MADRASAS IN SOUTH ASIA

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MADRASAS IN SOUTH ASIA

MADRASAS IN SOUTH ASIA

Author:
Publisher: Routledge
English

This book is corrected and edited by Al-Hassanain (p) Institue for Islamic Heritage and Thought

4: MADRASAS

The potential for violence in Pakistan?

Tariq Rahman1

IntroductionThe madrasas of Pakistan have been making headlines since 9/11 when the twin towers of the World Trade Center were attacked by Islamic militants in the United States. Predictably, when the London Underground transport system was attacked on 7 July 2005, these institutions once again came under the spotlight. While none of the perpetrators of 9/11 was a student of a Pakistani madrasa, one of the British terrorists had allegedly visited one. According to Maulana Sami al-Haq, head of his own faction of the Jamiat-i Ulama-i Islam and of the Dar al- Ulum Haqqaniyya in Akora Khattak (North West Frontier Province, or NWFP),‘linking the London bombing with Pakistani madrasas is only part of a broader campaign against these madrasas’ (Ali 2005). But no matter what the Maulana says, the madrasas are widely seen as promoting Islamic militancy.

Recently (in March 2007) a madrasa for girls, the Jamia Hafsa of Islamabad, was in the news first for having occupied a children’s library to prevent the government from demolishing mosques built in green areas, and then for having kidnapped a woman who allegedly ran a brothel in Islamabad. Another major madrasa, the Jamia Binoriyya in SITE (Sindh Industrial Training Estate) (Karachi), has also been in the news – again for violence. On 23 June 2005, two of its clerics were gunned down by unidentified men. Later, ten students of this seminary were killed in a bomb blast. In short, the madrasas, which were earlier associated with conservatism, ossification and stagnation of Islam, are now seen as hotbeds of militancy in the name of Islam. After 9/11, a number of authors, both Western (Singer 2001) and Pakistani (Haqqani 2002), have connected the madrasas with militancy. At least three reports of the International Crisis Group (ICG) – published on 29 July 2002, on 20 March 2003 and on 16 January 2004 – have taken the nexus between militancy and the madrasas as a given. However, these reports do not take a simplistic view of militancy among Muslims and do point out that Pakistan’s military has strengthened the religious lobby in Pakistan, of which madrasas are a part, in its own political interests.

The madrasas are blamed for terrorism not only in Pakistan but in India as well (Winkelmann 2006). They are harassed by the police (Rahman 2005: 117–123) and by the Hindu right (Kandasamy 2005: 97–103). Thus, in India, as in Pakistan, the madrasas defend themselves against allegations of terrorism and remain deeply sceptical of bringing about changes which, they feel, would undermine their autonomy and the authority of the ulamawho control them (Wasey 2005).

Review of literature

There was not much writing on the madrasas before the events of 9/11 in Pakistan. J.D. Kraan, writing for the Christian Study Centre, had provided a brief introduction (Kraan 1984). One of the first scholars to write on the madrasas was Jamal Malik. In his book (originally a doctoral dissertation), Colonialization of Islam, he included a chapter (V) on ‘The Islamic system of education’, which explained how the state dispensed alms (zakat) to the madrasas only if they complied with some of its rules and conditions. This had succeeded, ‘at least partially, in subordinating parts of the clergy and their centres to its own interests’ (Malik 1996: 153). However, during this process the clergy had succeeded, though again partially, in increasing its presence and voice in public institutions of learning. Later, A.H. Nayyar, an academic but not a scholar of Islam, had opined that sectarian violence was traceable to madrasa education (Nayyar 1998) – a position which was becoming the common perception of the intelligentsia of Pakistan at that time. The present writer wrote on language-teaching in the madrasas (Rahman 2002). The book also contained a survey of the opinions of madrasa students on Kashmir, the implementation of the sharia, equal rights for religious minorities and women, freedom of the media, democracy etc. (Rahman 2002: Appendix 14). By far the most insightful comment on the madrasa system of education and the world-view it produces comes from Khalid Ahmed, the highly erudite editor of the Daily Times English newspaper from Lahore. He claims that the madrasas create a rejectionist mind: one which rejects modernity and discourses from outside the madrasa (Ahmed, K.

2006: 45–67).

The ulama or the Islamists in Pakistan have been writing, generally in Urdu, in defence of the madrasas which the state sought to modernize and secularize.

Two recent books, a survey by the Institute of Policy Studies (patronized by the revivalist, Islamist, Jama’at-i Islami) on the madrasas (IPS 2002) and a longer book by Saleem Mansur Khalid (Khalid 2002), are useful because they contain much recent data. Otherwise the Pakistani ulama’s work is polemical and tendentious.

They feel themselves increasingly besieged by Western (Singer 2001) and Pakistani secular critics (Ahmad 2000: 191–192; Haqqani 2002) and feel that they should defend their position from the inside rather than wait for sympathetic outsiders to do it for them (as by Sikand 2001 and 2006). Reports on the increasing militancy with reference to Islam, especially its relationship with madrasas, have been produced by the ICG. The ICG proposes measures to reduce militancy in Pakistani society which include reforming the curriculum of these seminaries and having greater control over them (ICG 2007: 22).

Studies relating indirectly to Pakistan’s madrasas are also relevant for understanding them. An important book, comprising chapters by scholars on different aspects of madrasas in India, has been edited by Hartung and Reifeld (2006).

This book has an excellent historical section on the development of the madrasas in India and sections about these institutions in contemporary India. The focus of attention is on the changes (reforms?) which can be made in these institutions with a view to making them potentially peaceful and unthreatening. The seminal work on the ulama, and indirectly on the madrasas in which they are trained, is by Qasim Zaman (2002). This is an excellent study of how the traditional ulama can be differentiated from the Islamists who react to modernity by attempting to go back tofundamentalist, and essentially political, interpretations of Islam.

This work draws for data on the chapter on madrasa education in my book entitled Denizens of Alien Worlds (2004: chapter 5, 77–98). While some of the information given there has been repeated here to provide the historical background, there is some new information and, more significantly, new insights provided by recent reading and the conference on Islamic education in South Asia in May 2005 at the University of Erfurt (Germany).

Type and number of madrasas

There is hardly any credible information on the unregistered madrasas. However, those which are registered are controlled by their own central organizations or boards, which determine the syllabi, collect a registration fee and an examination fee, and send examination papers, in Urdu and Arabic, to the madrasas where pupils sit for examinations and declare results. The names of the boards are as follows in Table 4.1.

At independence there were 245, or even fewer, madrasas (IPS 2002: 25). In April 2002, Dr Mahmood Ahmed Ghazi, the Minister of Religious Affairs, put the figure at 10,000 with 1.7 million students (ICG 2002: 2). They belong to the major sects of Islam, the Sunnis and the Shias. However, Pakistan being a

Table 4.1 Central boards of madrasas in Pakistan

predominantly Sunni country, the Shia madrasas are very few. Among the Sunni ones there are three sub-sects: Deobandis, Barelwis and the Ahl-i Hadith (salafi).

Besides these, the revivalist Jama’at-i Islami also has its own madrasas.

The number of madrasas increased during General Zia al-Haq’s rule (1977–1988), presumably because of the Afghan war and increased interest of the Pakistani state in supporting a certain kind of religious group to carry on a proxy war with India for Kashmir (more details about this will follow). The increase in the number of registered madrasas up to 2002 was as follows in Table 4.2.

The figures for 2005 given by the Ittehad Tanzimat Madaris-i Diniya (ITMD) on 23 September 2005 is some 13,000 seminaries (quoted from Ahmed 2006: 45). This is confirmed by the Ministry of Education which gives the figure of 12,979 madrasas in its National Education Census (GOP 2006: Table 8, p. 22).

P.W. Singer, however, gave the figure of 45,000 madrasas as early as 2000 but quotes no source for this number (Singer 2001). The enrolment figures of the government census are 1,549,242 students and 58,391 teachers for 2005 (GOP 2006: Table 9, p. 23). The enrolment in all institutions was 33,379,578 with a teaching staff of 1,356,802 according to the same source (ibid.: Table 3, p. 17).

The madrasas are not easy to count because, among other reasons, if a trust registered under the 1860 (Societies) Act or any other law ‘runs a chain of twenty madrasas, in government files it would be counted as one institution’ (ICG 2007: 5). Moreover, some seminaries, teaching only part of the madrasa curriculum, are registered as welfare or charity (ibid.: 5).

The Saudi Arabian organization, Haramain Islamic Foundation, is said to have helped the Ahl-i Hadith and made them powerful. Indeed, the Lashkar-i Tayyaba, an organization which has been active in fighting in Kashmir, belongs to the Ahl-i Hadith (Ahmed 2002: 10). In recent years, the Deobandi influence has increased as the Taliban were trained in their seminaries (for more on the

Table 4.2 Sect-wise increase in the number of madrasas

Table 4.3 Increase in the madrasas between 1988 and 2000

Taliban see Rashid 2000). This increase, calculated on the basis of figures available up to 2000, is as follows in Table 4.3.

It should be remembered that the Deobandi madrasas are concentrated in the NWFP and Balochistan which are ruled by the Muttahida Majlis-i Amal (MMA), a religious political party, which is seen as a threat to liberal democracy in Pakistan. Moreover, the people of the NWFP, being of the same ethnic group as the Taliban, are closely engaged in military action against the latter. This means that resentment against the government of Pakistan’s policy toward the Taliban, or al-Qaeda, are expressed in the idiom of Islam. This is a major source of anxiety as far as the Deobandi influence is concerned.

The sectarian divide among the madrasa

Islam, like Christianity and other major world religions, has several interpretations. The Sunni and the Shia sects made their appearance within less than a century of Islam’s emergence in Arabia (see Jafri 1979). But both these major sects have sub-sects or maslaks among them. The madrasas teach the basic principles of Islam as well as the maslak, the particular point of view of a certain subsect, to their students. For the Sunnis, the majority sect in Pakistan, the madrasas belong to the Deobandi, Barelwi or the Ahl-i Hadith maslak. Briefly, the Barelwis give a central place of extreme reverence to the Prophet of Islam to whom they attribute super-human qualities. They also believe in the intercession of saints (Sanyal 1996). The Deobandis deny the claims of the Barelwis, following a strict version of Islam in which saint worship is discouraged (Metcalf 1982). Being fundamentalists, the Ahl-i Hadith are evenmore strict and, therefore, forbid the practices of folk Islam (Ahmed 1994). The Jama’at-i Islami is a revivalist religious party inspired by Abul Ala Maududi (1903–1979) which aims at taking political power so as to create an Islamic state and purify Islam (Nasr 1996). Besides the Sunni madrasas, there are Shia madrasas also, as we have seen.

All the madrasas, including the Shia ones, teach the Dars-i Nizami, though they do not use the same texts. They also teach their particular point of view (madhhab or maslak) which clarifies and rationalizes the beliefs of thesect ( Sunni or Shia) and sub-sect (Deobandi, Barelwi and Ahl-i Hadith). Moreover they train their students to refute what in their views are heretical beliefs and some Western ideas.

The curriculum of the madrasas

The Dars-i Nizami was evolved by Mulla Nizam al-Din Sihalvi (d.1748) at Farangi Mahall, a famous seminary of a family of Islamic ulama in Lucknow (Robinson 2002; for its contents see Sufi 1941 and Malik 1997: 522–529).

The Dars-i Nizami is taught for eight years. Students begin studying the Dars-i Nizami after they complete elementary school. Not all madrasas teach the full course. The ones which do are generally called jamia or dar al-ulum. The medium of instruction is generally Urdu, but in some parts of the NWFP it is Pashto, while in parts of rural Sindh it is Sindhi. However, the examinations of the central boards allow answers to be given only in Urdu and Arabic. Hence, on the whole, the madrasas promote the dissemination of Urdu in Pakistan.

All the madrasas teach some modified form of the Dars-i Nizami which comprises: Arabic grammar and literature; logic; rhetoric and mathematics among the rational sciences (ma’qulat), among the religious sciences are the principles of jurisprudence; the Qur’an and its commentaries; and the hadith. Some madrasas also teach medicine and astronomy. However, the books on these subjects – indeed on all subjects – are canonical texts sometimes going back to the tenth century. For instance, geometry is still taught through an Arabic rendition of Euclid (Aqladees). Medicine goes back to Abu Ali Ibn Sina (980–1037), whose Al-Qanun was written under the influence of the Greek theory of the imbalance of humours in the body creating disease. Similarly, the canonical texts on the Qur’an and the hadith are texts produced during the medieval period and do not have contemporary relevance.

Indeed, most people who write about the Dars-i Nizami complain that it is medieval, stagnant and, therefore, irrelevant to contemporary concerns. The typical criticism runs as follows:

Take, for instance, the case of the Sharh-i-Aqa’id, a treatise on theology (Kalam) written some eight hundred years ago, which continues to be taught in many Indian madrasas. It is written in an archaic style and is full of references to antiquated Greek philosophy that students today can hardly comprehend.

. . So, it asks question such as: Is there one sky or seven or nine?

Can the sky be broken into parts? Now all this has been convincingly refuted and consigned to the rubbish heap by modern science. (Mazhari 2005: 37–38)

Similarly the medieval commentaries (tafsir) on the Qur’an drew for arguments on the social and intellectual milieu of their period as did the law (fiqh) (Sikand 2005: 70–71). There are, of course, works in both Urdu and English on all these subjects (Maududi’s Tafhim al-Qur’an being an outstanding example of a contemporary commentary), but all of them would tend to expose the madrasa students to contemporary realities. And this exposure would make them question the hypocrisy and injustice of the Muslim elites of several countries – including Pakistan – who legitimize themselves in the name of Islam but exclude the ulama as well as the masses from the exercise of power and the enjoyment of its economic fruit. It would also make them question the hegemony of the West, and especially the United States, which allows the impoverishment of the Muslim masses in the name of globalization, market-oriented reforms and democracy. That this is happening is, of course, true. But it is not because of the medieval Dars-i Nizami. It is happening because of other influences and extracurricular reading material which shapes the world-view of madrasa students as well as other politically aware Muslims.

It is up to the person teaching the Qur’an or the hadith to give it whatever interpretation and time he decides and these vary according to the orientation of the teachers. However, the Dars-i Nizami, if anything, tends to disengage one from the modern world rather than engage with it. Moreover, the traditional orthodox ulama teach it in a way which is not amenable to contemporary political awareness. So, if the Dars-i Nizami does not create anti-Western, anti-elitist, sectarian militancy, what does?

One aspect of teaching in the madrasas which has received scant attention is that the students are taught the art of debate (munazara). This too is taught through the canonical texts: Sharifiyya of Mir Sharif Ali Jurjani (1413) and Rashidiyya of Abdul Rashid Jaunpuri (1672). However, the art is actually practised in such a way that madrasa students learn the skill of using rhetoric, polemic, intonation, quotation and arguments from their own sub-sect to win an argument. This kind of real-life debating is not taught in any secular institution in Pakistan where, indeed, the so-called ‘debates’ are written by teachers and memorized by the would-be debaters. The munazara is important because it is the bridge between memorization and the use of knowledge to present an argument relevant to present issues. It is also the bridge between the medieval contents of the curricula and the concerns of the contemporary world. The preachers in the mosques of Pakistan, graduates of madrasas (called maulvis or mullahs), use all the flourishes of rhetoric, the skills learnt for munazaras, in their sermons. These sermons, as anyone who has heard them will testify, have been becoming increasingly politicized. They dwell on the heresies in the Muslim world, the conspiracies of non-Muslims against the Muslims and, in recent years, the ongoing crusades in the lands of Islam – Palestine, Kashmir, Chechnya, Afghanistan,Iraq and so on. These are all contemporary concerns and completely unrelated to the Dars-i Nizami. That is why it is not only the madrasa graduates but other Muslims too who have the maulvi’s political perspective. As the larger part of these sermons and the munazaras themselves consists of refuting other world-views, I will now focus upon the texts used for refutation among the Islamic-minded people (whether from the madrasa or not) in Pakistan.

The refutation of other sects and sub-sects

Refutation (Radd in Urdu) has always been part of religious education.

However, it is only in recent years that it has been blamed for the unprecedented increase in sectarian violence in Pakistan.

According to A.H. Nayyar, ‘The madrasahs have, not surprisingly, become a source of hate-filled propaganda against other Sects and the sectarian divide has become sharper and more violent’ (Nayyar 1998: 243). However, it appears that there was much more acrimonious theological debate among the Shias and Sunnis and among the Sunnis themselves during British rule than is common nowadays. The militancy in sectarian conflicts cannot be attributed to the teaching in the madrasas, though, of course, the awareness of divergent beliefs does create the potential for a negative bias against people of other beliefs.

They were also very bitter as the Deobandi–Barelwi munazaras of 1928 collected in Futuhat-i Nu’maniyya (Nu’mani n.d) illustrate. Moreover, the pioneers of the sects and sub-sects did indulge in refuting each other’s beliefs. For instance Ahmed Riza Khan, (1856–1921), the pioneer of the Barelwi school, wrote a series of fatwas (fatwa=religious decree) against Sir Sayyid of Aligarh, the Shias, the Ahl-i Hadith, the Deobandis and the Nadwat al-Ulama in 1896. These were published as Fatawa al-Haramain bi-Rajf Nadwat al-Main (1900) (Sanyal 1996: 203). The Barelwis, in turn, were refuted by their rivals. The followers of the main debaters sometimes exchanged invective and even came to blows but never turned to terrorism as witnessed in Pakistan’s recent history.

As the inculcation of sectarian bias is an offence, no madrasa teacher or administrator confesses to teach any text refuting the beliefs of other sects. Maulana Mohammad Hussain, Nazim-i Madrasa Jamia al-Salafiyya (Ahl-i Hadith) (Islamabad) said that comparative religion was taught in the final Alimiyya (M.A.) class and it did contain material refuting heretical beliefs. Moreover, Islam was confirmed as the only true religion, refuting other religions. The library did contain books refuting other sects and sub-sects but they were not prescribed in the syllabus. Maulana Muhammad Ishaq Zafar of the Jamia Rizwiyya Aiz al-Ulum (Barelwi) in Rawalpindi said that books against other sects were not taught. However, during the interpretation of texts the maslak was passed on to the student. Students of the final year, when questioned specifically about the teaching of the maslak, said that it was taught through questions and answers, interpretation of texts and sometimes some teachers recommended supplementary reading material specifically for the refutation of the doctrines of other sects and sub-sects.

In some cases, as in the Jamia Ashrafiyya, a famous Deobandi seminary of Lahore, an institution for publication, established in 1993, publishes only those articles and journals which are written by the scholars of the Deobandi school of thought (Hussain 1994: 42). Moreover, in writings, sermons and conversation, the teachers refer to the pioneers of their own maslak so that the views of the sub-sect are internalized and become the primary way of thinking.

However, despite all denials, the printed syllabi of the following sects do have books which refute the beliefs of other sects. The Report on the Religious Seminaries (GOP 1988) lists several books of Deobandi madrasas refuting Shia beliefs including Maulana Mohammad Qasim’s Hadiyyat al-Shia which has been reprinted several times and is still in print. There are also several books on the debates between the Barelwis and the Deobandis and even a book refuting Maududi’s views (GOP 1988: 73–74). The Barelwis have given only one book, Rashidiyya, under the heading of ‘preparation for debates on controversial issues’ (ibid.: 76). It is not true, however, that the students are mired in medieval scholasticism despite the texts prescribed for them. They do put their debates in the contemporary context though they refer to examples on the lines established by the medieval texts. The Ahl-i Hadith have given a choice of opting for any two of the following courses: the political system of Islam, the economic system of Islam, Ibn Khaldun’s Muqaddimah,the history of ideas and comparative religious systems. The Shia courses list no book on this subject.

Recently published courses list no book on the maslak for the Deobandis. The Barelwis mention ‘comparative religions’ but no specific text. The Ahl-i Hadith retain almost the same optional courses as before. The Shia madrasas list books on beliefs which include comparative religions in which, of course, Shia beliefs are taught as the only true ones. Polemical pamphlets claiming that there are conspiracies against the Shias are available. Incidentally such pamphlets, warning about alleged Shia deviations from the correct interpretations of the faith, are also in circulation among Sunni madrasas and religious organizations.

Moreover, some guidebooks forteachers note that Qur’anic verses about controversial issues should be taught with great attention and students should memorize them. In one Barelwi book it is specified that teachers must make the students note down interpretations of the ulama of their sub-sect concerning beliefs and controversial issues so that students can use them later – i.e. as preachers and ulama.

The Jama’at-i Islami syllabus (2002) mentions additional books by Maulana Maududi and other intellectuals of the Jama’at on a number of subjects including the hadith. They also teach ‘comparative religions’.

The refutation of heretical beliefs

One of the aims of the madrasas, ever since 1057 when Nizam al-Mulk established the famous madrasa at Baghdad, was to counter heresies within the Islamic world and outside influences which could change or dilute Islam. Other religions are refuted in ‘comparative religions’ but there are specific books for heresies within the Islamic world. In Pakistan the ulama unite in refuting the beliefs of the Ahmadis (or Qaidianis) (for these views see Friedmann 1989). The Deoband course for the Aliyya (B.A.) degree includes five books refuting Ahmadi beliefs (GOP 1988: 71). The Barelwis prescribe no specific books.

However, the fatwas of the pioneer, Ahmad Riza Khan, are referred to and they refute the ideas of the other sects and sub-sects. The Ahl-i Hadith note that in ‘comparative religions’ they would refute the Ahmadi beliefs. The Shias too do not prescribe any specific books. The Jama’at-i Islami’s syllabus (2002) prescribes four books for the refutation of ‘Qaidiani religion’. Besides the Ahmadis, other beliefs deemed to be heretical are also refuted. All these books are written in a polemical style and are in Urdu which all madrasa students understand.

The refutation of alien philosophies

The earliest madrasas refuted Greek philosophy which was seen as an intellectual invasion of the Muslim ideological space. Since the rise of the West, madrasas, and even more thanthem revivalist movements outside the madrasas, refute Western philosophies. Thus, there are books given in the reading lists for Aliyya (B.A.) of 1988 by the Deobandis refuting capitalism, socialism and feudalism. These books are no longer listed but they are in print and in the libraries of the madrasas. The Jama’at-i Islami probably goes to great lengths – judging from its 2002 syllabus – to make the students aware of Western domination, the exploitative potential of Western political and economic ideas and the disruptive influence of Western liberty and individualism on Muslim societies. Besides Maududi’s own books on all subjects relating to the modern world, a book on the conflict between Islam and Western ideas (Nadwi n.d.) is widely available.

These texts, which may be called Radd-texts, may not be formally taught in most of the madrasas as the ulama claim, but they are being printed which means they are in circulation. They are openly sold in the market and sometimes in front of mosques. They are also available in the libraries of madrasas. They may be given as supplementary reading material or used in the arguments by the teachers which are probably internalized by the students. In any case, being in Urdu rather than Arabic, such texts can be comprehended rather than merely memorized. As such, without formally being given the centrality which the Dars-i Nizami has, the opinions these texts disseminate – opinions against other sects, sub-sects, etc., seen as being heretical by the ulama, Western ideas – may be the major formative influence on the minds of madrasa students. Thus, while it is true that education in the madrasa produces religious, sectarian, sub-sectarian and anti-Western bias, it may not be true to assume that this bias automatically translates into militancy and violence of the type Pakistan has experienced. For that to happen other factors – the arming of religious young men to fight in Afghanistan and Kashmir; the state’s clampdown on free expression of political dissent during Zia al-Haq’s martial law; the appalling poverty of rural, peripheral areas and urban slums, Western domination and injustices etc. – must be taken into account.

Another factor which must be taken into account is Khalid Ahmed’s thesis that the madrasas create a rejectionsist world-view. In his own words:

The danger from madrasa is not its ability to train for terrorism and teach violence, but in its ability to isolate its pupils completely from society representing existential Islam and indoctrinate them with rejectionsim.

A graduate from a madrasa is more likely to be persuaded to activate himself in the achievement of an ‘exclusive’ shariah than a pupil drawn from a normal state-owned institution. (Ahmed 2006: 64)

Poverty and socio-economic class of madrasa students

Madrasas in Pakistan are generally financed by voluntary charity provided by the bazaar businessmen and others who believe that they are earning great merit by contributing to them. Some of them are also given financial assistance by foreign governments – the Saudi government is said to help the Ahl-i Hadith seminaries and the Iranian government the Shia ones – but there is no proof of this assistance. And even if it does exist, it goes only to a few madrasas, whereas the vast majority of them are run on charity (zakat=alms, khairat=charity, atiyat=gifts, etc.). The Zia al-Haq government (1977–1988) tried to gain influence on the madrasas by distributing the zakat funds to them in the 1980s. The only scholarly study of this is by Jamal Malik, who points out that most of the madrasas who received these funds were Deobandi. However, as the madrasas had to be registered, this increased the government’s influence over them (Malik 1996: 150–153).

The government of Pakistan gives financial assistance to the madrasas even now for modernizing textbooks, including secular subjects in the curricula and introducing computers. In 2001–2002 a total of Rs 1,654,000 was given to all madrasas which accepted this help. As the number of students is 1,065,277 this comes to Rs 1.55 per student per year. The government also launched a US$113 million plan to teach secular subjects to 8,000 willing madrasas according to the US Congressional Research Service report (New York Times, 15 March 2005.Quoted from Ahmed 2006: 47). In November 2003, the government decided to allocate US$50 million annually to registered madrasas. However, not all madrasas accept financial help from the government and the money is not distributed evenly as the above calculations might suggest.

According to the Jamia Salafiyya of Faisalabad, the annual expenditure on the seminary, which has about 700 students, is 40,000,000 rupees. Another madrasa, this time a Barelwi one, gave roughly the same figure for the same number of students. This comes to Rs 5,714 per year (or Rs 476 per month) which is an incredibly small amount of money for education, books, board and lodging. In India, where conditions are similar to those in Pakistan, the madrasa Mazahir al-Ulum in Saharanpur (Uttar Pradesh), has 1,300 students and 115 employees and its income between 2000 and 2001 was Rs 9,720,649 or Rs 948 per student per year (Mehdi 2005: 93).

Table 4.4 Causes of joining madrasas given by students

The expenditure from the government in 2001–2002 was Rs 1,654,000 for all the madrasas in the country and as about 32.6 per cent of madrasas do not receive any financial support at all, the total spending on these institutions is very little (IPS 2002: 33). However, as mentioned above, there are plans to change this in a radical manner.

As the madrasas generally do not charge a tuition fee – though they do charge a small admission fee which does not exceed Rs 400 – they attract very poor students who would not receive any education otherwise. According to Fayyaz Hussain, a student who completed his ethnographic research on Jamia Ashrafiyya of Lahore in 1994, students joined the madrasa for the reasons listed in Table 4.4:

The categories have not been explained by the author nor is it known exactly what questions were asked from the students. According to Singer:

[the ] Dar-ul-Uloom Haqqania, one of the most popular and influential Madrasahs (it includes most of the Afghani Taliban leadership among its alumni) – has a student body of 1500 boarding students and 1000 day students, from 6 years old upwards. Each year over 15,000 applicants from poor families vie for its 400 open spaces. (Singer 2001)

According to a survey conducted by Mumtaz Ahmad in 1976:

more than 80 per cent of the madrasa students in Peshawar, Multan, and Gujranwala were found to be sons of small or landless peasants, rural artisans, or village imams of the mosques. The remaining 20 per cent came from families of small shopkeepers and rural laborers. (quoted from Ahmad 2000: 185)

According to a survey by the Institute of Policy Studies (IPS), 64 per cent of the madrasa students come from rural areas and belong to poor agrarian families (IPS 2002: 41). The present researcher also observed that many students, upon probing, confessed that their parents had admitted them in the madrasas because they could not afford to feed them and educate them in the government schools. Even such students, while making this confession, also insist that they are in the madrasas because of their love for Islam.

In my survey of December 2002 and January 2003, madrasa students and teachers were asked about their income. Not many replied to these questions, but of those who did 76.62 per cent suggest that they belong to poor sections of society. Many teachers of the madrasas (61.11 per cent) also belong to the same socio-economic class as their students (for details see Rahman 2004: Annex 1). The madrasas provide sustenance for all these poor people.

In short, the madrasas are performing the role of the welfare state in the country. This being so, their influence on rural people and the poorer sections of the urban proletariat will continue to increase as poverty increases.

Poverty and the roots of religious violence

The proposition that there is a connection between poverty and religious violence has empirical backing. Khalid Ahmed quotes the cases of Jihadi leaders from Pakistan who had a madrasa background. He says that, because they reject all forms of governance after the pious caliphate, they are in a condition of perpetual revolt against the modern state. He mentions a number of cases: Qari Saifullah Akhtar (b. 1958) (head of Harkat-i Jihad-i Islami who influenced the Islamist officers implicated in a coup in 1995); Maulana Masood Azhar (head of Jaish-i Muhammad); Abdullah Mehsud (from Banuri Masjid in Karachi; he abducted two Chinese engineers in 2004); Mufti Shamsuddin Shamazai (d. 2004) (patron of Harkat al-Mujahidin which has been known for fighting in Kashmir) (Ahmed 2006: 51–63). Qasim Zaman also tells us that in Jhang – the birthplace of the militant Sunni organization called the Sipah-i Sahaba – the proportion of Shias in the affluent urban middle class is higher than other areas of Pakistan. Moreover, the feudal gentry toohas many Shia families. Thus the Sipah-i Sahaba appeals to the interests of the ordinary people who are oppressed by the rich and the influential. Indeed, Maulana Haqq Nawaz, the fiery preacher who raised much animosity against the Shias, was ‘himself a man of humble origin’ and ‘had a reputation for being much concerned with the welfare of the poor and the helpless, and he was known to regularly spend time at government courts helping out poor illiterate litigants’ (Zaman 2002: 125).

Another leader of the Sipah-i Sahaba, Maulana Isar al-Qasimi (1964–1991), also preached in Jhang. He too denounced the Shia magnates of the area, and the peasants, terrorized by the feudal magnates, responded to him as if he were a messiah. Even shopkeepers rejoiced in the aggressive Sunni identity he helped create. When the Shia feudal lords attacked and burnt some defiant Sunni shops this identity was further radicalized (Zaman 2002: 127). Masood Azhar, devoted to Haq Nawaz Jhangvi, became an aggressive fighter against the Shia as well as in Kashmir (Ahmed 2006: 61).

In the same manner, the Muslim radicals in the Philippines also attack social and economic privilege. Indeed, Islamist movements from Turkey to Indonesia talk of the poor and oppressed and sometimes do take up their cause. This has won them votes in Turkey where they have been suppressed by the secular military. It was also a major factor for mobilization in Iran against the Shah who was seen as being rich, wasteful, corrupt and decadent. So, though difficult to demonstrate, Islamic militancy – whether by radicalized madrasa students or members of Islamist or Jihadi groups in Pakistan – has an element of class conflict. It is, at least in part, a reaction of the have-notes against the haves. This is a dangerous trend for the country because madrasa students are taught to be intolerant of religious minorities and are hawkish about Kashmir. As they are also from poor backgrounds they express their sense of being cheated by society in the idiom of religion. This gives them the self-righteousness to fight against the oppressive and unjust system in the name of Islam.

The world-view of madrasa students

The madrasa students are the most intolerant of all the other student groups in Pakistan. They are also the most supportive of an aggressive foreign policy. In my survey of 2002–2003, mentioned earlier, the madrasa students were the only group of students – out of Urdu and English-medium school students – who supported both overt and covert conflict with India over Kashmir in large numbers. They were also against giving equal rights to non-Muslims (equal to Muslims) and women (equal to men) as citizens. These figures and the survey itself are given in Rahman 2004: Annex 2. However, an excerpt from the survey showing the key points can be found in Appendix 1.

Madrasas and militancy

The madrasas are obviously institutions which have a blueprint of society in mind. What needs explanation is that the madrasas, which were basically conservative institutions before the Afghan–Soviet War of the 1980s, are both ideologically activist and sometimes militant. This, indeed, is the major change which seems to have occurred in the Pakistani religious establishment. The British conquest was opposed with some armed resistance, but mostly the ulama retreated into their madrasas where orthodoxy, conserving the legacy of the past, was the order of the day. Folk Islam in South Asia was mystical, ritualistic and superstitious. The Barelwi sub-sect, which was very popular, supported extreme reverence for saints and rituals – such as the distribution of sweetmeats (halwa) on certain sacred days. This type of Islam was challenged by the Deobandis, the Ahl-i Hadith and the Jama’at-i Islami because none of these believed in the intercession of saints, the distribution of food on fixed days or other practices of folk Islam. These strict religious groups found unexpected allies among modernist Muslims and Westernized or secular urban people who were in a Muslim culture but whose world-view was Western. All these people opposed mysticism and folk Islam also, which they considered irrational and retrogressive. The result of these tendencies was that Islam came to be defined more and more in legalistic terms and the conservative point of view came to be replaced slowly by the revivalist one.

As the Pakistani ulama came to be drawn more and more into the ideology of the state (by becoming teachers of Arabic in ordinary schools or minor bureaucrats, for instance (see Malik 1996: 273)), they became politicized. They began to consider how they could pursue power to make the society Islamic, as they understood the term. The Iranian revolution of 1979, the defeat of the Soviet Union in Afghanistan in the late 1980s and, later, the rise of the Taliban convinced the Pakistani ulama that Islam could be a power in its own right. In short, the ulama were drifting from conservatism to revivalism and activism. The Deobandi and Ahl-i Hadith ulama were more consciously revivalist, as were the Shia ulama but, on the whole, the character of Islam, as preached in Pakistan, has undergone a tremendous change. Even the Barelwi sub-sect, with the second-largest madrasa board in the country, is not entirely peaceful. The ICG report of 2007 says that the ‘Faizan-e-Madina chain’ of madrasas is ‘certainly militant in its approach’, but adds that much of their hostility is directed ‘more towards the Deobandis and Ahl-e-Hadith than Shias’ (ICG 2007: 11).

So, while the basic texts of the Dars-i Nizami remain the same, what has changed is that the ulama are more conscious of world affairs which they see and describe with reference to the Crusades. Indeed, Karen Armstrong, writing on the impact of the Crusades on the world, states clearly that ‘The wars in the Middle East today are becoming more like the Crusades in this respect, especially in the religious escalation on both sides of the conflict’ (Armstrong 1988: 530). And it is not just the Israel–Arab conflict but other wars in the Muslim world which are seen in religious terms. Thus, even before Huntington presented his thesis about the ‘clash of civilizations’, the imams of Pakistani mosques used to describe world affairs with reference to such a theory. This political conciseness invoking the name of Kashmir and Palestine inPakistan, has permeated much of the religious establishment and the middle class in Pakistan (see my survey of 1999 in Rahman 2002: Appendix 14). Thus, not just the madrasa teachers and students but people from secular institutions belonging to the lower-middle and middle classes respond to political Islam. Such people see the West in general and the United States in particular as the major forces for oppression and injustice in the world. According to Peter L. Bergen, author of a book on Osama bin Laden and his al-Qaeda group: ‘nowhere is bin Laden more popular than in Pakistan’s madrasas, religious schools from which the Taliban draw many of its recruits’ (Bergen 2001: 150). While it is not clear how Bergen obtained this information, my own impression is that his statement is largely accurate, but it can be said that bin Laden is also popular among a number of non-madrasa-educated young Muslims, especially the politically aware ones.

What made the madrasas militant?

Not all madrasas are militant. Those which are became militant when they were used by the Pakistani state to fight in Afghanistan during the Soviet occupation and then in Kashmir so as to force India to leave the state. Pakistan’s claim on Kashmir, as discussed by many including Alastair Lamb (1977), has led to conflict with India and the Islamic militants or jihadis, who have entered the fray since 1989. The United States indirectly (and sometimes directly) helped in creating militancy among the clergy. For instance, special textbooks in Darri (Afghan Persian) and Pashto were written at the University of Nebraska–Omaha with a USAID grant in the 1980s (Stephens and Ottaway 2002: Sec.A, p. 1). American arms and money flowed to Afghanistan through Pakistan’s Inter Services Intelligence as several books have indicated (see Cooley 1999). At that time all this was done with the aim of defeating the Soviet Union.

The fact that until January 2002, when General Pervez Musharraf clamped down on Islamic militants, lists published by fighting groups included madrasa and non-madrasa students, suggests that at least some madrasas did send their students to fight in Kashmir. This has been reduced considerably, though The Herald, one of the most prestigious monthly publications from Karachi, tells us in its July 2005 issue that ‘hundreds of young boys between the ages of 13 and 15 years make ready cannon fodder for violent militant campaigns’ (p. 53). These young boys, who do not necessarily belong to madrasas, belong to private armies – there are said to be 15 of them – raised by different religious-political parties. The Herald’s implication is that, at some covert level, the state is still supporting these militant outfits so that they can be used to fight in Kashmir if the peace process fails.

However, while Pakistan’s military kept using militant Islamists in Kashmir, the United States was much alarmed by them – and not without reason, as the events of 9/11 demonstrated later. The Americans then attempted to understand the madrasas better. P.W. Singer, an analyst in the Brookings Institute, wrote that there were 10–15 per cent of ‘radical’ madrasas which teach anti-American rhetoric, terrorism and even impart military training (Singer 2001). No proof for these claims was offered. However, fighters from Afghanistan, Kashmir and even Chechnya did come to the madrasas, and it is possible that their contact with the students inspired the madrasa students to fight against those whom they saw as the enemies of Islam.

More significantly, the private armed groups or armies either associated with religious parties or acting on their own, train both madrasa and other school dropouts. They were financed by the intelligence agencies of Pakistan, as The Herald, Newsline, Friday Times and a number of Pakistani publications have repeatedly claimed in the past few years. Some of these armies such as Lashkar-i Tayyaba, Jaish-i Muhammad and Harkat al-Mujahidin print militant literature which circulates among the madrasas and other institutions. According to chapter 3 of a book entitled Ideas on Democracy, Freedom and Peace in Text- books (2003), Al-Da’wah uses textbooks for English in which many questions and answers refer to war, weapons, blood and victory.According to the author: ‘The students studying in jihadi schools are totally brain washed right from the very beginning. The textbooks have been authored to provide only onedimensional worldview and restrict the independent thought process of children’ (Liberal Forum 2003: 72). Although these parties have been banned, their members are said to be dispersed all over Pakistan, especially in the madrasas. The madrasas, then, may be the potential centres of Islamic militancy in Pakistan not because of what they teach but because of the politically motivated people, committed to radical, political Islam, who seek refuge in them. However, such people are to be found outside the madrasas also. It is to this aspect that we turn now.

Militancy and Islamist fighters

Islamic militancy is going on in many parts of the world, notable among which are Palestine, Chechnya, the Philippines, Afghanistan, Kashmir and parts of Central Asia (for this last see Rashid 2002). However, what is surprising to many people is that secular institutions and Western countries also produce Islamic militants. As Olivier Roy points out, most young Islamist militants are trained in secular institutions. He cites many names of the 9/11 militants concluding that: ‘None (except for the Saudis) was educated in a Muslim religious school and Jarrah even attended a Lebanese Christian School. Most of them studied technology, computing, or town planning, as the World Trade Center pilots had done’ (Roy 2004: 310). Peter Bergen and Swati Pandey claimed that they ‘examined the educational backgrounds of 75 terrorists behind some of the most significant recent terrorist attacks against Westerners. They found that a majority of them were college-educated, often in technical subjects like engineering.’ About 53 per cent of the terrorists had been to college while ‘only 52 per cent of Americans had been to college’ (New York Times, 15 March 2005). This also seems to be true about the young British Muslims who struck on 7 July 2005 as well as the cadres of the Jama’at-i Islami in Pakistan who support fighting in Kashmir, though most of them come from the state education system and not the madrasas. Moreover, Sohail Abbas, a psychologist who interviewed jihadis who were incarcerated in Pakistani jails after having been captured in Afghanistan, where they had gone to fight the United States in defence of the Taliban in 2001, corroborates the same finding:

What we can say is that 232 jihadis out of the 319 in the Haripur group had attended school for at least five years or more. That means that most of the jihadis were in fact educated and that too in the mainstream education system. (Abbas 2006: 84)

In the Haripur group only 22.3 per cent had attended the madrasa while in the Peshawar group, out of 198, only 70 (35.5 per cent) had been to the madrasa. But even in the latter case, most (61.2 per cent) had attended the madrasa only for one to three months (Abbas 2006: 90–91). In short, mainstream education is no guarantee of preventing a person joining militant groups. In this context the influence of Islamists, whether in the peer group, family or teachers, is crucial.

Roy further points out that deterritorialized Muslims in Western countries, being overwhelmed by the dominant culture around them, fall back upon the Islamic identity. They are not guided by traditional texts or the ulama; they find their own meanings from the fundamental texts of the faith (the Qur’an and the hadith). Their neo-colonial reaction to the injustice of the world order, the irresistible globalization which seems to inundate all civilizations under the banner of Mickey Mouse, is to lash out in fury against Western targets and the elites in Muslim countries which support Western policies. They use the idiom of Islam but the anger which motivates them comes from a sense of being cheated. There are, of course, pegs to hang this anger on: Palestine, Chechnya, Kashmir, Afghanistan, Iraq,Iran – the list can go on. But essentially, Muslim militancy is a reaction to Western injustice, violence and a history of exploitation and domination over Muslims. This can only be reversed by genuinely reversing Western militant policies and establishing a more equitable distribution of global wealth.

Can Islamic militancy be reduced?

In Pakistan, General Pervez Musharraf feels that Islamic militancy can be reduced as far as Pakistan’s madrasas are concerned, if secular subjects are taught in them and if foreigners are not allowed to study there.

What are called secular subjectswere taught as ma’qulat in Mughal madrasas because one of the functions of these institutions was to produce bureaucrats for the state. What is now being advocated is to add the social sciences, English, computer skills and mathematics to thecurricula. General Musharraf’s military government introduced a law called the Pakistan Madrasa Education (Establishment and Affiliation of Model Dini Madaris) Board Ordinance 2001 on 18 August 2001. According to the Education Sector Reforms (GOP 2002c) three model institutions were established: one each at Karachi, Sukkur and Islamabad. Their curriculum ‘includes subjects of English, Mathematics, Computer Science, Economics, Political Science, Law and Pakistan Studies’ for its different levels (GOP 2002c: 23). These institutions were not welcomed by the ulama (for opposition from the ulama see Wafaq al-Madaris No. 6: Vol. 2, 2001).

However, some modern subjects have been taught for quite some time in the madrasas. The Ahl-i Hadith madrasas have been teaching Pakistan studies, English, mathematics and general science for a long time (GOP 1988: 85). The Jama’at-i Islami also teaches secular subjects. The larger Deobandi, Barelwi and Shia madrasas have also made arrangements for teaching secular subjects including basic computer skills. According to a report in the weekly The Friday Times the Deobandi Wafaq al-Madaris has decided to accommodate modern subjects on a larger scale than ever before. They would make the students stay at school another two years to give a more thorough grounding in the secular subjects.The Wafaq has also formed committees to devise ways to capitalize on the government’s US$255 million for the madrasa reform scheme (Mansoor 2003). However, at present, the teaching is carried out by teachers approved by the ulama, or some of the ulama themselves. Thus, the potential for secularization of the subjects, which is small in any case, is reduced to nothing.

I believe that all attempts at secularizing madrasas will probably backfire. First, the madrasas work on charitable donations so they will not submit to the government’s fiat. Second, they are not the only source of militants. It is poverty and the fighting in Kashmir and elsewhere in the world which doesso, therefore these external conditions – greatly dependent on government policy as they are – must be changed to produce peaceful people. Third, the textbooks of the socalled ‘secular’ subjects produced by the educational boards in Pakistan are anti- India and tend to glorify armed conflict (Aziz 1993; Saigol 1995; Rahman 2002: 515–524; and Nayyar and Salim 2003). Moreover, the people who will teach ‘secular’ subjects will be selected by the clergy and will likely be highly politicized Islamists who are evenmore fiery in their denunciations of peace, liberal values and the West than even the ulama themselves. In any case, as we have observed earlier, Islamists from traditional educational institutions are even more prone to political violence than madrasa students. Thus, no amount of ‘secularization’ of the madrasas will eliminate violence.

The otherproposal, that of not allowing foreigners to study in the madrasas, may be more successful. A law has now been introduced to control the entry of foreigners in the madrasas and keep a check on them. This law – Voluntary Registration and Regulation Ordinance 2002 – has, however, been rejected by most of the madrasas which want no state interference in their affairs (see Wafaq al-Madaris Vol. 3, No. 9, 2002, and unstructured interviews of the ulama). Indeed, according to Singer, ‘4,350, about one tenth, agreed to be registered and the rest simply ignored the statute’ (Singer 2001). The number of those who did not register is not known. However, on 29 July 2005 President Musharraf said in an interview with foreign correspondents that 1,400 foreign students would be expelled and visas to aspiring students denied (The News, 30 July 2005). If this policy is rigorously enforced, motivated extremists from other parts of the Muslim world may cease entering Pakistan. Certain other recommendations, for instance those coming from the ICG, need to be carefully studied for possible implementation (see ICG 2007: 11–12). For instance, the state must impose law and order without fear of political fallout. In the case of the 29 March kidnapping of women by Jamia Hafsa students in Islamabad the state failed to act, on the basis that the kidnappers were women. This kind of dereliction of responsibility cannot but encourage the Islamic militants to take the law into their own hands and increase what has been described as ‘Talibanization’ of the country.

Conclusion

Madrasas are not the only cause of potential violence in Pakistan or the world in general. They always had a sectarian bias as well as a bias against non-Muslims, but this did not necessarily translate into militancy. Nor are the madrasa students the only ones who are militant. Indeed, most of those who indulge in suicide bombings and actual fighting against non-Muslim targets are young, radical, angry Muslims who are dropouts or graduates of secular institutions of learning.

The madrasa students of Pakistan were radicalized because the United States and then successive governments in Pakistan used them to fight proxy wars against the Soviet Union and India (for Kashmir) respectively. Other Muslims were radicalized because of the neo-colonial policies of the West which makes Muslims feel they are being unjustly treated.

Thus, if militancy is to be decreased in Pakistan the ruling elite of the country would have to distribute wealth more equitably and provide justice to the poorest who send their children to the madrasas or religious armies. It would also have to eliminate all policies leading to the arming or militarization of religious cadres. This can only happen when there is peace with India, which is necessary if the world is to be at peace. Moreover, the government of Pakistan must oppose American aggression in the Muslim world without, however, allowing the Islamic militant groups to ignore the writ of the state as is happening in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) (the case of the kidnapping and murder of a school principal who had prevented the jihadis from recruiting boys from his school in March 2007). The use of religion to legitimize the rule of the elite, as has been happening so far, will also have to stop. This would mean the reversal of laws enacted during Zia al-Haq’s rule which are misused and give more power to the religious lobby. It also entails the rewriting of textbooks so that they promote tolerance, peace and human rights in the country. Above all, the state must establish the rule of law and economicjustice, because without them the anger that has built up in the society can take the form of a religious struggle to protest against the degradation and violation of daily life.

Appendix 4.1

Survey 2003

Survey of schools and madrasas

This survey is given in full in Rahman (2004: Annexures 1 and 2). The gist of the responses to some of the crucial questions on opinions of students is given below:

What should be Pakistan’s priorities?

1. Take Kashmir away from India by an open war?

(1) Yes (2) No (3) Don’t know 2. Take Kashmir away from India by supporting Jihadi groups to fight with the Indian army?

(1) Yes (2) No (3) Don’t know 3. Support Kashmir cause through peaceful means only (i.e. no open war or sending Jihadi groups across the line of control)?

(1) Yes (2) No (3) Don’t know 4. Give equal rights to Ahmadis in all jobs etc.?

(1) Yes (2) No (3) Don’t know 5. Give equal rights to Pakistani Hindus in all jobs etc.?

(1) Yes (2) No (3) Don’t know 6. Give equal rights to Pakistani Christians in all jobs etc.?

(1) Yes (2) No (3) Don’t know 7. Give equal rights to men and women as in Western countries?

(1) Yes (2) No (3) Don’t know 82

Table 4.5 Consolidated data of opinions indicating militancy and tolerance among three types of school students in Pakistan in survey 2003 (%)

Appendi 4.2 and 4.3

Table 4.6 Number of Dini Madrasas by enrolment and teaching staff

And

Appendix 4.3

Table 4.7 Dini Madrasas by type of affiliation and area

Note

1 Apart from the literature cited, information for this chapterwere collected through interviews. Many ulama and most students of madrasas did not want their interviews to be recorded by name. Those who allowed their names to be mentioned are listed below.

Hussain, Mohammad.Interview with the Nazim-i Daftar of Jamia al-Salafiyya, Islamabad, 13 December 2002.

Zafar, Mohammad Iqbal.Interview with the Head of Jamia Rizwiyya Zia al-Ulum, Satellite Town, Rawalpindi, 26 December 2002.

1: INTRODUCTION

Jamal Malik

When debating Islam and its political role in South Asia and especially in Pakistan, the role of the religious schools (in Arabic: madrasa, plural madaris=place of learning) is often central to the public imagination. There are three categories of religious schools: the madrasa teaches from first to tenth grade, the dar al-ulum (dar al-’uulum) the eleventh and twelfth, while the jamia (jami’a) has university status. For a variety of reasons, madrasas have acquired significance, attracting increasing interest from secular political actors and organizations, not only since 11 September 2001.1

The popular literature concerning madrasas in South Asia has expanded enormously in recent years, especially in policy-oriented journals and the press. But, even when this literature has appeared in peer-reviewed journals (as very few books have emerged yet), most of that literature has been written from a point of view of securitization. Usually, a connection between religious education and religious extremism is made, then madrasas are connected to the notion of religious education, and the task becomes one of counting up the number of madrasas (or madrasa students) in order to “measure” the (Islamist) extremist “threat”. More sophisticated studies then go on to note that, owing to the problem of sectarianism, the threat of extremism is a problem not only for “the West”, but also for the individual countries of South Asia, Southeast Asia, the Middle East, North Africa, and so on.

Few of these studies are well grounded in empirical research – in fact, most of them, lack such research altogether (however, for well-researched studies of the subject, see Metcalf 1982; Grandin and Gaborieau 1997; Robinson 2001; Zaman 2002; Hartung and Reifeld 2006). And of course, most are prone to sensationalized over-generalizations that obscure far more than they reveal about the history of religious education, the forces that have led to various changes in the supply of, and demand for, religious education, and the link between religious education and religious violence. In effect, they pile assertions on top of assertions in an effort to frame and “support” their exceedingly thin, or dubious, “arguments”.

The chapters in this volume are nothing like this general trend. Assumptions regarding the link between religious education and religious extremism, or terrorism, for instance, are extremely few and far between. Assumptions regarding “Islamic” education as a “monolithic” form of education are also noticeably rare. In fact, the reader is generally provided with an opportunity to see the terms of Islamic education take shape along several different dimensions – class dimensions, gendered dimensions, sectarian dimensions, urban/rural divisions, and so on. The result is a picture of Islamic education that amounts to a comprehensive and illuminating picture, at least in the context of South Asia.

It is hoped that no one who reads this book will emerge with an understanding of Islamic education that is one-dimensional and cast within an exceedingly narrow rubric defined by the United States’ ongoing “war on terror”. Indeed, it is hoped that the reader will emerge with a sense that Islamic education is an integral – some might say indispensable – feature of modern Muslim life in South Asia, one that has been (or become) associated with violence under very specific conditions.

In fact, much of the current talk on madrasas has been associated with the emerging geo-political order which has sought to link these institutions to global terrorism. More often than not, the assertion has been that they have become something like a factory for global jihad and a breeding ground for terrorism; it is being increasingly argued that madrasa pedagogy produces fanaticism and intolerance, which are detrimental to pluralism and multicultural reality. Thus, in Pakistan and Afghanistan it has been linked to the rise of the Taliban. In India it has come under attack from Hindu nationalists who charge them of producing and harboring “terrorists”. In Bangladesh we witness similar problems.

The increasing research on madrasas then coincides with the events of 9/11, when the state saw fit to subject civil rights to severe restrictions. This has enabled governments across the world to push through restrictive policies in ways previously unknown. This linking of madrasas to terror seems to have brought “relief” to the “world of governments”, the event of 9/11 itself being turned into an excuse for asserting much more control and surveillance over what has been called the non-modern or traditional sectors. However, while the ferocity of the state in subjecting madrasas to scrutiny may be new, its suspicion of these institutions has a much longer precedent, as can be read into the efforts of various governments under the guise of streamlining madrasas into the national educational systems.

The problematique

This streamlining is often dictated by the postulates of a “global modernization” assuming that there is a “universalizing code” through which modernity unfolds itself. Such a paternalistic and arrogant assumption is at the same time informed by a calculated expansion of the state-domain to previously untouched areas. It is interesting to note that Islamists apologetic towards the state, as well as some orthodox scholars struggling for politicalrecognition, have repeatedly supported such homogenizing attempts to domesticate religion, rather than presenting proper alternatives fit for fragmented societies that are predominantly organized on agrarian and tribal lines.

State policies, serving to extend the process of globalization and homogenization and seeking to impose transcultural values, look for recognition and acceptance of this process as a “de-cultured” one. However, this globalization, presented as “induced misrecognition” encounters various reactions and meets resistance or even “counter-globalizations”, in a process of interrelating the external global pressures and distinct local struggles. Hence, the recent expressions of religious “resistance” in the context of local madrasas – as a space of autochthonous cultural articulation, as it were – can be seen as a response to the political economy of globalization and state penetration proceeding “from above”.

At the same time, madrasas have developed their own dynamics vis-à-vis the ever encroaching state responding to local skirmishes between local factions competing for scarce resources “from below”. Their engagement in homogenization and contestation in the pursuit of agencies over their and others’ constituencies is the case in point. Hence, madrasas are focused on, or affected by, global as well as local concerns. In fact, there is interplay between these two levels of analysis, when madrasas are situated in ways that merge both levels.

Thus, one may distinguish two equally viable but largely competing approaches. One approach stresses the terms of political economy – what might be called the “objective” approach to an understanding of specific changes in the landscape of contemporary religious education. The other stresses the role of ideas – what might be called the “intersubjective” approach. In the course of the argument it becomes evident that these different approaches are entangled. How do these approaches then fit with the different contributions in this volume?

Against the backdrop of the state’s tendency to expand its homogenizing notion of “global modernity” and the levels of resistance which it faces, we need to appreciate the role of madrasas in non-colonial, but not necessarily precolonial, traditional societies, in which they command a high degree of autonomy. Madrasas offer free education, often for students with meager provisions, and provide learning which seems to be tailored to the surrounding culture. They traditionally earn their income from the local or regional environments, for example from neighboring tradesmen, notables and farmers, but also politicians and foreign donors. With this income they then offer financial help to their students, who usually hail from adjoining regions but who can also come from farflung areas. At present, police sources estimate about two million madrasa students in Pakistan, considerably more than a World Bank report of 2005, which counts less than half a million, as has been argued by Christopher Candland in this volume. The difficulty in providing sound figures is that most of the students in madrasas are not officially registered, though most of the madrasas are affiliated to one or another umbrella organization of religious schools set up since the 1960s. Nevertheless, a considerable number of their graduates, especially those of the higher Islamic education institutions, go on to take up important political and religious leadership, such as in religio-political parties.

It is evident that there is a variety of educational institutions in Muslim culture ranging from mosques, khanaqahs (Sufi hospice) and maktabs (primary schools) to madrasas, and even to some other informal modes of Islamic learning and practices. All of them have a long tradition in Muslim contexts, often sponsored and patronized by the ruling classes and notables through waqf (religious endowment). Madrasas especially were of utmost importance both for the cultural and imperial and later national integration processes, and can be regarded as continuation of the Nizamiyya tradition in Baghdad (inaugurated in 1067) (cf. Sourdel 1976; Sourdel-Thomine 1976; Makdisi 1981; Leiser 1986). This institution became prominent under the Saljuq wazir in ‘Abbasid caliphate, Nizam al- Mulk al-Tusi (d. 1092), in the eleventh century, as a means, among others, for countering the rising Ismaili mission and the spread of Shiite and the Mu’tazila “heresies”. Sciences taught at the madrasas provided for trained service elites, and it is said particularly jurists, as the second form of the verb darasa, i.e. darrasa, used without a complement, originally meant “to teach law”, while tadris, its verbal noun, meant “the teaching of law”. Based on the pious endowment (waqf) and stipulated by the pious deed, the ideal was to receive a license to teach law and issue legal opinions.2 While jurisprudence stood at the forefront of Muslim teaching, at the same time, secular law (qanun) promulgated by the politically powerful – siyasa – became an alternative authoritative source to the sharia (shari’a), prompting religious scholars to face and challenge secularization (on the tussle between sharia and siyasa see Muzaffar Alam 2004).

At the same time, Islamic law taught in the madrasas encouraged pluralism, so much so that a science of disputation (’ilm al-khilaf) developed and became part of Islamic legal training. This went so far that a doctrine of concession to disputed doctrine (mura’ah al-khilaf) was demanded from the jurists to accommodate opposite views (cf. M.K. Masud 2000: 237). Hence, law and jurisprudence, rather than theology, claimed a central position in the tradition of teaching and learning. In fact, there were “no separate madaris exclusively for religious education. .Theology became a regular subject in the madrasah curriculum in later periods” (ibid.), eventually highlighting religious and sectarian identity, an issue that is of some concern to the present volume.

The historical context

Since the focus of this book is on modern and particularly contemporary South Asia, we briefly need to introduce the madrasa and its subject matters in the backdrop of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, when the Dars-i Nizami, the name given to the old as well as current system of subject matters, evolved. That was the time when the country was dotted with madrasas (Leitner 1971). It was also the time when new territorial lords, supported by wealthy merchants and bankers, emerged at the margins of the Mughal court. This complex process resulted in what may be called the “regional centralization” of Mughal power leading to the establishment of territorial princely states. The emerging new identities, through ethnic or sectarian grouping, were informed by real as well as invented genealogies, local patriotisms, devotional religions, centralized revenue systems, and the creation of standardized languages. Every principality claimed its own religio-cultural “variety”. Knowledge was sought to be transmitted as uniformly as possible, ideally through a set package known as Dars-i Nizami (named after its founder, Mulla Nizam al-Din of Lucknow, who died in 1748). The dars supported Muslim scholastic philosophy and law, both of which were based on logic and were most congruent with state domination.3 It seems that the Dars-i Nizami was part of what might be called a wider standardizing endeavor – the compilation of al-Fatawa al-Alamgiriyya; the writing of autobiographies, lexicons and encyclopedia, etc., were other such attempts. In these and similar endeavors the aspiration of the time for intellectual universality is manifestly visible, as is an inclination to summarize the accumulated knowledge systematically and popularize it.4 At the same time, it must be stressed that the Dars-i Nizami was/is as little monolithic as is Islamic law or Islamic “orthodoxy”. Instead it was and still is highly pluralistic and divergent. There are personal differences among scholars in the ways to teach. Similarly, the scholarly ideas change from person to person and from group to group, depending on their contexts, functions and patronage as stipulated in the waqfiyyat, the deed constituting a domain, i.e. madrasa, into a pious endowment.5 In fact, the local differences are noticeable such as those between Lucknow and Delhi, Allahabad and Khairabad, Bareilly and Deoband. Putting it simply, one region was known for its mystical inclination, the other for precisely the opposite, yet another for its rational or transmitted approach, and so on. While the impact of a certain school was not necessarily restricted to one single place, local styles could change through contact with other influences. In the face of these differences, cleavages and varieties in the Dars-i Nizami, it seems difficult to generalize about its foci and developments, but later generations of scholars have always tried to classify the scattered testimonies of their ancestors, thereby rationalizing their own experiences (see for a prototype of Dars-i Nizami Malik 1997: 522ff.).

The “science of the classification of the sciences”, divided – according to the medieval scholar Ibn Khaldun (1332–1406) – the sciences into transmitted (naqliyya) and rational (aqliyya or tabi’iyya), sacred (diniyya) and profane (dunyawiyya). The first comprises all branches of knowledge which owe their existence to Islam based on a divinely inspired law, such as Qur’an, the sayings of Prophet Muhammad (hadith), law and the principles of law, theology and auxiliary sciences such as grammar and syntax. The latter is believed by some scholars to be fashioned on the Hellenistic, Judaic and Nestorian scientific traditions, consisting of logic, philosophy, astronomy, medicine, mathematics and metaphysics.

The essential difference between these two branches of science is their ultimate source, i.e. divinely and human inspired knowledge. Together with the concept of the “unity of being” (wahdat al-wujud) elaborated upon by the wellknown Spanish mystic theorist Ibn Arabi (d. 1240), the so-called rational sciences soon became a powerful aspect of Muslim education and knowledge, particularly in the context of empire-building and processes of cultural integration (Alam 1993; Robinson 1993; Malik 1997).

In all probability, the distinction between rational (ma’qulat) and transmitted sciences (manqulat) was overplayed by later, nineteenth-century Muslim generations in order to prove their rational approach vis-à-vis colonial – orientalist – polemics, though it is not to deny that the stage for this distinction had long been set before the advent of colonial rule, as is evident from Ibn Khaldun’s division of sciences. Moreover, if we believe Muslim historiographers, the study of ma’qulat acquired considerable importance during the Mughal Era, when Persian scholars were attracted to the South Asian imperial courts in great numbers. Hence, the madrasa witnessed several changes in the subject matters reflecting the political and social orders of the day. As can be found in many nineteenth-century Muslim sources,ma’qulat were designed particularly for the functionally diversified service elites and the networks surrounding them. Yet, the study of jurisprudence (manqulat) was at the focus of madrasa education even in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and was acquired by scholarly elites for almost similar reasons, as can be gleaned from many biographies on the learned. Shah Wali Allah (d. 1762), for example, not only argued against the prominence of ma’qulat but strove to establish coherence between both (manqul and ma’qul), in order to strengthen faith through rational proofs and to call for unity among Muslims against the Maratha assaults. According to him, rational sciences were merely a means to establish the authenticity and inimitability of the sharia, which was more complete than (temporally limited) human rational deductions because of its divine inspiration. Hence, he drew a distinction between revelation and reason, and at the same time related and harmonized them to each other. We may therefore provisionally conclude that in the politically uncertain times leading up to the disintegration of the Mughal Empire in the eighteenth century, manqulat seemed to have regained importance – at least in the cultural memory and public imagination of the people concerned – as they were often propagated by reformers based in the declining imperial Mughal city (cf. Malik 2003).

In the wake of the colonial penetration – that is, in the second half of the nineteenth century – with the introduction of new systems of education, the madrasa largely lost its function as a general training institute and turned into an institution exclusively for religious education. It has been argued by many scholars that this trend was informed by the colonial division between “religious” (dini) and “secular” (dunyawi), i.e. public and private spheres, a division premised on experiences peculiar to contemporary Europe. Modernization and the notion of “useful education” (i.e. natural sciences, mathematics, economics, philosophy, ethics and history) became catchwords in the colonial civilizing mission, which eventually transformed a European Enlightenment tradition into a “global ethic”. Institutions which did not subscribe to this process of authoritative epistemological homogenization were marginalized and compelled to with- draw to the private realm.6 Nevertheless, they still continued to provide knowledge to a majority of Muslims. It is probably in this context that the term dini madrasa surfaced,7 that is, an institution designed exclusively for religious learning.

In the fermentation process brought about by colonialism, some groups made use of Islamic symbolism to mobilize against colonial power, others tried to change, reform or conserve religious education which aimed at providing the Muslim community with a (Islamically) legal basis for action, the urgency of which was informed by the loss of the so-called “Islamic Empire” to the British once and for all. Various Sunni schools of thought emerged, including the Deobandi, the Barelwi and the Ahl-i Hadith (on these movements and groups, see Metcalf 1982).

They appealed to specific social groups and were tied to particular regions, thereby adding to the religious and societal complexity of South Asia. Law, mysticism and prophetic tradition were the main orientations of the new religious consciousness.

The political economy of madrasas

This process led to a societal split in Muslim societies, a split that was comfortably accepted and reproduced not only by the representatives of post-colonial states, but also by the guardians of madrasas. They seemed to accommodate themselves with this notion of fragmentation of life-spheres into private and public, profane and sacred, quite easily – most likely because similar divisions of sciences had already been existent before the advent of colonialism. Religion, it was said, was privatized; the rest was to be governed by secular logic. In contestation with the postulates of later Islamists or “peripheral ulama”, the ulama eventually came to try to hold sway over this privatized realm, thereby implicitly accepting and cementing the colonial dichotomization (Zaman 2002). In contemporary times the contest over this “private” realm has taken dramatic shape. In this context one has to take the post-colonial state intervention into account, since it is the state that has had a major impact on traditional institutions. In fact, as long as the state did not try to colonialize hitherto virgin areas, the ulama were more or less docile with this neat division of labor. But the increasing infiltration by the state into non-colonialized traditional society, through a rationale to curb the ulama’s power and thereby become the sole interpreter of religion in the public as well as the private sphere, threatens the authority of ulama and further restricts their scope.8 They either have to be pacified, by means of privileges, or marginalized through legal restrictions. Both these strategies, however, evoke reaction among the ulama and the institutions which they control. And it should come as no surprise that due to their increasing economic and social pauperization, they tend to become increasingly radical.

The considerable local popularity of madrasas further aggravates the situation, and this leads to the second – inter-subjective – argument (see below). It is not only the madrasas that cater for the majority of state-school drop-outs, but also mosques, on their part, allow themselves to be important centers for rallying large sections of the population. There are more than one million mosques in Pakistan alone, of which approximately half are not registered. The sermon at the Friday prayer gathering (khutba) provides an important venue for such mobilization, for it often includes socio-political information and often appeals to political agitation. Religious specialists may frequently use these gatherings to question the legitimacy of the state.9 For the government, then, the khutba has become a very difficult issue, which has, in the current “war on terrorism”, led to harsh restrictions on dissident preachers both in mosques and madrasas, in order to de-politicize the Friday gathering, for example (on khutba in the Arab context, see Mattes 2005).

This radicalization is obviously not inherently Islamic let alone typical in the course of Muslim history. The current increasing path of resistance is rather home-grown in the first place, resulting from the encroachment of post-colonial states into arenas hitherto dominated by old established lineages and categories of social organization such as family, tribes, religious endowments, charities and networks of learned tradition.10 These traditional patterns had developed their own mores and regulations necessary to function in a larger context. Moreover, they could “renew” themselves by means of a global Islamic discourse, and they produced public spheres with particular civic cultures. These non-state forms of social organization and ideas stand apart from the rather “limited” ones introduced by the state. Tensions between these two patterns become virulent if both contest each other. This is particularly the case when the state incompletely diffuses into society, because of its being transient, half-legitimate or even parasitic. Lacking legitimacy, it is not capable of becoming the prime source of authority and justice. Tensions increase since there is no central religious authority which would neutralize competing claims, and also because religious education is not supervised by the state, especially in Muslim minority states.11 Religious education and its practitioners thus become intellectually and financially independent from the state. Funds flowing from abroad and contributions from the public make them ever more distant from the state, while at the same time embedding them ever more into the affairs of their local community. The fact is, that limited market and job opportunities for the ulama have led to a growing radicalization, as the increasing number of sectarian or communal outbreaks exemplify. These organizations become more efficient in responding to the needs of the local community as compared to the rather anonymous state structures. Seen from the state’s perspective, it is hardly possible to rule out these culturally rooted lineages and forms of social organization. In fact, couched in Islamic repertory, the latter can and have served as a source of limitation and regulation of state power, as has been the case in Muslim history.12 In such a seemingly uncontrollable situation the state becomes paranoiac. Contested from within, it takes to even more authoritarian means. As an effect of unsatisfactory and failing state alternatives, the non-state contesters have since the 1990s become increasingly radicalized to the extent that they have been made responsible for terrorist assaults. They have also increasingly been making use of the option of shifting across confessional and sectarian affiliations in order to renegotiate and expand their positions, thereby arriving at virtuous alliances. The result is a flexibility of ideas and divergence over time and space when faced with social reality. Theological and political conflicts between traditional enemies such as the Barelwi and Deobandi have been largely laid aside in the Muttahida Majlis-i Amal (United Action Council) governing the North Western Frontier Province in Pakistan.

In the face of these developments, the semantic of obscurantism is initiated and dramatized by state agents as well as their Islamist supporters. This semantic is informed by an obligation of reform and change of what is considered “uncivilized” space. The desire to “enlighten” and reform (islah) the masses with “true” Islam for the sake of the common good (maslaha) is part of the postcolonial civilizing missions. Akin to the various nineteenth-century reform movements which targeted the hinterland of garrison and market towns (qasbas), contemporary Islamists, in collaboration with state agents, again seek to impose an urban global Islam on rural areas, attempting to replace local heteropraxy by universal orthopraxy, factual feudal oppressiveness and corruption by potential empowerment and a global set of ideas, practices and ethics. However, these civilizing missions are experienced by target groups in an increasingly sectarian imagination. Madrasas often provide the loci for dissemination and proliferation of such ideas. Mostly they are led by laymen/Islamists/peripheral ulama but are provided with ideological nutrition by well established ulama themselves.13 Support for these endeavors comes mostly from the middle classes and local commercial bourgeoisie, who are often of rural background themselves. Increasingly, returnees from Arab countries become part of this rejuvenating scenario. They participate in these sectarian movements because it helps the re-migrants in their quest of social and economic mobility. The riots between Shia landowners and Sunni merchants in the Punjab provide a striking example.14 From the cities they increasingly infiltrate the countryside where they provoke regionalisms, thereby endangering further the (post-) colonial state’s attempt to reorder society in its own image. Eventually, this leads to an expansion of the ulama’s influence to the extent that they even come to dominate the Islamist discourse15 leading to an Islamization from below. This accounts for divergent and competing ideas primarily in the context of struggle against the homogenizing language of secular modernity. Religious schools therefore increasingly play an important role in interior politics.

In terms of foreign affairs, madrasas also play a part: their role in Afghanistan, when they were used and supported by certain intelligence services and foreign governments; their role post-Afghan civil war, when once again they were caught up in power politics supported by different secret services; and then in the post-Taliban era, when some of them took sides with groups who resist using what has been called terror in the mind of God (Juergensmeyer 2000). The revolution of rising expectation often pushes the graduates of religious schools into the hands of more or less dubious players. This led to the emergence of newer identities and several branches of madrasas, enhancing the state of sectarian fights. To be sure, these branches and forms of socialization do interact in a variety of channels of understanding and reciprocal obligation, which are often built on the resilient framework of informal networks of trust and responsibility.

For analytical purposes, however, we may distinguish several groups: first, the students of religious schools in general; second, the mujahidin or freedom fighters; third, the Taliban; and fourth, the jihadi groups.16

According to this taxonomy, the first group has been subject to several reforms from within and without, and has played a quietist role. However, because of their traditional ties with Afghanistan and other neighboring countries and as a result of the use of jihad rhetoric, some of them were used as footsoldiers in the Afghan civil war. A sub-sect of this first category therefore became the second group – the mujahidin.17 In order to keep these rather diverse and contesting and ethnically organized groups under control, and to maintain a grip on the region for economic and political purposes, yet another version was established by interested parties: the Taliban.18 As far as the fourth category of jihadis is concerned, many of them can be traced back to the Taliban and mujahidin themselves, others to groups returning from battlefields such as Kashmir, Afghanistan and Chechnya. Their leaders usually hail from the middle class and are secular educated men, rather than madrasa students, though madrasa students also join the militant and radical groups in the global rise of religious violence. Hence, it is true that the struggle for victory over a superpower and an alleged affiliation to some global network enhance the radicals’ feeling of Islamicity, no matter how blurred and intangible it may be. Yet, it is the objective material conditions coupled with the symbolic power of regional conflicts, such as Palestine andKashmir, that make up for the explosive mixture because these conflicts represent the suppression of whole nations. However international and global these organizations may be, they have risen as a result of internal problems caused by political mismanagement, and they have subsequently been exploited by external powers. The government of Pakistan now tries to control this rather gloomy scenario through the centralized Model Dini Madaris Ordinance 2002, the Dini Madaris Regulation and Control Ordinance 2003 and the Pakistan Madrasa Education Board 2004 introducing yet new institutions for this purpose. However, its success has proved rather limited so far.

This rather grave picture in Pakistan is certainly different from the Indian scene where the government has started to launch similar reform programs which were met by severe reactions by the ulama, fearing a profound change in their – sometimes flourishing – madrasas and hence a loss of Islamic identity.19

In Bangladesh the situation is quite similar where the madrasas are witnessing a boom.20 It must be reiterated though that religious schools in these areas provide at least some kind of education and survival. What is more important perhaps is that they use a variety of religious symbols – both homogenizing and localizing – to articulate the predicaments which people face in highly fragmented societies which have become increasingly subjected to unilateral globalization through its prime agent, the post-colonial state. The growing presence and visibility of religious power in the public sphere represents this struggle between state and religious scholars and their institutions that have been exploited by different groups but at the same time been denied their share. In the context of these developments read in terms of resistance, the making of an epitomizing prophet is easy: the “Ladinist” savior, who would lead the campaign against suppression. But the basis of this Islamic radicalism still has very profane reasons: social conflict, poverty, political suppression.

This paradigm of globalization incarnated through the post-colonial state may be helpful for some theoretical argument. As it stands, state-led globalization is met with counter-globalization(s) which at the same time takes recourse to the imagined concept of the umma and also indigenizes global Islamic knowledge. It is debatable, though, whether this can be seen as a challenge to globalizing Western epistemological hegemony, which is still prevalent among educational elites in Muslim majority societies (cf. Adas 1993). But there are globalization processes from without and from within, occurring simultaneously and benefiting immensely with the unprecedented technologies of transportation, information and communication. On the one hand, there is an intensification of a universal Islam and movement towards a more or less uniform, global civilization similar to the one proclaimed by the policies of post-colonial states. On the other hand, one can discern different positions Muslim communities take vis-à-vis various types of contemporary globalization as (co-)actors, reactionary forces, or as affected, such as is the case with Islamic scholars and the madrasa.

At the same time there are many instances of reciprocity which renders postcolonial processes into complex encounters of local and global factors. Hence, Islamic scholars and their institutions “share external [global] pressures, but represent distinct domestic [local] struggles” (Schäbler and Stenberg 2004: xx).

Therefore, both these facets of globalization have to be taken into account in their mutual encounters which lead to new processes of self-authentification.

There seems to be a systemic combination of continuity and change, of transformation and permanence.

From the above discussion it becomes obvious that changes in the religious landscape proceed, in the final analysis, from changes in the distribution of global (or state) resources and in the power structures thereof. In effect, the forces of globalization, combined with the penetration of the modern state, seek ever more efficient forms of local control, and, insofar as this is the case, they search relentlessly for ways to standardize, or homogenize, the intricacies of their social, economic, political and demographic environment. This, in turn, produces a reaction on the part of local forces – forces that draw upon a wide range of local resources, including not only radical but also eclectic forms of religious expression, to “resist”. Hence, madrasas have become more and more influential as disgruntled young Muslims turn to religion in protest at the economic injustice and political marginalization of the “modern” era, a view echoed, to a certain extent, in some chapters, notably those by Tariq Rahman and Saleem H. Ali in this volume (Chapters 4 and 5).

The ideational resistance

Beyond this argument for a struggle for scarce resources in response to the political economy of globalization and state penetration “from above”, there seems to be enough evidence that the recent expressions of religious “resistance” in the context of local madrasas are a response to local skirmishes between local factions competing for scarce resources “from below”, or even a combination of both.21 Here the ideational or inter-subjective argument comes to the fore. In fact, most of the chapters’ point of departure lies in an account of divergent or competing responses in terms of ideas, arguing that the source of emerging forms of religious resistance is not “economic” but “ideational”, not a struggle for scarce resources, i.e. a fair deal in the context of the global economy or the modern state, but a struggle against the homogenizing language of secular “modernity”. Not “Islam” versus “the West” in a struggle for economic and political control but divergent approaches within the specific terms of Islam itself – monolithic expressions of religious identity, for instance – are pitted against diverse expressions of religious or sectarian alternatives. Hence, it seems that the homogenizing and essentializing assumptions of secular modernity are counteracted by two very different forms of religious resistance, both of which take shape in the context of the modern madrasa.

In the first form of resistance, homogenizing notions of secular modernity are challenged by (similarly) homogenizing notions of Islam articulated in the language associated with specific Muslim sects or groups; for example, the Barelwis insist that “the only true Muslim is an Ahl-i Sunnat/BarelwiMuslim”, or the Jama’at-i Islami propagates a universal, de-cultured and de-territorialized Islamic identity.

In the second form of resistance against the homogenizing terms of secular modernity, both the homogenizing notions of secularism and homogenizing notions of Islam are challenged by an appreciation for pluralism and diversity even within the specific terms of Islam. This pluralist form of resistance is spelled out as a desirable option by different contributors. But for the most part, the individual chapters examine the link between “modern” colonial and postcolonial trends favoring secular homogeneity or conformity and the first (ironically quite “modern”) form of religious, anti-pluralist, singularizing resistance.

Usha Sanyal and Arshad Alam, for instance, describe Barelwi efforts to homogenize the Islamic community, while Irfan Ahmed describes Jama’at-i Islami efforts to accomplish the same thing. Nita Kumar discusses a similar process in the conformist pressures associated with the religious education of young boys and girls. And Christopher Candland criticizes recent madrasa reform efforts because they merely seek to add “modern” mathematics and science subjects to the existing madrasa curriculum, all the while ignoring the “real” problem, which Candland describes as a lack of appreciation for the diversity of the Muslim community as a whole and a certain aversion to the diversity of the modern world.

The struggle, at any rate, between competing approaches to Islam and Islamic education, particularly at the level of ideas, is obvious, though reciprocating the political economy argument: homogenizing notions of secularism versus homogenizing notions ofIslam, all pitted against a countervailing appreciation for religious and sectarian “diversity”. Zakir Hussain Raju’s Chapter 8 draws out this theme quite effectively, when revealing the extent to which these homogenizing forms of state-formation are not the only options.

The arrangement of contributions

Keeping this underlying “framework” in mind, the sequencing of the chapters has been arranged in the following way:

The chapters by Usha Sanyal and Arshad Alam (Chapters 2 and 3, respectively), both of which focus on Ahl-i Sunnat (Barelwi) madrasas in India, fit together quite well, as their special historical aspects also make for a very nice opening pair. Even beyond this, however, both Sanyal and Alam do a fine job in terms of foregrounding the ideational aspects of sectarian rivalry and then configuring these aspects as a driving force in the work of the madrasas that concern them.

Usha Sanyal portrays two madrasas of the Ahl-i Sunnatwa Jama’at, i.e. the Barelwis in independent India: the Madrasa Manzar-i Islam, the first madrasa of the movement, founded by Ahmad Riza Khan Barelwi (1856–1921) in 1904, and the Jamia Ashrafiyya in Mubarakpur which is currently the biggest school of the movement in India. Both schools are called dar al-ulum. While these madrasas follow the Dars-i Nizami syllabus like other groups, different texts are adopted by each madrasa and there are differences in the interpretation of the basic texts (for example specific hadiths; the Ahl-i Sunnat do not regard the study of philosophy as important as other schools do). In recent years, the Ahl-i Sunnat madrasas expanded and modernized their syllabi to gain state recognition of their certification and thereby make their students eligible for entry into the modern university system. Many former students become teachers in other madrasas or muftis and seem to be in high demand; the best of them go to work abroad.

Two topics are crucial to this chapter: first, the constant struggle for financial support for the madrasas and second, the continuous competition/rivalry and conflict of the Ahl-i Sunnatwa Jama’at with other Sunni groups, especially the Deobandis. Financial needs are met primarily by donations and some financial assistance from the government. Because of its symbolic importance the Madrasa Manzar-i Islam is now also strongly supported by members of the Ahl-i Sunnat from abroad. In the case of the Ashrafiyya, much money for the construction of school buildings came from locals who seem to sympathize with the Ahl-i Sunnat movement. However, in terms of visibility, the rival madrasas dominate, because since the 1980s they have been benefiting from Saudi Arabian support. In contrast, the Ahl-i Sunnat have been excluded from such funding because of their strong denunciation of all forms of “Wahhabism” and their association withsufi rituals and beliefs.

Arshad Alam’s chapter attempts to analyze the process of identity formation within madrasas, focusing on an Ahl-i Sunnatwa Jama’at madrasa in North India but occasionally mentions a Deobandi madrasa for comparison. This Barelwi madrasa aims at the propagation oftheir own school of thought, the maslak. In doing so it defines a Sunni (or “true believer”) as someone who believes in every word written by Ahmad Riza Khan, the founder of the movement, and who struggles against rival interpretations of Islam such as those of the Deobandis and the Ahl-i Hadith. Teachers and other staff members usually belong to the Ahl-i Sunnatwa Jama’at, fully wedded to its ideology. Even in terms of organizational matters, it insists on having members of its own maslak, providing for a social space with a well-defined value system towards which all the different constituents of madrasa are supposed to conform.

Though all madrasas follow the Dars-i Nizami (or a modified version of it devised by the ulama at Deoband), emphasis on and interpretation of subjects vary. But the madrasas focus on the study of hadith. Hence, madrasa classes are important spaces for the transmission of the maslak’s ideology and the constitution of identities (of “us” and “them”). The “Islam” of other groups is depicted as false and perceived as a threat to “true Islam”. Thus, in these places of Islamic learning sectarian differences are created and internalized by the students. Furthermore, debating courses instil the students with confidence to publicly present their ideology. Strategies of identity formation include the teaching of books which are formally part of the syllabus. This ideological construction is actively reproduced by madrasa students, who hail from different social and cultural backgrounds. They acquire a common identity of being members of the community of Ahl-i Sunnatwa Jama’at in their routine, through teaching, learning and other allied processes. According to Alam, madrasas are primarily concerned with teaching what is “true” and “false” Islam rather than with the “othering” of Hindus and Christians. The debate is an internal one, which rarely exceeds the Muslim community.

Turning to Pakistan, the chapter by Tariq Rahman follows on quite meaningfully from the chapters by Sanyal and Alam, particularly insofar as it sustains the focus on sectarian difference. But Rahman also provides a neat bridge to many of the themes addressed in the next chapter by Saleem H. Ali – for example, the political economy of Shia landownership and the Sunni resentments that appear to flow from it. In fact, following on Sanyal and Alam, Rahman and Ali draw special attention to the different, competing “approaches” described above:

Sanyal and Alam stress inter-subjective issues; Rahman and Ali rely on the spe- cific terms of political economy. The chapter by Christopher Candland, in turn, wraps up this section on Pakistan with a focus on recent efforts to promote specific madrasa “reforms”, reforms that have failed so far because their emphasis lies on building parallel new institutions without addressing the issues of curriculum, content and pedagogy prevalent in madrasas in general.

The main points in these three chapters can be summarized thus: Tariq Rahman argues that madrasas are not inherently militant. The madrasas of the various sects all use the Dars-i Nizami, though they use different texts. The basic books on the subjects are canonical texts sometimes dating back to the tenth century. They are rather irrelevant to contemporary concerns, their syllabus tending to disengage one from the modern world. Moreover, the traditional orthodox ulama teach it in a way which is not amenable to contemporary political awareness. In addition to these texts, madrasas usually use contemporary works of ideologues of their own school of thought which very often discredit other groups. When one is searching for the source of sectarianism, militancy and anti- Westernism, it is here rather than in the old texts that one must look. What is even more concerning to the author is that in the madrasa students are taught the art of debate – they learn the rhetoric, polemic and arguments of their sub-sect.

The graduates use these skills in public discussions and sermons which are more and more politicized. Non-madrasa students also adopt such political perspectives.

However, Rahman emphasizes that the source of or reason for such politicization lies not within the madrasa. In his opinion, anti-Western and jihadist ideas result from contemporary international and local conflicts and economic inequalities (e.g. Western domination and exploitation).

Rahman mentions the internal problems of poverty, underdevelopment and inequality in Pakistan. Both students and teachers of madrasas are of poor background and the madrasa offers them not only spiritual comfort but food and accommodation, performing the role of the welfare state in the country. There is a correlation between the increase of poverty and the increasing influence of the madrasas, to the extent that Islamic militancy has an element of class conflict, a reaction of the have-nots against the haves. Rahman considers this to be a dangerous trend because madrasa students are taught to be intolerant of religious minorities. In this context, ulama have been drifting more and more from conservatism to revivalism and activism in recent decades. But this is not a problem of madrasasonly, militants are also trained in secular institutions. The Pakistani state as well as the United States contributed to this when they supported religious and non-religious institutions to train fighters for the Afghan–Soviet war, for example.

In his final analysis Rahman opines that essentially Muslim militancy is a reaction to Western injustice, violence and a history of exploitation and domination over Muslims.“This can only be reversed by genuinely reversing Western militant policies and a more equitable distribution of global wealth” (Rahman, Chapter 4, this volume).

Saleem H. Ali discusses the role of madrasas in sectarian conflicts specifically. His findings are based on an empirical study conducted in Punjab which particularly focuses on the linkage between madrasa-attendance, conflict dynamics and social (development) indicators. The author describes the positive as well as negative impact of madrasas on Pakistani society as follows: the important positive contribution is that the madrasa provides not only for religious education, it also caters for other needs of the poor and is therefore widely supported by the Pakistani masses. Particularly in areas where there is no proper infrastructure (electricity, drinking water supply, roads, etc.), madrasas are of central importance.

However, madrasas strongly promote their own religious perspective and genealogy and seem to engage in violent conflict with rival Muslim groups. The region studied by Saleem H. Ali experiences considerable sectarian violence, especially between Deobandis and Shias. “However, Barelwi madrasas which were traditionally very tolerant . have also started showing violent and sectarian tendencies. In many instances this is a response to violent and aggressive attitudes of some Deobandi institutions and their managers” (Ali, Chapter 5, this volume).

Sectarian groups have the greatest following in areas where there is a high degree of economic inequality, the overall living conditions are low and feudal landowners are also politically powerful. It is precisely in this context that madrasas have challenged the legitimacy of the ruling families and gathered a strong following. The author emphasizes that this sectarianism is an internal problem of Pakistan which is not linked to international terrorism. Although madrasas are contributing to sectarian violence in Pakistan, they should not be perceived as training camps of al-Qaeda.

Since madrasas as a social movement have received legitimacy particularly on account of the existing economic inequalities and daily hardships of the poor, it should therefore be a priority to improve the living conditions in poor areas.

Ali opines that conversion of madrasas into conventional schools is not viable.

Instead, “there should be an attempt made to expose madrasa leaders to alternative voices of Islamic learning and facilitating dialog between various sects” (Ali, this volume) Christopher Candland argues in Chapter 6 that the attempts to reform undertaken by the government in recent years have been unsuccessful because they do not tackle the main problem. Model madrasas were established but their impact has been very limited since they do not receive sufficient financial support from the government. They have no permanent space, the facilities are sub-standard.

Moreover, most of the reforms aim at the surveillance and control of existing madrasas by obliging them to integrate parts of the National Curriculum – a product of the government of General Zia al-Haq (1977–1988) – into their curricula.

According to Candland, this coercive approach is counter-productive because the contents of this curriculum are biased against religious minorities and against the Indian state. Furthermore, they tend to glorify the military and the use of violence for political ends.

Most of the present Pakistani madrasas were established during the tenure of General Zia al-Haq and became militant and sectarian because of the then militaristic politics. Candland argues that – just as the US government used madrasa students to fight the war against the Soviets in Afghanistan and supplied texts to glorify and sanction war in the name of Islam – moderate interpretations of Islam could be promoted through the madrasas to counterbalance this approach.

However, there seems to be a lack of funding and interest – neither the Pakistani government nor international policy makers apply such an approach.

While some madrasas promote militancy, and many even politicize their students to a particular sectarian organization or religious political party’s perspective, the problem does not lie with Islam. Indeed, Islamic education is important in “secular education” as well as in madrasa education.

According to some ulama, the Islamiyyat [study of Islam] taught in government and private schools focus on those portions of the Qur’an and hadiths that might be interpreted in line with intolerant and militant ideologies while the passages which clearly invoke tolerance and enlightenment are ignored. . Just as militant prayer leaders in the armed services and militant teachers in government schools were promoted in the 1980s, it is possible to promote moderate prayer leaders and teachers today. (Candland, this volume) In any case, each of these five chapters – Sanyal, Alam, Rahman, Ali, and Candland – is clearly focused on madrasas, drawing illuminating comparisons between madrasas in India and madrasas in Pakistan. In the next three chapters, madrasas remain important, but the terms of “religious education” are also more broadly defined. In other words, the last three chapters focus on madrasas, but they place these schools within a much larger universe of “religious education” broadly defined – again, showing that, when it comes to spelling out the role of the madrasa in contemporary South Asia, ideas do matter.

Indeed, if the first five chapters leave the reader with the impression that local madrasas have emerged as a homogenizing site of Muslim resistance in the face of homogenizing global/state forces, the last three reveal that, although this type of homogenizing “resistance” is extremely common, alternatives do exist.

Nita Kumar, for instance, writing about India (Chapter 7), considers the terms of gendered education both in the context of local madrasas and in the home.

Zakir Hussain Raju, writing about Bangladesh (Chapter 8), notes that, although those with a modern religious education may be associated with their local madrasa, this is not always the case. They may be associated with the terms of “religious education” for other reasons, for example, their status as a hajji. And Irfan Ahmed, focusing on Pakistan, traces the ways in which Maududi situated the terms of religious education in opposition to the education provided in traditional madrasas. To give some details: in her chapter on gender and madrasa training Nita Kumar argues that there are two main problems with the educational system in India – both related to the colonial experience: first, there is an inadequate infrastructure of pedagogy, and second, there is a mental or psychological attitude which hinders educational progress.

The introduction of a modern education system with colonialism took place in a climate of mutual hostility between the public and the state, which resulted in a hostile family–school relationship. The British opined that the school’s job was to reform the backward public and it praised those who supported the new colonial schooling. In this picture the school/teacher emerges as reformer on the one side and the family as backward and rooted in its local culture on the other.

By the same token, nationalist schools aim at erasing the religious and cultural identity of the traditional communities.

Instead of integrating into the new education system, many castes and communities in India founded their own institutions with the aim of synthesizing the dini and the dunyawi to allow the groups to stick to their vocational and cultural traditions.

Today modernity is the privilege only of those families who cooperate with the nationalist schools. The corollary of this cooperation is the neglect of local culture and histories, often also of ethics [the ethics of being a well adjusted member of his society] (Kumar, this volume)The dilemma for many people is that one decides to be adjusted to the own community (traditions) or to become a well-educated person. However, it is not up to the child to decide – the community and the madrasa has decided already.

The traditional communities aim at securing their identity and fulfilling the goals of the community which does not necessarily provide the children with a good (modern) education. This affects girls even more than boys. Hence, madrasas in India are pedagogically underdeveloped and the teaching in school is ineffective compared with the teaching at home (and the teachings/interests of the community).

Even where modern teaching material is available, teachers lack the ability to transfer the contents (knowledge) to their students. According to Kumar, colonialism is responsible for these problems:

Colonialism has produced a separation between what is “ours” no matter however injurious tous, and what is “foreign” such as supposedly many philosophies and practices associated with modernity. This also correlates to the foreign as abstract and theoretical, and the indigenous as practical. (Kumar, this volume) Therefore, madrasa education as well as education at home serves to integrate children into “the larger gendered society” which more often than not means that good/modern education is not seen as necessary, or that it is even seen as an obstacle (or threat) to securing the community and family values.

Zakir Hossain Raju analyzes the conflict between cultural nationalist and pro- Islamic conceptions of Bangladeshi identity and its cinematographic representation.

In this context Islamic learning plays a central role in a dual sense: as the everyday practice of Islamic teaching among Bengali Muslims and through Islamic educational institutions (madrasas). The cultural nationalist Bengali- Muslim middle class considers Islam to be alien to Bangladesh, as backward and restricting. In this view, Islamic learning and Bengali cultural practices are opposites. Reversely, the syncretistic or shared approach sees Islam as part of the Bangladeshi identity. However, in this conception Islam is not understood as an orthodox monolithic religion; rather it is the indigenized Bengali Islam, popular Islamic practice in Bangladesh, which is a marker of the local national identity.

This perceived conflict between Islam and Bengali identity is a relatively new phenomenon. It started only in the late nineteenth century when the British contributed to the formation of a political Muslim community. A sense of a Muslim identity was thus constructed.

This identity put emphasis on the affiliation of Bengali Muslims with the “original” version of Islam and considers the Islamic education including the learning and practice of Arabic as much more important than the learning of English and indigenous Bengali cultural practices. (Raju, this volume) The expansion of Islamic learning and education was a means to promote Muslim identity in Bangladesh. This enforced the view that Bengali-ness was incompatible with Muslim-ness. Islamic learning was thus seen as something not quite in conformity with Bengali cultural practice.

Against the backdrop of these developments, cultural-nationalist Bengali Muslims started a Bengali film industry as a medium to define and promote a modern cultural-national identity of Bengali Muslims from the 1950s onwards, in terms of a Bengali-Muslim counter-discourse against the Calcutta-produced Bengali-Hindu modernity and pan-Indian Muslim identity advocated by the pro-Pakistan elite through Urdu and Bengali print media.

Later, the opposition to Muslim identity propagated by the middle classes acted as the driving force for the establishment and development of a national art cinema in Bangladesh. These films however, address the Westernized middle classes, not the majority of rural Bangladeshis. They reinforce the Bengali–Islam dichotomy and depict Islamic learning as anti-modern and primitive. Hence, most art cinema films are simultaneously engaged in constructing and opposing a monolithic perception of Islamic orthodoxy. The author analyzes a contemporary film that advocates the multiplicity and pluralism of Islam and its attachment to Bengali identity. It does not draw a binary opposition between Islam and Bengali identity but rather argues that Islam has become indigenized in rural Bangladesh.

Irfan Ahmad’s Chapter 9 discusses the Jama’at-i Islami’s (or rather Maududi’s) ideas on Muslim education. He argues that it is misleading to say that Islamists stick to traditions and refute “modernity”. In the case of Abul Ala Maududi (1903–1979) and his party it is rather the opposite, because he was neither trained in a traditional madrasa, nor did he appreciate such traditional education. Rather, he critiqued the Islamic system of learning prevalent in India and called for a change along the pattern of Western education – however, without openly adopting Western values. Maududi believed that political power results from the superiority of the education system of a group/civilization; that is, whoever possesses the most superior knowledge would become the leader.

Therefore in the ideology of the Jama’at-i Islami, education has a central role for the aspired Islamic revolution and the creation of an Islamic state. Hence, traditional ulama were attacked for their “blind imitation” or taqlid and the lack of ijtihad, independent reasoning. Modernists like Sayyid Ahmad Khan (1817–1899) were denounced because their education system lacked Muslim character and did not aim at a sharia-based state. In his attempt to re-invent tradition, Maududi conceptualizes ilm and promulgation of law (zabta) as being based on the superior command over the former by the latter, which radically departed from Islamic traditions. His ideas of Allah’s Government on earth, and true Muslims being a party of the vanguard to lead that movement towards its ultimate goal, are inherent parts of his argument. Hence, Maududi aimed at a purely Islamic education which would bring Muslims to power (again). This, however, could only be accomplished by “total revolutionary reforms” and the overhauling of the entire education system. Thus, he complained about the partial and half-hearted reforms which were undertaken in many madrasas of the time. Instead, he wanted modern subjects to be introduced to the curriculum. In this new system all subjects should be taught in conformity with Islam and with emphasis on religion; a distinction between religious and secular sciences would not prevail. In short, all subjects have to be Islamized and the education must intend to lead to the establishment of an Islamic state, to bring about an Islamic revolution. “[N]o other sect or ideological group shared the sine qua non of Jama’at’s ideology according to which education was an instrument of heralding an Islamic revolution/state” (Ahmad, this volume).

Hence, it is this variety and variation of madrasas in South Asia that transgresses the boundaries between resistance and homogenization, terror and Islamic normativity, between radicalization and Islamic learning, and which provides for a variety of cultural articulations and institutions important for old and new identities. The chapters display the entanglement of discourses of resistance against and challenges to the homogenizing notions of secular modernity and homogenizing notions of Islam. By the same token, new processes of selfauthentification in the context of modern madrasas are grounded in a systemic combination of continuity and change, of transformation and permanence. As such, madrasas provide for specific local needs as well as for the articulation of needs of a major part of society.

As a consequence, religious specialists and their institutions might well play a crucial role in the adaptation of globalizing and modernizing developments to specific local needs and situations in the sense of glocalization,22 thereby providing a variety of embedded cultural articulations and potentially the much needed national and cultural integration. Institutions of religious education can in this way offer alternative solutions in their capacity of adaptive agents of indigenous structures, solutions which the post-colonial states would hardly be able to offer with their authoritative means alone. It is this potential which needs to be cherished and appreciated, and which seems to be the only way to come to terms with the wider sections of societies that are deprived of basic human – political, socio-economic and cultural – rights, and to give voice to these alternative discourses.

“Teaching terror” and religious violence can be endowed with different meanings if seen in their specific contexts, whether as Islamic resistance to secular modernity and its homogenization/globalization or as localized challenges to both Islamic and modern secular homogenizations/globalizations. How difficult the misuse of concepts such as “holy war”, “war on terror” or “infinite justice” would be, if one knew about their cultural meaning and embedded varieties.

It is high time to realize these issues.

Notes

1 I wish to thank the anonymous readers for their valuable comments on an earlier draft of the introduction. Thanks go also to Muhammad Akram, University of Erfurt, for his insightful suggestions.

2 See the article on “madrasa” by J. Pedersen and G. Makdisi in Bearman, P.J. et al. (eds) (2004) Encyclopaedia of Islam (New Edition), Vol. V: 1123ff.

3 For similar developments in Egypt see the most interesting account by Gran 1998: xvi, f. 50,96 .

4 Compare Urs Bitterli, Die “Wilden” und die “Zivilisierten”; Grundzüge einer Geistes- und Kulturgeschichte der europäischen-überseeischen Begegnung (Munich, 1991), p. 223.

5 Compare “madrasa” by J. Pedersen and G. Makdisi in Bearman, P.J. et al. (eds ) (2004) Encyclopaedia of Islam (New Edition), Vol. V, 1123ff.

6 For a brief but useful discussion of the criterion of “useful” instruction and “privatization” of (religious) education, see Zaman 2002: 64–66.

7 It would be interesting to trace the genealogy and career of the term “dini madrasa” to substantiate or refute this hypothesis.

8 It should be mentioned that the crucial point of departure into resistance was – at least in Pakistan – just prior to the proclamation of the West Pakistan Waqf Property Ordinance 1961, which aimed at nationalizing waqf properties, thus interrogating the deeds given in the waqfiyyat.

9 See Gaffney 1994. Increasingly, Islamists and traditionalists are converging. The reason is not only the common dissatisfaction with the representatives of the government.

Paradoxically, state reform interventions in the traditional religious education system have led to an ideological rapprochement between Islamists and traditionalists.

For Egypt, see for example Zeghal 1999; for Pakistan, see Malik 1998b.

10 In fact, as far as the dissemination of knowledge is concerned it was primarily disseminated and reproduced – up to contemporary times – through family ties; see Salibi 1958; Brinner 1960; Bulliet 1972: 55–60; Mottahedeh 1980:135ff.; Voll 1982; Robinson 1987.

11 See the interesting introduction by Jan-Peter Hartung, in Hartung and Reifeld 2006.

12 Historically speaking, the activities of the ulama can also be seen as a means to limit caliphal despotism. See Bulliet 1999 and Bamyeh 2005: 40f. Cf. also Johansen 1999: 189–218.

13 There is obviously a long tradition of disputes, polemics and heresy. But this socalled refutation- or radd-literature did not traditionally focus on indoctrination with an intolerance of other religious systems. In Pakistan, however, the discriminating political and discursive strategies against the Ahmadiyya of the 1950s were frequently used as a template for later debates.

14 Apart from the domestic Pakistani tensions, ideological and power political differences between Saudi Arabia and Iran might have played an important role in these riots.

15 This has been elaborated by Nasr 2000: 139–180.

16 It is banal to point out that an ordinary madrasa student can join the mujahidin, who themselves, like the Taliban, could have joined jihadi groups.

17 The mujahidin became warlords who in course of the war in Afghanistan had divided the country into fiefdoms. They fought in a bewildering array of alliances, betrayals and bloodshed, switching sides again and again. Rashid Ahmed opines in Chapter 1

of his celebrated Taliban: Militant Islam, Oil and Fundamentalism in Central Asia, that US funds were matched by Saudi Arabia and together with support from other European and Islamic countries, the Mujaheddin received a total of over US$10 billion. Most of this aid was in the form of lethal modern weaponry given to a simple agricultural people who used it with devastating results.

18 The word taliban is actually the Persian plural of the Arabic word talib, student, hence “students of (religious) schools”. Most of them had been students in Pakistani madrasas, principally in NWFP and Baluchistan, where they founded a network of schools and ethnic affinities before they emerged at the end of 1994. The name Taliban was to make clear that they categorically rejected the party politics of the mujahidin.

19 See also Malik 2006.

20 An overview on madrasas in Bangladesh is given by Abdalla et al. 2004.

21 This is an interesting question for scholars with an interest in the relationship between, say, contemporary political economy and specific patterns of ongoing institutional change, a question that has to be dealt with separately.

22 On glocalization see Robertson 1995.


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