Patricia Lee Sharpe
Two thoughts come to mind: anti-democratic; simplistically reductive.
Have you noticed how American journalists and policy makers keep looking for some sort of know-it-all, I’m-in-charge supreme leader/sole source as they seek to interact with what’s happening in the Arab world?
On the American side, there’s plenty of talk about democracy, which vests power in the citizenry, who rule through their elected representatives. In many so-called advanced countries, including our own, this frequently gives rise to confusingly divided government. Even deadlock. As now in Washington. But do-nothings can be voted out. Interestingly enough, throughout the Arab world, one theme has sounded loud and clear recently: we the people must have a voice.
Getting there from Here
Yet there’s already, in the U.S., it seems, more than a little nostalgia for the good old days when the Arab power structure was a simple pyramid with the bottom having no say about who gets to the top—and the top dictating the nature of reality (like the Bush administration). Seems the cynical expectation is dictator-out/dictator-in, as if a few days, weeks, months of uncertainty are evidence of hopelessness so far as the state formation process goes. Even in Pakistan America clearly prefers to deal with the army. As a result, the U.S. further undermines the very civilian system Americans like to complain about. As we formulate our policies toward current events in the Middle East, we should remember this. And avoid it, if we want to end up with a better working relationship than we have with the Pakistan we love to hate.
So, as we look toward the Arab world, we observe a multiplicity of voices, considerable inconsistency of demands, and lack of clarity as the exact shape of the end state in the countries undergoing revolution. Of course, if the situation were otherwise, there would be no true revolution, which generally calls into question institutions as well as individuals.
Let’s look closer to home to regain some perspective. How long did it take for the congeries of potential American leaders during the revolutionary period to get it together, before, during and after the revolutionary war? The competition was fierce. There was even one “failed state” experiment, under the Articles of Confederation, which had to be junked. And getting all the states under one umbrella wasn’t exactly easy. The necessary compromise was so vile that a dreadful civil war eventually had to be fought to end slavery once and for all. So why should we expect Egypt or Tunisia, let alone the rebels in pre-modern Libya, to come up with a perfectly formed government and a harmonious cadre of leaders in less than a year?
How Many Kinds?
Actually this preference for the simple over the complex but far more interesting actuality is not a new phenomenon when it comes to America’s dealing with the Muslim world, where an idiotic paradigm has long reigned—there are two types of Muslim: the America-hating fundies and the simpatico Moderates. Outside the neurotic American imagination, of course, neither exists. In fact, for the most part, the existence of America is irrelevant to the formation of Muslim character.
I got to thinking along these lines when I was reading S.A.A. Rizvi’s follow up to A.L. Basham’s classic The Wonder That was India. Basham dealt with pre-Muslim Indian history. Rizvi’s volume of the same name plus II, takes on the next 500 years of predominately Muslim rule. It’s not an easy read, but the long chapter on religion rang more than a few bells.
Although too many Americans think of Islam as some sort of monolith, the truth is that schism has dogged Islam as persistently as it has dogged Christianity. Most everyone is aware of the bloody Shi’a-Sunni split, which continues to this day, although both sects have themselves undergone further splintering. There are disagreements over what Muslim law should be, over theological questions like free will, over the nature of the Koran itself. Is it truly the word of God transmitted unaltered via the Prophet or must it be interpreted like any other historical document? There are puritanical sects and there are secularists. There are narrow minded bigots and strong believers who are tolerant of other faiths. And, oh yes, there are the mystics, too. Plus the eclectics always ready to borrow good ideas. All these orientations come to light as Rizvi discusses the Kubrawiyya, the Qalandar and the Mahdawi, plus the many Sufi orders, including the Shattariyya, the Qadiriyya and the Naqshbandiyya, to say nothing of the Bohra, Ismaili and other branches of the Shi’i. Not only did the exponents of these various approaches to Islam vie over minds and souls; they fought over political power. Which would have the allegiance of the ruler? Which would serve as the foundation of law? A theologian close to one emperor might be put to death by his successor. And so on. What’s more, the picture in other countries would differ only in detail: A great variety of approaches to Islam, sometimes co-existing peaceably, sometimes contesting violently.
We Should Try the Shoe
Today, the complex, many-sided wars of religion within Islam continue, as we naively sort Muslims into those agin us and those fer us. Imagine if some Arab state decided to get involved in the abortion debate in the U.S. Or presumed to tell us how we should resolve our loudly-contested, religion-based culture wars? Suppose Muslims presumed to tell us what kind of Christianity is acceptable to them. Probably not the kind that vigorously supports an expansionist Israel. We would not be well disposed toward such meddlers, would we? So why is it so hard to imagine how that shoe would feel if it were on the other foot?