Young Muslims Critical of Patriarchal Interpretations of Islam

Young practicing Muslims in Norway do not challenge the “natural” and “God-given” divided gender system, which emphasizes the physical, psychological and emotional differences between men and women and their complementary “natures”. However, like Muslim feminists, many of them are critical of the patriarchal interpretations of Islam and instead highlight the egalitarian teachings of the Koran. The tense relations between the complementary and the egalitarian are reflected in the attitudes of young Muslims to questions on the rights of women and gender equality.

By Christine Jacobsen

What is today called Islamic feminism is not a uniform position, but generally it can be said to be characterised by being articulated in connection with and as critical interventions within Islamic tradition. Contemporary Islamic feminists usually underline the deeply rooted egalitarian doctrine in the Koran, and call for a questioning of patriarchal interpretations of the Koran as a means for creating a society with greater equality between the genders (e.g. Ahmed 1992; Hassan 1991a, b; Mernissi 1987, 1991a, b, 1992). In this article, I will discuss these two normative and epistemological issues: the emphasis on the egalitarian teachings of the Koran and the criticism of how patriarchal interpretations of Islam conceal these teachings.

In order to explore whether Islamic feminist attitudes can be found among young Muslims in Norway, I use the material I collected during my fieldwork in Oslo in 1999 and 2001 among persons affiliated with two Muslim youth and student organisations: Norges muslimske ungdom (NMU, Muslim Youth of Norway) and Muslimsk Studentsamfunn (MSS, Muslim Students’ Association) (Jacobsen 2002, 2004, 2006). Both organisations are centred on teaching and religious and social activities. They reflect the diversity among Muslims in Norway by bringing together young people and students with various national and ethnic backgrounds and who themselves, or through their families, belong to different “schools” within Islam. What is more unusual, is that both the Muslim youth and student organisations are mixed-gender.

Complementarity

The young Muslims in my study shared the view that there is a basic and God-given difference between men and women. This was also the message conveyed to the young members through lectures and literature, and it was confirmed by the separate rooms and ritual praxis in the organisations (cf. Jacobsen 2002, 2004, 2006). The dominating understanding on gender difference was based on a conception of complementarity. In an article (in Utrop 13.3.2002) Athar Akram, then head of NMU, sketched this view in the following way: “Women and men are different physically, mentally and emotionally. Islam makes the most of these differences by, for example, giving men and women different rights and responsibilities in social life. This does not mean that one of the sexes is superior to the other, but that men and women exist for each other and that they shall supplement each other. Sometimes the different rights and responsibilities are more favourable for men and sometimes more favourable for women. Some of these differences are abused by those who criticize the Islamic view of women. It is very easy to point to examples where the differences favour men, and complain that this is misogynistic. But this is often done without seeing the picture as a whole”. This view of gender complementarity locates the differences between men and women in their different “natures”. Since the natural order is regarded as the creation of God, the difference between the genders is also Godgiven. Thus, both differences between the genders and similarities between women and between men are naturalised: women share “something” that makes them (as a group) different from men, and vice versa. This “nature” is normative in the sense that women and men are expected to carry out certain duties assigned to them in order to live like good Muslims. The notion of gender complementarity to a large extent constructs the differences in line with the distinction between production and reproduction, and is usually paired with a high appreciation of the role of the mother.

Even if the idea of complementarity is thus based on the notion of a basic gender difference, Akram’s understanding also indicates a denial of gender hierarchy, in that he claims that different rights and responsibilities for men and women do not mean that one gender is superior to the other. What is it, then, that secures that gender differences do not also consolidate a gender hierarchy? Akram refers to the concept of an overall “balance” between the different rights and responsibilities ascribed to men and to women. It is the comprehensive sum of gendered circumstances in society, and not differences and similarities in a certain area, that should be used as the base in evaluating gender equality. The idea of complementarity as sketched by Akram thus means that women and men have different rights and responsibilities, and that one of the genders can be favoured in special areas, without this leading to one gender being subordinate to the other.

Equity and equality

Akram’s understanding differs from what is usually associated with “equality” in Norwegian mainstream discourse. The concept “equality” denotes “similarity” rather than “complementarity” (Gullestad 1993, 2001). The perception of equality as similarity does not refer to society as a whole, but to men and women having the same rights and responsibilities in a certain area. In order to separate the notion of gender complementarity and balance from the notion that women and men should have the same rights and responsibilities, the nuances of the meanings of equity and of equality are often used. Those who think that there is equity between men and women do not necessarily agree with the meaning that they are equal in relation to each other in society or that they should have the same rights and responsibilities. In his text, Akram uses the concept “equity” about the position of men and women before God and in society. Others, however, also used the concept “equality” when they talked about “the view of Islam” on the relation between women and men. Like Akram, most of the young people I worked with agreed with a notion of complementarity which was informed by ideas on both difference and equality. But even if they, in principle, agreed with the relationship between the genders being valued in relation to an overarching balance, there was a widespread tendency (which Akram criticizes in the quote above) to criticize the unequal treatment of men and women as such, without reference to a comprehensive “whole”. In other words: in concrete matters that did not concern dictated parts of Islamic practice the young people often regarded gender justice as a question of whether women and men have the same rights and opportunities pertaining to, for example, education and political participation. There thus seemed to be a movement from understanding equity in the light of a total “whole” towards understanding equity as assessable within each separate area of social life, and in a direction from balance towards similarity. There was, nevertheless, great variation in what the young people perceived as acceptable and unacceptable differences between the genders, concerning gender relations both in the private and in the public sphere.

Criticism of patriarchal interpretations

Although they agreed with the general idea of gender complementarity, many were worried about the fact that this ideal in practice had been corrupted into an unfair gender hierarchy with no basis in Islam. A few identified their criticism of this gender hierarchy as feminism, but this was still very unusual. In general, the young Muslims associated the concept of feminism with a patronizing attitude towards Muslim women, which turned them into passive victims of patriarchal relations and traditions. The young people’s criticism of the gender hierarchy and of men’s inclination to interpret the Koran in their own favour does, nevertheless, have important likenesses with the positions described as Islamic feminism.

“(Re)interpretation” and criticism of patriarchal interpretations of the Koran form central themes in Islamic feminism. Such criticism could also be discerned among the young people (particularly women, but also men) who problematised what they perceived as a male tendency to interpret the Koran in ways that served their own interests. Like many Islamic feminists, they based their criticism on a “return to the Koran and the Sunna”. A common objective in order to challenge women’s subordination to men was to find a way back to the true message of Islam, and particularly through separating “culture” from “Islam”. Sarah, a young woman of Turkish origin, was perhaps the one who took this criticism furthest, and others often interpreted her opinions on gender relations and Islam as a sign of her having become “too Norwegian”. For Sarah, feminist criticism offered a possibility to regain the truth of the Koran: “Men have been so skilful in highlighting the things in Islam that are in their favour. They have long managed to hide the rights women have in Islam. For it would have been very dangerous for them to have that exposed, unfortunately. It's been like this throughout history. After the death of the Prophet, after all who had seen the Prophet were dead, or the Khalifs were also quite good at maintaining the rights of women. But it was during the rule of the Abbasids that they started to conceal it and move towards the cultural. And so this has followed Islam throughout history. There have always been such ‘small’ feminists as me, but they have like not been able to go far. But I will go far [she smiles]”. Such criticism of tradition contains a budding feminist epistemology that recognizes the gendered distortions in historically established interpretations of Islamic texts. Nevertheless, the young people did not associate this need to challenge patriarchal interpretations with Islamic feminism, but rather with Muslim scholars and intellectuals who base their ideas on the notion of complementarity and equity (e.g. Badawi 1995). Sarah’s criticism of how men have concealed the rights Islam grants women is, in line with this, not based on the idea that women and men should have the same rights. On the contrary, she emphasizes, for example, the male responsibility to support the family and the female right to be supported, and to education and political activity. So, the point is not criticism of women’s rights in Islam as such, but the need to rediscover and re-establish the rights that Islam in fact gives women.

“In the spirit of the Prophet”

The Islamic feminist criticism of patriarchal perspectives in historically established interpretations of the Koran is usually connected with the perception that being a good Muslim means acting in the general ethical and fundamentally egalitarian spirit of the Koran, instead of following the rules of the Koran such as they are conveyed in Islamic jurisprudence. This perception was very clearly expressed by Rasheed, a young man of Pakistani origin, who regarded the strengthening of women’s rights and participation in society as “acting in the spirit of the Prophet”: “One has to interpret the Koran in relation to one’s own time. We Muslims follow the doctrine that the life of the Prophet is the ideal life, and we should strive as far as possible to live like Him. This is the basic premise. So we have the question: how did He live? Well, He was a revolutionary person. He was a radical in relation to His time. And when it came to women, the situation was that He gave rights to women which at that time were totally unthinkable. It was totally unimaginably radical in relation to His time. And people said that it was like giving rights to camels. And then I think that if we are to be like Him, what does it mean? Does it mean that we should only follow the rights that He introduced then? Are we like Him in that case? Or are we like Him if we in relation to our own time are radical, and revolutionary? I think that being like Him, is being radical and revolutionary in our own time, and give rights all the time – not only to women, but to weak groups in general. Then, one is like the Prophet. In the age of the Prophet it was radical that women were allowed to get an education and work outside the home and such things. What is radical in relation to our age is for example radical gender quotas for higher positions. That is radical. And then I think that in one way radical gender quotas can be in the spirit of the Prophet.” Similar to Muslim feminists, Rasheed underlined the radical and egalitarian message of Islam, and its positive potential as a continuous basis for change in hierarchical and oppressive circumstances. In his interpretation, following the exemplary model of Prophet Mohammed is to follow the “spirit” in this model, instead of directly applying the system of rights and responsibilities that Mohammed introduced in his time, and which later have been codified in Islamic jurisprudence. Islam is thus understood as a dynamic tradition with a “radical” and “revolutionizing” potential to improve the conditions for “weak groups”, also in modern society. In the opinions of Rasheed and other young Muslims on questions of equity, equality and rights, gender was mentioned in this way together with relations between young and old, rich and poor, black and white, and minorities and majorities. Like Islamic feminism, they did not only problematise the effects of gendered oppression, but regarded what they perceived as the actual and egalitarian message of Islam as relevant for improving the position of weak groups in general.

Notes

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Mernissi, F. 1987. Le harem politique: le Prophète et les femmes. Paris: A. Michel.
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First published in NIKK magasin 2 2007 © NIKK