Some US strategists think that Sufi Islam is quiet enough not to question US plans, seemingly ignorant of its history of resistance to imperialism, writes Ammar Ali Hassan* A few weeks ago the American Rand Corporation issued a report entitled Building Moderate Muslim Networks that focussed on Sufism as an Islamic path compatible with American interests. Its argument is that Sufism can act as a wall repelling extremist groups and organisations, as well as a bridge opening up Sunni Islam in a way that would, if embraced by Washington, guarantee US security and safeguard US strategic goals in our countries. Another plus is the possibility of Sufism, through its thought, organisation and existence as a movement, to draw Islam and secular values closer together in a manner comparable to the Turkish experience. In Turkey, Sufis have absorbed secular values and developed their religious vision to correspond to the sensibilities of the age and conform to democratic approaches, both in terms of values and practices. About three years ago, the Nixon Centre hosted a large conference in which Sufis and Islamic intellectuals participated from various countries in the Islamic world, from Ghana to the Ferghana Valley. They met to study this same idea, which had been brewing in the American strategic mind since the events of 11 September 2001. In their comprehensive campaign against "terrorism", the Americans had begun to study the possibility of spreading "Sufism" so that it would become the future form of Islam, or at least to strengthen its power in the Islamic arena with the goal of putting an end to the strength of extremist political groups and organisations with Islamic support that have produced Al-Qaeda and other such entities. This American strategic vision did not arise out of the blue, but rather is based on two precedents. One is the tools and methods employed by the United States to bring down communism. The other is the debate among Orientalists as to whether Islamic Sufism might contain solutions to the problem of extremism, be able to bring Islam and liberalism closer to one other, or be able to facilitate Washington's mission of reforming religious education in the Islamic world. Some Orientalists consider Sufism the "heart of Islam". Some are certain that the "future of the Islamic world will inevitably belong to the Sufi current". There are even Muslim scholars who believe that solutions to the problems in our daily modern lives are to be found in Sufism. The Yemeni preacher Ali Zein Al-Abidine Bin Abdul- Rahman Al-Jafari, known as Al-Habib Ali, says, "I truthfully believe that the heart of the issue facing the nation, and its greatest misfortune, can be traced to a love of the earthly world and a hatred of death. These two dispositions can be treated with the science of Sufism in its sophisticated sense, not the fun-making Sufism that some practice today. Sophisticated Sufism is concerned with purifying hearts, liberating them from love for the earthly world and hatred for death, and connecting them to God Almighty. Sufism, in this sense, is able to solve all of our economic, social, and behavioural problems and crises because it is this meaning of Sufism that produced Salaheddin Al-Ayoubi and Noureddin Zanki. Those who study their biographies will discover that they were outcomes of the school of Sufism." Mohamed Yatim goes even further, holding that Sufism purifies politics of corruption by offering it untainted tenets, and allows the rapprochement of "embracing the truth and the association of the created", or, of spiritual bonds and political activity. Despite Sufism's folkloric nature generally dominating its doctrinal side, Sufism has carved out a wide path in Islamic history, from when Sufism was an emotional force dominating the hearts of ascetics, to when it became embedded in social institutions oscillating in some countries between religion and folklore and in others between ideology and politics. Over the centuries, Sufism has outwitted all those who have predicted its oblivion, either crushed under biting criticism by Islamic groups and organisations declaring it their enemy, drowned by the waves of modernisation that have washed over the Islamic world in recent decades, or sidestepped through the development of other forms of collectivising the religious experience, such as politicisation, preaching or charity work. Yet these factors have followed directions different than those pencilled out by those expecting the decline of Sufism, which has been able to draw followers from the most modern social and professional sectors. There is a vast difference between the Sufi orders that correspond to models of modernity and engage in public activity to the point that their leaders reach the peak of the political pyramid, as is the case in Turkey, and Sufi orders that have been entrenched in folklore and become merely celebratory in nature, as the case is in Egypt. The fate of this latter type developed after the orders clung to traditional robes and failed to engage in any positive political actions other than benefiting the authorities by fortifying their legitimacy. Although, with some embarrassment, it is possible to describe Egypt's Sufi orders as a buttress of civil society due to the charity work of some, it is difficult to aspire to revolutionise them, end their withdrawal from political life, or even purify them from some of the manifestations of superstition and charlatanism they have fallen into and that make Muslims reject them as a pure and comprehensive path in Islam. On occasion in the distant past, Egyptian Sufism produced sheikhs who challenged sultans through their unparalleled levels of popular support based on paranormal happenings, legendary acts and material benefits. In the contemporary period, however, Egyptian Sufism has become a mere servant of the government. This is undeniable to anyone who follows Sufi celebrations, listens to Sufi discourse regarding the authorities, or considers the close tie between their administrative and spiritual organisation and the state's security and religious institutions. In contrast, in Turkey the Sufi orders have overcome their traditional nature and exploit the wide arena allowed by Sufi thought for tolerance and recognition of the other to create political frameworks and means that put it in harmony with democratic life based on pluralism. They also exploit Sufism's encouragement of mutual respect, cohesiveness, and patience with adversities in order to strengthen a culture of achievement and thus move forward with development. This is true starting from Necmettin Erbakan, head of the Welfare Party and a leading figure in the Naqshabandi order, to one of his followers, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, head of the Justice and Development Party. These experiences notwithstanding, American conceptions deal with Sufism either as a movement that forms a single and positive model to be spread, or as a unique, internal state that highly values conviction and human freedom and raises tolerance as a value in dealing with others. Yet Sufism no longer remains as it began, that being a state of asceticism and individual worship. It has developed into massive institutions that cross all continents, some of which strive to play roles in development, politics and society, and others that lose themselves in folklore and celebrations. Some are tolerant in dealing with others, including followers of competing Sufi orders, while others fight with those different from them. Some cooperate with imperialism -- this perhaps being what the United States currently desires -- and yet most have fiercely fought against it. It appears that the short-sighted American view beholds Sufis as "traitors", "collaborators", or hesitant to resist or fight, based on the example of the Tijaniyya in serving the authorities during the European colonisation of Africa. The colonisers encouraged the Tijaniyya to spread because they held that its teachings turned people away from waging war and sound thinking about ideology and religious law, prodding them instead towards the shadowy world of superstition. The Europeans sensed that the order's leaders wished for wealth and influence, and so fed this desire and bought their loyalty with money and posts. The Tijanyya's loyalty to the occupation was fruitful in some decisive situations, such as in assisting the French against the Algerian Emir Abdul-Qadir. This prompted the French General Pigou to write to the Tijaniyya order's sheikh, saying, "if it weren't for your sympathy, the stabilisation of the French in this country would have been much more difficult than it was... Whenever you need anything or a service of any kind, you need only to write to my aide, who will be pleased to inform me of your wish." The Americans also look towards the Qadiyaniyya, who donned the mantle of Sufism so as to fool their supporters into believing that they followed a peaceful path. Their founder, Al-Mirza Ghulam Ahmed, was naught but a collaborator helping the British spread their influence in the Indian subcontinent and Afghanistan. He said, "I spent most of my life supporting the English government and its victory, prohibiting the waging of war, and making obligatory obedience to the ruler. My goal was for Muslims to become loyal to this government... I repeat that my belief is that Islam is of two parts. The first is obedience to God, and the second is obedience to the government, which offers security and under whose protection we seek shelter from oppressors. This is the British government." This American vision forgets, or purposely overlooks, a long history of Sufi struggle against imperialism. Sufi orders in North and West Africa were responsible for holding back some of the colonial endeavours undertaken by the Spanish and Portuguese after they succeeded in ousting the Muslims from Andalusia in 1492. The colonialists wanted to pursue the Islamic religion south of the Mediterranean and the African Sahara. This was particularly true after the papacy collected huge funds for this purpose and encouraged Europe's leaders to grow enthusiastic over implementation of this strategy. Yet the followers of the Jazuliyya, Qadiriyya, Tijaniyya, Shadhuliyya and Senoussiya awaited them, and turned Africa's 16th century coasts into an arena for confrontation with the imperialists. If it were not for the struggle of Sufi sheikhs like Al-Khalifa Al-Tahir in Nigeria, Samuri Touri in the Mandinka region, Abdul-Qadir Al-Jazairi in North Africa, Omar Al-Fouti Al-Takrouri in Morocco, Mohamed Abdullah Hassan in Somalia, and Rabih Fadlallah in Central Africa, the current religious configuration of Africa would be completely different. These sheikhs did not rest with confronting imperialism. They formed cohesive states and kingdoms that gave their resistance to colonialism depth, strength and permanence. And if it were not for the sheikhs of Sufi orders, these states and kingdoms could not have succeeded in spreading Islam on a wide scale, both geographically and in terms of the number of converts. The combination of the number of loyalists to these sheikhs and the expanse of geography under the feet of their followers resulted in entities that brought together religious and political authority. Although the activity of Sufi orders in spreading Islam in Africa began late, 10 full centuries following that of traders, Sufis went deep into the heart of the continent, to where pagan tribes lived in villages and hamlets, and converted inhabitants to Islam, transforming its message from its individual form into a collective, institutional form. As for Asia, the Naqshabandi order, once it grew strong, played a prominent role in the jihad movement in Chechnya and Dagestan against the Russian Kaiser occupying Central Asia and the Caucasus. When the Bolshevik Revolution broke out in 1917, the collapsed Soviet Union renewed its crawl south to annex the Caucasus and Central Asia. The Naqshabandi followers gathered their determination, which the tragedies of history never managed to conquer, and fought the Red Army with all their strength under the leadership of Sheikh Nijmuddin De Josto in Dagestan and Sheikh Ozon Hujji in Chechnya. With the aid of the Ottoman state, their resistance lasted 11 years. In the Indian subcontinent, the Naqshabandis, under the leadership of Sheikh Ahmed Bin Abdul- Ahed Al-Sirhindi Al-Farouki, played a role in spreading Islam among the Moguls. The movement of Sheikh Ahmed Bin Abdul- Halim Al-Dahlawi, who preached Sufisms based on belief and behaviour according to the Quran and Hadith, was laying in wait for the British when they became despotic and restricted the authorities of the Muslim ruler. He made the famous statement, "a Muslim king without influence is inconceivable unless we can imagine the sun without light." He later made the even more famous religious ruling that stated, "India has become an abode of war, not an abode of Islam. All Muslims must go to war now that the imam of the Muslims has been made powerless, his rulings are not implemented, and power is in the hands of the British... They appoint employees, they pay salaries, they oversee the judiciary, and they implement rulings." Following the issue of this fatwa, religious scholars waged jihad, entering into war to save Muslims from the British and from the Sikhs, who had received support from the occupiers. Among Al-Dahlawi's students was Sheikh Ahmed Bin Mohamed Bin Arfan, who established a powerful state that waged a long war against the Sikhs, defeating them in numerous battles until he fell a martyr. Strife had broken out among the ranks of his followers, and yet the banner of jihad did not fall with him, as his followers continued warring against the Sikhs and the British. Similarly, the followers of the Mohamediyya order played a role in resisting the Dutch occupation of Indonesia and southern India. They succeeded in forming alliances with Hindus in these lengthy wars that ended with ousting the colonisers. And in Thailand, the Sufi orders in the Patani region, which lies between Malaysia and the rest of Thailand, also became active. The origin of this region's residents goes back to a Malay group and to this day they speak Malay and write in Arabic script. In conclusion, it can be said that the American strategy aiming to strengthen Sufism in order to counter radical political groups and organisations is bound to rapidly fail. Perhaps the Americans would change their view if they carefully studied the outcomes of Sufi thought with regard to political culture and the history of Sufi orders in Asia and Africa. Maybe they would follow through with their strategy anyway. Yet it is certain that Sufism has, throughout history, formed a manifestation of Islam in its religious, political and social dimensions, and that it will continue to do so in the future, without becoming a tool in the hands of the Americans. * The writer is director of the Middle East Studies and Research Centre, Cairo.
