PDA

Bekijk Volledige Versie : How NOT TO TALK ABOUT ISLAM AND POLITICS



Siah
02-11-04, 15:06
extract vanuit het boek Good Muslim, Bad Muslim;


CULTURE TALK;
OR, How NOT TO TALK
ABOUT ISLAM AND
POLITICS

Mahmood Mamdani

This moment in history after the Cold War is referred to as the era of globalization and is marked by the ascendancy and rapid politicizing of a single term: culture. During the Cold War, we discussed socioeconomic or political developments, such as poverty and wealth, democracy and dictatorship, as mainly local events. This new understanding of culture is less social than political, tied less to the realities of particular countries than to global political events like the tearing down of the Berlin Wall or 9/II. Unlike the culture studied by anthropologists—face-to-face, intimate, local, and lived —the talk of culture is highly politicized and comes in large geo-packages.

Culture Talk assumes that every culture has a tangible essence that defines it, and it then explains politics as a consequence of that essence. Culture Talk after 9/II, for example, qualified and explained the practice of “terrorism” as “Islamic.” “Islamic terrorism” is thus offered as both description and explanation of the events of 9/II. It is no longer the market (capitalism), nor the state (democracy), but culture (modernity) that is said to be the dividing line between those in favor of a peaceful, civic existence and those inclined to terror. It is said that our world is divided between those who are modern and those who are premodern. The moderns make culture and are its masters; the premoderns are said to be but conduits. But if it is true that premodern culture is no more than a rudimentary twitch, then surely premodern peoples may not be held responsible for their actions. This point of view demands that they be restrained, collectively if not individually—if necessary, held captive, even unconditionally—for the good of civilization.

In post—9/II America, Culture Talk focuses on Islam and Muslims who presumably made culture only at the beginning of creation, as some extraordinary, prophetic act. After that, it seems Muslims just conformed to culture. According to some, our culture seems to have no history, no politics, and no debates, so that all Muslims are just plain bad. According to others, there is a history, a politics, even debates, and there are good Muslims and bad Muslims. In both versions, history seems to have petrified into a lifeless custom of an antique people who inhabit antique lands. Or could it be that culture here stands for habit, for some kind of instinctive activity with rules that are inscribed in early founding texts, usually religious, and mummified in early artifacts?

We need to distinguish between two contrasting narratives of Culture Talk. One thinks of premodern peoples as those who are not yet modern, who are either lagging behind or have yet to embark on the road to modernity The other depicts the premodern as also the antimodern. Whereas the former conception encourages relations based on philanthropy, the latter notion is productive of fear and preemptive police or military action.

The difference is clear if we contrast earlier depictions of Africans with contemporary talk about Muslims. During the Cold War, Africans were stigmatized as the prime example of peoples not capable of modernity With the end of the Cold War, Islam and the Middle East have displaced Africa as the hard premodern core in a rapidly globalizing world. The difference in the contemporary perception of black Africa and Middle Eastern Islam is this: whereas Africa is seen as incapable of modernity, hard-core Islam is seen as not only incapable of but also resistant to modernity Whereas Africans are said to victimize themselves, hard-core Muslims are said to be prone to taking others along to the world beyond. There is an interesting parallel between the pre—9/II debate on terrorism in Africa and the post—9/II debate on global terrorism. As in the current global debate, African discussions, too, looked mainly or exclusively for internal explanations for the spread of terror. In a rare but significant example that lumped African “tribalists” and Muslim “fundamentalists” together as the enemy, Aryeh Neier, former president of Human Rights Watch and now president of the George Soros—funded Open Society Institute, argued in an op-ed piece in the Washington Post that the problem is larger than Islam: it lies with tribalists and fundamentalists, contemporary counterparts of Nazis, who have identified modernism as their enemy

Premodern peoples are said to have no creative ability and anti-modern fundamentalists are said to have a profound ability to be destructive. The destruction is taken as proof that they have no appreciation for human life, including their own. This is surely why Culture Talk has become the stuff of front-page news stories. Culture is now said to be a matter of life and death. This kind of thinking is deeply reminiscent of tracts from the history of modern colonization. This history stigmatizes those shut out of modernity as antimodern because they resist being shut out. It assumes that people’s public behavior, particularly their political behavior, can be read from their habits and customs, whether religious or traditional. But could it be that a person who takes his or her religion literally is a potential terrorist? And that someone who thinks of a religious text as metaphorical or figurative is better suited to civic life and the tolerance it calls for? How, one may ask, does the literal reading of sacred texts translate into hijacking, murder, and terrorism?

Two Versions of Culture Talk

Contemporary Culture Talk dates from the end of the Cold War and comes in two versions. It claims to interpret politics from culture, in the present and throughout history, but neither version of Culture Talk is substantially the work of a historian. If there is a founding father of contemporary Culture Talk, it is Bernard Lewis, the well-known Orientalist at Princeton who has been an adviser to the U.S. policy establishment. The celebrated phrase of contemporary Culture Talk—”a clash of civilizations”—is taken from the title of the closing section of Lewis’s 1990 article “The Roots of Muslim Rage.” Lewis’s text provided the inspiration for a second and cruder version, written by Samuel Huntington, a political scientist at Harvard, whose involvement with the U.S. policy establishment dates from the era of the Vietnam War. Whereas Lewis confined his thesis to historical relations between two civilizations he called “Islamic” and “Judeo-Christian,” Huntington’s reach was far more ambitious: he broadened Lewis’s thesis to cover the entire world.

“It is my hypothesis,” Huntington proclaimed in an article titled “The Clash of Civilizations?” (1993) in Foreign Affairs ,

“that the fundamental source of conflict in this new world will not be primarily ideological or primarily economic.
The great divisions among humankind and the dominating source of conflict will be cultural. Nation-states will remain the most powerful actors in world affairs, but the principal conflicts of global politics will occur between nations and groups of different civilizations. The clash of civilizations will dominate global politics. The fault lines between civilizations will be the battle lines of the future.”

Huntington’s argument was built around two ideas: that since the end of the Cold War “the iron curtain of ideology” had been replaced by a “velvet curtain of culture,” and that the velvet curtain had been drawn across “the bloody borders of Islam.” Huntington cast Islam in the role of an enemy civilization. From this point of view, Muslims could be only bad.

Huntington was not alone. Several others joined in translating his point of view into a vision broadly shared in hawkish circles of the policy and intellectual establishment. The thrust of the new vision was that the ideological war we have come to know as the Cold War was but a parochial curtain-raiser for a truly global conflict for which “the West” will need to marshal the entire range of its cultural resources. For William Lind, the Cold War was the last in a series of “Western civil wars” that started in seventeenth~century Europe; with the end of the Cold War, he argued, the lines of global conflict become cast in cultural terms. Regis Debray, himself an active participant in the ideological struggles of the Cold War, saw the new era as sharply defined by a “Green Peril”—the color green presumably standing for Islam—far more dangerous than the red scares of yesteryears because it lacks rational self-restraint: “Broadly speaking, green has replaced red as the rising force.. .. The nuclear and rational North deters the nuclear and rational North, not the conventional and mystical South.”

The idea of a clash of civilizations, with civilizations marching through history like armed battalions—with neither significant internal debates nor significant exchanges—has been widely discredited. Edward W Said, the late Palestinian literary scholar who was University Professor at Columbia, forcefully argued for a more historical and less parochial reading of culture, one informed by the idea that the clash is more inside civilizations than between them: “To Huntington, what he calls ‘civilizational identity’ is a stable and undisturbed thing, like a room full of furniture in the back of your house.”

It is Bernard Lewis who has provided the more durable version of Culture Talk. Lewis both gestures toward history and acknowledges a clash within civilizations. Rather than claim an ahistorical global vision of a coming Armageddon, Lewis thinks of history as the movement of large cultural blocs called civilizations. But Lewis writes of Islamic civilization as if it were a veneer with its essence an unchanging doctrine in which Muslims are said to take refuge in times of crisis. “There is something in the religious culture of Islam,” Lewis noted in “The Roots of Muslim Rage,”

"which inspired, in even the humblest peasant or peddler, a dignity and a courtesy toward others never exceeded and rarely equaled in other civilizations. And yet, in moments of upheaval and disruption, when the deeper passions are stirred, this dignity and courtesy toward others can give way to an explosive mixture of rage and hatred which impels even the government of an ancient and civilized country—even the spokesman of a great and ethical religion—to espouse kidnapping and assassination, and try to find, in the life of their Prophet, approval and indeed precedent for such actions. "

Lewis elaborated his notion of the doctrinal core of Islam in a book that “was already in page proofs” by 9/II but was published soon after, provocatively titled What Went Wrong? Paraphrasing Hegel’s old claim that freedom is the distinctive attribute of Western civilization, Lewis Wrote: “To a Western observer, schooled in the theory and practice of Western freedom, it is precisely the lack of freedom. .. that underlies so many of the troubles of the Muslim world.” To this, he added the absence of secularism as the second explanation for the yawning gap between contemporary Islam and modernity: until the influence of French revolutionary ideas began percolating into the Middle East in the nineteenth century, Lewis argued, “the notion of a non-religious society as something desirable or even permissible was totally alien to Islam.”

It is Bernard Lewis, not Samuel Huntington, who provides the intellectual support for the notion that there are “good” as opposed to “bad” Muslims, an idea that has become the driving force of American foreign policy. Keen to draw an unambiguous conclusion for the policy establishment, Lewis begins by recognizing that “fundamentalism is not the only Islamic tradition” and that “there are others” and that “before this issue is decided there will be a hard struggle.” Warning the policy establishment that in this struggle “we of the West can do little or nothing . . . for these are issues that Muslims must decide among themselves,” he counsels that “in the meantime”—that is, while Muslims settle their internal accounts—the West needs “to avoid the danger of a new era of religious wars.” Whereas Huntington had issued a clarion call for the West to get ready for a clash of civilizations, Lewis has a different point: the West must remain a bystander while Muslims fight their internal war, pitting good against bad Muslims. In spite of this difference, one cannot help but note that both stand as representatives of the official “West.”

If Bernard Lewis provides intellectual support for the Bush administration’s post—9/II policy, the return to a roughshod, Cold War—style focus on “rolling back” history is politically more in line with Huntington. Rather than wait for “good” Muslims to triumph over “bad” Muslims, as Lewis counsels, the Bush administration is determined to hasten such a civil war. If necessary, as in Iraq, it is prepared to invade and bring about a regime change intended to liberate “good” Muslims from the political yoke of “bad” ones.

Culture Talk has also turned religion into a political category. Democracy lags in the Muslim world, concludes a Freedom House study of political systems in the non-Western world. As if taking a cue from Bernard Lewis, Stephen Schwartz, director of the Islam and Democracy Project for the Foundation for the Defense of Democracies, claims that the roots of terrorism really lie in a sectarian branch of Islam, the Wahhabi. Even the pages of the New York Times now include regular accounts distinguishing good from bad Muslims: good Muslims are modern, secular, and Westernized, but bad Muslims are doctrinal, antimodern, and virulent. The self-appointed leaders of “the West,” George W Bush and British prime minister Tony Blair, have visibly stepped back from a Huntington-style embrace of a war between civilizations to a Lewis-style caution against taking on an entire civilization. After Bush’s early public flirtation with the idea of an anti-Muslim crusade, both he and Blair have taken to warning audiences about the need to distinguish “good” Muslims from “bad” Muslims. The implication is unmistakable and undisguised: whether in Afghanistan, Palestine, or Pakistan, Islam must be quarantined and the devil exorcized from it by a Muslim civil war.

Siah
02-11-04, 15:07
VERVOLG


Lewis opens What Went Wrong? with a reductive discussion of the thirteen hundred years since the birth of Islam in the seventh century: “the first thousand years or so after the advent of Islam” were followed by “the long struggle for the reconquest,” which “opened the way to a Christian invasion of Africa and Asia.” In the beginning, there was “conquest” and then followed “reconquest.” The conquest was Islamic, the reconquest Christian. No period in history fits this model of “Christians” confronting “Muslims” better than the time of the Crusades.

One of the best studies of the Crusades is by the Slovenian historian Tomaz Mastnak, who points out that it was at that moment in history that the Muslim became the enemy. When “Christian society became conscious of itself through mobilization for holy war... an essential moment in the articulation of self-awareness of the Christian commonwealth was the construction of the Muslim enemy” Mastnak is careful to point out that this was not true of earlier centuries: “When, with the Arab expansion in the seventh and eighth centuries, the Muslims reached the European peninsula, they became in the Latin Christians’ eyes one among those pagan, or infidel, barbarians. Among the host of Christian enemies, they were assigned no privileged place.”

Militant Christian animosity was initially aimed at all non-Christians; only later did it become focused on Muslims: “It was with the crusade that Palestine ceased to be the Promised Land (terra repromissionis) of the Old Testament and became the Holy Land, terra San cta .” Only with the Crusades did Christendom define a universal enemy and declare a “state of permanent war against the heathen.” No longer just another earthly enemy, the Crusades demonized the Muslim as evil incarnate, “the personification of the very religion of the Antichrist.” This is why the point of the Crusades was not to convert Muslims but to exterminate them: “The Muslims, the infidels, did not have freedom of choice; they could not choose between conversion and death because they were seen as inconvertible.” Their extermination “was preached by the Popes” and also by St. Bernard, who “declared that to kill an infidel was not homicide but ‘malicide,’ annihilation of evil, and that a pagan’s death was a Christian’s glory because, in it, Christ was glorified.”

Bernard Lewis treats what is actually a series of different historical encounters—the Crusades, 1492, European colonization— as if they were hallmarks of a single clash of civilizations over fourteen hundred years. Rather than recognize that each encounter was fueled by a specific political project—the making of a political entity called “Christendom,” the Castilian monarchy’s desire to build a nation-state called Spain following its conquest of neighboring territories, modern European imperial expansion, and so on—Lewis claims that these “clashes” were driven by incompatible civilizations. And he assumes that the clashes take place between fixed territorial units that represent discrete civilizations over the fourteen-hundred-year history To understand the political agenda that drives such civilizational histories, we should question the presumed identity between cultural and political history

To avoid Lewis’s distortions, one needs more details at key historical turning points. Can one, for example, speak of JudeoChristian civilization over two millennia as does Bernard Lewis? The Israeli cultural historian Gil Anidjar reminds us that Jewish culture in Spain is better thought of as “Arab Jewish”—rather than Judeo-Christian—and that the separation of “Jews from Arabs” did not occur until 1492. Moses Maimonides (1135—1204) wrote The Guide of the Perplexed , “the most important work of Jewish philosophy ever written,” a text “possibly written in Hebrew script, but ‘speaking’ to us in Arabic and/or Judeo-Arabic” in al-Andalus. And it was the loss of al-Andalus in 1492. that produced the major text of Jewish mysticism, the Zohar and also marked the beginning of the second Jewish diaspora.
It does not make sense to think of culture in political—and therefore territorial—terms. States are territorial; culture is not. Does it make sense to write political histories of Islam that read like histories of places like the Middle East? Or to write political histories of states in the Middle East as if these were no more than political histories of Islam there? We need to think of culture in terms that are both historical and nonterritorial. Otherwise, one is harnessing cultural resources for very specific national and imperial political projects.

Siah
03-11-04, 03:47
/

Siah
10-11-04, 12:08
/