Muslims of Europe: The "Other" Europeans

‘While many today think we need to go beyond multiculturalism, Hellyer argues that the success of what he calls stage one multiculturalism means neither the end of common citizenship and national identity, nor their re-imposition, but rather their re-making.’ Tariq Modood, University of Bristol

The interchange between Muslims and Europe has a long and complicated history, dating back to before the idea of ‘Europe’ was born, and the earliest years of Islam. There has been a Muslim presence on the European continent before, but never has it been so significant, particularly in Western Europe. With more Muslims in Europe than in many countries of the Muslim world, they have found themselves in the position of challenging what it means to be a European in a secular society of the twenty-first century. At the same time, the European context has caused many Muslims to re-think what is essential to them in religious terms in their new reality. In this work, H. A. Hellyer analyses the prospects for a European future where pluralism is accepted within unified societies, and the presence of a Muslim community that is of Europe, not simply in it.

ISBN 978 0 7486 3948 9 Edinburgh University Press 22 George Square Edinburgh EH8 9LF www.euppublishing.com

Cover image: Turkish Kiosk in London © Peter Sanders Photography Ltd Cover design: Barrie Tullett

      Edinburgh



H. A. Hellyer

H. A. Hellyer is Fellow of the Centre for Research in Ethnic Relations at the University of Warwick (UK). A noted scholar on Muslim communities in the West, he has been an associated scholar of the Brookings Institution (USA), the American University in Cairo (Egypt) and the Oxford Centre for Islamic Studies (UK).

Muslims of Europe : The ‘Other’ Europeans  

‘I can think of few books that are more timely and important.’ John L. Esposito, Georgetown University

Muslims of Europe The ‘Other’ Europeans

H. A. Hellyer

Praise for Muslims of Europe: e ‘Other’ Europeans ‘I can think of few books that are more timely and important. H. A. Hellyer’s Muslims of Europe: e “Other” Europeans is must reading for scholars, students and policymakers.’ – John L. Esposito, University Professor and professor of Religion and International Affairs, Georgetown University, author of What Everyone Needs to Know about Islam (Oxford University Press) ‘While many today think we need to go beyond multiculturalism, Hellyer argues that the success of what he calls stage one multiculturalism means neither the end of common citizenship and national identity, nor their reimposition, but rather their re-making. He draws on theory but is focused on real-world problems and the book is informed by his good sense and a search for the middle ground.’ – Tariq Modood, Professor of Sociology and founding Director of the University Research Centre for the Study of Ethnicity and Citizenship, University of Bristol; author of Multiculturalism: A Civic Idea (Polity Press) Too oen, and facilely, observers, scholars and even some participants have spoken of Muslims in Europe, but the actual community is fully European, in outlook and intent, and so they should be labeled European Muslims, Muslim Europeans or, as in this title, “Muslims of Europe”. Hellyer provides a broad range of evidence and clear analysis that is sure to change some minds, and hopefully provide a brighter future for all Europeans.’ – Bruce B. Lawrence, Nancy & Jeffrey Marcus Humanities Professor of Islamic Studies and Associate Director, Duke Islamic Studies Center, Duke University; author of New Faiths, Old Fears: Muslims and Other Asian Immigrants in American Religious Life (Columbia University Press) ‘e book provides the most comprehensive and reliable picture of Muslims in Europe. It deals with the issues of Islam and Muslims historically as well as in contemporary Europe. It is essential reading for students, scholars, policy makers and for those who wish to understand the complex relationship between European Muslims and their societies.’ – Muhammad Anwar OBE, Professor, Centre for Research in Ethnic Relations, University of Warwick; author of Between Cultures (Routledge)

‘I am impressed; indeed astounded, by the comprehensiveness of Dr Hellyer’s remarkable book. It deals with the history of Islam, particularly in Europe, has a total familiarity with issues of Muslim theology, deals thoroughly with the questions of discrimination, and, by extension, the so-called “clash of civilizations” thesis. is will prove to be the best available text and source-book on the subject of Muslim Europeans.’ – John Rex, founder of the Department of Sociology, University of Durham/ Professor Emeritus, University of Warwick, UK; author of Race and Ethnicity (Open University Press) ‘Muslims of Europe: e “Other” Europeans is a thoughtful and ambitious reflection on the place of Islam and Muslims in Europe. Hellyer skillfully unpacks commonly used vocabulary to analyze anew the intersection of history, institutions, religious traditions and the movement of peoples and ideas. is book is a sweeping and useful introduction to key concepts that help understand the process of Muslims’ integration in European countries.’ – Jonathan Laurence, Assistant Professor of Political Science, Boston College and Nonresident Senior Fellow at the Brookings Institution; co-author of Integrating Islam (Brookings Press) and co-editor of Governments and Muslim Communities in the West (Woodrow Wilson Center Press) ‘Dr. Hellyer provides an examination of the situation of the Muslims of Europe that transcends the usual “Islam-in-Europe” paradigm of scholarship. Hellyer’s analysis does not just provide a description of the diversity of Muslim experiences in European societies, nor is the analysis simply a restatement of various theories of multiculturalism. Instead, this book is a thought-provoking synthesis of theory and case study analysis that provides a new inclusive conceptual framework that reframes the concepts of assimilation, multiculturalism, and pluralism in the dynamic reconceptualization of “intregralisation.” Both specialists and the general reader will find this book a valuable aid in understanding the dynamics of diversity in the contemporary world.’ – John O. Voll, Professor of Islamic History and Associate Director, Prince Alwaleed bin Talal Center for Muslim–Christian Understanding, Georgetown University; co-author of Islam and Democracy (Oxford University Press)

   e ‘Other’ Europeans

H. A. H

Edinburgh University Press

© H. A. Hellyer, 2009 Edinburgh University Press Ltd 22 George Square, Edinburgh www.euppublishing.com Typeset by SR Nova Pvt Ltd, Bangalore, India and printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Antony Rowe, Chippenham and Eastbourne A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 978 0 7486 3947 2 (hardback) ISBN 978 0 7486 3948 9 (paperback) e right of H. A. Hellyer to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or any part thereof, may not be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Contents

Acknowledgements Introduction Part I Background and Precedent

vii 

1

Religious Diversity and Multiculturalism: eoretical Issues



2

Without Political Prerogative: Muslims as Minorities in Fiqh 

Part II Present and Current Situations 3

Fiqh in Modern Europe: ‘Minority Fiqh’



4

Muslims in Europe: Precedent and Present

5

Muslims and Religious Discrimination: EU Law and Policy 



Part III A Case Study and Conclusions 6

Muslims in the United Kingdom



7

Conclusions



Notes



Bibliography



Glossary



Index



To my mother Laila, who suffered an absent and undeserving son for far too long, but always put, and puts, her family ahead of herself.

Acknowledgements

is book may have been completed without the assistance and help of many people, but I doubt it would have been worth as much. I thank them all, but, in particular, there are some who must be noted by name. From the outset, I must thank M. Anwar, my doctoral supervisor when I was an Economic and Social Research Council doctoral researcher at the University of Warwick, where this book began taking shape. I am grateful for his advice and direction, which were always freely given, but never before asking about my family, my life or my well-being in general. Academically, he taught me the value of rigourous academic enquiry; personally, he embodied the praiseworthy manners of a scholarly gentleman. is book began life with another publisher, which had sought to sell it at a price that I knew would make it inaccessible to most individuals. As I desired that it would serve as a resource to more than a select few, I chose to publish elsewhere, which resulted in its publication being delayed by two years. Without N. Ramsey, Commissioning Editor at Edinburgh University Press, it would have been delayed even more, and perhaps would still be only in my own intellectual ambitions. As providence would have it, the intervening time allowed me to consult more people on its contents and to improve it significantly.

viii

  

Sections of previously published journal articles were rewritten and extended to create parts of chapters in this work; those journal articles were: ‘Muslims in Europe: Precedent and Present’, e American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences, Volume , Number ; ‘When the Other Becomes Us: e Future of Muslims and Islam in Europe’, Contemporary Islamic Studies, Volume , Number ; ‘Muslims and Multiculturalism’, Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs, Volume , Number ; ‘British Islam: Past, Present and Future’, e Muslim World, Volume , Number ; ‘Visions and Visualisations: Negotiating Space for European Muslims’, Journal of Contemporary Islam, Volume , Number ; and ‘Minorities, Muslims and Shari‘a: Some Reflections on Islamic Law and Muslims without Political Power’, Journal of Islam and Christian–Muslim Relations, Volume , Number . I take this opportunity to recognise these journals and to thank them. ere are numerous people who were particularly helpful in offering comments on preliminary dras at various stages of preparation, or in discussing various concepts. I cannot mention all of them, nor can I omit them all. J. Beckford of Warwick University and J. Piscatori of Oxford University were kind enough to read the initial research and provided many useful comments for improvement; J. Beckford took the effort to read Chapter  again shortly before publication, and offered further comments. T. Modood of Bristol University was kind enough to look at the final dras of several chapters, particularly Chapter , which I benefited greatly from. U. F. A. Wynmann-Landgraf of the Nawawi Foundation, S. Hussain of Oxford University and M. S. Furber from the Dar al-Ia’ of Egypt all read substantial parts of the work and offered constructive criticism. Kindly, E. Clark of Edinburgh University Press rescued the book from technical difficulties which were vital for it to go to press. A. Pasic of Slovenia was very forthcoming, and represented a singularly obliging individual, in contrast to many people I contacted in the course of this research. P. Hellyer of the UAE read the entire manuscript more than once with the close eye of an editor, even if he disagreed more oen than he agreed. A. A. Fredericks of Scotland took the time to read the entire research project, and gave me significant encouragement, for which I am especially grateful. Z. Chaudhry of New York also edited the near final dra of the work with great diligence. e encouragement of J. Voll and J. Esposito of Georgetown University and S. Nyang of Howard University was much appreciated



ix

and warmly received. Especially important were the constant reminders of I. Price, T. Al-Azem, K. Laham and M. A. Al-Akiti, all of Oxford, in ensuring that I kept remembering that the work of a scholar is not done by chance, but by design and commitment. My thanks and gratitude to my dear friends and colleagues from Abu Dhabi to Virginia, Sheffield to Beirut, Warwick to Damascus, London to Larnaca, Oxford to Cairo. My wife, Darah, encouraged me greatly to finish this work, and if she had not, it would probably remain unfinished to this day. To her also belongs the credit of the title of this work, which far exceeded in quality all of my own suggestions. I hasten to add that what is good in this work is probably due to the efforts of those whom I have mentioned in no small measure. Nevertheless, any errors and mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Introduction

Islam is not separate from European history, with which it is interwoven. On the contrary, it is an essential component of the history of Europe. e question of Islam’s presence and condition in Europe therefore seems to be an aspect of the character of our institutions and of our system, and not just a marginal chapter concerning the treatment of transitory colonies of migrant foreigners.

     above makes several interesting assertions, most of which are contested, and all of which are discussed in some depth in this work. Perhaps the most disputed among them is the concept of Islam being an ‘essential component’ of European history, as evidence suggests that this does not match the current representation of Islam and Muslims in Europe. e typical image of the Muslim in Europe is of a non-European, however that is defined: in the United Kingdom, it is the ‘foreign’ Indian sub-continental; in Germany, it is the ‘alien’ Turk; and in France, it is the ‘exotic’ North African Arab – none of whom are, it is presumed, essentially European, or even capable of becoming so.

T



  

Yet, whether the claim is true or false, the representations of Islam and Muslims in Europe call attention to several key points. First, the Muslims are a significant population (the largest nonChristian religious community in Europe, – million in the ‘old’ European Union [EU]) alone; second, they affect the tapestry of European societies considerably; and third, they are not a uniform community. Although native converts to Islam are included in the Muslim community, the growth of a substantial community in twenty-first century Europe has not been very gradual and, thus, the idea of an ‘integral’ Islam in terms of history or persons remains dubious in large swathes of European societies. is has led to a narrative describing ‘Islam and Europe’. In the context of today’s world, this links to the discussion about ‘Islam and the West’, which is predisposed to an emphasis on conflict, or, as some put it, on ‘clash’. Islam becomes the ‘Other’, representing a threat, similar to that posed by Communism earlier in the twentieth century. Unlike Communism, however, this representation has had a long history in the old European tradition of defining ‘Europe’ through contradistinction to ‘Islam’: Historically, European identity, as Josep Fontana has shown, was created in opposition to others – who were named ‘infidels’ or ‘barbarians’. In fact, in many cases it was the defense of Christian identity against Islam that set the ground for the existence of so-called European culture. is has been classically the case with many sub-European identities (such as those of France, Portugal and Spain), although not with all (for instance Britain), as well as with the supra-European identity. So deep is the conflict in the historical narrative that one scholar has suggested that ‘hatred of Islam and Muslims is endemic in the European psyche’. Nevertheless, Europe in antiquity owed a great deal to Islam and classical Islamic civilisation. Personalities such as Ibn Rushd may have had their names Latinised (Averroes) and their faith marginalised in historical accounts, but the existence of Muslim communities in Europe dates back to the seventh century, not long aer the emergence of the faith itself. Some authors have illustrated the existence of a deeply Muslim component to European history in the case of al-Andalus (Andalusia), as this was the most distinctive example of





a dominantly Muslim society in Europe. It was not, however, the sole illustration: Muslims had reached other parts of European territory as well. e southern territories of Spain and Portugal were indeed predominantly Muslim countries for longer than they have been Catholic; but members of the British House of Lords were Muslim hundreds of years before Lord Ahmad and Baroness Uddin; and in eastern Europe, as detailed below, whole ethnic groups embraced Islam, as shall be discussed later in this work. Islam has a long history in European civilisation, as a number of historians note: Muslims have been massively present in Europe before today. In fact, throughout the centuries Muslims have been engaged in the creation of Europe and European civilisation, sometimes more actively, sometimes more passively. One could make a case for speaking of European civilisation as the Jewish–Christian–Muslim civilisation. Bulliet, in his e Case for Islamo-Christian Civilization, traces the many positive effects that Islam had on European civilization in terms of philosophy, theology, mathematics, chemistry, medicine, music, literature, manufacturing and cuisine, far beyond the confines of Andalusia. Even in pre-modern times, the phenomenon could be recognised as ‘Islam of Europe’, not simply ‘Islam and Europe’, with all the differentiations this description signifies. Nevertheless, it remains the case that perceptions of Islam being ‘alien’ have a renewed resonance in light of the attacks on  September  on the Pentagon and the twin towers of New York’s World Trade Center, the hub of Western economic prowess, and the attacks on the London transportation system on  July . Muslim communities had previously been viewed with suspicion, but when it became clear that these attacks and others were to be attributed to Muslims fighting in the name of Islam, the idea of a dangerous Muslim ‘Other’ became ever more entrenched. Only certain segments of European societies – mostly, but not exclusively, on the extreme far right – blamed Muslims in general for the attacks; but a much larger number of Europeans wondered how the ‘Other’ in their midst was to be reconciled with. One must remember – this is not simply a discussion of security issues, where European governments fear the outbreak of violence from a minority of Muslim citizens. Rather, there is a much deeper fear surrounding the essential nature of European culture, and what



  

role the Muslim presence is likely to play in it. ere is now a name given to this fear: ‘Eurarabia’. ere is a similar period in European history where the ‘Other’, portrayed as dissimilar in race, culture, language and religion, was objected to: e source of animosity and discrimination is prejudice against Muslims. e nature of this prejudice today is essentially similar to that encountered by the Jews in Germany in the s, ultimately expressed in the ideology of ‘the final solution of the Jewish issue and the Nazi Holocaust’. Part of the legacy of that period in European history has been the drive towards more inclusive societies, the theoretical underpinnings of which are discussed in Chapter  of this work. All of this is being looked at in the context of an increasingly changing Europe: it is a debate that is continually moving and consistently changing, and for good reason. Diversity, as indicated above, is perhaps more varied in Europe today than at any time in history. A continent that has never been homogenous is now trying to manage a plethora of identities in a systematic manner with varying degrees of success. is work is the culmination of two sets of field research that tried to take this history into account. e first set began in  and ended in  – the main focus of it was on the then existing European Union. For the first time in Europe’s history, a union is emerging which is based on mutual consent between member states, creating a very specific political and legal dynamic which has a significant effect on the way the continent views itself, and that union is worthy of particular focus. Nevertheless, mention has also been made of three countries – Cyprus, Slovenia and Lithuania – which made particularly interesting additions to the research when this book began, in , because of their Muslim populations and their progress towards harmonising their legal systems with EU law. ey have since become fully fledged members of the European Union. e research from this set of field work constitutes the bulk of what is included in these pages. e second set of field research grew more sporadically, between  and , and served as an updating exercise for this work. In particular, Austria, Belgium, Britain, France, Germany, Italy and Spain were focused upon. e political developments emanating from these historical watersheds have been substantial, particularly in legislation against





racial and ethnic discrimination. In relation to religiously defined communities, however, the evidence that sufficient measures have been taken has not been conclusive. One commentator argues: European laws on the right to religion as a basic human right do not contain the necessary elements for assuring the same rights for Muslims in Europe as for all others. us development of such laws would be a step towards preventing the confirmation of the above hypothesis and … would counter the perpetuation of an ideology of ‘the final solution of the Muslim issue’. at assessment is examined in Chapter  of this work with due consideration, as there is substantial evidence to suggest that Muslim communities in the EU are presently subject to prejudice and bigotry. As noted by the United Nations Secretary General and others, anti-Muslim sentiment exists all over the EU. is may or may not have been aggravated by the aermath of  September , but one cannot deny that, even prior to that, some voices in Europe were articulating their misgivings vis-à-vis the Muslims in their company: An increasing number of academics and politicians in the West are voicing their doubts about the Muslim presence. Citing the Yale academic Lamin Sanneh, the right-wing English journalist Melanie Phillips suggests that the time has come to think again about Muslim immigration to the West. Sanneh, whose views on Islam’s inherent inability to adjust to the claims of citizenship in non-Muslim states have attracted several right-wing theorists, is here being used to justify the agenda that is increasingly recommended on the far right across Europe, with electrifying effects on the polls. Such attitudes were examined in light of the repercussions of the attacks on New York by a number of NGOs, such as the European Monitoring Centre on Racism and Xenophobia (EUMC) in Vienna. However, while it is likely that the attacks in the US in , Spain in  and the UK in  served as turning points for perceptions of Islam and Muslims in Europe, there was no widespread panic or pogroms. Despite some calls from the extreme far right, recent history does not indicate that Muslim populations in the



  

EU are in danger of becoming extinct or that European societies are set on evicting their Muslim populations. Different countries obviously have different contexts, but as of yet, there is no country that would view the expulsion or disenfranchisement of Muslims as Muslims as an option. De facto and de jure, European societies have resigned themselves to the Muslim presence, whether positively or negatively, but not without conditions. It is these conditions and requirements that remain of particular interest and form the subject of this book. Nor does it appear that the Muslim communities in Europe are preparing themselves for an exodus; on the contrary, they are growing and appear to be negotiating their positions in Europe in a variety of ways. It is no longer a question of whether or not there will be quintessentially European Muslim communities, but of what directions and orientations they will pursue: It follows that one of the crucial questions for European social sciences is whether ‘Euro-Islam’ will gain full acceptance, not only in terms of social sciences but of European reality itself, and by which routes it will do so. Muslims such as the former minister of education in Bosnia, quoted above, are asking themselves how, as Muslims, they can exist in Europe. ey are investigating what their psychological attitude should be towards the EU, and, as a legally defined community, they are asking what their legal tradition offers as guidance in this regard (see Chapters  and  later in this work). ey are not asking if, as Muslims, they can reside in Europe as Europeans, but, rather, only how. is question has taken on a renewed importance aer the Madrid and London bombings, for those two events began a chain reaction within the public sphere. No longer was the fear of Islam to be associated mainly with foreigners beyond European shores; it was also to serve as a key component in how Europeans analysed the situation of their own societies. Herein lies the third set of research that this book is based on, although it happened in parallel to the other two pieces. In the aermath of the London bombings, the author essentially took on a parallel career as a consultant within the policy discourse: appointed as Deputy Convenor of the UK Government’s task-force on ‘Tackling Radicalisation and Extremism’, he was taken into the





policy establishment in both Europe and the United States. is gave him a different perspective, as he embroiled himself in the discussions within governments (the Home Office and the Department of Communities and Local Government most extensively in the UK), the think-tank industry (Demos and the Young Foundation in the UK in particular, and the Brookings Institution in the US) and the security establishment (the Metropolitan Police in the UK and the Department of Homeland Security in the US). One hopes that this multi-layered perspective serves to place the analysis and arguments in this book in a practical context for academics and policy makers alike. Already the second largest and fastest growing religious community in the EU (at least – million in the pre- European Union alone ), the Muslim presence poses challenges both to the Muslim population and to the wider EU. e former is struggling to become a more integral component of European society, as opposed to being viewed as a ‘non-assimilated’, unfamiliar minority group; the latter is experimenting with more innovative solutions in order to prove their resolve to remain respectful of difference. European societies and their Muslim communities thus find themselves in fascinating states of affairs, all trying to understand one another in terms of their own defining features, in the hope of finding a future of mutual benefit. ese questions and issues are discussed in this work by way of progressing from one set of debates to another, as they relate to Europe, Islam and pluralism. Each of the three parts of this work keeps in mind dual concerns: European and Muslim intellectual perspectives; going from the general to the specific. We begin in Part  by discussing the philosophical concerns that define the norms both of European policies (Chapter ) and of Muslim dynamics (Chapter ) with regards to pluralism in this context, taking a broad, general overview of the different frameworks. Western political philosophy in this regard is simply the multiculturalist debate that has raged from Montreal to Montenegro, trying to cope with diversity; a debate that is more relevant to formulating policies and the stances of the state. As Muslims define their norms in reference to law, their legal heritage is the relevant parallel to this debate, even though it provides an internal perspective rather than one enforced by the state in Europe. is point is oen overlooked, but it is important to note that internal discourses oen override external ones, particularly when these types of identity questions are considered.



  

Part  of this work is primarily interested in providing a contemporary perspective on the issues discussed in a more abstract fashion in Part . Chapter  thus takes a step closer to actual contemporary realities in seeing the way Muslim discourse on the West in general and on Europe in particular has evolved; it offers a Muslim legal perspective on its European context. Having moved into the realm of more contemporary concerns, this material then leads us to Chapter , where we see how the history of Europe – as it relates to Muslim communities – has also developed. is Muslim–European/European–Muslim perspective brings us to the final chapter of Part , on contemporary European Union law on religious minorities, which offers a purely European perspective on Europe’s Muslim communities (Chapter ). e final part of this book, Part , attempts to bring all the issues raised in the above parts and link them together in two ways. Firstly, by using the UK as a case study (Chapter ), and, secondly, by making the final chapter of this work a convergence of all the themes discussed thus far: Chapter  is more than just the sum of conclusions reached thus far. A part of that synergy consists in taking a particular theme described through this book: how do we come to terms with the ‘Other’? A new paradigm, which transcends those that came before it and which all civil society should consider, is suggested: ‘integralisation’. us, this book entails three dimensions, going through different parts of historical discussion. In so doing, it is envisaged that some of the most pertinent and relevant issues surrounding the phenomenon of Islam in Europe will be scrutinised, analysed and examined in an effort to understand how to engage critically concepts that go beyond the ‘Islam in Europe’ paradigm and lead to an understanding of the phenomenon that is ‘European Islam’. at is not simply a detached elaboration but an academically based argument, and the work should be viewed as a statement of purpose as much as it is an abstract set of facts. is study was undertaken to try to understand the issues surrounding European Muslim communities on precisely a European level – not particularly a national level. is is because many of the situations that currently face Muslim communities in Europe are actually common – but, it must also be said, different communities and the societies that they are a part of address those situations in different ways. Beyond that, there are also issues that are specific to particular national, or even sub-national, communities. ere





may be a Muslim community of Europe, but there are also Muslim communities of Europe, and different groupings on ethnic, national and religious lines within different states, as well as Europe as a whole. Nevertheless, in order to understand these situations beyond the theoretical level, it was deemed necessary to examine them in a particular national context, as a case study. e United Kingdom was chosen as the case study, as all the issues described in the rest of this work can be easily found in this country, and much discussion has taken place in this country in recent years. is is not to say that other countries have not experienced them as well – these are, aer all, European-wide issues. Other countries could have easily been chosen, but up-to-date information and access was more readily available to the author on the British case study. Notes of Caution Where I have used an Arabic word that is an adjective as well as a noun, such as ‘Sunnī ’, I have italicised it. However, where it is a proper noun, such as the name of the jurist ‘Mālik’, and is being used only as a noun, I have le it in roman type. Hence the name ‘Imām Abū Hanīfah’ ̣ may be set in roman type, in contrast to the phrase ‘Hanafī ̣ judge’. All other Arabic words and expressions are italicised as well as given diacritics, except where the word has found proper and current usage in the English language (such as Muslim, Islam, and so forth). Nevertheless, in quoting from other translations, I retain their transliteration schemes, even where they differ from the one followed in this book. e reader will note that, in some places, the word ‘west’ is sometimes capitalised and sometimes not. ere is a consistency to this, however. Where the word is used as a general geographic direction (e.g. the west of Europe) it is le uncapitalised without quotation marks. Where the word is used to describe a specific section of a particular region (e.g. Western Europe) it is capitalised without quotation marks. is also applies to particular populations (e.g. Western Muslims, or Westerners). e author was tempted to put the words ‘west’ and ‘east’ invariably in quotation marks, as otherwise one might implicitly accept the premise that there is a very clear distinction between the two domains, in an altogether over-simplified manner. In the interest of not distracting the reader, one would hope this caution at the beginning of the book would serve that purpose.

Part I Background and Precedent

1 Religious Diversity and Multiculturalism: eoretical Issues

    , it is difficult to find a country in the world that has absolute uniformity in terms of religious identity. Whether it is the self-proclaimed Jewish state, the heartlands of Islam, or the Catholic states of southern and western Europe, no state today is completely devoid of religious diversity. In some countries, this has been the case for centuries, and it has not been seen as something extraordinary or undesirable. Indeed, this might be said of the predominantly Muslim countries of the past and present, whether within Europe (such as the Ottoman Empire) or outside (including the Abbasid Empire). In other countries, however, religious diversity was seen almost as a plague to be wiped out. is latter view has persisted until recent history, with the advent of the nation state. One author comments on how the nation, aer , was theoretically succeeded by the state, but minorities within those states were ‘le out in the cold’; the majority and the minority assumed that the state had to be based on a nation, which generally had a single religion, and the obvious conclusion was that the majority’s nation would be it. e minority nation or group would

A



  

have to make do, sometimes in rather precarious positions, as seen in Nazi Germany. With extremes such as Nazism and other forms of modern ‘ethnic cleansing’, along with migration patterns, the notion of the state being the embodiment of an ethno-national group became less popular, and the protection of minorities became more important. Even prior to this, there were constellations of groups trying to have their practices, lifestyles or views recognised or respected by the wider society. In attempting to cope with this challenge, academics, non-governmental organisations and others made the protection of ethnic and cultural minorities a subject of great consideration in the EU. At the moment, it is taken for granted by most observers that the countries of the EU are multicultural; this is not a value judgement, but a descriptive statement of fact. ere is no state within the EU (or, indeed, anywhere in the world) that is truly monocultural; there exist a number of different cultural groups within each of them. A multicultural country is one where there is more than one culture; a multiculturalist country is something rather different. Nazi Germany might have been a multicultural country, but it certainly was not multiculturalist; this is a normative label that would be a judgement on the policies of the countries involved rather than an expression of fact about the realities ‘on the ground’. Up to this point, there is little debate in the annals of academic research and philosophical enquiry. Issues begin to arise when we consider how protection is to take place: whether in the public sphere, in terms of recognising minorities, or in the legal sphere, in terms of catering to minorities. When we come to this point, there is little room for neutrality, or for proposing a ‘neutral’ course of action: there is no such course. One takes a philosophical stand on why and how certain policies are taken: part of the multiculturalism school’s approach is actually to insist that the idea of ‘neutrality’ should be tested, critiqued and examined before it is accepted. In an abstract, theoretical sense, one would hope that to be ‘neutral’ would be the equivalent of being ‘just’, but this is simply not the case in practice, which we will discuss below. Multiculturalist theorists (of the ‘multiculturalist school’) have taken up the issues that emanate from this reality in light of the needs of states and communities in the twenty-first century. ey have recognised that the needs and rights of ethno-cultural minorities must be highlighted in order to ensure that they are not marginalised in modern societies. Ethnic identity and ethno-cultural identity are

   



used here as synonyms, perhaps with ethno-cultural being more exact, but they refer generally to the same concept: an identity that is assumed by a particular group of people, who associate themselves with a particular ethnicity. Ethnicity in this context is defined as something that is presumably inherited rather than assumed. Religion, in the manner defined here, is not ordinarily an ethnic identity, although it may be reinterpreted to construct one, as will be discussed below; and even if it is not reinterpreted to construct one, it may still be considered relevant for multiculturalism, which we will also discuss. From this last paragraph, it is clear that the approach we discuss below is broadly within the school of multiculturalism, but this does not mean that all the positions suggested below are always, or even commonly, held by multiculturalist theorists. Indeed, there are points where questions are raised on topics that many multiculturalists do not discuss: for example, on secularism, or on the need for a national identity. e discussion below is designed to raise some of those questions and to point out some of the challenges facing European societies in the twenty-first century. It is not, however, designed to be an exhaustive or encyclopaedic discussion: that would require another work entirely. Nevertheless, in the context of discussing the Muslim presence in Europe, it is rather difficult to get around an engagement with the subject of multiculturalism and a critical assessment of what the challenges of posing it are. ere are two reasons for this: the first is that Muslims, as immigrants and descendants of immigrants, are prime candidates for recognition under multiculturalism, and in fact they are the prime candidates in most parts of Europe. Most ethnic minority communities in many (if not all) different European states are Muslim by religion. So, for practical reasons, multiculturalism is definitely a subject we must engage with. e second reason is a philosophical one. Most of the discussions around multiculturalism in the late twentieth century were primarily (although not exclusively) concerned with what was the most contentious form of identity in Europe at the time: ethnicity. As such, the debates and analyses took little notice of religious identities, which were not viewed as important in the context of mid-twentieth-century history. is has caused a number of political philosophers to attempt to examine the issues involved through the prism of ethnic relations, by portraying Muslims or other religiously defined minorities, for



  

purposes of theoretical debate, as ethno-cultural minorities. ey had to discuss Muslims, because Islam is, as mentioned above, the religion of the largest communities that are the prime candidates for recognition by multiculturalism today. Other political philosophers refuse to regard them as candidates for recognition by the state altogether: these are philosophical tensions that also have to be dealt with, as we see the growth of Muslim communities in Europe (both the ‘old’ and the ‘new’) that are not ethnic minorities but part of the ethnic majority through conversion (either recent or historical). It is clear that the mere presence of Muslims has added to the multicultural climate in the EU, and it has precipitated a number of developments. As one might expect, multiculturalism debates in Europe have oen been centred around Muslims and the ‘difficulties’ of integrating them into the EU, and their presence has forced the issue with growing momentum. It does not appear that this is going to change any time soon; on the contrary, the signs are that the debate will deepen in the coming years. e fact that Islam has a longrunning history in Europe, with many European identities having been formed at least partly through contradistinction to Islam, makes the challenge even more complex. To put it another, somewhat ironic, way: to discuss Muslims in Europe today in a practical fashion, we have to discuss multiculturalism. To discuss multiculturalism in Europe today in a theoretical fashion, we have to discuss Muslims. ey are, whether we like it or not, joined at the proverbial hip. Some thoughts on where we are, where we want to go, and how to do that in the context of this debate around multiculturalism are thus rather pertinent to any analysis relating to European Muslims. It is not an exhaustive discussion we are about to embark upon, and that is part of the point; the school of thought we examine here has never claimed to provide an all-encompassing theoretical framework. It poses questions to the overall debate, however; here we make an attempt to probe some of the issues surrounding these questions, and we ponder some of the routes that can be taken to deliver us to answers. e Multiculturalist Debate to Date: Fairness, Equity and the Citizen One must be careful at this early juncture to be clear as to the nature of multiculturalism as an idea. It is not a political philosophy, as that might imply it is a comprehensive theory of politics. Modood’s

   



most recent work is perhaps the most explicit piece of evidence that multiculturalism itself is a project which is constantly developing in light of new circumstances, and certainly not a comprehensive political philosophy. Neither those who attack the school, nor those who reject it, do themselves any service by failing to recognise this fact. Nor does this idea belong squarely and solely within liberal political philosophy, although it is undeniable that liberalism has instigated some of the institutions which multiculturalism seeks to influence. As such, multiculturalism owes something both to liberalism and to the critics of liberalism, seeking to go into new territory. It is, to put it another way, a project, or a school of thought. Proponents of this school of thought have put forward various frameworks to cope with the diversity of modern society, and, while they have generally been concerned with issues emanating from ethno-cultural pluralism, there have been efforts to expand the focus to include groups other than cultural or ethnic ones that differ from the majority or mainstream of society in some way or another, such as homosexuals or constantly jet-setting executives. Included in the latter category, but sometimes counted simply as another expression of an ethno-cultural group, are religious minorities, such as Muslims and others. e basic question that theorists of this school pose to themselves is relatively simple: are the claims of minority groups just, justice being the root attribute that every state should aspire to uphold? If we were to examine this school and its representatives of some decades ago, we might see the answers to that question neatly dividing the ‘multiculturalists’ from their opponents. e ‘multiculturalists’ would answer ‘yes’, and their opponents would answer ‘no’. Critics of multiculturalism would insist that justice demanded that the state be ‘colour-blind’ and, by extension, treat every single individual precisely the same way, with no regard – positive or negative – for the individual’s unique attributes. Any other course of action would be considered to be necessarily discriminatory and, hence, unjust. ese criticisms would generally belong to the nationalist and, to a greater degree, a particular view on the liberal theory of governance. e multiculturalists also formulated support for their position in the language of justice, and they insist that differential treatment is sometimes not only permitted by the concept of ‘justice’, but also demanded by it. Perhaps, to differentiate this concept of ‘justice’, we might call it ‘equity’ or ‘fairness’: a more nuanced and sophisticated form of justice. To treat every single individual precisely the same



  

would necessarily result in occasional injustice. e multiculturalists noted that, in fact, no state institution is remotely ‘procedural’ (i.e. culturally neutral): rather, they are all actually favourable towards the majority group, consciously or unconsciously, and might therefore discriminate against minority groups, even if unintentionally. e standard multiculturalist position noted that, with the growth of diversity in terms of language, identity and culture in modern states, the notion of ‘justice’ must take seriously the possibility that ‘blind’ justice might create injustice. us, ‘real’ justice must be fair and equitable, which necessarily must take into account the specifics of those whom justice is supposed to serve. However, as the political philosopher Kymlicka insightfully notes, the debate has shied. Few thinkers, if any, in contemporary Western political philosophical thought promote the idea that justice can be achieved through ‘difference-blind rules’. Critics have generally accepted that injustice is likely if notice of pluralism is not taken, but they now focus ‘on the way that the general trend towards multiculturalism threatens to erode the sorts of civic virtues, identities and practices which sustain a healthy democracy.’ Such erosion would be probable under an extreme form of the procedural model, which is, in itself, a radical position from within the multiculturalist school. It has, however, not been entertained as a viable model because it ignores the need for some sort of common political culture, necessary for social cohesion – if it is possible to start from such a ‘ground zero’ in the first place. Conversely, the nationalist model, which narrows the ‘common political culture’, particularly in light of nationalistic extremes in the twentieth century, remains widely discredited. In addition, it is now generally accepted that differenceblind institutions are not automatically the best route to justice for all groups. e burden of proof has, in fact, shied dramatically, to the point where it is assumed that the status quo, if it does not consider minority groups, is discriminatory and unjust. Hence the proponents of multiculturalism have, to date, effectively made their case, and it is now the second phase of discussion that is underway, even while diehard opponents to multiculturalism still continue to complain about their failure to counteract that first phase. e last ten years have witnessed a remarkable upsurge of interest in two topics amongst political philosophers: the rights and status of ethno-cultural minorities in multi-ethnic

   



societies (the ‘minority rights–multiculturalism’ debate), and the virtues, practices and responsibilities of democratic citizenship (the ‘citizenship–civic virtue’ debate). Or, to put it another way: if fairness and equity are to be the basis of the state, then who and what gets to define fairness and equity? is is, in reality, leading to the question of ‘what is the real basis of citizenship’, for it is the collective body of enfranchised citizens that gets to define fairness and equity in a state. Other authors argue that this in itself is a sign that multiculturalism is being pushed back, particularly as many commentators frequently attack ‘multiculturalism’ in the public sphere by name. Yet, even while many figures do in fact attack ‘multiculturalism’, they accept, in spite of themselves, many of the key doctrines that the multiculturalist school argued for in the s. ere may be fears, particularly as some commentators linked terrorism to the failure of multiculturalism aer the London bombings in , but these fears have not caused actual government policies, nor political theory, simply to do away with the principles of that school. Modood disagrees with Cesari’s assertion that ‘multiculturalism is now the ruling idea of Western cities’ (and the present author would tend to agree with Madood), but both Modood’s writings and the political events seem to indicate that multiculturalism is still at the core of how policy is developed in modern Western societies. One might wonder why the name is not simply replaced by something else: a discussion still going on in multiculturalist circles. Fairness and equity, not ‘blind’ justice, and respect for diversity are definitely still the key ‘ruling’ idea. Rather than seeing the tensions facing multiculturalism as signs that it has failed, the present author sees its success remaining in force in spite of those tensions. e issue now is who gets to define what fairness and equity really are: the old critics of multiculturalism in the multiculturalist debate no longer have an interest in using the language of justice. e real and detailed censure of multiculturalism now takes place in a different field of argument. at is the ‘citizenship–civic virtue’ debate, and this is where the Muslim presence is creating the most practical and philosophical tension for multiculturalism. Before, the two debates operated in parallel; now they could be mistaken for the same debate, being so inextricably linked together. Any debate where multiculturalism



  

becomes discussed leads to the ‘citizenship–civic virtue’ discussion, and any debate where an inclusive citizenship is proposed inevitably discusses multiculturalism. e ‘citizenship–civic virtue’ and the ‘minority rights–multiculturalism’ debates are precisely the places where the rights of the minority over the majority, and vice versa, are discussed in today’s world. e Next Phase of the Discussion: e ‘Citizenship–Civic Virtue’ Debate, and Defining the Multiculturalist Society e ‘citizenship–civic virtue’ debate has two opposing models, which are offered to societies and states for implementing; each of them emphasises certain rights, and both find their theoretical ancestors within the previous debate surrounding multiculturalism: . e right to assimilate to the majority or dominant culture in the public sphere, and toleration of ‘difference’ in the private sphere alone. . e right to have one’s ‘difference’ (minority, ethnicity, etc.) recognised and supported in the public and private spheres. One could argue here that there is sufficient evidence to say that the following definition of a tolerant and just society is one of consensus now: A just society is one where society as a whole removes unfair and unnecessary barriers to access, respecting reasonable pluralism without unrestricted relativism, and where the individual is freely able to become an integral part of it, identifying the said society as the main field of participation. is definition places most of the onus of ‘integration’ squarely on society as a whole, even while leaving the specifics open to fruitful debate. e pursuit to become ‘integral’, however, is an interest of the integrated subject, whether individually or communally, as will be discussed later in the final pages of this work; here we are generally interested in possible philosophies for the state, not for civil society from an internal perspective. ese are two wholly different spheres of activity. To repeat an observation: there is an important shi towards multiculturalist principles in the above definition. is is a rather bold

   



assertion to make, particularly aer the  July bombings in London, which marked the beginning of the end of multiculturalism as a viable political philosophy in the public sphere. And yet, it is one that is hard to deny. Multiculturalism did not succeed in converting everyone to a new political philosophy, which it never was in the first place, but it did succeed in ensuring that certain basic principles became part of the mainstream establishment. e first model is generally portrayed as the inheritor of the ‘assimilationist’ model, while the latter could be perceived as the ‘integrationist’ model. is is to oversimplify matters, certainly, but it establishes the basic parameters and shows how the debates have shied, while also showing where the new ‘battleground’ is. Classical assimilationist thought prior to the success of multiculturalism would assume that, even in private spaces, a degree of assimilation should take place. Yet in this newer debate both models recognise that those who are different from the majority may be accepted by the mainstream; but they differ on what this might mean in practice. How far must the minority go before being accepted? What differences should the majority accept? What sort of compromises should each side make, and on what bases should they be made? In other words, what are the bare requirements of citizenship? Here the lines begin to blur. Both models are unrecognisable without recalling classic liberal political thought, even though they might have slightly different takes on that corpus of ideas. Both models (if we adhere to the formulation of multiculturalism from theorists such as Modood or Parekh) can also assume that participation in the public or national culture is necessary for the effective exercise of citizenship (although multiculturalists might also make the case that equal treatment does not mean assimilation to the national culture in all things, and the national culture should gradually change to incorporate the culture of ethnic minorities as time goes on). Even those theorists who would be considered nationalists no longer demand full assimilation of their minority groups; they are, at the very least, tolerated, if not equally considered. e old multiculturalists, the ‘pluralistic integrationists’, now tend to favour a cosmopolitan definition of citizenship in order to facilitate the incorporation and integration of ethno-cultural minorities, and their old critics, the ‘neo-assimilationists’, stand as the proponents of a strong, narrowly defined national identity that is the basis of



  

citizenship, while still respecting difference. While I respect ‘difference’, and submit that coping with it is an essential element of tolerance and pluralism, I also maintain that it is unacceptable to stop at simply acknowledging difference, as cultural relativists do, without providing prescriptions for how to deal with it. e above is written by an author who is generally a neoassimilationist, but it is clear that, on an abstract level, he also accepts certain basic principles that multiculturalism sought to make integral to the public sphere. Neither of the protagonists in the ‘citizenship–civic virtue’ debate rejects the idea of ‘toleration’, including the neo-assimilationists. Indeed, this idea is oen part of the equation for neo-assimilationists. But where the lines are still clearly drawn is in the interpretation of ‘equality’: Grounding equality in uniformity also has unfortunate consequences. It requires us to treat human beings equally in those respects in which they are similar and not those in which they are different. Now, precisely what does that mean in our discussion? For what we are interested in is clearly this: how do we construct the public culture of diverse societies? And in this question lies another question; for the answer is surely that ‘the “how” is to be defined by the citizen’: on what basis is one considered a citizen? What is the basis of citizenship? Both sides in this discussion uphold tolerance: the terms of how that toleration is to manifest itself are quite distinct, however. Neoassimilationists insist that the predominant culture has the right of continual dominance, as it is the most viable candidate to ensure social stability and cohesion: as such, citizenship refers only to the majority, and not to the minority, and the minority becomes more of a full citizen by becoming more like the majority. For the pluralistic integrationists, on the other hand, the emphasis is on the right not only of the minority to remain different, but also of those differences to be recognised, and even publicly declared, by the mainstream. Here, some argue (and the author would tend to agree) that the current multiculturalist school has not yet thoroughly elaborated a sustainable theory of citizenship that can properly underpin the needs of diverse societies in this day and age. And such a theory is necessary,

   



if multiculturalism is to continue as a viable school of thought and not to become extinct: every civilisation has had some sort of concept of citizenship. It may not have been described as such, but one of the prerequisites for a civilisation is to create some sort of a common identity upon which to base itself. Without a common identity, there is no community and no society, which results in lack of stability and, eventually, in chaos. Citizenship in the modern context is very different from almost any other type of citizenship that has come before it; in the Islamic medieval period, the equivalent concept was none other than ‘Muslim’. It is, it should be noted, oen claimed that this was different in the time of the Prophet, where the basis of the collective community was a social contract, as expressed in the so-called ‘constitution of Madina’. While Muslim systems such as the ‘Millet’ arrangement were far more favourable towards minorities than the ‘West’ was at the time, it was not comparable to what exists today in the ‘West’. ese were not procedural societies, nor were they nationalist; rather, they were a combination of liberal and separatist forms of governance. e state was not empty or devoid of culture; on the contrary, it was oen very culturally driven, but it did allow for substantial communal autonomy. e absence of a comprehensive theory of citizenship made this combination likely to be the most favourable one to minority communities at the time, which perhaps explain why Jewish communities flocked to Ottoman domains from newly conquered Christian states. Nevertheless, even in the modern age, the concept of citizenship is disputed ground, which is perhaps why multiculturalists are not yet quite ‘there yet’ in terms of constructing a theory. T. H. Marshall defines citizenship as an institution which developed in the second half of the seventeenth century, coinciding (not coincidentally) with the rise of capitalism, and which continues to develop to the present day. In Marshall’s definition, citizenship has three dimensions: civil, political and social. e first is composed of ‘rights necessary for individual freedom – liberty of the person, freedom of speech … the right to own property and conclude valid contracts, and the right to justice.’ e second refers to suffrage and political power, while the third refers to the ‘right of a modicum of economic welfare and security to the right to share in the full social heritage and to live the life of a civilised being according to the standards prevailing in the society.’ Hence, when citizenship is spoken of, it is in reference to integration; full integration in the Western meaning of the word



  

involves full rights of citizenship. Conversely, without citizenship, full integration in the Western idiom is impossible. We noted above that the multiculturalist school has not yet fully elaborated a theory. Many multiculturalists might object to this, as the multiculturalist school has generally always upheld the notion of citizenship (properly called ‘multicultural citizenship’) being the common glue between the members of the minority and the members of the majority in any given state. But herein lies the rub: precisely what is the basis of that common glue? And it is here that the multiculturalists are generally in a weak position; for, while their opponents who inherited the assimilationist mantle have a very clear answer (a national identity), the multiculturalists do not. is is a weakness, and potentially a fatal one – one which we will return to. For now, we should ask: how have the different models of citizenship manifested themselves in practice? e answer to this question is what defines the difference for current multiculturalists; and really to understand what that means in practice, we must move beyond theory and into a case study which history will probably record as one of the key theoretical tests for multiculturalist citizenship. It is not at all surprising, as we will see time and time again below, that the test involves Muslims and Islam. Multiculturalism and Muslims: Secularist Tensions From the outset, before moving on to what multiculturalism generally posits itself to be with regards to Muslims, it is relevant to say what it generally does not posit itself to be. Multiculturalism has predominantly been concerned with cultural groups per se, not specifically with religious groups. Where religious groups have been considered, they have been viewed through the prism of culture and designated as cultural groups. For this reason, the question whether Muslims are truly candidates for designation as a cultural group remains either misunderstood or misinterpreted. For some reason, even Kymlicka (one of multiculturalism’s main theorists) excludes religious groups without even a comprehensive justification, although they are certainly relevant in Europe and North America; a bias that Modood refers to as possibly a ‘secularist bias’ in one place, and an ‘ignorance-cum-prejudice about Muslims that is apparent amongst even the best political philosophers’ in another. Some Western trends of thought do identify Muslims in the way Jews were identified in the nineteenth century – as an ethnic group. is primarily ethnic identification reached the point where it was

   



possible to begin speaking of an atheist Jew. is, it might be said, is the ethnicisation of spirituality, where a politicisation of an essentially spiritual commitment creates an ethnic identity. is new, startlingly modern identity is not a development that Muslim intellectuals have noted without some unease: In the universe of Islam, the same transposition of the vocabulary of faith into the vocabulary of identity is well underway. What would Averroes have made of the common modern practice of defining the Hajj as the ‘annual conference of the Muslims’? Why do social scientists increasingly interpret the phenomenon of veiling in terms of the affirmation of identity? Why does congregational prayer sometimes suggest a political gesture to what is behind the worshippers, rather than to what lies beyond the qibla wall? e instrumentality of religion has changed, in important segments of the world faiths. God is not denied by the sloganeers of identity; rather He is enlisted as a party member. No such revivalist can entertain the suggestion that the new liberation being recommended is a group liberation in the world that marginalises the more fundamental project of an individual liberation from the world; but his vocabulary nonetheless steadily betrays him. Islam has not been, per se, a culture; rather, it may have given rise to cultures, or even served as the fundamental root of a culture, but it has never been a culture in and of itself. Whereas Islam as a faith spread across the world, the culture of the first Muslim community (the Arabs of the Hijāz) did not; what did occur was a process by which cultures were filtered or adjusted, but never entirely banished, by Islam. us the concept of an Islamic ‘identity’ per se is problematic; the Prophet’s mission may have resulted in common identities being formed, but that was not the objective of his mission. e primary aim was personal transformation, not collective identity, which occurred consequentially and organically. Having elaborated on that, there is an important proviso to be made here. While one may have some philosophical sympathy for those who are apprehensive of what they deem to be ‘identity politics’ masquerading as religion, it does not necessarily follow that such an apprehension must automatically result in the exclusion of religious groups in the discussion of multiculturalism. While it is very true



  

that, for many, religion is simply and solely ‘pietistic’ (which might therefore be rather inconsequential to any political multiculturalism), for many it is a deep component of identity which serves to inform their ethics, morals, values and the way they participate in society at large. e diversity they adhere to might be a different type of diversity; but they are still appropriate, and distinct, candidates for inclusion in this discussion of multiculturalism. Some feel uncomfortable about this, as contemporary Western societies, particularly in Europe, are secular, and have a history with religion and religious institutions which define how they relate to religion. ey are also generally liberal, not particularly conservative, and this may also serve to show why they are reluctant to allow the incorporation of religious groups that hold less liberal views. is is not entirely justifiable, however. To be consistent, we would have similarly to marginalise other religious groups (including Christians), and put the same questions about values to all groups. We uphold gender as a worthwhile candidate, even though there might be some trends in feminist thought that the majority might find distasteful; the same can be said for some militant Black nationalists in the African–American communities of North America. But we do not use such examples as a reason to exclude the larger communities; why then exclude the Muslim communities of Europe? A respect for that different type of diversity, specifically religious, has to be considered. In the UK, a number of problems arose aer anti-discrimination legislation did not take account of the difference between considering Muslim populations as faith communities and as ‘ethno-cultural minorities’. Converts to Islam are not considered to be ethnoculturally different from the majority; thus they are unprotected, since they are not considered racial minorities under race relations laws. With what justification, then, are the issues emanating from a multifaith society considered in the context of multiculturalism? … [W]e must not be too quick to exclude religious communities from participation in the political debates etc. of a multicultural state. Secularity should not be embraced without careful consideration of the possibilities for reasonable dialogue between religious and non-religious groups. Most discussions about multiculturalism focus on ‘ethnicity’. As a side effect, the recognition of religion and religious identity is marginalized or not considered, yet research shows

   



that religion ‘still’ plays a significant role in groups’ relations among each other and the society at large. ese are not inconsequential abstract issues. If the point of multiculturalism was to combat racism and ensure that unfair discrimination be removed from communities in their efforts to create just societies, then we must also realise that bigotry and discrimination now certainly encompass religious communities as religious communities. Perhaps once it was the ‘Paki’ who was targeted; but now, certainly, the ‘Muslim’ will do, at least in many parts of Europe, and, increasingly, in North America. Some keys to unlocking this theoretical quandary that allow for progress in multiculturalism can be found in the political philosopher Parekh’s description of three types of ‘cultural diversity’. He describes the first as being represented by those who ‘broadly share their society’s dominant system of meaning and values and seek to carve within it spaces for their divergent lifestyles’. Among them may be counted gays, lesbians, jet-setting transnational executives and so on; people who ‘either entertain different beliefs and practices concerning particular areas of life or evolve relatively distinct ways of life of their own’. As Parekh notes, such groups pose challenges, but not particularly high-level ones; the latter can be solved in terms of values such as choice and personal autonomy that are part of the dominant culture. e second group follows ‘perspectival diversity’, whereby they differ from the mainstream on how the dominant culture should be reconstituted. Parekh identifies feminists who object to the dominant culture’s deeply ingrained patriarchal bias, and others who represent neither subcultures nor distinct communities in this group. It is a group that is difficult to accommodate and, thus, it is either ignored or rejected. Finally, Parekh describes the third type of cultural diversity, which is the topic of most multiculturalist studies: ‘well organised communities entertaining and living by their own different systems of beliefs and practices’. is third group is where Muslim communities are usually counted; but such an idea should not be accepted uncritically. Most certainly, it is tempting to do so, considering that most Muslims in the EU are of recent immigrant stock, but the idea can be misleading. As discussed elsewhere in this work, Muslims are defined by their ideological commitment to the spiritual declaration of Islam rather than by their commitment to certain cultural habits or modes alone.



  

is is readily observed, for example, when viewing the offspring of Muslim converts across the EU; they have been raised as Muslims but without any ‘cultural baggage’, so to speak. Such people may insist on the right to have time off on Fridays to attend the weekly congregational obligatory prayer, but educational initiatives designed to encourage their view of the EU member state they live in as their ‘home’ would be unnecessary. In summary, all of Parekh’s groupings may be found, and they even overlap, in Muslim communities, since no community is entirely monolithic; it is short-sighted to view Muslims as generally falling within the third category. Indeed, as time goes on, we may find that communities are being treated as legitimate subcultures, which have perspectival differences from the mainstream (if such is not already the case), rather than as communal groups. One could add another aspect to this picture: both secularism and religion should be properly understood in their own contexts and a healthy co-operation should exist between them. Religion is religion, secularism is secularism, and neither should dictate what the other means. But it does not follow that they should not co-operate; and, indeed, this is part of where the tension lies. e priests need not run the state; but if the state needs expert advice on what Christianity means to its adherents in order to accommodate them in the state properly (for example, give them days off on religious holidays), should the state not consult with the priesthood? And should the priesthood not co-operate with the state in such a consultation? Or should the state simply decide, and arrogate it to itself to be the voice of religion? e same logic should apply equally to Muslims, although Islam has different modes of constructing religious authority, which we shall also come to. None of this should be interpreted to mean that there is a monolithic, homogenous community of Muslims who reside in Europe. ere are numerous communities within the entire Muslim population of Europe; different according to sex, race, age and so forth. In this sense, there are certainly several Muslim communities in Europe, but insofar as all these communities exist in Europe, they also simultaneously constitute a single ‘community’, distinct from the other Muslims outside of Europe or the non-Muslims in Europe, who are defined according to their religious identity as Muslims, regardless of their practice. But, in so far as Muslims represent a common religious community, there is a need to entertain a particular application of multiculturalist theories. is may come quite close to liberal

   



theories of multiculturalism, but with a corrective lens placed upon the viewpoint that eschews focusing on religion. Kymlicka and Norman discuss the ‘rights’ of minority groups in relation to public policies, legal rights and constitutional provisions, which are ‘sought by ethnic groups for the accommodation of their cultural differences’ (Citizenship in Diverse Societies, p. ). ese, apparently, are the main areas of concern; if these are settled, then the barriers coming from the mainstream to their incorporation are removed. ese issues – the ‘rights’ that groups outside of the mainstream have in relation to ‘public policies, legal rights and constitutional provisions’ – are similar to a certain degree for all demographic minority groups. From a political–philosophical perspective, multiculturalism remains the school where the issues arising in a multi-faith community are best discussed, particularly in Europe, where many minority faith communities are also minority ethnic ones. What is not the same is the different ways these communities view themselves in relation to each other at an individual level; but this is a sociological affair rather than a political philosophical one. If there is anything to be discussed, it is whether we can authentically describe this school as ‘multicultural’ rather than by some other label, which would not take for granted the concept that religion is a ‘culture’. If we return to the original debates of ‘multiculturalism’ and ‘citizenship–civic virtue’, adopting Kymlicka’s model for ethnocultural groups, there emerges an intriguing route which can be taken and which should be examined more closely. ere are two important features common to all minority rights; if we apply them to religious minority rights claims in general and to Muslims in particular, keeping the above considerations in mind, the following can be noted: these rights go beyond the familiar set of common civil and political rights of individual citizenship, which are protected in all liberal democracies; they are adopted with the intention of recognising and accommodating the distinctive needs of religiously defined groups. What religious minority rights advocates aspire to do is to reach a point whereby existing legal rights, public policies and constitutional provisions accommodate and facilitate their community’s religious practices in the same way liberal multiculturalists might do for ethnic communities. ere is a number of general characteristics about Muslim minorities that can be noted from the outset. In general, like other religious minority groups within the EU, Muslims are not concerned with territorial separatism (which might interest some



  

demographic minority groups). eir debate is about how one should integrate within the mainstream; the alternative to incorporation of any sort for the Muslim minority is exile – a position some take in theory but seldom practise. Nor are they to be counted among isolationist religious groups according to a definition which describes members of groups such as the Amish in America and the Hutterites in Canada as ‘partial citizens’ due to their voluntary waiving of rights and responsibilities in the country. While some Muslim groups, as well as other religious minorities, may shy away from participating in voting and from holding office – as the Amish do – Muslims generally support active participation in society, but on terms sometimes different from the mainstream ones. ey are considered a ‘non-isolationist religious group’, to continue using an analogised version of Kymlicka’s terminology, as they seek to participate ‘without having to compromise their beliefs for the sake of an arbitrary regulation’. For this reason, it is important to see what these beliefs are in relation to integration; for any accommodations on the part of the Muslim populations would refer to them and policy would have to take account of them too, even if the state authority deemed such considerations unreasonable. Of course, such accommodations are contingent upon the putatively secular states in Europe discovering a way to consult some sort of body that can offer them authentic interpretations of Islam without interfering or also interpreting Islam for the Muslims themselves; but this is a discussion with is given more attention in Chapter . is is perhaps one of the most pressing structural issues for Muslim European communities, although it is oen met with resistance, owing to the fear that such a body or bodies might then crush dissent from within. Indeed, this is one of the reasons cited by some multiculturalists (such as the aforementioned Kymlicka) in favour of excluding religion from the list of community characteristics that might inform multiculturalist policies. Freedom of individual conscience is just as sacred as freedom of the group; but, indeed, the same fear can be expressed about women’s groups (who decides what is feminism?) and cultural groups (who is given the authority to speak for the Native American groups in North America?). ese are justifiable fears, to be sure, but if they can be overcome for other types of groups, there is no reason to feel that they cannot be for religious groups as well. At least no well elaborated reason has been put forward yet, nor could there be one, when this sort of body has

   



already been provided for other groups. e Jewish community in France, for example, has the ‘Consistory’ (a strictly religious body to ‘represent’ Judaism) as well as the ‘Representative Council of French Jewish Institutions’ (a representative grouping of Jewish intellectuals and noted figures): why should it be any different for the Muslim community? e reality, hinted at earlier, may be that many are simply wary of any perceived challenge to secularism, particularly when the challenge is perceived to come from Muslims. Yet secularism is not about to disappear as one of the over-arching principles of Western societies if it is challenged; indeed, it stands to gain a much more practical application if the quandaries around different types of diversity are resolved within the pre-existing,matrix, which is so informed by secularism. To put it another way: secularism can take it, and much more, although some interpretations of secularism may find themselves opting for other values as societies develop. Not all countries will stay with the French version, which we discuss briefly below; and indeed secularism is greater than the experience of any one country. To put it another way, not all interpretations of secularism are equal, and although here we have discussed both the French interpretation and the British version on an equal footing, the latter is far more widely accepted in Europe and beyond. Within the British context, which is perhaps the ‘flag-bearer’ of a style of secularism which is sensitive to the idea of co-operation between religion and state, a pertinent episode recently took place. e leader of the established Church (but a type of establishment which generally seeks to assist minority religions without necessarily relativising the truth of the message of the Church) delivered a speech to an assembly of lawyers on the issue of ‘sharī‘ah courts’. Now, the lawyers appear to have generally understood the Archbishop of Canterbury’s statements within the context of arbitration law, which allows any two parties to submit voluntarily to the ruling of a third party, as long as such a ruling does not break any law. One cannot seriously cast doubt on the legal validity of this procedure: yet the public reaction was one which indicated that it could be invalid in terms of the public political culture. is can only be explained if we take seriously the claim that some types of secularism are unequal to others; for at no point did the archbishop’s statements go against the laws of the UK. One understandable objection is that such ‘sharī‘ah courts’ (which are not courts at all, but arbitration contracts) will reify Muslim identity in a way which will subject all Muslims, whether they



  

like it or not, to particular interpretations of Muslim jurisprudence. But, while this objection is understandable, it can only justify the existence of safeguards (which are most certainly needed), not the existence of such councils per se. ese arbitration contracts are only entered into properly if voluntarily: Muslims, or any other group, can choose not to enter into them or to enter into them on their own terms. is is a type of secularism that no secularist objects to. But quality control would hopefully be a part of any political act, whether derived from secular or from religious motivations: an issue which any move towards sharī‘ah councils or tribunals would have to resolve. e above outlines some reflections on the question of secularism that any workable system of multiculturalist citizenship will have to deal with. Now we should turn our attention to how some of these abstract and theoretical issues actually play out in the two models for citizenship in Europe today. at leads us to our next topic, which is entirely relevant, practical, and highly controversial: the hijāb, ̣ or the Muslim headscarf. e Challenge of the Hijāb ̣ and Two Models of Citizenship In the EU specifically, there are currently two main expressions of citizenship, with some variations. A good example of the first expression (descended from the assimilationists) is found in the dominant French paradigm, which has found its most recent and poignant manifestation in the affaire du foulard in September . For those who demanded that Muslim schoolgirls take off their headscarves, France was ‘a single and indivisible nation based on a single culture’. e state was to pursue, positively and aggressively, a policy of assimilation; differences were to be accepted only if they were not judged to be against the principles of French culture, which were claimed to be universal. To follow a different path would be to deny the universal nature of French culture, and, further, to threaten it. In practice, this meant the French state would ban ‘ostentatious symbols’ being worn in school; what ‘ostentatious’ referred to, however, was well known. Yet, until December , individual schools were given the freedom to choose or not to choose to enforce this particular interpretation; the French state then formally decided to ban the headscarf  in public schools, with ten federal states in Germany following suit shortly thereaer. eoretically, from a particular standpoint (that of the majority), the idea of ‘sameness’ or ‘blind justice’ might seem like the perfect basis upon which to base educational policy. What the French

   



in particular were offering was indeed ‘equality’, but on the basis of uniformity – a typical assimilationist model. Now, there is an important detail to this, in that French policies do officially regulate uniformity only in the public sphere, and not, strictly speaking, in the private sphere. Nevertheless, the separation between the ‘private’ and the ‘public’ in France, just as in every other jurisdiction, is oen blurred. Yet, even if we were to admit that the public sphere is the only aspect of what we are concerned with here, the pluralistic critique still applies. at critique emphasises (more evidently in the second model, of the ‘citizenship–civic virtue’ debate) an unavoidable truth: the world is most certainly not uniform. Were the world, the EU or a single state homogenous in every way, equal treatment would involve identical treatment; yet in every state, not least the EU, there are differences according to sex, ethnicity and religion, as well as a number of other characteristics. Once this is taken into account, identical treatment does not result in equal treatment; rather, it provides for a situation where certain members are ‘more equal than others’, even if wholly unintentionally. Let us come back to the practical example, and see how the mainstream political establishment justified its logic. As far as they were concerned: . the French state (the Republic) is based on French culture; . French Republican cultural values are universal; . the school is the source of the ‘laic’ personality (itself based on universal values), and its most important institution; . anything opposing universal values must be proscribed; . the subjugation of a gender (women) is in opposition to universal values; . the headscarf is a symbol of female subjugation; . Muslim girls are pressured into wearing this symbol, and therefore . the headscarf must be proscribed in schools. Put simply, this logic permeated most of the discussions relating to the headscarf – even if the content was sometimes altered to include the scarf as a symbol of political activity against the secular republican state – in France and elsewhere, including Turkey and Germany. e above can best be described as a ‘liberal’ model of governance with some ‘nationalist’ elements, and it also accounts for the historical



  

reasons why the UK and other European countries would not fund Muslim schools. Until recently, the UK government had consistently rejected funding Muslim schools, although thousands of Anglican, Catholic and Jewish schools were so funded. Some of those who defended this disparity insisted that the state should not be funding religious schools in general, or that funding Muslim schools would provide support to a reactionary religion, which would then attack the state. Furthermore, they argued that, while other religious schools managed to find a balance between secular and religiously inspired knowledge aer a long struggle, Muslim schools would not able to do so. It is important to note that, in most of these cases and in other similar cases, students of Muslim background were not forbidden education. On the contrary, they were enthusiastically invited to participate in education, but only on terms acceptable to the authorities. ey might look different and behave differently in their private capacities, but in the eyes of the state they would be the same as their non-Muslim counterparts and would be treated ‘equally’. ose who made such arguments oen thought they were being fair, as they did not ask the minorities to pursue a course they themselves would not be willing to pursue. In the UK, this argument was slightly different, for there the positions against were based on a particular discriminatory attitude; non-Anglican schools had been funded for many years, so it was not merely a question of the narrow vision of the national culture. Pluralism did exist for Catholics and Jews, but not for Muslims. Yet the assumptions articulated therein are far from proven. A number of questions arise here: were the French legislators correct in assuming that the headscarf was a symbol of female subjugation? If they were correct to oppose it on moral principle, would this moral abhorrence be justifiable in terms of universal validity such that it would necessitate a ban? Even if the headscarf was against the emancipation of women, a key concept of French Republican thought, was it the place of the French state to proscribe it? Are French, German, or, for that matter, Western values truly universal, to be upheld at any cost? If these suppositions are correct, the headscarf should have been banned completely and not simply in schools. Moreover, if the suppositions were correct in the British case, then the privately funded Muslim schools should also have been banned. e issue at hand that cannot be overlooked is what constitutes the basis of French political tradition. e French state is the expression of

   



the French nation, and the French citizen is simultaneously integrated into the French state and into the French nation by an act of will to embody and protect French culture, which just happens to be universal in its validity. In this manner, the French ‘nation’ and French ‘citizenry’ are identifiably the same, and both partake of ‘universal values’. It is undeniably the case that many women who wear the headscarf are mistreated. Some wear it out of choice, some wear it out of fear; but women and men alike are oen mistreated, oen do things out of choice, and oen do things without choice. e question is: is there a direct correlation between the donning of the headscarf and oppression? Where is the evidence to that effect, particularly when it is obvious that the women who were struggling to wear the hijāb ̣ during protests in the run-up to the law were not struggling to remain in the home under the proverbial thumbs of their husbands? Rather, the evidence suggests that these women were at least seeking to interact with mainstream society, whether in education or in public service, while remaining true to their Islamic obligations. Indeed, one of the greatest arguments against the ban is that it will create a de jure exclusion of devout Muslim women from mainstream life; that it is a measure which is discriminatory on the basis of religion and of sex, hindering integration, as opposed to aiding it. Symbols are simple articles representing complex concepts; it is important to understand what the latter are before banning the former. A scarf does not always mean female subjugation, and a beard does not always express political rebellion. If, however, it is accepted that the correlation is genuine, it does not necessarily follow that the state would be justified in imposing a ban. e French state justified its actions in the manner followed by most of the liberal anti-multiculturalists: using the fear that social cohesion will fall apart when communities are given too much recognition by public institutions. In contrast, the commission which advised French President Jacques Chirac and endorsed the ban on headscarves seemed to think that the ban was a measure which would aid integration rather than work against it. To this end, within the same report that the commission delivered, Chirac was advised to add Muslim and Jewish festivals to the calender of observed public holidays and to introduce halāl ̣ and kosher meals for Muslim and Jewish students respectively. In addition, discreet symbols such as medallions, small crosses, Stars of David or small Qur’āns would not be banned.



  

Such advice, however well intended, demonstrates some flawed thinking, even among the experts advising the president of France. Providing halāl ̣ food for Muslims and designating Muslim holidays as public ones might very well be a welcome reflection of the influence that Muslims have in French society. However, if one views these measures from within the French Muslim community, their importance, compared to the banning of the headscarf, is questionable. Under Islamic law, the eating of food that is not prepared by Muslim butchers under the correct procedures might be sinful, but there might be certain dispensations, especially in the Mālikī school of Islamic law, which many French Muslims follow. Moreover, the observance of Muslim holidays is strongly recommended, but it is not a mandatory religious obligation. e wearing of the hijāb, ̣ however, is recognised by all traditional schools of Islamic jurisprudence to be a religious obligation for all Muslim women past the age of puberty, except within certain company. us devout Muslim women who consider it obligatory to wear would be faced with a choice: disregarding a religious obligation (which would not take them out of the faith, but which devout Muslim women might consider to be sinful), or disregarding their education. If the French state embarks on such a course of ‘secular fundamentalism’ – as the French interior minister characterised an outright ban on headscarves – why would Muslim French citizens favour it over their religion? It is rather difficult to view the report’s recommendations without finding in it a reflection of the interior minister’s fears, as well as a deep misunderstanding of what certain similar symbolism means for different communities. e report identifies Islam almost as an Arabic version of Christianity and, as long as it remains in that mould, Islam is acceptable, just as Christianity is acceptable. Hence Arabic language is to be taught, Muslim chaplains are to be recruited into the armed forces, prisons and hospitals, and so on. However, just as the Catholic Church prescribes what Catholicism is and is not for its followers, Islam has certain mechanisms which delineate what is vital and what is optional for its own followers. ere remains an urgent need, and not simply in such large-scale issues, to understand what the values and symbols of a particular context mean to the people of that context before ‘translating’ them into our own. It is not enough to recognise what the headscarf is as we understand it; rather, the understanding of those who wear it must be understood first. Without addressing these two concerns, any sort of citizenship project is likely to fail and cause a great deal of damage in the process.

   



Such concerns arose as a reaction to the ‘headscarf affair’ in France, as articulated by Madame Mitterand – who ‘saw no reason for banning the hijāb ̣ and advocated the right to be different and the concomitant celebration of plurality’ – and others. Whether they realised it or not, such calls meant that the French state would have to take the step of recognising that this narrow version of French culture was not universal, and that the state did not have to battle against any difference with the ‘mainstream’ interpretation of that culture. e French political elite was unwilling to admit either and, thus, the headscarf affair continues to reappear in France and in other EU states ever so oen. e objective truth of the matter is quite simple: there is no neutrality here at all. Rather, one party has a symbol (the headscarf), with a meaning it holds quite sincerely as a matter of faith (modesty and piety in front of God), while another party objectifies that symbol, giving it quite a different meaning (a form of aggression, as the President Jacques Chirac said in ). e fact that this commission argued for a variety of typically multiculturalist measures only shows that some multiculturalist values have truly become embedded in public life. Twenty years ago, such a commission would never have argued for these types of measures, on the basis that it was not the business of the French state to recruit Muslim chaplains into the armed forces, for example. But the logic of the commission was certainly not multiculturalist, for it still tried to interpret the minority (Muslims) through the prism of the majority (Christians). Christians need chaplains, hence so do Muslims. But, since pious Christian women do not need to cover their hair, why should Muslims? Obviously, they should not, unless they are trying to proselytise and create public disorder, or so it is claimed. e second model of citizenship, which we might call ‘multiculturalist citizenship’, which places more of an emphasis on pluralism and has its own problems emanating from its structural peculiarities, is represented by the current British example. Generally, although not entirely, this type of paradigm does not include an invasive assimilation process, and has more of a resemblance to pluralistic and separatist models than to nationalistic ones. Here we can find more practical evidence of why multiculturalism in Britain is still, even aer the  July bombings in London, a reality. e subsequent fear relates to social cohesion and to whether the concept of citizenship is constructed strongly enough to sustain a stable and cohesive society – the bare minimum requirement for any real civil society, as mentioned above.



  

Two examples illustrate this system at work: the exemption for Sikhs from wearing crash helmets and the funding of faith schools. In , the British Parliament empowered the government legally to require motorcyclists to wear crash helmets; however, this meant that Sikhs would have to remove their turbans, a measure they were reluctant to take. Four years later, Parliament amended the law, allowing Sikhs to keep their turbans; but it did not use the principle of ‘cultural pluralism’ to exempt Sikhs from the measure. Rather, Parliament decided that, since the primary concern of the law was to ensure safety for the driver and that the turban was a sufficient substitute from a safety perspective, it would be permissible from that standpoint to allow turban-wearing Sikhs to drive motorcycles. Such a solution was not theoretically too problematic: the purpose of the law was safety and Sikh turbans were sufficient substitutes. In , however, the Employment Act exempted Sikhs from wearing safety helmets on construction sites, with the proviso that, should any injury occur, the injured party should accept responsibility for any additional injury that occurred because of the lack of a helmet. is solution took the standpoint of ‘safety’ to a new level – one that created a situation whereby ‘[t]he burden of additional injury is borne by those who for cultural reasons choose to meet the minimum requirement in their own different ways.’ e law took the position that, in a limited fashion, the individual might choose to place his or her own health in jeopardy in order to safeguard his or her ethnic identity. It is important to note that the law did not allow this as an absolute right; this solution would probably never have been endorsed had the turban not provided some substitute protection. We should also recall the argument that led to the British government finally funding Muslim-faith schools from the public treasury. Currently, a limited number of Muslim schools are funded by the UK on a basis similar to Catholic, Jewish and Anglican schools; however, the risk of the spread of ‘fundamentalist Islam’ is being cited as a reason for withholding funds. At best, this claim is an exaggeration and, at worst, a fallacy. As mentioned previously: if it were true, non-state funded Muslim schools would have been closed down a long time ago. e state, however, carried out its policy on a basis of equal opportunity, in recognition of difference. e principle was to provide for a good education that would allow students to pursue their lives in the UK on a par with the majority, while still providing for variations according to their chosen belief

   



system. e curriculum would be set according to certain standards, which are universal enough for both the mainstream and the Muslim minority to agree upon – a situation that would satisfy all parties involved. Some actors within the state are now questioning how best to carry out this philosophy, and, at the time of writing, the UK’s Department of Communities and Local Government were beginning a review of training-for-faith leaders in the Muslim community; but the fundamental principles hopefully remain the same. e UK approached its diversity issues in these two cases according to the following principles: . Equality was to mean ‘equality of opportunity’, which involved respecting differences to a point, and not insisting upon complete uniformity. Hence, safety and education were the red lines, but within them allowances were made. A good example of seeing how the British legal establishment viewed this principle can be found in the case surrounding Shabina Begum in Luton; her right to wear a headscarf was never questioned, although her freedom to dress as she pleased was curtailed in other ways. . Where it was accepted that the state did have a role to play, this role was to be based on a position that displayed a certain ‘neutral standpoint’. ere was to be a very basic ‘minimum requirement’, which could then incorporate a great deal of diversity, but past that line the state would not budge. As such, had the schools insisted on teaching a curriculum that would have resulted in students being unable to compete in the general market, the state would probably have rejected funding. Such a rejection would not have been unequal, as the other schools did meet that criterion. . But we are still le wondering: what is a ‘neutral standpoint’? Are we to assume that something is ‘neutral’ just because it is claimed to be so? Or do we have a system by which we can argue it to be so? If we do, in order for it to be consistent, will it not have to be based on some sort of set of principles? In which case, is it still neutral? And here we find the same weakness in many multiculturalists, as mentioned before; for, while they identify the key falsehood (there is no such thing as ‘neutrality’), they have nothing to provide in its



  

place that can be sustained. It is not sufficient to deconstruct lies: the establishment of truth must also be provided. is is the job of the next generation.

Multiculturalist Citizenship: e Next Generation of Multiculturalists Kymlicka notes, quoting other philosophers: ‘Policies which increase the salience of ethnic identities act “like a corrosive on metal, eating away at the ties of connectedness that bind us together as a nation” .’ Even Kymlicka, a multiculturalist par excellence, admits that this is a ‘serious concern’. Whether it is the salience of ethnic identities or of religious identities, the fear is that it will displace and make irrelevant the common identity that is the basis of citizenship, leaving the state to crumble into a ‘spiral of competition, mistrust and antagonism’. In this sense, Kymlicka’s liberalism overrides his pluralism, and justifiably so: but he is still a multiculturalist liberal. It has been discussed above that the analysis of the multiculturalist school has been generally correct, but that it has a key weakness. In its desire to deconstruct properly that which is unjustifiable, it has le out one key task: the construction of that which is justifiable. And here, plainly speaking, the de-reification of the ‘national identity’ by the multiculturalist school has le a huge gaping hole where national identities used to be. We do not live in a world where identities have been made completely irrelevant, and indeed, it does not follow that a stable society really needs this to happen. On the contrary, identities are the means by which values are sustained and morals are passed on to individuals who become citizens. As yet, nothing better than the overall concept of ‘national identity’ has really been proposed – perhaps, just as democracy ‘is the worst form of government, except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time’ (Winston Churchill) – so ‘national identity’ is our best alternative. e question is: who gets to define this national identity? Now, obviously, not everyone in the world is going to be able to do it. On the contrary – if that were the case, then countries and cultures would cease to exist as we know them. It does not make sense to say that Chinese who live in Beijing are able to define the culture of London, for example. On the other hand, what about the Chinese who live in Beijing and want to migrate to the UK?

   



Now, this seems a simple enough question. If they come, under the law, then they should be able to come into a country that allows them rights and responsibilities, and if, over time, they contribute and so on, they will become citizens and then be part of the story of the UK. But there are two things here that are also questions, which we do not always see. e first is: who gets to have the ‘original blessing’ (opposite of original sin) of setting the parameters of that national story (that defines the national identity)? And, if one asks why this is important, the answer is predictable: because we must start from somewhere. To repeat the point again: there is no such thing as neutrality in this regard. ere is always going to be an inbuilt kind of preference, even in things like public holidays being on some days (owing to historical cultural/or religious reasons). So, who gets to do it? e second is a corollary question: are all people in any given country ‘equal’ in terms of the community capital for defining the national story? Now, the standard assumption is: the majority gets to decide that national story. But this is not good enough. Who will protect the minority from the tyranny of the majority? Also, what sort of majority are we talking about? Demographic majority? Political and economic majority (which can also be in the hands of the minority)? ese are questions to be pondered on. If we admit that today’s pluralistic world requires that each nation state have some kind of multicultural citizenship, we can move beyond this, to talk about who gets to formulate the public political culture of that multicultural society. For me, it is rather self-evident that we need one – if we do not have one, we run the very real risk of ethnic and civil strife, the likes of which we have seen so far in the world through genocide and ethnic cleansing (and lesser destructive forces). So – who gets to formulate that? Any sustainable public political culture must be underpinned by values, and values come from historically based national cultures that already have stories behind them. Note: one political culture, but plural values, and these in terms of historically based national cultures as well as stories, both within the same culture, groups of cultures and completely distinct cultures. is is the point of the multiculturalist process – that we have respect for those different stories, and that each of those different stories can provide us with values for the public political culture. Multiculturalism without this public political culture, this story that



  

defines the nation (even if it has many elements), is just a process without any sustainable output. It is like a factory line that keeps on running, but with no product actually in sight – because no one knows remotely what the final product is supposed to look like. ese different stories are characterised by a historical identity, which relates to values. is is perhaps the most important thing. One would be hard-pressed to limit it to ethnic groups; one would include religious groups also, as well as gender – it is not sufficient that there is, simply, a number of people. ey have to have a history, because history is the test that a culture is actually a sustainable set of ideas. is presupposes, incidentally, that every community that relates to each of these stories is actually sure of itself. It is insufficient to have a community that just labels itself, without knowing its history and what has actually produced it in terms of its past. Otherwise, how can its people promote their values, and what makes them special (just as special as anyone else) in this family of peoples and individuals? is applies, for example, to the Malays in Malaysia and to the English in Britain – they do not have the same sense of ‘self ’ that the Chinese in Malaysia and the Scots in Britain do. ey certainly have an identity and a story that should be part of the national story of each of their countries (Malaysia and Britain); but, if they do not know it and educate themselves in those identities and stories, how can they properly engage in a process of creating and recreating the nation, which should be a continuous process in any society? But this still does not lead us to the final query – who gets to define the public political culture? If we assume that: a) the public political culture should be based on cultures (whether ethnic cultures, religious cultures or other types of culture in terms of what is based on a set of historically defined ideas or experiences); b) each of these cultural groups has to be sure of itself and its own stories; and c) the cultural groups have to be resident within the countries themselves – then, d) does it follow that all of these groups become a part of the process of defining the public political culture? Yes, with a sense of proportion, and with an awareness of how those groups came to be there. A sense of proportion means that the starting position (and there is a starting point that is not neutral, no matter what we try to fool ourselves into believing) of the public political culture belongs first to the original inhabitants of the land. en, it becomes a point of democratic inclusion of the

   



later arrivals – and those later arrivals should have a legitimate arrival point. Otherwise their ‘nation-capital’ (i.e. their ‘wealth’ in creating the national culture) is diminished. Let us make the point clear with a fictitious example: Stan is a country of Stanians. ey have a fully active historical memory as Stanians, although they (like pretty much everyone in this world) have known diversity as a natural way of life. In their history, there are plenty of records to suggest that many Nonstanians came into the country and settled there, adding to the diversity of the country. e Nonstanians generally kept to their identity as Nonstanians, but Stanian culture was sufficiently tolerant to allow them gently and organically to become part of the story of Stan. Now Stanians are the majority, and rightfully so; they did not kill off the indigenous inhabitants, even if through time they changed religions and thus affected the culture. Nonstanians are the minority, but, were it not for the fact that they are demographically the minority, they would have as much right as Stanians to define the story – they also did not come except with the permission of the inhabitants. But then, for example, Stan is invaded by Imperium. Imperium then brings in a huge amount of Antistanians, who begin to demand the right to define the public political culture of the country. Now, if the Antistanians became the majority, this would be a moot, academic discussion. Aer all, this is what happened to the United States – the majority of the present citizens originate in a settlement which did not have the welcome (let alone the permission) of Native Americans. is is the unfortunate reality of the Native American story – it essentially disappeared as a powerful reality in its own land. But, as long as the Antistanians are not the majority, one could plausibly argue that the Stanians have the moral and strategic right to resist the changes to their public political culture due to invasion. If, for example, G. W. Bush had settled millions of Americans in Iraq, one could insist that multiculturalism would reject any accommodation of them or their symbols in the national story. eir ‘nation capital’ is by force of arms – and that cannot be the basis for a just and sustainable nation, for as long as is humanly possible. Now, how does that apply in Europe? Does it apply to the ‘demographic invasion’ of Muslim communities? Is the fear of Eurarabia a justifiable one, and should European countries consider themselves similar to Stanians before being invaded by Imperium, or as Iraqis in the above scenario?



  

Arguably, Europe is much more in the former category. If the Muslim communities of Europe were actually white, Christian and well off, and we should be honest, none of this talk about ‘identity crisis’ and ‘Eurarabia’ would even be a subject of discussion, even if these communities did originate in Arabia – or in Timbuktoo for that matter. e real issues occur because of a historical relationship with Islam as a powerful neighbouring civilisation (which sometimes did come into conflict with non-Muslim parts of Europe); because of a lack of capacity in European societies in terms of dealing with racial diversity (which they have never done before, although many other societies have done very well in this regard in history); and because of the fact that most of the communities that arrive from the Muslim world are poor, which creates a grassroots backlash from indigenous people who lose their jobs in this free-market economy of competitiveness. In the European situation, the invasion occurred the other way around. Had colonialism never taken place, it is doubtful that more than a fraction of migrant Muslims would have come to Europe. One can look at the numbers right now: most immigrants in Europe in general are themselves colonial subjects or descendants from them. Take them away, and you have very homogenous societies in Europe. Beyond that – and this is also important – these communities were welcomed to come to Europe because Europeans wanted them to fill in the gap in cheap labour. Put these two factors together, and it is rather unconscionable for indigenous Europeans to remove now the right of immigrants and their descendants to play a role in the construction of the national story and in the public political culture based on that national story, even while indigenous Europeans have the historical right of defining the ‘starting position’. All societies that have thrived, even for a short while, have demanded social stability by some means or another. Ibn Khaldūn, a fourteenth-century Tunisian scholar, was probably the first thinker to identify this key precursor to any serious liberal thought. For example, he referred to the Arabs as the ‘most difficult of people to lead, since their wishes concord only rarely’, due to their ‘fierce character, pride, roughness and jealousy of one another especially in political matters’. He thought that the primary key to every civilisation was social cohesion; with the Arabs, this could be achieved by following a prophet or a saint. With such a tool, the community could thrive; without it, it would continue in feuding and pandemonium. It should be recognised that the differences between the various Arab tribes

   



that Ibn Khaldūn referred to were far less significant than the differences between communities in modern states, which made his point ever more poignant. us one key thing remains for our discussion. What is the ‘mainstream’ based on? Who decides what the basic values of the nation actually are, and thus what those of the state are? And perhaps more importantly: how does discussion regarding such values actually take place? We no longer live in a certain moral universe, where the Church can lay down those limits (or any other religion); such an approach simply no longer applies in this time, and certainly not in post-Christian Europe. But we cannot be fooled into thinking that there is no sort of void there; there is, and if any political philosophy is to go beyond theory and exist as action, it has to take that into account. As Olssen notes regarding the fourth principle of the Parekh Report on multi-ethnic Britain (the first being ‘equal worth’, the second identifying citizens as both individuals and members of communities and the third affirming the principle of ‘difference’): But, just as diversity is important, so, a fourth principle asserts, every society needs to be cohesive, ‘and must find ways of nurturing diversity while fostering a common sense of belonging and a shared identity among its constituent members’. European societies have generally, through a variety of historical processes, found a way by which this social cohesion can be accomplished. e liberal concept of the ‘citizen’, as a way to ensure a formalised link between two completely different types of individuals in a particular territory, is the latest stage. is concept is taken seriously all over the EU and affects every institution in some way or another. In institutions in France, the ‘liberal state’ par excellence, it means that citizens are treated as individually equal, in the sense that they are the ‘same’, without note to difference or differential treatment (save in some instances vis-à-vis gender and age). is is in contrast to the type of citizenship in other EU states (such as the UK, where the concept is not yet fully developed). It is the driving force, for example, behind the hijāb ̣ issue, but it is also the impetus behind the duty in French law that a citizen is legally liable to help another citizen when his life is in danger. e citizen is the basis of society and, thus, fraternity between citizens is demanded, although in different



  

ways than it is in other communities. In general, the liberal definition of a good citizen as an individual who seeks the promotion of his own interests, without infringing upon the rights of any other citizen, holds water in Europe. If the citizen is the basis of the community, then likewise, the full member of a community is a citizen. erefore the logical and necessary next step, as identified by the progression of the classical multiculturalist discussion to the ‘citizenship–civic virtue’ debate is to identify what it means to be a citizen. It is not sufficient to declare that justice demands that differential treatment be employed in certain cases for it to occur; the central axiom of liberal concepts of citizenship requires adjustment. In his academic work on the issue, Olssen cites the scholar Young, saying: the ideal of universal citizenship embodied in the social democratic conception incorporates a sense of universality as (a) generality, and (b) equal treatment. ‘Generality’ in Young’s thought means ideals that transcend the differences of the groups; what those ideals are remains contested. Indeed, it is doubtful that any final answer can be unequivocally reached; different contexts refer to different things. Some answers refer to institutions. For example, the final test of a citizen in the United States is his or her acceptance of the American Constitution. Even murderers and rapists remain citizens; but a person who rejects the constitution is, theoretically, no longer a citizen. In the EU, the basis of citizenship is very much a topic of discussion. As noted elsewhere, a recent Charter of Rights is designed to set the baseline by which an individual can be judged to be a European citizen. What this baseline is or should be remains a subject of great debate: what values are truly European? When the question is expanded globally, Kung, a scholar of religion, refers to it in another way, as the ‘universal ethic’: a set of values that the whole world, and its citizens and its different cultures alike, could lay claim to. At present, there is no such universal ethic that is expounded upon and used as a baseline for such broad application. Another scholar of religion, Mazrui, reckons that, while Western values are oen strongly considered by their supporters as universal, they are not accepted as such by the world at large. is indeed, in essence, is the same debate as the ‘citizenship–civic duty’ debate, and it is no coincidence that it has arisen at the same time.

   



In a world where geography has become less and less descriptive of culture and belonging, where communication over vast distances has become ever more instantaneous, and where cultural borrowing and replication have exponentially increased (and not, as some might erroneously say, just begun), the world may be in dire need of those minimum standards to be drawn, whether globally or regionally. As Olssen states: ‘Certain common provisions, then, must underpin difference.’ is process of ‘drawing’ has yet to be completed in any satisfactory manner, or to go beyond mere superficial platitudes. Justice, for example, is ideally a concept by which all people can judge; without reference to agreed upon examples, it is no more than an abstraction. e Parekh Report declared that each society needs a broadly shared body of values, both procedural and substantive. However, while it might be relatively easy to arrive at consensus on procedural values (i.e. basic preconditions for democratic dialogue), substantive values are not so easily agreed upon; hence Olssen’s criticism that the report did not identify in detail what those values are. e French and German ban of the hijāb ̣ in certain areas of public life may be unjust, but the French, in particular, would disagree; obviously there is a problem with using the idea of justice in abstraction if it means quite different things to different peoples. A national identity, built on common values, is a vital necessity for a sustainable theory of multiculturalist citizenship. is is particularly relevant for our context in European societies, where the far right is gaining prominence again, in part precisely because there has not been an adequate alternative to the narrow national vision that the inheritors of the assimilationist perspective have provided as the basis for citizenship. One cannot overestimate the security dimension either. We could argue that the ‘securitisation’ of the multiculturalist debate is unhealthy, and indeed there is much to suggest it is. In the author’s practical career as a consultant in the policy world with the think-tank industry, the security establishment and government policy circles, the evidence shows that, when security concerns are injected into the multiculturalist debate, there is much damage and little benefit. But, whether we like it or not, it is a fact of life that many link the two together, and posit that a national vision can serve the security of the nation. at is not, in itself, a negative supposition, but it only serves to show that the discussion around what the national vision must be should be of concern to multiculturalist theorists.



  

is is why multiculturalist citizenship has to take into account the need for a national identity for the majority: for the minority, it also provides it with something to integrate into. Without such a national vision, which properly incorporates both the minority and the majority, we find minority communities at a bit of a loss in terms of satisfying their need for belonging in their society. is search for common values is already underway in many quarters; the Crick Report notes that it is a ‘main aim’ of the whole British community, and presumably of all societies that seek social cohesion on a liberal pluralistic platform. In this truly difficult task, the minority and the majority oen meet as equal partners, as they should. Without equal access for all sectors of society to contribute, the search for common ‘civic values’ becomes a public relations exercise of the dominant segment of society; each group must have the power to contribute to the discussion in order for it to be authentic and credible. is is predicated, however, on the assumption that not only should the majority recognise the rights of the minority, but the minority should also consider the duties it owes the majority. Or, to put it another way, a consideration for the stability and cohesiveness of the community must be balanced by respecting difference and diversity; otherwise social disorder is likely and, in such a situation, respect itself becomes irrelevant. e two concerns do go together; they cannot exist without each other; the difficulty, which we must all admit from the outset, is deciding what those concerns actually entail in real life. From the author’s standpoint, the least negative way to do this is to increase democratic participation, so that all voices can be heard, but all are given the power to speak – and to speak the way they choose to speak, without being forced to sound like someone else. is is not semantics, but a very real and fundamental issue; the power to be heard in the public sphere as a representative of a national vision is currently held by a very select few in society. It is at this point that multiculturalist citizenship has to make a choice: it either becomes the process by which that national vision can be arrived at or it can contain within it the philosophy behind that national vision. Modood is quite clear that his version of ‘multicultural citizenship’ is a modest and pragmatic project, which does not admit of a thoroughly comprehensive political philosophy. One is tempted to agree that this is the case, as it protects the stability and continuity of multiculturalist citizenship: any deep, far-ranging philosophical prescriptions would cause it to become fragmented.

   



On the other hand, even if multiculturalist citizenship stops at the demand for a national vision behind a national identity without actually formulating some thoughts for that vision, one can still offer them of one’s own. at national vision cannot simply be a list of legal requirements: it must be something that can satisfy the human need, displayed so many times in history and no less today, for belonging to a story larger than life. One could argue that, here, religion in general does in fact have a pertinent role to play, religion being fairly widely defined. Religion, historically, has been the repository of core values which all civilisations have had. is is, ironically, what many assimilationists have been saying all along: belief in religion may not be necessary, but some of the values of religion (in the European context, pre-eminently displayed in the idea of ‘love of neighbour’) are virtues that are not meant to be kept solely within the church, the synagogue, the mosque or the temple and are not discriminatory towards non-believers, or even people who reject faith altogether. What is required in that national vision is a Weltanschaung: a worldview that is rooted in the story of the country. is is no small demand, and we have to be cognisant of the fact. Modernity has successfully managed to kill the idea of a Weltanschaung based on some set of sacred values in some way, and post-modernity has provided the burial casket. But now it is difficult to ignore that there is a void in its place, and one which has provoked a reaction among philosophers in the West and in the Muslim world. at void is not about to be filled overnight, but one might posit a way forward in that regard. At present, neither in the UK nor anywhere else in the European Union has any continuous or permanent institution been set up for precisely the purpose of elaborating upon a worldview that is suitable for a European country in this day and age. ere is no reason why such an institution could not be established, whether on the national level or on the European level. In the UK, the heir to the throne and thus the head of the Church of England, Prince Charles, has already announced that he would prefer to be the ‘defender of faith’ rather than the ‘defender of the faith’, indicating his pluralistic attitude as the heir-apparent to the British head of state. Now, leaving aside what this might mean for Anglicanism (and one can imagine it would have some effects which should be accounted for), perhaps such a figure could preside upon the foundation of some sort of institution that would bring together humanist philosophers and theologians of various



  

persuasions committed to the idea of a national identity. One would hope there would be enough common ground to come to something of a worthwhile philosophy behind a national identity. Such an effort would not suddenly turn the UK into a theocracy, but it would add a voice, which would be plural in nature, in the discussion around the question: ‘What does it mean to be … (fill in European country identity of choice).’ One might argue that both the idea of a national identity and the thoughts above, which might underline the philosophy of the national identity, go against many multiculturalist theorists, particularly those with a ‘secularist bias’. is would be true: many do indeed argue, both in support of multiculturalism and as evidence of how flawed the school is, that multiculturalism’s final victory is the creation of a postnational state (in other words, the absence of a national identity). But, just as culture itself is made through change, the same can be said (and even more so) for multiculturalism. e project of multiculturalism is not revelation or revealed religion: it is interpretation and reason, and as such it continues to be developed. is in itself is not the sign of a weakness but of a strength, if it has a sense of continuity. So far, it shows the continuity in the writings of the multiculturalist school which has been mentioned above. Not too many years ago, multiculturalism was concerned with critiquing the traditional demand directed at ethnic minorities to assimilate culturally: this is no longer the emphasis. Multiculturalism used to focus its energies on finding a space within liberalism for the consideration and recognition of groups: this is no longer required as much as it was before. Now the main challenge for multiculturalism is finding a space, within the concept of citizenship, for multiculturalism, and, within multiculturalism, a space for the concept of citizenship, which might be called the struggle for ‘multiculturalist citizenship’. A Framework for Multiculturalist Citizenship In light of all of the previous discussions, it is clear that three fundamental questions must be posed in order to come to an appropriate theoretical framework: . Should states be multiculturalist? . If so, how should they be multiculturalist, in light of the diversity of the multiculturalist school? . If the state is multiculturalist, what is the basis of citizenship?

   



On the first question, it seems there is little in the way of an alternative at hand for the modern age in Europe. Multiculturalism is, to date, the most developed framework in European societies for managing this diversity, and the current trend is heading firmly in that rather broad direction: the idea of a narrow and forced assimilation process is no longer entertained as a viable option in the EU. Even the historical detractors of multiculturalism have to make their arguments in the contemporary arena within the broad tradition of multiculturalism. To put it another way, multiculturalism in principle is not under debate; what is under debate is precisely what sort of multiculturalist political framework should be employed, even if we no longer refer to ‘multiculturalism’ by name. When commentators advocate the ‘end of multiculturalism’, they will not get further than the reinterpretation of multiculturalism, which is already happening from within the multiculturalist school. But we cannot go further without understanding how these states should be multiculturalist. We have discussed above that it is rather impractical to consider that religiously inspired identities are not suitable for inclusion in the considerations of a plural society. Individuals are not made up only of certain types of identities; they have several identities, co-existing on different levels. Any identity that might affect the cohesion of the community must be considered. e only question, therefore, is whether or not religiously inspired identities are important enough with regard to the individual. If they are negligible, then neither justice nor social cohesion demands them to be considered in any event. Otherwise secularism need not be so reactionary as to exclude them: this is neither fair nor equitable. Certainly, it may be necessary to oppose and reject some types of diversity; ‘tolerance’ of difference is not an absolute human right. In all things there are excesses, and respect for diversity must be balanced by a concern for the cohesiveness of the community around certain common and consensual values that provide for a stable and secure society. ese values exclude, in the medieval era, the killing of baby girls (because of the desire to have sons), or, in the modern world, forced marriages (marriages without consent, as opposed to arranged marriages with consent). Such differences are not tolerable and do justify state intervention, but in this we are fortunate, because in general such extremes are extremely rare. e ‘eight ways’ scheme of the philosopher Levy is a useful example of how the more pluralistic branch of the liberal tradition can be employed in order to ensure that the distinctiveness of all



  

communities is respected within a concept of citizenship. is scheme includes: . exemptions from those laws which penalise or burden their religious practices; . assistance in doing things the majority does unassisted; . self-government for certain types of communities (including national minority groups); . external rules restricting non-members’ liberty in order to protect members’ culture; . internal rules for members’ conduct that are enforced by ostracism and excommunication; . incorporation and enforcement of traditional or religious legal codes within the dominant legal system; . special representation within government institutions; and . symbolic recognition of the group within the larger state community. In this effort, provide the European and Muslim context certain examples. Legal exemptions have already been offered to some groups, the most commonly quoted example being the special consideration for Jewish shopkeepers with regard to Sunday-closing laws. Some Muslim groups have also requested exemptions from certain educational regulations, in order to raise their children in an educational setting that is not against their religion. Muslim groups around the EU oen seek assistance, particularly with regard to education and the establishment of faith schools. Some scholars, such as Callan, support such policies on the grounds that public funding only for secular schools is discriminatory, and that the current ethos of ‘common schools’ (i.e. non-religious secular state schools) may promote bigotry vis-à-vis minority groups. In his work, Callan quotes the Swann Report, which suggested that, in the UK, the existing state schools should include a pluralistic religious ethos, so that Muslim children would have no reason to go to separate schools. To this end, another academic, Haldane, replies that, ‘if the host society has so little respect for its own culture as no longer to require transmission of its religious traditions and the associated system of values, might one not doubt the seriousness of its regard for Muslim and other essentially religious immigrant cultures?’ However, Callan’s suggestion can easily counter Haldane’s objections in an appropriate manner, which does not really have

   



much resonance unless there is no role whatsoever for the state in education. As it stands, there are minimum curricula imposed on all schools funded by the state, regardless of whether they are ‘state’ or ‘faith’ schools, in order to ensure certain minimum standards of education. is can continue to be the case, without detriment, even if the emphasis on certain subjects differs from school to school, provided that all children have realistic and equal access to any school that possesses state funding. Such a state of affairs already exists, in part, in the Indian educational system, where, if there is partial funding of the school, there can be no discrimination at the level of entry requirements and no compulsory religious education; the caveat, however, is that the more the state funds, the less religious education is permitted. If, as scholars such as McConnell suggest, the middle ground means that there would be partial funding from the state only to finance the non-religious classes (such as mathematics), then so be it; but such a policy would have to be applied across the board, both to ‘secular’ and to ‘religious’ schools. e importance of ensuring that children are well educated, as McConnell notes, is great. Such an arrangement would, however, absolve the religious schools from any responsibility to focus the religious education in a manner that assists social participation rather than marginalisation. Other scholars, including Borrows, argue that assistance is not only justified on the basis of the existence of racism or historical disadvantages, but also on the basis that such policies might enhance the sense of citizenship among minority groups, thereby making integration easier. Again, this is a reasonable position provided that the minority groups ensure that they use their particular and specific agenda to further integration into the mainstream, or at least do not advocate the reverse. In this way ‘the concern that ‘minority rights will crowd a common citizenship identity’ may be alleviated. Self-government – Levy’s third way – for Muslims in the EU is in practice a prospect not considered either by Muslim communities or by the mainstream; Kalim Siddiqi in the early nineties may have founded the ‘Muslim Parliament’ in the UK, but this was envisaged to be akin to the Board of Deputies of British Jews, rather than parallel governance. e extent to which Muslims want power usually reserved for the state is more suitably discussed in the context of Levy’s sixth way. Incorporation of the interpretations of Muslim sacred law ( fiqh) into the state legal system with respect to personal status laws, or at least recognition of its validity as a source of law for



  

Muslim citizens, has been a demand over the past decades. Support for this among Muslim communities has varied according to the political and social contexts; generally, however, it is not a strong issue, since there is little in European legal systems that actively hinders Muslims from living a life that conforms with fiqh in the first place, even though the fear of fiqh may continue in wider society. However, satisfying this demand requires extra effort, greater than that required in many predominantly Muslim states, as it necessarily means that, rather than the state organising the affairs of the community, civil society must do so instead. How all of this will progress in the future is uncertain. It is of course not beyond imagination that a single political entity may have a plurality of legal systems in some cases. Some regulations that apply to women (e.g. maternity leave) do not apply to men; or, Israel and India differentiate personal status laws according to religious affiliation. is is how religious diversity has been accommodated in those states to some degree, but not without difficulty: in Israel, for example, one of the most poignant points of friction in the Jewish community is the objection of secular Jews to the near total control of the Orthodox Rabbinate over personal laws for Jews, regardless of individual religious commitment or following. In Europe, the Ottoman Empire, the Austro-Hungarian Empire and a number of other regions also followed this type of system of differentiation based on religion. Nevertheless, regardless of the historical pedigree, any modern application would need to address certain obstacles, such as discovering a manner by which authentic and progressive interpretations are given legitimacy, rather than any opinion that happens to arise. Such obstacles may be partially removed by the existence of a ‘right of exit’ for individuals from the community. To an extent, this was the situation with the Ottoman state; non-Muslims were given the choice to follow their own religious laws, or to follow the state law (although this was basically Muslim fiqh). However, the social stigma that might arise from such a choice in some communities might make the ‘right of exit’ practically impossible to exercise. Such a consideration might be important not only for non-religious people who demand to be included in society as ‘Muslims’, but also for those who may follow an authentic – but different – interpretation of the sacred law and find no room for latitude with the responsible body. Special representation within government institutions for particular communities, Levy’s ‘seventh way’, is a particularly

   



controversial measure, which finds opposition in various forums. e Cypriot case takes community identification as the basis of all government, following as it does from British colonialism and the Ottoman state system; in its modern form, such identification means that, at present, there is no place for non-communal citizens in the state structure. Muslims as a religious community, and other religious communities in the EU, are not calling for similar quota-based political representation in democratically elected bodies. However, where appointed bodies such as the House of Lords in the UK are also a part of the system, in order to reflect the makeup of society as a whole (rather than only those who come out to vote), a number of entities have called for Muslim representation. Modood suggests that such a measure may not be necessarily damaging; on the contrary, it may be ‘more conducive to social stability and intergroup harmony’ in certain cases. Various groups have already sought political representation by sectional representation in existing political parties or institutions, in the same way other groups (such as women, Jews and Africans) have. Less difficult measures to recognise religious communities in order to induce social cohesion are also wide open. Going beyond Europe and looking at the Coptic community in Egypt, for example, reveals a community that has long had the right to take their religious festivals as additional days off from employment – the bare minimum, some might say, that a state that respects and appreciates its pluralistic citizenry can do. Recently, however, the Coptic festivals were designated as national holidays, further recognising Copts not only as a tolerated minority, but an integral part of Egyptian society. e effect which measures such as these may have on the enthusiasm of minority communities to participate in the mainstream should not be underestimated, as it serves a dual purpose: getting the mainstream to appreciate the minority, and getting the minority to accept itself as part of the mainstream. In order to remain consistent with what has already been written here about the need for a national story, one could, and indeed should, assume the need for a national identity based on a national story. e ‘ninth way’, thus, is a prescription about how to include (and not exclude or ignore) the full participation of minorities in the continual construction, and reconstruction, of the national story. at national story must be based on inclusion as well as on fairness, which brings together majorities and minorities, and it should also assume itself to be necessary for both the majority and the minorities: this is the



  

mechanism by which societies in crisis are stabilised. And if we have learnt anything from our discussion, it is that societies in modernity are indeed in crisis. e security discussion only goes to show how the concerns can be made even more manifest in a time of a crisis. Summary Like Muslim juridical theorists who are trying to take into account the effect of modernity on their jurisprudence, European political philosophers are recognising that traditional understandings of identity and belonging are no longer valid in a Europe defined by new circumstances. e dynamics of immigration, EU integration and globalisation have raised new questions surrounding what is meant by the ‘European identity’, and the debate is still very much open. In general, the multiculturalists have ‘won’ the first argument: there is almost a consensus that there should be genuine respect for diversity in societies. e second phase is now underway: how much respect should be given, and how does this relate to the need for a common citizenship? On what is that common citizenship – a component of a cohesive society as far as Europe is concerned – to be based? Such questions are certainly relevant for Muslim communities, which are diverse in and of themselves and which oen pose the greatest challenges to the debate through their various ethnic origins and also through their value systems. is chapter has considered the application of a form of liberal pluralism whereby a useful interpretation of multiculturalism is used to uphold the principle of respect for diversity as well as the concern for a sustainable common citizenship, necessary for the cohesiveness of modern European societies. e deeper question of what that common citizenship should be based upon, however, has been le unanswered. Nor have we chosen to go far beyond what states and politicians should do. e civil and social roles in this regard are not our specific concerns in this particular book. At this point in the debate, however, some observations can be made. First: societies are, at once, collectives of citizens and collectives of communities. Classic liberalism addresses the former, whereas pluralism addresses the latter; hence, a combination of the two may be most appropriate in European societies. is would mean that there is both unity and diversity in both public and private life, but a single, national–political culture in the public sphere that is nevertheless drawn from a consensus among the societies’ many communities. In the final analysis, the concept of ‘minority’ relates to power, not to

   



numbers, and at present every citizen is a minority, whereas the state, as it has power, is the majority. e progression towards a citizenbased polity within the EU, a polity which treats people as European citizens, but also as citizens of individual member states, provides an opportunity for full Muslim integration into the European sphere. For there is, if properly deployed, a concurrent point of agreement between Islamic principles, as illustrated by Muslim intellectuals and scholars, and constitutional provisions of civic commitment, as exemplified by European scholars and intellectuals. Ramadan, the Swiss academic, proposes that by deriving a ‘civic ethic’ from the teachings of Islam, Muslims will not only find workable agreement with the mainstream, but also be able to go far beyond that. Discussions in these fields are already taking place among exponents of fiqh, an issue which shall be considered in Chapter . It is difficult to see what alternative actually exists to some type of national identity – which is essentially what we are discussing here. For some small minorities, other concepts may serve to hold sway, for instance some sort of abstract cosmopolitanism; but the wider group of people in any given society are not going to give wide credence to such concepts. e major barrier to overcome in this regard is the requirement that the minority and the majority consider themselves interchangeable in terms of their civic responsibilities. e majority must view itself as made of individual citizens from the overall community, and the minority must do the same; in other words, regard itself as citizens. is is important to note, for it is all too easy for communities to go only half way; to become engaged voices in their societies, but only on behalf of their particular groups. Such usage of citizenship is oen abusive, designed to perpetrate the estrangement of such groups from society by using other means. It is true that all minorities must sometimes defend their rights in a group fashion, for otherwise their concerns, as groups, may be ignored. Within limits, this is not only acceptable, but mandatory. In a world where globalisation is redesigning cultural expression in societies every day, one cannot expect social mainstreams to adjust without representation of some sort from groups who require accommodation. ese adjustments are oen the subject of misunderstanding or misinterpretation, but the need exists nonetheless. e risk is that these exceptions may be exploited to the point where a ghettoisation effect takes place, reducing the citizenship-based identity to a mere convenience, recognised rarely



  

if at all. One side of the equation seldom solves the problems of communitarianism, sectarianism and ‘identity politics’; both the majority and the minority should contribute to its resolution. Likewise, full integration should not be about groups as groups or individuals as individuals, but rather about both. But not even this paradigm is necessarily sufficient for a truly healthy civil society. In coming to an understanding about such a resolution, whether from the point of view of the state or of the civil society, it is necessary to understand the theoretical framework underpinning the approach to the situation both from the majority and from the minority. e reader will probably understand by now that the author’s perception of how these issues are dealt with is fundamentally pragmatic; there are no grandiose programmes outlined here for monumental shis and changes in policy. Nor would it be necessary to intend to create one; the interest expressed here is in a political type of multiculturalism. All that can really be said of this type is that an appreciation of both approaches is appropriate, necessary and valuable for the demographic majority as well as for the demographic minorities. e plural of ‘minority’ is not meant as a throwaway; there are different approaches for different minorities, and no one size fits all in these equations. But all of those equations have to be able to fit into a wider idea of multicultural citizenship, which incorporates difference under a common national umbrella. e theoretical framework of the former type of multiculturalism has been outlined in this chapter; the theoretical framework of the latter emerges from somewhat different points of departure, and should also be discussed in order for us to understand the approach of the community under observation. Since it is a community defined and delineated by a particular faith (Islam), its theoretical framework, if it is to be achieved without prejudice to the sub-communities that might look at the issues in a different way, must also take into consideration the law of the faith that defines them: the sharī‘ah.

2 Without Political Prerogative: Muslims as Minorities in Fiqh

e Sheikh and Imām ibn Salah (Allah have mercy on him) said: ‘Being a Muslim is outwardly established by one’s saying the two Testifications of Faith [Shahādatayn]’.

 M , Muslims are defined as Muslims in their sacred law by saying the shahādah; as such, it is a religious community delineated, theoretically and practically, according to a notion of jurisprudence. Marechal characterises this in the following way: without this law, the Muslim’s commitment and ability to practise Islam is incomplete and unbalanced. at the Muslim may not practise every principle laid down by that law does not negate his being Muslim, as far as Muslim scholars are concerned: ‘e position of Muslim orthodoxy is that no Muslim becomes a nonMuslim through sin.’ Although, clearly, the most important test is whether or not a person actually considers Islam his or her religion. e comprehensive nature of this law has led many to doubt the ability of Muslims to integrate into non-Muslim societies. As far back

A



  

as , John Locke wrote: It is ridiculous for any person to profess himself to be a Mahometan only in his religion, but in everything else a faithful subject to a Christian magistrate, while at the same time he acknowledges himself bound to yield blind obedience to the Mui of Constantinople, who himself is entirely obedient to the Ottoman Emperor and frames the feigned oracles of that religion according to his pleasure. Locke’s statement betrays a confusion of Islam with a bizarre form of Catholicism (ironically, similar accusations were laid at the doors of American Catholics in the twentieth century) rather than a considered analysis of the role of sharī‘ah in the life of the Muslim; the confusion remains, in various ways, until the present day. With that in mind, however, it is important to note that there is a plurality of ways in which Islam is put into practice. In consequence, an overview of the sources and methodology of the Islamic religious disciplines follows, in order to understand, in the words of one Muslim academic, how ‘the oneness of the points of reference and the diversity of their lived manifestations become concrete and overlap.’ e idea of using fiqh (formulations of sacred law) to elaborate upon the position of Muslims living in the EU (or in individual European societies) may be a rather novel one in contemporary academic studies, but there appear to be several reasons for considering it: . e phenomenon of a large Muslim population in the EU is unfamiliar; the EU is a new grouping of states, unlike anything that has come before it. . As noted elsewhere in this study, the overwhelming majority of Muslims in the EU is of recent immigrant extraction. ese populations initially came to the EU on a temporary basis; hence the myth of return, which was so prevalent in a number of these communities, for example in Britain. us, debating their position in these societies from a fiqh standpoint only took on importance with the advent of communities that rejected the psychological mentality of being transient sojourners, and with the continued importance of religion to such communities.

    



. Finally, a growing number of convert communities has also begun to discuss these questions for its own benefit. Particularly, this seems to be the least important factor, as many of these convert communities simply took their position of Muslims in Europe as a given; there were no myths of return they could take advantage of, aer all. For such reasons it may be assumed that, for a large number of Muslims in the EU, sacred law is not only useful for understanding their current situation, but imperative: ‘Religion is for these traditions inextricably integrated into every facet of life … No system of rights that ignores or deprecates this cardinal place of religion can be respected or adopted.’ Sharī‘ah and Fiqh Sharī‘ah literally means ‘road’ or ‘avenue’, and may refer in ancient usage to the path to a desert oasis. In Muslim legal context it refers to the wide road or avenue that the human being walks toward God. Within this paradigm, it is accepted that to go outside the boundaries of the ‘road’ is to invite confusion and disorientation. Muslim jurists have defined the objectives of sharī‘ah or maqā sid ̣ al-sharī‘ah over the centuries, with the details of sharī‘ah or fiqh being rather diverse. As such, the Muslim community is agreed upon the fact that it requires a scholar of certain calibre to deliver a ruling from the sources in a proper, accurate and correct manner. A number of qualifications are required before one becomes competent to articulate an independently held position on any issue; these include expertise in classical Arabic, the Qur’ān, the precedent of the Prophet, and so forth. ose who are not so qualified, accounting for the overwhelming majority of Muslims in history, are assumed to be obliged to follow a school of law based on qualified scholarship. is practice is known as taqlīd or ‘emulation’, defined as following a qualified opinion without knowing the evidence or reasoning behind the ruling. On any issue, a Muslim may follow the work of a qualified independent jurist (mujtahid) and thus be assured that the scholarly opinion is at least an informed one. Understanding this methodological approach is central to historical Islamic scholarship, which can be regarded as the classical ‘Islamic metanarrative’. Needless to say, there is much work to be done in this area; this particular chapter is not designed to be wholly comprehensive and



  

should not be taken as such. Nor should it be viewed as some sort of reified oversimplification; it attempts to summarise enough of the relevant historical discussions, so that we might better understand the subject we are currently looking at. Schools of Law Practised within the EU Muslim Community At the end of the seventh century, subsequent to the passing of the last Prophet and to the era of the first four leaders of the community, one could speak of three main divides within the Muslim community: . e party which followed all four of the successors and came to be known as Ahl al-Sunnah wa al-Jamā‘ah (‘those who follow the prophetic practice and the community’) or Sunnīs. is accounts for perhaps more than  per cent of the global Muslim community. . e party which insisted that only the fourth successor was legitimate, and that the other three were usurpers. is group came to be known as Ahl al-‘I smah ̣ wa-’l-‘Adāla (‘those who profess infallibility and justice’) or al-Shi‘ī (‘the partisans’). Of the global Muslim community, – per cent are Shi‘ī and, although they are a minority, they have shaken the Muslim world in many key regions, as events in Iran in , and Lebanon in the s and s, demonstrate. . e party that disavowed two of the successors, called the Khawārij (the ‘dissenters’). is group evolved to become the Ibādīs ̣ of Oman, Tunisia and East Africa. However, each of the three groups contains subdivisions. While people were originally divided according to political beliefs regarding who was the rightful successor in the community, later disagreements resulted in differences in law, faith, and models and expressions of piety. Nevertheless, unanimity might have been found on most issues within each subdivision, as well as on key points within the three broad categories; but this is no longer the case today. Within the Khawārij community, there is little information on how this played out; the community exists only in small areas of the Muslim world and seems to be gradually phasing out of existence. e Shi‘ī, on the other hand, continued to split according to legal differences all through their history, and similarly on faith and spirituality. is led to the formation of different sub-sects, such as the Ismā‘īlīs, Dāwūdī-Bohras, Twelver-Shi‘īs, Zaydīs and so forth.

    



Within the Sunnī community different subdivisions have also arisen. In terms of the tenets of faith, two subdivisions were recognised as authentic with scarcely any difference between them. e first employs a certain methodology known as ‘partial tafwīd’,̣  and eventually gave birth to the schools of the Ash‘arīyyah and Māturīdīyyah. e second approach employed ‘complete tafwīd’,̣ and would include, for example, the ‘Atharī’ school of Ahmad ̣ bin Hanbal. ̣ Other formulations of the tenets of faith (‘aqīdah) existed, both before and aer these two scholars, but, provided that they did not positively contradict these systematic schools, they were judged by Sunnī scholars to be sound. In matters of law there was far more plurality, akin to that of Shi‘ī communities, up until the tenth century. e basic legal principles (u sūl) ̣ may have been uniform, but plurality of interpretation in the ‘branches’ ( furū‘) of those principles resulted in many juridical paradigms. As certain ones became more popular, others began to die out, until only a few remained aer the tenth century. From then until the nineteenth century, Sunnī Muslims generally followed the schools built upon the methodology of the Imams Abū Hanīfah, ̣  Mālik, al-Shāfi‘ī and Ibn Hanbal. ̣ e rulings of the individual schools were revised aer their eponymous founders passed away, but the actual methodology of the schools remained generally constant. In general, these four legal schools have ‘won acceptance among Sunnī Muslims down to our own day’. Schools of piety ( tarīqahs), ̣ fellowships to uphold the science of i hsān ̣ or spiritual excellence, were much more diverse.

Classical Juristic Discourse on Muslims without Political Sovereignty In non-Muslim states, the issue of following religious law had become a matter of concern by the fourth century  (tenth century ). Prior to that time, there were some Muslims living in predominantly non-Muslim areas without political sovereignty, even during the prophetic era. By the fourth century, however, significantly large numbers of Muslims were in areas annexed by Christians and, apart from the traditionally quoted instances of Abyssinia (–) and Spain, other areas, such as China and Sicily, were examples where non-Muslims were in power over Muslims. e jurists (fuqahā’) had to answer these challenges, which resulted in a number of discussions that are mentioned in the classical texts.



  

Fadl estimates that there are three major questions in the classical literature that the jurists try to answer in relation to the existence of Muslims living in a non-Muslim state, which may be summed up as follows: . Are Muslims permitted to reside in non-Muslim territory? . Are such Muslims a normal part of the international community of Muslims (ummah) or are they a special class of Muslims, exempt from certain normative obligations? . What are the obligations of Muslims residing in non-Muslim territory with respect both to the host state and to Islamic law? e main thrust of the debates circles around a certain query: is it only possible to live a just, good or moral life under a polity dedicated to the application of fiqh, or may one live under another polity? Gleave responds: e classical compendia do provide advice for a Muslim who lives under non-Islamic rule – the most common ruling being that a Muslim who lives under non-Islamic rule should follow the example of the Prophet and migrate (hijra) to a place where Islamic law is enforced, or the Shari‘a at least potentially can be implemented. is summation, however, is an incomplete one, and requires further elaboration. But it is important to note that Gleave correctly speaks of the ‘classical compendia’, which is to say two things of importance: . Issues relating to these questions were debated and discussed in the classical literature. . ere was no single section in any of the classical literature that went through the questions posed above. e phrase fiqh alaqalliyāt did not have any meaning or resonance; it did not designate a separate and distinct field of fiqh. Classical Positions of Some Jurists on Key Issues e key issues that come up in the judicial schools regarding Muslims living without political supremacy are: . living in non-Muslim lands; . being under non-Muslim law;

    



. trading with non-Muslims in non-Muslim lands; and . freedom of worship. In general, ‘Muslim land’ in contradistinction to ‘non-Muslim land’ is taken to mean that land which is under Muslim rule and is ultimately under sharī‘ah, although certain different positions have been known to exist. Abū Yūsūf – one of the intellectual heirs of Abū Hanīfah, ̣ the founder of the school bearing his name – reports that Abū Hanīfah ̣ disapproved of Muslims residing in non-Muslim territory, but they were not obliged to leave simply on that basis alone. AlShaybānī, a noted classical jurist in the Hanafī ̣ tradition, was also of the opinion that Muslims are not under a strict obligation to migrate to a land under a Muslim polity. ey would, however, as a consequence of living beyond its authority, be deemed as unfit to receive shares in the spoils of war. Al-Sarakhsī also declared that a Muslim should not reside permanently in non-Muslim lands, and should not bear offspring there out of fear that the children might acquire the mannerisms of non-Muslims, or become enslaved. A number of different opinions entered the Mālikī school: in general, it seems that they became ever more strict on this issue (including such noted scholars as Ibn Rushd and al-Wansharīsī ). e issue of residing under non-Muslim rule is discussed more in the Mālikī school than in the Hanafī ̣ one; the implication is that ‘the operative legal cause in Mālik’s view is that Muslims will be forced to submit to non-Muslim law’. Generally, this would be viewed as something to be avoided, as in the opinion of Ibn Hazm, ̣ the Andalusian proponent of the Zāhirī ̣ school of law, who did not support the case of Muslims entering non-Muslim territory, even for trade, if they were subject to non-Muslim law. Some Mālikīs, such as al-Mazari, conceded that, while a Muslim should not reside in non-Muslim territory in general, his presence may be excused under certain conditions. First, the Muslim might have no choice in the matter, and he may be unable to migrate to Muslim-ruled territory. Second, he might be there with the aim of restoring Muslim rule (al-Mazari was discussing Sicily in this instance). Finally, he might wish to bring the message of Islam to non-Muslims. Another Mālikī, Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr al-Qurtubī, argues that, although it is generally forbidden for Muslims to reside in non-Muslim territory (i.e. under nonMuslim law), one may do so if he is safe and hopes to succeed over non-Muslims. Other Mālikīs took much more stringent positions, to the point where one scholar’s attitude can be described as one



  

of apparently believing that ‘formal association with Islam is an ultimate moral value that outweighs any consideration of substantive justice’: he considered Muslim-ruled territory, even in the absence of justice, superior to non-Muslim territory where justice prevails. is scholar’s attitude, however, appears to have been formed in the context of the loss of Andalusia and Sicily; this explains the viewpoint that Muslims should not leave Muslim-ruled areas even for trade. Al-Sarakhsī, a Hanafī, ̣ allowed trading with non-Muslims for the sake of public welfare, but declared that Muslims should not sell weapons to non-Muslims. Other Mālikīs such as al‘Adawī and al-Wahrānī offer other positions: in the opinion of al-‘Adawī, if Muslim laws are respected, it is not necessary for Muslims to move from such territories. Hijrah as a Principle In the history of the Muslim community during the prophetic era, the operative context for hijrah (emigration) seems to be the preMedinan period. During the Makkah period, when Muslims were being discriminated against, there was a hijrah to Abyssinia which was voluntary. However, when the discrimination became persecution, and to remain would have been an unacceptable compromise, the hijrah to Medina was made obligatory for those who could migrate. e hijrah is thus linked to freedom of worship, but also to the strengthening of the Muslim community – which in this historical context meant strengthening the new city–state of Medina. Scholars of Islam in the classical period interpreted the principle of hijrah in different ways. Al-Bustī insisted that the hijrah was meant to strengthen the Muslim community in its early days, and would become required only when the community was in a similar situation. Ibn Khaldūn went further and said that the hijrah had ceased to be an obligation aer the death of the Prophet, while Ibn Hajar ̣ al-‘Asqalānī took a more moderate view and said that the hijrah was no longer required aer Makkah was conquered. Ibn al-‘Arabī divided hijrah into six categories, three of which involve compulsory migration, and three of which involve recommended migration. Hijrah, in this perspective, would be obligatory from lands of unbelief or heresy, from lands of injustice or where lawlessness prevailed, while it would be recommended where there was physical persecution, disease and financial insecurity. Ibn Hajar ̣ al-Haythamī, ̣ the leading Shāfi‘ī jurist of his time, believed that the operational norm was for a Muslim not to make hijrah, as long as

    



persecution was not taking place. If he were able to practise his faith, then the land would become dār al-islām (the ‘abode of Islam’), for himself and with respect to other Muslims. For such a person, hijrah might be permissible, but only if it did not result in the land reverting back to being dār al- harb ̣ (the ‘abode of conflict’), in which case it would be forbidden for him to leave.

Freedom of Worship: Differing Interpretations In his reading of the classical literature, Fadl suggests that, while the idea of ‘freedom of worship’ (translated as the ability to manifest or practise Islam) is indeed central to the thought of many jurists in all schools, these jurists differed on what the idea actually meant. Did it encompass only acts that are essential to a Muslim’s private spiritual life, or did it include laws pertaining to more mundane issues, for instance criminal law and personal status law?  Some jurists, mostly Shāfi‘īs and Hanbalīs, ̣ spoke mainly in terms of the manifestation of the signs of Islam (shi‘ār al-islām), which then translate into the compulsory duties of worship (wājibat al-dīn). It is thus not surprising that the eponymous founder of the Shāfi‘ī school allows residence in non-Muslim territories if the Muslims are not fearful of ‘enticement away from Islam’. ‘According to al-Shāfi‘ī, a Muslim could stay in dār al-kufr (the ‘abode of disbelief ’), even in dār al- harb ̣ (the ‘abode of war’), as long as he was free to practise his religion. e eminent Shāfi‘ī jurist, al-Māwardī, took this one step further and recommended that Muslims who were able to practise Islam in a country under non-Muslim rule should reside therein, in the hope of spreading Islam. In fact, the country would be considered dār alislām for purposes of Islamic law. Another Shāfi‘ī scholar, al-Ramlī, suggests that Muslims who have a certain level of religious freedom under a non-Muslim ruler are forbidden to leave those places, as they may be the mechanism by which Islam spreads in those areas. Other Shāfi‘ī scholars offered conclusions along the same lines. e Shāfi‘ī scholar Ibn Hajar ̣ al-Haythamī ̣ indicated in one verdict that Muslims who are unable to fulfil their responsibilities to other Muslims (such as sheltering Muslims who are fleeing an oppressor) should nevertheless remain in their non-Muslim homeland. is follows, presumably, from the general Shāfi‘ī rule which allows for Muslims to remain in non-Muslim territories, provided that their main religious duties (wājibat al-dīn) can be performed.



  

Other jurists suggest that ‘manifesting Islam’ refers to the application of public laws; some Hanafīs ̣ go further and declare that a Muslim judge and a Muslim governor should be appointed. However, matters of public law, such as the enforcement of the hudud ̣ (the prescribed penalties), fall under the jurisdiction of a Muslim caliph (Khalīfah), who then deputises his authority to such individuals; the absence of a caliph does not mean that the duty passes to the masses. Al-Nasafī notes the following in his ‘Aqā’id: Muslims must have an Imam [Caliph] who, among other things, implements legal judgements and enforces sentences; protects the frontier and organises the army; collects charity; suppresses rebels, thieves and brigands; leads the Friday and ‘Eīd Prayers; resolves disputes that occur between servants (of Allah Most High), accepts legal testimony, and represents youths in contracting marriages in the absence of their guardians; and distributes the spoils of war. Another classical scholar, al-Bayjūrī says in his commentary on Jawharat al-Taw hīd: ̣ e proofs indicating that the Caliphate is mandated by Divine legislation include that the Lawgiver [Allāh] ordered the enforcement of sentences, protection of the frontiers and organisation of the army. None of this can be achieved without the presence of an Imām upon whom the community depends in all of their affairs. Some Hanafī ̣ jurists suggest that a territory which was previously under Muslim rule remains dār al-islām as long as a single Muslim law is enforced, and that Muslims were encouraged to remain in such lands if they could do so safely. ose people who resided in territories that became dār al-kufr were recommended to leave, but were not obliged to do so. Some Shāfi‘ī jurists went even further on this point, insisting that no land ceases being dār al-islām but remains so until the end of time, changing only in form. Muslims may reside in such territories on the basis of their ability to help to spread Islam in those areas, and the Muslim state may even be obliged to defend militarily such non-Muslim lands from others. Muslim presence

    



would then be recommended, allowed or prohibited, depending on the level of freedom and autonomy they had. Muslims were prohibited from remaining in non-Muslim lands only in extreme cases, such as when they feared being lured away from their religion. e Mālikī scholar al-Wahrānī went even further, and issued a fatwā detailing how Muslims could remain in non-Muslim Granada while practising Islam in complete secrecy so as to avoid persecution. Application of Fiqh in Non-Muslim Lands What is allowed in bilad al-Islām [the country of Islam] is allowed in bilad al-kufr [the country of disbelief] and what is forbidden in bilad al-Islām is also forbidden in bilad al-kufr. In classical Muslim legal texts, all Muslims by virtue of their commitment to Islam are expected to follow its moral imperatives, wherever these may be. However, there is a marked difference of opinion when it comes to legally upholding those imperatives, and a small difference on what those imperatives are in such a context. In general, jurists agree with the statement of al-Shāfi‘ī above; however, many Hanafīs ̣ differ on two major points: . Most Hanafīs ̣ exempt Muslims in non-Muslim environments from following certain laws that would normally be part of Muslim life in a Muslim polity, provided that doing so does not break the laws of the non-Muslim polity. Examples of such laws may include dealing in usury with non-Muslims and selling or buying alcohol. . Any penalties for infractions of any sort must be authorised by the temporal authority of the territory: the non-Muslim legislature. No Muslim authority from outside the territory may claim the right to punish the Muslim for not following Muslim law. Others do not support this legal reasoning, and demand that the Muslim be punished if and when he comes under the authority of the Muslim polity. ey do not consider it important whether the crime involved a Muslim or a non-Muslim, or if the crime was against the laws of the non-Muslim authority in question. In this other scenario mentioned previously, the basis of law for the Muslim is the unwritten (and sometimes written) social contract; one accepts certain terms, and thus one is accorded certain



  

rights in law. In the context of the Muslim living in non-Muslim lands, a social contract is assumed by the classical jurists to have already taken place in the form of an agreement of safe conduct. is agreement (amānah) must be honoured by the Muslim, and is taken to mean obedience to the host state. However, if the nonMuslim host state fails to protect the Muslim on its territory, the Muslim is under no duty to abide by the laws of the non-Muslim state. If it is the Muslim who wishes to exit from the contract, for whatever reason (e.g. a military conflict with a Muslim polity), then he must formally and publicly renounce his contract with the state, as it would be considered forbidden to betray secretly the terms of the contract. Should the host state fulfil its duties in protecting the Muslim within its territory, the Muslim should respect its laws and institutions. If the Muslim reneges on this: e vast majority of jurists hold that there are two major consequences. Firstly, the Muslim incurs an onerous sin, and second, if that Muslim enters Muslim territory, a Muslim polity has jurisdiction to force him or her to compensate the victims. However, many Hanafīs ̣ do not agree, declaring that, while the Muslim is committing a sin in such a circumstance, the Muslim polity may not penalise the offender in material terms, as it only has jurisdiction over its own subjects. ere are two main exceptions to this rule, however: the first is a Muslim who obtains an amānah through the official channels of the Muslim polity, which then confers jurisdiction upon the Muslim polity. e second involves a dispute between two Muslims; as Muslims, they have accepted the laws of Islam and are bound by them. In brief: . Imām Abū Hanīfah, ̣ the founder of the methodology of the Hanafī ̣ school, generally disapproved of Muslims living in nonMuslim territory, the reasons for which were later elaborated by al-Sarakhsī. Al-Shaybānī, another noted Hanafī ̣ scholar of the classical period, followed him, and also differentiated between Muslims in non-Muslim territory and other Muslims. . Mālikīs were generally stricter on this issue, perhaps due to their particular historical legacy emanating from the

    



Reconquista, but even they provided Muslims with possible excuses for remaining in non-Muslim territory. . e operative consideration for all jurists is the individual’s ability to manifest the signs of Islam (shi‘ār al-islām): (a) Shāfi‘īs and Hanbalīs ̣ generally interpret this to mean the ability to practise the five pillars of Islam (wājibat al-dīn). If the Muslim is free to practise his religion, he may stay, and the territory can be considered dār al-islām. In fact, his staying there might be recommended in order for him to spread Islam; he may even be forbidden to leave for the same reasons. (b) Hanafīs ̣ and Mālikīs generally appear to be concerned with the public sphere, even suggesting that public laws should include Islamic laws, and perhaps a Muslim judge and governor. is, rather than nominal Muslim sovereignty, is what makes a place dār al-Islām. In addition to all of the above, as long as the Muslim is protected in the non-Muslim territory and has freedom to practise (although definitions of this vary), he is under an obligation to keep under public order. If the host state reneges on this, then the Muslim is not under a duty to respect it. If it is the Muslim who wishes to exit, regardless of the reason, then he should do so publicly. Yet, in general, there was no consensus on principles relating to the permissibility or forbidden nature of remaining under non-Muslim jurisdiction; scholars revealed their opinions on a case-by-case basis. Authority over Muslims Living without Sovereignty: Wilāyat al-‘Ulamā’ e debates, however, did not end at this point, although those were the most pertinent arguments at the time, arising as they did in response to certain events. In his book Al-Ghiyāthī, al-Juwaynī spoke of the theoretical possibility that no real Islamic sovereignty existed anywhere. is would have serious implications not only for Muslims living under non-Muslim sovereignty, but also for Muslims living under a tyrannical Muslim ruler. Al-Juwaynī proposed the idea of wilāyat al-‘ulamā’, a concept which predates and bears some similarity to wilayāt al-faqīh in Shi‘ī jurisprudence, but which was an entirely Sunnī concept. Al-Dāwūdī defined the idea in the following



  

way: ‘e scholars and just notables in any place should hold the authority of a sovereign if there is no Muslim sovereignty or if there is one who does not apply Islamic law or is unjust.’ Al-Juwaynī’s idea received wide acceptance among eminent scholars across the madhāhib. Khir notes that, among the Shāfi‘īs, al-Māwardī and Ibn Hajar ̣ al-‘Asqalānī accepted this concept.  Mālikī jurists such as al-Fāsī, al-Dāwūdī and al-Mazari considered it in much the same light, while among the Hanafīs ̣ al-Kamal ibn al-Humam also supported it. In today’s terms, this might be described as devolving power to civil society and its institutions, including, perhaps most importantly, the ‘ulamā’ as the guardians of the faith. is would not be an entirely surprising conclusion; Islam proved attractive to famous notables such as Marmaduke Pickthall precisely because he deemed it to provide an escape from the encroachment of the state as well as from the ‘lower callings’ of the ego. As forward thinking as the pre-modern classical thinkers in fiqh might have been in their own context, the above discussions do not reflect the changes that have since taken place in Muslim societies. Muhammad Khalid Masud has pointed out that the Muslim world today includes a number of separate, sovereign and independent states which have placed restrictions on Muslims of different nationalities, unlike the situation that prevailed during medieval dār al-islam. Different legal systems exist within them, with non-Muslim minorities having played a significant role in the struggle against colonialism. In addition, there exist new, disconnected Muslim communities without sovereignty across the world. ese are two rather novel circumstances. is study is primarily concerned with the latter situation, but the discussions above are based on a particular socio-historical context, in which Muslims resided in mostly contingent territorial entities, with respect for sharī‘ah and with less of an existence as nation states. e deliberations above are some of the classical interpretations of what Muslim scholars have deemed to be of importance when discussing the role and position of Muslims living under non-Muslim rule. While there is unity of thought in certain basic principles among the various madhāhib, there is also room for significant difference of opinion. Perhaps the most significant change to take place is that in the pre-modern world citizens, as individuals, did not generally exist independently of communal groups or communities. ‘Millets’ were typically the building block of society, and, while it would be

    



foolhardy to believe that the individual was insignificant, it would be fair to say that it was truly impossible for any individual to be counted without reference to a larger community. Whether this ‘larger community’ referred to a religious community or an ethnic one is unimportant; the fact remains that these were the building blocks of societies, and no less so within countries that were highly diverse. A converse eventuality was unforeseen and, as such, all fiqh deliberations were based on the assumption that communities would always be the default building blocks of a state. In addition, there are other issues to be taken into account, as historical developments resulted in revealing yet another facet to the issue. e above review takes for granted that aer the tenth century Muslim scholarship remained fairly stable until the present day; modern history, however, notes otherwise. Post-Medieval Movements In the eighteenth century, Ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhāb began a movement borrowing significantly from the works of Ibn Taymiyyah (a thirteenth century Hanbalī ̣ scholar), but in a much more militant manner; his followers later intensified this attitude. In terms of law, the movement theoretically embraced ijtihād, although, in practice, they mainly followed Hanbalī ̣ legal rulings, if not complete Hanbalī ̣ legal methodology. In ‘aqīdah they had their own disagreements, and in spirituality they were far more aggressive against the tarīqahs, ̣ although there is some evidence to show that the movement later became far more stringent in this regard than the original scholar ever was. rough political alliances, this thought – which some refer to as Wahhabī, but which we will call ‘Purist Salafī’ – spread across the Arabian peninsula, displacing, for the most part, the more traditional interpretations. Purist Salafī ideology became the official religious interpretation of the ruling family of Saudi Arabia in the twentieth century, but it did not go much further than that. However, other reformist movements along more moderate lines did come about in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Muhammed ̣ ‘Abduh, Rashīd Ridā, ̣ Bennabi and a number of others began a loosely connected tradition which we shall refer to as ‘Modernist Salafism’. On the face of it, this may seem akin to Purist Salafism, as both groups claim to follow the salaf, or the ‘rightly guided’, early community; but such an oversimplification should be considered with caution. Modernist Salafīs are, on the whole, far more moderate, both in their rejection of classical jurisprudence and



  

in their differences with the tarīqahs ̣ and the theological schools of thought. e majority of religiously inspired political parties in the Muslim world, as well as various professional groups (both in the Muslim world and Europe), are run by those concepts sympathetic to Modernist Salafī rather than by the more traditional currents. Unlike the progenitors of Modernist Salafī thought, however, modern day ‘revivalists’ tend not to have been educated in the traditional legal heritage of Islam. At the turn of the twenty-first century, then, we find ourselves having to deal with these various currents of thought. It is difficult to place any single individual or activist organisation within a single category for a number of reasons: . ese subdivisions are complex, and most Muslims do not concern themselves with them. . ose who are positively engaged with their tradition may be quite eclectic in how they practise or think about Islam. While allegiances to broad sects remain more or less constant (Sunnī, Shi‘ī, Khawārij), individuals within those sects may switch from legal school to legal school with relative ease, if they even adhere to a single school in the first place. . ese newer groupings are themselves fraught with discontinuity. Classical scholars in the Muslim community operated on the basis of continuous scholarship by way of certification (ijāzahs); the newer movements oen have as spokesmen people who are not qualified in the traditional sciences and have thus cut off their connection to past scholarship. It may be noted that certain authors discuss the more recent Deobandi and Barelwi movements, which have arisen from the Indian subcontinent; however, neither of these groups should be considered part of the traditionally oriented Salafī groupings. ere exist a number of other factions in the European Muslim community, such as the Jamā‘at al-Tablīgh or Hizb ut-Tahrir, but these are not units separate from the trends indicated above; rather, they are made up of individuals who have chosen to emphasise certain aspects of their own tradition above others. Members of Hizb utTahrir in Europe generally consider themselves to be Sunnīs of a type of Salafī persuasion (although other Salafī and Sunnī groups oen disavow them for their lack of juridical expertise, and non-Salafīs

    



have been known to have links to this movement). On the other hand, the Tablīgh are more traditional, tying themselves to the Deobandi tradition of the Hanafī ̣ school. Summary Considering the depth which would be necessary in order to explicate fully the various groupings and jurisprudential discussions within the Muslim community of Europe, the above simply gives a brief overview, but it should suffice for the purposes of this discussion. Even for the brevity of this analysis, however, it seems clear that there was a number of key issues to be considered by the various schools of law, and these are perhaps best summed up thus: was there permission for Muslims to reside in non-Muslim territory, and, if so, what were their duties and obligations? In general, permission seems to have been granted, but not without certain conditions, perhaps the most emphatic of which was the absence of persecution of Muslims in those lands. Even the presence of persecution would not directly and necessarily obligate one to leave the territory, although it might make it forbidden to migrate there. Of course, the question then arises: what is persecution and what is ‘freedom of worship’? In this regard, there appears to be no complete consensus, either among the schools or within each school itself. For some scholars, the ability to practise the five pillars of Islam sufficed for the requirement of ‘manifesting’ Islam; for others, a more communal permission to practise Islam in the public sphere was emphasised, if not made obligatory. Generally, each situation seems to have been considered on a case-by-case basis, with few strict prescriptions suggested. e context being explained this way, it seems clear that: . ere are two main sects, the Sunnī and the Shi‘ī (the Khawārij being numerically insignificant, particularly in the EU). . ere are four existing schools of law for the Sunnī, and many more for the Shi‘ī. Sunnīs continue to adhere to theological positions which do not contradict the orthodox schools of al-Ash‘arī and al-Māturīdī. . A key component for the legitimacy of religious positions within the Muslim community, whether spiritual, theological or legal, is authenticity, which can only be actualised through unbroken chains of transmission back to the Prophet.



  

roughout Muslim history, a minority of Muslims has used a methodology other than those mentioned above. is minority has, however, significantly influenced present political discourse as displayed by contemporary Muslim organisations in the EU; it has not been so influential within the traditional juridical circles, which have commented on the circumstances of European Muslims. ese circles are still, by and large, the domain of traditionally qualified scholars, with a dedication to the conventions and institutions laid down by previous generations of scholars. All of this must be taken into account in the next chapter, where modern ideas on these issues – oen grouped together in the field of fiqh al-aqalliyāt (jurisprudence for minorities) – are examined.

Part II Present and Current Situations

3 Fiqh in Modern Europe: ‘Minority Fiqh’

e status of Muslim minorities living in the West has become the subject of much controversy in recent weeks. Issues of loyalty and treachery have dominated the political scene, while the media constantly questions if Muslim compliance to the shari‘ah prevents their allegiance to the nation state. So how does the shari‘ah apply to Muslims living as minorities in non-Muslim countries?   -M in Europe may express the above question with interest, and it has been asked a number of times in the past few decades, while it gained increasing importance. A simple reason for this may be the demographic growth of the Muslim population in Europe; but the underlying reality is more complex. A large proportion of the Muslim population in the EU is made up of immigrants or descendants of immigrants. In practice, Muslim immigrants are oen similar to non-Muslim immigrants, moving from place to place for mundane and worldly concerns rather than spiritual ones, and, as a result, the queries above surrounding religion are not always applicable.

M



  

us the first immigrants, even if they were quite committed to Islam as something beyond their identity, may have treated the above question with some apathy. Pakistani immigrants, for example, came with the idea of eventual return to Pakistan, even aer long residence in their newly adopted homelands in the UK or elsewhere in the EU. As immigrants who viewed themselves as temporary dwellers rather than permanent citizens, they may have given only limited consideration to the engagement with the sharī‘ah as a comprehensive philosophy. e periods in which there were significant migrations of Muslims to the West were times when nationalism was on the rise in the Muslim world, and this naturally played a significant role in these communities, perhaps lessening the importance of sharī‘ah. As religiously inspired political movements began to take hold of different parts of the Muslim world, the immigrant communities were influenced again, but this time quite differently: Islam was rediscovered as something beyond, and more than, a set of rituals. More importantly, many of the second-generation immigrants attached themselves to the growing indigenous convert community, helping to create a new dynamic. In every EU country, they began to see themselves as belonging to their state of citizenship, and the devout among them began then to ask what the fiqh of Islam – which they still laid claim to – had to say about the situation they found themselves in. ey had done away with ideas of ‘return’ while still wishing to remain committed to Islam. As time passed, Muslims in the West came to the realisation that their situation was quite different from that of Muslims residing in Muslim-dominated societies, and Muslim intellectuals and scholars began to discuss several questions. Under a non-Muslim system of government, what were the responsibilities of Muslims? Could they vote, or run for office? Were they even allowed to be there? At a conference organised by the Union des Organisations Musulmanes de France (UOIF) in , a number of fiqh experts discussed this last question. ey were concerned that fatwās divorced from contextual reality might be self-defeating; but it is important to note that the real issue for these scholars was not whether the fiqh would permit Muslims to remain in Europe, but how it related to their normative obligations in Europe as Muslims. is is perhaps the prime issue that is behind the field of ‘minority fiqh’ known today as fiqh al-aqalliyāt.

   



‘Minority Fiqh’: A Correct Label? e sharī‘ah has a number of purposes according to, and delineated well in, classical Islamic legal literature. According to that corpus, it aims at instituting the minimum conditions necessary to provide opportunities for the comprehensive enhancement of human beings. Its precise formulations were envisaged in classical Islamic jurisprudence to be derived by civil society (particularly in the form of legal experts), and the state would then act as a function of that civil society. In the pre-modern era, therefore, it was civil society within Muslim countries that responded to the situation of Muslims living under non-Muslim systems of government (i.e. as ‘minorities’, meaning without political dominance). e legal scholars of the time used to include their judgements in this area under the heading fiqh al-nawāzil, or ‘jurisprudence of unprecedented events’, and the Mālikī school of jurisprudence had some of the best known literature (as briefly examined in Chapter ), perhaps due to the experience of Muslim Iberians (Portuguese and Spaniards) in the Middle Ages. Keller also notes that similar issues were discussed under another section in the Hanafī ̣ school of law: ‘that which is of widespread affliction’. Issues of personal status, which would usually require a state infrastructure such as a judge (qādī), ̣ needed to be resolved in these situations, so the scholars looked to the more basic principles of fiqh to do so. If a state could not provide a qādī,̣ for example, scholars in the Mālikī school suggested that a council could replace the office, allowing the Muslims to function without a legally qualified judge. Such situations may have been in conflict with the normative paradigms assumed by the jurists involved; but, since they affected so many people, allowance had to be made for them, on certain conditions. In modern times, however, these events are no longer ‘unprecedented’ or considered to be ‘afflictions’; the ‘bizarre’ situation of Muslims living under non-Muslim rule seems to have been recognised as relatively common. In addition to the large and growing convert communities, owing to political upheaval and economic need, Muslims from historically predominantly Islamic countries are migrating in huge numbers to non-Muslim domains. As scholars began to investigate the old classical texts examining fiqh al-nawāzil and other topics, they grew unsatisfied for a number of reasons. ey claimed that, even though the methodologies used were correct, the assumptions under which these operated were outdated.



  

It was perhaps Al-‘Alwani who originally advanced the idea of fiqh al-aqalliyāt, which translates as ‘juristic interpretations specific to minorities’. Some source materials may be found in the classic fiqh texts, albeit under different headings, but the concept of it as a distinct discipline did not exist; it is thus more suitable to speak of it as a work in progress. Its main focus, in Al-‘Alwani’s view, is to understand the situation of those Muslims who wish to live a sharī‘ah-oriented life under non-sharī‘ah systems of governance, and to delineate those particular issues which pertain to their continuing existence in those lands. It is thus a ‘new name for an old area of jurisprudence’; a new name that signified a paradigm shi in some ways, but not a ‘blameworthy innovation’. us, the fiqh of Muslim minorities is not an innovation. e earlier books of jurisprudence have tackled many rulings peculiar to the Muslims who live in countries that do not adopt Islam. It is only the term given to such rulings, i.e. ‘Fiqh of Muslim minorities’ that is innovated, and there is nothing wrong in changing terms. Al-‘Alwani makes this clear when he describes fiqh al-aqalliyāt as a sort of ‘successor’ to fiqh al-nawāzil, drawn from many areas of fiqh; a ‘re-actualisation of old juridicial opinions forgotten in history’, specific to Muslims living as demographic minorities. Speaking of fiqh al-aqalliyāt in this manner has met with some opposition among some other classically trained scholars, who suspect it to be a pretext under which the Sacred Law would be used to divide Islam geographically. However, the proponents of the label ‘fiqh alaqalliyāt’ argue that the issues of day-to-day life under non-Muslim regimes are quite different from those under Islamic sovereignty. While the rulings may not exceed the bounds of sharī‘ah or the traditional methodology of the legal scholars, they may be adapted to different contexts, such as the contemporary European situation. e discussion goes on in many institutions today. Fiqh in Contemporary Europe: Considerations and Reflections For a number of decades (varying according to EU state and society), immigrant Muslim communities struggled between holding onto the ‘myth of return’ and considering their new societies as home. Eventually, however, Muslim scholars and intellectuals began to shi from considering themselves ‘guests’ or ‘resident aliens’ to

   



adopting more integral identities; the ‘myth’ was rejected. is took place despite significant pressure. North Africans in France, for example, were first offered bribes by the state to return to North Africa, were subjected to deportation attempts, and had citizenship application processes greatly complicated. According to Tariq Ramadan (one of the more prolific European Muslim intellectuals), for years, a movement had been underway among Muslims, whether intellectuals or scholars, to ‘take a closer look at the European laws and simultaneously, take time to think about the changes which were taking place within the diverse Muslim communities.’ e end result of this movement was, among other things, agreement on five main points recognised by the ‘great majority of Muslims living in Europe’: . Muslims are under a moral and social contract with the state in which they reside; as such, they should respect the laws of the country. . Concepts such as dār al-harb ̣ and dār al-islām are inapplicable in the modern context. . ‘Muslims should consider themselves as full citizens and participate with conscience in the organisational, economic and political affairs of the country (in which they reside) without compromising their own values.’ . European law does not prohibit Muslims from following Islam except in a few isolated circumstances. Such cases should be studied in order ‘to identify the priorities and the possibility of adaptation (something which should be developed at the national level)’. . e secular model generally applied in Europe permits Muslims to practise their faith without being completely assimilated to the point that they would be partially disconnected from their Muslim identity. Ramadan was not the only one to claim that these points had gained near absolute consensus. In , many scholars from the Muslim world and Europe congregated in France to discuss the issue of Muslims in Europe, and in  they formed the European Council for Fatwā and Research (ECFR) in London at the initiative of the Federation of Islamic Organisations in Europe (FIOE). In his opening speech as President of the Federation, Ahmed Rawi noted



  

that the FIOE’s project in this case was to fill a necessary gap until the time when the ‘first scholars’ who knew European societies, languages and circumstances took over the mission of ‘orienting and counselling European Muslims’. Such a mission would be of supreme importance, for only when the Muslims of Europe understood their duties and obligations in terms of fiqh could they be truly integrated into Europe. Hence, from the outset, the ECFR accepted the existence of Muslims in Europe under non-Muslim regimes as legitimate, since these countries have laws that enable Muslims to ‘enjoy all the guarantees of an honourable life’. If a Muslim possesses ‘the ability to maintain one’s religion as well as to preserve and protect lives from death, injustice and oppression’, they opined, it was justified for her to find a safe refuge in non-Muslim countries. Such non-Muslim countries would be ‘strange’ to the Muslim, but residing in them did not have to translate into a ‘spiritual penalty’; indeed, Abdullah Bin Bayyah, one of the key members of the ECFR, suggested that Muslims would be rewarded for ‘bearing the burden of alienation’. Muslims might feel that they are ‘alienated’ within a non-Muslim environment, but according to Bin Bayyah this is a blessing in disguise, if a challenging one. Such alienation, however, did not mean that Muslims should distance themselves from the mainstream community in their newly adopted lands, let alone avoid it. On the contrary, engagement with the mainstream was a must, but only through a process in which they had an understanding of their own situation as Muslims (i.e. adhering to sharī‘ah), a position that Ramadan suggests is agreed upon within the Muslim community (although this could only be said of the strictly religious sections of that community). is dual consideration appears to be at the heart of Al-‘Alwani’s Prolegomena, where he insists that any answer to a query on political life for Muslim minorities would be ‘more in harmony with the comprehensive principles of Islamic jurisprudence’ if it was resolved in a manner which focuses on the ‘logic of duty and positiveness’ rather than on a logic of ‘negative license’. Al-‘Alwani does not mention the implications directly, but it is fair to assume that the latter is typical of communities which view themselves as ‘guests’ rather than integral parts of such societies. e former, on the other hand, comes naturally when the community views itself as an integral part of the new society and as having a sense of duty and mission towards it – in otherwords, as possessing ‘moral capital’ within the host society.

   



Al-‘Alwani asks the question himself, aer establishing certain points: e query would then be: What is the rule of the Shari‘ah concerning [a community] of the ‘Ummah in a nonMuslim majority? Taking into consideration that such Muslim community is awarded by the [political] system the right to do all Islamic duties provided this right would not constitute any change or menace to the system; and taking into consideration that the Muslims are awarded the right to occupy some public offices exerting influence on policies, and taking into consideration that Muslims are awarded the right of AshShahadah [witnessing in courts] on people [sic]. And taking into consideration the right to do Adda’watu-’ila – Allah [Most Gracious, Most Merciful] [i.e. call to the way of God], and the right of founding establishments of service to the Muslim [community] and to the society. e question [at this juncture] is: Is it permissible [by Shari‘ah] that such Muslim community would shun those rights? And reject those duties for fear of mixing [socially] with the non-Muslim majority and thus be influenced by some of its practices? In attempting to come to an answer to this question, Al-‘Alwani notes the following: . It was previously unusual for Muslims to seek refuge in nonMuslim countries from Muslim countries; rather, the standard course would be to move to another Muslim country. . e concept of citizenship as discussed in present times is novel. . Previous concepts of citizenship were not based on ideas of residency, but rather on ideas of culture and beliefs. . International law and diplomatic relations did not exist as institutions that required states to safeguard the rights of foreigners residing in their territory. . Power was the supreme basis of inter-state relationships; each empire considered any other territories a ‘land of war’ which might later become part of that empire. . Classical jurisprudents did not exist in ‘the atmosphere of globalisation in which we live today, with cultures contacting and nations living in a world that has become practically one



   place. ey lived in a planet of separate islands that neither colived nor exchanged mutual understanding.’ . Jurisprudents expressed opinion in their judgements which related to specific times and circumstances; aer all, the great scholars of Islamic antiquity recognised that jurisprudents could only express authentic judgements if they took due account of custom, culture, time and place.

In relation to his final contention, Al-‘Alwani cites decisions by Algerian scholars in the early twentieth century which banned the acquisition of French nationality during the ‘culture of struggle’ against France. Controversial though it might appear, the line of reasoning he takes in these conclusions is accepted by many, if not all, Muslim scholars and intellectuals, particularly with regard to the separation of the world in classical Islamic legal and political thought into dār al-islām and dār al- harb. ̣ As noted above, Ramadan considers these concepts outdated, as does Bin Bayyah, who contends that this paradigm is not scriptural, was never a matter of consensus and is, in any case, redundant and inapplicable to today’s world. Nevertheless, there is a number of different approaches to this particular legal–political issue. Bin Bayyah considers that there are, in fact, three distinct areas in the world today: the abode of peace (dār al-islām), the abode of war (dār al- harb), ̣ and the abode of trust (dār al-amān), expressions which all exist in classical Muslim terminology. Muslims in the West are in the latter, because they have extensive rights and protections, including security in their lives, property and the right to teach Islam and proselytise, which places upon them the duty to have good relations with the wider community. Al-‘Alwani does not do away with the classical terminology either; rather, he deconstructs the terms in order to apply them to the present context. Hence, dār al-islām may include ‘all lands where the Muslims’ belief is secure even though this may occur among a non-Muslim majority’, and conversely, dār al- harb ̣ includes ‘areas where the believer’s religion is not safe even though all inhabitants adopt the Islamic belief and civilization’. Ramadan’s approach is perhaps the most radical: he considers most lands, if not all, to be dār al-shahādah (‘the abode of witnessing’). Such domains are unlikely to be defined by the same primary factors that classical scholars noted in the past, which Ramadan refers to as the nature of the population, land ownership, the laws in force and the nature of the government. Rather, he believes that the domain

   



should be defined in accordance with existing geo-political realities, as the phrases dār al-islām, dār al- harb, ̣ and dār al-‘ahd (‘abode of the covenant’) were originally defined in accordance with the existing conditions of their times. Secularism and the European Context Both Al-‘Alwani and Ramadan, with quite nuanced approaches, propose in their writings that secular states may also be spoken of as ‘dār al-islām’, depending on what type of secularism is enforced. Both postulate that there are dichotomous differences between varying interpretations of secularism, ranging from the North American interpretation, which guarantees autonomy, to the French or Indian versions, with variety within each. In Ramadan’s thought, secularism in Europe in particular is not simply something to be accepted begrudgingly, but to be recognised as an aspect of European society that has provided Muslims and others with a number of opportunities, including the opportunity to even exist in Europe. History demonstrates that when Muslims were close to the religious sources, it was possible to live in community with people of other religions. In Western history, that was impossible because of the singularist, clerical institution of Roman Catholicism. It is secularism that has allowed pluralism to come into existence in Europe. Pluralism in this sense is based on the recognition of ‘trust’ (amān), which is usually expressed in the form of a contract between the two parties, the state and the Muslim. According to Bin Bayyah, this contract can take the form of requesting a visa, accepting it and signing a declaration to uphold the terms of the visa: In the issuance of the visa and my signing of it, a legally binding contract occurred which was sulh. It was an agreement that when I came into this country, I would obey the laws and would follow the restrictions that this visa demanded that I follow. Here Bin Bayyah is discussing only the situation of immigrant Muslims, or visitors; but the principle is more wide-ranging than that. e concept at its roots represents a social contract between the individual and the state for the purpose of social stability and



  

the upholding of the amān between the two parties. In practice, the situation of the citizen born in the country and the situation of the immigrant are not so different, both having entered into a social contract with the state that has provided a covenant of security: as long as the contract is in force, it is a natural legal corollary to comply with the laws of the state that is a party to it. Hence the ECFR notes that, whether they enter through immigration controls or are already resident there, Muslims in Europe are under a covenant to respect the laws and institutions of the countries they are in. e legal rulings of such regimes, for example in matters of divorce, are to be respected for the sake of public interest and of avoiding chaos and disorder. Under this system, it is suggested that Muslims can thrive as Muslims, provided that they understand the nature of their society and their space to manoeuvre within it. Bin Bayyah notes that arkān al-islām (the ‘pillars of Islam’) are binding upon Muslims everywhere, in contradistinction to the a hkām ̣ al- sul ̣ tāniyyah ̣ (‘rules of governance’). e latter are not the concern of those people who are living in a land where state authority is in other than Muslim hands; Bin Bayyah compares such people to the Muslims of the ‘Makkan stage’, where the last Prophet of Islam was making no claims to governmental authority. Endeavours in this phase are limited to jihād al-kalimah, or the struggle of the tongue, whereby the struggler speaks out ‘with a strong tongue in the face of wrong, in the face of injustices’. Hence, Muslims living in such a situation should not concern themselves with applying the ‘fiqh of governance’, but with ensuring that they remain Muslims, living as Muslims. Bin Bayyah identifies three communal institutions that, he believes, are vital for Muslims to create in this context: . As Muslims are always in need of a ‘sound source of guidance’ in various areas such as marriage, the rules of buying and selling and so on, the communities should institute muīs (legal experts qualified to give judicial verdicts), muī councils, or both. . Ta hkīm: ̣ e equivalent notion in Western thinking is a people’s court, where the state is not involved; in other words, a voluntarily binding arbitration system. is could, no doubt, take the place of sharī‘ah courts, albeit in a limited sense, since people’s courts in the Western context deal only with issues of family law.

   



. Sul ̣ h:̣ is would be a reconciliation group designed to bring differing parties in the Muslim community together, so ‘that they can work together or work separately in peace; thus, they are not fighting each other, undermining each other’s work.’ (See below, n. ) All of these concepts emanate from Bin Bayyah’s concern that Muslims should remain committed to their spiritual teachings and classical legal heritage. His pluralistic approach, even in law, is designed to facilitate matters as well, on condition that Muslims remain attached to the classical schools on the whole. is not only includes Hanafī ̣ Muslims utilising Shāfi‘ī fiqh or vice versa, but also involves using the rulings of lesser known jurists such as al-Fadari. Al-‘Alwani, too, is keenly in favour of adherence to classically derived notions of fiqh and jurisprudence, but declines to support only one school within which an individual should operate. What emanates from his writings is not a disavowal of the classical schools, but rather a reflection of Al-‘Alwani’s belief that the paradigms and conditions under which many classical works were written no longer exist: the methodology may have been sound, but, as noted previously, different circumstances may now result in different recommendations. e approaches of Bin Bayyah and Al-‘Alwani appear to differ on the need to have state-sanctioned fiqh courts with the power of the secular state behind them. A common ruling in late antiquity and throughout the medieval period was for non-Muslims in Muslim countries to have their own courts, distinct from fiqh courts; likewise, Muslims were to have their own courts in non-Muslim countries and, hence, Bin Bayyah wishes to reiterate this scenario for Muslims in Europe today. Such a measure is, however, unlikely to play any role in modern pluralistic democracies, where such institutions may be viewed as ghettoising Muslim communities rather than integrating them, a concern that Al-‘Alwani shares. Al-‘Alwani continually comes back to this point: that Muslims should remain Muslims, but, as long as that identity is safeguarded, it is far preferable for them to ‘view contact with the majority as the norm, and separation or distinctiveness from the majority as the exception, and not the reverse’. Hence, although Al-‘Alwani is a recognised scholar in traditional jurisprudential circles, he awaits the establishment of state-sanctioned sharī‘ah courts in the West with some trepidation. is attitude need not be viewed as indicating a devaluation of fiqh per se, as Al-‘Alwani



  

serves on a number of fiqh councils in Europe and North America; however, he regards them as voluntary spiritual institutions rather than as substitutes for ethno-political identity institutions. As far as Al-‘Alwani is concerned, identities of these natures, and participation in the greater mainstream, should be developed naturally where it is clear that the practice of Islam is easy. It may not even be necessary for them to have a ‘single unified representative body’ at all: No (representative) institution of this kind should be established until aer the leadership of the Muslim community have studied thoroughly the justifications for its establishment and reached a decision as to whether they are in need of such an institution or not. In addition, Muslims may carry out their political roles through other channels or by other means which such leaders see as the most appropriate given their particular environment and community. In Al-’Alwani’s thought, the bodies, whether representative, legal or consultative, would serve the immediate needs of the Muslim community, the existence of which should be ‘planned on the basis of being both continuous and augmenting and not on the basis of being accidental or temporary’ in European societies. At the same time, Al-‘Alwani highlights the need for the Muslim communities to commit themselves seriously to Islam in order to ensure that they do not embrace certain customs in society that transgress Islam, and to relay the message of Islam through good example and service. Presumably, although Al-‘Alwani does not say so specifically here, this is where fiqh is supposed to play the most extensive role: in determining which of the customs, conventions and cultural developments of the West are obligatory, recommended, neutral, reprehensible or forbidden, in line with the classical Islamic view. Ramadan picks up on this point of culture in particular, describing the task to ‘take a closer look at the European laws and simultaneously, take time to think about the changes which were taking place within the diverse Muslim communities’ as a vital one, which has been underway for years. Part of this endeavour is the analysis of the religious implications of participating in the political workings of a non-Muslim state, which the ECFR considered in some detail in one

   



of their published discussions on the issue of Muslims voting in a non-Muslim state. In it, the ECFR noted: . Al-walā’ (‘loyalty’) should be divided into two sections, one pertaining to ‘creedal loyalty’ (remaining loyal to the tenets of faith of Islam), and one pertaining to worldly matters: in the latter, it is permissible to enter into covenants and agreements with non-Muslims. . e Prophet actively aided non-Muslims in several instances, whether prior to his being recognised as a Prophet or aer. e ECFR noted in particular: (a) the Fujjār conflict, where the Prophet defended Makka (a non-Muslim city at the time, prior to his role being recognised as Prophet); (b) his participation in the Fudūl ̣ Alliance (which demanded the aiding of any oppressed person in Makka regardless of origin or religion); and (c) and the Prophet’s assisting the Makkans (a non-Muslim people at the time) during the time of famine, even though a state of war existed at the time (albeit during an armistice period). . e ‘Covenant of Madina’, which stipulated a multi-religious community where the individual religions acted autonomously for some purposes and as a single community for others. As such, the ECFR recommended that, if the conditions of religious security existed in non-Muslim states, it was not only permissible for Muslims to reside there, but they should actively join in helping the wider society, as part of a social pact for progress and development. To this end, they should ensure that their lives and property remain safe and secure (this was part of the reasoning behind the ECFR permitting the use of mortgages, under strict and specific conditions). In this context of pursuing active participation in wider society, Ramadan recommends that Muslims ‘translate’ specifically ‘Islamic values’ into an idiom and set of principles which people who are not Muslims and do not have access to the same frames of reference can appreciate and understand (‘universal values’). He gives an example in



  

reference to voting: ‘Or should I vote for the one who holds universal values, which are consistent with my Muslim values and at the same time can help our common society?’ is signifies more than a simple accommodation to a power structure in place; rather, Ramadan is proposing that the values themselves are sufficient without reference to a religious tradition, when they work within civil society. is is a novel way of utilising Islamic ethics in a secular Europe, but it is Ramadan’s method of fulfilling Islam (rather than devaluing it) in a non-Islamic environment. Al-‘Alwani delineates the ‘golden principle’ of relationships between Muslims and non-Muslims in the following Qur’ānic verse, noting the comments of the classical exegetes Ibn al-Jawzī, al-Qurtubī and al-Tabarī: ̣ Allah forbids you not, with regard to those who fight you not for (your) faith nor drive you out of your homes, from dealing kindly and justly with them: for Allah loves those who are just. (Qur’ān, Mumtahinah: ̣ –) Ibnu-l-Jawziyy said these two verses are license for Muslims to build relationships with those who have not declared war on them, for kindness and charity to them even in case they are not in relationships with them (i.e. Muslims). Al-Qurtubi commented: is verse is permitted by Allah (Glory to Him, Most High) for Muslims: ‘to be charitable to those who are neither hostile to, nor fight Muslims: His (Most Gracious, Most Merciful) words “From dealing kindly and justly with them” signify that He (Glory to Him, Most High) does not forbid you (Muslims) from dealing kindly and justly with those who do not fight you. Ibnu Jarir laid stress on that the verse applies to all non-Muslims of all religions, beliefs and sects. He said “Of all views on this point, the most correct is the view of whoever suggests that the meaning (of the verse) be: ‘Allah (Glory to Him, Most High) does not forbid you (Muslims) “from dealing kindly, keep contact with, and be just to them” ’. ‘Allah (Most Gracious, Most Merciful) generalized by saying, “ose who fight you not for (your) faith, nor drive you out of your homes” to include whomsoever this description applies; He (Glory to Him, Most High) does not specify some of them or exclude others.’

   



Given this, in Al-‘Alwani’s thought, Muslims and non-Muslims should entertain good relations, as common members of the human family, without obviating the special nature of the Muslim community, which may guide humanity ‘from the darkness to the light’. is exceptional attribute makes assisting and serving humanity in general a specific duty for Muslims: We Muslims are sons and daughters of a nation which has been brought forth for the good of humankind, to be a model and an example. e entire earth has been made a place of worship for us, and a means of ritual cleansing. We believe in the unity of humankind, and that all human beings belong to a single family; hence, all human morals are for no other purpose than to enable people to know one another and, in so doing, to foster comradeship and co-operation. Likewise, Bin Bayyah does not limit himself to ‘minority’ concerns, or to issues of identity for the Muslim community within the mainstream. Rather, he proposes that Muslims should not be averse to exercising influence in a positive way, within constitutional limits, in order to bring about change, both for themselves as Muslims and for themselves and others as Europeans, since, as Ramadan indicates, values are the vital roots and foundations of ‘the Muslim identity’. ose values remain universal, although they are drawn from Muslim sources. Bin Bayyah relates the following from the Prophet, with a classical commentary: e Messenger of Allah, sallallaahu ‘alayhi wa sallam, also said, ‘None of you truly believes until he wants for his brother what he wants for himself.’ Imām Shabrakhiti ibn Rajul al-Hambali and others mentioned that ‘brother’ here not only means your brother Muslim because this is a close brotherhood of Islam that others are not in, but it refers to the greater and broader brotherhood of our Adamic nature. It is a brotherhood in the sense that we are all from Adam, that Adam is the father of all us. In Ramadan’s thought, the Muslim identity is faith, spirituality and practice, which can be materialised in Europe only through an



  

understanding of the Islamic sources and of the social, political and cultural context of Europe. is then places a duty on the Muslim to educate others with regards to Islam, and to participate in society to promote justice and a better way of life. To put it simply, Muslims should have a genuine feeling of belonging within the European society. Such belonging should not be built on nationalism, whether one based on religious identity or some other variety. On this point, Al‘Alwani notes that, with the rise of the desire for European unity, Muslim Europeans should not oppose the drive towards a closer union (as this is the expression of the will of Europeans in general), but should participate in it in a pragmatic manner. Patriotism or nationalism in this sense should have no relevance; rather, a consideration of the greater consensus on this point should be brought to bear. Classical Fiqh and Modern Perspectives e classical Islamic scholars of pre-modernity were, by all accounts, highly sophisticated masters of their own times, and operated under the conditions of those ages. For some of them, the observational reality was that the phenomenon of Muslim migration to non-Muslim domains was novel, and this perception is reflected in the binary vision of the world which continues to find currency today. Dar alharb, ̣ dār al-kufr and dār al-islām remain the operative phrases for many scholars, as they have been for many centuries, with other terms also being offered within the paradigm. Yet it is important to ask if the paradigm itself remains applicable in its entirety. is is an important question to answer, and one that points to what was considered a pre-requisite in the medieval Islamic legal tradition: familiarity and conversance with current conditions. It would perhaps appear a little strange to the scholars of old that there exists a growing number of fatwā councils dedicated to the European context which are composed mostly of scholars who are neither fully conversant with European societies nor resident within them. It is for this reason that Al-‘Alwani in particular has advocated the inclusion of sociologists, political scientists, economists and other specialists in the work of such forums as the ECFR; for the world where Muslim scholars were Renaissance men, conversant in many

   



disciplines, is long gone. e departmentalisation of knowledge is at present necessary, particularly in societies that are very much defined by modernity and by the changes therein, including the shi from agrarian-based societies to industrial ones, as well as by the changes in state–community and state–citizen relationships. ese changes have caused great variations to come about in societies and need to be fully understood if they are to be engaged in: while it is certainly true that religion poses challenges and problems of a theoretical nature to the present social order, the reverse is also true. Such a process of re-evaluation is supra-European in scope, but with regard to European Muslim communities there are also distinct concerns vis-à-vis perspectives. e binary vision may be challenged by Ramadan, and a radical deconstruction of these terms may be already underway by scholars such as Al-‘Alwani; but it is important to note that, when they include in their work the phrase dār al‘ahd (‘abode of treaty’), this use of terminology suggests a clear commitment to working within the prior paradigm, for this simply extends the assumptions upon which the original binary terms are founded. Fiqh al-aqalliyāt, on its own, is a particular concept and idea. e very name ‘aqalliyāt’ refers to minorities, signifying a view propounded by the ‘majority’. e ‘majority’ in this case does not refer to the non-Muslim majority, but rather the Muslim majority from the Middle East and the Indian sub-continent; and it is important to note that Muslims from Muslim majority states have dominated most of the discussions. A perspective emphasising ‘minority’ belonging fits quite well within a community that is content with viewing itself as ‘temporary’ or ‘returning’, but not within communities that are intent on making their ‘exceptional situation’ a part of ‘normal’ life, and this is where the more intricate problem is to be found: normalising the ‘abnormal’. Fetzer and Soper correctly note that Germany was illprepared to meet the needs of its Muslim population because Islam was treated as a ‘guest-religion’; conversely, if European Muslims continue to think of themselves as ‘guests’ in Europe, it is not unlikely that they may find themselves ill equipped to participate fully in European societies. Ramadan specifically calls upon Western Muslims ‘because they are undergoing the experience of becoming established in new societies’ to renew their commitment to Islam in a manner that reflects their circumstances. is includes an effort to identify that which is inherited cultural practice (which may not be appropriate in



  

their new surroundings), as well as to understand what must remain unchangeable despite their situation. In this analysis, Ramadan is rare: he does not view the current situation as ‘extraordinary’ and refuses to allow the Muslim to view him as the perpetual ‘Other’ in the context of non-Muslim societies. As such, he appears somewhat uncomfortable with the entire project of fiqh al-aqalliyāt, if the ‘minority’ aspect is taken as a psychological mindset: for him, there is no ‘minority’ or ‘majority’ answer; there is the answer of Muslims as citizens, or of citizens as Muslims. Ramadan’s perspective might be somewhat uncommon, but history does record precedents to support it; when Muslims have traditionally been in circumstances where they enjoyed dominant political power, whether as minorities or as majorities, they have also existed as demographic minorities enjoying minority powers, and have thrived. e discussions above by Al-‘Alwani and others do not examine the different experiences of the Muslim communities of West Africa and of other Muslim communities that thrived in non-Muslim regions; the questions Al-‘Alwani raises reflect a particular reading of certain parts of Muslim history, since Muslims formed demographic minorities in all core Muslim lands, including Iran, Egypt, Syria and Iberia in the first few centuries of Islam. In China, a Muslim demographic minority virtually dominated the import–export trade during the Sung Dynasty (–), and a similar integration of the Muslim community existed during the Ming Dynasty (–). Tatars in Poland and Lithuania were also Muslim minorities in terms of numbers, but enjoyed a status in Polish–Lithuanian society, which identified them as integrated and integral parts of the ‘Polish nation’. In the contemporary age, Muslims living as demographic minorities account for around one third of all Muslims around the world; to put it briefly, Muslims living as something other than a majority with political supremacy is not as bizarre a situation as it might appear. is difference of perspective may be Ramadan’s most valuable contribution to the entire debate; for, while he is acutely aware of the need to remain connected at some level to traditional Muslim scholarship, his distinctive input lies elsewhere: To think of our belonging to Islam in the West in terms of Otherness, adaptation to limitations, and authorised compromise [rukhsas] cannot be enough and gives the impression of structural adjustments that make it possible

   



to survive in a sort of imagined borderland but that do not provide the means really to flourish, participate in, and fully engage in our societies. Later, commenting on Yūsūf al-Qaradāwī’s ̣ ‘telling subtitle’ to one of his books, e Life of Muslims in Other Societies, Ramadan pushes the point further home: In his [Qaradawi’s] mind, Western societies are ‘other societies’ because the societies normal for Muslims are Muslim-majority societies. But this is no longer the case, and what were once thought of as some kind of ‘diasporas’ are so no longer. ere is no longer a place of origin from which Muslims are ‘exiled’ or ‘distanced’, and ‘naturalised’, ‘converted’ Muslims – ‘Western Muslims’ – are at home, and should not only say so but feel so. Whereas the other thinkers mentioned in this chapter are concerned with issues of fiqh and seeking to enable Muslims to reside in the West while remaining faithful to their Muslim identity, Ramadan is more concerned with moving further along, to develop a distinctive Western Muslim identity, recollecting that Muslims settled all over the world in various cultural contexts and made those contexts their own. Al-‘Alwani surely thinks along the same lines, but in terms of Europe; Ramadan is a second-generation Swiss citizen (his father emigrated from Egypt) and is particularly conversant with western civilisation through his own educational and professional background. He is thus entirely comfortable within it, while recognising that some parts of it may be in opposition to his terms of reference as a Muslim. It is worthwhile to quote the entire passage where Ramadan makes this point: ‘e way of faithfulness’, ‘the path to the spring’, the Sharia, teaches us to integrate everything that is not against an established principle and to consider it as our own. is is, aer all, the true universality of Islam: it consists in this principle of integrating the good, from wherever it may come, which has made it possible for Muslims to settle in, and make their own, without contradiction, almost all the cultures of the countries in which they have established themselves, from



   South America to Asia, through West and North Africa. It should not be otherwise in the West. Here, too, it is a matter of integrating all the dimensions of life that are not in opposition to our terms of reference and to consider them completely our own (legally, socially and culturally). We must clearly overcome the dualistic vision and reject our sense of being eternal foreigners, living in parallel, on the margins or as reclusive minorities, in order to make way for the global vision of universal Islam that integrates and allows the Other to flourish confidently.

Summary Historically, there have certainly been many precedents for Muslims living under non-Muslim sovereignty. e fiqh scholars of the past did not shy away from those existing realities and came to rather novel conclusions on how to cope with them. e institutionalisation of Islam did take place in those situations, and the representatives of the institutions of Islam were given a certain amount of authority over Muslims in those territories, similar to, but not precisely the same as, non-Muslim communities under the Ottoman ‘Millet’ system. However well this worked in the past, it worked on a variety of assumptions, in particular that the constituent parts of society were communities, not individuals. e individual did exist, most certainly, but always as part of a community, not independently of it. Nor were the scholars, when discussing fiqh al-nawāzil, considering ‘normal’ situations; by their very nature, the discussions were about ‘abnormal’ situations. ere was a background, a context, a paradigm, an underlying theory to the organisation of the society, and this had obvious ramifications for any rulings they sought to promulgate. As far as Ramadan and Al-‘Alwani are concerned, for authentic and directly relevant discussions to take place, there must be a vision of the role of European Muslim communities within Europe. is explains the emphasis of scholars – including Al-‘Alwani, but especially Ramadan – in placing a responsibility upon the Muslims in Europe to become Muslims of Europe. Muslims in the European sphere should be committed to their faith and remain wary of being ‘swept away by the mainstream’, but not necessarily through the cultural prism of their countries of origin if they are from immigrant communities. As far as such scholars are concerned, Islam is a religion that can exist anywhere and that demands contributions to the wider

   



society as a matter of course, so that Muslims may assist in creating a better society for the benefit of all. Engaging with the ‘Other’ in general terms is important in such an effort, but in this particular context only Europe is being discussed. It cannot escape the observer of history that, at least in some limited sense, there is already a distinctive European Islamic narrative that goes back several centuries; how much of a narrative, however, remains to be seen in the next chapter.

4 Muslims in Europe: Precedent and Present

It can no longer be seen as Islam versus the West; it is Islam and the West or Islam in the West. … the Hebrew–Christian background is the root of European cultural identity.  ,    P fled their homes in Arabia to the Christian kingdom of Abyssinia. Having escaped persecution in their own country, they lived as a community of followers of the new Prophet, but as a numerically minor community in a predominantly Christian kingdom. About fiy years later, the third Caliph ‘Uthmān sent an envoy, Sa‘ad ibn Waqqās (a maternal uncle of that same prophetic preacher) to China, beginning a process that would result in a community of Chinese Muslims who would be the main figures in Chinese trade for hundreds of years less than two generations later. Fourteen centuries later, similar situations were to be seen all over the EU: in part through migration (although, unlike in the Abyssinian situation, not usually due to persecution) and in part

I



  

through indigenous conversion in member states, as well as through normal demographic developments. Around one third of Muslims world-wide currently live as demographic minorities and have, by and large, thrived, including in the EU, where legal standards promise general security and economic conditions promise general prosperity. Aer  September , these communities in the EU were subjected to a huge amount of public scrutiny in the mainstream media, in political circles and in European societies in general. Many discussions assumed that Islam had a nature generally inconsistent with European civilisation, and membership in these communities was oen considered to be suspect in popular discourse. is is perhaps unsurprising, considering that, historically, the European identity has developed through a primarily Christian frame of reference, sometimes ignoring other European frames of reference and at other times responding negatively to those other frames of reference. ese frames of reference intensified in recent years, with the Madrid bombings and the London bombings in . As in the case of Christianity and Judaism, the roots of the Muslim presence are in the Near East; however, just as Islam affected and helped to create cultures in the Fertile Crescent, Central Asia, China and Africa, so were Muslim cultures in Europe created. In Andalusia especially, historians have noted the Muslim intellectual enterprise which, in turn, had carried on the Greek and Persian endeavours of science and philosophy. Previously lost to Europe as the result of neglect and destruction, these corpora of works were later rediscovered by the scholars of Christian Europe. Studying them in Arabic along with the commentaries of the Arab Muslim analysts, Western scholars translated them into Latin in the twelh and thirteenth centuries. is began a series of events that are now viewed as precursors to the Renaissance. e translations from Greek into Arabic, in particular, rescued the Greek achievements from oblivion. Yet it was not only the works of Aristotelian physics and the like that Europe acquired from medieval Iberia, where a ‘true HispanoArab culture had been created’; for a number of advancements in mathematics, medicine and other sciences were also made there. First, the contributions of the Arabs to western Europe were chiefly in respect of matters which tended to be the refinement of life and the improvement of its material basis; second, most Europeans had little awareness of the Arab

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

and Islamic character of what they were adopting; third, the ‘gracious living’ of the Arabs and the literary tradition that accompanied it stimulated the imagination of Europe and not least the poetic genius of the Romance peoples. at culture effectively came to an end with the Spanish Inquisition, but elsewhere in northern, eastern and southern Europe other Muslim societies were emerging, which we shall focus on elsewhere in this work. Pre-Modernity e idea of Islam as separate from a Judeo-Christian West is as false as it is influential … ey (Islam and Christendom) borrowed and learned from each other, whether it was in relation to scholarship, philosophy and scientific enquiry, or medicine, architecture and technology. Indeed, the classical learning from Athens and Rome, which was lost to Christendom, was preserved by the Arabs and came to western Europe – like the institution of the university – from Muslims. at Europe came to define its civilization as a renaissance of Greece and Rome and excised the Arab contribution to its foundations and well-being is an example of racist myth-making that has much relevance to today. Suhayb ̣ bin Sinān al-Rūmī has been described as a blond-haired, faircomplexioned, Greek-speaking Byzantine slave. He was the son of Sinān bin Mālik, who ruled a city near the Euphrates in Basra on behalf of the Persian emperor, but he had been sold into slavery in Constantinople in his infancy aer being captured by a Byzantine raiding party. He eventually escaped and fled to Makkah, where he became Muslim. Later, it is reported that he was selected as the temporary commander of the entire Muslim community, the Caliph ‘Umar having vested him with this responsibility until a leader was chosen. Unrelated to this anecdote of the first ‘European Muslim’ is the first entry of Muslim forces into several areas of the Mediterranean sea on the European side in the seventh century, including the island of Cyprus, which has the distinction of being the first EU member state that had any significant contact with Muslims in the past. In the seventh century, Cyprus was under the sovereignty of the Byzantine



  

Empire, which was then engaged in hostilities against the nascent Muslim community in the Levant. Although the second caliph had rejected plans for neutralising the strategically important island, his successor, aer intensive battles with the Byzantines, agreed to allow the Syrian governor’s forces to take Cyprus. Further west, Muslims later entered Europe from the Iberian peninsula in its south-west corner. In a way, this means the history of Islam in the UK officially starts in the seventh century, when Muslims landed at Jabal al-Tāriq, ̣ known today as Gibraltar, currently a British colony. e eventual conquest of Europe was cut short at Poitiers in France in the early eighth century, and Islam became established in most of the Iberian peninsula, being concentrated in the south. e spread of Muslim rule took three years, with few battles and significant local support. Muslims are said to have first come to Spain aer a request from one of the local chieains. Andalusia is of singular interest to historians of Islam in Europe, as it represents the first and longest period of Muslim rule on the continent; but it is curious for other reasons as well, for it represents a novelty in western Europe until the twentieth century: a multi-religious and multi-ethnic society. [Christians in Spain] were by no means hostile to Muslim rule, but learnt Arabic (though they also spoke a Romance dialect) and adopted many Arab customs. Besides the Christians there were many Jews in the chief towns, who, having suffered under the Visigoths, actively aided the Muslim conquest, and do not appear later to have thought of revolting. Historians continue to examine and re-examine this phase in Spanish and European history for a variety of reasons. From the western European perspective, this is where the foundations of the European Renaissance can be found and countless innovations originated. Muslims (including converts from Christianity in Spain), Christians and Jews collaborated to create a region of Islamic civilisation in Europe that le its mark for centuries to come. From the Muslim perspective, Andalusia was where one of the famed schools of law in Muslim jurisprudence was developed: the Zāhirī ̣ school (although Spanish Muslims generally followed the Mālikī school, aer a brief period with the school of al-Awzā‘ī). From Muslim Spain there originated some of the great teachers of Muslim mysticism, such as Muhyi ̣ al-Dīn ibn al-‘Arabī and Shu‘ayb Abū Madyan.

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Further east, it is related that Slovenia had good relations with the Muslims of Iberia as far back as the eighth and the ninth centuries. During the same period, in , Arab Muslims landed in Sicily under the command of Asad ibn al-Furāt ibn Sinān, judge of Qayrouan during the rule of the Abbasid Caliph ‘Abdullah al-Ma’mūn. Unlike another Mediterranean island, Cyprus, where sovereignty over the island changed hands between the Muslim state and the Byzantines several times until the end of tenth century, Sicily remained under Muslim rule until , when King Roger I conquered the island. Unlike what happened in other areas of Europe where Christians regained control over Muslim lands, Roger did not unduly discriminate against the Muslim inhabitants; neither did his son and successor, Roger II. Sicily never returned to Muslim rule, and, although Cyprus was lost to the Byzantine Empire in , it remained under non-Muslim (and non-Hellenic) rule only until , when Ottoman forces conquered it. Less than a hundred years earlier, Muslim civilisation in Spain had started to decline, and although some isolated secret groups of Muslims continued to exist in the Iberian Peninsula until the twentieth century, Islam was declared illegal with the end of the Reconquista in the fieenth century. Eastwards, other Muslim European presences began to materialise. e spread of Mongol armies during the thirteenth century into northern and eastern Europe also le permanent Muslim communities in various localities, including the Tatars of Lithuania. (ese Tatars, it should be noted, are not to be ‘regarded as direct descendants of the Tatar Mongols of Manchuria … ey are distant scions of the Turkic-speaking VolgaKama Bulgars’. ) Although the exact date is uncertain, Lithuanian history records the date of the entry of Islam into that part of Europe as being , when the Lithuanian Duke Witold took Tatar prisoners. As noted above, the Tatars were originally from the Turkic regions north of the Black Sea, but had lost their Turkic vernacular by the eighteenth century, preferring to speak Byelorussian instead. Islam proved to be a force of unity for the Tatars, and they continued to possess a group consciousness even aer they lost their language, a consciousness which continues to the present day. e khanate of the ‘Golden Horde’ le many traces in its wake, as did the Tatar migrants. Many settled around Vilna in Lithuania, but some were to go to southern Poland, in such numbers that, when



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King Sigismund III ordered a census in , more than , listed were listed. ere the Tatars swore on the Qur’ān to fight for Polish independence in , and they opposed the Russians in  and , during the uprisings – a history which earned them respect and a favoured place in Poland for two centuries. e community suffered grave losses during German occupation in the Second World War, when close to , Tatars were killed, including most of the Tatar intelligentsia. e final pre-modern chapter of European Muslim history, which is beyond the confines of this work, was the Ottoman administration in south-eastern Europe. e final expansion of that highly significant Muslim European state took place with the conquest of Crete from the Venetians in , which ‘eventually resulted in one of the largest Muslim communities in the Greek world’; this, just like many other Muslim communities in south-eastern Europe, no longer exists. e Ottomans’ main legacy would be in Greece (where a large Muslim community remains today), Austria and Cyprus, where a little less than  per cent of the population is Muslim. Other countries also retained sizeable Muslim populations, such as Romania (where there were  mosques in Dobrudja alone aer independence ) and Hungary; but they, too, are beyond the scope of this particular study. In addition, there is a long history of interchange between Europe and the Muslim world through trading relationships and, later, through colonial enterprises. More in-depth research must be done to uncover the history of the Venetians and of the Genoese in the Arabian Gulf prior to the Portuguese, and other connections with Muslims beyond Europe. us it can be seen that Muslim history in Europe has a rather long, albeit complicated, tenure. As a result of this, there are many Muslim communities le in eastern, southern and northern Europe, while the majority in the west (such as those in the UK, France and the Netherlands) are of more recent origin, owing to migration from former colonies or to recruitment drives resulting from labour shortages (as in Germany, Sweden and Denmark). Conversions to Islam are also on the rise, showing that Muslims are a growing and self-evident reality in the European landscape, and one which presents particular challenges and problems. Recognising Islam: Muslim Integration In one sense, there is certainly a European Muslim community in the same way there is a European community. If by this, however, it is

  

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implied that there is a unified European Muslim collective in terms of history, political identity and experience, then just as this is not true of Europeans in general, it is not true for Muslims in Europe. However, there are some issues that are indeed ‘pan-EU’ in substance and scope, and this leads one to speak of a European Muslim community, or of Muslim European communities. Such talk includes considerations of how pluralistic systems of governance should be formed; of the recognition of Islam; and of the development of Muslim European identities. e EU has attempted, quite strongly, to ensure that any deepening of ties between member states does not impinge upon individual member states’ fundamental national identities, otherwise the European project would fail. However, at the sub-European level – or rather the ‘member state level’ – oen such efforts are not made, whether with regards to religion or to other signatures of identities. German state policies towards Turkish residents may not have pushed them to send their dead to Turkey (as they frequently did), but they certainly did not assist or encourage Turkish integration into Germany on the basis of any form of pluralistic liberalism. France’s version of secularism and citizen-based republicanism in the current political climate has meant that there is a number of obstacles to fulfilling a completely pluralistic framework, as witnessed by the current foulard debate. In Sweden, it could be said until recently that ‘the formula according to which Sweden was governed was: “One nation, One people, One religion” ’. In all of these countries, and across the EU, the greatest challenge to emerging definitions of pluralism and to ways of coping with it invariably comes from Muslim communities. With them came not only small, isolated ethnic or national minority groups, but also populations with specific cultures, and a faith that is spreading among indigenous Europeans. It is claimed that being faced with cultural pluralism is difficult enough for societies which are relatively heterogenous, and that Muslim communities prove to be particularly problematic. A Muslim who insists on being French while remaining Muslim is not simply a problem to be managed as an individual; rather, he or she is speaking directly to the question of what ‘French’ really means. ese challenges have drawn some commentators on the continent into portraying Muslims in Europe as impossible to incorporate, except in a way that would bring chaos. For example, in the late s, the Greek Metropolitan Damaskinos was orchestrating



  

demonstrations against the building of mosques in Kimmeria and Pelekiti; in the Netherlands, the anti-Muslim Fortuyn continued to exist. ere are differences between the two. Greece is the quintessence of the Orthodox Hellenic ethnic national group, which is Orthodox Christian, and, as long as it is like this, genuine integration will be hindered. Damaskinos was only exhibiting a logical, if rather zealous, example of that thinking in practice. Fortuyn, on the other hand, represented a different type of anti-Muslim sentiment, one that was more virulent against Muslims as the carriers of Islam, which he identified as a threat to Dutch culture. Both examples represent types of anti-Muslim sentiment, but although Fortuyn was probably more vehemently opposed to Islam as Islam, the Netherlands remains an officially multiculturalist society, while the Greek state cannot be considered multiculturalist, as it remains the official embodiment of a mono-culturalist ethnic identity. Aer the attacks on  September in , it may be the case that feelings against Muslims and Islam intensified: the Northern League in Italy exploited the situation to reduce the immigration issue to ‘fighting against terrorism’. In August , a high-ranking official of the party suggested it was time for the Italian state to close down Islamic centres and mosques ‘frequented by possible supporters of terrorism’. Clearly, the events of  September  provided an excuse for anti-Muslim sentiment to be expressed under the pretext of protecting Italy from a fih column. e following attacks in Madrid and London several years later helped to solidify the ‘security paradigm’ in the public sphere, through which all issues relating to Islam and Muslim communities were read. ese occurrences, however, are the whole story when it comes to Muslims in Europe. ere is a situation of security and opportunity for Muslim communities throughout (hence, immigration to the EU from predominantly Muslim countries continues). e aforementioned Italian group is recognised as extremist, and the lack of a more complete recognition of Islam in Italy appears to be due to intraMuslim community difficulties rather than to the state. e Dutch government may have banned ostentatious symbols – the hijāb ̣ – in some spheres of public life, but the Dutch Equal Opportunities Committee successfully pushed forward moves protecting the right to wear it. Spain’s leading archbishop might say that the government’s policies are taking Spain back to the time of the ‘Moors’, but the government still finds ways of facilitating the practice of Islam with public funds. e situation is complicated and complex.

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Neutrality of the State: ‘Church–State’ Issues In the course of these developments, Muslims and non-Muslims alike have gone beyond purely theoretical discussions regarding the management of diversity as previously examined, and are experimenting with recognising Islam and Muslims in a variety of ways. In this, the neutrality of the state in terms of matters of faith (rather than in terms of relationship to religious institutions such as churches) is usually assumed. However, neutrality does not necessarily mean non-recognition of Islam, nor does the existence of a ‘Church–State link’ such as in the UK. A state church cannot, in and of itself, be considered to be illegal on the basis that it violates religious freedom, as held by the European Court in , nor does the recognition of religious communities mean that the state is ceasing to be secular. If the different situations of Muslim populations across the EU are considered, it is difficult to identify a pattern relating their status to the existence of a state religion. Denmark has an official state religion and recognises Islam, whereas Luxembourg has no official religion and does not recognise Islam. e Dutch do not officially recognise any religion, but they fund religious schools. e question is not so much about the existence of an official religion, which may actually be conducive to improving relations between minorities and majorities, depending on the attitude of the church involved. More to the point is the issue of ‘recognition’: whether or not Islam should be officially recognised by the state. In this context, the classification of EU countries into ‘concordat’, ‘Church–State’ and ‘secularist’ countries is painfully inadequate, although it had been useful in earlier European history. Ferrari notes, for example, that in the nineteenth century ‘the conclusion of a concordat or the emanation of a law of separation meant a clear choice of position and entailed a series of consequences in all sectors of the legal system’. Two centuries later, however, the absence of a concordat does not necessarily signify inferiority, nor does an official link with the state in the form of a ‘Church–State’ system necessarily signify superiority. Such assumptions belong to a different historical paradigm, which no longer exists in Europe today, as the current record shows. In Belgium, the recognition of Islam as a religion meant state funding, subsidies and free religious instruction. Spain’s Muslim community organised itself into an umbrella representative



  

organisation, following which the Spanish state signed an agreement which included, among other things, ‘[congregational acts of] religious attendance, education and the formation of public educational, sanitary, penitentiary and military centres; as well as the status of the religious ministers and locations for the cult, and the fiscal system applied to them’. Luxembourg insists that this organisational step, which has not yet occurred there, should be taken before any benefits or special treatments are given (such as the financing of ‘religious professionals’). In Ireland and Denmark, however, there is no such recognition, either of Muslims as a religious group per se, or of Islam as a religion of that group; yet the state funds Muslim schools. On the other hand, the non-recognition of Islam in Denmark results in a number of peculiarities; for example, Muslim marriage ceremonies are not recognised by the state, yet some areas have Muslim prison chaplains. In the Netherlands there is no official recognition of religious communities, but if they are organised under public law, as in Germany, they receive a series of tax exemptions, state subsidies for television time and so forth. For historical reasons, Austria and Greece are unique in their manner of recognising and institutionalising of Islam. Austria has a Council of Shura and a Grand Mui with a direct relationship to the national education ministry; yet this has not stopped the far right in the country from targeting Muslim Austrians. Greek institutionalisation of Islam has not helped the incorporation of Greek citizens who are also Muslim Turks; on the contrary, since the manner in which Islam is institutionalised has resulted in the Turkish Muslim community being instructed predominantly in Turkish, they are thus further handicapped by their lack of expertise in Greek. Beyond Recognition, to Representation In light of this, it is difficult to link the relative status of Muslim European communities to the recognition or institutionalisation of Muslims or Islam. Some type of recognition or institutionalisation might take place, but it may not always be the most suitable mechanism through which serious problems may be addressed. One of the most acute problems is the portrayal of Muslims and Islam, what has been commonly referred to as ‘Islamophobia’: From the most northerly member state of Finland and its largely assimilated Muslim community, to the southern-most

  

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tips of Spain, where the presence of Islam can be reached across a narrow stretch of the Mediterranean; from the most westerly of nations, where Eire struggles in its infancy as an immigrant rather than an emigrant nation, to the most easterly extremes of those such as Austria, where the spectre of fascism has again begun to raise its ugly head, Muslims in the European Union (EU) have never had such an intense scrutiny placed upon them. Muslims are dreaded and loathed not just in Serbia, but throughout Europe. In France, they have been dubbed ‘blood-thirsty savages’ (by Brigitte Bardot, no less ) and an aromatic affront to civilisation (by Jacques Chirac). JeanMarie Le Pen’s National Front has fought two elections on a singularly anti-Muslim ticket. e designer fascism of the Deutsche Alternative Party in Germany is fuelled by antiMuslim sentiments. e Progressive Party of Denmark openly campaigns on a ‘Denmark with no Musselmen’ ticket, as does the Swedish New Democratic Party. As referred to above, the EU is not Serbia, but Islamophobia on a wide scale remains nonetheless; a phenomenon that had already been indirectly identified as an issue for the EU to combat as far back as . e EU Copenhagen European Council in  established quite clearly that an ‘applicant country must have stable institutions guaranteeing democracy, the rule of law, human rights and respect for and protection of minorities’. It has always been a substantial part of its social policy to protect minorities, including religious minorities; freedom of religion is extolled as a great virtue in the EU. What this means beyond the abstract, however, is open to acute debate. As we move from one Christian millennium into the next and Christians war with Muslims within Europe, the way that European legal systems treat Muslims becomes a matter of great moment both for Muslims and for hopes for freedom of religion. For countries oen accustomed to the idea that freedom of religion has largely been won, the presence of large numbers of Muslims within their borders tests whether notions of neutrality towards different faiths and acceptance of difference are rhetoric or reality.



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eoretically, freedom of religion and of religious belief is legally stipulated in all EU states; however, as noted above, the concept of justice and related issues (such as religious freedom) are interpreted differently under different socio-political circumstances. A number of states including ‘France, the United Kingdom, Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium all had their own particular “headscarves affair” ’; they oen disallow leave for Muslims (and other religious minorities) on religious holidays and fail to provide for, dietary requirements in public institutions. e point to be made is that it is difficult to portray these events as ‘state-sponsored Islamophobia’, for, as yet, there is no consensus on what constitutes ‘Islamophobia’, nor is there complete understanding on what ‘freedom of religious belief ’ actually entails in policy prescriptions. In furthering understanding in this area, it is important to know what is meant by certain symbols in certain communities and thereby to avoid unintentional errors. As Ramadan notes, integration may take place on the basis of shared values, but it includes a respect for diversity which entails the understanding of what forms of diversity are acceptable and what forms are not. ey [non-Muslim citizens of Europe] need to accept that Europe’s population has changed, that it no longer has a single history and that the future calls for mutual understanding and respect. ey need to face up to their ignorance and reject the clichés and prejudices that surround Islam. ey must start discussing the principles, values and forms that will enable us to live together. With the rise of extreme right-wing and xenophobic groups that ‘seem to make Muslims the new Jews, salvaging much of the traditional anti-Semitic arsenal’, the alternatives to integration and multiculturalist policies do not seem particularly attractive. Hence, it has been suggested that the representation of Muslims as a religious community in some way would mark progress towards a more integrated status for Muslims in the EU. Unsurprisingly, controversy surrounds the prospect; some segments of European societies are ambivalent towards it, considering it a direct intervention by the state into spiritual systems, which liberal political thought has traditionally rejected. Of course, as citizens, Muslims already have the right in Europe to contest elections or to elect their representatives in national

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

governments; additionally, they have the ability to elect European delegates to represent their region within their nation state at the European level. As such, they are represented through a variety of mechanisms that cover particular identities: local councils, city mayors, national parliaments and the European Parliament. Such representation, however, is of Muslim citizens as something other than Muslims. ese elections, institutions and representative bodies are parts of processes that cover Muslims as citizens in various contexts, but not as Muslims per se (i.e. as a religious community). As a religious community, they are oen invisible, which leads to laws and policies which do not take into account that aspect of their lives. Generally speaking, this does not cause a great deal of problems, but there are some, if few, aspects of Muslim life which warrant particular and specific consideration and which necessitate some sort of representation. We touched on this briefly in Chapter : when other religious communities (Jewish groups and various Christian denominations) organise themselves both in representative bodies and in religiously authoritative bodies, why should we surprised if Muslim groups seek to do the same? Considering western Europe’s historical experience with organised churches and their involvement in politics, the reluctance to recognise Muslims as a specifically religious community, in an institutional way, is not unexpected. Proponents of mechanisms that might recognise such institutionalisation, however, do not appear to be advocating an ecclesiastic Muslim hierarchy (i.e. a Muslim ‘church’), but rather a representational body of religious figures. e former might be objected to as an introduction of ‘papacy into Islam’, just as H. A. R. Gibb’s protested to the idea of an international Muslim assembly; but Rahman’s rebuttal still stands, as such an assembly does not represent ‘God on earth’, but Muslims as a community. e EU has already acknowledged such ideas, since a number of member states oen practise a type of collaboration between themselves and faith groups. Collaboration may manifest itself in various ways, for instance through the concordats; nonetheless, the representation of faith groups as groups does take place. Christian populations of Europe are oen represented in limited fashions through their churches, which are institutions with links to the mainstream and thus represent Christians as Christians to the mainstream. Some Muslim communities have already begun experiments in this regard. e Spanish ‘Church–State’ strategy has two main



  

phases. First, certain universal rights are upheld regarding certain issues that are unanimously supported by all concerned, including a declaration to the effect that no human being may be forced to believe any spiritual principle. Next, the state negotiates with the various communities on a set of standards that both agree to uphold, with the government representing the state and the representative body acting for the particular community. is is what currently exists between the Spanish state and the Islamic Commission of Spain, although, it must be said, the practice of the relationship is oen fraught with problems within the Muslim community itself. It should also be noted that the Muslim representative body is actually not a religious one but a lay community one, with few ties to religious authorities. In Greece the situation is slightly different, as a state-sanctioned office of Mui has the ability to issue religious verdicts for the faithful while at the same time interacting in the more mundane and less spiritual arena of politics. is is not altogether surprising, since the importance of sacred law to Muslims should not be underestimated, but involvement with state structures is not always beneficial to spiritual offices. In this example, however, there are many other organisations and institutions that represent Muslim communities as cultural communities, as opposed to solely religious ones. Apart from Greece, in most European states Muslim communities have begun to form institutions dedicated to the utilisation of sharī‘ah in modern contexts, with varying degrees of success, outside of the sphere of the state and within civil society. ere is a number of questions and concerns which surround religious representation, both from the non-Muslim and from the Muslim communities. Any viable organisation would need to reflect the diversity of Muslims living in the locale, as well as reflecting the realities at the grassroots level. Heterogeneity among the Muslim communities themselves may prove to be the greatest obstacle; organisation among the very diverse and disparate European Muslim communities has been very difficult in a number of EU states (Germany, France and Belgium for example ), making any state–Muslim link impossible to establish. Driving this point home, Faye contends that the presence of communal unity and of coherent organisational resources partially explains the success of Jewish communities in the UK, in contrast to the insuccess of Muslim communities; the British government, as far as Faye is concerned, uses the lack of unified representation to the disadvantage of the British Muslim community.

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Somewhat similar to this kind of representation was the ‘Millet’ system, which was intended to give the state authorities conduits through which to govern their populations, defined in reference to religion. e various church hierarchies were made responsible for the Christian populations, and then responsible to the Ottoman state. In this way they were integrated into the state fabric; but individual citizens were forced to adhere officially to a particular religious organisation (a church) in order to function as a citizen in the state. e organisation would then be the representative, which may or not have been representative of the community as a whole. us there is oen antipathy for similar arrangements in the modern context, since it is feared that they would assist ghettoisation or reflect only a select portion of the community. is system had advantages in the classical period; but in the EU the basis of citizenship is individual, not collective. us, if the trend continues in the EU, and there is good reason to suspect it will, any institutions for religious representation will be unable to claim citizens automatically on the basis of religious affiliation. e representative body in the modern EU, for example, is not a coercive state organ with official legislative powers over its members (who have no right of exit): it is a consultative body made up of voluntary members. If such issues are given due consideration, it is possible that the advantages of the pillarisation of the Ottoman ‘Millet’ system might be upheld, but its disadvantages would be done away with from the start, the result being perhaps something analogous to the British Jewish Board of Deputies in the UK. ere are actually Muslim models for such institutions currently in operation, the most significant example being the ‘Official Islamic Community of Austria’. In this body, religious representation and community representation are actually united in a single institution with several constituent parts, and the system has worked quite well in the Austrian context. Such bodies could provide a ‘face’ to the communities by negotiating certain avenues through which the latter may try to integrate themselves into Europe, the plural basis of the state being ensured through that option, and citizenship being the safeguard of the liberal aspect. If these issues are resolved, the question of the sort of powers and authority the institution should have will inevitably arise. Are such institutions best conceived as strictly representational bodies, concerned with advising decision makers



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and state representatives, or is it appropriate that they be vested with any authority over those whom they represent? Investing such bodies with significant authority would signal the creation of a modern ‘Millet’ system in the EU – a move that would point to the weakening of the EU as a union of citizens, as well as of communities. e Greek case is an anomaly, due to the historical circumstances arising from the treaties between Turkey and Greece, and it cannot be expected that it would be emulated throughout the EU. On a theoretical basis, this would be less of a union of plural, liberal states and more of a union of separatist communities. If the liberal basis of the state (i.e. the citizen as the basic unit) remains the overriding principle, such bodies would have no more authority over their members than NGOs. However, a model with grounding in current European legal practice, without need for any legal or policy shi, could be constructed, incorporating aspects of the Spanish and Greek models that would result in full representation of Muslims as Muslims. Ironically, considering the history of the Inquisition, Spain may have the most advanced system vis-à-vis Muslim representation. Without requiring compulsory membership for Muslim citizens, an entity exists which has the ability to sanction legally certain religious ceremonies (such as marriage). Other bodies would have to be created under the aegis of the state and in conformity with standards of acceptability, but such details may be worked out aer a representative body is established, perhaps for the very reason of setting such limits. Integralisation: Different Times and Places e discussion in this chapter has revealed that the Muslim presence is not recent, but has a long history in European societies. From the Middle Ages through pre-modernity to the present day, Muslims have played a considerable role in the development of European thought and culture; sometimes in an active, positive manner, other times less so, but with extensive impact. In the present, however, the concern is not simply to recognise European Islamic history, but rather to recognise Islam and to represent the Muslims, in the hope of integrating them into Europe. e history of Europe has le the state predisposed to dealing less favourably with religious communities that have no identifiable ecclesiastical authority, which has made the integration of European

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Muslim communities somewhat difficult to accomplish, along with other factors. Integration, however, in at least some form, is necessary both for the cohesiveness of European societies and for the prosperity of Muslim communities: integrated communities are not discriminated against, and discriminated communities are not integrated. How this integration is to be accomplished is yet to be decided, and it is not necessarily through the prism of recognition, for discriminated communities might still be recognised. As noted above, some remain concerned that recognition might assist ghettoisation or separatism, as for example in Cyprus. ere recognition and ‘identity politics’ have resulted in the over-arching identity (Cypriot) being strongly displaced, and in some cases replaced, by the ethno-national (Greek/Turk) one. In Lithuania, where a Tatar Muslim population has existed for centuries, the Muslims are looked upon as an organic and native component of society. Recognition might facilitate the process, but it is the integral nature of that community which serves it, as well as Lithuanian society as a whole. Perhaps in appreciation of this, new generations of Muslims (‘New Europeans’) who are confident in their faith and in their sense of belonging are speaking for Muslims in mainstream debates and discussions. Oen helpful in this regard are indigenous citizens who have embraced Islam; in some countries, such as Italy and Sweden, they are involved publicly, as ‘cultural mediators’. eir efforts contribute not only to Muslim concerns being noted by the mainstream, but also to Muslims being accepted as part of the mainstream, that is, as Muslim Europeans. e process of becoming integral (integralisation) is underway. Such an effort is not without obstacles. AlSayyad and Castells report that the modern idea of a ‘European identity’ has been created in opposition to ‘others’: infidels or barbarians. More recently, such personae and roles have been cast upon the United States of America, and for a brief time against the Japanese and Asian economic competitor. For much of its history, however, the ‘European’ was defined through opposition to Islam, which makes any widespread normalisation of the new reality difficult. Glavanis notes in this regard that ‘the Muslim presence impacts on the nature of modern European identity in that it challenges the very idea of Europe.’ In spite of this, historically, many Europeans were of the Islamic faith; moreover, through conversion, immigration and the expansion of the EU, Islam



  

is today the fastest-growing religion in Europe. In the long term, Turkey is next on the agenda for European Union membership. Such developments mean that the discussions surrounding identity in Europe will continue, for it is clear that, unless a monumental shi occurs, Muslims will continue to live in Europe in huge numbers. How such debates are to resolve themselves is uncertain, but the trend suggests a degree of identification between Muslims and their societies, which is likely to continue alongside the debating process. Sociologists have noted this in a variety of European contexts: there is ‘the development of hybrid identities and the emergence of a new category of French Muslims who feel a sense of belonging and allegiance to France while remaining loyal to their religion’: and for ‘many young Muslims in Germany, the goal became not to assimilate themselves into the secular values of the West, but instead to adopt a true Islamic identity while living in the West’. Hunter and Leveau also believe that ‘Muslims increasingly want to become engaged within the social and political life of their country of residence and citizenship while retaining their Islamic character, even if there is no consensus within the community about what exactly being Islamic means’. Even in the domain of the spiritual, some Muslim scholars have transformed Europe from being dār al-kufr (an ‘abode of disbelief ’) into being dār al-islām (an ‘abode of Islam’); and this is not, contrary to some estimations, dependent on the number of mosques in a given region. Rather, it represents a significant paradigm shi, where Muslims are viewed not as ‘temporary sojourners’ awaiting a ‘return’, but as citizens who may consider European societies their permanent homes. Both among intellectuals such as Ramadan and among religious scholars such as Mustafa Ceric a consensus is gradually emerging that the Muslim community needs to embrace those parts of its heritage that allow for and promote inter-communal building for the greater society. In this fashion they would be making the issues of the mainstream issues of the minority, and vice versa: Lithuanian Muslims and Chinese Muslims existed as Muslims in those countries for centuries as fully Muslim, fully ‘integrated’ and fully integral. On this issue, Faysal Mawlawi, one of the scholars on the ECFR, compares the Muslims of Europe to the Muslims of Arabia in the early stages of the mission of the last Prophet of Islam. Commenting on this, Ramadan notes that, just as the early prophetic community was responsible for bearing witness to the faith among its own people in a particular way, the Muslims of Europe are called upon to bear

  



witness in another manner. e current ‘new world order’ is one where spirituality and the idea of a sacred life have been largely forgotten in favour of an economic and utilitarian worldview. e Muslims should hardly submit to such an environment; rather, they should secure their position at the heart of it, and then seek to be a positive influence from within it. Part of that process involves the active realisation among Muslims that they are native, central and integral to Europe, regardless of their numbers – realisation that lies at the heart of the discourse of intellectuals such as Ramadan.

Summary e success of such a task, however, is dependent on several factors, which operate at a number of different levels. At the ‘mainstream’ level, legal obstacles to the practice of Islam in individual member states are not particularly restrictive. Legally there is freedom of religion in all EU states: there is no legislation which has the purpose of outlawing the practice of Islam in any country. However, in rare cases, judges have used legislation in a manner that was restrictive; the hijāb ̣ controversy that has arisen in France and spread across the EU is perhaps only the most poignant case. Regardless of how the hijāb ̣ might be negatively perceived by many European citizens (Muslims and non-Muslims alike), it remains the case that wearing the scarf is a part of religious observance for many Muslim women. is does not give it absolute protection, as European legal systems do limit freedom of expression where there is an overriding public interest to do so. e case of the head-scarf, however, is less about public interest and more about political issues that lie at the heart of how non-Muslim Europe thinks about itself rather than about Muslims. us social obstacles remain, being sometimes expressed in legal sanctions, but more oen in other ways. Sweden has official policies on multiculturalism, but local authorities still opposed opening a mosque in central Stockholm. Spain has a recognised public association of Muslims, but this has not resulted in the full integration of Muslims into mainstream society. Nor can more legislation be a panacea for such issues; the introduction of more legislation may restrain the rise of the far right, but it does not prevent its existence. is is a concern for all sectors of society that may face exclusion; for Muslims, who are demographic minorities not only in terms of religious belief and ethnicity, but also in terms of power, the concern is especially acute.



  

At the community level, the success of a naturalisation process depends on Muslim civil society desiring it. is appears to be the trend already, as Muslim communities emphasise the historical record which shows Islam’s link to Europe. European culture, history and intellectual heritage is, as discussed in this chapter, intimately tied to Islam to varying degrees, according to region and historical period. is process, however, is not only dependent on the demographic minority using internal mechanisms, but on the mainstream removing obstacles to active participation, if not providing positive options. In the European context, this necessarily involves a consideration of European laws and policies – to which our attention must now turn.

5 Muslims and Religious Discrimination: EU Law and Policy

       saw two major military conflicts almost engulfing the entire continent of Europe: the ‘Great War’, which ended in , and the war between Nazi Germany and the Allies, which ended in  – two conflicts which saw immense bloodshed on the continent and which had lasting repercussions well beyond Europe’s borders. e second half of the twentieth century, however, saw a different Europe rising from the ashes of bitter intra-European struggles. A new impulse took root on a huge swathe of European territory, particularly in the West. For centuries, political philosophers and theorists have discussed the concept of a union of states within the continent of Europe. In its modern manifestation, the concept has found itself involved in a debate revolving around the European communities which began life aer the end of hostilities between the Axis powers and the Allies in the s. In , the then French foreign minister, Robert Schuman, put forward a plan he had worked out with Jean Monnet to enable Europe’s coal and steel industries to work together. is,

T



  

he declared, would constitute a great step for an ‘organised and vital Europe’. In Paris, on  April , Belgium, Germany, France, Italy, Luxembourg and the Netherlands signed the Treaty of the European Coal and Steel Community. e Treaties of Rome six years later ( March ), created the European Economic Community (EEC) and the European Atomic Energy Community (Euratom). More states joined the EEC, which eventually included the UK (), Ireland (), Denmark (), Greece (), Portugal and Spain (). In November , another treaty came into effect, called the Treaty of Maastricht. is has been officially named ‘the Treaty of European Union’ (TEU) because, along with making a few changes to the EEC Treaty and the Euratom Treaty, it brought the European Union into being. e EU contained the states of the EEC (changed to the EC by the Maastricht Treaty), with more countries joining in  (Austria, Finland and Sweden). A further expansion took place in May ; thus the EU came to incorporate Cyprus, Hungary, Poland, Slovakia, Estonia, the Czech Republic, Lithuania, Latvia, Malta and Slovenia. Enlargement has been a key component in the pan-European project since its inception; but so has the concept of integration. European leaders have recognised that, with each expansion which occurs, a deepening process to reintegrate the union and all its parts must take place, in order to stabilise the situation. Part of the process is social stabilisation – a goal that twenty-first century Europe is particularly concerned with, in light of the history of the previous century. It is difficult not to … be struck by the number of conflicts involving the persecution, or alleged mistreatment, of ethnic, racial, linguistic or religious minority groups: the events in the Balkans which precipitated the First World War, Hitler’s aggression in the name of protecting the German speaking minorities of Eastern Europe, the Holocaust, successive Soviet Pogroms, and, more recently, ethnic cleansing in Bosnia and civil war in Chechnya and Kosovo. e above are extremes, but they are sufficiently widespread for Romano Prodi to write in April : ‘Equal treatment of minorities is a cornerstone of the new united Europe.’ What the president

   



of the European Commission meant in this regard, however, is contested, as is the very term ‘minority’: ‘As just mentioned, there is no internationally binding definition of the “minority” concept. us it is up to every country to establish the definitions that it will apply to its own territory.’ A uniform set of mechanisms and treatments is thus difficult to examine; but, historically, the concept is not alien to Europe. For millennia, different systems of jurisprudence have discussed it in various ways, some being more tolerant in some ways, for instance the Ottoman ‘Millet’ system, others less so, for instance the Spanish Inquisition. In more modern times, this idea had translated, particularly with the rise of nationalism, into a respect for ‘self-determination’ among some regimes in the ‘West’, at least within the confines of ‘white Europe’. is attitude came to an end with the advent of the United Nations: new states were primarily concerned with nation state building, sometimes at the expense of national minorities, and other more established states were uninterested in the issue. is situation eventually changed somewhat, so that the new discourse at the end of the twentieth century showed a general acceptance not only of individual human rights, but also of minority group rights, supporting pluralism and cosmopolitanism. Such shis in ideas have exhibited themselves differently throughout Europe. In central and eastern Europe, the shedding of Communism has oen resulted in a renewal of nationalism and national identity, leading to conflict in countries that are not homogenous. In western European countries, the presence of immigrants has caused challenges to the status quo, particularly when the descendants of immigrants have argued that they are equal citizens, on a par with the majority. Specifically in the EU, respect for demographic minorities is considered such a priority that it has become a prerequisite for accession to the EU, and member states are subject to a number of legal and policy strategies designed to protect demographic minority groups. NGOs in many member states have taken the issue on board as one worthy of significant discussion and investigation, even if they come to radically different conclusions regarding solutions. e ‘New Europe’ of Law is ‘new united Europe’ that Prodi mentioned is a structure with a number of cornerstones, one of the most basic of which is ‘law’. ‘is



  

makes the EU a legal reality in two different senses: it is created by law and it is a community based on law.’ It is a matter of discussion whether the EU exists as an organic unity of states, as a result of low-level treaties or as a combination of the two. It is beyond discussion, however, that due to the fact that the first pillar of the EU is the ‘European Community’, which fundamentally affects legislative tools, this supranational organisation has an effect on the legal systems and policy decisions of its member states. ‘Whatever future legislation emerges from the EU, UK legislation will have to be brought in line with it.’ ‘e EU has considerable powers and EU law is, ipso facto, United Kingdom law.’ e sentences above are quoted in relation to the UK experience, but similar statements are applicable to all EU members. Put simply, the EU is a club, and adhering to its rules is a condition of getting a membership card and keeping it. is might take place through ‘direct effect’ or through ‘supremacy/primacy’; it has consequences all the same. e Treaties of the European Communities established a number of obligations upon all the signatories, including, as noted above, a system of law that takes precedence over the state or the national legal systems of the signatories. is system is now ‘universally accepted’, proving to be a growing body of law that directly and indirectly affects EU states in a number of ways. With respect to this point, two important court judgements passed by the European Court of Justice (ECJ) in  and  should be noted here: . Van Gend and Loos (): e ECJ used this case as an opportunity to lay out the legal nature of the European Community (and subsequently the EU). In its judgement, the Court declared: e conclusion to be drawn from this is that the Community constitutes a new legal order of international law for the benefit of which the States have limited their sovereign rights, albeit within limited fields, and the subjects of which comprise not only Member States but also their nationals. . Costa/ENEL (): this case provided the ECJ with another opportunity to delineate its position in more detail. In its

   



judgement, the Court stated: By contrast with ordinary international treaties, the EEC Treaty has created its own legal system which … became an integral part of the legal systems of the Member States and which their courts are bound to apply. By creating a Community of unlimited duration, having its own institutions, its own personality, its own legal capacity and capacity of representation on the international plane and, more particularly, real powers stemming from a limitation of sovereignty or a transfer of powers from the States to the Community, the Member States have limited their sovereign rights … and have thus created a body of law which binds both their nationals and themselves. is court then went on to declare the most pertinent legal point for all member states: the explicit doctrine of legal primacy. It follows from all these observations that the law stemming from the treaty, an independent source of law, could not, because of its special and original nature, be overridden by domestic legal provisions, however framed, without being deprived of its character as Community law and without the legal basis of the Community itself being called into question. e transfer by the States from their domestic legal system to the community legal system of the rights and obligations arising under the Treaty carries with it a permanent limitation of their sovereign rights, against which a subsequent unilateral act incompatible with the concept of the Community cannot prevail. e legal structure of the EU thus enjoys similarities with state legal systems, but it would be misleading to draw excessively close parallels. e EU is a nascent set of states and has a complex system of law, which makes it difficult to ascertain with precision its rules or regulations on a specific question; thus the discussion of how invasive the EU is becomes particularly interesting. e motivations behind the various regulations are also interpreted according to different analytical models, analysts being split between considering economic



  

goals or social aims as paramount, in light of the European wish never to plunge into war again. Bell, in his work on anti-discrimination law related to race and sexual orientation, describes as follows two theoretical models of European social policy that may be helpfully identified for this discussion: . e Market Integration Model: this model presupposes a concentration in the EU of purely economic matters. Social policy in general, and anti-discrimination law in particular, would be le beyond the purview of the EU, save when nonintervention would result in undue economic damage. . e Social Citizenship Model: this model regards social policy as an essential facet of the European project. e union is proclaimed as a ‘guarantor of fundamental social rights’. It is beyond the scope of this work to delve into whether or not one model predominates. In all scholarly honesty, this is likely to be a question that cannot be really answered with certainty, since the factors that affect the response are constantly in flux. For the purposes of this work, it is sufficient to understand that the key principle is that, under the treaties, the EU constitutes the ‘last court of appeal’ in many decisions pertaining to law and policy. Its members are obliged to follow its precepts, however formulated: ‘By establishing the Community, the Member States have limited their legislative sovereignty and in so doing have created a selfsufficient body of law that is binding on them, their citizens and their courts.’ is body of law, which utilises political tools more oen than legal judgements, includes regulations pertaining to laws and social policies on the issue of religious discrimination. While some works have been completed regarding the development of antidiscrimination law in the context of European integration, there has been no specific one dedicated to religious discrimination, which makes any analysis of the position of Muslims in the EU incomplete. Religious Discrimination in Law and Policy Since the s, purely religious discrimination in the context of social policy has not been identified as a real challenge to economic integration. European citizens were predominantly Christian and,

   



where minority religious groups existed, challenges were generally addressed within the context of race relations. Few legal or political instruments have been employed to deal with such issues. More recently, however, this perspective began to shi, as a large number of non-Christian religions emerged in the EU – both because immigrant communities grew and because indigenous Europeans became converts to non-Christian religions. Efforts to settle disputes in the context of race relations proved to be insufficient: among the immigrant communities, especially Muslim communities, a stronger, religiously defined identity has begun to challenge national or ethnic ones, while converts appear to be equally unsatisfied with measures that would force them to relinquish their ethnic identity. One survey revealed that almost three quarters of the Muslims in the UK perceived religion as very important to the way they lived their lives, compared with less than half of Hindus and Sikhs, and only  per cent of ‘white’ Anglicans. Another survey noted: ‘In one recent survey, . percent of [French] Muslim pupils (both practising and non-practising) stated that their religious convictions were “important” or “very important” to them.’ In light of this, the EU has begun to recognise the importance of religion in general, the most recent manifestation of this attitude being the debates in  and  over the European Constitution and how much ‘spiritual content’ should be included therein. In the field of discrimination law, it has been accepted that, if discrimination on the grounds of nationality is a barrier to free movement (and thus a threat to European economic well-being), then discrimination on the grounds of religion may also be a barrier. As a result, lobbying groups seeking redress of rights in terms of strictly communal religious issues continue to form. Many of them emanate from the Muslim community, the fastest growing and second largest religious community in the EU. As discussed earlier, the Muslim presence in Europe has presented significant challenges to European societies. Whether these are challenges to political ideas or social policies, the underlying question remains: how does a secularly defined union of states with predominantly Christian populations come to terms with the existence of a religiously defined minority population that insists both on its European citizenship and on its adherence to religiously defined norms of behaviour? e legal basis of the European project means that this question takes on a specific legal dimension, as its answer must, too.



  

e Treaties on Religious Discrimination ere is no specific mention of Islam or Muslims in the treaties, which are general rather than particular documents. Furthermore, the treaties provide no substantial enumeration of fundamental rights on the topic of religious discrimination per se. However, Article  of the European Communities Treaty (EC Treaty) prohibits discrimination on the grounds of nationality, whether or not the citizens are nationals of a EU member state. Furthermore, Article  of the EC Treaty, introduced by the Treaty of Amsterdam, elaborated in the following stipulations: Without prejudice to the other provisions of this Treaty and within the limits of the powers conferred upon it by the Community, the Council, acting unanimously on a proposal from the Commission and aer consulting the European Parliament, may take appropriate action to combat discrimination based on sex, racial or ethnic origin, religion or belief, disability, age or sexual orientation. e outward implication of this article is that any future religious discrimination policy could be realised through the fulfilment of this article. However, several factors need to be taken into account: . ‘Contrary to the wishes of the European Parliament, this Article does not possess direct effect.’ e wording of the clause is very specific; ‘the Council may take appropriate action’ (emphasis added). is clause in itself does not demand or compel states to take action; rather, it provides a basis for action. Such basis already exists in the EU legislative corpus. . ere is no set definition in the EC Treaty for ‘discrimination’, and hence reference must be made to ECJ case law. Religious discrimination is a phrase that has not yet been completely clarified. Two further items would be noted prior to the  Treaty of Nice: . e European Parliament was one of the main proponents of a strong legal commitment to battle discrimination in general; its role in the legislative process that arises from Article , however, is marginal, with only the right of consultation.

   



. For measures to be passed using Article  there must be complete unanimity within the Council; a single state may veto any progress on measures based on it. Considering that a number of states within the EU have questionable policies and legislative procedures with regard to religious discrimination, this is a cause for concern. e Treaty of Nice, however, stipulated a number of reforms, including qualified majority voting in the Council and the co-decision legislative procedure for Parliament. In addition, the EU Treaty stipulated that the EU would respect ‘fundamental rights, as guaranteed by the European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms signed in Rome on  November  and as they result from the constitutional traditions common to the Member States, as general principles of Community Law’. is theoretically protects freedom of religion and religious belief under Articles  and  of the signed Convention. Actions of the European Council e main contributions of the Council, where it acted independently, can be summed up as follows: . Article () of the th Council Directive of  May  on taxation permitted the exemption of religious organisations from tax. . e European Council and the European Monitoring Centre on Racism and Xenophobia (EUMC) entered into a cooperation agreement on  December  (the EUMC was originally set up in June , aer a series of initiatives taken by the Council, the EP and the Commission between  and , opening on  April ). . At the Tampere summit on – October , the Council encouraged the member states to take further measures on the basis of the  action plan suggested by the Commission. . e Commission’s directive on discrimination (excluding religious discrimination) and discrimination in employment (including religious discrimination) were adopted in . . e Council will be the body which signs into force the Treaty for the European Constitution, which, among other things, mentions the ban on religious discrimination.



  

With respect to these actions, due note should be taken of the Council’s role as the European Community’s ‘lawmaker’. As stated in the EC Treaty, the council has the ‘power to take decisions’; this indicates that, although the Council does not have the power to initiate legislation within the complexities of EU legislative processes, it does have a dominant role in those processes. Actions of the European Parliament As noted above, the Parliament plays a key, if not a primary, role in legislative procedures. ese take four different routes, mandated by treaty obligations that require consulting the Parliament. e Parliament may affect legislation, and it is oen consulted; but, should the Council wish to pursue a course of legislation that the Parliament disagrees with, it is legally entitled to do so. e Parliament has played an active role in developing policies and legislation on minority rights in general. In , during the latest enlargement process, the Parliament passed a resolution urging the Commission and the Council to stress the rights of minorities, including religious ones, in accession negotiations. In external relations, the Parliament has raised the issue of minorities in resolutions on South America, Burma and Iran; the last of these focused on the rights of religious minorities. Most resolutions, however, have focused on linguistic or ethnic minorities. On  October , the Parliament formally supported the idea of broadening Article  of the EC Treaty so as to prohibit all forms of discrimination. It also called upon the Commission to submit a proposal for an anti-discrimination directive as a matter of urgency, and for the governments of member states to ‘protect persons against all forms of discrimination on grounds of race, colour, religion, national or ethnic origin’. Other developments emanating from Parliament included the report ‘Fundamentalism and the Challenge to the European Legal Order’, the rapporteur of which was MEP Arie Oostlander. e report was submitted for adoption on  August ; however, it was rejected. Its findings and recommendations (in dra form) were also harshly criticised by the Association of Muslim Lawyers in the UK, owing to the ambivalent attitude the report took towards stereotyping Muslims in general: It is therefore very disturbing to find that both the dra Recommendation and the Report in fact seem to have a strong

   



tendency to adopt the very stereotypes which the dra Report accepts are in fact unrepresentative of Islam and the Muslims in general. is is done firstly by linking all Muslims to ‘Islamic fundamentalism’, and secondly by linking all Islamic fundamentalism to ‘violent religious fundamentalism’ – thereby implicitly inferring that all Muslims support violent fundamentalism and that the only violent religious fundamentalists are Muslims. e danger with this kind of ‘logic’, if it can be described as such, is that it leads inescapably to the conclusion that all Muslim groups and organisations however peaceful should be subjected to State surveillance. In this context, the conclusion of the Report is decidedly ambiguous. Actions of the European Commission As the ‘guardian of the Treaty’, the Commission is charged with ensuring that member states comply with its precepts. As the EU’s guide, it theoretically represents the common European Community interest, making its positions important to note. Steps made by the Commission vis-à-vis religious discrimination have been normally made in the context of measures relating to racism, general discrimination and fields such as health and safety. ere have been no actions taken purely in the field of religion. In this regard, the following is relevant: . e Commission presented an action plan against racism on  March  in order to consolidate the actions taken so far and to prepare for the Amsterdam Treaty. e action plan was based on four points: (a) legislative initiatives to be taken on the basis of Article  of the EC Treaty; (b) integrating the fight against racism into Community policies and programmes; (c) developing and exchanging new models in the fight against racism; and (d) strengthening information and communication work. . In November , aer extensive consultation with the member states, Members of the European Parliament, trade



   union and management organisations, and non-governmental organisations, the Commission presented three proposals for legislation to further combat discrimination: (a) A directive to prohibit any form of discrimination in employment. is would cover access to employment and occupation, promotion, vocational training, employment and working conditions, and membership in certain bodies. e Parliament discussed this directive and the Employment and Social Affairs Committee adopted the report in line with the consultation procedure with a few amendments, including certain exemptions applicable to religious organisations which were deemed necessary for them to keep their ethos intact. e Commission accepted these amendments and the deadline set for enactment into national legislation was  December . e Commission would also have to draw up a report on the application of the directive in –, following which amendments could be suggested. is directive, however, is limited to employment, whereas the Racial Equality Directive (which relates only to race) is more wideranging. Also, unlike in the Racial Equality Directive, there is no obligation in this directive for member states to form bodies for the promotion of equal treatment. (b) A proposal to combat discrimination based on racial or ethnic origin (not including religious identity) in broader areas. is proposal also included legal protection for the victims of discrimination; provided for a common definition of unlawful discrimination; and laid down a minimum level of legal redress. (c) A decision to establish a six-year European Community programme for the years – in order to support member states in the development of anti-discrimination policies (including the one concerned with religion) by exchanging information and good practice in legislation and other areas. e stated aim was to bring more clearly into focus the problems that exist in each member state and to raise awareness among those who were concerned with combating discrimination in Europe.

   

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. e Commission also co-financed ‘EQUAL’ with member states, an initiative that sought to implement the EU’s strategy on removing unfair discrimination in the labour market. . Directive /, Article , provided exceptions to several articles pertaining to the protection of the safety and health of workers by member states for workers officiating at religious ceremonies in churches and religious communities. . Another method that the Commission utilised in order to further an anti-discrimination agenda from  to  was the ‘so’ approach. When certain pieces of legislation were proposed, the Commission would then suggest a clause that would be solely concerned with discrimination, for instance it would insert a clause ensuring that broadcasts did not contain any incitement to hatred on various grounds in the ‘Television Without Frontiers’ Directive in . However, the Council began to reject such amendments in favour of mentioning the Charter (discussed below), and the strategy appears to have been dropped. In general, until recently, the Commission was more concerned with discrimination on the basis of race than with discriminaton on the basis of religion. According to a cabinet member for Commissioner Vitorino, the European commissioner responsible for this issue in , this was not due to a purposeful disregard of religious discrimination; rather, the Commission believed that there was more of a case for pan-European involvement in racial discrimination: I would like to point out that in the communication accompanying the proposals on the two antidiscrimination directives, the Commission explained that it believed that there was a political consensus among the governments of the Member States to combat discrimination on grounds of racial and ethnic origin in a wider range of areas than on other grounds, such as religion, largely because of the national experience of legislation against this form of discrimination and because of the existence of more evidence of racial discrimination in these areas. Furthermore, the aforementioned action plan was ‘intended, among other things, to examine the need for and the effectiveness of



  

legislation prohibiting discrimination on other grounds in the wider areas covered by the racial discrimination directive’. As such, room is still open for further measures when and if the need is proven to arise; at present, however, there are no plans for any such measures. In January , prior to the above communiqué, the then President of the Commission Romano Prodi set up a working group which was designed to examine the roles that culture and spirituality had to play. Such an action might have signified, in light of the debates surrounding the role of religion in a proposed EU constitution (see below), a shi in emphasis towards considering the issue of religious discrimination; subsequent commissions will tell. What is clear, however, is that, up until the present time, the Commission has been amenable to permitting exemptions for certain religious reasons. Religious associations were given special protection in the European market, where they might otherwise have been vulnerable; for example, advertising is not permitted to interrupt religious service broadcasts. Member states are given more leeway in protecting religious communities, although this has usually been in reference to religious majorities, not minorities. e Commission was also responsible for setting up the Forward Studies Unit (FSU), which was the only pan-European agency that dealt with Muslims and Islam in Europe. Reporting directly to the Commission, it was assigned to meet ecclesiastical and religious representatives, organise meetings and seminars for dialogue, promote initiatives for reciprocal knowledge and finance projects on a religious and spiritual basis. It is one of the most serious efforts on a supranational level that directly interfaces with civil society, most likely in the pursuit of the cultural project named ‘giving Europe a soul’: doing so in this context ‘also means looking aer [Europe’s] Muslim soul’. Acting Jointly and in Unison: e Charter e first paragraph of Article  of the TEU states: the Union is founded on the principles of liberty, democracy, respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms, and the rule of law, principles which are common to the Member States.

   



e second paragraph further asserts: the Union shall respect fundamental rights, as guaranteed by the European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms signed in Rome on  November  and as they result from the constitutional traditions common to the Member States, as general principles of Community law. As a response to this, in  the European Council decided to create a Charter of Fundamental Rights that would then be jointly proclaimed by the Council, the Parliament and the Commission. An ad hoc body was established to draw up a dra Charter and, on  December , the European Council, the European Parliament and the European Commission jointly proclaimed the Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union. is Charter is effectively a ‘Bill of Rights’ that all member states and EU institutions should follow: ‘[e Charter] is addressed to the institutions and organs of the Union, and to the Member States only when they are acting in the field of Union law.’ e Charter, among other items, includes the rights to freedom of thought, conscience and religion (article ()), non-discrimination (article ()), and cultural, religious and linguistic diversity (article ). e Charter has yet to be incorporated into any European Treaty, although the then Commissioner Anna Diamantopoulou called for it in , and mention of it has been used in some directives. Despite some indications to the contrary, the Charter is ‘not a radical break with the past’, but rather a summation of what had come before in the annals of EU law. Its clarifying nature, as Bell notes, betrays a further truth: that ‘the Charter is seriously compromised by its non-binding legal status.’ e ECJ is not obliged to use it as a source of law, and it has not taken the opportunity to do so when the issue arose. Yet it does provide an avenue for future court decisions to follow an approach more in line with a social citizenship model. Court of Justice of the European Communities: Some Precedents e ECJ in its early years (i.e. until ) rejected all actions pertaining to fundamental rights on the basis that it need not be concerned with matters which were under the scope of national law. However, this position had to be changed when it became clear that

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the ECJ was the ‘embodiment of the primacy of Community and its precedence over national law; this primacy can only be firmly established if Community law is sufficient in itself to guarantee the protection of basic rights with the same legal force as under national constitutions’. Nevertheless, despite the potentially monumental effects the ECJ could have in the area of religious discrimination, this institution has generally preferred national courts to deal with issues that relate to religion. Some exceptions do exist, as the ECJ has been willing to step in where situations that amount to restrictions on the free movements of goods arise, even when religion is involved. ese include cases such as Torfaen, Keck and Mithouard, and Semeraro, all cases that, if le unresolved, would have represented obstacles to a very basic principle upon which the EU is built. Nonetheless, in general, the court has preferred either noninvolvement, or shiing responsibility for issues that require a debate over religion or contain a religious dimension to national jurisdictions. Two cases in particular note this quite pointedly: in SPUC v. Grogan the court accepted the argument that the decision to place restrictions on student associations providing information about abortion services lay with national authorities. Another case showed that the ECJ was willing to provide substantial discretion to national authorities in restricting membership to certain associations as a matter of policy, even when religion was invoked as the prohibiting factor. One author thus notes: ‘One can read both these cases as further examples of the Court’s commitment to the idea that religious diversity and regulation should fall outside the scope of European law.’ Trends in European Discrimination Legislation In considering the current state of law and policy at the European level, Robbers identifies the basic characteristics as ‘regionality, neutrality and equality’. When he speaks of ‘regionality’, Robbers is referring to the principle that the EU does not overrule the law of the member state vis-à-vis religious communities. is is more or less accurate, although the benefit of this approach is questionable. While certain procedures to combat discrimination in general are in place, the nature of EU law – which is not designed continually to displace national legislation – means they are not comprehensive. e most invasive legislation and policies in this regard are concerned with discrimination on the grounds of nationality; this is due to its import

   

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in the European market, where obstacles to free movement must be tackled. However, there have been some limited interventions. Bell notes the following, for example with regard to sexual discrimination law: ‘It was only following a combination of political and judicial interventions in the s that EEC Treaty, Article  was finally transformed from a dormant Treaty provision into an active equal opportunities law.’ Such interventions were deemed necessary in order to combat the genuine problem of sexual discrimination in the EU, which was identified as an obstacle to freedom of movement. e same inference has not yet been made with regard to religious discrimination and, in consequence, the EU has preferred to allow member states to manage such issues with little uniformity. In this respect combating religious discrimination needs to be reconsidered and located within the broader canvas of combating all forms of discrimination, including disability, sexual difference, etc. From the perspective of governance, equality of opportunity and civil society, religious discrimination has no analytical priority. To attribute to it such a status is also to miss the opportunity to confront it. Generally viewed as less urgent an issue than other forms of discrimination, such as racial or sexual, religious discrimination in some member states has been relegated to being subsumed under racial discrimination laws. In others, however, it is considered to be a different challenge, to be protected independently. As a result, certain precedents have already been laid down for differential treatment under certain circumstances and conditions. Such precedents have, however, usually been in favour of religious majorities and are subsumed under the overall heading of ‘protecting national cultures’. is approach might be identified as ‘neutrality’, whereby the EU allows the member state to have vast discretion on the form the ‘Church–State’ relationship should take, recognising that it might differ from member state to member state; but the same approach may also result in some inconsistencies. e fact that religious discrimination is not given priority also means that the problem of definition has yet to be addressed: defining religion and religious discrimination are political decisions which have not yet proven to be urgent enough to be tackled. Hence, while some work has been done on sexual and racial discrimination,

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virtually no legislation exists vis-à-vis religious discrimination, save for the Treaty provisions that have not been fully utilised to date. is is likely to continue to be the case as long as it is assumed that religious discrimination does not pose a significant threat to the fulfilment of one of the basic freedoms laid down by the EU. Bell’s insistence has yet to garner a consensus: ‘if discrimination on grounds of nationality is a barrier to free movement, then also discrimination on grounds such as race, religion, or disability may also constitute an obstacle to free movement.’ If Robber’s description of ‘equality’ as being the third basic characteristic of the EU stands, the issue is moot. e validity of that description, however, is being challenged in the current climate. Aer  September  in particular, there has emerged a growing consensus, both among religious minority communities and in wider European civil society, that problems caused by religious discrimination do exist. A number of studies have been published by the EU Monitoring Centre in Vienna and the European Network Against Racism on the topic; hitherto, this initiative has not been translated into consistent legislation or policy. As discussed above, some piecemeal measures have emerged, and this is likely to continue, given the current ambiguity surrounding the definition of ‘religion’ and ‘religious belief ’. Summary e current situation of legislation prohibiting religious discrimination is liable to persist until the political elite determines that religious discrimination is a significant problem, which must be defined in order to cope with it outside of the schemes relating to racial discrimination. is is not without difficulty; even in their efforts in the field of racial discrimination, the member states struggled with the concept of ‘race’ and debated whether or not to include the word in the main directive concerning the issue. While some member states were comfortable with including it as a point of reference, others were concerned that, by its very mention, the EU would be seen as endorsing various racial theories. One can easily imagine that there might be such trepidation on a continent where the Nazis ‘defined’ a religious population in a process that ended in the Holocaust. Despite this, with the growth of religious minorities in general, and as their diversity becomes more apparent, it is doubtful that the present regime can continue without acute stress. At the level of member states, it has already been the subject of a great deal of

   

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controversy. Eventually it may be recognised as an obstacle to free trade within the common market or as a violation of fundamental rights; either way, however, it is an issue that does not see any sign of abating in importance. Notwithstanding this, it remains to be seen how the issue might be addressed. Further legislative measures, particularly if taken under the initiative of the Commission (already accused of being ‘detached’ from the grassroots of European citizenry), may not be effective on their own. Indeed, as Ramadan notes, at both European and member state levels, there is – theoretically – sufficient legislative material to ensure that religious discrimination be banned. In relation to Muslims specifically, there are few, if any, European laws that prohibit the practice of Islamic obligations; those few that do exist usually emanate from a less pluralistic interpretation of legal principles rather than from the legal systems themselves. us, just as was examined in Chapter  in the discussion pertaining to the integration of Muslim populations in the context of debates on multiculturalism, the fundamental issue revolves around the representation of the demographic minority. Where this minority is viewed as a community that should be integrated into the broader society, effects can be seen in policies: the various exemptions that were provided for religious communities in numerous directives from the European Commission did not happen by chance. Rather, those religious communities were viewed as fundamental to the national consciousness of a member state and thus their protection was warranted; where they are not so viewed, discrepancies occur, as discussed earlier. In examining these issues, however, it is not sufficient to look at EU laws alone; for, as highlighted above, EU member states have not relinquished their entire sovereignty to ‘Brussels’ (i.e. the European Commission). us, in a sense, EU law is somewhat abstract, considering that Muslim communities are more directly affected by developments in their own member states. ‘Islamic Europe’ may be a reality, but it is far less substantial than the corresponding reality in individual member state societies such as ‘Islamic France’, ‘Islamic Germany’ or – the state that is now examined in the following chapter – the ‘Islamic United Kingdom’.

Part III A Case Study and Conclusions

6 Muslims in the United Kingdom

You’re Muslim, remember; you’ll never be English. Mr Major promises us that  years from now, spinsters will still be cycling to communion on Sunday mornings – more like the muezzin will be calling Allah’s faithful to the High Street mosque.   EU, the impression held by large segments of society is that there is something intrinsically different about Islam that makes it difficult to integrate Muslims into European societies. Some of these segments of society are non-Muslim, and are reluctant to allow such integration to take place; others are Muslim, as represented by a Muslim father’s advice to his son in the first quote above. ese sentiments raise a number of issues relating to plural identities and their compatibility with modern-day Europe and Islam, and these have been discussed at a theoretical level earlier in some detail; however, all these discussions were more abstract than particular. Such issues find variable expressions in member states, and it is these expressions that most affect the lives of individuals and communities. In this regard, the UK represents an illustrative case study, having a long history of interaction with Muslims and being the home of a large Muslim population.

A

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  

Muslims in the UK: A Chronicle Historical reviews of the Muslim community in the UK have various starting points. Until recently, British society understood the phenomenon as having begun in the context of UK’s colonial history; Muslims from across the British Empire, and later from the British Commonwealth, travelled to the UK and thus began Muslim British history. In the last few decades, however, this narrative has been challenged by British historians. While it is correct to note that the largest and most noticeable presence of Muslims rose in the UK in the aermath of the breakup of the British Empire, the history of the relationship goes back much further: e Anglo-Muslim community has produced many stormy petrels over the centuries. Religious dissidents, adventurers, romancers, scholar–pilgrims – all have enriched the diverse and colourful story that is British Islam: Peter Lyall, the Scotsman who became an admiral in the Ottoman navy; Abdullah Quilliam, the Liverpool solicitor who founded a mosque and orphanage in which Christian waifs were raised as Muslims; Benjamin Bishop, His Majesty’s consul in Cairo who turned Muslim and mysteriously disappeared; Lord Headley, the peer; Lady Evelyn Cobbold, the explorer and pilgrim to Mecca; Mubarak Churchward, the stage painter and friend of Lily Langtry; the anonymous Scotsman who became governor of Medina; and many more. It can be said that there is significant evidence to suggest five phases of Muslim history in the UK or among Britons: . early Muslim general history until the end of the fieenth century; . sixteenth century to the end of the eighteenth century; . nineteenth century to the First World War; . early twentieth century; . mid-twentieth century to the turn of the century and the ‘War on Terror’. Each of these phases has contributed something unique to the historical context of the Muslim presence in the UK.

    

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Pre-Modern Muslim–British Contact e first of these historical phases has been written on sparsely but there are some interesting facts that should be considered. Rosser-Owen suggests that, ever since Egypt and Palestine came under Muslim control in the seventh century, Celts of western Britain came into contact with the Muslims through trade. It is also reported that Selbach mac Fherchair Fota, High King of Dal Riada in the early s (a territory encompassing parts of northern Ireland and western Scotland) was a Muslim, as were some of his subjects. Muhammad ̣ bin Mūsā al-Khawarizimī in his Sūrat ̣ al-Ard ̣ mentions a number of British regions in , and an Arabic inscription from the same century can be found on the Ballycottin cross. In the early s, it is documented that ‘Abd al-Rahmān ̣ bin Hārūn al-Maghribī reached Britain. ese reports suggest that Muslims had reached and interacted with Britons on their native soil, and abroad through trade, from very early on; possibly from the beginning of the eighth century. If the reports regarding the High King of Dal Riada were accurate, they would have represented the earliest settlement of Muslims in the UK in history; but, judging by the now infamous coin minted by King Offa of Mercia, it is clear that there were links as early as . It is likely that trade links would have continued between the Muslims residing in Andalusia (Muslim Spain and Portugal) and other parts of western Europe. Later records indicate the presence of Arab Muslims in London from the twelh or thirteenth century, presumably for trade. Other features of the Middle Ages intimate that there was considerable contact between Muslims of the East and Britons in the West, such as through the guilds and other features of foreign trade. Contact between the king of England, John I (thirteenth century), and the wider Muslim world became close enough for him to propose marriage to the daughter of the Sharīf of Morocco. It is claimed by some sources that he was willing to embrace Islam in order to be a suitable husband; according to one account, the Sharīf refused, stating that ‘Islam forbids taking undue advantage of helpless people, and had King John really wanted to embrace the Faith, he need not have to send any kind of statement to the Emir for converting himself.’ At this time, ‘[it] is further inferred that there were many Spanish Muslims wandering around Britain’ and that intermarriages between Muslims and non-Muslim Britons carried on even during the time of the Crusades. Perhaps in relation to this, it is claimed that the present House of Windsor (the monarchical family of the UK), through

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ancient intermarriage with Portuguese royalty, is descended from the last Prophet of Islam. British relations with the Muslims under Queen Elizabeth in the late sixteenth century were fairly warm. Following the course begun by her father, the queen arranged a defence treaty with the Ottomans in , and later the UK formed political links with Muslim territories as far away as Persia and India. Relations between Queen Elizabeth and Morocco were also oen quite close, and Queen Elizabeth request and military and diplomatic assistance from the Sharīf Ahmad ̣ al-Man sūr ̣ on more than one occasion. e sharīf of Morocco even proposed to the queen, in , that they join forces and attack the Spanish colonies in the West Indies, for the purpose of possessing these territories between their two kingdoms. e plan came to naught but represents a close connection in the Elizabethan period with a significant Muslim territory against a common enemy, in this case, Spain. Within England, there were Muslims during these same periods who were neither permanent residents nor subjects of the crown, existing as a distinct group amid the British population. Security for Muslim traders was guaranteed under Elizabeth – another step in forming amicable relations with the Turks and Arabs; this induced the pope to view Elizabeth as ‘confederate with the Turk’. Elizabeth ensured that her captains assisted any Muslim slaves who were found aboard captured Spanish vessels, to the point that British fleet commanders saw fit, in relation to freed Muslim slaves resulting from the attack on Cadiz in , to ‘apparel them, and to furnish them with money, and all other necessaries, and to bestow on them a barke, and a Pilot, to see them freely and safely conveied into Barbary.’ In this context, it is not altogether surprising that a historian should note that Britons were more likely during this period to come across a Muslim Ottoman or Arab than any other non-Christian people of the world, including Jews, Native Americans or other Muslims. Matar’s work shows how, in particular, the Islamic intellectual legacy of the Arabs at the time had found its way to England and impacted upon its Renaissance. . In the following century, Oxford and Cambridge established chairs of Arabic, an English translation of the Qur’ān by Alexander Ross was published and a document referred to ‘a sect of Mahometans discovered here in London’. e reign of Charles I did not put an end to these relations; treaties were signed between the UK and Morocco and the Ottomans,

    

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resulting in similar trade arrangements. Muslims continued to be permitted to ‘exercise their religion … in the Kingdome of the King of great Britaine.’ Traders, prisoners and ambassadors: all three of these categories of Muslims, and more, were to be found in the British Isles during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Intermarriage and conversions also took place during this period, to the point that they might be described as somewhat scandalous; with the reign of James, however, relations began to worsen. In his treaty with the Spanish in , James agreed to a common resistance against the Ottomans, and began openly to oppose the Muslim East. A period of warm relations between the British and the Muslims had ended, but not without lasting influence and effect. As in all of Europe, Arabic texts in a variety of sciences were ‘central to higher education in England in the seventeenth century’; in the words of one mathematics professor at Cambridge, Isaac Barrow, ‘the mastery of Arabic was necessary for the advancement of learning’. e canon of medicine written by Ibn Sina has been documented as a standard text for medical students well into the s. Even Morris dancing, an ancient English pastime, might have its roots in the interaction between the UK and Muslim Spain (prior to the Reconquista). A number of authors have examined the history of Muslim–British relations prior to the nineteenth century and have uncovered some interesting facts, which have hitherto been reported with little frequency in the relevant literature. Ali relates that, because of his role in the Magna Carta rebellion, a Roman Catholic English priest, Master de London, was excommunicated and banished from England. He went to Mongolia, became the Tatar khan’s chief diplomat and then returned to Europe, where he is reported to have engaged in Islamic activity. Murad has written on the Britons who forsook Christianity for Islam in the seventeenth century, including Captain John Ward of Kent, and those who were martyred during the Inquisition in Spain as well as those who were persecuted in Britain by the Church. Sherif mentions John Nelson in the sixteenth century who was a ‘son of a yeoman of our Queen’s Guard … His name was John Nelson’. During this period of Muslim–British interaction, there was certainly a complex engagement. e Turks and the Moors belonged to a civilisation of great power and influence; the Britons were not intrigued by that civilisation, nor did they take an aggressive posture.

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Early British Muslims: Muslim Sailors in Cardiff and Liverpool During this period, the British colonised a great deal of predominantly Muslim territories and, in consequence, some Muslim communities began to gravitate to the centre of the empire. Records note that, as in earlier centuries, there was a number of converts to Islam from within the British population: known personalities at this time (s) include Murad Rais (formerly Peter Lyle, the admiral of the Tripolitanian Corsair Fleet during Nelson’s Battle of the Nile in the nineteenth century), John Lewis Burkhardt (a British orientalist of Swiss origin) and Muhammad Ali Green, who settled in Labuan in the Malaysian peninsula. Others included the first-recorded British pilgrim to Makkah, Churchward, Mubin Shepherd, (a British Muslim in Malaysia) and General Wheeler (a British Muslim soldier in ). e exploits of Hajj Abdullah Fadhil az-Zubayr, born William Williamson in  in Bristol, are still remembered among his descendants in Iraq and the Gulf. However, the majority of the Muslim communities among Britons in this age was made up of immigrants and visitors from the Malaysian peninsula, Bengal, southern Arabia and Somalia. e best documented of the communities which remained in the UK were those which made their homes in Cardiff and Liverpool. e Cardiff community consisted mostly of Yemenis who intermarried with the locals in the late s, whereas the Liverpool community was more indigenously led, particularly by a solicitor of Manx origin, William Quilliam. Of particular note to the present age, Quilliam represented a Muslim of English origin who had become Muslim in Morocco, was educated to become an ‘alim at Qarawiyyīn, and set up the English Islamic Association. e Caliph Sul ̣ tān ̣ ‘Abd al-Hamīd ̣ , with the endorsement of the shah of Persia and the approval of Queen Victoria, appointed him as shaykh al-islām of the British Isles. In South Shields in Tyneside, a Muslim community grew in numbers as well, through local coverts as well as through a large Yemeni population. It continues to exist today as one of the oldest established Muslim communities in the UK. Other notable converts from this period include Lord Stanley of Alderley, Lord Headley (who donated the land that the oldest mosque in the UK was built upon), Lady Khalida Hamilton-Buchanan and Muhammad Marmaduke Pickthall, who translated the meaning of the Qur’ān. At this time, the Muslim community in the UK was still small, yet still significant; indigenous Britons were entering Islam, and one Briton – Quilliam – became prominent enough not only to lead his own community, but

    

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also to attract the approval of some of the most noted figures in the Muslim community worldwide. e Twentieth Century: e Beginning and End of the Empire During the first half of the twentieth century, the UK controlled much of the Muslim world, particularly in South Asia. Similar to other colonial powers, the UK then had to deal with the presence of immigrants from these colonies, even aer they were made independent (as they remained part of the British Commonwealth). As a result, large numbers of Indians, Pakistanis and Bangladeshis came to the UK, some of whom petitioned the government to build a mosque. us, during a war cabinet meeting in , Churchill allocated funds to build the first large mosque in the UK: Regent’s Park Central Mosque, which opened in  in the presence of King George VI. e s and ’s saw a huge growth in the number of British Muslims, particularly immigrants from British colonies and Commonwealth countries. In , there were only  mosques registered in the UK; this number grew to  in ,  in ,  in , and  in . Today, this number has probably more than doubled, if one is to include both registered and unregistered mosques. British Muslim organisations also increased: in , the Union of Muslim Organisations was formed; in , the Islamic Foundation was established in Leicester (now in Markfield); a religious school of higher learning was formed in  in Bury; and more were to follow. Next came political participation, in , when Bashir Maan was elected the first Muslim councillor in the UK, in Glasgow. us it is evident that British Muslim history did not begin in the latter half of the twentieth century, nor were relations between Islam and Britain prior to that period insignificant or ineffably unpleasant. In fact, sometimes the UK’s relationship with Muslim countries took precedence over relations with other Christian European states. Alliances were formed, trade was pursued and Muslims certainly walked across the British Isles much earlier than Pakistani immigrants in Bradford did: perhaps more than , years before. In  (and the numbers are likely to have increased significantly since then), it was estimated that there were about . million Muslims in the UK, based mostly in metropolitan areas such as London, Birmingham, Manchester and Glasgow. About half were born in the UK. ey come from all over the world, although those



  

from the Indian sub-continent account for the largest group, with significant numbers from Cyprus, Turkey and Yemen. e growing convert community is estimated at ,, and some of them have become extremely well known in the broader Muslim population. e UK exists as one of many nexus points for the greater Muslim community in Europe, but also, in a number of ways, in the Muslim world. Owing to the UK’s colonisation project in many parts of this world, the resulting immigration processes have produced in the UK one of the most ethnically diverse Muslim populations. Further, in terms of media impact, the UK is host to Muslim press initiatives that have considerable impact internationally, English being the language of global communication. at the UK happens to exist as one of the few non-constitutional monarchies with a head of state who serves as the head of an established church adds to an already intriguing state of affairs. is has been challenged in a number of ways in recent times by various sectors of British society, particularly aer the Prince of Wales suggested that, as the next monarch, he would be a ‘Defender of Faith’ rather than the ‘Defender of the (Anglican) Faith’. is is a debate where the Muslim community finds itself in the centre, as it is demographically the largest religious minority in a country that is officially a Christian state. is arrangement has been contested in a variety of ways, and at present, there appear to be three main currents of thought: . secular constitutional reform; . an embryonic multi-faithism; and . liberal Anglicanism. e Muslim community has only recently taken strong positions on the question of ‘establishment’, although its presence (as the largest non-Christian religious community) has encouraged debate in the mainstream on this issue. Perhaps the most significant set of events to take place in recent times for this community has been the ‘war on terror’. e events of  September in  (/) were significant enough, but the London bombings on  July in  (/) had a deep impact on the development of the British Muslim community. Prior to July , there were suggestions that radicalism in the UK was developing among the British Muslim community.

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Commentators warned of a ‘Londonistan’ in the making, and certainly the security services were aware that ‘neo-religious’ narratives promoting extremism were being spread. Nevertheless, few imagined that these developments would result in violence. e / attacks forced to the fore many of the issues surrounding the integration of Muslim communities; but not in a way that could be compared to what happened a few years later as a result of the Iraq war. e Madrid bombings took place on European soil; terrorists acting in the name of Islam attacked a European city. In July , the same happened again: but this time it was, arguably, more damaging. Four bombs went off in London on public transport, killing dozens (including the bombers) and wounding around . Two weeks later, four more bombings were attempted but failed. is was hardly shocking: London had been bracing itself for an attack since /, and more so since the attacks on Madrid on the  March . When it became clear that the war in Iraq had enraged radical Muslim extremists, their wrath was awaited with some anticipation. What came as a revelation to the British public was the preliminary police investigation, which led the government to claim that this terrorist attacks on London had been carried out by Muslims. e criminal element was not foreign, but domestic. Britain had been bombed by Britons. e surprise that the bomber suspects were British was compounded by the fact that they appeared to be well integrated members of British society; a surprise that ignored how much immersion radical criminal extremists had in Western societies. In the government’s own task-force on ‘Preventing Extremism Together’ there was an overwhelming recognition of foreign policy as a key issue to be considered in the development of radicalism in the UK. Britain’s security services publicly acknowledged that al-Qa’eda was now targeting the UK as a result of the latter’s foreign policy, and the security services took measures accordingly. More than a thousand people were arrested on terrorism-related charges between / and , with a few dozen having been convicted to date. In November , MI’s head, Dame Eliza ManninghamBuller, estimated that there were  major plots underway, and that an attack in the UK remained a strong possibility. Other members of the security services agreed, and urged the government to pay heed. However, other directions were not given such wide support, which resulted in some restructuring that affected the way the Muslim

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community and its relations with the state operated. e Home Office, which hitherto had been responsible both for anti-terrorism initiatives and for pro-integration measures, began to feel it could no longer fulfil its duties in its present format. e agendas for antiterrorism and integration had to be separated if they were to be successful. e Home Office was le to concern itself with legal affairs and crime-related issues, and a new department, the Department for Communities and Local Government (DCLG), was set up in . It dealt exclusively with the ‘social cohesion’ agenda and with all other issues relating to the wider ‘what it means to be British’ debate: it also became responsible for the engagement with the Muslim community. In November , the new British Prime Minister Gordon Brown laid out his counter-terrorism strategy for the coming year. Among the measures recommended was improved security at train stations, airports and ports – but the strengthening of the ‘counterradicalisation’ or ‘prevent’ strategy was also added to such policies. e provisions would introduce more than , police and support staff, to be responsible for ‘overseeing investigations into those who ‘recruit terrorists and promote hate’, and a bonus of  million, to finance the ‘prevent’ agenda, along with further training for , neighbourhood police teams, designed to deal with radicalisation in their local communities. Moreover, it was announced that an additional  million would be invested in community projects for countering violent extremism – in the prime minister’s own words, the government was investing ‘three times as much in security now compared with six years ago’. e prime minister’s announcements refined previous initiatives, which were promulgated in the aermath of /. Hence, for example, changes in policy methodology for the year-old Department of Communities and Local Government, where, arguably, a greater focus was placed on grassroots initiatives than in previous years; moreover, in the last days of , the Counter Terrorism policy Department merged with the Engaging with the Islamic World unit at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, creating one new department entitled ‘Counter Terrorism’. It is clear that government policy towards Muslim communities was constantly evolving. One cannot overestimate how the ‘war on terror’ has affected Muslim communities in the UK; the above is only a brief summary of some of the relevant repercussions due to the new ‘securitization’ paradigm, which now defines the current discourse.

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

Muslims in the UK: An Integral Part of British Society? Reflecting on the strength of feeling in the Muslim community aer the Rushdie affair, Paul Weller noted that by insisting that they do not want to be dealt with as an ‘ethnic minority group’ or in terms of ‘race relations’ considerations, and in demanding recognition primarily as a faith community, Muslims are posing fundamental questions to British society. In a cultural milieu where ethnicity, nationality, class and fashion have been seen as the major determining factors of individual and corporate identity, for a group to define itself primarily in terms of religious identity represents a major break with the prevailing social ethos. Weller’s observation and Gilliat-Ray’s commentary provide some useful insights. e UK has traditionally welcomed immigrants, but, just as elsewhere, their integration has occurred through specific prisms. A community that insists on a primarily spiritual identity creates methodological issues which require some adaptation before integration; in this regard, the UK is not exceptional. rough the current lens of ‘race relations’, some of the Muslim community’s demands have been partially accommodated; Vertovec notes the following in particular: . permission to establish facilities for ritual slaughtering of animals for consumption; . the setting aside of areas of local cemeteries for Muslim use; . the provision of halāl ̣ (ritually permissible) food in public institutions such as schools, hospitals and prisons; . the designation of prayer facilities in the work place; . time off for Muslims to enjoy their religious festivals; and . the limited broadcasting of the adhān (call to prayer). is was, by and large, the result of work laid down by the first generations of Muslim immigrants in the s and s. ey, and the second generation, became subsequently more conversant with British life and focused their political interests on British society and British institutions rather than on their countries of origin, which has translated into some thriving media. e Muslim media in the UK have produced magazines such as Q-News, which has been published since the s and remains the most widely read European

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Muslim publication, primarily targeting young professionals; or Muslim News, probably the oldest continuously running Muslim news medium in Europe, focusing more on the older generations within the community. Lately, a new magazine entitled Emel has seen its first issues, with other newsletters and magazines from specific organisations and mosques contributing to a large and vibrant group of Muslim British media. e community’s labours have also resulted in significant political efforts: there are around  Muslim councillors, a number of mayors throughout the UK, one Muslim MP was elected in , two Muslim MPs in  and five life peers of Muslim background have been appointed to the House of Lords since . It should be noted that there have been Muslim Lords many years before the current peers, but in the last years of the nineteenth century and in the early decades of the twentieth those peers were predominantly of AngloSaxon origin (for instance Lord Headley or Lord Stanley). e five current peers, reflecting the demographics of the Muslim community, are mostly originally from the Indian sub-continent (Lord Ahmed is Kashmiri, Baroness Uddin is Bangladeshi, Lord Bhatia is Tanzanian, Lord Patel is of Indian origin and Baroness Falkner is Pakistani). ese numbers do not yet reflect the Muslim population as a whole, which would mean at least  MPs in the House of Commons; nor is there Muslim representation in the Scottish Parliament, in the Welsh Assembly or in the Greater London Assembly. Despite these relatively progressive moves, in socio-economic terms the Muslim community remains disadvantaged. While it is difficult to generalise about a community as diverse as the Muslims in the UK, observers have noted that ethnic and national communities which are predominantly of the Muslim faith are among ‘the most deprived groups in Britain’. e following points, listed by the Muslim Council of Britain (MCB), underscore this observation, noting that Bangladeshi and Pakistani communities are more than  per cent Muslim: . a large proportion ( per cent) of the population of London’s poorest borough, Tower Hamlets, is Bangladeshi (almost  per cent Muslim); . Pakistanis (almost  per cent Muslim) and Bangladeshis are the poorest groups in the country; . Pakistani and Bangladeshi men earn  per week less than white men, while the difference is significantly less for other ethnic minorities;

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

. Pakistani Muslims are three times more likely to be unemployed than Hindus, and Indian Muslims are twice as likely; . in employment, Bangladeshis and Pakistanis are two and a half times more likely to be unemployed than Caucasians, and nearly three times more likely to be in low-paying jobs; and . over two thirds of Bangladeshi and Pakistani households are living below the poverty line. is serves to show the disparity between the mainstream population and some of the Muslim communities; whether this can be attributed to their Islamic identity (as Lindley suggests) or to other factors remains inconclusive. Beyond economic considerations, the question of education is particularly tense in the UK. When the Muslim community was small and predominantly composed of immigrants from other countries, education for the younger generation was not a particularly pressing concern; however, as it became clear that the ‘myth of return’ for many of the immigrant populations was, for the most part, a myth, the subject of ‘Islamic education’ subsequently became an issue for both the Muslims and the mainstream. ere have been several perspectives on ‘Islamic education’ in the UK, as in the case of all other debates relating to the education of religious minorities in a predominantly Protestant Christian society. One may be defined as ‘the acceptance of a minority group by a majority population, in which the group takes over the values and norms of the dominant culture’, or the ‘assimilationist viewpoint’. Were this viewpoint to be standard in the education field, only state schools would exist with a basic curriculum throughout; this, however, is not the situation at present. Muslim advocates and other, more ‘integrationist’, voices argue that, while there should be basic standards through all educational institutions, these standards can be met while still allowing for variation according to the backgrounds of the students. Accordingly, the UK has had a number of state-funded Jewish, Methodist and Roman Catholic schools for many years. Furthermore, the proponents of Muslim ‘faith’ schools state four reasons for their position: . the provision of appropriate religious and moral education; . the maintenance of cultural traditions of the minority faith group;

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   . improving the educational achievement of minority faith pupils; and . the provision of single-sex education for girls of secondary school age.

In theory, the state funds ‘faith’ schools that meet appropriate ministry of education criteria; in practice, this excluded Muslim schools until . One commentator noted in : How can it be right for voluntary aided status to be granted to Jewish schools, in some cases before they had even opened their doors, while operational Muslim schools, fulfilling all the educational criteria for voluntary aid, find the official goal posts being moved continuously? Proponents of such schools argue that the existing system allows for ‘faith’ schools and, hence, Muslim schools should not be discriminated against. In addition, they note that, quite apart from ‘equal opportunity’ considerations, Muslim ‘faith’ schools contribute something to their students that state schools cannot. In response to such arguments, the Labour government approved funding for two Muslim schools in , while other schools continue their efforts. At present, the state-funded sector of ‘faith’ schools in England and Wales numbers , Church of England, , Roman Catholic,  Methodist,  Jewish,  Muslim,  Sikh,  Greek Orthodox and  Seventh Day Adventist. Some have called for the end of all state-funded ‘faith’ schools on the grounds that they reinforce divisive communal identities instead of aiding the integration of students into mainstream society; other reasons include the concern that such schools have poor standards in terms of educational provision, and that there is a lack of equal opportunities for girls in Muslim schools. Such proposals carry the idea of ‘secular state schools’ with a multicultural and multi-faith standpoint; these schools would see the aim of ‘religious education’ as ‘the promotion of understanding and uses the tools of scholarship in order to enter into an emphatic experience of the faith of individuals or groups’. It is unclear whether the UK could make such ‘neutral’ schools a reality; but the recent appointment of a Muslim imām to the prestigious Eton school in April  may provide some interesting

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dynamics, to be studied in the future for the existing schools. It is also clear that the new ‘securitization’ paradigm may push the discussion in this area in other directions, as the fear from radicalisation is used to affect educational policy. In the realm of Muslim higher education, the UK has been quite active, more so than any other European country. e University of Birmingham has signed formal agreements concerning student and professor exchanges with al-Azhar University and the University of Kuwait. However, even more particularly dedicated to Muslim higher education are the Muslim College in London and the Hijāz College in Nuneaton, which offer courses and degrees accredited by the University of London. Students at these institutions pursue classical Islamic sciences such as Qur’ānic studies, law and ethics, alongside subjects covered in other secular institutions. In , the prime minister also suggested the establishment of an institution that would educate future Muslim religious authorities. Another phenomenon that is growing in scope is young British Muslims travelling abroad to places where classical Islamic educational methods still exist: in particular Egypt, Syria and Yemen. e final destination has a long history of teaching Islam to Britons; William Williamson spent some time in Aden in the late nineteenth century learning Islamic sciences before finally embracing Islam at the court of the Sultan in Lahj. Muslim Lobby Groups I would add that members of many of Britain’s other faith communities have become more articulate about their wish to participate in public life on their own terms – as religious minorities – and to have their interests adequately represented. As in other member states of the EU, the Muslim community in the UK has been seeking for some time the creation of a representative body; their interests as a community cannot be successfully represented in front of the state without one, said the Home Secretary in . So far, there is nothing comparable to the elected Board of Deputies of British Jews in the Muslim community. A number of organisations have, however, attempted to fill the role of ‘representative’ of the Muslim community to the mainstream, albeit in different ways and with different priorities.

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Several organisations command respect within the wider British Muslim community, due to their long-standing activity. One example might be the Union of Muslim Organisations (UMO). Headed by Dr Aziz Pasha, who has remained the personality behind it ever since it was established in the s, the UMO is one of the largest and most well established Muslim umbrella groups in the UK. In the s, the UMO held a number of meetings ‘which culminated in a formal resolution to seek official recognition of a separate system of Muslim family law, which would automatically be applicable to the British Muslims’; the proposal was submitted to various government ministers, and reiterated publicly in  and . However, while the UMO still commands a good deal of respect among British Muslims as well as within policy-making circles, its influence waned in comparison to that of the Muslim Council of Britain (MCB), which was established in  primarily seeking to become a representative body through which the state could communicate with the Muslim population in the UK. In this regard, it met with some limited success; the UK government used it as a reference point, particularly aer the events of  September , when the state was in desperate need of a Muslim representative body. Nonetheless, the MCB’s effectiveness within Muslim communities was damaged by this very strength: its closeness to government let some to question its credibility. Tending to focus on lobbying different parts of government on Muslim issues as well as on hosting public events that are attended by high-profile politicians (including the prime minister), the MCB is particularly known for advocating that Muslims should be ‘constructively and fully involved with local and national affairs’, and that such involvement may manifest itself through lobbying or formal representation, despite tensions that might arise with respect to the position taken by the UK government on a variety of domestic and international issues. A political issue of great sensitivity has been: whom to deal with as the ‘face’ of the Muslim community? In the past, it was the MCB, but aer some groups affiliated to it were found to have links to certain types of Islamism (which were accused of dominating the organisation’s decision-making process), some people in government opted for dealing with other groups instead. e additional refusal of the MCB to attend the Holocaust Memorial Day only strengthened its perception as an organisation that should not be dealt with.

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Less active on the national scene, but still significant, would be organisations such as the Islamic Society of Britain (ISB, an MCB affiliate) and the UK Islamic Mission (UKI.M.). Set up in  as a social education enterprise for Muslim Britons, the ISB assumed more of a public role aer  September , and a number of their members and spokesmen began to be contacted by mainstream media as authentic voices of the Muslim community. Its purpose is to promote a distinctly British Islamic identity, ‘free from Eastern cultural biases of migrant generations’. e UKI.M. was established in  to ‘convey the true spirit of Islam to the Western world’, with a mission to ensure that the Muslim identity continues through education and to propound Muslim participation in order to create a better society. In , before the bombings took place, a new group, called ‘the British Muslim Forum’ (BMF), was launched by a large number of mosques, who generally adhered to the Barelwi school of thought among Muslims who originate from the Indian sub-continent. While at first it tended to be viewed as an opposition movement to the MCB, the BMF has worked together with the MCB on a number of initiatives, including the Mosques and Imams National Advisory Board (MINAB). ey have worked alongside much smaller, but still significant groups, such as the Muslim Brotherhood inspired group, Muslim Association of Britain (MAB), and the Shi‘ī group, the al-Khoei Foundation. Other groups have also been formed, directly due to the bombings in . One example, much supported by government, is the Sufi Muslim Council, although it seems to have been subjected to vitriolic attacks more than to active support from Muslim media (even, it must be said, from Sufi Muslim media). ere are others, less prominent on the national sphere, including organisations which are less about representation than about promoting certain images of Islam; these include the anti-Islamist ‘Quilliam Foundation’ and the pro-Sufi ‘Radical Middle Way’. e latter has received mixed reviews, but it has a significant grassroots base, while the former has not yet established a support base in the Muslim community. For all these organisations, the concept of a British Muslim identity is taken for granted as a goal for Muslims in the UK, without detriment to Islam. eir collective desire appears to be integration within British society at some level, while they still remain authentically Muslim; there are, however, some social and legal



  

obstacles to this ideal becoming a comprehensive reality, the foremost of them being ‘Islamophobia’. e Roots of Islamophobia and its Manifestations Islamophobia, a term institutionalised in  by the Runnymede Trust (which commissioned a body to study the spread of antiMuslim sentiment in the UK), has an old history under various names in the UK, as Islam has oen represented a challenge to the British mainstream. During the period of the English Renaissance, before Muslims were within the reach of imperialist Britain, in a prelude to today’s Islamophobia, they were oen depicted as ‘intimidating and immoral brutes’ in the literal and theological realms: e ‘Turk’ was cruel, and tyrannical, deviant, and deceiving; the ‘Moor’ was sexually overdriven and emotionally uncontrollable, vengeful, and religiously superstitious. e Muslim was all that an Englishman and a Christian was not; he was the Other with whom there could be only holy war. is sort of prejudice was quite different from the one the Britons had of other nationalities and groups. Matar argues that the British took their representations of the Native Americans and reinterpreted them so as to make them apply to the Muslims. In this way, the prejudice was based not on actual events but, in a conscious and deliberate process, on the pursuit of creating a ‘demonised Other’. For centuries, however, the contact was very different; in America, the Britons, victorious, vanquished the Native Americans and conquered swathes of territory. During the age of discovery, Britons not only failed to expand by taking Muslim lands, but were forced, shamefully, to flee their only colony in Tangiers; this merely reinforced the orientalism of the age. Both the success and the failure of colonialism resulted in two different forms of bigoted discourse: whereas the orientalist notion of the Native American became more favourable (the ‘Noble Savage’) once the Native American was dominated and overcome, no such notion of the Muslim was possible. e Muslim was a threat because of his ability, and, as such, needed to be brought down, even if only through literary and journalistic means. For centuries, the tools employed in such endeavours included misinterpretation, confusion and deliberate fabrications.

    



In modern times, Islamophobia’s most significant manifestations began to appear in the s, with two major ‘affairs’: the Honeyford Affair and the Rushdie Affair. e Honeyford Affair related to the comments made by Ray Honeyford, head-teacher of a Bradford school where there are a large number of Muslims, in a right-wing journal regarding the accommodation of minorities in British state schools. Honeyford was eventually persuaded to take early retirement, but his stances stirred great debate in the mainstream regarding the place of minorities and the strategies of assimilation, integration and cultural pluralism. ese debates continued with, and were magnified by, the Rushdie Affair, which involved Muslim opposition to the publication of a book that contained maliciously false material concerning Islam; this eventually led to a book burning on  January  and a religious opinion issued a month later by Ayatollah Khomeini that the author of the book should be put to death. Media coverage of these events ‘created or bolstered an image of a Muslim population that was homogenous in its anti-modernity values and dangerous in its passions, posing a challenge both to nationalist ideologies of “Britishness” and to liberal notions about freedom and human rights’. In the s and the early twenty-first century, this characterisation of British Muslims became more prominent, until it reached the point where Muslims in the UK were seen as a type of ‘fih column’. It particularly intensified during the Gulf War of , the bombings in Nairobi and Dar-es-Salaam in  and the attacks on the United States on  September . … Britain’s Muslims should make a commitment or two to us. Such as they understand that being British imposes obligations of loyalty that some seem only too ready to abandon with talk of their religion being far more important than their nationality. British Muslims in the media ‘were portrayed generally as somehow linked to a world-wide anti-western, Islamic fundamentalist movement’ that made their loyalty to the UK and to British values (whatever these might be or entail) questionable: ‘Muslim dissent to these events [the Satanic Verses affair and the Gulf War of ] has been interpreted as disloyalty and a misplaced



  

sense of belonging rather than a democratic right to express opposition.’ Interestingly enough, the Gulf War of , which most of the Muslim community in the UK (and elsewhere) opposed, brought Muslim participation in society to one of its most significant points. It was long established that foreign policy issues such as Palestine united the Muslim community, but it took the Iraq crisis of  for them to organise at grassroots level with other like-minded Britons to work for change in the greater society. Against this background, the aforementioned Runnymede Trust established the Commission on British Muslims and Islamophobia, and in  published a report entitled ‘Islamophobia: A Challenge for Us All’. e report contained  recommendations that concentrated on numerous policy domains, and it was distributed to policy makers and social workers among other sectors of British society. Its key recommendation was the introduction of new legislation that would recognise violence and discrimination based on religion – legislation which has yet to become a reality. Following  September , these concerns became more imperative for the Muslim community. Ansari relates that Muslims were ‘punched, spat at, publicly doused with alcohol, pelted with rotten fruit and vegetables, or called murderers’. Muslim women’s headscarves were torn off, while an increased number of death threats and attacks on businesses and mosques were reported. In , one of the members of the aforementioned Runnymede Commission on Islamophobia, Trevor Phillips, was appointed the head of the Commission for Racial Equality (CRE), set up aer the passage of the  Race Relations Act and funded by the UK government. Historically, the CRE has been primarily concerned with racial discrimination, but Phillips brought the issue of Muslims (a non-racial community) to the centre of its work. In the weeks following his appointment, he identified two main priorities, both of which were directly related to the integration of Muslims into British society. First, to confront far-right parties such as the British National Party (particularly in its attacks on British Muslims); and second, to confront Muslim extremists who were trying to inhibit integration with British society on the grounds that ‘being Muslim is incompatible with being British’. With regard to the latter, the activist group ‘Liberation Party’ Hizb ut-Tahrir planned a conference entitled ‘Muslim or British’; concerning the former, the BNP party

    



leader Nick Griffin declared in an interview that Britain ‘does not have an Asian problem, but a Muslim one’. Solutions or Restructuring: e ‘Church–State’ Debate us it would appear that there is somewhat of a consensus that there are issues which inhibit the integration of Muslims into British society; whether this is due to obstacles placed in front of the Muslim community or to the nature of the Muslim community itself continues to be vigourously debated. e use of the word ‘Islamophobia’ is also being examined, as it is a term that has been used mostly within the context of media representations, and it may not be easily transplanted for used in other arenas. Unsurprisingly, similar debates are ensuing across the EU; the integration of Muslim communities into the fabric of those societies is perceived as being hampered by two different sets of impediments, all interrelated. e first is Islamophobia, the undercurrent of opposition to the integration of Muslim communities; the second, structural difficulty in incorporating non-Christian religious communities into societies that traditionally have a close ‘Church–State’ connection. us secular constitutional reform has attracted some attention because it theoretically places the religion of Islam on a par with the religion of Christianity in public life. One academic writes: For minority traditions to be fully included in terms of constitutional self-understanding, there is a need for shis to take place in both in the symbolisation and operationalisation of the State. At the symbolic level, the association of the Crown with Established Anglican Christianity (or, in Scotland, Presbyterian Christianity) inevitably renders other traditions second class, and this inevitably remains the case no matter how openly or tolerantly that structural position is used. However, this movement to change the UK into a republic has been somewhat limited in its appeal to the Muslim community; the concept that dis-establishment would create equality between Islam and Christianity in the public sphere is suspect, considering that the ‘Church–State’ link is rather loose and the Church exerts only limited influence on the state. Were this situation altered, it would be unlikely to result in greater Islamic influence over the state. More oen, the Muslim community has weighed in favour of two other options, both of which encourage the continuation of a



  

link between the state and the Church. Two British Muslims, Tariq Modood and David Rosser-Owen (echoing the arguments of the Jewish Chief Rabbi of the UK, Jonathan Sacks), have proffered their community’s reasons in this regard: . all religions face similar challenges in the context of massive secularisation; . diversity requires that there be an over-arching public culture; . if this public culture has any religious component, it will be that of the Church of England (for historical reasons rather than intentional preference); and . dis-establishment would not replace establishment with anything ‘demonstrably better’ from the perspective of the minority religious communities. As such, Muslims generally support the status quo in terms of framework (that the state–religion link take the form of a ‘Church–State’ link); since it makes their case for greater accommodation of their religious needs easier to argue, they urge, however, changes in the way this status quo plays itself out: For us [Muslims] there must be a church–state link, or rather a religion–state link, in order to keep touch with Reality … is need not militate against the interest of the other faith communities, providing the dominant religion acts as an advocate for them, and does not abuse and exploit its dominant position. Muslims would, in short, like to see the Church, from its unique ‘coin of vantage’ provided by establishment, act as the advocate for all belief systems and to speak out against any attacks on any of the religions represented in the United Kingdom. Furthermore, Rosser-Owen suggests that the Church should demonstrate its support for certain initiatives as a national spiritual institution, including the extension of the blasphemy law to cover offences against Islam (discussed below), and legislation outlawing religious discrimination in the UK. Other proposals provide for the inclusion of more representatives of Islam in the House of Lords and

    



so forth; however, this is somewhat problematic, considering that Islam does not admit a clerical structure. e overriding concern in the Muslim community does not seem to be the existence of a ‘Church–State’ link; rather, it is whether that ‘Church–State’ link is used only to the benefit of Anglican Christians, or to that of society as a whole. Legislation is seen as having more of a direct effect over how the Muslim community will develop, and, naturally, across the EU, this is the third major impediment to the integration of Muslims in European societies. e Legal Status of Muslims in the UK: Past and Present e United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland has three state legal systems: England and Wales; Scotland; and Northern Ireland. In terms of supra-state legal systems, British judges are bound to take ‘limited account of international law obligations’, including obligations arising from the signing of European conventions, and, more directly, from European Community law. is means that British law may recognise supra-national laws and make note of them in its rulings, but the courts are primarily concerned with the legal acts passed by their own legislature and the case law that has been derived by their own courts. International treaties become a part of domestic British law only through an act of the legislature. For example, although the European Convention on Human Rights was signed by the UK many years ago, its content only became directly relevant when it was incorporated into British law by the enactment of the  Human Rights Act. EU obligations are dealt with similarly. us it is important to make the distinction between the rights accorded to British citizens under their own domestic legal statutes and cases and the rights accorded to them under extra-state sources of law. e former will be the main source of jurisprudence for judges, while the latter, even when an obligation has been placed on the signatory state to incorporate treaty content into domestic law, are rarely, on their own, directly effective. Blasphemy If one were writing about the antiquated law of blasphemy in the early s, one could, as Bradney notes, be guilty of trying unnecessarily to add bulk to a thesis. It is, aer all, the case that, for  years before and  years aer Lord Denning’s now infamous statement ‘the offence of blasphemy is a dead letter’, there was no



  

successful prosecution for blasphemy in Britain. e nuances of and dissatisfaction with the law of blasphemy came to new heights, however, with Muslim demands to have the law extended to cover blasphemy against Islam on the occasion of the publication of e Satanic Verses in the s; to this day, the government and the courts have rejected such a plea, and it remains the case that the prohibition of blasphemy applies only to Christianity and, even then, only when a great deal of provocation is involved. Such a high burden of proof has led some to call for the blasphemy law’s abolishment altogether, although the MCB opposed this measure, claiming that it would result in negative equalisation; an alternative suggested by Sebastian Poulter was to expand the current law on incitement in the Public Order Act of  to include incitement to racial hatred and to outraging religious sensibilities. In its response to the House of Lords Select Committee on Religious Offences, the MCB recommended that the House of Lords take note of Lord Scarman’s statement in R v. Lemmon (): I do not subscribe to the view that the common law offence of blasphemous libel serves no useful purpose in the modern law. On the contrary, I think that there is a case for legislation extending it to protect the religious beliefs of non-Christians. e offence belongs to a group of criminal offences designed to safeguard the internal tranquility of the Kingdom. In an increasingly plural society such as that of modern Britain it is necessary not only to respect the differing religious beliefs, feelings and practices of all but also to protect them from scurrility, vilification, ridicule and contempt … my criticism of the common law offence of blasphemy is not that it exists but it is not sufficiently comprehensive. It is shackled by the chains of history. Demands for Fiqh Incorporation into State Law As discussed above, some segments of the Muslim community such as the UMO have demanded that the British legal system officially recognise the binding nature of fiqh on British Muslims; the British state was, and remains, reluctant, although it is clear some Muslims place a good deal of emphasis on a legal system other than the British one: For Muslims, this phenomenon confirms that Muslims place Islamic law higher than state law and view perceived Muslim

    



norms as crucially binding by Muslim conscience. Put differently, in the minds of Muslims, ‘universal’ rules of Islam are superior to the local lex loci. e courts have wrestled with this for decades in an indirect manner: some Muslim-dominated countries use fiqh as their family or personal law, and, through discussions and deliberations on issues concerning the conflict of laws, British courts have arrived at some peculiar conclusions. None of these cases have resulted in the court actually recognising fiqh to be binding upon British citizens; where the British courts have acknowledged fiqh, it has only been recognised as another state’s legal system and, thus, treated in accordance with the normal regulations pertaining to conflict of laws. is is not entirely surprising; the British legal regime, like many modern Western legal systems, is underpinned by the principle of the desirability of a uniform legal system, one which allows for adjustments on the basis of region, not of identity or religion (Scottish laws, for example, differ slightly in some areas), and for certain exemptions. While other jurisprudential codes allow for a pluralistic system within the a single legal jurisdiction, British law generally aims for a homogenous system. Attention, however, should be drawn to the fact that this is not a rule which is applied without exception to all religious groups, since Jews and Quakers, as Bradney points out, are specifically privileged. Nor can it be forgotten that in terms of other groups – particularly ethnic groups – this is also the case; for example, while the national legal code stipulates that motorcyclists must wear helmets, Sikhs may be exempted, since their religious tradition demands them to wear turbans. Similarly, Muslims already receive certain limited exemptions, such as swearing oaths on the Qur’ān, as opposed to the Bible, and the permission to slaughter animals for consumption in accordance with Islamic law. At the moment, some Muslims who are committed to following fiqh have attempted to create voluntary ‘sharī‘ah courts’. Such courts then serve Muslims who wish to abide by a particular interpretation of their religious jurisprudence; in so doing, they satisfy the religious and spiritual obligations that they believe they have, without breaking British law: ‘us it may appear today, from the outside, that Muslims in Britain are following English law, but in effect they are following a path which they consider appropriate.’ At present, these sharī‘ah courts are not recognised by the British legal system; they are not banned from operation, but they



  

are ignored and considered non-entities. Urging radical change, a number of Muslim groups have argued for their incorporation within the doctrine of conflict of laws, whereby the national legal systems of other countries recognised by the UK are recognised by the British legal system under certain circumstances. Major obstacles exist to this approach, however; the present reality is that, while national courts from outside the UK are operational according to a viable standard, sharī‘ah courts in the UK are not. In addition, in conflicts of laws cases, the other national court is chosen according to the nationality of the defendants; a Pakistani proves he is Pakistani and then the case moves forward. If this approach were applied vis-à-vis sharī‘ah courts, the UK state would end up being responsible for deciding who was and who was not a Muslim, let alone what sort of fiqh to apply, which would place the British state in a position of theological authority it is unlikely to desire. Nevertheless, another course of action has been suggested by some Muslims within the legal community, such as Ahmad omson of the Association of Muslim Lawyers, who notes that the British legal system recognises the principle of ‘alternative dispute resolution’, a method by which two parties voluntarily accept the rulings of a third party as binding in a particular dispute. e state would then be obligated to implement those rulings, provided they did not directly contradict British law. omson suggests that a sharī‘ah court could thus take the place of the third party, where two Muslim individuals could voluntarily take their cases concerning personal issues. However, he notes a number of structural issues to be resolved: . e training and selection of British Muslim judges who are conversant in the legal schools that apply to the parties. . e issue of voluntary acceptance. is solution would not mean, for example, that, when a Muslim died, the estate would automatically be divided according to fiqh, unless such a desire was expressly stated in the will. If it were otherwise, that would mean that the state would be taking the responsibility of defining a Muslim; something that it is, as noted above, quite unlikely to do. Hence it should be clear that this would be an entirely voluntary system, but, once voluntarily accepted, a binding one. . Ensuring that these religious courts are of a high standard and fully functional, which perhaps involves some type of state registration system.

    



. ere is a number of instances where Muslim personal laws do conflict with British law, regardless of the consent of the two parties; polygamy is one main example. However, polygamy is not obligatory for a Muslim by any means, nor are many other provisions within Muslim law that conflict with British law, which perhaps means that a direct conflict on these issues is not imminent. Whether this would meet with the approval of the British legal establishment (despite omson’s suggestion that the latter might be grateful for the relief) as well as with the Muslim community is open to question. Pearl and Menski note: ‘Western “traditional model jurisprudence” appears to leave no formally recognised space for a personal law system based on different religious and cultural traditions.’ omson’s scheme remains one (if implausible) course of action to investigate on an issue that has been of varying importance to the Muslim community in recent years. However, it would have little or no bearing on any incidence of religious discrimination in wider society; an issue which has been rather sensitive in recent years vis-àvis British Muslims. Legal Reforms e state of the law before the passing of the Human Rights Act in  meant that domestic state law had no prohibition against religious discrimination, except in three situations: . e Race Relations Act (as amended in ) is concerned with direct discrimination on the basis of ethnicity or race. For the purpose of that act, Jews and Sikhs are considered ethnic groups, on the grounds that each shares a common cultural tradition and history and, hence, discrimination against these two religious groups is illegal. . Religious discrimination in employment in Northern Ireland is illegal; the relevant act pertains only to Northern Ireland, however, and does not cover fields other than employment. . ere is legislation that bans indirect discrimination on the basis of race, and it could be used to defend Muslims who originate from predominantly Muslim societies; however, this would not cover converts or Muslims from countries where the majority is non-Muslim.



  

It is clear that, for most of British legal history, Muslims as Muslims were not recognised or protected from discrimination by law in the UK. Religious groups per se were not protected from discrimination, although racial and ethnic groups have been protected for some decades; as discussed above, Jews and Sikhs have been identified as ethnic communities by case law (Mandla v. Dowell Lee ). e two essential criteria for recognition as an ethnic group were stated by the House of Lords: . a long shared history, which the group recognises as distinguishing it from other groups; . a cultural tradition of its own, not necessarily associated with religious observance. Five other non-essential characteristics were also identified: . a common geographical origin, or common descent; . a common language; . a common religion (different from that of neighbouring groups); . being a minority; and . being an oppressed or dominant group within a larger community. Two cases (Nyazi v. Rymans Ltd in , and Commission for Racial Equality v. Precision Engineering Ltd in ) established that the law did not consider Muslims to be an ethnic group under these criteria, effectively holding that it was legal to discriminate against Muslims on the basis of their religion. As discussed above, there is a partial remedy to be found in the ban on indirect discrimination, but this is limited and may result in inconsistencies. For example, if an Algerian was not given time off to pray, he might claim indirect discrimination on the grounds that Algerians in general pray; an English convert in the same situation would not be able to pursue the same course. e limits to using indirect discrimination as a way to redress religious discrimination were made clear in the case Safouane and Bouterfas (), where two Muslims were dismissed for praying during their breaks; the tribunal held that ‘this was not indirect discrimination as the applicants belonged to the same North African

    



ethnic minority as the respondents and that they had a good record of employing staff from a diversity of backgrounds’. Attempts have also been made to use the Sex Discrimination Act to provide protection against religious discrimination; in the case of Sardar v. McDonald’s (), a Muslim female plaintiff was successful in claiming indirect sexual discrimination aer she was dismissed for covering her hair. As this legal abnormality became an issue of discomfort, a number of British Muslim organisations, along with a number of more mainstream groups (such as the Commission for Racial Equality [CRE]) promoted measures to rectify the situation, as did the Runnymede Trust. e government continued to resist attempts to include the terms ‘religion’ or ‘religious belief ’ in a statute banning religious discrimination on the basis that they are not easily defined and that existing legislation was sufficient; however, as John Austin, the member of Parliament who proposed a Religious Discrimination and Remedies Bill in , pointed out, it continued to be the case that: . in one part of the UK, religious discrimination was unlawful (employment in Northern Ireland); . employers could not discriminate on grounds of race, but could do so on the basis of religion; and . the current regime protected Jews and Sikhs, but not Hindus or Muslims. is state of affairs changed in , with the incorporation into British law of an enactment of the European Convention on Human Rights, the Human Rights Act, which theoretically gives members of faith groups a method by which they may take their grievances directly to the courts. Although some members of the Law Lords considered this act to be rather ‘modest’ and relatively unimportant in scope, it represented a legal avenue for religious groups in the UK to have their concerns addressed. Attempts were also made to broaden the existing race-relations legislation so as to include religion, but they were rejected by the Home Office minister, Lord Bassam, on the basis that widespread anti-Muslim discrimination did not exist in the UK. Following this, the Home Office commissioned a report on religious discrimination from the University of Derby, which confirmed that such discrimination did exist, and in wide varieties. e government,



  

however, despite increased calls for more legislation regarding religious discrimination in the aermath of the / attacks, has resisted attempts to address the issue to the present day. e most immediate pressure for reform came from the EU, through several courses of action: . e law of the European Community had traditionally only provided protection against discrimination on the basis of sex and nationality (for EC citizens), although the ECJ had stated previously that the right to non-discrimination on the basis of religion was a right to be protected by Community law. is changed with the Treaty of Amsterdam, which, in Article , provides a legal ban on discrimination based on ‘sex, racial or ethnic origin, religion or belief, disability, age or sexual orientation’. . In June , two directives regarding discrimination were adopted by the Council, one of which established a general framework for equal treatment in employment on the grounds of religion or belief. e UK responded to this directive on  December  with relevant legislation that came into effect on that date; however, it is only concerned with employment, and does not apply in other contexts. One important aspect of religious discrimination that is not directly covered by the EU directives is the issue of ‘incitement to religious hatred’, an issue which became more topical (but most likely not particularly more relevant) aer  September . In its aermath, the Home Secretary proposed legislation that would have made such incitement an offence, but in the end that provision was le out. ere have been several developments in the move to address current equality legislation, some of which have been inspired by obligations arising from the UK’s membership in the EU, as discussed above, while others have been articulated by domestic advocates for reform. One of the more high profile developments in this area has been the push for an ‘Equality Bill’ to give effect to the Cambridge Centre for Public Law report on ‘Equality: A New Framework, e Report of the Independent Review of the Enforcement of UK Anti-Discrimination Legislation’, which sought to address the serious defects of current equality legislation, setting out a single framework for eliminating discrimination

    



and promoting equality between different people, regardless of their racial or ethnic origin, religion or belief, sex, marital or family status, sexual orientation, gender reassignment, age or disability. It remains unlikely that this bill will pass on its own initiative, despite the efforts of a number of members in the House of Lords and in the Commons; as has been discussed, the concepts of ‘religion’ and ‘religious belief ’ have been le undefined by law, and more definite descriptions are viewed warily by some sectors of the British establishment. is was particularly highlighted in the aermath of Lord Ahmed’s attempt to amend the Race Relations Act so as to incorporate religion into its provisions in . As under EU law, the practice of Islam is not positively inhibited by British law, despite a number of structural issues. However, it must be noted that other groups, such as women, racial minorities and the disabled, have been provided with certain additional protective legislation within the current legal scheme. ese groups have received this type of preferential treatment – whether specific legislation or exemptions from other general provisions – due to past inequitable treatment or in order to guarantee equitable treatment in present society. In any case, the British state has already committed itself to a variety of international and European treaties that insist on the freedom of religion, which makes it likely that further developments in this area will arise, most probably through EU directives rather than through the British legal establishment itself. Summary More generally, the UK is no longer, if it ever was, a society with a ‘majority’ white and ‘minority’ non-white population. It is a multi-ethnic, multi-cultural society, in which there is a plurality of groups and communities, some enjoying more power and influence than others. Today there is a growing emphasis on cultural diversity and, at the same time, the need to bind together the constituent groups on the basis of shared values such as human rights and equality. e above observation hints at something quite significant; the doubt that the UK was ever a monolithic society based on a mono-culture. History, as discussed above, bears witness that, in terms of religious



  

diversity, this was never the case. From the Middle Ages until the beginning of the twenty-first century, there is strong evidence to show that there was, at the very least, British contact with Muslims. In Britain, and throughout Europe, Islam has a long lineage: ‘For British Muslims, the past does not have to be “another country” ’. is has not gone unnoticed by the British Muslim community of today. Community leaders tend to emphasise their historical roots in the British Isles and do not envisage a widespread migration elsewhere. T. J. Winter goes further than this and argues, in contrast to Matar, that British national identity traditionally ‘lacks a history of self-construction against an Islamic rival’ and, thus, the formation of a thoroughly British, yet Muslim, identity will not ‘be obstructed by a core constituent of traditional national identity’, unlike other European national identities. However, it cannot be said that the British Muslim community has ‘arrived’; in other words, that it is now integral to British society. is chapter’s examination of the British Muslim community reveals that, on a variety of levels, there is still much work to be done. In political, economic, social and educational terms, the community cannot be favourably compared to other demographic religious minority communities in the UK. Islamophobia, present all over Europe, has been cited in the UK as one of the greatest challenges to a Muslim community seeking to make itself ‘integral’ to society, and the lack of organised representation has been identified as an obstacle to that process. ere may be a plethora of vibrant and active Muslim organisations in the UK, but none has successfully claimed the respect of all sectors of the Muslim community; this makes their representative value suspect. Despite these obstacles, however, evidence suggests that the British Muslim community is committed to a British identity; the media it has produced are concerned with the UK and have made this identity the primary focus of their activities; it has become involved at many levels of political participation, created lasting institutions, and does not view itself as a temporary implant. However, this does not necessarily result in complete assimilation either: Although ‘it is not easy to be British and Muslim at the same time’, Muslims can seek some form of middle way. ey might remain faithful to Islam while identifying fully with Britain. In that sense, integration means the adaptation of British structures to facilitate the practice of Islam within them.

    



In Yilmaz’s thought, therefore, the integration process means efforts not only from the Muslim community, but also from the British state. Legal efforts have been made in British law to accommodate the differences that emanate from being Muslim, although obviously within certain limits, as discussed in the theoretical debates on multiculturalism that were covered in Chapter . In a pattern that reflects other EU states, sometimes progress is made independently of EU law, and sometimes progress would not have been accomplished without the impetus from EU membership commitments. Without the requisite sensitivity, however, such efforts and processes oen result in unnecessary social discord. For example, in  the Home Secretary insisted that immigrants should learn English in order to integrate into British life. is is in itself a reasonable demand, but one that inspires resentment among the minority communities, since, as a CRE Commissioner retorts: ‘I have never met a recent immigrant who is not desperate to learn English. e problem is not on the demand but the supply side.’ In essence, this may be a non-issue; the trend among the latest generation of British Muslims, particularly with the rise of Islam among the indigenous population, indicates that the Muslim community is keen to be integrated into British society, but as Muslims: We want to create a British Islamic culture. By doing this we will be carrying on what our great forefathers achieved, who developed Islamic cultures wherever they went. It is our job to be innovative, creative, adventurous, bold, chivalrous and create a new British Islamic culture.

7 Conclusions

… Roger Garaudy has described Islam as the third, forgotten pillar of Europe alongside Graeco-Roman and JudaeoChristian pillars, while Claus Leggewie proposes that modern Europe should thank Arab/Islamic civilisation for assistance in its very birth. Whether the hyperrealistic ‘Other’ of urgent history is controlled or feared, remains to be seen, but what is for sure, is that in the foreseeable future, Europe’s ‘Other’ will remain undoubtedly Muslim.    to view it as a negative or a positive development, history directs us to a fact difficult to ignore: the development of European civilisation and, consequently, European identity, is impossible to imagine without Islam and Muslims. How deep the input has been is open to discussion and debate among historians, but it is clear that it was significant and considerable, and, as twenty-first century Europe moves towards creating more cohesive

W



  

societies in the EU, the impact of Muslims on European society, historically and presently, has become a subject of concern. With such a background, and with the effect of Islamophobia on Muslim communities, how can Muslim communities ‘integrate’ – however one defines integration – into European societies? Answering the Question: eoretical Frameworks All ethnic minority communities have the choice between assimilation and integration into the host mainstream, and both paths inevitably mean a loss of certain distinctiveness in order to participate in the mainstream of their chosen land; the alternative is a form of ghettoisation (of which the Amish in the USA are a classic example). Religious minority communities have a similar choice, but the challenge is more marked for immigrant communities, as no immigrant can relinquish his origins or his racial differences. On the other hand, a Muslim adhering to sharī‘ah, or an Orthodox Jew making halakah his criterion of behaviour, can exit the religious community simply by disavowing its code. e choice of the community, however, is not only dependent on its own idea of itself, but on the options made available to it by the mainstream. If the options available are not constructed carefully, with due consideration for the needs and desires both of the mainstream and of the minority communities, a healthy and sustainable society is not a likely result. It was assumed in the past that the religious ‘Other’ would become ‘assimilated’ to a narrowly constructed ‘mainstream’ culture through various means. is has not been found to be the case. at assumption, along with the thesis that such people would ‘leave their religion behind’, proved to be flawed, and are now known as examples of classical assimilationist ideology, ‘which has continuously been defeated by social realities which favour pluralism over uniformity; ethnic diversities over national stratification’. Observing those social realities, it cannot escape attention that the religious aspects of Muslim identity are not insignificant, or something that can always be viewed merely as a facet of ethnic identity. Glavanis notes: European writing finds it convenient to use measures of race, language and culture to define ethnic identity. Ethnicity is seen in essentialist terms, where membership of an ethnic community is imparted from birth and immutable for the rest of one’s life.





He then goes on to note how contemporary sociological constructions are problematic when considering Muslim communities: It is difficult, however, to see how Muslims can be contained in such classical notions of ethnicity. us, a Muslim identity directly challenges positivist ethnography by pointing towards its socially constructed rather than its biologically given nature. Who is the ‘Other’? Who are ‘We’? At a certain theoretical level, the battle for multiculturalist states has already been ‘won’; all states in the European Union admit the need to respect diversity. e next phase is well underway. It has been suggested by some that the obsession with the ‘Other’ is no more than an excuse for avoiding the real question: who are ‘We’? How do we define ‘Us’? Who defines the ‘Other’? What is society based on or defined by in order to recognise ‘Us’ and ‘Other’? Herein lies a hint of a deeper conundrum; the difficulty of defining that which is ‘European’ (as well as all the national identities within Europe). In an interesting parallel, while Muslim juridical theorists deal with the modern age, European political philosophers are facing the crisis of identity that modernity has thrown European societies into. e rise of the extreme right wing, whether in Holland or in Britain, may use Muslim communities as scapegoats for various issues, but the issue at the root of their collective obsession is not really the ‘Muslim Other’. Rather, just as in many situations where the ‘Other’ is emphasised, the real issue is the ‘Us’; a concept of ‘Self ’, perceived as withering and emaciating before European eyes. European identity has been challenged on several fundamental levels in the past fiy years and, as yet, the ambiguity has not been clarified. As history teaches, it is far easier to concentrate on an external ‘Other’, imagined or not, instead of dealing with internal problems; but the problems remain, nonetheless. e consensus may now be that multiculturalism (if not always by name, then by meaning) is the norm; but, as yet, it is a norm limited by contested boundaries. In the EU, the way forward is still uncertain; Poulter poses the issue through two questions, which are adapted here for the European Muslim context: . Should Muslims from outside of Europe who have come to live here conform to European ways, or should they be free to continue and practise their own customs in the EU?



   . More specifically, should EU law adapt its principles and rules to accommodate foreign customs, or should new arrivals bear the burden of an adjustment?

ese questions, however, ignore that the state does not independently formulate the law in the UK; in the EU, this is true to an even greater extent. Civil society in EU member states, and in the EU as a whole, is sufficiently powerful to alter the parameters significantly, and it is within civil society that citizens find themselves to be most effective. Poulter himself suggests that ‘accommodation to diversity should be made by responding positively to the requirements of ethnic minorities in the UK, but strictly within a set of shared values’. is is, clearly, a type of multiculturalism, and one that the present author clearly supports. Yet it is unlikely that such an accommodation will be successful, or even attempted, if the requirements of such communities are not adequately represented. Moreover, social cohesion depends on these ‘shared values’ being satisfactorily formulated and, in turn, all sectors of society must effectively contribute to their formulation. is cannot take place without some kind of representation and recognition, in the context of a theory of multiculturalist citizenship. ere exists great potential for this process in the EU, where civil society is a living reality, with arguably more power than the state; hence Pinto, the Jewish analyst, argued in  that Jews should engage less with the state and more with civil society. is means, in Muslim terms, that Muslim Europeans must be the ones to define themselves and the way they relate to societal realities. e encounter with civil society is also far less problematic than the interaction with state institutions for a number of Muslim communities, who oen tend to view such institutions through the lens of foreign policy and of their own deep objections to the government of the day. It must be pointed out that this encounter is part of an ongoing enterprise; what is or what is not a Briton, a Frenchman, a German, or a European has not yet been defined. In this regard, it should be noted that elements both on the ‘right’ and on the ‘le’ in European societies identify Muslim communities as the ‘Other’, and they differ only in their relative respect for that ‘Other’. is is ever more clear in the new age of the ‘securitisation’ paradigm, which has swept the EU in the aermath of /, the Madrid bombings, and /. Political theory no longer operates in a world of purely abstract notions (if it ever did): it has not only to respond to, but perhaps even to act





within, the restrictions and boundaries established by the security fears of the day. As mentioned in the Introduction, these limitations are foremost on the author’s mind, due to his experience within the security establishment and policy circles. ose limitations are not things that civil society should accept without due consideration, but at present they appear to be unavoidable. Fiqh and the Muslim Community’s Ability to Integrate As previously, Islam is oen described in this discussion as having an inherent inability to integrate itself into new surroundings; its own theoretical paradigm, that of the sharī‘ah, is inhospitable to ideas of acculturation. us, an alternative that some sectors of European societies appear to be hoping for is the arrival of an ‘Islamic reformation’ on European soil: modern Europe demands no less. Modernity is indeed a defining feature of today’s world (no less so in the EU), and any attempts to transpose rulings based on a medieval framework while ignoring contemporary reality may make fiqh, in the long run, ineffective, since previous formulations and rulings were delivered in particular historical contexts, which are not necessarily extant today. Politically, economically and sociologically, the world has changed a great deal; the effects of the changes delivered by mass media, the rise of the nation state (and subsequent political changes), the rise of capitalism and, perhaps most important of all, urbanisation, have created massive shis in how the world works. Such changes, however, are not new to the corpora of Islamic jurisprudence: as seen in Islamic legal history, the great masters of that tradition have always continually reviewed and updated what required reconsideration. Historically, this was done within the normative tradition of Islamic orthopraxy: thus a Euro-Islam may very well emerge, but this may not be a ‘reformation’ exercise as much as an updating one. is need not necessarily be a cause for concern; for, as Winter notes, Muslim integration has been successful many times before, escaping both assimilation and ghettoisation, through classical formulations of the Islamic tradition. If they succeed, the European Muslims, a peripheral group within the wider Muslim community, may not only survive, but also emerge as leaders of the Muslim world, which is neither immune to, nor protected from, the changes that modernity has brought about. at attachment to Islam’s classical heritage has direct relevance to the whole debate on multiculturalism, as Muslims are a community based on the law. Chapter  has examined how that system of law,



  

as illustrated in the classical corpus, has commented on living as a minority without political precedent, revealing a parallel concern with the ‘Other’: One of the horrors that strikes any inhabitant of the Christian countries is the spectacle of Muslim prisoners tottering in irons, condemned to hard labour and treated as slaves, as well as the sight of Muslim captives bearing iron chains round their legs. Hearts break at the sight of them, but they have no use for pity. (Amin Maalouf, e Crusades through Arab Eyes, New York: Schocken Books, , p. xv) So said the Spanish Muslim traveller, Ibn Jubayr, aer visiting Palestine about a century aer the beginning of the Crusader incursion; such feelings make it clear why some jurists of the classical period recommended that, at the very least, Muslims depart a country under non-Muslim sovereignty. e fiqh elaborations of sharī‘ah on this subject, however, do not remain constant. As examined in Chapter , when the concern with the ‘Other’ becomes less acute, as is currently the case, other ideas find their way into the discussion: they show less of a concern with security and more of an interest in development and engagement. Practical Factors: History, Representation, Islamophobia e idea of the Muslim ‘Other’ has a long pedigree. e relationship between the Islam and Europe was sometimes external, sometimes internal, sometimes positive, sometimes negative, but it was key to the development of an European consciousness, and also to the development of Muslim thought. It is remarkable how much of that history spills over into today’s environment: the past indeed is a prologue. e present is a time in which the Muslim populations of the EU are still viewed as the ‘Other’, a concept that permeates and underpins the issues examined in this work. As previously noted, the European ‘Other’ is Muslim and likely to remain so for the immediate future, carrying on a long tradition of defining supra-European identity through contradistinction to Islam (even if individual sub-European identities, such as the classical English identity, may have not been so defined). is does not necessarily have to remain the case indefinitely but, in a sense, even for those who criticise the current situation, the ‘Other’ is still recognised as





‘Other’ – redeemable, perhaps, but nonetheless less valid than ‘Us’. is is not an isolated set of circumstances which have occurred in a vacuum, but rather the latest episode in the long history of the EU’s relationship with its Muslim populations: the history of the relationship between Europe, Islam and Muslims. Clearly, the concept of ‘Otherness’ plays a great role in the process of integrating Muslims into the EU, since identifying them as such will hinder their integration. Social cohesion policies and legislative tools that are so influenced can be contradictory and ineffective: if the personal practice of Islam, for example, is obstructed under the guise of ‘social cohesion’, progress will be difficult indeed. Nor can progressive laws or policies alone be viewed as triumphs. European laws as they stand today could generally be interpreted in an equitable manner towards Muslim populations (with a few exceptions, which prove the rule); yet they are oen interpreted otherwise. Although narrowing the legal options may help in the short term, it is not a substitute to resolving the issues that cause the laws to be interpreted in such a manner. Put plainly, a law might make illegal a public gathering calling for the expulsion of Muslims, but it will not alter the fact that there was a will for such an action in the first place. e recent attempted gathering in Cologne in September  is a case in point: a rally attracting anti-Muslim activists from around Europe was effectively called off aer more than , Cologne residents participated in a counter-rally. No amount of legislation is as effective as civil society responding in that manner. Civil society is the main domain – not legislation. Aer the French regulations on religious symbols came into play (an example of an unavoidable dilemma), the Union of French Islamic Organisations attempted to steer a way for observant French Muslim women to adhere to the law by wearing ‘invisible’ hijābs ̣ (turtlenecks and bandanas). is was Muslim civil society responding to legislation in a manner that would not be controversial; yet, although this type of hijāb ̣ would have been in line even with the new law that Human Rights Watch described as ‘discriminatory’, the board of directors for state schools rejected the proposal outright. In so doing, they continued to fail to understand the significance of the hijāb ̣ for the women who wished to wear it, rather than the significance it held for the French establishment. Although this is beyond the scope of this work, one might note in passing a similar lack of appreciation in the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) on  June , when it was ruled that Turkey’s headscarf ban did not violate the



  

European Convention on Human Rights. As far as the court was concerned, there was no reason to intervene; the court did not act in its usually invasive manner, presumably, because it had little or no prior experience of dealing with this issue and therefore decided to take the Turkish government’s arguments at face value. If this failure to understand the ‘Other’ and to appreciate it on its own terms is visible here, at the highest levels of society, one can imagine its manifestation in far-right populist movements such as the British National Party in the UK, which champions anti-Islamic sentiment. In response, some have suggested that the institutionalisation and formal recognition of Muslims through religious (as opposed to simply community) representational bodies may assist in ‘normalising’ the position of Muslims in the EU. In relation to this, a number of scholars use resource mobilisation theory to suggest that a central reason behind the lack of appropriate government responses to the needs of Muslim European populations is the absence of proper representative organisations. eir comments relate to community representational bodies, but could be applied to religious representational ones as well, which may or may not be part of the community ones (Austria is an example where the two are part of the same structure.) ere are two points involved here: the first is the training and development of Muslim religious authorities, and the second is the recognition, in some fashion, of them. As mentioned in Chapter , it is not particularly common to discuss religion as a way by which communities become integrated; but, in relation to the Muslim community, this is rather difficult to dismiss as a viable (and perhaps vital) means. Cesari makes the case quite clearly. She points us to two possibilities for Muslim groups in Europe (although she is talking about migrant Muslim communities, it is a point that can easily be applied to indigenous groups as well): leaving the Muslim community and Islam altogether, or searching for ‘an authentic Islam’. She views the former as rather rare, for whatever reason, and what is available from statistics in this area supports her. e latter possibility can be positive, or it can be negative, depending on how the interpretation of the religion comes about, and through what avenues. But she implies that it is important to recognise it with regard to integration: she notes, for example: ‘it took more than a generation for Muslim immigrants to consider France as a “Muslim land” ’. e very fact that France’s status as a ‘Muslim land’ (i.e. one where Muslims may reside in freedom and respect) is of relevance is deeply significant.





But there is a corollary here. e evaluation of France as a ‘Muslim land’ comes about through reference to religious authorities; otherwise, the claim to authenticity is constantly put into question by Muslim communities, which still hold on to Islam in some way or another. Without such authorities, or something to fill their role, there can be delays or obstacles in the integration progress: Cesari goes on to note that the ‘absence of such figures [Muslim religious authorities] in the French Islamic space constitutes a real difficulty in the minority situation in a democratic context which till now has not been formalised by the Muslim tradition.’ European Islam still refers to religious authorities for authenticity: this situation could change in the future, and other types of authorities may develop to replace more traditional forms, as has happened in other kinds of the European religious experience; but here it has not yet. Until then, we may find ourselves constantly in the absurd situation where prime ministers and lawyers speak on behalf of Islam because no one else will do so. At this point, it is valid to recall Bowen’s observation about the state ‘playing Mui’ in , when the then French Prime Minister Raffarin co-opted Islam as a religion in his speeches to further social policies. It is likely that, if Muslims in Europe are to continue as a Muslim community, the institutionalisation of Islam through reference to religious authorities in some shape or form may be an unavoidable next step. e historical progress of these societies indicates that European pluralism takes for granted a ‘church’ and, if the Muslims do not form one as an expert body of some kind, member states are liable to do it for them, or to use its absence as a justification to ignore their religious needs. As one author noted, this need not be an introduction of the ‘papacy’ into Islam, or the induction of the first wilāyat al-‘ulamā’ project in Muslim history: it follows from the very logic of European secular political theory, which insists that religion should take a specific form for the public in order to interact with it in some way, whether for co-operation, co-option or circumscription. Indeed, this was the reason behind the French example of creating a ‘Council for the Muslim Faith’: although, it must be said, this was less a representation of the faith of Muslims than of the Muslims themselves. e two are not interchangeable. One would caution that this should not be considered a compulsory next step, which would be sufficient for Muslim integration into European societies. e institutionalisation of Islam guarantees nothing vis-à-vis integration. Current practice shows that, historically, such steps have been effects of normalisation, rather than



  

effecting normalisation; and they may be ineffectual if not done with caution. e same care must be used with other types of recognition, such as that which the Union of Islamic Communities in Italy has recently applied to the European Parliament for seeking collective rather than individual integration, as a confessional group. As individuals, they were recognised; as Italians, they were recognised; as Muslims, they were not, and this is where they wanted a change. What they sought was similar to one aspect of the ‘Millet’ system, an Ottoman scheme by which a multi-religious society was governed with a degree of tolerance and acceptance. Religious autonomy was cherished in the Ottoman Empire and in various Muslim governments across the world, with these societies accepting a mixture of communal autonomy based on religious identity and unified purposes. is scheme worked well for its time, and some communities today still seek similar official recognition by the state, whether on the basis of ethnicity or of spiritual bonds. In certain contexts, official recognition in this manner or others may indeed contribute to the integration of communities; in others, it may not. However, no matter what changes the different types of recognition may bring about, they cannot include the right to act upon the individual without her explicit consent on the basis of her group identity, something that the ‘Millet’ system overlooked. Nor is recognition likely to be of much benefit if it does not take into account the need to create a degree of co-operative spirit between citizens; as Ibn Khaldūn so expressively noted centuries ago, a sense of ‘a sabiyyah, ̣ or common identity, is necessary if societies are to thrive. e recognition of Muslim communities and the establishment of Muslim European institutions cannot replace a more foundational requirement: citizens who feel essential to their societies, and are recognised as such by those societies. Beyond Integration: Integralisation As noted before, this recognition of being regarded has essential has already occurred in prior historical contexts, such as with the Islamic cultures of West Africa, with the ‘Golden Age’ of Muslims in China and with other Muslim communities in history that were integral to their (predominantly non-Muslim) societies. In China, where Islam took root around the same time as in North Africa, Muslims practised ‘an Islam with a profoundly Sinicised fragrance, but without, in general, compromising the religion’s core





requirements as understood by the guardians of the canon’. is was hardly an isolated experience: From an almost unlimited list, examples might include the ancient Muslim communities in Poland and Lithuania, which became so solidly embedded in their Catholic surroundings that they could produce two of Poland’s national heroes: Jalal ad-Din, who supported the Grand Duke against the Teutonic Knights at Tannenberg in , and Marshall Josef Pilsudski (d. ), aer whom one of the great city squares of Warsaw still takes its name. For both the Muslim and the non-Muslim communities of the EU, this is far more conducive to creating healthy, stable societies. Contemporary identity politics can sometimes encourage voices in society to present themselves to the wider society; the idea of purposeful marginalisation is no longer attractive, save to a few. Multiculturalism can be a process that leads to identity politics, or to integralisation in the context of multiculturalist citizenship: one would admit that the latter is a more sustainable outcome. Muslim communities may indeed exist as Muslim communities in the future, but it is doubtful that European societies will really recognise them as equal citizens if they are not perceived as being cognisant of a common bond beyond their own religious communities. Nor does it appear that newer generations of Muslims will be satisfied with such marginal identities. ere is a psychological shi that has yet to take place in the minds of some who are content to consider themselves as ‘Other’; but if current trends continue, Muslim ‘voices’ will give way to Muslims embedded in their societies who voice their concerns in an ethical and moral framework, which is informed by, and derived from, Islam. It is entirely likely that they will speak the same moral vocabulary as the non-Muslim Europeans, and perhaps will be unsatisfied even with an ‘integrated’ status which does not sufficiently provide for multiculturalist notions of citizenship. If so, they will follow a pattern that other Muslim communities have followed in the past, ceasing to be simply discordant voices among other disparate communities, but being rather communities integral to those societies, unwilling and unable to be identified as ‘minorities’. But none of this will be possible without European societies at large taking seriously the other side of the equation and constructing a cohesive national identity, which can incorporate difference in a



  

truly multicultural manner. Multiculturalism is not simply about the minority: it is also about the majority. Earlier in this book, in Chapter , the different frameworks surrounding integration, assimilation and so forth were discussed, and so they should have been. ese are the possible paradigms for state policies and legislation to be built upon, and such was the point of that theme: to understand the frameworks that the mainstream operates in; and this is indeed the state. However, that focus meant that the consideration of political philosophy in this work has been generally limited to those strains that can or should be entertained by the state as a whole for its policies. In concluding that integration served as the best framework for the state, we limited ourselves to an exploration of the type of integration which could conceivably serve as the basis for a multiculturalist polity. And it is certainly clear that the state should not go beyond using that current integration paradigm; it is sufficient for its needs, and the state need not go any deeper into civil society than this paradigm already permits. As such, the definition for ‘integration’ offered in Chapter  did not focus on community perspectives on the issue of multiculturalism; the subject was beyond the scope of that particular chapter. Nevertheless, as the pages of this book draw to an end and many angles have been looked at, from the historical to the contemporary, from the Muslim to the non-Muslim, it is appropriate to transcend what has been discussed and to look beyond. e word ‘integral’ above is a part of that process of transcending, as it introduces us to a paradigm which has not yet been discussed in relation to communities: ‘integralisation’. Although it exists in the English language, the word ‘integral’ is not generally used in this discourse; the derivative, used here to describe the process of becoming integral, ‘integralisation’, certainly does not exist in the English language at all (and a similar French word means something quite different to what is intended here). Nevertheless, the idea of ‘integralisation’ should become part of civil society’s own internal discourse in this area. e ‘integralisation’ paradigm takes the abstract idea of being ‘integral’ and places it in the domain of community relations; integral, meaning ‘whole, complete’, from the Latin integer. is is not the domain of the state, which should be more minimalistic and leave such processes to civil society, where the rightful ownership of this discussion belongs. e integralisation paradigm transcends the present paradigms, which, at their best, do not actively encourage homogenisation or





separation; but they do not take sufficient means to provide an adequate alternative to either. In this sense, it can be described as a way to use multiculturalist processes to achieve successes within communities. Detrimental types of identity politics, whether from demographic majorities or minorities, may conceivably take place when a community acts solely within an integration paradigm, because then the movement goes one way only (from the state to the community). ey cannot take place within an integralisation perspective, for the motivation is different. A simple analogy might run as follows: if a society is a salad bowl, then the integration model applies when a community tries to be a piece of the salad, distinct from every other piece of the salad, and coming into contact with it as and when necessary. It can also be removed without the salad disintegrating, although the latter might taste worse as a result. e integralisation model, on the other hand, applies when a community attempts to be the oil that seasons everything within that salad. e community has not committed communal suicide by taking on this role (which is the critique of an assimilationist model); rather, it has decided to refresh itself and everything else in the bowl, and becomes integral and indispensable to it at large. Such were the Chinese Muslim communities of the past, and so can the European Muslim communities of the future. is links us to the discussion mentioned at the beginning, where the paradigm vis-à-vis Islam/Europe relations started with Islam and Europe (Muslims and Europeans), proceeding to Islam in Europe (Muslims with Europeans), and finally resulting in Islam of Europe/European Islam (Muslim Europeans). e final paradigm gives a perspective on integralisation. e others do not necessarily hinder the possibility of that process, but do not actively take means to create it, either. Nevertheless, the state’s primary focus in this regard should be to remove obstacles that might hinder any move towards integralisation. It is civil society in general, and the community that wishes to be integral in particular, that are responsible for bringing it to fruition. Indeed, that type of perspective should be shared not only by minority communities, but by society at large, concurrently. at in itself is a deep expression of genuine community cohesion. e failure of this effort may have more far-reaching consequences than are yet conceived, for the identity of minority populations is oen, if not always, ‘moulded, in part by the recognition or non-recognition or, oen, by a misunderstanding by others’. If the mainstream continues to reject Muslim populations out of



  

suspicion and scepticism, it is likely that this will create a dynamic whereby the Muslim populations themselves accept these adjectives as their own: Islamophobia itself may be the cause of its own worst fears. Regardless of spiritual considerations or of their cultural heritage, Muslims may begin to imbibe these qualities as virtuous ones, due to the attitude of the mainstream: the prophecy of a ghettoised Muslim community may thus turn out to be a self-fulfilling one. Both for the Muslim community and for the non-Muslim demographic majority, the question of the ‘Other’ is fundamental; without coming to terms with it, the best that European societies can hope for is a polarised future. All parties must participate in this with serious consideration; for, while mainstream Europe and European Muslims are not at the brink of disaster, history is replete with lessons to the effect that this could easily become the case. A decade prior to their near extermination, neither the Jews of Germany nor the Bosniaks of Bosnia would probably have believed that their situations would become so dire. Hence, some fear for the continued existence of European Muslim communities is in place, if these communities do not engage in ‘culture-building’ in Europe. e ‘integralisation’ of European Muslim communities would have a considerable effect on integration, but this is a process that necessarily includes a psychological commitment from those communities. It is a process, however, that cannot be directed or assisted by external forces, particularly the government, however tempting that might be. In order for it to be sustainable, consistent, and organic, it must remain an internal community affair when it relates to a particular community. Questions for the Future All of these studies and assessments may shed some light on a few questions, but others remain. Will civil social movements push their states and government institutions to adopt positions for the betterment of individuals and society rather than for purely economic and material considerations? What is going to be the outcome of the next stage of the multiculturalism debate: on what type of basis is the ‘citizen’ going to be formulated? What form will the debate on ‘what it means to be a European’ take? Will the European Muslim communities become more integral to European societies, or will they become more marginalised? Will the securitisation of the debate create more challenges? How will EU laws and policies develop in response to the challenges posed by EU integration and expansion, and by modernity as a whole? What developments will take place





within the Muslim communities as the EU project around them progresses? Resolutions around these questions are unlikely to be finalised in the near future. At present, there remain signs that some sectors of European societies are not averse to the Muslim presence. In the short run, there were more hate crimes reported across the EU aer  September ; but, in the long run, these crimes may well prove to be a catalyst for developments for the benefit of diversity and social cohesion. Of course, the situation may worsen: only time will tell. Demographically minor communities have an important responsibility in this endeavour of finding a balance to all the challenges mentioned earlier: they have the interests of diversity at heart, and should not simply be subjects in the quest for a common civic value but actors in it, powerful actors. In this regard, the usefulness of multiculturalism as a policy should be vigourously questioned if the policy does not take into account the disparity of power between various segments of society and the disparity of their access to the perennial debate on what counts as ‘Other’. On the other hand, it should be noted that in the EU, a union of states with a strong Christian tradition, Muslim communities have many willing allies at both theoretical and practical levels. While it would be foolish to ignore the history of conflict between Muslims and Christians, it remains the case that, theoretically, Christianity and Islam share a great deal in terms of values. Some European Christian intellectuals, for example the figures of Massignon and Kung, have tried to create a more inclusive outlook vis-à-vis Islam in particular. Various Christian sects oen fought against each other, as Bulliet notes, but they remain authentically European, without any litmus test; why should Islam be any different? In practice, it cannot be ignored that, in France, a great deal of support for the Muslim community on the hijāb ̣ issue came from the Catholic Church (an example, perhaps, of a different type of laïcité in play), and that in England the Anglican Church has worked on behalf of the Muslim community in a number of instances. In Belgium, aer the local Muslims were forbidden from calling the adhān (‘call to prayer’), the local Catholic authorities refused to ring the church bells any more! How such efforts are conceived, and what effect they may or may not have, are questions of intrinsic importance to seeing how the EU as a union, Europeans as a population and Europe as a continent integrate the Muslim populations into the



  

mainstream, beyond symbolic projects such as ‘Averroes European Day’. Grassroots initiatives are likely to provide more lasting effects – be it in a positive or in a negative manner – and thus perhaps they are of more importance than state or EU actions. Prospects and Reflections e above synopsis is obviously an overview of a number of issues, and this entire work can be characterised as such. Many points of interest deserve to be researched further in order to arrive at a richer understanding. e research regarding the history of Muslims in each of the EU states needs to continue at a deeper level, with an eye to their differing contextual realities. French laïcité, Britain’s established Church system and Germany’s inherited ‘Church–State’ arrangements are all very different, and what this means for the integration of Muslim communities should not be underestimated. Particularly with the expansion of the EU that included  states on  May , such research is necessary for Europe in order to understand the latest manifestation of Islam in its midst, and for Muslim communities that seek modern places for themselves in the EU. With the incorporation of a number of states that have historically large, integrated Muslim communities, more lessons are imminent on how (or how not) to manage social cohesion in a pluralistic context, with new developments requiring that EU laws be continually re-examined and reflected upon. Such re-examinations and reflections will have to consider, simultaneously, the specific framework that the mainstream imposes through structural and procedural measures and the maturity of the Muslim communities in terms of identification, resource management and communal cohesion: the two sides must be understood concurrently or not at all. Likewise, if figures like the president of the German federal secret service issues calls for Muslim parents to stop their daughters from wearing the headscarf because this would be a symbol of ‘societal disintegration’, what sort of message does this send to a community which might be eager to adjust itself and the practice of its faith to the European context? In this regard, the ongoing history of indigenous Muslims in the EU is already a source of great interest – those for whom the identity of ‘European’ (or of the relevant member state) is not simply a conscious preference, but the only natural choice. Converts to Islam and their offspring, a growing community, are oen naturally integrated in ways that immigrant communities are not, and, on the EU scene





at present, converts are found in public and active roles. Owing to their already integrated states, they are oen qualified as cultural mediators; as converts (usually interested in learning more about their new-found faith), they have a certain amount of education in Islam. For this reason, they are regularly seen as educators within their communities, and a growing number of converts and ‘New Europeans’ (i.e. immigrants or descendants of immigrants who have made the mental and psychological migration to Europe as well) are becoming educated in classical institutes of Islamic learning overseas, and then return to represent their communities to the mainstream from that standpoint. For them, the ‘myth of return’ is not dead and buried, but the reality of their situation as natives and essential links is clear. e benefit of this to a community should not be underestimated: it is not without good reason that analysts link the absence of native-born leadership and scholarship with the disadvantaged position of Muslim European communities. e future may be uncertain, but it is at least clear that, in countries around the EU, the attempt to direct comprehensively the development of European Muslim communities from non-European ‘home countries’ has either failed or is failing. e psychological migration of European Muslim communities is underway, and, as it matures, the ownership of all aspects of Islamic scholarship will naturally be turned over to those who are European and, thus, best equipped to understand European societies, being conversant in all spheres relevant to the modern context. As noted above and elsewhere in this study, relations with the mainstream in terms of representation take place beyond the ‘minority–majority’ equation: for those who are unwilling to commit ‘cultural apostasy’, the discourse of ‘minority relations’ with minority concerns is rejected from the outset. ese new discussions involve citizens, not minorities; there is no such thing as minority citizenship. ere is, on the other hand, the possibility for ‘multiculturalist citizenship’, which we have discussed at length earlier. Such developments are yet more signs of how modernity has fundamentally changed the world, and societies are still learning to grasp the way to proceed. In this regard, the EU as the EU, or as individual member states, may have valuable lessons to offer, which other countries and regions can learn from. Muslim populations in the West have traditionally been considered as the ‘Islamic periphery’ by the Muslim world. Incorporated as integral, essential and dynamic parts of Europe, they may prevail



  

where others thus far failed: in creating authentic Islamic cultures able to engage with modernity. is engagement with modernity on its ‘home-ground’ is likely to be greatly beneficial both to the Muslims and to the non-Muslims of the region and of the world, rather than only ‘contesting rearguard actions on highly symbolic, though still very significant, issues such as the right of girls to wear the hijāb ̣ in state-run schools’. In this regard, some note with favour ‘the laudable and realizable aim’ of Muslims in the West to ‘find partners who will, like them, be determined to select … what Western culture produces in order to promote its positive contributions and to resist its destructive deviation both on the human and environmental level’. is is not a vision of an exclusivist Muslim ‘Other’, but of a Muslim community that is an integral part of European culture at all levels, mediated through Islam. Contemporary international politics sees the ‘West’ attempting to influence the Muslim ‘East’, as well as the Muslim ‘East’ trying to influence the Muslim ‘West’. But neither endeavour seems to notice the maturation of a confident Western Muslim community, which is attempting to change both civilisations from within. Being a demographic minority is irrelevant in this regard, as it has always been the case in history that ‘minorities’ have changed the course of civilisations. History will record the outcome again.

Notes

Introduction . Conetti, ‘Concluding Remarks’, p. . . e dates included here, unless otherwise noted, are . . Said, Covering Islam: How the Media and the Experts Determine how We See the Rest of the World; Esposito, e Islamic reat: Myth or Reality? . AlSayyad and Castells, Muslim Europe or Euro-Islam: Politics, Culture, and Citizenship in the Age of Globalization, p. . . Winter, British Muslim Identity: Past, Problems, Prospects, –. . Allen, ‘What is Islamophobia?’, p. . . Gerholm and Lithman, e New Islamic Presence in Western Europe, p. . . Bulliet, e Case for Islamo-Christian Civilization, p. . . Mahmutcehajic, ‘Muslims as “the Others” of Europe’, p. . . Ibid., p. . . See for example Murad, Muslims and the European Right and European Union Monitoring Centre (EUMC), Reports on Anti-Islamic Reactions within the European Union aer the Attacks on the USA. . Annan, Secretary-General Says Re-Establishing Trust Among Peoples of Different Faiths, Cultures Must Be of Highest Priority. . See Allen, ‘What is Islamophobia?’ for a recent analysis. . Murad, Tradition or Extradition? . Here, we are not interested in getting into the debate of what ‘Euro-Islam’ refers to; only to point out that some of sort of process is underway. See Karic, Debate: Islam in Europe. . Marechal et al., Muslims in the Enlarged Europe: Religion and Society, p. xxiv.



  

Chapter  . In reality, neither the word ‘empire’ nor the word ‘state’ is entirely appropriate in either of these cases, since both concepts are pre-defined in ways that do not accurately apply; however, in the literature, both of these terms are generally used and, for that reason alone, their usage repeated here. . e word ‘minority’ here is rarely used and, when it is used, it is in reference to demographic (i.e. numerical) minorities, rather than being any other expression of how certain groups have societal roles. . Multi-Ethnic Britain (CFMB), e Report of the Commission of Multi-Ethnic Britain, outlined five possible models which states could emulate in order to cope with diversity: . Procedural: the state is neutral vis-à-vis culture, and only a few basic procedures are common in society. . Nationalist: the state promotes a single culture, and those who do not assimilate into it are second-class. . Liberal/constitutional patriotism: there is a uniform political culture in public life, which provides for cohesiveness, but also for diversity in private life. . Plural: in the public and private spheres there is both unity and diversity; the public realm is ‘continually revised to accommodate cultural diversity in society at large’. . Separatist: the state permits and expects each community to remain separate from others, confining itself to maintaining order and civility. No state is composed of only one of these models, whether in the past or present, but rather shares features from all of them in different ways. . Allievi, ‘Relations and Negotiations: Issues and Debates’, p. . . Winter, British Muslim Identity: Past, Problems, Prospects, pp. –. . Modood, Multiculturalism: A Civic Idea, p. . . Ibid. . Multi-Ethnic Britain (CFMB), e Report of the Commission of Multi-Ethnic Britain, –. . Ibid., –. . Kymlicka, Contemporary Political Philosophy: An Introduction, –. . Ibid., p. . . Multi-Ethnic Britain (CFMB), e Report of the Commission of Multi-Ethnic Britain, –. . Ibid. . Ibid. . Modood, Multiculturalism: A Civic Idea, p. . . Modood, Multiculturalism, Muslims and the British State. . Tibi, ‘Muslim Migrants in Europe: Between Euro-Islam and Ghettoization’, p. . . Parekh, Rethinking Multiculturalim: Cultural Diversity and Political eory, pp. –. . e system of political religious pluralism utilised by the Ottomans from the fourteenth to the nineteenth century. . is was also the opinion of the Parekh Report; see Multi-Ethnic Britain (CFMB), e Report of the Commission of Multi-Ethnic Britain, p. . . Cited in Olssen, ‘From the Crick Report to the Parekh Report: Multiculturalism, Difference and Democracy – e Revisioning of Citizenship Education’, p. . . Cited ibid., p. . . Modood, Multiculturalism: A Civic Idea, p. . . Modood and Buchanan, ‘Should the Church of England Be Disestablished?’, pp. –.





. Murad, Muslim Loyalty and Belonging: Some Reflections on the Psychosocial Background. . ‘Abd-Allah, Islam and the Cultural Imperative: A Nawawi Foundation Paper. . Hellyer, ‘From Tolerance to Recognition to Beyond: e Dynamics of Defining Muslim Space in Europe’. . Modood and Buchanan, ‘Should the Church of England Be Disestablished?’, pp. –. . Martin Baumann, cited in Gilliat-Ray, Religion in Higher Education: e Politics of the Multi-Faith Campus, p. . . Parekh, Rethinking Multiculturalim: Cultural Diversity and Political eory, p. . . Ibid. . Ibid. . Kymlicka and Norman, Citizenship in Diverse Societies, –. . A trend which seems to be losing ground as sharī‘ah experts are advocating active participation, thus removing the ‘religious impediment’. . Modood, Multiculturalism: A Civic Idea, pp. –. . We will return to this in Chapter , when we discuss the measures to be taken within the communities we are examining here: here it is sufficient to raise the question. . Other religious symbols were similarly proscribed, but it was clear from the history of the debate what was being targeted. See Bowen, Why the French Don’t Like Headscarves: Islam, the State, and Public Space for a thorough examination of this issue. . Parekh, Rethinking Multiculturalim: Cultural Diversity and Political eory, pp. –. . Admittedly this is not the case in the EU at the moment, but the same logic applies. . e ‘Stasi’ commission, a presidential commission that was charged with considering a law against religious signs. It took testimony from a huge variety of experts, but neglected to consult sociologists who had studied the issues around headscarves in the s: see Bowen, Why the French Don’t Like Headscarves: Islam, the State, and Public Space, p. . . is has become a subject of some debate in recent years. . e headscarf issue in France is deeply complex and cannot be discussed in sufficient detail here; see McGoldrick, Human Rights and Religion: e Islamic Headscarf Debate in Europe; Scott, Politics of the Veil; and Bowen, Why the French Don’t Like Headscarves: Islam, the State, and Public Space for further information. . Parekh, Rethinking Multiculturalim: Cultural Diversity and Political eory, p. . . Ibid., p. . . McGoldrick, Human Rights and Religion: e Islamic Headscarf Debate in Europe, pp. –. . e concept that the state did not have a role to play does not appear to have been a serious bone of contention in this particular instance, although it would have been a pertinent point to raise; this reflects a fundamental ‘liberal’, and to some extent ‘nationalist’, point of view. . Kymlicka, Contemporary Political Philosophy: An Introduction, p. . . Ibid. . Ibid. . See Issawi, An Arab Philosophy of History: Selections from the Prolegomena of Ibn Khaldun of Tunis, p. . . Ibid., pp. –. . Ibid., p. . . Olssen, ‘From the Crick Report to the Parekh Report: Multiculturalism, Difference and Democracy – e Revisioning of Citizenship Education’, p. . . Ibid., p. .



  

. Mazrui, Pretender to Universalism: Western Culture in the Globalising Age. . Olssen notes Andrew Sharp’s thought in this regard: see Olssen, ‘From the Crick Report to the Parekh Report: Multiculturalism, Difference and Democracy – e Revisioning of Citizenship Education’, p. . . Ibid. . Ibid. . See Olssen (ibid.) for an attempt to locate a thoroughly multiculturalist approach in a liberal citizenship educational curriculum. . Cited ibid., p. . . Al-Attas, Prolegomena to the Metaphysics of Islam: An Exposition of the Fundamental Elements of the Worldview of Islam, pp. –. . See the work of Al-Attas (above) for a purely Islamic representation and that of Guenon for a more Western reaction (Guenon, Crisis of the Modern World), although Guenon died a Muslim. . In Malaysia, something along these lines was attempted in the establishment of the International Institute of Islamic ought and Civilization, which sought to train future leaders for the Muslim world in the understanding and articulation of their own philosophical worldview. . Modood has argued for the phrase ‘multicultural citizenship’, which essentially means the same thing in his terminology: see Modood, ‘Multiculturalism and Groups’, p. . Nevertheless, this author chooses to use ‘multiculturalist citizenship’ for two reasons: it is grammatically more consistent with the usage of ‘multiculturalist’ and ‘multicultural’ above, and it also distinguishes it from the ‘multicultural citizenship’ proposed by other authors, who do not share the view of secularism outlined here. . Kymlicka and Norman, Citizenship in Diverse Societies, pp. –. . Callan, ‘Discrimination and Religious Schooling’, pp. –. . Cited ibid., p. . . Cited by Spinner-Halev, ‘Extending Diversity: Religion in Public and Private Education’, pp. –. . Borrows, ‘Landed Citizenship: Narratives of Aboriginal Political Participation’, pp. –. . Kymlicka and Norman, Citizenship in Diverse Societies, pp. –. . Ironically, this was the state of affairs in predominantly Muslim states of the past, as Muslim political philosophy was far more libertarian than the reality of present Muslim states would imply. . Kymlicka and Norman, Citizenship in Diverse Societies, p. . . Modood and Buchanan, ‘Should the Church of England Be Disestablished?’, p. . . For more of a discussion on the five possible models of governance in relation to multiculturalism as suggested by the aforementioned Parekh Report [sic], see Multi-Ethnic Britain (CFMB), e Report of the Commission of Multi-Ethnic Britain, p. . . Ramadan, Western Muslims and the Future of Islam, p. . Chapter  . Keller, Reliance of the Traveller: e Classic Manual of Islamic Sacred Law,Umdat al-Salik by Ahmad ibn Naqib al-Misri,  (note u.). . Marechal, ‘Introduction: e Past’, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Keller, Reliance of the Traveller: e Classic Manual of Islamic Sacred Law,Umdat al-Salik by Ahmad ibn Naqib al-Misri,  (note u.).





. Cited in Fetzer and Soper, Muslims and the State in Britain, France and Germany, p. . . Ramadan, Western Muslims and the Future of Islam, p. . . Anwar, Myth of Return: Pakistanis in Britain. . Hellyer, ‘A Minority within a Minority: Muslim Europeans’. . Witte, Religious Human Rights in Global Respective: Religious Perspective, p. xxxiii. . It is oen mistakenly written that such schools are merely the writings of a single well learned jurist in history. However, the schools of law are more than this, as noted below. . See Keller, Which of the Four Orthodox Madhhabs Has the Most Developed Fiqh for Muslims Living as Minorities?, pp. – for an overview. e concept is similar in both the Shi‘ī and Sunnī communities, but it is actualised according to different methodologies, particularly with regards to the standard of the chain of transmission between the original mujtahid and the follower (muqallid). ere are also different standards by which a muqallid may become a mujtahid. . See Murad, Understanding the Four Madhhabs for a brief but concise elaboration of this concept. . Winter, British Muslim Identity: Past, Problems, Prospects, p. . Winter is defining this narrative within the context of the consensual Sunni syllabus of the Islamic scholarly tradition. . Tafwīd ̣ refers to the theological approach that bases itself on resigning metaphysical meanings to the Divine without employing interpretation. . e schools which died out include those founded by al-awrī, al-‘Awzā‘ī, al-Tabarī, ̣ al-Ba srị̄ and al-Layth, among others. Jurists placed conditions upon following schools, including scholarly transmission through living teachers, which meant that these extinct school could not be revived. . A large amount of source material on these schools is available. See Khadduri, AlShafi’i’s Risala: Treatise on the Foundations of Islamic Jurisprudence; Keller, Reliance of the Traveller: e Classic Manual of Islamic Sacred Law,Umdat al-Salik by Ahmad ibn Naqib al-Misri. . Keller, Which of the Four Orthodox Madhhabs Has the Most Developed Fiqh for Muslims Living as Minorities?, p. xi. . It should be noted that the questions in fiqh do not relate to whether or not the Muslims are in a majority or a minority, but whether or not they have political sovereignty. . Fadl, ‘Islamic Law and Muslim Minorities: e Juristic Discourse on Muslim Minorities from the Second/Eight to the Eleventh/Seventeenth Centuries’, p. . . Khir, Conference Paper Delivered at AMSS (UK)  Annual Conference. . Fadl, ‘Legal Debates on Muslim Minorities: Between Rejection and Accommodation’, p. . . Gleave, ‘Elements of Religious Discrimination in Europe: e Position of Muslim Minorities’, p. . . is is another reason why the term today has met with some opposition; see Chapter . . ere is also a inter-related issue of the duty to migrate to Muslim-ruled territory, as the early Muslims did, but, as this is intertwined with the other main duties, there is no need to discuss it separately here. . Fadl, ‘Islamic Law and Muslim Minorities: e Juristic Discourse on Muslim Minorities from the Second/Eight to the Eleventh/Seventeenth Centuries’, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. . . Ibid. . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. .



  

. Ibid., p. . e Zāhirī ̣ school is an extinct school of jurisprudence, with few scholars in history, although it is nonetheless an authentic school according to the standards of the Sunnīs. . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. . . Ibid. . Ibid., p. . . Masud, ‘e Obligation to Migrate: e Doctrine of Hijra in Islamic Law’, p. . . Ibid., p. . One should note that Ibn Hajar ̣ was a classical Shāfi‘ī scholar of high regard. . e Ibn al-‘Arabī mentioned here is apparently not the same Ibn al-‘Arabī who was born in Spain in , but rather the Mālikī Qādị̄ Ibn al-‘Arabī. . Al-Ghumari, e Ruling in Residing in the Lands of the Unbelievers and Proclaiming its Compulsoriness in some Situations. . Fadl cites al-Shirbīnī al-Kha tīḅ in his Mughnī; Fadl, ‘Islamic Law and Muslim Minorities: e Juristic Discourse on Muslim Minorities from the Second/Eight to the Eleventh/Seventeenth Centuries’, p. . . Fadl cites Ibn Qudāmah in his al-Mughnī; ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. . . Masud, ‘e Obligation to Migrate: e Doctrine of Hijra in Islamic Law’, p. . . Fadl, ‘Islamic Law and Muslim Minorities: e Juristic Discourse on Muslim Minorities from the Second/Eight to the Eleventh/Seventeenth Centuries’, p. , citing alNawawī’s report of al-Māwardī’s opinion. (Al-‘Alwani recollects it in a similar manner.) . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. . . Fadl cites al-Humam in Fath ̣ al Qadīr, and Ibn ‘Ābidīn in Radd al-Muhtār: ibid., p. . . Al-Taazani and al-Nasafi, Sharh al-‘Aqa’id al-Nasafiyyah, p. . . Al-Bayjuri, Tuhfat al-Murīd ‘ala Jawharat al-Tawhid, p. . . Fadl, ‘Islamic Law and Muslim Minorities: e Juristic Discourse on Muslim Minorities from the Second/Eight to the Eleventh/Seventeenth Centuries’, p. , citing Ibn ‘Ābidīn in his Radd al-Muhtār, ̣ and Ibn al-Humam in Fath ̣ al Qadīr. . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. . is opinion, however, remained contentious within the Māliki school, as Fadl notes, and it is likely that this opinion was intended only for Muslims who were unable to leave. . Al-Shāfi‘ī in al-Umm (volume , page –), cited ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. . Fadl quotes a number of classic Hanafī ̣ authorities for this, including al-Shaybānī, al-Kāsānī, and Ibn ‘Ābidīn. He notes, however, that the mujtahid Abū Yūsūf dissents from this position. It should also be noted that, in contemporary times, classically trained Hanafī ̣ scholars do not admit that the present circumstances facing Muslims in non-Muslim lands are similar and hence the rulings do not apply. . Ibid., –. . Ibid., –, citing Shāfi‘ī in his al-Umm and Buhūtī in his Kashshāf. . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. , citing al-Shaybānī and al-Sarakhsī in particular as support. . Ibid., –. Fadl here is discussing a Muslim who cheats a non-Muslim in non-Muslim territory, but the principle is wide-ranging.

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

. Ibid., –, citing al-Shaybānī’s Siyar, Ibn al-Humam’s Fath,̣ al-Kāsānī’s Badā’i‘, Ibn ‘Ābidīn’s Radd, and al-Sarakhsī’s Al-Mabsut. . is is not, however, the contemporary position, by and large. Shaykh ‘Abd al-‘Azīz ibn Muhammad ̣ ibn Al-Siddīq ̣ Al-Hasanī ̣ Al-Ghumārī makes this quite clear in his work, written late in the twentieth century; see Al-Ghumari, e Ruling in Residing in the Lands of the Unbelievers and Proclaiming its Compulsoriness in some Situations. . A noted scholar of Afghani origin and the leader of the Shāfi‘ī school of law in the eleventh century; see Keller, Reliance of the Traveller: e Classic Manual of Islamic Sacred Law,Umdat al-Salik by Ahmad ibn Naqib al-Misri, p. . . Khir, Conference Paper Delivered at AMSS (UK)  Annual Conference. . Ibid. . A late tenth-century and early eleventh-century faqih who contributed to the fields of political science and sociology. . One of the greatest historical authorities in the Shāfi‘ī school, he was a fieenth-century legal expert. . An eleventh-century Mālikī faqih of Qayrawan, one of the most noted centres of Mālikī fiqh. . A sixteenth-century Mālikī scholar and student of the famous Shāfi‘ī al-Suyū tī ̣ in Cairo. . A twelh-century Mālikī scholar of Sicilian origin. . A sixteenth-century Hanafī ̣ scholar, he was a mujtahid within the Hanafī ̣ school. . is would hardly be surprising in terms of Islamic political thought, considering that, in such frames of reference, civil society has far more power than the state, which is limited to very specific realms such as territorial security. . is already had textual support behind it, with the commentaries by classical experts on certain verses of the Qur’ān, particularly :. . Murad, e Sheikh’s Passing oughts. . Owing to similarities in methodology, however, the author has referred to the first group as ‘Puritan Salafism’ and to the latter as ‘Modernist Salafism’; see Hellyer, ‘From Tolerance to Recognition to Beyond: e Dynamics of Defining Muslim Space in Europe’. . Winter identifies this quite strongly in Winter, ‘e Poverty of Fanaticism’, p. . Lumbard, Islam, Fundamentalism and the Betrayl of Tradition contains a number of other essays dedicated to the same theme. . Other organisations and tendencies, which do not come under the heading of ‘sects’ or even ‘schools’ but perhaps associations, are discussed in Marechal, ‘Modalities of Islamic Instruction’, pp. –, with varying accuracy. Chapter  . Yaqub, ‘e Broad Cloak of Islam (Interview with Abdullah Bin Bayyah)’, writing in December, a short time aer  September . . Anwar, Myth of Return: Pakistanis in Britain. . Ramadan, ‘Islam and Muslims in Europe: A Silent Revolution toward Rediscovery’. . ey included quite highly noted scholars from the Muslim world, including the late Syrian scholars Mustafa Zarqa and ‘Abd al-Fattāh ̣ Abū Ghuddah. . Caeiro, ‘e European Council for Fatwā and Research’, p. . . In the classical texts, referred to as al-maqā sid ̣ al-sharī‘ah or ‘the objectives of the sacred law’. . is is in contrast to the modern state, which utilises law as a tool for itself and subjugates civil society. . Keller, Fiqh for Minorities. . Ibid.



  

. It has been suggested that the modern concept of a jury was based on this development, as the Mālikī theory preceded it. . In actuality, it has been commonplace since the seventh century, as discussed later in this chapter. . An Algerian–French member of the ECFR (see below) refers to it as ‘re-actualisation of old juridifical opinions forgotten in history’; see Caeiro, ‘e European Council for Fatwā and Research’, p. . . Keller, Fiqh for Minorities. . It is no surprise that Al-‘Alwani has written precisely on how the paradigm has shied and how, in essence, the fiqh is catching up. . Shaykh Muhammad al-Mukhtar al-Shinqit; see Group of Muis, Fiqh of Muslim Minorities. . Such as Shaykh Sa‘īd Ramadān ̣ al-Bū tī;̣ see Caeiro, ‘e European Council for Fatwā and Research’, p. . . See, for example, Fetzer and Soper, Muslims and the State in Britain, France and Germany, p. . . is chapter refers to and discusses the approaches of three individuals in particular. is is not to deny that others have commented on these issues, but rather that these three have had some particular impact, either directly (such as Ramadan and Al‘Alwani) or indirectly (such as Bin Bayyah) on Western Muslim communities. . Ibid., p. . . e grandson of Hasan ̣ al-Bannā, the founder of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt in the early twentieth century. Ramadan is a Swiss professor of philosophy and Islamic studies. In twenty-first-century Europe, he is likely the most noted intellectual on the issues surrounding Muslim Europeans as a minority in the context of a secular European environment. Unlike the other authors cited in this section, Tariq Ramadan is not a typical classical scholar (although he has had some classical training during an intensive two-year period studying with scholars from al-Azhar University, one of the most famous institutions in Sunnī Islam). His two books, To Be a European Muslim and Western Muslims and the Future of Islam, remain the only serious attempts to view the subject of European Muslims from a Muslim perspective in a comprehensive manner in contemporary academic literature. . Ramadan, ‘Islam and Muslims in Europe: A Silent Revolution toward Rediscovery’. . See Ramadan (ibid.) for the statement and the five points. . Ibid. . Ibid. . e European Council for Fatwā and Research is perhaps the best known fatwā council of its kind outside the Muslim world, composed of no less than  Sunnī legal scholars (in Caeiro, ‘e European Council for Fatwā and Research’, p. , it is mentioned that the ECFR chooses to make use of all the juridicial heritage of Sunnī Islam.) Some noted members include Yūsūf al-Qaradāwī, ̣ popular in the Arab world and president of the Council, Mustafa Ceric, the Mui of Bosnia, Muhammad ̣ Taqī ‘Uthmānī, a Pakistani Sharī‘ah scholar, the aforementioned ‘Abdullah Bin Bayyah and Taha Al‘Alwani. Yet, while the original constitution adopted by the ECFR in  stipulated that at least  per cent of its members would be drawn from Europe for this purpose, the numbers have since been revised continuously in favour of drawing expertise from non-European fiqh experts. e discussions of the ECFR are in Arabic, the fatawā are in Arabic,  members of the ECFR are originally resident in non-European countries and  members of the ECFR are either Arab or originally Arab, which makes the ECFR less accessible to European Muslims or, indeed, Europe less accessible to the scholars than either might be. Only  members are resident in Europe. While





Al-‘Alwani apparently supports the inclusion of European social scientists on the ECFR, presumably to inculcate a knowledge of European societies and culture, this has yet to materialise. In spite of these difficulties, however, and in the absence of any other fiqh organisation devoted to the European context, the ECFR remains the foremost assembly of Muslim fiqh scholars dedicated to the European scene. . Ibid., p. . . Ibid. . European Council for Fatwā and Research (EFCR), Can a Muslim Reside Permanently in a Non-Muslim Country? . Ibid. . ‘Abdullah Bin Bayyah is a Mālikī scholar from Mauritania, and the teacher of the well known Muslim American convert and teacher Hamza Yusuf Hanson. Hanson also became better known to the mainstream in Europe and America for his moderation in the aermath of  September . Bin Bayyah’s scholarship enjoys comparatively great respect in the Muslim world. He is considered an expert not only in his own school of jurisprudence but in other schools as well, and he has been associated throughout his career with the Islamic judiciary and national diplomacy at the highest levels. He is also well versed in French, which gives him direct access to certain aspects of Western life and culture. His contributions to the debate surrounding the position of Muslims living as a minority have been well summarised in a transcript of one of his talks, hosted by the Zaytuna Institute in California, USA, while his thoughts on Muslims in Europe in particular were touched upon in an issue of Q-News, a British Muslim magazine. . Bin Bayyah, Muslims Living in Non-Muslim Lands. . Taha Jabir Al-‘Alwani, an Iraqi trained at al-Azhar University in Egypt and formerly a professor of fiqh in Riyadh, is a key figure on the ECFR as well as the Chair of the Fiqh Council of North America (see http://www.fiqhcouncil.org/). A more complete biography, though dated, may be found at http://www.usc.edu/dept/MSA/ law/alalwani_usulalfiqh/taha.html. . Al-‘Alwani, Prolegomena to the Fiqh of Minorities. . Ibid. . Ibid.; this is a summation of his main points. . It should be noted, however, that ‘Alawids and the remnants of the Ummayad dynasty aer the Abbasid revolution sought refuge in Christian and animist lands. . In some countries today, even in modern states, this still remains the case. . In this, Al-‘Alwani is probably referring to the world at large, for such considerations did exist in the classical works of fiqh. . Al-‘Alwani is probably referring here as well to the world at large, for in classical works of fiqh the concept of dār al-Sul ̣ h ̣ did exist and was in operation. . Ibid. . Bin Bayyah also cites other phrases such as dār al-Hudnah, dār al-Mu‘āhadah, dār alSul ̣ h,̣ all of these having the same essential characteristics. . Bin Bayyah, Muslims Living in Non-Muslim Lands. . In this, Al-‘Alwani is similar to a number of authors, such as Faisal Mawlawi, who claim that, in a world where Muslims are more secure in their religion in nonMuslim countries than in Muslim-dominated countries, these particular terms are no longer sufficiently constructive (see Shadid and Koningsveld, Religious Freedom and the Position of Islam in Western Europe, –). . Al-‘Alwani, Prolegomena to the Fiqh of Minorities. . Ramadan, Western Muslims and the Future of Islam. . Al-‘Alwani, Living in a Secularist Country; Ramadan, Muslims in France: e Way towards Coexistence, p. .



  

. Fetzer and Soper include an interesting overview of the origins of French secularism in this regard; see Fetzer and Soper, Muslims and the State in Britain, France and Germany, –. . Ramadan, Muslims in France: e Way towards Coexistence, p. . . Bin Bayyah, Muslims Living in Non-Muslim Lands. . Bin Bayyah does not talk about this explicitly here, although Al-‘Alwani has more to say about the direct contract of an immigrant in terms of his visa and a ‘tacit’ contract by a citizen. . e ECFR specifically quotes the names of classical scholars such as Al-‘Izz ibn ‘Abd al-Salām, Ibn Taymiyyah and Al-Shā tibī ̣ in support of this last point. . e pillars of Islam, relating to prayer, fasting, alms-giving, pilgrimage and the declaration of faith. . Bin Bayyah already participates in the European Council of Fatwā and Research, which is discussed below. . As noted elsewhere in this work, other Muslims in the EU have seen this as a way for fiqh to be implemented within the framework of modern secular European legal systems. . Fadari was a mujtahid mutlaq, ̣ i.e. a mujtahid who was the founder of a school of law. It should be noted that, in this, a number of other scholars have also expressed approval, such as Fethullah Gulen of Turkey, although it is unclear whether they would entertain the notion of following an extinct madhhab; see Yilmaz, ‘Micro Mujtahids and Implementation of Fiqh-Al-Aqalliyat’. . Al-‘Alwani, Source Methodology in Islamic Jurisprudence: Usul al-Fiqh al-Islami. . As evidence for this, Bin Bayyah quotes Ibn ‘Abidīn, a noted Hanafī ̣ scholar; see Yaqub, ‘e Broad Cloak of Islam (Interview with Abdullah Bin Bayyah)’, p. . . Al-‘Alwani, Source Methodology in Islamic Jurisprudence: Usul al-Fiqh al-Islami. . Ibid. . e relationship between Islam and culture has yet to be thoroughly and comprehensively re-examined in the modern period. . Ramadan, ‘Islam and Muslims in Europe: A Silent Revolution toward Rediscovery’. . European Council for Fatwā and Research (EFCR), Elections in non-Muslim Countries: Role of Muslims. . It has become rather commonplace in the latter part of the twentieth century and the early twenty-first century to describe this document as a ‘constitution’, since it bears some similarities to the documents underpinning many nation–states in the modern day. However, it would be more accurate to describe it as a communal covenant between the different communities residing in Madina at the time, rather than as a constitution. . European Council for Fatwā Research (ECFR), Purchasing Houses with Usurious Loans in the West. is led to a significant controversy elsewhere in the Muslim world. . is is similar to the Chinese Muslim experience: see Abd-Allah, Islam and the Cultural Imperative. . Al-‘Alwani, Prolegomena to the Fiqh of Minorities. . Ibid. . Al-‘Alwani, Source Methodology in Islamic Jurisprudence: Usul al-Fiqh al-Islami. . Yaqub, ‘e Broad Cloak of Islam (Interview with Abdullah Bin Bayyah)’, p. . . Bin Bayyah, Muslims Living in Non-Muslim Lands. . Which corresponds to the description of the dīn of Islam as being faith, law and spirituality (imān, islām and ihsān). ̣ . Ramadan, ‘Islam and Muslims in Europe: A Silent Revolution toward Rediscovery’. . Ibid. . Al-‘Alwani, Source Methodology in Islamic Jurisprudence: Usul al-Fiqh al-Islami.





. Beckford, Religion and Advanced Industrial Society, p. xi. . Ramadan, Western Muslims and the Future of Islam, pp. –. . Fetzer and Soper, Muslims and the State in Britain, France and Germany, p. . Fetzer and Soper note that, because of this mentality, Islamic issues were dealt with within the foreign ministry. . Ramadan, Western Muslims and the Future of Islam, p. . . Perhaps this is due to the fact that he is one of the few Muslim European intellectuals who has been born and raised in a ‘minority’ situation. . Ramadan, A Bridge across Fear: An Interview with Tariq Ramadan. . Ramadan, Western Muslims and the Future of Islam, p. . . Ibid. . Ibid., p. , emphasis mine. . A number of Western Muslim scholars seem to fear a ‘European Islam’ detached from classical notions of shari‘ah, which will probably meet with little or no support outside of a select ‘elite’; see ‘Abd-Allah, Islam and the Cultural Imperative: A Nawawi Foundation Paper. Chapter  . Ahmed, Living Islam, p. . . Italian Deputy Prime Minister Gianfranco Fini, suggesting that there should be a reference to this effect in any European-wide constitution: see http://www.agi.it/ english/news.pl;  November . . Hellyer, ‘A Minority within a Minority: Muslim Europeans’. . Marechal, ‘Introduction: e Past’, p. xvii, referring to the predominance of the Arabic language in a Hispanic social, cultural and geographic environment. . Vertovec and Peach, ‘Introduction: Islam in Europe and the Politics of Religion and Community’, p. , citing W. Montgomery Watt. . Modood, Multiculturalism, Muslims and the British State, p. . . ere is no evidence whatsoever to suggest that this had anything to do with the spread of Islam to the west. . is being an obvious corruption of Jabal al-Tāriq, ̣ the Arabic for ‘the Mountain of Tāriq’ ̣ , named aer the Berber who landed there. . Watt, History of Islamic Spain, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Although for a time Sicily under King Roger was similar. . Ibid., p. . . Ibid. . Ibid., p. . . A study of the history of the al-turuq ̣ al- sūfiyyah ̣ (mystical paths in Islam) reveals that from these two individuals alone spawned countless mystical orders, including a number which are of particular influence among European Muslims, such as the Ba‘Alawiyyāh and the Shadhuliyyah. . Boas, e Muslim Expulsion from Spain, discusses the fate of many of these communities in some detail. . Nonneman, Niblock and Szajkowski, e Muslim Community in Spain, p. . . According to the fieenth century Polish historian Jan Dlugosz; Nonneman, Niblock and Szajkowski, Muslim Communities in the New Europe, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Marechal, ‘Introduction: e Past’, p. xviii. . Its contribution to Europe cannot be overstated, but, as Turkey is not a EU state or imminent member, it lies beyond the scope of this particular work.



  

. e Ottomans did spread to some parts of Ukraine aer this, but such territory was relinquished in  as part of the Treaty of Karlowitz; see Greene, A Shared World: Christians and Muslims in the Early Modern Mediterranean, , fn. . Ibid., p. . . Marechal, ‘Introduction: e Past’, p. xix. . is prompted one author to describe the migrant’s attitude thus: ‘You were there, so we are here.’ See Buijs and Rath, Muslims in Europe: e State of Research (An essay prepared for the Sage Foundation) . Simonsen, ‘Globalisation in Reverse and the Challenge of Integration: Muslims in Denmark’, p. . . Sander, ‘e Status of Muslim Communities in Sweden’, p. . . One can see Scott, Politics of the Veil for a good discussion on these points with regards to France. . Allievi, ‘Relations and Negotiations: Issues and Debates’, p. . . Hellyer, ‘Radicalisation, Public Policy and Clarifications to be Made’. . Tremlett, ‘Spain Being “Taken Back to Moorish Times” ’. . Cited by Cumper and Wheatley, Minority Rights in the New Europe, p. . . Ferrari, ‘e Legal Dimension’, p. . . A full discussion of the legal limits exists in Martinez-Torron, ‘e Legal Status of Islam in Spain’, pp. –. . Marechal, ‘Modalities of Islamic Instruction’, p. . . is term is discussed elsewhere in this work, with particular reference to the British context. . Allen, ‘Endemically European or a European Epidemic? Islamophobia in a post / Europe’, p. . . Bardot described the situation thus: ‘My country, France, my fatherland, is once again being invaded, with the blessing of our successive governments, by an excessive influx of foreigners, notably Muslims, to which we are giving our allegiance.’ See Fetzer and Soper, Muslims and the State in Britain, France and Germany, p. . . Sardar, Where are my Muslim Brethren? . Mathijsen, A Guide to European Union Law, p. . . Ferrari and Bradney, Islam and European Legal Systems, p. x. . Shadid and Koningsveld, Religious Freedom and the Position of Islam in Western Europe, p. . . Ramadan, Islam, the West and theChallenges of Modernity, p. . . Allievi, ‘Relations and Negotiations: Issues and Debates’, p. . . Ferrari, ‘e Legal Dimension’, pp. –. . Rahman, Islam, p. . . Ferrari, ‘e Legal Dimension’, pp. –. . Shadid and Koningsveld, Religious Freedom and the Position of Islam in Western Europe, pp. –. . Fetzer and Soper, Muslims and the State in Britain, France and Germany, pp. –. . Shadid and Koningsveld, Religious Freedom and the Position of Islam in Western Europe, p. . . AlSayyad, ‘Muslim Europe or Euro-Islam: On the Discourses of Identity and Culture’, p. . . Glavanis, Discrimination on the Grounds of Religion or Belief: An Overview of the Current Debate. . Ibid. . Hunter and Leveau, ‘Islam in France’, p. . . Fetzer and Soper, Muslims and the State in Britain, France and Germany, p. .





. Hunter and Leveau, ‘Islam in France’, p. . . Allievi, ‘Relations and Negotiations: Issues and Debates’, p. . . Ceric, ‘Keynote Speech’. . ‘Abd-Allah, Personal communication. . Ramadan, Western Muslims and the Future of Islam, p. . . Ramadan, Islam, the West and theChallenges of Modernity, p. . . Scott, Politics of the Veil, p. . . Murad, Tradition or Extradition? Chapter  . Cumper and Wheatley, Minority Rights in the New Europe, p. . . Cited in United Nation Development Programme (UNDP), Putting Tolerance First. . Hence the mandate over the Arab populations aer the collapse of the Ottoman Empire for example, and the continuation of many colonial empires. . Borchardt, e ABC of Community Law, p. . . For an overview of the legal issues relating to each of the EU’s member states individually on a national level, a theme which lies beyond the scope of this work, see Ferrari, ‘e Legal Dimension’, pp. –. . Hepple, Coussey and Choudhury, Equality: A New Framework, p. . . Edge and Harvey, Law and Religion in Contemporary Society: Communities, Individualism and the State, p. . . e history of this ‘club’ is described in some detail by Mathijsen, A Guide to European Union Law, pp. –. . e principle of ‘precedence’ of EU law over national law is discussed ibid., p. . . For a more complete discussion on how this is exhibited, see Witte, ‘Direct Effect, Supremacy and the Nature of the Legal Order’. . Mathijsen, A Guide to European Union Law, p. . . Borchardt, e ABC of Community Law, pp. –. . Such as in Mathijsen, A Guide to European Union Law, pp. –. . Bell, Anti-Discrimination Law and the European Union, p. . . Ibid., pp. –. . Ibid., p. . . Borchardt, e ABC of Community Law, p. . . For more of a discussion on racial discrimination in EU law, see Bell, AntiDiscrimination Law and the European Union, pp. –. . Ibid., pp. –, which details this in some depth. . Anwar, Between Cultures: Continuity and Change in the Lives of Young Asians, pp. –. . See Islam and Muslims in Europe: France. . Bell, Anti-Discrimination Law and the European Union, pp. –. . Borchardt, e ABC of Community Law, p. . . Article  of the EC Treaty. . Bell, Anti-Discrimination Law and the European Union, p. . . For a full exploration of Article , see Bell (ibid.) pp. –. . Article () of the Treaty of the European Union. . Europa, Combating Discrimination: Introduction. . See //EC and //EC respectively. . Mathijsen, A Guide to European Union Law, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., pp. –. . European Parliament (EP), Parliament Resolution on Racism ( October ).



  

. omson, Muslims in Europe: Religious Freedom in a Secular Society. . Europa, Combating Discrimination: Introduction. . Council Directive //EC. . Bell, Anti-Discrimination Law and the European Union, p. . . Ibid., pp. –. . Adopted by the European Council as Council Directive //EC. . EQUAL, Community Initiative EQUAL. . Bell, Anti-Discrimination Law and the European Union, –. . Gago-Filori, Personal communication. . Tyson, ‘e Negotiation of the European Community Directive on Racial Discrimination’, p. . . Gago-Filori, Personal communication. It should be noted that other directives do provide exemptions to religious communities from certain regulations, such as wine bottle labelling, slaughtering rules and so forth; see Rivers, ‘In Pursuit of Pluralism: e Ecclesiastical Policy of the European Union’. ese, however, would be considered positive discriminatory measures designed to permit the continuation of the religious communities in question; i.e. used as a bulwark against assimilation. . ‘e Reflection Group on the Spiritual and Cultural Dimension of Europe’. . Directive //EEC as amended by Directive //EC article (), /L /. . Allievi, ‘Relations between Religions’, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Article  of the Charter, ex Article F. . Charter, e Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union. . Ibid. . Ibid. . Diamantopoulou, Address to the Conference on Industrial Relations And Change, Organised by the University of Modena. . Bell, Anti-Discrimination Law and the European Union, p. . . Ibid., p. . Further discussions on the Charter in terms of European social policy may be found ibid., pp. –. . Ibid., pp. –. . Borchardt, e ABC of Community Law, p. . . See Rivers, ‘In Pursuit of Pluralism: e Ecclesiastical Policy of the European Union’ for a more complete overview on this point. . Case / Torfaen BC v. BandQ plc [] ECR ; cited ibid. . C- and C-/ Criminal Proceedings against Keck and Mithouard [], ECR I-; cited ibid. . C-/, Semeraro Casa Uno Srl v. Sindaco del Comune di Erbusco [] ECR I-; cited ibid. . C-/, SPUC v. Grogan [] ECR ; cited ibid. . Case /, Van Duyn v. Home Office [], ECR ; cited ibid. . Ibid. . Robbers, ‘Diversity of State–Religion Relations and European Union Unity’, p. . . Bell, Anti-Discrimination Law and the European Union, p. . . Glavanis, Discrimination on the Grounds of Religion or Belief: An Overview of the Current Debate. . See Bell, Anti-Discrimination Law and the European Union, pp. –. . Ibid., pp. –. . Tyson, ‘e Negotiation of the European Community Directive on Racial Discrimination’, pp. –. . See Bell, Anti-Discrimination Law and the European Union, pp. –.





Chapter  . Advice to a Muslim boy by his father; Mansoor, ‘You’re Muslim – You’ll Never be English’. . Winston Churchill, MP (grandson of the famous Prime Minister); see Vertovec and Peach, ‘Introduction: Islam in Europe and the Politics of Religion and Community’, p. . . Murad, ‘e Great Dive: e Unusual Life of William Williamson’, p. . . Rosser-Owen, e History of Islam in the British Isles: An Overview, with some adjustments. . Having travelled to the Levant and Egypt, as documented by Emrys Bowen: ibid. . Sherif, ‘Historical Roots of Islam in Britain’, p. . . Ali, ‘Muslims in Britain: An Historical Note’, p. . . e coin had the Islamic declaration of faith on it and was minted by the king. . Rosser-Owen, e History of Islam in the British Isles: An Overview. . Ali, ‘Muslims in Britain: An Historical Note’, p. . . Matar, Turks, Moors and Englishmen in the Age of Discovery, p. . . Ibid. . Many of the Muslim Spaniards who were expelled during the Reconquista went to Morocco, which perhaps explains part of the feeling which led the Moroccan Sharif to ally himself with Queen Elizabeth. . Cited ibid., p. . . Cited ibid. . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p.  for the most comprehensive work during the age of discovery to date; here, comments are limited to a brief overview of his and others’ works. . Ibid. . Ibid., p. . . Matar (ibid., p. ) references this document, entertaining the possibility that it might have referred to freed prisoners, traders or other Muslims who decided to settle in London. . Cited ibid., p. . . Ibid., –. . Ibid., p. . . Ibid., p. . . Sherif, ‘Historical Roots of Islam in Britain’, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Rosser-Owen, e History of Islam in the British Isles: An Overview. . Ali, ‘Muslims in Britain: An Historical Note’, p. . . Murad, Ward the Pirate. . Sherif, ‘Historical Roots of Islam in Britain’, p. . . Murad has put together a series of accounts relating to this; see Murad, British Muslim Heritage: A Series of Articles Highlighting Britain’s Rich Indigenous Islamic Tradition. . Murad, From Drury Lane to Mecca gives an interesting account of this. . Murad, ‘e Great Dive: e Unusual Life of William Williamson’. . More information on the Yemeni community in Cardiff, South Shields and Liverpool may be found in Halliday, Arabs in Exile: Yemeni Migrants in Urban Britain, –. . As evidence of this, a publishing house called ‘Quilliam Press’ was created in the latter half of the twentieth century, to publish traditional Islamic works. . Lit. ‘a teacher of learning’. is would signify his having studied the classical sciences of Islam under traditional scholars; in Quilliam’s case, in Morocco.



  

. A noted centre of learning in classical Islamic sciences. . Lit. ‘the learned of Islam’, designating one’s ability to issue verdicts based on Islamic law. . Rosser-Owen, e History of Islam in the British Isles: An Overview. . is community has been the subject of some research: see Lawless, From Ta‘izz to Tyneside: An Arab Community in the North-East of England during the Early th Century. . See Murad, A Brief Biography of Marmaduke Pickthall for an excellent but brief biography. . MCB, Islam in the British Isles: Some Key Dates and Events. . Vertovec, ‘Islamophobia and Muslim Recognition in Britain’, p. . . Sherif, ‘Historical Roots of Islam in Britain’, p. . . Based on the results collected by the  Census (see http://www.statistics.gov.uk/ census/profiles/uk.asp) and Anwar and Bakhsh, British Muslims and State Policies, p.  (which refers to . million). . More statistical data on British Muslims may be found ibid. . Anwar and Bakhsh, British Muslims and State Policies, p. . . Allievi, ‘e Media’, p. . Allievi mentions French-language media as well, but notes that this is on a lesser scale than English-language media. . Modood, ‘Establishment, Reform and Multiculturalism’, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Gilliat-Ray, Religion in Higher Education: e Politics of the Multi-Faith Campus, p. . . Anwar and Bakhsh, British Muslims and State Policies, p. , Allievi, ‘Muslims and Politics’, p. . . Anwar and Bakhsh, British Muslims and State Policies, p. . . Ibid., p. . . MCB, MCB, Direct: Muslim Statistics. . Lindley suggests an ‘Islamic penalty’ placed upon them; see Lindley, ‘Race or Religion? e Impact of Religion on the Earnings and Employment of Britain’s Ethnic Communities’, p. . . A much deeper analysis of these issues can be found in Hussain. . For an overview of the legal viewpoint pertaining to education and minority faiths, see Bradney, Religions, Rights and Laws, –. . Ibrahim, ‘Multicultural Education: An Islamic Perspective’, p. . . Mustafa, ‘Education for Integration: Case Study of a British Muslim High School for Girls’, p. . . Ibrahim, ‘Multicultural Education: An Islamic Perspective’, p. . . See Hewitt, ‘e Case for Muslim Schools’, pp. – for a full discussion on these points. . Vertovec, ‘Islamophobia and Muslim Recognition in Britain’, p. . . MCB, MCB, Direct: Muslim Statistics. . Mustafa, ‘Education for Integration: Case Study of a British Muslim High School for Girls’, p. . . Ibrahim, ‘Multicultural Education: An Islamic Perspective’, p. . . Marechal, ‘Modalities of Islamic Instruction’, p. . . Ibid., p. . . e Foreign and Commonwealth Office, and the Economic and Social Research Council co-funded a project on Muslim religious authority in Europe. e author, as Senior Research Fellow within the University of Warwick, was the lead researcher. ere was wide interest in different parts of the government on the results of the research, suggesting the prime minister’s comments were reflective of a wider mood within government. . Murad, ‘e Great Dive: e Unusual Life of William Williamson’, pp. –.





. Gilliat-Ray, Religion in Higher Education: e Politics of the Multi-Faith Campus, pp. –. . Vertovec, ‘Islamophobia and Muslim Recognition in Britain’, p. . . It should be pointed out, however, that the Jewish population is much smaller, and that the BDBJ was founded in . Nevertheless, this is what Kalim Siddiqi’s short-lived ‘Muslim Parliament’ was based on. . It cannot be overestimated how difficult it is to come to an accurate conclusion on this point. e absence of a hierarchical clerical structure in Islam, as well as the immense diversity of the Muslim community with no central authority, makes this a task of incredible proportions. . Yilmaz, ‘e Challenge of Post-Modern Legality and Muslim Legal Pluralism in England’, p. . . Ibid. . Vertovec, ‘Islamophobia and Muslim Recognition in Britain’, p. . . Sheikh, Private correspondence with Aziz Sheikh, head of research division at the Muslim Council of Britain. . Islamic Society of Britain (ISB), e Need for the Islamic Society of Britain? . Siddiqui, Answers to questions. . Although it was first printed in an American periodical in ; see Sheridan, ‘Religious Discrimination: e New Racism’, p. . . See Allen, ‘What is Islamophobia?’ for more on the history of Islamophobia as a term. . Matar, Turks, Moors and Englishmen in the Age of Discovery, p. . . Ibid., pp. –. In his work of , Matar shows a remarkable parallel development in orientalist notions of the ‘Other’ as related to the conquered Native American and the unconquerable Muslim in the ‘age of discovery’. . Ibid., p. . . Matar (Ibid., pp. –) argues that the link between these two orientalist notions of the ‘Other’ was more intertwined than has been hitherto realised. . Ibid., p. . . Matar notes, for example, that British entertainers actually made up fictitious accounts of how Britons defeated and conquered Muslims in order to please the British public, despite a situation at the time that was quite the reverse; see ibid., –. . Vertovec, ‘Islamophobia and Muslim Recognition in Britain’, p. . . Poole, Reporting Islam: Media Representations of British Muslims, p. . . David Mellor, November , cited in Muslim Council of Britain, e Quest for Sanity: Reflections on September  and the Aermath, p. ; see ibid., pp. – for other negative pereceptions reported by the media. . Poole examines these attitudes in a quantitative analytical manner; see Poole, Reporting Islam: Media Representations of British Muslims. . Vertovec, ‘Islamophobia and Muslim Recognition in Britain’, p. . . Seddon, Hussain and Malik, British Muslims: Loyalty and Belonging, p. v. . Alam, ‘How War Has Brought Hope to British Muslims’. . See Allen, ‘What is Islamophobia?’ for a discussion on the history of the term ‘Islamophobia’ in contemporary times. . Vertovec, ‘Islamophobia and Muslim Recognition in Britain’, pp. –. . Ansari, e Infidel Within, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Trevor Phillips also had a track record within the Muslim community as a member of the Runnymede Commission on Islamophobia. . Ashley, ‘New Leader, New Extremists, New Struggles’. More information on this point may be found in Seddon, Hussain and Malik, British Muslims: Loyalty and Belonging.



  

. Fetzer and Soper, Muslims and the State in Britain, France and Germany, p. . . Weller, Equity, Inclusivity and Participation in a Plural Society: Challenging the Establishment of the Church of England, p. . . Oen, proponents of dis-establishment are loyal Anglicans who abhor the influence of the state on the church; see Modood and Buchanan, ‘Should the Church of England Be Disestablished?’ . Ibid. . Rosser-Owen, ‘A Muslim Perspective’, p. . . ibid., p.  (emphasis mine). . Ibid. . e experts of Islamic law (‘ulamā’) are oen mistaken as clergy, but they are not recognised as such in Muslim societies. Rather they are recognised only as experts, not as representatives of an ecclesiastical institution that represents God on earth. . Ferrari and Bradney, Islam and European Legal Systems, p. . . It should be noted in this context that some extra-state treaties allow for the individual citizens to take their own state to court or to an international tribunal when domestic avenues have been exhausted, if the state is in violation of its obligations under the treaty. is is not, however, covered in this work. . Bradney, Religions, Rights and Laws, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Ferrari and Bradney, Islam and European Legal Systems, p. . . Bradney, Religions, Rights and Laws, p. . . Muslim Council of Britain, e Quest for Sanity: Reflections on September  and the Aermath, p.  . Yilmaz, ‘Muslim Law in Britain, Reflections in the Socio-Legal Sphere and Differential Legal Treatment’. . Ibid., p. . . See Carrol, ‘Muslim Women and “Islamic Divorce in England” ’, p.  for a discussion on divorce in this context. . See Bradney, Religions, Rights and Laws, pp. – for an overview of how personal law in the mainstream legal system coped with minority faith concerns. See Pearl and Menski, Muslim Family Law, p.  for a brief discussion on the type of secularity the UK upholds. . Bradney, Religions, Rights and Laws, p. . . As per the Motor Cycle Crash Helmets (Religious Exemption) Act ; see Pearl and Menski, Muslim Family Law, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Such as the Islamic Shari‘a Council; see Yilmaz, ‘e Question of Incorporation of Muslim Personal Law into the English Law and Law as Chameleon’, pp. –. . Pearl and Menski, Muslim Family Law, p. . . e impetus for this solution was proposed in a paper by Ahmad omson of the Association of Muslim Lawyers, with some slight amendments here by the author. See omson, ‘Incorporating Muslim Personal Law into UK, Domestic Law’. . Pearl and Menski, Muslim Family Law, p. . . A course that the Canadian authorities decided to experiment with, in , also within the context of arbitration law. . For a recent report commissioned by the Home Office on the subject of religious discrimination in general, see Hepple, Coussey and Choudhury, Equality: A New Framework. . is may be a mistake on the side of the British courts, particularly with regard to Jews, but this is the law as it stands: see Mandla v. Dowell Lee .





. For more on this, see Hepple, Coussey and Choudhary, Equality: A New Framework, pp. –. . Vertovec and Peach, ‘Introduction: Islam in Europe and the Politics of Religion and Community’, p. ; Vertovec, ‘Islamophobia and Muslim Recognition in Britain’, p. . . Hepple, Coussey and Choudhury, Equality: A New Framework, pp. –. . Ibid., p. . . Vertovec and Peach, ‘Introduction: Islam in Europe and the Politics of Religion and Community’, p. . . Ferrari and Bradney, Islam and European Legal Systems, p. . . See Hepple, Coussey and Choudhury, Equality: A New Framework, pp. – for a more detailed discussion on the HRA. Also Ferrari and Bradney, Islam and European Legal Systems, p. , who states ‘the new Human Rights Act seems destined to change the traditional position’. . Directive //EC; see Hepple, Coussey and Choudhury, Equality: A New Framework, p. . . For more on the situation of Muslims in Britain aer  September, see Institute, Open Society, e Situation of Muslims in the UK. . Lords, Equality Bill [HL]. . It should be noted, however, that such obstacles have been overcome by the courts when trying to ascertain whether an organisation can be described as a charitable foundation. . Hansard, Lords Hansard Text for  June . . is is not completely true, as certain legal procedures necessarily, directly and positively exclude Muslims at present, but these cases are extremely few in theory and rare in practice. One example might be the requirement that the monarch be a follower of the Anglican Church. . Hepple, Coussey and Choudhury, Equality: A New Framework, p. . . Winter, British Muslim Identity: Past, Problems, Prospects, p. . . Ibid., p. . . See Allen, ‘What is Islamophobia?’ for the most up-to-date reference on this phenomenon in Europe and the UK. . Yilmaz, ‘e Challenge of Post-Modern Legality and Muslim Legal Pluralism in England’, p. . . Except perhaps for immigrant communities to Wales, who might find Welsh a more useful language to integrate with. . Malik, ‘Blunkett Has Kicked Us in the Teeth’. . A former president of the ‘Young Muslims’, Q-News  August , cited in Gilliat-Ray, ‘Multiculturalism and Identity: eir Relationship for British Muslims’, p. . Chapter  . Vertovec and Peach, ‘Introduction: Islam in Europe and the Politics of Religion and Community’, p. . . Allen, ‘Endemically European or a European Epidemic? Islamophobia in a post / Europe’, p. . . Pearl and Menski, Muslim Family Law, p. . . Glavanis, Discrimination on the Grounds of Religion or Belief: An Overview of the Current Debate. . Ibid. . Pearl and Menski, Muslim Family Law, p. . . Pinto, A New Jewish Identity for post- Europe.



  

. Winter, British Muslim Identity: Past, Problems, Prospects, p. . . I am very thankful to Dr ‘Umar Faruq ‘Abd-Allah for his comments and helpful discussions relating to this chapter, without which I suspect it would have been significantly poorer. . Allen, ‘Endemically European or a European Epidemic? Islamophobia in a post / Europe’, p. . . Human Rights Watch (HRW), A Certain Lack of Sympathy. . e ECHR is a court that exists parallel to the EU system, encompassing both EU and non-EU states. . Human Rights Watch (HRW), A Certain Lack of Empathy. . Fetzer and Soper, Muslims and the State in Britain, France and Germany, p. , citing Faye as an example of such scholars. . Cesari, ‘Modernisation of Islam or Islamisation of Modernity? Muslim Minorities in Europe and the Issue of Pluralism’, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Bowen, Why the French Don’t Like Headscarves: Islam, the State, and Public Space, p. . . In Germany, for example. Fetzer and Soper note the frustration associated with dealing with a religious community that has no single pope or archbishop (see Fetzer and Soper, Muslims and the State in Britain, France and Germany, pp. –). . Winter, British Muslim Identity: Past, Problems, Prospects, p. . . Ibid., p. . . Taylor, cited in Allievi, ‘Relations and Negotiations: Issues and Debates’, p. . . Murad, Tradition or Extradition? . Winter, British Muslim Identity: Past, Problems, Prospects, p. . is is admittedly a very brief consideration of the discussion at hand. . Bulliet, e Case for Islamo-Christian Civilization, –. . Allievi, ‘Relations and Negotiations: Issues and Debates’, p. . . Marechal, ‘Modalities of Islamic Instruction’, p. . . Ferrari, ‘e Legal Dimension’ shows a number of initiatives which are already in place at the member state level and do not warrant interference at the EU level. . Bielefeldt, ‘Political Secularism and European Islam: A Challenge to Muslims and NonMuslims’, p. . . Fetzer and Soper, Muslims and the State in Britain, France and Germany, p. . . Evidence for the Turkish example in Germany can be found ibid., pp. –. . ‘Abd-Allah, Personal communication citing Jackson. . ‘When the scent of God’s name emanates from the West, the sick man of the East will get well.’ Shaykh Muhammad ̣ ibn al-Habīb ̣ al-Darqāwī. . Fetzer and Soper, Muslims and the State in Britain, France and Germany, p. . . Ibid., p. . . ‘Abd-Allah gives a very insightful discussion of the inter-relationship between Islam and culture in the American context in Personal communication.

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Al-‘Alwani, Taha Jabir. Living in a Secularist Country. . http://www.islamonline.net/fatwa/english/FatwaDisplay.asp? hFatwaID= (visited on //). — Muslim Participation in the Political Scene of the USA. . http://islamonline.org/completesearch/english/FatwaDisplay.asp? hFatwaID= (visited on //). Al-Ghumari, ‘Abdul-‘Aziz ibn Muhammad ibn As-Siddiq Al-Hasan. e Ruling in Residing in the Lands of the Unbelievers and Proclaiming its Compulsoriness in some Situations. . http://www. lamppostproductions.org/articles/abdullahali/MattersofHijrah. doc (visited on //). Ali, Abdullah Hamid. Is a Caliph or Sultan Required For the Enforcement of the Islamic Determined Punishments (Hudood)? . http://www.lamppostproductions.org/articles/abdullahali/ MattersofHijrah.doc (visited on //). Altikriti, Anas Osama. European Council for Fatwa and Research: First Collection of Fatwas. . http://www.ecfr.org/. Annan, Kofi. Secretary-General Says Re-Establishing Trust Among Peoples of Different Faiths, Cultures Must Be of Highest Priority. . http://www.un.org/News/Press/docs// hr.doc.htm (visited on //). Bin Bayyah, Abdullah. Muslims Living in Non-Muslim Lands. . http://www.zaytuna.org/specials/muslims_living_in_non_ muslim_lands.html (visited on //). Boas, Roger. e Muslim Expulsion from Spain. . http://www. freewebs.com/qalam/muslimexpulsion_boase.htm (visited on //). Borchardt, Klaus-Dieter. e ABC of Community Law. Brussels: European Commission . http://ec.europa.eu/publications/ booklets/eu_documentation//txt_en.pdfsearch= eABCofCommunityLaw. Bradney, Antony. Legal Aspects of Islamic Integration in Europe. . http://euro-islam.info/PDFs/Bradney.pdf (visited on // ). British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC). Greek Mosque Plans Cause Friction. . http://news.bbc.co.uk//hi/world/europe/ .stm (visited on //). — Mosque Signals Muslims Return to Spain. . http://news.bbc. co.uk/go/pr/fr/-//hi/world/europe/.stm (visited on //).





Buijs, Frank J. and Jan Rath. Muslims in Europe: e State of Research (An essay prepared for the Sage Foundation). . http://users. fmg.uva.nl/jrath/downloads/@RSFEuropeanResearchonIslam andMuslims.pdf (visited on //). Charter. e Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union. . http://europa.eu.int/comm/employment_social/fundamen tal_rights/fundam/fundamri_en.htm (visited on //). Diamantopoulou, Anna. e Erosion of Civil Liberties in the EU? . http://europa.eu.int/comm/employment_social/fundamental_ rights/pdf/events/adspeech__.pdf (visited on // ). EQUAL. Community Initiative EQUAL. . http:// europa.eu.int/ scadplus/leg/en/cha/c.htm (visited on //). Europa. Combating Discrimination: Introduction. . http://europa. eu.int/scadplus/leg/en/lvb/l.htm (visited on //). — Future of e European Union: the European Convention. . http://europa.eu.int/futurum/comm/documents/brochure_en. pdf (visited on //). European Commission. Action Programme to Combat Discrimination (–). . http://europa.eu.int/scadplus/leg/en/lvb/ l.htm (visited on //). European Council for Fatwā and Research (EFCR). Can a Muslim Reside Permanently in a Non-Muslim Country? . http:// www.islamonline.net/fatwa/english/FatwaDisplay.asp? hFatwaID= (visited on //). — Elections in non-Muslim Countries: Role of Muslims. . http://www.islamonline.net/fatwa/english/FatwaDisplay.asp? hFatwaID= (visited on //). European Council for Fatwā Research (ECFR). Purchasing Houses with Usurious Loans in the West. . http://www.islamonline. net/fatwa/english/FatwaDisplay.asp?hFatwaID= (visited on //). European Parliament (EP). Parliament Resolution on Racism ( October ). . http://europa.eu.int/scadplus/leg/en/cha/ cb.htm (visited on //). European Union Monitoring Centre (EUMC). Reports on AntiIslamic Reactions within the European Union aer the Attacks on the USA. . http://eumc.eu.int/eumc/index.php?fuseaction= content.dsp_cat_content&catid=adebb&contentid= fdda (visited on //).



  

European Union. e Charter of Fundamental Rights. . http://db. consilium.eu.int/DF/intro.asp?lang=en (visited on //). Glavanis, Pandeli M. Discrimination on the Grounds of Religion or Belief: An Overview of the Current Debate. . www.enareu.org/en/events/regdisc/Pandeli\Glavanis.pdf (visited on //). Group of Muis (GOM). Fiqh of Muslim Minorities: Necessity or Innovation? . http://www.islamonline.net/fatwa/english/ FatwaDisplay.asp?hFatwaID= (visited on //). Haddad, Gibril Fouad. Ibn Taymiyya. . http://www.abc.se/ ∼m/n/itay_e.html (visited on //). — Validity of Ijtihad. . http://www.abc.se/~m/n/vi_e.html (visited on //). Hansard. Lords Hansard Text for  June . . http://www. publications.parliament.uk/pa/ld/ldhansrd/vo/ text/–.htm (visited on //). Human Rights Watch (HRW). A Certain Lack of Empathy. . http://hrw.org/english/docs////turkey.htm (visited on //). — Headscarf Ban Violates Religious Freedom. . http:// hrw.org/english/docs////france.htm (visited on //). Islam and Muslims in Europe: France. . http://www.euro-islam. info/pages/france.html (visited on //). Islamic Society of Britain (ISB). e Need for the Islamic Society of Britain? http://www.isb.org.uk/pages/need_for_isb.asp (visited on //). Karic, Enes. Debate: Islam in Europe. . http://www.muslimlawyers.net/research/index.php?aktion=show&number= (visited on //). — Transcript of Interview with Abdal Hakim Murad by Dr Enes Karic. . http://www.masud.co.uk/ISLAM/ahm/karic.htm (visited on //). Keller, Nuh Ha Mim. Fiqh for Minorities. . http://www.masud. co.uk/ISLAM/nuh/fiqh.htm (visited on //). — Which of the Four Orthodox Madhhabs Has the Most Developed Fiqh for Muslims Living as Minorities? http://www.masud.co.uk/ ISLAM/nuh/fiqh.htm. Legislation. e Legislative Observatory (on anti-discrimination). . http://wwwdb.europarl.eu.int/oeil/oeil_ViewDNL. ProcViewCTX?lang=&procid=&HighlighType=& Highlight_Text=discrimination (visited on //).





Lords, United Kingdom House of. Equality Bill [HL]. London: e Stationery Office Limited . http://www.publications. parliament.uk/pa/ld/ldbills//.htm. MacShane, Denis. Europe Must Embrace Islam Too. http://observer. guardian.co.uk/islam/story/„,.html. Mazrui, Ali. Pretender to Universalism: Western Culture in the Globalising Age. . http://www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/ people/features/world_lectures/mazrui_lect.shtml (visited on //). MCB. Islam in the British Isles: Some Key Dates and Events. . http://www.mcb.org.uk/scrd.html (visited on //). — MCB, Direct: Muslim Statistics. . http://www.mcb.org.uk/ mcbdirect/statistics.php (visited on //). Modood, Tariq. Multiculturalism, Muslims and the British State. . http://www.theamericanmuslim.org/may_comments.php? id=____C (visited on //). Murad, Abdal Hakim. A Brief Biography of Marmaduke Pickthall. . http://www.masud.co.uk/ISLAM/bmh/BMM-AHMpickthall\_bio.htm (visited on //). — British Muslim Heritage: A Series of Articles Highlighting Britain’s Rich Indigenous Islamic Tradition. . http://www.masud.co.uk/ ISLAM/bmh/bmh.htm (visited on //). — From Drury Lane to Mecca. . http://www.masud.co.uk/ ISLAM/ahm/churchward.htm (visited on //). — Islamic Spirituality: e Forgotten Revolution. . http://www. masud.co.uk/ISLAM/ahm/fgtnrevo.htm (visited on //). — Muslim Loyalty and Belonging: Some Reflections on the Psychosocial Background. . http://www.masud.co.uk/ ISLAM/ahm/loyalty.htm (visited on //). — Muslims and the European Right. . http://homepage. ntlworld.com/masud/ISLAM/ahm/right.htm (visited on // ). — New Madrasa to Open in Spain. . http://www.alzawiya.com/ spain_madrassa.htm (visited on //). — e Sheikh’s Passing oughts. . http://www.masud.co.uk/ ISLAM/bmh/BMH-AQ_passing_thoughts.htm (visited on / /). — Tradition or Extradition? . http://www.themodernreligion. com/world/extradition.html (visited on //). — Understanding the Four Madhhabs. . http://www.masud. co.uk/ISLAM/ahm/newmadhh.htm (visited on //).



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Murad, Abdal Hakim. Ward the Pirate. . http://www.masud. co.uk./ISLAM/ahm/ward.htm (visited on //). Office for National Statistics (ONS). Table S: Ethnic Group by Religion. . http://www.statistics.gov.uk/downloads/ census/S_E&W.pdf (visited on //). Ramadan, Tariq. A Bridge across Fear: An Interview with Tariq Ramadan. . http://www.opendemocracy.net/debates/article–,–.jsp (visited on //). — European Identity. . http://europa.eu.int/comm/cdp/ working-paper/european\_identity\_en.pdf (visited on // ). Rosser-Owen, Daoud. An Essay on Redhouse’s Pamphlet on the Caliphate (part ). . http://www.brinkster.com/mmil/ redhouse.htm (visited on //). — Historical Essay on Muslim Britain (part ). . http://www. brinkster.com/mmil/muslim_britain.htm (visited on // ). — e History of Islam in the British Isles: An Overview. . http://members.tripod.com/~british_muslims_assn/history_of_ islam_in_the_bi.html (visited on //). Rosser-Owen, Isla. Muslims of London: A Brief Historical Review. . http://www.masud.co.uk/ISLAM/bmh/BMH-IROhistorical\_overview.htm (visited on //). Sardar, Ziauddin. Where are my Muslim Brethren? . http://www.newstatesman.co.uk/.htm (visited on //). omson, Ahmad. Muslims in Europe: Religious Freedom in a Secular Society. . http://www.aml.org.uk/journal/./ omson - MuslimsinEurope.pdf (visited on //). Toggenburg, Gabriel. A Rough Orientation rough a Delicate Relationship: e European Union’s Endeavours for [Its] Minorities. . http://eiop.or.at/eiop/texte/–,.htm (visited on //). United Nation Development Programme (UNDP). Putting Tolerance First. . http://www.undp.bg/en/documents/un_newsletter/ vol_spec_edition/PuttingToleranceFirst.htm (visited on // ). Woolls, Daniel. Spain Opens First Mosque in  Years. . http://www.heraldtribune.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article (visited on //).



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Newspaper Articles Alam, Fareena. ‘How War Has Brought Hope to British Muslims’. In: Observer (). http://www.guardian.co.uk/race/story/ ,,,.html. Ashley, Jackie. ‘New Leader, New Extremists, New Struggles’. In: Guardian (). http://politics.guardian.co.uk/interviews/ story/,,,.html. Bin Bayyah, Abdullah. ‘e Broad Cloak of Islam (Interview with Abdullah Bin Bayyah)’. In: Q-News  (). Burke, Greg. ‘Defender of the Faith’. In: Time Europe . (). Guardian. ‘French Civil Servant Loses Headscarf Case’. In: Guardian (). http://www.guardian.co.uk/worldlatest/story/,, -,.html. — ‘From Scholarship, Sailors and Sects to the Mills and the Mosques’. In: Guardian (). http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk_news/ story/,,,.html. — ‘Liberal Voice of Italy Savages “Jew-Hating” le’. In: Guardian (). http://www.buzzle.com/editorials/---.asp. Hellyer, H. A. ‘Minority Jurisprudence’. In: Muslim News (). — ‘e New Europe’. In: Q-News  (May ). Machsane, Denis. ‘Europe Must Embrace Islam Too’. In: Observer . (). Malik, Shahid. ‘Blunkett Has Kicked Us in the Teeth’. In: Guardian Newspaper Online (). http://www.society.guardian.co.uk/ raceequality/comment/,,,.html. Mansoor, Sarfraz. ‘You’re Muslim – You’ll Never be English’. In: Guardian Newspaper Online (). http://www.guardian.co.uk/ parents/story/,,,.html. Modood, Tariq and Colin Buchanan. ‘Should the Church of England Be Disestablished?’ In: Guardian Newspaper Online (). http://www.guardian.co.uk/debate/article/,,,.html. Tremlett, Giles. ‘Spain Being “Taken Back to Moorish Times” ’. In: Guardian ( July ). http://www.guardian.co.uk/spain/ article/,,,.html. Yaqub, Shagua. ‘e Broad Cloak of Islam (Interview with Abdullah Bin Bayyah)’. In: Q-News  (Dec. ). Correspondence Al-‘Alwani, Taha Jabir. Prolegomena to the Fiqh of Minorities. Provided by the Louay al-Haffar of the Office of the Fiqh Council of No.  via email. .



  

— Answers to Queries. Personal correspondence, forwarded by Louay Al-Haffar of the Fiqh Council of North America. . ‘Abd-Allah, ‘Umar Faruq. Personal communication. June . Gago-Filori, Anabela. Personal communication. (Anabela GagoFilori was, at the time of writing, a Member of the Cabinet of European Commissioner Vitorino.) . Osman, Djogic. Private correspondence with Djogic Osman, the Mui of Slovenia. . Pasic, Ahmed. Private correspondence with Ahmed Pasic, the president of the Islamic community in Jesenice. . Sheikh, Aziz. Private correspondence with Aziz Sheikh, head of research division at the Muslim Council of Britain. . Siddiqui, Abdur-Rashid. Answers to questions. Sent on  March . Unpublished Allen, Christopher. ‘What is Islamophobia?’ Paper delivered at the April meeting of the Muslims in Britain Research Network. . Caeiro, Alexandre. ‘e European Council for Fatwā and Research’. Paper presented at the Fourth Mediterranean Social and Political Research Meeting, Florence and Montecatini, Terme – March, : archived online. . http://www.iue.it/RSCAS/ RestrictedPapers/conmedfree/Caeiro.pdf. Ceric, Mustafa. ‘Keynote Speech’. AMSS (UK)  Annual Conference Paper. . Hellyer, H. A. ‘A Minority within a Minority: Muslim Europeans’. Paper delivered at the ‘Citizenship and Discrimination in Europe’ conference held at the University of Warwick. . — ‘Radicalisation, Public Policy and Clarifications to be Made’. Paper delivered at the ‘Seeds of Contempt’ conference held at the South African Institute of International Affairs. . omson, Ahmad. ‘Incorporating Muslim Personal Law into UK, Domestic Law’. . Yilmaz, Ihsan. ‘Micro Mujtahids and Implementation of Fiqh-AlAqalliyat’. AMSS (UK)  Annual Conference Paper. .

Glossary

ahl al-sunnah lit. ‘people of the following’. Refers to the Sunnī community among the Muslims. al-ahkām ̣ al- sul ̣ tāniyyah ̣ lit. ‘the rulings of governance’. ‘ālim pl. ‘ulamā’, lit. ‘a learned person’. Usually refers to a specialist in Sacred Law. amānah lit. ‘amnesty’ or ‘trust’; refers to an agreement between two parties. ‘aqīdah sometimes translated as ‘theology’, but perhaps best rendered as ‘articles of faith’. arkān al-islām lit. ‘the pillars of Islam’; refers to the five obligatory duties upon all Muslims (the testification of faith, prayer, fasting, alms-giving and pilgrimage). dār al-‘ahd lit. ‘abode of the covenant’; a territory where peace has been negotiated. dār al-kufr lit. ‘abode of covering up (the truth)’; a territory where the inhabitants have rejected Islam. dār al-harb ̣ cf. dār al-kufr, lit. ‘abode of war’; territory that is in conflict with the Muslim community. dār al-islām lit. ‘abode of Islam’; a territory where Muslims are free to practise Islam. dīn lit. ‘life-transaction’; refers to the Islamic way of life, usually translated as ‘religion’. fatwā lit. ‘verdict’ or ‘finding’; an opinion by a jurist on a point of law.



  

fiqh lit. ‘understanding’; refers to legal interpretations by qualified experts ( fuqaha’). fiqh al-aqalliyāt lit. ‘understanding for minorities’; refers to the project designed to weave together legal interpretations specific to minority situations. fiqh al-nawāzil lit. ‘extraordinary understanding’; refers to legal interpretations designed to come to terms with unusual situations. furū‘ pl. of far‘, lit. ‘branch’; legal issues deduced from primary textual sources. Hanafī ̣ a Muslim who follows the school of law based on the methodology of Imām Abū Hanīfah. ̣ Hanbalī ̣ a Muslim who follows the school of law based on the methodology of Imām Ahmad bin Hanbal. hijāb ̣ lit. ‘covering’ or ‘barrier’; in this context, refers to the head-covering worn by Muslim women. Hijrah lit. ‘flight’; in Muslim history, refers to the migration of the Prophet from Makka to Madinah. is event marks the beginning of the Muslim calendar. ijtihād lit. ‘intellectual struggle’; the process by which rules and regulations are derived from the original sources of the Qur’ān, the practice of the Prophet, scholarly consensus and legal analogies. jihād al-kalimah lit. ‘the struggle of the word’. khalīfah lit. ‘successor’. madhhab pl. madhāhib; the intellectual inheritance emanating from the principles and methodology of qualified scholarship, usually rendered as ‘school of law’. Mālikī a Muslim who follows the school of law based on the methodology of Imām Malik. maqā sid ̣ al-sharī‘ah overall objectives of the sharī‘ah. mujtahid lit. ‘one who perseveres in intellectual struggle’; in jurisprudence, refers to a jurist who is qualified to perform ijtihād. qādị̄ a judge of Islamic law with binding authority. Qur’ān lit. ‘recitation’; in Islam, the uncreated word of Allāh Most High, revealed to the Prophet, which is inimitable, whose recitation is an act of worship. Shāfi‘ī a Muslim who follows the school of law based on the methodology of Imām al-Shāfi‘ī. shahādah (also shahādatayn) lit. ‘testification’; usually refers to the testification of Islam, which includes the affirmation of monotheism and the prophethood of Muhammad. ̣ sharī‘ah lit. ‘path’; refers to the legal and moral code of conduct of Islam. Shaykh lit. ‘old man’; usually refers to a man of learning. Shaykh al-Islām lit. ‘the old man of Islam’; a title given to particularly well respected muīs. shi‘ī lit. ‘partisan’; the name of an adherent to one of the main sects of Islam.





shi‘ār al-islām lit. ‘the manifestations of Islam’. sul ̣ h ̣ lit. ‘reconciliation’ or ‘absence of conflict’. sunnī lit. ‘a follower of the practice’; the name of the major community of Muslims, derived from Ahl al-Sunnah (the people of the practice of the Prophet). taqlīd lit. ‘emulation’; refers to the emulation of qualified scholars (mujtahids) in matters of law; this is compulsory for the laity, whereas a mujthahid must follow his own ijtihād. ‘ulamā’ see ‘alim. u sūl, ̣ pl. of a sḷ lit. ‘foundations’; refers to the foundational principles of legal interpretation. wilāyat al-‘ulamā’ lit. ‘guardianship of the scholars’.

Index

Abbasid Empire,  ‘Abd al-Hamīd ̣ , Sul ̣ tān, ̣  ‘Abduh, Muhammed, ̣  ‘Abdullah al-Ma’mūn,  Abyssinia, , ,  Abū Hanīfah, ̣ ,  Abū Yūsūf,  al-‘Adawī,  adhān, ,  affaire du foulard see headscarf ahkām ̣ al- sul ̣ tāniyyah, ̣  Ahl al-Sunnah,  Ahl al-‘I smah ̣ wa-’l-‘Adāla,  Ahmad ̣ bin Hanbal, ̣  Amish, ,  Andalusia, , , , , , ,  ‘aqīdah, ,  Arabs, , , , , , , , –, , –, , , ,  arkān al-islām,  ‘a sabiyyah, ̣  Ash‘arīyyah, 

al-‘Asqalānī, Ibn Hajar, ̣ ,  Atharī,  Austria, , ,  Austro-Hungarian Empire,  Council of Shura,  Grand Mui,  Muslim population,  Averroes see Ibn Rushd al-Awzā‘ī,  Bardot, Brigitte,  Barelwi,  BDBJ,  Belgium, , , ,  Muslims, recognition,  Bennabi,  BMF,  BNP,  Bosnia, , , ,  Bosniaks,  British Empire,  Burma,  Bustami Khir, 





al-Bustī,  Byzantine Empire, ,  Catholicism, , , , , , , , , , ,  China, , , , , , ,  Chirac, Jacques, ,  Christianity, , , , , , –, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,  and Islam,  Church–State dis-establishment,  Spanish strategy,  state neutrality, – United Kingdom, – Churchill, Winston,  citizenship, , –,  and integration,  citizenship–civic virtue, , , , , ,  communism,  concordat, ,  Connetti,  converts UK population,  Copts,  CRE, , ,  Crick Report,  cultural diversity, , ,  Cyprus, , , , , , ,  Muslim population,  Czech Republic,  dār al-‘ahd, ,  dār al-amān,  ‘dār al-harb’, ̣  dār al-harb, ̣ , , ,  dār al-Hudnah,  dār al-islām, , , , , , , , ,  dār al-kufr, , , , 

dār al-Mu‘āhadah,  dār al-shahādah,  dār al-Sul ̣ h,̣  al-Dāwūdī, ,  Dāwūdī-Bohras,  de London, Master,  Denmark, , –,  Progressive Party,  Deobandi,  Diamantopoulou, Anna,  dīn,  discrimination legislation, – Duke Witold,  East Africa,  EC, , ,  EC Treaty, –,  Article ,  Article , ,  Article ,  ECFR, , , , , , , ,  ECHR,  ECJ, , , –,  Costa/ENEL,  Keck and Mithouard,  Semeraro,  SPUC v. Grogan,  Torfaen,  Van Gend and Loos,  ECR,  EEC, , ,  Egypt, , ,  Copts,  ENEL,  EP,  EQUAL,  Estonia,  ethnicisation of spirituality,  EU, , –, , , , , , , , , , , , –, , , , , , , , –, , , –, , –, –,

 , , , , , , , , –, , –, , , , ,  Charter of Fundamental Rights, – citizenship,  Copenhagen European Council,  doctrine of legal primacy,  expansion, ,  founding treaty,  history of,  last court of appeal,  legal organisation, – Market Integration Model,  religious discrimination law and policy, – treaty incorporation,  EU Monitoring Centre,  EU Treaty European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms,  EUMC, , ,  Euratom,  European Commission, , –,  European Convention on Human Rights,  European Council, , –, , ,  Charter of Fundamental Rights,  European identity in contradistinction to Islam, , ,  European Parliament, –,  Fadari,  fatwā,  Finland, ,  FIOE,  fiqh, , , , , , , , –,



–, , , , , , , , – and freedom of worship, – and minorities, –, – and Muslim integration, – fiqh al-aqalliyāt, , , , ,  fiqh al-nawāzil, , ,  in Europe, – in non-Muslim lands, – modern perspectives, – sharī‘ah and,  Shāfi‘ī,  United Kingdom incorporation of, – Fortuyn, Pim,  foulard see headscarf France, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,  National Front,  Poitiers,  Union of French Islamic Organisations,  FSU,  fuqahā’,  furū‘,  Germany, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,  Deutsche Alternative Party,  Jews in,  Nazis, , , ,  Turks in,  ghettoisation, , , , ,  Gibb, H. A. R.,  Gibraltar,  Golden Horde, the,  Granada,  Greece, , , , ,  Metropolitan Damaskinos,  Mui,  Muslim population,  Turks in, 





halāl, ̣ , ,  Hanafī, ̣ , , , –, , ,  Hanbalī, ̣ , ,  al-Haythamī, ̣ Ibn Hajar, ̣  headscarf, –, , , ,  hijāb, ̣ –, , , , , , , , ; see also headscarf hijrah, – Ibn al-‘Arabī’s categories,  Hindus, , ,  Hizb ut-Tahrir, ,  HRA,  HRW,  hudud, ̣  Hungary Muslim population,  Hutterites,  Iberia, , , ,  Muslims in the Middle Ages,  Ibn al-‘Arabī,  Ibn al-‘Arabī, Muhyā ̣ al-Dīn,  Ibn al-Jawzī,  Ibn Jubayr,  Ibn Khaldūn, , ,  Ibn Rushd, ,  Ibn Sina,  Ibn Sinān, Asad ibn al-Furāt,  Ibn Taymiyyah,  Ibn Hajar ̣ al-Haythamī, ̣  Ibn Hazm, ̣  Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr al-Qurtubī,  Ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhāb,  Ibādī,̣  identity politics, , ,  ihsān, ̣ ,  ijāzah,  ijtihād,  imām,  imān, ,  India, , , , , , , , , , ,  Inquisition, the, , , ,  integralisation, –, 

integration, – and citizenship,  and Muslims, , , – obstacles to,  Iran, , ,  Ireland, , , , , ,  ISB,  Islam and culture,  as ‘Other’, , , , , –, –, , , ,  conversion,  post-medieval movements, – pre-modern contact with Europe, – recognition,  schools of law,  schools of thought using other,  Islamophobia, , –, –, , , –,  attacks on Muslims,  Ismā‘īlī,  Israel,  Italy, , , ,  Northern League,  Union of Islamic Communities,  Jabal al-Tāriq, ̣  Jamā‘at al-Tablīgh,  Jews and Judaism, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , –, , , ,  Jewish Board of Deputies, ,  jihād al-kalimah,  al-Juwaynī, ,  al-Kamal ibn al-Humam,  Khalīfah,  al-Khawarizimī, Muhammad ̣ bin Mūsā,  Khawārij, , , 

 King Charles I,  King George VI,  King James,  King John I,  King Offa of Mercia,  King Roger II,  King Roger I,  King Sigismund III,  Kosova,  Kosovo,  laïcité, ,  Latvia,  Le Pen, Jean-Marie,  Lebanon,  Lithuania, , , , , , ,  Luxembourg, , ,  Maan, Bashir,  madhhab, ,  Madina,  constitution of,  covenant of,  al-Maghribī, ‘Abd al-Rahmān ̣ bin Hārūn,  Mālikī, , , –, , , ,  Malta,  al-Man sūr, ̣ Sharīf Ahmad, ̣  al-maqā sid ̣ al-sharī‘ah,  maqā sid ̣ al-sharī‘ah,  Marshall, T. H.,  Masud, Muhammad Khalid,  Maturīdīyyah,  al-Māwardī, ,  Mawlawi, Faysal,  al-Mazari, ,  MCB, , , ,  MEP,  minorities, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , –, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 



Muslims as, – United Kingdom, in the,  minority fiqh see fiqh Mitterand, Madame,  Mongolia,  Mongols,  Monnet, Jean,  Morocco, ,  MP, ,  muī,  mujtahid, , , ,  multiculturalism, –, – liberal,  and Muslims,  multiculturalist debate, – multiculturalist school,  multiculturalist theories, application of,  neo-assimilationists,  pluralistic integrationists,  muqallid,  Muslim Parliament,  Muslims converts, , , , , , , ,  defined by,  early British Muslims, – history in the UK, – institutionalisation,  integralisation, – integration, , –, , ,  living in non-Muslim lands, – mysticism,  religious convictions,  religious discrimination, – representation, , –, , ,  school funding, , ,  social contract, ,  voting, ,  myth of return, , , , , 





nation state advent of, – Nelson, John,  Netherlands, the, –, , ,  Equal Opportunities Committee,  Fortuyn, Pim,  North Africa,  Oman,  Oostlander, Arie,  Ottoman,  Empire, , , ,  Millet system, , , , , , ,  state, , ,  treaties,  Palestine,  Parekh Report,  Pasha, Dr Aziz,  Persia,  Phillips, Melanie,  Phillips, Trevor,  Pickthall, Marmaduke, ,  Poland, , , , ,  population EU Muslims, ,  Shi‘ī,  UK Muslims,  Portugal, , ,  Poulter, Sebastian,  Prodi, Romano, , ,  Prophet Muhammad, ̣ , , –, , , , , , , , , ,  qādī,̣  al-Qaradāwī, ̣ Yūsūf,  Quakers,  Queen Elizabeth,  Quilliam, William,  al-Qurtubī,  Qur’ān, , , , , , 

English translation,  translation,  al-Ramlī,  Rawi, Ahmed,  Reconquista, the, , , ,  religious discrimination EU law and policy, –, – European Commission, actions, – European Council, actions, – European Parliament, actions, – Muslims, – religious diversity, – Renaissance, , ,  Ridā, ̣ Rashīd,  Romania Muslim population,  Ross, Alexander,  al-Rūmī, Suhayb ̣ bin Sinān,  Runnymede Trust, , ,  salaf,  Salafī, ,  salafism,  Sanneh, Lamin,  al-Sarakhsī, , ,  Satanic Verses, e,  Sa‘ad ibn Waqqās,  Schuman, Robert,  secularism, – September th , , , , , , , , , , , , ,  shahādah,  Sharīf of Morocco,  sharī‘ah, , , , , , –, , , , , , , , , ,  fiqh and,  sharī‘ah courts,  al-Shaybānī, ,  shi‘ār al-islām, , 

 Shi‘ī, , , , ,  Shu‘ayb Abū Madyan,  Shāfi‘ī, , , ,  Sicily, , , , ,  Siddiqi, Kalim,  Sikhs, , , , , – Sinān bin Mālik,  Slovakia,  Slovenia, , ,  Social Citizenship Model,  South America,  Spain, , , , , , , , , , , –,  Church–State strategy,  Islamic Commission of,  Muslim mysticism,  Muslim representation,  see also Inquisition, the, Sul ̣ h,̣  Sunnī, , , , , , , ,  Swan Report,  Sweden, , , , ,  New Democratic Party,  Syria, , ,  al-Tabarī, ̣  tafwīd,̣  complete,  partial,  tahkīm, ̣  taqlīd,  tarīqah, ̣ ,  Tatars, , , ,  TEU, ,  Article ,  omson, Ahmad,  treaties Amsterdam Treaty,  EEC Treaty, Article ,  Euratom Treaty,  Treaties of Rome,  Treaty of Amsterdam, ,  Treaty of European Union,  Treaty of Maastricht, 



Treaty of Nice,  Treaty of the European Coal and Steel Community,  treaties, European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms,  Tunisia, ,  Turkey, ,  Constantinople,  headscarf ban,  al- turuq ̣ al- sūfiyyah, ̣  UKI.M.,  ‘ulamā’, ,  ‘Umar bin al-Kha t tāb, ̣ ̣  ummah,  UMO, ,  United Kingdom, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , –, –, –, , –, , ,  ‘Church–State’ debate, – application of EU treaties,  Association of Muslim Lawyers, ,  attacks on Muslims,  blasphemy law, – British National Party, ,  Cardiff,  effect of colonisation on immigration,  end of the empire, – European Convention on Human Rights,  ‘faith’-school funding,  Honeyford Affair,  House of Lords, , , , , ,  Baroness Falkner,  Baroness Uddin, ,  Commission for Racial Equality v. Precision Engineering Ltd, 





Lord Ahmad,  Lord Ahmed, ,  Lord Bhatia,  Lord Headley,  Lord Patel,  Lord Stanley,  Mandla v. Dowell Lee,  Nyazi v. Rymans Ltd,  R v. Lemmon,  Safouane and Bouterfas,  Sardar v. McDonald’s,  Select Committee on Religious Offences,  House of Windsor,  Human Rights Act of ,  importance of religion for Muslims,  Islamic education,  Islamic Foundation,  Islamophobia, – legal reforms, – Liverpool, ,  London attacks, ,  MCB,  minorities,  Muslim media,  Muslim organisations,  Muslim political gains,  Muslim population,  Muslim sailors, – Muslim travel abroad,  Muslims fiqh incorporation, – history of, – integration,  legal status,  organisations, – recent history, –

number of mosques,  Prince of Wales,  Public Order Act of ,  Race Relations Act of ,  Race Relations Act of , ,  Regent’s Park Central Mosque,  Religious Discrimination and Remedies Bill of ,  Runnymede Trust, , ,  Rushdie Affair,  sharī‘ah courts,  Union of Muslim Organisations,  United Nations,  Secretary General,  UOIF,  u sūl, ̣  ‘Uthmān bin ‘Affān,  Vitorino,  Wahhābī,  al-Wahrānī, ,  wājibat al-dīn, ,  al-walā’,  al-Wansharīsī,  Ward, Captain John,  West Africa,  Williamson, William, ,  wilāyat al-faqīh,  wilāyat al-‘ulamā’, –,  Yemen, ,  Zāhirī, ̣ ,  Zaydī, 