And so the debate rages, even as millions of Iraqis risked their lives to cast their votes: Is Democracy possible in the Muslim and Arab world?

One of the interesting twists of the past decade or so has been the transformation of attitudes in the competing schools of thought within Middle East studies. A decade ago, for example, it was the neoconservatives, if I might use the phrase as it is popularly understood, who stood accused by Arabists of cynicism on this issue. They were pessimistic about the prospects of democracy in the Middle East, so it went, which lent weight to their argument that Israel, as the lone democracy in the region, warranted special consideration.

On the other hand, those who opposed U.S. policies in the region blamed the dearth of democracy in large measure on colonialism, which had derailed authentic democratic movements in Egypt, Iran and Algeria. Reformists in D.C. held their conferences and debates, built democratic program initiatives through various policy organs (governmental and non-governmental), and even voiced some optimism as Yemen and Jordan experimented with elections in the 1990s. Egypt also had elections that, at least on the local level, offered some prospects of genuine choice and debate, though such efforts never targeted the ruling national party under Mubarak.

And then came 9/11 and suddenly the forces of status quo became the forces of change and those who had long preached the gospels of democracy to autocrats in the region found themselves caught between the Bush full-court press for instant change and allies in the region who, while tolerant of democracy in theoretical discussions in D.C., were not nearly so sanguine about its prospects on the ground, where power means control of oil, wealth, weapons and national prestige.

This essay sets out to do two things. First, it attempts to place the debate about Islam and democracy in a historical/intellectual context familiar to Western critics of Islam. The Enlightenment represented a major shift in Western political thought and unleashed democratic forces, but it was a difficult, long and bloody process. It should be remembered that democratic traditions are cultivated and nurtured, not born full flower.

Undoubtedly, the word "enlightenment" invites charges of "Eurocentrism." I can only state what should be obvious: Europe and its ideas have been hammering at the Middle East since the Middle Ages, and prior to that, Islam was camped on the borders of Europe. Ideas, no matter where they originate, routinely penetrate geographical and ideological borders. I have chosen the "enlightenment" model because it is an instructive and interesting comparative model, not because I believe it can be transplanted in other cultures or societies. It goes without saying that Arabs and Muslims (and other cultures) must shape their governments using the tools that their religious, cultural and political histories afford them. Yet, this effort to digest modernity remains one of the great dramas of the past 100 years.

Arabs and Muslims have confronted these issues with varying degrees of dynamism as reformers toiled to reconcile Western ideas and local realities. Complications arose. In some cases, colonialism retarded the development of indigenous democratic movements. In other instances, reformists were undermined by Islamic reactionaries who opposed modernity as a matter of faith. Radicals tried to foist socialism on the region, with limited success but with disruptive consequences. Nor can the inability of Arab regimes to effectively confront Israel be ruled out as a shaping force. It is no accident that Saddam, Assad, Arafat and Khadafi all achieved power after the Arab-Israeli war of 1967.

It bears emphasizing, however, that democracy has failed to flourish in the Arab world not because Arabs are sui generis incapable of democratic change, but because complex historical forces have complicated or delayed the process. Sami Zubaida argues in his book, Islam, the People and the State, that authoritarianism "is a very general form of rule throughout the world and has little to do specifically with Islam or its cultural and historical communities." This is an arguable point, but one we will address later in this essay.

Historian Maxime Rodinson likewise underscored the complexities of undertaking dynamic change.

There is plenty of blame to go around as one explores the failures of Arab or Islamic political culture. Nevertheless, I would argue that the real Eurocentrism lies with those who suggest that freedom, tolerance, democracy and human rights are beyond the grasp of non-Western cultures. These are universal ideas that first flowered in the West, but they resonate around the globe. Just as tyranny, whatever its garb, must be called by its proper name, a defense of human rights and democracy must be made even at the risk of being called "ethnocentric."

An Historical Overview

The historical relationship between the West and the Middle East has greatly affected -- and distorted -- the events of today. Recall the reaction to President Bush’s sloppy use of the word “crusade” when discussing his policy of trying to root out Islamic fascism in the region. The reaction was swift and Bush has refrained from repeating the phrase. So it is an ancient enmity, but one that has shaped -- in part -- the way the two cultures view one another. It began (but did not end) with Muslim conquests that transformed North Africa and Spain into Islamic territories and threatened what was then known as "Christendom" -- that is Europe. Islam was perceived as (and clearly was) a military and ideological threat.

Christians in the post-Roman era confronted a disturbing question: if they were the defenders of the true faith, how was it that first the Huns and Visigoths and later the Arab Muslims were superior in battle? The Arabs were also leaders in the arts, trade and science. Conversely, Muslims were asking similar questions centuries later when Europe began to dominate the world stage.

This clash of civilizations -- I use the term knowingly and advisedly -- resulted in hostile depictions of Islam among Western scholars and religious writers. Only after the immediate military threat posed by the Muslims subsided and the Mongol threat became more pronounced did these caricatures give way to more nuanced understanding. Christian thinkers of the time argued that:

The Crusades provided an expedient outlet for frustrated knights, impoverished soldiers and Christians who sought to vindicate their world view. Islam for them was less a subject of study than an object of disdain.

The war between East and West continued. The Ottomans twice laid siege to Vienna only to fail. But already Europe was on the ascendant. As European power became the dominant force in world affairs, European scholarship grew more sophisticated. Still, stereotypes, cultural biases and prejudices did not disappear. Much of the scholarship generated in the West, though certainly not all of it, justified European domination. The role once played by colonial officers and Orientalist scholars would later be played by a legion of commentators and policy "experts" who portrayed Islam and the Arab world in the worst possible light: authoritarian, brutal and incapable of historical change.

How ironic, then, that many of these same commentators are, today, supporting Bush's policies by arguing that Arabs and Muslims do, in fact, yearn for freedom, democracy and self realization. When such phrases flow from alleged “reactionaries” like Rush Limbaugh, one begins to appreciate how the intellectual landscape has changed. (Of course, those who oppose the Bush approach would contend that “imposing” democracy through force of arms will not yield long-term stability or success. On the other hand, it can be countered that without intervention that status quo would have continued for another several generations at least.) 

It is also interesting that even those who usually present Western democracy in the most romantic terms are now conceding that our march to democracy was a tough slog. In fact, it was a bloody mess. As Europe and the United States struggled to establish or reinvent their politics and culture, wars, feuds, massacres, economic disruption, exiles, executions, censorship, and ideological fisticuffs were part of the horrific process. To acknowledge this in the context of the current debate about Islam should temper some of the cynics, whatever their political stripe. It might even lead fair-minded critics to concede that if democracy can emerge from Medieval Europe and the "Dark Ages," it can also emerge in the Middle East.

Is there a Muslim John Locke?

Europe in the mid 1700s, as Peter Gay describes in his book, The Enlightenment, was hardly a civilization of unmatched splendor.

Yet, in the midst of this dark and seemingly hopeless world, the ideas of John Locke, two generations old, already had taken root. In his Two Treatises on Government, Locke had argued that the individual possessed rights upon which not even the king could trespass and that the "absolutists" -- such as Thomas Hobbes and Sir Robert Filmer -- had misread the Bible and misinterpreted Christianity. Thus, Locke's treatise on liberty begins not with secular statements about the rights of man, but with a detailed textual analysis of the Bible, which proponents of absolute monarchy used to justify "all power to the king." Citing scripture and verse, Locke argued that the Bible did not authorize absolute rule or patriarchy. On the contrary, it granted individuals "inalienable rights" upon which no government had the right to infringe.

Locke is an interesting case study for those engaged in the debate about Islam and democracy today, particularly those Muslim and Arab liberals who might on occasion feel forgotten or endangered. Like many Arab liberals today, Locke did much of his writing while living in exile (in Holland) in the midst of religious passions that threatened to engulf Europe in yet another generation of war and bloodshed. Likewise, the major political issue confronting his age was how to reconcile state power with individual rights. John Dunn, in a short but useful book on Locke, summed up the point of view of Locke's major intellectual nemesis, Robert Filmer.

Locke, quiet and unassuming, was also deeply religious. He sought to reconcile his Christian faith to the real world of power and politics -- what he would call the realm of "civil society." A major theme in his writing is the notion that political power on earth will never replicate divine justice in heaven. Whenever rulers or movements seek to impose their religious vision on others, the result is oppression, schism and bloodshed. It was not because Locke denied the teachings of Christianity that he argued against absolute rule, but because he cherished the values he believed were implicit in its doctrine.

Locke's First Treatise, in which he critiques Filmer's Biblical interpretation, is worth rereading. In tone and substance it bears striking similarities to debates taking place within Islam. It also is a reminder that even triumphant ideas do not instantly transform societies. In the case of Europe, major events -- revolts in Britain, the American and French revolutions and industrialization and labor movements -- reshaped political realities, even if they did not ensure democracy and freedom of the sort many in the West now take for granted. The French revolution, after all, led to the despotism of Bonaparte who thrust Europe into a generation of war. The American revolution, for all its high ideas, did not secure democratic rights for women, slaves, or immigrants. That required another century or two.

Locke's writings on authoritarianism and individual rights were not his only contribution to the ideas of freedom and democracy. Following the example of his employer and mentor, Lord Shaftsbury, he became a proponent of religious tolerance. In his Letter Concerning Toleration, Locke wrote: "I esteem it above all things necessary to distinguish exactly the business of civil government from that of religion, and to settle the just bounds that lie between the one and the other."

Souls cannot be saved, Locke argued, by imposing a point of view on a person and no individual can be expected to surrender his eternal salvation to the dictates of another.  Religious salvation lies in the individual reaching his/her own honest conclusions about the path to God. To pretend to believe out of fear, without feeling it in one's heart, simply adds to a person's sins, those of hypocrisy and insincerity. The English philosopher Edmund Burke echoed Locke's argument in his Reflections on the Revolution in France, when he argued that no virtue worthy of the approbation could be coerced by fear or power.

In short, deconstructing religious attitudes was a prerequisite to constructing a modern political system. The idea that earthly power was a gift bestowed by God had to be discredited before normal people could begin to share in political power. That is not to argue that Locke was a modern-day liberal. He was tempted by authoritarian prescriptions in the midst of political chaos in Europe. His tolerance never extended to atheists who insisted on publicly proclaiming their views or those who sought to use religion as a means to overthrow or undermine the legitimate rule of the magistrate in civil matters. But beyond that, he could find no religious justification for depriving a person of his civil rights.

There are those who argue that Islam differs from Christianity fundamentally and that this explains why Arab and Islamic cultures have proven resistant to modernization and democratic change. Take this quote from Leo Strauss, who has gotten much press of late compliments of studies of the neocon movement:

This being the case, so this line of argument went, there simply is no room within an Islamic system for disagreement, minority rights and/or a separation of church and state. By definition, the Islamic state, being a reflection of God's will on earth, leaves no room for debate. (How is it, one wonders, that Strauss’ disciples are breaking free of their master?)

Of course, the answer is not mysterious, it is historical. Strauss’ argument is instructive but not definitive. History in the Arab and Muslim worlds is filled with examples of rebellion, disagreement and ideological warfare. The split between Sunnis and Shiites and the different approaches represented by various legal schools are obvious examples of the internal debate within Islam over issues of authority, rule of law, and civil society. Most Muslims are under no illusions about there being a single interpretation of the Koran, which explains why millions of Muslims oppose the agenda being pushed by radical Islamists.

Throughout Islamic history, Muslim and Arab thinkers have been immersed in profound debates about how to reconcile reason with religious revelation or how to apply the Koran and the sayings of the Prophet where contradictions might exist or the legal tradition was unclear. Moreover, on broader issues of tolerance, self government, dissent and rational discourse, there is a long and rich history. Historians have documented schools of thought that strayed from traditional Islamic approaches, such as the Kharijis, who cited virtue as the only necessary precondition for rule, and the Mu`tazalis, who were among the earliest "rational" thinkers to challenge literal interpretations of the Koran. Famous philosophers such as Ibn Sina (Avincenna) and Ibn Rushd (Averroes) engaged in extended debate with traditionalists such as Ghazali and sought to reconcile reason and revelation. (Ibn Sina, for example, concluded that reason and intellect constituted the highest forms of prophecy.)

These debates, which can be traced back to the 9th century, are precursors to reformist debates of the late 19th and 20th centuries in the Arab world. They are nothing less than Locke versus Filmer in a Muslim/Arab context. One need only review Albert Hourani's classic, Arabic Thought in the Liberal Age, 1798-1939, or in today's context the work of such secular thinkers as the Hisham Sharabi, Kanan Makiya, Sadeq al-Azm, Fatima Mernissi, Adonis, or the entire school of Morrocan rationalists, to know how vital and fascinating this debate remains. Nor do I mean to dismiss more traditional and conservative thinkers who are equally concerned with salvaging the best of traditional society while trying to move Arab and Muslim societies toward pluralism and/or democracy. Islamic thought has always been more nuanced than some Western critics have been willing to acknowledge.

Since my own sympathies are with those who pursue what I call the "enlightenment" agenda, that is where I will focus my attention. From this perspective, religious faith is a deeply personal issue between the individual and God, and no human being has the right to impose his or her beliefs on another or to forcibly intervene in the spiritual domain. Moreover, an enlightenment agenda, as I see it, must include freedom of thought and speech, tolerance for dissent, minority rights and, of course, political pluralism. While I am firmly convinced that all of these issues can be reconciled within an Islamic tradition, it is also clear these ideas have not been embraced systematically by most Muslim and Arab societies. The surge of violence and censorship against Muslim and Arab writers underscores this unfortunate reality. Below are a few examples of Arab thinkers who have sought to navigate a path toward modernity.

Challenging Patriarchy

The life of the recently deceased Hisham Sharabi, a Palestinian-American professor who spent years teaching at Georgetown University, is a study of wrong turns and disappointed hopes. Back in the 1940s and 1950s, as a young scholar traumatized by the Palestinian disaster of 1948, he embraced a range of radical ideas. First, he was seduced by Anton Saadeh, the charismatic Syrian intellectual who pursued a nationalist secular agenda. Sharabi then turned toward a socialist model, only to be disappointed yet again. Pan Arabism became a rallying cry in the 1960s, but Nasser’s blunders in Yemen and then in the 1967 war discredited such notions.

Sharabi, who remained a Palestinian activist, began his search anew and by the 1980s had rooted the failure of Arab political culture in patriarchy. In his book, Neopatriarchy, Sharabi contends that attempts to sustain the male power structure in traditional Arab society explains the inability of the Arab world to modernize. Despite many attempts to transform the society, under many ideologies, the prevailing order had remained the male authority figure who dominates political culture.

Neopatriarchy is the old order in a new package -- a patriarchy "modernized" and strengthened by aligning itself with colonialism or using opposition to the West or Israel as justification for local repression. In addition, this new authoritarianism is imposed all the more efficiently thanks to modern surveillance techniques and the militarization of Arab societies. A new group of rulers emerged, but they had not rejected old ways of ruling.

Thus, civil society and the middle class in the Arab world remain underdeveloped. The family, which is itself a patriarchal structure, remains the key to access and ultimately economic and political empowerment. Individuals whose families lack connections to the state or the ruling elites find it difficult, if not impossible, to achieve political or financial independence. Power flows from the top and the right of an individual to think and act freely is constrained by cultural and government pressures that are often fatal to initiative and hope.

The Power of Language and Text

Adonis, the Syrian poet, also focused on the forces that he believes shackled Arab society with outmoded political systems and backward economies. But while Sharabi focuses on patriarchy, Adonis, in his book, An Introduction to Arab Poetics, focused on the power of language.

At the time of early Islam, Adonis argues, the Koran was a revolutionary document that enabled early Muslims to overthrow the old order, both militarily and intellectually. The Koran became a new linguistic ideal. Any attempt to break this mold -- say, the work of early Islamic poets such as Abu Nawas or Al Maari -- was considered a threat not only to proper poetry and language but to religious truth itself. Through the centuries, religion, state and language became a tripod on which power rested. To cut one leg of the tripod could topple the entire edifice of state power. Leaving that tripod intact becomes the priority of the political and religious elite.

Adonis sees poetry (language) as a vehicle through which to liberate the Arab world. Because poetry, by definition, is a form of linguistic chaos, it provides an avenue for individual intellectual, artistic and political expression. In a discussion reminiscent of Walker Percy's Message in the Bottle, Adonis explains the power of metaphor.

Anyone who has read poetry will understand what Adonis is saying. Percy gave a concrete example when he spoke of an oar passing through the water like lightening -- one sees light filling the space left by displaced water and the image is clear. The power of language rests in an individual mind able to make a connection that crystallizes an idea or image.

Adonis does not seek to destroy the religious order as much as he seeks to reevaluate it. Echoing the reformist arguments of Jamal ad-Din al-Afghani and Mohammed Abdu, he argues that those who seek to straitjacket the creative spirit in the name of religious purity are misreading the Koran and Islamic tradition. Innovation (whether in language or in science) need not come at the cost of the values people hold dear. Real independence and freedom, he argues, means adopting that which enhances and rejecting that which debilitates.

Sharabi, too, touches on these themes in Neopatriarchy. He detects a strong connection between the ruling class and the strictures on language and pedagogy, a concern that is especially relevant today given the Madrasas across the Muslim world that preach uncritical acceptance of intolerant ideas. Sharabi points out that in the West it eventually became acceptable to read the Bible, which led to critical analysis and interpretation. The prevailing system in the Arab world for learning the Koran has been memorization and recitation. The study of the Koran has remained the domain of elites who are interested in preserving traditional values and patriarchal societal structures.

Individual Rights

Fatima Mernissi's book, Islam and Democracy: Fear of the Modern World, is an eloquent argument against what she calls an Arab fear of accountability. Rooted in her reasoning is the notion that Arabs cannot look forward to the future until they accept responsibility for past actions. As a feminist historian Mernissi throughout her career has sought to underscore the need to recognize women’s rights. Historically, women have played an important role in Arab history and, in a sense, could play a crucial role in achieving a democratic Arab culture. Moreover, Mernissi argues that the idea of democracy is hardly new to the Arab world.

The repression to which she refers is rooted in certain false assumptions: 1) men cannot control their own behavior and, therefore, 2) women must be controlled in order to preserve a virtuous society. The result is reflected in the larger political system in which domination, control, repression and the denial of basic freedoms become the tools of power. Yet, such measures are hardly ordained by nature or God. Rather, they are a direct contradiction of the spirit of Islam as it was meant to be understood, she argues. Those who crush the individual conscience and heart cannot but offend God, who has granted each human being the freedom to choose. Over the course of history, repression takes a toll, Mernissi argues:

Both in her recent book and in her earlier work (such as Beyond the Veil) Mernissi has creatively reinterpreted Koranic texts in a direct challenge to those who would impose a narrow, selective interpretation of Islam on the whole of Muslim society. At the very least, Mernissi argues, the fundamentalists have forgotten the deeper traditional meaning of rahma -- the idea that tenderness is a God-inspired virtue and each person a creature of inherent worth.

The Need for Tolerance

Iraqi dissident Kanan Makiya, who helped draft the Iraqi constitution, wrote Cruelty and Silence: War, Tyranny, Uprising and the Arab World, shortly after the first Gulf War. It is an eloquent plea for a more humane Arab political culture in which differences are respected rather than crushed and in which human life is valued. Makiya pens a powerful indictment of persecution and religious intolerance and confronts those he believes have been silent in the face of brutalities all too commonplace in Arab society.

He does not trace the Arab dilemma to inherent deficiencies or a collective psychological disorder endemic to the Arab mind. Rather, it is a political issue that, if addressed persistently, can be reversed.

Makiya advocates a spirit of tolerance and forgiveness and he cites Voltaire's words during the religious wars that raged in Europe during the 17th century: "We are all products of frailty: fallible and prone to error. So let us mutually pardon each other's follies. This is the first principle of all human rights."

Rather than cultivating this kind of dialogue, Makiya argues, many Arab intellectuals have either remained silent about or participated in the intolerance. Today one finds that:

Sharabi summed up how these kinds of issues affect individual creativity and ultimately political and cultural development.

What Next?

Sadeq al-Azm, a Syrian intellectual then residing in the United States, suggested to me at a seminar in Washington in 1993 that the crux of the Arab political crisis is defining the rules of the game. That is to say, will Islamists (or for that matter ruling regimes) accept the results of elections even if they do not succeed at the ballot box? Equally to the point, if they achieve power, are they willing to allow other groups to organize and challenge them in a free, open and peaceful way? Al-Azm said Islamist movements had shown little inclination to accept rules by which democracy can survive and the potential of all people be realized.

To the question of whether Islamic "fundamentalism" and democracy are compatible, he gave a nuanced answer: dogmatically, perhaps no, but historically yes. In other words, what people believe in theory will not always dictate what happens on the ground. Were not many historians and commentators skeptical of Reagan’s notion that communism could be overturned? Then the Berlin Wall came tumbling down and with it a huge ideological edifice.

The drama unfolding in the Middle East must play itself out. Ultimately, Islamists and secularists alike will be judged on basic issues central to the lives of the people over whom they rule: how do they manage the economy, restore the health of the country or deal with the problems facing the vast majority of decent, pious people who seek a better life for themselves and their children.

Conclusion

The need to bridge ethnic, political and religious differences has never been more apparent than today, in the midst of 9/11, the ongoing war in Iraq, the Bosnian tragedy, and a stumbling Middle East peace process. As interesting as it is to compare the European debates of the 17th and 18th centuries with those raging in the Middle East today, we need not look backward to grasp what Fouad Ajami wrote some years ago in his book, The Arab Predicament. In a discussion about revivalism in the Islamic world, a Japanese scholar had cautioned Ajami against using the term "fundamentalism." He suggested instead a different word "nativism," or the idea that one's particular society is self completed. Ajami added:

Ironically, it has been George W. Bush, a man some criticize for wearing his Christianity on his sleeve, who has embraced the notion that the Islamic world is open to change, that Muslims do want to self govern and that Muslim women do crave full participation in culture and politics. Bush’s formulations can be crude and even troubling at times, but surely he is not wrong to encourage open-mindedness where the hopes of millions of Muslims and Arabs, not to mention Israelis, are concerned. It won't be imposed, but it can be encouraged if we are realistic and tough-minded. If not for their sake, what about our own? Though I wish the president was a little less starry-eyed in his idealism, in the aftermath of 9/11, it remains a fair question.

Albert Hourani's career as a scholar placed him squarely between East and West. Of Lebanese background, he spent most of his life teaching in London, and his scholarship imbued him with generous instincts. He finished his classic book on Arab history on a hopeful note, suggesting that Arabs would find some way to meld enlightenment ideas and Islamic precepts into a new and liberating political vision:

The prescription might vary, but the need for breaking the hold of terror and reactionary forces in the Arab and Muslim world has never been more dire. This is what the political experiments in Afghanistan and Iraq are about. They might be too ambitious by far, but the status quo was a road to further disaster. Without taking some chances we are condemned -- interminably -- to repeat the tragedies of the past.

George Shadroui has been published in more than two dozen newspapers and magazines, including National Review and Frontpagemag.com.

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