No God But God

by Reza Aslan

  This is not to suggest that Islam rejects the separation of “mosque and state.” On the contrary, there are very few Muslim-majority countries in the world in which clerics exercise direct authority over the government. Those countries that have attempted such direct authority—Sudan, Nigeria, Afghanistan, and Iran—have been, without exception, devastating failures. Nevertheless, it is true that when it comes to religion the boundary between the public and private realm is far more fluid in Muslim-majority states than it is in the West. This is partly because, having originated in a tribal culture and been reared primarily in the communal societies of the Middle East and North Africa, Islam tends to eschew radical individualism, preferring to stress the needs of the community over the rights of the individual. Whatever the reasons may be, it is a fundamental and unavoidable fact that people in nearly all Muslim-majority states have repeatedly stated their desire for Islamic values and mores to have an influence over their countries’ politics. And since a state can be considered democratic only insofar as it reflects its society, if the society is founded upon a particular set of values, then must not its government be also?

  Admittedly, ever since September 11 it has been impossible to ask such questions without immediately conjuring up pictures of Afghanistan under the Taliban. In fact, the image of the Afghan woman enveloped in the burqah and subjugated to the whims of an ignorant band of misogynists has become the symbol of everything that is backward and wicked about the concept of Islamic governance, and such images are not easily supplanted by political philosophies.

  Considering how often Islam has been used to rationalize the brutal policies of oppressive totalitarian régimes like the Taliban in Afghanistan, the Wahhabists in Saudi Arabia, or the Faqih in Iran, it is hardly surprising that the term “Islamic democracy” provokes such skepticism in the West. Some of the most celebrated academics in the United States and Europe reject the notion outright, believing that the principles of democracy cannot be reconciled with fundamental Islamic values. When politicians speak of bringing democracy to the Middle East, they mean specifically an American secular democracy, not an indigenous Islamic one. And dictatorial régimes in the Middle East never seem to tire of preaching to the world that their brutally antidemocratic policies are justified because “fundamentalists” allow them but two possible options: despotism or theocracy. The problem with democracy from their point of view is that if people are allowed a choice, they may choose against their governments.

  Ignoring for a moment the role these and so many other autocratic régimes in the Middle East have played in creating so-called fundamentalists in the first place, there exists a far more philosophical dispute in the Western world with regard to the concept of Islamic democracy: that is, that there can be no a priori moral framework in a modern democracy; that the foundation of a genuinely democratic society must be secularism. The problem with this argument, however, is that it not only fails to recognize the inherently moral foundation upon which a large number of modern democracies are built, it more importantly fails to appreciate the difference between secularism and secularization.

  As the Protestant theologian Harvey Cox notes, secularization is the process by which “certain responsibilities pass from ecclesiastical to political authorities,” whereas secularism is an ideology based on the eradication of religion from public life. Secularization implies a historical evolution in which society gradually frees itself from “religious control and closed metaphysical world-views.” Secularism is itself a closed metaphysical world-view that, according to Cox, “functions very much like a new religion.”

  Turkey is a secular country in which outward signs of religiosity such as the hijab were, until quite recently, forcibly suppressed. With regard to ideological resolve, one could argue that little separates a secular country like Turkey from a religious country like Iran; both ideologize society. The United States, however, is a secularizing country, unapologetically founded on a Judeo-Christian—and more precisely Protestant—moral framework. As recognized nearly two hundred years ago by Alexis de Tocqueville, religion is the foundation of America’s political system. It not only reflects American social values, it very often dictates them. One need only regard the language with which political issues like abortion rights and gay marriage are debated in Congress to recognize that religion is to this day an integral part of the American national identity and patently the moral foundation for its Constitution, its laws, and its national customs. Despite what schoolchildren read in their history books, the reality is that the separation of “church and state” is not so much the foundation of American government as it is the result of a two-hundred-forty-year secularization process based not upon secularism, but upon pluralism.

  It is pluralism, not secularism, that defines democracy. A democratic state can be established upon any normative moral framework as long as pluralism remains the source of its legitimacy. England continues to maintain a national church whose religious head is also the country’s sovereign and whose bishops serve in the upper house of Parliament. India was, until recently, governed by partisans of an élitist theology of Hindu Awakening (Hindutva) bent on applying an implausible but enormously successful vision of “true Hinduism” to the state. And yet, like the United States, these countries are considered democracies, not because they are secular but because they are, at least in theory, dedicated to pluralism.

  Or consider the State of Israel, a country founded upon an exclusivist Jewish moral framework, which offers all the world’s Jews—regardless of their nationality—immediate citizenship, providing them with a host of material benefits and privileges over its non-Jewish citizens; where the Orthodox rabbinical courts have jurisdiction over all matters relating to Judaism (including who is and who is not a Jew); where religious schools (yeshivas) are subsidized by the state, and marriages are religious rather than civil affairs (meaning no official will marry a Jew to a non-Jew); and where all new citizens, regardless of their religious affiliation, are required to take a loyalty oath affirming Israel’s identity as a “Jewish state.” By every definition of the term, Israel is a “Jewish democracy.” Yet the very same people who praise Israel’s reconciliation of Jewish and democratic ideals, despite the very obvious conflicts it has created both inside Israel and within the occupied Palestinian territories, reflexively deny that a similar reconciliation between Islamic and democratic ideals could be established in any Muslim-majority state. Never mind the enormously successful examples of precisely such a reconciliation in Turkey, Indonesia, Malaysia, Bangladesh, Senegal, etc., or the fact that nearly one-third of the world’s Muslims already live in democratic states. Among certain critics of Islam, there can simply be no such thing as Islamic pluralism, no matter how much evidence exists to the contrary.

  Yet, as we have seen, Islam has had a long commitment to religious pluralism. Muhammad’s recognition of Jews and Christians as protected peoples (dhimmi), his belief in a common divine text from which all revealed scriptures are derived (the Umm al-Kitab), and his dream of establishing a single, united Ummah encompassing all three faiths of Abraham were startlingly revolutionary ideas in an era in which religion literally created borders between peoples. And despite the ways in which it has been interpreted by militants and fundamentalists who refuse to recognize its historical and cultural context, there are few scriptures in the great religions of the world that can match the reverence with which the Quran speaks of other religious traditions.

  It is true that the Quran does not hold the same respect for polytheistic religions as it does for monotheistic ones. However, this is primarily a consequence of the fact that the Revelation was revealed during a protracted and bloody war with the “polytheistic” Quraysh. The truth is that the Quranic designation of “protected peoples” was highly flexible and was routinely tailored to match public policy. When Islam expanded into Iran and India, both dualist Zoroastrians and certain polytheistic Hindu sects were designated as dhimmi. And while the Quran does no
t allow any religion to violate core Muslim values, there is no country in the world that does not restrict the freedom of religion according to public morality. Pluralism implies religious tolerance, not unchecked religious freedom.

  The foundation of Islamic pluralism can be summed up in one indisputable verse: “There can be no compulsion in religion” (2:256). This means that the antiquated partitioning of the world into spheres of belief (dar al-Islam) and unbelief (dar al-Harb), which was first developed during the Crusades but which still maintains its grasp on the imaginations of Traditionalist theologians, is utterly unjustifiable. It also means that the ideology of those Islamic puritans like the Wahhabists who wish to return Islam to some imaginary ideal of original purity must be once and for all abandoned. Islam is and has always been a religion of diversity. The notion that there was once an original, unadulterated Islam that was shattered into heretical sects and schisms is a historical fiction. Both Shi‘ism and Sufism in all their wonderful manifestations represent trends of thought that have existed from the very beginning of Islam, and both find their inspiration in the words and deeds of the Prophet. God may be One, but Islam most definitely is not.

  Grounding an Islamic democracy in the ideals of pluralism is vital because religious pluralism is the first step toward building an effective human rights policy in the Middle East. Indeed, as Abdulaziz Sachedina notes, religious pluralism can function as “an active paradigm for a democratic, social pluralism in which people of diverse religious backgrounds are willing to form a community of global citizens.” As with Islamic pluralism, the inspiration for an Islamic policy of human rights must be based on the Medinan ideal.

  The revolutionary rights Muhammad gave to the marginalized members of his community have been exhaustively detailed in this book, as have the consistent efforts by Muhammad’s religious and political inheritors to overturn those rights. Yet one need simply recall the Prophet’s warning to those who questioned his egalitarian measures in Medina—“[They] will be thrown into Hell, where they will dwell forever, suffering from the most shameful punishment” (4:14)—to recognize that acknowledging human rights in Islam is not simply a means of protecting civil liberties, it is a fundamental religious duty.

  Nevertheless, the Islamic vision of human rights is not a prescription for moral relativism, nor does it imply freedom from ethical restraint. Islam’s quintessentially communal character necessitates that any human rights policy take into consideration the protection of the community over the autonomy of the individual. And while there may be some circumstances in which Islamic morality may force the rights of the community to prevail over the rights of the individual—for instance, with regard to Quranic commandments forbidding drinking or gambling—these and all other ethical issues must constantly be reevaluated so as to conform to the will of the community.

  It must be understood that a respect for human rights, like pluralism, is a process that develops naturally within a democracy. Bear in mind that for approximately two hundred of America’s two hundred forty years of existence, black American citizens were considered legally inferior to whites. Finally, neither human rights nor pluralism is the result of secularization, they are its root cause, meaning that any democratic society—Islamic or otherwise—dedicated to the principles of pluralism and human rights must dedicate itself to following the unavoidable path toward political secularization.

  Therein lies the crux of the argument for Islamic democracy, which is not intended to be a “theo-democracy,” but a democratic system founded upon an Islamic moral framework, devoted to preserving Islamic ideals of pluralism and human rights as they were first introduced in Medina, and open to the inevitable process of political secularization. Islam may eschew secularism, but there is nothing about fundamental Islamic values that opposes the process of political secularization. The separation of “church and state” of which America is so proud was established in Islam fourteen centuries ago, when it was decided that no Caliph would have religious authority over the community. Only the Prophet had both religious and temporal authority, and the Prophet is no longer among us. Hence, like the Caliphs, kings, and sultans of history’s greatest Islamic civilizations, the leaders of an Islamic democracy can hold only civic responsibilities. Moreover, there can be no question as to where sovereignty in such a system would rest. A government of the people, by the people, and for the people can be established or demolished solely through the will of the people. After all, it is human beings who create laws, not God. Even laws based on divine scripture require human interpretation in order to be applied in the world. In any case, sovereignty necessitates the ability not just to make laws, but to enforce them. Save for the occasional plague, this is a power God rarely chooses to wield on earth.

  Those who argue that a state cannot be considered Islamic unless sovereignty rests in the hands of God are in effect arguing that sovereignty should rest in the hands of the clergy. Because religion is, by definition, interpretation, sovereignty in a religious state would belong to those with the power to interpret religion. Yet for this very reason an Islamic democracy cannot be a religious state. Otherwise it would be an oligarchy, not a democracy.

  From the time of the Prophet to the Rightly Guided Caliphs to the great empires and sultanates in Islamic history, there has never been a successful attempt to establish a monolithic interpretation of the meaning and significance of Islamic beliefs and practices. Indeed, until the founding of the Islamic Republic of Iran, no Islamic polity in the history of the world had ever been ruled by one individual’s reading of scripture. This does not mean the religious authorities should have no influence on the state. Khomeini may have had a point when he asserted that those who spend their lives pursuing religion are the most qualified to interpret it. However, as with the Pope’s role in Rome, such influence can be only moral, not political. The function of the clergy in an Islamic democracy is not to rule, but to preserve and, more important, to reflect the morality of the state. Again, because it is not religion, but the interpretation of religion that arbitrates morality, such interpretation must always be in accord with the consensus of the community.

  It does mean, however, that Islam will necessarily play a role in defining what an indigenous democracy in many Muslim-majority states would look like, at least in the early stages. Those in Europe and North America who expect a secular, liberal democracy to arise fully formed in countries that have had little experience of anything other than authoritarian rule are living a fantasy. Even the most cursory study of Islamic history reveals the powerful role that Islam has had in shaping attitudes about government and politics among all Muslim peoples, whether on the left or the right. In Iran, for example, both the reformists and the hard-line conservatives rely on the same symbols, rhetoric, and language to fight either for democratic reform or for theocratic intransigence because both recognize the power that Islam has in mobilizing the masses. In fact, the reason that political opposition in the Middle East is so often religious in nature is not because opposition parties want to build a theocratic state but because it is the language of religion that holds the most currency with the Muslim community.

  If democracy is to have a chance in many Muslim-majority states, religious factions must be encouraged to participate in the political process. This is particularly true with regard to moderate Islamist groups like the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, which has diligently transformed itself over the last decade into a legitimate political party. But even more extremist Islamist groups like Hizbullah in Lebanon and Hamas in Palestine must be brought into the political fold. It is true that there are those who have no interest in establishing anything other than an oppressive, archaic theocracy, and who pursue their theo-political ends through violence and terror. They must be opposed by all necessary measures. But when even legitimate religious opposition is discouraged or outlawed, the unfortunate result is that it becomes radicalized. That is what happened in Iran, when the Shah suppressed all clerical opposition to h
is despotic rule, only to see it radicalize into a wholly new brand of revolutionary Shi‘ism that ultimately cast him from his throne and transformed Iran into the Islamic Republic.

  No one doubts the potential danger in allowing religiously conservative groups a seat at the political table. And certainly, problems can arise when religion plays a role in the state; there will always be groups that will try to use their particular interpretation of religion to promote their own social and political agendas, though that is true of all democracies, especially America’s. However, the real danger lies in stifling the political ambitions of such groups. For wherever legitimate Islamist opposition has been suppressed, militant groups and religious extremists have gained favor. Take the case of Algeria, where the rise of the ultra-violent Jihadist organization the Armed Algerian Group (GIA) was the direct result of the Algerian military’s decision to ban political participation by the more moderate and accommodating Islamists of Islamic Salvation Front (FIS). Conversely, wherever moderate Islamist parties have been allowed to participate in politics and government, popular support for more extremist groups has diminished. In Turkey, for example, the political success of the Islamist Justice and Development Party (Adalet ve Kalkinma Partisi, or AKP) has sapped Turkey’s more radical religious groups of their support among the masses. The simple fact is that democracy cannot take root in the Middle East and beyond without the participation of Islamists who are willing to play by the rules, to put down their weapons, and to pick up ballots instead.