A. Rashied Omar
How do we account for the elusive nature of peace in many
Muslim-majority societies? I argue that the complex justice
struggles in which many Muslim social movements have been
engaged in the past century have led to the erosion of the
core Islamic value of compassion and, consequently, the loss
of peace.
It might be expedient to begin by defining peace.
A number of contending definitions exist in the literature.
Those definitions of peace can be plotted on a horizontal
graph, with one axis called negative peace and the other
positive peace. Negative peace has also been described as
a minimalist definition of peace and positive peace as a
maximalist definition. Negative peace is simply the absence
of war.
In contrast to this conventional definition, positive
peace stresses recognition of an indirect and insidious form
of violence, called structural violence. Less dramatic than
overt violence, it often works slowly, eroding human values
and eventually human lives. According to Norwegian peace
scholar and activist Johan Galtung, violence can be built
into the very structure of the socio-political, economic
and cultural institutions of a society. It denies people
important rights such as economic opportunity, social and
political equality, and human dignity. When children die
of starvation or malnutrition, a kind of violence is taking
place. Similarly, when human beings suffer from preventable
diseases, when they are denied a decent education, housing,
and opportunity to raise a family, or to participate in their
own governance, a kind of violence is taking place.
The Islamic
concept of peace is closer to that of positive peace and
traverses between two core values in Islam: compassion and
justice. This is underscored by the strong emphasis the most
primary source of Islamic guidance, the Qur’an, places on
the principles of compassion and justice. Both of these ethical
precepts are employed numerous times in the Qur’an. The word
rahma (compassion, mercy and tenderness) and its various
derivatives occur 326 times. According to Imam Raghib al-Isfahani
in his famous lexicography, Mufradat al-Qur’an, the term
rahma means “softening of the heart towards one who deserves
our mercy and induces us to do good to him/her.” It is interesting
to note that the womb of mother is also called rahm. A mother
is always soft and gentle towards her children (raqiq); she
showers love and affection on them.
The Qur’an uses two terms
to refer to justice: qist and ’adl. These are used interchangeably
and basically mean “to give someone his or her full portion.” In
fact the Qur’an regards “actions for justice as being the
closest thing to piety” (5:6). The Qur’anic verses pertaining
to justice are often specific about those areas of social
affairs wherein lapses are most likely to occur, such as
the trusts and legacies of orphans and adopted children (4:3;
33:5), matrimonial relations (4:3; 49:9), contractual and
business dealings (2:282), judicial matters (5:42; 4:56),
inter-religious relations (60:8), economic relations (11:65)
and dealing with one’s adversaries (5:8). This strong emphasis
on justice has led some Muslim jurists, like the renowned
Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyyah (d.1350 C.E.), to argue that justice
is the raison d’etre of the establishment of religion: “God
has sent His Messengers and revealed His Books so that people
may establish qist (justice), upon which the heavens and
the earth stand. And when the signs of justice appear in
any manner, then that is a reflection of the shari’ah and
the religion of God.” In short, the Islamic concept of peace
is integrally related to the struggle for justice. It resonates
with the following exhortation from Pope Paul VI, “If you
want peace, work for justice.”
As important as justice may
be in the comprehensive matrix of Islamic values, it is certainly
not the pre- eminent one. This is underscored by the fact
that al-Rahman, or the Compassionate One, is undoubtedly
the most important attribute of God in Islam. It is the equivalent
of the Christian preeminent understanding of God as Love.
One of the most well-known Qur’anic verses with which Muslims
commence any action is Bismillahir rahmanir rahim, which
is translated as, “In the name of God, Most Compassionate,
and Dispenser of Grace.” Compassion is so central to God’s
existence that it embraces all that exists in the universe
(40:7). The Qur’an describes Muhammad’s mission as rahmatan
lil ‘alamin, a source of compassion and mercy to the world
(21:107). It is this understanding of Islam that has allowed
Muslim mystics, Sufis, to develop the doctrine of what is
called sulh-i-kul — that is, peace with all, which means
no violence and no aggressiveness.
I have thus far argued
for an Islamic concept of peace that navigates between two
core values in Islam, namely justice and compassion. I have
also argued that whenever these two core values of Islam
come into tension with each other, compassion trumps justice.
In my view, therefore, a struggle for justice (jihad) that
claims Islamic legitimacy has to locate itself within an
ethos of compassion. Without compassion, struggles for justice
invariably end up mimicking the oppressive orders against
which they revolt. Ironically, it is precisely here that
the crisis of contemporary Muslims is located and consequently
where the challenge of a credible Islamic peace resides.
How does one balance between the two critical concepts of
justice and compassion in constructing a viable project of
Muslim peace service?
The numerous struggles for social
justice — the
anti-colonial wars of the first half of the 20th century,
the watershed Afghan war against the Soviet invasion in the
mid-1980s, and the continuing struggles against secular elites
in many parts of the world with Muslim majority populations — have
inevitably led justice to be the key hermeneutical key through
which Muslims view Islam. This obsession with justice has
in turn led to an erosion of the central Islamic concept
of compassion. The kind of wanton violence into which many
Muslim struggles for justice have degenerated can in large
measure be attributed to this phenomenon. How then can the
central Islamic concept of compassion be recovered and reinvigorated
such that it once again becomes part of the fabric of contemporary
Muslim culture? This is indeed the critical challenge facing
contemporary Muslims.
A. Rashied Omar is coordinator of the
institute’s Program in Religion, Conflict and Peacebuilding.
He is an imam from
South Africa.
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Colloquy > Issue 7, Spring 2005