Picture by author. Some rights reserved. Aicha Manoubiya, known as Saida or Lella Saida, holds a special place in the memories and hearts of the people of Tunis.

In the governorate of Manouba, west of Tunis, her shrine stands as a historical and cultural landmark of the city. It is a place for local gatherings and musical celebrations. Visitors join in eating, chatting and enjoying the folk songs praising the saint and singing her qualities.

Wandering inside, I was told to speak to Aunt Zaziya, an old woman who lives in one of the rooms in the building. There was a line of people waiting outside her door. A little while later, I walked in and sat down while she was having lunch in a humble room, surrounded by a few bags of gifts from the visitors.

Aunt Zaziya told me that people bring her sweets, to give away to visitors, and meat to cook and eat there, and she would send them away with the blessings of Lella Saida. She told me stories about couples who got pregnant after years of trying unsuccessfully and women who got married at a very old age, thanks to the saint’s blessings. However, when I told her I wanted to learn more about who this respected and revered woman was, Aunt Zaziya was unwilling to continue the conversation.

I got the chance to talk to some of the women there and hear those stories. Amira, 25, said that going to the shrine gives her “an internal comfort”. But she was unaware of lella Saida’s origins, her life story or what Sufism was in general. Other regular visitors told me that Saida Manoubiya was a “wise and good woman who helped the poor”. However, exact details about what made her such a good woman were not common knowledge.

This lack of knowledge is in striking contradiction to the teachings of Saida Manoubiya herself, how she lived her life, and why she should be celebrated as one of Tunisia’s greatest women.

Education in a patriarchal society

Growing up in 13th centure Hafsid era in Tunis, Aicha exhibited exceptional intelligence and great intuition. Her father was a man of religion, an Imam or a Quran teacher. What should be noted in his relationship with Aicha is that he encouraged her education, teaching her Arabic – her native language being Amazigh – and the Quran.

It was clear that Aicha was different, she was a free spirit who did not abide by the constraints imposed on women in her time, something that was not appreciated by the village people. Her attitude was perceived as untraditional or too liberal, to the point that her father would be often criticized for her actions.

When Aicha was informed that she was going to be married to a relative, she refused and decided to move out, an option that is still frowned upon in present day Tunisia, let alone in the 1200s. By leaving Manouba to Tunis and sacrificing her family life, Aicha was not only leaving behind the confines of a loveless marriage and traditional social constraints, but also seeking freedom, financial independence and education.

According to historian Abdel Jalil Bouguerra, education during that period was only available to certain women: foreigners coming from the Mashreq, Al-Andalus or to the elite women of the ruling family. Aicha was neither of those.

Settling down in Montfleury, she started knitting and spinning wool to support herself and soon became a student of Abu al-Hasan al-Shadhili, one of the most prominent religious figures of his time, who was immersed in the Sufi school of Ibn Arabi al-Andalusi. Ibn Arabi, a controversial but influential figure in Islamic history, believed that women and men are equal. He wrote extensively about the various women teachers that shaped his spiritual knowledge, so it is no surprise that Aicha chose this Sufi order as her educational path.

Aicha continued to defy the social standards of her time. She studied the Quran and sought to mindfully interpret it to understand its meanings, choosing questioning as a path towards faith. She would leave her house without a male companion, meet with men in order to preach and debate. This is believed to have led some Sheikhs to even call for her stoning.

However, she studied hard, passed several exams and quickly rose from student to teacher. Her debates with her mentor, al-Shadhili, became an attraction for Sufi scholars and rulers. Pursuing her education in that time is an impressive feat by itself. But pursuing and teaching Islamic studies and religion, a field that is mostly dominated by men, is an even greater achievement.

Prominence and influence

Aicha took a rightful place as a leading religious figure in Tunis, with access to the highest religious circles. She would accompany her mentor to different prayer locations situated on tops of mountains and hills, considered as a privilege in Sufi circles. She became close to prince Abou Mouhamad Abdel Wahed and to Sultan Abou Zakariyah afterwards and she gained access to prayer areas that were previously restricted to men, like Mousalla Al-Idayn, built by Abi Zakariya in 1229.

Preaching in the Mosque of Safsafa (the location is now the shrine of Abdallah Chrif), Aicha shocked and amazed people, as her eloquent style and sophisticated language skills, were then only expected of distinguished male scholars.

In addition to her scholarly and religious attributes, Aicha was a philanthropist, using her income to survive and giving away the rest to the poor, especially women. There is also some historical evidence that she bought several Tunisian slaves that were being sent to Italy only to set them free, six centuries before slavery was officially abolished in Tunisia in 1846.

When Al-Shadhili was leaving Tunisia, he gave Aicha his cloak, ring, and the title of Qutb in an official ceremony, and called her an “Imam of men”. Qutb (literally meaning “pole”), is the highest of spiritual positions in Sufism, and Aicha was indeed a pole of knowledge and religion in her lifetime and beyond.

Her spirituality and deeds touched people’s lives in a way that elevated her to a Saint, and surrounded her life with supernatural and divine stories, referred to as “Karamat” in Sunni Islam. A famous story is that her father once gave her a bull for agricultural use, instead she gave it all to the poor, asking them to give her back the bones. Once the bones were collected the bull came back to life.

What is certain about her life though, is that she was an independent and influential woman who was able to make her way through the social binds and establish herself as an equal, and an intellectual superior to men in her time. By calling for women education and freedom, Saida Manoubiya was truly a feminist ahead of her time.

Safa Belghith is an International Relations graduate from the University of Tunis El Manar. She is a freelance researcher, with a focus on Tunisian politics, women’s rights and media reform.

Courtesy: https://www.opendemocracy.net
 

The post The story of Saida Manoubiya: A Tunisian feminist icon appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Women attend a march held by the movement “Manich Msameh” (“I don’t forgive” in Arabic) on Habib Bourguiba avenue in Tunis on May 13, 2017, to protest against the economic reconciliation bill put forward by Tunisia’s president Beji Caid Essebsi. Chedly Ben Ibrahim/SIPA USA/Press Association Images. All rights reserved.Tunisia is once again lauded for its progress in human rights.

President Beji Caid Essebsi recently scrapped a 44-year old bill prohibiting marriage between Muslim women and non-Muslim men. Despite such a progressive move, many in Tunisia still feel that their country faces issues that threaten democracy and equality.

Tunisia is considered the most progressive country in the region. Human rights commentators, while recognising issues within the country, still view it to be a model Arab nation for women’s rights and equality. Tunisia’s first president since independence, Habib Bourguiba, strove to promote liberal and secular values enabling women to have prominent positions in society.

Now women will be freer to choose their partners. Such marriages did take place, in limited amounts, but men were forced to undergo illegitimate conversions, just to show the authorities “proof” they had converted.

Essebsi first announced his wishes to make this change last month. I heard many Tunisian women express their views at the time. There was much skepticism about his sincerity – along with his ability to make such a change, believing he would face much opposition from society and fellow parliamentarians. His comments fell on Tunisian Women’s Day, raising suspicions that it was a publicity stunt, to appease those who had for long demanded such reforms to be made.

Many were quite rightly stunned, believing it would take years to pass. Others were convinced the idea would never actually be implemented.

Yet despite such a remarkable, historic transformation, much more needs to be done. Many Tunisian activists and human rights workers feel this is merely a small step, and other issues need to be addressed.

Tunisian-based civil society activist, who campaigns for democratization, Mariem Masmoudi said that while this is a positive move that will enable women, like men, make their own decisions, the government urgently needs to prioritize other problems that also directly impact the lives of Tunisians, such as fair wages and educational reforms.

“I look forward with infinite anticipation for President Essebsi and PM Chahed to get back to the important work of improving the real political, economic, and social realities of the Tunisian people,” Masmoudi added.

After all, corruption still lingers in Tunisia, and many issues relating to equality and justice still need addressing. While this law relating to marriage was passed, Tunisia is still rife with unemployment and police brutality.

Others feel this way. Amna Guellali, a Tunisian researcher at Human Rights Watch, lauds this landmark decision as a sign that women’s rights are improving in Tunisia. Yet she warns that this law comes amid a widespread level of corruption that still exists within the Tunisian establishment.

“Unfortunately, it was abrogated one day after the Tunisian parliament adopted a controversial law enshrining impunity for former regime violations. So while it is important, it has to be read in the broader picture of a country still struggling with corruption and not yet immune from a relapse in autocracy,” Guellali said.

Last week, the Tunisian government granted amnesty to hundreds of officials from the era of Zine al Abidine Ben Ali, causing an uproar in Tunisia. The country clearly wrestles with the ghosts of its past. Despite Tunisia’s efforts to banish Ben Ali’s autocratic regime, their efforts for democracy were dampened by this recent move. It is no surprise that many feel betrayed.

Despite this, some remain optimistic that this recent move can lead to greater change. Lina Ben Mhenni, an activist and assistant lecturer at the University of Tunis, maintains this law as a positive step that could trigger further reforms.

 “Let me say that this came as a result of years and years of work on the part of Tunisian feminists.  I think that passing this law is very important for Tunisian women and the Tunisian society as a whole. It is a first for Arab societies. It will pave the way for other reforms,” she said. 

There is a glimmer of hope, as the government has recently shown. Along with last month’s marriage law, Tunisia passed a historic anti-violence law in July, which tightens penalties for violence against women, criminalizes sexual harassment, along with scrapping a colonial-era ‘marry-your-rapist’ law.

This could be the start of a ‘domino-effect’ scenario, in which other activists become inspired to push for greater reforms. After all, both changes came after years of campaigning and pressure from women’s rights movements.

In his speech last month, President Essebsi also pledged to tackle other laws that create inequality for women, such as enabling women to receive equality in inheritance. This also looks set to be reformed soon.

The fact the Tunisian government made such an unprecedented move shows that unexpected progress can occur. Yet there is clearly a desire for greater democratic reforms in Tunisia. With further pressure from activists, this could transform into a series of changes that improve Tunisian lives. Many will look to use this momentum to address inequality, poverty, tolerance of corruption, and other issues that plague Tunisia.

Jonathan Fenton-Harvey is a UK-based freelance journalist, focusing on political and social issues in the Middle East and North Africa. He studies History and Politics at the University of Exeter. Follow him @jfentonharvey

Courtesy: Open Democracy

The post Tunisia: In ‘model Arab nation’ for women’s rights, activists demand still more changes appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Tunisian Assembly of the Representatives of the People vice president Abdelfattah Mourou (L) and President of Ennahda movement Rached Ghannouchi are seen during the 10th General Assembly of the Tunisian Ennahda Party at the Olympic Hall in Rades, Tunisia on May 21, 2016. Picture by Nicolas Fauque/Images de Tunisie/ABACAPRESS.COM.

One of the most interesting books this summer may be a rather innocuous book by Anne Wolf, a leading Tunisia and North Africa specialist. In Political Islam in Tunisia: A History of Ennahda, Wolf, a University of Oxford researcher, presents the hidden history of Ennahda, Tunisia’s main Islamist movement, from the 1960s until the post-revolution present. Before the popular uprisings of 2011 and the overthrow of then President Ben Ali, Ennahda was banned and barely researched.

Based on more than four years of field research, and over 400 interviews, as well as access to private archives, Wolf’s account reveals in unprecedented detail one of Tunisia’s most influential political actors. Wolf tracks the evolution of Ennahda’s ideological and strategic orientations within the local turbulence of Tunisia’s political contexts. As the first full history of Ennahda, the book ought to be rightfully lauded as a major contribution to literature on Tunisia, Islamist movements in general, and more broadly political Islam in the Arab world.

It is an essential read for anyone who wishes to understand why Tunisia, hitherto at least, remains the last revolution standing from the Arab Spring. What makes Wolf’s account especially interesting is the tantalising possibility of Ennahda offering a different answer to the question what should be the role of political Islam in the Arab public sphere. Ennahda’s somewhat surprising answer is a claim to a specific Tunisian experience. Despite the claim of a Tunisian exceptionalism, one cannot help but wonder if such a claim belies the possibility of a Muslim democracy that offers a different approach from the failure of the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, or Turkey’s AK Party, which had been hailed as the first post-Islamist party, but whose increasingly authoritarian turn have dismayed both inside and outside observers.

Wolf is particularly good at distinguishing Ennahda from the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, which many analysts treat as the paradigmatic Islamist movement. So whilst she notes the peak of Muslim Brothers’ influence in the 70’s, she traces Ennahda’s intellectual heritage back to the reform-minded clerical classes of the recently reopened Islamic university of Zaytouna, who objected to the French colonial penetration in the late 19th century. What emerges is Ennahda that perceive themselves as inheriting a dissenting strand of Islam and railed against the official scholarly establishment who were co-opted by the regime who subordinated French colonial interests over those of Tunisia.

She notes the parallels between Ennahda and these reformist minded ulama not rejecting modernity, but insistent on providing a modern Islamic alternative. In her retelling, Wolf provides more support for a more ambivalent reading of early Arab modernists not as liberal reformers, who did not want to make Islam more ‘progressive’ as we would see it, but who wanted to articulate an Islam to make it more relevant for the lives of contemporary Muslims.

Tracing Ennahda’s roots as the heirs of a reforming Zaytouna heritage is also important for demonstrating its bona fide Tunisian roots. This serves to undermine the efforts of successive regimes to question Ennahda’s Tunisian’s roots, tainting them with the brush of foreign subversion be it that of Egypt, Saudi Arabia, or of more contemporary relevance Iran or Qatar, depending on the political context. That this demonstration is necessary, speaks not only to the effectiveness of Ben Ali’s propaganda as it does about the abiding power of French Laïcité tradition amidst the powerful and stridently secular elites in Tunisia.

Wolf dismantles Tunisia’s long-standing image as a ‘fortress of secularism’. She notes that whilst the country’s first president Habib Bourghiba vehemently initiated various aggressively secular modernisation drives, later built upon by his successor, that included dismantling the traditional religious establishment in Zaytouna and Al-Qayrawan university the jewels of Islamic scholarship in North Africa, this was not embraced by the majority of the public. So whilst the state marginalised political expressions of Islam and successfully profited in utilising an international image of a secular Arab state par excellence, the porosity of such a facade was laid strikingly bare, with Ennahda winning a landslide victory gaining 37 per cent more than the next eight leading parties with only 35 %, despite having no grassroots organisation one year before the revolution. And whilst it lost support in the 2014 elections, by becoming the second major party, Ennahda has confirmed that they were here to stay as a major player and will continue to shape Tunisia’s future.

The years of repression that Ennahda suffered during their underground years both under Bourghiba and especially Ben Ali is covered extensively and sympathetically. Ranging from physical deprivation and social isolation to torture whilst in prison, to the harassment and abuse of families of those sent to prison. Despite her measured prose the author doesn’t hesitate to make sharp commentary.

For instance, she claims that Ennahda activists have ‘internalised narrative of victimhood’ whilst failing to acknowledge any violence that they may have committed or threatened to commit themselves. While it is easy to dismiss Wolf’s sentiments as somewhat glib, she correctly distinguishes the torture and harassment suffered by Ennahda and the latter’s embrace of victimhood. Even if we may be reluctant to begrudge victims of torture for any resentment towards members of the former regime, it pays to remember however that these activists are negotiating with members of the former regime.

It is an awkward pre-condition for Tunisia’s successful post-revolutionary politics, that it must be inclusive and forward looking enough to give elements of the previous regime a stake in the new post-revolutionary status quo, save for the most egregious. Yet reading some of Wolf’s harrowing accounts it must surely feel like the tortured are in negotiations with their torturers. That such sentiments are easier said than done only puts in perspective how difficult the construction of a democratic Tunisia will actually be.
 

In a field that too often discusses Islamists without allowing them to express themselves, her account relies on hundreds of interviews, and the book successfully reveals the voices of those she writes about. Her account leaves the reader not only wanting more, but also wondering what she has left out. One striking example of the latter is the extent to which her interviewees have insisted on their anonymity. Whilst a hardened Tunisia watcher may amuse themselves trying to guess who or what Ennahda faction the interviewee comes from; a less seasoned observer may wonder how impermanent the political status quo must feel if six years after the revolution so many have chosen to remain anonymous.

It is suggestive that activists are wearily hedging their bets, fearful of a possible counter-revolution and any ensuing bloody crackdown. It’s a salutary reminder of how novel the democratic experiment remains in Tunisia, and that it has yet to establish any political norms beyond a narrow elite. Compare how different such a situation is to Turkey where despite the occurrence of regular military coups acting as correction, the idea is that after a brief interregnum the acknowledged norm is to return to a democratic albeit staunchly secular ideal.  Only now after a long history of coups has the idea of coups become gradually unthinkable for the public. It was notable that in 2016 even staunchly secular parties, those who would’ve most benefited from any secular correction, immediately condemned any kind of coup attempt.
 

The same cannot clearly be said of Tunisia and it puts in perspective why the Ennahda leadership has prioritised economic reconciliation instead of cracking down on crony capitalism so stymieing the economy. Wolf notes that this would envision a freezing of corruption investigations with the promise in return of a capital injection into the economy. The rationale here is clearly not economic but political, in other words, a kind of insurance policy where the idea is that members of the former regime’s business and political elite would be less willing to destabilise a political status quo when it has so much of their capital invested in it.

What is striking is that both parties know how much these business and bureaucratic elements are essential to Tunisia’s success, not only because of their capital but because they have monopolised the country’s know-how and business experience. Ennahda’s leadership finds itself in an unenviable position, they have to hold their nose to any repugnance they may feel to any perceived ‘dirtiness’, as they know that the threat of their departure would significantly diminish Tunisia’s post-revolution and may return it to the same economic conditions that incited the revolution in the first place. Furthermore, they know they are not the only ones courting them, and that significant external backers are prowling and would like nothing more than Tunisia’s democratic experiment to fail, something that has become especially prominent in light of the ongoing Qatar crisis in the Gulf.
 

While Wolf’s book was published just before the Gulf crisis, the crisis has only highlighted the extent to which Tunisia’s success is exposed to external political headwinds. This is especially the case given that all of the protagonists in the crisis have made strategic investments, including the UAE, Saudi Arabia and most prominently the one who is currently on the other side of the conflict, Qatar who in November 2016 gave over $1.25 billion in aid. In light of its economic relations with all of the parties, Tunisia has officially remained neutral, with its rationale stark: Tunisia simply cannot afford to side with one party over another. Of course, the crisis itself is a good example of how circumscribed the foreign policy of smaller countries like Tunisia can be, and the extent to which smaller counties are informed by the actions and potential reactions of their stronger neighbours.

In this respect, the book’s one significant omission is the minimal coverage given to Ennahda’s thinking and how it has been informed by the relations to its neighbour. In this respect even if Wolf’s approach is ethnographic and her focus lies in examining Ennahda’s history given the precarious environment that Tunisia find itself in, with a civil war next door in Libya, and neighbouring an authoritarian military regime in Algeria with a troubled history with Islamism, one would be surprised if Ennahda’s leadership’s calculus had not been informed by Tunisia’s external actors.

Consider for example France, Tunisia’s former colonial power, whose only role in the book is that of a site of exile for Ennahda activists, as is Switzerland and the UK, the latter of which Ghannouchi himself escaped to. Even more surprising is minimal mention of Algeria which has been accused of decidedly murky actions in the Algerian Civil War during the 90s, and a regime that has never been hesitant to intervene in its neighbours’ conflicts if it served its perceived strategic interests. One imagines that it would be interested in the appearance of an Islamist dominated democracy next door. Yet save for the most curious bread crumbs; we learn that Algerian generals smuggled Ghannouchi out, and hints of an ongoing ‘special relationship’ between them, except for this there is very little in Wolf’s narrative to suggest that Ennahda has been conscious of the five-hundred-pound gorilla next door.

Pondering on how all this relates to Ennahda’s domestic politics, a strong impression forms as to how much the absence of a talented secular opposition hobbles Ennahda. In the absence of an internal check to Ennahda, its base has quickly latched on to conspiracy theories explaining away the frustrations of Ennahda’s goals. The worst problem is not that they are disempowering, but that there may be more truth in them than there are lies.

With certain Gulf nations having made good on their reputation as regional check to Islamists across the region, fears of a regional bogeyman have unexpectedly proven to be more effective than the presence of a 500 pound somewhat belligerent gorilla next door. One wonders if in the absence of a robust opposition Ennahda can discipline itself and exercise restraint over its ambition and sense of entitlement and mind Tunisia’s strategic environment which has previously kept a natural check on everyone’s ambitions. 

If Wolf is revealing Ennahda’s past, she is more elliptical of its future. She wisely counsels us to be wary of complacency and is dubious on whether Tunisia’s revolution can yet be labelled as a success. Whilst the survival of the sole remaining revolution should be celebrated she warns her audience away from wishful thinking; we should not confuse Tunisia’s designation of ‘least unstable’ political society post-Arab Spring with it being deserving as a governance model for other Arab countries to follow. Indeed, the very threat of such a label has encouraged elements both internal and external, to resolve to destabilise Tunisian politics further.

She also points out that Ennahda itself is ill equipped to tackle future problems before coming to power it has built up little to no experience in governance at either local or national politics, unlike say the Turkish AK Party. Instead it’s leadership was borne out of an ideological struggle which has left them unprepared for issues of policy and national leadership: as some prominent party members themselves have told analysts, ‘[w]e went from the prison to the palace’.

As for the hope that Ennahda can become a progressive Islamist political actor, after hundreds of interviews with Ennahda activists Wolf is dubious how far-reaching the extent their progressive commitment actually is. Noting that Ennahda’s a Big Tent party, her narrative notes the differences amongst its leading cadres, and she pointedly circumscribes the role and ideological authority of Ghannouchi that belies much other literature. While his voice is obviously important, Ghannouchi is very much one voice amongst many.

Furthermore, she adjudges that his apparent embrace of democracy and multi-party governance is as much motivated by strategic imperatives as it is borne from ideological convictions. More to the point, while the views of Ennahda’s leadership can be called at best ‘liberal’ and at worst ‘pragmatic’, she remarks that only when its base embraces this progressive commitment can Ennahda truly be considered reformed. She further notes the ill-guarded hostility and suspicion of the opposition towards Ennahda only serves to confirm its defensiveness and victimhood, not an attitude that is conducive to a successful transition to the inclusive democratic culture Tunisia needs.

At this point it’s worth raising whether Wolf, alongside other analysts, is not only giving the wrong answer, but perhaps indulging in the wrong question. How convincing is the suggestion that if Ennahda does not wish Tunisia to become a liberal democracy, it automatically be considered an unsuitable western partner? Should the west really hold out on Ennahda converting into a progressive liberal democratic party, rather than consider Ennahda as partners to construct a robust Muslim non-authoritarian republican model democracy.

The fact that not everyone shares our convictions that liberal democracy is not the best solution should not surprise us. Perhaps we should not be surprised that other cultures take a more detached and more pragmatic view towards liberal reforms, than western nations whose very self-conception involves a triumphant repudiation of the dark age of ignorance that preceded it. Perhaps given that Tunisia is a country, steeped in pre-modern tradition that preceding the modern democratic and liberal revolution, and which enjoyed its golden years before the onset of industrialisation, colonialism and modernisation as a society it may be more reluctant and resistant to modern democratic and liberal revolution.

In that sense, we may need to wait out until an internally organic political theology emerges that justifies a democratic Muslim governance model according to its own internal tradition. However, such a modern manifestation will by necessity be contentious especially considering that there is no hierarchical centralised authority that can change a tradition by fiat from the top.

Perhaps we need to adjust our exception about what are good outcomes for the region and what should be considered a ‘good outcome’ for a political reform. This is not lowering the bar, but perhaps be more realistic in accepting that democratic forms of governance must suit the context of the local people. Lest we forget such sentiments echoes the argument made by early Zaytouna reformist Islamic thinkers that Ennahda claim descent from.

It’s with these more measured expectations in mind that an excellent Hudson Institute policy paper by Eric B Brown and Samuel Tadros, advocates a Muslim republicanism. They propose that it is an American strategic goal for ‘Tunisia [to] emerge as a self-sustaining democracy that can contribute to solving the larger crisis of governance and republicanism in the Arabic-speaking world’. In this instance, what is proffered is not the hope of a liberal democracy but a more realistic idea, if rather vague, non-authoritarian Muslim democracy as an alternative to ‘ political cul-de-sacs of Islamism and unreconstructed laicism’.

This will allow the idea of inclusive Tunisian democracy whose excessive secularism would not alienate the wider Tunisian populace integrating into a wider political society of the new Republic. Even more optimistically it could open up the possibility of gradual political reform rather than a crash bang wallop revolution with the dangers the latter entails. The possibility of a vibrant Tunisian political society not only being desirable but also attainable could spark a discussion about what kind of governing models are attainable for the Middle East and the Muslim world generally.

Furthermore, they recognise that within Ennahda there are competing trends and they stress the importance of bolstering the more pragmatic trend which will allow it to compete more effectively with other Salafi or Islamist tendencies. To the extent that they hope that this tendency can manage ‘to persuade its rank and leadership that Islamism is over and that democratic Tunisia is already an Islamic state; indeed, that Islam requires civil democracy and pluralism’ then to that extent Ennahda becomes a more viable partner for the possibility of creating a long term stable MENA order.

However, they are well aware that more time is needed for such a change to take place, and the running concern throughout the paper if such time will ever be given the fragility of the revolution.

The quality of Anne Wolf’s Political Islam in Tunisia, a sympathetic and yet realistic portrayal of Ennahda, makes us appreciate both why so many hope that it can become a prized partner in the construction of republican Muslim democracy. Yet these self-same reasons explain why post-revolution Tunisia remains fragile, in a tragic irony, the self-same grounds of hopes explain why so many actors are invested in Tunisia’s ongoing democratic dysfunction at worst, and in its destruction at best. It would seem that six years after the Arab Spring, the prospect of the Tunisian exception remains precarious and everything is still up for grabs.

Faheem A. Hussain is about to begin a PhD in Politics at Royal Holloway University of London pursuing research in liberalism and multiculturalism.

This article was first published on openDemocracy.

The post Tunisia: Holding Up the Promise of a ‘Republican Muslim Democracy’ appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Tunisian women gather to celebrate Women’s Day on Aug. 13 in Tunis. On the same day, the country’s president announced the review of a law requiring that a man receive twice the share of an inheritance as a woman.
Anadolu Agency/Getty Images

The contrast between the ulema in India and in Tunisia could not be greater. While in India they are finding it difficult to digest even the declaration of instant triple talaq as invalid, their counterpart in Tunisia are miles ahead on the road to reform.

On August 22, the Supreme Court by a 3:2 majority decision “set aside” the practice of instant triple talaq among Indian Muslims on the ground that it was “un-Quranic”/“un-Constitutional”.  In response, Maulana Mehmood Madni, general secretary of the Jamiatul ulema-e-Hind, has invited contempt of court and has virtually incited Muslims to continue with the now prohibited practice.

No matter what the Supreme Court might rule, instant triple talaq remains valid in Islam, Madni has argued. In Tunisia, on the other hand, talaq (divorce) has been prohibited except through the courts since the passage of the Code of Personal Status, 1956. The same Code also banned polygamy unconditionally.

Now, barely a week before the SC verdict in India, on the occasion of Tunisia’s National Women’s Day (August 13), the country’s 90-year-old President, Beji Caid Essebsi has announced the creation of a committee to look into proposals including women marrying non-Muslim men, as well as equal inheritance rights for women.

The declaration is astounding for more than one reason. Given that the 2014 Constitution of Tunisia declares Islam as the religion of the country imagine its head of state proposing a reform that a vast majority of Muslims across the globe would consider to be contrary to the explicit injunctions of the Quran. From the perspective of the Indian ulema this is nothing short of heresy.

Even more astonishing is the fact that Tunisia’s Islamic scholars at Diwan al-Ifta have backed the move. According to them, Essebsi’s proposals “support the status of women and guarantee and implement the principle of equality between men and women in the rights and duties called for by Islam, as well as the international conventions ratified by the Tunisian state”.

Prima facie, the Quranic verses are unambiguous on both the issue of equal inheritance rights and the right of Muslim women to marry non-Muslim men.
On inheritance:

“Allah charges you in regard with your children: a son’s share is equal to the share of two daughters; if the [children] are [only] daughters and two or more, their share is two thirds of the legacy, and if there is only one daughter, her share is half [of the legacy]; and each of the parents inherit one-sixth of the legacy if the deceased had children, and if the deceased had no children and the parents are the only heirs, the mother inherits one-third; if the deceased had brothers, the mother inherits one-sixth; [all this is] after executing the will and settling the debts of the deceased… This is Allah’s injunction; surely Allah is All-knowing, All-wise.” (4:11).

As an Islamic portal sums it up, sons inherit twice that of daughters, brothers twice that of sisters, and husbands inherit twice that of wives, except regarding the father and mother of the deceased: if they are living at the time of their child’s death, each equally receives one sixth of the deceased’s legacy.

On Muslims marrying non-Muslims:

A Quranic verse clearly prohibits both Muslim men and women from marrying infidels or polytheists: “Do not marry unbelieving women (idolaters), until they believe… Nor marry (your girls) to unbelievers until they believe… (2:221)

Another Quranic verse makes it lawful for Muslim men to marry Jewish and Christian women: “(Lawful unto you in marriage) are (not only) chaste women who are believers, but chaste women among the People of the Book, revealed before your time (5:5).

But there is no corresponding Quranic verse which says anything about Muslim women marrying Jewish or Christian men. This is interpreted by the orthodoxy to mean that Muslim women are only permitted to marry Muslim men.

Not surprisingly, Egypt’s Al Azhar University – among the oldest and most renowned centres of Islamic learning – has reacted sharply to the proposal mooted by the Tunisian President.

A statement issued by Al Azhar stated that the Quranic texts discussing inheritance leave no room for alternative interpretations. “These teachings leave no space for uninformed analyses or theories that contradict Islamic edicts. It provokes Muslims that hold onto their religion with a firm hand and shakes the stable foundation of the Muslim community.”

Abbas Shouman, the deputy head of Al-Azhar, expressed his institution’s discontent, saying that Essebsi’s decision does away with religion rather than renewing it. He denounced the clerics supporting Tunisia’s line of thought as “unscholarly,” accusing them of being ignorant of the blatancy of certain Islamic rulings “that do not allow for independent reasoning and do not change with time or space.”

For Shouman, Muslim women marrying non-Muslim men defies the purpose of marriage in Islam.

Tunisia’s ruling Nidaa Tounis was quick to rebuff Al Azhar. “Essebi’s proposals are of interest to the Tunisian community only, and no one has the right to engage in this debate,” Burhan Besis, an official from the ruling party said.

More interesting in an interview to the Egyptian Al-Watan newspaper a Tunisian mufti endorsed the Tunisian president’s remarks and defended them on the basis that “God’s ruling on earthly matters” could and should be reinterpreted to stay relevant.

Islamic feminist Omaima Abou Bakr notes that discussing equality in inheritance or marriage of Muslim women to non-Muslim men “is not against Islam, but rather against the classic interpretations of Islam.” In support of her contention, she points out that  “there have been contemporary readings of Islam that discuss these issues and offer new progressive readings and solutions outside the scope of scholars and clerics.”

She cites the recent writings of Tariq Ramadan, a professor of contemporary Islamic studies in the Faculty of Oriental Studies at Oxford’s St Antony’s College and Khaled Aboul Fadl, the chair of the Islamic Studies Program at the University of California. The progressive readings and solutions, however, are anathema to the orthodoxy at Al Azhar and to the ulema in India.

Meanwhile, Tunisia’s Islamists are finding themselves in a Catch-22 situation. The country’s Is­lamist Ennahda party has traditionally drawn its support from the country’s rural areas and working-class urban belts around the main cities. In recent years, especially after the ‘Arab Spring’, the party has been trying hard to expand their reach in urban areas and elite constituencies.

The drive to win new adherents has forced the Ennahda to take increasingly “modern” positions on gender issues, among other things. That is why it has had to come around to voicing support the over six-decade-old ban on polygamy. More recently it has endorsed a new law to check violence against women.

But now the Women’s Day proposal of the President has put the party in a real bind. By supporting the “modernists” the Ennahda stands to lose its traditional base. Opposing it will mean a major setback vis-à-vis the new constituency it has been working hard to cultivate.

The 2014 Tunisian Constitution has a novel provision that while Islam would be the religion of the country, Tunisia would remain a civil state. In the issue of reform of family laws in Muslim-majority countries, the Code of Personal Status is seen as “a beacon and a source of hope for other women’s movements and governments”.
 

The post Tunisian Ulema March ‘Ahead’ of the Qu’ran: Endorse Muslim Women’s Right to Equal Inheritance, Marrying non-Muslims appeared first on SabrangIndia.

FEMEN activists. Photo: Jacob Khrist.Such are the risks to some frontline activists who have dared to challenge religious orthodoxies around the world that an international conference on Free Expression and Conscience, 22-23 July, is taking place at an undisclosed venue in central London, the location known only to the participants.

One of the keynote speakers, Bonya Ahmed, was attacked by machete and her husband, Avijit Roy, was brutally killed on the crowded streets of Dhaka, Bangladesh because they ran a blog for freethinkers.

Other speakers and participants – including members of the Council of Ex-Muslims of Britain (CEMB), the main organising group behind the conference – also have stories of harassment, death threats and physical danger. Even (or perhaps especially), in the 21st century, with the rise of the religious right, free speech can result in a death sentence.

…in the 21st century, with the rise of the religious right, free speech can result in a death sentence.

Inna Shevchenko, leader of the controversial group FEMEN, is scheduled to speak on “Gods vs Girls: Is Religion Compatible with Feminism?” She had to leave her native Ukraine in 2012, and seek asylum in France, after being abducted, beaten, tortured and threatened with death by security forces.

FEMEN activists have achieved notoriety because their main form of public protest has been inscribing slogans across their bare chests. Shevchenko told me, in their defence: “What do we do? We appear in the square, we take off our tops, we put slogans on our breasts and we scream the slogans, we do nothing else. We are then thrown on the floor and strangled, kidnapped, arrested. This is disproportionate. It reveals a lot about the violence that patriarchal institutions inflict on women who dare to disagree”.

In Ukraine, FEMEN has used these tactics to protest against what Shevchenko calls the three institutions of patriarchy: dictatorship, the sex industry and the Ukrainian Orthodox Church – an important reminder to those who equate extremism with Islam that institutionalised religion of all denominations can be dangerous to your health.

Shevchenko says: “Dictatorship is usually one male leader who fosters the cult of the father of the nation. Similarly, in monotheist religions, there is one father i.e. God who punishes you, who protects you and who defines who you are and what your position in society will be”. (Of course, this pattern is also replicated in the family).

A FEMEN activist is tackled to the ground. Photo: Jacob Khrist. FEMEN was founded in 2008, Shevchenko says, as a reaction to the exponential growth of sex tourism in Ukraine. She grew up in post-communist Ukraine and recalls a catastrophic economic collapse in which the national currency was replaced for six years by coupons that expired within three months. Under communism, she says, gender gaps had reduced somewhat as women’s employment and educational opportunities opened up – but afterwards unemployment hit women the hardest, pushing many into the arms of a rich husband or the sex industry.

Shevchenko and FEMEN have been criticised for the crudity of, and contradictions in, their arguments and tactics. But her clarity of analysis on the question of religion is lacking in some feminist quarters. Whilst she accepts that a feminist can be a believer, the idea of religious feminism to her is an oxymoron. Shevchenko says: “It would be intellectually dishonest to say that religion will provide the grounds for women’s liberation. No, it’s feminism that will provide the grounds for women’s liberation and it is through feminist ideas that religious ideas and text could be modified”.

FEMEN’s topless tactics have been condemned by some feminists for playing into the culture of sexism by exposing their breasts. To this Shevchenko responds: “I get it when sexists make this argument, but I don’t understand it when feminists [do]… What those feminists are saying is that a woman’s body can be de-sexualised by hiding it – but that is what religious institutions are saying. I’m saying I’m going to give my definition of what my body is. My body is sexual when I decide it to be sexual, my body should be political when I decide it to be political”.

“My body is sexual when I decide it to be sexual, my body should be political when I decide it to be political”

The success of nudity as political protest seems to depend largely on context. In the west, where women’s naked bodies have been commodified and used to sell goods, reclaiming nakedness for political purposes is much harder. In conservative societies, where women’s dress is intensely policed, any breach of the codes is both brave and revolutionary.  

Mona Eltahawy tells a funny story in her book Headscarves and Hymens; Why the Middle East Needs a Sexual Revolution about a Tunisian feminist Amira Yahyaoui who asked a Salafist member of the constituent assembly a question. When he refused to answer her, as he did not speak to “naked” women (she was not wearing a hijab), Yahyaoui began to undress. The Salafist was horrified and demanded to know what she was doing. She said: “I’m showing you what a naked woman looks like” – and he promptly answered her question.

Other Muslim women have braved censure or death to use their bodies to make a political statement, including Aliaa Elmahdy, the naked Egyptian blogger, and Amina Tyler, the Tunisian blogger who posted a topless picture of herself in 2013. Maryam Namazie – an Iranian ex-Muslim, and an organiser of this weekend’s conference – has used toplessness as a form of protest on a number of occassions, most recently at the Pride 2017 march in London.

Maryam Namazie. Photo: CEMB (Council of Ex-Muslims of Britain).Namazie told me: “A pillar of Islamist rule is the erasure of the female body from the public space. So what better way to resist than with the female body?” Both Elmahdy and Tyler, under threat from conservatives, have had to flee their countries of origin. Feminists and progressives must defend the right of these women to free expression, rather than make common cause with religious conservatives, even if we do not personally see nudity as a form of liberation.

“A pillar of Islamist rule is the erasure of the female body from the public space. So what better way to resist than with the female body?”

This insight is sometimes missing in white feminist critiques of female nudity. When the Pakistan social media celebrity Qandeel Baloch was murdered by her brother – for bringing “shame” to the family with sexually-charged videos and photos posted online – some older British feminists took to a Facebook discussion where one asked whether Baloch “joining the oppressive western world and slathering herself in make-up and posting vids of herself twerking and always doing the bidding of men… [was] SO empowering”. But nothing is as undermining of religious patriarchal mores as a woman flaunting her sexuality. 

The failure of some sections of the progressive left to challenge institutionalised religion’s assault on free expression will be one of the themes running through this weekend’s conference in London. Billed as the Glastonbury of freethinkers and featuring 70 speakers from more than 30 countries, other discussion topics will be resistance to religion from gay rights campaigners, the growing influence of religion in the law and the state, secularism as a human right and identity politics. 

For Namazie, “the conference is a timely reminder that freedom of conscience is not just for the believer but [also] for the nonbeliever. That free expression is not just to defend the sacred but to reject it”. Exercising this right has already caused harm and cost lives. This is a significant battleground for our times.

Rahila Gupta is a freelance journalist and writer. Her work has appeared in The Guardian and New Humanist among other papers and magazines. Her books include, Enslaved: The New British Slavery; From Homebreakers to Jailbreakers: Southall Black Sisters; Provoked;  and ‘Don’t Wake Me: The Ballad of Nihal Armstrong (Playdead Press, 2013). She is co-authoring a book with Beatrix Campbell with the title Why Doesn’t Patriarchy Die? Follow her on twitter @ RahilaG

Courtesy: Open Democracy
 

The post The politics of nudity as feminist protest – from Ukraine to Tunisia appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Freedom of thought needs an atmosphere of tolerance where people can speak their mind and no one is forced to accept the beliefs of others. In the Middle East, though, tolerance is in short supply and ideas that don't fit the expectations of society and governments are viewed as a threat.

Where religion is concerned, the "threat" can come from almost anyone with unorthodox ideas but especially from those who reject religion entirely.

Increasingly, atheists in Arab countries are characterised as dangerous extremists – to be feared no less than violent jihadists.

Persecuting atheists is the inevitable result of governments setting themselves up as guardians of faith. Among the 22 Arab League countries, Islam is "the religion of the state" in 16 of them: Algeria, Bahrain, Comoros, Egypt, Iraq, Jordan, Kuwait, Libya, Mauritania, Morocco, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Tunisia, the UAE and Yemen. 

For most of them, this is more than just a token gesture; it also serves political purposes. Embracing religion and posing as guardians of morality is one way for regimes to acquire some legitimacy, and claiming a mandate from God can be useful if they don't have a mandate from the public.

State religions, in their most innocuous form, signal an official preference for one particular kind of faith and, by implication, a lesser status for others. But the effects become far more obtrusive when governments rely on state religion as an aid to legitimacy – in which case the state religion has to be actively supported and policed. That, in turn, de-legitimises other belief systems and legitimises intolerance and discrimination directed against them. 

The policing of religion in Arab countries takes many forms, from governments appointing clerics and setting the theme for weekly sermons to the enforcement of fasting during Ramadan. 

To shield the government-approved version of religion from criticism, a variety of mechanisms can be deployed. These include laws against "defaming" religion and proselytising by non-Muslims but general laws regarding public order, telecommunications and the media may also apply.

In Algeria, for instance, the law forbids making, storing, or distributing printed or audiovisual materials with the intention of "shaking the faith" of a Muslim. In Oman, using the internet in ways that "might prejudice public order or religious values" is an imprisonable offence.

For Muslims who publicly abandon Islam the problem is even worse. In Mauritania, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Sudan, the United Arab Emirates and Yemen anyone convicted of apostasy faces the threat – at least in theory – of execution.

Using a state religion as an aid to legitimacy turns the personal beliefs of individuals into a political issue, because disagreeing with the state's theological position also implies disloyalty to the state. Those who happen to disagree must either conform or risk becoming not only a religious dissident but a political one too.

Equating religious conformity with loyalty to the state allows Arab governments to label non-conformists not merely as dissidents but extremists. This in turn provides an excuse for suppressing them, as has been seen in Egypt with the Sisi regime's campaign against atheism and in Saudi Arabia where "promotion of atheist thought" became officially classified as terrorism.

Although Saudi Arabia's war on atheists stems from fundamentalist theology, in Egypt it's the opposite: the Sisi regime presents itself as a beacon of religious moderation. To describe the Sisi brand of Islam as moderate, though, is rather misleading. "Militantly mainstream" might be a better term. Theologically speaking it is middle-of the-road and relatively bland but also illiberal and authoritarian in character.

The result in Egypt is a kind of enforced centrism. While allowing some scope for tolerance – of other monotheistic religions, for example – the regime sets limits on discourse about religion in order to confine it to the middle ground. The main intention, obviously, was to place Islamist theology beyond the bounds of acceptability but at the other end of the spectrum it also means that atheism, scepticism and liberal interpretations of Islam have become forms of extremism.

Defining 'extremism'

Absurd as it might seem to place atheists in the same category as extremists such as terrorists and jihadists, the issue hinges on how "extremism" is defined: extreme in relation to what? Violent and intolerant extremism is a global phenomenon but confusion arises when governments try to define it by reference to national or culture-specific values.

Arab states are not the only offenders in this respect, though. They have been assisted by western governments defining "extremism" in a similar way – as rejection of a specific national culture rather than rejection of universal rights and international norms.

In its effort to prevent radicalisation of students, for example, the British government defined extremism as "vocal or active opposition to fundamental British values". Also in the context of eradicating extremism, the education minister talked about actively promoting "British values" in schools.

Approaching the problem in this way invites other countries to do likewise – even if their own national and cultural values would be considered extreme in relation to universal rights and international norms. Thus, Saudis can justifiably claim that atheism is contrary to fundamental Saudi values. Furthermore, the British minister's idea of instilling British values into British schoolchildren is not very different in principle from "instilling the Islamic faith" in young Saudis – which the kingdom's Basic Law stipulates as one of the main goals of education.

This article was first published on al-Bab.
 

The post Arab world: Where atheism is equated with extremism appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Related Story: Racism, not Anti-Racist ‘Satire’

Tahrir square in Europe
Facts
On New Year’s Eve 2015, simultaneous coordinated sexual attacks took place against women in public space in about 10 cities, mostly in Germany, but also in Austria, Switzerland, Sweden, and Finland. Several hundred women, to this day, filed a case for sexual attack, robbery, and rape. These attacks were perpetrated by young men of migrant descent (be they immigrants, asylum seekers, refugees, or other) from North Africa and the Middle East.

Reactions were predictable and unsurprising: there was a distinct misrepresentation of facts and dilution of the extent and spread of incidents across countries in Europe; this was done by governments, the police and even the media, for as long as it was possible to do. Women’s rights were sacrificed for social peace.

There was, what I would term as a preventive hullabaloo  from the Left, which includes a fair number of feminists, in order to defend foreigners, presumed to be ‘Muslim’ from racism. Please note: there was an intended shift of nomenclature. The attacked women described the attackers, on the basis of geographical location of identity, as ‘Arabs’ or ‘ North Africans’, in the pre-emptive discourse this was altered to ‘Muslims.’ There was a clamour for more security measures on the far Right. In Germany, the first indiscriminate pogrom against non-whites took place. In substance there was a denial of the gravity of the attacks on women that took place across Europe with the use of the slogan of ‘racism’ to prevent any soul-searching on the rise of a far right Muslim fundamentalism in Europe.

Memories
2011: At the heart of Tunis, a protest by secular feminists against Ben Ali: groups of young fundamentalists (there is evidence of their affiliation) surround the mostly women demonstrators, isolate them, attack them sexually, touch their sex and breasts, hit them violently, despite efforts to rescue them by male supporters who joined the meeting in solidarity. The Police is watching.

2012: Tahrir square, Cairo, the place where anti-government opposition meet: for the first time women in numbers take this opportunity to seize and exercise their citizenship rights. Groups of young men (were they part of the Muslim Brotherhood or manipulated by them?) sexually molest hundreds of women demonstrators (and foreign journalists), press photos show some of them partly undressed, there are attempts to register cases of rape. The police, too, get at women demonstrators, beating them up, forcing ‘virginity tests’ upon them, etc. This policy of sexual terror will go on for months in Cairo, to the point that women’s organizations develop an electronic emergency map of Cairo where attacks on women are registered in real time so that teams of male rescuers can rush to the trouble spot.

Summer 1969 An even older memory from Algiers: at the first Pan-African Cultural Festival: hundreds of women sit on the ground on the Main Post Office square which has been cleared of cars; they attend one of the many free public concerts that take place everyday from 5 pm to 4 am, cultural dates that women follow in masses; most of them wear the traditional white ‘haïk’ typical of the Algiers region and they have brought many children too. At dusk around 8.30 pm, a rallying cry sounds,  ‘En- nsa, l-ed-dar’, ‘women go home’, chanted by hundreds of men who also came to attend the concert. Slowly,  little group by little group, with much regret, the women and children leave the square. Men, triumphant and despising, laugh at them. The Nazis too, so defined women’s place: ‘church, kitchen and cradle’. Seven years after independence, the place assigned in public space to the celebrated revolutionary heroines of the glorious Algerian liberation struggle is now clearly defined. Patriarchy and fundamentalism, culture and religion, fly high together.

How strange that such links are not being made with the present attack, not even by feminists who supported the women of Tahrir Square when they were attacked there?

It seems Europe cannot learn anything from us and that nothing that happens or happened in our countries can be of any relevance to what goes on in Europe. By extension, an underlying racism, never yet so exposed in the radical Left, implicitly admits to an unbridgeable difference between ‘civilized’ and ‘under developed’ people, their behaviors, their cultures, their political situations. Under this essentialised otherness lies a hierarchy too shameful to mention: the radical Left’s blind defence of ‘Muslim’ reactionaries, implicitly condones the belief that, for non-Europeans, a far right response is a normal one to a situation of oppression; clearly, we are not seen as capable of either a revolutionary or a civilised response.

(I will not develop here, in this article, how this belief is exported even by Left elites in Asia and Africa).

Cassandras that no one listens to, that is us. We have been yelling, screaming and howling for three decades now. We have been pointing at the similarities, the dangerous authoritarian, proto-fascist trends, that could have led to a political enlightening. Algerian women especially, who fled fundamentalist terror in the nineties, have pointed relentlessly to similar, regressive steps taken in Algeria from the 1970s to the 1990s.

Within Europe and North America too there have attacks on the legal rights of women of Algerian, Arab, North African descent. There have been demands for a specific ‘Muslim’ law in family matters, sex segregation in hospitals, swimming pools and elsewhere; these have coincided with communalist demands for a non-secular education and syllabus. It is these demands that have been followed by physical, targeted attacks on individuals who do not bend to these demands. These have included girls being stoned and even burnt to death. Secularists have been branded as kofr ( these include journalists, actresses, and Charlie Hebdo). The culmination is indiscriminate attacks on anyone whose behavior does not fit with fundamentalist norms: remember Bataclan, café terraces, and attacks on football match, etc.? These attacks have steadily grown.

In Algeria from the 1970s until the 1990s, the fundamentalist attacks began with the targeted attacks on women’s rights and their very presence in public space. We have had long experience of governments who do not hesitate in trading women’s rights for a form of social contract with fundamentalists.

However, the European Left seems incapable of distancing itself from its own situation where people of migrant descent, among whom there are both ‘Muslims’ and others, do face discrimination. By not facing to the character and strategy of Muslim fundamentalists in societies within and those foreign to Europe, by not denouncing the attack of the Muslim right on women, in Europe and outside, the Left cedes the right to be moral arbiter. The terrain is then left free for the far Right within Europe that has now appropriated all discourse on the issue.

I fear, as many of us fear, more and more, that this denial to face what happened and condemn it for what it was, will or may now lead to indiscriminate ‘popular’ and ‘punitive’ actions. This will satisfy the desire for revenge on both sides. Of the traditional xenophobic extreme right of Europe as also the Muslim fundamentalist right that will feeding into these circumstances, recruit more to its fold within Europe. We have already witnessed the attempts by Mayors elected from French parties of the extreme right, who have begun to legitimise the creation of an armed popular militia to ‘protect’ French citizens. Granted, both the French Left and the Social Democrats have regularly objected to these moves. However, insofar as they refuse to confront Muslim fundamentalism and remain in denial mode, they de facto surrender the ideological terrain to the racist extreme Right.

How are we to ignore the many steps forward that fundamentalists have made in Europe? The recent brutal challenging of women’s presence in the public space on December 31, 2015 is only one more illustration of this phenomenon. A myopic Eurocentric vision prevents from seeing similarities with what took place, for instance, in North Africa and the Middle East over the decades, when the fundamentalists took over through democratic traditions and cultures.

In Europe, where ‘Muslims’ are seen as victims and oppressed minorities, this is apparently the justification for any aggressive and reactionary behavior from them. The European Left just needs to cross a few national borders to appreciate and understand what the nature of the political program and project of the fundamentalists is. What the fundamentalist worldview is regarding democracy, secularism, believers in other religions and women. What do fundamentalist regimes do when they are in a majority or when they come to power?  The absence of this much needed political analysis is what allows them to further their tentacles in Europe. Thanks also to capitalist and xenophobic oppression in Europe, the rank reactionary worldview of the Muslim fundamentalist extreme right is being white-washed. Is this not a dangerously Eurocentric approach?

In a self-defeating attitude that can only be understood in terms of the ‘theory of priorities’, both the Left and far too many feminists promote the exclusive defence of people of migrant origin (re-invented as ‘Muslims’) pitted against the capitalist western right. This is another deadly error that history will judge harshly. Progressive forces within societies battling fundamentalism are being abandoned to fight their battles alone. The implicit hierarchy of human rights and their priorities, in which categorisation women’s rights rank far behind minority rights, religious rights, and cultural rights enables this hypocrisy to continue.

Since 9.11 (2001) in the USA and the security measures that followed, the analysis of the debate for the Left and even human rights groups has centred around the ‘War against terror.’ Undeniably there have been gross abuses including the curtailment of civil liberties. In the France of 2014-2015, a similar situation now prevails. A state of emergency was imposed after the November attacks and there is legitimate fear that a Patriot Act of sorts could be developed in Europe.

‘Terror’ itself however is being pushed aside, out of the discourse. The reality of terror is made to fade and an illusion or a bogey-man for government’s freedom-killing actions is replaced. It is almost as if there is a ‘War on terror’, but actually no ‘terror’! In this worldview, terror is made to appear like the fantasy of the xenophobic extreme right; what this view ignores is that there were indeed human bombs that exploded in Paris. Yet there is no war in France? There are elaborate debates on what governments should and should not do, the intentions and motives of states are dubbed manipulative and detrimental to liberties.  A cause and a consequence system does now re- emerge, but in a reverse image. The traditional image of pulling the rabbit out of the hat in which it was made to disappear stands on its head: here we dig the hat out of the rabbit…

A worldwide phenomenon – the rise of a new brand of extreme right: i.e. Muslim fundamentalism – is not only being insidiously justified but quite literally ‘disappeared’ behind the critic of the reactions that its own actions engenders. We simply cannot let the phenomenon of extreme right-wing Muslim fundamentalism to be thus conjured away. Denial will not make the phenomenon disappear.

The emerging phenomenon that the world is experiencing is not simply a creature determined by western capitalism. It has emerged from within different regimes and spheres and cultural spaces. One thing is however clear. Over the past 30 years burying one’s head into the sand has not led to any diminishing of the demands of the extreme fundamentalist right, neither in Europe nor anywhere else. Far from that, fundamentalism has surfed on the occultation of its political nature and grown through its cynical exploitation of democratic freedoms and of human rights.

What is at stake here goes far beyond women’s rights; it is a project to establish a theocratic society in which, among many other rights, women’s rights will be severely curtailed. The concerted action on 31.12 (2015) all over Europe, the brute challenging of women’s place in public space(s) plays exactly the same role as the sudden invention of the so-called ‘Islamic veil’: it is a show of force and power, making visible the fundamentalist right.

This show of force may meet with success. This was exactly how the ‘Islamic veil’ was enforced on women: by force. The advice  so far given by some of the German authorities to the attacked women in Cologne attest to a similar ‘adjustment’ and compromise. Reportedly the women who were attacked on New Year’s Eve were told by German authorities:  adjust to the new situation, stay away from men (‘at arms length’), don’t go out on your own, etc… In short, submit or pay the price. If anything happens to you, it will be your fault, you have been warned.

This kind of advice is similar to what used to be said in court(s) not so long ago to women who had been raped. Why were you in ‘such and such’ place? What were you doing out at ‘such a time’?  Why were you wearing ‘such a dress’? Advice that Muslim fundamentalist preachers will definitely not disavow…

That the primary concern after the attacks on women all over Europe, was to protect the perpetrators and not  defend women victims is a slight variation on the usual defence of men’s violence against women. The questions that need to be asked, however, are this: to what extent is it a defense of patriarchy, or a defence of migrants, and of ethnic or religious minorities? The interests of patriarchy (that the Left does not dare defend officially anymore) merge with the noble defence of the ‘oppressed’ (the November 2015 Paris attacks dented the legitimacy of this argument, considerably). They become convenient bedfellows. 

Searching questions need still to be asked on the concerted, simultaneous attacks on women in over a dozen cities in five different countries of Europe. Not to do so is to perpetuate a blind political perversity.

(The writer is an Algerian sociologist, is the founder and former international coordinator of the international solidarity network, Women Living Under Muslim Laws. She is also the founder of Secularism is a Women’s Issue , SIAWI; The article was written on January 5 and updated on January 12, 2016)

The post Myopia on Muslim Fundamentalism appeared first on SabrangIndia.