When discussing the difficulties faced by the process of democratization of Islamic societies, one of the burning issues is certainly the ever-present question of the relationship between Islam and the liberal understanding of universal human rights, states Ajla Čustović at the very beginning of her doctoral thesis, introducing us to the topic she is dealing with on the pages that follow. Čustović spent her childhood in Sarajevo and Libya, and then in Zagreb, where she finished primary and secondary school. After acquiring B.A. in journalism and M.A. in foreign policy and diplomacy at the Faculty of Political Science in Zagreb, she devoted her doctoral studies to the broad and rich matter of Islam and the idea of universal human rights through the issues of freedom of belief and expression and the (in)equality of women. The thesis insists on the internal discourse among Muslims and critically rejects interpretations of the Qur’an that advocate the superiority of some people over others: men over women, Muslims over non-Muslims, adds Čustović. This year, she published the book Islam i ljudska prava (translator’s note: Islam and Human Rights), dedicated to her grandfather Muhammad and based on her doctoral thesis, which became (or better remained) her answer to herself in the context of Islamic and liberal identity.
In your book Islam and Human Rights, you deal with both liberal and Islamic understandings of universal human rights. How and when did you become interested in an Islamic perspective on human rights and what challenges did you encounter along the way?
I have always had an interest in topics related to the Islamic moral tradition, but through my doctoral studies, my focus crystallized on Islam and human rights, especially on the issue of (in)compatibility between Islamic tradition and liberal interpretation of universal human rights. It is a very complex and layered issue, which includes probing into different areas of theology, political theory, philosophy, linguistics, hermeneutics, and intellectual history. Before I started examining the issue, I decided that I wanted to approach it from the standing point of political theory, without getting too deep into theological debates. Of the many challenges that crossed my path, and I will mention only a few of them, this was perhaps the most difficult because in Islam the idea of universal human rights is based on the word of God. The challenge lies in the fact that while theological debates have spawned multiple discourses within the Islamic moral tradition itself, there is no central religious authority in Islam that will proclaim one interpretation/discourse valid for all Muslims. As a result, a cacophony of different, but often contradictory, interpretations of one source exists. When trying to present all dimensions of this complexity, a balance was necessary in a way that the presentation was impartial and theoretically precise, but also clearly pointed out the unproductiveness of certain discourses for discussing the idea of universal human rights. The second challenge was how to approach the liberal moral tradition in the same way, while making it clear that the liberal moral tradition, like the Islamic one, is not a monolithic, homogeneous entity speaking in a single voice. I will mention another challenge, which is the lack of literature in our language, which was also an incentive to write a book that thematizes this area.
Back in the 7th century, the Constitution of Medina defined the rights (and obligations) of the opposing tribes, such as the right to freedom and equality, freedom of thought, conscience, and religion, equality before the law, and more. Consequently, if we look at Sharia as a tool for achieving well-being and preventing disorder and insecurity in society, as well as rejecting injustice as such, why do you think Sharia and its law cause so much controversy? How come its interpretations of answers to certain questions differ?
Sharia developed through Islamic jurisprudence and took shape in the 9th century, but since Qur’an is its main source, it is logical to conclude that it has an earlier origin. Also, it should be pointed out that some of the canonical laws of Sharia were taken from some earlier legal agreements, such as the Constitution of Medina from the 7th century. The Constitution of Medina is often cited as a positive example in Islamic history because according to it the inhabitants of Medina were considered to form a single political community. However, while such a charter is truly a shining example considering the time in which it was created and should serve as a guide, it cannot be compared with the modern idea of universal human rights.
As for the controversies caused by Sharia, I believe that at least one part of these controversies is caused by the fact that many awful things committed by certain groups that hold particular beliefs are often justified by vague references to Sharia. This does not mean that I believe that Sharia does not have some very debatable rules that must be changed, but I want to point out that this is really a complex issue that requires a broad approach. On the other hand, the exact opposite is happening, instead of this broadness of approach, most of the literature in the West that deals with this topic abound in simplified terms, one-sided opinions, and general ignorance about Islamic moral tradition, Islamic jurisprudence, and Sharia. Sharia is often equated with the hacking of hands and heads, with the cry of “Allahu akbar” during suicide terrorist attacks, and oppressed women who are forced to cover. You have to dig really painstakingly through the volumes and volumes of literature to find serious studies that deal with Sharia scientifically and appropriately, without labeling and simplifying, studies that indicate that it is something layered, extensive, and demanding.
In the context of human rights, the problem is multifaceted. When signing the UN General Declaration on Human Rights (1948) and ratifying conventions on human rights (such as CEDAW, the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women, 1981), Islamic countries often referred to Sharia or “Islamic values” in their objections, without specifying what exactly that means. As there is no central religious authority in Islam and there is also no consensus around a single, unique version of Sharia followed by all Islamic countries equally – by referring to Sharia, Sharia thus becomes a multi-faceted supranational law to which the norms of international treaties, conventions, and declarations do not apply, even though Islamic countries are signatories to these same documents. Also, some Islamic countries, such as Afghanistan, although having signed the General Declaration and ratified international conventions on human rights, in reality, continue to violate the rights guaranteed by those documents. My focus here is on three legal values where the divergence is most obvious: the right to freedom of speech versus the Sharia criminalization of blasphemy, the right to freedom of belief versus the death penalty for apostasy, and women’s rights. An additional problem is created by the fact that Muslims are divided, among others, by the debate as to whether Sharia is God-given or a product of human interpretation. If we believe that Sharia is God-given, i.e. that it was created, this negates the indispensable human role of mediation in the interpretation process, and this would also mean that Sharia is fixed and unchanging, which then leaves no room for any dialogue and revisions.
Some scholars believe that the conditions in which Islamic law was open to interpretation and adaptable to different situations, meeting the needs of the societies of the time, narrowed over the centuries, becoming very conservative today. You also point out in your work that the Sharia is a product of human interpretation, so as such it should be flexible and open to refinements and changes through new understanding.
Sharia has five primary sources: the Qur’an, the tradition of the Prophet Muhammad, ijma (consensus), qiyas(analogy), and legal reasoning (ijtihad). The fact that the Qur’an deals directly with legal issues through only about eighty verses (author’s note: sayings or statements) and that Islamic jurists had to turn to sources other than the Qur’an and the Prophet’s tradition in search of answers indicates that the Qur’an ‘an is not a book on law. However, it is important to point out that only some legal schools accept ijtihad as one of the sources of Sharia, i.e. as a method by which a solution to a legal issue is sought. When formulating Sharia, Islamic jurists did not use this method when the Qur’an and other sources provided an unequivocal answer, but when the sources were vague or “silent”, Islamic jurists did rely on legal reasoning. I argue, relying on progressive Islamic authors, that interpreters are not independent of the time, society, and context from which they approach and interpret the text—and since time, society, and context have changed, the laws made in the 9th century should have also changed, and that the interpretative flexibility of Sharia allows it. The dominant discourse in the Islamic moral tradition holds that Sharia is God-given, and as such is constant and abiding, and is not subject to changes and modifications, while the human role of mediation in the formulation of Sharia through reading the Qur’an, the Prophet’s tradition, and other sources, is neglected.
No one can close the “gate of ijtihad” because if the Qur’an is abiding, then it should be approached again from the each epoche. After all, every understanding of the Qur’an is contemporary with the time in which the Qur’an is interpreted. The understanding of the Qur’an in the 9th century was contemporary to the interpretation of the Qur’an in that century, but while we can rely on that reading, methods are available for re-reading and re-interpreting the Qur’an so that it becomes contemporary with our time. If that method (ijtihad) was used when formulating Sharia, why can’t we use the same method to clarify and change Sharia according to independent readings of the same text today? An excellent example is given by the Moroccan philosopher Mohammed Abed al-Jabri, who is questioning the Sharia practice of cutting off the hands of thieves, which existed in Arabia even before the arrival of Islam. He explains that in Bedouin communities with a nomadic lifestyle, it was impossible to have prisons because they were constantly moving in search of pastures, so the alternative was corporal punishment. While such a measure for theft may have been reasonable then and in that society, al-Jabri argues that today’s circumstances and conditions are different and offer us the possibility for different measures. This is an example of ijtihad.
You have learned Arabic for the purposes of research and doctoral dissertation. In addition to being rich, ancient, and colorful, it is also known for its expressive possibilities and synonymy. It is also the language of the Qur’an. How would you describe the process of learning it and what would you single out as the most interesting part?
As I pointed out, the challenge in studying this field is the lack of literature in our language, which meant that for the purposes of research, I read and translated texts mainly from English and German. However, from the very beginning, I realized that the Arabic language is an indispensable component that I must master if I want to explore Islamic moral tradition seriously. When I learned Arabic, the dynamics of my research and dealing with human rights in Islam changed and extended, because, with the knowledge of Arabic, I suddenly had access to literature by authors whose works have not been translated into other languages. What I would single out as the most interesting part of the learning process is truly getting to know the richness of the Arabic language, which often implies that a single word carries multiple meanings. I stressed the importance of understanding the multiple meanings of one word with several examples, but I emphasize the one shown in the hermeneutic approach of Islamic theoreticians when interpreting the word “daraba” which has thirteen possible meanings/translations.
Although, as you state, the proponents of the progressive Islamic discourse are convinced that one of the most prominent values of the Qur’an is that it advocates and promotes the idea of gender equality, they explain that Islamic jurisprudence and the interpretation process have been dominated by men since the pre-modern era, which resulted in the marginalization of women and taking away their “interpretive right”. How do you view this newer approach to the hermeneutics of the Qur’an, as well as its reading from a female perspective?
Probably the most interesting part of my research in this field is precisely the thought of progressive Islamic theoreticians and their advocacy of women’s right to interpret. Practicing this right, their hermeneutic approach to reading the Qur’an resulted in egalitarian interpretations that reflect, in their view, the Qur’an’s most important message –the message of universal equality. What is characteristic is that progressive Islamic theorists argue that the gender of the interpreter is an important factor that can not be ignored, and their re-interpretations of certain parts of the Qur’an clearly show this. For example, one of the highly controversial verses in the Qur’an, both among liberal theorists and among Muslims themselves, is the ayah 34 in the fourth Qur’anic surah An-Ni’sa – Women. The controversial part reads: But those from whom you fear arrogance – advise them; then forsake them in bed; and strike them, where the attention is on the translation of the word “to strike”. In Islamic jurisprudence, the dominant interpretations are those that give men religious justification for disciplining women. Using the progressive Islamic theoreticians’ approach, I argue that the word “daraba” (which is translated as “to hit” in the dominant interpretations) can be translated in thirteen different ways, whereby “to hit” is only one of the possibilities, but not the only, unquestionable meaning of the word. The authors I refer to insist that the interpreters loaded patriarchy into the text, but that the text itself is not patriarchal.
Gender equality and freedom of religion intersect at two different points – on the one hand, stereotypical gender roles are sometimes defended based on religious beliefs; on the other hand, the perception of women based on their religion or beliefs can also lead to intersectional discrimination. What is your view on the relationship between religion, gender, and equality?
I believe that we can not discuss equality in the context of Islam and human rights while women do not have the same right to interpret sacred texts as men. However, my viewpoint does not apply only to Islam, but to all three monotheistic religions in which the reading of sacred texts was exclusively the male domain for centuries. In my book Islam and Human Rights, in the chapter titled ”Eva – interpretacije priče o prvoj ženi” (translator’s note: ”Eve – Interpretations of the story of the first woman”), I review the different interpretations of the creation of the first woman in all three monotheistic religions, and I point out how these different interpretations came exclusively from the male interpreters’ perspective, which has irreversibly influenced how we understand the story, which even today has a strong influence on the understanding of male-female relationships (in the family, but also the social structure). In all three monotheistic religions, both in academic and public circles, the dominant representation is of Eve as subsequently created from Adam, for Adam. What I am arguing is that the gender of the interpreter, along with other contextual factors, is a kind of filter through which someone accesses the text and reads it. Through the marginalization and exclusion of women from the interpretation process, every conclusion made is deprived of the experience and perspective of women, which is problematic because the woman’s body, role in society and community, purpose, and rights are decided by men who are convinced that God “said so”. However, no one has a monopoly over the meaning of the Qur’an except God himself, and while the true meaning of God’s word eludes all human knowledge, it is up to us to try to interpret its message as humanely as possible. All our interpretations are just assumptions about what God wanted to say, but if we Muslims claim that the Qur’an was sent to all people and that its main message is peace and equality, then our interpretations of God’s words must reflect that message. If God created men and women equal and gave them equal obligations, then the question arises, how are their rights not equal? What I am arguing is that their rights are not equal, because it was precisely these rights that were dominantly decided by men through the interpretation process.
The key Muslim female speakers, who deal with the topic of women’s rights in Islam, but also the rereading of the Qur’an from a female perspective, do not come from Arab countries, with a few notable exceptions. Their works are published in languages other than Arabic. Also, your selection of theorists includes those outside the Arab belt. What do you think, why is this so, and taking into account the pluralism of opinions and approaches to the topic, what would you state as common to all of them?
The progressive Islamic thought on which my approach is based also has its female voices. In the beginning, I wouldn’t say that they don’t come from Arab countries, but they mostly don’t live in Arab countries. Most of the authors I deal with are of Arab origin, most of them studied, and currently live and work in Europe or the United States of America. The position of progressive Islamic authors is not at all easy or simple. On the one hand, in the Islamic moral tradition, they are often perceived as not being true Muslims because they fell under the influence of the West, while in the liberal moral tradition, they are perceived as apologetics in the name of Islam – as people who are unable to shake off religious bonds in order to provide a real critique of the Islamic understanding of human rights. For progressive female speakers of Islam, this position is much more difficult because on both sides there is an evident tendency to speak on their behalf, whereby women’s rights in Islam become a field for the competition of two moral traditions. What is absurd is that while both sides discuss the right of women in Islam, the voice of the women who are being discussed is excluded or marginalized at least. In my approach, I try to discuss the rights of women in Islam through the perspective of Islamic theoreticians whose advocacy of women’s right to read and interpret the scriptures results, at the very least, in different readings than those we encounter in the dominant discourse in the Islamic moral tradition.
No matter how we look at this issue, there is no discussion about women’s rights until women are included in that discussion, and this cannot be done in the context of Islam and human rights until they enjoy equal access to sacred texts and interpretation rights as men. To argue otherwise, i.e. to consider that men have the privilege of reading and interpreting sacred texts, is to suggest that men have a special relationship with God, and the whole story of equality falls flat. Therefore, I believe that the discussion on the equality of men and women should begin with the interpretation of women’s rights in Islamic jurisprudence. What the Islamic theorists I refer to have in common is that, although their approaches and interpretations differ, they advocate that the main message of the Qur’an is the equality of all.
Regarding their works and the languages in which they are written, most progressive Islamic theorists write in English even though Arabic is their mother tongue. Their choice may be for a practical reason because English is the world language, thus automatically making their works more accessible to the wider audience without the need for a translation in which “something” can be lost This way, they have more control over the meaning of what they write, which in itself represents a very sensitive topic.
In contrast to the Muslim countries of the Middle East and immigrant Islamic communities, research dedicated to Muslim women and written by Muslim women from former Yugoslavia is extremely rare.
In general, there is very little scholarly writing on the topic of Islam and human rights in our language, and even less on women’s rights and Islam. When you go looking for women writing about it, the discourse is almost non-existent. Even when you look at the Islamic authors on whom my work is based, who work and live geographically even further west than the former Yugoslavia, the number of women who are engaged in this is extremely small. Of course, it should be pointed out that there are also female authors who deal with this topic and do not belong to the Islamic moral tradition, which I also mention in my work, but my focus is on female Islamic theoreticians, of whom, as I mentioned, there are not many.
This is a challenging topic, wherever you are geographically, precisely because this issue has divided factions through the question of the (in)compatibility of Islam and the idea of universal human rights. For most authors, this issue is inseparable from the larger discourse on the relationship between Islam and the West, whereby an antagonistic atmosphere prevails in the literature in which Islam is opposed to what is considered liberal values (including democracy, human rights, and secularism). Somehow it all obliges you to take a side, and if like me you’re interested in balance rather than choosing sides, sometimes it feels like your work is Sisyphean. On the other hand, the general public has no explicit interest in this area, unless it is bombastic headlines about the abused woman and her oppression in Islamic societies, which then confirm their already pre-formed views about Islam.
In light of this story, how important is activism in changing the social paradigm and how do you see the future of human rights in the current geopolitical and social context?
I wouldn’t write a book if I didn’t think activism is important. It doesn’t matter how many people will read that book, if only one person reads it and through it gets to know a fraction of the richness of the Islamic moral tradition as opposed to the simplified image that we get through the media, I think that I have achieved a lot. Activism is necessary for changing the social paradigm, having in mind that activism does not have to be solely a social movement o implement some changes. In a world where simplistic representations are readily available through labeling and misinformation just to entertain and attract people’s attention, I believe that a personal search for literature and sources that provide a different picture than the simplistic one also represents activism. In this context, activism represents the audacity to think differently while constantly being exposed to simplistic views about people who are different, the audacity to understand someone who lives or believes differently than us. I see the future of human rights in dialogue because you can only truly understand someone else if you listen to them and see them the way they see themselves without imposing our perception on them. When I say dialogue, I don’t mean a debate in which someone wants to win or be right – a dialogue in which everyone wins, a dialogue that results in truly universal foundations that serve, as David Bohm argues, as the glue for society.
Ultimately, after many years of research and work that has been bound into the book, what role does it play when it comes to the construction of your own identity?
My book, as well as the ten-year research that I have conducted and still do, certainly represent a kind of search for answers to some of my internal questions and doubts. When I read the literature of most of the leading liberal thinkers on this subject, I felt like I had to give up a part of my Islamic identity to be a “full-blooded” liberal, and then reading the literature of the leading Islamic thinkers, I felt like I had to give up a part of my liberal identity to be a “real” Muslim. Those two identities often clashed in me, precisely because the dominant part of the literature reduces this relationship to an unproductive question of (in)compatibility of one with the other. In such a relationship, it is always assumed that one side must fundamentally change to become compatible with the other, the one perceived as normative – it depends on who is asking the question. My book is a search for answers that do not require me to give up any part of my identity because in both positions – Islamic and liberal – I find common ground for the aspirations of equality and freedom.
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