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On
Christmas Eve last year, a feature in The New York Times dwelt
on Muhammad Fawaz, “a very serious college junior with
a stern gaze and a reluctant smile that barely cloaks suppressed
anger.” The 20-year-old had longed for a scholarship to
study abroad, but did not have the right connections. “So
Mr Fawaz decided to rebel,” wrote Michael Slackman. “He
adopted the serene, disciplined demeanour of an Islamic activist.”
“In
his sophomore year he was accepted into the student group affiliated
with the Muslim Brotherhood ... Now he works to recruit other
students to the cause ...”
“Across
the Middle East, young people like Mr Fawaz, angry, alienated
and deprived of opportunity, have accepted Islam as an agent
of change and rebellion. It is their rock‘n’roll,
their long hair and love beads. Through Islam, they defy the
status quo and challenge governments seen as corrupt and incompetent.”
“These
young people – 60 per cent of those in the region are
under 25 – are propelling a worldwide Islamic revival,
driven by a thirst for political change and social justice.
That fervour has popularised a more conservative interpretation
of the faith.”
That’s
not an uncommon view among the liberal western intelligentsia,
nor is it particularly inaccurate. The phenomenon is a relatively
recent one, however. For much of the 20th century, radical Islamic
movements were generally restricted to the fringes of Muslim
societies. In some cases – as in Nasser’s Egypt
– they were considered a sufficient threat as long ago
as the 1950s to attract state repression, which invariably backfired.
Back
in that period and well into the 1980s, the United States harboured
the impression that it could use such groups as a counterweight
against communism and left-wing nationalism. It disbursed funds
and advice with abandon. This tendency reached its apotheosis
in the so-called jihad against Soviet forces and their Afghan
allies, the consequences of which have resonated far and wide
ever since. The events of 9/11 stand out on account of where
they occurred, but a great many more lives have been lost elsewhere
– not least in Algeria during the 1990s – partly
through the courtesy of veterans of the Afghan crusade.
Algeria
is an interesting case in point, because it spiralled out of
control after the armed forces refused to recognise an irrefutable
electoral victory by the Islamic Salvation Front. The decision
led to years of civil war, during which both sides resorted
to unspeakable atrocities. Since the 1990s, the West has been
allergic to the prospect of Islamist administrations –
although even during that decade it was happy to facilitate
the passage of jihadis to Bosnia and Kosovo.
The
contradiction between this allergy and its supposed preference
for democracy perhaps took its starkest form in the Palestinian
territories after Hamas – an offshoot of the Muslim Brotherhood
that in its formative stages was propped up by Israel as a means
of weakening the relatively secular Fatah – secured an
electoral victory. The US and most of its allies refused to
engage with the Hamas leadership in the absence of its explicit
recognition of Israel, thereby reinforcing the impression that
notwithstanding all the clamour about democracy, popular verdicts
count for nothing unless they produce results that meet Washington’s
approval.
Double standards of this variety have long fed into the lack
of respect that US foreign policy inspires through much of the
Muslim world – a tendency that was sharply exacerbated
by the war in Iraq. In Afghanistan, meanwhile, the US confronts
the irony of being cast in the role it had once chosen for the
USSR: propping up a government of restricted appeal in Kabul
while combating the combined forces of conservative nationalism
and Islamic fundamentalism, the latter supplemented by foreign
recruits.
The
historically lopsided American approach to the Israeli-Palestinian
conflict and its role in bolstering unpopular and invariably
undemocratic regimes throughout the Middle East are often cited
as crucial explanations for the antagonism it attracts, not
least from Islamists of the violent variety. This analysis is
by no means mistaken, but it is incomplete. It cannot suffice
as an explanation for a phenomenon that has been witnessed in
recent years across and beyond the Muslim world: a drift towards
increasingly rigid interpretations of Islam that most of the
faithful would previously have considered anathema.
It
is often pointed out that the vast majority of Muslims across
the world are moderates, while attention is generally focused
on the relatively small groups that advocate violent jihad and
sometimes are determined to practice what they preach. A common
riposte is: Why, in that case, is the moderate majority so reticent
about confronting and denouncing the extremists? The implication
here is that Muslim moderation is a contradiction in terms,
and that the near silence of the majority makes it complicit
in the murderous outrages of the few.
It’s
not quite as simple as that, of course. In the same way as followers
of other monotheistic religions, Muslims are an amorphous bunch,
and there is little danger of this cultural and even theological
diversity being obliterated in a relentless march towards Wahhabism
or Salafism. There is no good reason to suspect that most adherents
of the faith oppose peaceful coexistence with non-Muslims, or
harbour absurd visions of some kind of caliphate extending across
vast swathes of the planet.
At
the same time, however, it would be unrealistic to deny that
there has in recent decades been a drift towards fundamentalism
across the Muslim world as well as elsewhere, wherever Muslims
are settled in large numbers. The alarming increase in conspicuous
piety does not in itself point towards a matching rise in support
for terrorism. Many perfectly pious Muslims are more than comfortable
with the tenet that there should be no compulsion in religion
and will have no truck with confessional violence, be it inter-faith
or intra-faith.
Yet
there is cause to fear a steady increase in the numbers of those
whose attitude bears comparison with that of the more virulent
evangelical Christians. The latter are chiefly an American phenomenon,
and although they may not personally be prone to violence, they
have little objection if it is committed on their behalf. Their
selective and literal interpretation of the scriptures has even
led them to blindly support Israel on the grounds that the latter’s
obduracy is likely to turn it into the battlefield for Armageddon.
(On the utter lunatic fringe of this special interest group
are those who believe Barack Obama is the Antichrist and that
his ascendancy is a sign that the end is nigh).
The
Muslim equivalent of this tendency includes at least tacit support
for acts of violence perpetrated in the name of Islam, and can
extend to support networks and other forms of sustenance for
the terrorists. Those thus inclined are often affiliated, formally
or otherwise, with the likes of Jamaat-ud-Dawa in Pakistan,
Jemaah Islamiah in Indonesia and Hamas in the Palestinian territories.
Such networks are fond of emphasising their role as welfare
organisations – and more often than not, this is not a
spurious claim. In many countries such bodies are more effective
than state agencies. It’s disingenuous to pretend, however,
that this is their only, or even their primary, function.
The
drift towards extremism in the Muslim world is invariably attributed
to repressive regimes and economic disarray: the same sort of
factors that once upon a time powered left-wing movements. This
can, however, only be a partial explanation for the phenomenon.
After all, recent history offers no examples of purportedly
Islamic regimes – be it the Wahhabists in Saudi Arabia,
the mullahs in Iran or the Taliban in Afghanistan – that
have been anything other than repressive. Nor has Islam’s
theoretical preference for an equitable distribution of wealth
ever been coherently manifested in a national setting.
Another
explanation points towards a siege mentality based on the impression
that the rest of the world is determined to disempower, if not
decimate, Muslims. Back in the 1980s and ’90s, this fear
was based on the fact that Muslims were the beleaguered party
in most of the world’s hotspots, be it Palestine, Bosnia,
Kashmir or Chechnya. A common counter-argument in this respect
is the at least equally pertinent claim that when a conflict,
no matter how ugly, involves Muslims killing other Muslims,
the ummah is strangely unaffected. To cite the most obvious
instance, how many protests have there been throughout the Muslim
world against the genocide in Darfur?
Among
Muslims in the West, the siege mentality is compounded by alienation
within the societies in which they have grown up. The first
generation of Muslim immigrants in Britain, for instance, faced
with relative equanimity the hostile environment in which they
found themselves. They did not abandon their cultures, but it
was widely assumed that subsequent generations would be increasingly
better assimilated. It happened in some cases, but in others
the drift has been towards an Islamic identity. Taken to an
extreme, the latter tendency can lead to violent consequences.
You can blame it on racism. You can blame it on Iraq and Afghanistan.
But
these can, at best, be regarded as contributory factors rather
than a satisfactory explanation. It’s as if a switch has
been pulled in the Muslim psyche. It’s hard to say whether
something has been switched on or something else has been switched
off. This urge to indiscriminately take the lives of others
is, naturally enough, considered unacceptable outside the fold
of Islam (although the means deployed to countermand it all
too often produce the opposite effect). What’s alarming
is that some Muslims don’t consider it unacceptable. And
those who do, often lack the ability or the courage to make
themselves heard.
Sometimes
it seems as if a veil has descended between Muslim minds and
common sense. This does not affect only those who have never
been afforded the opportunity to consider a worldview that might
contradict what they are taught in their madrassas. It also
extends to those who have been exposed to an enlightened education.
The inclination to see a particular interpretation of religion
as the only solution is what makes religion a problem.
Whatever
your faith, there is something seriously amiss if your confessional
identity supersedes your status as a member of the human race.
This is a concern for all faiths: so many of the world’s
conflicts would lose their raison d’etre if only Hindus,
Muslims, Christians, Jews, Buddhists and all the rest, without
exception, could attach primacy to each other’s common
humanity.
It
sounds like a pipe dream, but it may well turn out to be only
long-term guarantee of coexistence. Other religions, have passed
through the kind of phase that Islam seems to be going through.
In the case of Christianity, it took a thorough reformation
to transcend the nonsense associated with the Inquisition and
so on. Islam appears to be headed in the opposite direction,
but that could change. About the only kind of jihad that could
be justified under the present circumstances would be a struggle
within Islam aimed at banishing the baser concepts that prop
up obscurantism.
A
few months ago, a report in the British press related how it
had taken a fatwa from the Muslim Law (Shariah) Council UK to
enable a blind Muslim student, Mahomed-Abraar Khatri, to enter
a Leicester mosque with his guide dog. The Guide Dogs Association
called it “a massive step forward for other blind and
partially-sighted Muslims.” It almost made one wish a
similar fatwa could offer deliverance to those Muslims who doggedly
refuse to see the light.

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