It is a sad commentary on the conformism of our times that Muslim clerics, and not our voluble secular liberals, have taken on Wahhabism, the most virulent form of Islam. Maulana Syed Mohammad Ashraf Kachochavi, general secretary of the All-India Ulama & Mashaikh Board (AIUMB), a Sufi sect, recently said at a public meeting in Moradabad, “Hamey Wahhabiyon ka na Immamat kabool hai, na kayadat Kabul (We reject the religious and political leadership of Wahabis).”
He thundered, “If anyone knocks on your door with the message of extremism, hand him over to the nearest police station.” He hit the nail on its head, for Wahhabism wants to freeze time in the seventh century, at least for the Muslims all over the world. It was propounded by a theologian, Muhammad ibn Abd al-Wahhab (1703–1792), from Najd in what is now Saudi Arabia. The movement strives to purge Islam of all impurities and innovations.
Wahhabism is the official version of Islam in Saudi Arabia. It is the ideology that inspires al-Qaeda, the Taliban, and the countless other terrorist organizations.
Wahhabism got a big fillip when petroleum exports made the Arabian Peninsula and other Muslim countries rich. Saudi petrodollars in particular financed a number of schools, seminaries, and mosques as well as social programmes in the entire world. Thanks to the inveterate misogyny and limitless intolerance of Wahhabism, the consequences were catastrophic for Muslim women, pluralism, and liberalism in the Islamic world and elsewhere.
Kachochavi was right when he said, “About 100 years ago, Sunni Muslims in India had rejected the Wahabis. After Independence, however, the Wahhabis expanded their influence through political backing. While we remained away from government and politics, Wahhabis gained control over institutions dealing with minority affairs, including the wakf board and the Muslim Personal Law Board.”
AIUMB spokesperson Syed Babar Ashraf pointed out that while four out of five Indian Muslims believe in the Sunni Sufi tradition, the Wahhabis have control over just 13-14 per cent of the community. “But a large section of the Urdu press has boycotted us. They are controlled by hardliners.”
Terming the outfits like Deoband, Jamiat Ulama-e-Hind, and Ahl-e-Hadees as Wahhabi-inspired bodies, he said, “They are funded by petro-dollars and aim to grab political power.”
The Sufi conclave got the full support of Islamic scholar Sultan Shahin: “It is for the first time that mainstream Ulema have come out so strongly against Wahabism which is slowly but determinedly spreading in this country.” According to him, “Islam spread in India through the Sufi saints. But all that changed with the infusion of Saudi petrodollars. For me the most worrying example is Pakistan. Everything that happened there a decade ago is happening here today.”
Faizur Rahman, secretary-general of the Forum for the Promotion of Moderate Thought Among Muslims, also reacted in a similar fashion. “There are books of fatwas written by Saudi clerics which contain such abhorrent ruling as those that declare a Muslim who does not pray five times to be a ‘kafir’ and say that he must be killed and ‘buried outside the graveyards of the Muslims’ if he does not repent.”
But the most retrograde sections among the Muslim community were rattled by the statements made by the AIUMP leaders. Darul Uloom rector Maulana Qasim Nomani lashed out at both the AIUMB and the English press for giving good coverage to the Sufi event. “Why did the English media front-page this news?” he asked.
Unsurprisingly, the Urdu press practically boycotted the Sufi event, but prominently displayed the reactions of Nomani. What is regrettable is that it is not only orthodox and narrow-minded people who have thrown their weight behind Wahhabism; even those who are expected to fight the fundamentalist ideology are actually supporting it. Consider the case of Mujtaba Khan, a professor at Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi, a publicly funded institution. Its faculty is supposed to uphold such cherished principles of Indian Republic as freedom of religion, equality of women, and modernity. But what does Khan believe in?
According to him, “the contributions of Wahabi/Deobandi movements in extricating Muslim youth from many customs forbidden in Islam cannot be simply glossed over.” He is actually saying that the reaction against any sort of modernization is good; so, there is nothing wrong if acid is thrown on a Muslim woman who does not dress properly; it is also proper that those using religious freedom to go beyond the literal interpretation of Koran are treated shabbily; it is also in the fitness of things that homosexuals, apostates, etc., are killed.
Intellectuals like Khan try to downplay or overlook the bigotry of such Wahhabi-inspired organizations. A recent instance of their bigotry was the demand by Darul Uloom Deoband for a ban on the followers of Ahmadiya sect to perform Haj. In a letter to the King of Saudi Arabia, the seminary urged him to act against the Ahmadiyas, also known as Qadianis.
It is not just Muslim luminaries like Khan but almost the entire intellectual class of India that refuse to see the evil of Wahhabism and the resultant Islamic terror. They are loath to take on the jihadis for the fear of being dubbed as ‘communal’ or fanatical. So, ironically, now Muslim clerics are fighting the jihadi ideology.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Hypocrisy unlimited
Why is there a gulf between public discourse and private deliberations? Anything that is asserted, cherished, and promoted in the public domain is almost always at variance with what is appreciated, esteemed, and encouraged in private life.
Let’s begin with one of the most important things in the world—money. All of us—at any rate, all of us, save the fortunate few—work for money. Most people spend almost three-fourths of the time, effort, and energy on earning money, investing it prudently, or spending it cautiously. In its pursuit, men and women perform heroic, even superhuman feats; they also commit the most heinous crimes. Money consumes us; it makes and breaks relationships. It shapes our viewpoint, attitude, and values. It plays an extremely important role in our life. It is the axis around which the world revolves. It molds our relationships. Unsurprisingly, we remember our rich uncles and forget poor cousins.
Yet, its importance is routinely downplayed. Religions put scorn on money and the moneyed; moralizers warn us about the dangers of mammon worship; movies tell us that the rich are bad and the poor are good (and the poor vanquish the rich); intellectuals often equate money with theft (and do their best to replenish their own coffers).
One word that describes mankind’s duplicity is hypocrisy. Perhaps, America is the only country in the world where wealth is generally seen as a reward for enterprise and endeavor, though there is no dearth of moralizers railing against money even there. America’s success in bridging the gap between public discourse and private deliberations has a great deal to do with its economic might, political clout, technological prowess, and military muscle.
India’s relationship with America has been unique. In an article (November 29, 2009, The Economic Times), Swaminathan Aiyar wrote, “During the Cold War, India's governmental relations were warm with the USSR and cool with the US. But a million Indians migrated to the US while none went to the USSR.” The question is: why? India is a democracy, so its political class is supposed to reflect the views, feelings, and aspirations of the people. But why was it that while the people of India felt, and feel, at home in Washington, New York, and other U.S. cities (and in the West in general), our leaders found friends in Moscow and Jakarta? India and the U.S. have had strong economic ties (the U.S. is the biggest trade partner), social and cultural relations, but the political ties have often lacked warmth; at times, there was pronounced hostility between the world’s two biggest democracies.
The answer lies in socialism, the ideology that delineated our economic and foreign policies during much of the second half of the twentieth century. It can be called the most overrated ideology the world has ever witnessed; all over the world, intellectuals generally favor it as much as common people detest it.
Socialism means controls which lead to shortages; anybody who has lived in pre-liberalization India knows it very well because they have suffered it. Socialism means licences, even for radio and television. It means that even if you build your own house with your own hard-earned money, you have to run from pillar to post for cement. It means that when you have a marriage in your family, you have to go to a babu with the invitation card for the release of sugar. It means that you have to wait for years to buy a scooter. It means that essential amenities like gas cylinder and telephone connection, you have either to wait indefinitely or seek favor from a politician or a ‘well-connected’ person. It means that for good things in life, you look askance at imported stuff. Yet, intellectuals love socialism. And, despite the failure of socialism all over world, they preach its virtues.
But thanks to our intellectuals love for socialism, the public discourse in India is generally against multinational corporations (MNCs) and big industry. Our intellectuals never tire railing against big companies. We are told that these companies exploit their employees, bribe politicians and bureaucrats, break or mold rules and regulations, evade taxes, and don’t care a hoot about the environment. Yet, if you ask any non-intellectual if they would like to work with a big company—or if they want their children to be employed by an MNC—the answer would be a big ‘yes’ (Most intellectuals also would reply in a similar fashion in private, but that is another story). Common people know that big companies pay well, have a better working atmosphere, and are not run by the whims and fancies of small, proprietary firms—at least, at the lower and middle levels. They are happy working with big companies.
But intellectuals claim that they are exploited by corporate tycoons. Oxford Dictionary defines the verb ‘exploit’ as ‘make use of (a situation) in a way considered unfair or underhand’ or ‘benefit unfairly from the work of (someone).’ In the normal sense of the term, MNC employees are not exploited; this is the reason they work or aspire to work for MNCs and big companies. Intellectuals, however, have nothing to do with the normal or the obvious; they are comfortable with the dogma Karl Marx propounded over a century-and-a-half ago, called the Theory of Surplus Value. No amount of empirical evidence can shake their faith in the discredited Theory. People like MNCs, but these remain ugly in public discourse.
Similarly, most people want to earn their own living. They also want their children to be self-dependent. In all societies, the virtues of endeavor and diligence are cherished. But public discourse in our country is all about shaping the political economy in such a way that more and more people become dependent on state largesse. It a family member or friend suffers huge financial losses or is ruined, we try to help him by increasing his earning rather than paying him regular donations. Lead a man to fish, they say, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, feed him for life. Not that there is no altruism. We make sacrifices and take pains to help our buddies, family members, etc. But the idea is to help who needs it rather than make them dependent on us.
But when it comes to public discourse and political debate, everything turns topsy-turvy. Poverty alleviation grabs the attention of policy-makers, politicians, and bureaucrats—which is fine. However, the means employed are the ones opposite to those which we would never employ in our personal capacity. They conceive publicly-funded schemes, establishing postmodern feudalism, with government as a gigantic lord and the poor as permanent dependants. The lord gives and the serf receives, making the latter to perennially look askance at the former. The entitlement mindset is promoted. Personally, we don’t like our dear ones to be our dependants; politically, we do it all the time. With great aplomb, as if the creation of serfdom were a remarkable feat.
Consider another public-private dichotomy. Politicians of various hues claim to be the champions of vernaculars. They aggressively campaign to change the names of cities to make these echo the local dialect. Bombay becomes Mumbai; Madras, Chennai; Calcutta, Kolkata; Bangalore, Bengaluru. In the name of promoting Indian languages, they bar English from government schools in the primary classes, thus ensuring that the children with humble origins—for it is normally they who attend such schools—are handicapped for life in their career pursuits. It is a well-known fact that English enables a person to get a better job, move faster in any profession, and get better connected with the world. Politicians themselves acknowledge this fact and, therefore, send their own kids to English-medium schools; they also send their children to the U.K. and the U.S. for higher education. What is good in private becomes bad in the public domain and political arena.
Similarly, villages and rural life are glorified and valorized in public discourse. Politicians and intellectuals go lyrical in describing the ethos and pathos of country life; but all of them live in cities, and will continue to live in cities. And their children will also live in cities.
There are many other instances which illustrate the gulf between private beliefs and public posturing. Can this gulf ever be abridged? Not until the intellectual and moral bankruptcy of our opinion makers is exposed.
Let’s begin with one of the most important things in the world—money. All of us—at any rate, all of us, save the fortunate few—work for money. Most people spend almost three-fourths of the time, effort, and energy on earning money, investing it prudently, or spending it cautiously. In its pursuit, men and women perform heroic, even superhuman feats; they also commit the most heinous crimes. Money consumes us; it makes and breaks relationships. It shapes our viewpoint, attitude, and values. It plays an extremely important role in our life. It is the axis around which the world revolves. It molds our relationships. Unsurprisingly, we remember our rich uncles and forget poor cousins.
Yet, its importance is routinely downplayed. Religions put scorn on money and the moneyed; moralizers warn us about the dangers of mammon worship; movies tell us that the rich are bad and the poor are good (and the poor vanquish the rich); intellectuals often equate money with theft (and do their best to replenish their own coffers).
One word that describes mankind’s duplicity is hypocrisy. Perhaps, America is the only country in the world where wealth is generally seen as a reward for enterprise and endeavor, though there is no dearth of moralizers railing against money even there. America’s success in bridging the gap between public discourse and private deliberations has a great deal to do with its economic might, political clout, technological prowess, and military muscle.
India’s relationship with America has been unique. In an article (November 29, 2009, The Economic Times), Swaminathan Aiyar wrote, “During the Cold War, India's governmental relations were warm with the USSR and cool with the US. But a million Indians migrated to the US while none went to the USSR.” The question is: why? India is a democracy, so its political class is supposed to reflect the views, feelings, and aspirations of the people. But why was it that while the people of India felt, and feel, at home in Washington, New York, and other U.S. cities (and in the West in general), our leaders found friends in Moscow and Jakarta? India and the U.S. have had strong economic ties (the U.S. is the biggest trade partner), social and cultural relations, but the political ties have often lacked warmth; at times, there was pronounced hostility between the world’s two biggest democracies.
The answer lies in socialism, the ideology that delineated our economic and foreign policies during much of the second half of the twentieth century. It can be called the most overrated ideology the world has ever witnessed; all over the world, intellectuals generally favor it as much as common people detest it.
Socialism means controls which lead to shortages; anybody who has lived in pre-liberalization India knows it very well because they have suffered it. Socialism means licences, even for radio and television. It means that even if you build your own house with your own hard-earned money, you have to run from pillar to post for cement. It means that when you have a marriage in your family, you have to go to a babu with the invitation card for the release of sugar. It means that you have to wait for years to buy a scooter. It means that essential amenities like gas cylinder and telephone connection, you have either to wait indefinitely or seek favor from a politician or a ‘well-connected’ person. It means that for good things in life, you look askance at imported stuff. Yet, intellectuals love socialism. And, despite the failure of socialism all over world, they preach its virtues.
But thanks to our intellectuals love for socialism, the public discourse in India is generally against multinational corporations (MNCs) and big industry. Our intellectuals never tire railing against big companies. We are told that these companies exploit their employees, bribe politicians and bureaucrats, break or mold rules and regulations, evade taxes, and don’t care a hoot about the environment. Yet, if you ask any non-intellectual if they would like to work with a big company—or if they want their children to be employed by an MNC—the answer would be a big ‘yes’ (Most intellectuals also would reply in a similar fashion in private, but that is another story). Common people know that big companies pay well, have a better working atmosphere, and are not run by the whims and fancies of small, proprietary firms—at least, at the lower and middle levels. They are happy working with big companies.
But intellectuals claim that they are exploited by corporate tycoons. Oxford Dictionary defines the verb ‘exploit’ as ‘make use of (a situation) in a way considered unfair or underhand’ or ‘benefit unfairly from the work of (someone).’ In the normal sense of the term, MNC employees are not exploited; this is the reason they work or aspire to work for MNCs and big companies. Intellectuals, however, have nothing to do with the normal or the obvious; they are comfortable with the dogma Karl Marx propounded over a century-and-a-half ago, called the Theory of Surplus Value. No amount of empirical evidence can shake their faith in the discredited Theory. People like MNCs, but these remain ugly in public discourse.
Similarly, most people want to earn their own living. They also want their children to be self-dependent. In all societies, the virtues of endeavor and diligence are cherished. But public discourse in our country is all about shaping the political economy in such a way that more and more people become dependent on state largesse. It a family member or friend suffers huge financial losses or is ruined, we try to help him by increasing his earning rather than paying him regular donations. Lead a man to fish, they say, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, feed him for life. Not that there is no altruism. We make sacrifices and take pains to help our buddies, family members, etc. But the idea is to help who needs it rather than make them dependent on us.
But when it comes to public discourse and political debate, everything turns topsy-turvy. Poverty alleviation grabs the attention of policy-makers, politicians, and bureaucrats—which is fine. However, the means employed are the ones opposite to those which we would never employ in our personal capacity. They conceive publicly-funded schemes, establishing postmodern feudalism, with government as a gigantic lord and the poor as permanent dependants. The lord gives and the serf receives, making the latter to perennially look askance at the former. The entitlement mindset is promoted. Personally, we don’t like our dear ones to be our dependants; politically, we do it all the time. With great aplomb, as if the creation of serfdom were a remarkable feat.
Consider another public-private dichotomy. Politicians of various hues claim to be the champions of vernaculars. They aggressively campaign to change the names of cities to make these echo the local dialect. Bombay becomes Mumbai; Madras, Chennai; Calcutta, Kolkata; Bangalore, Bengaluru. In the name of promoting Indian languages, they bar English from government schools in the primary classes, thus ensuring that the children with humble origins—for it is normally they who attend such schools—are handicapped for life in their career pursuits. It is a well-known fact that English enables a person to get a better job, move faster in any profession, and get better connected with the world. Politicians themselves acknowledge this fact and, therefore, send their own kids to English-medium schools; they also send their children to the U.K. and the U.S. for higher education. What is good in private becomes bad in the public domain and political arena.
Similarly, villages and rural life are glorified and valorized in public discourse. Politicians and intellectuals go lyrical in describing the ethos and pathos of country life; but all of them live in cities, and will continue to live in cities. And their children will also live in cities.
There are many other instances which illustrate the gulf between private beliefs and public posturing. Can this gulf ever be abridged? Not until the intellectual and moral bankruptcy of our opinion makers is exposed.
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