Towards a Muslim Political Theology of Post-Colonial Resistance

Whether we like it or not, the word “Muslim” is politicized, and has implications for all those who consider themselves “Muslim.” This holds true regardless of how religious a person may or may not be. As such, those who self-identify as “Muslim” must understand the dynamics of this politicization and construct a justifiable political response. This should not be seen as a departure from the universal message of Islam, because the entire sīrah (biography) of the Prophet Muhammad, blessings and peace upon him and his family, is about the necessity of engaging with the political and economic spheres of life while seeking authentic ethics and spirituality rooted in Divine revelation (waḥy). But the social reality of 7th century Arabia is not the same as the 21st century, nor is the social reality of the 21st century quite like that faced by Muslims in 15th century Persia, Egypt, or India. Our search for authentic responses to the political challenges of being Muslim in the present era requires that we creatively engage with the social realities that the last 500 years of global history have bequeathed to us. In that respect, the legacies of European colonialism of Muslim lands is by far the most important historical force to consider, and will be the focus and unifying theme of this investigation.

The “Muslim” is a category of people that exist within the inescapable realities of “post-coloniality.” We are primarily a subject population, trying to express self-determination in the face of political, economic, and cultural forces that are stacked against us. We have been subject to outright colonization, such as in Algeria by the French and India/Pakistan/Bangladesh by the British, and we have been subject to more subtle forms of colonization, such as the presence of American military bases in Afghanistan, Qatar, Iraq, and Turkey. We are constantly defined by those who do not label themselves as “Muslim,” the proverbial “non-Muslim,” and so every Muslim attempt at self-definition is simultaneously a reactionary counter-definition. Non-Muslim policy scholars describe how to turn us into docile subjects of powerful nation-states, and capitalists strive to turn us into compliant consumers for the products of multinational corporations. When we serve the interests of influential entities, we are “good,” “moderate,” “modern,” and so on. And many Muslims serve those interests. This is not inherently a bad thing — it is simply reality. Before one can truly express self-determination, one has to be aware of all the ways in which the self is manipulated by power.

So how do Muslims articulate a political ethic in response to the reality of post-coloniality? There are as many answers to this question as there are Muslims-in-the-world. At the very least, Muslims should have a sense of solidarity with all those who are also subjects within post-coloniality, regardless of their religious affiliations. In the United States, that means predominantly Native Americans and Black Americans. One cannot escape the racialized elements of global colonialism, for the British, French, Germans, and Americans, each in different ways, articulated dominance through the construction of a narrative of cultural superiority that was often tied to the observable physical differences between them and subject peoples. Hence, the classic American distinction between the White, Black, and Red man. In this wider context, Muslims have often functioned as a quasi-ethnic group, usually associated with brown and black skin.

One of the greatest strokes of contemporary political genius comes from Malcolm X, when he stated in his famous description of sitting with light-skinned Muslims on the Pilgrimage (Ḥajj), “their belief in one God had removed the ‘white’ from their minds, the ‘white’ from their behavior, and the ‘white’ from their attitude.”

He instinctually understood that Islam had the potential to undermine the master narrative of racialized colonial domination, by providing a vehicle for the ethical redemption of human beings who just happened to be born with white skin. We often forget that Islam began as an indigenous tribal coalition, under the leadership of a charismatic leader who preached that he was in direct communication with the God of their ancestors. But this coalition also included Muslims of non-Arabian origin, such as Bilāl (Ethiopian) and Salmān (Persian), who played a critical role in articulating the universality of the Islamic message beyond the Arabian cultural context. The way in which Islam expressed universality vis-a-vis the plurality of global cultures can never be underemphasized.

In the midst of this historical experience, the Prophet Muhammad (upon him and his family peace) taught his followers that they were not spiritually bound to the misdeeds of their past, such as the practice of female infanticide that was rooted in Arabian tribal misogyny. To be a Muslim was to have hope in creating a more just and inclusive world. Malcolm X reformulated this traditional aspect of the Prophetic teaching in light of the realities of racialized colonialism, and it is no surprise that his Autobiography has served as a primary source of inspiration for thousands of Americans of varied racial backgrounds who have embraced Islam. Put simply, Malcolm X showed how the universals of Islam were directly relevant to the particulars of racialized American injustices.

The details of Muslim solidarity with those of other world views should be articulated through the lens of the Islamic religious tradition, which is our primary reference point, theoretical underpinning, and methodological tool. We should be wary of adopting an entirely secular frame of reference. Tariq Ramadan makes this point powerfully in his recent critique of the work of Edward Said:

“[Said’s] is a posture that is frequently encountered among the partisans of secularization who, while often voicing harsh criticism of the West’s political and economic formulae and imagined prerogatives, remains captives of their own references and conceptual tools, often displaying a culpable, oftimes unfathomable ignorance of their own history, and of their cultural and religious traditions.” (“Islam and the Arab Awakening,” p. 87)

Contemporary Islamic analysis that brings together a focus on the interrelated political, economic, and cultural dimensions of social life must be constantly vigilant of the danger of “epistemicide,” for this was one of the main projects of colonialism. French and British schooling systems replaced indigenous educational forms, and the study of European languages and literature replaced the study of Arabic, Persian, and Urdu. All of this was undertaken in order to destroy Islam’s distinctive hermeneutic of existence, and is eerily similar to the systematic destruction of Native cultures and African heritage that characterizes American history. Ebrahim Moosa highlights this when he writes:

“Particularly during the last three centuries, Muslim societies the world over have experienced cataclysmic changes and transformations, including the long night of colonization and the mixed fortures of the various postcolonies after independence. Those colonies and postcolonies have witnessed the dissipation of historical knowledge traditions, which were rapidly replaced or turned into hybrids by the addition of newer strands of knowledge and technology. In some instances, the death of knowledge traditions — epistemicide — has indeed occurred.” (“Al-Ghazālī and the Poetics of Imagination,” p. 28)

The death of indigenous knowledge in contemporary times usually comes about due to the universalizing tendencies of Euro-American “post-Enlightenment” discourse. So the Muslim must be aware and critical of this tendency within secular critique. However, Muslims cannot be proponents of a reactionary traditionalism that obscures the fact that we are part and parcel of post-Enlightenment intellectual history. We are all heirs to multiple intellectual traditions and the forms of human social life that they justify and promote, for better or for worse. We must engage creatively and critically with secularized social theory. The powers that be are not always in the wrong and the downtrodden are not always in the right — the truth most often lies somewhere in the middle, and it takes the best of our intellectual, spiritual, and ethical talents to find the just median. We are not an intellectual-religious community that believes in a complete lack of agency in the face of structural and historical injustice, but rather one that puts the onus on human beings to fashion revelation-based responses to social reality.

Believing that “God is in complete control of all affairs (wa huwa ‘alā kulli shay’in qadīr),” as the Qur’an so often states, means every challenge is also an opportunity. If God is on one’s side, no obstacle is too big and victory is guaranteed, whether in this world or the next. Imam Zaid Shakir explains this clearly when he writes:

“When we accept this reality we can move beyond the frustration and disappointment that is afflicting so many in light of the recent events. To emphasize that it is Allah who is the only effective “power-broker” in the world, reflect on the following verse from the Qur’an, ‘Say, O Allah, the owner of all sovereignty! You extend sovereignty to whosoever you please and you withdraw it from whosoever you please. You elevate whomsoever you please, and you debase whosoever you please. In Your Hand is all good, and You, over all things, possess power’ (Qur’an 3:26). Accepting this reality and understanding that it is actualized in our world, is one of the greatest manifestations of Tawhid, or the affirmation of divine oneness. In this case, we are affirming that there is one effective source of power in this creation — Almighty God, Allah. This has to be our starting point in moving forward.”

Another manifestation of the recognition of the Divine in human affairs is accepting our own accountability before the One. If we claim to care about justice, the first question we must ask is, “Am I just?”

We must look at our relationships and our transactions with the world around us and interrogate whether we are truly part of the solution. We must have a willingness to, as the Qur’an states, “stand out firmly for justice, as witnesses before God, even as against yourselves.” (Qur’an, 4.135) A political ethic that removes the nature of individual accountability inevitably trends towards a fatalistic structuralism, such that people feel helpless and/or point all blame on others or “the system.” On the other hand, a political ethic built on a complete disavowal of systemic injustices inevitably serves the interests of those already with power. Secular critique tends to err by focusing too much on structure, and traditional critique tends to err by overlooking systemic injustice. We must engage in dual critique, of the injustice within our own selves and the injustice outside.

The just median in any given situation must be sought, however elusive it may seem in the face of the enormous complexity of contemporary life. There are many who do not want the Muslim masses, and the other billions suffering within post-coloniality, to decide for themselves how to live. The examples of this are so numerous that is not worth even mentioning examples. But it is necessary to highlight that this is a problem that effects different communities in different ways. Analysis needs to take each situation seriously in terms of the unique aspects of local realities, while at the same time making tenable global connections. For example, the history of unjust usurpation of Native lands in North America, and its lasting effects, has to be studied and understood on its own terms. However, one should also explore the ways in which the experience of Native peoples in the Americas is also related to unjust usurpation of land on the other side of the Atlantic. The expulsion of Muslims and Jews from the Iberian peninsula in the 15th and 16th centuries is not so far removed from the expulsion of the Cherokee tribe from the state of Georgia in the 19th century as some might think. The strands of domination and subjugation run through both the local and the global.

When we begin discussing the actual politics of nation-states and their militaries, the greatest outward (ẓāhir) power-brokers currently, we reach a level of complexity that requires far more detailed analysis than this article can offer. Truly representative and dynamic governments in Muslim-majority countries would have politics that are disruptive, at least in the short term, to the global balance of economic, political, and military power. Ali Allawi explores this theme in his book, “The Crisis of Islamic Civilization,” and those interested in the affairs of the global Muslim political elite would do well to read his book and consider his arguments. But even powerful governments require coordination with “the will of the people,” and so it is also up to individuals, local community institutions (such as mosques), and non-governmental organizations to work towards greater self-determination and liberation. We all need to play our part, however small, in solidarity with others facing similar struggles.

From an Islamic theological viewpoint, change has to be sought with a clear intention of servitude to the One in whom we find our deepest dignity and freedom. Imam Zaid writes elsewhere,

“As believers we want to be servants of God for we recognize that it is our servitude to God that liberates us from servitude to all else.” (Treatise For The Seekers of Guidance, p. 3)

Theologically speaking, Muslim politics is ultimately derivative of the recognition that “sovereignty” belongs to God alone, and that mercy is the ultimate objective of God for humanity in both this world and the next. As such, Muslim politics is driven by trying to be embodiments of that mercy, as expressed by our love for and service to all of God’s creation. The well-known saying of the Prophet Muhammad (upon him and his family be blessings and peace) states that, “None of you truly believes until he loves for his brother [and sister] what he loves for himself.” So we should each begin to consider how our words and actions push the global reality in the direction of truth and justice, and away from falsehood and oppression, constantly beseeching God with the words attributed to the Messenger (upon him and his family peace):

اللهم أرنا الحق حقاً وارزقنا اتباعه و أرنا الباطل باطلاً و ارزقنا اجتنابه

Dearest God, grant us to see the true as true, and bless us to follow it, and grant us to see the false as false, and bless us to avoid it.

Amen.