But democracy and piety aren't always contradictions.
- By Robin Wright Robin Wright, a fellow at the U.S. Institute of Peace and the Woodrow Wilson Center, is the author of Rock the Casbah: Rage and Rebellion Across the Islamic World.
Two decades ago, a portly Tunisian with a salt-and-pepper beard sat in my Georgetown living room and tried to convince me that blending tenets from Islam and democracy could create viable governments in the Middle East. The merger was inevitable — and good for the West too, he insisted.
"Islam embraces diversity and pluralism as well as cultural coexistence," Rachid el-Ghannouchi, a former philosophy professor and leader of Tunisia’s Islamist opposition, told me.
It was a hard sell back then. Most Islamist movements — from Egypt’s Islamic Group (Gamaa Islamiyya) and Palestinian Islamic Jihad to Lebanon’s Hezbollah — had a sorry, unproductive, or violent record.
Today, however, Ghannouchi actually has a chance to prove his point. In Tunisia’s first free election last month — also the first poll of the Arab Spring — his al-Nahda party beat 100 other parties to win 40 percent of the vote and the right to lead a government.
Islam is emerging as an equally potent force as democracy in defining the new order in the Middle East. Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood is also expected to do well in elections this month. Libya’s interim leader recently called for laws compliant with Islamic sharia, including lifting restrictions on polygamy. Movements with various Islamic flavors are part of oppositions in Syria, Yemen, and beyond.
"The Islamists are coming, the Islamists are coming!" is the new refrain across Western capitals. In some quarters, the Islamists’ electoral prospects have even unleashed a bit of wistfulness for the old secular dictators. But democratic politics and piety are not necessarily contradictions, even for the nonobservant.
No question, Islamist parties are more assertive and ambitious than ever. And yes, the next decade will be far more traumatic for both insiders and outsiders than the last one, though often due more to economic challenges than Islamist politics. Pity the inheritors of the Arab world’s broken political and economic systems, whoever they are.
Yet the Islamic revival has evolved significantly since the 1970s. Islamist politics entered the mainstream after Israel’s rout of the Arabs in the 1973 war and Iran’s 1979 revolution, which overthrew 2,500 years of dynastic rule. The 1980s witnessed the rise of extremism and mass violence, first among Shiites and later Sunnis. But in the 1990s, the trend began to shift from the bullet to the ballot — or a combination — with Islamist parties running within political systems, not just trying to sabotage them from the outside. And in the early 21st century, especially as militancy took growing tolls on their societies, Mideast populations began challenging both autocrats and extremism in creative new ways. The Arab uprisings, which were launched by unprecedented displays of peaceful civil disobedience in the world’s most volatile region, mark a fifth phase.
Political Islam is today defined by an increasingly wide spectrum. And no one vision dominates. Indeed, the Islamists’ diversity — when the strictly observant believe in only one true path to God — is unprecedented.
The nonviolent parties fall in three main pivots on the spectrum. At one end, the Justice and Development parties (of the same name) in Turkey and Morocco reject the Islamist label — and recognize Israel’s right to exist, a barometer of coexistence or pluralism in practice. Tunisia’s al-Nahda has the potential to be a model if it follows through in forming a coalition with two secular parties and honoring women’s rights.
When I met with Ghannouchi, he spoke at length about aqlanah, which translates as "realism" or "logical reasoning." Aqlanah, he told me, is dynamic and constantly evolving — and Muslims needed to better balance sacred texts and human realities.
In the middle of the spectrum are groups like Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood, which has sired 86 branches across the Islamic world since the 1920s and renounced violence in the 1970s. It had 88 members of parliament during Hosni Mubarak’s last government. Its positions on women and Coptic Christians in politics and Israel as a neighbor are archaic; so is the undemocratic selection of its own leadership. But those policies have also alienated its own members.
The factors that generated the uprisings — the young bulge, literacy, and the tools of technology — have spawned diverse ways of thinking among younger Islamists, too. Ibrahim Houdaiby’s grandfather and great-grandfather were both supreme leaders of the Muslim Brotherhood. He became its best-known blogger in 2005. But Ibrahim also advocated pragmatism, internal democracy, less secrecy, religious tolerance, and women’s rights.
"I had lots of debates with my grandfather," he told me. "One was over which comes first: freedom or sharia. My grandfather said sharia leads to freedom. My argument came from the Quran, which says, ‘Let there be no compulsion in religion.’ I said freedom comes first." Ibrahim eventually resigned from the Brotherhood over practical political differences.
The wild cards at the far end of the spectrum are the Salafis, ultraconservative radicals inspired by Saudi Arabia’s puritan Wahhabi sect. They are often a hybrid. In Egypt, the Islamic Group started to renounce violence in the late 1990s as part of a deal with the government to release its imprisoned members. Some have even crusaded against jihadi tactics they once endorsed. Their willingness to share power, however, is not convincing because of rigid positions on everything from Islamic law and women to Israel.
Abboud al-Zomor, for example, provided the bullets to kill Egyptian President Anwar Sadat in 1981. Imprisoned for three decades, he was released after Mubarak’s ouster. "There is no longer any need for me to use violence against those who gave us our freedom and allowed us to be part of political life," he told the New York Times this year. But Zomor’s goal of creating a strict religious state has not changed — and it does not inspire confidence about the movement’s ability to compromise.
The new spectrum reflects the key bottom line: Over the next decade, the most dynamic debate will be among the diverse Islamists, not between Islamist and secular parties. These political tensions will play out as they vie to define Islam’s role in new constitutions — and then implement it in daily life.
These trends should not come as a surprise: Many Muslims share conservative values even as they push for freedoms. The right to human dignity, Muslims believe, is God-given — a view shared by Thomas Jefferson and engraved on the walls of his memorial. The values of their religion are a starting point for all other aspects of life.
"Without Islam, we will not have any real progress," reflected Diaa Rashwan, an expert on political Islam at Cairo’s Al-Ahram Center for Political and Strategic Studies. "When Western countries built their own progress, they didn’t go out of their epistemological or cultural history. Japan is still living in the culture of the samurai, but in a modern way. The Chinese are still living the traditions created by Confucianism."
"So why," he mused, "do we have to go out of our history?"