The myth of brotherhood

This Ramzan is different from the previous ones. Probably the celebration of Id-ul Fitr, a few days from now, will be equally muted. The US attacks on Afghanistan and the consequent loss of so many innocent lives sadden many. Islam’s ceaseless demonisation, despite Muslim countries joining the coalition against terrorism, hurts the faithful. And many are, of course, deeply shocked by the US acquiescence in Israel’s assault on Palestine. The Shab-i Qadr — the night (23rd day of Ramzan) of the Prophet’s ascension to heaven from the great mosque in Jerusalem — is over, but the Zionist state, the heir to fascism, prolongs the agony of the Palestinians. Maybe the martyrdom of Hazrat Ali, the Prophet’s cousin, which took place on the 21st day of Ramzan, would bear fruit next year when the Palestinians will achieve freedom from Jewish bondage. Maybe, this year’s prayers on Shab-i Qadr will be answered next year. Maybe, rewriting the script for Afghan- istan will augur well for that war-ravaged country. Perhaps, a secular leadership is the panacea of the ills that plague over 50 Muslim countries.

One thing is for sure. Now nestling in their hideouts, the Taliban leaders are no more than petty, short-sighted politicians who used obscurantist ideas and religious and anti-Western rhetoric to bolster their political designs. In the end, they brought nothing but ruin and misery to their people, tarnished Islam’s image and made its followers vulnerable to the attacks of xenophobic elements in the West. This is, sadly, how it has been for sometime — starting with Jamaluddin Afghani, the roving pan-Islamist in the last quarter of the 19th century, continuing with Saddam Husain’s ill-fated invasion of Kuwait, and culminating in Osama’s silly and messy manoeuvres. Such adventurists, I repeat, serve neither the faith nor the people. If anything, their script is a sure recipe for self-destruction. Given the Iran, Pakistan and Afghan experience, it is time to write the obituary of political Islam.

Islamist ideologues have no business playing around with the lives of innocent people. They must be countered with the aid of liberal and secular ideologies that have been experimented with for centuries in Muslim societies. Religious zealots must not be allowed to stalk our lands. Flowing beards and gowns do not necessarily represent true Islam; the spirit and temper of the faith does. Outward rituals are not good enough; spiritual journey begins from within, reaching commanding heights through individual exertion. One is a good Muslim — and that is Islam’s quintessential message — without wielding a gun and striking at ‘enemy’ targets.

The fact is that militant fanatics, nurtured to bolster US machinations in the region, did not carry much conviction outside their limited spheres of influence. Where are the militant Muslim armies overrunning the territories of their neighbours? Where is the great ‘Islamic bomb’? Perhaps, stored in the cold storage at London’s Harrod’s! Where are the jehadis who were expected to burst forth from mosques/madarsas to wage war against the West? The bubble of Talibanisation has burst sooner than later.

Bamiyan’s Buddha has seen it all. He, a victim to its brutal manifestation, knows that the Western media exaggerated the Taliban influence in the region. The decapitated Buddha is smiling. The anguish over civilian deaths apart, neither the governments nor the Muslim communities were energised to back the Taliban cause. Domestic unrest rather than Muslim solidarity caused the initial furore in Indonesia; Pakistan chickened out, hoping to make a few extra bucks; Bangladesh remained largely quiescent. And, thank goodness, the 120 million Indian Muslims offered no excuse to the sangh parivar to raise the spectre of a green menace.

Historically, tribal and ethnic identities have shaped the contours of Muslim societies. After the French Revolution (1789), the ideology of nation-states and nationalism have had greater appeal than the romantic notion of umma. Hence the historic contest between competing Arab, Persian and Turkish identities. After World War I, Arab nationalism cut across the religious divide, despite rumblings in certain quarters, to develop on broadly secular lines. Similarly, Palestinian nationalism, pitted against Zionism, has welded the Muslim and Christian communities in its struggle against Israel’s occupation.

Although Islam binds people through its essential tenets, the ebb and flow of Muslim societies has not rested on divine commandments. The Muslim nations are split vertically and horizontally. So that pan-Islamism has been a vague idea, a grievance, a mere sentiment that is not translatable into a unified world-wide movement. Despite the essentialised image, lack of unity and coherence have been the hallmarks of Muslim societies; hence, the multiple ideological stands and the diverse social and cultural practices.

Please, therefore, do not be swayed by Islamic symbolism. On close reflection, you will find your Muslim neighbour thinking and acting like you. Just as you, a practising Hindu, will not pay heed to the demand for building a temple at the disputed site in Ayodhya, he, a devout Muslim, will not know the meaning of jehad. If, on the other hand, you ask him to wage jehad against your common oppressor, he may follow your lead.

In Islam’s early days, jehad was the war cry in a tribal-ridden society. Later, rulers employed this emotive slogan to justify military expansion. Today, jehad is the weapon of the strong — military dictators and monarchs — and bears no resonance in the minds of the poor and the weak. That is precisely why its meaning must reflect contemporary realities. If the Muslim communities insist on their adherence to jehad as a spiritual asset, they may consider incorporating some of the values embodied in Asoka’s dhamma, in Sufi thought, or in Akbar’s Din-i Ilahi.

If they wish to nurture mujahids in the true ecumenical spirit of Islam, they will need to draw on democratic and socialist theories that have made this world a better place to live in. Indeed, many Urdu writers and publicists have argued that socialism means an organised and harmonious co-operation of individuals with a view to securing universal well-being. Urdu poet Hasrat Mohani commended the crusade against exploitation and oppression by the socialists. Do you know that the same Hasrat, an otherwise devout Muslim, visited Mathura each year to take part in the Janmashtami festival? He followed the well-established eclectic Sufi tradition, pioneered by Amir Khusro and creatively expressed in the poetry of Jaisi, Rahim and Raskhan, of revering Hindu gods and participating in Diwali celebrations. This is, for you, another version of Islam observed in the subcontinent.

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