Worshippers praying at Faisal Mosque in Islamabad | Tanveer Shahzad, White Star
Rahman identifies various devices through which individual interpreters have arrived at widely varying interpretations of the verses on jihad. These devices mainly include: resorting to a literal meaning of a term, specifying the context in which a verse is said to have been revealed, and expanding a term semantically to explore all its possible meanings.
Both the modernist scholars and their traditionalist rivals have employed these devices, in line with their ideologically-affected and historically-informed world views, to read and interpret texts on jihad. Some of them even combine various devices if and when it suits them.
To cite just one example, a focus on literal meanings helps Sir Syed Ahmad Khan emphasise the purely defensive nature of jihad mentioned in some verses of the Quran. But when he is dealing with an aggressive jihad mentioned in other verses – such as those on waging war against non-Muslims who invade Muslim lands, attacking non-Muslims who break their oath of allegiance or are capturing Muslim women and children – he moves to a contextualised interpretation. In all these cases, he resorts to offering specific historical contexts that justify the specific act of war.
Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, a Muslim scholar who opposed the creation of Pakistan, offers another innovative interpretation. Driven by his anti-British politics, he resorts to a semantic expansion to explain that the word fitnah used in a verse that says “fight them until there is no [more] fitnah …” is a conceptual equivalent of oppression and exploitation of colonialism. The verse, according to him, seeks the creation of a peaceful world where everyone – Muslim and non-Muslim alike – is free of oppression and exploitation.
Rahman then elaborates how some modern day jihadi leaders, such as Hafiz Saeed and Masood Azhar, have used the same interpretive devices to arrive at entirely opposite conclusions. Their interpretations are heavily informed by the contemporary global political context — just as interpretations by modernists are informed by the British colonial context of their own time. Inspired by radical Islamists from the Arab world, Saeed and Azhar see the world as the site of a ceaseless conflict between Muslims and non-Muslims — unlike modernists who regard the world as a space where people from different religious traditions should, and can, live peacefully together.
But Saeed does not limit his interpretations to what most commentators – including some known traditionalist scholars – have stated: that the commandments for an aggressive jihad are limited to fighting against Jews and Christians during the days of the Prophet of Islam in order to drive them out of the sacred environs of Mecca and Medina and/or to punish them for their breach of treaties. He, on the other hand, states that an aggressive jihad against Hindus is also justified because they have invaded the Muslim territory of Kashmir and enslaved its Muslim population.
Azhar, on the other hand, adopts an interpretive strategy remarkably similar to the one adopted by modernists. He plays on the word fitnah to expand its meaning to a ‘state of unbelief’. This makes jihad an unending enterprise which must continue until the ‘state of unbelief’ comes to an end.
He, in fact, finds a justification for jihad even in the verse that enjoins Muslims to not fight against those infidels who do not take up arms against them. According to him, the verse grants permission rather than issuing an order: it permits Muslims that they can choose to avoid a fight against those infidels but does not specifically prohibits them from doing so. In any case, he argues, the verse has been abrogated by subsequently revealed texts and is no longer applicable.
Also, following the lead of radical Islamists from the Middle East, Saeed and Azhar do not consider it necessary to require formal approval from the state before waging jihad. This creates room for carrying out jihad without the state’s approval, either by questioning the legitimacy of Muslim rulers or by declaring that non-state groups can appoint their own leaders for the purposes of declaring and leading jihad.
The debate for the state’s approval for jihad, indeed, is as old as the state of Pakistan. When a jihad was initiated in Kashmir in 1948, Abul Ala Maududi opposed the campaign. He stated that it required an open and public approval from the state as well as a revocation of all state-level ties and treaties between India and Pakistan. Shabbir Ahmed Usmani, on the other hand, contested Maududi’s position and cited the oppression and subjugation of Kashmiri Muslims as a legitimate reason for waging jihad against their oppressors. Rahman, surprisingly, does not dwell much on the exchange between the two.
Times have changed a lot since 1948. Countering the interpretations being made and promoted by jihadists is a risky business these days — as is painfully obvious from the cases of Professor Shakeel Auj, a professor at the University of Karachi, and psychiatrist Farooq Khan, who was also the vice-chancellor of the Swat Islamic University. Both were assassinated, in 2014 and 2010, respectively, for coming up with narratives that challenged those being advanced by radical Islamists. Rahman summarises the views of many such scholars who have tried, against all odds, to provide a critique of jihadist interpretations.
This critique is important now that the state is eager to reverse its earlier ideology of using jihad as a policy tool and stop non-state individuals and groups from carrying out jihadi activities that have resulted in widespread violence and killings, especially since 9/11. The fact that most of the victims of this violence have been Muslims makes it even more important for Muslims to come up with an authoritative interpretation on where, how and why jihad can be carried out.
The position of radical Islamists on these issues has depended upon the nature of their relationship with the Pakistani state. Various factions of the Pakistani Taliban that have fallen out of favour with the state have openly sanctioned the killing of Pakistani Muslims but others like Saeed, who have worked closely with the state, do not endorse such killing.
Zaman’s mapping of a broad Islamic landscape and Rahman’s focused study of jihad, despite being vastly different from each other in many respects, have a number of common themes: that the evolution of a religious idea does not take place merely in the minds of its exponents; that every religious idea is contingent upon the social, political and economic landscape of its time; that biases of the initiators and promoters of an idea are as important as the religious roots of that idea.
Regardless of the fact that the two books are quite extensive and leave little room for improvement, these are expected to encourage other researchers and scholars to go further — particularly by conducting studies that combine an ethnographic method with textual analysis. These future studies should look into the lives of individuals as believers as well as individuals qua individuals. It will be informative to see how people at an individual level engage with Islamic discourses — whether by challenging them to carve a niche for alternative discourses or by acquiescing to them under the burden of cultural, ideological, political and economic superstructures.
The writer is an associate professor of history at LUMS.
This article was published in the Herald's January 2019 issue. To read more subscribe to the Herald in print.