Halal Certificates Under the Spotlight

South African media has been awash with revelations that the Halal certificates on show in shops, supermarkets, restaurants and butchers may not be as trustworthy as their green colour and Arabic inscriptions declare. Islamic religious scholars who have issued them since the 1980s may not be able to guarantee their Halal status.
The furore started late in 2011 when an allegedly disgruntled ex-employee of a meat importer presented a mobile video of workers pasting Halal certificates on pork products in its warehouse. This ex-employee, allegedly working for a rival meat importer, presented the video clip to a Halal authority.
This revelation caused a minor furore within the Halal industry. It was soon discovered that the Cape Town-based Muslim Judicial Council had issued certificates to the meat importer. It was also revealed that other Halal authorization bodies had refused to issue certificates to such importers.
In spite of their differences, Muslim religious authorities tried to limit the damage. They recognized the danger to the Halal certificate that had grown in leaps and bounds. It was now not only pasted on meat and meat products, but was present on milk, face wash, sweets, chocolates, vegetable soup, and even bottled water. The certificates ensured a steady stream of revenue to the issuing bodies. More importantly, it ensured a steady flow of  Muslim consumers to retail chains, restaurants and fast-foods.
The Halal certificate heralded the coming to age of the Muslim consumer.
In January 2011, the intrepid Deborah Petta of 3rd Degree (ETv) recognized a good controversy. She soon arrived at the staid offices of the Muslim Judicial Council of Cape Town, to see how this revelation rocked "the sacred tenets of the Islamic faith."
As usual with 3rd Degree, there was more heat than light as the cameras followed the officials of MJC refusing to be interviewed. But where there is smoke from the heat, there is a fire that cannot be ignored.
3rd Degree presented a binary image. Negligent officials of the Muslim Judicial Council were not doing their job.  In contrast, the cameras turned to the South African National Halal Authority (SANHA) as it explained its more cautious position. We got cameo shots of the pious officials of SANHA reading the Qur'an and raising their hands in prayer.
The media was doing it again: Good Muslim vs. Bad Muslim. Binary, contrasting images is the stuff that apparently made our world.
Understandable, Muslim consumers have been angry about the incident. Some have felt embarrassingly exposed. Others have felt a deep sense of betrayal in the Halal certification process. Others have gloated that they have the correct approach.
The controversy has been highlighted but its key significance obscured. The controversy reveals a deep transformation of Halal through certification.
What is a Halal certificate? At root, it is  a promissory note made to the consumer that the produce being sold is fit for Muslim religious consumption.
It takes the place of at least two personal engagements. It takes the place of a person going to a local market, and buying an animal for slaughter and consumption. The animal might even have been reared in the backyard, or a Common. It also takes the place of a person approaching a local food producer or supplier who attests by word and deed that the food is halal (literally permissible; not sacred and thus exposed to slaughter).
With modern food production, including the global distribution and flow of goods, these engagements  are placed out of the reach of most people. And this is where Halal authorities are born. The Halal certificate speaks for the self, and for an intimate relation between self and Other.
The Halal certificate demands faith in its ability to make a decision for a Muslim, and to replace these deep engagements with self, animal and other human beings.
This personal relationship includes one's ability to decide what to consume, and where to consume. It also includes the essence of a relationship with the other.
A certificate that was invested with so much meaning had failed. The controversy exposed the hasty faith in a piece of paper that promised that one no longer needed to make a judgment, or one no longer needed to build a relationship of trust with another.
Perhaps this is what the rage and disappointed is all about in the Muslim community. Companies and Halal authorities have not yet said fully what they were doing. Like other consumer goods, their transparency is often veiled under so many layers of half-truths, enticements and assurances.
The controversy has been useful in a way. But anger and disappointment should therefore not only be directed at the offending meat importer, or the negligent Muslim official, or the indecent media. It should be cause enough to mourn a hasty faith in a piece of paper, and the loss at a deeper individual and inter-personal relationship.

Imam Abdullah Haron in Shamis' "The Imam and I"

Khalid Shamis' documentary on Imam Abdullah Haron of South Africa is a masterly treatment of a man and his times. It brings out the multi-facetted dimension of the Imam, his colleagues in the Muslim Judicial Council, the Muslim community, and of course, the apartheid state.
Imam Abdullah Haron emerges in the documentary as a sensitive and courageous leader against the growing force of apartheid repression. Inspired by activist youth whom he invited to his mosque, he soon outstripped them in the services he offered to families of detainees and anti-apartheid activists. It was not long before he too became a victim, and was brutally killed in police custody in September 1969.
The producer of "The Imam and I" is the Imam's grandson, the son of his eldest daughter, Shamila, who had been sent to London to study. Khalid Shamis had heard a lot of the Imam, and felt that he was the grandson of someone important. We are grateful that he set out to find out more, and share the story with the rest of us.
The documentary consists of slices of the Imam's life and death. It includes elements of his position within the leadership of the Muslims, and its shameful silence. It also includes his innovative attempts to attract youth to the mosques, whilst raising funds for anti-apartheid activism with James Bond and other movies. Drawing on photographs and footage of the time, the documentary also reveals his great style and love for suits, fezzes, a shiny bald heard and a stylishly trimmed beard.
Most importantly, the documentary also raises some interesting questions. Some of these questions are thrown out briefly for deeper reflection. Khalid, for example, refers to the connection between London bombings and his search for knowing the truth of his 'terrorist' grandfather!
Others are more explicit, as for example, the silence of the leadership of the Muslim community when the Imam was imprisoned and then killed. Their reluctance  to raise their voices against apartheid was deafeningly portrayed! It contrasted strongly with Reverend Wrankmore's retreat and fast on a Kramat on Signal Hill!
At other times, though, the evidence presented raises questions, intended by Shamis or not. The  massive turn-out at the Imam's funeral contrasted with his isolation during imprisonment, and even more so with the fate of his wife, Galiema Sadan, and her two young children. The fate of a martyr was captured beautifully, and also painfully.
At the same time, however, the presence of thousands at the funeral by men, women and children, could not all be seen as hypocrisy. The death of a witness provided an opportunity for ordinary people to register their rejection and abhorrence of a wicked system. One may criticize them for not doing enough, but one cannot afford to miss the registration of protest.
Finally, in my view, the documentary left an impression of a complex ideology (if such a contradiction may be permitted). The Imam was inspired by an emerging ideological approach to Islam, which he hardly represented in his life and work. The footage did not even reveal this in his family and associates.
Islamism in full flow came later to Cape Town, and drew much of its strength on a greater range of books, ideas and a different style of Islam. Soon, it also drew on the Imam's fame as anti-apartheid activist in the name of Islam. This activism in the name of Islam, however, was different from Imam Haron in his family, his congregation, his fashion-statement and his activism.
In the last couple of weeks, I have had an opportunity to see a play and a film dealing with religion in Cape Town. Davis' play Mass Appeal was brilliant in its portrayal of religion between ideals and institutionalization, and Beauvois' Of Gods and Men (2010) brought home the meaning of witness  and sacrifice. It is amazing how religion flows through our secular society!
"The Imam and I" did not set out to prove a point about this or that religious value (it seems to me). It nevertheless portrayed the ordinariness of living a life of religious value. Imam Haron was serious but it did not prevent him from smiling, smart-looking, stylish and ready for some fun.

Islamic Newthinking: “We are all Christians!” and In Sha Allah Heretics!

I was privileged to observe and participate in a meeting in Essen, Germany, to commemorate and take forward the work of Prof. Nasr Hamid Abu Zeid who passed away about a year ago. Abu Zeid had made a significant contribution to the history of the interpretation of the Qur’an. However, he was not only interested in the topic for its historical value but searching for a way to read the Qur’an as a living text that spoke to the great demands of the day.

The meeting was attending by friends and colleagues who traveled with him on the same road. It was honoured also by the participation of Prof. Ebtehal Younes, Abu Zeid’s wife and professor at Cairo University. The meeting honoured both Abu Zeid and the path that he unlocked with his works, his friendship and his deep humanity.

As expected, the meeting was provocative and challenging. From the keynote presented by Prof. Shabestari (Tehran) on the first day, the focal point turned around the Qur’an. Prof. Shabestari asked what a new philosophy of language would be for a claim that the Qur’an was both revelation and Prophetic word. Prof. Barlas concluded the meeting with a plea to a return to the theology of the Qur’an, against the ‘anti-foundationalism of  Abu Zeid.’ There were also contributions that rejected any real future of the Qur’an (or religion) in Islamic Newthinking.

Clearly, all were agreed that a new theology or approach to the Qur’an in particular, and Islam in general, was long overdue. The participants were leaders in this search, and presented the meeting with reflections that honoured Abu Zeid and his work.

I would like to contribute with a reading of the substance of the meeting. In short, I think the speakers and commentators came close to admitting and arguing that we are or should be like Christians. Of course, none put in this way. But I could not help coming to this conclusion at the end of the 2-day meeting. And was further confirmed in my assessment when I looked back at my notes.

By way of substantiation and perhaps proof, let me explain. On the second day, Prof. Soroush opened the day with a challenge that Muslims have easily reconciled themselves to socialism, but could not do with liberalism and rights. He then challenged listeners with a question about how Muslims would produce such a theology of rights (arguing that it would be more difficult than anything that they had attempted thus far).

Prof. Barlas followed with her own thesis. Listening carefully to her argument, I could not help noticing how her claimed devotion to the Qur’an was nothing but a highly subjective reading thereof.She was, moreover, a witness to justice buried in the Qur’an through centuries of male witnesses. A young commentator alo praised her this "disclosure of God" in her reading of the Qur’an.
In my reading and listening, Barlas answered Soroush about where this theology of rights would come from. It was easy to find a theology of freedom in the Qur'an, but Soroush was clearly asking how Muslims would be persuaded (i.e. converted).

Rolling back to the first day, I recalled Prof. al-Azmeh arguing that the Qur’anic text was an aesthetic and at most a privatized religion. Prof. Sadiq Jalam al-Azm supported him by saying that Muslim Arabs have had nothing radical to offer (nothing radical enough for Islamic Newthinkig to put aside Islam and religion).

And my friend and colleague Prof. Esack pulled down all binaries and distinctions for a reading of the Qur'an. Beginning with the Jews and Muslims, he proceeded to question the contraries of human and non-human, the able and non-able, the living and mineral. We had arrived at the Kingdom of God, where the lion lay beside the lamb!

Translated, I head them saying: We are Christians! We should be Christians! We have no option but to become Christians! In fact, this declaration was relatively easy, even if it was not expressed in this way.

However, what the meeting struggled to find was if we were still Muslims! Everybody posed some interesting questions for the future. Those questions affirmed the history of Christianity in modern times, but only posed questions about the future of Islam. At least for Abu Zeid the music of the Qur’an was foundational, we were reminded by Prof. Younes. And Prof. Wadud was insistent that tawhid included women. Otherwise, Christianity was confirmed while Islam was put on a search.

When I thought about this, I was at first appalled by the implication. It reminded me once at a meeting in Brussels similar to this one when a Jesuit priest told me that only Christianity could accommodate modernity. I thought at the time that it was more likely the other way around. It also reminded me of an essay by Derrida entitled “We are all Christians.” And it reminded me of many similar reflections on how Christianity was made for modernity!

After the initial shock , I accepted this conclusion. I was not resigned to it, as I remembered how I have struggled with Islamic identity for some time now.

Once I gave up the block of identity, however, a new path opened for me. I was reminded how much Islam and Muslims (including the Prophet) had taken from the Christians. They too had become 'Christians' (okay, 'Jews' more accurately). I then also remembered how the Prophet and Muslims later took a ‘heretical turn.’ Both Jews and Christians were in turned incensed at this heresy.

And I thought that perhaps we should also embrace this silent implicit conversion. It might be best to declare this conversion, though, for ourselves and Abu Zeid's and our legacy. But unlike the born-again Christians of our times, we would probably soon declare our heresy.

I am not so sure if our meeting got to this threshold of heresy. We toyed with some ideas and thoughts, but mostly we were too busy declaring our conversion. It was a bit of an odd conversion, I suppose, since it included some angst for the next step.

Maybe heresy after conversion will be new thinking.

Wrankmore and Haron: Witnesses for Our Times

Rev. Wrankmore died on 17 June at the 86, and Imam Haron's three children were all in Cape Town on the release of "The Imam and I". It was a perfect opportunity for the Western Cape Religious Leaders' Forum and the Cape Town Inter-faith Initiative to organize a commemoration service on Signal Hill yesterday (23 June 2011). Rev. Wrankmore had fasted on Signal Hill in 1971, two years after Imam Haron was killed in police detention, and demanded a judicial inquiry into his death.
About 80 people braved the wind and rain, and sat together in the small kramat on Signal Hill. The ceremony consisted of prayers, and short recollections. There were also poignant remarks by the children of both Wrankmore and Haron. It was a moving ceremony, and the cold and wind was quickly forgotten.
All present were visibly moved by the witness that both Rev. Wranmore and Imam Haron brought to the days of apartheid. The word was repeated by almost every speaker in one way of another. Their witness spoke to the great depth of their lives, and what they were saying to apartheid, inter-faith relations, and to the people of Cape Town, South Africa and beyond.
It was also not forgotten that Prof. Kader Asmal, who had just died, was a great witness to the current politics of South Africa. Tributes were paid to him for breaking ranks by standing up for truth and justice. Although Asmal, in comparison with Haron and Wrankmore, was not too concerned with organized religion, he too was recognized as a witness. And with Asmal, it was clear that witnessing was not a thing of the past.
The event prompted me to reflect a bit more on the idea of witnessing. Asmal may have been different from Haron and Wrankmore in terms of religious affiliation. It is clear, though, that all three had to break ranks from their groups and homes. A witness seems to be someone who is not comfortable to stay in one place, and is prepared to go where her convictions takes her.
Witnessing stands at the centre of religious conviction, though. I have read that the word in English is derived from a martyr or knowledge (from wit). It recalls acts of extreme courage by early Christians in the face of danger. The witness/martyr would express his conviction, on pain of death. The witness also proclaims the real truth in this demonstration.
There is a similar sense of presence in the Qur'an, but it is not always associated with danger. A witness is a shahid and shares a linguistic affinity with words that mean 'looking' and 'seeing'.  In fact, most of the instances in the Qur'an refer to God as shahid ('God is shahid over all things').
When shahid refers to a human being, however, she demonstrates the truth. There is a verse in the Qur'an that calls upon people to becomes witnesses (shahids) like the prophets. They brought the truth and demonstrated it. The same obligation rests on the rest of us.
I draw two conclusions from these. The one is the very act of witnessing implies a presence and a demonstration. Haron and then Wrankmore represent this in an inspiring way. People like Asmal continue that important tradition.
Secondly, the fact that God is the shahid (witness) turns things around. One could turn around and say that the witness or martyr is herself divine. But I think that God witnessing adds a very different dimension. It means that the real frame of witnessing has to be beyond the here and now. For religious people, it means that God is the only reality of the witnessing. For me, it means that witnessing (true witnessing) is Godlike and overcomes the politics and contradictions of the day.
Hamba Kahle Berni Wrankmore, Kader Asmal and Imam Abdullah Haron.

South African Muslim Marriage Bill Not Unique

The regulation of Muslim marriage in the South African legal framework currently under way is not unique. We should consider the matter in the light of developments in other parts of the world, and particularly in other parts of Africa.
The role of the state and religious authorities have come under intense scrutiny in South African media. The South African constitution very clearly enables the recognition of marriages conducted under diverse cultural traditions, which the state is obliged to facilitate in one way or another. In this particular case, Muslim religious authorities are divided between those who see the new developments as state encroachment on religion matters, and others who see the potential for a constructive partnership.
By examining similar developments in Egypt (2001), Morocco (2005) and Kenya (1998-2010), a fundamental trend seems to emerge. Since the 1990s, more inclusive approaches to politics and law have affected Muslim societies in many parts of the world. In matters of Muslim personal law, women's demand for rights is main driver of the demand for change and which has often been obscured in an ideological conflict between state and religion.
Egypt passed the so-called Khula law in 2000, which basically gave women the right to apply for a no-fault divorce without the consent of her husband. The law was a development on the 1920s when judges were obliged to look beyond one school of Islamic jurisprudence. This 2000 law took the matter one step further by permitting separation (khula) without a husband's permission. Interestingly, the main justification came from an ancient hadith in which the Prophet granted a woman separation from her husband on her request. The 2000 bill was opposed by Islamists for four years before it was finally ratified.
In 2004, Morrocco passed a Reformed Family Code after years of intense public debate. Human rights activists demanded more rights for women in Moroccan marriages, whilst opponents saw the 1956 Family Code as the centre-piece of national tradition. The latter was produced after independence from French colonial rule. At the end of a lengthy national discussion, the Moroccan King Muhammad VI eventually passed the code in 2004 .
A similar public demand for reforms in Kadhis courts was initiated in Kenya as part of a country-wide constitutional review process. Muslims in particular demanded that these Muslim courts set up by the British during the colonial period should be made more accessible, subject to review and willing to deal with new developments such as AIDS. This popular demand was diverted by some Christian groups, arguing that Kadhis courts should not be part of a national secular constitution. Eventually, a new constitution was accepted in a referendum in 2010, albeit without any substantial reforms in the Kadhis courts.
The South Africa situation, as in the other cases cited here, has brought into focus the expected tension between state and religious authorities. In Egypt, the autocratic government of Hosni Mubarak had since 1980 made numerous concessions to the Islamic religious establishment in return for their political support. In Morocco, the king deftly balanced and played off human rights activists and traditionalists. In Kenya, on the other hand, Muslims and Christians saw the Kadhis courts as symbols for their competing political positions.
In each case, ideological groups took centre stage in the public debate over a matter that affected communities and families in more fundamental ways. In each case, the source of pressure to adopt new laws to regulate Muslim marriages was obscured. Individual research has shown in these countries that social and economic conditions had changed the structure of marriages over the last few decades.
Relations within the families were drastically changing, driven mainly by dire economic conditions. Like others, Muslim marriages were increasingly supported by single-parents or  double incomes, pressurised by poverty, unemployment and extensive migration patterns.
Laws that assumed the male as the sole or main breadwinner were no longer reflecting these changes. Laws that had been formulated at independence or in the 1920s (in Egypt) could not longer address the challenges of globalization, low employment and a discourse of equal rights.
Muslim women, feeling the brunt of these pressures, were the catalysts for change. They took their problems to courts, mediation offices and informal adjudication centres run by Islamic legal experts. Driven by a desire for justice, they expected local Islamic institutions to respond to their predicaments. They did not start with the assumption that religion was an obstacle to their predicament. Rather, their conviction was and continues to be a hope and desire for justice.
In public debate, the conflict between different ideological groups tends to obscure this hope. Driven by the familiar antagonism between religion and state, and reformists and traditionalists, actual conditions in which families find themselves are forgotten.
Ideological conflicts cannot explain the similarity of these wide-ranging demands in very different countries. A monarchy, autocratic and authoritarian regimes, and an emerging democracy are too different from each other to align modernists and traditionalists, conservatives and liberals, against other.
It is more fruitful to look further down the social system to see who is pushing change and in which direction. It is, I believe, women who are expected to juggle the impossible between new social conditions, and social mores and laws that do not deliver justice.