistani population had access to the internet in 2002 and this number rose to only 6.8% by 2007 (Mezzera and Sial 2010 ), these efforts did little to expand ROs’ reach into rural or even urban Pakistan (Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013; Gul 2010). Thus, various Pakistani governments, whether center-​left or center-​right, continued to effectively limit the penetration of ROs into the media sector and largely restricted them to their traditional audiences.

12 This move by a dictator to open up the media sector was, scholars believe, driven by a foreign policy imperative—​the need to counter the ability of the Indian media to advocate for its positions in domestic and neighboring media markets (Gul 2010, 2015; Mezzera and Sial 2010).

Resilience and Decline  239 As predicted by Hypothesis 1, this began to change in 2008, when inflation began reaching crisis levels for the first time since 1974. Two new religious television channels—​HADI TV and Madani TV—​began transmission in Pakistan in 2008 (Infoasaid 2012).13 Madani TV was owned by the Dawat-​e-​Islami, while HADI TV was an Iran-​based channel run by Shia groups (Ahmed 2014). In the face of this competition, ARY TV increasingly associated itself with the Barelwi movement and began inviting Sufi leaders associated with the Minhaj-​ul-​Quran and Dawat-​e-​Islami on its shows but it did so on its own terms (Kazi 2016; Ahmed 2014). Barelwi ROs obtained more airtime but had to compete with their intra-​school rivals to gain airtime on these commercially oriented channels since they did not own these channels (Kazi 2016; Hassan 2014). The other major network, Geo TV, offered religious programs that featured religious scholars and speakers from a wide variety of religious schools and ROs in order to maximize their audiences and their profits (Kazi 2016: 474). Geo TV’s Alim Online and Alif and ARY’s QTV became Pakistan’s most popular religious shows, offering recitation, religious guidance on everyday matters, and debates regarding the role of Islam in Pakistani society (Gul 2010, 2015; Kazi 2016; Hassan 2014). However, as part of the commercial portfolio of media assets, these programs and their content were driven not by the influence of particular religious schools or ROs but rather by the commercial imperative to maximize audience size, ratings, and advertising revenue (Kazi 2016; Hassan 2014). As a consequence, these television stations maximized audiences by inviting speakers and scholars from a variety of rival schools, and no ROs have been able to dominate their programming. Only the Dawat-​e-​Islami has its own dedicated television channel, and since this channel airs only religious programming, its audience is limited largely to its adherents rather than a general Pakistani audience. Over time more privately owned Pakistan channels such as Dua TV (founded in 2011), Taraweeh Live, and Paigham TV (founded in 2011) have begun offering religious programming, primarily to urban audiences (Infoasaid 2012; EASO 2012). Additionally, international religious channels such as Peace TV, Iqraa TV, and Al Huda have catered to Deobandi and Wahhabi audiences in Pakistan (Hassan 2014; Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013). As the penetration of cable and satellite television expanded in Pakistan from 31% of all households in 2008 to almost 50% by 2010 (Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013: 18), so did the reach of these channels. However, cable TV continues to be dominated by religious channels owned by commercial interests rather than ROs, and with the exception of Dawat-​e-​Islami, Pakistani ROs have not been able to own and operate TV channels to broadcast their exclusive views and positions or to conclusively 13 Peace TV, an Islamic channel, was also allowed to broadcast in Pakistan on cable. However, it was a channel run by an individual preacher, Zakir Naik, based in Dubai (Ahmed 2014).

240  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties capture a commercial station to air only programs associated with that RO’s policy and institutional interests (Kazi 2016). Given government control over electronic media licensing and the fact that the share of the Pakistani population that owned mobile phones (56.3%) far outstripped internet users (7%), ROs began expanding into the mobile telecommunications sector (InforasAid 2012). ROs such as Minhaj-​ul-​Quran and Dawat-​e-​Islami began offering live streaming of their meetings and sermons and created online platforms that allowed users to seek guidance and information on a range of abstract and mundane religious matters relating to ideology, politics, and the issues of daily life (Ahmed 2014; Yusuf and Schoemaker 2013: 18). They also sell CDs and DVDs widely within Pakistan and abroad, and use Twitter, Facebook, and other online social media to reach out to young, urban, and high-​ income segments of the Pakistani population (Gugler 2011). Thus, starting in 2008, the ability of ROs to reach out to urban and rural audiences has expanded significantly but through mobile and online platforms rather than television and FM radio stations. They have increasingly competed with the religious discourses and the religious framing of political issues by various governments and other commercial channels (Hassan 2014; Ahmed 2014). While the media presence of ROs increased significantly after 2008, there was only a marginal corresponding rise in their penetration of the economy. In the early years of Pakistan, ROs managed their charitable endowments directly and had access to the revenues generated from voluntary donations in collection boxes (Malik 1996; Rana 2011). ROs also often owned and operated the many small businesses that sprang up around prominent mosques and shrines (Gugler 2011). Finally, the newspapers and magazines ROs published provided another source of revenue (Malik 1996; Grare 2001; Candland and Qazi 2012). As the waqf endowment and collection box revenues came to be controlled by the state and dispensed at its discretion starting in the 1960s, ROs became more reliant on the state to fund their operations and activities (Malik 1996; Pirzada 2000; Candland and Qazi 2012). Starting in 2008, the commercially oriented fee-paying schools and colleges that ROs established have become a source of revenue used to subsidize other RO activities as well (Rana 2011; Candland and Qazi 2012). The sale of CDs and DVDs of sermons and recitations by RO leaders has become another source of revenue (Rana 2011). ROs also began buying up and developing land near the headquarters of these organizations (Rana 2011; Candland and Qazi 2012; Gugler 2011). These areas were not developed with commercial goals in mind; rather these houses and land plots were either sold to loyal members of the RO or used to build facilities such as schools and libraries (Rana 2011). While some of these properties have become quite valuable over time (Rana 2011), they are by themselves not a commercial asset that ROs exploit (Candland and Qazi 2012). Attempts by ROs to enter other sectors, such as

Resilience and Decline  241 manufacture of consumer commodities sold as being compliant with Islam or the establishment of Islamic banks, have been few and have to date not been commercial successes (Rana 2011). These limited commercial forays and successes in Pakistan therefore stand in stark contrast to the formidable commercial penetration and success of Turkish ROs, which have been highly successful in operating businesses in a diverse range of sectors. Collectively, this discussion suggests that during the 2008 inflation crisis, when the JUI-​F was the single religious party present in Pakistan’s parliament, ROs were able to significantly increase their presence in the media sector to moderate levels. While the JUI-​F advocated for an increased role for Wahhabi and Deobandi groups, which were more aligned with its own ideological leanings, the Pakistan People’s Party, which has close links to Sufi leaders, responded by allowing Barelwi groups such as the Dawat-​e-​Islami and Minhaj-​ul-​Quran to expand as well (Philippon 2014; Khan 2011). While most ROs were allowed to expand their operations in the education and social welfare sectors, only Barelwi ROs were given highly coveted media licenses to operate a Barelwi television station and FM radio stations. However, ROs were unable to significantly increase their ability to self-​finance their organizations through increased commercial and business activities. On the whole, this suggests that starting in 2008 Pakistani ROs increased their SEI from low to moderate levels primarily by increasing their organizational presence in the education, welfare, and media sectors. After 2009, once inflation rates declined to noncrisis, moderate levels, the more progressively inclined PPP government did not encourage further expansion by ROs. This trend continued with the 2014–​2018 government led by the PML-​N, which did not have to face an inflation crisis during its tenure. While ROs continued to expand their for-​profit and nonprofit activities in the education and health sectors during this period, they were unable to establish themselves any further in the electronic media and business sectors (Rana 2011, 2017; Candland and Qazi 2012). Collectively, the evidence presented in this chapter provides strong support for Hypothesis 1 and its corollaries. As argued in the first theoretical chapter, ­chapter 3, and suggested by the first large-​n empirical chapter, c­ hapter 4, since either one or both conditions for fostering the SEI of ROs—​an inflationary crisis and high concentration of religious parties’ legislative seats—​were absent before 2008, RO institutionalization stayed at low levels in Pakistan throughout this period. However, as predicted in Hypothesis 1, when (i) an inflationary crisis occurred in 2008 and (ii) the concentration of legislative seats held by religious political parties, in this case the JUI-​F, increased sharply in 2008, RO institutionalization increased significantly from low to moderate levels, increasing from a score of 2 to 3 on the SEI index. Inflation stayed high from 2009 to 2012 but declined to below-​crisis levels during the remaining years in that legislature’s

242  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties term and continued to decline steadily after that to well below crisis levels until 2016 (Dawn, September 2, 2019). Two religious parties won 19 seats in the 2013 elections, and an eight-​party alliance of religious parties won 15 seats in the 2018 elections, but Pakistan did not experience any more inflationary crises during these years. Thus, at least one condition was missing from Pakistan after 2009. Consequently, Pakistani ROs have continued to maintain the moderate level of SEI they gained in 2008–​2009 but have not increased their institutionalization substantially after that.

Conclusion This chapter begins the analysis of our second case study, Pakistan. Pakistan was created as a homeland for Muslims after the breakup of the British Indian empire and, unlike Turkey, inherited an array of active, respected ROs and religious parties at independence. Yet despite these propitious conditions, Pakistani ROs remained and until now remain less institutionalized than Turkish ROs. This chapter considers a variety of evidence, including survey data on elite preferences and qualitative evidence on ROs, to evaluate whether Hypothesis 1 and its corollaries explain RO institutionalization in Pakistan. As this chapter shows, until 2008–​2009, Pakistan was missing either an inflationary crisis or a concentrated legislative bloc of religious parties or both. The corollaries to Hypothesis 1 predict that this should lead to low RO institutionalization until 2008. The evidence in this chapter shows that this was indeed the case. Despite efforts by ROs and religious parties allied with them, ROs were unable to expand their organizational presence substantially beyond schools offering religious education and charitable welfare activities. However, in 2008–​ 2009, Pakistan experienced an inflationary crisis while the JUI-​F controlled the only bloc of religious-​party seats. As Hypothesis 1 predicts, we see that the JUI-​F used its legislative leverage and the opportunity provided by the inflation crisis to persuade the left-​of-​center PPP government to allow ROs to open new for-​ profit schools and universities, to offer a variety of additional welfare services for charity and profit, to run their own television channels, and to set up housing development estates in prime areas. RO institutionalization therefore went up from a score of 2 to a score of 3 in Pakistan during 2008–​2009. After 2009, however, inflation began declining, and by the next elections in 2013 it had dipped into single digits. In the absence of an inflationary crisis, the JUI-​F was unable to convince the center-​right PML-​N government to allow ROs to expand any further into the media sector or establish businesses. Consequently, as predicted by Corollary 1, RO institutionalization has not increased beyond the moderate level obtained in 2008–​2009.

Resilience and Decline  243 Finally, it is important to note that Hypothesis 1 predicts the evolution of RO institutionalization during periods of autocracy with direct elections as well as during periods of democracy in Pakistan. Even dictators such as Zia and Musharraf, who formed instrumental alliances with religious parties, were willing to accommodate their wishes regarding RO expansion only up to a certain point. Neither Zia nor Musharraf was willing to let ROs enter the media sector independently or to establish their financial autonomy from the state by running profitable businesses. Collectively, the analyses of the Turkish and Pakistani cases provide strong support for Hypothesis 1 and its corollaries. As these cases show, the mere presence of a concentrated bloc of religious parties in the legislature is insufficient to facilitate the adoption of laws and policies that would allow ROs to expand their organizational strength from traditional education and welfare activities to less traditional but highly lucrative and politically useful activities in business and electronic media. Consequently, ROs in these countries enjoyed very different levels of SEI at different times. Next, in c­ hapters 8 and 9, I evaluate whether Hypothesis 2, which predicts how de facto civil liberties vary in response to the tactics religious parties adopt in the presence of highly and poorly socioeconomically institutionalized ROs, is supported in Turkey and Pakistan respectively.

8

The Fall of an Icon The Decline in Civil Liberties in Turkey

In ­chapter  3, I  argued that once ROs in a Muslim-​majority country become sufficiently highly socioeconomically institutionalized, and there is a religious party in government, de facto civil liberties will start declining. Chapter 5 tested this hypothesis for the full sample of 49 MMCs and found robust support for it. While this large-​N analysis supports generalizability, it does not directly evaluate the causal argument. In this chapter and the next, I evaluate this causal logic for the cases of Turkey and Pakistan respectively. Recall from c­ hapter 6 that by 1999 ROs in Turkey had become highly socioeconomically institutionalized. Thus by 1999, they commanded a formidable portfolio of resources that could be used as carrots and sticks to influence politicians and parties. This chapter focuses on analyzing whether in this context of highly institutionalized ROs, civil liberties declined no matter whether the government was led by a religious or non-religious party or whether they declined only when a religious government came to power. Turkey is again a useful case to evaluate this argument because it had both a government formed by non-​religious parties (1999–​2002) and a government formed by a religious party (2003–​now) in the context of highly institutionalized ROs. Therefore, it gives us valuable analytical leverage over the interactive effect of these two factors. The analysis in this chapter shows that civil liberties did indeed show a steady decline only when a religious party, the AKP, came to power in 2003 in a context of highly socioeconomically institutionalized ROs, but not when a nonreligious coalition was in power. I first examine the validity of the proposed link between the level of RO institutionalization and the incentives of religious-​party politicians to accommodate these organizations through their support for the religious positions of ROs. Since the theory relates to elite behaviors and changes in elite tactics, I do this by using the same elite-​level data from the 2017 survey analyzed in c­ hapter 6. I now use these data to examine (i) whether religious-​party politicians are influenced by their belief about how influential highly institutionalized ROs are, (ii) whether this belief regarding RO political influence in turn influences elite support for liberal civil liberties, and (iii) whether non-religious political elites are similarly responsive to the influence of asset-​rich ROs. Finding empirical support for this mechanism, I  then examine whether civil liberties Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties. Vineeta Yadav, Oxford University Press (2021). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197545362.003.0008

The Fall of an Icon  245 failed to decline under the non-religious government from 1999 to 2002 but did decline after 2003 under the religious AKP, as Hypothesis 2 predicts.

Religious Parties, Religious Interest Groups, and the Islamist Agenda As c­ hapter 6 illustrated, contemporary religious parties in Turkey operate in an environment where Turkish ROs have the ability to influence public opinions and debate and indeed to frame them, financial resources to finance parties and campaigns, and the moral legitimacy and organizational penetration into the population to undermine or elevate the moral legitimacy of parties. I now present some quantitative evidence that directly speaks to the question of whether and how this ability of ROs to influence public support and actions affects religious and non-religious party political elites, especially with respect to their positions on civil liberties. The arguments presented in ­chapter 3 make three claims: (i) that ROs have a substantial effect on the incentives of religious-​party elites but less so of non-religious elites, (ii) that this effect is to reduce religious-​party members’ support for civil liberties, and (iii) that the negative effects are significantly larger for religious-​party elites than any effects on non-religious-​party elites. Since these are arguments about effects on elites, for this analysis I use the same data from the 2017 survey of 226 Turkish candidates for parliament that I first presented in ­chapter 6. This gives me the ability to directly test the theoretical microfoundations on which Hypothesis 2 and its corollaries are based. I estimate a series of probit models that test the effects of organizational influence of ROs on the attitudes of political elites toward civil rights in general and on policies affecting specific civil liberties. Recall that the variable Religious Human Rights from ­chapter  6 measures politicians’ general attitude toward civil liberties. Two variables, Media Censorship and Social Media Censorship, represent politician support for a specific civil liberty—​the freedom of expression. Finally, two variables—​Mandatory Religious Education and Criminalize​ Adultery—​represent positions on issues that have direct repercussions for freedom of religion for religious minorities and atheists, and for freedom of movement and freedom of association and assembly for women respectively. All these variables are described in detail in the first section of c­ hapter 6 and in the appendix to this book. The key independent variable in these models is the level of influence that the respondent believes ROs have over the opinions and actions of voters. This variable, labeled RO influence, has been dichotomized from a four-​category scale such that 1 indicates the respondents’ belief that religious groups have high or decisive influence over voters and 0 indicates their belief that Islamist

246  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties groups have no or some influence. This variable indicates that 51% of all Turkish politicians believed that ROs had high or decisive influence on voters in Turkey. The second key independent variable is another binary variable, Religious Party Member, which is coded 1 if the respondent belongs to a religious party, the AK or the Saadet parties, 0 otherwise. About one-​third (35.8%) of the sample of 226 belong to these religious parties. The theory presented in this book suggests that the interaction of these two variables—​Religious Party Member and RO Influence—​should be associated with a significant decline in all the civil liberties discussed above which are the dependent variables in this analysis. Table 8.1 present the estimation results for all five dependent variables. All specifications include religious party member, RO influence, and their interaction while controlling for age, education, gender, election experience, and experience with other parties. The results in table 8.1 are available in the appendix to this chapter. First, the coefficient on the individual term for religious-​party membership shows that among politicians who did not think religious interest groups exerted high influence over voters, affiliation with a religious party significantly reduced support for universal human rights (statistically significant, negative coefficient) and significantly increased support for censoring professional media (statistically significant, positive coefficient) and social media (statistically significant, positive coefficient). However, it had no effect on support for mandatory religious education or criminalization of adultery (both have statistically insignificant coefficients). Second, the coefficients on the individual terms for RO influence suggest that among non-religious-​party politicians, those politicians who thought ROs were highly influential were significantly more likely to support professional media censorship (statistically significant, positive coefficient) but significantly less likely to support censorship of social media or criminalization of adultery (statistically significant, negative coefficients). Beliefs about RO influence had no effect among non-religious-​party politicians when it came to support for universal human rights or mandatory religious education (both individual term coefficients are statistically insignificant). Our primary interest lies in testing whether members of religious parties are more responsive to beliefs about the influence of ROs over voters than non-religious-​party members, and if they are, whether their higher responsiveness is reflected in the form of lower support for liberal civil liberties. Recall that 51% of politicians believe Turkish ROs have high influence over voters and 49% believe they don’t; it is useful to consider these questions for both these groups. Evaluating these two groups separately also allows us to take into account the lower level of support for liberal civil liberties that religious politicians hold because they are ideologically inclined to do so in the first place. We would expect that even among politicians who believe ROs are not very influential,

The Fall of an Icon  247 religious-​party politicians should be significantly less inclined to support these civil liberties than non-religious-​party politicians. Since the size and significance of an interactive effect in nonlinear models such as the probit and ordered probit models estimated here cannot be inferred from the interaction coefficients alone (Greene 2010), I calculate the differences in predicted probabilities at the relevant values of the interaction terms and the mean-​median demographic profile in the sample. This is the correct way of evaluating the magnitude and statistical significance of the interactive effect between religious party member and RO influence. Figures 8.1, 8.2, and 8.3 show the marginal effects of religious-​party membership among those who believe religious groups are highly influential and those who don’t hold this belief about the various civil liberties discussed above. Figure 8.1 presents the marginal effects of religious-​party membership by RO influence belief on support for universal (1) or religiously defined ( 0 ) human rights. These marginal effects were calculated using estimates from model 1.  Among otherwise similar politicians who believe that religious interest groups have little influence, the probability that a politician from a religious party will support universal human rights is .118, while the probability that a politician from a non-religious party is .310, a statistically significant difference in support of human rights of .19 (1% significance). Among politicians who believe that ROs are highly influential, the probability that politicians from religious parties will support universal human rights is .076, while that of a non-religious-​party politician is .345, a statistically significant difference of .27 (1%) compared to politicians from non-religious parties. Thus, as we expect, religious-​party politicians are always more likely than non-religious-​party

Change in Predicted Prob.

–.1 –.15 –.2 –.25 –.3 –.35 Low

RO Influence

High

Figure 8.1  Turkey: Marginal effects of religious party membership on support for universal versus religious human rights, by RO influence

248  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

Change in Predicted Prob.

(a)

Professional Media

.6 .5 .4 .3 .2 .1 0 Low

(b) 1

RO Influence

High

Social Media

.8 .6 .4 .2 0 Low

RO Influence

High

Figure 8.2  Turkey: Marginal effects of religious party membership on support for media censorship, by RO influence

politicians to support religiously defined rights. Importantly, these marginal effects show that this difference goes up considerably when religious-​party politicians believe that ROs exert high influence on voters. Among religious-​ party politicians, their support for universal human rights versus religiously defined human rights drops from .118 when they believe that ROs are not very influential to .076 when they believe ROs are highly influential, a drop of 52% in support for liberal human rights. These estimates therefore show that a belief in the high influence of religious interest groups has a strong effect on the civil liberties preferences of religious politicians, and that this effect is to reduce support for universal civil rights. Figures 8.2a and b presents marginal interactive effects for media censorship and social media censorship, calculated using estimates from models 2

The Fall of an Icon  249

Change in Predicted Prob.

(a)

Support for Mandatory Religious Education .8 .7 .6 .5 .4 .3 .2 .1 0 –.1 –.2 –.3 –.4 .–.5 –.6 –.7 –.8 Low

High RO Influence Oppose

Support

Criminalization of Adultery

(b)

Change in Predicted Prob.

.6 .5 .4 .3 .2 .1 0 Low

High RO Influence

Figure 8.3  Turkey: Marginal effects of religious party membership on support for mandatory religious education and support for criminalization of adultery, by RO influence

and 3 respectively in appendix table 8.1. Recall that a 1 on this dependent variable indicates support for increasing government censorship. Among all politicians who believed they were operating in the context of less influential ROs, the likelihood of supporting government censorship of the professional media is higher by .230 (1% significance) among religious-​party politicians. Among politicians who believe that they were operating in the context of highly influential ROs, religious-​party politicians were more likely by .312

250  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties (5% significance) to support media censorship. Furthermore, comparing religious-​party politicians, we find that support for censorship was higher by 20% among religious-​party politicians who believed that ROs were highly influential compared to those who believed ROs were not influential. Now consider figure 8.2b for social media censorship. Among all politicians who believed they were operating in the context of less influential ROs, the likelihood of supporting increased government censorship of the social media was higher by .75 (1% significance) among religious-​party politicians in this group. However, among politicians who believe that they were operating in the context of highly influential ROs, religious-​party politicians were more likely by .9 (1% significance) to support social media censorship. Again, comparing religious-​party politicians, we find that support for censorship was higher by 21% among religious-​party politicians who believed that ROs were highly influential. Thus, while religious-​party politicians were always more likely to support professional and social media censorship than non-religious-​party politicians, their support for both policies increased very significantly when they believed they were operating in a political environment characterized by influential ROs. Finally, ­figure 8.3a and 8.3b present results for the marginal effects of religious party member and RO influence on support for mandatory religious education, which undermines freedom of religion, and for criminalizing adultery, which weakness freedom of movement, association, and assembly for women. These effects are calculated using estimates from ordered probit models 4 and probit model 5, respectively, from table 8.1. Figure 8.3a shows that among otherwise similar politicians who believe that ROs have little influence, the probability that a religious-​party politician will support mandatory religious education at six years of age is .333, while the probability that a non-religious-​party politician will do so is .199, a statistically insignificant difference of .133 in support. It also shows that among politicians who believe that ROs are highly influential, the probability that politicians from religious parties will support mandatory religious education is .491, while that of a non-religious-​party politician is .125, a statistically significant difference of .158 (1%) or 47% compared to politicians from non-religious parties. Furthermore, among religious-​party politicians, their support for mandatory religious education increases from .333 when they believe that ROs are not very influential to .491 when they believe ROs are highly influential, a difference of 48%. These estimates therefore show that while religious-​party politicians are always more supportive of mandatory religious education than non-religious-​party politicians, their support for a policy that directly reduces freedom of religion increases substantially if they believe that ROs are highly influential.

The Fall of an Icon  251 Finally, consider fi ­ gure 8.3b, which shows the marginal effects of religious-​ party membership and beliefs about RO influence on politicians’ support for criminalizing adultery. As discussed in ­chapter 6, criminalizing adultery would affect the freedoms of movement, association, and assembly of both sexes, but it has particularly dire consequences for women’s freedoms because their participation in activities and organizations with mixed-​gender settings could potentially expose women more to allegations of adultery (Arat 2010a; Göle 1996). Thus, this policy directly reduces the ability of women to exercise their freedom of association and assembly by joining most organizations and participating in organizational events with public or political purposes, and their ability to move freely for purposes of education, employment, or entertainment. Among otherwise similar politicians who believe that ROs have little influence, the probability that a politician from a religious party will support the criminalization of adultery is .88, while the probability that a politician from a non-religious party will do so is .693, a statistically significant difference of .187 in support (1% significance). Among politicians who believe that ROs are highly influential, the probability that a politician from a religious party will support criminalization of adultery is .973, while that of a non-religious-​party politician is .631, a statistically significant difference of .291 (1% significance), or 46%, compared to politicians from non-religious parties. Among religious-​party politicians, support for mandatory religious education increases from .88 when they believe that ROs are not very influential to .973 when they believe ROs are highly influential, a difference of 11%. These estimates therefore show that even though religious-​party politicians are already ideologically inclined to support this policy, which would reduce the freedoms of movement, association, and assembly for women, their support for it increases significantly if they believe that ROs are highly influential in society. Collectively, these results on support for general liberal principles of civil liberties and specific civil liberty policies provide direct evidence for the causal mechanism proposed in c­ hapter 3 at the theoretically appropriate level of individual politicians. They illustrate how much influence Turkish ROs are able to exert over the policy preferences and positions of religious political elites because of their ability to influence voters’ beliefs and behaviors. It is especially important to emphasize that this survey was fielded in April 2017, long after the 2014 fallout between the former close allies—​the Gülen order and the AKP. Since the Gülen order was one of the most influential ROs in Turkey from 2003 until 2014, but was considerably weakened by 2017, it is likely that the effects from ROs’ influence presented here underestimate the influence that ROs actually exerted in Turkey from 2003 to 2014. They also suggest that even after the fall of Gülen’s organization, politicians believed that other ROs

252  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties continued to exert formidable levels of influence in Turkey and religious-​party politicians continued to believe that accommodating ROs’ policy interests was important for them. Given this micro-​level evidence that highly socioeconomically institutionalized ROs exert considerable influence over the positions of religious-​party politicians, I  turn next to evaluating the cumulative effect of ROs’ political influence on civil liberties during two distinct periods—​from 1999 to 2002 under a centrist coalition government and from 2003 to now under the religious AKP. This comparison allows us to evaluate the validity of Hypothesis 2. Since this entire period was marked by highly socioeconomically institutionalized ROs in Turkey, it is particularly useful in assessing how important the presence of a religious party in government was in driving the decline in civil liberties.

High RO Institutionalization and Non-religious Government: 1999–​2002 In the 1999 elections, Erbakan’s new party, Fazilet, won about 20% (111) of parliamentary seats and sat in opposition as the center-​left Demokratik Sol Parti, the center-​right Anavatan Partisi (ANAP), and the nationalist Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi (MHP) formed the next coalition government until 2002. This secular ruling coalition relied on a diverse set of voters that did not include a large section of religiously motivated voters. Therefore, while these parties were willing to show that they were not hostile to Islam, they had little interest or incentive to alter the secular character of the state, the constitution, or society through their policies. In 2001, Fazilet was banned for engaging in anticonstitutional activities violating the secular character of the state. But it re-​emerged to continue its legislative term in the form of two new parties—​the Saadet Party and the AKP. The status of both religious parties as opposition parties severely limited their capacity to strengthen the ROs further through legislation, decrees, appointments, patronage, or budgetary disbursements or to pass legislation to realize their Islamist agenda. They also lacked the ability to block policies and government actions that expanded civil liberties and strengthened Turkey’s secular character and institutions. This is evidenced by the rollback of policies favoring the institutional interests of ROs; for example, funding for Imam-​Hatip schools was reduced, leading to a sharp decline in both the number of schools and enrollment (Yavuz 2003; Ozgűr 2012). Other high-​profile policy positions supported by various ROs, prominently including opposition to the EU candidacy talks and legislation increasing women’s legal rights, and support for limiting the ability of religious minorities to freely practice their religions and lifting

The Fall of an Icon  253 the headscarf ban also met with little support in parliament or the government (Edelman et al. 2015; Arat 2010). Between 1999 and 2002, this secular coalition was active in initiating several important laws that directly affected the civil liberties of interest in this book. The government initiated several reforms that increased freedom of expression. These included the legalization of broadcasting in different languages, reducing the penalties when TV or radio stations were suspended for airing programs considered propaganda against the state, and legalizing the retransmission of foreign broadcasting (EU Commission 1999–​2003; Yesil 2016). TV and radio stations catering to Islamist and religious minority audiences such as AKRA Radio, run by the Naqshbandis, and Mozaik Radio, for Alevis, were allowed to broadcast freely (Yavuz 2003b; Yesil 2016). However, domestic Kurdish stations continued to face restrictions (Yesil 2016). Despite Islamist opposition to discussions of topics such as alternative interpretations of Islam, homosexuality, evolution, issues related to the lives and work of professional women, and so on, journalistic, artistic, and academic discussions and publications on these issues in the public sphere continued to flourish. Instead restrictions on movies, public concerts, and theater were reduced significantly (EU Commission 2003:  37). While far from being very free, freedom of expression continued to improve during this period after facing a harsh clampdown by the military during the 1997 “soft coup” against Erbakan’s Islamist government. The government introduced several laws and amended existing ones to increase the freedom of association and assembly in Turkey during this period. Reforms to the constitution and to existing laws made it easier to establish associations and join associations and limited the grounds on which associations could be banned (EU Commission 2002:  35; Simsek 2004; Özler and Sarkissian 2011). Articles imposing restrictions on the ability to hold public demonstrations and meetings were deleted and modified, significantly improving the ability of civil society groups to legally hold public protests (EU Commission 2002: 37; Freedom House 2003). While many human rights boards and bodies were established during this period, this was done as part of the EU accession process and cannot be reliably attributed to the government’s non-​ Islamist credentials (Simsek 2004; Özler and Sarkissian 2011). The government also removed restrictions on the ability of voluntary associations to interact with foreign counterparts. Among the important consequences of this change was that Amnesty International was given permission to establish a branch in Turkey to monitor the human rights situation there. Given the ongoing conflict with Kurdish separatist movements, this was a significant concession. The number of voluntary associations representing a wide array of interests increased steadily throughout this period (Simsek 2004; Özler and Sarkissian 2011). Importantly, this included a substantial growth in the number of Islamist

254  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties associations as well, indicating a more genuine openness to letting civil society mobilize (Simsek 2004; Özler and Sarkissian 2011). Women’s groups in particular, including both secular and Islamist groups, “flourished” during this time (Ayata and Tũtũncũ 2008; Arat 2010a). Thus, despite the military campaign being conducted against Kurdish targets and organizations, the freedom of assembly and association increased during this period. The government also introduced amendments to laws governing foundations in August 2002 allowing community foundations to rent, acquire, and dispose of property. This was an issue of considerable importance for religious minorities as they were empowered to now acquire property for the purpose of holding organizational meetings and worship ceremonies (EU Commission 2002: 38). Furthermore, as discussed above, media outlets serving other religions were allowed to operate without government interference due to religious discrimination, and religiously inspired associations and foundations were allowed to interact with foreign counterparts belonging to similar denominations. Prosecution of religious minorities on blasphemy charges was rare (Lord 2017). Turkish citizens belonging to various minorities held prominent positions in government (Atiyas et al. 2016). Many long-​standing demands of religious minorities such as reopening teaching seminaries to train clergy and return of confiscated property remained unmet (EU Commission 2001, 2003). However, due to the policy changes discussed earlier, there were significant improvements both in the legal and in the informal environment for religious minorities during this period. Despite ROs’ opposition to these changes, the ruling non-​Islamist coalition reformed existing laws to increase the freedom of religious minorities to practice their beliefs. The non-​Islamist coalition also enacted significant legislation to increase the legal protections women enjoyed on many crucial issues. Most importantly, in October 2001, they abolished the concept of “head of the household” in Article 41 of the constitution. The government also passed laws requiring equal inheritance and establishing equal rights and obligations for men and women (EU 2003: 40; Arat 2010b). These changes were in complete contradiction to the beliefs held by orthodox Islamists about the role of women in family and society, and ROs and their associations had mobilized aggressively against them in the public sphere and in their media outlets (Arat 2010b; Ayata and Tũtũncũ 2008; Eligũr 2010). However, they were consistent with the beliefs and positions of non-​Islamist parties, and the EU process further facilitated their ability to enact these changes. These changes gave women the legal ability to make decisions regarding the freedom of residence, education, work, and so on, significantly enhancing their freedom of movement (EU 2003: 40; Arat 2010b; Ayata and Tũtũncũ 2008). However, the government continued to enforce the ban on headscarves, severely limiting the ability of religious Turkish

The Fall of an Icon  255 women to attend institutions of higher learning and hold jobs in the public sector (Arat 2010b; Ayata and Tũtũncũ 2008). As a result, it seriously limited the freedom of movement of Islamist women and their ability to freely practice their religious beliefs. In this context, while the reforms that non-​Islamist parties enacted benefited all women, some of their policies were illiberal. The net effect of their policy agenda on the freedom of movement of women was ambiguous. As this discussion suggests, despite the considerable assets that ROs could now mobilize to pressure politicians into adopting policies they favored, they were unable to successfully pressure a centrist coalition to adopt their agenda. The result was that civil liberties in Turkey did not decline during this period and in fact experienced a rise starting in 2000 (Freedom House 2000–​2004; EU Commission 2004). I will discuss this trend in more detail in the last section in this chapter.

The Decline of Civil Liberties in Turkey: 2003–​Present In the 2002 parliamentary elections Saadet failed to enter parliament, and the AKP won about 34% of votes (Çarkoğlu and Rubin 2005). Given that only one other party, the Republic People’s Party (CHP) crossed Turkey’s 10% threshold, this gave AKP about 66% (363 seats) and the CHP about 32% (178 seats) of parliamentary seats, with nine going to independent candidates. This dominant legislative majority gave the AKP government the institutional ability to pass most of its bills without relying on any other party. The AKP subsequently won the 2007 (62% of seats), 2011 (59.45% of seats), June 2015 (46.9% of seats), and November 2015 (57.45% of seats) parliamentary elections and formed all successive governments.1 Given their high seat shares and position as the only religious party in parliament, as ­figure 6.7 shows, religious legislative seat concentration was high during this entire period. Given the presence of a vibrant highly socioeconomically institutionalized ROs with extensive social reach, Hypothesis 2 in ­chapter  3 predicts that the governing AKP would use its legislative, bureaucratic, budgetary, and rhetorical resources to adopt and implement policies and practices consistent with an Islamist agenda during its tenure, leading to a decline in civil liberties in Turkey after 2003. I now present evidence showing this is indeed the case.

1 In the 2018 parliamentary elections, the AKP formed a coalition with several parties, including the MHP, and won the largest number of seats. My analysis, however, stops at 2016 because the civil liberties measures used in the empirical analyses are available only until 2016.

256  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

Freedom of Expression Extensive evidence suggests that the freedom of expression in the public and the private spheres declined severely in Turkey after 2003. In 2003, Turkey was ranked 115th in the world by Reporters Without Borders and had a press considered partly free by Freedom House. By 2015, it was ranked 149th by Freedom House, and it was classified as not free. Even before the post-​July 2016 coup arrests, Turkey already had the highest numbers of journalists in jail in the world (Human Rights Watch 2015; RSF 2016). By 2008 it was blocking 433 websites; by 2016, it was blocking more than 81,500 sites, most on the grounds of obscenity or hurting religious feelings (Akdeniz 2010: 11; Freedom House 2017, Freedom on the Net). In 2015 and 2016, Turkey made the most requests in the world for shutting down accounts to Twitter (Freedom House 2017, Freedom on the Net). Thus, both commercial and social media have been intensely targeted by the government. Blasphemy lawsuits and arrests have picked up pace over this period, with journalists such as Cetinkaya and Nisanyan, online bloggers, and artists and writers such as Fazil Say being imprisoned for insulting Islam if they questioned any of its beliefs or criticized any of its practices (Zadewski 2015; Edelman et al. 2015; Somer 2017). Art exhibits, performances of Western musical or dance forms, and so on, are also increasingly being censored for having content that is either considered “obscene” or “not consistent with Turkey’s family traditions” (CHP 2016). In January 2016, the government announced that it would ensure that all “visual, aural and social media, news, tabloids, film and similar types of productions conform to our traditional family values” (Hurriyet Daily News, Jan. 26, 2016). Thus, not only has freedom of expression in Turkey experienced a steady and severe decline, it has done so substantially in line with the religious demands of religious interest groups to promote Islam and Islamic values and behaviors. This is of course in addition to repression that is motivated solely by AKP’s politically driven need to suppress political and public opposition to its policies and practices, a topic that I will discuss in more detail later. AKP governments have achieved this dramatic restriction in free speech especially as it pertains to speech considered offensive by Islamists, using all the tools at their disposal. Observers and scholars note that they have received considerable help from the Islamic media, Islamist capital, and the Islamist education system—​all dominated by ROs—​in implementing this (Edelman et  al. 2015; Somer 2016, 2017). Both sets of actors have collaborated, using the tools they control to achieve this outcome. To illustrate this dynamic, I discuss two examples—​the drafting and implementation of the 2007 Internet Censorship Law (#5651) and the restructuring of the commercial media sector.

The Fall of an Icon  257 Free access to the internet had allowed many groups opposed to the Islamist agenda that the AKP and ROs shared to mobilize against those government policies and actions that were attempting to incrementally alter the secular liberal character of the Turkish state and society. Online mobilization by groups advocating liberal women’s rights, LGBTQ rights, opposing the increasing Islamicization of the education system, and so on, directly and publicly challenged the government and the orders’ agenda (Akgűl and Kirlidoḡ 2015; Freedom House 2017). Thus, the AKP government and Islamist organizations were eager to see online content and access censored to curb such perceived un-​Islamic and anti-​Islamist content and to provide content promoting their own ideology and policies. However, limiting internet freedom was not a popular position to take. To overcome this lack of public support, the Islamist media and the government cooperated to mount a media blitz framing an unregulated internet as creating a child pornography epidemic in Turkey (Freedom House 2017, Freedom in the World; Akdeniz 2010). This successful media effort changed public opinion so effectively that no opposition MP dared to speak out against the 2007 bill that was introduced to regulate the internet and the government was able to comfortably ensure its passage (Akgűl and Kirlidoḡ 2015; Akdeniz 2010). To ensure that the provision of this bill would be implemented by enthusiastic Islamists rather than bypassed by secularists, the bill gave the authority to implement the provisions of this bill to a ministry that the AKP government had thoroughly infiltrated by appointing conservative religious bureaucrats trained largely in schools run by ROs (Freedom House 2017, Freedom in the World; Akdeniz 2010). Over time, the government used its legislative majority to expand these powers at the expense of less ideologically reliable courts so that by 2015 cabinet ministers could unilaterally choose to block a website (Freedom House 2016). Detailed studies show that the websites that have been blocked include not just pornography websites but sites providing valuable services to religious minorities, such as the Alevis and Armenian Christians, liberal secular women, and LGBT communities, and protesting creationism and the increasing Islamicization of local governments among others—​all issues close to the hearts of ROs in Turkey (Freedom House 2017, Freedom in the World; Akdeniz 2010). Another insightful example can be seen in how AKP governments have used their government agencies to attack secular media outlets, and to subsidize and facilitate their takeovers by firms associated with ROs, which then use them to promote Islamist policies and support the AKP’s work. For example, the largest media firm in Turkey, the Dogan group, was levied with a $3.7 billion bill in back taxes, more than the firm’s net worth, soon after it covered a story about Islamist capital being funneled from an Islamist foundation in Germany run by ROs to AKP campaign coffers (Ilhan 2014; Oğurlu

258  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties and Őncu 2015). In another example, the government manipulated the sale of the popular secular Sabah newspaper and ATV television channel to ensure that it was purchased by the Calik group, affiliated with the Gülen order (Ilhan 2014; Oğurlu and Őncu 2015). It accomplished this by first using a state agency, the Savings and Deposit Insurance Agency, to manipulate the bidding procedures, ensuring Calik was the only bidder and then using two state banks to provide loans worth $750  million to finance the $1.1 billion sale price (Ilhan 2014; Somer 2016). Thus, the AKP government and religious ­orders cooperated successfully by mobilizing their resources and tools to their mutual benefit. This pattern ​of attacking secular media entities using state institutions and powers because they have challenged their common Islamist agenda, the power of either the ROs or the Islamist government or in order to increase their assets and to strengthen and deepen their control over the public sphere—​has been repeated with increasing frequency and increasing success in Turkey after 2003 (Somer 2016, 2017; Oğurlu and Őncu 2015; Akgűl and Kirlidoḡ 2015; Edelman et  al. 2015). As a result, as measured by various media freedom indices and rankings and by media censorship statistics, and as anecdotal evidence illustrates, freedom of expression in Turkey has declined considerably from 2003 to 2016.

Freedom of Religion Evidence indicates that freedom of religion in Turkey has also declined over this period. The Turkish state has always maintained a legal and bureaucratic structure that discriminates against minority religions in various ways and has propagated Sunni, Hanafi Islam as the state-​sanctioned version of Islam (Kocak 2010; Tepe 2008; Mardin 1999). The goal of previous governments in doing this was to prevent any religion from dominating public space (Tepe 2008; Mardin 1999). However, the AKP and the Islamist ROs are firmly committed to Turkey as an Islamic country in its public sphere. As discussed in the first part of this chapter and in c­ hapter 1, this additionally requires that all other religions must assume a secondary status and must be prevented from expanding and flourishing. Given the high profile freedom of religion has in the EU accession process, the AKP government has accomplished this goal slowly but steadily by a combination of legislative omission, bureaucratic actions and inaction, and public rhetoric. The AKP has continued to maintain the policies instituted by prior government that have prevented other religions from training their own clergy in Turkey or hiring foreign clergy, thus worsening the existing shortage of

The Fall of an Icon  259 clergy through its entire rule (Beylunioğlu 2015; Kutlu 2008; USCIRF, various years; Commission of the European Communities, various years). At the same time, they have increasingly interfered in the education system to Islamicize it (Somer 2016, 2017; Ozgűr 2012). On paper, religious minorities can obtain exemptions from mandatory classes in Islam-​related religious topics, but in practice the AKP has been systematically eradicating other options for satisfying mandatory religious education classes, forcing minorities to take the same classes (Somer 2016, 2017; Ozgűr 2012; Kutlu 2008). Religious minorities also face inexplicable bureaucratic obstacles in AKP run municipalities when trying to open their own schools (Beylunioğlu 2015; USCIRF, various years; EU Commission, progress reports, various years; Edelman et al. 2015). Thus, the ability of these communities to sustain their religious education and to avoid Sunni proselytization has been increasingly undermined over this period of AKP rule. Websites belonging to religious associations have been increasingly blocked by government authorities, often without explanation and reopened only when challenged in court and as discussed in the previous section, this trend has increased significantly over the course of the AKP’s rule from 2003 to 2016 (Freedom House 2015, Freedom on the Net; Akdeniz 2010). The government has increasingly interfered in the internal elections held for leading positions in minority churches (USCIRF, various years). Despite strong pressure from the European Union to address these issues and verbal promises by the AKP to meet them, legislation to correct these problems has not been passed in Turkey. At the same time, the government has substantially expanded the budget, the prestige, and the role of the Ministry of Religious Affairs (the Diyanet) over the 2003–​2016 period, increasing its reach into the social and religious lives of all Muslims but in a manner that is only consistent with Sunni Islam following the Hanafi school jurisprudence (Somer 2016; Lord 2017). The Diyanet maintains all mosques in Turkey, assigns imams to all of them, and controls their sermons (Yavuz 2003; Lord 2017). It has actively used these powers with the blessings of the AKP governments in power to propagate the Hanafi school of Sunni Islam to the exclusion of other Islamic sects, such as the Jafari or Shia sects (Yavuz 2003; Lord 2017). Alevis and Shias, as Muslims, are not accorded the ability to opt out of the regulations, precedents, sermons, or edicts of this agency, nor does the state provide any funding towards the upkeep of their places of worship (Yavuz 2003; Lord 2017). The Alevi places of worship, cemevis, are not legally recognized as such despite a successful legal challenge in the European Court of Human Rights. In turn, this has allowed Islamist bureaucrats to create legal and bureaucratic obstacles in their establishment and maintenance (Kutlu 2008; Edelman et al. 2015; Beylunioğlu 2015; Lord 2017). At the same time mosque building

260  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties has proceeded at a brisk pace, and places of great symbolic value such as the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul and Trabzon, museums for the last 80 years, were converted back into mosques in 2020 and 2013 respectively (BBC July 10, 2020; Beylunioğlu 2015). Under strong EU pressure, since 2003 the government initiated a program of returning religious property confiscated by prior governments to religious communities or compensating them for it instead (USCIRF, various years; EU Commission, various years). As enthusiasm for the EU membership has waned in the AKP, this process has become increasingly characterized by delays and obstacles (USCIRF, various years; EU Commission, various years). Supported by the government and ROs, the Diyanet has actively opposed any efforts by religious minorities, including non-​Sunni Muslim sects, to obtain legal recognition as religious minorities entitled to a share of state resources allotted to Islam (Lord 2017). Thus, the government has actively used its control over public revenue and its ability to colonize the bureaucracy with Islamists to maintain these restrictions on the freedom of its religious minorities in Turkey. Equally damaging, perhaps, have been the informal norms and institutions that have been set by the AKP governments. Erdogan himself has set an example by making explicit, derogatory remarks against Alevis and Armenians as communities and against individual opposition leaders belonging to this community during public speeches and rallies by singling out their religious affiliation as a target of scorn (Gundogan 2014; Somer 2016). Behaviors and rhetoric by other prominent party members have followed the same tone and inspired ordinary citizens to use similar language and to engage in actions against these minorities (Turam 2012; Beylunioğlu 2015; Freedom House 2015, 2016, 2017, Freedom in the World; Somer 2016). Such actions are not criticized by AKP leaders and often go unpunished by the police. Civil society organizations and human rights groups note that the incidence of hate speech and violence against religious minorities, their places of worship, and their leaders has escalated during the AKP’s tenure in power and that death threats against minorities are now not uncommon in some regions. Islamist-​owned channels have helped legitimize these government statements and actions by framing religious minorities and their demands for religious equality as threats to the Islamic character of Turkey, featuring unflattering image of minorities, and by engaging in hate speech (Turam 2012; Beylunioğlu 2015; Dink Foundation 2015, 2017; Edelman et al. 2015; Somer 2016). Thus, ROs and the AKP have cooperated by pooling their assets in government and the private sector to serve their mutual agenda to keep religious minorities marginalized. As a result, religious minorities have seen their freedom to practice their religion decline over this period.

The Fall of an Icon  261

Freedom of Movement and Residence As discussed earlier, ROs believe that the primary role of women is in the home as mothers and wives, and that gender-​mixing invites immoral behaviors among people. Islamists have therefore long been lobbying for policy changes that would reverse many of the civil rights gains women have achieved under the secular constitution, secular governments, and the EU accession process. The premium that the EU accession process placed on women’s rights acted as a brake on the process of altering women’s rights to suit Islamist beliefs from 2003 to 2006; however, it did not halt it (Edelman et al. 2015; Doyle 2016; Arat 2010). Evidence shows that under successive AKP governments, the Islamist agenda on women is beginning to see more success, leading to modest declines in the freedom of movement of Turkish women. Since 2003, and especially since 2007, the AKP has used its tenure in office to initiate policies and promote cultural norms and practices that stigmatize women’s participation in public space and marginalize their contributions. Initially the AKP attempted to directly curb freedom of women’s movement not just by stigmatizing free intergender mingling but also by passing legislation and enacting policies that attempted to limit the opportunities to do so. For example, in contrast to global trends, the party introduced legislation to lower the marriage age of women, to criminalize adultery, and to outlaw abortions, among many other policies (Ayata and Tütüncü 2008; Arat 2010a, 2010b; Edelman et al. 2015). These early legislative attempts failed due to direct warnings from the EU about the consequences of these attempts for Turkey’s accession process and in the face of massive mobilization by women’s groups (Ayata and Tütüncü 2008; Arat 2010a, 2010b; Edelman et al. 2015). So the AKP adapted by passing legislation that reduced women’s freedom of movement and choices indirectly. To discourage women from working, it passed a bill reducing women’s eligibility for retirement benefits (Somer 2016; Wagner 2016). To discourage socializing, especially with the opposite sex, the government passed a bill in 2017 that makes sexual harassment and abuse a petty crime with significantly lower penalties. These policies effectively discourage ordinary women from traveling, working, and studying independently, without explicitly outlawing these behaviors. Thus, they are increasingly achieving the goal that the ROs and AKP share of restricting women’s movement and actions to those considered permissible by these Islamist actors. Importantly, the AKP has used its control over government revenue and executive policy to encourage public schools to teach and follow ideals of gender segregation and to subsidize private organizations that practice Islamic values and lifestyles as well. The most blatant example of this is the active promotion of Imam-​Hatip public schools at the expense of secular public schools (Ozgur 2012;

262  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Edelman et  al. 2015; Somer 2016). These schools practice gender segregation in their classes, encourage students to make life choices that conform to these values, and reinforce these behaviors through their socialization practices and school culture (Ozgur 2012; Edelman et al. 2015). Under the AKP, the government has started transforming secular public schools into Imam-​Hatip schools, forcing low-​income families who cannot afford private schools to expose their children to these values. The government has also substantially increased the scholarships it gives students to attend private schools and dorms run by Islamist orders that segregate men and women, restrict their interactions with each other, discourage women from seeking out employment, and cultivate among their students the model of a pure and virtuous woman as one who is obedient to her male relatives and dedicates her energies to her family (Ayata and Tütüncü 2008; Ozgur 2012; Edelman et al. 2015). Thus, the AKP has been actively using government resources to raise generations who believe that seeking higher education, participating in society with unrelated men, and pursuing careers are not the pursuits of moral women, while glorifying women who adopt the traditional roles religious groups espouse (Ayata and Tütüncü 2008; Ozgur 2012; Edelman et al. 2015; Wagner 2016; Doyle 2016). These role models and lessons are reinforced by the rhetoric of senior AKP leaders. For example, Ismail Kahraman, a senior AKP leader and the Speaker of the Turkish parliament, publicly scolded a fellow parliamentarian for arguing against him, telling her to be quiet and sit down as she was a woman (Edelman et al. 2015). This sends a clear message that she deserved a rebuke for her inappropriate choice to participate in public life. Other AKP leaders have made public statements telling women that they were not equal to men (President Erdogan, BBC News, Nov. 14, 2014), asking women who were seeking employment, “Isn’t your housework enough?” (Veysel Eroğlu, forestry minister, Worldpost, Sep. 28, 2014), and chiding women for smiling in public: “A woman will know what is haram [forbidden] and not haram. . . . She will not laugh out loud in public. She will not be inviting in her attitudes and will protect her chasteness” (Bulent Arinc, deputy prime minister, Sep. 28, 2014). These statements send a clear message not just to women and men but to bureaucrats, employers, policemen, judges, and others in positions of authority that women who step outside these boundaries may not be “morally virtuous.” The wives and daughters of party leaders almost universally wear the headscarf and behave in ways that distinguish the public sphere of the AKP from other parties (Ayata and Tütüncü 2008). There are very few high-​ranking women among the AKP organizational hierarchy (Ayata and Tütüncü 2008). Such public statements and behavioral choices by the highest leaders of Islamist parties create powerful norms regarding the morality of women that affect the values and actions of their followers.

The Fall of an Icon  263 Women’s groups have also faced increasingly violent police tactics when protesting peacefully against policies that roll back women’s rights (Beylunioğlu 2015; Wagner 2016). Allegations that such police violence was excessive have been dismissed on the grounds that “good” women did not engage in such protests (Turam 2012; Doyle 2016; Beylunioğlu 2015; Wagner 2016). Along with various laws and policies, such rhetoric promoting a traditional image of a good Muslim woman who is content to be at home taking care of her family has raised substantial social and cultural barriers to women and exposed women who do enter public spaces in “un-​Islamic ways” to violence (BBC News, Sep. 26, 2016, June 21, 2017). Women’s marches have increasingly drawn criticism from politicians, who have publicly questioned the moral character of women protesting against the reduction in penalties for domestic violence or the rape of minors (Doyle 2016; Beylunioğlu 2015). Importantly, Islamist media controlled by the ROs help establish and propagate norms placing restrictions on women’s movements, frame political rhetoric and behaviors attacking women’s rights as promoting righteousness under Islam, and justify police violence against women demonstrators as the state protecting Islam from its enemies (Turam 2012; Doyle 2016; Edelman et al. 2015). Collectively, the evidence therefore suggests that the energy of the AKP government and ROs when it comes to the freedom of movement has been directed at a very specific target—​women. While the EU accession process slowed their efforts from 2003 to about 2007, since 2008 the AKP government has gradually ramped up its legislative and informal efforts to shape the ability of women to move about freely in any public space. At first glance, the effect of these efforts seems modest. Consider Turkey’s performance on the Gender Gap Index, which is calculated by the World Economic Forum by combining changes in women’s status in education, employment, health, and political empowerment. All of these dimensions depend directly on the ability of women to move freely in the public and private spheres of their lives. Between 2003 and 2016, Turkey has stayed largely stagnant, ranking at the 10th percentile globally (World Economic Forum, various years). This lack of improvement is striking when one considers the fact that this period has been one of impressive gains in per capita income in Turkey and of considerable pressure from the EU in this regard. Instead of improving under the momentum of these factors, Turkey’s ranking has failed to improve. Furthermore, qualitative evidence from women’s rights groups, Human Rights Watch, and Amnesty International, among others, indicates that women’s ability to move freely, especially in public spaces, is increasingly under threat. Given how important an issue this is to ROs and the AKP, we can expect freedom of women to decline further if the AKP stays in power.

264  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

Freedom of Assembly and Association As discussed earlier, Islamist organizations do not consider any mobilization or civic actions promoting values and behaviors considered un-​Islamic as acceptable. Such civic activism is perceived by these religious organizations not merely as being un-​Islamic but as actively undermining Islam and promoting anti-​Islamic sentiment. For this reason, they have been opposed to the formation of associations and foundations that espouse a variety of causes, including liberal women’s rights, liberal human rights, freedom of speech, minority rights, secular education, evolution, and gay rights, and limiting and/​or eliminating such interest groups has long been on the wish list of ROs. A considerable body of evidence shows that under the AKP’s rule, the freedoms of association and assembly have declined severely. Studies show that interest groups that do not share the Islamist agenda and especially those that do work that contravene Islamist values and practices have been subjected to increasing levels of intimidation, harassment, and closures by the authorities. The organizations targeted most often by such tactics are secular women’s groups, secular human rights groups, gay rights groups, and interest groups protesting the Islamization of the educational system, among others (Doyle 2016; US State Department 2016). These groups have increasingly found their offices and the residences of their leaders raided by the police or the tax authorities (Doyle 2016; US State Department 2016; Casier 2009). Their supporters, members, and leaders have been increasingly imprisoned on trumped-​up charges stemming from such raids or from their participation in demonstrations (Doyle 2016; US State Department 2016; Casier 2009; Human Rights Watch, various years; Amnesty International, various years). The arrest of 11 human rights activists, including the head of the Turkey chapter of Amnesty International, on charges of helping terrorist organizations in July 2017 is only the latest incident in a long line of such arrests (Hurriyet Daily News, Oct. 25, 2017). They are also subject to higher levels of physical violence during demonstrations, leading to fatalities in some cases (Doyle 2016; Yalcin 2015; Human Rights Watch 2009–​2016; US State Department 2016). Many human rights and women’s groups have been given excessively large fines intended to make these organizations either financially insolvent or barely functional (Doyle 2016; Edelman et al. 2015; Yalcin 2015). The websites of many of these groups, especially those associated with gay rights and religious minorities, have been repeatedly blocked by government agencies on the grounds of obscenity, offending Turkish traditional values, or disturbing public order (Freedom House 2017, Freedom in the World; Akdeniz 2010).

The Fall of an Icon  265 The nature of the examples cited above indicates that the cooperation of various government agencies is required for these tactics to be used, especially since many of the tactics used are either illegal or border on illegality. The AKP’s ability to infiltrate the police, courts, and the ministries, including finance, education, communication, and so on, with the graduates of private and public religious schools supported by ROs has made these tactics available to them (Edelman et al. 2015; BBC News, Apr. 21, 2015). As Murat Onok, a law professor in Turkey, noted in an interview with the BBC, “Judges and prosecutors are appointed by a board on which the government has members. There’s the feeling that if you adopt unpalatable decisions, you may be appointed elsewhere” (BBC News, Apr. 21, 2015). Since many of these personnel are themselves firmly committed to the Islamist vision of Turkey, they share the perception that these organizations and their members are opposed to the Islamist vision and should be weakened if not eliminated (Somer 2016; Edelman et al. 2015). The government has also used its legislative powers to pass bills and amendments relating to internal security (2014) and police powers (2015) that have increased the level of violence police are allowed to use against demonstrators, the level of penalties that can be imposed on demonstrators, the suspension of due process governing their arrest and trials, and the immunity of the police for their actions related to demonstrators (Edelman et al. 2015; Freedom House 2017, Freedom in the World). The result has been increasing levels of repression. The Islamist media, owned and affiliated with various religious organizations, have helped legitimize these measures by framing the actions of women’s groups, human rights groups, and gay rights groups as attacks on Islam and on Turkish family and traditional values (Edelman et al. 2015; Freedom House 2017, Freedom in the World). For example, the brutal crackdown on Gezi Park protestors in 2013 by hundreds of policemen using 50 water cannons, resulting in 11 fatalities and more than 8,000 injuries, was justified by Erdogan as action against unpatriotic criminal mafia (Hurriyet Daily News, Mar. 20, 2014). This portrayal was the dominant discourse on Islamist media, especially since alternative sources such as Twitter were blocked at that time (Hurriyet Daily News, Mar. 20, 2014; Yalcin 2015: 85–​87). Gay pride parades have been banned for successive years using a variety of reasons, even as the Islamist media portray them as immoral events “seeking to encourage immorality” (Hurriyet Daily News, June 26, 2017). in November 2017, a gay film festival was banned as well (BBC News, Nov. 16, 2017) even though homosexuality is not illegal in Turkey. Women marching to protest the AKP’s attempt to outlaw abortions and those simply marching to commemorate International Women’s Day have faced police violence, which has been justified as protecting family values and Islamic values (Doyle 2016; US State Department 2016; Civil

266  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Monitor 2017). The prolonged state of emergency Erdogan imposed from July 2016 to July 2018 has also been framed in similar terms (US State Department 2016; Civil Monitor 2017). Finally, the government, with the help of Islamist foundations and Islamist business associations, is increasingly active in establishing parallel organizations that serve the same purpose as secular ones. The most actively targeted sectors have been human rights, women’s rights, and education (Edelman et al. 2015; Doyle 2016; Arat 2010b; Civil Monitor 2017). These Islamist organizations receive disproportionate shares of public funding and energetic cooperation from government agencies and are invited to participate in policymaking processes while their secular counterparts are not (Doyle 2016; Arat 2010a; Civil Monitor 2017). By strengthening Islamist competitors in terms of resources, facilities, technical know-​how, and government access, the AKP and religious groups have worked to make them more competent and effective and, hence, more attractive to their constituencies. This has been happening while secular civil society organizations are being repressed and shut down. The result, as scholars note, is that the freedom to assemble and to associate has been steadily declining in Turkey. Evidence clearly suggests that the declines in these freedoms are not driven solely by the AKP’s religious convictions or by its responsiveness to the Islamist agenda of religious organizations. Each of these civil liberties has also been suppressed in direct response to the political challenges that Erdogan has faced. A rarely invoked law making it a criminal offense to insult the president has now become a routine tool of opposition repression. By March 2016, there were almost 2,000 such cases filed against journalists, social workers, students, academics, and opposition politicians, and the jurisdiction of this law was extended to make insults against mayors and other government bureaucrats punishable as well (Reuters, Mar. 2, 2016). The religious affiliation of opposition leaders has become a pretext for questioning their patriotism (Somer 2016, 2017; Yalcin 2015). The police, and increasingly a politically captured judiciary, have dealt harshly with protests against government policies, whether they are against the plans to build over Gezi Park (Yalcin 2015), to take evolution out of school curricula (Hurriyet Daily News, July 18, 2017), the arrests of Kurdish leaders (Hurriyet Daily News, Mar. 9, 2016), or government corruption (Yetkin 2017; Yilmaz 2015; International Association of Judges 2017). Importantly, media outlets friendly to the regime have been critical in framing these harsh tactics by the government, the police, and the judiciary as service in the defense of Islam and Turkey and as acting against the enemies of Islam, including the West (Somer 2010; Edelman et al. 2015; Yetkin 2017b; Zeyrek 2017). Thus, the astounding scale of the crackdown on various

The Fall of an Icon  267 segments of society—​including the media, firms, business associations, civil society groups, judges, artists, and academics, among many others in the shadow of the falling out with the Gülen order and the failed July 2016 military coup—​has been justified on these grounds by ROs’ media arms and leaders. Few among these media question the choice of targeted firms, individuals, or organizations. Instead of withdrawing their support from the AKP in light of its brutal campaign against the Gülen order, the other Sufi orders have hustled to take up the various assets and positions being vacated by Gülen followers, most notably in the education, justice, health, and interior ministries, the judiciary, and the police department (Bugün, Aug. 2017; Ozyürt 2017). They have also continued to extend public support for the AKP’s actions. Importantly, ROs have flexed their muscles by using their media and other assets to publicly chide the government for not being sufficiently “Islamic” (Ozyürt 2017). The AKP under Erdogan has therefore been careful to continue courting them and giving them considerable public respect and patronage. Thus, there is ample evidence that the AKP has restricted such freedoms in its bid to consolidate its political power and ROs have helped it in these efforts in order to pursue their own policy and institutional interests. Finally, as discussed earlier, the AKP has framed any democratic criticism of its power grab as criticism of the Islamist project, and it has been enthusiastically aided in this successful framing by religious organizations that see it as their best hope of realizing an Islamist society in Turkey. As the discussion above suggests, there is considerable evidence to show that ROs have facilitated the AKP’s use of religious rhetoric to justify actions taken purely to consolidate political power by using their assets to frame such actions in religious terms in exchange for continued progress on the Islamist agenda.

Civil Liberties: Empirical Trend The historical evidence presented in the previous section reveals that prior to the AKP’s ascent to power in 2003, the demands of the relatively empowered ROs for reducing civil liberties, particularly of certain groups in society, were largely ignored by Turkey’s ruling elite. But once the AKP gained power in 2003, a “quid pro quo” alliance emerged between these Islamist organizations and the de facto Islamist AKP government. While ROs were unable to effectively pressure non-religious-​ party governments, they were able to successfully pressure a religious-​party government. The end result of this alliance was active repression of civil liberties such as freedom of expression, assembly, association, and movement in Turkey. A concise examination of time-​series data of the civil rights described in ­chapter 4 further corroborates these trends. Figure 8.4 plots the moving average

268  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties

12

Civil Rights

10 8 6 4 2 0

1986

1989

1992

1995

1998

2001

2004

2007

2010

Civil Rights

Figure 8.4  Moving average of civil rights in Turkey, 1985–​2010

of the civil rights measure for Turkey from 1985 to around 2010. It shows that from the mid-​1980s—​after Turkey’s transition to democracy in 1983–​1984—​to the mid-​1990s, the country’s moving average level of civil rights is both sufficiently high and respectable by global standards of developing country democracies. This is not surprising, as both the conditions posited in Hypothesis 2 were absent in Turkey from the mid-​1980s to the mid-​1990s. There is, however, a steady (but not dramatic) erosion of civil rights from the mid-​to late 1990s, when Refah was in the ruling coalition and nongovernmental ROs had begun expanding significantly in the economic and media spheres. More importantly, as predicted in Hypothesis 2, when both the key conditions were present—​ namely, high levels of institutionalization of national Islamist religious organizations and Islamist parties in the ruling coalition—​Turkey’s moving-​average “civil rights” level declined precipitously from approximately 8.6 during the 1990s to a low moving average of 5.7 from 2004 to 2010. A difference-​of-​means test confirms that the mean civil rights level after 2003 (i.e., from 2004 to 2010) is statistically almost 24% lower than the mean civil rights level in Turkey before 2003 (i.e., between 1985 and 2003). I build on this difference-​of-​means test by also applying Bai and Perron’s (1998) structural break test to Turkey’s stationary civil rights time-​series data to check for possible structural breaks in this data. Bai and Perron (1998) proposed a sequential test procedure for estimating multiple break points. This procedure first tests the null hypothesis of no break versus the alternative of a single break.

The Fall of an Icon  269 If one break is identified, then the sample is broken at that break point, and the test is applied to the spit samples. The null hypothesis in this second round is that there is only one break and the alternative is that there are two breaks. Therefore, in practice, the test procedure is largely the same at each stage, but the critical values for finding additional breaks become stricter with each successive test. This test procedure is described more formally in the book’s appendix. The Bai and Perron (1998) test in this context is specifically designed to examine whether the moving average of the civil rights series for Turkey experienced significant change in certain years during the 1986 to 2010 time period. In the context of Turkey’s civil rights time-​series data, the Bai and Perron (1998) test was first applied to the whole sample for every possible single break point of two years. The significant F-​statistics (i.e., those exceeding the 5% and 10% critical values) for breaks of this duration were then saved. The same test was implemented for every possible break of two years, the significant ones were saved, and so on. F-​statistics from the Bai-​Perron structural break test conducted for Turkey’s 1986 to 2010 civil rights series reveals that there are three statistically significant “break years”: 2004, 2006, and 2008. More specifically, the F-​statistics indicate that there is a statistically significant decline in Turkey’s “civil rights” series first from 2004 to roughly 2006 and then later from 2008 to around 2010. Put together, the difference-​of-​means test and the Bai and Perron (1998) test for Turkey support the claim in Hypothesis 2 that the presence of two conditions (high SEI of national Islamist religious organizations and Islamist parties in the ruling coalition) has a negative influence on the civil liberties of domestic citizens in Muslim-​majority states.

Conclusion In ­chapter 3, I proposed a theory that argued that neither Islamist institutionalization nor the electoral success of Islamist parties was individually sufficient to allow political actors to implement an Islamist agenda that would result in decreased civil liberties. Rather it was the presence of both factors simultaneously that allowed Islamist policies to be implemented and Islamist governments to use religious rhetoric to justify repression leading to a decline in civil liberties. The large-​n analysis in ­chapter 5 supported these findings. This chapter examined a specific case, Turkey from 1999 to 2016, in depth to examine the validity of this argument and found strong support for it. The considerable temporal variation found in Turkey in both factors—​ROs’ SEI and Islamists in government—​ allows a very useful examination of the interactive nature of Hypothesis 2 in this book.

270  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties The combination of a wide variety of qualitative evidence and quantitative evidence based on an original survey of party elites in Turkey provides strong support for Hypothesis 1 in c­ hapter 6 and for Hypothesis 2 in this chapter. Moreover, by evaluating the elite-​level causal effects, they give us more confidence in the causal mechanisms that these hypotheses posit. Collectively, the results from ­chapters 6 and 8 support the argument that (i) when inflation rates are high and Islamists enjoy high legislative seat concentration, Islamist religious organizations are able to substantially expand their socioeconomic reach through higher institutionalization in society, and (ii) when RO institutionalization is high and an Islamist party is in government, Islamist-​ oriented policies are adopted and the government engages in civil rights repression using religious rhetoric, leading to a significant decline in civil liberties. The Turkish case is very important from a research design perspective because it provides intertemporal variation in all the four relevant factors in the two hypotheses. Furthermore, it is also a case with considerable substantive importance because Turkey was actively celebrated and promoted as a role model for aspiring MMC democracies by many activists in MMCs as well as international agencies and foreign governments. The AKP in particular was seen to present a viable and desirable model for a Muslim party that was essentially democratic even as it drew its inspiration from religious values, akin to the model of Christian democratic parties in Western Europe. The steady and steep decline in the most basic civil liberties in Turkey under the stewardship of the AKP has for these reasons produced disappointment and angst among many. For some analysts, these declining civil liberties have resuscitated old debates over the compatibility of Islam and liberal democratic values. Other scholars and analysts reject this argument and attribute this decline to the personal leadership style and ambitions of President Erdogan. The findings in this chapter suggest that both sets of conclusions ignore the more systemic factors that have been driving Turkey toward its status today as a fallen icon. While individual leaders do exert considerable influence over the course of their countries’ destinies, these results show that understanding the systemic conditions that facilitate democratic and autocratic behavior by leaders and their party members, and establish the limits of their ability to achieve either democracy or autocracy, is vital to understanding countries’ potential for liberal democracy. In the next chapter I continue this analysis by examining whether weakly institutionalized ROs failed to force religious parties in Pakistan to curb liberal civil liberties before 2009 but succeeded after this year as they increased their SEI.

The Fall of an Icon  271

Appendix Table 8.1   Results for Civil Liberty-Related Policies in Turkey Universal vs. Professional Social Mandatory Criminalize Religious Media Media Religious Adultery Human Censorship Censorship Education Rights

RO Influence Religious Party Member

Model 1

Model 2

Model 3

Model 4

Model 5

0.223

0.942*

1.029***

0.432

0.326

(0.220)

(0.404)

(0.283)

(0.310)

(0.244)

–​4.234***

–​0.622*

3.139***

–​0.325

–​0.855

(0.248)

(0.278)

(0.781)

(0.225)

(0.496) –​0.552**

RO Influence* –​0.599** Religious Party (0.300)

0.605**

1.305**

0.756*

(0.250)

(0.486)

(0.371)

(0.271)

Age

–​0.005

–​0.032

0.024

–​0.007

0.00826

(0.008)

(0.019)

(0.019)

(0.011)

(0.0114)

0.078

0.594**

0.965**

–​0.082

–​0.0195

(0.209)

(0.217)

(0.344)

(0.052)

(0.194)

0.154

0.021

–​0.284

0.235

–​0.0357

(0.230)

(0.140)

(0.362)

(0.210)

(0.247)

0.364**

–​0.130

Education Male Prior Election Experience

0.080

0.410

1.042***

(0.246)

(0.213)

(0.276)

(0.118)

(0.230)

Experience with Other Parties

0.152

0.383

0.731

0.101

–​0.221

(0.176)

(0.295)

(0.487)

(0.196)

(0.282)

Member of Political Dynasty

0.120

0.136

0.595

–​0.026

0.364

(0.316)

(0.192)

(0.347)

(0.156)

(0.257)

Experience with Elected Office

–​0.534**

0.241*

–​0.153

–​0.122

–​0.366

(0.195)

(0.111)

(0.199)

(0.097)

(0.240)

Member of 5.440*** Incumbent AK (0.391) Party

–​0.034

0.002

0.614**

–​0.124

(0.355)

(0.016)

(0.214)

(0.541)

–​1.228*

–​1.241

–​4.550**

Constant

–​0.811 Continued

272  Religious Parties and the Politics of Civil Liberties Table 8.1  Continued Universal vs. Professional Social Mandatory Criminalize Religious Media Media Religious Adultery Human Censorship Censorship Education Rights Model 1

Model 2

Model 3

(0.552)

(1.375)

(1.428)

Model 4

Model 5 (0.678)

Threshold Cutoff 1

–​0.123

Threshold Cutoff 2

0.253

Threshold Cutoff 3

0.883

(0.531) (0.564) (0.604)

Observations

215

213

213

200

205

Clustered Errors (State)

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

AIC

164.775

121.023

80.296

444.123

209.6

BIC

202.191

155.255

114.395

480.405

249.0

Standard errors in parentheses * p < 0.05, ** p < 0.01, *** p