Category: Islam

  • If anything proves the validity of Occam’s Razor,i it’s contemplating the astounding attempts over two millennia to square Christianity’s circle, or rather triangle. Trinitarianism: one God existing in three coequal, coeternal, consubstantial divine persons: God the Father, God the Son (Jesus Christ) and God the Holy Spirit, three distinct persons (hypostases) sharing one essence/ substance/ nature. The ‘what’ is one, the ‘who’ is three.

    The Old Testament has been interpreted as referring to the Trinity in many places. One of these is the prophecy about the Messiah in Isaiah 9. The Messiah is called ‘Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.’ Some Christians see this verse as meaning the Messiah will represent the Trinity on Earth. This is because Counselor is a title for the Holy Spirit (John 14:26), the Trinity is God the Father, Jesus, Son, the Prince of Peace, the Counselor Spirit.

    But this trinitarianism is very different from the Hindu Brahma (creator), Vishnu (sustainer), Shiva (destroyer), or the Roman Diana.

    It was only formulated in the 3rd century by Tertullian, based on the New Testament (NT) writings from the late 1st century early 2nd century. They contain several Trinitarian formulas, including Matthew 28:19, most clearly in 1 John 5:7. But modern Biblical scholarship largely agrees that 1 John 5:7, found in Latin and Greek texts after the 4th century and found in later translations such as the King James translation, cannot be found in the oldest Greek and Latin texts. Verse 7 is known as the Johannine Comma, which most scholars agree to be a later addition by a later copyist. This verse reads: Because there are three in Heaven that testify – he Father, the Word and the Holy Spirit – and these three are one. This verse is absent from the Ethiopic, Aramaic, Syriac, Slavic, Armenian, Georgian, and Arabic translations of the Greek New Testament. Ditto Matthew 28. The debates later moved from the deity of Jesus Christ to the equality/ inferiority of the Holy Spirit with the Father and Son. Need I say more?

    A perusal of Wikipedia page Nontrinitarianism (i.e., non orthodox Trinitarianism) identifies close to a hundred variations on the theme, trying to convince that 3 really is 1. My favorites:

    *Arianism, popular until the Council of Nicaea, argued that the pre-existent Son of God was directly created by the Father, before all ages, and that he was subordinate to God the Father. Arius’ position was that the Son was brought forth as the very first of God’s creations, and that the Father later created all things through the Son.

    *The Adoptionist theory was perhaps the most popular in the 2nd-3rd centuries, which holds that Jesus was adopted as the Son of God at his baptism, his resurrection, or his ascension, but this theory died out when it was declared a heresy in the 4th century when the 4th century Nicene Crede was agreed in Constantinople, the capital of Christianity.

    *Ebionites (1st-4th centuries) observed Jewish law, denied the literal virgin birth and regarded Jesus as the Jewish Messiah and the greatest prophet of God. Period.

    *Socinianism taught that Jesus was the sinless Messiah and redeemer, and the only perfect human son of God, but that he had no pre-human existence. They interpret verses such as John 1:1 to refer to God’s plan existing in God’s mind before Christ’s birth, and that it was God’s plan that ‘became flesh’, as the perfect man Jesus.

    *Unitarianism holds that Jesus was inspired by God in his moral teachings and that he is the savior of humankind, but he is not equal to God himself.

    *Many Gnostic traditions held that the Christ is a heavenly Aeon but not one with the Father. Docetists asserted that Christ was born without any participation of matter and that all the acts and sufferings of his life, including the Crucifixion, were mere appearances.

    Christian heterodoxy flowered throughout the Middle Ages despite Pauline police. The democratic egalitarian spirit-filled Jesus movement slowly atrophied into the repressive, bureaucratic Catholic Church, culminating in the 6th century Gelasuis Decree, a list of distrusted and rejected works not encouraged for church use, which banned 60 books including 9 gospels, 4 sets of apostolic acts and 3 revelations, as well as 35 heretics.

    Underlying this debate through the centuries were real questions:

    *Is Jesus God?

    *Was it Jesus who was crucified?

    *If so, then did he physically resurrect as apostles claimed?

    The above nontrinitarians are all closer to Islam than the official Pauline creed. Most claim Jesus as ‘son of God’ in some sense, but with God supreme, using Jesus as intermediary. Ebionites Jewish Messianism is probably closest to Islam, where Jesus is the ‘greatest prophet’ only. And the Unitarians, a 17th century offshoot of the 16th century, the Radical Reformation, and which gave birth to Anabaptist groups like the Hutterites, Amish and Mennonites. The Ebionites and Unitarians are ‘Christianity without Paul’ or ‘Islam without Muhammad’, though the Unitarians’ actual beliefs are so lax that it’s fine to reject pretty well everything (virgin birth, miracles, resurrection), making it more a liberal humanism.

    Interestingly, later Protestant heretics, the Anabaptist Hutterites and Amish, were rediscovered during Covid, as they refused vaccines, relying on (medieval) herd immunity. While infections were high, death rates from the virus are lower because their older people live with family and extended family and not in old people’s homes, and usually maintain a healthier lifestyle. Lev Tolstoy was a big fan of the Anabaptist Mennonites and gave the income from his final novel Resurrection to them so they could emigrate to North America, freed from serving in the Russian imperial army.

    In The Gospel in Brief: The life of Jesus (1881), Tolstoy asks:

    What is it to me if Christ was resurrected? The questions important to me are:

    *What should I do?

    *How should I live?

    Man is the son of an infinite source not by the flesh but by the spirit. Therefore man should serve this source in spirit … True life is outside of time, exists only in the present.

    Tolstoy was excommunicated by the Orthodox Church for his heretical thoughts. The New Testament is stinking filth with buried jewels. But he sees himself as a true believer: the Jesus message transcends all answers from other cultures. My study is like reassembling a broken statue. The teachings of a great man must express clearly that which others only expressed unclearly. Socrates is clear. Christianity is not. The dogma — trinity, pentecost, seven sacraments for salvation, the communion ritual. They are not in Jesus’ teachings. Why did people turn Jesus into God? Tolstoy’s answer: The teachings were so transformative, they mistook the messenger of it as a God. Don’t look for inner peace from my study, he warns, but truth.

    Tolstoy knew and respected Muslims. They recognize Moses, Jesus, Muhammad, who made clear meaning of Moses and Jesus’ revelations. The Muslim looks at teachings of Jews and Christians for what agrees with his mind and heart.

    Islam’s roots in Christian heterodoxy

    There were many Christian and Jewish stories circulating during Muhammad’s lifetime, and hadiths relate how the Prophet spoke with Christians and Jews. Muslim apologists argue that any overlaps between the Quran and such sources hark back to the original Truth behind them and that that Truth is what the Quran reveals. Fair enough, but it is still interesting to see how close to the Truth various popular narrations or actual Christian or Jewish texts came, as precursors of the Quran.

    Pauline ‘pagan Christianity’ became a strict orthodoxy by the 2nd century, but alternative versions of Jesus’ message were strong until the 9th century, surviving in the eastern sects with a colorful array of gospels and apocalypses. Ironically it was the Reformation and the printing press that proved lethal for Christian heterodoxy. Colorful was ou,t and it was much easier to control what was read when everything was now printed (and approved).

    The apocryphal works were prompted by the need of alternative narratives to fill in blanks or mull over theological problems not adequately explained. Things Jesus should have said or done if he had the time. ‘What would Jesus do?’ The theological need produced the required texts.

    Philip Jenkins, in The many faces of Christ: The thousand-year story of the survival and influence of the lost gospels (2015), shows how the James/Jacob version of Jesus’ Messianism through the years was trying to keep the central monotheistic legacy in tact. That kind of ‘Christianity’ would not have made Jews the outcasts of Europe (and the monsters of today in Israel) as happened.

    Rejecting Paul’s innovations offends Christians, as Tolstoy warned, but it is necessary to overcome the bigotry that came with dubious dogma and unending communal strife.

    That said, we can marvel at the blossoming of monotheism in the Middle Ages, and thank the heterodox Christian cultural milieu of the time for some of the most striking images in the Quran.

    In the 2nd century pseudo Infancy gospel of Thomas,ii boy Jesus fashions a bird from clay and then blowing on it, bringing it to life as it flies away. Surah 5:110 Thou makest out of clay, as it were, the figure of a bird, by My leave, and thou breathest into it and it becometh a bird by My leave.

    Muslim apologists argue that, yes, the original Bible contained the apocryphal story of Jesus making and animating clay birds, and that the Quran was actually correcting a wrongful exclusion of this apocryphal from the canon. Fine. Oscar Wilde thumbed his nose at such nitpicking: talent borrows, genius steals. If ‘the Church’ had had its way, this delightful and profound story, an enduring symbol of belief, would only have appeared in the Quran. Given the plethora of gospels in circulation in the 7th century, especially in outposts like Arabia, who knows what other ‘caves of treasures’ have survived only because of the Quran?


    left: Jesus raises the clay birds of his playmates to life. right: The Cave of Treasures recounts the lineage of Man from Adam, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Moses, Jesus, popular in eastern Christiandom in the 6-7th centuries. Like many other priceless treasures, it survives only thanks to an Arabic translation.

    Jenkins brings the time of the Middle Ages from the 2nd century to the Reformation to life. The medieval period is fascinating, strikingly similar to today’s mostly visual society, with bible epics and a secular heavenly kingdom courtesy of Cecile B de Mille and Walt Disney. Austere Islam arose at the height of this imaginative time, which ended with the extreme austerity of the Reformation and the rise of scientism leaving Islam as a fascinating time capsule for reimagining Christian civilization at its peak, minus Paul’s dogma.

    From the birth of Islam in the 7th century, it has existed in dialogue with Christianity. For much of Muslim history, Christians composed a large proportion of the population of the Muslim world, Egypt, Syria, Iraq. Muslims were living in Europe by the 8th century, in Spain, later Sicily, the Balkans. Christian subjects under Muslim rule were free to practice their faith and read old texts that were suppressed in Catholic or Orthodox lands. What an era! Medieval society was full of religion, with successive waves of conversion zeal.

    Similarly, after the sudden burst of zeal and the expansion of Islam across the known world, Islam too spread peacefully. The key difference being Christianity as the religion of empire, and Islam as the conqueror of empire, born free in the desert.

    As Christian civilization slowly came to pagan Europe, next door Islamic civilization was already flourishing. Lots of learning, translating, debate. As late as 649 a Nestorian bishop wrote: “These Arabs fight not against our Christian religion; nay, rather they defend our faith, they revere our priests and saints, and they make gifts to our churches and monasteries.” At the same time Islam was influenced by diverse Christian traditions. And as religious rivals, Muslims would have welcomed any dissidents from the Pauline mainstream. The apocryphal/ Islamic Jesus was proclaimed in Quranic recitations across much of Europe, in mosques of Toledo and Palermo Seville and Sofia, Athens and Budapest, Belgrade and Bucharest.iii (Too bad about the Crusades)

    Muslim gospel

    Sayings of Jesus recorded by early Muslim commentators resemble Q source’s collection of aphorisms. Some sound like Manichean Dualist:

    *The world is Satan’s farm and its peoples are its plowmen.

    *The world is a bridge. Cross this bridge but do not build upon it.

    *Do not examine the sins of people as though you were lords, but examine them as though you were servants. critique Kharijite movement.

    *Just as kings have left wisdom to you [scholars], you should leave the world to them. largely supportive of government because any government is better than none at all.iv

    *Jesus addressing a self-proclaimed worshipper: What is your brother doing? Caring for me. Your brother is more devoted to God than you.

    *Blessed is he who sees with his heart but whose heart is not in what he sees.

    *Console me, for my heart is soft and I hold myself in low esteem. emphasizing Jesus’ human weakness.

    *Be in middle, but walk to the side.

    *Be at ease with people and ill at ease with yourself.

    *Those among you who sorrow most in misfortune and the most attached to this world. Jesus as fierce ascetic. also

    *A pig passed by Jesus. ‘Pass in peace.’ How can you say this to a pig? Jesus: ‘I hate to accustom my tongue to evil.v

    It’s eerie how the Jesus hidden away by Pauline orthodoxy managed to resurface in Islam 7 centuries after Jesus died. A Jesus ‘resurrected’ in an environment where he becomes a Muslim prophet. Belonging to a common age-old fund of wisdom found in the rich traditions of near eastern cultures. Also with roots in Hellenistic civilization.

    Their attribution to Jesus reveals a lot about both an unknown Jesus and how Islam sees Him. When Islam arrived, the Church had not yet enforced its dogmas in the near east, i.e. there were mutually hostile Christian communities. The Church only cemented its dogmas in the 10th century, by which time many ‘heretics’ often found in Islam a better fit.

    Some likely founded Sufi orders. Jesus is one of the major spiritual heroes of Sufism. Basra was an important base for the Church of the East and the earliest center of Islamic Sufism. Syria’s Alawites follow several Gnostic ideas, including the transmigration of souls, to the point that many orthodox Muslims do not consider it Islamic. True Gnostics, both Alawites and Druze are famous for the extreme secrecy of their faith. Islam offered a message appealing to the old Dualists who were hostile to priests, institutional churches.

    It’s a shorter step from Christian to Muslim than from Jewish. Apocryphal texts were alive and well among Eastern congregations long after their formal exclusion from the NT canon in the 4-5th centuries. Quranic images of Jesus and the Christians echoed a living—not imaginary—Christianity, reflecting some of the lost Jesus as Christianity became the religion of empire, caught up in intrigues with secular power.

    When Muslims occupied the eastern Christian territories they were intensely exposed to the writings of ancient centers of Christian heterodoxy as Syria Egypt and Mesopotamia. The Islamic world became a treasury of writings otherwise lost or suppressed in Latin Europe. Muslim scholars preserved priceless documents from the earliest church, texts that were lost to Christendom.

    A Muslim Gospel of Prophet Jesus would be anti-Pauline for sure, but not anti-Christian like the Toledot yeshu (life of Jesus), the nasty Jewish version. Written in the 9th century prior to the 14th century it would have been available in any large town in Europe where Jewish communities existed. After the 14th century Black Death, the Jewish center of gravity shifted to eastern Europe. Based on a deceptive Jesus, Christianity was depicted as at best a parody religion, a pallid imitation of authentic Judaism.vi Luther was appalled by it; it poisoned his attitude to Jews and Judaism, which in his early years had been relatively tolerant. By 1540s he was urging that Jews be expropriate and their faith utterly forbidden. In Germany his anti-Jewish fury had a long and hideous afterlife.

    In fact, there is such a ‘gospel’, the 14th century Gospel of Barnabas, which more or less follows the canonical NT, with the addition of the prophecy of Muhammad. Jesus: and the mesenger of God when he shall come, of what lineage? Disciples: of David. Jesus: you deceive yourselves. The promise was made in Ishmael, not in Isaac.vii It is Judas that is mistaken for Jesus and crucified. Evil men, pretending to be diisciples, preached that Jesus died and rose not again. Others preached that he really died, but rose again. Others preach that Jesus is the Son of God, among whom is Paul deceived.

    The Gospel of Barnabas, probably written by a convert monk, has been rediscovered periodically, lauded as an explosive demolition of Christian orthodoxy. Deist skeptic John Toland found a copy in Amsterdam and wrote Nazanernus, or Jewish, Gentile and Mahometan Christianity (1718). He saw it as an account of primitive Christianity without the Trinity and the canceling of Jewish law. Jewish Christianity. The original plan of Christianity. Toland was popular in enlightenment circles. When a scholarly English translation was published in 1907, it created a sensation in Islamic lands, especially India.

    But the real thing would simply be Jesus’ actual sayings which Muslims have incorporated into their faith. The Muslim Jesus. Such a work has been immanent all along, scattered in hadiths, works of ethics and popular devotion, Sufism, wisdom anthologies, histories of prophets and saints, from the 2nd/ 8thviii century to the 12th/ 18th century. Muslims in the first century of Islam were generally quite receptive to the religious lore of Judaism, Christianity and other religions of the new Muslim empire. The first such ‘gospel’ was only complied in 1896 a collection of 77 sayings. This was supplemented and published as 225 sayings (in Latin) in 1919. A new version The Muslim Jesus: Sayings and stories in Islamic Literature, with 303 sayings, was published by Tarif Khalidi in 2001.

    In The Muslim Jesus, Khalidi offering a Jesus quite different from that of Christian Europe. The Jesus of Muslim tradition is a fierce ascetic, not the figure of the canonical gospels. A 9th century commentator Ahmad ibn Hanbal reported a saying of this Jesus: I toppled the world upon its face and sat upon its back. I have no child that might die, no house that might fall into ruin. The Muslim Jesus is Sufi, his parables and aphorisms like Zen koans. Jesus points to the birds of the sky and speaks of how God cares for them. He urges his followers to lay up treasures for themselves in heaven, to fast and pray in secret, unlike the hypocrites. Repay cruelty with kindness. He who has not been born twice shall not enter the kingdom of Heaven.

    The only direct quotes from either the OT or NT in the Quran are ‘an eye for an eye’ and ‘rich man and the camel passing through the eye of a needle.’ Muhammad knew many Jews and Christians and honored Jewish and Christian scriptures, but it is wrong to suppose that anyone had any direct role in inspiring revelation. There was no ‘Arabic Bible’ at that point.

    The language of the Quran is a kind of eternal present. Past, present, future laid out in a continuum. The structure is a typology of Quranic prophets, the model of prophecy recognizable by the manner in which a particular prophet sets about his mission of warning, rejection, vindication as retribution. A Christian or Jew today would be okay with the manner in which Moses, Joseph, David are presented. Not Jesus. The Quran was free to use, indeed, to preserve any nugget of Truth in the apocryphal infancy stories and miracles, gospels, as well as Syriac, Coptic and Ethiopic literature.

    More emphasis is on the miraculous birth than Jesus’ Passion. Jesus is almost always ‘son of Mary’. There is no Sermon on the Mount, parables, teachings on law and spirit, no Passion. There are faithful disciples, humble and pious, God’s unity. The Quranic style is argument and counter-argument in the face of sneers from unbelievers and quarrelsome religious communities.

    Jesus’ image is shaped by the Quran’s own corrective message, pruning, rearranging of an earlier revelation regarded as notorious for its divisive and contentious sects. It is a trustee of an inheritance, not a relative of the testator.ix i.e., Muhammad inherited the Christian (and Jewish) books, canonical and noncanonical, but it is a new, distinct religion, not beholden to quarrelsome, misguided relatives. Islam claims to be the true version of the underlying treasure (the true monotheistic path), not some wayward child of Christianity.

    Examples of Quran and popular Christian imagery of the time:

    *When Muhammad received his first revelation, he feared that he may have been visited by an evil spirit. He ran home to his wife, Khadijah, saying, ‘cover me, for I fear I may be possessed by an evil spirit.’ Khadijah did not believe Muhammad was possessed by an evil spirit, and she took him to her cousin, Waraqah ibn Nawfal, a Christian, who was well versed in the scriptures. It was this Christian who first suggested to Muhammad that he may have been visited by the angel Gabriel, and therefore, may be a Prophet.x It is believed that Waraqah ibn Nawfal belonged to a group of Ebionite Christians, who maintained the Jewish laws of circumcision, avoidance of pork, and emphasized God’s Oneness.

    *Early biographies suggest Muhammad had a sympathy for Mary. When his forces destroyed hundreds of idols in Mecca, he reverently preserved an image of the Virgin and Child.xi

    *Popular reading then would have been Christian or Jewish stories like The Cave of Treasures (590s) when Muhammad was a young adult. He travelled as a merchant husband of a respected merchant widow Khadija and such works were the HBO/ PBS of the day.

    *The Trinity is rejected out of hand as a later invention and is never deconstructed except as denying God’s indivisibility. There is even a hint that the Trinity was Father, Son and Mary, not spirit. The Father-Son-Spirit triune does not appear in the Quran. One of the most dramatic moments in the Quran is God taking Jesus to task 5:116: And [beware the Day] when Allah will say, “O Jesus, Son of Mary, did you say to the people, ‘Take me and my mother as deities besides Allah ?’ ” He will say, “Exalted are You! It was not for me to say that to which I have no right. If I had said it, You would have known it.

    It may be an allusion to heretical Arab Christian Collyridians, mentioned in the 4th century and possibly having survived into Muhammad’s time, so the Quran could be addressing their understanding of the Trinity. As to the purpose of verse 5:116, the most plausible explanation is clearly that it was a polemic against real or imagined Christian belief in the Trinity. Consider 4:171. Do not say “Three”. Stop it. That is good for you. Allah is the only One God. He is far too pure to have a son. Neither ayat directly addresses the ‘real’ Trinity, but it looks like Muhammad was criticizing not only the Trinity but the deification of Mary which had been proceeding apace after Paul (who hardly mentions Mary at all).

    *In the Roman Catholic tradition Mariology is seen as Christology developed to its full potential (Paul would have been horrified). Veneration for Mary is based on the reference in the Gospel of Luke to Mary as ‘the selected handmaid of the Lord’. Particularly significant is Mary’s presence at the Cross, when she received from her dying Son the charge to be mother to the beloved disciple. The theological development of devotion to Mary begins with Justin Martyr (100–165) who articulated Mary’s role in salvation history as the Second Eve. While Jesus and Mary are central to the Quran, they are very different, Jesus is more ascetic and Mary a model of piety and courage, and the honored vehicle for Jesus’ appearance. Neither are part of a ‘salvation history’ of Jesus dying for our sins, and Mary as intercessor in this. There is no ‘original sin’ in Islam. Jesus came to add to the Jewish Covenant, with a universal message of love and compassion. 4:171: The Messiah, Jesus, son of Mary, was no more than a messenger of Allah and the fulfilment of His Word through Mary and a spirit created by a command˺ from Him.

    *Paul described the crucifixion as being to the Jews an obstacle that they cannot get over, to the pagans madness. 1Cor1:23. Did the Quran follow a Docetic form of Christianity? But the Jesus of the Quran is very much flesh and blood while in Docetism he is a mere shadow. In denying the crucifixion, the Quran is denying that the Jews killed him, and elevates him to God as part of his vindication as a prophet, reconciling him to the general typology of Quranic prophecy. It is the ascension rather than the crucifixion which marks the high point of his life in the Quran. There is no Passion, stations of the Cross in Islamic commentary. It is closer to the Docetists.xii or the Gnostic Apocalypse of Peterxiii

     *In the Cave of Treasures, probably the most popular religious work of the Middle Ages, which begins with the creation of the world and ends with the Pentecost, the devil‘s excuse for not bowing to Adam is that he was created from fire, while Adam was created from dirt. It is this tradition that is reflected in the Qurʾān: ‘I am better than he is. You created me from fire. You created him from clay.’ (Q 7.12; cf. 15.33; 17.61; 38.76). Cave of Treasures: When the leader of the lesser order saw the greatness given to Adam, he became jealous of him and did not want to prostrate before him with the angels. He said to his hosts, ‘Do not worship him and do not praise him with the angels. It is proper that you should worship me, for I am fire and spirit, not that I worship something made from dirt. The Life of Adam and Eve (Jewish apocrypha 200BC–100AD) would have been popular and is much like Quran 18:50 Kahf: We said unto the angels: fall prostrate before Adam and they prostrated, except for Iblis. He was of the jinn and departed from the command of his Lord.

     *Seven sleepers of Ephesus Quran 18:9. Clearly inspired by disciples being persecuted in the 3rd c, during the persecutions by the Roman Emperor Decius, around 250) and who hid in a cave, as related by Syriac Father Jacob of Serugh (c. 450–521). The cave was opened during the reign of Theodosius II (408–450)—in AD 447 when heated discussions were taking place between various schools of Christianity about the resurrection of the body in the day of judgment and life after death. Some Jewish circles and the Christians of Najran believed in only three brothers; the East Syriac, five, others seven, which explains the curious ayat 18:22: My Lord is most knowing of their number. None knows them except a few. So do not argue about them except with an obvious argument and do not inquire about them among [the speculators] from anyone. The pilgrim account De situ terrae sanctae, written between 518 and 531, records the existence of a church dedicated to the sleepers in Ephesus, also part of the Quran rendition. How long they slept is also debated but the Quran settles on 309 (lunar) years or 300 solar years.xiv

    The Seven Sleepers were included in the Golden Legend compilation, another popular book of the later Middle Ages, which fixed a precise date for their resurrection, 478, in the reign of Theodosius. The legend was rediscovered by Donne, and The Golden Legend may have been the source for retellings of the Seven Sleepers in Thomas de Quincey’s Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, in a poem by Goethe, Washington Irving’s Rip van Winkle, H. G. Wells’s The Sleeper Awakes.

     *The cosmography of the times, such as that of Syriac authors like Ephrem, explains the Quran ‘Go down!’ to Adam and Eve. Ephrem refers to paradise as being at a great height, beyond the world-encircling ocean, and was the source of the great rivers on Earth, as reflected also in the common Quranic phrase ‘gardens from beneath which the rivers flow’. Allah’s command to ‘Go down!’ in the Quranic verses reflects the cosmological vistas of Syriac Christian sources in which paradise is on top of a cosmic mountain, above the Earth, and thus has God cry out ‘Go down’.

    *Re Muhammad as ‘illiterate‘, in The Quran and Bible: Text and Commentary (2018), Gabriel Said Reynolds points to Quran 3:20 as evidence that the word refers to those who do not know the word of God (similarly 3:75 and 62:2). Thus, Muhammad is described as an ummi prophet in 7:157-158 because he came from a people to whom God had not yet sent down revelation, not because he was illiterate. 29:47-48 denies that Muhammad wrote the Quran himself, yet this does not imply that he could not read. As a respected international merchant, it only makes sense that Muhammad had at least ‘business Arabic’.

    Lost gospels

    The ‘lost’ Gospel of Hebrews is considered by some as more important (or identical to) the lost biblical Q source. Origen quoted it in the 3rd c: Rays issued from Christ’s eyes, whereby they were terrified and put to flight. And Jerome in the 4th century cites a surviving fragment emphasizing the importance of James, the brother of Jesus and head of the Jewish–Christian movement in Jerusalem after Jesus’ death, thereby testifying to the Jewish character of the community of the Gospel. The theology of the Gospel is strongly influenced by Jewish–Christian wisdom teaching. The Holy Spirit is represented as a manifestation of Divine Wisdom who is called Mother.

    The Gospel of the Ebionites is one of several Jewish Christian gospels, along with the Gospel of the Hebrews and the Gospel of the Nazarenes; all survive only as fragments in quotations of the early Church Fathers. Fragments of the Ebionites were embedded in a polemic by 4th century Bishop Epiphanius to point out inconsistencies in the beliefs and practices of a Jewish Christian sect known as the Ebionites. The Christology of the Ebionites was known to Irenaeus: Jesus is understood in this gospel as having come to abolish the sacrifices rather than substituting for them; thus it is unlikely that it contained the same institution of the Eucharist as practiced by Nicene orthodox Christianity. Jerome remarks that the Nazarenes and Ebionites both used the Gospel of the Hebrews.

    There is also the gospel text known to Origen as the Gospel of the Twelve. Jesus as the Messiah but not divine. The twelve insisted on the necessity of following Jewish law and rites and they used only the Jewish–Christian gospel. Jesus’ message was not to proclaim the end of the Torah, but to make the Jews see that they can remain Jews by renouncing the sacrifices and admitting the messianic character of Jesus. In the cross-cultural process of constructing the Roman identity, the Judeo-Christians wanted to participate by Judaizing the Empire, for which they yielded a little in their Jewish beliefs, making them more lax.

    And the Gospel of Thomas, found at Nag Hammadi in 1945, a collection of 114 sayings of Jesus, but it has disappointed researchers. Like all the gospels, it is a pseudo and 80% of the sayings are some variation on the canonical gospels. Khalidi doesn’t even mention it.

    Last but not least, and never completely lost, the Gospel of Nicodemus or Acts of Pilot. Jesus in a nutshell: convicted of sedition and killed by the Romans with approval of Caiaphus (so the Romans could blame it on ‘the Jews’). The story was soon turned on its head, making the Jewish mob the killer and Pilot an honorary saint with his own gospell, a 4th century celebration of Christianity’s new role as Church of Empire. Eastern Churches such as the Coptic and Ethiopian churches even made Pontius Pilate and his wife saints. We can add Marx to the brew here: Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past. So good effort, St Pontius.

    Reza Aslan is a prominent contemporary Muslim writer, a convert to evangelical Christianity from Shia Islam as a young American immigrant, who ‘reverted’ to Islam. Aslan: It’s not [that] I think Islam is correct and Christianity is incorrect. It’s that all religions are nothing more than a language made up of symbols and metaphors to help an individual explain faith. A man-made institution. It’s a set of symbols and metaphors that provides a language for which to express what is inexpressible, and that is faith. It’s symbols and metaphors that I prefer, but it’s not more right or more wrong than any other symbols and metaphors. It’s a language; that’s all it is.

    Aslan’s postmodern take on religion would grate on most Muslims’ ears. But religion is a language, even ‘pure language’, the Word. And as a perennialist, there is always a middle way. That’s what real diplomacy is all about. And that’s what Islam is about. The Jews had veered into tribal insularity and ritual gone mad, the Christians had landed in a solipsistic world of Paul’s creation, distorting Jesus’ message. The two monotheisms were bitter enemies as a result of Paul’s rejection of Judaism and hounding of Jews, with forced conversion always lurking as a ‘final solution’.

    It was wrong push the Jewish Christians aside. They are special Christians. The good Jews. We must always look for the good Jews and work with them! Islam is the classic ‘middle way’. That’s what we must find now. This is 70AD. We are living a cosmic typology of empires. The Romans (Zionists) are destroying/ expelling the natives of Jerusalem, getting ready to flatten the sacred mosque al-Aqsa to build their Temple to Jupiter.

    ENDNOTES

    Part I: Pauline Christianity vs Jesus as Jewish Messiah

    i If there are competing explanations, the simplest is usually the best.

    ii Wikipedia calls this Childhood of the Saviour (second century AD; commonly, and erroneously, referred to as the Infancy Gospel of Thomas)

    iii Jenkins, The many faces of Christ, 193.

    iv Tarif Khalidi, The Muslim Jesus, 2001.

    v Khalidi, 17.

    vi Jenkins, op.cit., 214.

    vii Jenkins, 191-192.

    viii i.e., Anno hejirae/ anno domini

    ix Khalidi, 17.

    x Internet Sacred Text Archive, http://www.sacred-texts.com/isl/gbar/.

    xi Ibid., 199.

    xii Since the 1950s, evidence has been uncovered by archeologists of thousands of early Christian sects which were systematically wiped out by ‘the Church’ with the 4th century Nicene Creed, and continued ever since as soon as any heresies were noticed (or dreamed up by would-be Inquisitors).

    xiii Jesus a laughing savior, a substitute on the cross being crucified.

    xiv Their purported cave was identified in Afşin is near the antique Roman city of Arabissus, to which the East Roman Emperor Justinian paid a visit. The site was a Hittite temple, used as a Roman temple and later as a church in Roman and Byzantine times. The Emperor brought marble niches from western Anatolia as gifts for it, which are preserved inside the Eshab-ı Kehf Kulliye mosque to this day. The Seljuks continued to use the place of worship as a church and a mosque. It was turned into a mosque over time, with the conversion of the local population to Islam.

    The post Islam and Jesus as Jewish Messiah first appeared on Dissident Voice.

    This post was originally published on Dissident Voice.

  • 20 December 2023. Less than a week to go till Christmas.

    Just under a week since the Jewish festival of Chanukkah ended.  

    And over two months since the October 7 massacre by Hamas in Israel, setting off an intense war between Israel and Gaza.

    It’s all a bit depressing, bittersweet and well… unsettling, isn’t it?

    It’s a special, reflective and sacred time of year for many, yet it’s all come together in a horrible blur of hate…

    Speaking to a Jewish friend yesterday, I discovered how in a predominantly Jewish area of London, annual Chanukkah celebrations have been somewhat “dimmed” this year.

    Muswell Hill in North London… The Chanukkiah (9-candle menorah for Chanukkah)was lit, prayers were said and greetings of solidarity shared.

    And then… it was taken away. Leaving just a solitary Christmas tree.

    The reason? I can only imagine fear or vandalism since the offset of the recent round of conflict in the Middle East.

    Right now, the Jewish community are scared. And quite understandably.

    Antisemitism is increasingly on the rise, nationally and globally.

    Here in the UK, the Community Security Trust (CST) recorded 600 anti-Jewish hate incidents in the UK between 7 and 24 October (2023). This is the highest ever total reported to CST across a 17-day period.

    Along with recent spikes in hate crime, when Chanukkah arrived (the often misunderstood and appropriated Jewish festival unrelated to Christmas), we then saw the desecration of chanukkiyot.

    In North London for example, a publicly-erected chanukkiah was vandalised. This was merely days after it has been plastered with a “Free Palestine” sticker and one its bulbs smashed.

    Given the climate of antisemitism, it’s more than understandable if Jewish leaders decided to remove the chanukkiah after the gathering to prevent abuse.

    Yet, I couldn’t help feel that if the chanukkiah had been removed for such reasons, that this wasn’t the way forward. Or at least, it’s not a long-term solution to antisemitism.

    Whilst distressing as it is to see desecrated holy sites and symbols, greater protection is needed in the short term, along with education and ardent strides to strengthen community cohesion in the long-term.

    To my mind, this decision gave in to hate – showing that Jews can and will be invisible. When instead, we must foster an environment where the Jewish community feel confident, safe and proud in their identity. Like everyone should.  

    Speaking to my Jewish friend who’d attended, the feeling was mutual:

    “I felt such dismay and sadness… It’s a crying shame that the Jewish community has to resort to hiding the Menorah for fear of antisemitic vandalism. 

    It is symbolic of the feeling that we have to be invisible in order to survive. That violence and the mob can call the shots in this way, is not just bad for Jews it’s clearly bad for our society as a whole.”

    Compare this to other cities, and the message really hit home.

    The chanukkiah by Brandenburg Gate in Berlin (December 2023).

    Earlier in December, I travelled to Berlin for a workshop on antisemitism. It was my second visit in recent months related to antisemitism, a period which has led to a lot of learning, revelations and reflection.

    In Berlin, my seasonal experience was somewhat different to my friend’s in Muswell Hill.

    In the German capital, I visited the chanukkiah located at the Brandenburg Gate.

    In this historic square, the chanukkiah stood bright and proud, quite tragically yet beautifully next to the gate (and a nearby Christmas tree).

    And this is no ordinary piece of historic architecture, it was once a symbol of the era of Nazi Germany (albeit built much earlier).  

    I didn’t have the words to express the bittersweet juxtaposition of the two images.

    Jewish pride in a nation that saw the death of six million Jews (amongst others) not even a century ago… A tragic past, yet a future of efforts to embrace the Jewish world and stand against hate.

    Things were and are moving forward (although antisemitism is a problem in Germany, just as in the UK and globally).

    Back in the UK, communities are coming together. Yet, the chanukkiah in Muswell Hill was out of sight, whilst the Christmas tree remained. Life seemingly carried on.

    But it hasn’t… Over in Trafalgar Square, the annual erection of the chanukkiah had taken place, but celebrations were markedly quieter (I discussed this with the same Jewish friend).

    This also followed on the U-turn of the decision by Havering Council this year to not display Chanukkah candles outside its town hall in an attempt to avoid “inflaming community tensions”.  

    With this decision reversed following a united outburst of criticism from Jews, Muslims and likeminded citizens, there was and is hope.

    Yet, back in Muswell Hill, a single Christmas tree remained, without the chanukkiah (a visible Jewish symbol).

    I couldn’t help but feel sad. Not just for this, but for the wider image: the overwhelming sense of injustice and historical persecution of the Jewish community.

    All the more poignant it is as, regardless of its origins, the festive tree is a symbol of Christmas globally (although not present in all Christian traditions).

    This is a faith which marks a day to celebrate the birth of Jesus – a Jewish man from Judea.

    A symbol of the Christian world. A world that long persecuted the Jewish community on religious grounds in the form of anti-Judaism – medieval theologically-driven antisemitism in the Christian-Western world.

    It’s worth noting that the contemporary term “antisemitism” incorporates the now wide spectrum of prejudice, including also in the Muslim world (such as Christian anti-Judaism, Islamist antisemitism, Far-Left political and neo-Nazi Far-Right ideology).

    This term was born later – deriving from 19th century references to “racial inferiority” of the Jewish people, prevalent with Nazis and neo-Nazis alike.

    So, with the founding figure of Christianity (and a Prophet in Islam) a Jew himself, we’ve long seen two sides of the same coin.

    One the one hand, there’s a shared history – an opportunity to embrace solidarity as members of the Abrahamic family in a multicultural, multifaith society.

    Yet on the other, we’re reminded of a deep history of persecution – of lies and tropes used to “otherise” both Jews and people of other faiths (including Muslims alike).

    Painting in Sandomierz Cathedral (Poland) depicting Jews murdering Christian children for their blood, (~ 1750).

    It hurts to continuously see my Jewish friends and colleagues facing abuse, simply for being Jewish.

    And at this time of year, it’s all the more tragic.

    Why? Because Jesus’ message (whether his existence is historically proven or not) is one of love, unity and anti-corruption. It’s NOT one of division, appropriation, replacement and conflict.

    Quite honestly, what would he think if he were to look at the state of the Earth now?

    A Holy Land at war. The symbols of his traditional faith removed from the public sphere. Yet (quite rightly) the symbol of Western Christianity (the tree) stands firm on our soul.

    A symbol of an institution that in fact persecuted Jews for centuries exactly because they weren’t Christian.

    Historically, Jews were painted as devilish and corrupt for “rejecting Christ”.

    This led to the vicious blood libel myth which portrayed Jews as “bloodthirsty” heretics who sought to “replicate the holy rites of Easter at Passover with the blood of Christian children”.

    Obviously complete nonsense. Yet it’s stuck – replicating itself across the political spectrum.

    Otherised and rejected, the Jewish community in Europe were also denied to the right to work as they wished and to own land, turning to money-lending to earn a living.

    With usury seen as a sin by the Christian Church, Jews were therefore further demonised as “greedy, powerful and dominant”.

    And so grew the myths around power and money, bearing fruit to the antisemitic conspiracy theories of today (depicting Jews as communists, capitalists, leaders of the “New World Order” and everything in between).

    Having recently completed several trainings in antisemitism (blogs to follow), including in the medieval Christian world, I concluded and finally understood just how embedded antisemitism is in our society.

    After all, we’re a society built on Christian history – whether many recognise this fact or not. (This acknowledgment of “Cultural Christianity” is forming part of my re-embracing of my Christian heritage/identity as British-Islam convert to Islam).

    Yet history is often used, forgotten and abused in the name of hate, otherisation and exclusion.

    The term “Judeo-Christian” for example is often used to imply a united world in a disingenuous move against people of other faiths. It’s a buzz-word for xenophobes preaching anti-refugee and anti-Muslim hate.

    It attempts to paint a picture of a historically Jewish-friendly Europe that is markedly different to the “alien” and “Eastern” faith of Islam (the last Abrahamic faith).

    Well… ask a British Jew and they’ll tell you a different story. One of historical persecution within Medieval Europe, of expulsion and rejection.

    And this “othering” continues today in the form of rampant antisemitism.

    Of course, all three faiths originate from the Middle East. And they all share a number of key figures such as Moses, Abraham and Jesus (in various forms).

    Time and time again, history is used, abused and misrepresented for one’s own gain. To build narratives, to “disprove” lived experiences and to conveniently paint “black and white” binaries of “good vs. bad”, “right and wrong” and “us vs. them”.

    Well, that’s not how the world works.

    We’re a diverse planet. Reality is nuanced. And experiences are unique, varied, personal and collective.

    Jesus’ message is known as one of love!

    As we witness the coming of Christmas as a global community, we’re seeing a clear reminder to look forward – acknowledging the past, living with the present and working towards a better future.

    Through Jesus. And I say this as a Muslim (former Christian) ally to the Jewish community.

    The name in itself carries so much variance yet commonality.

    Jesus, Issa, Christ, Joshua, Yeshua, Jesús…

    The name comes with many translations and variations, each with their own religious and cultural connotations.

    And an opportunity for unity or division

    Divine Son of God (Christian teachings), a (historically unverified) Jewish man (Judaism), a Prophet of God (Islam).

    Traceable in all three Abrahamic faiths in very different ways, his teachings are presented as a narrative of love, peace and spirituality.

    This was at the time starkly opposed to religious dogma – whether one believes in his teachings or even existence from both a spiritual and historical perspective.

    Yet here we are… At the end of 2023 and amid a war in the Holy Land.

    And again, we’re hearing that time old seasonal line “remember that Jesus was Palestinian” and “Jesus was Muslim” from the Pro-Palestinian (often portrayed as Muslim) crowd.

    Well, no… Jesus wasn’t Palestinian in so many words.

    Jesus was Jewish. Born in Galilee, he preached in Judea and was later crucified in Jerusalem.

    This area was a Roman province (colony) under Roman rule.

    Jesus of Nazareth identified as a Jewish man.

    “Palestinian” simply wasn’t a word that he would have identified with or that represents his authentic person.

    And similarly, neither was “Christian”.

    The term “Palestinian” derives from the land of the “Philistines” – a Greek word adopted by the occupying Romans in the 2nd century through the term “Syria Palaestina”.

    Jesus’ followers were Jewish, with the term and official formation of a “Christian Church” not taking place till much later during the Roman leadership in the 3rd century.

    Crucially, whilst may sound like semantical games it’s important. Mis-appropriation of history and one’s identity isn’t the way forward to peace, unity and cohesion.

    Likewise, if we look at the term “Muslim” that gets flung around Twitter…

    That’s a bit more complicated.

    In simple terms, a “muslim” refers to a person who “submits to the one Single God”. That’s it.

    And so, if we break it down, anyone can be a “muslim”.

    Yep, no Arabic, no Qur’an, nothing except a connection with God and good deeds.

    A message that is repeated in the Qur’an to remind us of our moral duty.

    This is crucially one of the reasons why it’s incredibly unhelpful and disingenuous to refer to Islamists as “non-Muslims”.

    In the minds of extremists, they’re following scripture (not what’s often simply passed off as “cultural practice). This is regardless of whether we think their beliefs and teachings are legitimate or not.

    In the “Muslim world”, Orthodox prevailing traditions however are rather prescriptive.  

    In this tradition, a “Muslim” is portrayed as a person who follows the religion of “Islam”, who makes the “declaration of faith” and believes in the Qur’an and so on.

    In such traditional teachings, there “one Truth” and one God, with the Prophets Moses (Musa), Abraham (Ibrahim) and Jesus (Issa) as “Muslim”.

    However, as we all know, the religion of 1.9 billion followers known as “Muslims”, was not formed till centuries later. A religious intuition that certainly Jesus wouldn’t have known.

    So of course, shouting “Jesus was Muslim” across Twitter, is the most unnuanced act of religious and cultural appropriation – especially in the current climate of conflict and rising hate.

    Yes, he was a monotheist (a “muslim”) but Islam as a faith institution wasn’t born yet.

    And “reshaping” Jesus (a Jewish teacher) amid the current climate of conflict and hate, this is not a sensitive, kind or even wise move.

    We all share so much in common – and we must reflect and build on that. Whilst of course respecting the differences, variances and beliefs of others.

    For whether we believe Jesus is a peaceful Jewish man from Judea, the Divine Son of God or part of wider Islamic tradition, what we should all be agreeing on is this:

    The Jewish community deserve respect, representation and security.

    Religious communities should stand together in solidarity

    The world deserves peace (including both Israelis and Palestinians – whether Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Samaritan, Druze etc.)

    So, as one of the biggest days in the Christian calendar approaches (days altering between different strands of Christianity of course – diversity again”), we therefore need to stand together against hate, in pride of diversity.

    We need to acknowledge and respect the contribution of the Jewish world, educate ourselves about their collective trauma (both pre- and post-Holocaust in European and global contexts) and commit to respecting the Jewish community’s right to freedom of belief, safety and to quite simply flourish!

    Likewise, the same rights that must be afforded to all people: Palestinians, Europeans, Americans, all over!

    Because no matter we’re all spending (or not spending!) Christmas, we’re all human.

    And humanity was exactly Jesus’ message.

    So, whether you’re celebrating the Son of God, enjoying a cultural festival, making the most of a day off work or having a Chinese takeaway as you Netflix and chill (a very American-Jewish tradition at Christmas!), keep safe, keep sane and consider this as a New Year’s Resolution:

    We must all commit to standing up against hate. To calling out antisemitism, anti-Muslim hate and all other forms of discrimination.

    We can all reach out to neighbours, colleagues and acquaintances to check on their wellbeing, to build friendships and form alliances.

    And we should all agree: we are stronger together.

    This post was originally published on Voice of Salam.


  • This content originally appeared on Radio Free Asia and was authored by Radio Free Asia.

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • France’s new Education Minister, Gabriel Attal, launched the 2023 school year with a thunderous announcement: “I decided it will no longer be possible to wear an abaya at school,” he said, in the name of a preposterous conception of secularism (or laïcité) adopted by President Emmanuel Macron.

    This “abaya ban” is a serious violation of the fundamental rights of presumed Muslim (i.e., racialized) pupils, who are unfairly stigmatized and discriminated against.

    Though he is the youngest Minister of the Fifth Republic, 34-year-old Attal used the oldest and dirtiest trick in the book, namely the politics of scapegoating an oppressed, defenseless minority. Just like his predecessors, who were fond of such nauseating polemics that obscure the real and glaring problems of the French educational system.

    Aminata, Assma, Yasmine, Alicia, Hassina, sent home for “non-compliant outfits”

    What is an abaya?

    The term “abaya” refers to a variety of dresses of varying lengths, which are in no way religion-specific garments, but simple fashion items with a cultural connotation at most. Major brands such as Zara, H & M and Dolce & Gabbana have been making their own for a long time.

    As proof of this, when Sonia Backès, the French Secretary of State in charge of Citizenship, was shown several types of dresses on TV and asked to identify if they were abayas and whether they should be accepted or forbidden in schools, she hesitated, stammered and side-stepped the question, replying that “it depends on the context.”

    Thus, in a quasi-official manner, the criteria for acceptance or rejection depend not on the garment itself, but on the pupil wearing it and their supposed religion, something that has only been based on their skin color and/or name. At the height of hypocrisy, Attal justified this blatant discrimination by saying that “you shouldn’t be able to distinguish, to identify the religion of pupils by looking at them.”

    A traumatic start to the school year

    Yet this is exactly what has been happening since the start of the school year, with hundreds, if not thousands, of middle- and high- school girls being scrutinized, hounded, stigmatized and humiliated, even blackmailed, and ordered to partially undress or be sent home for wearing outfits as neutral as a tunic, skirt or kimono, deemed too loose or too covering, as if the suspected modesty was a crime of lese-laicity. This obsession with controlling women’s bodies is reminiscent of the colonial period.

     “Aren’t you pretty? Unveil yourself!” Propaganda poster distributed in 1957 by the Fifth Bureau of Psychological Action of the French Colonial Army in Algeria, urging Muslim women to take off their Islamic scarf.

    Ironically, such a step places France alongside retrograde countries such as Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan that have instituted a “morality police” enforcing a strict dress code, with the notable distinction that French bans do not apply to everyone, but only to pupils presumed to be Muslim.

    One can only be outraged by the criminalization of teenage girls through traumatizing interrogations and expulsions, which take place outside any legal framework and could only be justified by a proper disciplinary procedure. Attal’s office counted the cases of pupils wearing abayas to the nearest unit (unlike the number of missing teachers, a plague touching half the secondary schools, as a Teacher’s Union found out).

    Attal even sent journalists a list of the middle schools and high schools concerned, inviting them to cover the start of the new school year there. This showed no regard for the serenity and safety of staff and pupils, sacrificed to the media hype surrounding this new witch-hunt.

    This amounts to real institutional harassment, sponsored by the same person who claims to find it “unbearable that a pupil should go to school with a lump in his stomach because he is harassed” and to make this issue a priority (notably through “empathy courses,” a quality this government clearly lacks). It is another eloquent example of Macron’s famous “at the same time” (advocating one thing and doing the opposite).

    Laicity or “laicism”?

    The abaya ban has nothing to do with secularism, which is even flouted by this political attempt to unilaterally extend the domain of what is religious. Rather, it is the very thing that the candidate Emmanuel Macron himself denounced in 2016-2017 as “laicism,” this “radical and extreme version of secularism that feeds on contemporary fears”, and which targets Islam exclusively, turning millions of our fellow Muslims into “enemies of the Republic”.

    By considering the wearing of simple clothing as a deliberate attack on secularism, a concerted offensive “in an attempt to challenge the republican system,” or even a reminder of the 2015 terrorist attacks and the murder of the teacher Samuel Paty, who was beheaded for showing his pupils derogatory “Charlie Hebdo” cartoons depicting the Prophet of Islam, Macron and his ministers unmask themselves, adopting a discourse that was reserved for the most hateful right-wingers.

    By putting tens of thousands of teenagers under suspicion – behind their qamis and abayas –  of being “enemies from within,” united to bring down republican values and even of being potential terrorists and by urging us to be “relentless” against these migrants, they are descending into a kind of State conspiracy-mongering that is as absurd as it is abject.

    This insidious logic of stigmatization and exclusion was already at work in the 2004 law banning conspicuous religious symbols in schools, opposed by teacher unions such as the CGT Éduc’action as it only really targeted the Islamic veil, described as “proselytizing” and “ostentatious” in a grotesque abuse of language that heralded current and future excesses.

    Far from turning schools into a protected “sanctuary,” these politically driven measures are spreading racism, sexism and hatred and turning them into a veritable battleground. This alleged desire for emancipation through coercion to impose an arbitrarily defined “republican dress code” on suspicious middle- and high-school girls flouts the concept of equal treatment of pupils and the inalienable right of some of them to choose their clothing style, driving them to angst and failure at school. Will we have to wait for a tragedy to put an end to this “shame”?

    Worse still, these vexatious measures may give rise to a whole generation of teenagers — an age that is particularly sensitive to injustice — who have a legitimate distrust and resentment of the institution and its staff, who are transformed into the zealous auxiliaries of a kind of “dress police,” coupled with a “police of intentions” summoned to track down alleged Islamist overtones (which would be both conspicuous and concealed — a very French oxymoron) behind inoffensive fabrics.

    The “communitarianism” and “separatism” that are supposedly fought against can only emerge stronger, just like the far-right, which is closer to power than ever thanks to the institutional backing given to its prejudices, rhetoric and fallacious battles, adopted by a dubious “republican arc,” which reaches as far as the French Communist Party.

    The real priorities

    This umpteenth polemic, validated by docile and irresponsible media echo chambers, and by part of the left, conveniently eclipses from the headlines all the glaring problems from which public education, its staff and users are suffering: shortage of teachers and assistants for pupils with special needs; job cuts and class closures; incessant budget cuts; lack of attractiveness of our underpaid professions; difficult working conditions; overcrowded and overheated classrooms due to under-resourcing of establishments and inadequacy of equipment and premises; international downgrading in terms of achievements; inflation; impoverishment of the population, with nearly 2,000 children on the street and tens of thousands out of schools; and so on.

    Instead of tackling these fundamental problems, the government prefers to continue its authoritarian headlong rush and its policy of deliberately destroying public services for the benefit of the private sector. Moreover, this same government will have no trouble presenting the General National Service [a monthly session in military facilities for high school pupils] and the uniform — symbols of its reactionary vision of schooling currently being tested — as a panacea for problems fully of its own creation, with measures which tend only to bring young people into line and divide society even further.

    Every individual has the fundamental right to choose their clothing without being subjected to discriminatory restrictions. The abaya ban is an unacceptable intrusion into pupils’ privacy and constitutes an attack on their freedom and personal identity, trampling underfoot the ideas of inclusion, living-together and acceptance of differences that are officially advocated.

    The lack of response from teachers’ unions and the civil society to this iniquitous law, which scorns the vocation of educational staff and tarnishes the image of France abroad, speaks volumes about the normalization of Islamophobia in the so-called “Cradle of Human Rights” and the oppression and helplessness of its millions-strong Muslim community.

    This post was originally published on Dissident Voice.

  • France’s new Education Minister, Gabriel Attal, launched the 2023 school year with a thunderous announcement: “I decided it will no longer be possible to wear an abaya at school,” he said, in the name of a preposterous conception of secularism (or laïcité) adopted by President Emmanuel Macron.

    This “abaya ban” is a serious violation of the fundamental rights of presumed Muslim (i.e., racialized) pupils, who are unfairly stigmatized and discriminated against.

    Though he is the youngest Minister of the Fifth Republic, 34-year-old Attal used the oldest and dirtiest trick in the book, namely the politics of scapegoating an oppressed, defenseless minority. Just like his predecessors, who were fond of such nauseating polemics that obscure the real and glaring problems of the French educational system.

    Aminata, Assma, Yasmine, Alicia, Hassina, sent home for “non-compliant outfits”

    What is an abaya?

    The term “abaya” refers to a variety of dresses of varying lengths, which are in no way religion-specific garments, but simple fashion items with a cultural connotation at most. Major brands such as Zara, H & M and Dolce & Gabbana have been making their own for a long time.

    As proof of this, when Sonia Backès, the French Secretary of State in charge of Citizenship, was shown several types of dresses on TV and asked to identify if they were abayas and whether they should be accepted or forbidden in schools, she hesitated, stammered and side-stepped the question, replying that “it depends on the context.”

    Thus, in a quasi-official manner, the criteria for acceptance or rejection depend not on the garment itself, but on the pupil wearing it and their supposed religion, something that has only been based on their skin color and/or name. At the height of hypocrisy, Attal justified this blatant discrimination by saying that “you shouldn’t be able to distinguish, to identify the religion of pupils by looking at them.”

    A traumatic start to the school year

    Yet this is exactly what has been happening since the start of the school year, with hundreds, if not thousands, of middle- and high- school girls being scrutinized, hounded, stigmatized and humiliated, even blackmailed, and ordered to partially undress or be sent home for wearing outfits as neutral as a tunic, skirt or kimono, deemed too loose or too covering, as if the suspected modesty was a crime of lese-laicity. This obsession with controlling women’s bodies is reminiscent of the colonial period.

     “Aren’t you pretty? Unveil yourself!” Propaganda poster distributed in 1957 by the Fifth Bureau of Psychological Action of the French Colonial Army in Algeria, urging Muslim women to take off their Islamic scarf.

    Ironically, such a step places France alongside retrograde countries such as Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan that have instituted a “morality police” enforcing a strict dress code, with the notable distinction that French bans do not apply to everyone, but only to pupils presumed to be Muslim.

    One can only be outraged by the criminalization of teenage girls through traumatizing interrogations and expulsions, which take place outside any legal framework and could only be justified by a proper disciplinary procedure. Attal’s office counted the cases of pupils wearing abayas to the nearest unit (unlike the number of missing teachers, a plague touching half the secondary schools, as a Teacher’s Union found out).

    Attal even sent journalists a list of the middle schools and high schools concerned, inviting them to cover the start of the new school year there. This showed no regard for the serenity and safety of staff and pupils, sacrificed to the media hype surrounding this new witch-hunt.

    This amounts to real institutional harassment, sponsored by the same person who claims to find it “unbearable that a pupil should go to school with a lump in his stomach because he is harassed” and to make this issue a priority (notably through “empathy courses,” a quality this government clearly lacks). It is another eloquent example of Macron’s famous “at the same time” (advocating one thing and doing the opposite).

    Laicity or “laicism”?

    The abaya ban has nothing to do with secularism, which is even flouted by this political attempt to unilaterally extend the domain of what is religious. Rather, it is the very thing that the candidate Emmanuel Macron himself denounced in 2016-2017 as “laicism,” this “radical and extreme version of secularism that feeds on contemporary fears”, and which targets Islam exclusively, turning millions of our fellow Muslims into “enemies of the Republic”.

    By considering the wearing of simple clothing as a deliberate attack on secularism, a concerted offensive “in an attempt to challenge the republican system,” or even a reminder of the 2015 terrorist attacks and the murder of the teacher Samuel Paty, who was beheaded for showing his pupils derogatory “Charlie Hebdo” cartoons depicting the Prophet of Islam, Macron and his ministers unmask themselves, adopting a discourse that was reserved for the most hateful right-wingers.

    By putting tens of thousands of teenagers under suspicion – behind their qamis and abayas –  of being “enemies from within,” united to bring down republican values and even of being potential terrorists and by urging us to be “relentless” against these migrants, they are descending into a kind of State conspiracy-mongering that is as absurd as it is abject.

    This insidious logic of stigmatization and exclusion was already at work in the 2004 law banning conspicuous religious symbols in schools, opposed by teacher unions such as the CGT Éduc’action as it only really targeted the Islamic veil, described as “proselytizing” and “ostentatious” in a grotesque abuse of language that heralded current and future excesses.

    Far from turning schools into a protected “sanctuary,” these politically driven measures are spreading racism, sexism and hatred and turning them into a veritable battleground. This alleged desire for emancipation through coercion to impose an arbitrarily defined “republican dress code” on suspicious middle- and high-school girls flouts the concept of equal treatment of pupils and the inalienable right of some of them to choose their clothing style, driving them to angst and failure at school. Will we have to wait for a tragedy to put an end to this “shame”?

    Worse still, these vexatious measures may give rise to a whole generation of teenagers — an age that is particularly sensitive to injustice — who have a legitimate distrust and resentment of the institution and its staff, who are transformed into the zealous auxiliaries of a kind of “dress police,” coupled with a “police of intentions” summoned to track down alleged Islamist overtones (which would be both conspicuous and concealed — a very French oxymoron) behind inoffensive fabrics.

    The “communitarianism” and “separatism” that are supposedly fought against can only emerge stronger, just like the far-right, which is closer to power than ever thanks to the institutional backing given to its prejudices, rhetoric and fallacious battles, adopted by a dubious “republican arc,” which reaches as far as the French Communist Party.

    The real priorities

    This umpteenth polemic, validated by docile and irresponsible media echo chambers, and by part of the left, conveniently eclipses from the headlines all the glaring problems from which public education, its staff and users are suffering: shortage of teachers and assistants for pupils with special needs; job cuts and class closures; incessant budget cuts; lack of attractiveness of our underpaid professions; difficult working conditions; overcrowded and overheated classrooms due to under-resourcing of establishments and inadequacy of equipment and premises; international downgrading in terms of achievements; inflation; impoverishment of the population, with nearly 2,000 children on the street and tens of thousands out of schools; and so on.

    Instead of tackling these fundamental problems, the government prefers to continue its authoritarian headlong rush and its policy of deliberately destroying public services for the benefit of the private sector. Moreover, this same government will have no trouble presenting the General National Service [a monthly session in military facilities for high school pupils] and the uniform — symbols of its reactionary vision of schooling currently being tested — as a panacea for problems fully of its own creation, with measures which tend only to bring young people into line and divide society even further.

    Every individual has the fundamental right to choose their clothing without being subjected to discriminatory restrictions. The abaya ban is an unacceptable intrusion into pupils’ privacy and constitutes an attack on their freedom and personal identity, trampling underfoot the ideas of inclusion, living-together and acceptance of differences that are officially advocated.

    The lack of response from teachers’ unions and the civil society to this iniquitous law, which scorns the vocation of educational staff and tarnishes the image of France abroad, speaks volumes about the normalization of Islamophobia in the so-called “Cradle of Human Rights” and the oppression and helplessness of its millions-strong Muslim community.

    This post was originally published on Dissident Voice.

  • In July 2020, when COVID-19 was wreaking havoc in prisons all over the country, Musa Bey was locked up in an Arizona prison. In the main wing of the prison, a couple of people contracted COVID. Instead of separating them to a different wing, prison officials kept them where they could infect others. So, Bey and five others spoke with the staff and conveyed that they felt unsafe living in close…

    Source

  • Exclusive: Report says optics of western firms organising Xinjiang tours amid ‘crimes against humanity are disastrous’

    Uyghur advocates have called on western tourism companies to stop selling package holidays that take visitors through Xinjiang, where human rights abuses by authorities have been called a genocide by some governments.

    The request comes as China reopens to foreign visitors after the pandemic, and as its leader, Xi Jinping, calls for more tourism to the region.

    Continue reading…

  • By Matt Pointon

    This blog is part of a series where I look at various faiths and explore where they have inspired me and where I have questions/struggles.

    Although I am Christian, I believe that God wants us to explore and learn from other traditions as part of our spiritual journey.

    This is my journey, no one else’s, and this series of blogs merely record how I see things. They are not intended to offend or convert, nor do I expect you to agree with me.

    I do however, appreciate feedback, friendship and further learning. Thank you!

    Other blogs in this series:

    My interfaith journey (part 1): why I’m a Sikh… and why I’m not


    “The Sufi who sets out to seek God calls himself a ‘traveller’ (sālik); he advances by slow stages (maqāmāt) along a ‘path’ (tarīqat) to the goal of union with Reality (fanā fi ’l-Haqq).”

    The Mystics of Islam by Reynold A. Nicholson (1914), p.28

    My Sufi journey, as in the classical mould set out above, has been gradual. It has progressed in stages (maqāmāt), along the divine path.

    I’ve had an intriguing, soulful experience so far. But I believe there’s also more to come.

    So, here’s my story of the path trodden thus far…

    Stage 1: Demir Baba (Bulgaria, 2003)

    Demir Baba Teke — the most sacred shrine in the  mystical Alevi tradition, located near the village Sveshtari, north-eastern Bulgaria (Image: Klearchos Kapoutsis, CC BY 2.0).

    Demir Baba Teke (the 16th century Alevi mausoleum) had first been recommended to me by my friend Fatme.

    Fatme is not a Sufi, although she is Muslim. She had been told about the shrine by a friend, and later visited. Impressed by the site, she suggested that I check it out.

    And I was glad that she did!

    One summer’s day, I took the bus and then a taxi from my home in Varna and descended to the shrine via a path strewn with scraps of material tied to tree branches, each symbolising a prayer.

    Even though I knew nothing about its history or the tradition it represented, the historic sanctuary overwhelmed me with the beauty of its simple sanctity.

    Here was an Islam that I could relate to, that I felt at home in, that accepted me.

    The sacred site of Demir Baba Teke (Image: Sevil Mutlu, CC BY-SA 2.5).

    After visiting, I wrote a piece on Demir Baba and, in order to do so, did some rudimentary research.

    Those were the days of internet infancy so, rather than Wikipedia, I used local knowledge.

    “The Turks that worship at Demir Baba, we call them Kazalbashi [Alians]” explained my friend Pavel.

    “They’re different from the others and not particularly liked by them. They’re much more open-minded… there’s none of ‘This is my wife and that’s yours’ stuff and locking their women away. Their women don’t cover their heads and they all drink.”

    Now, how true that all is regarding Sufis is debateable. But, what I did learn was that there were Muslims out there who broke the orthodox mould.

    Stage 2: Jodhaa Akbar and India (2013)


    Jodhaa Akbar” (2008) is a Bollywood film — a dramatisation of the life of the Mughal emperor Akbar and his marriage to his Hindu bride (Jodhaa).

    Akbar was famously tolerant. He would debate holy men from other faiths and respected the beliefs of all of his subjects, including Jodhaa who was allowed to keep her faith after marriage and who even had a small Krishna temple built for her to worship in the palace.

    This tolerance came from his Sufi faith. In the film he visits to shrine of Moinuddin Chisti at Ajmer to pray for a son, and, at his wedding, itinerant Sufi dervishes come and sing and dance for him, showcasing the haunting ARR Rahman song “Khwaja Mere Khwaja“.

    The whirling dervishes I already knew about. Several months before visiting Demir Baba, I had visited the shrine of Rumi, the founder of their order and perhaps the most famous Sufi of them all.

    But, although I had enjoyed the trip, I had not really connected the dots.

    Slowly, I began to realise that Rumi, Akbar and Demir Baba were all connected — part of an Islam that was tolerant and welcoming.

    And crucially, that I don’t always encounter in Britain — where there is a vocal very conservative orthodox (up to Islamist) presence.

    So, I travelled to India. Primarily to visit the Golden Temple but also to tread in Akbar’s footsteps and pray at some Sufi shrines.

    Qawwali singing at the Shrine of Hazrat Nizamuddin (Image: Matt Pointon (c).

    I was blown away by the rhythmic Qawwali chanting at the shrine of Hazrat Nizamuddin in Delhi. I then visited the greatest of the Chisti Sufi darghars (tombs), that of Moinuddin Chishti in Ajmer.

    And I was welcomed in both.

    I was clearly and publicly Christian, but it didn’t matter. There was no attempt at conversion or judgement. As a seeker, I was accepted.

    Stage 3: lockdown reading at home (2019 – 20)

    My son and I at the Bektashi World Headquarters, Tirana (Albania, 2022) (Image: Matt Pointon (c).

    Incarcerated at home by the Covid-19 pandemic, I began to read.

    I explored Balkan history and discovered more about Demir Baba and other shrines I had encountered on my travels around the peninsular.

    I learnt that they were all Bektashi, a Sufi order that had spread with the Janissaries, the shock troops of the Ottoman Empire — Christians forcibly converted as children.

    Shia and syncretistic, they appealed to men raised between two worlds and the order had once been widespread across the Balkans and Turkey.

    Attacked on one side by the Christians and the other by orthodox Muslims, they had retreated to their stronghold in and around Albania. Then came the dictatorship of Enver Hoxha, with its harsh state atheism. They had almost been wiped out completely.

    The Bektashis are far from being mainstream in their views.

    Whilst free love and wife sharing might be taking it too far, they are famously liberal — their priests drinking and women not covering — whilst icons of their saints are often seen at shrines.

    Since the demise of communism, they’ve been having a quiet revival. They are arguably the largest single religious grouping in Albania, with their world headquarters on the edge of Tirana.

    From them, I learnt how diverse Sufism can be but equally, how tolerant, and how important the different orders are.

    To be a Sufi is to ally yourself with an order, be it the Chistis of Ajmer, the Bektashis of Tirana, or one of countless others.

    Stage 4: Nicosia (Cyprus, 2022)

    Al Khidr: Elijah and Khidr praying together from an manuscript version of Stories of the Prophets (left), Alexander the Great and the Prophet Khidr (Khizr) in Front of the Fountain of Life (Walters) (right).

    Wandering the streets of Turkish Nicosia, I had an encounter with a stranger that left a lingering effect on me.

    Immediately afterwards, I visited a former Sufi tekke, and then, by chance, picked up a wonderful book by the Turkish Sufi writer Hakan Menguc.

    I read it straightaway. It was called “No Encounter is by Chance“.

    The book argued that such meetings with strangers were never happenstance. There was a meaning to them, and my job was to discover it.

    The coincidences — the meeting, the tekke and then the book — were simply too great.

    I took on the message of the book and used my encounter to reach out to someone who changed my life. Ever since then, I’ve kept on reaching out and my life has kept changing… for the better; more spiritual and balanced.

    I spoke to a German Sufi friend about the meeting that sparked it and he merely smiled and remarked: “Oh, you’ve met Al-Khidr!”

    I’d come across this character before. In a travelogue on the Holy Land, I’d read that the Green Saint (Al-Khidr literally means “The Green One”) is seen as analogous with St. George and Elijah.

    Sufis believe he intervenes in our lives as a stranger on the path. As a lover of pilgrimage and religious syncretism, that made total sense to me.

    He is a pre-Islamic and indeed, pre-Christian character, dating back to legends from Mesopotamia. However, the Qur’anic account tells us that he met Moses “where the two seas meet” and then walked with him, giving spiritual lessons. 

    As a committed pilgrim who feels closest to God whilst walking through the countryside, I got that.

    So, I dived in. I went to Pakistan and made a pilgrimage of Sufi shrines, meditating, praying and composing poetry at each one (Al-Khidr is said to bestow the gift of poetry on those he meets — the Persian poet Hafiz being the most famous example).

    At the Shrine of Shams Sabzwari Tabrez in Multan, I prayed deeply for the person whom Al-Khidr had led me to. And when he witnessed my devotions, my moto driver opened up to me, confessed that he was a Sufi himself, and took me to meet his master, a Naqshbandi sheikh.

    The warmth and friendship I encountered that day was something else, and myself and Junaid, the Sufi disciple whom I befriended, are still in touch.

    At the Shrine of Shams Sabzwari Tabrez in Multan (Pakistan) (Images: Matt Pointon (c).

    As well as visiting shrines, I read. I lost myself in the story of Layla and Majnun, the doomed lovers whose separation echoes that between man and God.

    One verse of the poetry in particular stuck with me, and I recite it as a mantra. It talks of Majnun, in his despair, visiting the town of Layla to be close to the object of his devotion, and for me it echoes how I travel on pilgrimages around the world to understand and get closer to God:

    I pass by this town, the town of Layla

    And I kiss this wall and that wall

    It’s not love of the town that has enraptured my heart

    But of the One who dwells within this town

    It all culminated in a pilgrimage I took to Italy to walk in the footsteps of St. Francis of Assisi.

    It was tough, unbelievably so. But when I climbed up Mt. Verna to the spot where St. Francis received his stigmata, I felt a great outpouring of achievement, so much so that I was almost drunk with joy.

    The following day I found out why: Sufi tradition teaches that there’s only been one Christian saint who is recorded to have met Al-Khidr. And that was St. Francis of Assisi, on Mt. Verna on the night he received his stigmata…

    So, have I become a Sufi?

    Erm… no.

    For whilst there is much that attracts me to the Sufi tradition, there are also some barriers for me as well.

    I could write a whole book on these, but for the purpose of brevity, I shall summarise them as falling into two categories: issues with Islam as a whole and issues around the murshid — murid dynamic (the relationship between the sheikh/Sufi master and the spiritual seeker/novice).

    Firstly, Sufism is a form of Islam. Although it may seem a world away from literalistic Salafism or Wahabism, it is a branch grown from the same seed.

    Yes, it is true that in its early years it took a lot from Gnosticism and the Eastern Christian monastic traditions, plus later on it managed to synergise with Hinduism in certain aspects,. But: Sufism is and always has been Muslim.

    Indeed, I would argue that, for the majority of Islamic history, it has been the dominant form of Islam.

    If today it is seen by many as some sort of “weird”, superstitious, heretical, or liberal fringe movement, that is more to do with the preconceptions of the Western colonial powers who saw Sufis as “crazed fakirs” or “Islamic mystics” rather than any historical reality.

    Devout Muslim rulers sought guidance off Sufis and lay worshippers visited (and in many places, still do visit) their shrines by the million.

    Become a Sufi and you have to accept at least the fundamentals of Islam.

    And I can’t.

    I can’t because I’ve read the Qur’an and find a very intriguing, fascinating, and complex book. But also, a very human one.

    I know it’s history and the history of the faith that formed around it, and I cannot accept that it has a divine origin. I accept that a billion people on this planet do not agree with this assessment, but try as I might, I cannot agree with them.

    Copy of the Qu’ran (Pakistan) (Image: Matt Pointon (c)).

    Furthermore, one of Sufism’s greatest contributions is the Nur Mohammed theology (Light of Mohammed) which presents the Prophet Mohammed as the perfect man and a model for us all to follow.

    This, I also cannot accept.

    Like the book associated with him, I find Mohammed fascinating, intriguing and complex, but I struggle with him as a spiritual role model. His behaviour after Khaybar, his massacre of the Jews of Yathrib, the Zaynab and Aisha sagas, I could go on…

    I have listened to countless videos and read numerous books explaining these away, but for me, they still stick. Sorry, but that’s where I am at.

    I guess the issue lies with my childhood.

    My childhood example of a holy man was the Nazarene (Jesus) who did not get involved in family politics and, even when attacked, refused to fight in self-defence.

    Someone who led armies into battle, took part in politics, and treated his numerous women questionably (I am thinking primarily of Safiya bint Huyayy here), is always going to create mixed emotions in my breast.

    I know that might offend many Muslims and I wish it didn’t, but: I have to be honest with myself.

    My second objection though, is unique to Sufism and would actually be supported by most non-Sufi Muslims.

    Sufis have a strong belief in the murshid-murid (master-student) dynamic which is summed up by the academic Nile Green:

    “Sufis have long emphasised that all such practices must be pursued under the direction of a master (murshid) who has been a recipient of the tradition and so (in theory, at least) already trodden this path beforehand.

    “Complete obedience to the master has widely been considered as fundamental to the Sufi life.”

    Sufism: A Global History, p.8

    I have come across the master-student dynamic in many traditions including my own, but it does seem to be particularly dominant in Sufism.

    You pick a murshid, join an order and become his murid, just like my friend Junaid in Multan (Pakistan) has done.

    Murshid and Murid: the Naqshbandi Sheikh and Junaid (left), and myself with the Sheikh (right) (Images: Matt Pointon (c).

    I recall reading a book called “In Search of Secret India” by Dr Paul Bruton in which he searches across (Hindu) India for a suitable guru to follow, eventually finding the right one at the end.

    A close friend of mine, Brian, was so inspired by that book, that he adopted the same tactic, eventually settling on a Taiwanese Buddhist master whose teachings he follows.

    It worked for Bruton and it seems to work for both Junaid and Brian, but for me, I just cannot do it.

    The thing is, I’m both too eclectic — I love collecting bits and pieces from everywhere. And I’m also too cynical.

    Brian and Junaid may have found good masters, but there are plenty of frauds and fakes out there. The whole system seems to be one that can breed abuse and corruption.

    Yes, I will listen to what a murshid has to say and respect his wisdom. But, I will also listen to others and make my own mind up as to which is my path to God.

    That is my way… but it is not the Sufi way.

    So, I am not a Sufi and yet, in many ways, I am.

    I belong to no Order, nor even to the larger religion that Sufism is part of, but: I walk the Path with Al-Khidr.

    I have completed four stages of my tarīqat so far — who knows how many more there are to come…?

    I visit the Town of Layla, kiss this wall and that wall, and I talk with both murid and murshid when I see them.

    For life, as the Sufi’s know well, is a journey, and it is one that I love to take.

    And perhaps, in my current role as a Christian who explores the Path and befriends the Seekers, I am in the place where God wants me to be: a bridge between His people at the place where the two seas meet.


    Thanks to Elizabeth Arif-Fear, Pavel Marinov, Muhammad Junaid and Fatme Myuhtar.

    Read more of Matt’s work and discover his interfaith journey here.

    This post was originally published on Voice of Salam.

  • Government blocks event after release of publicity featuring Susan Taslimi in 1982 film The Death of Yazdgerd

    Iranian authorities have banned a film festival that issued a publicity poster featuring an actor who was not wearing a hijab, state media has reported.

    The move came after the Iranian Short Film Association (ISFA) released a poster for its upcoming short-film festival featuring the Iranian actor Susan Taslimi in the 1982 film The Death of Yazdgerd.

    Continue reading…

    This post was originally published on Human rights | The Guardian.

  • Religious conversions later in life are generally greeted as evidence that something terrible must have happened to the converter. The Onion published a satire in 2016, ridiculing Paul D’Amatol, who took up a life of Christian piety in late middle age. It must be ‘drugs or maybe he killed someone in a car accident. Something super messed up.’

    No room in satire for something good as the cause. Interestingly, it’s not Protestant evangelical born-again-ism but the Catholic bells-and-smells and Islamic mysticism that attract those interested in spiritual growth as they approach the end, despite (because of?) Rome’s/ Islam’s hard teachings on divorce, homosexuality, the ordination of women. Catholics and Muslims take their religion seriously.

    From Fire, By Water: My Journey to the Catholic Faith, a memoir by Iranian American Sohrab Ahmari, is provocative, to say the least.

    Such conversions are rare and never casually broadcast. Muslims do not look kindly on such apostates. You can interpret that as you like, but I figure it is a good indication that they take their beliefs seriously, something that we can’t say about most of the Christianities or Judaisms on offer. Yes, schisms abound; even the monolithic Catholic church struggles to keep the faith in this truly godless age of ‘anything goes’.

    But good for Ahmari. His own life has been charmed, from a bohemian childhood in post-revolutionary Iran to Wall Street Journal London correspondent and still in his mid-30s. He remembers his grandparents being pro-revolution, as Iranians generally are bitter about foreign meddling, with good reason. But many of the urban, educated young look to the West. The taste of western living under the Shah, the open culture, comedy, the arts, racey theatre, the high life – all suddenly gone. His uncle went to the US right away. Ahmari and his mother emigrated in 1993.

    His religious training in Tehran was actually stimulating and entertaining. His first instructor was clearly from the wild tribal lands, hair disheveled, shirt half tucked in, a rube from the hicks thrust into downtown Tehran. His acting out of the Battle of Karbala transfixed little Ahmed. He learned that Hussein stuck by his friend unto death. Stood for the Truth.

    He lived what is probably a typical 1990s childhood in the urban upper middle class – pirate Hollywood films, Shah-era soap operas, Twain, Salinger, whatever foreign. He finally cursed God for his frustrations, his dysfunctional home, the unjustice ways of adults, though he realized if there is no god, then there is no one to address. And called himself atheist.

    Morality police

    He recounts a trip to the Caspian second house of friends, a long standing Iranian tradition of group parties at large vacation homes. Booze in hot water bottles. The low grade fear of a swoop by the morality cops. Much of the conversation during the party weekend is about incidents evading, sweet talking, bribing them.

    Once, when he was 13, this happened at noon. Cop to party host: ‘Aren’t you ashamed? Not even noon prayer time and you stink of gin.’ Turning to Ahmed, ‘How old are you?’ ‘5,’ he mumbled. He still can’t explain what was going through his mind, maybe if he was younger they wouldn’t be so severe?

    Well, that broke everyone up. Even the chief cop couldn’t stop chuckling, and said: ‘I guess you’re just out having some fun. So let’s taste your sweets.’ The guests hurried rounded up their cash and gave it to him.

    The whole scene is ridiculous. You can interpret as you like. The ‘victims’ were in fact sinning, realized it, and managed to get out of the scrape with punishment. Yes, such morality police are not pretty, but is our lack morality police, lack of any such control over our sins, really better? To Ahmari’s credit, he depicts the police more as keystone cops and the adults as children scolded for being naughty.

    Life really would be better without the constant need to get plastered to enjoy yourself. In rape and car deaths alone. Egypt has a workable model. Only Copt Christians can sell wine and spirits, and there are a few miserable holes-in-the wall on a back street to buy a red or white local wine and ouzo. I.e., discourage it. Do NOT promote it. It’s a social evil. The incidence of alcoholism is minuscule in Egypt.

    So I sympathize with any government trying to follow that sensible morality. The Taliban have wiped out drug addiction and poppy growing. No help from the West, just sanctions and loud whining about western values. It is easy to be an armchair critic of Islamic states for their harsh justice, but all evidence points to the US invasion of Afghanistan as the cause of soaring opium production, and the US absence and Taliban policy was the way to stop it. If we bothered to listen, the Taliban would explain that in Islam human life is sacred, and allowing people to defile themselves as addicts is haram.

    America, Nietzsche, Marx, Kerouac

    A budding atheist at this point and in love with America, Ahmari finally gets to Utah, only to find himself and his mother in a seedy trailer park with an old truck that barely functioned. From well off in Tehran to dirt poor in Mormon land, which was just as oppressive to him as living under the mullahs. ‘At least the mullahs let you have a-tea-and-a-cigarette in peace.’

    Conversation at his uncle’s was as specious and boring as non-Iranian Americans, about new cars, classic cars, trucks. ‘This wheels-and-gears babble I found so tedious as to make me long for the weather talk. For all the miseries of the Islamic Republic, there at least people had something to say.’ He joined the nihilist teen crowd but didn’t have sex as the local teens were doing.

    He later read the Egyptian Muslim Brother Sayyid Qutb’s reflections on his stay in the US in 1949, expressing horror at the sexually charged atmosphere he saw everywhere. Qutb reacted by becoming a Muslim radical, reacting to Nasser’s secular socialism. Ahrami was reacting to Islamic fundamentalist Iran, so ‘I took my discomfort at physical contact with strange women to be a shortcoming–on my part. I was insufficiently modern and rational in my habits and ways.’

    Discovering Nietzsche’s Thus spoke Zarathustra was a turning point for him, ironically beginning his path to Catholicism. God is dead, biblical morality reflects the will to power of slave-like men, invented for and by people who envied the strong and virile, proscribes strength and virility. The superman is beyond good and evil. Values may be relative but the superman’s actions are by definition better. And the herd, the ‘last men’, live a sterile, gray happiness.

    That explained for Ahmari what he saw first in Utah, then Washington State. He joined the local Trotskyist group. For Ahmari, again ironically, Marxism’s greatest attraction was its fanatics, its religious spirit, which he later dismissed as ‘secularized theologies’. The two great critiques of religion, Neitzsche and Marx, were Ahmari’s path to enlightenment.

    He had one more detour, postmodernism and identity politics. Marx claimed to reveal the truth about capitalism, but post-Marxists like Foucault,1 reframed civilization as a repressive apparatus designed to discipline and control human difference, whether sexual, racial or cognitive. Even empirical science amounted to a sort of performative ‘language game’ that served the needs of power. We ‘perform’ gender in response to societal expectations (Butler). Politics is no longer to seize the means of economic production but to resist racist and sexist hegemony, starting with language.

    All this materialism denied the existence of human nature. The individual is a victim of impersonal forces, be they language, economics or history, so not responsible for his actions. I.e., a license to sin.

    He dabbled in the Beats, Kerouac, Burroughs, fascinated as much by their dissolute lives as their prose and verse. Debauchery as an authentic style. Which he aped with his own. And increasingly disgusted himself. He dropped the Trotskyist politics, as it was the much like the petty intriguing of mullahs in Iran. Just different hats.

    Virtue over intersectionality

    His radical studies pushed him into a stint of social injustice, teaching disadvantaged Americans for four years with Teach for America. His best friend was Yossi, an Israeli American whom he admired for his strict discipline with the undisciplined underachievers, who loved this squeaky dynamo precisely for bringing them to order, and for his genuine enthusiasm, making him the outstanding teacher with by far the best results in English. A virtuous teacher. A novelty in inner city Brownsville, on the Mexican border.

    Ahmari had turned into a Don Juan and binge drinker by then, his Iranian modesty discarded. He was slowly realizing the lefty emphasis on ‘intersectionality’, the hidden ‘structures of oppression’ race, gender and sexuality, the need for more money, vs good old-fashion discipline, honesty, and excellent teaching, was wrong. Throwing more money, new technology at a broken system will not improve things. The whole left agenda is a recipe for disaster. ‘The friendship with Yossi proved to be a providential source of grace and a spur to conversion.’ More irony: Zionist Yossi joins Neitzsche, Marx and Beat poets as Ahmari’s spiritual mentors.

    He realized there are universal, underlying truths, virtue, and that awareness of these universals come from an inner voice, conscience, the soul, urging him to do good and shun evil. He realized there must be a personal god as the ultimate source of absolute truths.

    His Marxist theories dumped, his leftist views dumped. Welcome to the club of ex-Trotskyists, born-again neocons. ‘I wanted nothing more to do with man-made utopias of any kind. In fact, I wanted to rededicate my life to thwarting the utopians. I became a conservative almost instantly.’ I would identify this as Ahmari’s ‘conversion’, at least as far as his working life goes. Who cares if you pray now, just be sure to keep the neocon engine purring along.

    That is not to dismiss Ahmari’s sincerity concerning his beliefs about truths and virtue. I agree with Ahmari that ‘character and morality trump and determine the order of material things, rather than the other way around.’ Class war won’t improve society unless there is a foundation in society of morality, virtue, that both sides in the ‘war’ respect. And we have Darwin to prove it. A flexible personal code can never replace moral precepts.

    But then he goes and spoils it: ‘I had made peace with American society.’

    Slave mentality vs free will

    He saw through his earlier love of Nietzsche; while he still agreed that Christianity was behind egalitarian democracy, he saw this as a good thing, not a weakness. ‘The real peril was that western democracy would detach itself from its religious underpinnings.’ i.e., we could descend again into Auschwitz. As for Auschwitz, it was ‘possible because God had been pronounced dead and all the old ‘thou shalts’ declared null and void.’ ‘Western democracies were morally superior in large part because they still hewed to a Judeo-Christian line, however faded.’

    Ahmari is definitely a foe of Iran’s Islamic state, seeing ‘Khomeini’s stern glare on my back’ when he reads of IS men blowing themselves up, though he fails to mention that Iran has been leading the fight against IS. WSJ journalist Ahmari’s knowledge of facts is sometimes faulty, and he dismisses Islamic governance as just more totalitarianism—no free will—a la Soviet Union or Nazism. Though Christian and Islamic theologies around such principles are largely the same, somehow, in his view, Christianity allows free will, is ‘better’.

    His critique of western decadence aligns with the Islamic critique. And he realizes this. ‘A skeptical and infertile West lacked the spiritual resources to deal with an energetic and virile Islam.’ But then he denies the value of shariah courts and insists the US firmly assimilate Muslim immigrants.

    Ahmari’s next career move coincided with Iran’s suppression of the Green movement of 2009, when he was just starting out as a journalist. There is no doubt Ahmari is a talented writer, and when he offered the Wall Street Journal commentaries during that disputed months, he suddenly became a useful talking head articulating the western view with an Iranian face. His career took off and he was London editor by 2016, as he finished his conversion.

    Conversion – beyond identity politics

    The upshot: ‘My two decades as an atheist now appeared as squandered years, during which I had turned my back on God and neglected my immortal soul. Christianity was the precondition of true universality and true brotherhood.’

    I would concur with Ahmari but replace Christianity with Islam as the preeminent religion of universality and brotherhood. Ahmari’s journey is quixotic, as he admits. The Judeo-Christian tradition is weak, very weak, and getting weaker as wokeness dissolves spiritual truths, and religious belief–apart from Islam–continues to decline.

    Why Catholic? ‘My decision turned precisely on the question of liturgy.’ The smells-and-bells, the Latin Mass. ‘The metaphysical indifference so pervasive in England and the rest of western Europe’ he finds ‘positively revolting’. ‘Endless consumer choice and kaleidoscopic lifestyles, lifestyle-ism—clean eating, mindfulness, banana treatments—was all they had.’

    The quasi secular post-Vatican II laid-back Catholicism was almost as bad as the evangelical Anglican church. ‘Evangelical Protestantism, for all its Spirit-infused hand raising and arm swaying, struck me as profoundly abstract. A ‘personal relationship’ built on words alone was incomplete.’ He now relished the supernatural things, which Protestantism downplays in the interest of scientism.

    Ahmari provides a sharp critique of postmodernism and the emptiness of modern ‘civilization’. Sin, salvation, the mystery of evil and the reality of his conscience, all pushed him out of his secular what-me-worry life. He committed to the strong version of Catholicism, praying every day at dawn, midday, dusk, preferably in church with others, kneeling.

    Almost exactly as if he had returned to Islam, brushed up on his Arabic, and rejoined the ummah as they prostrate in communal prayer five times daily, a vast ripple eternally revolving around the world following the sun. If some space aliens are monitoring us, that surely will impress them.

    Like Ahmari, my decision to convert was at least part liturgy. Regular daily prayer is essential to a vibrant faith. One detail that further convinced me about Islam is the insistence on removing your shoes when you enter the prayer hall. Socks or bare feet leave worldly cares behind, leaving you to commune freely with Allah, united and in unison in full-body prayer. Another essential in worship is segregation and modest dress to minimize distractions from your focus in prayer. All of this is much as Christianity was practiced in the middle ages, when it was robust.

    I kept looking for a convincing critique of Islam vs Christianity as the truly universal religion, but couldn’t find it. No doubt Ahmari purposely left Islam out to avoid a Salmon Rushdie fate, but I doubt he has taken his search for soul, spirit, conscience that far, or that, in deed, there is a convincing argument there.

    Crusade redux

    Ahmari points to legendary converts Cardinals Newman and Manning, GK Chesterton, Evelyn Waugh, Graham Greene. The list of converts to Islam is also impressive: from Richard Burton (19th c), Marmaduke Pickthall, Leopold Weiss, to Muhammad Ali, Malcolm X, Keith Ellison, Dave Chappelle. 5,000 Britons convert every year. Converts add vigor to any religion but Catholicism and Islam seem to get the cream.

    Ahmari has sampled everything, starting as a Muslim, atheist, Marxist, postmodernist, post-postmodernist, finally landing at the beginning, the alpha-omega, the monolithic Catholic church. For Ahmari, the jump is from the Islamic Jesus-as-prophet to the Christian Jesus-as-God, That is a rare transition, and, no unsurprise, seen as threatening to Muslims, especially when articulated and promoted in the West. Crusade redux.

    As a convert, but the other way, from Presbyterianism to Islam, I wish Ahmari well in his new faith, and hope his spiritual growth continues. But his story is flawed. He conveniently converted to the empire‘s religion (that goes back to the founding of the establishment Church under Emperor Constantine), while admitting that the Judeo-Christian tradition has lost its pull, that only Islam is vibrant. He should look again to see why Islam is so resilient, and how that should shape his own spiritual journey.

    He spent a third of a lifetime worshipping idols—the idol of ‘history’, ‘progress’, above all the idol of the self. English Catholicism especially attracts him, because it had suffered so much, despised and ridiculed, and yet was stronger that the ‘soupy and fast-secularizing Anglicanism that encircled it.’ Sadly, he doesn’t see that he’s still worshipping an imperial idol.

    Alas, if he had reverted to Islam, though welcomed by the ummah, he would have been hounded, despised, no longer a famous WSJ journalist enjoying the perks of US hegemony wherever he is on the planet. No nice memoir dissing Islam. Perhaps the fate of another one-time darling of the empire. Keep on your journey, Sohrab.

    ENDNOTE

    This post was originally published on Dissident Voice.

  • Western countries had strongly opposed resolution, arguing it conflicted with laws on free speech

    A deeply divided UN human rights council has approved a controversial resolution that urges countries to “address, prevent and prosecute acts and advocacy of religious hatred”, after incidents of Qur’an-burning in Sweden.

    The resolution was strongly opposed by the US, EU and other western countries, which argued that it conflicted with laws on free speech. On Wednesday, the resolution was passed, with 28 countries voting in favour, 12 voting against and seven abstaining.

    Continue reading…

  • By Fiyaz Mughal

    Islam’s history contains some glorious periods, spanning Andalusia, Baghdad and the seats of learning and art that they created. I am proud to be attached by birth to this part of our cultural heritage.

    However, over my life I have come to understand that Islam initially grew from a zealous desire to spread the faith out of Arabia and across parts of Africa and the Middle East. Like any religion, it has its bloody history.

    Muslims have never seriously debated the really hard questions, such as whether Islam’s supremacy over other beliefs is simply based on man-made legitimacy and power, rather than being divinely ordained. This also goes for other faiths, primarily Christianity, which, like Islam, has its own violent past.

    Over time, I have come to realise that much of the life of Prophet Muhammad was never documented. It was orally transmitted, potentially subjected to embellishment; it was around 80 to 100 years before anything was actually chronicled.

    Much of the Sunnah (the traditions and practices of Muhammad) may well have changed over time as they were recorded. In fact, how much of the Islam that people practise today resembles the Islam of Prophet Muhammad is a question that needs to be asked. Few Muslims dare to do so.

    There needs to come a time when Muslims who want to see a progressive interpretation of their faith hold to account the failings within Islam.

    There are many difficult issues to reflect upon. Islam’s early history with Jewish communities in Arabia was at different points positive and friendly — and bloodthirsty. Sunni Islam’s history with the Shia sect is also deeply disturbing, with the schism leading to what can only be called a genocidal attempt to wipe out the Shia community, including the targeting of women and children.

    Islam is becoming increasingly irrelevant to many people in the modern world. What must also not be dismissed is how Islamist antisemitism and ignorance of the Holocaust has become endemic in parts of Muslim communities across the globe.

    Conspiracy theories about Jewish power travel from Cairo to Islamabad and then back into the UK, while casual comments about the murder of Jews in alleyways of such cities go unchecked. It is as though, while some Muslims talk about Islam being a “religion of peace”, they are often willing to overlook fantasies of brutalising Jews.

    This split within their own minds shows that there is a multi-generational challenge in countering antisemitism within Muslim communities.

    Given that there are nearly 1.8 billion Muslims across the globe, that is a lot of minds to change if, for example, even just 20 per cent of them think this way.

    Take for example, Dr Rizwan Mustafa, whom the Jewish Chronicle has highlighted recently. He is the founding chair of the West Midlands branch of the National Association of Muslim Police (NAMP), and was discussed in the recent Prevent review by William Shawcross.

    The JC revealed how a probe has been launched into Dr Mustafa, given that he is in charge of recruiting new recruits into the force. He is alleged to have shared content describing Jews as “filth”.

    How has it come to be that Islam, which is fundamentally based on Judaism, has seen so many of its followers relish and wallow in Jew hatred? How has it become the “new norm” that antisemitism is virulently alive and spreading in so many Muslim majority countries

    When I ask fellow Muslims why this is the case, denial is the usual response.

    While modern-day developments such as the Abraham Accords open up new opportunities between Arab Muslim majority countries and Israel, I hope there comes a time when Muslims in those countries ask the questions that I have dared to ask.

    The conclusion that I have come to is that Muhammad was a man of courage, vision, drive, leadership and determinism. He was indeed remarkable and Islamic history has brought much to civilisation and enhanced many parts of our collective lives.

    Yet, he was also pragmatic, willing to go to war, to pressurise and defeat people with the sword. He also enjoyed the company of women, much like men of his time. In today’s moral framework, some elements are troubling, but looking at history through a modern lens is unfair.

    Unless many Muslims stop acting as if their history smells of roses, we will never see the reality of what Muhammad’s life and teachings really were. Tough, kind, brutal and, sometimes, at stark odds with what we think and choose to believe.

    Credits:

    Fiyaz Mughal is the founder of Muslims Against Antisemitism.

    This blog was first published by The Jewish Chronicle, 9 March 2023.

    This post was originally published on Voice of Salam.

  • Women who break Islamic dress code will be identified, warned on first instance and then taken to court

    Police in Iran plan to use smart technology in public places to identify and then penalise women who violate the country’s strict Islamic dress code, the force said on Saturday.

    A statement said police would “take action to identify norm-breaking people by using tools and smart cameras in public places and thoroughfares”.

    Continue reading…

    This post was originally published on Human rights | The Guardian.

  • By Matt Pointon

    The air was fragranced by rose petals and the accompaniment of cooing doves. I sat cross-legged, my back resting against ancient bricks and drank in the scene before me.

    Nameless devotees were coming forward to the tomb, bowing, paying their respects, making silent petitions, and then moving on.

    Only I and a few others remained, soaking it in, feeling the presence of the place, trying to comprehend.

    And as I did, I prayed.

    First, I rattled through the perfunctory prayers. Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be. Then my mind stilled, emptied, as I tried to hear that still, small voice that once spoke to Elijah in a cave on Mt. Carmel.

    What would God say to me today? What words did He have to convey? What was my lesson to be?

    And then, unexpectedly, they formed on my lips.

    Not what I anticipated, yet they came, over and over again, until I was chanting them like a mantra, and their syllables were cleansing my soul.

    I pass by this town, the town of Layla

    And I kiss this wall and that wall

    It’s not love of the town that has enraptured my heart

    But of the One who dwells within this town

    The only question was, why these words? What did they mean?

    I was in Pakistan on holiday. Well, my kind of holiday, which, unlike many people’s, involves neither beaches nor much relaxation but instead a smorgasbord of historical, political, and religious sites.

    The Tomb of Hazrat Shah Rukn-e-Alam, Multan (Copyright: Matt Pointon, 2023).

    Two days earlier, I had fulfilled a long-time ambition and visited Nankana Sahib, the birthplace of Guru Nanak.

    Nanak was the founder of Sikhism and is perhaps my favourite religious figure from a tradition other than my own. He is a man that all pilgrims should learn about because he was one of us.

    He started his spiritual career by bathing in the River Beas near his home in Sultanpur. He then disappeared for three days and when he returned all he would say is: “There is no Hindu, there is no Muslim“.

    His message was that instead of manmade labels, we are all human – we are all disciples of God.

    Shortly after this experience, he set off on the first of his five great Udasis or pilgrimages, travelling north, south, east and west to the holy sites of Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Islam.

    He visited Mecca and, according to some sources, perhaps Jerusalem and Rome too.

    He wore a costume that was a synthesis of Muslim and Hindu dress and he embraced everyone, regardless of race, faith, caste or gender.

    Like I said, he was one of us. You could imagine chatting to Nanak in an albergue in El Burgo Ranero or passing him on the Way near to Astorga whilst on the Camino de Santiago.

    An early 19th century mural painting depicting Guru Nanak by Gurdwara Baba Atal (CC BY-SA 4.0).

    Nanak though, did not appear out of nowhere. He was a product of two great spiritual traditions: the Hindu Bhakti movement and Sufism within Islam.

    Both of these movements disregarded old certainties and preached a personal devotion and spirituality of love over convention and form. And it was these Sufis that I’d come to see in Pakistan.

    Everywhere I went, I sought out their shrines and knelt by them, asking for guidance. Which is how I found myself sitting by the Tomb of Hazrat Shah Rukn-e-Alam in Multan.

    Shah Rukn-e-Alam was a 13th century saint of the Suhrawardiyya order of Sufis. That much I knew. The question was: why was he telling me about the Town of Layla?

    The words I knew already with great familiarity. They are a stanza of a poem by the great Persian poet Nizami Ganjavi.

    The poem is the story of Layla and Qays, two lovers who were kept apart by a cruel world.

    Qays wished to marry Layla, but her father refused. So, he retreated to the desert and became a hermit, composing poetry in her honour, and earning himself the nickname of “madman” (Majnun) from the locals.

    Layla and Majnun are widely known across the Muslim world as being symbolic of tragic lovers, the eastern Romeo and Juliet as it were.

    Azerbaijani folk art based on the Layla and Majnun poem by Nizami Ganjavi (CC BY 3.0).

    Although I’d known of the story for years, it came into focus last year when I began my friendship with S. I describe this in my essay “The Lady with the Raven“.

    When we ceased contact, I spoke to a friend about it and he said: “Oh Matt, you are like Majnun!”

    I asked him what to do about it, and he suggested embracing being Majnun, going with it and seeing where it led me. I did as he suggested and what resulted was perhaps the greatest period of sustained creative output in my life.

    By channelling the emotions and committing them to paper, I wrote poetry and stories that I did not think myself capable of.

    The story of Layla and Majnun, two tragic lovers, seems at first to have little to do with faith and pilgrimage. But, as I travelled around Pakistan and recited the mantra at every shrine I visited, I realised that it very much concerns the spiritual seeker.

    It is a story that can be read on two levels.

    On the basic level, yes, it is a story of boy meets girl, society tells them they can’t be together and they waste away in separation yearning for one another, to be reunited only in death.

    Yet on another level, I realised that this separation – which is the key to the whole tale – can also be taken to represent the separation between the ultimate lovers – God and man.

    Sufis often refer to God as “The Beloved and aim to attain unity with Him (something which does not go down well with many mainstream Muslims who view such thoughts as highly blasphemous).

    So, if I am Majnun, yearning for the one that I am separated from, then Layla is God (Him – or Her) – self, sitting in her tower. God is to be glimpsed from afar but impossible to get close too.

    And yet we try. For that is what pilgrimage is all about.

    We journey to get closer to God by exploring His world, meeting our fellow pilgrims and, most important of all, learning to understand ourselves a little better.

    And when seen in that light, the words make sense with a clarity and beauty that is overwhelming:

    I pass by this town, the town of Layla

    And I kiss this wall and that wall

    It’s not love of the town that has enraptured my heart

    But of the One who dwells within this town

    This town of Layla is the world, our world. It belongs to Layla because Layla is God. Layla created it and sustains it.

    We pass by it because, it is through journeying that we can come closer to Her.

    We kiss this wall and that wall, this tomb and that shrine, but why?

    For love of the cold, unfeeling stones? Not at all. Instead, because of the One who dwells within.

    The Tomb of Haji Syed Sakhi Sultan, Manghopir (Copyright: Matt Pointon, 2023).

    Out there, by the shrines of a faith not my own, I learnt a valuable spiritual lesson. Pilgrimage is prayer and all travels can be a pilgrimage. If only we treat them as such.

    So yes, plan your next Camino, take a trip to Lourdes, Walsingham, Rome or visit Jerusalem. There is value to all those things and they are beautiful.

    But, next time you go into town to do some shopping, or attend a work meeting in a strange city, also become Majnun. Wander about that town. Kiss this wall and that wall.

    Let your heart be enraptured, not of love for the town.

    But of the One who dwells within that town.

    The town of Layla.


    About the author

    Matt Pointon is a practising Anglican from Stoke-on-Trent. He has been interested in world religions and interfaith activities since 2000.

    His passions are pilgrimage and writing.

    He has travelled to holy sites from Jerusalem and Amritsar to Iona to Eihei-ji. In 2021, he completed the 500-mile Camino Frances and in April 2023 will be walking from Florence to Rome along the Way of St. Francis.

    His particular interests are Celtic Christianity, Orthodox monasticism, early Islam, Sufism and the life of Guru Nanak.

    His day job is working for the trade unions.


    Featured image: The Tomb of Hazrat Shah Rukn-e-Alam, Multan (Image credit: Aa Dil).

    This post was originally published on Voice of Salam.

  • In the runup to Ramadan, Muslims are being encouraged to #CheckTheLabel. It’s a movement which aims to ensure that money spent by Muslims this Ramadan does not go towards supporting Israel’s apartheid against Palestinians.

    A message to #CheckTheLabel

    The Palestinian campaign group Friends of Al-Aqsa (FOA) has launched the initiative. As part of the announcement, Shamiul Joarder of FOA said:

    By choosing not to buy Israeli dates this Ramadan the Muslim community can send a clear and powerful message of condemnation of Israel’s illegal occupation and apartheid in Palestine

    In a press release sent out by the group, it noted that:

    Israel is the world’s largest producer of Medjoul dates, with 50% of Israel’s dates exported to Europe. These dates are then sold in major supermarkets as well as local shops across the continent.

    The press release went on to say:

    So far in 2023 Israel has killed at least 62 Palestinians including 13 children – the equivalent of 1 child every 5 days. The Israeli government is increasing home demolitions at an alarming rate and has promised to expand illegal settlements at an unprecedented level. The world’s leading human rights organisations (Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch) have said that Israel is committing the crime of apartheid, but European states are failing to impose sanctions on Israel and uphold international law.

    Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions

    Joarder added:

    It’s time to renew our commitment to BDS this Ramadan.

    BDS stands for ‘Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions’. According to the BDS website, it’s a movement which works:

    to end international support for Israel’s oppression of Palestinians and pressure Israel to comply with international law.

    The Canary has reported extensively on BDS, as well as its successes and challenges. Among those challenges are political attempts to put an end to the movement despite its peaceful and legal actions. So, #CheckTheLabel is another forward move in the ongoing BDS campaign. Joarder added:

    We must remember that as a community we are powerful – we can make our voices heard through the simple act of putting Israeli dates back on the shelf. All we need to do is #CheckTheLabel and not buy dates from apartheid Israel.

    A day of action to encourage Muslims to #CheckTheLabel has been called at UK mosques on 17 March, the last Friday before Ramadan. There will also be an online awareness drive on the final weekend before the holy month. You can visit the FOA website to learn more about the importance of checking the label the next time you shop.

    Featured image via Twitter – Friends of Al Aqsa

    By The Canary

    This post was originally published on Canary.

  • According to a new report, only 45% of Muslim women reported having an overall positive experience within their community. A Muslim Woman’s Faith Experience is a joint effort by Muslim Census and the Ta Collective. The report examines Muslim women’s accessibility within physical religious spaces like mosques. But it also tells us about their spiritual well-being and relationship with faith.

    Prior to this report, limited research existed that explored the challenges Muslim women face in navigating their faith in the UK. However, research has been undertaken to determine women’s accessibility to religious spaces. For instance, the latest statistics (2017) found that there are approximately 1,795 mosques across the UK. Of these, 28% do not offer space for women. In most cases, when mosques do offer space, women are met with restricted access and substandard conditions.

    Inaccessibility of mosques impacts spirituality

    The report finds that 61% of Muslim women believe that:

    the limited access to Masjids [prayer spaces for Muslims] that they experience has a negative impact on their spirituality and their relationship with faith.

    Shahida Rahman, trustee of Cambridge Central Mosque, notes how male allies must step up to improve the spiritual well-being of Muslim women. She told the Canary:

    It needs to start from within our own communities. And with a lot of mosques being male-dominated, as you know, it is very, very difficult. But the doors do need to be opened for sisters who want to be in these leadership roles.

    Rahman, who is in a mosque leadership role herself, adds that male leaders are generally reluctant to bring in new faces:

    Most of the mosques are run by men, where the committee have been in their roles for many years, it’s very difficult for them to sort of move aside and say, ‘Okay, let’s bring on new people or, women even’.

    It’s not only leadership at the grassroots level that’s proving difficult; sometimes access to the physical space proves to be an obstacle too.

    Being denied entry to mosques

    The report added that 20% of Muslim women in the UK have been denied entry to a masjid. In fact, almost a third of them have been denied on the basis that “there was no dedicated space for women or that it was better for women to pray at home”. Other reasons for refusing entry include Muslim women being inappropriately dressed. 

    In some cases, denying entry means Muslim women had no choice but to pray in unsafe spaces.

    One respondent noted that:

    The males go to the masjid and we are forced to pray in changing rooms, car parks etc. It becomes so that Salah is a box to check off – there is no ease, no Khushoo [sense of tranquillity or focus], no community.

    As a result, Muslim women are turning to alternative sources for spiritual connection and guidance.

    The report found that 39% of Muslim women solely use online sources to seek Islamic knowledge and advice. Rahman sees benefits in these digital services, but she notes that human interaction is crucial:

    We are seeing more and more services for women online. So that’s very positive. But having said that women do need to have that face-to-face interaction with other sisters in their community. When we went into lockdown, we all felt sort of isolated. There wasn’t much human interaction, so I think there are two sides to that.

    Feeling disconnected from wider Muslim community 

    Only 32% of Muslim women felt connected to the wider Muslim community due to their needs being unmet. The report goes further to say “the conflation of religious teachings and cultural practices” results in a disconnect within the Muslim community. For instance, even when they did seek guidance through religious networks, it was difficult to discuss gender-sensitive topics.

    Aasifa Usmani, programme manager for the Faith and Communities Team at Standing Together, notes that mosques should be inclusive of women’s issues:

    Women need to be made a priority and there is a lot of work to be done around that. And obviously, this is not an isolated incident just with Muslim women, this cuts across all faith institutions and how women feel excluded, and othered as well.

    Rahman believes that whilst every community is run a different way, culture can sometimes take precedence in mosques:

    I’m not surprised as a lot of this is related to cultural issues.

    The British Muslim Civil Society report, released in January 2023, made the recommendation that:

    more generally, mosques should not function, as they do in many cases, solely as spaces of prayer for men for a few minutes every few hours.

    The need for change

    Usmaani notes how religious spaces must provide more than one service such as prayer to instill community values:

    Spaces have triangularity, to connect to God, and spiritual needs. I’m glad the report mentioned importance of spirituality, because not every census captures that. It also goes to show that in our so-called secular society, actually, there are lots of women of faith

    The report’s findings were based on a survey of 1,200 Muslim women in the UK, alongside four focus groups with a total of 24 participants.

    Rahman agrees with the idea that mosques need to be more than a place just for prayer:

    It’s a place for social gatherings for sisters, a place of learning and a place or feeling where they can get away really from home and just be able to connect.

    It’s evident that Muslim women have been experiencing issues at the masjid for decades. More often than not, mosques are gendered spaces and women’s use is conditional upon the availability of space. As such, limited access to these spaces negatively impacts Muslim women’s spiritual connection. Only through male allyship and opening up doors for Muslim women in leadership positions can we collectively raise the bar.

    Follow Ta Collective, formerly My Mosque Story, to hear more about the experiences of Muslim women in UK mosques.

    Featured image via Giuseppe Milo – Flickr, resized to 770×403 under licence CC BY 2.0

    By Uzma Gulbahar

  • Palestinians reacted with fury on Tuesday after far-right Israeli National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir entered the Al-Aqsa mosque compound in occupied East Jerusalem, a move seen as a deliberate provocation by an official with a long history of extremism and racist incitement. In a statement, the Palestinian Foreign Ministry called Ben-Gvir’s “storming” of Al-Aqsa — Islam’s third-holiest…

    Source

    This post was originally published on Latest – Truthout.

  • Muslim men are not doing enough to accommodate Muslim women in prayer spaces. Mosques usually have segregated worship places. Sometimes women will pray behind men in the same space. More often, mosques will have two separate rooms, with the men in the main prayer hall and the women in an alternative space. Based on this setup, mosques are gendered spaces, and women’s use is conditional upon the availability of space. And in some cases, mosques make no room for women at all.

    As per the latest statistics (compiled in 2017), there are approximately 1,795 mosques across the UK. Of these, 28% do not offer space for women. In most cases, when mosques do offer space, women are met with restricted access and substandard conditions. For decades, the onus has been on women to effect change – but there’s only so much they can do. It’s time for men to step up.

    The excuse

    By and large, Muslim women have been presented with the impression that it’s better for them to pray at home. While this view isn’t universal, it certainly has an impact on how women feel about attending their local mosque. The belief comes from a hadith – a record of traditions by the prophet Muhammad (PBUH) – describing a preference for women to worship at home. Yet, many Muslim women feel that has been used as an excuse to justify the current status quo.

    Tebussum Rashid, deputy CEO at Action for Race Equality, notes that she herself has fallen into this mindset:

    There’s a lovely little mosque near where I work in King’s Cross and there’s absolutely no space for women. I think to myself, the building has probably been established as a mosque many years ago for men and now, there’s probably not enough space to expand for men, never mind, women. I know that’s not an excuse, but in my head, I justified it that way – just to keep myself calm. 

    Likewise, Nafisah Atcha, organic content executive at Embryo Digital, suggests how this view has become the default way of thinking:

    I think that perception hinders women’s access to mosques. We forget that Allah has allowed women to pray from home because we have other duties. But, that doesn’t necessarily mean that we should be disregarded from the mosque community altogether.

    Other hadiths believe women should not be prevented from the mosque. Gender equality campaigner Julie Siddiqui says:

    It’s incredible how ingrained this idea has become – that it’s better for women to pray at home. That is a mindset. That is a whole way of thinking that is telling people that somehow women’s prayer is less important.

    During lockdown, it became overly apparent that Muslim men’s worship needs were being prioritised. A number of UK mosques were closed to women for coronavirus (Covid-19) health and safety reasons. Aasifa Usmani, programme manager for the Faith and Communities Team at Standing Together, notes how the pandemic left no option for women:

    Women’s spaces in mosques closed down to allow a wider space for men. It just shows that consulting us is not really considered important.

    For Muslim women, spaces prove impermanent and fluctuate without their input.

    More than physical space

    However, Usmani also noted that “spaces are not the be-all and end-all”. Even when spaces are created, poor conditions and an uninviting atmosphere discourage women from attending the mosque. 

    Siddiqui co-founded Open My Mosque, a campaign to highlight and speak out about inequalities in UK mosques. She describes how one visit to a mosque forced Muslim men to take notice:

    One of the male trustees had literally walked through the women’s entrance and found all sorts of things wrong, There were light bulbs out, doors weren’t opening properly, you know, all these things. He was shocked and a bit embarrassed to be quite honest. Of course, he was a good guy, but actually physically walking the route opened his eyes, because as far as they were concerned, the women’s section had lovely carpets and lots of light. But there’s stuff that goes wrong, that they didn’t even realise, and actually would not be allowed to continue to happen in the men’s area

    While the inadequate conditions have been known to Muslim women for decades, it’s not something that’s obvious to men.

    For Rashid, women can themselves contribute towards the uncomfortable feelings she experiences. She recalls how she was told to put on an abaya (a loose-fitting full-length robe) even though she was already dressed modestly for prayer.

    If women don’t have the same values – supporting, empowering and encouraging, then we’re not gonna have enough women wanting to go into the mosque. There’s an underside of judgement that other women are putting on each other about what is right and wrong. We need to focus on prayer rather than the micro-details like clothing, variations in praying and so forth.

    A community issue

    It’s not easy for Muslim women to stand publicly against injustice. On 5 September 2021, in response to two young women being thrown out of the Soho Islamic Centre, Siddiqui and the Open My Mosque team observed prayers outside the mosque. Despite the backlash, Siddiqui received hundreds of messages from British Muslim women who had experienced the same.

    Siddiqui says:

    To sort of openly shout about this stuff is not always easy. And it’s not always comfortable. But you keep your intentions clear and you remember why you’re doing it. You hear the reactions from people that are very sincere that no one else sees apart from me.

    There’s a stigma that if Muslim women speak up on these issues they’re contributing to Islamophobia. Siddiqui adds:

    We all talk about Islamophobia and the bad stuff that’s happening against us, but when it comes to our own prejudice and our own inequality and our own injustice to each other. No one wants to talk about that stuff, because that’s different.

    We have to try and push, knock at the door, literally, find our way in, but also raise these real experiences, tell the stories, do the videos, you know, take the photos, share them online. That’s how it’s done. Now, almost to a certain extent, a little bit of embarrassment works that I think works, frankly speaking, whether people like it or not, you know, that’s how these things change.

    Gender-inclusive sermons

    Although sermons are usually topical and issue-based, some Muslim women would love to hear about issues that are women-centric or concern other marginalised groups. Rashid says:

    … it’d be great if there were more women-specific topics like family life or menopause. I’d love to be able to kind of ask questions or listen or get some comfort. And I know there are women out there that are learned and knowledgeable about these things, but they don’t have the spaces created for them. You know, it’d be great if there was a sermon for women, by women.

    Whilst sermons are usually performed by men, introducing female speakers enables a sanctuary space for women.

    Likewise, Usmani says:

    But even when there are spaces, you feel that there is a lack of inclusivity like in the sermons, for example, when men talk no matter how well-meaning they are, they experience a very masculine experience. And sometimes it can become very, very monotonous.

    Usmani also notes how some mosques fail to be a safe space for minorities:

    The Muslim LGBTQI community could feel isolated and stigmatised and considered “sinful”. It is important that we validate and hear their concerns and not ostracise them. These communities have been grappling with their struggles and are often ostracised by their families and could often come across as open hostility by communities and families. Mosques should be a safe space for them to get emotional support and not to other them, Ramadhan and Eid could be very isolating for them.

    Change from the top

    Through a top-down approach, the community can work together to shift the current mindset. Rashid says:

    At the governance level, there need to be more women.

    These positions have to be more than hollow gestures, as Rashid says:

    Those already in leadership must have the intention and commitment for more inclusivity, Trustees also need to have etiquette around some of the conversations, you know, not only from a religious point of view but from a human point of view, as well.  What does accessibility actually mean? And it’s not just about the physical space – why are those spaces sidelined? Why do we have to go past the bins to get there? Why are women made to feel uncomfortable, because we have to pass the men and they might be staring at us? That’s their problem, not ours, all of that, and I want to change to behaviours and mindsets of men. And that can start at the leadership level, first and foremost. And then through that, through sermons, through behaviours, the ripple effect has to happen. There’s no point in having those spaces if the attitudes make us feel unwelcome.

    Siddiqui agrees that more women must be at the table. However, transparency is required in the recruitment system. She said:

    It’s become so common and I’ve seen it locally that, even when some of the women trustees have come forward but they happen to be related to the committee members, So how much of a challenge are these women going to give or how many of their ideas are going to be heard?

    Mosques need to go beyond lip-service and recognise women’s demands.

    Cambridge Central Mosque is one mosque with gender inclusivity at its heart. As one of the very few mosques which allow men and women to pray in the same prayer hall, Shahida Rahman tells us they’re breaking down barriers:

    It’s open to everybody, you know, regardless of what school of thought that you follow, it’s for all communities. And we do get asked the question, ‘is it a Shia mosque or a Sunni mosque?’ It’s open to everyone. It’s a prayer space. And it’s also a community space as well.

    The physical space in this particular mosque has been adapted to fit women’s needs. A mother and children room allows worshippers to join the prayers, separated by glass doors which prevent any noises from reaching the main prayer hall.

    It’s evident that Muslim women have been spearheading this campaign for decades. Only through male allyship can we collectively raise the bar by recognising gender inequality as a community issue.

    Featured image via R Haworth – Wikimedia, resized to 770×403 pixels under licence CC BY-SA 3.0

    By Uzma Gulbahar

    This post was originally published on Canary.

  • Report finds stock indexes provided by MSCI include companies using forced labour or constructing surveillance state in Xinjiang

    Many of the world’s largest asset managers and state pension funds are passively investing in companies that have allegedly engaged in the repression of Uyghur Muslims in China, according to a new report.

    The report, by UK-based group Hong Kong Watch and the Helena Kennedy Centre for International Justice at Sheffield Hallam University, found that three major stock indexes provided by MSCI include at least 13 companies that have allegedly used forced labour or been involved in the construction of the surveillance state in China’s Xinjiang region.

    Continue reading…

    This post was originally published on Human rights | The Guardian.

  • Restoring religious and cultural complexity to the study of Southeast Asian Islam

    In recent decades, scholarship on Southeast Asian Islam – as with Islam elsewhere – has become dominated by the fields of politics, international relations or security studies. These studies often characterise faith as something delineated, measurable and susceptible to state-directed change. Much of these analyses overlook the subtle variations in Islamic life, and the disjunctions between formal orthodoxy and everyday religious experience. How Muslims comprehend and express their faith ranges widely, crosses typological boundaries, and confounds many of the accepted categories applied to Islam.

    Our speaker Greg Fealy is emeritus professor in the Department of Political and Social Change. He specialises in the study of Islamic politics and history, primarily in Indonesia, but also other Muslim-majority regions in Southeast Asia.

    Hosted by the ANU Indonesia Institute, this annual lecture series honours both Tony and Yohanni’s enduring legacy at ANU, focussing on humanities studies across Nusantara and the Malay and Islamic worlds, as well as the examination of Austronesian identity.

    Read the lecture below:

    It is a privilege to be invited to give this inaugural address in honour of Tony and Yohanni Johns.  In the long and distinguished history of Southeast Asian studies at ANU, no other couple have made such a sustained and substantial contribution.  For more than three decades, Tony and Yohanni were the bedrock upon which studies of the region, and especially Indonesia, rested.  Over the next 40 minutes, I will be talking mainly about Tony’s remarkable academic achievements, because I have worked more closely with him than with Yohanni. But this endowment honours the work of both Yohanni and Tony, and they have indeed had an extraordinary and mutually supportive partnership.  Both shared in and contributed to the successes of the other and, when needed, they provided candid counsel to each other. The bond between them has been indissoluble and no account of the rise of Asian studies at ANU is complete without the story of Tony and Yohanni.  Having said that, I will be spending less time discussing Yohanni than Tony and for that, I apologise, Yohanni.  Hopefully this imbalance will be redressed in a later annual Johns’ lecture.

    My talk is divided into three sections: first, I will outline the careers of Tony and Yohanni; second, I will examine in more detail Tony’s scholarship and teaching; and third, I will turn to the thematic part of my talk in which I will address the topic of “Restoring Religious and Cultural Complexity to the Study of Southeast Asian Islam”.

    Tony and Yohanni’s Careers

    Tony was born in England in 1928 and Yohanni a year later in the province of West Sumatra, IndonesiaIn Tony’s childhood he had come to know something of Islam by reading books such as T. E. Lawrence’s The Seven Pillars of Wisdom that he found in his grandfather’s library. He was conscripted into the British army in 1946 and sent to Singapore and Malaya the following year.  There he became bewitched with the Malay world and language, as well as with the rich Muslim life that he observed around him: the daily devotions, the design and function of the mosques, the role of the imam.  He later wrote:

    A seed of understanding was sown when Malay friends in 1949 invited me to be present at the congregational prayer of the Idul Adha in the Abu Bakr mosque in Johor Baru.  For half an hour before the formal prayer began, I listened to the takbir, the congregational chanting of the phrase and prayer Allahu Akbar.  There was rhythm, movement, exultation in their voices that rolled like the swell of the sea.  It stayed in my mind and haunted my memory.  It was an introduction to the resonances of Arabic as a liturgical language.

    After concluding military service, Tony returned to England and studied classical Malay language, culture and literature at the School of Oriental and Asian Studies in London, eventually graduating with a PhD.  He yearned to return to Southeast Asia and got his chance in 1954 when the Ford Foundation employed him as an English-language teacher in Indonesia. He was very quickly swept up in the vibrancy of the country.  After the staidness of Malaya, he found Indonesia, to use his own words, ‘a mind-blowing experience!’  He was fascinated with the swirl of revolutionary fervour within the newly independent nation.  He listened to the soaring rhetoric of Sukarno and beheld the clamorous campaigning of the diverse array of politicians and parties contesting elections in the mid-1950s. He devoured the works of contemporary authors is they wrote of their hopes or despair about their nation’s direction.  A gifted musician himself, he also took in the diverse palette of music and arts that surrounded him, including learning to sing Javanese music.  After years of studying classical Malay texts from centuries past, he now found himself immersed in something immediate and brimming with passion – as he later wrote, he had found ‘something to relate to from the heart’.  Most of all he found that Indonesia presented a ‘gateway to the world of Islam’, with a far greater range of Muslim expression than he had encountered in Malaya.

    It was also in West Sumatra, Indonesia, where Tony met and fell in love with Yohanni, a young in-service trainer in the Ford Foundation project in early 1955.  As their romance blossomed a large obstacle presented itself: she was from a strict Muslim family and he was a devout Catholic.  Interfaith marriages were (and indeed still are) frowned upon in Indonesia and often implacably rejected by families.  But Tony and Yohanni were not deterred and, in an early display of their combined resolve and resourcefulness, they were eventually married in Singapore in 1956.  They recently celebrated their 66th wedding anniversary.  They represent a salutory example of how marriages across faiths can flourish, with the religiosity of each partner accepted and respected in a relationship underpinned by mutual love.

    In 1958, Tony was appointed to what was then known as Canberra University College, soon to become ANU, to teach Malay and Indonesian studies.  The initial years of this Indonesian program were funded by the Indonesian government as part of a ‘reverse Colombo Plan’ for Australian students.  Tony soon put together a team which would make ANU one of the leading centres for studying Indonesian.  He recruited Soebardi and later Supomo from Indonesia, who would become dear colleagues, and employed many other Indonesians in the program in the ensuing years.

    Yohanni, herself a skilled linguist and experienced teacher, became a tutor in 1961 and a few years later was appointed lecturer.  Over the next three decades, she became a central figure in the Indonesian program.  She wrote two very popular textbooks: Bahasa Indonesia: Introduction to Indonesian Language and Culture, volumes one and two, which became pretty much standard texts for secondary and tertiary students (including me!) across Australia. The books were reprinted many times and used in the Netherlands and the United States, and probably many other countries as well.  In the following years, Yohanni’s teaching left an indelible impression on the many hundreds of students who passed through ANU’s Indonesian program, not to mention the thousands of people across numerous countries who learned Indonesian through her textbooks.

    Tony was promoted to professor in 1963 and served several terms as dean of the then Faculty of Oriental Studies (later to be the Faculty of Asian Studies).  The mid-1960s were watershed years for Tony, as he shifted the focus of his research more intently to Arabic and Islamic disciplines.  He took study leave in Egypt and various other parts of the Middle East, which initially he found deeply challenging.  He felt his Arabic was inadequate and it took intensive study for him to begin to use the kinds of texts that he regarded as essential to the next phase of his academic life.  His concentration on Arabic met with disapproval from some of his Southeast Asianist colleagues, who feared he would move away from the study of the region.  But in fact, his reason for becoming an Arabist was to better understand Indonesian Islam.  Deeper knowledge of Indonesian scholarship could only be gained by gaining first-hand access to the great texts and disciplines that Indonesian Islamic scholars themselves used, and this required high-level Arabic competency.

    In the late 1960s, Tony began teaching Arabic at ANU.  He had a vision that Arabic should be located within Southeast Asian studies, a unique initiative that would, in later years, produce a string of excellent scholars, such as Tony Street, now Reader at Cambridge University, Fr Laurie Fitzgerald, who taught at ANU and The Australian Catholic University, Peter Riddell, who recently retired as professor at the Melbourne School of Theology, and Mike Laffan, who is professor of history at Princeton University.  Sadly, this novel integration of Southeast Asian, Arabic and Islamic Studies came to an end a little over 20 years ago and no similar program exists now, to my knowledge, outside of Southeast Asia. Tony retired in 1993 after 35 years of service to ANU; Yohanni retired as a senior lecturer two years later.

    Tony’s Scholarship and Teaching

    Tony’s scholarly output has been immense and I am pleased to note that it is still growing!  By my reckoning, he has published 78 articles in scholarly journals, 47 book chapters, 19 reviews and 10 books, and that is without mentioning his many entries in major reference works, such as his seven articles in Brill’s monumental Encyclopedia of Islam – a signal honour to be invited to write multiple contributions.

    The broad arc of Tony’s work is as follows: he began in Southeast Asia studying Sufi Malay-language texts, then graduated to the study of the teachers of Indonesian Islamic scholars in the Middle East and the Arabic language foundational texts that they used, and ended with the study of the Qur’an.  Within this arc, the scope of his work was remarkable, including translations and commentaries on classical Malay Islamic texts, translations of modern Indonesian literature, descriptions and analysis of Islamic mysticism, Qur’anic exegesis, Islamic theology and comparative theology, accounts of Australia’s Muslim community, interfaith relations, historical accounts of Islam’s coming to and influence upon Southeast Asia, and studies of prophets present in Islamic, Christian and Jewish scripture.  It is this later work on the prophets of which Tony is most proud.  Across these topics, Tony was capable of writing on highly specialised, narrow and sometimes obscure texts or issues, producing findings that were accessible to a small expert audience.  But he was equally capable of addressing big questions in the field and engaging in rigorous debate with other eminent scholars.

    It is in his articles in scholarly journal articles, rather than in his books, where much of Tony’s finest work is to be found.  Many of these are the leading journals in their fields, such as: the Journal of Islamic Studies, the Journal of Asian Studies, the Journal of Qur’anic Studies, Archipel, the Journal of Southeast Asian History, the Review of Middle Eastern Studies and Hamdard Islamicus.  He even published pieces in the Australian literary journals Meanjin Quarterly and Quadrant, which indicated his desire to reach a much broader audience.

    An example of Tony’s tackling of big issues was his article challenging the accepted view that it had been traders who were primarily responsible for the spread of Islam in Southeast Asia.  He did not dispute that merchants had played a role but he argued that the deeper penetration of Islam was due to learned men, mystics and Islamic scholars, rather than traders.  This was later often referred to as the Drewes-Johns debate, a reference to the Dutch Indologist, DWJ Drewes.  Tony later substantially revised his opinion on this but nonetheless it was a substantial contribution to scholarly debate.

    What of the essence of Tony’s writings?  What hallmarks of his scholarship might we find within them? He recently wrote that ‘his concerns throughout his career were, and always have been, language, character and human responses to crises – of pain, joy and hope.’  So it is at once technical – to have a high command of the necessary languages to undertake this work – but also quintessentially human-focused.  Tony was ultimately concerned about people.  Linguistic, literary and historical skills were all means of gaining insight into the lives and motivations of individuals or communities.  And for him, Arabic was a sub-text behind vernacular writings showing how faith was understood.  Tony was always talking about layers; the task of the scholar was to explore what these layers contained.  The outward, superficial layer was perhaps at best a small part of the story.  One had to have the linguistic and disciplinary skills plus the imagination to delve further.  This subtle, sensitive exploration of sources and human feelings was present in all of Tony’s teaching and his writings.

    He brought a similar sensibility to his teaching. In classes he was always urging students to feel within themselves the rhythm of Qur’anic phrases or feel the sounds of Indonesian or Arabic words.  He urged memorisation of at least some verses of the Qur’an because that way students could experience the words unfettered by the printed page.  There was nothing detached or mechanical about this method; one had to embrace the language and its culture wholeheartedly.  One also had to be precise and to show full respect to the original text, fully understanding words and how their meaning might change within sentences and different contexts.

    In an Introduction to a forthcoming volume, Tony has written that his scholarly journey has been ‘as much one of unlearning as learning’.  This typifies his humility and constant introspection.  In his later work, he is frequently at pains to reflect back upon his earlier writings, diligently noting where there may have been errors in fact or interpretation. This sense of fallibility and striving for improvement is a feature of his scholarship.  I now want to turn to the thematic part of this address.

    Restoring Religious and Cultural Complexity to the Study of Southeast Asian Islam

     Over the past 20-30 years, we have seen a change in the scholarly and policy discourse on Islam.  Whereas once this field gave prominence to scholars of religion and its culture and history, now social scientists, particularly political scientists and experts in international relations and security studies have come to dominate.  This is especially the case since the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington DC in Sept 2001 – the 911 attacks.  With this catastrophic event, Islam suddenly leapt to being a paramount issue for governments, especially Western governments, and also, to some extent, the public.  There was urgent demand for expertise to help states and the public comprehend what had happened and what could be done to reduce the threat of further attacks.  Very soon, this discourse came to crystalise around what was often termed the ‘Islam problem’, that Islam contained within it radical tendencies that needed to be denounced, repressed or even expunged.  This became part of a broader discussion about Islam’s nature which was often cast in essentialising terms.   You will be very familiar with some of these: that Islam was ‘a religion of peace’, that Muslims were fundamentally irenic, that radicalism sprang from a misunderstanding or ‘deliberate distortion of Islam’s true teachings’.  And so the policy priorities that flowed from this were based on a need to identify who or what represented ‘true’ Islam, and how could these been helped, while, at the same time, identifying the deviant radicals.  Such policies were seen as not only preventing horrific terrorism but also restoring Islam to a benign and pristine form.  Counter-terrorism and anti-radicalisation programs were rolled out and projects to foster moderate, tolerant, pro-Western views were initiated.

    Relatively few scholars involved in these policy processes were experts in religion per se, let alone Islam. Instead, it was political scientists, IR experts and security studies specialists who held sway, both in shaping public debate and in informing governments of policy options.  These social scientists brought very specific views and indeed assumptions to their work on religion.  They saw it as a distinct, generalisable component of social and political analysis; religion was something that stood apart from other factors, such as history, the economy and culture.  It was possible to understand Islam by itself, shorn of its local particularities and variations.  Especially for quantitative scholars, Islam was seen as something objectively measurable through surveys and big data sets.  Such approaches and analyses could produce universal theories and broadly applicable templates for action. They could measure the presence of radical or moderate attitudes and pinpoint opportunities for programmatic intervention.  Perhaps predictably, instant experts and think tanks and university centres quickly emerged that readily joined in the efforts to ‘fix’ Islam.

    Elizabeth Shakman Hurd in her excellent book Beyond Religious Freedom called the phenomenon ‘The Religious Reform Project’.  This referred to the efforts of Western governments to intervene in Islamic communities in ‘at risk’ nations in order to overcome Islam’s problems.  In fact, what was proposed was extensive state engineering of religious attitudes.  Islam became the object of government intervention, not just by Western governments, but very often by governments of Muslim-majority nations, many of which brought their own political and social agendas to the combatting radicalism and promoting moderation.  Few institutions better epitomised this thinking than the Tony Blair Foundation in Britain.  Blair held forth frequently about the ‘two faces of Islam’: the bad and the good. Let me quote:

    There are two faces of faith in our world today.  One is seen not just in acts of religious extremism but also in the desire of religious people to wear their faith as a badge of identity in opposition to those who are different.  The other face is defined by extraordinary acts of sacrifice and compassion – for example in caring for the sick, disabled or destitute.  All over the world this battle between the two faces of faith is being played out.

    Thus, all good resided on one side and all bad on another.  His foundation committed itself to repressing the bad and encouraging the good. It was generously funded and provided a high-profile, post-prime ministerial platform for Blair’s international activism.  The Blair Foundation is one of dozens of such institutions that seeks nothing less than to transform religion.  Hurd notes this Religious Reform agenda has almost replaced the secularist project: religion is no longer seen as a private, internal matter for communities; it is now essential to improving life in the public sphere.  In short, religion is an agent of public good.

    So, what is problem with this model?  Could one not argue that it is commendable to assist Muslims in combatting militancy within their faith and promoting tolerance and peace? Would this not help to bring security and harmony to the world as well as to Muslim communities?  Well, the answer to these questions is that these Religious Reform agendas are far less successful than claimed and indeed may often be counter-productive.

    First of all, the problem with religious interventions is the sheer shallowness of analysis and the failure to explore the assumptions that lie within.  To begin with, the social science assumption that religion is distinct, is deeply flawed.  Religion is not easily made a separate variable of analysis because it is inextricably linked to a range of other factors and cannot be easily disaggregated.  Religious Reform agendas actually carry secularist assumptions because they treat religion as something that autonomous and circumscribed.  Asef Bayat, the influential Iranian-American sociologist, dismissed attempts to isolate Islam from other domains:

    Muslim societies’, he wrote, ‘are never monolithic as such, are never religious by definition, nor are their cultures confined to mere religion.  National cultures, historical experiences, political trajectories as well as class affiliation have all produced different cultures and sub-cultures of Islam, religious perceptions and practices across and within Muslim nations.

    William T. Cavanaugh, who has written extensively (and it must be admitted controversially) on the folly of isolating religions as a cause of war or peace, argues that faith is socially constructed and is inextricably tied to a complex of other factors.

    Second, the reductive binary categories are inimical to any nuanced understanding as to what is actually going on in Muslim communities.  To classify Muslims as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ makes no allowance of the range of views that Muslims might hold.  A Muslim might favour democracy and the rule of law, but also be opposed to gender equality, LGBT rights and inter-faith dialogue.  Does such a person fit into the good or bad box?  Governments like binaries because provide clear options, but in reality they are Procrustean: they just ignore or chop off the bits that do not neatly fit the category.  Binary approaches fail to do justice to subtle elements of political and religious life.

    Let me give another example of Sufism and counter-terrorism.  There was a time in mid-2000s when various US think tanks became convinced that Islamic mysticism was the solution to radicalism – a proposal of astonishing gormlessness.  So, conferences and workshops were held and papers and articles published to this end.  Needless to say, the ‘initiative’ achieved little apart from directing funding to an array of Sufi leaders and counter-terrorism experts.  (When I told Tony about this at the time he burst out laughing and wondered how anyone could be so credulous!)

    Third, the religious reform process produced harmful policies for Muslim communities.  One of the most notable was the ‘securitisation’ of state relations with Muslim communities. Muslims were seen first and foremost in terms of the supposed threat that they posed.

    This, in itself, produced mistrust of government and resentment in Muslim communities because the faithful were only viewed through the narrow filter of radicalism.  It also distorts power relations within communities because government programs and money is being made available on the basis of whether they fit externally imposed criteria rather than the genuine needs of communities.   Certain groups privileged; others treated with prejudice.  The frequent result has been increased tensions within the Islamic community as favoured leaders and institutions reap the benefits of government support, while others miss out, regardless of their need.  We can see this currently in Indonesia where Nahdlatul Ulama is the recipient of Religious Reform largesse from various countries yet other major organisations such as Muhammadiyah and Persis are largely excluded.

    There is a hubris here, a conceit that deeply embedded religious norms can be altered with a few years of aid programs or international initiatives.  States can repress certain types of Islam and foster others, but that is unlikely to greatly change what happens deep within society and its religious communities.  There are limits to what state-run or top-down religious agendas can achieve and most of these programs are usually top-down.  Expectation that Muslims will follow pre-ordained sets of behaviours.

    My central argument here is that it is the absence of religious studies scholars from these global and domestic Religious Reform projects that undermines their effectiveness.  Lived religion, as any scholar of religion can tell you, is extraordinarily varied and mutable.  Great care is needed when generalising and typologising, particularly when concerned with predicting behaviour. The religion as set out by state religious authorities or by mainstream Islamic organisations is not necessarily rigidly adhered to by grassroots Muslims, even within those organisations. Prescriptions of orthopraxy might be followed only partially. Real religious life is often messy and contradictory; there are competing traditions and interests at play.  Muslims may aspire to a particular version of piety but not fulfil this.

    So many on-the-ground studies have found enormous variety and behaviour that often confound the conventional categorisations of religious type. I could point to Chris Chaplin’s research on Salafis, for example.  This community is seen as culturally Arabised, ultra-puritanical and a threat to Indonesia’s pluralistic traditions.  But Chaplin shows significant indigenisation of their practices and considerable desire to compromise in order to expand their mainstream support and protect their educational and preaching activities.  Many assume that the term Salafist denotes one single, undifferentiated entity.  What is required is the close study of people and communities; what they say and write, the texts that influence them and how they communicate.  This needs language skills, patience and erudition.  Such skills are seldom found among quantitative social scientists or security studies experts.  This is not to disparage big data approaches.  They have the ability to tell us things that qualitative research cannot.  But to devise policies without scholarship on religious studies, without its care for details and an eye for nuance and variegation, is to risk miscomprehension and failure.  Religious studies scholars do not see faith as ‘clear cut’ and that is a sound starting point for policy formulation.

    This brings me back to the work of Tony.  His concern to probe the layers of meaning in a text or a statement, his priority in reading what shapes the thinking of Indonesian Muslims – this is critical.  It means coming to Muslim communities not with a set of preconceived ideas or theories into which people can be sorted, but rather researching with an open mind.  Literature, social media discourses, preachers’ sermons, these are what needs studying.  we not assume that official Islam – that promulgated by governments or major Islamic organisations – is actually lived Islam.

    Let me close on a personal note.  I must confess to having considerable apprehension in accepting this invitation to talk about Tony’s scholarship and contribution because I felt that I lacked the scholarly skills to do justice to what he has achieved.  I don’t speak Arabic, I’m not a scholar of the Qur’an and Islamic sciences.  I study Muslim politics, its doctrines and behaviour but I am not a scholar of Islam as such.  But I accepted the invitation because I am so deeply grateful for what Tony has provided to me and to so many other researchers on Southeast Asian Islam through his writings and his personal mentorship.  In my case, for thirty years Tony has encouraged me and with great patience, forbearance even, he has answered my many queries.  Tony never gave simple or obvious answers.  He would ponder the question for a moment before responding, often plucking apposite quotes from a bewildering array of sources that seemed to be forever circulating in his mind just waiting to be presented to a questioner.  These could be from the Bible or the Qur’an, from Shakespeare or Keats, or even from his favourite television satire, Yes Minister!  His answers often led to more questions, which would require more research and reflection on my part.  The thing about these answers was that they always opened vistas onto much broader fields of study and understanding.  I have a continuing sense of marvel at how Tony does this.

    Let me return to where I started, by acknowledging the combined achievements of Tony and Yohanni, and thanking them for all the care and encouragement they have provided for students like me over so many years.  And for the wonderful example that they provide for us all, in their dedication to each other and to the fostering of Indonesian studies.  It is most fitting that so many people have gathered here this afternoon to celebrate these two wonderful careers.

    The post Watch now: The inaugural Tony and Yohanni Johns lecture by Greg Fealy appeared first on New Mandala.

    This post was originally published on New Mandala.

  • Raids by Australian security forces (ASIO) and armed police on Indonesian migrant households in October 2002 were truly shocking for members of this community. Australia has a small but growing Muslim diaspora (augmented as a faith group by a growing number of Australian–born converts), totalling about 340,000 at the time of the 2006 Australian census, and about one quarter of the 50,000+ Indonesian-born residents recorded in the 2006 census are recorded as of Muslim faith.

    Muslim migration only grew after a shift away from migration policy that the restricted non-white immigration (The White Australia policy) in the 1970s and an embrace of multiculturalism rather than assimilation as policy.  This change appeared to herald tolerance of cultural and religious diversity, and was experienced by many immigrant Australians in this way.

    But the global war on terror that led to moral panic, positioning Muslims as the enemy of western civilisation, especially following the destruction of the Twin Towers, tested this. The limits of tolerance of for Australian Muslims was revealed during the first Gulf war, when the most commonly reported act of violence against Muslims was tearing off women’s head scarves—an act anthropologist Ghassan Hage has termed the “governmental hand”.

    The image of a civilisation under attack had special resonance for Australians when on 12 October 2002, members of the Indonesian Islamic organisation Jemaah Islamiyah bombed two popular tourist venues in Bali, regarded by many Australians as their own backyard playground. Australian casualties were the highest among foreign tourists, about equal to Indonesian numbers, and the event was officially declared Australia’s worst peacetime disaster. This atmosphere and feelings of “a civilisation under attack” provided the context for the October 2002 raids.

    The Australian media reported that the raids were conducted because of an ostensible hostile act against the Australian nation: the people targeted had attended a lecture by Abu Bakar Bashir (jailed for his role in the bombings and released in 2006) regarded as the spiritual head of JI, when he had visited Australia under an alias in the 1990s. The raids followed quickly on the Federal Government’s proscription of JI as an illegal organisation in Australia on 27 October 2002, the very day the governor general signed it into law.

    The speedy timing of raids were a shocking revelation that Indonesian Muslims in Australia (citizens and permanent residents) had already been under surveillance prior to the Bali bombing. Islamic religion and Indonesian cultural citizenship made them “not quite” Australian, sorely testing the image of Australian tolerance and commitment to multiculturalism.

    Response to the raids in Australia—Muslims as the enemy within

    The media accounts of the October 2002 raids presented a spectre rarely seen in Australia: “Armed ASIO agents and Federal Police fan out across Australia in search of links to Islamic extremism”; “Officers wearing balaclava and bullet proof vests” holding sub-machine guns (Australian Broadcasting Corporation “ASIO raid in Perth”, PM, 30 October 2002.)

    They reported police using sledgehammers to break down doors and windows and “smash…their way into houses” at dawn. In the case of the Suparta family in Perth, heavily armed officers broke into their home in Thornlie (a suburb popular with Perth’s Asian migrant populations) and the parents and four children (aged 17, 10, 6 and 4) were ordered to the floor and kept there for half an hour. The oldest child, a 17-year-old girl, said officers pointed guns at them, and one officer put his foot on her father’s head and told him not to move.

    After a seven-hour search, officers took away passports, books (including religious books), material downloaded from the internet, computers, and videos. Such actions were repeated in about 12 more homes of Indonesian Australians in Sydney, Melbourne and Perth. According to a Muslim leader (Yasser Solimi, president of Islamic council of Victoria) the ASIO and police raids had left people “confused, scared and stunned” (cited in The Age, 3November, 2002.)

    Neighbours interviewed by the press expressed shock. In Perth, neighbour Helena Joyce told ABC radio (Australian Broadcasting Corporation ‘ASIO raid in Perth’, PM, 30 October): “..And I saw several men in, I guess combat or whatever the SWAT people wear, you know, the black helmets, the black balaclava, the ski glasses, the black clothing, some machine guns. So I was terrified.”

    The reporter David Weber asked: “Do you know the family well?” and expressing a view apparently at odds with the official “othering”, the neighbour replied: “Yes I do, Yep, we’ve lived here for almost three years and they’ve been here since before we came here. Um, they’re Australian citizens like everyone else, I guess and they’re a very nice family. All I could think of is they’ve got the satellite dish and they are originally from Indonesia?”

    Another neighbour commented: “They do their yard. I always walk by to go to the Thornleigh shopping centre and their appearance to me is a very quiet, nice family, and that’s all I know…” When the reporter asks if he “would be surprised if you knew that…” the man cuts him off, replying: “Very surprised. Very, very surprised. Very quiet, nice man out in the front doing the yard. He says hello. They are ethnic people but they’re lovely, very nice people.”.

    The neighbours’ comments, that the Suparta family are a “nice family, who do their yard and say hello” indicates a “grass roots” vernacular multiculturalism in that they are judged by their performance of the quotidian attributes of Australian belonging.

    The Director General of ASIO (Australian Security and Intelligence Organisation) denied the report that the people raided were suspect because they had attended lectures by the JI spiritual leader in the 1990s; but one of the men raided, Jaya Fadli Basil said to the media that the paperwork he had been shown indicated that they were investigating anyone with JI links. He said that he had always done the right thing, had no terrorist links and the only reason he was raided is that he had been interested in the religious lectures of Abu Bakar Bashir in the 1990s. Jaya Fadli Basil said he now felt he was not welcome in Australia “since the Bali bombing, a lot of our community got abuse”.

    Challenges to Countering Violent Extremism in Indonesia

    The dominant counter-terrorism policy paradigm is unnecessary limiting, and sometimes counter-productive.

    According to one newspaper, all of the dozen people aided had some link to the JI leader during his Australian visit: one had driven him around, another had invited him to lunch after a lecture at the Dee Why Mosque. One of the men raided said he had been interviewed by ASIO previously as he knew Mamdouh Habib, at that time detained in Guantanamo Bay. Habib was, he said, as the father of one of his son’s school friends. He had also attended the Abu Bakar Bashir lectures “I only went to hear him speak. That is all I did. I have never heard of Jemaah Islamiah” (reported in Sun Herald, 3 November).

    For Australians concerned with civil rights the raids—and the legislation that enabled them—signalled a diminution of civil rights. The president of the NSW Council on Civil Liberties was quoted: “If these people are supposed to be terrorists they should be charged and brought before a court of law. The fact that there have been so many raids and that none have been charged suggests that there is no evidence. It suggests that this is a fishing exercise or a publicity stunt.” (reported in The Age, November 1, 2002).

    The Chairman of the Islamic Council of NSW made a similar comment and linked the raids to the conditions in the undemocratic regimes that migrant refugees had fled: “We are not opposed to any Australian resident being required to assist ASIO or other government agencies in defending Australia at any time. But this must be achieved within the rule of law and using no more force than necessary to secure the required outcome. I believe the raids have not been appropriate or reasonable responses to any threats stated to date. Young families have been overwhelmed by the force and violence of the raids. Many Muslims fled war, bloodshed and violence to build a secure life here. To stop that chaos erupting on our shores must be the priority and we will work with whoever asks us to keep Australia safe. However, for the authorities to storm into our homes and lives in this fashion brings those traumas and fears into our living rooms.”

    It was reported in 2003 that no one was ever charged as a consequence of the raids

    The Indonesian ambassador at the time, Imron Cotan, leapt to the defence of the households who had been raided even though many of them were no longer Indonesian citizens. In an exchange with the host of a TV current affairs programme he said: “We are deeply concerned about the way the ASIO as well as Federal Police, conducted the operations because that concerned Indonesian citizens…We are here to protect our citizens.”

    In response the host, Tony Jones, pointed out that both Indonesian and Australian citizens had been targetted in the raids, and treated in the same way; Ambassador Cotan stressed again that his role was to act according to his mission to protect Indonesian citizens.

    Ambassador Cotan’s response was not entirely at odds with the affective response of many Indonesians resident in Australia who saw themselves as under attack for their Indonesian Muslim identity. This invoked a discourse of suspicion of their right to belong in an Australian nation that was closing off the embrace of cultural and religious diversity, which Islam had then only recently, and cautiously, been allowed into.

    Unlike many other Muslim groups in Australia Indonesian migrants are not refugees: they have entered Australia as skilled or business migrants, and on family visas, for example when they marry Australians. Many of them were caught unawares by the rapidly changing politico-religious landscape in Indonesia following the fall of the Suharto regime in 1998, which saw the rapid growth of Islamist movements, many at odds with customary forms of tolerant and liberal Islam, some espousing violence in pursuit of their ideological aims. One woman, who had married and moved to Australia decades before, expressed the dilemma to me, saying the rapid changes left Indonesian Muslims in Australia vulnerable. She said, “We have to watch our backsides,” meaning that Australian Indonesian Muslims were at risk of becoming unwittingly embroiled with extreme religious movements through innocent acts of attending lectures by visiting clerics. Her solution was to begin an organisation that would facilitate people like herself obtaining up-to-date advice from people more knowledgeable about the contemporary religious landscape in Indonesia, such as students with religious education background, or Indonesian diplomats.

    The raids threw apparent certainties onto question, indicating that Indonesian Muslims had been under surveillance, and their loyalty to the Australian nation under question for some time. Citizenship does not automatically confer certainty of belonging to the nation. Indonesian cultural citizenship has been embraced as a way to gain knowledge to protect themselves from future risks in the politico-religious landscape.

    The post Indonesian Muslims living in Australia: how did the Bali Bomb impact them? appeared first on New Mandala.

    This post was originally published on New Mandala.

  • Rights groups ‘extremely concerned’ about violent repression of demonstrations in Tehran and Isfahan

    Iranian students have stepped up their protests in defiance of a crackdown by security forces, who allegedly cornered and shot 12 students at a prestigious university in Tehran on Sunday night.

    Anti-government protests ignited by the death of a young woman in police custody in mid-September have spread around the country at various levels of intensity, revealing a cultural chasm between the country’s educated youth and an elderly male religious establishment.

    Continue reading…

    This post was originally published on Human rights | The Guardian.

  • Ebrahim Raisi says he has contacted Kurdish woman’s family but laments western double standards on human rights

    The death in custody in Iran of a Kurdish woman that led to widespread protests must be “steadfastly” investigated, Iran’s president has said, as he lamented what he claimed were western “double standards” on human rights.

    Ebrahim Raisi told a news conference on the sidelines of the UN general assembly in New York that the death of Mahsa Amini while in the custody of Iran’s morality police “must certainly be investigated”.

    Continue reading…

  • Battle over influence at Human Rights Council, with Beijing warning of ‘politicisation of human rights’

    Western powers are weighing the risk of a potential defeat if they table a resolution at the UN Human Rights Council calling for an independent commission to investigate alleged human rights abuses by China in Xinjiang.

    The issue is a litmus case for Chinese influence at the UN, as well as the willingness of the UN to endorse a worldview that protects individual rights from authoritarian states.

    Continue reading…

  • Sir Geoffrey Nice QC says outgoing human rights chief’s report on China makes it easier for international community to do nothing

    The UN’s failure to mention the word genocide in its report alleging serious human rights violations by China against Uyghur Muslims in Xinjiang province is an “astonishing” lapse, according to a leading British human rights lawyer.

    The 45-page report from the outgoing UN human rights commissioner, Michelle Bachelet, landed minutes before her term ended on Wednesday, outlining allegations of torture, including forced medical procedures, as well as sexual violence against Uyghur Muslims.

    Continue reading…

  • Damning report cites human rights violations against Uyghur Muslims in north-west Chinese province

    China has committed “serious human rights violations” against Uyghur Muslims in Xinjiang province that could amount to crimes against humanity, the outgoing UN human rights commissioner has said in a long-awaited and damning report.

    Continue reading…

  • He has survived death threats and attempts on his life since February 1989.  But Salman Rushdie’s luck just about ran out at the Chautauqua Institution, southwest of Buffalo in New York State.  On August 12, at a venue historically celebrated for bringing education to all, the writer was stabbed incessantly by a fanatic who felt little sense of guilt or remorse.  Hadi Matar only had eyes for Rushdie’s neck and abdomen.  As a result of the attack, the author is likely to lose sight of one eye and possibly the use of an arm.

    It was a chilling reminder that the fatwa condemning him to death never risked going stale, even if it might have been put into a form of archived cold storage.  Declared by the Iran’s sickly spiritual ruler, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, Rushdie’s remarkable crime was to have blasphemed against the Prophet Muhammad in the novel The Satanic Verses.  The supreme leader, having hardly distinguished himself in a bloody war against Iraq, needed a supreme distraction.

    The entire exercise was an example of how irony and humour have no place for dour, dogmatic priestliness.  How dare an author, in a work of fiction, playfully and plausibly claim that the Prophet was not the sole editor of the message to Angel Gibreel (Gabriel), and that Satan had cheekily inserted his role into it?  And that this was done using the medium of Gibreel Farishta’s hallucinations?

    Dare Rushdie did, and this exhortation to state-sanctioned killing of an author and all those associated with translating and disseminating the book exposed the underbelly of cowardice that often accompanies attempts to defend literary freedoms.  Rushdie’s translator Hitoshi Igarashi was, in fact, murdered, while his Norwegian publisher, William Nygaard, was gravely wounded.  The Turkish translator, Aziz Nesin, escaped a mob assault that led to 37 deaths in Silvas, Turkey.

    It was one thing to find fanatics who had never read the book and wished to do away with the author in a fit of state subsidised zealotry.  But then there was that camp: those who, in principle, opposed the fatwa but still wished to attack Rushdie as an act of cultural understanding and solidarity with his enemies.  (Grahame Wood of The Atlantic calls them the “Team To Be Sure”, who rubbished the West’s free speech defence of Rushdie, claiming that mischief might have been averted if only he hadn’t been so inclined to offend.)

    The events of 1989 cast a long shadow.  There were those in holy orders, who thought that the Ayatollah had a point.  There was Dr. Robert Runcie, Archbishop of Canterbury, who called for a strengthening of blasphemy laws to cover religions other than Christianity, though he was also careful to “condemn incitement to murder or any other violence from any source whatever.”  Very Church of England.

    And there was former US President Jimmy Carter, who seemed to take issue that an author’s rights were considered fundamental even in the face of insulting religions.  What, came the insinuation, about the insulted?  Where would their anger go?  Rushdie’s First Amendment freedoms might be “important”, but there had been “little acknowledgment that this is a direct insult to those millions of Moslems whose sacred beliefs have been violated and are suffering in restrained silence”.  Contemplated homicide against an author, in other words, was being excused, even if the “death sentence” was an “abhorrent response”.

    It was even more galling to see fellow novelists mauling the underdog, showing how solidarity among scribes is rarer than you think.  The Marxist author John Berger did not think much of Rushdie’s case, hiding behind a sham argument that producing threatening literature might well endanger “the lives of those who are innocent of either writing or reading the book.”  Berger’s ingratiating note was an attempt to convince other Islamic leaders and statesmen to avoid “a unique 20th-century holy war, with its terrifying righteousness on both sides.”

    Roald Dahl, man of dysfunctional virtue and author of disturbed children’s tales, decided in a letter to The Times that Rushdie was a “dangerous opportunist”, as if engaging in irony in such matters is to be avoided.  He had to have been “aware of the deep and violent feelings his book would stir up among devout Muslims.”  His suggestion: a modest dose of self-censorship.  “In a civilized world we have a moral obligation to apply a modicum of censorship to our own work to reinforce this principle of free speech.”  Censors from Moscow to Tehran would have approved.

    Nor did John le Carré, consummate writer of espionage novels, disagree.  “I don’t think it is given to any of us to be impertinent to great religions with impunity,” he told The New York Times in May 1989.

    In November 1997, with le Carré complaining of being unfairly branded an anti-Semite, Rushdie wrote a pointed reminder it would have been easier “to sympathize with him had he not been so ready to join in an earlier campaign of vilification against a fellow writer.”  It would have been gracious were “he to admit that he understands the nature of the Thought Police a little better now that, at last in his own opinion, he’s the one in the line of fire.”

    Le Carré sniped back accordingly, taking the position he claimed to have had in 1989: “that there is no law in life or nature that says great religions may be insulted with impunity.”  Little time was spent then, and now, on the malicious, sinister nature of religious totalitarianism that has been a monstrous burden on expression, critique and sober thought.  Instead, the creator of Smiley and the Circus wished to strike a “less arrogant, less colonialist, and less self-righteous note than we were hearing from the safety of his admirers’ camp.”

    As Wood writes, the honourable response to the attack on Rushdie would have been to admit a failure to protect a brave author and declare “that we are all Rushdie now”.  Read his work; throw his name in the faces of the regime’s apologists and their homicidal dolts.  After all, while the Republic of Iran has claimed to have lost active interest in killing the author, it will not object to an independent enthusiast doing the same.  The decision encouraging Rushdie’s murder, stated Khomeini’s successor, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, “is a bullet for which there is a target.  It has been shot.  It will one day sooner or later hit the target.”

    This crippling germ of authorial assassination is incarnated in more current forms, without the lethal element: cancel culture, the desire to actively enact one’s offended disposition to liquidate, banish and extirpate the views of your opponent.  They offend you because you, somehow, have answers beyond question.  Assassination is simply one of the most extreme forms of censorship, an attempt to silence and kill off the vibrant chatter that makes an intellectual world live.  Sadly, as Rushdie recovers, the maybe mob and their complicity should be noted, their names marked on walls high.  The inner censoring assassin is everywhere.

    The post The Maybe Mob and the Rushdie Attack first appeared on Dissident Voice.

    This post was originally published on Dissident Voice.

  • Post World War II Germany has exhibited commendable characteristics — publicly atoning for its Nazi past, working assiduously to create a thriving nation, designing a truly democratic country, integrating its European compatriots into a common market, leading others in opening borders to refugees, and modifying its previous ultra-nationalism to form the European union. Behind these praiseworthy attributes lurks another Germany and with a deadly appearance. Germany, which committed the World War II genocide, actively aids and abets another genocide ─ the genocide of the Palestinian people.

    Conferences, reports, articles, and discussions have described the programs and assistance by which Germany has politically, financially, and militarily supported Israel and enabled the Zionists to violate international norms, illegally seize control of Palestinian lands, and suppress Palestinian aspirations for freedom and self-rule. Slipping under the radar is how Zionists exploit German benevolence and subvert German institutions in foreign lands to serve Israel. After a brief summary of how Germany contributed to Israel’s destruction of the Palestinian people, an example of the deliberate subversion will be discussed

    Starting in 1952, West Germany agreed to pay three billion Deutschmarks (DM) to the newly formed Israel and an additional 4.5 million DM to Jewish organizations for assistance to Holocaust survivors worldwide. Estimates have the total reparations paid to Israel accruing to between $25 and $30 billion. The United States State Department estimates that, by 2018, payments from various programs to all survivors were $86.8 billion. The final amount may reach $100 billion.

    The Federal Republic of Germany’s reparations enabled apartheid Israel to develop infrastructure—roads, railways, and shipping. Israel used the funds to buy patrol boats, tanks, weapons, and Germany’s Dolphin-class submarines, which can be fitted with nuclear warheads. German reparations have contributed to the destruction of the Palestinian people and to the possible destruction of Iran.

    Enhancing Israel’s military efforts is only one facet of Germany’s allegiance to the apartheid state. The Bundestag, Germany’s federal parliament, voted to declare Israel’s existence to be part of Germany’s national interest and passed a non-binding resolution that designated the BDS movement as anti-Semitic.

    A peculiar coda to Germany’s guilt trip appears in a recent news report from Times of Israel, by David Rising, 14 October 2020.

    Germany has agreed to provide more than a half billion euros to aid Holocaust survivors struggling under the burdens of the coronavirus pandemic, the organization that negotiates compensation with the German government said Wednesday. The payments will be going to approximately 240,000 survivors around the world, primarily in Israel, North America, the former Soviet Union and Western Europe, over the next two years, according to the New York-based Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany, also referred to as the Claims Conference.

    This “claim” embarrasses countries and Jews around the world. The Claims Conference continues to nickel and dime present day Germans, who can use the money themselves or, at least help the more unfortunates, especially recent immigrants in Germany. How many displaced people have little access to vaccination?

    I have known and still know many Holocaust survivors, including my own relatives, and none of them have required financial care. Decades ago, all survivors were already established citizens in their nations and supported by their adopted countries. Wouldn’t the funds be better used for the one million plus refugees that Germany has absorbed or the tens of millions of widows and children of those killed by Nazi bullets, Nazi bombs, and Nazi vengeance? Don’t they deserve protection? Why does Germany feel its present citizens, who have no responsibility for the Nazi atrocities, must be financially and morally culpable? Do the United States, Great Britain, France, Belgium, and Italy still shoulder responsibility for the atrocities they have committed and the victims they created? Maybe, former German chancellor, Konrad Adenauer, supplied the answer.

    Le Monde diplomatique relates that Adenauer, in a 1966 television appearance, was asked about his reparations policy. The former Chancellor replied that “the German crimes against the Jews had to be expiated or repaired, if we were at all to regain our international standing”. He then added, “the power of the Jews even today, especially in America, should not be underestimated.”

    Germany’s reparations position has set the tone for Remembrance curricula that have little basis to exist in foreign nations and especially in those nations that do not offer Remembrance curricula for the atrocities they have committed upon other peoples. The American Institute for Contemporary German Studies (AICGS) at Johns Hoping University in Washington DC is a prime example of how the Remembrance curricula in German institutions, in a quiet and not aggressive manner, influences the public in other countries.

    AICGS defines itself as “a center for policy research and scholarship dedicated to the most important political, economic, and security issues confronting Germany and the United States in the global arena. AICGS anticipates challenges, proposes solutions, and bolsters the German-American partnership.”

    In 2007, the Federal Republic of Germany established an independent charitable association called the Förderkreis des American Institute for Contemporary German Studies (AICGS). The charitable association allowed German residents to make tax deductible donations to support the mission of the AICGS and circulate one of its principle issues ─ Memory Politics.

    AICGS explains its Memory Politics as:

    Germany’s approach to acknowledging and providing redress for past crimes has offered other nations around the world a guide to reconciliation. While Germany’s efforts resulted from a unique situation and are not considered a blueprint for other nations to emulate, they have nevertheless informed and impacted other countries dealing with the difficult processes of memory, commemoration, and rebuilding bilateral relationships.

    How does Memory Politics fit with AICGS thrust, which is “a center for policy research and scholarship dedicated to the most important political, economic, and security issues confronting Germany and the United States in the global arena.”

    An AICGS discussion, Thursday, July 7, 2022, on “Documenta 15 and the Controversy over Anti-Semitism” displayed the dubious nature of this fit.

    Even before the June opening of the fifteenth iteration of the prestigious Documenta contemporary art exhibition in the city of Kassel, several controversies, including alleged anti-Semitism on the part of the Indonesian organizers and some artists, had been swirling. Then, a banner was unveiled on the first day in which several Jewish figures were depicted in offensive, anti-Semitic ways. These took the form of a clearly labeled Mossad agent with the head of a pig (Mossad is Israel’s secret service), and a caricature of an Orthodox Jewish man wearing a black derby hat bearing the insignia of the SS, the Nazi unit responsible for the mass extermination of Jews. This has unleashed a torrent of critical commentary. AICGS has brought together three leading experts to help us to understand the controversies and the debates surrounding them in Germany.

    In any discussion, the moderator is obliged to take a neutral position and serve to lead the discussion so that all sides are properly presented. At this discussion, if anybody represented Documenta 15 and its defense against accusations of anti-Semitism, I did not hear it. I did hear its moderator, Dr. Eric Langenbacher, behave as a Zionist representative.

    Shown following are the banner drawings that received condemnation.

    Critics charged the above drawing is an anti-Semitic presentation of an Orthodox Jewish person, with SS credentials on his hat.

    The drawing to the right seems to depict a uniformed person as a pig. Why this drawing is considered to be of a Mossad agent is not clear.

    Interpret the drawings from a deliberately biased perspective, and one can quickly jump to charging offensive characterizations. Perceive them as emotionally charged expressions from those disturbed by Mossad actions and Orthodox Jewish settlers who daily harass and even kill innocent Palestinians, and the drawings become protest street art, which is supported by hundreds of millions non-racist people throughout the world.

    The photo on left is Baruch Goldstein, an Orthodox Jewish settler who murdered 29 and wounded 125 Palestinian Muslim worshipers at the 1994 Cave of the Patriarchs massacre in Hebron.

    The photo below depicts Orthodox Jewish settlers who are harassing Palestinian farmers.

    A foreign observer from Indonesia who wanted to draw murderous settlers in a gruesome manner would naturally draw what he/she knew from newspaper reports and images accompanying them, including images of Orthodox Jews praying at the Western Wall. Seems perfectly rational and without derogatory motives. Maybe this report from Basil Adra, a +972 reporter, agitated the artist.

    Last September, I ran up a mountain, panting, while being chased by dozens of masked Israeli settlers near my home in the South Hebron Hills. I was filming them descending with clubs upon a small village, Mufagara, located in Masafer Yatta in the occupied West Bank, where over 1,000 Palestinians are facing imminent expulsion from their homes.

    The settlers smashed the windows of homes, vandalized cars, and beat up families, stoning them with rocks and wounding several residents. They fractured the skull of a three-year-old child, one of my neighbors, as his mother tried to hide him and the other children in a small room.

    The one-sided discussion revealed its total bias when the moderator, Dr. Langenbacher, asked the commentators to express opinions on the “dark side” of anti-Semitism, audaciously citing a comparison of Islamists with Nazis, and characterizing Hezbollah and Hamas as anti-Semitic.

    The dictionary defines an Islamist as “someone who believes strongly in Islamic ideas and laws.” Dr. Langebacher, savior of the Jews from anti-Semitism, blithely commits a bigoted statement that compares Islamists with Nazis.

    What do Hezbollah and Hamas have to do with the questions posed by the Documenta 15 exhibition? By what right does Dr. Langenbacher, living in the United States, impugn the motives of those who fight against Israel’s theft of Palestinian lands and destruction of the Palestinian people?

    Documenta 15 committed no offense against any peace loving ethnicity. It only portrayed the racist and murderous elements of Israeli society in a metaphoric manner. German authorities were incorrect in removing a banner, which should preferably circulate throughout the world.

    The Federal Republic of Germany and the United States share responsibility for empowering Israel in its destruction of the Palestinian people, soothing their guilt by donating money and supplies to the Palestinians and their unwanted government, and enabling the Palestinians to survive another day before the next onslaught. A preferred argument against Documenta 15 is that it erred by not including drawings of these two “angels of death” in its popular and informative exhibition.

    The post Zionism and the Dark Side of Germany first appeared on Dissident Voice.

    This post was originally published on Dissident Voice.

  • In March 2022, Muhammad Qodari, the high profile executive director of Indo Barometer survey institute grabbed headlines by proposing that President Joko Widodo (Jokowi) and his former presidential rival and now Minister of Defence Prabowo Subianto run on a joint ticket for the 2024 presidential election.  He argued that this would unify the nation and “polarisation would disappear”.

    Politicians and scholars have repeatedly warned of the dangers that polarisation, especially of a religious nature, poses to Indonesian democracy.  Deepening cleavages between religious communities that were once on civil terms are seen as contributing to a political culture of intolerance and democratic illiberalism.

    But in the past three years, a new trend has emerged which might best be labelled “counter-polarisation”.  In this development, politicians and their parties undertake initiatives or manoeuvres in the name of reducing polarisation and easing intra-communal tensions.  This usually involves parties that were once on opposing sides of the political divide agreeing to cooperate or coalesce.  Not uncommonly, this is hailed as a move to restore national cohesion and strengthen democracy.

    The first and most striking example of this was the decision of Prabowo Subianto, the losing candidate in the 2014 and 2019 presidential elections, to join Joko Widodo’s new cabinet in October 2019 as Defence Minister, despite having campaigned sometimes rancorously against his rival.  One of Prabowo’s justifications for this abrupt about-face was the need to heal divisions between his and Jokowi’s supporters.

    Since then, similar arguments have been used to broker deals that bring together seemingly disparate electoral candidates or parties.  One such case is Qodari’s proposed Jokowi-Prabowo joint ticket, which proved especially controversial because it would require a constitutional amendment to allow Jokowi to stand for a third term. Critics said changing the constitution for this purpose would be democratically regressive. Qodari argued that so great was the threat of polarisation that extending the presidential term limit was justified.  Another proposal called for Prabowo, who previously drew strong Islamist support, to run with Puan Maharani, from the nationalist Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (PDI-P). In the same spirit, the chairman of the NasDem party suggested that Ganjar Pranowo, the Central Java governor who represents the nationalist camp, take as his running mate Jakarta governor Anies Baswedan, who attracts strong Islamist support.

    Jokowi-Prabowo political reconciliation as Javanese strategy

    The underpinning politics between Jokowi and Prabowo reveals a deeper complexity within the Indonesian election.

    Parties also used “bridge building” arguments to support a flurry of new alliances and proposed coalitions.  Two Islamic parties—the United Development Party (PPP) and the National Mandate Party (PAN)—coalesced with the nationalist Golkar in May 2022, and more recently the Islamist Prosperous Justice Party (PKS), launched alliance talks with the religiously neutral NasDem and the moderate Islamic National Awakening Party (PKB), both of which were previously staunch PKS rivals. Even debate over the length of the 2024 election campaign saw parties arguing about whether a shorter period was more likely to reduce polarisation than a longer one.

    Two questions arise from these developments. Is polarisation as serious a problem as many contend, particularly following the 2019 elections? And is the use of counter-polarisation justifications for political realignments credible or just a cover for other motivations?  We will argue that a recent survey shows a decline in the high levels of polarisation of the 2014-2019 period and that much of the counter-polarisation trend is driven by parties’ attempts to maximise their opportunities in the run-up to the 2024 elections.

    How Polarised is Indonesia?

    This article draws from two data sets, both from Lembaga Survei Indonesia (LSI). The first is the “National Survey on Polarization” conducted in April 2021, which involved 1620 respondents across all provinces of Indonesia.  The margin of error was +/-2.5 at a confidence level of 95%.  The second is “Polarization among Indonesian Muslim Elites”, an analysis of social media content between 2016 to 2021.  More than 2000 excerpts and quotes from a wide range of Muslim organisations and leaders were analysed to discern whether the postings represented conservative, progressive or neutral viewpoints on controversial current issues.

    The survey found that 11% of respondents felt Indonesia was highly polarised and 27% thought it was quite polarised, compared to 33% who believed there was only slight polarisation and 16% who saw no polarisation. This suggests that for a majority of the public, polarisation was not a significant national problem. Those who thought that polarisation was of concern belonged primarily to the elite in urban areas: professionals, and those with higher levels of education and income. Thus while over 56% of those with tertiary education thought that polarisation was of concern, less than 20% of those with only elementary education believed it was a problem. This indicates that existing polarisation is more an elite than a grassroots concern.

    In addition, 46% of respondents who use the Internet (64% of the total number of voters) also tended to see the country as highly or quite polarised, compared to only 24% of respondents who have no Internet access. Thus, although in general the respondents feel that Indonesia is not polarised, exposure to the Internet, such as social media or news sites, increases this perceived sense of division.

    A recurring theme of the “reducing polarisation” proposals is that there is a deep cleavage between those holding pluralist views and those with Islamist views. Pluralism in this case refers to those who favour a polity based on inclusivity, in keeping with the principle of religious neutrality set out in the state ideology of Pancasila. Pluralists resist special privileges being accorded to the nation’s large Muslim majority and also object to political mobilisation based on what they see as “transnational” Islam, or an expression of Islam perceived as inspired by movements or trends from the Middle East.  Islamists are those who seek a political and social system in which Islamic law and principles feature prominently. They believe that the majority status of Muslims combined with Islam’s important role in Indonesia’s history should be formally reflected in the structure and laws of the state.

    The LSI survey, however, showed that the cleavage between pluralist and Islamist groups is less deep than widely supposed. Indeed, the results suggest that high public antipathy is mainly directed to specific religious minority groups rather than major ideological blocs.  The survey used the “feeling thermometer” method for measuring polarisation.  Respondents were shown a list of organisations and parties and asked to rank these according to how warmly or coolly they regarded them, with 100 being hot and zero cold.  (see Chart One)

    Chart One: Feeling Thermometer for persons and groups

    Of the numerous Islamist organisations included in the list, perhaps the most significant for measuring polarisation is PKS.  This largest of Islamist parties that has garnered roughly 7-8% of the national vote in the four general elections since 2004 and is often singled out by pluralists as an example of “transnational Islam” due to its historical links to Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood. PKS was a key Prabowo supporter in the 2014 and 2019 elections, spear-heading damaging social media and mosque-based attacks on Jokowi’s religious credibility.

    Despite its reputation, PKS received an unexpectedly warm 56 “degrees” on the thermometer, placing it above the median. By way of comparison, the groups which were most warmly regarded were, not surprisingly, Indonesia’s two largest mainstream organisations, Nahdlatul Ulama (74) and Muhammadiyah (64).  PKS was more warmly regarded than various non-Muslim groups, such as Christians (50), Hindus (46), Buddhists (43), all of whom might also have been expected to have cooler responses judging by earlier thermometer surveys.

    So, if PKS drew mildly warm “feelings”, which groups evinced the coolest responses?  The five lowest-ranked groups were: local faith sects (38 degrees), usually a reference to heterodox Muslims groups (sometimes referred to Kepercayaan or Kebatinan); the banned Islamist movement Hizbut Tahrir Indonesia (33); the Muslim minority sects Ahmadiyah and the Shia (both 32); and, at the very bottom, the progressive Liberal Islamic Network (JIL) (30), which has been inactive for many years.

    In addition to the thermometer questions, respondents were asked how they felt about having neighbours (Chart Two), sons- or daughters-in-law (Chart Three), or local leaders (Chart Four) from the same list of groups. This is a more specific measure of “affective polarisation’ that gauges the strength of positive or negative emotions. Once again, PKS drew less hostile responses than pluralist discourses might suggest. Sixty-nine percent of respondents didn’t mind having PKS members as neighbours and only 9% objected; 51% could accept them as local leaders and 14% were opposed. 47% of respondents would not object to PKS in-laws, though 26% were resistant. By contrast, more than 30% of respondents were opposed to Ahmadi, Shia or JIL members living near them, and HTI and the banned Islamist vigilante Islamic Defenders Front (FPI) attracted objections from 28% and 24% respectively. Forty-seven percent of respondents would not vote for candidates from local sects; 45% felt the same about Ahmadi candidates, 44% for Shia and 43% for JIL. Objections to having these same groups marrying into respondents’ families were especially high: 55% for Shia, 54% for Ahmadis, 53% for JIL, 49% for HTI and 40% for FPI.

    Chart Two: Feeling Objection for being neighbours with…

    Also notable was the fact that 81% had no objection to supporters of a rival presidential candidate or party for whom they voted living in their neighbourhood, which points to tolerance of political differences in contrast to strong dislike for religious outliers.

    Chart Three: Feeling objection to marrying your child to…

    Chart Four: Feeling objection to voting for a local leader who is…

    These results reveal that the strongest feelings of dislike are directed not towards rival mainstream groups but rather at those on or near the margins who are seen as religiously “deviant” or “excessively” Islamist or liberal. Intolerance of Muslim groups that deviate from Sunni orthodoxy, as defined by the Ministry of Religious Affairs, the state-sanctioned National Ulama Council (MUI) or pre-eminent Islamic organisations, such as NU and Muhammadiyah, has been growing since the Yudhoyono presidency in the late 2000s.  Local sects are frowned upon for their heterodoxy, particularly in blending Islamic and non-Islamic practices.  Ahmadis and Shia, while regarding themselves as Muslim, albeit not part of the Sunni majority, are seen by many conservative Sunnis as theologically problematic and have faced repeated calls for their banning.  HTI is disliked because it espouses the creation of a transnational Islamic government under the leadership of a caliph, which is seen as subverting Indonesia’s foundational principles.  FPI has a public reputation of violence and contempt for law and order. Last of all, JIL, though long moribund, is still seen as emblematic of disruptively progressive ideas that undermine established Islamic norms and practices.  In effect, by objecting to groups such as these, respondents are marking the boundaries of what they regard as acceptable mainstream behaviour.  One might call this a centrist orthodoxy which seeks to exclude ideas and practices that do not conform to an increasingly rigid set of middle-ground norms.

    The extent to which PKS is widely accepted as a mainstream party and its Islamism as part of the tapestry of Indonesian Islam rather than an ideological or religious “other” is also reflected in respondents’ answers to a question asking them to place themselves along a continuum of proximity to PDIP at one end or PKS at the other. While, as expected, feelings of closeness to PDIP are much higher than those towards PKS (18% vs 5%), nonetheless, 38% of those who answered the question placed themselves in the middle of the continuum.

    Whereas the survey provides a snapshot of general community attitudes, social media content analysis offers insights into elite opinion because most of the material studied in this process comes from official websites of Islamic organisations or directly from individual Muslim leaders.  One conclusion from this material bears out the findings of the “National Survey on Polarization” survey finding noted earlier, that elites are more polarised than the rest of society. For example, we can almost directly compare the survey results and the content analysis on the issue of the banning of FPI. With the former, 63% of survey respondents who were aware of the ban supported it and only 29% were opposed, but in social media, 50% of postings opposed the ban and only 34% were in favour. So, opinions were roughly reversed, with almost two-thirds of the general populace favouring the ban but only one-third of elite opinion supporting it.

    Elite disapproval on deviancy issues also appears much stronger than the public’s disapproval. 62% of commentary in social media was hostile to local beliefs, 57% was critical of Ahmadiyah and 39% critical of Shia beliefs.

    One reason for elite susceptibility to polarisation is that they are directly involved in competition for political and economic resources, which requires them to mobilise their support bases.  Exploiting religious identity issues is often an effective means of generating emotion and commitment to their cause.  By contrast, ordinary voters are not usually direct beneficiaries of contestation for political power and rewards.

    The data presented above shows that polarisation, particularly on religious issues, remains significant, though not as serious as many politicians and observers have contended. If we place the 2021 survey results beside data from other credible surveys over the past decade, it is possible to conclude that the high point of polarisation occurred during and between the 2014 and 2019 elections, but has since declined.

    While it is welcome that politicians have expressed concern about religious cleavages and shown a willingness to ease divisions in the name of national cohesion and protecting democracy, there are grounds for doubting that counter-polarisation is the real reason for many recent political manoeuvres. Prabowo readily used divisive appeals as a major part of his presidential campaign strategy in 2014 and 2019, and his main reason for now joining his former opponents is that he wants to rebrand himself as a unifying and statesman-like public figure for the 2024 election. The efforts to extend Widodo’s presidential term are driven by the desire of parts of the ruling coalition to remain in power as long as possible. Any extension beyond 2024 would be a further blow to the quality of Indonesia’s democracy. Finally, those parties that now find virtue in collaboration or coalition with former foes are motivated by a desire to maximise their negotiating positions in the run up to the next parliamentary and presidential elections. Putting together alternative tickets for the presidency reduces their risk of becoming peripheral players who have to accept what the largest parties dictate, rather than being able to protect their own interests.

    The salience of polarisation may increase again in the led up to the 2024 elections. But we need also to be mindful of the fact that a certain degree of polarisation is normal in a democracy, a reflection of ideological difference and engagement with the political process. As Robert B Talisse reminded us recently, “The response to polarisation cannot involve calls for unanimity or abandoning partisan rivalries. A democracy without political divides is no democracy at all.”

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  • Using phrases like “American Taliban” or invoking the term “sharia law” to attack the ruling of Christians on the court is all the rage after the recent Roe v. Wade decision. Once again, we have people—primarily liberal white people—engaging in racist, Islamophobic tropes. Muslim activists, scholars, and researchers have repeatedly pointed out this racism and Islamophobia for years, apparently to no avail. This needs to stop.

    Islam isn’t the problem. It’s Christianity. The six judges who voted to overturn Roe v. Wade aren’t Muslim. They’re Christian. All are Catholic, although Neil Gorsuch is a Catholic turned Episcopalian. The oppression in America is home-grown Christianity. It’s as American as apple pie.

    Christian conservatives and fundamentalists champion the anti-abortion movement in the United States. Stop demonizing Muslims and making them the boogeyman. They are not props to be used as scapegoats for American problems. The United States has shown itself quite often throughout history it can be an extraordinarily regressive country all on its own.

    Associate professor Nazia Kazi at Stockton University points out it “reflects this assumption that Muslim women are uniquely oppressed and that American or western women are remarkably liberated.” She continued, “From both the American common sense public imagination, right on up to the seats of power, there’s this impulse to externalize that which actually is endemic to the US itself.”

    Drop the ignorant, racist dog whistle and confront the real culprit: American Christianity. Stop denigrating Muslims by outsourcing American problems.

    The post Liberal Racism Rears Its Ugly Head (Again) first appeared on Dissident Voice.

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