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A project of 'Critical Supporters of Pakistan Peoples Party'

There is an informative debate show on a local private channel called Alif. The show is mostly about the various philosophies of Islam and their place in Pakistan and rest of the Muslim world. A moderator usually invites up to four intellectuals every week, with two of them usually being ‘moderate’ in outlook while the other two guests hold a more conservative view on the discussed topic.
Even though it is one of the more academically sound Islamic programmes compared to the myopic disasters viewers are bombarded with in this respect, Alif almost always ends up hitting an intellectual dead-end.
The reason for this is the common consensus Muslim scholars of all shades have had on the traditional version of Islamic history. So no mater how diverse their views and interpretations of what constitutes Islamic philosophy and law, they all usually end up with almost exactly the same agreement on Islamic traditions that emerged some time in the late ninth and early tenth centuries, after which the ‘gates of ijtihad’ were said to be closed.
However, many modern Islamic scholars have now started to point out that the roots of political and social problems that the Muslim communities started to face after Muslim imperialism began its decline after the eighteenth century can be traced to the laws, politics and social bearings constructed from the pitfalls of the consensus reached among various Islamic schools of thought on what constitutes Islamic history and tradition.
They believe that this history and the traditions that it cemented stopped being investigated critically and thus ended up creating gaping misconceptions and leaps of logic about what Islam meant and how it was practiced during the Prophet’s time.
In other words, the history of early Islam that is taught to every Muslim child and is taken as the primary source by almost all Muslim scholars and historians was never put to any serious intellectual test and modern investigative methods.
On the other hand, western historians, while investigating the theological history of early Christianity, tried to a understand the ‘historical Jesus’ in place of the ‘theological Jesus’ whom they discovered (and claim) was different from his historical self.
The theological Jesus, they figured, had very little to do with the actual events in history and was more a creation of Christian priests and scholars who appeared almost two generations after Jesus. According to these historians, the theological version of Jesus was formed for political and evangelical reasons in which the person of Jesus was exaggerated and his personality molded according to social and political norms and nuances of the time when early Christian priests were formulating the personality of Jesus through their exegeses of the Bible and the Gospels.
Early Islamic history has hardly ever been treated and investigated in this manner. Some early attempts were made between the fourteenth and nineteenth centuries, but these attempts were largely the work of Christian apologists who failed to take an unbiased and objective view of the subject and generated their work more as a way to pitch the ‘authenticity of Christian history’ against that of Islam.
However, in the twentieth century, small groups of secular European academics and scholars picked up the pieces and started to investigate early Islamic history using the academic methods historians and anthropologists use to study non-theological history. So far the results have been startling, and many progressive Muslim scholars and historians too have agreed to some of what the rigorous investigations and secular study of early Islamic history has generated.
The most controversial among the investigators was the late Dr John Wansbrough, a leading historian and researcher at London’s prestigious SOAS institute. Though controversial, Wansbrough triggered an academic wave in which a number of respected historians and scholars started studying early Islamic history with the same academic and investigative tools with which historians study the historical context of the Bible and with which general history is studied and its authenticity determined. Wansbrough was at once criticised by Muslim academia for undermining the importance of primary Muslim sources in his study.
Other leading historians in this respect have been Prof. Patricia Crone, Martin Hinds, Michael Cook and Prof. G R. Hawting – people whose critical look at early Islamic history has been largely respected by a number of modern Islamic scholars.
The meeting point where these western academics and many progressive Muslim scholars have managed to reach is the fact that almost all early Islamic history is based on just a single complete biography written on the life of the Prophet. It appeared in 750 CE (by Ibn Ishaq), or about a century and a half after the demise of the Prophet. In fact, this biography has only survived in the writings of Ibn Hisham, who wrote a biography of the Prophet in early ninth Century.
Modern western and Muslim scholars now believe that the accuracy of these biographies is unascertainable because instead of any written documents, Ishaq and Hisham used memorised accounts of the life of Prophet Muhammad (hadiths) as sources.
Historians now view the hadiths with caution, insisting that they cannot be taken as accurate historical sources because they first started to be documented more than a century after the Prophet’s demise.
The reason why early biographers of the Prophet, and early Islamic lawmakers who used hadith accounts to formulate the shariah, could not use any tangible written documents (other than the Qu’ran) was that even a hundred years after the demise of the Prophet there were almost no documented Muslim sources at all about early Islam. Ibn Ishaq’s biography is the only surviving source (written 130 years after the Prophet).
Modern Muslim and western scholarship studying Islam believes that Islam’s progressive evolution was mutated and it became increasingly static after ulema started to compare the human condition of their time with a rather romanticised version of Islam’s early history that was constructed purely on memorised accounts. Accounts that were first put to writing more than a century after the Prophet are likely to have gone through various lapses.
Scholars like Wansbrough, Crone, Hinds, Prof. Ziauddin Sardar, Mohammad Arkoun, and authors such as Irshan Manji, Sumanto Al Qurtuby, and Rashad Khalifa believe most of these memorised accounts of the Prophet and of life under the first four Caliphs were documented more than a century after the Prophet’s demise and then ‘projected back to the time of the Prophet.’
The reason to do so were largely political because at the time Islam was a rapidly expanding imperialist force and needed a politico-religious anchor, especially in the conquered lands that had different (or opposing) faiths as dominant religions.
This tradition was carried across all major stages of Muslim imperialism and the Islamic doctrines were further expanded through scholarly assumptions about life under the Prophet and the ‘rightly guided Caliphs.’ The hadith remained the primary source.
At the decline of Muslim imperialism some time in the late eigteenth and mid-nineteenth centuries, the narratives on which much of Islamic history, philosophy and law were constructed during the imperial phase started to seem static, especially in the face of former Muslim powers coming under waves of western imperialism.
Islamic Scholars and leaders appealed for a return to the basics in an attempt to reform Islam and Muslim societies that they now thought had been ‘adulterated’ by their long imperialist exposure to the rituals of other religions.
The hadith still played the primary role in this respect, but many reformist scholars and leaders now chose the more conservative hadiths to transform Islamic law into a harsher article of faith and legislation, believing these would help Muslim societies ‘retain their true identities’ under western imperialism.
That said, there were also reformists who found Imperialist Islamic dictates to have become static and decadent and they wanted to ‘modernise’ Islam by trying to adopt modern western laws and technology.
But since both these strains of Muslim reformists continued appealing to the nostalgia of Islamic imperialism’s heyday, and to the more mythical narratives of ‘perfect Islam’ under the four ‘Rightly Guided Caliphs,’ the historical and legislative doctrines of Islam based on the conservative reformists’ views managed to bag a more attentive audience in Muslim societies. It is out of these doctrines that concepts like Political Islam would eventually emerge. A concept whose more retarded strains are what we now call Islamic militancy and ‘Islamo-fascism.’
Interestingly, Islamic reformists too continued to draw their legislative, political and historical conclusions from eighth- and ninth-century hearsay accounts as if modern society was still responding to medieval impulses.
Consequently, even today many Muslim historians and lawmakers carry on defining theshariah and Islamic history using a history constructed from memorised and backwardly projected accounts of the Prophet.
Most progressive Muslim scholars however, have pleaded for a more investigative look at Islam’s early history without the use of eighth- and ninth-century perspectives. To do that they beseech the need to be much more cautious about memorised accounts based on simple hearsay. They say that the hadith should be used watchfully and, perhaps, only when it supports or expands the teachings of the Qur’an and not as a legislative response to the political and social dynamics of modernity that can only leave Muslim societies hanging in a limbo between mythical historical narratives and modern material impulses.
Nadeem F. Paracha is a cultural critic and senior columnist for Dawn Newspaper and Dawn.com.
It was interesting listening to Maajid Nawaz who had come to Pakistan to talk about his experience as a member of HT. He said he used to visit Pakistan to recruit people in the military and in government for the global jihad. It was during a period of incarceration that Nawaz said he saw the light and decided to wean people away from jihad.
Luckily for the two men, the British government was able to provide funding to set up Quilliam. Now they both go around the world with a missionary zeal to spread another kind of message. Their aim is also to bridge the gap between the Muslim world and the West.
The Quilliam team’s trip to Pakistan was aimed at visiting universities where Maajid Nawaz spoke to students about how he was wrong in supporting global jihad. Earlier, the organisation had funded a conference of the vice-chancellors of various Pakistani universities to convince them of the project that Nawaz later undertook.
The organisation is certainly an interesting idea. But it might not take off in the Muslim world because of its inherent shortcomings. To start with, the think tank has no input from within the Muslim world, which makes it a foreign concept. The problem is that a foreign idea tends to attract negative attention. Quilliam seems to represent the foreign frustration at the lack of an alternative discourse in the Muslim world. It has tried to start the discourse by providing these former HT members with a forum.
However, the lack of real contacts inside the Muslim world turns this into a venture without depth. For instance, in their eagerness to establish contacts and work amongst the youth, Quilliam has partnered organisations in Pakistan with little or no credibility. Another noticeable flaw is that since it is unable to get respectable names from the Muslim world on board, the organisation will not be able to achieve much to please its donors. Besides the two names mentioned earlier, there is no significant name on Quilliam’s team that would generate positive attention.
It would be foolhardy to pretend that there is no scope of an alternative debate of ideas in the Muslim world or people are not capable of doing that. Quilliam could, in fact, build itself as a neutral forum to develop ideas across the Muslim world or even between the Muslim world and the West. Surely, a well-funded organisation can make better use of its resources than just telling the HT story.
At a conceptual level there are two issues worth considering. First, an alternative discourse to curb violence will have to see that rebellion within the Muslim world is partly (if not entirely) driven by a post-colonial discourse, especially where the Muslim population is faced with brutality and is struggling for survival. People in such places cannot be dissuaded from fighting militarily until and unless there is also a new discourse on the other side regarding the solution of the problem.
More importantly, in many places the post-colonial discourse dovetails into an anti-imperialist debate. The problem is that religion becomes a tool that people don’t want to abandon because of the absence of an alternative ideology or set of ideas.
Second, it goes without saying that there is a real need for a new discourse within the Muslim world on numerous issues starting from the concept of the state, war and peace to social norms and economic life. Historically, the Muslim world was progressive due to the independence of academic institutions when it came to arriving at new concepts. Even in the recent past institutions like Al Azhar in Egypt were to be taken note of for encouraging new ideas.
However, it is also a fact that the formulation of ideas in the Muslim world has stopped or taken a peculiar direction as far as political thought is concerned. The bulk of the interpretation of religious texts has been driven by the post-colonial ethos of societies and thinkers.
At this juncture, there is an urgent need in the Muslim world to think anew about a lot of issues, not to appease the West, but to contribute to the internal political discourse. Issues such as the link between religion and politics in an Islamic state or war and conflict involving a Muslim state, or the position of non-Muslims in an Islamic state are matters which require a rethink.
It is not that finding a new direction is not possible. For instance, there have been Muslim scholars in the past such as Abd Al-Razik at Al Azhar who came up with revolutionary ideas regarding the political character of a Muslim state, especially in the context of the link between religion and politics. Though his ideas in the 1930s were not pursued as they were considered too revolutionary, there are newer thinkers who have contributed fresh input to the concept of an Islamic state.
It is unfortunate that most of this discussion is taking place outside the Muslim world by Muslim scholars. It needs to be brought into and made part of the mainstream.
Perhaps organisations such as Quilliam could become a forum for the exchange of ideas, rather than just doing what many might regard as a foreign conspiracy. But then, one is also forced to wonder why, despite the riches of the Muslim world, we are unable to create a forum that would allow Muslims to talk amongst themselves and voice new ideas.
Of course Muslim states in the Middle East and the Gulf fund research initiatives at foreign universities such as the Oxford Centre for Islamic Studies. However, it is important to bring new ideas and discussion to the heart of the Muslim world if a change is to be brought about or if the social and political development of Muslims is the goal. Until new ideas are generated and discussed, Muslims can hardly hope to flourish or progress.
The writer is an independent strategic and political analyst.
ayesha.ibd@gmail.com
It is the frightful institutions General Zia-ul Haq promoted and the retrograde educational systems he erected that have polluted the intellectual atmosphere of the land and given birth to today’s bigoted, obscurantist political culture
It is the month we in this part of the world have known for centuries as ‘Ramzan Sharif’, but which we now find corrected to ‘Ramadan-ul Kareem’. The prayer-time congregations at the big mosque near my home, which comprise numerous members of Karachi’s uber-bourgeoisie alongside more ordinary mortals, are significantly larger than usual.
The frequent discourse of the Pesh Imam who leads the prayers here concerns the Houris in Paradise, in praise of whom he becomes quite ecstatic, extolling their various charms in terms that are vividly physical. His other pet topic relates to the valiant warriors in Swat and Waziristan who are battling against the forces of Evil (he is not, let it be noted, referring to the armed forces of our Islamic Republic). He also sometimes speaks of a certain “tall Ghazi” in the mountains, on whom he invokes the Almighty’s blessings.
Some among the regular congregation at this particular place of worship do find these perorations excessive. But the mosque in question was set up by a certain friendly Islamic country (one known to give royal welcomes to former dictators) and is managed by their Consular Office. Its affairs are therefore beyond intervention by mere members of a congregation. Or is it merely the superstitious guilt of our tax-evading, bribe-negotiating elite that ensures the passive silence of the congregation?
This holiest of months also brings to my mind a certain exceedingly pious gentleman of my acquaintance. More than pious, he is regarded by his friends as something of an authority on matters to do with the Faith. Knowledgeable and especially well read, he greatly admires Hazrat Maulana Rashid Gangohi, the outstanding scholar who was one of the founders of the Deoband madrassa. The gentleman to whom I refer is a kindly soul, who can be depended upon for help by others. However, when in the course of conversation I chanced to remark that the most basic virtue lay in kindness towards others, he contradicted me. Kindness, he contended, was reserved for “pious, practicing Muslims”. As for others, they should be given a chance to mend their ways, after which “they would be Wajibul Qatal”.
Another person I chanced to meet — a finance man, no less — feels that people who do not attend Friday prayers “should simply be killed. Slit their throats!”
Now, this kind of sanguinary verbal ferocity is very different from the traditions of quiet piety and gentle acceptance in which most Muslims were brought up. I claim no expertise to suggest whether this or the other is the ‘correct’ version of Islamic thinking. However, there are certainly many scholars who hold that this aggressive literalism, popularly but incorrectly referred to as ‘fundamentalism’, is a doctrinal innovation of relatively recent origin. It is very much a product of the linear, pseudo-logical thinking that has characterised our violent and intolerant age — an age that began with the full flowering of modern imperialism in the nineteenth century and whose baleful cultural and psychic responses have long outlived their origins.
With this kind of intellectual legacy as a backdrop, what kind of political discourse is possible in Pakistan?
Well, as I pointed out in an earlier offering in these pages, the first political statement of the new Pakistani nation, as expressed by its founder addressing the first session of the new parliament, revolved around policy statements on law and order, black-marketing, corruption and nepotism without reference to any kind of ‘religious’ perspective. The latter was dismissed by the Quaid, stating that “All these angularities of the...Hindu community and the Muslim community...will vanish... not in the religious sense, because that is the personal faith of each individual, but in the political sense as citizens of the State.”
In the three decades between the Quaid’s death and the overthrow and murder of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, the political debate, one of sometimes cyclonic intensity, revolved around perfectly worldly preoccupations, such as land reform, economic growth, adult franchise, constitutional rule, human rights and the rights of the federating units. Whether Nazimuddin or Ayub or Bhutto was in power, whether he was opposed by Suhrawardy or Mujib or Wali Khan or Bhashani, no specifically ‘Islamic’ nostrum was proposed by way of a solution to national problems. The key political actors all proposed alternate paths to modernisation and propounded contemporary ideologies.
It seems that this kind of ‘Islamic’ thinking was simply not a part of the Pakistani frame of reference, except among a tiny minority. More important, no one accused the other of being a ‘bad’ Muslim, or even thought to suggest that any person was Wajibul Qatal. The Islamic preoccupation (that so seems to obsess us today) was simply not one of the terms of the debate.
But something changed on the July 5, 1977, when we first heard the usurper of the day snarling on the media about his preference for what he called ‘an Islamic system’. It is the frightful institutions he thereafter promoted and the retrograde educational systems he erected that have polluted the intellectual atmosphere of the land and given birth to today’s bigoted, obscurantist political culture and its poisonous fallouts of violent insurgency, terrorism and cold-blooded mass murder.
Now, I am not suggesting that the Pesh Imam I described or any of the well-heeled members of his congregation are even remotely responsible for the horrific waves of violence and destruction continually convulsing the land. But is there not a kind of philosophical connection, a tacit acceptance that such acts of violence, and the war being waged against the state of Pakistan by these elements, are regrettable but somehow ‘understandable’?
While no comparison is being made or even suggested, is it far-fetched to see a kind of rhetorical-philosophical continuum connecting the fulminations of Maulvi Sufi Mohammed to the khatibs of Lal Masjid and still further on to the Pesh Imam I have written about here? Still more disturbing is the silence with which this Pesh Imam’s sermons are greeted by the genteel members of his congregation. Is their/our silence indifference or consent? Certainly, it is a key part of the enabling environment of terror.
To return to 1977, General Zia-ul Haq’s seizure of power was a pivotal point in our history. That seizure was ‘legitimised’ by the courts of this tragic land. The judges who were unwilling to oblige him (and even some like CJ Anwarul Haq of the Doctrine of Necessity fame, who perverted their oaths in his behalf) were removed through a Provisional Constitution Order. Sound familiar? His appalling constitutional innovations and the barbaric laws he promoted were enacted into statutes by the hand-picked, rubber stamp parliament he conjured into being...and then himself dismissed. He promoted and funded the massive multiplication of terrorist-factory madrassas. Even the ‘normal’ educational institutions suffered distortion of their syllabi, toxic textbooks and a total rewriting of the very history of this land of ours.
Finally, there are two points I would invite my reader to note. The first is that this usurper did all that he did against a popular, constitutionally empowered prime minister and parliament and under the shadow of the recently enacted Article 6. Please observe that all proved powerless to stop him.
The second point is that this most retrograde of dictators ruled virtually unshaken for over eleven years...challenged only, but without any diminution of his tenure or his power, by the Bhutto family and the women of this country. It seemed as if he could have been ruling for the rest of our lives. His death was an unexpected, unearned release for the people.
The writer is a marketing consultant based in Karachi. He is also a poet. (Daily Times)

The late President Anwar El-Sadat of Egypt was assassinated in 1981 by a faction of Egypt’s leading Islamist organisation, the Muslim Brotherhood. The irony is that this was the same organisation that Sadat had purposefully patronised.
He had replaced the charismatic Egyptian leader, Gamal Abdul Nasser as the President of Egypt after Nasser died in 1970. Nasser had ruled the country as a popular president between 1952 and 1970, leaving behind a legacy of staunch secular/socialist Arab nationalism.
Though Nasser remained popular till his death, the glow of his influence across assorted Muslim and Third World countries was somewhat dimmed when Egyptian and Syrian armed forces backed by the Soviet Union were decimated in the 1967 war against Israel. Though Sadat had helped Nasser in toppling the Egyptian monarchy in 1952, and was also an integral part of Nasser’s socialist/secular policies, he initiated a shift. In Sadat’s view, Nasser’s socialist model could not sustain the new sombre realities that had surfaced after the 1967 war.
Sadat’s move towards the western economic model was welcomed by the country’s urban bourgeoisie, but it was vehemently challenged by the pro-Nasser and left-wing student groups and the Arab media. To neutralise the pro-Nasser and left-wing challenge to his shifting policies on campuses and in the print media, Sadat brought back to life one of the staunchest anti-Nasser and anti-left forces in Egypt: the Muslim Brotherhood.
The Brotherhood had been greatly radicalised by its second generation leadership led by the teachings of Syed Qutb. He had posed the biggest challenge to Nasser’s socialism and the regime’s pro-Soviet and secular make-up. However, after Nasser’s death, Sadat tactfully let loose the Brotherhood, using state power to help the organisation infiltrate campuses and the media.
To appease the organisation, Sadat instructed the state-owned radio and TV channels to not only start regular religious programmes, but to also show as many images as possible of him saying his prayers at a mosque. Sadat also lifted the ban on various Muslim Brotherhood magazines and newspapers. All this was done to soften Egypt’s pro-Soviet and Nasserite image and to mollify concerns of the West and Egypt’s new allies such as the oil-rich Saudi Arabia.
Immediately after Egypt’s 1973 war with Israel — in which Sadat (falsely) claimed to have defeated the enemy — he completely pulled Egypt out from the Soviet camp. However, in 1977 when Sadat, in an unprecedented move, agreed to make formal peace with Israel, the Brotherhood became Sadat’s biggest enemy. Eventually, in 1981, he was assassinated by members of the Brotherhood — ironically the very organisation he had encouraged to nullify the perceived communist threat to his regime.
Something similar happened in Pakistan as well. In the 1970 elections, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s Pakistan People’s Party had routed the Islamic parties. But by 1973 Bhutto was under pressure from the PPP’s leading ideologues, asking him to hasten the regime’s socialist agenda. In response, Bhutto purged the PPP of its radical founding members. He then came under the influence of the party’s ‘conservative wing’ that encouraged him to appease his staunchest opponents, the Islamists, (especially the Jamat-i-Islami), which had declared the PPP’s socialism as 'un-Islamic.'
Though in private, Bhutto accused the Islamic parties of being 'anti-socialist American stooges,' in public he went along with some of his advisers’ counsel and declared the Ahmaddiyya community non-Muslim, naively believing this concession would appease and contain his Islamist opponents. The truth is, the Islamists were only emboldened by this gesture.
Also, while purging the left-wing radicals in the PPP (from 1974 onwards), Bhutto is also said to have ‘allowed’ the student-wing of the Jamat, the IJT, to establish a strong foothold on campuses which, till then, were mostly dominated by radical left-wing student groups such as the NSF.
Bhutto, like Sadat, had ignored the Islamist challenge to his regime, and seemed more concerned about imaginary 'Soviet/ Indian-backed groups.' His pragmatic indulgence in this regard had the reverse effect. Instead of containing the Islamist parties, his constitutional concessions only emboldened them. Not surprisingly, he was toppled by a reactionary general whom he had handpicked himself, shortly after the Islamist parties unleashed a countrywide movement against the PPP regime in 1976, calling for Sharia rule.
These are just two brief examples of the blunders committed by certain leading secular Muslim leaders that annihilated the over-blown left-wing and secular challenges by regenerating and using Islamist forces against them. This created daunting political and ideological vacuums in societies that were eventually filled by reactionary military regimes, rejuvenated Islamist forces and, eventually, a new breed of extremism — the sort that now worked towards grabbing state power and carving out a theological hegemony, based on mythical and Utopian illusions about an eternal ‘Islamic State.’
Pakistan and Egypt are prime examples; two of the many Muslim republics now desperately trying to reinvigorate moderate and secular forces to open a consensual front against extremism that was once state-sanctioned, to bludgeon opposing secular forces.
One wonders if it is already too late to do that; or if there are any worthwhile progressive sections in society today, in these countries, who can once again demonstrate the same boldness and imagination that they exhibited in the construction of their respective countries’ nationalism before their downfall. (Dawn, 5 July 2009)
