Feminists and Fundamentalists

What is a 'reactionary' feminist anyway?

A few days ago Naomi Wolf wrote about what was, in her opinion, a weird possibility of Michelle Bachmann becoming the next President of the United States. In a piece on Al Jazeera she categorises both Sarah Palin and Michelle Bachmann as “America’s Reactionary Feminists”, and recognises that they represent a ‘perfectly legitimate approach to feminism‘.

The second reason that Bachmann and Palin appeal to so many Americans – and this should not be underestimated, either – has to do with a serious historical misreading of feminism. Because feminism in the 1960s and 1970s was articulated via the institutions of the left – in Britain, it was often allied with the labour movement, and in the US, it was reborn in conjunction with the emergence of the New Left – there is an assumption that feminism itself must be leftist. In fact, feminism is philosophically as much in harmony with conservative, and especially libertarian, values – and in some ways even more so.

Wolf realises such a claim may sound absurd to many feminists trained in Western / Euro-centric interpretations of gender theory and feminist movement(s). She warns:

Many of these women are socially conservative, strongly supportive of the armed forces, and religious – and yet they crave equality as strongly as any leftist vegetarian in Birkenstocks. It is blindness to this perfectly legitimate approach to feminism that keeps tripping up commentators who wish to dismiss women like Margaret Thatcher, or Muslim women, or now right-wing US women leaders, as somehow not being the “real thing”.

But these women are real feminists – even if they do not share policy preferences with the already recognised “sisterhood”, and even if they themselves would reject the feminist label. In the case of Palin – and especially that of Bachmann – we ignore the wide appeal of right-wing feminism at our peril.

This got me thinking about right-wing feminism(s) within the Muslim world and more specifically movements such as Al-Huda in Pakistan. What Wolf identifies as “right-wing feminism” in America is a far cry from, say, the politics of women within the right-wing Jamat-e-Islami. In the States this category would constitute

a powerful constituency of right-wing women in Britain and Western Europe, as well as in the US, who do not see their values reflected in collectivist social-policy prescriptions or gender quotas. They prefer what they see as the rugged individualism of free-market forces, a level capitalist playing field, and a weak state that does not impinge on their personal choices.

Contrast this with women’s issues raised in the last decade by Al-Huda or Jamat-e-Islami: more segregated schools for girls, regulating social and cultural life according to Islamic Shariah, negotiating piety in private and public spheres and opposing America’s war in Muslim lands.

What then is “right-wing feminism”?

Who gets to decide what kind of activism is acceptable as feminist?

Conservative feminism in the United States is perhaps as different from conservative feminism in South Asia as it is from third-wave leftist feminism in France. Perhaps leftist anti-war feminists in Europe have more in common with right-wing anti-war Jamat-e-Islami women. Or perhaps not at all.

The point is there is no singular feminism. It is not a thick text-book sitting somewhere that one can access to in any given time or space and make use of established tools and resources to advance women’s rights in one’s immediate sphere. If we can accept that feminism is local to the time, place and people it is borne out of, we should not have a problem accepting that no feminism is, ipso facto, less legitimate than another.

But secular, liberal feminists in Pakistan have repeatedly expressed their repugnance for these Other feminists in their midst. Amina Jamal’s paper “Feminist ‘Selves’ and Feminism’s ‘Others’: Feminist Representations of Jamaat-e-Islami Women in Pakistan” traces how activists from Women’s Action Forum, for example, have dealt with the Jamaati women.

While in the traditional version of Orientalism the veiled Muslim woman is constructed as the oppressed victim of the barbarity of Muslim men and Islamic religion, in the latest construction she is problematized as an enigmatic Other who defiantly negates Western liberal notions about social development and secular modernity. Hence she is seen to mark the emergence of a significant movement of women who espouse many of the goals of ‘women’s rights’ identified by self-defined feminist activists but reject feminist notions of gender equality as contradictory to the teachings of Islam. Their religiously motivated political activism is a problem for Pakistani feminists who insist on the separation of state and religion as a prerequisite for progressive politics.

Indeed some recent scholarship on Islamic women’s activism has attempted to dismantle the constructed opposition between ‘secular’ and ‘religious’ while drawing attention to successful moves by Islamic women’s groups in challenging male domination without renouncing their religious commitment. Najmabadi’s work on Islamic feminist activism in Iran since the 1979 Islamic revolution not only demonstrates a heterogeneity of positions within ‘Islamic feminism’ but also traces the historical roots of the secular/religious dichotomy that divides Iranian women activists. In doing so, Najmabadi contends, Zanan has opened a ‘new space for dialogue’ between Islamic women activists and reformers and secular feminists who had been separated by a 60-year-old rift.

Amina Jamal goes on to say:

The agonistic relationship of Islamization and globalization as well as the transnational human rights activism that emerged in response to contemporary cultural, historical and political conditions, enabled the construction of a feminist internationalist selfhood by organized women in Pakistan that cannot be understood through conventional ideas about universal oppression of women or global sisterhood.

Jamal discusses the engagement of secular, liberal feminists in Pakistan with the Jamaati women in a seminal paper tracing history of women’s movement in Pakistan written by Khawar Mumtaz and F. Shaheed who themselves belong to the former category.

Jamal states that “it was not until 1992 that feminists from the Women’s Action Forum engaged with Jamaati women whom they described at best as an ‘enigma’ for feminists and at worst as simply an ‘adjunct’ of fundamentalist men.”

According to Shaheed and Mumtaz, Jamaat women share some common interests with feminists in Pakistan since they call for increased rights for women in marriage and divorce, end to economic exploitation and elevation of women’s status in society. However, they diverge strongly on the causes of women’s problems since ‘the fundamentalist position’ considers unrestricted social interaction of men and women as the root of all social evils and demands segregation of the sexes in all spheres of social life. Shaheed and Mumtaz (1992: 63) point out that this contrasts with the position of those they described as ‘progressive women’ who believe that women’s social and economic position can be improved only through structural change and challenging the patriarchal structure of the family. Shaheed and Mumtaz try to account for the appeal of ‘Islamic fundamentalism’ among women by reference to the changes in the country’s socio-economic conditions.

In later essays both Shaheed and Mumtaz separately began to deepen their insights regarding the possibility of a gendered consciousness in which women’s relationship with religion could have an independent basis from their relationship with men or the imperatives of adjusting to socio-economic modernity. On the basis of a study conducted in 1994 among urban working and middle class women in Lahore, Shaheed contends that the majority of women’s experiences in Pakistan do not fit into the strain of feminist analysis that views religion as the primary factor in women’s oppression. She charges the Pakistani women’s movement with elitism and failure to engage with religion as a factor in women’s day to day lives.

Last week, Newsweek Pakistan interviewed Samia Raheel Qazi, daughter of Qazi Hussain who was the former chief of the Jamaat-e-Islami. The interview is quite stellar as it set up to dismantle many assumptions about Jamaati women and their ‘feminism’.

[Note: I use quotes here because the Jamaati women, like Palin and Bachmann, have never self-identified as feminists but have in several forum expressed a concern for gender equality and a struggle for a better society for women to live in.]

Qazi while discussing how she envisions a better Pakistan says:

Pakistan is a little too male dominated. Men need to realize that they require female support in order to strike a balance in society. Men need to cooperate with women. In Pakistan, women need to understand and sacrifice a little more than men in order to attain their rights. Women need to be more educated and they need to understand their status in society. Some women have chained themselves to their homes, which is not right. They should step outside and educate themselves—not just for their own sakes but also for their families. At the same time, women should not ignore their families either. They might have to work a little hard for this balance, but they should not give up.

I understand that her stated opinion in an interview should be taken with a huge dollop of salt and measured against the Jamaat’s history of standing up for women’s place in the public sphere, right to education so on and so forth. I also accept that this may be complete hogwash and her actions could be diametrically opposite of her speech. The truth is I don’t know anything about her apart from this one interview.

My only problem is when scholars like Ayesha Siddiqua refuse to acknowledge even the faintest possibility of Jamaati women exercising their agency and in doing so deny their ability to negotiate their womanhood. Just today, in a convoluted, ignorant and bigoted piece, she writes:

[If we speak about agency of women in Jamat-ud-Dawa and Jamaat-e-Islami we] confuse the power of making a choice with the absence or presence of an environment that constraints free choice. Freedom of thought is seriously constrained when laws, even man-made, seem to have divine sanction. It is very difficult to challenge religious norms or even argue about the possibility of variation in interpreting holy text.

Why is it impossible for Siddiqua to recognise Jamaati women and their discourse as a product of  a rational mind?

Delving deeper into her biases would go beyond the scope of this post and quite frankly, I’m not trained enough in Anthropology to be able to aptly point out all her logical fallacies and ideological limitations. [She misreads and misrepresents Talal Asad!]

Before I entangle myself in further tangents, I’ll end with an excerpt from Saba Mahmood’s field work in her book “Politics of Piety” which is, till date, the most important text on this topic.

In the course of my fieldwork, I had come to spend time with a group of four working women, in their mid to late thirties, working in the public and private sectors of the Egyptian economy. In addition to attending the mosque lessons, the four also met as a group to read and discuss issues of Islamic ethical practice and Quranic exegesis. Given the stringent demands of their desire to abide by high standards of piety placed on them, these women often had to struggle against a secular ethos that permeated their lives and made their realisation of piety somewhat difficult. They often talked about the pressures they faced as working women, which included negotiating close interactions with unrelated male colleagues, riding public transportation in mixed-sex compartments, overhearing conversations (given close proximity of co-workers) that were impious in character or tone, and so on. Often this situation was further compounded by resistance these women encountered in their attempts to live a pious life from their family members – particularly from male members – who were opposed to stringent forms of religious devotion.

When these women met as a group, their discussions often focused on two challenges they constantly had to face in their attempts to maintain a pious lifestyle. One was learning to live amicably with people – both colleagues and immediate kin – who constantly placed them in situations that were far from optimal for the realisation of piety in day to day life. The second challenge was in the internal struggle they had to engage in within themselves in a world that constantly beckoned them to behave in unpious ways.

Like Wolf, I concede that we ignore these women and their struggle to define their womanhood in private and public life, at our own peril.


Edward Said On Faiz In Exile In Beirut

The other day I’d come across this anecdote from Eqbal Ahmed’s “Confronting Empire” where on page 38 he talks about this evening in Beirut where they had dinner with Faiz Ahmed Faiz. A couple of days later Edward Said’s “The Mind of Winter: Reflections on Life in Exile” came via Salmaan in the mail (thanks to Sepoy over at Chapati Mystery. Or was it Khanum?).

Said narrates the same night in Beirut below in ‘The Mind of Winter’:


Alan Badiou On The Burqa Ban: Behind The Scarfed Law There Is Fear

A friend of mine shared this brilliant essay by Alan Badiou (translated from French to English) on the French law banning the burqa. It’s pretty accessible and short so you should read it in its entirety. Below I’ve shared some bits that I found very interesting:

• While we’re on the subject, isn’t business the real mass religion? Compared to which Muslims look like an ascetic minority? Isn’t the conspicuous symbol of this degrading religion what we can read on pants, sneakers and t-shirts: Nike, Chevignon, Lacoste… Isn’t it cheaper yet to be a fashion victim at school than God’s faithful servant? If I were to aim at hitting a bull’s eye here-aiming big-I’d say everyone knows what’s needed: a law against brand names. Get to work, Chirac. Let’s ban the conspicuous symbols of Capital, with no compromises.

• Clear something up for me, please. What exactly characterizes Republican and feminist rationality on what is to be shown of the body in different spaces and at different times, and on what is not? As far as I understand, nowadays still, and not only at school, neither nipples are shown, nor pubic hair, nor the male member. Do I have to get angry that these parts are “withdrawn from the sight of others”? Must I suspect husbands, lovers and eldest brothers? Not that long ago in our own countryside-and still to this day in Sicily as elsewhere-widows wore black scarves, dark stockings and mantillas. You don’t have to be an Islamic terrorist’s widow to do so.

• It used to be taken for granted that an intangible female right is to only have to get undressed in front of the person of her choosing. But no. It is vital to hint at undressing at every instant. Whoever covers up what she puts on the market is not a loyal merchant.

15. Let’s argue the following, then, a pretty strange point: the law on the hijab is a pure capitalist law. It orders femininity to be exposed. In other words, having the female body circulate according to the market paradigm is obligatory.

• It is said virtually everywhere that the “veil” is an intolerable symbol of control over female sexuality. Do you really believe female sexuality to not be controlled in our society these days? This naiveté would have made Foucault laugh. Never has so much care been given to female sexuality, so much attention to detail, so much informed advice, so much distinguishing between its good and bad uses. Enjoyment has become a sinister obligation. The universal exposure of supposedly exciting parts is a duty more rigid than Kant’s moral imperative. In passing, between our tabloids’ “Enjoy it, women!” and our great-grandmothers’ dictate “Don’t enjoy it!” Lacan long ago established an isomorphism. Commercial control is more constant, more certain, more massive than patriarchal control could ever be.

• Notice well how the hijab girl’s father and eldest brother are not your mere parental associates. It has often been insinuated, sometimes even declared, that the father is an idiotic worker, a loser “right out from the country” and working the assembly line at Renault. An archaic guy, but stupid. The eldest brother deals hash. A modern guy, but corrupt. Sinister suburbs. Dangerous classes.

• The Muslim religion adds the following very serious taint to other religions: in France, it is the religion of the poor.

• All of the society jargon about “communities,” and the as metaphysical as furious combat pitting “the Republic” against “communitarianisms,” all of that is utter nonsense. Let people live the way they want to, or can, eat what they are used to eating, wear turbans, dresses, hijabs, miniskirts or tap-dancing shoes, to bow low at any time [...] to take low-bow pictures of each other or speak in colorful jargons. These kinds of “differences” do not have the slightest universal scope. They neither hinder thought, nor uphold it. Nor is there a reason to either respect or vilipend them. That the “Other” lives a little bit differently-as admirers of discreet theology and portable morality are wont to say after Lévinas-is so obvious an observation as to be meaningless.

• But especially, Westerners in general and the French in particular are afraid of death. They are no longer able to imagine how an Idea might be something for which risks are worth taking. “Zero death” is their most important desire. They see millions of people around the world who, for their part, have no reason to be afraid of death. And among them, many die in the name of an Idea almost daily. For the “civilized” this is the source of a most intimate sense of terror.

• We get the wars we deserve. In this world that is numbed with fear, the big gangsters mercilessly bomb countries drained of blood. Medium gangsters practice targeted assassinations of those who bother them. It’s the really small crooks who draft laws against hijab.


Talal Asad On Modernity and Tradition

Saba Mahmood: It seems that you are using the term tradition differently here than it is commonly understood in the humanities and social sciences. Even the idea of “hybrid societies/cultures,” which has gained ascendancy in certain intellectual circles, implies a coexistence of modern and traditional elements without necessarily decentering the normative meaning of these concepts.

Talal Asad: Yes, many writers do describe certain societies as hybrids, part modern and part traditional. I don’t agree with them, however. I think that one needs to recognize that when one talks about tradition, one should be talking about, in a sense, a dimension of social life and not a stage of social development. In an important sense, tradition and modernity are not really two mutually exclusive states of a culture or society but different aspects of historicity. Many of the things that are thought of as modern belong to traditions which have their roots in Western history. A changing tradition is often developing rapidly but a tradition nevertheless. When people talk about liberalism as a tradition, they recognize that it is a tradition in which there are possibilities of argument, reformulation, and encounter with other traditions, that there is a possibility of addressing contemporary problems through the liberal tradition. So one thinks of liberalism as a tradition central to modernity. How is it that one has something that is a tradition but that is also central to modernity? Clearly, liberalism is not a mixture of the traditional and the modern. It is a tradition that defines one central aspect of Western modernity. It is no less modern by virtue of being a tradition than anything else is modern. It has its critics, both within the West and outside, but it is perhaps the dominant tradition of political and moral thought and practice. And yet this is not the way in which most social scientists have talked about so-called “traditional” societies/cultures in the non-European world generally, and in the Islamic world in particular. So this is partly what I mean when I say that we must rethink the concept of tradition. In this sense, I think, we can regard the contemporary Islamic revival as consisting of attempts at articulating Islamic traditions that are adequate to the modern condition as experienced in the Muslim world, but also as attempts at formulating encounters with Western as well as Islamic history. This doesn’t mean that they succeed. But at least they try in different ways.

Saba Mahmood: In discussing different historical experiences of modernity, are you suggesting that there are also different kinds of modernities? There is a certain centrality to the project of modernity that scholars like Foucault have described and analyzed. How does one reconcile the European model of modernity, that modernization theorists and their critics alike pose, with different historical and cultural experiences of modernity?

Talal Asad: In the first place, given that we are situated in contemporary Western society, and given that we are in a world in which “the West” is hegemonic, the term modernity already possesses a certain positive valence. Many of its opponents– for example, the so-called postmodernists–to some extent have a defensive strategy towards what they think of as the central values of modernity. Very few postmodernist critics of modernity would be willing to argue against social equality, free speech, or individual self-fashioning. In fact, the very term “postmodernity” incorporates “modernity” as a stage in a distinct trajectory. So it may be a tactical matter in some cases to argue that there are multiple forms of modernity rather than contrasting modernity itself with something else. In other words, the equation of a specific Western history (which is specific and particular by definition) with something that at the same time claims to be universal and has become globalized is something that to my mind isn’t sufficiently well thought out. An ideological weight is given to modernity as a universal model, even when it is merely a form of Westernization.

Part of the problem is deciding whether “modernity” is a single tradition, a singular structure, or an integrated set of practical knowledges. And if things go together, then does this mean that what we have is a moral imperative or a pragmatic fit? In other words: what criteria are we using when we call a person, a way of life, or a society, “modern”? Where do these criteria come from? Are they simply descriptive or normative? And if they are descriptive, then do they relate to some immutable essence? If they are normative, then on what authority? Such questions need to be worked through before we can decide meaningfully whether there are varieties of modernity and, if there is only one kind of modernity, then whether it is separable from Westernization or not. I have not encountered a satisfactory answer to this question, either by social scientists or philosophers.

Full interview here: www.stanford.edu/group/SHR/5-1/text/asad.html


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