A spiritual analysis of extremism

There is a culture clash. That much we should acknowledge. Synthetically managed plastic pop stars singing about private matters is not a necessary intrusion. Revealing enough to make your grandmother blush is not exactly the preferred role model for our children. But just like the young boy forced to undress in the locker room in front of others, we become habituated. And just like the neighbours of a landfill site, we become used to the smell. Contemporary school curricula insist on co-ed swimming lessons as if the two were logically inseparable. Disney movies whose subtexts are preaching rebellion against elders and tradition become the superscript of the new modernity.

I continue to be amused by the analysis of pundits on extremism. From the complex to the superficial, everyone insists on beating around the obvious. “They hate our freedom” – please. No one is thinking about your freedom. People have lives to live. But when those lives get violently or offensively disrupted, people start to get ticked off. Westerners need to stop thinking they are celebrities living out pop-modern lives for us on a stage for all their eastern fans to wish they were them.

These eastern cultures have been dyed through and through by the spiritual and moral vision of Islam for 14 centuries. Everyone is offended by these intrusions, only the responses differ in accordance with the constitution of the character. The majority are polite; etiquette is a highly prized quality in Islam. Some are trusting. They trust that modernisation and development are inextricably linked to these intrusions; these invasions of privacy and property. We know, however, that is far from the case.

In fact there are three primary causes of offense: the culture clash, which leads to that irritating culture rash; the political hubris of avaricious foreign policy which leads people with an acutely refined sense of fairness to believe that right and wrong have been abused with arrogant abandon; and the perception on the part of many that their own political authorities are not pursuing or defending the best interests of their own people.

Responses to indignation range from the passive to the extreme. The extreme, even violent response comes when the offence turns to spite (hiqd) and hatred (bughd); both are blameworthy illnesses of the heart. A Muslim is not “driven” by anger. Awful things happen when anger and hatred become the “drivers”.

The non-violent response fluctuates on a scale between assertiveness and weakness. The preparedness to go against the grain and take initiative to treat a breakdown in the status quo fluctuates in accordance with what a person stands to lose. As a person moves toward the end of scale of having too much to lose for making an unpopular observation, he becomes prey to avarice (hirs) and greed (tama). These are also illnesses of the heart. Such a person will never be a healer, always a drain on the life-fluids of the social order.

At the other end, for a person without much to lose, it is easier to have a clear conscience and a pure heart. With an illuminated and polished heart he is able to be a healer. With a balanced spiritual constitution his response to social ills is constructive, positive, valuable. He sees that where need be, the application of sufficient force must be governed by the rule of law; and only to the extent that it can prevent harm. He knows that vigilantism is forbidden in Islam.

Having something or nothing to lose is an ascetic state of mind, and not a tangible, physical, quantifiable or mundane condition.

*Published in the UAE's NATIONAL on Nov. 21. Jihad Hashim Brown is director of research at the Tabah Foundation. He delivers the Friday sermon at the Maryam bint Sultan Mosque in Abu Dhabi.