We have sown and must now reap
THESE are truly amazing scenes: hundreds of thousands of men, young and old, mostly in long white kurta and cap, descending on the commercial hub of the capital, swarming in the huge space of Shapla Chattar and the avenues beyond. These are members of Hefajat-e-Islam, or defenders of Islam, and fellow travellers. They swept out of the thousands of Qawmi madrasas in the country and gathered in Dhaka.
It is not just that their number has swelled, so have their demands over the last few weeks. The initial plan of a march on Dhaka was to protest alleged insults to the Prophet of Islam by some participant bloggers of the Gonojagoron Mancha at the Projonmo Chattar in Shahbagh, who had been gathering in huge numbers since early February to call for death penalty to people guilty of war crimes committed during the War of Liberation. The Hefajat termed them naastic (atheists), and wanted them punished for their alleged crime. The organisers of the Mancha, while resolutely denying that they were against religion or that they were a bunch of atheists, offered to discuss the matter with Hefajat, who declined to talk to them.
By the time the rally at Shapla Chattar began, that single demand escalated to as many as thirteen, including reinstatement of "absolute trust in Allah" as a guiding principle of the constitution, enactment of law providing for death penalty for blasphemy, classifying Ahmadiyyas as non-Muslim, and scrapping of "anti-Islam" women policy and education policy. Among other things, the Hefajat would also get rid of all sculptures that depict the human figure in public places, and stop "free mixing" of men and women.
It does not require a leap of faith to recognise that the Hefajat is calling for nothing less than an Islamic state, of which the model is Saudi Arab or the Taleban variety of orthodoxy. Public floggings and executions, eradication of women's education, and destruction of ancient sculptures flash across the mind.
One wonders how the Hefajat's stance hardened, at the time it did. After all, if the bloggers were defaming Islam's Prophet at all, they must have been doing it for quite sometime. Was the organisation waiting for a signal of political legitimacy? If they were, they found it from two sources. First, Hussain Muhammad Ershad, former president of the country and leader of a political party, denounced the young men and women at Shahbagh as anti-Islamic. The second signal came from Begum Khaleda Zia, the Bangladesh Nationalist Party chief, who denounced the Gonojagoron Mancha as noshto (spoiled), misguided, youth. Such explicit denunciations from two national political leaders, particularly the latter, must have been siren songs for the Hefajat, who claim to be innocent of politics.
It would be naïve to leave the matter there. There were immediate instigations like the denunciations of the Shahbagh youth. There were also the war crimes trials that the Jamaat-e-Islami and its cohort, the Chhatra Shibir, have portrayed as attack against some innocent Islamic scholars rather than war criminals. Both gave life to the Hefajat. But the origins of the ideas that gelled into its thirteen-point demand reach far into the past.
Many a hand sowed the seeds that produced the present crop of Islamic fundamentalism. Since its rehabilitation in 1975, the Jamaat had plenty of time to nurture its plan to establish an Islamic state in Bangladesh. It has been cultivating political Islam ever since. Its electoral success was limited but what it lacked in political influence, it made up with muscle power, mainly through the Islami Chhatra Shibir, and money that secular organisations can only envy. Also is its spawning of terrorist groups that sought to create an Islamic state right away.
Less conspicuous, till recently, have been the Qawmi madrasas that are now the force behind the Hefajat-e-Islam. There are tens of thousands of Qawmi madrasas in the country, their enrolment running into hundreds of thousands. Although this system is not new, much of this expansion has taken place in recent years. The education a Qawmi madrasa impart is overwhelmingly fundamentalist Islam, with little regard to the world of knowledge outside its precincts. Faith in literal religion is its only creed; critical thinking is alien to it.
The Hefajat also professes to be a peaceful organisation. There are serious allegations of its past links with militant organisations; the events during and following the Hefajat rally of April 6 give lie to its peace-loving image. Its claim to be apolitical has also turned out to be unfounded.
The Jamaat, the Hefajat and their cohorts are not, however, the only hands that sowed the seeds of literal, obscurantist, religion and hatred of everything else. There are others that helped. Among elements of the society that have been quietly working to undo the secular-pluralist ideals behind the creation of Bangladesh is the mosque-based organisation called Tabligi Jamaat. The organisation has succeeded in convincing many Bengali women that wearing the sari is not Islamic, and has banished critical thinking from human discourse.
Many imams of our mosques use ingredients in their sermons that are very often insults to the intellect. They have been among the primary purveyors of obscurantism in the country, and many of them subscribe to the Hefajat creed. It is only on rare occasions that we see quotes from the Quran that would decry activities of these defenders of the faith, such as: "I (Allah) have sent down the Quran and it is for me to preserve it," a quote recently used by an Islamic leader to criticise the Hefajat. He also asked pointedly where the Hefajat was when Pakistani soldiers murdered and raped in 1971.
Sadly, to the list of people who has helped introduce religion in public life must be added our political leaders. Many of them, doing secular politics, hardly miss an opportunity to show off their religious piety. There are many manifestations of this phenomenon. Among them visit to mazars of saints before embarking on election campaigns must be considered the most important, as well as the most bizarre in its logic. Elections are a matter of politics and support of the public. The leaders merely wear their religion on their sleeves. But the idea of religion having a place in politics gets one more boost. If the leaders usher religion into politics, why should not the electorate, so close to the madrasa and the Tabligis, give it a further push?
Perhaps even more importantly, the two largest political parties of the country vie against each other in their claim to be religion-friendly. At the very least, they would fight tooth and nail against allegations of being not Islamic enough. They pander to religious sentiments and accuse each other for doing so.
With so much stacked in society against the ideas of secular pluralism, is there any hope that literal religion can still be kept away from politics, and left to its own place of honour and dignity? Although the seeds sown over so many years cannot be unsown, I believe the crop reaped can still be transformed. The youths of Gonojagoron Mancha give us hope. They need total support. And the rest of us must also say what they leave unsaid. In any civilised society, the atheists too have the right to their belief. Everyone has the right to excoriate them, if they like, but only by words. No one needs to like them. No one has the right to call for their death either.
The government's handling of the "atheist" bloggers is unconscionable. Bloggers have been arrested and paraded before the press the way criminals in possession of contrabands are. These youths are not criminals and their "crime" has not been proved. On the other hand, the recent stance of the government on the thirteen demands of the Hefajat, if press reports are true, gives us some hope. It should resolutely resist the demands of the so-called defenders of the faith.
Finally, the women of the country, who have everything to lose at the hands of obscurantists, remain one of our best hopes.
The writer is a former United Nations economist and contributor to The Daily Star.
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