Before a Prayer, Let me Remember You

Early this morning, I received the news that Hafiz Osman passed away. I had heard that he was not well, and had also heard ten days ago that he was getting better. It was a moment to reflect on a friend of a long time ago.

Hafiz Osman, as he had come to be known, was my companion in madressa. He earned the title for he had truly memorized the Qur’an with accuracy and precision.  He led the Tarawih preachers year after year in our hometown. I had lost touch with him, but I heard him recite the Qu’ran a few times in recent times. I was impressed how well he knew the Qur’an. We had all aspired to know the Qur’an well, and he seemed to have reached this esteemed goal.

I knew him better a long time ago when we were the students of Molsaab (Molvie Saheb) Adamjee. We started memorizing the Qur’an together. We spent hours together in the local school, in the mosque and at our teacher’s home. I do not think we counted the hours and days, but it was a lot of time of friendship, mischief and commitment rolled into one indescribable whole.

At some point, we were expected to be at the madrasah well before Fajr prayer. I would wake him up in the early hours of the morning. Walking in darkness across our “yard,” my knocking on the door would wake up the whole family. I cannot remember who woke me up. I would wait in the kitchen while he got ready. We did this regularly, but for how long I do not remember. 

During this time, I also remember going to school together in Laudium. Then, we would be memorizing the Qur’an in the Kombie at great speed. I always thought this was the cause of my poor eyesight. But Hafiz Osman had 20/20 vision - and it seems that he kept in that way.

ًWhile I went to University, he journeyed to Karachi. He stayed for a while and then returned. He spent some more time on the Qur’an, spending a few years making dor (revision). Over time, he developed the proficiency for which he is rightly remembered. He was never given the title of Mawlana, but he had studied the Qur’an in a less formal way. On the few occasions that I asked him about a verse here or there, he always impressed me with the depth and breadth of tafsir 

He remained a quiet pillar in the community of hifz. He led Salah regularly, and Ramadan in Brits without Hafiz Osman was not imaginable. I hardly think that the community of Brits would be the same after his passing. 

I obviously have not done full justice to him. But I want to share these few words before I join in prayer for him, his family and his friends. 

Ethics and Knowledge in a Time of Uncertainty (continued)

Last week I raised a question about how conspiracies are not only linked to fake and untested knowledge. They may also be seen as desperate attempts to fill the gaps in a world that promises to be predictable. I closed with a quick nod to a religious worldview in which ethics is not always linked to full knowledge and predictability. I want to follow this up more closely. 

A world determined by God is both certain and unpredictable. In contrast with God, humans might never know in great detail what is to happen in the future. But they trust in God to know, and then accept whatever happens. For humans, the future remains fundamentally unpredictable. 

But let us consider how this ethic is offered in the Qur’an. Rather than a philosophical or theological postulate, it is presented in a concrete form. Consider the following Qur’anic verse (ayah, literally sign): 

Indeed, God has knowledge of the Hour and sends down the rain and knows what is in the wombs. And no soul perceives what it will earn tomorrow, and no soul perceives in what land it will die. Indeed, Allah is Knowing and Aware (Qurán 31:34)

The verse captures the sense that God knows the hidden and the future while humans do not. The verse specifically spells out aspects of the future.

I have often wondered how to translate this verse in a world in which modern sciences seek to know the world and its future. Clearly, there are aspects that are still beyond knowledge. We might count here the 'knowledge of the Hour', what one will 'earn tomorrow', where one might die. But some aspects mentioned in the verse are not as opaque. With a greater understanding of the world, for example, we have a better understanding of rain and what is in the wombs. 

I would go one step further and argue that, in general, we live in world in which what we earn tomorrow and where we might die is also probed. Economists and statisticians work tirelessly on models that predict how we might earn, and where we would die. Such models are built on extensive data fed into machines for processing. Big data in recent times is built on this conception of models and their predictability.  

Of course, we do not know what a particular person may earn or where she may die. But the models have been fairly accurate in predicting what people may do, or shaping may do. The former is embraced by scientists who think that human behavior is predictable, while the latter argue that these models fed into human relations and communication are self-fulfilling prophecies. 

My point in this is to show how one verse in the Qurán on knowledge of the future stands against a model of the world founded on knowledge and predictability. In the verse (sign) of the Qurán, humans are reminded how little they know, and thus act accordingly. In contrast, sciences founded on incremental knowledge geared towards the predictability of the future, creates an ethics based on knowing. 

Until the 1960s, social scientists predicted that this model of science would eventually replace religious worldviews determined by divine knowledge and fiat. Based on their understanding of the world, Weber, Marx and lesser mortals predicted and assumed the future course of the world. 

We now emphasize how wrong they were, sometimes with some glee. Others counter that this prediction is not dead, but needs adjustment. Again, prediction can never be accurate, but faith in it is not given up. 

For me, the question that remains is how people balance these contrasting maps of the world? What do they do when they think that everything is knowable, and what do they do when they face the uncertainty of the future?

In my previous post, I was suggesting that COVID-19 throws up this conundrum for our consideration. The development of the vaccine is predicated on eventually knowing its nature, and understanding what the future will hold. The actual production of the vaccine, its distribution and sale present a world full of unpredictables and uncertainties. 

The time of COVID-19 might be the place for thinking of the right thing to do in the face of uncertainties. It might offer ways of how religious values and ethics may work in the gaps of knowledge.

COVID19, Conspiracies: Islamic Ethics and Predictability

To put it mildly, the COVID-19 pandemic is difficult to navigate. Apart from losing loved ones, near and far, the challenge of obtaining accurate and reliable information on the virus places additional strain.  And we turn to social media for getting information at a click or a finger push. But here the information is as ubiquitous as it is fraught with deep uncertainty. Is ethics possible when knowledge is not complete?

Ethics, COVID-19 and Science

Knowledge of COVID-19 has led to two problematic social outcomes. There are also good outcomes, but I want to address the former in this blog. The one is a headlong conviction in conspiracy theories. These range from the invisible hand of Bill Gates to the fact that there is no such thing as a unique virus. 'It is just a flu,' I have heard often. Secondly and relatedly, I have come across an increasing number of people who refuse to take social precautions to prevent the spread of the virus. 

It seems that knowledge of the virus is closely tied to the ethical behaviour of protecting oneself and others. Since many of these doubts have a tinge of religiosity, it might be good to take another look at science and its contribution to how we see and behave in the world. 

Knowledge and Predictability

Modern science is rooted in its predictability. When an experiment produces the same results repeatedly, it can be considered true until a new experiment refines or disproves it. We entered COVID with a new challenge, but with the conviction that it will soon pass. We will soon know how the virus behaves and develop a cure or vaccine against it.

Science, from this perspective, has introduced a dimension of predictability in the world. It creates a strong impression that the laws of nature are known or knowable. Knowledge or belief in science creates a conviction of the world. And, to a greater or lesser extent, we live and act by this conviction. Human action in a world of science is rooted in the predictability of the world.

When a mobile phone does not work, for example, we know that it can be fixed. Something that is supposed to work in a particular way has malfunctioned. Another way of saying this is that the malfunctioning has worked unpredictably. When repaired, it will again be as predictable as it was before. 

Medicine is more difficult but works more or less on the same foundation. The human body is highly complex and human behaviour is even more so.  But deep down, medicine works with the same model of knowledge and predictability. The more we know, the better we can behave in the future.

COVID19 and Unpredictability

Covid19 has introduced a dimension of unpredictability to this outlook. As the "behaviour" of the virus is tracked in experiments, it also changes regularly in relation to new variants. As the virus seems to react differently in different bodies, the unpredictability of its effects grows. And as scientific results and anecdotal information is shared across social media, the prognosis of the virus seems to defy predictability. 

COVID-19 is a great introduction to how science works. Scientists have been producing results and vaccines in peer-reviewed journals at great speed. But no sooner have these results been disseminated, new results refine or contradict the earlier results. And the process continues incrementally until we get a better idea of the virus, its effects and its prognosis. Or we might come up with information that we were wrong all the time. This is how science works.

COVID19 has given as a time-lapse version of this process. What used to take years and decades is now seen on television, Facebook and Twitter playing out in less than 18 months. 

But the picture is mediatized, which is better and worse for science and its goal of predictability. Journalists summarize, and scientists share their alternative results. Political leaders see COVID-19 as a challenge or opportunity. And pharmaceutical companies promote experiments and vaccines with profits, not always science, in mind. Social media has given us access to knowledge that we could never have imagined.

As many commentators have argued, this has created a perfect place for conspiracies. But conspiracies are not only the result of popular social or religious lore - they are not only spun from untested beliefs. They are supported by a perception of science that it can predict the future with pinpoint accuracy. Conspiracy theories are filling in the gaps that scientists cannot fill fast enough. 

Many conspiracies are based on pseudo-scientific notions that pretend to be science. New unknown "facts" are offered through "shares." An alternative is offered, one that is rooted in a scientific model that is more predictable than the one scientists are working with the COVID-19 epidemic. 

So while conspiracies seem to be defying all scientific norms, they peddle the predictability of science in highly problematic ways. 

Ethics and Full Knowledge

But I want to come back to the ethics of knowing and not knowing. When knowledge of something is not guaranteed, does it mean that ethical behaviour should be suspended? Since we do not know with certainty how the COVID-19 virus acts, we can suspend ethics towards others.

I am reminded of a central story in the Chapter of the Cave in the Qur'an where the Prophet Moses wishes to accompany a wise man to learn something from him. One of the main morals from this story is that much of life is obscured from full disclosure. Doing good does not sometimes appear to be doing good. Knowing everything is not a precondition for doing good. 

We live in a modern world determined by science and technology. But the COVID-19 might point to doing good when knowledge is not complete as yet, or will never be. So, ethics cannot be based on certain knowledge. It cannot be dependent on knowing everything beforehand. A good deed is one done in some darkness, and it may change the world. 

Ethics of a COVID Vaccine

In the last few days, South African television has raised questions about the availability of COVID vaccines. The television debate fanned a now familiar and plausible narrative that the government of the country has botched up again. This easily believable story has been pushed by opposition spokesperson offered extensive airtime. As usual, there is more to the story than is evident in contemporary democratic politics.

Behind the narrative, it was clear that questions remained on the process that led to the vaccine. This included the great science and scientists behind the vaccines, but also government subsidies given to large companies, the testing of the vaccines across the world, and various attempts made to distribute the vaccine in an equitable manner. 

Now, it seems that wealthy countries are getting ahead of the queues. Pushing up the prices, they are threatening the availability of sufficient vaccines for all. In the rush to stem the second wave, the ethics of fair distribution of vaccines are forgotten. The first sign of light at the end of the tunnel has brought back the familiar world and its morality.

The COVID19 pandemic has been difficult to say the least. But it seemed to have elevated a realization of the precarity that faces the world as a collective. And it showed that working together was the only option available for the world. One person who chose to ignore the dangers of the virus exposed potentially many more. And one person who cared could make a huge difference to many. Ironically, the virus brought forth the potential for another world. 

But now that there is some glimmer of hope, the sense of belonging to one world is being jettisoned. Countries that can afford the vaccine are jumping ahead and buying up stocks. Public funds used to subsidize the vaccines are forgotten. Countless people who volunteered to be tested are ignored.

It seems that greed and competition are the only ethical values that determine who gets to live and who gets to die. There are some platitudes passed around about availability of the vaccines in the future.  But the ethics of working together is jettisoned. 

South Africa presents a familiar scenario. The opposition is there to point to the folly of the government. but it too has no real alternative to the ethics of funding that drives the vaccine and its distribution. Given half a chance, it will perpetuate the bifurcated world we have come to accept. A few will be offered the vaccines at inflated prices, while the rest will be herded in crowded and dangerous places. As usual, it will seem that modern science has one again failed delivered a bettter world for all. 

When distress befalls man, he supplicates Us. Then, when We grant him a blessing from Us, he says, ‘I was given it by virtue of [my] knowledge.’ Rather it is a test, but most of them do not know (Qur’an, Zumar, v. 50).

Mawlana Sampson, Gender Justice and Public Ethics

The last four months have been challenging for most people on this planet. Apart from trying to understand and respond to an unknown and unpredictable virus, we have become acutely aware of the inequalities of our societies. Every now and then, thanks to social media, this inequality is revealed in one or other particular aspect of social life. 

In the last ten days, a video broadcast by a Mawlana Sampson went viral in the Muslim community of Cape Town and put the spotlight on the dignity of women. 

Announcing his impending second marriage, Mawlana Sampson also called upon others to follow his example. His use of language to describe men and women was offensive, and it was rejected as soon as it hit the social mediascape of the Muslims of the city and the country. Eventually, the Mawlana apologized for his video.

But his language revealed a deep flaw that runs through the Muslim community in particular and the South African nation in general. In a country where violence against women has become the norm, the language of Sampson was rightly and quickly rejected. The language seemed to match a pandemic of violence against women in the country through murder, rape and mutilation. 

But not all Muslims agreed with the critics of the video, particularly after Sampson extended an apology.  Many regarded the video as an unfortunate human error that deserved to be forgiven. 

But the issue has raised important issues on ethics and the general response of Muslims on equality and human rights. I would like to reflect on the politics of language and ethics provoked by the Sampson video.

Sampson's video clip is more than a straight-forward expression of a patriarchal world. It is also a form of resistance or turning away from a dominant world that has promised equality and rights, but which has been denied to most people in the world. 

When we put up human rights as universal values, we often forget that inequality has been built into the modern system and its rhetoric of rights. Whether we turn to its origins in capitalism or the aftermath of World War II, human rights were born in a world of increasing inequality. As more gains were recorded on statute books, much less was achieved in the actual lives of most people on the planet. For most,  COVID19 has merely revealed a world that becomes more unequal, while appeals for equality and dignity grow louder.

Some suggest that turning to religion is a form of deep resistance to such norms, but others say religious revival turns its back on such norms. The late Saba Mahmood has given a detailed glimpsed of this rhetoric of devotion and commitment in pockets of Muslim communities. If her analysis is valid for Sampson's community, then the video might be a sign of the community turning its back against modernity in general, and the rhetoric of human rights in particular. 

Sampson's appeal for Muslim men to follow the example of the Prophet should not only be placed against the rhetoric of human rights. It should also be placed against an appeal of religious rhetoric in Sampson's mosque community.  

Some have reminded us through social media that Sampson serves his working-class community with commitment and devotion. If this video clip is more than a passing byte, what do his images and words mean in his context? And more importantly, what does polygyny mean for his listeners, both men and women? 

If this analysis is correct, we should take another look at the world of devotion and commitment. It is not sufficient to invoke the rhetoric of rights against a community, but see how Sampson and others like him offer an alternative vision and values. I do not know Sampson's context in greater detail to make further comments. 

However, I would like to make some comments on the support for polygyny in Muslim discourse. Polygyny is presented as an unassailable good for Muslim societies. Sometimes, it is justified by the fact that polygyny serves some social contexts. In a time of war when men die in greater numbers than women, for example, polygyny is a better alternative for society. Some of these justifications have emerged in social media since Sampson's video went viral. I want to question these justifications on two levels.

I do not want to contest the fact that polygyny is acceptable in the Qurán and the practice of the Prophet. But rather than arguing for the limits placed on its practice by jurists and modern intellectuals, I would like to suggest that it is hardly presented in the Qurán as an unmitigated good. The Qurán presents various scenarios where the family of the Prophet Muhammad, particularly with regard to the relationship with his wives, was wracked by tension and hostility. The presentation of a polygynous family in the Qurán is anything but an idyllic household. In many cases, it was only a revelation from God that saved the day.

In contrast to the Qur'anic narrative, polygyny is presented in Sampson's video and modern Muslim discourse in a very different way. Polygyny is embraced as a distinctive and meritorious value for Muslims. It is better, Muslim apologists claim than the nuclear family promoted in modern discourse. In this counter-modern discourse, a polygynous family is celebrated as an unmitigated good. And this is not what I see in the Qurán.

My second point is related to my experience of reactions among Muslims to polygyny on a personal level. What do Muslims do when they are not defending polygyny as a greater good in public debate? In my experience, whenever a man in a family decides to take on a second wife, that decision is received with anger, rejection and great disappointment.  Apart from the woman who must share her husband, other women generally reject the apparent desire of the man to do good. Close friends and family reject the practice for what it means to the dignity of the first wife. 

These comments might seem anecdotal from my experience, but they reflect a contradiction between public support for polygyny and its experience at a personal level. It seems to me that from the time of the Prophet to the present, Muslims know that the practice of polygyny harms the dignity of women. Public debate obscures this awareness.

Sampson's video has raised two sets of questions. Firstly, it has posed questions on how the rhetoric of human rights works in communities that live with poverty, inequality and lack of dignity. How is the turn to religion to be interpreted against the contradictions of a human rights ethics, and actually existing inequalities. We need to bring a greater awareness of this in our public deliberation.

Secondly, the video has also raised critical questions about the justification of polygyny as an unmitigated value. From a practice which is put under surveillance, polygyny is promoted as an unmitigated good. More importantly, public discourse of both Sampson and his supporters ignore the deep attack on the dignity of women of which they are not unaware. 

Works Cited 

Mahmood, Saba. “Feminist Theory, Embodiment, and the Docile Agent: Some Reflections on the Egyptian Islamic Revival.” Cultural Anthropology 16, no. 2 (2001): 202–36.

Mahmood, Saba. Politics of Piety: The Islamic Revival and the Feminist Subject. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005.

Covid-19 and Religion: Cosmologies of Islam and Science (Part 1)

I recently received a WhatsApp message that claimed that Muslims are disproportionately represented in COVID-19 fatalities in two provinces in South Africa. I have not been able to establish its veracity, but I have heard there are a multiplicity of views among religious people on how to respond to the COVID-19 pandemic. Such views are confusing for some, and I have been asked to offer my view on this. 

Since the lockdown in South Africa, I have been collecting statements on religious responses in South Africa. In this first part of this two-part blog, I would like to share this random collection of Muslim responses. This is far from exhaustive, but I have identified a familiar pattern that I can share. 

In this first blog, I will offer my usual approach to Muslim discourse. This is a method that I have used over the years, focusing closely on how Muslim discourse on an issue takes shape. Whether this is apartheid, democracy, or radicalization, a language game clearly emerges. The discourse is deeply contextual, but it is informed by a long history of religious values, practices and ethics. I might even say that there is one discourse that is easily understood and engaged with by its interlocutors. This discourse does not mean that there is one Islam, but neither does it suggest multiple Islams. At the same time, the discourse may be seen to confront or respond to new developments in religion, politics, values and technology. So, my approach lies in starting with the discourse and its response, rather than beginning with the new and working backwards.

The discourse on COVID-19 is marked by a sharp debate that is by definition unresolvable. Participants in the discourse make a claim to truth, some with more confidence and vehemence than others. But the discourse is fundamentally diverse, divisive and multiple. There is a beautiful Hadith that captures this feature: “The difference of opinion in my community is a sign of compassion.” Not all Muslims treat their opponents with compassion, but most accept this diversity in theory.

This discourse on COVID-19 includes discussion on the virus, its nature and history. It includes questions about how to respond to government regulations. Apart from the act of staying at home, the Muslim discourse turns specifically around how to pray and where? Each of these terms (virus, state and prayer) pivot the discourse in a different direction. Central questions and positions are shaped around them. They also show that older questions are addressed and reformulated.  

Religious leaders, through their organizations and mosques, say that the pandemic is the will of God, but they also advise Muslims to take the necessary precautions and to focus on their sinful behaviour. In particular, they accept that daily prayer should be performed at home. Regular attendance at mosques for men is a central practice in South Africa. This accommodation, especially for Friday prayers, shows the extent to which the religious scholars in South Africa have accepted the main pillar of the lockdown. There was one special appeal to President Ramaphosa to allow Muslims to celebrate the end of Ramadan. But it hardly received any support among Muslims. 

Closely tied to this assent is a general emphasis from these religious leaders to urge Muslims to turn to God in supplication (du’a) and increasing charity. The focus on supplication asks Muslims to repent for their sins, to develop a better relationship with God. The pandemic is seen as an opportunity for refocussing on personal piety, on deep introspection. 

Sometimes, when I think that a WhatsApp group is focussed exclusively on prayer and supplication, I notice a call for charity follows. Charity is extended to all. And it is also not so exclusively connected with the object of mission (daʿwa). Both these features have been central to charity. Charity in Islam is divided into kinds, some are exclusively set aside for Muslims. And charity is also seen as a way of extending the faith. I have not seen an emphasis on either in the various statements sent around social media during this time. Of course, these observations need to be tested with more data.

But there are smaller groups who argue that the general Muslim establishment has not recognized the full challenge of the pandemic. In an early statement, the former premier of the Western Cape pointed to the still insular and "survivalist" preoccupation of the Muslim response, and its rejection of scientific evidence. By focussing only on Muslims and denying the evidence of science, Ebrahim Rasool argued that Muslim responses seem very much like Trump. Islam, in his view, was rather a religion of mercy and science. Muslims should turn outwards, not inwards in this difficult time.

Others have followed these critical remarks with different nuances. The closure of mosques, according to some, has exposed the continued marginalization of women and the poor in the communities. When a group brought a court order to argue that going to a mosque was unconditional for Muslims, their views could not justify why women were systematically excluded in many mosques. Others have pointed to the deep inequalities that have been exposed by the virus, which is unacceptable to general Islamic norms and values. In this strand of the discourse, the virus offers an opportunity to revisit old values and paradigms of thinking and acting among Muslims.

But there is a strand in the discourse that has challenged all the other positions. It is represented by a group of religious scholars across the country who seem to want to establish themselves as the representatives of a "pristine" Islam. They seem to offer an alternative position to the "mainline" religious leadership, clearly wishing to replace them. They heap scorn on the closure of the mosques and the scientific analysis of the virus.

It also believes that the pandemic is the will of God. Based on a prophetic Hadith, however, it goes further that there is not such a thing as an infection. Also based on a hadith, Muslims should stay in one place during a pandemic. But there is no provision in the religious literature, it claims, for staying away from mosques, limiting the number of males attending, or keeping a social distance inside. It asks Muslims to stay away from mosques that keep to such regulations. It promises that the punishment of God will soon descend upon society, especially when the mosques are empty. Again, this is supported by a Prophetic hadith. 

When one ignores the incendiary language, this is a consistent argument. Interestingly, when we turn to what it shows (what a Muslim has to do), this statement supports staying away from mosques. It asks Muslims not to attend mosques which adhere to social distancing. Unexpectedly, but based on different reasoning, it complies with government regulations even while it fulminates against other Muslims. This compliance, of course, comes when Muslims are not compliant with its recommendations. So, it thrives on contradiction. 

   

But taking another look, this strand represents a worldview that focusses on the will of God, and several prophetic statements and juridical arguments on how to behave. Even though promoted by a minority, it forces other Muslims to respond to its views in one form or other. So the Islamic Medical Association's statement on the pandemic is that the will of God works "through an apparent cause and effect." Similarly, critical Muslims point to its lack of attention to the values of Islam. They point to its rejection of scientific evidence, and its lack of attention to the needs of the greater society.

The minority position plays thus an important role in the discourse, even though its main role seems to be a counter-point of what Muslims are really doing and thinking. Does this mean that this is the ideal Muslim position, against which real values and practices are negotiated? Scholars of religion would support this argument. For some like Jonathan Z. Smith, a ritual presents an ideal for society, but society flouts it. I do not agree with this model of ritual, but I will pick up this in my second blog. I do think though that what this group says cannot be avoided by most Muslims today. 

For now, I have hopefully shown that in the last few months, a discourse on COVID-19 has emerged among Muslims. This is a discourse shaped by Muslim actors across the board. I have used some social media exchanges to point to its main strands. There are dominant and marginal strands, but they form a debate on values and practices about the virus (science), the state (society and politics) and prayer (religion).  

I would conclude that the main questions are not resolvable. But they show us how religious responses engage the present crisis. The crisis cannot be left alone - it forces everyone to respond. What we see from the discourse is the attempt by some to gain a position against others. This conflict is endemic to religion, as it is to other spheres of life. Religion discourse points to existing views that dominate or that trouble society. These include the value and role of science, relations with a state, neighbours or the world. The discourse points to the value of others, particularly the most vulnerable and weak. And through its reflection on prayer, it also points to the individual's vulnerability at a deep and personal level.  The discourse shows that religious views are continually assailed by new developments.

Discourse and Ethics in Religious Traditions

It has been become an established tradition in our research project Islam, African Publics and Religious Values to read a number of books and articles in a weekly reading group. This semester (first half of 2020), we read the following: 

• An-Naʿim, Abdullahi Ahmed. Islam and the Secular State: Negotiating the Future of Shariʿa. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2008.
• Mittermaier, Amira. Giving to God: Islamic Charity in Revolutionary Times. Oakland, California: Univ of California Press, 2019.
• Ware III, Rudolph T. The Walking Qur’an: Islamic Education, Embodied Knowledge, and History in West Africa. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2014.
• Schielke, Samuli. “Hegemonic Encounters: Criticism of Saints-Day Festivals and the Formation of Modern Islam in Late 19th and Early 20th-Century Egypt.” Die Welt des Islams 47, no. 3 (2007): 319–55.

And we also dedicated some weeks to presentations from our group: 

Yasmin Ismail (PhD candidate) - Re-conceptualizing Madrasa education; notes from Cape Town

Dr Nadeem Mahomed  - The Elusive Ummah: Between the Political, Orthodoxy and Heresy

Dr Amy Stambach - Pragmatic faith and bulldozer ethics in the study of religious populism

Dr Anrea Cassatella - Beyond the Secular: Islam, Religion, and Democracy 

As is clear, this has been a very busy semester. Considering that the meetings were held during COVID, it was particularly remarkable.

We concluded our meeting with a review of these papers. And this is my general sense of the general questions that were raised during the semester:

1. What are the political projects in which religious discourses are located or articulated? I am aware that I am forcing a distinction between religion and politics here. Nevertheless,  we reflected on the Mittermaier's study of giving in the context of the modern Egyptian state, Stambach on Tanzania from ujamaa socialism to neo-liberalism, Rudolph Ware on the politics of slave raiding in 18th Century Africa, An-Na’im on a secular state for Muslims, and Derrida on the modern secular state in Cassatella. So, it seems important to identify the nature of the state and more importantly of politics. Sometimes the state may remain implicit by choice. But as we learn from Derrida, we are all located in a particular political space.
2. Then, when we were able to escape or suspend the impact of politics, we identified religious discourse in these states. This might or might not be a quest to escape from politics. In our readings, some of the studies focussed more on the state than others. But there was a religious discourse noticeable. I mean by this a language and practice associated with religion. Thus, Mittermaier’s Giving for God, Kweka’s development projects for the Church in Tanzania, Amin on Islamic education, Ware on the embodiment of the Quran, Nadeem’s on the quest for authenticity. Some have been more clear than others in identifying these as religious discourse, but I think we can ask more detailed questions on how these discourse work, what they expect from participants (practices). And how then are they related to (1). 
3. Thirdly, we interrogated values in these religious discourses. So for Mittermaier, it was giving and sharing, Kweka in Stambach on critical engagement with state policy, and development for the Church, Yasmin on the imposition of a model of education or resistance, Ware on embodiment, but also resistance to modernization or accommodation with it, An-Naim and Nadeem on freedom and authenticity, and Derrida also freedom. Freedom and resistance seem central in some religious discourses, but we tried to look beyond this modernist shadow.

All in all, an extremely productive and thoughtful semester. Thanks to all the participants. 

I will be sharing more on this group, but particularly how I think we can use a discursive approach to a complex language game with a long history. 

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The Knowledge of the Future? Unpredicatbilty and the Human Condition

As the Coronavirus sweeps across the world, we are reminded of Nassim Taleb's prescient insight that Black Swans determine the course of human history. These Black Swans are by definition unpredictable, and it is futile to prepare for them. But they shape the course of history and force us to work with them.

What I want to ask is the following? Is there an ethical value in this unpredictability?

I am reminded of this condition by a verse in the Qur'an:

Verily, with God alone rests the knowledge of when the Last Hour will come; and He [it is who] sends down rain; and He [alone] knows what is in the wombs: whereas no one knows what he will reap tomorrow, and no one knows in what land he will die. Verily, God [alone] is all-knowing, all-aware (Qur'an 31:34).

Modern commentators have noticed that modern science has shaken this belief. They often do not say this, but God's future knowledge mentioned in this verse is not as opaque as it once was. We know much more about the rains, the wombs, and perhaps also what will happen tomorrow (through statistics and experimental science with repeated trials in a laboratory). Commentators of the Qur'an have been quick to suggest that the verse is not contradicted by such developments. For example, they say, weather forecasters cannot predict with certainty that rains will come. And on a personal level, we know that too well.  But is this enough?

It seems to me that they are missing the point by focussing on the extent of human knowledge and not what kind of ethical act ought to follow from understanding this condition. Taleb's insight is more helpful in thinking about the human condition which is marked by unpredictability. In comparison with viruses and other natural disasters, humans often add to this unpredictability on a much higher scale. We know that a train can get us to work, but not that someone or some syndicate will steal cables. Or, we know that technology can be used to make life more comfortable, but humans are responsible for using technology to devise systems of government that keep the benefits for a few.

And I can think of no better verse than the following that emphasizes human responsibility:

Verily, We did offer the trust [amānah] to the heavens, and the earth, and the mountains: but they refused to bear it because they were afraid of it. Yet man took it up - for, verily, he has always been prone to be most wicked, most foolish (Qur'an 33:72).

This verse presents a strong contrast between human and natural capacity and responsibility. Much has been written on amanah, most of it to emphasize obedience to the laws of God. But the word is derived from the room amn which means "security" and peace. And amanah is translated as a trust or responsibility.  And this has led some of the earliest commentators of the Qur'an to suggest that it refers to the human capacity to fulfill obligations in general. Fulfilling obligations promotes a level of guarantee that humans will do what is expected - meaning, what is right and good. Without this commitment, life can be even more precarious than we know it.

The fulfillment of obligations is a responsibility that the mountains and heavens refused to accept.  And this is because they did not want to accept the burden that they would have responsibility for choosing to do good (fulfill obligations).  Many commentators seem to think that they were afraid of the wrath of God. But I think that if we keep our focus on the question of responsibility, then it means that only humans were willing to guarantee fulfilling their obligations. And it is this choice, exercised in a just and responsible way, that humans were prepared to take.

Of course, most of the time human will fail to live to our own expectations - "prone to be most wicked, most foolish." But the beauty lies in our conviction that they can if they want to.

The ultimate unpredictability of the future is part of the human condition, but humans have the responsibility to promote a world of trustworthiness. We cannot control the heavens and the earth, but we can and do all kinds of promises to each other. Written or unwritten, promises are the networks of relations that bind and make life stable and to some extent predictable.  Politicians promise to rule with justice and compassion, couples promise to love and support, and so forth. The predictability or unpredictability of such promises depends on humans. It is a grave responsibility, which the heavens and earth refused to accept. 

On the Mughal Empire

On my current visit in the Indian Subcontinent, I decided to familiarize myself with the history of the region. One of the books that I have read is Abraham Eraly's The Mughal Throne (Phoenix House, 2014). It is a lengthy introduction to the Mughals from Babur to Aurengzeb.

The first time I heard about the Mughals was in undergraduate class in Islamic Studies in South Africa. Just as in other dynasties, this one was clothed in a vision of a succession of amirs or sultans representing the power and glory of Islam. Since then, that reputation has been tarnished by a better understanding of history and reality and the battle over identity in modern public spheres.

Eraly's narrative is a refreshing and detailed account of the Mughals. Like other modern Indians, he has a preference for Akbar and even more for the British who succeeded the Mughals. But generally, this is an almost dispassionate account of invasion, plunder, empire building and religion - in that order. The religious inspiration is not central in the narrative, but it is not tucked away either. When he comes to Aurangzeb, Eraly goes on about his excessive religious zeal. But he then follows with an account of the realpolitik of building an empire and keeping it under control.

Even though Eraly concludes the book with a lament that the Mughuls did not build any institutions, he leaves us with fascinating details on administration, judicial practices and organization. Some of the Mughal rulers and officers seemed to have had the vision and the guts of building an empire that stretched across different territories and languages. And for the most part, they seem to consider it their right and responsibility to rule over this territory.

And this is the part that I think inspired them for hundreds of years. These central Asian warriors entered history and changed it in a way that most can only dream about. It was not just a matter of religion, good or bad. Reading about this empire, like any political epic, gives one a sense of history and purpose.

Of course, this right and responsibility often came at a price. Eraly occasionally turns away from the imperial record, to shine a light on the price paid for the Mughal empire by the peasants and workers. They worked hard and paid a lot simply for being spared. Very often, they found that joining the armies fighting each other offered better prospects than being plundered by them. Either be a plunderer or be plundered - seems the motto that occupied most of the people who lived in the shadow of the Mughal warrior Sultans.

Surely, there was more going on in Mughal India than this, but Eraly is a great place to start.

On Nouman Ali Khan's YouTube Tafsir - ethics and self-reflection

Like other special guests in recent years, Nouman Ali Khan attracted hundreds of worshipers to the grand Gatesville Mosque in 2019.  He seems to be part of a phenomenon in which middle-class mosques in recent years in Cape Town expended great effort and money to attract the biggest crowds. 

Given his popularity and wanting to know more about his appeal, I decided to look for him on Youtube. I watched the first lesson that came up in my search. It was a discourse on the Prophet Dawud (David) from the 38th chapter in the Qur'an (Sad 38:17-25). 

Khan presented a very clear and moving account of Dawud, his status as a prophet, and his reaction to a group of intruders who demanded that he judge between them. He began his talk with a short criticism of Muslim scholars who related this event to Biblical accounts. Muslims, he proclaimed, had a different and more correct version of the story which did not implicate the Prophet in impropriety.

He then proceeded with an interpretation that emphasised the ethics of judging between two individuals. Overwhelmed by the rude intrusion of the complainants, the Prophet Dawud made a hasty decision. In the case in question, he only listened to the person who had one sheep and complained that his rich compatriot who had ninety-nine wanted his as well. The Prophet Dawuod “understood that We had tried him” (Qur'an) and according to Khan, corrected himself. Khan dwelt on the theme of making fair judgments, by listening to both sides of a story. In this interpretation, the man with 99 sheep was wronged by not being heard by the Prophet. 

It was an impressive delivery, executed with great flair and conviction. I could begin to appreciate how thousands of followers turned to him for advice and guidance on social media.

I decided to read a number of commentaries to see how he produced such a compelling account. On the one hand, I was impressed by how Khan had managed to wade through the complexity of the exegetical literature to produce a clear and simple message on Islam’s ascendancy over previous scriptures, and its message of justice. 

On the other hand, this retelling was taking away an important and deep self-reflection embedded in the verses, and brought up by many commentators from al-Tabari in the 9th century onwards. Like Khan, most of these commentators also seemed to work with the doctrine that Dawood was a prophet of God who should not be accused of moral impropriety.

But unlike Khan, most of them retold the Prophet Dawood's alleged attraction to a beautiful woman he had seen bathing. All commentators with the exception of Ibn Kathir mentioned this in one way or another. Many also mentioned that the Prophet had asked that her husband be sent at the head of battle until he was killed. And they say that the Prophet then married this woman. One commentator offered a lexical analysis of the word for sheep (na’ja) and suggested it could also refer to a woman or wife, thus pointing to a direct relationship between the verses of the Qur’an and its Biblical version. 

In the exegetical (tafsir) tradition, then, this event or versions thereof was told just enough to allude to the Biblical story.  While skirting directly the implication of the Prophet’s deeds, an impropriety was implied. 

But most of all, premodern commentators insisted that this was a story of temptation with which the Prophet Dawud was tested. They did not say he failed, but they emphasised the fact that he realised his temptation. Their meditations turned around the very verse that Khan asked his audience to skip: "And [suddenly] Dawood understood that We had tried him: and so he asked his Sustainer to forgive him his sin, and fell down in prostration, and turned unto Him in repentance." (Quran 38:24).  This is a prostration (sajda) verse which, when heard or read, requires an immediate prostration. The prostration was a ritualised embodiment of reading and listening to a particular verse. In the story of the Prophet Dawud, it embodied his realisation that he was being tested (fatannahu)

Nouman Ali Khan offered an attractive message on ethics and justice. Prefaced with the conviction that Islam was better than other religions, he confirmed an unquestioned truth and guided his listeners towards ethical virtue.

But he avoided an uncomfortable truth in this exposition. In this particular case, the ethic of justice without deep introspection seems to truncate the message of the Prophet Dawud. Preaching about justice without a prostration misses an important method of the Qur’an. 

But Khan did demonstrate an uncomfortable truth of modern Islamic discourse. Many modern middle-class Muslims like to listen to lectures on the superiority of Islam over other religions. And they accompany this with the conviction that they ought to be just to merit this distinction. Of course, it helps to know that they can keep their "99 sheep." But they often stop short of taking that additional step into the self, the step exemplified in Prophet Dawud’s prostration. 

While scholars of religion and media stress the importance of mediation, they too often ignore the ethical choices and constructions made in the process. There may be considerable value in following this line of research more extensively than what I have shown in this brief review. 

Encounters of Decolonization. Do we have to chose between Excellence and Commitment?

At the University of Cape Town recently, we were privilege to listen to two outstanding contributions on decolonizization. Professors Vivek Chibber and Mahmood Mamdani addressed the challenges of decolonizing the post-colonial University. Both put forward compelling models and ideas, and opened up a wide-ranging agenda for the future.

Chibber and Mamdani put decolonization struggles in South Africa in a historical frame. Putting the exceptionalism of South Africa in the dock, they asked us to reflect on Indian and the East African experiences of anti-colonialism and decolonization.

Chibber was clearly committed to a Marxist project that he wanted to revive and strengthen. He was critical of what he called de-universalizing gestures in Indian subaltern studies which he claimed ignored capitalist and neo-liberal hegemonies at local and global levels. He was dismissive of the cultural turn that deflected attention from class and capital. I am not convinced that this was an accurate reflection of subaltern studies.

But his talk and seminars made a valuable point of the dominant capitalist framework that pervades the globe. Any alternative cannot afford to ignore this status quo. But the cultural language, which also pervades class and decolonization struggles in South Africa and elsewhere, cannot be so easily dismissed. I believe that all struggles have cultures - and these must be reflected upon as critically as the economic conditions in which we live.

Mamdani was equally committed to a de-colonizing political project. Also taking us out of South Africa, he presented the contrasting epistemological projects of Makarere (Uganda) and Dar es Salaam (Tanzania).  Mamdani compared the political commitment of Walter Rodney with the academic excellence of Ali Mazrui. In his framework, Chibber may be characterized as following a Rodnean approach.

In this gesture, then, I am asking that we put Mamdani in conversation with Chibber. Or that we use southern categories to frame discussions going forward.

Both Chibber and Mamdani called us to listen to experiences elsewhere. I believe that it is time that we engage in more discussions with decolonizing experiments across time and space.  Across time, it means that the post-colonial project in the 1960s should be brought up for critical engagement. Often, the postcolonial turn is identified as intellectual discussions that have greater currency in New York and London. Mamdani opened the window to the postcolonial  in the South.

They both also showed us how not to think about intellectuals in the South in undifferentiated ways. Again, I found Mamdani more useful in how he brought the value of Mazrui and Rodney into conversation with each other. But he should have been more critical of them - he left us thinking how to hold the balance between excellence and commitment. In my view, this choice is not one that we should be forced to make. Perhaps we need to ask why we have to chose? How have intellectual projects been shaped and framed so that theory and application are separated from each other? what is the nature of theory that eschews commitment and application?

Moreover, I would like to insert a critical Western voice to this discussion. Some western voices are also critical as we know, but they are also located in place, and not as universal as they seem to be, or seem to be read as such. By way of example, I can share Arendt whose The Human Condition we are reading in a reading group in the Department of Religious Studies. Arendt was engaging in a critical reading of the Western canon in the 1950s by comparing the West with Athens. Using Athens as a contrasting model, she presented a view of Western Enlightenment which she argued erased the truly political. Her deeply critical and  historical comparison was another way of provincializing Europe. Reading her critically, we have been asking how she erased the medieval in a typical modernist Western trope.

In summary, I  think of them as epistemological encounters that help us to rethink the nature of the university, knowledge, economy, society, values, past, and future.

Going forward, I think that we need more robust and collaborative debates and conversations over particular and general issues facing us in the next few weeks, months and years.

Revelation between Remembering and Forgetting

It is 13 years since one of the iconic Imams of Cape Town passed away. Imam Bassier was an Imam in the Bo-Kaap who had touched the lives of many people in his mosque and neighorhood. Moreover, he was a frequent visitor to the Robben Island, and offered a word of solace to those incarcerated there for many years. He was designated as the Muslim chaplain, but did not limit his concern to his particular flock (or Mureeds as would be called in Cape Town).

When reminded about his death anniversary, I asked his son to share with me the chapters of the Qur'an to which he was attached. I have become aware of this personal feature of the Qur'an in the lives of Muslims. Recently, Ebrahim Rasool mentioned that he was fond of reading Surah Zumar when he was in prison during the 1980s. He said that he found all he needed to pull him through. I had also heard others who were attached to certain verses or chapters of the Qur'an - many also for listening to melodious recitations that they had heard for many years.

I have not yet asked Rasool exactly  what attracted him to this chapter, and will never be able to ask the Imam. But I generally let my imagination lead me as I read and reflected on their favorite recitations.

This morning, I decided to share my thoughts on one of the chapters that meant so much to Imam Bassier. It was the the oft-repeated Surah al-A'la. And I focussed on some of its verses (87:6-9):

We shall make thee recite, to forget not save what God wills; surely He knows what is spoken aloud and what is hidden.We shall ease thee unto the Easing.Therefore remind, if the Reminder profits

Ostensibly addressed to the Prophet, the verses have perplexed commentators. They said that the Prophet used to be anxious to repeat quickly what Gabriel conveyed to him, lest he forget. This verse then provide support and confirmation that he would not forget.

But working with the idea of a fixed and definite revelation, these commentators were baffled what to do with a revelation that God wills to be forgotten. I have not read any convincing answers.

In his commentary, Martin Lings has suggested that the verses refer not to the Prophet, but to us normal mortals. He takes the meaning to refer to the flow of knowledge, and how it changes with the advance of time. Knowledge, as we know from modern science, is open to revision and development. But still I was not convinced.

I prefer to stay with the notion of anxiety that the commentators read into these verses. I think that they were right. In relation to revelation, I can imagine that remembering and forgetting might cause a certain anxiety when it is connected to something as weighty as revelation.

Forgetting revelation can be unnerving - especially in Muslim culture which frowns and castigates those of us who have memorized and then forgotten. More generally, we feel threatened by its moral and ethical demands.

Revelation, when elevated to a high level, generates anxiety by its very nature.The Qur'an, as most of us relate to it, unnerves us.

But is this not a metaphor for something deeper on remembering and forgetting. I know from recent neuroscience that both are very important for living a sane life. But what does it mean with regard to revelation?

Perhaps the next verse provides a hint on how to think of revelation and knowledge remembering and forgetting:

surely He knows what is spoken aloud and what is hidden.

If "spoken aloud" stands for that which is remembered, and 'hidden" for that which is forgotten, then we might think differently about remembering and forgetting. We might then backtrack and apply this to remembering and forgetting revelation - whether the Prophet or ordinary people like us.

Can we figure out everything, of the Qur'an and our relation to it - that which is hidden and open? Maybe we should let the flow of remembering and forgetting do its work. Do not try too hard to remember (put everything in the open), sometimes things are better forgotten (hidden). Only God knows both at the same time.

But what does this have to do with Imam Bassier? I remember him as a leader who seemed to have overcome the anxiety that comes with remembering or forgetting. Imam Bassier reminded me of someone who exuded confidence and composure. He let life flow, with him in it. There are people among us who exude this value - do not forget them and keep them hidden.

The Ethics and Aesthetics of Belief and Disbelief

In the last two years, I have had the privilege of sharing some reflections on the Qur'an in a mosque near our home. This weekend (16 July 2017), I decided to share some ideas from a paper that I presented in Morocco recently. I started with trepidation since I know of the gulf that separates an academic talk and a discussion in a mosque. And I remembered Ibn Rushd's (Averroes) apt warning!

Anyway, this is the verse:

Abuse not those to whom they pray, apart from God, or they will abuse God in revenge without knowledge. So We have decked out fair to every nation their deeds; then to their Lord they shall return, and He will tell them what they have been doing (Q 6:108; translation from Arberry)

I asked if anybody in the mosque had heard the first part of the verse. I had the impression that this was a popular verse since it is often quoted by some Muslim scholars when asked about how Muslims should respond to insults heaped upon God or the Prophet Muhammad. None of 15-odd men in the mosque had heard of it. And my audience included a few who were not unaware of the public atmosphere of Islamophobia in recent times in some countries.

So even though I had decided to speak on the second phrase, I had to briefly elaborate on the first part as well. It was a call to set aside the gods from acrimonious human exchange. Insults and abuse should not be directed at the special or sacred (to use the Christian theologian Paul Tillich's definition of religion).  An alert reader or listener might detect a selfish motive behind this advice.

Alternatively, we might think of this as the Golden rule of Jesus' sermon on the mount - but now applied to the sacred that is cherished by those who abuse. But there is still a lingering expectation of mutuality in this rule - which might not take away the tinge or the aroma of selfishness.

Of course, if one thinks that the sacred is an absolute abomination, or alienation (Feuerbach), or neurosis (Freud) or opiate (Marx), then there might be no need to desist from abusing it. This is an idea of the sacred that exists in many circles in the modern world today. The sacred that some people believe in is rejected in its totality. In this case, the golden rule, if applied, would be to the human person but excluding what he or she may treasure and cherish.

Let me return to the second part of the verse which I wanted to focus on in my talk; and which I think sheds sheds some light on the first part.

So We have decked out fair to every nation their deeds.

This part of the verse has not been as extensively cited or discussed in recent dialogical exchanges over religion and mutual abuse. I have not heard anybody who cites the first part of the verse elaborate on the second part. And I did not expect anybody in the mosque to have heard of it. And this time, I was correct in my assumption.

There is a long history of commentary on this phrase. I submit that the the phrase points to the close relation between truth and beauty. It reminds listeners and readers that the sacred, truth and values,  including the ultimate decision of  believing or disbelieving, is founded on appearance. More than mere appearance, truth is rooted and founded on an aesthetic (a judgment of beauty and form). And that aesthetic is the basis on which beliefs, judgments and values are held. Beauty and truth are held in a tight embrace.

But there is a sting in the tail. An aesthetic judgement might be misleading or open the road to felicity. Beauty comes with truth, but does not guarantee it.

And more interestingly, for this reading that I am suggesting, the verse asks believers to recognize this adornment in the belief held by those who insult God. That might be a tall order which will be difficult for most. Recognizing the difficulty of fully appreciating that another person sees beauty where one only sees error and falsehood, I think that the verse takes on a 2-stage ethical reflection.

I would suggest that in the first part of the verse, we are asked to stop the cycle of insults. Someone has to stop - and it would be good to be that person.

Then, the second part of the verse ventures a more difficult ethical stance. Here, we are told that the foundation of a person's belief who insults your God lies in an aesthetic judgment made by the person who holds that belief. The aesthetic and moral judgment is not merely rooted in arrogance, stupidity or laziness, but on what the other truly thinks is beautiful.

The delicacy of belief and aesthetic is captured by the Adalusian exegete al-Qurtubi's reference to a rhetorical of prayer of Umar (the second caliph of Islam) in his reflection of another verse in the Qur'an that repeats this theme of aesthetics and truth. Reportedly, Umar turned to God and asked: “What will you make beautiful for us?” This question, I propose, exposes the precariousness of moral judgment. It locates moral judgment on aesthetics, which is necessary and inevitable. But that judgment is possibly misleading. So Umar (ra) asks God what He will make beautiful for him (hoping and trusting that it will be the good). 

I submit that this verse might be a good foundation for thinking about unbelief in a deeply respectful way.