Nik Nazmi Nik Ahmad

2005

Dina Zaman has been pestering me to write something on Islam for Rentakini for quite some time. She wanted to have a different perspective. For various reasons I have postponed her request. For one, I can only speak as far as an interested observer, who had undergone secular education throughout my life. I do not want to be pulled into specific issues of which I do not have knowledge of. Furthermore, controversies have erupted over a whole array of issues related to Islam which has polarised the debate.

In her last e-mail she provided me with the opportunity to take a different perspective vis-à-vis Islam: about a Malaysian Muslim (or as some prefer, Malay Muslim) student in the United Kingdom, on the eve of coming home.

What are things I cherish more back home?

In a way, I value the fact that Malaysia being a Muslim-majority country; it is easier for me to practice Islam. The cultural norms of our country dictate that it is easier (and of course cheaper) to hang out with friends as that involves getting a glass of teh tarik at the neighbourhood mamak; here in the UK it tends to mean going to the local pub. More importantly, I cherish the strong sense of community – a legacy of our kampungs (villages); and our strong family institution. These are the values that have shaped me and which are seen in a different light in the UK.

We live in interesting times

Yet, there will be things in the UK that I will miss. I have the benefit of being in the UK at a time when British Muslims are facing an interesting, even if difficult, juncture in their experience. More Muslims are born in this country, and are less concerned with the issues back in Pakistan, Bangladesh, India or Somalia. Now they are grappling the challenges of assimilating while retaining their values.

Last year at a Muslim students’ conference that I attended, Sheikh Ibrahim Mogra, a British born and trained imam, was asked, “Is it wrong to be proud to be British? Or more specifically, support the English football team in Euro 2004?”

The imam, dressed in long robes, a turban and a long beard to boot, answered convincingly: “There is nothing wrong with that. I myself have the English flag (i.e. the Cross of St George) on my car, and yes, it does attract curious glances from the public to see a car driven by a traditionally dressed Muslim having a very Christian symbol. But I’m an English Muslim, and proud of it!”

The UK has taught me more on the capacity to tolerate differences and build bridges across our various differences. I can never forget the feeling of being part of the two million people who demonstrated against the war in Iraq in London in February 2003. Muslims, Jews, and Christians; atheists, socialists, and peaceniks – all marched together for a shared purpose for the welfare of an impoverished Arab Muslim nation in the Middle East.

The anti-war protests were groundbreaking in that aspect as mainstream Muslims embraced it (just as Sheikh Ibrahim proudly display his English patriotism), leaving only limited fringes that revile co-operating with the “infidels” and “unbelievers”. I have also being active in student politics in the UK, joining hands with both Muslim students and Labour activists.

Looking at ourselves

It also raised a pertinent question, one that a traditional Muslim scholar asked me:

Isn’t there a value to democracy, fundamental freedoms and an open environment which allows all groups from the mainstream to the lunatic fringes to express themselves? Doesn’t it prove something that many Muslim activists go to the West to learn, work, live and more importantly promote what they proudly term as their anti-Western agenda? We preach plurality in the West, but how do we practice it back home?

Shouldn’t we Muslims reflect deeper on the inability of many Muslims today to appreciate the importance of these values? Both in the UK and in Malaysia, I have often seen and heard the slogan, “Islam is the solution”. That is all fine and dandy. But where do we go from there? How do we face the challenges of today?

I disagree with many of the arguments and solutions of the so-called liberal Muslims. At the crux of it, they want for a radical reinterpretation of the faith and practice of Islam to be achieved by a liberal elite. They want to re-read the Quran. On the contrary I believe that Islamic tradition has the capacity and capability to face the modern world.

Yet there are some valid queries that they raise – indeed, some of the questions I have mentioned above. The task of the young Muslims today is to look deep inside the legacy of Islam with an open mind and open heart, and provide real answers to those questions. Of course it will take time, humility and patience.

Many problems that emerge today is because some Muslims, including the fringes that ironically denounce the West, have taken the quick-fix modern-day mentality and try to apply it to Islam as well. There is a yearning for a simple literalist interpretation that makes a mockery of our heritage of a holistic philosophy of knowledge.

We always condemn the hedonism of the West today and recall the golden age of classical Islam. We pride ourselves with the scientific achievements of Muslim figures during that bygone age. What we forget however is that many philosophical, political and legal values of that age that were developed or carried on by Muslims, have been lost, and adopted by the same so-called hedonistic West. We have succumbed to a siege mentality.

It’s unsurprising that many of those Muslims who succumb to absolutist, literalist or even terrorist tendencies are those who are educated in modern sciences in the West; or literalist madrasas that ignore the classical Islamic sciences – not the traditional madrasas that uphold classical Islamic scholarship. The consequence of what Aftab Ahmad Malik calls this “religious illiteracy” is application the same “scientific” black and white; right or wrong approach to Islam.

The issues

On one level there are obvious differences between the situation facing the Muslims in the UK and in Malaysia. In Malaysia we make the slight majority; in the UK we are a small, albeit growing, minority of 2–3%. While in Malaysia the debate is on the Shariah and the non-Muslim minority; in the UK as in many other countries in the West the contemporary concern is fiqh al-aqalliyyat (jurisprudence of Muslim minorities).

The political parameters are different. Our historical experiences are different. To a certain extent, these circumstances force the British Muslims to confront the difficult questions in a way that Malaysian Muslims have lagged behind.

Nevertheless on another level there are parallels. Muslims all around the world still put a lot of importance in their faith, in an increasingly agnostic world. We have a tradition of spirituality whereas the world has succumbed to materialism. Globalisation provides us with an inevitable, yet difficult, path into the future. Pluralism today, in many ways, is a bigger challenge than it was in medieval Islam where Jews and Christians prospered in Muslim states: today secularism and agnosticism means that in certain ways, the differences are more profound.

In all these contradictions, tensions emerge: evident in the Zouk incident in KL, or the rebellion of French Muslims against the hijab ban. In Britain, today British Muslims are more likely to be stopped and searched by the police than any other British residents, even other minorities.

But there is also symbiosis: while I cite the tension vis-à-vis the British police, Muslim police officers are gaining ground within the police force, even earning the right to wear the hijabs and long beards.

Tariq Ramadan, a French/Swiss Muslim thinker, grandson of the founder of the revivalist Islamic Brotherhood, advocates Muslims in the West not to be blinded by the rhetoric of the West as the enemy. He says they should see themselves as Western Muslims, which he argues, is not a paradox. Muslims need to be aware of their faith and heritage, yet not just see everything Western or modern as being in opposition to their creed. They need to engage and participate actively in the societies that they live in.

I arrived in London exactly three days after the first anniversary of the September 11 tragedy. That was three years ago. In retrospect, of course there are regrets, and there are things I might have done differently. At the same time I would like to think that the experience has enlightened me, provoking new questions and opening up my mind. I arrived in the UK as a cocky 20-year-old, bursting with eagerness and confidence. Hopefully the eagerness and confidence have been tempered with a dose of humility.

I may not have found answers, but the three years have provoked important questions which will accompany me in my journey home this summer. And not to forget, the mental image of Sheikh Ibrahim Mogra in his turban, robe and beard holding the England flag.