Beyond Pakistan's 9/11
Suroosh Irfani
Benazir Bhutto's assassination on December 27, 2007 virtually amounts
to Pakistan's 9/11. As the country was rattled by shock, disbelief and
outrage, Baitullah Mehsud, Al Qaeda's chief in Pakistan, and a cleric in
Waziristan were congratulating each other on Bhutto's killing, as
indicated by the transcript of a telephonic conversation between the two
released by the government on Friday.
The terrorists had every reason to be jubilant: they had silenced the
one voice that consistently warned of the grave danger religious
extremism posed to Pakistan's viability as a modern democratic state.
Indeed, the struggle for democracy for Bhutto was inseparable from
reclaiming the 'real Pakistan' from the encroachments of religious
extremists.
This had become clear from the moment of her return after 8 years of
exile on October 18, 2007. Overwhelmed by the rapturous welcome of her
People's Party supporters at Karachi airport, she declared, "This is the
real Pakistan...not the militants, nor the military...we are giving
voice to the moderates that don't want to see this country taken over by
terrorists".
However, the festive mood of the welcoming crowd reflected only one
face of the 'real Pakistan' - the pluralism of devotional Sufism
factored into mass politics. Another face was Jinnah's mausoleum
symbolising the founding father's modernist vision, where her procession
was headed but never made it because of the suicide bombing.
The disruption of her rally simply mirrored Pakistan's reality: a
rudderless society held hostage by religious extremism. In such a
milieu, her assassination was a story foretold.
Even so, blaming President Musharraf or a security lapse for the
assassination would miss the larger picture. As noted in a Daily Times
news analysis, Bhutto's assassination also needs to be seen as part of
the crisis of globalisation - where the free flow of capital, technology
and information is changing the way people think and live and creating
tensions between tradition and modernity - of which the bombings of
girls' schools in Swat and Waziristan is one example.
Telescoped into Bhutto's assassination is an ongoing struggle within
Islam that globalisation is bringing to a head. In all probability,
Bhutto has dealt with this crisis in her forthcoming book that attempts
at reconciling Islam and modernity and where she hopes to present
Pakistan as "a positive model for one billion Muslims around the world".
A theme that also resonates though her campaign manifesto calling for
"a moderate and modern Islam that marginalises religious extremists,
treats all citizens and especially women with equal rights, selects its
leaders by fair and free elections, and provides for transparent,
democratic governance that addresses the social and economic needs of
the people as its highest priority".
Until such time that her book is published, it is useful to draw a
leaf from Akbar Ahmed's new book to help understand the nature of the
crisis we are facing today.
Entitled "Journey into Islam: Islam and the Crisis of Globalisation"
(Penguin, 2007), Ahmed's is an account and analysis of "how Muslims are
constructing their religious identities" under the impact of
globalisation and a 'War on Terror' that has heightened tensions between
Muslims and the West on the one hand, and Muslims themselves on the
other.
Ahmed analyses these tensions in terms of three 'models' of Islam,
giving each model the name of an Indian city - Ajmer, Deoband and
Aligarh. The names are broad generic terms for three different (and
often conflicting) approaches to Islam worldwide.
The Ajmer model refers to "all those Muslims inspired by the Sufi and
the mystical tradition within Islam". Islamic figures in this model
range from Khawaja Moinuddin Chishti, founder of the Chishti Sufi order
buried in Ajmer, Maulana Rumi, and Fethullah Gulen, a hafiz-e Quran who
became "a great Sufi master himself through the inspiration of Maulana
Rumi" and has millions of followers involved in educational reform.
Likewise, Aligarh, site of the first modern college founded in India,
includes nineteenth century reformers like Syed Ahmed Khan in India and
Muhammad Abduh in Egypt, the socialist and modernising leaders of the
Middle East, and the democratic leaders of Malaysia. Aligarh, then,
reflects "a broad but distinct modernist Muslim response to the world".
And whether they are devout or secular Muslims, followers of Aligarh
share the desire to engage with modern ideas while preserving what to
them is essential Islam.
As for Deoband, drawing its name from India's leading madrassa
founded in the 19th century, it refers to orthodox mainstream Islamic
movements - the Wahhabis in Saudi Arabia, the Muslim Brotherhood, and
Hamas in the Middle East. Besides Ibn Tamiya in the past, these
movements are identified with modern religious figures like Syed Qutb
and Maulana Maududi.
"Taliban, Osama bin Laden, and members of Al Qaeda also identify with
the same spiritual lineage and argue that changes in the world are
anathema to Islam, which can only be preserved by retreating to its
beginnings, in the Prophet's [pbuh] example and the Quran".
At the same time, Ahmed's models also reflect broad Muslim responses
to one another. For example, "Ajmer followers think Deobandis are too
critical of other faiths and too preoccupied with opposing mysticism,
while they find Aligarh followers too concerned with the material
world".
As for Aligarh, they view themselves as members of the Muslim
vanguard who "perceive Ajmer as backward and dismiss Deoband as a rabble
of ignorant clerics". On their part, while Deoband followers are
dismissive of the Ajmer model that they view as bordering on heresy,
they are equally critical of Aligarh for being "too secular and too
influenced by the West".
The above models offer a lens for understanding why suicide bombers
were targeting rallies of the People's Party, even before Bhutto
returned from exile. Going by Ahmed's model, the October 18 and December
27 bombings of Bhutto and her supporters signified a 'Deoband' backlash
against the twin targets of Ajmer and Aligarh: the carnivalesque PPP
crowd signifying Ajmer, and Bhutto's "campaign manifesto" reflecting
Aligarh.
The graphic increase in Deobandi militancy reflected in the ongoing
'jihad' for enforcing Shariah in the northern areas of Pakistan is
consonant with Ahmed's observation that the Deoband model is gaining
strength with the heightening of tensions between 'Islam' and America
following the US-led invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq.
The three models, however, are not 'watertight' concepts - there is
flexibility, overlap, and even creative transformation from one category
to another. Ahmed cites Iqbal as an example of a creative synthesis of
the three approaches.
As for Pakistan and the next elections, there is every possibility
that the sympathy wave for Bhutto will make it possible for the Pakistan
People's Party to once again emerge as the largest party representing
the federation. At the same time, a patch up between the two wings of
the PPP is necessary to bring together all the Bhuttos on a single
platform in the struggle that lies ahead.
Such a patch up seems all the more urgent at a moment when the
'Trojan horse' of extremism seems to run through the mindset of leaders
and cadres of various other parties and sections of the 'establishment'
- making one wonder if Pakistan's yearning for fair and free elections
will ever materialise at all.
(The writer teaches Cultural Studies at National College of Arts,
Lahore, Pakistan.) |