by Hilal Ahmed
This contention is not accidental. There are verses in the Quran which encourage believers to spread the message of Allah. (See Box 1 below.) After all, the Quran is revealed for the entire humanity—not solely for the community of believers called ‘Muslims’. The distinction between being Muslim and becoming Muslim is not very relevant. Does it mean that Dawat-e-Islam is nothing but a strategy to convert non-Muslims, so as to increase Muslim population? Does it mean that the kind of Islam Muslims practise in India cannot be completed without the act of conversion? Does it mean that there is a design behind events such as the Meenakshipuram episode?
Box 1: Dawat in the Quran
‘Invite (people) to the way of your lord with wisdom and good counsel.’ (Verse: 16:125)
‘And there has to be a group of people from among you who call towards good and prevent from evil.’ (Verse: 3:104)
‘And who is better in utterance than the one who called people towards Allah, and acts righteously and says, “I am one of those who submit themselves (to Allah).”’ (Verse: 41:33)
Source: The Holy Quran
These questions force us to revisit the postcolonial story of Indian Islam from the vantage point of Islamic dawat. This is what this chapter is all about. It examines the ideas of three prominent Sunni religious figures, Maulana Abul Ala Hasan Ali Nadwi (also known as Ali Mian), Maulana Wahiduddin Khan and Zakir Naik, and the activities of two leading Sunni movements, Tablighi Jamaat and Jamaat-e-Islami Hind (JIH).
The choice of these figures and movements for a discussion of this kind is not entirely arbitrary. Maulana Ali Mian (d. 1999), Maulana Wahiduddin Khan and Zakir Naik have a profound impact on contemporary Indian public life. Ali Mian helped the government to draft the infamous Muslim Women (Protection of Rights on Divorce) Act, 1986, in the wake of the Shah Bano controversy. He was again appointed by the government to represent the ‘Muslim position’ on the Babri Masjid in 1989. In contrast, Maulana Wahiduddin Khan is often recognized as a ‘progressive and liberal’ Muslim religious leader. Interestingly, his version of Islam also revolves around the idea of dawat. Zakir Naik is a relatively recent phenomenon. His mode of Dawat-e-Islam deviates significantly from those of other religious groups and leaders in postcolonial India. His on-line/image-centric technocratic Islam makes him a very powerful figure.
This is also true about JIH—a recognized and registered Muslim organization which works primarily as a pressure group. JIH was banned by the government in 1948 and later again in 1993. Although the Constitution of the JIH defines it as a ‘secular’ religious organization committed to work within the ambit of constitutionally defined minority rights, the political ideas of its founder and ideologue Maulana Abul Ala Maududi (who migrated to Pakistan in 1947) makes it an interesting case study of Dawat-e-Islam. On the other hand, Tablighi Jamaat is an Islamic religious reform movement. It has emerged as one of the most dominant forms of religiosity in postcolonial India. This loosely organized organization offers us a very different form of Islam. The adherents of the Jamaat are encouraged to avoid all references to politics and asked to devote themselves to ‘deen ki mehnat’.
Islam as dawat in modern India
We have to trace our story of Indian Islam from the nineteenth century. The post-1857 debates on Islamic dawat were the outcomes of a long process of religious reconstitution of Islamic religiosity—the codification of Islamic principles on an entirely modern basis and an elusive search for an ideal practice, which could rejuvenate Islam as a way of life. This process of religious revival led to two crucial questions:
(a) How to re-establish Islamic supremacy, making it the ultimate religion in a colonial context?
(b) How to invite Muslims to give up un-Islamic practices and embrace ideal Islam?
The decline of Islamic pre-eminence in modern times, interestingly, was not seen as an end result of the fall of Muslim rule in India in these religious debates. Instead, the weakening of Muslim political power was conceived as an inevitable consequence of the non-Islamic values and cultural practices of Muslims. The argument that the status and prestige of Muslims in India (as elsewhere) is weakened because Muslims had given up the true path of Islam seems to dominate the religious discussions of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. Although the meaning of the true Islamic path and the modes to achieve it had always been a highly contested issue, there was a consensus that the revival of the original, ideal Islam would be the ultimate solution.
The pro-empire Muslim elite, such as Syed Ahmad Khan (the founder of Aligarh Muslim University), evoked the inherent liberal and scientific spirit of original Islamic principles to carve out a political space for Muslims in the colonial institutional framework.3 This religious reinterpretation legitimized the reform agenda of modern education in later years. On the other hand, the anti-empire Muslim elite, especially the ulema associated with Deoband, highlighted the revolutionary potential of original Islam. This radical elucidation of Islam produced a powerful conceptualization of ‘mutahidda qaumiyat’ (unified/composite nationalism)—an assertion that true Islam permits Muslims to make collations with other religious groups for the sake of territorial nationalism.4 These seemingly different Islamic explanations focused primarily on the reconversion of Muslims—the assertion that in order to establish Islamic supremacy, there is a need to make Muslims more Islamic.
Three main ideas were advanced with regard to the objective of Dawat-e-Islam in the late colonial period. There was a dominant view that Islam should be presented as a modern religion that is capable of answering the challenges posed by modernity. Thus, the purpose of dawat, according to this thesis, was twofold—Muslims should be educated so that they could appreciate the universal spirit of Islam, and non-Muslims must be introduced to Islam for opening up the scope for rational intellectual debates.
This adherence to education found a very different expression in the thesis proposed by the conventional ulema. This second influential thesis of dawat relied heavily on the purity of ideas and practices and argued for spreading religious education through the network of mosques, maktabs and madrasas. This institutionalization was seen as a means of spreading Islam among Muslims.5 The third thesis suggested a clear separation of religion from overtly political affairs so as to work on the commitment-building of Muslims. This thesis was advocated mainly by Maulana Mohammad Ilyas, the founder of Tablighi Jamaat.6
These three versions of Dawat-e-Islam found new meanings in post-Partition India, especially after the creation of Pakistan. The speech delivered by Maulana Maududi, the founder of Jamaat-e-Islami, in Madras (now Chennai) on 26 April 1947, a few months before the partition of South Asia, must be seen in this perspective. Maududi explores possibilities of the propagation of Islam in the future republic of India in this speech by offering a blueprint of what he calls ‘a peaceful Islamic revolution’.
Maududi made four proposals. The first two suggestions were concerned with creating a conducive environment for spreading the message of Islam—a trust-building endeavour so as to carve out a space for Dawat-e-Islam in India. He says:
Confidence is to be reposed in the Hindu nationalist movement through our course of action that there is no other religion competing with them politically [. . .] the [. . .] important task for us is to spread Islamic knowledge on a wide scale among Muslims, create in them a general desire for propagation of Islam and reform of their character and social lives to an extent where non-Muslims will feel their society to be clearly better than their own.7
The other two proposals were concerned with the appropriate strategy for effective Dawat-e-Islam in future India. Maududi argues that preparing Islamic intellectuals and the translation of Islamic literature in Indian languages could be two crucial aspects of dawat. He advises: ‘Our workers [. . .] should learn [. . .] Indian languages [. . .] If Muslims restrict themselves only to Urdu due to their religious prejudice, they will become strangers to the general population to the nation.’8
This blueprint of
Islamic revolution, I suggest, introduces us to three central aspects of postcolonial Islamic religiosity: the meanings and purpose of religion, the identified constituency for religious mobilization and the possible modes by which the message of Islam could effectively be disseminated.
Islamic scholars, religious movements and Muslim political elites offer a variety of different (and most times conflicting) answers to fundamental issues. Interestingly, these varied responses do not always remain fixed: arguments change, positions modify and sometimes a completely new resolve is proposed. To map out this discursively constituted discourse, let us identify five different responses and read them in relation to the postcolonial Indian debate on freedom of religion.
Dawat for the sake of dawat
Maulana Mohammad Yusuf, the second amir (head) of Tablighi Jamaat and the successor of Mohammad Ilyas, describes Dawat-e-Islam as an end in itself.9 Defining the meanings of dawat, he says: ‘The manner in which Prophet Muhammad lived his life and worked for the deen of Allah is tabligh.’10
It does not, however, mean that this simple and uncomplicated notion of Dawat-e-Islam is entirely purposeless. Yusuf reminds us:
Roman and Persian empires were like the webs of a spider at the time of Prophet Muhammad. The Prophet worked on the commitment-building of Muslims and prepared pure believers. Because of the shared presence of these pure believers, Allah cleaned the webs of Rome and Persia with his azab (punishment). This is eventually going to happen with the superpowers of our time: Russia and USA.11
Deen (religion), in this framework of dawat, is juxtaposed with duniya (world). It is argued that deen is an expression of faith and commitment in Allah, which can only be completed by absorbing the message of the Prophet. Muslims need to consolidate deen if they want to achieve success in this life and in life after death.12 Thus, Muslims should not endeavour to establish Islamic dominance (in direct political terms) in this world. Instead, they should act (amal) to consolidate deen through Dawat-e-Islam—inviting others to Islam. Yusuf claims:
The purpose of tabligh is not to disseminate any particular form of knowledge; instead, the aim is to breathe life into the very idea of deen that the Prophet brought in and make it actable for the prosperity of Muslims. If this very idea triumphs as a part and parcel of everyday life, the Almighty would shower his kindness on us.13
To understand the nature of this ‘dawat for deen’, one needs to unfold the Tablighi Jamaat’s famous six principles:
Kalima (profession of faith)
Salat (five times prayers or namaz)
Ilm-o-Ziikr (knowledge and remembrance of God)
Ikram-i Muslim (respect of every Muslim)
Ikhlas-i niyyat (sincerity of intention)
Tafrigh-i waqt (sparing time)
The first three principles focus on the universally accepted norms of Islamic religiosity. One must have faith in the Kalima, one must offer Salat five times a day and one must recite the Quran (or for that matter any other religious text). However, the last three principles are quite innovative, which underlines the argument Yusuf makes. For instance, the principle of Ikram-i Muslim calls upon Muslims (and particularly those who are involved in Jamaat’s work) to show respect to all forms of Islamic religious practices and avoid those actions which may lead to religious arguments and confrontations. The principle of Ikhlas-i niyyat is about the individual’s intention to participate in the activities of Jamaat. If the intention is sincere, it is argued, Allah would help the person to translate intentions into action. The last principle, Tafrigh-i waqt (sparing time), is an extension of the purity-of-intention principle, which tells us how to put words and intentions into action.14
What is really striking in this schema is the focus on amal (action). Jamaat makes a persuasive argument to abandon the given meaning of Islam as an individual-centric spiritual experience. Instead, it offers a systematic plan of action to get involved collectively in world affairs for preparing Muslims for the hereafter. This unequivocal appeal for religious transformation is an appropriate example of ‘propagation of religion’ in the strictly Indian legal–constitutional sense. In fact, this form of Dawat-e-Islam moves away from all possible kinds of social and/or political interventions and serves to protect the iman (belief) of those who have already recognized themselves as Muslims!15
Dawat-e-Islam as an assertion of identity
Jamaat-e-Islami does not approve of this overtly apolitical dawat of Tablighi Jamaat.16 Without describing itself as a political organization, the JIH evokes Dawat-e-Islam as a mode to intervene in the postcolonial public sphere. Two examples are relevant in elaborating on this form of religious–political intervention. Maulana Abul Lais Islahi Nadwi (the amir of the JIH in the 1950s) delivered a speech in 1952 in Hyderabad, outlining the features of the JIH’s da’wa project. He argues:
JIH is not a religious organization in the restricted sense of the term; nor is it a political group in the way politics is popularly understood [. . .] we invite people to worship Almighty. We have not only given da’wa to Muslims but have made serious endeavour to introduce it (Islamic teachings) to each and every community of India. For this purpose we have started producing literature in languages other than Urdu [. . .] We do not want to assemble a huge crowd; instead, we attempt to want conformity of ideas. When they (people) recognize the truthfulness of our message, they would redesign their lives accordingly.17
Like Tablighi Jamaat, the JIH also recognizes the centrality of dawat as an important aspect of Islamic religiosity. But at the same time, it does show an active interest in the ongoing political debates and issues concerning Muslims. In fact, the dissemination of Islam is identified as a way to get into direct political discussions. To work out a practical design for this seemingly difficult project of dawat, especially in the post-Partition, anti-Muslim environment of the 1950–1970s, JIH took the language question very seriously.
The foreword written by Maulana Maududi for the Hindi translation of the Quran in 1970 underlines this aspect. Maududi writes, ‘It had been felt for a long time that there was a need for translating the Quran and other Islamic literature in Hindi, which is the national language of India [. . .] so that the vast majority of the Hindi-speaking population gets acquainted with the fundamental essence of Islam.’18
To understand the significance of Maududi’s argument, one has to look at the manner in which the question of language and translation is debated in postcolonial India. The famous Calcutta Quran case is a good example here. In 1985, a writ petition was filed in the Calcutta High Court stating, ‘The publication of the Koran in the Arabic original as well as in its translations in various languages [. . .] amounts to commission of offences [. . .] and accordingly each copy of the book must be declared as forfeited.’ (Writ Petition 227 of 1985.) The petition, as expected, was dismissed by the court on the grounds that the Quran was the basic text of Islam. However, Hindu fundamentalist groups continued to use this politically motivated reading of the Quran for mobilizing Hindus.
The Hindi translation of the Quran published by the Jamiat-Ulama-e-Hind responded to this debate directly. In the preface to the Hindi version of the Quran, the translators argue that the purpose of translating the Quran into Hindi was primarily to expose the anti-Muslim propaganda of Hindu fundamentalists. They argue that ‘the essentialist and anti-Muslim conclusions are quite possible only because of substandard Hindi translations of the Quran’.19 In order to maintain the purity of Hindi, this translation of the Quran was finally sent to a few Hindi experts (who happened to be non-Muslims) for their approval!
The evolution of Hindi as a possible language of Islam in postcolonial India must be seen in the wider Hindi/Urdu politics of the 1970s.20 The protection of Urdu, which eventually emerged as a ‘minority issue’ is creatively re-conceptualized by Dawat-e-Islam movements, especially by the JIH. While adherence to the protection of Urdu was profoundly expressed in this case, other Indian languages, especially Hindi, were seen as tools to spread the m
essage of Islam. This reordering of languages helps the JIH communicate with various actors—the state, non-Muslims and non-Urdu speaking Muslim communities—within the framework of constitutionally granted freedom of religion.
Dawat-e-Islam as a ‘rational choice’
Maulana Wahiduddin Khan, like Tablighi Jamaat and JIH, recognizes the centrality of dawat. He describes dawat as the natural expression of iman and makes an attempt to historicize the outcome of this sacred performance—the conversion of a large number of non-Muslims to Islam in the past. But the focus on the conversion to Islam in the contemporary world is not emphasized directly in Khan’s framework. While recognizing Islam as the best, authentic and most unadulterated religion of the world, Khan offers a nuanced perspective on conversion. In his opinion:
Conversion in Islamic thought is not synonymous with proselytism in the formal sense. It is an event which takes place in a person’s life as a result of intellectual revolution or spiritual transformation. It is not simply leaving one religious tradition for another. The Islamic ideal of conversion is for the individual to discover the truth after an exhaustive search for it and then by his own choice, abandon one religion for another.21