After September 11, 2001, many Muslim, on a number of occasions, found himself or herself repeating something akin to this phrase: “Islam is a religion of peace. The actions of these terrorists do not represent real Islam.”
At a fundamental level, the Islamic tradition offers a path to peace, both in the heart of the individual and in the world at large, when the Islamic imperatives for social justice are followed. Yet there is something pathetically apologetic about turning the phrase “Islam is a religion of peace” into a mantra. It is bad enough to hear Muslim spokespersons repeat it so often while lacking the courage to face the forces of extremism in our own midst. It is just as bad to hear a United States President reassure us that he respects Islam as a “religion of peace” as he prepares to bomb Muslims in Afghanistan and Iraq, or support the brutal oppression of Palestinians. In both of the above senses, “Islam is a religion of peace” has become to many ears a hollow phrase, full of apologism and hypocrisy.
As Muslims, we owe it to ourselves to come to terms with the problems inside our own communities. All societies have their beautiful and noble citizens, along with their share of hateful and extremist ones. Muslims are human, not an ounce less and not an ounce more than any other people. We too have our saints and sinners, our fanatical zealots and compassionate exemplars.
At this stage of history our primary responsibility is to come to terms with the oppressive tyrants and fanatics inside our own communities, our own families, and our own hearts. Hiding behind the simple assertion that “Islam is a religion of peace” does not solve our problems.
It seems to that we have lost sight of the real meaning of “peace,” just as we have lost a real sense of “war.” Many have come to think of peace as simply the absence of war, or at least the absence of violent conflict. Yet, we must preserve the possibility of upholding resistance to well-entrenched systems of inequality and injustice through non-violent conflict. This is one of the great challenges of our time: affirming the right of a people who have been dehumanized andoppressed to resist, while encouraging them to do so non-violently. This is a great challenge indeed.
The very concept of “peace” can be and has been co-opted and adopted by hegemonic powers to preserve the unjust status quo, as we have seen in both Israel and apartheid-era South Africa. At times like this, we must reject the superficial appeals of an unjust peace, and insist instead on a peace that is rooted in justice. In his Nobel Peace Prize lecture, Dalai Lama stated, “Peace, in the sense of the absence of war, is of little value to someone who is dying of hunger or cold . . . Peace can only last where human rights are respected, where the people are fed, and where individuals and nations are free.”It is, rather, a declaration that one will fight systems of prejudice, injustice, and inequality.
The statement that “Islam is a religion of peace” must not be allowed to become a license to avoid dealing with the grinding realities of social, political, and spiritual injustice on the ground level. To do so is to sell out our humanity, and to abandon our cosmic duty to embody the Qur’anic call for implementing justice (‘adl) and realizing goodness-and-beauty (ihsan). Our great challenge as Muslims is to find a non-violent means of resisting the powers that be, and to speak truth to them. At the same time, we must aim to bring about a just and pluralistic society in which all of us can live and breathe, and realize the God-given dignity to which we are entitled as human beings. We do not grant this dignity to one another: it belongs to all of us simply because, as the Qur’an teaches us, all of us have the Divine spirit breathed into us.
Since September 11, 2001, we have been told time and again that our task as global citizens is to increase tolerance towards one another and to achieve a more tolerant society. Many Muslims have also emphasized that there are great strands of tolerance in Islam that must be articulated more clearly.
Let us beg to differ here. We need not be interested in teaching or preaching “tolerance.” But also we don’t want to see us kill and oppress each other. But words are powerful vehicles in shaping our thoughts, and there are often many layers of meaning embedded in words. The connotations of “tolerance” are deeply problematic. The root of the term “tolerance” comes from medieval toxicology and pharmacology, marking how much poison a body could “tolerate” before it would succumb to death.
Is this the best that we can do? Is our task to figure out how many “others” (be they Muslims, Jews, blacks, Hindus, homosexuals, non-English speakers, Asians, etc.) we can tolerate before it really kills us? Is this the most sublime height of pluralism that we can aspire to? We don’t want to “tolerate” fellow human beings, but rather to engage them at the deepest level of what makes us human, through both our phenomenal commonality and our dazzling cultural differences. If we are to have any hope of achieving anything resembling a just peace in the future, that examination needs to include both the greatest accomplishments of all civilizations, and also a painful scrutiny of ways in which the place of privilege has come at a great cost to others. That goes equally for both the Islamic civilization and for the Western powers of today.
In short, we Muslims do not wish for a “tolerant” Islam, any more than we long for a “tolerant” American or European society. Rather, we seek to bring about a pluralistic society in which we honor and engage each other through our differences and our commonalities.
Here is a newsflash, courtesy of Muslims: God is doing just fine. God doesn’t need any help. God doesn’t need any defenders. It is humanity that needs help, especially the oppressed, the downtrodden, the marginalized, and the all-but-forgotten who desperately needs champions and advocates.
This is to bring up to underscore that being a Muslim means self-consciously moving beyond apologetic presentations of Islam. Our apologism does God no good, and it solves none of our real problems. And it is no exaggeration to say that the overwhelming majority of writings these days that dominate Islamic centers fall into the realm of apologetics. Why do apologetic writings hold such appeal to religious folks, including Muslims?
The past few years have been a challenging time for nearly all people of faith. For Muslims, this has meant an urgent imperative to define what we stand for and, just as importantly, what we reject. For Catholics, it has meant coming to terms with the catastrophic sexual abuses in the Church. For Jews and Hindus, it has meant confronting the brutal violence committed or tolerated by nation states that claim to represent them. It has been a time of a great deal of vocal but vexing public conversation about all religions, including Islam.
Part of the challenge is to recognize that there are many ways of talking about all religions, including Islam, in the public sphere. Two of them seem to have gained prominence in the post-9/11 world. One level is the normative, theological way, when self-designated (or selected) representatives speak with the weight of authority, and feel perfectly entitled to make statements like “Catholicism states . . . .” “Judaism teaches us that. . .,” and of course, “Islam states. . . .” The other way of talking about religion is more historical and descriptive, less theological, and more people centered. The followers of this perspective are likely to say, “This Jewish group practices the following ritual, while other Jewish groups practice otherwise. . .”; “These Muslim groups hold this interpretation of jihad, while their interpretations are opposed by the following groups. . .”
Regarding many issues, the majority of Muslim scholars have formed a clear enough consensus (ijma‘) to allow us to speak of near unanimity. On other issues –precisely those that many contemporary Muslims and non-Muslims would be interested in hearing about and debating – there has been and remains a wide range of interpretations and practices among Muslim scholars and within Muslim communities.
Our task as Muslims is to begin by honestly chronicling the spectrum of Muslim practices and interpretations for society at large. We cannot and should not single out only sublime examples that are likely to be palatable to a non-Muslim public, just as we would not want the xenophobes to focus exclusively on the fanatical fringe of Muslim societies. It is imperative for all of us to demonstrate the full spectrum of interpretations, particularly in dealing with the “difficult” issues (gender constructions, violence, pluralism, etc.).
Furthermore, being less and less patient and satisfied with assertions that “Islam teaches us. . .” This seems to be an attempt to bypass the role of Muslims in articulating this thing called Islam. Let us be clear, and perhaps controversial here: “Islam” as such teaches us nothing. The Prophet Muhammad does. Interpretive communities do. I would argue that God does, through the text of the Qur’an. But in the case of texts, there are human beings who read them, interpret them, and expound their meanings. Even our encounter with the Prophet is driven by different (and competing) textual presentations of his life, teachings, and legacy.In all cases, the dissemination of Divine teachings is achieved through human agency.
Religion is always mediated. “Islam” does not get up in the morning. Islam does not brush its teeth. Islam does not take a shower. Islam eats nothing. And perhaps most importantly for our consideration, Islam says nothing. Muslims do. Muslims get up in the morning, Muslims brush their teeth, Muslims shower, Muslims eat, and Muslims speak. It is the Muslims that shows us “Islam”.
Many people simply ascribe their own (or their own community’s) interpretations of Islam to “Islam says. . .” They use such authoritative – and authoritarian – language as a way to close the door on discussion. And closing discussions is something that we cannot afford. Else the downfall of the thought and in turn the civilization is bound to happens.
No more “Pamphlet Islam” Walk into any Islamic center, and there is likely to be a table in the hallway or in the library that features a wide selection of pamphlets. The pamphlets bear titles like “The Status of Women in Islam,” “Concept of God in Islam,” “Concept of Worship in Islam.” Printed in pale yellow, pink, and green shades, they promise truth in black and white. These pamphlets teach us one thought and stops our intellectual growth. It teaches us not to go and see what other thought says about Islam.
We are in imminent danger – if we are not there already – of succumbing to “pamphlet Islam,” the serious intellectual and spiritual fallacy of thinking that complex issues can be handled in four or six glossy pages. They simply cannot. The issues involved are far too complicated, and the human beings who frame the issues are even more so.
“Islam is simple” is a slogan used all too often as an excuse to avoid discussion, disputation, and even disagreement. After all, if Islam is simple, how can reasonable and intelligent people disagree over it? Do these disagreements occur because some are deluded away from the simple truth? Not so! Islam is not simple because Muslims are not simple. Surely our identities in these virulent and turbulent post-colonial times are far from simple. Muslims are every bit – not an ounce more, and not an ounce less – as complicated as all of the other members of humanity. We argue, we discuss, we disagree, we joke, we laugh, we walk away mad, we come back, we compromise. But we do not, have not ever, and will not ever all agree on one interpretation of Islam.
We can do better than “pamphlet Islam.” We must. From time to time, of course, there is a need for concise articulation of Islam for ourselves and others. But let us do it honestly, without burying the dazzling array of interpretations that have always existed in Muslim thought and life.
Let me demonstrate how urgent a non-apologetic, presentation of Islam can be by tackling two of the most pressing issues that have dominated the public discourse on religions in general and Islam in particular: the need for tolerance, and the positing of Islam as a religion of peace.
It is important to recognize the wider ramifications for the Muslim world of the decline of the traditional Islamic universities (madrasas). One of the real challenges facing Muslim communities around the world has been the marked decline of the madrasa system. Many scholars have directly attributed this decline to the impact of European colonialism, positing that the colonial system undermined the relevance and prestige of Islamic education in favor of more technological and scientific institutions. In places like North Africa, the colonial powers actually shut down some of the most prestigious institutions of higher Islamic learning.
This much is certainly clear: in many places around the Muslim world, madrasa institutions are no longer the center of creative, critical thinking. In the pre-modern world, the very brightest Muslim minds (at least the male ones, since the females were usually relegated to education at home) were to be found in the madrasas. The traditional curriculum was based on the memorization of the foundational texts (Qur’an, etc.), and learning the rigorous methodology by which one could arrive at a religious opinion.
How strange it must seem to many modern Muslims to read a pre-modern theologian like Ghazzali offer an opinion in such a fashion: The following group holds this opinion, while group 2 states something to the contrary. Group 3 is still different, holding to such-and-such a belief, while group 4 follows this practice. How refreshing! How intellectually honest, to summarize the perspectives of various schools of thought, to legitimize a range of opinions and to acknowledge a spectrum of interpretations! It is then, and only then, that a learned scholar like Ghazzali would situate himself in that wider spectrum. Such a willingness to undertake self-positioning may not have been the norm, but it was utilized by some of the leading pre-modern Muslim thinkers. How different is this attitude from so many contemporary Muslim pundits who hijack an entire tradition, claiming to be a one-man (and it is almost always a man) spokesperson for all Muslims: “Islam states. . . .” No debate, no discussion, no spectrum of perspectives. The Almighty Islam has spoken, or so we are told, and the conversation is over.
It is above all the rigor displayed by pre-modern thinkers like Ghazzali that is sorely missing from contemporary madrasa training. With few exceptions, the brightest minds in the Muslim world are no longer found in madrasas. Instead, they are training to be doctors, engineers, computer scientists, and lawyers. Good for them. And bad for us. It is a sad reality that in many places in the Muslim world, the madrasas now attract many of the weaker students who could not make it into more competitive schools of higher education. In other places, such as Pakistan, many of these madrasas have become at best institutions of social welfare providing free room and board, and at worst a breeding ground for the most virulent type of fanaticism.
The decline of the traditional Islamic educational system has had another important consequence: many of the leading Muslim intellectuals in the world today have achieved their intellectual and spiritual understanding of Islam largely outside the traditional madrasa curriculum. While a have studied in traditional madrasas, most of us have grown in our understanding of Islam through programs in Islamic studies at Western styled universities. Without the benefit of a traditional madrasa curriculum, there are surely some limitations to arguments. No doubt there are many advantages as well, since we have enjoyed the room and latitude to approach old problems from new perspectives.
In a real sense, lay Muslim intellectuals and activists are now stepping into the vacuum created by the marginalization of the traditional Islamic madrasas. This is particularly the case given that many of the products of the contemporary madrasa system have failed to address issues of social justice, pluralism, and gender justice.
Yet the same gap that in a sense has created room for also makes task much more difficult. So many contemporary conversations about Islam in the crucial realms of law and theology would be laughed out of any medieval madrasa, with the accusations of superficiality and lack of rigor. This has also resulted in a situation where pseudo-scholars and quasi-muftis now issue “Islamic verdicts” that often follow authoritarian tendencies. Examples could include Osama bin Laden’s fatwa calling for the murder of American civilians. All of this makes the task of speaking as contemporary Muslims to both Muslims and non-Muslims alike much more difficult.
In 1967,Martin Luther King, Jr. published a monumental essay titled “Where Do We Go From Here: Chaos Or Community?” Dr. King ended this essay by stating. “We still have a choice today: nonviolent coexistence or violent co-annihilation.”We, Muslims too believe that as members of a single humanity, as people of faith, we have a choice, a choice we need to make today and every day.
Pluralism is the great challenge of the day not just for Muslims, but for all of humanity: can we find a way to celebrate our common humanity not in spite of our differences but because of them, through them, and beyond them? Can we learn to grow to the point where ultimately “we” refers not to an exclusivist grouping, but to what the Qur’an calls the Bani Adam, the totality of humanity?(Qur’an 7:26, 7:27, 7:31, 7:35, 7:172, 17:70, and 36:60)Challenging, undermining, and overthrowing the pre-Islamic tribal custom of narrowly identifying oneself with those who trace themselves to the eponymous founder of a tribe, the Qur’an here describes all of humanity as members of one super-tribe, the human tribe. This is a great challenge, and yet what choice do we have but to rise up to meet it?
Can we live up to the challenge issued to us by the Prophet Muhammad, and rephrased so beautifully by the Persian poet Sa‘di? Can we envision each other as members of one body, to feel the pain of another as our own? Only then will we be worthy of the name “human being.”
Human beings are like members of one body created from one and the same essence. When one member feels pain, the rest are distraught. You, unmoved by the suffering of others, are unworthy of the name human!
These days, of course, a lack of pluralism goes far beyond simple disagreement. All too often, fanatic bigotry finds expression in brutal violence. At times, this violence is deployed by paramilitary terrorist groups. At other times, it is unleashed by nation-states and their armies. Along with the world community, Muslims should stand firmly against all attacks on civilians, whether that violence comes from a terrorist group or a nation-state. Does it matter to those who have lost loved ones whether the instrument of death was held by a terrorist or a state-sponsored army? The twentieth century was by far the bloodiest in the history of humanity. May it be that in the twenty-first century – admittedly already off to a rocky start – we find a path to pluralism and a peace rooted in justice.
The courageous words of Martin Luther King, Jr., who stated: The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral; begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. . . Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. . . .Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.
Muslims no less prominent than the incomparable Rumi have also echoed this emphasis on nonviolence, “Washing away blood with blood is impossible, even absurd!”
The humane vision of pluralism articulated so eloquently above is a powerful issue for contemporary Muslims. It is no exaggeration to say that Muslims, for so long members of a pluralistic civilization that turned everyday interpersonal ethics into a choreographed exchange of civility, kindness, and generosity, are in real danger of losing their manners. It may seem odd to hear activists talk about the importance of manners, but I firmly hold that one of the most important measuring sticks of pluralism for us Muslims is the way that we treat each other. It is past time for us to restore the humaneness of interpersonal ethics (adab).
Ah, adab. . . that most essential, basic, and glorious of Muslim interpersonal codes. Adab is the compassionate, humane, selfless, generous, and kind etiquette that has been a hallmark of refined manners in Muslim cultures. Almost anyone who has ever traveled to areas that have been profoundly influenced by Muslim ethics has no doubt seen great examples of this wonderful way of being welcomed and put at ease.
It is precisely this compassionate humaneness that is missing from so much of contemporary Islam these days. Sadly, some of us Muslims are often quite rude to one another: not only do we brand each other as infidels, we oppress each other, we also cut each other off in speech, and are quick to anger. Words like kufr (infidelity), shirk (associating partners with God, i.e. polytheism), and bid‘a (heretical innovation) flow far too easily from our tongues. The finger that used to point up at the end of prayers towards the Heavens now points most frequently at another Muslim. That same index finger that used to be a reminder of Divine Unity (tawhid) is now a symbol of accusation and takfir (branding another an infidel). What we are losing in all of this incivility is our very humanity.
Here again Gandhi had a keen observation: “As soon as we lose the moral basis, we cease to be religious. There is no such thing as religion overriding morality.”
Part of pluralism is measured by openness to engage sources of compassion and wisdom, no matter where they originate. No less a figure than Hazrat ‘Ali, the first Shi‘i Imam and the fourth Sunni Caliph, has stated that one should evaluate a statement based on what it says, not who says it. The great Muslim philosopher al-Kindi stated, “We should not be ashamed to acknowledge truth and to assimilate it from whatever source it comes to us, even if it is brought to us by former generations and foreign peoples. For him who seeks the truth there is nothing of higher value than truth itself; it never cheapens or abases him who reaches for it, but ennobles and honors him.”
At times it is easier to hear first other wisdom traditions that have elaborated on certain themes before returning “home” to seek out long marginalized and exiled sub-traditions. Studying Christian liberation theology, for example, might ultimately help us recover voices that speak out on behalf of the oppressed in Islam. Taking a close look at Taoist teachings might remind us of long-forgotten Islamic teachings on the necessity of living in harmony with nature. This talk does not mean that we become a liberation theologian of Christianity, or a Taoist. Rather, we sometimes need a refresher course to remind us that such concerns have also been part of the spectrum of interpretation in Islamic thought. Our task could then consist of bringing back to the foreground concerns that have fallen off the radar, so to speak.
Living in the twenty-first century, Muslims should consider that it is no longer sufficient to study only the Qur’an and hadith. In addition to those essential founts of wisdom, we need to be conversant with Rumi and Ibn al-‘Arabi, Plato and Ibn Sina, Ghazzali and Hazrat ‘Ali, Chomsky and Abu Dharr, Gandhi and Arundhati Roy, Rabi‘a and Maya Angelou, Robert Fisk and Edward Said, His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Elie Wiesel, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X, Allama Iqbal and Ghalib of South Asia and Eqbal Ahmed. These readings will broaden the mind and outlook leading to bigger hearts, and bigger intellects too. As big as humanity.
The Muslim community as a whole cannot achieve justice unless justice is guaranteed for Muslim women. In short, there can be no progressive interpretation of Islam without gender justice.
Let us be clear that by “gender” we are not just talking about women. Far too often Muslims forget that gender injustice is not just something that oppresses women; it also debases and dehumanizes the Muslim males who participate in the system.
Let us be clear that by “gender” we don’t mean to focus exclusively on the hijab (head covering worn by some Muslim women). The hijab is, no doubt, one important marker of identity for many Muslim women who choose either to wear or not to wear it. It is also an important marker of social regulations when many Muslim women are forced to wear it. But it is futile to engage in conversations about gender that reduce all of women’s religiosity and existence to the hijab. There are many more fundamental issues at stake in the social constructions that affect the lives of both men and women, and we aim here to engage many of them.
The human and religious rights of Muslim women cannot be “granted,” “given back,” or “restored” because they were never ours to give – or take – in the first place. Muslim women own their God-given rights by the simple virtue of being human.
Gender justice is crucial, indispensable, and essential. In the long run, any Muslim interpretation will be judged by the amount of change in gender equality it is able to produce in small and large communities. Gender equality is a measuring stick of the broader concerns for social justice and pluralism.
No doubt this heavy emphasis on issues of gender – issues that far too many Muslims would rather shove under the rug, or at least deal with in the happy and unhappy confines of their own communities – will strike some as unbalanced.
We are mindful of the ways in which conversations about gender are at the center of group dynamics and politics in Muslim communities. But it is way past the time to be squeamish.We should strive to the level of activism, for what should be legitimately recognized as Islamic feminism. If that strikes some people as an oxymoron, we should unapologetically suggest that it is their patriarchal definition of Islam that needs rethinking, not our linkage of Islam and feminism.
There have, of course, long been Christians, Jews, Buddhists, Hindus, agnostics, avowed atheists, and others involved in many social justice issues. Increasingly, they now find themselves standing shoulder to shoulder with many Muslim friends. The term “social justice” may be new to some contemporary Muslims, but what is not new is the theme of justice in Islam. Justice lies at the heart of Islamic social ethics. Time and again the Qur’an talks about providing for the marginalized members of society: the poor, the orphan, the downtrodden, the wayfarer, the hungry, etc.
It is time to “translate” the social ideals in the Qur’an and Islamic teachings in a way that those committed to social justice today can relate to and understand. We would do well to follow the lead of those Muslims who from the start have committed to standing up for the downtrodden and the oppressed.
Everyone knows that Muslims have always stood for the theme of Divine unity. Yet how many people have also realized that the Mu‘tazilites (who have greatly affected Shi‘i understandings of Islam) so valued justice that they identified themselves as the folk of “Divine Unity and Justice” (ahl al-tawhid wa ’l-‘adl)?In the Sunni tradition, there is a vibrant memory of the Prophet repeatedly talking about how a real believer is one whose neighbor does not go to bed hungry. In today’s global village, it is time to think of all of humanity as our neighbor. The time has come for us to be responsible for the well-being and dignity of all human beings if we wish to be counted as real believers.
The time has come to stand up and be counted. As Muslims and as human beings, we stand up to those who perpetuate hate in the name of Islam. We stand up to those whose god is a vengeful monster in the sky issuing death decrees against the Muslim and the non-Muslim alike. We stand up to those whose god is too small, too mean, too tribal, and too male. We stand up to those who apologetically claim that the beautiful notions of universal brotherhood and sisterhood in the Qur’an have somehow made Muslim societies immune to the ravages of classism, sexism, and racism. To all of these, we say: not in my name, not in the name of my God will you commit this hatred, this violence.
We stand by the Qur’anic teaching (5:32) that to save the life of one human being is to have saved the life of all humanity, and to take the life of one human being is to have taken the life of all humanity. That which you do to my fellow human beings, you do to me.
And yet again we recall that ours is one of engaging and challenging all the ideologies and institutions of injustice and inequality in the various communities in which we find ourselves. This means standing up to those who support and benefit from the Western hegemony over the rest of the world. The time has come for us to stand up to those who look at the world not as a single human family, but as “us” versus “them.”
The time has come to stand up to those who look down at others through an imperialist lens, those who favor a “globalization” that works to the exclusive benefit of multi-national corporations at the detriment of ordinary citizens. The time has come to stand up to those who proliferate the structures whereby five percent of the world’s population consumes twenty-five percent of its resources, while tens of millions perish in agonizing starvation. The time has come to stand up to drug companies who clutch their patents of HIV drugs while untold millions die of AIDS in Africa and elsewhere. The time has come to stand up to those who are rightly outraged at the murder of innocent civilians in the U.S.A. and allied countries, but easily dismiss the murder of innocent civilians in other countries as “unfortunate collateral damage.” To all of them, we say: not in my name will you commit these acts of violence that result in the death of so many innocents. That which you do to my fellow human beings you do to me. The time has come, and that time is now.
We cannot start committing to social justice tomorrow, because the tomorrow of social justice is the tomorrow of “I will lose fifteen pounds”: it will never come. There is only today. We are children of the present moment (ibn al-waqt). It is in this present moment we live, and in this present moment we have the choice to be fully human. It is for our decisions in this very present that we are held cosmically accountable, and will answer to God Almighty. Justice starts now, starts at this present moment, and it starts with each of us.
Muslims should insist on a serious engagement with the full spectrum of Islamic thought and practices. There can be no Muslim movement that does not engage the very “stuff” (textual and material sources) of the Islamic tradition, even if some of us would wish to debate what “stuff” that should be and how it ought to be interpreted. The engagement with the weight of the tradition might be uneasy at times, occasionally inspiring, now and then tedious, and sometimes even painful. Still, we should believe that it is imperative to work through inherited traditions of thought and practice. In particular cases, we might conclude that certain pre-existing interpretations fail to offer us sufficient guidance today. However, we can only faithfully claim that position after – and not before – a serious engagement with the tradition. To move beyond certain past interpretations of Islam, we have to go critically through them.
It is not difficult to find people from a Muslim background who tackle issues of social justice, disparate distribution of wealth, oppression of Muslim women, etc. However, it has been an experience that too often such activism lacks the necessary engagement with the specifics of Islamic tradition. Such programs for social reform could just as easily come from Christian, Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, Secular Humanist, or agnostic progressives. Perhaps this partially explains why the progressive agenda has held little appeal for many Muslims worldwide, who have correctly detected that those who espouse these otherwise valuable teachings are simply giving an “Islamic veneer” to ideologies such as Marxism or Capitalism. Some have leveled charges in the past that Muslim voices speaking up for justice are simply parroting the secular ideology of socialism dressed up in Qur’an and hadith.
To state the obvious, a Muslim agenda has to be both progressive and Islamic, in the sense of deriving its inspiration from the heart of the Islamic tradition. It cannot survive as a graft of Secular Humanism onto the tree of Islam, but must emerge from within that very entity. It can receive and surely has received inspiration from other spiritual and political movements, but it must ultimately grow in the soil of Islam.
Some interpretations of Islam in both the past and the present have been part of the problem. While the ongoing interpretations and implementations of Islamic ethics guided by justice and pluralism can be part of the solution, but it cannot be rigid forever, as time and circumstances changes. Islam is a dynamic religion, as shown by various traditions that has shown it evolving towards the better. To introduce an Islamic term, one might state that the progressive Muslim project represents an ongoing attempt at an Islamic ijtihad, or committed critical thinking based on disciplined but independent reasoning, to come up with solutions to new problems. This progressive ijtihad should be our jihad.
In the aftermath of September 11, 2001, the term “jihad” is all too familiar to most people. To both the Muslim fanatic and the Muslim-hating xenophobe, jihad is simply “holy war” declared by Muslims against Westerners. For the Muslim apologist, jihad is instead purely the inner struggle against one’s own selfish tendencies. Neither interpretation takes into consideration the possibility of engaging and transforming the social order and the environment in a just and pluralistic fashion that affirms the humanity of us all.
It is vitally important to recognize that “jihad” is etymologically related to the concept of ijtihad. In Arabic, concepts that share the same trilateral etymological derivation are essentially linked to one another. “Jihad” and ijtihad both come from the root ja-ha-da, meaning “to strive,” “to exert.”For progressive Muslims, a fundamental part of our struggle (jihad) to exorcise our inner demons and bring about justice in the world at large is to engage in a progressive and critical interpretation of Islam (ijtihad).
An essential part of the progressive ijtihad is to account for and challenge the great impoverishment of thought and spirit brought forth by Muslim literalist exclusivists. If we dehumanize and demonize the literalist exclusivists, we have lost something valuable in our quest to acknowledge the humanity of all human beings. Gandhi was right: “It is quite proper to resist and attack a system, but to resist and attack its author is tantamount to resisting and attacking oneself, for we are all tarred with the same brush, and are children of one and the same Creator.”This is a great challenge.
The attempt to reflect critically on the heritage of Islamic thought and to adapt it to the modern world is of course nothing new. At the opposite ends of the spectrum of contemporary Muslims grappling with tradition one finds rigid extremes – on one side a steadfast conservative traditionalism, and on the other a knee-jerk rejectionism of the traditional Muslim heritage by certain Muslim modernists. Conservative traditionalism sees all Muslims as bound by what it deems the authoritative juridical or theological decisions of the past. The rejectionist perspective argues that there is now an epistemological rupture with the past so severe as to warrant throwing out the baby with the bathwater. Among other points, this modernist perspective calls for abolishing the Islamic legal and theological schools of thought (madhahib, sing. madhhab).
Most Muslims today recognize that neither extreme is fully viable. The two positions represent above all idealized camps from which the adherents of the two schools of thought shout at each other. Most of us find ourselves in the gloriously messy middle where real folks live and breathe. One of many commonalities between the conservative traditionalists and the modernists is that they both have had a difficult time attracting many ordinary Muslims, especially at a communal level. The edicts of those who would wish to see twenty-first-century Muslims bound by all medieval juridical decisions have seemed too restrictive to many. On the other hand, many modernists have simply not appeared authentically “Muslim” enough to most Muslims. This has had less to do with their personal piety (or lack thereof), than with the fact that their interpretations have not sufficiently engaged Islamic sources.
Muslims should seek to learn from the deficiencies of both of these ideologies, in order to get past the slogan games. The challenge is not to find some magical, mythical middle ground, but rather to create a safe, open, and dynamic space, where guided by concerns for global justice and pluralism, we can have critical conversations about the Islamic tradition in light of modernity.
Aim should be to envision a socially and politically active Muslim identity that remains committed to ideals of social justice, pluralism, and gender justice. We should seek to locate ourselves as part of that broader conversation, not to collapse the spectrum. It is not a passive, relativist locating but also means to issue an active and dynamic challenge to those who hold exclusivist, violent, and misogynist interpretations. Traditions do not arrive from heaven fully formed, but are subject to the vicissitudes of human history. Every tradition is always a tradition-in-becoming, and Islam is no exception.
We should open up a place in the wider spectrum of Islamic thought and practice for the many Muslims who aspire to justice and pluralism. This will entail both producing concrete intellectual products and changing existing social realities.
Muslims should be concerned not simply with laying out a fantastic, beatific vision of social justice and peace, but also with transforming hearts and societies alike. A commitment implies by necessity the willingness to remain engaged with the issues of social justice as they unfold on the ground level, in the lived realities of Muslim and non-Muslim communities. Vision and activism are both necessary.
Activism without vision is doomed from the start.
Vision without activism quickly becomes irrelevant.
An important part of being a Muslim is the determination to hold Muslim societies accountable for justice and pluralism. It means openly and purposefully resisting, challenging, and overthrowing structures of tyranny and injustice in these societies. At a general level, it means contesting injustices of gender apartheid (practiced by groups such as the Taliban) as well as the persecution of religious and ethnic minorities (undertaken by Saddam Hussein against the Kurds, etc.). It means exposing the violations of human rights and freedoms of speech, press, religion, and the right to dissent in Muslim countries such as Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan, Sudan, Egypt, and others.
A vital corollary component of our critique entails standing up to increasingly hegemonic Western political, economic, and intellectual structures that perpetuate an unequal distribution of resources around the world. This hegemony comprises a multitude of forces, among them the oppressive and environmentally destructive forces of multi-national corporations whose interests are now linked with those of neo-imperial, unilateral governments. Together they enforce policies through overwhelming military force, hammering down at the poorest people in the world with disturbing frequency. And yes, as much as it makes some Muslims uneasy to hear this, it does mean challenging certain policies of the United States and other countries that put profit before human rights, and “strategic interest” before the dignity of every human being.
At the heart of a Muslim interpretation should be a simple yet radical idea: every human life, female and male, Muslim and non-Muslim, rich or poor, “Northern” or “Southern,” has exactly the same intrinsic worth. The essential value of human life is God-given, and is in no way connected to culture, geography, or privilege. (Qur’an 5:32 and 17:23-38)
A Muslim is one who is committed to the strangely controversial idea that the worth of a human being is measured by a person’s character, not the oil under their soil, and not their flag. A Muslim agenda should be concerned with the ramifications of the premise that all members of humanity have this same intrinsic worth because, as the Qur’an reminds us, each of us has the breath of God breathed into our being.(Qur’an 15:29 and 38:72)
Muslims as activists and intellectuals should have a vision and mission towards relentless striving towards a universal notion of justice in which no single community’s prosperity, righteousness, and dignity comes at the expense of another. Central to this notion of a Muslim identity are fundamental values that we hold to be essential to a vital, fresh, and urgently needed interpretation of Islamic spirit for the twenty-first century. These themes include social justice, gender justice, and pluralism.
In talking about social justice, gender issues, and pluralism, we are mindful to avoid the trap in which “Islam” becomes a facade for some contemporary political ideology such as Marxism, Communism or Capitalism. Rather, ours is a relentless effort to submit the human will to the Divine in a way that affirms the common humanity of all of God’s creation. We conceive of a way of being Muslim that engages and affirms the humanity of all human beings that actively holds all of us responsible for a fair and just distribution of God-given natural resources, and that seeks to live in harmony with the natural world. To put it slightly differently, being a Muslim means not simply thinking more about the Qur’an and the life of the Prophet, but also thinking about the life we share on this planet with all human beings and all living creatures. Seen in this light, our relationship to the rest of humanity changes the way we think about God, and vice versa.
We will time and again challenge, resist, and seek to overthrow the structures of injustice that have been built into Islamic thought. These challenges cannot be conducted haphazardly, however. They must be undertaken patiently and critically. Yet the necessary and contingent element of being a Muslim is the will to resist the structures of injustice that are built into the very societies in which we live.That goes for the Muslim world as well as the United States and Europe.
In crucial ways, being a Muslim also means being mindful and critical of the arrogance of modernity. What we mean by arrogance of modernity is an alleged teleology that posits a Hegelian, unidirectional, and inevitable march towards the end game of modern Western civilization. We no longer should look to the prevalent notion of Western modernity as something to be imitated and duplicated in toto. In fact, we direct our critique just as much to the West as to Muslim societies. This is particularly the case in response to arrogant voices in the West that insist on the inevitability of a global march towards modernity.
It is disturbing that these arrogant voices are not only coming from certain corners of the academic community (Francis Fukuyama, Bernard Lewis, Samuel Huntington, etc.), but are also now being echoed by the most powerful government in the world. A recent policy paper released by the United States White House titled The National Security Strategy of the United States of America, for example, is riddled with disturbing instances of hubris. According to the very first sentence of this document, there is now “a single sustainable model for national success,” based on the essential components of freedom, democracy, and free enterprise.
Not many people would argue against freedom and democracy, but many Muslims would point out that the foreign policy record of the United States is less than stellar in its support of democracy around the world. Time and again, the United States has supported and armed tyrannical rulers who have oppressed their own pro-democracy citizens. One could point to the U.S.-led overthrow of the pro-democratic Mossadegh in Iran in 1953, the U.S. support of the Mujahidin fighters (including Osama bin Laden) in Afghanistan during the 1980s, or the U.S.$1.5 billion given to Saddam Hussein’s brutal regime during the Iran–Iraq War. To these, one could add the more recent examples of U.S. support of anti-democratic Parvez Musharraf in Pakistan, and support for Hosni Mubarak’s regime when the Egyptian government imprisoned the noted pro-democracy reformer Dr. Saad Eddin Ibrahim.
Democracy would indeed be a worthy goal if we in the United States actually pursued it globally, and if we truly believed that other people should have the choice to decide for themselves as to whether or not they should embrace it. As Gandhi himself stated, “I would heartily welcome the union of East and West provided it is not based on brute force.”
It is the third component of this “single sustainable model,” an element benignly called “free enterprise,” that drives much of The National Security Strategy of the United States of America. Later on, the document further boasts, “Free trade and free markets have proven their ability to lift whole societies out of poverty.” Where are these “whole societies” that have allegedly been lifted out of poverty? Nowhere is there an acknowledgement of or engagement with North/South divisions, or the myriad ways in which globalization has worked to make some of the rich super-rich, and the super-poor even poorer.
Another equally disturbing example of the essential arrogance that (mis)- informs The National Security Strategy of the United States of America is the call for a single system of morality. The President of the United States is here quoted as stating, “Some worry that it is somehow undiplomatic or impolite to speak the language of right and wrong. I disagree. Different circumstances require different methods, but not different moralities.”Just whose system of morality is it that we are to abide by here? That of the President of the United States? Right-wing evangelical Christians? Tibetan Buddhists? Catholics? Secular Humanists? The implication is clear: according to this document, just as there is now (or so we are told) one sustainable model of national success, there is now one single acceptable system of morality. And it is the President of the United States (and his advisors) who gets to determine what that is. It is precisely such a hegemonic discourse that Muslims should challenge, in the same way that we reject the arrogant authoritarian discourse of Muslim literalist exclusivists.
Few articles that will follow are for those who want to give a thought on the present situation, analyzing the pro and cons, using their intellects and come to a broad spectrum of views to help the society to move forward together. These might not only need views and thoughts, but will need activism. A movement to bring about peace, justice and well being for ourselves as human being. The articles are not an effort of an individual but a collection of thoughts across the broad spectrum that has been written and compiled by various writers.
It is undeniably true that there are serious economic, social, and political issues in the Muslim world that need urgent remedying. It is equally true that these changes will take time, and it is also likely that they will be extremely difficult to achieve. Much of the Muslim world is bound to a deeply disturbing economic structure in which it provides natural resources (most importantly in the Middle East, of course, oil) for the global market, while at the same time remaining dependent on Western labor, technological know-how, and staple goods. This economic situation is exacerbated in many parts of the modern Muslim world by atrocious human rights situations, crumbling educational systems, and worn out economies.
There are clearly far too many places in the Muslim world that suffer from an appalling lack of literacy, huge and ever-growing socio-economic gaps between the “haves” and the “have nots,” political tyranny, religious exclusivism, gender injustice, etc. In some cases, prognosticators have predicted that it may take decades, if not centuries, for the Muslim world to “catch up.” As Muslims, we simply cannot wait. We do not have the luxury of sitting idly by in the vague hope that changes will take place before we start dealing with these difficult issues. In reading of the Qur’anic call, we are all held accountable by God for the opportunities we are given in this life, and asked to answer for how we responded to them. Our responsibility of khilafa (vicegerency, stewardship (Qur’an 2:30, 3:104 and 6:165)) deals with the here and now, not twenty years from now, not two hundred years. We are children of this moment, and have to work within the societies in which God has placed us.
Muslim’s project should not so much an epistemological rupture from what has come before as a fine-tuning, a polishing, a grooming, an editing, a re-emphasizing of this and a correction of that. In short, it is a critical engagement with the heritage of Islamic thought, rather than a casual bypassing of its accomplishments. We, as an ummah should be spending a greater time working through passages of the Qur’an, medieval legal texts, political philosophers, and contemporary writings. Being a Muslim, at least in the view of this group, mandates a difficult, onerous, critical, uneasy engagement with the tradition.
Let us engage issues, not attempt to mold one another into the shape of long dead icons.
