Mona Eltahawy on the burqa

Sahar

It seems that Mona Eltahawy has joined the vocal liberal camp in Europe (particular France) that wishes to either discourage or entirely ban the burqa. The New York Times published her response to the burqa debate raging in France. Eltahawy begins her article stating her ideological position as a Muslim feminist and asserts, “I detest the full-body veil, known as a niqab or burqa. It erases women from society and has nothing to do with Islam but everything to do with the hatred for women at the heart of the extremist ideology that preaches it”.

I also disagree with the burqa and don’t see any explicit justification for it in Islam apart from a matter of interpreting what is modest dress.  But Eltahawy goes to as far to reduce the burqa to a symbol of misogyny– which sounds quite familiar. During the 2004 banning of the headscarf in state schools and government institutions, many French feminists actually used the same explanation to describe the headscarf along similar lines. The headscarf was described as oppressive and a symbol of Islam’s hatred for women. But I’m sure Eltahawy would find this conflation problematic yet difficult in distinguishing when she admits she concurs with Sarkozy when he stated that the burqa is a sign of submission of women and subjugation. Instead, Eltahawy believes that the best way to support Muslim women is to “say we oppose both racist Islamophobes and the burqa”, and claims, “We’ve been silent on too many things out of fear we’ll arm the right wing”.

However, the best way to support Muslim women is to respect their choice in how they express their religion and culture. It is not to impose what we think is good for them.  I find it ironic that Eltahawy who claims to be a feminist is ignoring the importance of choice, agency and the lived experiences of these women— which are essential factors in understanding women in feminist analysis.

Nor do we all agree with Eltahawy who, perhaps due to her socially privileged position is detached from the social, political and religious motivations for wearing burqa, and can’t comprehend how it can be a vehicle of success for some or a proud reinforcement of Muslim identity for others. The burqa can be understood as a symbol of the outrage Muslims are feeling as they are exposed to an increasingly xenophobic Europe.  It’s symbolic of an attempt to cling on to an identity that is being eroded in a hostile environment. I write this piece now after just reading about an Egyptian woman who was stabbed in a German court 18 times by the man she was suing for harassing her for wearing a headscarf.  It is not the burqa alone that is being undermined and discredited but Islamic dress entirely. Therefore, the call to remove the burqa cannot be devoid of such a context and for Eltahawy to think that divorcing her criticism from such a context as viable is politically naïve.

As I noted in my previous piece on the burqa in France, many of the women who wear it are converts to Islam and willingly wear it as a proud show of their Muslim identity. At university, I witnessed women who wore burqa for two fundamental reasons: they felt it was their best way of expressing their modesty and/or wished to express their Muslim identity as they saw fit. These women were very intelligent, pursuing impressive degrees, and did not all come from conservative families. Eltahawy seems to reinforce the Western assumption that it is Islamic fundamentalism that is motivating these women to wear it. There is no room to factor in the preservation of a particular identity or expression of faith.

Though Eltahawy does make a brief reference to the influence of identity politics, she discounts it with her passionate claim that the burqa is undermining women’s freedom. Whilst making this claim, she assumes a Saidian permission to narrate– in which these women are constructed as having no agency of their own, needing ‘protection’ and so must be spoken for.  However, her narration inaptly imposes a single meaning.

She then writes, “It’s one thing to argue about the burqa in a country like Saudi Arabia — where I lived for six years and where women are treated like children — but it is utterly dispiriting to have those same arguments in a country where women’s rights have long been enshrined. When I first saw a woman in a burqa in Copenhagen I was horrified”.

Eltahawy here reinforces the dichotomy of women oppressed in Muslim countries (Saudi Arabia) and the liberated woman of the West (Copenhagen and France). It’s shocking for her to have witnessed the barbarity and oppression of the Muslim world (veiling) present in the land of freedom (unveiling). She should know that such hermetic and simplistic divisions rely on historical stereotypes tied closely with power but are remote in explaining the social and political realities.  I’m sure there would be many Saudi women who would not appreciate having their existence reduced to something so demeaning—though I do not deny the suffering of those in Saudi Arabia, but my point is women’s oppression should not be a problem restricted to Saudi Arabia. Nor should it be associated with the burqa alone, rather, we should recognise the dangers in such totalising discourses which demote experience.  

Eltahawy further points out how the burqa deprives women of identity and is symbolic of the “erasure of women”.  So a woman’s identity is solely based on physical appearance now? She is a non-person, unintelligible, unless she exposes herself. Must a woman define herself based on how much people see of her? Many women who wear headscarf and burqa argue that the lack of emphasis they have to put on their appearance makes them more aware of improving their minds rather than looking at fashion attire or physical beauty to understand themselves.

Moreover, the call to remove the burqa (and other Islamic dress) is part of an insatiable desire of the Western gaze to penetrate what is hidden and appropriate it for its own. This is done so in the guise of emancipation but also in the attempt to assimilate Muslim women into a type of ‘woman’. We’re told that the burqa dehumanizes women, so it must be removed in order to put a human face to these women. In actuality, unveiling occurs so they become comprehensible to the Western eye. According to Mina Moallem, they must signify what she calls ‘white femininity’ which, ironically in this context, entails exposing the female body to objectification. In other words, removing the burqa is part of a mimetic process.  Thus, Eltahawy’s dichotomy of the liberating West and the oppressive Muslim world is problematised further in how she ignores the objectification in which woman’s identity, role and importance is contingent upon her market value. Is not a woman erased when she wears a bikini or wears the latest fashion attire, hair done, her face painted like a doll? She becomes meaningless and one can argue, erased.

Eltahawy and Sarkozy’s call to remove the burqa may have different motivations but the implications are similar: undermining women’s choice, violating cultural and religious freedom ( in doing so exposing the contradictions in Western liberalism and its notion of freedom). Moreover, both are operating within a homogenizing framework that is ethnocentrically bias, and contributing to an insidious campaign to undermine and eradicate any manifestation of Islam.

A one-year-old blog

Wow. It was around this time last year when I decided to start Nuseiba , admittedly with low expectations.  One year on and it’s still alive and active, alhamdullilah. Thanks everyone!

The ‘enemy’ within: Muslims in France

Sahar

It seems France hasn’t had sufficient amount of negative attention. News has been buzzing on the latest debate over dress in the country. French President Nicolas Sarkozy has set up a commission to study the wearing of burqa in France—a long garment that covers the entire body including the face. According to Sarkozy, the burqa “deprived women of identity” and believes it is unacceptable to have women in France as “prisoners behind netting”.

Nor is Sarkozy alone in such sentiments. French feminists have been particularly vocal about the burqa and like Sarkozy see it as a symbol of subservience. According to Silhem Habchi from the women’s rights group ‘Ni Putes, Ni Soumises’ (Neither Whores Nor Subjected), it is a symbol of fascism and “the Talibanisation of religion.” More than 50 MPs from across the political spectrum have called for restrictions on wearing burqa which they describe as a “coffin”.

Yet the actual number of burqa and niqaab (with eye-slit) wearers in France is low. Muslim groups estimate that there are perhaps only a few hundred women fully covering themselves out of a Muslim population of over 5 million. Ironically, many of those who fully cover are converts.

Underneath the language of laicite and paternalism bares a history that only partly explains the fetishistic approach on the part of the state to maintain a particular French identity that is secular, European and homogeneous.

France’s past attests to a long struggle between the state and church which culminated in French laicite (secularism)—the strict division between the state and church. The 1905 law of secularity is enforced militantly but relevant to the current context, the law was founded on a homogeneous France that no longer exists today.

Since the 1970s, France has been growing in cultural diversity with the presence of cheap labour workers from its former colonies in the Maghreb. However, French attitude toward cultural diversity would suggest little has changed in the demographic makeup of the country. The state does not recognise minority rights and enforces a colonial-style assimilation model on its immigrants whereby they’re expected to assimilate into a French abstraction. Thus, religious and cultural rights are only approved in consideration of a particular French secularism and mainly relegated to the private. In the case of Islam, this has been hugely problematic considering the private and public aren’t divided as such in matters of religious practice.  The hijab has become symbolic of this contention.

An interesting debate occurred on Al Jazeera between director of Human Rights Watch in Paris Jean-Marie Fardeau, writer Anne Elizabeth Moutet and Saudi media personality in the Middle East, Muna Abdulsulayman. I’m in agreement with Abdulsulayman that the burqa isn’t obligatory in Islam and shouldn’t be defended as such, but I think she should have really stressed the right for a woman to choose to wear it. I’ve blogged about the burqa in France here and here  in note of this, however, I pointed out in my post that I do believe that a woman’s right to choose how to express her religion (her interpretation of what modesty is) or her culture as she sees fit is fundamental to her dignity and should be protected. So, it is a matter of choice—whether we agree with it or not is irrelevant.

My other main objection to the proposed ban of the burqa is within the context of the 2004 legislation which prohibits the wearing of “ostentatious religious symbols” in public schools and government offices. Though it was claimed it was not specifically targeting any religious group, it mainly affected the wearing of headscarves for young Muslim women. Like they have been with the burqa issue, French feminists were equally as vocal and supported the ban. Well known French feminists like Anne Vigerie, the leader of a feminist think tank and Elisabeth Badinter reinforced the media’s theme of associating the hijab with Islamic extremism, viewing the headscarf as ‘le drapeu sur la tete” (flag on the head) that confirms the underdeveloped status of women in radical Islam.

The ban too was justified with the claim it was to ‘protect’ women from religious misogyny. In actuality, these debates are emphatically demonstrating the state’s attempt to eradicate the presence of Islam in public.

In its attempt to justify the violation of basic religious and cultural freedoms, France has vehemently responded to criticism explaining that it is  for the state’s security. From what exactly? A type of dress worn by a ridiculously small minority of women? It’s interesting to note that at the time of the 2004 ban, the number of women wearing it was small in proportion to the total Muslim population. But in both cases the hysteria that the headscarf and burqa has whipped up would suggest that it is worn by millions striving to dominate French society.

French philosopher Alain Badiou writes that it is fear that drives such criticism of ‘foreign’ (Muslim) dress. The justification for protecting a secular identity is a front to undermine Islam in France, and this is closely tied with another part of France’s history:  the French conquest of Algeria in 1830. The country suffers from a pathological fear of a ‘Muslim threat’ born in the Algerian revolutionary struggle against French colonialism. The hijab in its haik form was used as a form of national assertion and a reclaiming of a Muslim and cultural identity. Thus, the same French mission to civilise Muslim women persists today. French Muslim women are being ‘unveiled’ as part of a contemporary French colonial mission civilisatrice, in order to ‘teach’ the Muslim Other the superiority of Western knowledge and culture.

Today,  the presence of the hijab in whatever form is one that offends. This is because it’s a symbol of the failure to ‘civilise’ the Algerian and by extension, Muslims. The burqa’s presence awakens a French fear and humiliation of the ‘loss’ of Algeria and the historical defeat to Islam. It is also symbolic of the irreducible difference and thus the unassimilability of Islam. Europeans –in this case French– identity is conveniently constructed to contrast with the other (Muslim) who do not belong in Europe. 

These fears are accentuated further in the post 911 context in which Islam and Muslims have become victims of a bogeyman mindset which has had  major implications on Muslims:  They are the ‘enemy within’–dehumanised to the point of irrelevance.

So the current burqa issue can only be understood in its proper context which recognises Europe’s history with the Muslim world, France’s colonisation of the Maghreb and the current 911 political climate where Islamophobia has permeated all levels of European society.

Western Sahara and Faitim’s Story

Farah

Since my last post I’ve been on what I like to call exam sabbatical – I generally drop off the face of the earth and attempt to prove that I haven’t wasted away the past 13 weeks of my life. Whether or not I’ve succeeded is a different story, but my point is I don’t really register the goings on of the outside world. Well, except for the Iranian elections (you’d have to be stupid to miss that) and this story. “Stolen” is a documentary directed by two Australian filmmakers; Dan Fallshaw and Violeta Ayala about Western Sahara, in North Africa. Western Sahara has a long history of colonial rule by European powers. Control of the territory is being fought between the Kingdom of Morocco and the Polisario Liberation Front (PLF). Since 1991 most of the territory is controlled by Morocco, with the remainder controlled by the PLF (backed by neighbour Algeria.) Nearly 100% of the region is Muslim, practiced with significant influence from their tribal background.

Ayala and Fallshaw initially set out to document the reunion of Faitim Salam/Fetim Sellami (the articles I’ve found seem happy with either spelling of her name) with her mother Embarka after thirty five years of living in either side of the Wall of Shame/Moroccan Wall/ Berm of Western Sahara the Moroccans constructed to separate their own territory from the areas controlled by the PLF.

Faitim Salam, from SMH

Faitim lives in the Tindouf refugee camps controlled by the PLF and Embarka lives in Moroccan controlled Western Sahara. But what the filmmakers allegedly ‘discover’ is far worse; the enslavement of the refugee camps minority black Sahrawi population by the Arab-Berber descended Sahrawis. The problem is the filmmakers may have been a bit flexible with the truth – the whole slavery story might be all made up.

Fallshaw and Ayala were interviewed by ABC shortly after the allegations were made against their film. Both have strongly denied they misrepresented the facts or paid anyone off to lie (but I guess after spending nearly $250,000 of government money on filming the ‘truth’ it wouldn’t look good to own up to lying). In that ABC interview and subsequent press releases they point to a Human Rights Watch report published in December 2008 that supports their claim. Now I’ve read the report and it doesn’t suggest anything near the slave numbers Ayala and Fallshaw allege (both state the number of slaves is around something like 20,000) Aid workers at Tindouf interviewed by the ABC and Sydney Morning Herald are also similarly surprised that out of the 6,000 volunteers, aid workers and UN officials who have been frequenting the Tindouf refugee camps for years, only Ayala and Fallshaw found slaves. You can watch the ABC Radio interview here and read the HRW report here.

Whether or not slavery is actually being practiced is not the point of this post. While I haven’t watched the documentary yet (it hasn’t been screened in Melbourne) all I have to say is that it all sounds really dodgy (and no, I can’t think of a better word). What’s been interesting about the whole fiasco for me is the controversy surrounding Faitim herself. In early June Stolen was shown at the Sydney International Film Festival. Faitim and her husband Baba Hocine travelled to Sydney and made public statements after the screening of the film at a Q-and-A session. Through a translator they told the audience that the filmmakers had misconstrued Faitim’s words and paid several of the film’s subjects to lie about slavery. But instead of supporting Faitim and encouraging her to tell her own story, the audience shouted at both her and her husband that they were being manipulated by the PLF, and cheered on the filmmakers. Similarly in the ABC Radio interview, Fallshaw states that his ‘gut’ reaction to hearing Faitim’s statement is that she is being forced by the PLF to retract what she said in the film. Is it just me or is Fallshaw (and the audience) missing the point? All of this controversy is surrounding a woman who isn’t even discussed – she is reduced to a single sentence repeating “I am not a slave”. (One of the best articles I’ve read is written by Yvette Andrews at newmatilda, and the interviews above at ABC and SMH.) Since when did we start claiming authority to speak for someone else?

Before the release of the film Faitim sent a video-taped request to Fallshaw and Ayala, requesting to be taken out of Stolen because they misconstrued her words. Instead of respecting her wishes, the filmmakers include her videotaped statement in the film. If Faitim, the primary subject of the film is asking you to take her out, maybe you should listen to her instead of objectifying her, her story and her people. Or do they think they can disregard Faitim’s wishes because she’s a powerless, stateless Muslim women living in a refugee camp with no money? Not only are the filmmakers dodgy but they are now sounding completely unethical as well.

Last week Sahar and Fatemeh at MMW blogged about the manipulation of the image of Neda Agha-Soltani – a woman who in her passing has given the world a video that has been replayed countless times, and an image which sees her dehumanised and mythologised for our own purposes.

Neda Agha-Soltani, from weareallneda.com

Her image is no longer that of a woman in death but rather a sign of Iran’s oppressive regime. Neda’s agency is denied, and in her passing we cannot afford her privacy but continually reproduce an image of her death which to me resembles a Warhol pop art print. Neva Mwiti writes a really strong analysis of Stolen and the controversy surrounding it. She asks whether or not “film producers, brand gurus and marketers from the West will realise and respect that the third world is not fodder for their notoriety, but actually made up real people, with real feelings and real rights over their own destinies and identities.” I think her comments can be applied to the majority (if not all) representations of women like Faitim and Neda. When will these women be given the respect they deserve?

Women as symbols in Iranian protests

Sahar

I’ve been carefully watching the events unfolding in Iran in the aftermath of the elections in which Mahmoud Ahmedinejad was declared President of Iran.  Of course the debate on whether the elections were rigged or not has dominated the narrative but what’s been interesting is Western mainstream media have taken a special interest in covering this election but with a clear bias.  Western media have categorically taken the side of defeated candidate Mir Hussein Mousavi. We have been exposed to dramatic coverage of chaos in Iranian streets and many have gone as far to say that we’re witnessing another 1979 revolution style uprising. Of course anyone who is familiar with Iran and is history would realize the protests we’re witnessing today are miniscule to that of the protests of the late 1970s which led to a democratic theocracy led by Ayatollah Khomeini.  I have my doubts about the supposed rigging of the elections and the unpopularity of Ahmedinejad but it’s been fascinating to watch how the story is being told to the world through the lens of new media like Twitter, You Tube and Facebook.

The most dominant images flooding out of Iran have been of young Iranian women.  They seem to be at the forefront of the resistance. Many of these women are in fashionable attire wearing the most high fashion labels, beautiful and wearing loose hijab. This latter point may sound minor but in a country like Iran, the politics of the hijab has had powerful consequences.  Covering and uncovering has been infused with political messages since the Pahlavi period—revolving around binary constructions of ‘modernity’ and ‘tradition’. In his effort to ‘modernise’ Iran through European eyes, the Reza Shah banned the hijab in 1936; although the ban was uplifted, the hijab was perceived by the state and higher classes as a symbol of Iran’s backwardness, a hindrance for women’s rights and progress.

Almost hijabless yet oh so chic Mousavi supporter

Infusing the hijab with such political meaning has meant the very act of covering and uncovering is a political act. So it is not a surprise then that during the revolutionary period in which masses of Iranians protested against the Shah’s despotism, women of all classes donned the hijab (its black chador form) as an act of defiance against the monarchy and also in class solidarity. The visibility of the hijab has meant that both ‘modernisers’ and ‘religious orthodoxy’ have used it to validate their ideology. The current state’s endorsement of the black chador wearing women is considered by the current regime as the ‘ideal’ woman of the nation. Shahla Sherkat calls it the ‘official uniform’. According to Nima Naghibi resistance against the regime has continues through dress—whether it’s a different coloured hijab or revealing a fringe—the bad hijabi phenomenon.

The black chador wearing female supporter of Ahmedinejad.

The hijab’s history is coming to the fore as we witness the political consequences of women’s image. It is through women’s body where the politics of validation is played out.  Although it hasn’t been shown much in the media, there are young women on both sides of the political spectrum which interestingly show the ‘modern’ and ‘tradition’ dichotomy that’s always been a cause of contention in Iran– the chador-wearing Ahmedinejad supporter versus the Gucci wearing-dyed fringe-loose hijab wearing Mousavi supporter. Or so it seems.

The presence of Zahrad Rahvanard alongside her husband has greatly legitimized Mousavi’s position. She too is shown in a great deal in these images with her floral hijab, over a black layer—either a symbol of her compromising position or to show a sign of brightness –hope– underneath the blackness of the regime.

Coupled with such imagery, the video of Nega-Agha Soltan, a 26 year old Iranian woman who was killed in a street protest has become the symbol of Iranian women’s efforts to fight Islamic fundamentalism. Like the hijab, her death– captured in her bloody face that’s been disseminated around the world –has become the symbol of the regime’s misogyny and a justification for political dissent.

Mimi from Threadbared has written a brilliant analysis of the hijab in media coverage of the protests. She writes “the image of the Iranian woman in her loose headscarf is not a straightforward arrow from Islamic backwardness to liberal progress, but a nuanced and multi-dimensional map of political discourse and struggle”. Indeed, on the one hand it certainly will be interpreted as a yearning for liberal democracy by Westerners but as I argued in my thesis, the hijab’s meaning and power has been contingent upon political events in Iran and consequently has multiple dimensions and points of debate.

I also can’t help think that the overwhelming images of women in fashion attire, makeup and loose hijab has another dangerous implication: the wonderful potentials of opening Iran up further to consumer capitalist markets. The hijab, specifically the chador, is a hindrance to the exploitation of women’s bodies. Whereas, a loosening of the regime could mean unveiling the Iranian woman (and thus Iran) in which she becomes a more participatory member of global consumer culture.  Her body will become more accessible and susceptible to consumer trends—a return to the Shah’s Falangi dolls. Of course this process is guised under the rubric of emancipation.

Whatever the results of these protests, it is becoming abundantly clear that the strong presence of women on both sides alongside men on the streets and other political campaigning is indicative of the historical mobilisation of women (during the revolution and the Iran-Iraq war 1980-88)) and the significance of the ‘woman question’ is one that cannot be ignored.  Women’s active political participation is fiercely undermining the reductive perceptions many have of Iranian women who are often depicted as victims of Islamic theocracy and silenced by their hijab.  They are therefore complicating the Iranian woman and showing that her position is constantly shifting and being contested.

Muslim women and choice in marriage

Sahar

Recently I saw the Doha Debates which is a show that debates controversial political, social and religious issues.  Journalist and mediator, Tim Sebastian proposes a motion and the speakers on the panel discuss the topic at length. The audience then has an opportunity to respond to the panel. The latest motion proposed was ‘This house believes that Muslim women should be free to marry anyone they choose’.

There were four speakers on the panel. For the motion there was American Muslim feminist Asra Nomani who has authored several books. Also for the motion, there was Dr. Muhammad Habash a Parliamentarian and Cleric.  Against the motion were Shaykh Yasir Qadhi and Dr. Thuraya Al Arrayed, a Saudi writer, columnist and member of the advisory board of the Arab Thought Foundation.

Nomani began the debate with an emotional tone, declaring that Muslim women face barriers and that “just about every Muslim woman” encounters these barriers and internalizes them, and that she does not have the right to choose when it comes to marriage. She then directly addresses Muslim women and reassures them that she doesn’t wish that they suffer forced or loveless marriages.

With the way Nomani is carrying on, you’d think she was convinced she was shaking the very sheltered world of Muslim women. Apparently we’re not aware of our rights!  In her self-aggrandising, Nomani homogenises Muslim women’s experience and assumes that every Muslim woman has had the same experience as her. That yes, we are all doomed to the same fate.  True, there are Muslim women like Nomani who marry either through some sort of coercion but just to keep their family happy–I also agree with her point that these women will be the ones who share their bed with their husbands at the end. However, Nomani seems to think that these experiences are the experiences of the vast majority of Muslim women–where we are helpless beings who are victims of our community and our imposing families who Nomani assumes don’t want the best for us. She thus undermines the importance of family within the context of Muslim marriage.  I’m not saying women have to follow the decisions of families but many women and men will be thinking that family does matter in many of the decisions we make for ourselves, including marriage.  In other words, choice comes with responsibility and it  does at times mean we consider everything, not just ourselves.

Nomani’s entire argument is predicated on a particular construction of the Muslim woman which she deploys to legitimise her claim: She is just chattel, in shackles, and silenced by her subjugation. Nomani belittles the minds of Muslim women because she assumes they lack agency of their own and cannot comprehend their supposed suffering.  In doing so, Nomani constructs herself as their savior, the enlightened one who recognises their oppression– the liberal light at the end of this oppressive dark tunnel that is their unfortunate experience.

I found it interesting that Nomani’s extremely liberal position was juxtaposed with the other Muslim woman who was opposed to the motion.  Dr. Al Arrayed opposes the motion because she believes that anyone 27 and under basis their decisions on physical attraction and that they are not responsible enough to be making important decisions like this– so the role of the family is essential.  Her simplistic position is mired by her lack of faith in young Muslim women and their responsible attitude to such issues like marriage—which a woman in the audience pointed out.  However, I do agree with Dr  Al Arrayed’s overall point that family is important in these decisions and it is dangerous to deny this reality because it could lead to women being isolated.   

What was interesting is the issue of children did not come up in the debate. For me, my decision to marry a Muslim man is affirmed when it comes to the faith of my children. I would not want my children to belong to any other faith but Islam. Keep in mind; this is not only an issue women who marry non-Muslims have to face but also men who do.

Supporting the motion, Dr. Habash, begins his defense declaring there is no compulsion in religion and so we should extend this to marriage too. (I think he was a little confused with his position and often would agree with the opposing side) However, no compulsion in religion does not mean a Muslim shouldn’t abide by the laws of her religion—she has the choice not to of course but if she wishes to practice her religion, there are certain rules and practices that need to be followed as part of worship.  Sure, a Muslim woman can marry who she wants, but the question here is, is there religious justification for this unlimited freedom?  Dr. Habash refers to the hadith of when the Prophet was approached by a woman who told him of how she was forced to marry but later agreed with her father’s decision. The Prophet then told her he’ll absolve the marriage but she assured him she was now happy in her marriage but wanted to let women know that the father has no right to do such a thing which the Prophet agreed.  Habash takes from this hadith the principle that women should be able to choose who she should marry, regardless of the faith of the person. However, as Shaykh Qadhi points out, we cannot be selective with our religion because Habash is ignoring what Islam has to say about a woman marrying a non-Muslim.  

As I listened to Nomani’s concern over the depressing fate of Muslim women, I thought, why isn’t she mentioning the importance of recognizing cultural ideas and customs that have infiltrated how we conceptualise and perceive Islam.? Her analysis was simple: Muslim women are downtrodden; there was no attempt to contextualise and understand this further.  To compensate for Nomani’s reductive observation, Shaykh Qadhi  (and Dr. Al Arrayed ) point out  that yes, there are women who are oppressed in our communities in the name of religion, but Islam is not responsible for any oppression that occurs, rather it is cultural and tribal prejudice which justify oppressive practices. These practices are the antithesis to Islam’s principles of equality and justice which are protected in its law. Importantly, Shaykh Qadhi explains how  this is not a problem of the uneducated In our community but those who have committed themselves to the study of religion, who may consciously or unconsciously introduce their own cultural prejudice that affects how they view Islam. This was imperative to the debate I thought because of the dichotomy that Nomani was desperately trying to establish.

Nomani was positing herself as the liberal defender of Muslim women against the oppressive religious leadership that Shaykh Qadhi—with his long beard (as opposed to the more subtle beard of Habash) represented.  When Shaykh Qadhi objected to her removal of any boundaries and warned that limitations are a part of our religion, she would turn to the audience and say “that is their interpretation” in her attempt to marginalise him. In fact, she was well prepared for this response and early on in the debate warned of the theological arguments that she claimed lay the barriers for women.

Shaykh Qadhi undermined this false dichotomy in pointing out that there are elements of the religious establishment who are tainted by cultural understandings and that we should resist this. However, Nomani wasn’t interested in hearing a Shaykh criticise women’s oppression in our community— that was simply not the role Nomani had decided for him.

Furthermore, Nomani seemed to think independent interpretations have more sway than scholarship consensus.  She fails to grasp the importance of having boundaries and unlimited freedom which any liberal will argue needs to be contextualized.  Nomani’s discrediting of scholarship reminds me of another Muslim journalist Irshad Manji who also has a similar position. I wrote about the dangers of such independent thinking divorced from engagement with Islamic scholarship and Sharia.  These women who have no credentials in such areas but have built careers by commenting on them–they differ from scholars like Amina Wadud and Fatima Mernissi who I am not necessarily agree with on many issues but I do respect their efforts to protect the rights of women by working within the traditional scholarship and delving into it to extrapolate their views. 

Like Manji, Nomani also legitimizes and justifies  her claim by making references to popular misconceptions of Islam in her quoting of Qur’anic verses out of their proper context: The supposed beating of women sanctioned in the Qur’an which Hamza Yusuf explains well here;  and forbidding friendship with Christians and Jews.  The latter she strategically mentioned because many would be aware of her friendship with Jewish journalist Daniel Pearl who was killed in Pakistan and thus admire her for not being the kind of Muslim she was painting those who disagree with her as.  Nomani’s use of these examples is not only offensive to Muslim women but also to their Islamic faith.  Nomani seems to think that this is an issue of a lack of liberty in Islamic understanding toward women but as Shaykh Qadir points out,  if we return to the Prophetic teaching in order to understand the status of women in Islam we will realize that our tradition is the place of vindication. The Prophetic period is where we can break away from a hermetic Islamic discourse and our cultural impinges on Islamic practices by looking at how women were a part of the political, economic and cultural community. The women of this period were successful business women (Khadija), scholars (Aisha), soldiers (Nuseiba) and specifically relevant to this debate is how Khadija herself had proposed to the Prophet. These men and women are models for the Ummah and aren’t understood as oppressed but liberated–they certainly do not fit into Nomani’s construction of Muslim women and Islam as a whole.

In the end, the motion was passed (62%). I was actually surprised but Shaykh Qadhi explains in his piece on the debate that it was likely to be because of the vagueness of the motion which stressed freedom to choose rather than Shariah ruling on the issue.  But the fact that these kinds of discussions are taking place between Muslims (both men and women)  is a step forward in providing a space to discuss issues that impact on the lives of Muslim women.

Multiculturalism in Australia

Farah

Recently Melbourne was named the third most liveable city in the world. Actually, five Australian cities were named in the top 10. To be honest I’m not too sure how any Australian city made it on the list, let alone Melbourne. Australia isn’t exactly an immigrant’s dream here is it? The Cronulla race riots in Sydney. Prime Minister Kevin Rudd thinks racist ‘jokes’ are pretty funny. Attacks on Indian students have also increased dramatically. In Melbourne Indian students make up 30% of assault and robbery victims.

Australia has always been promoted as a shining beacon of “multiculturalism”. But the reality is more complex than that. What is actually being promoted through Australia’s brand of ‘multiculturalism’? Actual “multiculturalism” and respect for difference, or superficial banality? Seyla Benhabib has written quite a lot about the emerging politics of difference. And settler societies like Australia aren’t the only ones struggling over the question of cultural citizenship. France had the most publicised example of this with their hijab ban (Sahar blogged about it last year).

The media plays a large role in both reflecting and challenging society’s values and Australia is no exception. The Special Broadcasting Service (SBS) is a publically funded broadcasting radio and TV network and started broadcasting in 1979, the heyday of ‘multicultural’ government policies. Their aim is to “provide multilingual and multicultural radio and television services that inform, educate and entertain all Australians and, in doing so, reflect Australia’s multicultural society”. It was the first station in Australia to have ethnic news presenters. Recently the station aired three shows with Muslim characters – Kick, billed as a “romantic comedy” featured a Lebanese Muslim family, and East West 101, a drama show centred around Zane Malik an Arab Muslim police officer, and the struggles he faced working in a Sydney police

Don Hany as Zane Malik (left), the cast of East West 101, right

station. Last year SBS also aired Salam Cafe, a panel/talk show with young Muslims using humour to discuss the ‘lighter’ side of being a young Muslim in Australia.

What they all have in common is their aim to present a ‘multicultural’ Australia. But it is questionable whether the shows are successful in that respect. Kick and East West 101 did portray some strong characters and addressed some topical issues, as much as is possible in a prime-time TV shows anyway. One of the female Muslim characters in Kick was struggling with her sexuality. Layla was torn between her feelings for her female friend Jackie, and her arranged marriage to Sherif.

Layla Salim (left), portrayed by Nicole Chamoun

But the show didn’t really effectively deal with the issue. By the end of the series Layla is stuck in no-where land; she decides to break off the engagement, but doesn’t ‘come out’ to her family. At the end of the day, the show was a romantic comedy within which Layla and her struggle was a secondary plot device. All the show really did was flag the point and then move on to the next ridiculous situation Miki (the main character) found herself in. The Muslim characters suffered for lack of development. As a drama East West 101 was probably more successful. One of the directors sums up the purpose of the show: “The audience will be seeing Australia through his Islamic eyes…Malik is a man searching for a place in this conflicted modern world.” And credit goes to the production company because it did have a number of refreshingly honest scenes within Malik’s home and local mosque.

Scenes from East West 101

But again, the show was primarily focused on Malik and his boss Snr Detective Crowley, so much so that the other characters (including his family) were under-developed.

Salam Cafe is different to both. It aired in early 2008 and was a 30-min weekly panel, and is promoted as being about Australian Muslims, rather than about Islam. Susan Carland, one of the show’s panellists and creators, says “It’s showing the human face of the Muslim community… People will see that we won’t eat their babies.” Salam Cafe does (attempt to) break traditional stereotypes down; it shows young, successful opinionated men and women, using humour to dispel common misconceptions. As one article puts it, Salam Cafe showed “women wearing hijabs making jokes about women wearing hijabs.” But the show (like Kick) is a comedy. It tended to undermine the seriousness of the issues themselves by making everything funny. For me the show also promoted a very superficial type of identity; one which was bound up in being ‘Aussie’ and throwing shrimps on barbeques. It challenged one stereotype by constructing another.

A scene from Salam Cafe

Carland is right in saying that most misconceptions about Islam centre on Muslim women, especially the hijab. In 2004 a young Muslim women was told she could not play in a football match unless she removed her hijab. And women are disproportionately featured in attacks of religious and racial violence. A large number of those assaults are occurring in and around Brunswick – the suburb featured in Kick. Director Esben Storm chose Brunswick because he grew up in the area and wanted to faithfully depict its cultural and religious diversity. Clearly ‘ethnic harmony’ isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. If anything Australian identity is inherently fragile and susceptible to internal and external pressures. As soon as something threatens that identity (like say bombings in Bali in 2002, or the Cronulla race riots in 2005) demonization of Muslims and Islam becomes the order of the day. Muslim women, especially hijabis, then bear the brunt of racist attacks because they’re an obvious symbol of the religion. But, challenging those stereotypes shouldn’t mean participating within the broader discourse of Australian nationalism.

Kevin Rudd came out strong against the attacks Indian students (obviously he had to, international students are a big source of revenue for State and Federal governments). I had such high hopes for this guy when the Labor party won the election. For one thing he’s fluent in standard Mandarin – which Western leader can claim fluency in an Asian language?. But, when faced with the news of increased attacks against Indian students Rudd felt the need to “point[..] out that Australians also were at risk of violence when they travelled to India.”

The PM promoting an Us vs Them mentality. TV shows on a “special” broadcasting service constructing a superficial Other. It doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence for the future does it? In the end, it all points to a very superficial approach to difference, and the maintenance of a specific Anglo-Australian identity.

Response to Obama’s Speech

Sahar

So Obama made his much anticipated speech in Cairo. Let’s ignore the bad choice of location and focus on the content of the speech. I don’t know what the big fuss is all about. He quotes the Qur’an and everyone is woozy in admiration. He makes a few obvious factual points about Islam’s contribution to the world and again everyone is in awe. But of course he should, I thought, he’s addressing the Muslim world.

In stark contrast to his predecessor, Bush, Obama’s political overtures sounded almost pleasant at times. There was no mention of the misnomer that had dominated the discourse of post-911: terrorism.

But anyone sounds better than Bush; it’s like comparing Obama to Satan. Amid the language of tolerance and universalism, he talked with Bush-like triumph about 911 and the subsequent wars in Afghanistan and Iraq—only to remind us that America has no intention to remain there.  However, he leveled this assurance with the reminder that extremism must be confronted in all its forms.

He discussed the issue of Palestine-Israel, condemning Palestinian violence but not the systematic violence Israel has wrought in Gaza 2009, Lebanon 1978, 1982 and 2006 which culminated in the deaths of thousands of civilians.  He talked about the nuclear issue and made digs at Iran, but no mention of Israel’s warheads which sources say number up to 200.  But it’s not these insidious moments in Obama’s over-glorified speech that are my focus, but the reference to women’s rights.

There’s been a bit of an uproar by women’s groups and feminists who claim Obama either did not go far enough in defending women’s rights or disagreed with his defense of the hijab.  To my amusement, Annie Sugier, President of The League of Women’s International Law was seemingly appalled by Obama’s defense of the hijab. Sugier described it as “an immense slap in the face for the women in Algeria, Iran or Afghanistan who have died in atrocious conditions as a consequence of their refusal to wear what they considered to be the most radical sign of women’s oppression and of segregation between men and women”.

The violence that is meted out against women could not possibly have anything to do with the historical political instability of each country brought on from imperialism?  No? Perhaps Sugier is not aware of (or conveniently ignoring) the revivalism of the hijab throughout the region as a reassertion of national pride in Islam and its rich culture.

Relying on a Eurocentric hermetic discourse, she reduces the meaning of the hijab as symbolic of women’s oppression and continues, “To say that one wears the veil voluntarily does not efface the humiliation that it signifies for all women”.  What women is she talking about? Certainly not the women who are fighting for their right to wear it in France and the broader West? Or the women who choose to wear it for religious, nationalist/political, cultural purposes.  It is these women she arrogantly is deciding to speak for.

Fatemeh Fakhraie of MMW, who wrote at DoubleX had a different response.   Though I agree with Fakhraie’s overall response, her interpretation of Obama’s speech in reference to the hijab differed from my own. She states, “The bit about hijab was especially disappointing. In a region with unequal family laws, socially acceptable sexual harassment, and discriminatory legal codes, the hijab is hardly the main point of debate”.

Indeed, the hijab isn’t the main issue for Muslim women in Muslim countries; however, I think Obama’s point here wasn’t really in regards to Muslims in Muslim countries, but Muslims living in the West.  The issue of hijab has a profoundly symbolic meaning in the West. It touches on issues of racism, tolerance, national identity, multiculturalism, interfaith cross-cultural dialogue and human rights. These issues are deeply affecting Muslims as a whole, and the debates on the hijab throughout the West are indications of such points of contention. After all, Western attitudes toward the hijab play a crucial role in how the Western audience views what goes on in Muslim countries and even legitimises conflicts and invasions, as we saw in Afghanistan in 2001.  Such issues have furthered the tension between Muslims and Western countries, which Obama was attempting to address.

Fakhraie is right in observing the importance of Obama highlighting the gender inequality existing in Western countries, “We often forget that when we point our fingers at other countries and find things about their gender systems objectionable, we’re living in a glass house built upon obscene rates of discrimination, rape, and violence against women. That doesn’t absolve anyone, but Obama carefully reminded us that we are all moving forward together in improving things for women”.

Muslims often react to Western critics like Sugier by reminding them they have their own backyard to clean up.  Such responses have almost stifled the debate on women’s rights in a cross-cultural setting.  Perhaps Obama was aware of this when he says “issues of women’s equality are by no means an issue simply for Islam”.

So although I’m not intoxicated by Obama mania and had serious issues with aspects of his speech, his references to women’s rights were satisfactory.  Women’s rights groups critical of him  have just overreacted.  Obama was aware of the political landmine he was on and treaded lightly. He talked about rights for women in a holistic sense and did not patronisingly lecture the Muslim world. His comments did not smack of American arrogance, which is what we’ve grown accustomed to over the  past few years–to do so would have been politically disastrous.