Confronting Political Islam: Six Lessons from the West's Past

CONFRONTING POLITICAL ISLAM

CONFRONTING POLITICAL ISLAM

Six Lessons from the West’s Past

John M. Owen IV

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS

Princeton and Oxford

Copyright © 2015 by Princeton University Press

Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William Street, Princeton, New Jersey 08540

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Jacket art: Sacking Police Station in Naples, Italy, during a riot. Worms after Cairoli, published in L’Illustration, Journal Universel, Paris, 1860. © Antonio Abrignani/Shutterstock. Photograph: Egyptians Protest against President Morsi in Sidi Gaber, Alexandria, Egypt, June 30, 2013. © MidoSemsem/Shutterstock.

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ISBN 978-0-691-16314-7

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For Malloy, Frances, and Alice

CONTENTS

List of Illustrations   ix

List of Tables   ix

Preface   xi

Introduction

It Did Happen Here   1

Lesson 1

Don’t Sell Islamism Short   26

Lesson 2

Ideologies Are (Usually) Not Monolithic   46

Lesson 3

Foreign Interventions Are Normal   67

Lesson 4

A State May Be Rational and Ideological at the Same Time   86

Lesson 5

The Winner May Be None of the Above   110

Lesson 6

Watch Turkey and Iran   130

Conclusion

What to Do and What Not to Do   156

Notes   165

Bibliography   193

Index   211

ILLUSTRATIONS

TABLES

PREFACE

Nearly a century after it first emerged in Egypt, political Islam confronts the world and the world confronts political Islam. Also called Islamism, this potent ideology holds that the billion-strong Muslim community would be free and great if only it were pious—if Muslims lived under state-enforced Islamic law or Sharia, as Muslims have for most of Islamic history. Islamists have long been confronted by Muslims who reject Sharia, and by non-Muslims who press or influence them to reject it. These interlocking confrontations sometimes have been benign, in the sense of parties standing face to face, and sometimes malign, in the sense of parties standing against and even fighting each other. Whether benign or malign, the confrontations continue to matter because they shape not only the lives of Muslims but also the politics of many nations and indeed of the entire world.

Islamism began in the 1920s as a call to Muslims living in modernizing, secularizing societies to return to Sharia, derived from the Quran and various other sacred or authoritative texts of Islam. As they encountered resistance from both militaries and other elites, Islamists became increasingly political, desiring to influence or capture the states that were reshaping their societies so that those states would enforce Sharia. By the 1950s many Islamist movements had been radicalized and were being ruthlessly suppressed by the regimes they had come to hate.

Thanks to the scholarship of scores of experts on Islamic jurisprudence, theology, and history, we know a great deal about Islamism. But most of this scholarship treats this ideology as if it were sui generis, unique, to be studied only in isolation. Like any social phenomenon, political Islam does have singular features that may be understood only through deep study. Yet, Islamism is an ism, an ideology, a plan for ordering common life. As such, it can be compared profitably with other isms.

No part of the world has generated as many isms as the West itself—Europe and the Americas.¹ Although scholars and journalists occasionally draw parallels between the Middle East today and the West in earlier centuries—jihadi terrorists to anarchists around 1900, or the Arab Spring to the European revolutions of 1848—until now no one has attempted a sustained comparison between political Islam and Western ideologies of the past.

This book carries out such a comparison. It begins with the observation, already made by scholars of Islamism, that this complex and robust ideology cannot be understood without reference to the broad ideology to which it is a reaction: secularism. In its original form, secularism in the Muslim world mandated that the laws derive from strictly human reason and experience, and not from divine revelation. Secularism came to Muslim lands in the nineteenth century, at the hands of European colonizers, and in the twentieth, at the hands of authoritarian modernizers such as Mustafa Kemal of Turkey and Reza Pahlavi of Iran. Twentieth-century hard-edged secularism is all but dead in the Middle East today—most Muslims accept that Islam should at least influence law and government—but Islamists still define themselves and struggle against various shades of softer secularism.

In coexisting with its opposite, Islamism is, again, like ideologies in the West’s own past. Confronting Political Islam builds upon my past scholarly work, especially my 2010 book The Clash of Ideas in World Politics,² in focusing on ideological contests in Europe and the Americas that stretched across countries and decades, scrambling power relationships and altering expectations and behavior, generating new patterns of conflict and cooperation, befuddling both participants and observers, and finally ending in unexpected times and ways. From the West’s own past I sift six broad lessons for policy makers and citizens trying to deal with the prolonged ideological travails in the Middle East.

I am grateful to many people and institutions for helping me conceive of, research, and write this book. The Institute for Advanced Studies in Culture at the University of Virginia provided ideas and criticism—from scholars including James Hunter, Ashley Berner, Josh Yates, Joe Davis, Neslihan Çevik, Chuck Mathewes, and George Thomas—and its genteel intellectual hothouse, Watson Manor. John Moon and the IMR Foundation, Earhart Foundation, and the Smith Richardson Foundation all provided funding that enabled me to devote a scholar’s most precious commodity—time—to the book. For invaluable research assistance I thank Bob Kubinec and Malloy Owen. Conversations with Michael Barnett, Peter Katzenstein, Ahmed al-Rahim, Judd Owen, Alexander Evans, and my Politics Department colleagues at the University of Virginia—especially Bill Quandt, Jonah Schulhofer-Wohl, and Jeff Legro—were most helpful. The Centre of International Relations at the University of British Columbia provided me with a place to write and research during the summers. For Map 6.1, I thank Chris Gist.

The Smith Richardson grant enabled me to hold three workshops in Washington, where I tested some of the arguments on academic, military, intelligence, and policy analysts. I thank the Brookings Institution and the Heritage Foundation for hosting those bracing sessions. I also thank those in attendance, especially Michael O’Hanlon, Steve Grand, Nathan Brown, Karim Sadjadpour, Peter Mandaville, Marc Lynch, Charles Cully Stimson, Reuel Marc Gerecht, Jim Philips, Lisa Curtis, Peter Henne, and Tim Shah. Special thanks go to Roger Herbert for handling logistics and for offering his own criticism of the manuscript itself.

While he was still a senior editor at Princeton University Press, Chuck Myers was both advocate and critic; without him, this book never would have been written. Eric Crahan at Princeton carried the project through with skill and care. The two manuscript reviewers, Jeremy Pressman and Dan Nexon, helped me see things that I had not and steered me away from some errors in fact and interpretation. Joseph Dahm was a superb copy editor.

My dear family has supported me by being present and by letting me sometimes be absent. For understanding and even enjoying the peculiarities of marriage to an academic, my wife Trish is sine qua non. I dedicate this book to our three children, Malloy, Frances, and Alice, who remind me daily that God is good and that a book such as this is worth writing.

CONFRONTING POLITICAL ISLAM

Introduction

It Did Happen Here

History doesn’t repeat itself, but it does rhyme.

—Attributed to Mark Twain

The Middle East in recent years has been, in some ways, very much as Northwestern Europe was 450 years ago. Then, a wave of insurrection rolled across three Western countries and threatened to break over more. In 1560 the wave struck Scotland; in 1562, France; in 1567, the Netherlands.

Each insurrection was different, because each country was different. Scotland was a relatively isolated land, of rugged terrain and small population, perpetually worried about invasion from its southern neighbor England. France was a great power, with vast farmlands and wealth, its rulers longtime rivals with those of Spain for supremacy in Europe. The Netherlands or Low Countries were small, also relatively prosperous, and directly ruled by Spain. As is always the case, rebels within and across the countries had diverse complaints and motivations.

But the three revolts had much in common. In contrast to the peasant rebellions that sometimes shook parts of early modern Europe, all three were led by nobles—landowning men with titles, trained for war. The Scottish, French, and Dutch nobles all, in a sense, were playing out an old story, fighting back against a monarch trying to centralize power at their expense. In the Scottish and Dutch cases, the monarch was a foreigner: French for the Scots, Spanish for the Dutch. Perhaps most strikingly, the leaders of all three sets of rebellious aristocrats—and probably most of the common men who fought for them—were believers in a Christian creed that was, depending upon one’s point of view, either radically new or a faithful retrieval of original Christianity. All were adherents of a branch of Protestantism founded in the preceding decades by the French theologian John Calvin.

That so many rebels in the three countries were Calvinists—or Reformed, as they also were called—was no coincidence. Calvinists held in common a set of doctrines concerning God and man, among which were that a human being could do nothing to save himself but must rely on the mercy of God, and that God had decided on his own volition whom he would save before he created the world. The Reformed also held distinctive beliefs about how the church was to be organized, how the faithful were to live, and how the church and civil authorities or state should relate. Reformed churches did not have bishops and priests, but instead were governed by elders and deacons. Christians were to aim at holy lives, to make their calling and election sure, in the words of St. Peter.¹ And the community itself was to aim at holiness, with the civil and church authorities separated but the former enforcing the teachings of the latter.

This, then, was not the Calvinism of the Presbyterian Church of Main Street, U.S.A., in the twenty-first century or even the nineteenth. Early modern Calvinism was—like the Catholicism, Lutheranism, and other Christian isms of the time—a political ideology as well as a set of religious doctrines. It emerged in a time when the social, political, and economic order of Central and Western Europe was built around, and partly by, the Roman Catholic Church. In medieval Europe the Church—parishes, dioceses, religious orders—owned vast tracts of land that generated huge amounts of wealth. Clergy enjoyed deep influence over princes, nobles, and peasants. The legitimacy of the hierarchical social system depended in part on the imprimatur of the Church. Some bishops, including the popes, ruled large territories and could raise their own armies. In the Europe of the sixteenth century, Calvinism at this time was partly defined as anti-Catholicism, and being anti- or pro-Catholic was as much a political as it was a religious commitment.

That raises a second and related similarity among the Scottish, French, and Dutch revolts: all were directed against Catholic monarchs who were tied to the teachings and institutions of the Church of Rome. These were, on one level, anti-Catholic rebellions. The statements and writings of the leaders are in a particular religious idiom; one 1559 manifesto from the Lords of the Congregation was addressed to the generation of Antichrist, the pestilent prelates and their shavelings within Scotland, and went on, We shall begin that same war that God commanded the Israelites to execute against the Canaanites; that is, contract of peace shall never be made, till ye desist from your open idolatry and cruel persecution of God’s children. And this we signify unto you in the name of the eternal God, and of His Son, Jesus Christ, whose verity we profess, and evangel we will have preached, and holy sacraments rightly ministrate, so long as God will assist us to gainstand your idolatry.² This was not just a peculiar way of talking, a pious adornment of more mundane concerns. Calvinists in all three countries engaged in bouts of iconoclasm, smashing icons in churches because for them such images were idols, stealing glory that rightly belonged to God. The Calvinists had deep and, it seemed at the time, irreconcilable differences with Catholics.

In yet another sense the three insurrections were not coincidental: Calvinists communicated across national boundaries, encouraging and learning from one another, circulating sermons, tracts, letters, and themselves. Historians refer to a Calvinist International, a network of Reformed Christians that existed across countries, its nerve center in Calvin’s own adopted city of Geneva. Garrett Mattingly writes that all of them, everywhere, vibrated to any impulse that stirred their connecting web. Andrew Pettegree notes that the Dutch Calvinists were encouraged by the Huguenot rebellion in France: In the year following the outbreak of fighting in France, Dutch Calvinists … began to imitate the provocative and confrontational behavior that had brought French evangelicals such success.³

Catholics, too, existed in all of these countries and had a parallel imperative to suppress Calvinism. They too formed a sophisticated network with its chief node in Rome. The revolts and the attempts to suppress them were really part of a single larger phenomenon, a contest that stretched across Northwestern and Central Europe over religion—and not only religion in the modern sense, but in the sense of the time, when church and state were intimate and a country’s established religion affected its institutions and way of life and how power and wealth were distributed. The root problem was that Western Christendom was torn by a legitimacy crisis, a struggle over the best way to order society. The crisis is seen particularly in the Reformation and Counter-Reformation of the time.

Because the legitimacy crisis was transnational, with Catholics sympathizing with one another regardless of homeland, and Calvinists doing the same, it is no surprise that the rulers of many countries had a stake in the outcomes of the revolts. Protestant England and Catholic France intervened in the Scottish rebellion. England did the same to help the French Calvinists (or Huguenots). Later the German state of Palatinate joined the Calvinist side, as Spain did the Catholic. In the Netherlands Spanish troops naturally intervened to put down the Calvinists, and English, Huguenot, and German troops helped the Calvinists. Even the Ottoman sultans—who, as Muslim emperors, had no religious stake in the Reformation—became involved, offering to help Lutherans and Calvinists against the Catholic Habsburgs who ruled so much of Europe.

There is more. In the previous decades similar chain reactions had detonated in the Holy Roman Empire—roughly today’s Germany—with Catholics facing off against Lutherans. And well after the 1560s more such chain reactions were to flash through Europe. One in particular was catastrophic: A Calvinist-led revolt in Bohemia led to intervention and counter-intervention that escalated into the horrific Thirty Years’ War (1618–48). While that complex struggle was wiping out perhaps one-fifth of Germany’s population, the English Civil War (1642–51) broke out. It was these violent civil and international wars that helped Europeans to see their way, begrudgingly, to the religious toleration that Westerners today take for granted.

One of the three revolts of the 1560s failed. In France, the Huguenots and Catholics fought on and off for several decades, often savagely. A stalemate finally was broken in 1593 when Henry IV, Huguenot champion, agreed to convert to Catholicism so as to take Paris unopposed. (Paris is well worth a mass, Henry was reported to have said.)

But the Scottish and Dutch revolutions succeeded and invented a new thing in Europe: a Reformed realm. The Scottish insurrectionists won quickly and set up a Reformed (Presbyterian) kingdom in 1560. The Dutch had to fight the Spanish for nearly two decades, but in 1585 they set up the United Provinces of the Netherlands, with the Reformed as the established religion. The Calvinists proved adept not only at mobilizing for rebellion but at consolidating and institutionalizing power.

That was long ago, and it was Europe. But parts of the Muslim world today, in many respects, bear an uncanny resemblance to that time and place. Over the past century, rulers of many majority-Muslim countries have amassed power by weakening other actors in their societies. Some have extended their influence in foreign countries. Networks of ideologues with nodes in places such as Tehran, Riyadh, and Cairo have sliced across Muslim countries, with members in each monitoring, educating, and encouraging their counterparts in others. Where early modern Europe had its religious massacres, the Middle East has had its terrorism—which has extended into Asia, Africa, Europe, and North America, most catastrophically to New York and Washington on September 11, 2001. And of course, waves of rebellion, suppression, revolution, and foreign intervention have taken place periodically within and across Muslim countries. (Throughout this book I use the term Middle East, by which I mean the vast region stretching from North Africa into Southwest Asia, even though the ideological struggles I analyze extend into parts of sub-Saharan Africa, South and Southeast Asia, and some cities in Europe and North America.) Sometimes, when a revolution has succeeded, a new regime, proclaiming a return to Islamic roots, has been established.⁴

It is difficult fully to understand what is going on in these Muslim societies. The history, interests, power, ambitions, and beliefs of the various actors, and how those things interact, are exceedingly complex. But we can make some headway, and the most straightforward path is for academic and policy experts on the Middle East or Islam to bring to bear their learning. Experts have been doing just that for many years, in works too numerous to begin to mention here. Deep analysis by scholars who speak and read Arabic, Farsi, Pashto, Urdu, and other languages, who know the histories and cultures intimately, is indispensable to policy makers, students, and citizens trying to make sense of the bewildering and fraught dynamics of the Middle East.

But a second, complementary way to understand the Middle East has barely been undertaken. That way involves taking analytical advantage of the West’s own history of ideological conflict. For the story of the rolling revolts across Northwestern Europe in the 1560s is only one of many such stories that have a strangely familiar ring. Here, too, is no coincidence. One important reason why the dynamics of Muslim societies and regions so resemble early modern Europe is that for at least a century the Middle East has been roiled by a legitimacy crisis—a contest over the best way to order society. It is not Islam the religion that is generating the problems, any more than Calvinist doctrine per se was sowing discord in early modern Europe. It is rather a deep and prolonged disagreement among Muslims over how far Islam ought to shape the laws and institutions of society.

For a number of decades Muslims have argued, organized, formed networks, rebelled, suppressed, allied, befriended, betrayed, killed, and died for the sake of ideology, or visions of the good life and public order. Muslims have been unable to agree on the basic questions of society. They have been polarized within and across countries, sometimes to the point of civil war, and often to the point where many identify more with foreigners who share their principles than with their fellow citizens who do not. The legitimacy crisis has complicated domestic and international politics, creating alliances and enmities that can be especially vicious and resistant to compromise. The crisis has dramatically affected the interests of the United States and other outside powers at particular junctures: the 1952 Egyptian Revolution, 1979 Iranian Revolution, the 2001 al-Qaeda attacks, most recently the Arab Spring that began in late 2010.⁵

Some writers have drawn analogies between these dynamics and ideological struggles in the West’s own past.⁶ This book takes that insight much further. It is the first sustained analytical comparison between the Middle East today and various region-wide legitimacy crises in the history of Europe and the Americas—crises that exhibited remarkably similar chains of events. I present lessons about the current upheaval in Muslim societies, and its troubled interactions and interpenetration with the rest of the world, drawn from past ideological struggles in other parts of the globe.

I make two general claims in this book:

1.  Understanding political Islam requires understanding its long twilight struggle with secularism.

2.  Understanding that Islamist-secularist struggle requires that we understand the origins, dynamics, and ultimate end of similar ideological struggles in the history of the Western world.

Although I describe the content of each ideology—Lutheranism, monarchism, liberalism, Islamism, and so on—I abstract from that content and focus simply on the fact that each ideology was caught in a struggle with one or more alternatives. Content does matter, and these ideologies have varied widely in goals, strategies, and tactics. Radical Calvinists, republicans, and communists never engaged in suicide bombing, as radical Islamists do. Many Islamists appear to want only to be left alone by the non-Muslim world, whereas many Western ideologies have had global ambitions. But I deliberately pass over these important differences because the formal similarities—the fact of ideological competition—are striking and instructive enough for one book. They show that much of what we think about political Islam is wrong.

The Rhyme of History

In the following pages, I draw lessons from three long periods in which Western societies were divided, internally and internationally, over the best way to order society and powerful ideological movements stretched across entire regions, agitating for change and disrupting normal domestic and international politics.

The first is the struggle between Catholics and Protestants over which form of Christianity should be established or favored by the state. This contest raged in Western and Central Europe from roughly 1520 until around the 1690s.

The second struggle emerged in the 1770s and endured for a century. In Europe and the Americas people differed deeply over whether the best regime was a monarchy, with a king and subjects, or a republic, where authorities were elected and people were citizens.

The third struggle arose in the 1910s and lasted until the late 1980s. The struggle most familiar to today’s readers, it raged among communism, liberalism, and fascism.

In each of these long contests ideologies mutated, and some of the mutations survived and competed with the originals. In the first, Protestantism began as Lutheranism in Germany, quickly developed a Zwinglian version in Switzerland and Anabaptism in Germany, then a Calvinist version in France, an Anglican one in England, and still other versions elsewhere. Calvinists and Lutherans became serious rivals at certain points. In the second contest, monarchists were divided between absolutists, who maintained that kings had their title to rule directly from God and were constrained only by him, and constitutionalists, who insisted that monarchs must be constrained by representative legislatures. In the third, communists divided into many groups, with Chinese (Maoists) and Soviets falling into a severe rivalry in the 1960s.

The same is true of the Middle East today. Ideological disagreements among Muslims are many and serious, but the most fundamental line is between secularists and Islamists. The nub of the question is, in a sense, who or what is sovereign in society, and the chief sign of this is the source and content of the law. Islamists insist that law must be Sharia, derived from the sacred texts of Islam—the Quran, or direct revelation from Allah to the Prophet Muhammad, and the Hadith, or sayings of the Prophet. Secularists counter that law should derive from human reason and experience, not from Islam (or, for moderate secularists, not from Islam alone).

These two ideologies, secularism and Islamism, originated as negations of one another. Secularism came to the Muslim world with European colonialism in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.⁷ Many Muslim elites in the Middle East adopted it in the twentieth century precisely because of the power of the European states that had long surpassed and humiliated the Ottoman Empire, generally regarded as the caliphate or universal Islamic polity. The Ottoman Empire was built upon traditional Islamic social and political institutions, and Muslim military and political elites in particular saw secularism as the remedy.

Islamists typically present their ideology not as an ism but as simply Islam, the pristine religion of the Prophet. In fact, their belief system has modern features and arose in reaction to secularism, from both European colonizers and Muslim modernists. Early Islamists such as Egypt’s Hassan al-Banna (1906–49), British India’s Abul Ala Maududi (1903–79), and Iran’s Ruhollah Khomeini (1902–89) were convinced that it was hard to live as a pious Muslim under a secular regime, and began to push back in the second quarter of the twentieth century by organizing cultural resistance movements. In the 1950s Islamists became more radical and began advocating, in various ways, for an end to secular regimes and a return to state-enforced Sharia.

From the 1920s through late 1960s, secularism had the whip hand. After the Ottoman Empire’s defeat in the First World War, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk (1881–1938) dissolved it, abolished the old caliphate, and founded modern Turkey, the prototypical secular Muslim state that explicitly repudiated the traditional Islamic organization of society and adopted Western norms and practices. Atatürk had admirers and imitators in other Muslim countries. Typically these were military officers and intellectuals who chafed under Western domination and wanted to build modern, independent states. Reza Shah Pahlavi (1878–1944) in Iran was one; Muhammad Ali Jinnah (1876–1948) in Pakistan was another; Gamal Abdel Nasser (1918–70) in Egypt was a third.⁸ Nasser and his circle also were influenced by the Syrian intellectual Michel Aflaq (whose background was Christian) and the Ba’athist, or Arab nationalist, movement that he helped found.⁹ Nasser’s Arab socialism had a following