Islam and the New Middle East
ALLEN LANE
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First published 2012
Copyright © Tariq Ramadan, 2012
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Cover design by Matthew Young
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Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book
ISBN: 978-1-84-614651-0
Introduction
1. Made-to-Order Uprisings?
2. Cautious Optimism
3. Islam, Islamism, Secularization
4. The Islamic Reference
Conclusion
Appendices: Tariq Ramadan’s responses to events as they unfolded
Notes
Acknowledgements
To
Margaret MacMillan
Kalypso Nicolaïdis
Eugene Rogan,
Walter Armbrust,
Avi Shlaim
For your trust
Analysis in the heat of the action is never easy, especially as events unfold and their causes – and the future itself – remain clouded with uncertainty.
This book makes no claim to reveal secrets, to unveil what may be strategic goals, and even less to predict the future. To do so would be madness, a combination of presumption and vanity. It would also be futile. Today, as terms like ‘Arab Spring’, ‘revolutions’ and ‘upheavals’ are thrown about to describe what has happened across the Middle East and North Africa, I seek only to re-examine the facts, study the realities and to suggest some lessons, not only for the Arab world and the Muslim majority countries, but also for observers of these startling and unexpected developments.
What really happened in Tunisia and in Egypt? What is happening in the broader region that makes up MENA (Middle East and North Africa)? Why now? These are the first questions that spring to mind. To answer them we must submit the recent past and the personalities involved to fresh scrutiny and evaluate the available political, geopolitical and economic data. Only a holistic reading that encompasses these three dimensions can provide the keys needed to begin to understand what lies ahead. As huge shockwaves shake the Arab countries, such an approach is essential if we are to make sense of the issues, if we are to join hands with those societies in their march towards freedom, democracy and economic autonomy.
As vital as it appears to give the Arab uprisings a name, we should be cautious about rushing to define them. As little as we know exactly what the components of these non-violent, transnational mass movements are, we know even less about their eventual outcome. Like people around the world, I rejoiced at the fall of the dictators and their regimes. But after a close analysis of the facts and the objective data available, I prefer to take a position of cautious, lucid optimism. Recent history has by no means yielded all its secrets; the analysis I offer in this volume will most certainly have to be revised, refined and perhaps challenged.
The uprisings that swept the Arab world did not come from nowhere. As early as 2003, as will soon become clear, there had been talk of democratization in the MENA-zone. It had, in fact, become then-president George W. Bush’s key argument for intervention in Iraq. One year later, young MENA cyber-dissidents were signing up for training courses in non-violent protest. Institutions funded by the American administration and/or major private firms organized lectures and seminars, and set up networks that would provide training for young leaders who were given instruction in the use of the internet and social networks. How deeply were Western governments involved? What did they know? What are we to make of the fact that the governments of Tunisia and Egypt arrested cyber-dissidents or subjected them to questioning on their return from training sessions abroad? These are facts that just won’t go away; they must be studied and put in context if we wish to gain a better understanding of the dynamics and issues involved.
Are we to conclude, as some believe, that the protest movements that emerged in 2010 have been designed and manipulated from abroad; that, ultimately, the ‘West’, the United States and Europe, control everything? I think not. There lies a huge gap between the ability to determine what was known, monitored and sometimes planned, and concluding that the course of history can be reduced to attempts to influence the course of events. Certainly it does seem clear that the United States and Europe had taken a decision to change their policies in the two regions. Unconditional support for dictators could no longer be a viable or effective option, especially in the presence of emerging political and economic players such as China, India, Russia and South Africa. Reform had become imperative. What could not be controlled, however, were the breadth of the phenomenon and the extent of the sacrifices the region’s peoples were prepared to make to assert their thirst for freedom.
The protest movements that erupted first in Tunisia, then in Egypt – the high-spirited tumult of Liberation Square (Midan at-Tahrir) – released forces and energy that no one could have anticipated. In countries as diverse as Yemen, Syria, Morocco, Bahrain and Libya, women and men showed that although they could sometimes be manipulated, the mass movements they created could not be totally controlled. A barrier has been breached in the Arab world: a fact that must be acknowledged with lucidity, and without illusion. Which means steering clear of both the idealism and wide-eyed optimism of those who are blind to the behind-the-scenes manouvres of the politicians, and the conspiratorial paranoia of those who have lost their faith in the ability of human beings to assert themselves as the subjects of their own history. Such is my position throughout this study. The peoples of the Middle East have proven that dictators can be overthrown without weapons, by sheer force of number, by a non-violent, positive outlook. Taken together, these events tell us that something irreversible has taken place.
The moment is a historic one, as are the opportunities that will present themselves as the era of dictatorships draws to an end. The outcome is unclear; the uprisings are not yet revolutions. From Tunisia to Yemen, by way of Egypt, Libya, Syria and Bahrain, nothing can be taken for granted: democratic processes are only beginning to emerge, security is shaky while armies remain fully armed and on alert. No one can foretell the future: the tensions that followed the events in both Tunisia and Egypt show that more time will be needed before the past can be forgotten and open, pluralistic, democratic societies can emerge. But the key players involved in each society will have no choice but to face up to the real challenges, and to avoid the trap of polarization, of sterile debate between ‘secularists’ and ‘Islamists’. More than a few fundamental questions remain to be elucidated: the nature of the state, the role of religion, the basic principle of equal rights for all citizens, equality of women and men, to name a few. But the debate cannot be reduced to a confrontation between two approaches, both of which are in crisis, as I will attempt to demonstrate in this book.
The task of construction that lies before intellectuals and politicians is to identify the key issues, to define and prioritize the ways and means for carrying out social and political reform, and to foster the rise of a true civil society, at far remove from warped, paralysing and petty quarrels. As covetous glances, both geopolitical and economic, focus on the MENA zone, such is the radical and comprehensive process of renewal for which I call.
The time has come to stop blaming the West for the colonialism and imperialism of the past, or for today’s attempts at manipulation and control. Arab and Muslim majority societies must jettison their historic posture as victims and reconcile themselves with the course of history that millions of women and men have so massively accelerated by coming out into the streets. Their responsibility is a historic one: they must entertain no illusions about what is at stake, be wary of attempts at manipulation, and be determined to carry out essential reforms with the full participation of all citizens, women and men, from all social classes and religious and cultural backgrounds.
The uprisings have created a multiplicity of new perspectives. Choices must now be made. The timeworn ‘Islam vs. the West’ dichotomy is now giving way to multipolar relations, in which the Global South, the Islamic Orient and Asia are assuming new and innovative roles. Though fascinating in itself, the new dynamic does not automatically guarantee more justice and more democracy. The rise to prominence of China, Russia and India obviously does not ensure respect for human rights and pluralism. Some people are quick – too quick – to rejoice at the collapse of American power. The same people may be unaware that what might replace it (given China’s new predominance and the emergence of India and Russia) could well lead to a regression in social and human rights, and to new forms of dependency. These are issue of crucial importance that call for in-depth debate over which sociopolitical models are to be developed, and what new economic relations should be established. They lie at the heart of this book’s overarching concern: as the Arab awakening unfolds, what role will religious references play? How should Islamic principles and ultimate goals be (re)thought? Can divergent aspirations for reform be unified, or must Muslim majority societies be restricted to the opposition between secular and Islamist ideologies? What is, today, the role of political Islam? Can Turkey be seen as a model? How are we to promote an autonomous civil state?
I will be addressing these issues, with particular emphasis on the prerogatives of civil society. In the closing section, I will analyse the ethical challenges that lie ahead, and examine possible alternatives. Social and political questions, as well as those touching on the economy, on culture and on relations with the West will continue to be determinant, and will require close examination in the light of cultural and religious references. I will be suggesting avenues of approach, all the while rejecting the twin temptations of over-simplification and polarization. For the Arab uprisings to flourish and to lead towards radical change that embodies real – and realistic – hopes, we will need all the intellectual effort, all the close, constructive criticism, and emancipation from Western domination we can muster.
The final section of the book consists of a series of appendices bringing together articles I wrote published in European (including Turkish) and American newspapers, in the Arab press, and also on my website, as events unfolded.1 In them the reader will encounter a wider range of viewpoints at differing points in time, coupled with analyses that have not necessarily been developed in the first four chapters. The appendices thus form a useful and informative supplement, in the form of ongoing commentary, to the text.
The upheavals we are witnessing in the Middle East and North Africa confirm much of what I have long maintained, investigated and repeated for several years now. Readers familiar with my work on Muslim-majority societies, on the presence of Muslims in the West, and on Islamic theological and legal references, will be able to pinpoint the intuitions and propositions whose relevance has been confirmed by recent events. The same holds true for questions of democracy, culture, art, shared values and ultimate goals (in both the Islamic Orient and the West), but also for the critical importance of the experiences of Western Muslims. My recent thinking on applied ethics, and on the crucial importance of overcoming binary thinking, have not only been confirmed, but also gather strength and energy as we act to seize the historical occasion that lies before us.
Seen in this light, the double emancipation – of the mind and of society – must be our primary goal. The Arab awakening must not succumb to self-alienation, or be subverted by a new form of colonialism that would shatter the hopes of millions of women and men. There can be no turning back; now we must hope that the peoples of the region will find their way forward, in full freedom.
No one foresaw them; many wondered how to describe them. When public protests broke out in the Tunisian town of Sidi Bouzid on 17 December 2010, interpretations of what had happened proliferated. The wares of a young street vendor, Mohammed Bouazizi, had been confiscated; in protest he had set himself alight. Factors as diverse as poverty and economic hardship, unemployment, police repression and authoritarian rule were advanced to explain his death.
The weeks that followed would bring dramatic change to the Middle East, North Africa and the world. On 14 January 2011, the Tunisian dictator Zine El Abidine Ben Ali fled to Saudi Arabia. On 27 February, after a month of confusion, a new government took office. Two months had changed the face of Tunisia. To shouts of ‘Get out!’ directed at the despot, his family and his regime, the people had bested the dictatorship.
Meanwhile, the world looked on in astonishment as events gathered momentum and intensity. Egyptians followed the Tunisians’ lead, beginning on 25 January 2011; with massive mobilizations in the now-famous Liberation Square (Midan at-Tahrir) they in turn toppled President Hosni Mubarak on 11 February. Things were moving fast now, very fast. In Algeria, attempts to mobilize fell short, while Morocco witnessed a series of substantial protests called for 20 February 2011 (giving rise to the February 20th Movement). Reform had suddenly placed itself on the political agenda.
Across the Middle East the domino effect gained speed. To contain the protests the King of Jordan dismissed his Prime Minister (1 February), with promises of social reform. The Libyan people took to the streets and, despite fierce repression, a National Transitional Council was set up on 15 February, touching off a full-scale civil war with full support for the uprising from the West and NATO. Mass protests began in Bahrain on February 14, and demonstrations even took place in Saudi Arabia that March, where they encountered particularly brutal repression. The wave of protests engulfed Yemen, beginning on 27 January, a few weeks after two men had set themselves on fire following the Tunisian example. In Syria, sporadic demonstrations began on 26 January, which turned into more organized uprisings on 15 March, despite harsh repression and isolation due to virtually non-existent media coverage and the indecision of the international community.
From December 2010 through March 2011 and on into the summer of 2011 and beyond, there came no respite from the mobilizations that had spread like wildfire across the Middle East and North Africa. The mass movements that flared up all shared common characteristics – protest against social and economic conditions, rejection of dictatorship, the fight against corruption, etc. – but each one has its own very specific features, which in turn require individual analysis.
The first challenge, then, is to name and to describe what has taken place, both at its inception and in the course of its rapid expansion: were we talking about revolutions, rebellions, popular protests, or perhaps ‘intifadas’ – uprisings – as was initially suggested in Tunisia, invoking the Arabic term now linked to the Palestinian resistance? Was it an ‘Arab Spring’, like the European revolutions of the recent past? Were they ‘Jasmine Revolutions’, ‘Dignity Revolutions’, or something else?
Definitions and interpretations differ widely, as if determined by the optimism of the observer. Some see recent events as the birth of a new era, as a radical turning point between past and future, and boldly speak of revolution. Others, more cautious, assert that ‘popular uprisings’ are changing political arrangements in North Africa and the Middle East, though it is too early to say whether they will lead to a true renewal. Others see them as revolts or popular upheavals, unable thus far to bring about reforms that may or may not alter the political and economic power structure in the Arab world. Others, finally, are not convinced at all: the mass movements are controlled from abroad – had not US President George W. Bush proclaimed a democratization movement in the region? – and could only be a transition towards a new type of Western control and domination. Before us lies a broad spectrum of interpretations, ranging from a ‘springtime of the peoples’ to a new expression of the ‘thinly disguised cynicism of the powerful’. How are we to understand all this? What name are we to give it?
On closer analysis, the term ‘revolution’ seems unwarranted. Can we really define the upheavals that have shaken the Middle East and North Africa as revolutions, either in terms of a transformed political order or a shift in the economic balance of power? Have the popular movements run their course; have they achieved their objectives? Clearly they have not, and it is far too soon to say that they will. Still, the extreme position that sees the omniscient and pervasive hand of the Western powers behind the mass demonstrations appears to be equally unwarranted.1 From Tunisia to Syria through to Egypt, Bahrain and Yemen, the Western allies have clearly played a part and have attempted to control or direct the course of events, but it is impossible that they actually planned the revolts from start to finish.
As against ‘unfinished revolutions’ and conspiracy theories, I prefer to use the term ‘uprisings’ to describe the common character of the mass movements that have shaken the Arab countries. In them, women and men of all religions and social backgrounds took to the streets, without violence and without attacking the West, to demand an end to dictatorship, to economic corruption and to peoples being denied respect. Based on the categories drawn up by Jean-Paul Sartre2 and still relevant today, ‘uprising’ as a category can be situated halfway between revolution and revolt; once it is carried to its fullest extent and overthrows the existing system (both as political rule and economic structure) it can become revolution. On the other hand, if it is incomplete, manipulated, or if it fails, it will have expressed the peoples’ aspirations but not concretized their hopes. To speak of ‘uprisings’ is to convey cautious optimism, and to affirm that the revolts we have witnessed are already established facts, while so far the idea of revolution remains but a hope in all the Arab countries – without exception.
In December 2010 and January 2011, there emerged a broad consensus around the world that described the earliest upheavals as totally unpredictable and unexpected, largely because the Tunisian and Egyptian regimes had appeared so solid and unshakeable. Moreover, the support of European and American powers made any fundamental political transformation highly unlikely. Standing apart from the rest of the world, Arab societies for the past thirty years had been mired deep in the status quo. Entrenched dictators headed harsh, unbending regimes that could at least be credited with preserving regional security and stability while mercilessly repressing ‘dangerous opponents’, ‘Islamists’ and/or ‘radicals’. Given this state of affairs, no one could have foreseen the movements that erupted, no one could even have hoped for them: set phrases that journalists and analysts used again and again, as if to persuade the public that the immense crowds in the streets were unlike anything that had come before. For, as American President Barack Obama said, history unfolds through the political will of ‘people calling for change’.3 Or does it?
Any in-depth analysis of events in the region must move beyond the mass demonstrations for political reform to embrace two critical dimensions. In both Tunisia and Egypt, the two countries where the protest movement first emerged, the primary cause of discontent and mobilization was economic. Simple analysis of the social and economic realities of both countries shows that all the components of a social explosion were present. While leaders were wallowing in luxury and corruption, the prices of basic foodstuffs had soared to intolerable levels in Tunisia, in Egypt and even in Jordan, while unemployment impacted ever-widening sections of the population. Those who had jobs were forced to survive on near-starvation wages, and often to hold two or three jobs in order to make ends meet. The situation had become unsustainable; everything pointed to imminent social explosion. Though no one could have predicted that the death of Mohamed Bouazizi would trigger such a response to the cruel treatment inflicted on the population, the economic data did make it possible to place the meaning and the demands of the uprisings in perspective.
It should be added that the idea of ‘democratizing’ the Middle East was, by then, hardly an original concept. It was first expressed in 2003, long before Barack Obama became President of the United States. Then-president George W. Bush explained that the war in Iraq constituted a first step towards a global democratic movement in the Greater Middle East and that Islam was by no means opposed to democracy. On 6 November 2003, he added that his involvement in the Middle East was akin to Ronald Reagan’s support for Eastern Europe’s struggle for democracy in the 1980s.4 American and European strategy in the region was due for an overhaul; their wishes were no secret. Successive US administrations had made it clear that, for economic and political reasons, the region’s dictatorships had to change as a necessary precondition for opening up Arab markets and integrating the region into the global economy. Had these two factors not been taken into account, there was a strong likelihood that the justifications that supported the status quo and backed the dictatorships – security and stability – would produce the exact opposite, and lead to a total loss of control. Moreover, the rise of new economic players such as China, India, some South American countries, South Africa or even Turkey confirmed the risks inherent in inaction. The intervention in Iraq, along with constant pressure on Iran, the crisis in Lebanon, the division of the region into Shia and Sunni zones of influence, or the stalemated Israel–Palestinian peace process, were but a few of the signs that foreshadowed major changes in the region. It would be naïve to imagine that the great powers, the United States, France, Germany, Russia or even China were nothing more than casual observers of the growing turmoil. Their relationships with national governments, their links with the region’s military establishments, their carefully calibrated dealings with each country or regime, point clearly to the involvement of these powers before and during the uprisings.
Resistance movements have been encouraged, logistical support has flowed to rebel groups (as in Iran, Tunisia and Egypt), training has been given and significant pressure has been brought to bear on several dictatorships.5 Nonetheless, we cannot conclude that the uprisings were directed by outside forces, and that public opinion was manipulated. The protest movements have not always embraced a clear ideology; demonstrations have often got out of hand (such as in Syria, as we shall show later). From the spark that ignited mass protests to the fall of the dictators and the emergence of new political forces in the region’s civil societies, a number of imponderables must be taken into account. Though they have been neither wholly unpredictable nor wholly autonomous, the Arab uprisings are by no means a case of Western-controlled manipulation, as the most pessimistic would have it.
The best example of the complexity of the issues and the forces of change may well be the youthful bloggers presented as the driving force of the mass protest movement. Young people trained in the use of the new communications technologies made available by the web exploited the resources of the internet and social networks like Facebook and Twitter to powerful effect. But the youthful protesters did not begin their training in September or October 2010, just prior to the first uprisings in December of that year; they began three or four years before the events. It is useful to recall that the mass movement in Serbia, in 1998, led by a group called Otpor (‘Resistance’) was created and led by Srdja Popović, a young man who used text messaging, the internet and social networks to galvanize the population against Slobodan Milošević. The movement chose as its symbol the clenched fist, which had been used in the anti-Nazi resistance, and successfully overthrew Milošević two years later, in October 2000. In 2004, Popović set up an organization called CANVAS, a training centre specializing in non-violent action and strategy. There he developed the three principles of popular mobilization: unity, planning and non-violent discipline. The centre provided training for the young activists who were later to lead the ‘Rose Revolution’ in Georgia and the ‘Orange Revolution’ in Ukraine. Young politicized leaders from over at least thirty-seven countries flocked to Serbia for training, including many from North Africa and the Middle East. Tunisians received their training there, and Mohammed Adel, one of the founders of Egypt’s April 6th Movement, was trained for a week in Belgrade during the summer of 2009.6
Two television documentaries broadcast by Qatar-based al-Jazeera in both Arabic and English7 revealed how Egypt’s April 6th Movement had been set up three years earlier, in 2007. The al-Jazeera journalists reported on the young people’s training trips to Serbia and the Caucasus, but oddly failed to mention their visits to the United States. A significant number of young activists and bloggers were given training by three American government-financed NGOs: the Albert Einstein Institution,8 Freedom House and the International Republican Institute.9 The principles and methods are identical: celebrating democratic values, mobilizing peoples non-violently and bringing down regimes without confrontation with the police or the army by using symbols and slogans to shape mass psychology and exploiting the potential of social networks and, more generally, the internet.
As early as 2004, but more systematically between 2006 and 2008, young people were trained at these and other centres in the strategy and tactics of non-violent mobilization: social networks, the use of symbols (the clenched fist appears again in Tunisia, Morocco, Egypt and Syria). Not by any stretch of the imagination could the American, European or even Russian governments have been unaware of these programmes. In fact, they actually funded some of them. The governments of Tunisia, Egypt, Syria and Lebanon were also aware: some activists were arrested when they returned from trips abroad (Egypt being perhaps the best-known example) or in the course of their activities.
It would be an error to deny the powerfully indigenous wellsprings of the Arab uprisings; the Syrian people’s determination to defy their country’s dictatorship could hardly have been planned under the existing political system. Furthermore, bloggers and cyber-activists continue to debate whether to accept US funding, or to attend training sessions organized by institutions either closely linked to Western powers or within their ideological purview. Particularly instructive is the position of Sami Ben Gharbia, a Tunisian blogger based in the Netherlands. In a detailed article published on 17 September 2010,10 he identifies the risks inherent in accepting such funding, stresses the need to maintain independence and warns against the manipulation of movements led by young activists against governments supported by the US and Europe.
The fact remains that, for the sake of history and for the future of these movements, it would be both inconsistent and shortsighted not to look closely at the connections and the work of preparing the terrain that preceded the upheavals in the Middle East and North Africa. Sami Ben Gharbia in his article, as well as others, cites the direct involvement of powerful American corporations. In point of fact, Google, Twitter and Yahoo were directly involved in training cadre and disseminating information promoting pro-democracy activism on the web. A conference called Internet Liberty 2010, organized by Google on 20–22 September in Budapest with the participation of American and European government representatives, saw the launch of the Middle East and North Africa Bloggers Network, with organizational impetus from an institute connected with the US Democratic Party.11 Who can forget that Wael Ghonim, who emerged as the hero of the uprising in Egypt after his moving appearance on Mona al-Shazly’s prime-time programme on 7 February 2011 (just after he was unexpectedly set free following ten days’ imprisonment), was already, at the age of thirty, Google’s marketing director for the Middle East? Very early on, the same company helped Egypt’s activist bloggers elude the government’s attempts to curtail internet activity by providing them with satellite access codes. Surprisingly, Google refused to give those same codes to Syrian activist bloggers facing pitiless repression, as the ‘cyber-dissident’ Chamy pointed out (regretting this strange difference of treatment) in a France Inter radio debate with cyber-activists Lina Ben Mhenni from Tunisia12 and Mohammed Salem from Egypt.13 It is hard to ignore the fact that Google’s position throughout the uprisings has been virtually identical to that of the US government or of NATO: explicit support for the Egyptian protesters, aimed at Mubarak’s rapid departure; hesitations in Syria in the hope that domestic reforms would keep Bashar al-Assad’s regime in power.14
These basic facts and figures must be known; questions must be framed with accuracy, depth and caution. Are the most prominent activists truly apolitical young people (several members of Egypt’s April 6th Movement, such as Ahmed Maher, had early on declared their support for Mohamed el-Baradei)? What has been the extent of financial support from the governments and private transnational corporations that control large swathes of internet activity? What preparatory, behind-the-scenes role did the armed forces play in each national context? How can their non-intervention be explained? More than a few crucial questions remain unanswered, questions that must be addressed calmly and systematically, far from radical interpretations or conspiracy theories. This is the task that awaits us if we hope to build a future free of the uncertainties and upheavals now afflicting the region.
The Arab dictatorships had long presented themselves to the world as a necessary evil, a bulwark against the rise of Islamism in North Africa and the Middle East. The strategy and its political justification were nothing new. Western support for autocrats and against the proponents of political Islam dates back to the early years of the twentieth century. In the 1930s and 1940s, the question arose in Egypt with regard to the Muslim Brotherhood, and in Syria, Lebanon, Algeria, Morocco and Tunisia shortly after their independence. The British, American, then-Soviet and French governments were quite aware of the makeup of the opposition movements in the Arab world and throughout Muslim-majority societies from Turkey to Indonesia and Malaysia. Since the 1940s, Western governments have been studying and identifying the various Islamist movements in all their diversity well before the Iranian revolution of 1979, which was soon, however, to change everything.
From a successful revolution in Iran to an electoral victory in Algeria just over a decade later, everything seemed possible with the Islamists. They had emerged as political actors who could not be ignored. A choice had to be made, rapidly and decisively: it would be preferable to support despots (despite the contradiction with democratic values) than deal with Islamists of whatever stripe, Shiite or Sunni, legalist, reformist or literalist. For decades there has been an objective alliance between Arab dictatorships and the Western powers that have, without exception, supported dictatorial regimes in North Africa and the Middle East in the name of maintaining stability and safeguarding their geopolitical and economic interests.
That having been said, American and European policy toward Islamism has never been perfectly clear-cut. Circumstantial alliances have been concluded and openly admitted when, for instance, to oppose the former Soviet Union in Afghanistan, it proved opportune to support the Taliban and Osama bin Laden.15 Or to go one step further, the alliance with the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, where Islam is the state religion and where the ruling monarchy claims that Islam is, by its essence, opposed to democracy, offers proof positive that the West has no problem with political Islam as such, as long as Islamist leaders promise to protect its economic and political interests. With or without dictatorships, with or without Islamism, we arrive at the same conclusion: private interests must be protected. They may be dictators or Islamists, but Western governments’ best friends are those who best serve their interests.
The Arab awakening has clearly not been the work of Islamist movements. Neither in Tunisia or Egypt, nor in Jordan, Libya or Syria were they the initiators. The mass movements took to the streets without them, against the will of their leadership and, in any event, without their agreement. In Tunisia, the Ennahda movement joined the protests several weeks after they had begun, just as did the Muslim Brotherhood in Cairo. The same prudent attitude has been on display in Jordan, Libya, Syria and even Yemen.
It is even more interesting to note that the first mass demonstrations shone a harsh light on the dissensions within the Islamist organizations themselves – the very organizations that had been depicted as highly organized, tightly structured and disciplined. In both Tunisia and Egypt, younger members of the Islamist organizations joined the uprisings first, often against the advice of the hierarchy and of the leaders of the older generation. They disregarded appeals for caution, and soon dissident voices began to be heard within the organizations themselves. Not only did the young refuse to be ‘patient’ (as they had been advised) before joining the mass movement, but they quickly adopted sharply differing attitudes toward civil society and their own ‘organizational culture’. Even though they belonged to Islamist organizations, they were fully conversant with web-based social networks such as Twitter and Facebook, and cultivated broad social and political relationships, taking part in virtual debates well beyond the boundaries of their religious and ideological ties. Unlike their elders, they did not find themselves in uncharted territory, almost naturally joining the campaign of popular protest.
During the first few weeks of the uprisings, Western and, on occasion, Arab media continued to describe the situation in terms of polarization between secularists and Islamists. Was there not the risk of a replay of the 1979 scenario when, after the effervescence of the mass demonstrations against the Shah (as with the Arab dictators today), dangerous anti-Western and ultimately anti-democratic Islamists had seized power? The Israeli government was first to sound the alarm, claiming that the threat of an Iran-style outcome was too great, and that Mubarak should be supported.16 But it soon became apparent that the Islamists did not control the protesters, and that the people’s aspirations were stronger than the ruling regimes. The massive, non-violent and well-organized demonstrations, which were almost totally free of anti-Western slogans, drew people from all social classes and all political, religious, non-religious and even anti-religious social groups. Young people and women had taken a visible and irrefutable lead, and the media increasingly took notice. The presence of non-religious people and secularists in Tunisia and in Egypt, as well as the highly visible Coptic minority presence on Tahrir Square, could point to only one conclusion: a new form of opposition had emerged, with women and men rallying around new demands drawn from the core values of freedom, justice and equality, and rejection of corruption and cronyism.
Political analysis and media coverage then underwent a radical shift. Though the Islamists may have been a cause for concern at the beginning – would the mass movements be subverted or taken over? – it now appeared that the uprisings were wholly disconnected from the religious and cultural environment in which they occurred. As quickly as the reference to Islamism vanished, so did reference to Islam, as if most of the women and men motivated by a thirst for freedom, dignity and justice had ceased to be perceived as Muslims since their values and their hopes were so like those of the West: hence the observable discrepancy in Western and Arab television coverage of events.17 For, even though the movements themselves were by no means Islamist in nature, most of the activists, women as well as men, who were calling for freedom and justice and an end to corruption and dictatorship, did so as Muslims – and not against their religion.18
The reminder is necessary, for two key reasons. The first stems from what can be observed in the field following the uprisings, during the transitional period that is supposed to lead to the drafting of new constitutions and presidential elections. The presence of the Islamists is now well established; they are fully participating in the future of their respective countries. The popular movements have transformed them into opposition political groups among many, while polarization between secularists and Islamists is becoming increasingly evident. Islam as a frame of reference will surely become a determining factor in domestic political debate in the societies of North Africa and the Middle East. Some speak of a Turkish or Indonesian variant, while others point to new paths to be explored. The Islamists themselves have markedly evolved on a number of issues (though this in itself may not yet be enough): I will return to this question in Chapter 3.19 There can be little doubt that the relation between Islam as the majority religion and the aspiration to freedom and liberal democracy, or even a liberal economy, will emerge as considerations crucial to the future of Arab societies.
These considerations – and here lies the second reason – will impact upon debates at the heart of Western societies, emerging as they do from the presence of Muslim citizens. The Arab revolts have proven that while being Muslims in their majority, Arab citizens aspire to the same values as do ‘we’ in the West. As populist political parties in the West (such as the Swiss People Party, the BNP in Britain, far right parties all over Europe or the Tea Party in the US), imitated by virtually all traditional parties, continue to present Islam as a foreign religion, and Muslims as threatening personifications of the ‘other’, these women and men are proving that such projections are as wrong as they are dangerous. It was as if Muslims, and particularly Arabs, were by their essence fated to live under dictatorship and entertained a natural relationship with violence. But now, hundreds of thousands of women and men had rallied – not exclusively in the name of Islam but never in any event against it – for democracy in a non-violent and dignified way. That should have been sufficient to overcome the timeworn stereotypes and the persistent prejudices that shape how Islam is increasingly being seen in the West. Yet nothing could be further from certain: the future of Arab societies in the wake of the uprisings will have a conclusive impact on Western societies as a whole.20
Relations between Muslim-majority societies and their American, European and Russian counterparts have been characterized historically by extremely wide swings. Above and beyond geography, the Orient has allowed the West to give itself form as a cultural, historical, philosophical and religious entity. The West, and particularly the West of the Enlightenment, by a process of projection created an imaginary Orient in opposition to which it defined itself, the thesis that Edward Said develops in Orientalism:21 the construction of the other, at whose heart lies Islam (as both religion and civilization), had the double function of establishing not only a self-identity but the alterity of the other by way of a relationship whose components were not only intellectual, but also ideological and symbolic. Seen through this prism, Islam was necessarily a non-Western religion, whose values could not be recognized or identified as belonging to the process of intellectual, industrial, social and political emancipation of the ‘Occident’ of the Enlightenment.
Ernest Renan, the French thinker and philosopher, would give the concept perhaps its most explicit form. On 23 February 1862, in a lecture on the Semitic peoples at the Collège de France, he argued that:
Islam is the most complete negation of Europe. Islam is fanaticism, the likes of which even the Spain of Phillip II or the Italy of Pius V never witnessed; Islam is disdain for science and the suppression of civil society; it is the terrifying simplicity of the Semitic spirit, shrinking the human mind and closing it to every subtle notion, to every fine sentiment, to rational investigation, to ultimately confront it with the eternal tautology: ‘God is God’.22
He went on to add: ‘In science and philosophy we [Europeans] are exclusively Greek.’23 Twenty years later he would reaffirm the substance of his position in his celebrated 1883 lecture at La Sorbonne:
Islam[ism]24 has brought nothing but harm to human reason. The minds it has closed to light may already have been closed by their own internal limitations; but it has persecuted free thought, I shall not say more violently than other religious systems, but more efficiently. It has transformed the lands it has conquered into a field closed to the rational culture of the mind.25
These arguments were later built upon by a majority of colonialist thinkers and political figures: a binary manner of thinking in which the emancipated Occident must civilize the Islamized Orient, seen as closed or patently backward. Economic, political and cultural imperialism reached its culmination in historical imperialism, a monopoly on the meaning of human history that determined who was advanced, and who had fallen irretrievably behind. For history had a meaning, and the emancipated, democratic West was its avant-garde, if not its culmination. Thus did history, its meaning and its teachings, come under the sway of the colonial enterprise. It might have been hoped that with decolonization, with the expansion of migration and the globalization of communication and cultural exchange, that this reductive, binary and profoundly unscientific and ahistorical vision would be overcome. Such was not the case. In fact, the opposite has occurred in our day, with the emergence of theories like Samuel Huntington’s Clash of Civilizations26 that posit conflict between civilizations or proclaim the historical superiority of one over the others (particularly Islam), as in Francis Fukuyama’s ‘end of history’, from which he has subsequently retreated.27
These theories have been hotly debated and have met fierce opposition from numerous intellectuals and political analysts. Nonetheless, and surprisingly, a substantial number of the ideas that inform them are today widely accepted and commonplace in public debates on Islam, Islamic civilization or Muslims themselves. The attacks of 2001 in New York, of 2004 in Madrid and 2005 in London have confirmed the general sentiment that Islam is a religion foreign to Western culture. Though they would not use Renan’s extreme language, large numbers of Western citizens may well share his views on the essential otherness of Islam and of the Muslims. Whether they live in Muslim-majority societies or in the West, whether they live here or elsewhere, Muslims are definitely seen as being from somewhere else.
Reflections or conclusions of this kind are by no means restricted to the West. Many Muslim intellectual and political figures in both ‘East’ and ‘West’ have adopted the construct and the analytical framework as their own. They either locate themselves in a state of absolute alterity and claim, with Kipling, that ‘East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,’28 or become proponents of the idea that Islam must undertake in-depth and intrinsic reform if Muslims wish to emerge into modernity, to match the West’s scientific and technological achievements. Both positions draw on the same basic assumption: the ‘East’, posited as real and actual Islam, forms an entity distinct from the West. It constitutes the Other, an Other who should have the humility to learn, rather than arrogantly wishing to contribute or even to formulate propositions. A large number of intellectuals from the Global South, Muslim and non-Muslim alike, have made this vision, one fraught with philosophical, cultural and political consequences, their own. The Arab awakening suddenly seemed to bring about a change in perspective, a leap that could signal a shift in the binary paradigm I have just sketched out. Arab peoples, primarily Muslims in the event, were rising up without violence in the name of the very same values ‘we’ hold dear, the ‘Western values’ of freedom, justice and democracy. There may have been cause for concern that the revolts were or would become Islamist; it was rapidly concluded that their religious references had nothing to do with their actions. The Arab peoples are just like ‘us’, they aspire to ‘our’ values, and as a result they are no longer perceived as being Muslims. Their resemblance came at the price of deleting their religious beliefs and practices, their culture and even their history. They joined the advanced, civilized detachment of the Western-led onward march of history. No longer primarily perceived as Arabs and Muslims, they had attained the lofty status of subjects, legally and philosophically, of the Universal. At last they had overcome their backwardness, and strode in lockstep with the West in its enlightened march of progress. As pendulum swings go, it was spectacular: only yesterday Muslims were the alterity against which the West defined itself; now they had become the alter ego of the Western Universal, allowing the West to celebrate itself. But the underlying logic of this reading remains unchanged: alterity and likeness imply a dichotomy based on power, which, whether in otherness (enabling self-definition) or in likeness (enabling self-celebration),29 can only favour an ideologically constructed, imagined West.
Stripped of their memory and their history, cut off from their religion and their culture, the Arab and Muslim peoples are now celebrated in their will to rid themselves of their despotic rulers. Nothing more; nothing less. The reading is a strictly political one, and has been shaped in the near equivalent of a historical and economic vacuum, as if international relations and foreign influences had somehow been rendered secondary or obsolete. Any attempt to place events in a geopolitical, economic, ideological or philosophical and religious context would thus be seen either as conspiratorial, or as an irrelevant rejection (that of backward looking leftists, conservative Muslims or dangerous Islamists) of the proper interpretation of history’s majestic onward sweep.