by Reza Aslan
Throughout the Islamic world, a cadre of contemporary female textual scholars is reengaging the Quran from a perspective that has been sorely lacking in Islamic scholarship. Beginning with the notion that it is not the moral teachings of Islam but the social conditions of seventh-century Arabia and the rampant misogyny of many male Quranic exegetes that have been responsible for women’s historically inferior status in Muslim society, these scholars are approaching the Quran free from the confines of traditional gender boundaries. Muslim feminists throughout the world have been laboring toward a more gender-neutral interpretation of the Quran and a more balanced application of Islamic law. The first English translation of the Quran by a woman, Laleh Bakhtiar, was recently published to critical acclaim in the United States and Europe, while a new batch of female imams and prayer leaders are now guiding Muslim congregations from Toronto to Shanghai. At the same time, there has been a steady rise in the number of female heads of state and political party leaders in Muslim-majority states, including Mame Madior Boye in Senegal, Tansu Çiller in Turkey, Kaqusha Jashari in Kosovo, Megawati Sukarnoputri in Indonesia, Nurul Izzah Anwar in Malaysia, Benazir Bhutto in Pakistan (who was tragically killed by a suicide bomber in 2007), and Khaleda Zia and Sheikh Hasina in Bangladesh. Over the last few years, the Islamic world has produced more female presidents and prime ministers than both Europe and North America combined.
Certainly, there are many Muslim-majority states where women still do not have the same legal rights as men; the same can be said about most developing countries in all parts of the world—Muslim or not. And no doubt the plight of women in places like Iran, Afghanistan, the Sudan, and Somalia is appalling and must be urgently addressed. But to use the experience of women in these countries to make broad generalizations about Islam’s treatment of women would be grossly simplistic. Unfortunately, that is precisely what is happening throughout the Western world, where the image of the Muslim woman as indubitably oppressed and degraded by Islam not only persists but is being conceived of almost wholly through the singular symbol of the veil. In fact, it sometimes seems that for many in Europe and North America, the entirety of a Muslim woman’s experience can be defined by a piece of cloth with which she may or may not choose to cover her hair.
This is not a new phenomenon, of course. Despite the fact that veiling is a custom among both men and women in countless cultures and across thousands of years, in the eyes of many in the West, the veil has long been viewed as the quintessential emblem of Islam’s “otherness.” Europeans in particular have been obsessed with the veil ever since the erotic travelogues of Orientalist writers such as Gustave Flaubert and Sir Richard Burton made a fetish of the Muslim woman as a kind of Oriental femme fatale. That image took on new life in the writings of European colonialists like Alfred, Lord Cromer, the British consul general to Egypt, for whom the veil was a symbol of the “degradation of women” and definitive proof that “Islam as a social system has been a complete failure.” Never mind that the colonial gentleman was also the founder of the Men’s League for Opposing Women’s Suffrage in England. Cromer had no interest in the plight of Muslim women per se; the veil was, for him, an icon of the “backwardness of Islam,” and the most visible justification for Europe’s “civilizing mission” in the Middle East.
In the modern world, the veil has become a symbol not only of the objectification of Muslim women, but also of the wide chasm of values and mores that many insist separates Islam and the West. Hence, the recently enacted laws prohibiting Muslim women from donning certain versions of the hijab in France and in other parts of Europe. Supporters of such bans argue that the veil is an affront to the Enlightenment principles upon which Europe was founded. They claim the veil is, by definition, anathema to the concept of women’s liberation. As the French president Nicolas Sarkozy said in signing the ban into law, “In our country, we cannot accept that women be prisoners behind a screen, cut off from all social life, deprived of all identity.” Of course, at the heart of this argument is the profoundly misogynistic belief that no Muslim woman would freely choose to wear the veil, that she must be forced into her hijab by her husband or her father or by the societal restrictions placed on her by her religion—that, in fact, Muslim women are incapable of deciding for themselves what they should or should not wear, so it must fall to the state to decide for them.
This is not to argue, as so many liberal Muslim reformers have, that the veil is in reality a symbol of Muslim women’s empowerment, an argument made famous by the distinguished Iranian political philosopher Ali Shariati (1933–77) in his celebrated book Fatima Is Fatima. For Shariati and others like him, the veil is not a symbol of female oppression but rather a sign of empowered defiance against the Western image of womanhood. But enlightened as this perspective may be, it is still tragically flawed by the fact that Shariati is describing something of which he has had no experience.
The truth is that the traditional image of the veiled Muslim woman as the sheltered and docile sexual property of her husband is just as misleading and simpleminded as the postmodernist image of the veil as the emblem of female freedom and empowerment from Western cultural hegemony. The veil may be neither or both of these things, but that is solely up to Muslim women to decide for themselves. Whatever sartorial choices a woman makes are hers and hers alone. It is neither a man’s nor the state’s place to define proper “womanhood” in Islam. Those who treat the Muslim woman not as an individual but as a symbol either of Islamic chastity or secular liberalism are guilty of the same sin: the objectification of women.
That, in essence, is the foundation of the so-called Muslim women’s movement, which is predicated on the idea that it is male-dominated society, not Islam, which has been responsible for the suppression of women’s rights in so many Muslim-majority states. For this reason, Muslim feminists throughout the world are advocating a return to the society Muhammad originally envisioned for his followers. Despite differences in culture, nationalities, and beliefs, these women believe that the lesson to be learned from the Prophet Muhammad and the unprecedented rights and privileges he bestowed upon women in Medina is that Islam is above all an egalitarian religion. The feminist’s Medina is a society in which Muhammad designated women like Umm Waraqa as spiritual guides for the Ummah; in which the Prophet himself was sometimes publicly rebuked by his wives; in which women prayed and fought alongside men; in which women like Aisha and Umm Salamah acted not only as religious but also as political—and on at least one occasion military—leaders; and in which the call to gather for prayer, bellowed from the rooftop of Muhammad’s house, brought men and women together to kneel side by side, without division, and be blessed as a single united community.
So successful was this revolutionary experiment in social egalitarianism that from 622 to 624 C.E. the Ummah multiplied rapidly, both from the addition of new Ansar in Medina and from the influx of new Emigrants eager to join in what was taking place in the City of the Prophet. Though, in truth, this was still only Yathrib. It could not properly be called Medina until after Muhammad turned his attention away from his egalitarian reforms and back toward the sacred city of Mecca and the powerful tribe that held Arabia in its grip.
4. Fight in the Way of God
THE MEANING OF JIHAD
IN YATHRIB, THE Messenger of God is dreaming. He stands in a wide meadow. Cattle graze freely on the grass. There is something in his hand: a sword, unsheathed and glistening in the sun. A notch has been etched into the blade. War is approaching. But there is calm in the peaceful meadow, among the grazing beasts, in the warm light. Everything seems a good omen. Looking down at his body, he sees he is clad in an invulnerable coat of mail. There is nothing to worry about. Sword in hand, he faces the immeasurable horizon, tall and confident, waiting for the fight to come to him.
When he wakes, Muhammad understands at once the meaning of the dream: the Quraysh are coming. What he cannot know, however, is that they are at that moment charging toward Yathrib with three
thousand heavily armed warriors and two hundred cavalrymen to put an end to Muhammad and his movement once and for all. As is the custom, the soldiers are trailed by a small group of women, bejeweled and dressed in their finest tunics.
The women are led by a powerful and enigmatic woman named Hind, the wife of Abu Sufyan, the new Shaykh of Quraysh. A year earlier, in 624 C.E., when the Quraysh first clashed with Muhammad and his followers at Badr, Hind’s brother and father had both been killed by Muhammad’s uncle, Hamzah. Now, as she trudges through the desert grasping the hem of her flowing white tunic in two clenched fists, Hind serves as a physical reminder of why the Quraysh are finally bringing the battle for control of Arabia directly to Muhammad’s doorstep.
“Quench my thirst for vengeance,” she shouts at the men marching in front of her, “and quench your own!”
Meanwhile, Yathrib buzzes with rumors of the impending attack. The Jewish clans, who want no part of this battle between Muhammad and Mecca, secure themselves inside their fortification, while the Ummah begin to frantically collect what weapons and provisions they can find in preparation for the siege. At dawn, the call to prayer draws the entire community to the mosque, where Muhammad calmly confirms the rumors.
It is true that the Quraysh are charging toward Yathrib, he announces; but rather than go out to meet them in battle, Muhammad reveals his plans to stay put and wait for their enemies to come to him. He is convinced that the coat of mail he wore in his dream represented Yathrib’s invulnerable defenses. If the Quraysh were truly foolish enough to attack this oasis, he proclaims, then the men will fight them in the streets and alleyways, while the women and children hurl stones at them from atop the palm trees.
His followers are skeptical about Muhammad’s plan. They remember well the beating they gave the Quraysh a year ago at Badr. Though ridiculously outnumbered, Muhammad’s small band had inflicted heavy casualties on the mighty Meccan army, forcing them to retreat in utter humiliation. Surely they would destroy them again in battle.
“O Messenger of God,” they declare, “lead us out to our enemies so that they may not think we are too cowardly and weak to face them.”
Their response confuses Muhammad, who had assumed his dream to be a message from God. But the more his men urge him to go out and meet the enemy, the more he wavers. Even his most trusted advisers are divided about what to do. Finally, exasperated by the debate and knowing a decision must be made, Muhammad stands and orders his coat of mail to be brought to him. They will face the Quraysh in the open desert.
With just a few hundred men and a handful of women—including Aisha and Umm Salamah, who almost always accompany him into battle—Muhammad sets off toward a plain situated a few miles northwest of Yathrib called Uhud, where he has heard the Quraysh have stopped to camp and plan their attack. At Uhud, he makes his way down into a gorge and sets his own camp on the opposite side of a dry riverbed, not far from the Meccan army. From here, he can make out the Quraysh’s tents. He takes stock of their massive numbers and superior weapons. His heart sinks when sees hundreds of their horses and camels grazing in a nearby pasture. His men have managed to round up only two horses; they have no camels.
Falling back, Muhammad orders his followers to make camp and wait for daybreak. In the morning, as the sky begins to redden, he leaps atop a horse and surveys his troops one final time. Among the men, he sees children armed with swords, some on their tiptoes trying to blend in. He angrily pulls them out of line and sends them home to their families, though a few manage to escape detection and return to fight. He then places his archers on top of a mountain near his flank, ordering them to “hold firm to your position, so that we will not be attacked from your direction.” To the rest of his men he shouts his final instructions: “Let no one fight until I command him to fight!” Then, as if sensing he has somehow violated the omens in his dream, he puts on a second coat of mail and orders his army to attack.
Almost immediately, the Quraysh are put to flight. Muhammad’s archers release a steady hail of arrows onto the battlefield, protecting his meager troops and forcing the Meccan army to retreat from their positions. But as the Quraysh pull back, the archers—in direct violation of Muhammad’s orders not to move from their position—run down the mountain to claim the booty left behind by the retreating army. It does not take long for the Quraysh to regroup, and with his flank unguarded, the Prophet and his warriors are quickly surrounded. The battle becomes a slaughter.
The massive Meccan army makes quick work of Muhammad’s forces on the ground. The bodies of the dead litter the battlefield. As the Quraysh draw closer, some of Muhammad’s men form a tight circle to shield him from the advancing army and the volley of arrows raining down on all sides. One by one the men fall at his feet, their bodies riddled with arrows, until only one man is left. Then he falls.
Now alone, Muhammad kneels beside his dead warriors and continues to fire his arrows blindly at the Quraysh until the bow snaps in his hands. He is defenseless and seriously wounded: his jaw cracked, his teeth broken, his lip split, his forehead cut and covered in blood. For a moment, he considers summoning what strength he has left and charging the enemy, when suddenly one of his men—a hefty warrior named Abu Dujanah—runs onto the battlefield, catches hold of him, and drags him into the mouth of the gorge, where the last of the survivors have gathered to attend their wounds.
The Prophet’s sudden disappearance from the battlefield launches a rumor that he has been killed, and ironically, this is exactly the reprieve Muhammad’s men need. For with news of his death, the Quraysh halt their assault and the battle is over. As the remnants of Muhammad’s army quietly creep back toward Yathrib—bloodied and humiliated—the victorious Abu Sufyan climbs atop a hill and, raising his bowed sword in the air, cries: “Be exalted, Hubal! Be exalted!”
Afterward, when a sense of calm has settled upon Uhud, Hind and the rest of the women of Quraysh roam the battlefield mutilating the bodies of the dead, a common practice in pre-Islamic Arabia. The women cut off the noses and ears of Muhammad’s fallen warriors so as to fashion necklaces and anklets from them. But Hind has a more urgent purpose. She separates from the rest to search the gorge for the body of Muhammad’s uncle, Hamzah—the man who had killed her father and brother at Badr. Finding him at last, she kneels beside his corpse, rips open his body, pulls out his liver with her bare hands, and bites into it, thus completing her vengeance against the Messenger of God.
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Islam has so often been portrayed, even by contemporary scholars, as “a military religion, [with] fanatical warriors, engaged in spreading their faith and their law by armed might,” to quote historian Bernard Lewis, that the image of the Muslim horde charging wildly into battle like a swarm of locusts has become one of the most enduring stereotypes in the Western world. “Islam was never really a religion of salvation,” wrote the eminent sociologist Max Weber. “Islam is a warrior religion.” It is a religion that Samuel Huntington has portrayed as steeped “in bloody borders.”
This deep-rooted stereotype of Islam as a warrior religion has its origins in the papal propaganda of the Crusades, when Muslims were depicted as the soldiers of the Antichrist in blasphemous occupation of the Holy Lands (and, far more importantly, of the silk route to China). In the Middle Ages, while Muslim philosophers, scientists, and mathematicians were preserving the knowledge of the past and determining the scholarship of the future, a belligerent and deeply fractured Holy Roman Empire tried to distinguish itself from the Turks who were strangling it from all sides by labeling Islam “the religion of the sword,” as though there were in that era an alternative means of territorial expansion besides war. And as the European colonialists of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries systematically plundered the natural resources of the Middle East and North Africa, inadvertently creating a rabid political and religious backlash that would produce what is now popularly called “Islamic fundamentalism,” the image of the dreaded Muslim warrior, “clad in a long robe an
d brandishing his scimitar, ready to slaughter any infidel that might come his way,” became a widely popular literary cliché. It still is.
Today, the traditional image of the Muslim horde has been more or less replaced by a new image: the Islamic terrorist, strapped with explosives, ready to be martyred for God, eager to take as many innocent people as possible with him. What has not changed, however, is the notion that Islam is a religion whose adherents have been embroiled in a perpetual state of holy war, or jihad, from the time of Muhammad to this very day.
Yet the doctrine of jihad, like so many doctrines in Islam, was not fully developed as an ideological expression until long after Muhammad’s death, when Muslim conquerors began absorbing the cultures and practices of the Near East. Islam, it must be remembered, was born in an era of grand empires and global conquests, a time in which the Byzantines and Sasanians—both theocratic kingdoms—were locked in a permanent state of religious war for territorial expansion. The Muslim armies that spread out of the Arabian Peninsula simply joined in the existing fracas; they neither created it nor defined it, though they quickly dominated it. Despite the common perception in the West, the Muslim conquerors did not force conversion upon the conquered peoples; indeed, they did not even encourage it. The fact is that the financial and social advantages of being an Arab Muslim in the eighth and ninth centuries were such that Islam quickly became an élite clique, which a non-Arab could join only through a complex process that involved becoming first the client of an Arab.