i

RETHINKING
POLITICAL ISLAM
Q
ii
 iii

RETHINKING
POLITICAL
ISLAM
Q Edited by
S HADI  H AMID
W ILLIAM M C C ANTS

1
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1
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 v

C ON T E N T S

q
Acknowledgments  ix
List of Contributors  xi

Introduction  1
Shadi Hamid and William McCants

Countries
1. Egypt  17
Steven Brooke
2. Tunisia  32
Monica Marks
3. Morocco  54
Avi Max Spiegel
4. Syria  73
Raphaël Lef èvre

v
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vi Contents

5. Yemen  88
Stacey Philbrick Yadav
6. Libya  101
Omar Ashour
7. Saudi Arabia  118
Toby Matthiesen
8. Kuwait  132
Courtney Freer
9. Jordan  149
David Siddhartha Patel
10. Pakistan  163
Matthew Nelson
11. Southeast Asia  178
Joseph Chinyong Liow

Engaging Islamists
12. Islamism and U.S. Foreign Policy  203
Peter Mandaville
13. Politics or Piety? Why the Muslim Brotherhood Engages in Social
Service Provision  218
Amr Darrag, Freedom and Justice Party Leader, in Conversation with
Steven Brooke
14. Ennahda from Within: Islamists or “Muslim Democrats”?   230
Sayida Ounissi, Ennahda Member of the Tunisian Parliament,
in Conversation with Monica Marks
15. Is the Crackdown on the Muslim Brotherhood Pushing the Group
Toward Violence?  244
Ammar Fayed, Muslim Brotherhood
 vi

Contents vii

16. The Islamist Experience in Pakistan  262

Asif Luqman Qazi, Jamaat-e-Islami
17. More than the Muslim Brotherhood: The Problem of Hamas and
Jordan’s Islamic Movement  274
Nael al-Masalha, of the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood in Conversation with
Shadi Hamid

Religion, Ideology, and Organization

18. How Much Do Organizational Structures Matter?  285
Jacob Olidort in Conversation with Raphaël Lef èvre
19. How “Religious” Are ISIS Fighters? The Relationship Between
Religious Literacy and Religious Motivation  295
Andrew Lebovich
20. Do Islamists Have an Intellectual Deficit?  300
Ovamir Anjum

Notes  309
Index  363
vi
 ix

AC K NOW L E D G M E N T S

q
This book has been more than two years in the making. We had little
idea of how it would all come out in the end, which is what made this
such a fascinating learning experience for the both of us. There has long
been a need for a deeper understanding of the groups that constitute
the complex and sometimes contradictory world of political Islam. For
better and worse, that need has grown only more urgent.
“Islamism,” “radical Islam,” Islam, and Muslims are all things that
are under constant debate in Western capitals. The divisions over how
to understand the role of Islam in politics have intensified. Islam—​as
a religion, as a political force, and as a perceived civilizational threat—​
will be at the center of an ongoing struggle of identity that draws in not
just Muslim-​majority countries, but also the United States and Europe.
We hope that this book can serve as a starting point for constructive
discussion, covering twelve countries and addressing the question of how
the rise of the Islamic State and the demise of the Arab Spring have forced
a “rethinking” of political Islam—​or not. We also hope that this volume
can be more than that, taking readers inside a world that can often seem
quite foreign and remote. We looked at these twelve countries side-​by-​
side, in an attempt to make sense of the bigger picture. We discussed
and debated with the diverse group of authors who contributed to this

ix
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x Acknowledgments

book, and we heard what Islamists themselves had to say about their own
experiences.
This project began in January 2015, and we were fortunate enough
to have so many willing participants who believed in and contributed
to it. We are grateful to Martin Indyk, Bruce Jones, and Tamara Wittes
for nurturing such a supportive research environment and helping
make the Brookings Institution a center of scholarship on Islamism
and Islam’s role in politics more broadly. We also deeply appreciate the
Henry Luce Foundation for their generous financial support of this
project. This book simply wouldn’t exist without them.
Finally, we want to thank our whip-​smart contributors and the
incredible Brookings team that provided research and logistical support
over the course of the more than two years, including Anne Peckham,
Elizabeth Pearce, Sumaya Almajdoub, Kristine Anderson, and Rashid
Dar. We are indebted to our wonderful editor David McBride, who was
incredibly patient and supportive every step of the way. Thanks are also
due to Kathleen Weaver and the rest of the team at Oxford University
Press for making the process as painless as possible.
 xi

C ON T R I BU TOR S

q
OVAMIR ANJUM is the Imam Khattab Endowed Chair of Islamic
Studies in the Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies at the
University of Toledo. His work focuses on the nexus of theology, eth-
ics, politics, and law in classical and medieval Islam. His interests are
united by a common theoretical focus on epistemology or views of
intellect and reason in various domains of Islamic thought, including
politics (siyasa), law (fiqh), theology (kalam), Islamic philosophy (fal-
safa), and spirituality (Sufism, mysticism, and asceticism). He brings
his historical studies to bear on issues in contemporary Islamic thought
and movements and is currently researching developments in Islamic
political thought in the wake of the Arab uprisings of 2011. He obtained
his PhD in Islamic Intellectual History in the Department of History,
University of Wisconsin-​Madison; his master’s in social sciences from
the University of Chicago; and his master’s in computer science from
the University of Wisconsin-​Madison. He is the author of Politics, Law
and Community in Islamic Thought: The Taymiyyan Moment (Cambridge
University Press, 2012).
OMAR ASHOUR is a senior lecturer in Security Studies and
Middle East Politics in the Institute of Arab and Islamic Studies, at
the University of Exeter. He is an associate fellow at Chatham House

xi
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xii Contributors

in London and the author of The De-​Radicalization of Jihadists:

Transforming Armed Islamist Movements, the first book on transi-
tions from armed to unarmed activism by several Islamist organiza-
tions in North Africa. Among his other publications is a Brookings
study entitled “Collusion to Collision: Islamist-​Military Relations in
Egypt.” Dr. Ashour specializes in asymmetric armed conflict, Islamist
movements, insurgency and counterinsurgency, terrorism studies,
and democratization (with a main focus on civil-​military relations
and security sector reform). He previously served as a senior consult-
ant for the United Nations on security sector reform, counter-​terror-
ism, and de-​radicalization issues.
STEVEN BROOKE is an assistant professor of political science at the
University of Louisville and an associate fellow at the Harvard Kennedy
School’s Middle East Initiative. His research interests include Islamist
movements, authoritarianism and democratization, and spatial and
experimental research methods. He received his PhD from the
University of Texas at Austin in 2015.
AMR DARRAG served as Egypt’s Minister of Planning and International
Cooperation during Mohamed Morsi’s presidency before the mili-
tary coup in 2013. In 2014, he established and is currently Chairman
of the Egyptian Institute for Political and Strategic Studies, a think
tank based in Istanbul, Turkey. He was elected as Secretary General
of the constituent assembly tasked with drafting the 2012 Egyptian
Constitution. He is a founding member and was previously a mem-
ber of the Executive Board of the Freedom and Justice Party (FJP). He
served as chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee and chairman
of the Development and Planning Committee of the FJP. Before that,
he was elected Secretary General of the FJP in Giza Governorate, 2011.
He was originally a professor of civil engineering at Cairo University
and he received his PhD from Purdue University. He was elected as
Vice-​Chairman of Cairo University Staff Association, 1999–2008. He
was also partner and top executive of several international and Egyptian
engineering consultancy firms.
AMMAR FAYED is a Muslim Brotherhood youth activist and Istanbul-​
based researcher, focusing on Islamist movements, sociology of religion,
 xi

Contributors xiii

and Middle East affairs. He served as special secretary to President

Mohamed Morsi. He contributed to the book The Salafi Phenomenon in
the Arab World: Organizational Pluralism and Politics (Al Jazeera Center
for Studies). Fayed is a MA candidate in the Department of Political
Science and International Relations at Istanbul Aydin University.
COURTNEY FREER is a research officer at the LSE Kuwait
Programme. She holds a PhD in politics from Oxford University,
where her thesis focused on revising rentier state theory by exam-
ining the sociopolitical role played by Muslim Brotherhood
affiliates in Kuwait, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates. She
received a BA from Princeton University in Near East Studies and an
MA in Middle Eastern Studies from the George Washington University’s
Elliott School of International Affairs. Courtney previously worked as a
research assistant at the Brookings Doha Center and as a researcher at
the U.S.-​Saudi Arabian Business Council.
SHADI HAMID is a senior fellow in the Project on U.S. Relations
with the Islamic World at the Brookings Institution and the author of
Islamic Exceptionalism: How the Struggle over Islam Is Reshaping the World
(St. Martin’s Press). His previous book, Temptations of Power: Islamists
and Illiberal Democracy in a New Middle East (Oxford University Press),
was named a Foreign Affairs Best Book of 2014. Hamid served as direc-
tor of research at the Brookings Doha Center until January 2014. Prior
to joining Brookings, he was director of research at the Project on
Middle East Democracy (POMED) and a Hewlett Fellow at Stanford
University’s Center on Democracy, Development, and the Rule of Law.
Hamid is a contributing writer for The Atlantic and the vice chair of
POMED’s board of directors.
ANDREW LEBOVICH is a visiting fellow with the European Council
on Foreign Relations focusing on North Africa and the Sahel. He is
currently a doctoral student in African History at Columbia University
in New York, where he studies religion, politics, and society in North
Africa, the Sahara, and the Sahel. He previously worked for the Open
Society Initiative in West Africa (OSIWA) as a Sahel consultant advis-
ing the organization on political, social, and security issues in West
Africa and the Sahel, and for the New America Foundation. He has
xvi

xiv Contributors

conducted field research in Mali, Niger, and Senegal, and has lived in
France, Morocco, and Senegal. Andrew graduated magna cum laude
from Dartmouth College with a BA in history in 2009. His writing has
appeared in Foreign Policy, The Atlantic, and the Combating Terrorism
Center Sentinel, among other outlets.
RAPHAËL LEFÈVRE is a research fellow at New College, Oxford
University, where he specializes in Sunni Islamist movements in
Lebanon and Syria. He is also a nonresident research fellow at the
Beirut center of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace,
where he has published several reports on the political and security
situation in the Middle East. He is also the author of a book on Syria
entitled Ashes of Hama: The Muslim Brotherhood in Syria (2013), named
a Best Book on the Middle East in 2013 by Foreign Policy magazine,
as well as numerous book chapters and journal articles. He graduated
with a PhD in politics and international relations from the University
of Cambridge in 2016.

JOSEPH CHINYONG LIOW is dean and professor of comparative

and international politics at the S. Rajaratnam School of International
Studies, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. He held
the inaugural Lee Kuan Yew Chair in Southeast Asia Studies at the
Brookings Institution, Washington, DC, where he was also a senior
fellow in the Foreign Policy Program. He is the author of Piety and
Politics: Islamism in Contemporary Malaysia (Oxford University Press,
2009) and Religion and Nationalism in Southeast Asia (Cambridge
University Press, 2016).

PETER MANDAVILLE is a professor of international affairs in

the Schar School of Policy and Government and co-director of the
Ali Vural Ak Center for Global Islamic Studies, both at George Mason
University. He is the author of several books, including Islam and
Politics and Transnational Muslim Politics: Reimagining the Umma. He
is a nonresident senior fellow at the Brookings Institution and a visiting
senior fellow at the Pew Research Center. His government experience
includes serving as a member of the U.S. State Department’s Policy
Planning Staff (2011–​2012) and as a senior adviser in the Secretary of
 xv

Contributors xv

State’s Office of Religion and Global Affairs (2015–​2016). His research

has been supported by the Carnegie Corporation of New York, the
John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, and the Henry Luce
Foundation, among others.
MONICA MARKS is a Rhodes Scholar and PhD candidate at Oxford
University, specializing in comparative politics and Islamist move-
ments. A  doctoral researcher with the WAFAW program in Aix-​en-​
Provence, France, and visiting fellow at the European Council on
Foreign Relations, she began her studies of Arabic in Tunisia in 2007,
and lived for four years in Tunisia following its revolution. She is cur-
rently based in Turkey, where she was a Fulbright Scholar in 2009–​2010
and later a visiting professor at Istanbul’s Bogazici University. Marks
conducts research in Arabic, French, and Turkish.
NAEL ​AL-MASALHA is a longtime figure in the Jordanian Muslim
Brotherhood and the director of the Al-​Essra Hospital in Amman.
He was previously a member of the Muslim Brotherhood’s Executive
Bureau.
TOBY MATTHIESEN is a senior research fellow in the interna-
tional relations of the Middle East at St. Antony’s College, University
of Oxford. Matthiesen was previously a research fellow at Pembroke
College, Cambridge, and at the London School of Economics
and Political Science. He is the author of Sectarian Gulf:  Bahrain,
Saudi Arabia, and the Arab Spring That Wasn’t (Stanford University
Press, 2013)  and The Other Saudis:  Shiism, Dissent and Sectarianism
(Cambridge University Press, 2015). His current research focuses
on the Sunni-​Shia divide and the legacies of the Cold War in the
Middle East.
WILLIAM McCANTS is a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution,
where he directs the Project on U.S. Relations with the Islamic World.
He is also an adjunct faculty member at Johns Hopkins University and
has held various government and think-​tank positions related to Islam,
the Middle East, and terrorism. From 2009 to 2011, McCants served as
a U.S. State Department senior adviser for countering violent extrem-
ism. He has also held positions as program manager of the Minerva
xvi

xvi Contributors

Initiative for the Department of Defense; an analyst at the Institute

for Defense Analyses, the Center for Naval Analyses, and SAIC; and a
fellow at West Point’s Combating Terrorism Center. He is the author
of The ISIS Apocalypse: The History, Strategy, and Doomsday Vision of
the Islamic State (St. Martin’s Press) and Founding Gods, Inventing
Nations: Conquest and Culture Myths from Antiquity to Islam (Princeton
University Press).
MATTHEW NELSON is a reader in politics at SOAS (University
of London). Before moving to SOAS, he taught at UC Santa Cruz,
Bates College, and Yale University. He has held several residential
fellowships—​as the Wolfensohn Family Member at the Institute for
Advanced Study in Princeton, as a fellow at the Woodrow Wilson
International Center for Scholars in Washington, DC, and as a fellow
at the Center for Interdisciplinary Research in Germany. Nelson has
also served as an elected board member for the American Institute of
Pakistan Studies, the South Asia Council of the Association for Asian
Studies, and the Religion and Politics Section of the American Political
Science Association. His research focuses on the politics of South Asia
with a special emphasis on non-elite politics, Islam, and democracy.
He completed his PhD in political science at Columbia University in
2002.
JACOB OLIDORT is currently Special Advisor on Middle East Policy
and Country Director for Syria at the Office of the Secretary of Defense
for Policy in the U.S. Department of Defense. From 2015–​2016, he was
a Soref Fellow at the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, where
his work covered jihadism and Islamic political movements. He received
his PhD in Near Eastern Studies from Princeton University, where his
research focused on the intersection of Islamic law, theology and mod-
ern politics. His publications include “Inside the Caliphate’s Classroom:
Textbooks, Guidance Literature and Indoctrination Methods of
the Islamic State” (Washington Institute, 2016) and “The Politics of
‘Quietist’ Salafism” (Brookings Institution, 2015). He regularly pres-
ents on jihadism to the U.S. government, including the Departments
of State, Defense and Homeland Security, and his commentary has
appeared in the New York Times, the Washington Post, and Foreign Affairs,
among other outlets. A former Fulbright scholar (UAE), he taught at the
 xvi

Contributors xvii

Elliott School of International Affairs at the George Washington

University and is a term member in the Council on Foreign Relations.
SAYIDA OUNISSI is a member of the Tunisian Parliament (Ennahda
Party) and serves as member of the Finance Committee. She has the
distinction of being the youngest female to be appointed the head of
an electoral list in Tunisia and has been recognized by international
news media for her work to promote women’s participation in Tunisian
government. Largely educated in Europe, she has actively worked to
promote wider recognition of the contribution of young Muslims and
Arabs in European societies through a partnership with Euro-​Med.
Ounissi holds a master’s degree from the Institute of Economic and
Social Development Studies at the Sorbonne in Paris.
DAVID SIDDHARTHA PATEL is a senior research fellow at the
Crown Center for Middle East Studies at Brandeis University, where
he focuses on social order, religious authority, and identity in the con-
temporary Middle East. He conducted independent field research in
post-​Saddam Iraq on the role of mosques and clerical networks in gen-
erating order after state collapse, and recently completed a book tenta-
tively titled Order Out of Chaos: Islam, Information, and Social Order in
Iraq. Among his recent publications are briefs on “ISIS in Iraq: What
We Get Wrong and Why 2015 is Not 2007 Redux” and “Repartitioning
the Sykes-​Picot Middle East? Debunking Three Myths.” He has also
conducted comparative research on the transnational spread of protests
during the so-​called Arab Spring and on changes in the support base
of Islamist movements. Before joining the Crown Center, Patel was
an assistant professor of political science at Cornell University. Patel
received his BA from Duke University in economics and political sci-
ence and his PhD from Stanford University in political science.
ASIF LUQMAN QAZI is a senior leader within Jamaat-e-Islami, one
of Pakistan’s most influential Islamist organizations. He is also the
Executive Director of the Islamabad-​based Center for Discussions and
Solutions, which works to foster dialogue on issues of strategic impor-
tance to Pakistan. Born in Peshawar, Pakistan, Qazi received master’s
degrees in Economics from both International Islamic University
Islamabad and Boston University. He also attended Baruch College in
xvi

xviii Contributors

New York City for further graduate study. After completing his stud-
ies, he returned to Pakistan to assist his father, the late Qazi Hussain
Ahmad, who was head of Jamaat-​e-​Islami and a member of parliament.
He remained Special Assistant to Ahmad for ten years. He has also
served as Deputy Director for Foreign Affairs in Jamaat-​e-​Islami
and has been elected to both the central and provincial shura (consul-
tative councils) of the organization. He was previously lecturer in eco-
nomics at International Islamic University Islamabad.
AVI MAX SPIEGEL is an associate professor of political science and
international relations at the University of San Diego and the author
of Young Islam: The New Politics of Religion in Morocco and the Arab
World (Princeton University Press, 2015)—​which was the winner of a
Washington Post Abu Aardvark Middle East Book Award and the Religion
and International Relations Book Award from the International Studies
Association. Spiegel earned a doctorate from Oxford University, a mas-
ter’s degree from Harvard University, and a law degree from NYU. He
has been a research fellow at the Brookings Institution, the Ali Pachachi
Scholar of the Modern Middle East at Oxford University, a Frederick
Sheldon Fellow at Harvard University, and a Fulbright Scholar and
Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco.
STACEY PHILBRICK YADAV is an associate professor of politi-
cal science and chair of the International Relations and Middle East
Studies programs at Hobart and William Smith Colleges in Geneva,
New York. She is the author of Islamists and the State: Legitimacy and
Institutions in Yemen and Lebanon (2013) and a number of articles on
Islamist-​leftist relations, women’s partisan and post-partisan activism,
and sectarian politics in Yemen. A regular contributor to Middle East
Report, Foreign Policy, and the Washington Post’s Monkey Cage, she also
serves in executive board positions for the American Institute of Yemeni
Studies and the Yemen Peace Project.
 1

Introduction
Shadi Hamid and William McCants

After decades speculating on what Islamists would do when they

came to power, analysts, academics—and Islamists themselves—finally
have an answer. And it is confusing. In the hinterland between Syria
and Iraq, the Islamic State (popularly known by its old acronym ISIS)
established a government by brute force, implementing an extreme
interpretation of Islamic law. In Egypt, the Muslim Brotherhood pre-
sided over a controversial year in power, alienating most of the coun-
try’s major political forces before being overthrown in a military coup
in 2013.
The “twin shocks” of the Egyptian coup and the rise of the Islamic
State have challenged conventional wisdom on political Islam, leading
some academics and policymakers, as well as Islamists, to rethink basic
assumptions about Islamist movements. The questions raised by the
twin shocks were particularly pointed for mainstream Islamists,1 who
followed the rules of the electoral game but failed to see their agendas
implemented as quickly or comprehensively as the Islamic State’s. Was
the lesson to push for more comprehensive change? Was it to make
further compromises and concessions? Or was it to abandon electoral
politics altogether?
Rethinking Political Islam is the first book of its kind to systematically
assess the evolution of mainstream Islamist groups since the Arab upris-
ings, covering 12 different countries. In each of these cases, contribu-
tors considered how Muslim Brotherhood and Brotherhood-​inspired
movements have grappled with fundamental challenges: gradual versus
revolutionary approaches to change, the use of tactical or situational
violence, attitudes toward the nation-​state, and how ideology and

1
2

2 Rethinking Political Islam

political variables interact. Unlike most other projects on political

Islam, this book includes three of the most important country cases
outside the Middle East and North Africa—​Indonesia, Malaysia, and
Pakistan—​which, importantly, are also at least somewhat democratic,
allowing readers to consider a greater diversity of Islamist experiences.
It also includes an analysis of U.S. policy toward Islamist parties by a
leading scholar of political Islam who served in a senior post within the
Obama administration.
Over the course of two years, contributors read each other’s drafts,
exchanged ideas, and adapted their conclusions accordingly. The entire
process unfolded online and invited commentary from other academ-
ics, lay readers, and members of the Islamist movements under study.
The final chapters incorporate the fruits of these exchanges, which
helped to tease out differences and similarities across the cases and
clarify the authors’ thinking about their individual countries. In this
spirit of intellectual exchange and debate, we have included selected
responses of Islamist activists and leaders, as they engaged with and
responded to the various contributions. Readers will, for one of the first
times in book form, have an opportunity to see experts on Islamism
and Islamists themselves debating the future of political Islam.

Why Do Mainstream Islamists Matter?

The Islamic State quickly became the most well-​known Islamist organiza-
tion in the world and the subject of near-​constant media coverage. This
is understandable, and for policymakers, the group did in fact demand
urgent attention. But while groups like the Islamic State—​because vio-
lence and terror are part of who they are—​will always matter more from
a counterterrorism perspective, the vast majority of Islamists are not vio-
lent nor do they advocate the wholesale change of government institu-
tions. Moreover, as important as the Islamic State has become, it isn’t—​and
doesn’t claim to be—​a mass movement. Its “vanguard” model is one where
a relatively small group of ideologically committed individuals can have
an outsized effect. We saw this in dramatic fashion during the Islamic
State’s capture of Mosul, Iraq’s second-​largest city, in June 2014. A first
wave of around 1,000 fighters was able to overtake an Iraqi force of some
30,000 strong. At the same time, because the Islamic State seeks—​and,
 3

Introduction 3

from its perspective, only needs—​the support of a tiny, committed core, its
broader cultural, intellectual, and theological influence will naturally have
its limitations.
Where states enjoy some degree of legitimacy, control all of their ter-
ritory, and enjoy a monopoly over the use of force, the Islamic State can
only gain limited ground. What tens (or hundreds) of millions of Arabs
and Muslims think and do matters, and in many of these countries,
they are affected more by mainstream Islamist movements—​which ask
for their votes, provide social services, and affect how ordinary Muslims
understand their religion—​than by groups like the Islamic State, which
are opposed by the overwhelming majority of Muslims.
Even where Islamist parties appear to be severely weakened, as in
Egypt, it would be a mistake to presume this outcome is permanent.
In the previous decade, Islamist movements appeared not just weak-
ened but also decimated in countries like Tunisia and Syria, but the
openings of the Arab Spring returned them to prominence. Perhaps
more important, the movements under consideration are, in some
cases, going through unprecedented internal change and are rethink-
ing what it means to be Islamist in an increasingly unstable, chaotic
region.

What Does It Mean to Rethink Political Islam?

Islamists are not likely to become liberals; otherwise, what would be
the point? Islamists are Islamists for a reason, after all, and being reli-
giously oriented is one of the sources of their popular support. Some
opponents of Islamists criticize them on the grounds that they haven’t
rethought the foundational premises of Islamism, but this seems to us
like an unrealistic and even problematic standard. At the same time, it
is important to not mistake tinkering around the margins and minor
shifts in tactics as reflecting deeper ideological changes.
What we find in many cases is that Islamists are broaching con-
troversial and difficult topics that are at the core of what it means to
be an Islamist movement, including the relationship between party
(hizb) and movement (haraka), internal organizational structures (the
tanzim), the nature of the state, the use of violence, and the centrality
of elections to the Islamist project.
4

4 Rethinking Political Islam

This rethinking can be for both better and worse, depending on one’s
perspective. Islamists learning lessons doesn’t necessarily mean learn-
ing the lessons that Western observers think they should learn. For
example, Brotherhood youth in Egypt have moved in a more revolu-
tionary direction, with some being open to what they term “defensive
violence,” which is at odds with their organization’s decades-​long com-
mitment to peaceful activism. This constitutes rethinking, although it’s
probably not the kind that Western policymakers and observers may
have had in mind.
A number of themes come up repeatedly throughout these chap-
ters, which are based on extensive fieldwork in the countries in ques-
tion. Among mainstream Islamist groups, there is a shared sense,
despite the sheer diversity of cases, that the Arab uprisings and their
aftermath have presented an unusually difficult set of challenges.
There is little choice but to adapt in order to succeed or merely even
survive. For the first time, Tunisia’s Ennahda party has explicitly dis-
tanced itself from the “Islamist” label; Jordan’s Muslim Brotherhood
has splintered, with prominent leaders, including two former general
guides, forming a competitor organization; the Muslim Brotherhood
in Egypt has experienced the worst internal divisions of its 90-​year
history.
In the pre–​Arab Spring era, there was only so much to think about.
Among mainstream Islamists, a consensus had emerged that the way
to succeed was fairly straightforward: bide your time, do your best to
build social influence within regime constraints, make small but signifi-
cant inroads in parliament, wait for a democratic opening, and then,
when it came, fill the political vacuum. There was no need to spend too
much time pondering questions of governance since the prospect of
governance seemed so remote. The Arab uprisings first challenged this
“model,” then rendered it moot.
To use contributor Monica Marks’s term, the partification of Islamist
movements has been one of the most intriguing and important features
of Islamist evolution since the 1990s. For decades, Western analysts and
policymakers alike encouraged mainstream Islamists to embrace the
democratic process, de-​emphasize their religious origins, form “normal”
political parties, and practice parliamentary politics. This was a natural
fit for these groups, which weren’t strong on theology but knew how
 5

Introduction 5

to get out the vote, and get out the vote they did. This prioritization of
elections—​some within the various Islamist movements have called it
an “obsession”—​offered an easy out from difficult and potentially divi-
sive debates around the nature and purpose of the nation-​state. These
were debates that became all the more relevant when Islamists in Egypt,
Tunisia, Morocco, and Yemen all had opportunities to govern during
and after the Arab Spring.
Having faced any number of setbacks, Islamist parties in each of
the 12 countries have had to contend with basic questions of how
change actually happens within constraining state structures and a
regional and international environment in which major actors are
suspicious of Islamists, particularly when they begin to approach the
levers of state power. How Islamists react, naturally, has a lot to do
with how the various revolutions, stalled revolutions, or non-​revolu-
tions evolved in each particular case. For example, were rulers top-
pled, therefore inviting a vacuum of leadership that well-​organized
Islamist groups could then fill? Did state structures collapse after
revolution, thereby provoking outbreaks of violent conflict or civil
war? Where rulers were not toppled, how did Islamist parties bal-
ance nominal loyalty to existing regimes with popular demands for
political change?

Ruler Toppled but Not Followed by Armed Conflict

Our contributors agreed that the course of the revolutions since 2011
and the policies adopted by ruling regimes—​old and new—​constrained
the choices made by mainstream Islamists. We can see this most
plainly in Egypt, where the twin shocks narrowed the space in which
the Brotherhood could contest the state’s power legally without being
labeled as ISIS-like by regime officials and supporters. As Steven
Brooke documents, the state branded the group a terrorist organization
to justify taking over the social services the Brotherhood once offered
to millions of Egyptians. The Brotherhood’s network of institutions
had helped it generate goodwill prior to the revolution, which is why
the government of strongman Abdel Fattah al-​Sissi wanted to ensure
that the movement could not rebuild its base of support. Forced under-
ground and with the near entirety of its leadership in prison, exile, or
hiding, the Brotherhood lost many of its ties to local communities and
6

6 Rethinking Political Islam

moved instead to prioritize the well-​being—​and survival—​of its own

members. The limitations and apparent failures of “legalist” approaches
to providing social services—​where mainstream Islamists seek to com-
plement the state rather than replace it—​have increased the appeal of
more confrontational models that instrumentalize social services to
challenge and even undermine existing states.
For Ennahda, Tunisia’s main Islamist party, the twin shocks
made its leaders defensive, risk averse, and eager to please. Monica
Marks, who has interviewed hundreds of Ennahda leaders and
activists, notes that party members viewed the Egyptian coup as a
cautionary tale of what might happen if they failed to build alliances
or if they moved too aggressively against opponents and old regime
elements. Ennahda also distanced itself from ultraconservative Salafis
after initially trying to persuade them to join the political process.2
Jihadist attacks in the country had raised concerns among voters as
well as the state security apparatus that Ennahda had become too cozy
with the religious right, which led Ennahda to compensate by acqui-
escing to and approving crackdowns on Salafi actors. Having tacked
to the center and mollified at least some of its detractors, Ennahda—
fearing it, too, would find itself victim to a crackdown—was able to
remain in the political game. More important, it helped avert the
breakdown of a fragile democratic transition, one that for a moment
in 2013 seemed close to collapse. The transition would continue and
that—​to many in the party—​took precedence over rallying the base or
winning elections.

Ruler Not Toppled and Not Followed by Armed Revolution

Like Ennahda, Morocco’s Muslim Brotherhood analog, the Justice and

Development Party (PJD), managed to stay in the political game by
placating a still-​dominant monarchy and presenting itself as an alter-
native to Islamist militancy, despite efforts by its opponents to tie it
to the fall of the Brotherhood in Egypt. Avi Spiegel argues that the
PJD’s main Islamist rival, the outlawed Adl Wal Ihsan (Justice and
Spirituality) took care, despite its long-standing opposition to the
monarchy, to limit its ambitions during a tense period of protests in
2011. Despite their different approaches—​the PJD became part of a
democratically elected governing coalition and Al Adl refuses electoral
participation—​they both have moved cautiously and view survival as
 7

Introduction 7

proof of success, given the terrible fortunes of other Islamists across

the region.
In Jordan, the Muslim Brotherhood and its political arm, the Islamic
Action Front, struggled to make inroads despite a wave of anger and
protest at the start of the Arab Spring. Unsatisfied with King Abdullah’s
proposed reforms, the Brotherhood boycotted elections. The move-
ment, long one of the most internally fractious in the region, soon
became consumed by divisions, which the Jordanian regime was able to
exploit. What is often considered to be an ideological divide between so-​
called hawks and doves, argues David Patel, is really at its core an ethnic
divide between Jordanians of Palestinian origin and Transjordanians.
As long-​time Brotherhood figure Nael Masalha writes in his contribu-
tion, the question of the Brotherhood’s ties to its Egyptian counterpart,
as well as Hamas, became a key point of contention, culminating in an
unprecedented split within the organization.
Kuwait’s Islamic Constitutional Movement (ICM) engages in a simi-
lar style of politics, according to Courtney Freer. The group boycotted
elections held in December 2012 and July 2013 after the emir dissolved
parliament and instituted unfavorable election laws. Realizing it had
reached the limit of what it could accomplish from outside parlia-
ment, the ICM returned to electoral life in November 2016, winning
four of the five seats it contested. Despite prioritizing political reform
and anti-corruption, the movement’s leaders have avoided outright
confrontation with the regime and refrained from pushing for radical
change over concerns that Kuwait’s allies, Saudi Arabia and the United
Arab Emirates, would push the emir to outlaw the Brotherhood. Of
more concern to Kuwaiti authorities has been increasing cooperation
between Islamists and liberals within the political opposition.
Meanwhile, Saudi Arabia’s move to proscribe the Brotherhood in the
kingdom and across the region alienated Saudi Islamist activists, who are
generally sympathetic to the organization. Many were critical of the Saudi
king for backing the Egyptian coup. Some saw the elections in Egypt and
Tunisia as a model for democratic reform in the kingdom, which threat-
ened the royal family’s prerogatives. But as Toby Matthiesen writes, the
rising threat of the Islamic State within the kingdom, the simmering unrest
among its Shia population, and the need for Brotherhood allies in Yemen
in the war against the Shia Houthis have led to a degree of rapprochement
between the new king and Brotherhood sympathizers in Saudi Arabia.
8

8 Rethinking Political Islam

Ruler Toppled and Followed by Armed Revolution or Civil War

That the Yemeni Muslim Brotherhood would tie its fortunes to Saudi
Arabia is consistent with the group’s tendency to ally with those who do
not share its ideological commitments. Since the 1990s, the Brotherhood
has participated in a big tent Islamist party, Islah, which also included
tribal figures and Salafis. In the 2000s, Islah joined with a socialist party
and others to oppose President Ali Abdullah Saleh’s government.
As Stacey Philbrick Yadav shows, the Brotherhood’s influence
remained weak in part because its allies often wanted to go in another
direction. In 2014, the group staked its fortunes on a weak coalition
government headed by the new president, Abd-​Rabbu Mansour Hadi,
taking several ministries.3 When the government fell to Houthi insur-
gents in January 2015, the Brotherhood and Islah found themselves
among the primary targets. Because of Islah’s unwillingness to take up
arms, it was unable to stave off Houthi gains in its various strongholds.
As an organization that joined a transitional government and recom-
mitted itself to institutional politics (despite the revolutionary turmoil
around it), Yemen’s Muslim Brotherhood found itself, in a sense, caught
between the worst of both worlds. If the experience of Ennahda demon-
strates the value of allying with competitors, the travails of the Yemeni
Brotherhood shows its limitations.
It is during civil wars—when political order and state structures
collapse—that the organizational resilience of Islamist movements is
most severely tested. Syria, if it can even be considered a single state any
longer, has witnessed the worst humanitarian catastrophe of our time,
with more than 470,000 dead, prompting the single largest refugee
crisis since World War II.
In the midst of civil conflict, where violence quickly became the
main—and sometimes the only—currency of politics, the Syrian
Muslim Brotherhood tried to leverage its organizational capital to
establish and support an affiliated rebel militia, the Shields, only for
the initiative to fail to gain traction on the battlefield amid hundreds of
other competitors. Despite this failure, the Brotherhood remains more
or less intact and has overcome contentious internal debates (including
over the formation of an affiliated party, Wa’ad, and its relationship to
the mother movement). The organization, in part because of its internal
 9

Introduction 9

discipline and hierarchical structure, has staved off a slide toward the
more radical and sectarian rhetoric of its Salafi competitors. The fact
that the organization, despite revolution and violence all around it, has
retained its characteristic caution, though, has been a source of frustra-
tion for younger, more “revolutionary” members.
Libya tells a somewhat different story. There, instead of trying to
establish a loyal military arm, the Libyan Muslim Brotherhood formed
coalitions with armed groups, allowing it to be effective in a context
of civil war while maintaining some degree of distance (and plausible
deniability). Interestingly, the Brotherhood in Libya, due in part to its
nonexistent infrastructure during the decades of Qaddafi’s rule, “lost”
the elections in 2012 and performed poorly in 2014, but was able to
maintain considerable influence because it acted as a coherent bloc in
parliament, whereas non-Islamist alliances fractured.

The Twin Shocks in Asia

The shock of Egyptian president Mohamed Morsi’s downfall

reverberated little in South and Southeast Asia, except primarily as a
talking point among secular parties that wished to tie the Egyptian
Brotherhood’s failure to local Islamist parties. Islamists, to be sure, were
outraged by the coup against their Egyptian counterparts, but it was dif-
ficult to draw too many lessons. In Pakistan, the Islamist party Jamaat-​
e-​Islami has long enjoyed a symbiotic relationship with the army, and
in Malaysia and Indonesia, Islamist participation has, by now, been
“normalized.” The Islamic State’s rise, however, has had more deeply
felt consequences. The group has declared a province in Afghanistan
and Pakistan, which has carried out attacks and offered itself up as a
hard-​line alternative to the Taliban. The Islamic State may declare more
provinces in Bangladesh, the Philippines, and Indonesia, where Joseph
Liow argues its apocalypticism and anti-​Shiism has resonated among
certain segments of the population.

Movement Versus Party

A common challenge faced by Brotherhood-​inspired organizations in

the Middle East and North Africa is the tension that arises between
their movements and their political parties, which are often described
10

10 Rethinking Political Islam

as “arms” or “wings” of the movement. The imperatives of seeking votes

are often not the imperatives of a movement seeking widespread societal
change and even social transformation. A preacher’s extreme sermon
might excite a small core but alienate the masses needed for electoral
success. Conversely, a party leader’s call for moderation to avoid alienat-
ing militaries or monarchies might depress turnout among more hard-
line or conservative supporters.
This dilemma was particularly acute after the Arab uprisings, when
mainstream Islamists had to decide whether and how to contest elec-
tions. Some, like the Egyptian Brotherhood, maintained a blurry
relationship between movement and party (with the latter ultimately
dependent on the former), leading people to blame the movement for
the party’s misfortunes and vice versa. Ennahda is perhaps the most
unique case, with party and movement being one and the same before
transforming into a party and declaring a separation between “religious”
and “political” activities. While such a move was generally welcomed by
Western observers and the international community, it raised a new set
of questions around what it meant to be an Islamist party that was no
longer, in its own telling, “Islamist” but rather “Muslim democratic.”
Moreover, Islamist parties have been successful, in part, because they
are not just parties; they represent or are tied to broader-​based move-
ments that can provide mobilizational capacity, organizational disci-
pline, social service networks, funding for electoral campaigns, and a
broader reach into less politicized sectors of society.
The tension between party and movement has been particularly evi-
dent among Brotherhood branches, which, over time, came to see elec-
tions as the primary mechanism for both social and political change,
even when it came at the cost of traditional core concerns of preaching
and social service provision. Indeed, if there is one finding that emerges
clearly from the country comparisons, it is that Arab Brotherhood
organizations view electoral victory as the definitive measure of success.
That was not always the case. Mainstream Islamists in the Middle
East preferred in the past to focus on gradual social reform and religious
education. Indeed, the founder of the Brotherhood, Hassan al-​Banna,
had a conception of gradualism that would proceed in a progressive
fashion: starting at the individual and moving to the family, the com-
munity, and eventually the government. In practice, many Islamists
 1

Introduction 11

find that adhering to this sequential gradualism becomes difficult when

presented with the temptation of electoral success. As demonstrated by
some of the Islamist responses in this volume, much of the post-coup
reflection by Brotherhood members ponders the tension between hur-
rying back into electoral politics and taking a step back to rebuild their
social base, with a focus on local communities.

How Do Islamists—​and the International

Community—​Measure Islamist Success?
Avi Spiegel, an expert on Morocco’s Islamists, elegantly poses the ques-
tion of what it means for Islamists to “win”:

We love measuring and tracking “democracy,” focusing on winners

and losers, on horse races, victories, and defeats. We study these
things, I suspect, because we are guided by the belief, perhaps even
the zeal, that these outcomes matter—​that the winners of elections
actually win something. Yet, in authoritarian contexts—​even post–​
Arab Spring contexts—​does electoral success translate into success
writ large? 4

The bargain in Morocco has been clear enough. The PJD accepted the
confines of a system in which the monarchy has veto power over all
major decisions. In return, the PJD is allowed to legally exist, partici-
pate, and even enjoy a bit of power. In practice, this means that the
PJD cannot, assuming it wanted to, significantly alter or transform the
country’s politics. Looking forward 5, 10, or 15 years, it is difficult to
envision the PJD accomplishing much more than it already has.
Islamists in Pakistan, as Matthew Nelson writes, provide an
intriguing counterpoint to the Moroccan “model.” It is a counter-
point that few Moroccans—​or Arab Islamists anywhere—​seem very
interested in. Jamaat e-​Islami usually wins only a handful of par-
liamentary seats, yet, as Spiegel argues, it may very well be more
influential than its Moroccan counterpart, in terms of “influencing
judicial appointments, religious tradition, educational mores, and
societal norms writ-​large.” There are other ways of winning besides,
well, winning.
12

12 Rethinking Political Islam

In Southeast Asia, similarly, Islamist parties, while gaining a signifi-

cant share of the vote, have not been able to win outright on the national
level. They have, however, helped spread and normalize “Islamism”
throughout society, with even ostensibly secular parties embracing the
idea that Islam—​and even explicit sharia ordinances—​have an impor-
tant role to play in public life. The lesson here may appear counterin-
tuitive. The worse Islamists do in elections, the less of a threat they pose
to their non-​Islamist competitors, who, in turn, seem to have less of a
problem appropriating Islamist-like positions for their own electoral
purposes.
Of course, the causal relationships become complicated: One of
the reasons that Islamists don’t do as well in South and Southeast Asia
is because they’re less distinctive, since these societies seem to have
coalesced around a relatively uncontroversial conservative “middle.” As
Liow writes in his chapter, “The piecemeal implementation of sharia
by-​laws across Indonesia has not elicited widespread opposition from
local populations.” It’s also likely no accident that Indonesia, Pakistan,
and to a lesser extent Malaysia are more democratic than their Arab
counterparts (with the exception of Tunisia). Democracy empowers
and encourages all parties, Islamist or otherwise, to seek the center,
wherever that may be.
Western policymakers, for their part, have long encouraged Islamist
groups to “normalize” themselves by accepting the rules of the game
(even if these were stacked against them), forming political parties, and
prioritizing electoral politics. They were not necessarily wrong to do so,
but the focus on elections limited the policies they prescribed and the
analytical frames they employed.
How the United States and Europe should respond to the rise of
Islamist parties (or even if they should treat Islamist parties as distinc-
tive in the first place) has been a contentious question since at least the
early 1990s, when the Algerian military aborted the democratic pro-
cess after an Islamist party won a decisive victory at the polls. Peter
Mandaville, one of the few academic experts on political Islam who has
also served in senior positions in the U.S. State Department, gives an
insider’s account into the nuanced and sometimes contradictory atti-
tudes toward Islamists during the Obama administration. He writes
that the U.S. government quickly came to terms with Islamist political
 13

Introduction 13

participation during the Arab Spring. After the Egyptian coup, how-
ever, American officials found it difficult to continue engaging main-
stream Islamists without alienating key regional allies, particularly now
that the anti-​Brotherhood regional bloc had gained the upper hand.
Yet if one of the twin shocks complicated America’s policy toward
Islamist groups, the other—​the rise of the Islamic State—​may provide
an opening. With Arab states seemingly unable to stem terrorist activ-
ity, religion-​based electoral opposition is more easily framed as a non-
violent alternative to violent extremists, thereby helping to delegitimize
the appeal of the Islamic State and its ilk. In any case, Islamists will
almost certainly return to prominence if and when there are political
openings in various countries, and the United States will once again
have to think more seriously about the very questions it has struggled
to answer for nearly three decades.
When we embarked on the creation of this volume, our goal was to,
at a minimum, challenge the conventional wisdom on political Islam
and how to respond to, think about, and engage with movements
that are often viewed with considerable skepticism if not outright sus-
picion and hostility. Our starting assumption is simple enough and
hopefully uncontroversial:  that we—​whoever “we” are—​do not have
to like Islamists, but we do need to understand them, particularly in
light of a rapidly changing social and political context in the Middle
East and Asia.
14
 15

Countries
16
 17

1
QEgypt
Steven Brooke

The July 3, 2013, overthrow of elected president Mohamed Morsi set

off a high-​profile political battle between the Muslim Brotherhood and
Egypt’s new military regime. As part of this battle, the regime also began
to engage in a lower-​profile effort to disrupt and ultimately uproot the
Brotherhood’s vaunted network of nationwide social services.1 This
chapter chronicles the regime’s campaign against the Brotherhood’s
social institutions, in particular schools and medical facilities, and con-
siders what they mean for the future of the world’s oldest and most
influential Islamist movement.
Beyond its effect on the millions of Egyptians who relied on the
Brotherhood’s services to get by, the crackdown highlights the costs
and viability of the Brotherhood’s longstanding accommodation-
ist and legalist approach to existing states. The group has historically
situated its social service provision as complementary to the state and,
ultimately, subservient to it. Yet the legal campaign against these insti-
tutions will potentially drive the Brotherhood to reorient its social
service provision in a more decentralized and exclusivist direction. In
other words, instead of providing social services broadly and above
ground, the group may now be forced to prioritize members and affili-
ates that have been caught up in the crackdown. This can potentially
complicate the Brotherhood’s efforts to maintain connections to broader

17
18

18 Countries

Egyptian society in the short term and puts it in a weaker position when,
if ever, the opportunity arises for the organization to rebuild the support
it has lost.
The dramatic opening and closing of elections as sites of political
contestation has also highlighted Islamist groups’ dilemma of balanc-
ing between the political party, the hizb, and the social movement, the
haraka. Particularly during periods of heightened authoritarianism, the
Egyptian Brotherhood maintained a general separation between these
realms, prompted by both the regime’s legal constraints and the group’s
own reluctance to fully invest in politics while the regime held effective
veto power.2 But cracks in this wall appeared in 2011, as regime con-
straints evaporated and the incentives to attract Egyptians’ support at
the polls increased dramatically. Now, as the Brotherhood reassesses its
missteps during a brief democratic interlude, key leaders have identi-
fied their inability to separate the group’s social and political activities
as a key mistake.

Regime Strategy
A September 2013 court case established the legal basis for the regime to
move against the Muslim Brotherhood’s social service network. In that
ruling (Judgment 2315 of 2013), the Cairo Court for Urgent Matters ruled
that the Brotherhood was a terrorist organization. The court simultane-
ously established a committee to investigate and assess the possibilities for
seizure of the Brotherhood’s physical and financial assets.3 At the end of
December 2013, the committee completed its preliminary investigation
of the Brotherhood’s assets, and the lists of social service organizations
allegedly linked to the Muslim Brotherhood soon leaked to the Egyptian
press. The initial listing included 1,142 individual entities spread across
each of Egypt’s 27 governorates.4 Among the institutions on the list were
both organizations clearly linked to the Muslim Brotherhood and osten-
sibly independent organizations over which the committee judged the
Brotherhood had extensive influence or control. Particularly notable were
certain local branches of the sprawling Islamic organizations Al-Gam’iyya
al-Shar’iyya and Ansar al-​Sunna.5 At around the same time as the list of
community associations appeared, Egyptian newspapers published a list of
87 schools affiliated with the Muslim Brotherhood.6 Both the community
 19

Egypt 19

associations and schools were subject to an immediate asset freeze, further

investigation, and potential confiscation of assets.
As of February 2017, the campaign against “Brotherhood-​affiliated”
community and charity associations was ongoing.7 One indication of
the scope of the campaign appeared in early 2016, when a report in
the state-​owned al-​Ahram tallied the extent of the financial assets the
government had confiscated. While independent confirmation is diffi-
cult, al-​Ahram claimed that the investigative committee had seized 105
schools (with assets valued at approximately $32 million) and 43 hos-
pitals (valued at $12.5 million). This was in addition to extensive assets
recovered from businesses and personal bank accounts, as well as cash
apparently seized during the course of the campaigns.8
The regime’s effort against the Brotherhood is nested within a larger
effort to recorporatize civil society and prevent the emergence of poten-
tially independent centers of activism. For instance, in July of 2014,
the regime floated plans to force all nongovernmental organizations
(NGOs) operating in Egypt to dissolve and reregister with the Ministry
of Social Solidarity within 45 days, although the deadline was later
extended and the level of enforcement remains unclear.9 As one NGO
employee put it, “You register and you survive, but under very difficult
conditions of work.”10 Since then the regime’s attempts to control civil
society have expanded dramatically, targeting individuals, their family
members, and their financial assets, all in an attempt to eliminate spaces
for its opponents to operate.11 For the regime, the goal is to maintain
a baseline level of social provisioning, yet forestall the possibility that
potential opponents of the regime—​Islamist or not—​can leverage their
activity into a political challenge.
It is unclear if the regime can have it both ways. President Anwar
el-​Sadat’s embrace of free market reforms in the 1970s and the onset of
Economic Reform and Structural Adjustment (ERSAP) in the 1990s
have steadily degraded Egypt’s social safety net. And for decades it has
been nonstate providers, including Islamist groups, that have filled the
gap for millions of Egyptians. For instance, in the years before the 2013
military coup, the Brotherhood’s Islamic Medical Association (IMA)
was serving approximately 2 million Egyptians annually.12 One patient’s
complaint following the seizure of IMA facilities captured the frustra-
tion: “The government neither provides us with hospitals suitable for
20

20 Countries

human beings, nor do they allow the hospitals that treat us well to con-
tinue operating!”13 Suddenly shuttering this sprawling network risks
provoking the very unrest that the regime intends to prevent.
On the other hand, allowing this network to continue in its current
form poses apparently unacceptable risks to the regime. For decades,
the Brotherhood’s network of social services has deeply embedded itself
in Egypt’s cities and villages and earned the movement a reservoir of
gratitude, if not outright support. So long as this network continues
to exist, it will serve as a potential site of opposition against Egypt’s
new rulers, a place where Brotherhood activists can build support by
leveraging their resources to help Egyptians cope with their everyday
problems.
To balance their desire to repress the Brotherhood with the neces-
sity of maintaining social stability, Egypt’s rulers are appointing their
own management teams—​composed of government bureaucrats
and security service figures—​to oversee these institutions. In effect,
they seek to minimize social disruption while forcing out those
individuals most likely to be a bridge to the Muslim Brotherhood’s
organizational infrastructure, to the extent it still exists. Indeed,
as security services forced out the management teams of hospital
after hospital, regime officials continually stressed that the facilities
would not close and that their quality would not suffer.14 And as
part of the attempt to blunt the effect of the closures, other state
actors, including the various state-​owned and affiliated funds (Misr
al-​Khayr, Jam’iyat Orman), have ramped up their efforts.15 The mili-
tary—Egypt’s institution of last resort—has also become directly
involved in social provision, distributing boxes of food and organiz-
ing medical caravans.16
The following sections detail how the regime has waged its campaign
against the Brotherhood’s social service network through an examina-
tion of the fates of two clusters of Brotherhood-​affiliated institutions.
The first examines one of the largest organizations that appeared on
the list of community associations, the Muslim Brotherhood’s IMA.
The second examines the regime’s efforts to control the Brotherhood’s
schools. Together, these two case studies not only illustrate the
regime’s attempt to uproot the Brotherhood’s vaunted service net-
work but also set the stage for the chapter’s concluding discussion of
 21

Egypt 21

the lessons a new generation of Islamist activists—​and those that

study them—​might potentially take from the episode.

Brotherhood Medical Networks

Prominent Muslim Brotherhood leader Ahmed al-​Malt founded the
IMA in 1977 to provide high-​quality medical care at an affordable cost.
The IMA is the largest and oldest of the Brotherhood’s organized social
service initiatives. On the eve of the military coup, the association oper-
ated 22 hospitals and seven specialized medical centers (four dialysis
centers, an ophthalmology center, a fertility center, and a center for
those with special needs). In addition, the organization was also active
in the provision of mobile “medical caravans” that sent groups of doc-
tors across the country.
Soon after the July 2013 coup, members of the security services vis-
ited each of the IMA’s facilities to ensure that they were registered and
that their paperwork was up to date. Additionally, the IMA was forced
to cut ties with prominent members of the Muslim Brotherhood on its
board, including Freedom and Justice Party parliamentarians Helmi
Gazar and Gamal Heshmat. Other politically active Brotherhood per-
sonalities involved with the organization, such as Mohi al-​Zeit, the
director of the flagship Central Charity Hospital in Nasr City, and
Medhat Asem, the chairman of the IMA, managed to flee the country.
Others, such as Wael Talib, a key figure in the establishment of the
IMA’s facilities in Helwan, were arrested.17
In December 2013, the IMA appeared on the list of Brotherhood-​
linked community associations targeted for an asset freeze. Shortly
thereafter, the IMA responded with a front-​page ad in the state daily
al-​Ahram pleading with the regime to allow it to continue operations
“on behalf of 2 million sick and tens of thousands of those who receive
kidney dialysis on a continuing basis, and premature infants, and those
unable to pay for their treatment, as well as those who visit the hos-
pitals.”18 Outside of the dialysis centers, it wasn’t initially clear how
much the freeze actually affected the IMA’s ability to function. In an
interview conducted in the immediate aftermath of the decision, one
IMA manager remained optimistic that the asset freeze would be lifted
within days.19 In an interview a few months later, the IMA’s director of
2

22 Countries

hospital management even claimed that three new hospitals were close
to entering service.20
This optimism was misplaced. The regime clamped down suddenly
in early 2015, formally assuming control of the IMA and seizing its
assets.21 The management teams of the individual hospitals were dis-
solved and reconstituted with pro-​regime figures. Financial manag-
ers came under extra scrutiny because, according to the regime, some
of the IMA’s money was being used to “fund terrorism.”22 Putting a
point on the change in orientation, the IMA’s new chairman was the
staunchly pro-​regime cleric Ali Goma’a, the former Grand Mufti of
Egypt.23 Goma’a has been notorious for his anti-​Brotherhood broad-
sides, including a post-coup sermon where, speaking about pro-​Morsi
protests, he urged members of the military and police to “shoot them
in the heart… . We must cleanse our Egypt from these riffraff.”24 In the
aftermath of the decision to nominate Goma’a, one patient at an IMA
facility lamented that “the wolf now guards the sheep.”25

The Muslim Brotherhood’s Schools

The Brotherhood’s network of private schools serves as the second pil-
lar of the group’s broader social service network. As with the IMA (and
community associations in general), the legal basis for state control
over the Brotherhood’s schools stems from the September 2013 court
decision designating the Muslim Brotherhood a terrorist organization.
Like the community associations, these schools were initially assigned
to a type of receivership but allowed to continue operating under the
control of a Ministry of Education committee. (In a further insult
to the Brotherhood, this authority is called the “June 30th Schools
Committee.”)
The regime specifically complained that the Brotherhood had used
its schools to incite violence against the military and police.26 For exam-
ple, one parent of a student described Arabic lessons where students
were told the army and police were killing protestors. She elaborated:

If the teachers were speaking about a historical episode of conflict

between good guys and bad guys, the teachers would editorialize that
the bad guys in the story were analogous to today’s army and police.
 23

Egypt 23

The teachers would also inject politics into every discussion, and they
would insist on describing the events of June 30th as a coup, rather
than a revolution.27

The security services also directly intervened in the schools to arrest

individuals they charged with recruiting for and organizing attacks on
the regime.28 For their part, those affiliated with the schools not only
reject the charges but also point out the absurdity of the investigations.
For instance, according to the director of the Hiraa’ school network in
Asyut, the regime introduced as evidence of the school’s radical orienta-
tion a classroom cartoon of the Smurfs where one was apparently flash-
ing the Rabaa (four fingers) sign, marking the August 14, 2013 Rabaa
massacre of Muslim Brotherhood supporters.29
In contrast to the relatively smooth takeover of the IMA, the regime’s
efforts to bring the Brotherhood’s schools to heel have proceeded much
more haltingly.30 One key bureaucratic hurdle is that all regime interac-
tion with these facilities must run through the aforementioned June 30th
Committee. The June 30th Committee guards its prerogatives fiercely—​
the courts have even indicted members of the Ministry of Education
for dealing with the schools directly.31 In other cases, the Ministry of
Education’s lack of an enforcement capacity has meant that the original
boards of directors were able to essentially brush off the demands to dis-
solve and continue to operate as if nothing had changed.32
Another problematic issue (from the regime’s point of view) is that
the legal basis for seizing the Brotherhood’s property—​the September
2013 court decision—​ applies to corporate-​owned assets only (for
instance, the IMA). Yet many of those who own the schools are indi-
viduals, including prominent Muslim Brotherhood members such as
Wafa Mashour, a Brotherhood candidate in the 2010 parliamentary
elections and daughter of former General Guide Mohamed Mashour
(d. 2002); longtime parliamentarian Mohsen Radi; and Khadija
al-​Shater, daughter of prominent Brotherhood leader Khairat al-​Shater.
Despite their affiliations with the Muslim Brotherhood, a number of
the schools’ owners have challenged the regime’s claim that it can seize
their private property based on the September 2013 decision.33 There
have even been some successes—​a number of schools immediately
challenged the December 2013 finding that they were affiliated to the
24

24 Countries

Muslim Brotherhood, and three were reportedly released to their own-

ers.34 In late 2014, the owners of nine schools received a sympathetic
hearing from lower court judges, who ruled that proceedings to seize
their schools were not valid. In support of their opinion, the judges
cited the Egyptian constitution’s protection of private property from
seizure except in extreme circumstances.35
This has led the Ministry of Justice and the security services to con-
clude that the Ministry of Education is fundamentally incapable of
bringing the schools to heel. For its part, the Ministry of Education
claims that it lacks the enforcement capacity to fully implement the
decision.36 Summarizing the spat, al-​Masry al-​Youm (which has closely
followed the case) pointed out:

The Ministry of Education has failed to tighten control over the

schools and implement the primary objective of the ruling on the
seizure of the institutions: to “protect students’ minds from extrem-
ism.” Instead, the Ministry of Education handled this as a mere for-
mality, preferring instead to focus solely on managing the financial
aspect of the schools’ operation without paying attention to what is
actually happening behind the scenes (literally “in closed sections”).37

In January 2015, the government essentially rebooted its efforts to control

the Brotherhood’s schools. As a first step, it began to inject “new blood”
into the process, appointing new boards of directors for all the schools.38
Notably, the Ministry of Education emphasized that these new managers
would all be precleared by the security services before assuming their duties,
suggesting that earlier managers possessed sympathies with the Brotherhood
(or at least antipathy toward the current regime).39 Government officials
also propagated new guidelines for the schools that included a ban on
female students and teachers wearing the niqab (full-​face veil) and can-
celled requirements that students wear the hijab (headscarf).40 According
to Ministry of Education officials, the campaign is proceeding apace: In
February 2015, the Minister of Education claimed that the Brotherhood’s
network of schools was “85 percent under control.”41
The regime’s attempts to trim the branches of the Brotherhood’s
education network received a boost from new antiterror legislation. In
late February 2015, President Sissi signed into law a series of measures
 25

Egypt 25

giving Egyptian authorities wide powers to designate, detain, and

confiscate the assets of groups deemed a threat to public order. (Not
coincidentally, the September 2013 case dubbed the Brotherhood a
threat to public order.)42 In effect, this establishes a firmer legal basis
for seizing the Brotherhood’s properties by closing the loophole many
of the schools’ owners used to challenge the designation—​that there
was no legal basis to seize their private property. The regime wasted
little time in applying the law, designating 18 high-​profile Muslim
Brotherhood members and seizing their assets in March 2015.43 With
this new legislation in hand, in April 2015 al-​Masry al-​Youm reported
that the Minister of Education was preparing to tighten controls
over the schools to ensure that they remained free of Brotherhood
influence.44
The new legal effort seems to have done its job. By the time the 2016
academic year began the schools had been completely restructured and
were receiving students. Yet lingering suspicion of Brotherhood influ-
ence meant that the schools were still subject to drop-​in inspections
and government screening of teachers.45

Following the Law Will Not Save You

A defining characteristic of mainstream Islamist groups in the Middle
East has been their fundamental accommodation to the existence of
current states. Mainstream Islamists participated in political systems,
adopted national discourses, and largely subjugated their activism to
regime laws. The Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood’s historical concep-
tion of social service provision as something to be pursued openly and
subjugated to the state—​rather than subversive activity in competition
to it—​is a prime example of this accommodation.
From the organization’s outset, the Brotherhood registered its social
service organizations with the relevant government authorities, includ-
ing the Ministry of Social Solidarity, the Ministry of Education, the
Ministry of Awqaf (for mosque-​based charities), and the Ministry of
Health. At the organization’s founding in 1928, Hassan al-​Banna regis-
tered the Muslim Brotherhood with the British-​controlled monarchy.46
When the Ministry of Social Solidarity was established in 1939, all NGOs
operating in Egypt were required to dissolve and reconstitute themselves
26

26 Countries

by following the new guidelines, which the Muslim Brotherhood did.47

In the post-​Nasser period the organization likewise registered its social
and civic activities with the government. The Brotherhood abided by
these guidelines despite the fact that they gave the government tremen-
dous power over the formation, operation, and even existence of their
service networks.48 In essence, for the Brotherhood, the benefits of free
and legal operation outweighed the costs incurred by submitting to
government regulation.
This is why the regime’s crackdown on the Brotherhood’s social ser-
vice institutions took the group by surprise: they were betting on their
history of legal operation to protect them. In an interview in January
of 2014, shortly after the IMA appeared on the list of Brotherhood-​
affiliated community associations, an IMA manager emphasized the
organization’s cooperation with the Ministry of Social Solidarity and
expressed optimism that the IMA would soon sort things out with the
government. As he claimed, “We aren’t the enemy of the state, we’re
part of it, despite the fact that we disagree with its policies.”49 Even
after the regime takeover one year later, the IMA protested by point-
ing to its history of good relations with the ministry. “Not only has the
Ministry of Social Solidarity not recorded a violation over the past year,”
the IMA’s director of public relations argued, “but it has praised the
IMA!”50 Similarly, the Brotherhood argued that its network of schools
adhered strictly to the Ministry of Education curriculum guidelines
and that they operated in compliance with the law.
Unfortunately for the Brotherhood, not only did the legal-
ist approach fail to protect its network of social services from the
regime, it actually facilitated efforts to dismember them. As Quintan
Wiktorowicz argues, authoritarian regimes proliferate laws and guide-
lines in civil society to render activism visible, and thus controllable.51
When the regime decided to crack down on—​or simply expropri-
ate—​the Brotherhood’s service network, the group’s legalist approach
furnished the regime a ready-​made “hit list” of properties, enterprises,
and activists.
The specific character of Egypt’s civil society laws also prevented the
Brotherhood from using the court system to contest the regime’s deci-
sions. Specifically, Egypt’s Law of Associations (Law 84/​2002) includes
 27

Egypt 27

a provision that gives the Ministry of Social Solidarity—​and not an

outside body such as Egypt’s courts—​extraordinary power to adjudi-
cate any disputes that occur between an association and the ministry.52
So the Ministry of Social Solidarity can dissolve an association, which
can then only appeal the dissolution order back to the ministry. In effect,
this means that third parties have no jurisdiction over dissolution cases
unless the Ministry of Social Solidarity allows it. This is why the regime’s
campaign against the Brotherhood’s community associations has pro-
ceeded so quickly: in late February of 2015 the Ministry dissolved 169
institutions from the list, and on March 1 they dissolved 112 more.53
A further 99 were dissolved in mid-​March.54 Had the Brotherhood
registered these social initiatives as businesses (as many of the schools
were), it would have at least been able to contest the dissolution orders
through the court system.
The Egyptian regime’s unwillingness to tolerate a regulated and
above-​ground Islamist social service network potentially incentivizes
the Brotherhood to shift activism underground, for instance, by provid-
ing services through informal social networks rather than institutions.
But this would require the Brotherhood to change how the provision
is operated, not least because it would bias the provision against non-
members. Not only would this protect the existence of the network
from infiltrators, it would serve as a type of extra benefit that only those
in the Brotherhood could access.
A number of authors have examined the issue of social service provi-
sion through the lens of organizational economics, to help understand
how movements encourage members to participate in potentially costly
activities, such as demonstrations and violence.55 In contexts where activ-
ism is risky, these authors argue, access to benefits such as social services
must be contingent on participation in these activities or membership
in the organization; otherwise, people will “free-​ride” by accessing the
benefits without paying the costs. So long as the Brotherhood–​regime
conflict continues, it incentivizes the Brotherhood to use social service
provision to sustain such activism.56
Limiting services to protect the network from the government and
incentivize high-​risk activism would restrict the Brotherhood’s ability
to attract those outside its ideological orbit. In fact, one reason the
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28 Countries

Brotherhood was able to make inroads with non-​Islamists prior to 2011

was its broad and nonideological provision of social services. To the
extent that the Brotherhood shifts the way it provides services to sur-
vive the current period of repression, it may find it difficult to use those
same networks to rebuild its social support at some future point.

Navigating the Movement–​Party Divide
The problems surrounding the provision of social services following
the crackdown have exacerbated longstanding tensions between the
Brotherhood’s broad goal of social transformation, to be achieved by the
movement, and its narrow goal of political control, to be achieved by
its party. Of course, the Brotherhood’s social services have always been
political—​in the sense that they were designed to link the group’s reli-
gious mission to the everyday problems facing citizens, and thus build
a reservoir of sympathy and support. But for decades the Brotherhood
took pains to keep this social mission at arm’s length from the electoral
one. Services were provided continuously and without the discrimina-
tion, ideological litmus tests, or checks on political allegiance that we
might expect if they were operated by a typical political machine.
On the ground, balancing the imperatives of social activism and
electoral mobilization was never easy, especially given the increasing
prominence of electoral politics in the Middle East over the last twenty
years. This shift, even in places where authoritarian regimes held tightly
to political power, increased the pressure on Islamist groups to con-
vert their social capital into electoral success. Eva Wegner, for instance,
quotes a Moroccan Islamist who expresses frustration with how the two
sides have blended together:

In the past ten years we have invested too much in the party even
though in our concept, our line of reasoning, this is only one part
of our activities. We don’t want to focus too much on the political
aspects; us as a cultural, educational association, we prefer to concen-
trate on the educational and da’wa [missionary] issues.57

However, the dramatic rise in the importance of politics after 2011 super-
charged incentives to put all the movement’s assets in the narrow service
 29

Egypt 29

of electoral mobilization. Despite rhetoric about maintaining separa-

tion between the political and nonpolitical aspects of the Brotherhood’s
identity, citizens on the ground found it harder and harder to determine
where one stopped and the other began.58 This politicization reached
its apogee during the Muslim Brotherhood–Freedom and Justice Party’s
massive program of social service outreach, “Together We Build Egypt,”
in the run-​up to parliamentary elections in the summer of 2013 (the
coup ended preparations for these elections). For roughly six months the
Brotherhood used its social services to openly support the group’s politi-
cal ambitions, assembling medical caravans, beautification campaigns,
veterinary convoys, and other outreach efforts to help buttress the group’s
sliding popularity.
The post-​2013 period has prompted some Brotherhood leaders
to revisit the relationship between the party (hizb) and the social
movement (haraka). This springs from two realizations. First, they
believe that the post-​2011 collapse of the wall between social services
and partisan activism sowed confusion in the minds of Egyptians
about the distinction between the movement and the political party.
Second, some Brotherhood leaders do not want the inevitable disap-
pointments of politics—​losing elections, pursuing failed policies,
compromising with ideological opponents, and so forth—​to con-
taminate or cast doubt on the Brotherhood’s longer-​term mission
of societal transformation. According to Amr Darrag, Freedom
and Justice Party leader and cabinet minister in Mohamed Morsi’s
government:

It is clearly impossible for the group to compete politically against a

large segment of the population but at the same time work alongside
them socially. This is simply not achievable, and this is the largest
mistake that took place. The Brotherhood bore the mistakes in [the
party’s] political tactics, despite the fact that the party benefited from
the Brotherhood’s support.59

Darrag’s argument suggests that, at least among some in the organi-

zation, there is a growing awareness of the need to separate the two
halves of the movement, preventing the effects of political competition
from bleeding into the social activism and vice versa.60 Gamal Hesmat,
30

30 Countries

longtime Brotherhood parliamentarian and board member of the IMA,

suggests that this idea has broad support: “The whole group is deter-
mined to keep the competitive partisan side away from the educational
and reform side and activities.”61
It is not just the Egyptian Brotherhood that is (re-​)assessing the
exact shape of the relations between party and movement. The cur-
rent conflict between the Brotherhood and the regime in Jordan and
inside the Jordanian Brotherhood itself touches in some ways on the
distinction between party and movement.62 And Tunisia’s Ennahda
party has moved to separate its da’wa functions from its electoral activ-
ism. Prior to the party’s annual congress in May 2016, an Ennahda
spokesman said that there would be complete separation between the
political party and religious activism: “We (Ennahda) will focus on the
political sphere, and as for social activities, including cultural, chari-
table, preaching, and guidance, we will leave to the civil associations.”63
As Monica Marks summarized following the conference, this indeed
happened:

Many Ennahda leaders and supporters were initially skeptical of

formalizing changes to the hizb-​haraka (party-​religious movement)
relationship. Yet by spring 2016, most had come to support the revi-
sions, which were carried by strong majorities of two thirds or greater
in voting at this weekend’s congress.64

However, it remains to be seen how Ennahda manages this separation

on the ground and, in particular, whether it can be maintained amidst
the fluctuations in popularity with which every political party must
inevitably grapple.

Conclusion
Since the July 3, 2013 military coup, Egypt’s new regime has dismem-
bered the Muslim Brotherhood’s nationwide network of social services.
Just as this threatens the livelihoods of millions of Egyptians who rely
on these services to meet their daily needs, the campaign has also been
a tremendous blow to the Brotherhood, which has for decades empha-
sized the importance of social service provision to its overall mission.
 31

Egypt 31

The events of the past four years have essentially closed off the legal
avenues for the Brotherhood to engage in social service provision.
The tumult of the past five years has also highlighted the need for
Islamist organizations to resolve, or at least clarify, the differences
between their twin identities as social movements and political parties.
This tension has been long-​standing, but the dramatic political changes
in places like Egypt and Tunisia add urgency to the question. Leaders
in the Egyptian Brotherhood have identified this in retrospect, isolat-
ing the group’s failure to demarcate where the social movement stopped
and political party began as a key mistake of the period. In Tunisia,
however, Ennahda has sought to preempt any confusion, agreeing to
statutorily separate partisan activity from religious and social work. The
real test of the durability of this separation, in Egypt, in Tunisia, or
elsewhere, will come when the incentives to use service provision for
political gain are strongest.
32

2
Q
Tunisia
Monica Marks

Since its January 2011 revolution, Tunisia has carved out a special
status as the only genuine, albeit fragile, Arab democracy. Regional
tumult, however, has repeatedly reverberated through the country.
Egypt’s July 2013 coup and the regional rise of violent Salafi-​jihadism—
embodied most powerfully by the Islamic State—sent shockwaves
through Tunisia in 2012 and 2013, emboldening antidemocratic
demands that threatened to destabilize its nascent democracy.1
Neighboring Libya’s descent into near statelessness and Gulf actors’
willingness to bankroll reactionary projects in the region com-
pounded these challenges.2
The Egyptian coup and rise of Salafi-​jihadism posed especially
thorny obstacles for Ennahda, the center-​right Islamist party that led
Tunisia’s coalition government from October 2011 to January 2014.
A Tunisian religious party originating from the Muslim Brotherhood
(Ikhwani) school of Islamism, Ennahda had never held power
before.3 Instead, it was strictly banned for over 20 years under the
regime of ex-​president Zine el-​Abidine Ben Ali, who attempted to
label Ennahda a radically Islamist, even terrorist, actor in Tunisia’s
unfree press.4 When Ennahda re-​entered politics in early 2011, many
Tunisians found its identity obscure and its democratic commit-
ments suspect. As jihadist violence began spreading in Tunisia and
the Muslim Brotherhood claimed victory in Egypt’s elections, many

32
 3

Tunisia 33

Tunisians predicted that Ennahda—​a poorly understood Islamist

actor with presumably transnational sympathies—​would actively aid
or at least tacitly abet the importation of Salafi-​jihadism and com-
paratively conservative Egyptian-​style Islamism to Tunisia.5
This chapter examines how regional developments, specifically the
rise of the Islamic State and Egypt’s coup, interacted with domestic
political challenges to alter Ennahda’s political behavior. I argue that
the primary effect of those twin shocks was to narrow Ennahda’s range
of political maneuver, forcing it to adopt a more defensive, risk-​averse
posture. This was especially visible in Ennahda’s handling of issues
related to revolutionary justice, most notably an electoral lustration law
that would have prohibited former members of Ben Ali’s party from
contesting Tunisia’s 2014 elections. Although Ennahda had initially
supported the law, domestic political pressure—​amplified by jihadist-​
perpetrated assassinations and Egypt’s summer 2013 coup—​prompted
its leadership to recant, ultimately blocking the law’s passage.
The chapter concludes by positing that Ennahda itself isn’t merely
“rethinking Islamism.” It is actively reformulating Tunisian Islamism,
which it prefers to call “Tunisian Muslim democracy,” as a highly local-
ized, long-​term project predicated on canny compromise, a malleable
message of cultural conservatism, and the survival of a democratic—​if
not necessarily secular-​liberal—​political system.

A Context of Suspicion
Ennahda is a religiously rooted party with origins in the Brotherhood-​
inspired sahwa, or spiritual revivalism that swept the Middle East
during the 1970s. The Islamic Tendency Movement (MTI), a precur-
sor to Ennahda, formed in 1981. It brought together conservatively
oriented Tunisians who were disillusioned by the secularly flavored
authoritarianism of presidents Habib Bourguiba (1956–​1987) and Zine
el-​Abidine Ben Ali (1987—​2011).6 The MTI’s early adherents were
generally first-​generation university students with family roots in the
country’s interior and marginalized regions, who felt Islam offered
guiding principles that could help reform society and politics.7 In 1989,
the group complied with a ban on religious references in party names
and changed its name to Ennahda (The Renaissance). Nevertheless,
34

34 Countries

Ben Ali’s government rejected its application for recognition as a polit-

ical party, so Ennahda ran its candidates as independents in the 1989
elections.
Ennahda’s desire to enter multiparty politics and its compliance with
the regime’s rules of the game did little to assuage the worries of Ben Ali,
who sensed a political threat in Ennahda’s strong support base and reli-
giously rooted critiques of corruption, authoritarianism, and Western
secularization. Like Bourguiba before him, Ben Ali sought to vilify
Ennahda as extremist and even terrorist in nature. Reneging on early
promises to initiate a democratic opening, or changement, in Tunisia,
Ben Ali cancelled the 1989 elections after a stronger-​than-​expected
showing from the Ennahda-​affiliated independents, and instead used
electoral lists to round up Ennahda members and their families.8 Many
nahdawis (Ennahda members) fled for exile, mostly to Western Europe.
Thousands more remained in Tunisia, where many were jailed as politi-
cal prisoners, along with leftists and other regime critics, during the
1990s and early 2000s.
The Ben Ali regime subjected Ennahda members and their fami-
lies to numerous human rights abuses. These most commonly included
blacklisting from employment and educational opportunities; obliga-
tion to register at police stations multiple times daily or weekly; and
police harassment that sometimes involved sexual abuse, rape, and tor-
ture of both men and women.9 Even Ennahda members in exile were
routinely harassed, monitored, and denied important paperwork by
employees of Tunisia’s interior ministry, many of whom set up shop in
the country’s embassies abroad.
Following Tunisia’s revolution, Ennahda’s exiled leaders returned and
its underground activists re-​emerged. Yet the party faced a steep uphill
climb. Given the extent of repression, Ben Ali’s determination to equate
Ennahda with terrorism, and the near complete absence of countervail-
ing messages in Tunisian media, Ennahda re-​entered Tunisian politics
amid widespread suspicion that its democratic claims were not credible.
Early on, Ennahda fulfilled two pre-​electoral promises: not sup-
porting a presidential candidate in the October 2011 elections and
entering into a cross-​ ideological coalition government with two
secular parties.10 These steps did little, however, to persuade many
Tunisians that Ennahda—​which claimed to be a democratic, Tunisian
 35

Tunisia 35

party—​wasn’t actually an illiberal, imported franchise of Egypt’s Muslim

Brotherhood. Suspicions ran especially high among secularly oriented
Tunisians, many of whom feared Ennahda aimed to quite literally
“re-​orient” Tunisia away from Europe and its regionally progressive
stances on women’s rights toward the more conservative Arab east.

The Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood: Not a Model

Curious to learn how Ennahda itself might rule if it won the October
2011 elections, I conducted open-​ended interviews with approximately
80 Ennahda leaders, grassroots activists, and party supporters over the
summer of 2011. I  asked 72 of them what kind of Islamist party, or
Islamic governance model, Ennahda aspired to emulate. To my sur-
prise at the time, not a single respondent volunteered the Egyptian
Brotherhood as an inspiring example.
Instead, nahdawis at all levels tended to cast Ennahda as the enlight-
ened cousin to the Egyptian Brotherhood’s more recalcitrant older
uncle. “We are related, yes, and we continue to be inspired by some of
their ideas,” said Ennahda leader Said Ferjani at the party’s headquar-
ters. “But we also have our own ideas … and we have been moving
forward for a long time… . We get our color [character] from Tunisia,
which is often more open [than Egypt].”11
In fact, few nahdawis mentioned the Brotherhood at all unless
explicitly prompted on whether it provided a model. “What about the
Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood?” I pressed Yesmin Masmoudi, a 24-​
year-​old who volunteered at Ennahda’s youth wing in Sfax: “Ennahda
took inspiration from Hassan al-​Banna and other Brotherhood lead-
ers over the years—​can they be a model today?” She shook her head
and smiled, waving a contradictory hand in the air. “Ask anyone in
Ennahda. We are more advanced than the Brotherhood. We look to the
Turkish model … modern and Muslim at the same time.”12
Interestingly, like Yesmin, the vast majority of nahdawis at all levels
of the party offered Turkey’s Justice and Development Party (AKP) as
the most relevant model. They described AKP as embodying an envi-
able combination of piety, prosperity, and democratic credibility.13
Ennahda president Rached Ghannouchi praised the Turkish model in
August 2011, emphasizing the importance of pragmatic gradualism over
36

36 Countries

maximalism: “AKP will gradually make Turkey a more Muslim country,

through education, building the economy, and diversifying the media.
That’s our model—​not law. Make people love Islam. Convince, don’t
coerce them.”14
Party leaders, including Ghannouchi and other individuals who
returned from exile, also frequently invoked Germany’s Christian
Democrats in summer 2011, saying that Ennahda likewise sees itself as
a conservative democratic party with a religious reference that favors a
liberal, open economy. Most Ennahda leaders at the time appeared less
familiar with other regional Islamist parties like Morocco’s Justice and
Development Party (PJD) and characterized theocratic regimes in Iran
and Saudi Arabia as hypocritical examples to avoid.
Whereas Ennahda leaders in 2011 saw Turkey’s AKP and Germany’s
Christian Democrats as positive, relevant examples, they felt Egypt’s
Muslim Brotherhood could at times use their advice. “In Egypt the
Brotherhood made the worst decision,” said Osama Essaghir, an
Ennahda Member of Parliament and member of the party’s 150-​member
Shura Council.15 “They decided to govern alone.”

One president, all alone with the powers… . That was very unwise.
The day after [Brotherhood member Mohamed] Morsi won the
[presidential] election, Sheikh Rached [Ghannouchi] flew to Egypt
for one reason, just to tell Morsi one thing: do not govern alone.16

Long-Termism
Leading voices in Ennahda expressed support for a long-​term, mini-
malist approach well before Egypt’s 2013 coup.17 In June 2011, for exam-
ple, Ghannouchi vowed that Ennahda would share power in a coalition
government even if it won an outright majority in the October elec-
tions.18 In making the case for strategic minimalism, Ennahda lead-
ers frequently invoked the example of Algeria in 1990 and 1991, when
the Islamic Salvation Front (FIS) won first municipal elections and
then the first round of parliamentary elections. Their victory spooked
Algeria’s military regime, which aborted the elections and initiated a
broad crackdown on Islamists—​sparking a civil war that lasted over a
decade and claimed as many as 200,000 lives.19
 37

Tunisia 37

Ennahda leaders learned an important lesson from Algeria’s expe-

rience, and from their own similar experience in 1989: namely, that
prioritizing a politics of pragmatic gradualism—​one that placed par-
ticipation and long-​term survival ahead of potentially fleeting short-​
term victories—​represented the wisest path.20 Unsurprisingly, given the
Egyptian Brotherhood’s comparatively maximalist approach, nahdawi
frustrations with the Brotherhood frequently surfaced from late 2011 to
mid-​2013. “They are sacrificing a major opportunity to show that Islam
and democracy are compatible,” fumed one member of Ennahda’s
Executive Committee in December 2012. “This will hurt us if they
keep on,” the member said, acknowledging that Ennahda was often
judged—​unfairly, in their view—​by the Brotherhood’s actions.21
In what other Ennahda leaders later characterized as an effort to
avert impending political disaster in Egypt, Ghannouchi delivered a
speech in Cairo on June 4, 2013.22 In the speech, Ghannouchi warned
against “democracy of the majority,” stressing that “a balance of power
should be maintained.” “Every society is diverse,” he said, “and so we
have to accept this diversity or face … conflict and chaos.”23
One month later, on July 3, 2013, Mohamed Morsi was overthrown
in a military coup that, though popular among many Egyptians at
the time, heralded the utter reversal of Egypt’s democratic transition.
Nahdawis felt outraged by what they perceived as the antidemocratic
overthrow of a justly elected president. Few in Ennahda’s leadership,
though, were truly surprised, having looked on with concern from
Tunisia for months as Egypt’s political situation deteriorated—​partially,
in their view, because of the Brotherhood’s stubborn unilateralism.
In contrast to their relative equanimity after the coup, however, those
same nahdawis were shocked by the subsequent massacre at Rabaa
al-Adawiyya Square in Cairo, where approximately 1,000 people—​most
of them Brotherhood supporters—​were killed a month later.24 The
United States and European Union responded tepidly to the coup and its
bloody aftermath, reminding Ennahda leaders that—​despite President
Barack Obama’s fleeting entreaty that America values “the dignity of the
street vendor in Tunisia more than the raw power of the dictator”—​the
pre–​Arab Spring paradigm, which prized authoritarian stability over
democracy, still held sway in most Western capitals.25 Regional support
for Egypt’s dictatorial new president, General Abdel Fattah al-​Sissi, was
38

38 Countries

even swifter, with Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates bustling
to bankroll his regime to the tune of billions of dollars.26
Such international support for Egypt’s authoritarian reversal
increased feelings of fear and isolation among nahdawis, who—​despite
firmly stressing that Ennahda was not a franchise of the Brotherhood—
still felt a sense of ideological and historical kinship with it.27 The coup
in Egypt, its bloody aftermath, and the near complete absence of inter-
national condemnation against Sissi prompted Ennahda’s leaders to
take more seriously the possibility of democratic reversal in Tunisia.
Many shuddered as they realized their country represented the sole
democratic holdout in a region whose headwinds were blowing in a
decidedly counterrevolutionary direction.
The coup and its aftermath also blunted Ennahda’s increasingly
critical approach to the Brotherhood. Nahdawis who had expressed
strong reservations about the Brotherhood in interviews prior to the
July 2013 coup seemed far more sympathetic and far less inclined to
criticize afterward. This was especially true after the Rabaa massacre.28
Some began wearing yellow Rabaa pins and stickers to demonstrate
their solidarity with the victims. A huge number of nahdawis at every
level of the party changed their Twitter and Facebook photos to the
yellow Rabaa symbol. Many said Rabaa stood as a visceral reminder
of the oppression they and their families experienced under Ben Ali.
Counterrevolutionary reversal, which had previously struck some nah-
dawis as a distant possibility, suddenly seemed frightfully plausible.

The Rise of Salafi-​Jihadism in Tunisia

Meanwhile, as the coup in Egypt was brewing, another regional shock—
the sharp rise of violent Salafi-​jihadism—​was wreaking havoc at home
in Tunisia.
The post-revolutionary rise of Salafi-​jihadism in Tunisia—​which
pre-​dated but ultimately intersected with the formation of the Islamic
State—was a byproduct of both regional and local events. Tunisians
had been heavily represented in prior waves of global jihad, including
Afghanistan in the 1980s, Bosnia in the 1990s, and Iraq in the 2000s.
Veterans of those prior jihads imprisoned in Tunisian jails under Ben
 39

Tunisia 39

Ali used incarceration as a networking opportunity. Following their

release in a general amnesty in spring 2011, some of those veteran jihad-
ists, including the infamous firebrand Abu Iyadh, resumed recruiting.
The laissez-​faire landscape of post-revolutionary Tunisia, character-
ized by a temporary retraction of the security apparatus, also played a
role. During that period, the stifling monolith of Ben Ali’s regime—​
whose Interior Ministry strictly prohibited long beards, full-​body veils
(niqabs), and other forms of religious expression—​receded to reveal a
diverse population clamoring to be heard.
The young people who drove Tunisia’s Salafi-​jihadist surge tended
to hail chiefly, but not entirely, from socioeconomically marginalized
backgrounds.29 Eager for meaning, rebellious, and imbued with a sense
of revolutionary idealism, many viewed the Salafi-​jihadist identity as
exciting, countercultural, and hugely inspiring in its promise of a uto-
pian ultra-​Islamist future.30 Salafi-​jihadism in early post-​revolutionary
Tunisia was not a well-​defined movement, but rather, as some schol-
ars have recognized, a slippery “mouvance.”31 Some self-​proclaimed
Salafi-​jihadists committed acts of violence, vandalizing Sufi shrines and
attacking liquor stores. Others, however, claimed a forceful preaching
campaign—​not physical violence—​was the proper way to interpret
jihad, or holy struggle, in Tunisia.
While local and personal factors often drove interest in Salafism
as a counter​cultural identity, one regional pull factor transformed it
into something more transnational and more dangerous. Starting in
mid-​2011, the Syrian civil war, spurred by Bashar al-​Assad’s increasingly
bloody crackdown, lured many young Tunisians to travel for violent
jihad. Both male and female self-​proclaimed Salafi-​jihadists I spoke with
in Tunisia between 2011 and early 2014 described the fight against Assad
in rhapsodic terms as exciting and honorable—​a chance at adventure,
a shortcut to purpose, and an opportunity to liberate one’s Muslim
brothers and sisters from the yoke of brutality. The Syrian jihad began
developing a “start-​up” quality as the Islamic State rose to prominence
in 2014, declaring itself a worldwide caliphate and gobbling up large
swathes of territory.32 Ultimately, more than 6,000 young Tunisians
are estimated to have joined jihadist groups fighting in Iraq and Syria.
Many of them joined the Islamic State.33
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40 Countries

“Our Children?” Ennahda’s Early Approach

to Salafi-​Jihadism
Many Tunisians, nahdawis included, were not entirely sure what to
make of young Salafi-​jihadists when they burst onto the scene in 2011.
Ennahda was familiar with and had historical ties to “quietist” Salafism,
or salafiyya ‘ilmiyya.34 But the newer trend of Salafi-​jihadism—​spear-
headed by aggressive, sometimes violent young people who preached
loudly and publically, frequently harassed women they regarded as
inappropriately dressed, and sometimes attacked Sufi shrines—​bewil-
dered Ennahda.35
In 2011 and 2012, as Salafi-​jihadists grew more visible—and disrup-
tive—in Tunisia’s public squares, Ennahda leaders missed vital oppor-
tunities to roundly condemn Salafi violence and instead tended to look
on with a kind of puzzled pity. Most nahdawis initially regarded Salafi-​
jihadist youths as misguided victims of Ben Ali’s religious oppression
who needed socioeconomic and especially spiritual outreach.36
Ennahda members and leaders blamed Ben Ali for having under-
mined religious education in Tunisia to such an extent that young
people—​desperate for a sense of authenticity and meaning—​turned
to foreign Salafi-​jihadist preachers online, often from Gulf states such
as Saudi Arabia. Bourguiba, according to many nahdawis, had laid
the groundwork for religious desiccation in Tunisia by sidelining the
Zaytouna, Tunisia’s historic center of religious learning, analogous
to Egypt’s al-​Azhar. Yet it was Ben Ali, they insisted, who bore pri-
mary responsibility for the jihadist trend, because he took Bourguiba’s
approach much further, weakening the quality of Arabic language and
religious education in public schools and vehemently suppressing nah-
dawi Islamists.
With no locally legitimate model of religiosity, nahdawis argued, an
entire generation of young Tunisians were rendered vulnerable to Wahhabi-​
inspired literalism. Nahdawis characterized such literalism, which they said
spread through online videos and publications created by preachers in the
Gulf, as simplistic and inimical to Tunisia’s tradition of Zaytouna-​oriented
reformism. The antidote, Ennahda argued, lay in reactivating locally legiti-
mate sources of religious knowledge and scholarship. This meant reviv-
ing the Zaytouna as a seat of Islamic learning, improving the quality of
 41

Tunisia 41

religious education in schools, and engaging in religiously oriented civil

society outreach to re-​educate wayward young Salafis.
The other half of the solution, according to Ennahda, required pro-
moting political inclusion for Salafis. Ennahda leaders hoped young
Salafi-​jihadists would be persuaded to support nonviolent political par-
ties, such as a clutch of Salafi parties formed in 2011 and 2012. These
included Hizb al-​Asala (the Authenticity Party) and Jabhat al-​Islah
(the Reform Front), parties led by older men who advocated rigidly
Islamist aims within the framework of multiparty democracy. Nahdawi
leaders were great believers in the inclusion-​moderation hypothesis—​
the idea, much studied by political scientists, that parties moderate as
they participate in democratic systems. They believed that encouraging
young Salafi-​jihadists to participate politically, rather than excluding or
oppressing them, would prompt them to integrate and moderate their
positions.
Nahdawis’ initial hesitation to adopt a securitized approach against
Salafi-​jihadists was heavily informed by their own experiences of oppres-
sion. Engagement, dialogue, Islamic education, and political inclusion,
they felt, represented the best short-​term options to contain and redi-
rect jihadist anger, hopefully moving young Salafis toward milder, more
realistic views.
This approach can be observed in a controversial leaked video, likely
recorded in spring 2012, in which Rached Ghannouchi addressed a
group of young Salafis. In the video, Ghannouchi entreats them to move
slowly and consolidate gains lest—​as in Algeria in 1991 and Tunisia in
1989—​the speed of Islamist advancement spooks opponents. “We all
went through the same and we suffered,” Ghannouchi told them.

Now you want to have a TV [station], radio [station], schools, and

invite preachers. Why are you rushing things? … Do you think what
we achieved cannot be taken away? This is what we thought when
we were in Algeria in the nineties… . It turns out we misjudged the
situation and went backwards.

But to the young Salafi-​jihadists Ennahda’s leaders were trying to mol-

lify, the party’s “bishwaya bishwaya” (slowly, slowly) approach seemed
patronizing and paternalistic. “They constantly refer to us as their
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42 Countries

‘children’ and try to tell us how we should behave,” said Houda, a 24-​
year-​old student, in August 2012. Houda identified as Salafi-​jihadist
and a member of Ansar al-​Sharia in Tunisia (AST), the most prominent
Salafi-​jihadist group in Tunisia between the revolution and the rise of
the Islamic State.37

Be calm, our children. Go slowly, they say. But all their going slowly
hasn’t brought any results. They gave up sharia, they listen to the
West… . I don’t see what makes them so Islamic. They use lies to
manipulate people just like any other party. Maybe they should be
listening to us! We’re going to make a change.38

Houda was one of 18 Salafi-​jihadist youths, mostly women, whom I

interviewed throughout 2012 and 2013, sometimes having meals with
their families and staying over at their homes. Eleven of the eighteen
had parents who identified with, but were not active in, Ennahda. Most
of their families came from poorer urban or rural areas, and none of the
nahdawi parents held university degrees.
Houda’s mother and father, although not active in any Ennahda
structures, supported the party and voted for it in the 2011 elec-
tions. Both expressed confusion with their daughter’s choice to wear
the niqab, or face veil, which she donned in February 2011, a month
after the revolution. They discouraged her from participating in Ansar
al-​Sharia activities like da’wa (preaching) tents in which she and other
young women would distribute conservative religious pamphlets to
passersby. “I don’t know why she does this,” said Houda’s mother to
me in the kitchen while cleaning up after dinner one night. “The hijab
(headscarf ) is enough. She doesn’t need to wear the niqab. I guess she’s
making a statement.”39
These parents were not core Ennahda activists or leaders. Yet their
experience as parents who identified with Ennahda’s brand of center-​
right Islamism but felt deeply confused by their children’s preference
for radical Salafism paralleled Ennahda leaders’ tendency to feel almost
parental responsibility for the Salafi-​jihadist youth they believed had
gone astray. Nahdawi leaders’ desire to calm down rather than crack
down on Salafi-​jihadist youth, their reluctance to employ harsh secu-
rity measures against them, and their habit of referring to them as
 43

Tunisia 43

“children” who had lost their way all reflected a generational divide
that sometimes manifested itself within families.

Crackdown and (Re)securitization

Throughout 2012 and 2013, acts of Salafi-​jihadist violence intensified.
The September 2012 attack on the U.S. embassy and neighboring
American school in Tunis was followed by two high-​profile political
assassinations in 2013. Each act of violence was planned and perpe-
trated by Salafi-​jihadist groups, significantly increasing the political
cost of maintaining a soft, inclusion-​driven approach to Salafi-​jihadism
and the rise of Salafism more generally.40 Meanwhile, more and more
families were losing children to the jihad in Syria, with thousands of
families affected. Fathers were filmed on national news programs jour-
neying to Syria to find their sons; weeping mothers clasped pictures of
their children, wondering whether they were still alive.
By Spring 2013, it had become clear to Ennahda leaders that their
approach wasn’t working. In April 2013, Ennahda declared Ansar al-​
Sharia a terror organization. In May 2013, the Ennahda-​led coalition
government faced off with Ansar al-​Sharia in what was aptly termed a
“public game of chicken” when the group tried to hold a large public
conference in the city of Kairouan, located about three hours south of
Tunis.41 The government won. The conference organizers were denied a
permit to hold the event. The conference date passed with less tumult
than expected, despite some clashes between law enforcement and Ansar
al-​Sharia supporters in poor suburbs of Tunis where the Salafi-​jihadist
presence was especially strong.
For a large segment of the Tunisian public, though, as well as many
scholars and analysts, Ennahda’s response came too little too late. The
party was roundly criticized for adopting a “slow and ambiguous”
approach to Salafi-​jihadism.42 Its missteps were deftly exploited by Nidaa
Tunis, an anti-​Islamist party founded in mid-​2012 driven by ex-​officials
from the Bourguiba and Ben Ali regimes as well as leftists and business
elites. In Tunisia’s fall 2014 elections, Nidaa Tunis cruised to parliamen-
tary and presidential victories on promises to govern as capable rijal
al-​dawla (statesmen) who would restore the integrity and prestige of the
state after years of nahdawi mismanagement—​failures Nidaa ascribed
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44 Countries

not just to incompetence, but to what it claimed were Ennahda’s covert

links with violent extremism.
Since cracking down on Ansar al-​Sharia, Ennahda has advocated a
more securitized approach to Salafi-​jihadism. Nahdawis I interviewed
on the subject in 2013 and 2014 expressed discomfort with ongoing
police brutality in Tunisia and the renewed spread of certain forms
of Ben Ali–​era police abuse. These have often targeted young people
in poorer neighborhoods, particularly those sporting visible markers
of Salafi conservatism like beards and niqabs. Though nahdawis pri-
vately criticized these trends, they have also stressed that the rise of
Salafi-​jihadism locally, embedded in the broader regional context of
the Islamic State and transnational jihadist terrorism, has increased
the political cost of voicing objection to troubling security measures.
Hoping to be seen as a responsible team player, Ennahda adopted a
more defensive, risk-​averse posture on Salafism and security.
Following the Bardo museum attack of March 2015, which killed 22
and injured more than 50 people, for instance, Ennahda immediately
released a statement voicing its support for a new antiterrorism draft
bill that permitted extended incommunicado detention and weakened
due process protection for terrorism suspects.43 “If we say anything
against this law, people will conclude that we support the Salafis ideo-
logically,” said one member of Ennahda’s Shura Council. “Then we’ll be
back where we were in 2011… . That’s too big a risk.”44 The law passed
in July 2015 with unanimous nahdawi support.

The Bardo Crisis
Dissatisfaction with Tunisia’s post-​revolutionary government had been
brewing since the Ennahda-​led coalition assumed power in late 2011.
Tunisians’ everyday, lived realities—​ marked by high inflation, low
wages, persistent unemployment, widespread corruption, and fear
of insecurity—​fell depressingly short of their revolutionary expecta-
tions. By mid-​2013, unemployment rates remained stubbornly high,
precious few visible infrastructure improvements had been made, and
terrorism seemed to be rising. Such broad-​based grievances played
a major role in provoking opposition to the Ennahda-​led coalition.
Compounding these were suspicions that Ennahda’s Islamist identity
 45

Tunisia 45

made it ideologically sympathetic to, if not actively supportive of,

Salafi-​jihadism.
Opposition figures in the leftist front, Jebha Chaabia, and Nidaa
Tunis characterized Ennahda as an incompetent, retrograde group of
outsiders whose attempt to import Brotherhood-​style Islamism from the
East had no place in indigenous Tunisian culture. Both groups sought to
associate Ennahda with the failures of Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood and
accused it of enabling jihadism in Tunisia. Jebha Chaabia, which lost
one of its MPs, Chokri Belaid, to a jihadist-​perpetrated assassination on
February 6, 2013, held Ennahda directly responsible for his death.
Belaid’s assassination triggered massive street protests in Tunis.
Dissatisfaction with what many Tunisians saw as either Ennahda’s
incompetence, at best, or its Islamist-​inspired indulgence of violent
extremism, at worst, was widespread. Opposition parties, meanwhile,
saw opportunity in the midst of tragedy as Belaid’s assassination shook
Ennahda’s claims to popular legitimacy and support.
Ennahda’s opponents felt further empowered by the success of
Egypt’s Tamarrod (Rebellion) movement in summer 2013. Tamarrod,
which originally aimed to force Morsi to call early elections, ended up
triggering the July 3, 2013 coup that toppled him from power. Secular
critics of Ennahda formed a copycat Tunisian Tamarrod movement,
flanked by support from the political parties Nidaa Tunis and Jebha
Chaabia.
Leaders of these parties, including Nidaa Tunis founder and presi-
dent Beji Caid Essebsi, had decried the Ennahda-​led government as ille-
gitimate since late 2012, when it became clear the National Constituent
Assembly (NCA) would not fulfill its pre-​election pledge of completing
a new constitution and arranging parliamentary elections within a one-​
year timeline.45 The coup against Morsi in Egypt, however, injected
Ennahda’s critics with a boost of confidence.
Essebsi dubbed the coup Egypt’s “second revolution” and, along
with other opponents of Ennahda, redoubled calls for Ennahda and
its coalition partners to cede power to an unelected group of sup-
posedly apolitical technocrats. They also called for the Constituent
Assembly—​ the elected legislature drafting a new and hopefully
democratically representative constitution—​ to be disbanded. Such
a scenario would have enabled Nidaa Tunis and Jebha Chaabia
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46 Countries

to oust Ennahda and secure levers of governmental power through

non-electoral means.
Despite the rise of a relatively small Tamarrod movement in Tunisia
and the rhetorical support opposition leaders lent to a soft coup, efforts
to topple Tunisia’s governing coalition did not enjoy the backing of a
large protest movement46—​not, at least, until a second political assas-
sination took place.
On July 25, 2013, jihadists assassinated Mohamed Brahmi. Like
Chokri Belaid, Brahmi was an MP in Jebha Chaabia, which already
held Ennahda responsible for Belaid’s death. Brahmi’s assassination
tossed a lit match into a powder keg of political tension, transforming
an already tense situation into a moment that threatened the entirety of
the democratic transition.
Thousands of protesters streamed nightly into Bardo square, directly
outside the Constituent Assembly, chanting for the government to
resign. Ennahda balked, unwilling to cede its democratic mandate to
a nebulous group of Nidaa-​friendly technocrats who may or may not
have derailed the transition. Nidaa Tunis, for its part, drew on rheto-
ric used in the anti-​Morsi protests, claiming that, though unelected,
their party possessed “shar’iya al-​shar’a” (street legitimacy). Throughout
August 2013, Ennahda and Nidaa Tunis rallied competing groups of
protesters in the capital.47 Though Ennahda claimed electoral legiti-
macy, the competition quickly became centered on questions of street
legitimacy, with both actors vying to see which party could gather the
largest number of people.
The Bardo standoff was ultimately resolved through a protracted
National Dialogue process. A  quartet of civil society actors, led by
Tunisia’s powerful trade union, the UGTT, later won a Nobel Peace
Prize for its successful reconciliation efforts.48 In January 2014, outgo-
ing Ennahda prime minister Ali Laarayedh signed Tunisia’s new con-
stitution into law. Two days later he handed power to a technocratic
caretaker government. The transition, though threatened, continued.

The Lustration Issue: Testing Ennahda’s Long-​Termism

A critical component of resolving the Bardo crisis was Ennahda lead-
ers’ ultimate willingness not only to step down from power, but also
 47

Tunisia 47

to oppose passage of a controversial lustration law. This legislation,

referred to as qanun tahseen al-​thawra (law to immunize, or protect, the
revolution) by its proponents and as qanun al-​iqsa (exclusion law) by its
opponents, would have prohibited ex-​members of Ben Ali’s disbanded
party, the Constitutional Democratic Rally (RCD), from contesting
Tunisia’s 2014 elections.
Throughout the constitutional drafting process, Ennahda had—​
largely as a result of pressure placed upon it by civil society groups—​
compromised on a number of ideological issues. It walked back
language describing men and women as “complementary,” retracted
an article that would have criminalized blasphemy, and abandoned
efforts to include sharia as a source of legislation.49 None of these classi-
cally Islamist sticking points, however, created as much discord within
Ennahda itself as the debate over abandoning the electoral lustration
law, which was immensely popular inside the party.
The Congress for the Republic (CPR), one of Enanhda’s coalition
partners and the most vocally pro–​revolution party in the NCA, first
proposed lustration legislation in spring 2012 to prohibit ex-​members
of the RCD from contesting elections for five years. Ennahda cast an
internal vote of support for the law at its ninth party congress in July
2012. Over the following year, leading members of Ennahda generally
described lustration as a natural and necessary step to protect the revolu-
tion.50 They referenced other post-authoritarian countries that adopted
such legislation, claiming lustration would protect Tunisia’s nascent
democracy from old regime actors.
By summer 2013, it appeared the NCA would likely adopt the lustra-
tion law. On June 28, 2013, parties in the NCA voted to move discus-
sion of the legislation forward onto the floor for general debate. The
law enjoyed broad cross-​ideological support: the CPR and the majority
of Ennahda parliamentarians, as well as many members of anti-​Islamist
leftist trends, strongly favored lustration.
As the summer drew to a close, however, some members of Ennahda’s
leadership came to view lustration as politically infeasible. The com-
bined effects of the Egypt coup, Mohamed Brahmi’s assassination, and
the subsequent Bardo crisis severely constricted Ennahda’s margin of
strategic maneuver, raising the potential costs of pursuing lustration.
Even at a time of relative stability, lustration legislation could have
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48 Countries

created a constituency for a coup. Passage of a lustration law would

have disqualified Beji Caid Essebsi, founder of Nidaa Tunis and scion
of Tunisia’s anti-​Islamist opposition—​a man most Tunisians, even as
early as 2013, believed would become the next president—​from hold-
ing office.51
In such a volatile context, pursuit of lustration had become espe-
cially dangerous, something which Rached Ghannouchi realized. On
August 25, 2013, he appeared on Nessma TV, a channel especially popu-
lar with Nidaa Tunis supporters, to reassure viewers that the lustra-
tion law would not be passed. Such reassurance would, he hoped, quell
Nidaa’s fears of electoral marginalization, possibly luring them to the
bargaining table.52 The following week, Ghannouchi met with Essebsi
in Paris, raising speculation that a negotiated settlement to the impasse
might be possible.
Ghannouchi’s willingness to sacrifice lustration on the altar of a nego-
tiated political settlement created immense tension within Ennahda.
Ghannouchi superseded the will of the party’s top governing body, the
Shura Council, which had consistently expressed support for lustra-
tion. Many Shura Council members criticized Ghannouchi for both
subverting strongly valued institutional procedure and sacrificing revo-
lutionary principles.
Council members defied Ghannouchi’s wishes by pushing again for
the passage of lustration legislation, in conjunction with Ennahda’s
secular partners in the coalition government. In mid-​December 2013,
the NCA, with the support of most Ennahda MPs, attempted to attach
a lustration provision to comprehensive transitional justice legislation.
Realizing the continued popularity of lustration within Ennahda’s leg-
islative bloc, as well as its immense political risks, Ghannouchi went
to the NCA to personally lobby Ennahda MPs to abandon lustration.
The December 2013 transitional justice law ultimately passed with-
out a lustration provision. But the issue of lustration came up one last
time on April 30, 2014. Despite Ghannouchi’s months of lobbying,
Article 167—​which would have barred anyone who held a position of
responsibility in the RCD from running in Tunisia’s 2014 parliamentary
elections—​very nearly passed. Torn between political imperatives and
revolutionary principles, many Ennahda MPs known for their strong
attendance record punted by either abstaining or failing to attend the
 49

Tunisia 49

Constituent Assembly on the day of voting. Ultimately, thirty-​nine

Ennahda MPs voted for the article, directly contravening Ghannouchi’s
leadership. Only five voted against. In the end, Article 167 failed to pass
by just a single vote—​that of an Ennahda MP who, at the last minute,
switched his vote of support to one of abstention.
In his attempt to convince Ennahda MPs that lustration was best
avoided, Ghannouchi used both political and religious arguments.
Politically, Ghannouchi stressed that Tunisia was in a fragile period of
transitional politics. In such a period, he argued, apparent gains could
easily be reversed. Inclusive power-​sharing, therefore, represented the
best path to success—​both for the self-​interested survival of Ennahda
and for the viability of Tunisia’s transition as a whole. Religiously,
Ghannouchi often invoked a parable involving the Prophet Mohamed
to illustrate the wisdom of inclusion. “When the Prophet Mohamed
stood victorious in Mecca,” Ghannouchi said, “he told the infidels who
did not believe in him, ‘Adhabu, fa-​antum al-​tulaqa’ (Go, you are set
free).”

He did not practice iqsa (exclusion) against them and did not pros-
ecute them but instead included them in his army and they became
leaders. And if it wasn’t for that the Arabian Peninsula … would
have fought civil war instead of spreading Islam all over the world.53

Many grassroots nahdawis, however, were reluctant to embrace such

religiously rooted rationales. For many, the realpolitik facing Ennahda
in the wake of the Egyptian coup was clear: offer political space to the
old regime or risk an Islamist-​excluding “second revolution” in Tunisia.
“It makes me sick, but it is common sense,” said Samia, a 46-​year-​old
Ennahda supporter from Bizerte. “Before the coup in Egypt I would
have said no—​it is wrong to let these people back in, but now it is the
only choice we have.”54
The wife of one Ennahda member in the Mellasine neighborhood
of Tunis jokingly said she respected Ghannouchi’s attempt to find a
religious explanation for abandoning lustration:

He was for it, and now he is against it, and he’s doing this [she flipped
through a book laughingly] to find a reason why it is right… . It is
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50 Countries

not right, and we [my husband and I] know that, but it is smart… .
So we will be smart.55

Transition Politics
Many members of Ennahda strongly questioned both the wisdom and
morality of abandoning lustration, which they considered an impor-
tant protection as well as a proud statement of revolutionary principle.
In the bitter months following the final vote against lustration, some
nahdawis thought back to the Egypt coup and gleaned an exclusion-
ary, rather than inclusive, lesson: that the Brotherhood’s willingness
to cooperate with fulul (old regime) actors, particularly the military,
sowed the seeds of its downfall. Ennahda, they feared, might be repeat-
ing those mistakes. Such fears reached an apex in the fall and winter of
2014, when Nidaa Tunis proved victorious not only in the presidential
election, which nahdawis had anticipated, but also in the parliamentary
elections, which they had expected to win.
The active lobbying of Ghannouchi and other leaders helped quell
these fears. Crucially, so too did Nidaa Tunis’s willingness to include
Ennahda in the governing coalitions it formed in 2015 and 2016.
Ennahda became a crucial—​if sometimes awkward—​coalition part-
ner for Nidaa Tunis, and continued integrating itself in Tunisian poli-
tics. Nahdawis’ worst fears—​namely that Nidaa would use its power
to dismantle democracy and persecute Ennahda members and their
families—​had not come to pass.
Ghannouchi and other “long-​termist” leaders deserve credit for cre-
ating the conditions that facilitated these outcomes. Ennahda leaders’
ability to act if not rightly, then at least smartly, regarding lustration
created an incentive structure more favorable to democratic transition.
Allowing Essebsi and other former regime officials to run in elections
heightened the appeal of staying in the democratic game for Nidaa
Tunis and other leaders of the anti-​Ennahda opposition.

Rethinking Islamism
Ennahda’s compromise on lustration reflects the extent to which its
leaders are recasting Islamism as an explicitly local, nationally bounded
 51

Tunisia 51

political project. Ennahda is wrapping itself more and more tightly in

the Tunisian flag and embracing its Tunisian history. Building on the
compromises pushed by Ghannouchi and other members of Ennahda’s
top brass, the party is on the path toward normalizing itself as a respon-
sible political player in Tunisia. Accusations that Ennahda represents
an imported franchise of the Egyptian Brotherhood, or a dangerous
cancer that needs to be excised from the Tunisian body politic, still exist
but are heard less frequently today than in the early days of Tunisia’s
transition.
The year 2016 was critical for the party. Ennahda leaders pub-
lically reiterated that the party’s intellectual history and inspira-
tions were rooted in figures from Tunisian history, ranging from the
proto-​feminist Tahar Haddad and anti-​Islamist former president
Habib Bourguiba—figures much vaunted by Nidaa Tunis and other
secularly oriented Tunisians—to Bourguiba’s arch-rival Salah Ben
Youssef and the Tunisian religious scholar Sheikh Tahar Ben Achour.
Ennahda also made the savvy move at its May 2016 congress of pub-
licly disavowing the Islamist label, preferring to be known instead
as a “Muslim democratic” party. It also took further steps toward
“normalizing” the party by (a) facilitating broader membership of
the party and (b) prohibiting members who preach in mosques from
holding any local or national leadership roles. Such steps, combined
with Ennahda’s concerted efforts to Tunisify the party’s identity and
intellectual origins, offer fascinating windows into a moment of
party normalization.56
Despite the tensions that dominated 2013 and the high levels of dis-
trust between their two parties, Ghannouchi and Essebsi—​often wryly
referred to as the two sheikhs—​were able to build a productive working
relationship. Many Tunisians, however, have criticized this alliance as
exclusionary and anti-revolutionary. High-​level horse trading between
Nidaa and Ennahda—​driven in part by Ennahda’s determination to
secure its own survival and political integration—​have, some say, sanc-
tioned a form of backroom politics that puts the status quo ahead of
much-​needed reforms.
The crowning moment of nahdawi normalization, which high-
lighted the increasingly cozy relationship between Essebsi and
Ghannouchi, came in May 2016 when Essebsi himself delivered the
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52 Countries

nationally broadcast keynote address at Ennahda’s 10th congress. A sta-

dium packed full of Ennahda members stood and cheered when Essebsi
entered. They were relieved that, rather than throwing nahdawis back
in prison, as many had feared, Essebsi was instead delivering the most
powerful endorsement of Ennahda’s legitimacy to date.57
For Ennahda, a movement long ostracized as pro-​extremist and
anti-​Tunisian, the political dividends derived from such relationships is
immensely valuable. Ennahda’s core leaders have indeed put a premium
on survival during the transition period. Though Ennahda leaders pre-
fer not to use the word survivalism, they do acknowledge and defend
having adopted a strategy of pragmatic minimalism during Tunisia’s
transition. Preserving Tunisia’s transition and gradually building demo-
cratic institutions, they claim, take precedence over pursuing high-​risk
reforms that would engender direct confrontation with Tunisia’s old
regime elites. Ennahda strongly believes that such progress cannot hap-
pen if their party is locked out of Tunisian politics. Preserving Ennahda’s
seat at the table is—​from the perspective of Ennahda’s leaders—​a criti-
cal precondition for preserving Tunisia’s democratic transition itself.
Conversely, Ennahda believes that its normalization in Tunisian politics
will contribute toward the consolidation of the country’s still fragile
democratic transition.

Selling Survivalism
Local fallout from the twin shocks of Egypt’s coup and the rise of
Salafi-​jihadism fueled the Bardo crisis of 2013—​a pivotal moment
that tested Ennahda’s commitment to long-​term pragmatism. Led by
Ghannouchi, Ennahda’s top brass arguably passed that test, pursuing
an approach predicated on canny compromise and caution. Rather
than hastily unpacking a box of ideological aims, Ennahda appraised
its surroundings before moving forward, aware of the fragility inherent
in “transition politics.”
That approach, though, while shrewd, lacks the dynamism tradition-
ally associated with principle-​driven movements, be they revolutionary
or religious in nature. Although card-​carrying Ennahda members voted
loyally for Ennahda in the 2014 elections, a series of compromises—​
especially on issues of revolutionary principle like lustration—​impelled
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Tunisia 53

many to grow less active in the party’s local and regional structures.
Ennahda now faces the challenge of creatively packaging its brand of
cautious conservatism to accomplish two goals: rallying its existing base
and recruiting new party members. Recognizing this, Ennahda made
proactive changes at its 10th congress to facilitate party membership
and broaden its brand. Yet Ennahda’s aversion to principled risk-​tak-
ing may hamper its ability to craft an inspiring political message that
energizes existing supporters and enables the party to expand beyond
its historic base.
Ennahda’s top leaders believe gaining electoral ground necessitates
first gaining credibility as a Tunisian Islamist—​or, as Ennahda has now
officially labeled itself, a Muslim democratic party—​one that places
national stability and safeguarding the transition over specific mat-
ters of religious or revolutionary principle. This minimalist approach
does not preclude the possibility of future ideological activism, but
instead puts off issue-​driven politics for a later date—​ostensibly when
Tunisia has weathered the storm of interim, transitional challenges and
Ennahda’s seat at the political table is assured.
Selling survivalism—​be it the survival of one’s own party or that of
the transition itself—​may prove trickier than selling old regime nos-
talgia, populist rejection of the existing system, or dreams of a rosier
utopia. It remains to be seen how Ennahda will translate its approach
to a fresh crop of potential party newcomers, and whether its base will
stay loyal if normalization progresses enough that nahdawis no longer
view voting Ennahda as an act of existential self-​preservation.
54

3
Q
Morocco
Avi Max Spiegel

At the 2006 annual conference of the youth wing of the main

Islamist party in Morocco, the Justice and Development Party
(PJD), the program was filled with sessions led by party leaders and
activists on topics ranging from human rights to local governance,
mobilization, and the Internet.1 It also featured a session with rep-
resentatives from Islamist parties across the Middle East and North
Africa. When I asked a party leader why they had invited these
guests from outside Morocco, he replied that it was important to
“learn from them.”
The admission was tinged with humility, with the implication that
it was Morocco’s Islamists who had the learning to do and that other
older and more experienced Islamist parties could instruct them and
show them the way.2 In the following years, the party dispatched
senior officials to Turkey to meet with the similarly named Justice and
Development Party, the AKP. In the three years that followed, before
the PJD dominated the elections in 2011 (and again in 2016) that pro-
pelled it to the prime ministership, its activists embarked on many such
exploratory trips and conferences, including to Cairo to meet with
the organization that had originally inspired its own founding, the
Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood.3

54
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Morocco 55

As the Arab Spring spread across the Middle East, the northwest
African country of Morocco barely seemed to register on the wider
geopolitical map. Protests were smaller than in neighboring coun-
tries; its leader—​King Mohamed VI—​never faced the existential
threats that other authoritarian rulers did. The king also appeared to
stay in front of the protests, ushering in constitutional reforms that
allowed him to retain the perceived mantle of reform. Even when
Islamists appeared to take advantage of political openings across the
region, events in Morocco barely registered in the Western conscious-
ness. Attention seemed to focus on Islamist parties in Egypt and
Tunisia—​even though it was Morocco in 2011 which witnessed the
first democratically-​elected Sunni Islamist head of government in the
Arab world.4
Has Morocco’s moment finally arrived? As mainstream Islamist
parties—​those with roots in the Muslim Brotherhood model—​appear
to be on the wane throughout the Arab world, both of Morocco’s
Islamist movements are enduring. Indeed, it is not just the PJD that
survived the Arab Spring. The country’s largest Islamist movement, Al
Adl Wal Ishan, or the Justice and Spirituality Movement (Al Adl)—a
movement that boycotts elections and evades legality—has also navi-
gated the revolutionary period and its aftermath with considerable
agility.
In the wake of the 2013 Egyptian coup—​the coup that spelled the
end of the Muslim Brotherhood’s dominance in Egyptian politics—​I
once again asked a PJD official about his relationships with Islamists
across the region. When I reminded him of those earlier trips to study
other parties, his response was telling, perhaps signaling that the power
dynamics had slowly shifted. “Now,” he said, with a new air of self-​con-
fidence, “people should study us.”
This chapter heeds this call. Indeed, Morocco increasingly offers an
important case study for understanding new and emerging paths of
political Islam, or, in other words, how—​and in what forms—​Islamism
and the political process can continue to interact. The Moroccan regime
has often attempted, usually overambitiously, to hold itself out as a
model for many things: for democracy, for reform, for so-​called soft
authoritarianism.5 But today, perhaps, the country does offer something
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56 Countries

exceptional: a glimpse into sustaining forms of political Islam and of

Islamist parties still holding onto relevance, if not (limited) power.6
This chapter seeks to explain the resilience (and relative success) of
mainstream Islamism in Morocco and, in the process, help elucidate
the forces shaping the next generation of political Islam. This resilience
cannot simply be explained by the fact that Islamists in Morocco have
come to understand Islam differently than their counterparts elsewhere
(of course they did; all such actors exhibit unique, even idiosyncratic,
religiopolitical worldviews). It is also not that they are luckier, more
learned, more competent, or even somehow more ideologically com-
mitted to the political process than other Islamists.
Instead, I will argue here that their relative success can be explained
by the confluence of three factors, or what I term “the three Cs”: con-
text, control, and competition. First, by “context,” I mean the specific
political and constitutional context in which Moroccan Islamists func-
tion. I am not referring here simply to the existence of a monarchical
system—​for not all monarchies are equal. Rather, I point to how the
monarchy has exercised its authority:  allowing Islamist political par-
ticipation, but only within certain proscribed lines. Such lines often
constrain Islamists’ power and perhaps broader ideological pursuits but
paradoxically also help ensure their survival and continued appeal.
Second, by “control,” I focus here on the extent to which these groups
exercise control over and within their internal organizations, specifi-
cally between the party (hizb) and its allied religious wing or move-
ment (haraka). Largely unique among such movements in the region,
Islamist groups in Morocco have mostly subsumed their affiliated reli-
gious units—​not the other way around—​to political imperatives and
the authority of the party apparatus. Such an organizational relation-
ship bears considerable strategic fruit, enabling the party to deploy the
religious units at will and allowing the party to maintain and expand its
base by offering a unique space to develop discipline among members,
religiously oriented activism, and even internal opposition.
Third, and finally, by “competition,” I am referring to the relation-
ship of Al Adl and the PJD. The nature of this competition—​specifi-
cally the way in which each continues to evolve in relation to the other
and to cleverly seek relative market share—​has allowed each to carve
out unique appeal. Moreover, contrary to expectations, regional and
 57

Morocco 57

domestic change—including the Arab Spring, the Egyptian coup, and

the rise of the Islamic State—​has not adversely affected these move-
ments’ trajectories. Both movements have, in fact, successfully navi-
gated the tumult by expanding their appeal. They have done so by
selling themselves as exceptional and unique—​by promoting the idea
that their approach, evidenced largely by their mere survival, is working.

Islamists in Government
Islamists of the PJD spent close to three decades trying to form a politi-
cal party, one that could finally participate in elections. After break-
ing from the country’s first Islamist movement, the illegal Harakat
al-​Shabiba al-​Islamiyya (Movement of Islamic Youth) in the 1970s,
its early leaders experimented with various tactics: they altered their
organizational configurations, merged with other parties, and even
changed their name.7 Yet, the ultimate obstacle to their participation—​
that is, the major stumbling block to the regime approving their mul-
tiple applications for party formation—​was not that they represented
a nascent political threat. (Indeed, during this time, the state allowed
socialists, for example, to compete in elections, and even form the first
ever “alternance” or opposition government.)8
When Islamists of the PJD finally formed their political party, they
did so under the regulations set by the country’s interior ministry and
the king himself. They would be permitted to formally participate in
elections, it turned out, only if they agreed not to challenge the religious
foundations of the state—​not to dispute the king’s role as “Commander
of the Faithful,” or what the king termed “heresy.” For an Islamist party
with ideological roots in the Muslim Brotherhood, to cede religious
legitimacy to the state would appear antithetical to its goals, or at the
very least a difficult compromise to make.
Yet, the PJD’s founders ultimately relented.9 Senior leaders even
went so far as to give up fundamental early goals—​the creation of an
Islamic state. They would cease to pursue such a state, one leading activ-
ist claimed, because the Moroccan state, under the leadership of the
king, “was already one.”10 The PJD followed this path because even in
those early years it was primarily motivated by its own survival. Party
leaders needed to expand and maintain their base and compete with
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58 Countries

local Islamist competitors, particularly a growing Al Adl, by offering

something no one else did: electoral participation. They also needed
to take into account regional realities, namely civil war in nearby
Algeria11 as well as meet and pre-​empt the looming threat of state
repression.12
Whether these changes arose partly as a result of belief or tactics (or
both), the party that emerged has capitalized on, and even internalized,
these strategies. They have driven the way the PJD campaigns for office,
how it mobilizes its base, how it devises its organizational and party
structures, and ultimately, how it governs.
Consider the PJD’s path to the prime ministership itself, an elec-
toral success once deemed unimaginable by its members, the gen-
eral population, and even the state. For the first elections in which
they were allowed to participate in 1997, activists agreed to vote for
another existing party.13 In the elections of 2002, activists only con-
tested a limited number of seats. In the local elections following the
2003 Casablanca bombings (often referred to as Morocco’s 9/​11), they
agreed—​once again at the behest of the monarchy—​to limit the dis-
tricts they would contest, hoping to avoid exacerbating tensions in
the country.
When the party grappled with how to respond to electoral setbacks
in the 2007 elections, it decided to accommodate rather than antago-
nize the state by electing as its leader Abdelilah Benkirane, who had
a long-​standing history of deference toward the monarchy. When the
Arab Spring hit Morocco in 2011, the PJD opted, not surprisingly, to
remain for the most part on the sidelines. Some party members voiced
sympathetic notes about the protests, but in the main they worried that
challenging the king would risk destabilizing the country and, more
selfishly, disrupt their own long-​awaited path to power.
Further, when PJD members contested elections in 2011, they agreed
to give up their biggest mobilizing space—​the mosque—​and abide
by earlier government rules that forbade parties from campaigning in
places of worship. Indeed, they ran a campaign largely bereft of men-
tions of religion, instead focusing largely on opposing other parties and
promising to renew the political process itself rather than opposing the
state. The party stressed bread-​and-​butter issues, including job creation,
unemployment, corruption, and minimum wage increases. In a typical
 59

Morocco 59

campaign-​related video, the head of PJD Youth, Khalid Bukkharri,

implores voters to support the PJD because it can rid the political pro-
cess of corruption.14
Once the PJD assumed office, it did so all the while under the king’s
auspices. Under rules set forth in the country’s new constitution of
2011, the party that won the majority of votes would finally be guar-
anteed a right to the prime ministership. (Up until then, this was not
assured. When the king had the power to choose whomever he wanted,
such as after the 2002 elections, he looked past the election results
and appointed a technocrat.) But while the new constitution paved
the way for a PJD-​led government, it also significantly regulated and
constrained it. The king still maintained the power to veto appoint-
ments and to appoint, in the first place, the most critical ministries: the
Ministries of Islamic Affairs and Defense, among others.
Benkirane’s personable, even folksy, style has managed to transcend
some of these structural constraints. His popularity is unprecedented in
contemporary Morocco for a politician other than the king, whose own
approval rating runs high compared to the abysmal ratings of other
politicians. Benkirane addresses crowds in local dialects and appears to
be personally unaffected by the spoils of power. For instance, his rela-
tives told me how he still buys his furniture at used furniture open-​air
markets outside of Rabat. At one campaign event in 2015, Benkirane
could not hold back his tears as he marveled at the thousands of peo-
ple assembled to see him. The crowds gathered seemed to revel in
Benkirane’s display of emotion, drowning out his words with applause.
His popularity is such that he reportedly now finally has a bodyguard.15
Benkirane has shown a willingness, also unique for Moroccan poli-
ticians, to speak out against the regime and even, at times, the king
himself. Benkirane often rails, for example, about long-​standing state
interests and the entrenched economic and political forces that cur-
tail his party’s ability to rule, using metaphors such as “crocodiles”
and “ghosts” to connote their omnipresence and hidden power.16 Such
statements clearly implicate the king himself, who controls the largest
portions of the economy.
Some scholars have argued that such statements and Benkirane’s pop-
ularity pose unprecedented challenges to the stability of the Moroccan
regime, but such a view is misleading; in fact, the opposite is largely
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60 Countries

true.17 Benkirane’s antagonistic statements toward the ruling regime are

exceptions, not the rule, and should be understood not as new chal-
lenges to the regime, but rather as well-​timed strategic efforts to appeal
to oppositional forces within the country, including anti-regime senti-
ment within his own party base and within competitor organizations
like Al Adl. Indeed, Benkirane and his deputies have consistently fix-
ated on party strategy and survival and on controlling party structures.
Youth activists reported that Benkirane himself, as sitting prime min-
ister, had a say in which candidates ran for head of the youth wing.18
Most of the time, Benkirane went out of his way to remind the pub-
lic of the dominance of the king. In March 2015, he told party members
that “Morocco has no future if we enter into conflict with our king.”19
The imagery of his speech was also significant: Benkirane spoke next to
a framed photo of the king placed on a pedestal beside him. The king’s
picture was larger than Benkirane himself.20
Nowhere is the party’s ability to survive more on display than in its
evolving internal organization. The PJD arose from Tawhid wal Islah
(Movement of Unity and Reform). But when the party was formed it
had to decide whether to disband the “affiliated religion movement,”
to subsume it within the party, or to keep it alive as a separate entity.
The party chose the third option, largely as a way to continue to be able
to mobilize as many young people as possible. The movement contin-
ues to exist but remains largely devoted to supporting party mobiliza-
tion, using explicitly religious messages to recruit supporters and rally
the base. Its presence and activities, which largely consist of weekly
Quranic study sessions for movement members, allow the party to
attract young people interested more in religion than in politics while
also enabling the party to assert control and discipline. The movement’s
organizational make-​up, originally modeled loosely after the Muslim
Brotherhood’s usra or “family” model in which individuals were inter-
nally “promoted” based on how many new members they managed to
recruit, has evolved into a sophisticated system more focused on the
development of new party leaders. Activists frequently report that to be
successful in the party, one must be active in the movement.21
Having a “separate” movement also gives the party plausible deni-
ability over more controversial issues, allowing its newspaper (Attajdid)
to write on topics that might appeal to diverse constituencies, including
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Morocco 61

more conservative Islamists. The extent to which the movement has

become part and parcel of the party machine was evident in the election
of its new head in 2014. Both leading candidates had party roots: one
was the party’s former secretary general (and the country’s former for-
eign minister) and the other was a former close government aide to the
sitting prime minister and party secretary general, Benkirane.
PJD officials still evoke religion, but almost never in opposition to
the state. In a debate over “freedom of conscience” in 2013, it changed
its views to align with the monarchy, cementing its position that the
king maintain the sole power to dictate religious authority. It also
abided by a 2013 state edict that prohibited religious leaders, includ-
ing imams, from running for office. Instead, for party officials, “Islam”
itself often becomes a stand-​in for public “morality” or “traditional val-
ues” and a means with which to reach its religiously conservative base.
Since assuming office, such examples of strategic framing include (in)
famous comments on women’s place in the home, Islamic banking,
Jennifer Lopez, or even portrayals of the Prophet Mohamed in Western
movies.22 Indeed, party leaders have taken to calling other political par-
ties (particularly the monarchist Istiqlal Party) the “mafia,” warning
Moroccans of giving back control of the political process to secular
and, therefore, unethical politicians.23
Regional and local competition compelled the PJD to double
down on its strategies, particularly in the wake of the Egyptian mili-
tary’s coup and crackdown against the Muslim Brotherhood and its
president Mohamed Morsi in 2013. The effects of Morsi’s fall were felt
not just in Egypt, where the Brotherhood, its affiliated political party,
and even any allegedly “sympathetic” journalists, officials, protesters,
or mere onlookers have at various points been arrested, jailed, beaten,
and killed. The coup and its aftermath, including the fate of Tunisia’s
Ennahda party (discussed earlier in chapter 2), were viewed across the
region as a challenge to the Islamist experiment in governance and as
signifying the resurgence of pre–​Arab Spring power structures.
The PJD in Morocco was not immune to these developments. After
the coup in Egypt, newspapers in the country wondered whether the
PJD face a similar fate. (One newspaper headline featured a picture of
Benkirane with the headline:  “Is he next?”) The second-​largest party
in parliament, Istiqlal, seized on this political opening and announced
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62 Countries

its departure from the coalition government, with the aim of bringing
down the PJD-​led government. Istiqlal echoed the Egyptian military’s
rhetoric and condemned the Egyptian Brotherhood for “antidemo-
cratic” behavior, blaming the group for its own demise.24
The PJD reacted to the Egyptian coup—its first existential chal-
lenge since assuming office—not by railing against the unchecked
powers of authoritarian rule, but rather by seeking its aid. It responded
not by defending the Muslim Brotherhood against the excesses of the
Egyptian state or by reasserting its own Islamist identity, but rather by
faulting the Brotherhood for mismanagement and poor performance.
The PJD maintained that it was different from the Brotherhood and
a better version of it—a kind of Islamism 2.0. It pointed out that it
had done a better of job of working with other parties and of working
side by side with existing state structures, rather than upsetting them.
“They are not our Brothers,” one leading party official told me after
the coup.25
Even at the time of the coup, the PJD foreign minister’s response was
tepid, stopping short of condemnation and instead calling for “national
unity” in Egypt; a top movement official, in contrast, was far more bel-
licose.26 The message to party members was clear: statements from the
movement are what we really think; statements from the party are what
we have to say. But in the end, official policy was, as it continues to be,
directed by the party.
When the PJD needed to find a new coalition partner to remain in
power, it turned for help to its greatest benefactor: the monarchy. After
the king responded favorably, Benkirane was clear in his gratitude, not-
ing that his government would have fallen had it not been for the king,
who renewed the grand bargain (for the time being): the PJD’s survival
would be assured if it supported the king.27

Islamists in Opposition
If the PJD’s relationship with the state can be characterized by coop-
eration and even co-optation, Al Adl’s appears, at least at first glance,
to be one of confrontation and combativeness. Its roots lie squarely
in the writings of its founder and late spiritual guide, Abdesslam
Yassine. Yassine took steps to form what would become Al Adl in
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Morocco 63

the 1970s, after leaving the largest Sufi movement in the country, the
Tariqa Boutchichiya. Intent on building his own political movement
and inspired by the writings of Sayyid Qutb, among others, Yassine
began writing tome after tome (17 in total), each laced with grand
plans for re-​Islamizing society, for reconnecting Muslims every-
where, and for eventually replacing the Moroccan regime from the
bottom up.28
The movement that came to be created in his footsteps, Al Adl,
in many ways found its early inspiration not merely in a text of
theological dissent, but in an act of defiance. In a public letter sent
to King Hassan II in 1974, Yassine blamed the country’s failings on
its monarch, who had allegedly sold its fortunes to his rich cronies,
to “Zionist” friends, and to special interests; Hassan II, Yassine
argued, had put his own needs above that of the state. What was
perhaps even more revolutionary was that Yassine addressed the
king as his own peer, portraying himself as a scholar and leader
equal to the Commander of the Faithful.29 For this act, Yassine was
sentenced to an insane asylum and to many subsequent years of
house arrest.
In the interim, Yassine’s incipient movement thrived in its leader’s
physical absence: leading protests against the state, mobilizing on uni-
versity campuses, refusing to participate in elections, and publishing
magazines and newsletters that showed more willingness than anyone
else to brazenly criticize the state, even the king personally. The state
responded by arresting top leaders and student activists and banning
and confiscating their publications.
Thus, whereas the PJD embraced elections, Al Adl eschewed
them. While the PJD sought legality at all costs, Al Adl appeared
to thrive, even bask, in its own illegality. Yet, even though it has
routinely been labeled “radical” or “immoderate” or “banned” or
“illegal”—​labels that suggest irrational or, at the least, irresponsibly
contrarian behavior—​Al Adl too played by, and continues to play
by, the rules of the political game, which are rules laid down by the
state. Throughout its existence and especially since the Arab Spring,
the PJD’s election, and the Egyptian coup, Al Adl’s behavior has
been strategic, reactive, and increasingly defined by its goals of sur-
vival and expansion.
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64 Countries

When Mohamed VI took over the throne in 1999, Yassine wrote

another letter, albeit tamer than the first. The king, hoping to appear
more liberal than his father, responded by freeing Yassine from house
arrest. The scholar was allowed to move, eventually relocating to the
neighborhood of Souissi, the most expensive and elite neighborhood
in the country, one inhabited by diplomats and foreign dignitaries. (As
one Al Adl member noted, “Yassine is important. He should be sur-
rounded by important people.”)
Yassine’s antigovernment stance allowed Al Adl to differentiate
itself from the PJD because it attracted youth interested in stand-
ing up to the regime. Al Adl formed a quasi-​political party in wait-
ing in 1998, a year after the PJD formed, with the implicit aim
of being better organized to compete with the PJD for support-
ers. During every subsequent election year—​2003, 2007, 2011, and
2016—​Al Adl undertook dramatic mobilization campaigns against
the regime.
It was no surprise, then, that when anti-regime protests emerged dur-
ing the Arab Spring, Al Adl soon assumed a leading role—​for a time.
Al Adl joined forces with a wide cross-​section of Moroccans, includ-
ing leftists, as part of the “February 20 Movement,” named after an
unusually large day of protests in 2011.30 To listen to a debate between
representatives of the PJD, Al Adl, and a leading socialist group in the
country is to hear only two distinct schools of thought: an anti-regime
stance embodied by Al Adl and the socialists and a pro-​government
stance embodied by the PJD.31
Yet, as the Arab Spring protests unfolded across the region, Al
Adl suddenly decided to withdraw. What, then, drove the group, in
December 2011, to leave the February 20 Movement, choosing to melt
away into the political shadows once again?32
The decision, at first, seemed to make little strategic sense. This was
a moment when opposition movements around the region were cel-
ebrating their biggest successes in history. Popular rhetoric Al Adl had
embraced for decades was finally being adapted by the masses. Slogans
only its supporters shouted for years about dissolving the monarchy, for
example, were suddenly being chanted by protesters across the politi-
cal spectrum, from left to right. This seemed, in many ways, like the
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Morocco 65

obvious time for Al Adl to capitalize on these links and grow to new
heights.
But instead, it chose the opposite path. Why? Once again, its behav-
ior can only fully be understood when examined in relation to its main
Islamist competitor. Al Adl in 2011 was moved by a fear of losing or
alienating its base, just as it was since its founding. Members told me
of other reasons for their departure from February 20: some logistical,
some personal, some even emotional. Some bemoaned the lack of com-
munication with leftists and their poor organizational skills. Some felt
mistreated by their fellow protesters, even victims of prejudice. Some felt
that leftists were antireligious and seemed to take umbrage at references
to religion. According to one member of the February 20 Movement, Al
Adl added little but prowess at protesting. “They could bring people to
the streets, but that was it,” she said.
Yet these challenges, not unlike many problems shared by new pro-
test movements, were not insurmountable. Instead, the major factor in
Al Adl leaving the February 20 Movement related to its main Islamist
foe and the long-​term fears over losing its own base. It is no coincidence
that Al Adl returned to the shadows only weeks after the PJD’s dra-
matic election victory. The ascent of the PJD to the prime ministership
placed Al Adl in a difficult position. Benkirane was personally popular
with many young Islamists. And Al Adl feared it could be seen as a
“spoil sport,” as getting in the way of the most momentous moment for
Islamists in the region.
Recall that Benkirane was appointed prime minister during a wave of
Islamist electoral victories in the region. In this context, Al Adl felt that it
could not risk alienating its base by continuing to oppose the new, popu-
larly elected government. Sometimes, as many explained it to me, one has
to swallow a bitter pill, to make short-​term concessions for the good of
the long term. There was also an expectation in Al Adl that the PJD would
ultimately stumble, because the monarchy would constrain its rule.33
As one member noted in the wake of the Egyptian coup, Al Adl “did
what the Muslim Brotherhood should have done”—​that is, took things
slowly, waited, and watched events unfold. The Brotherhood should have
recognized that the situation was fluid, that the Arab Spring was per-
haps but a passing phase. Activists also gleaned from the Egyptian coup
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66 Countries

that Islamist groups should be wary of the power of Arab states—​that

regimes never disappear, pointing of course to the PJD’s inability to
enact real change in the face of the Moroccan regime’s dominance.
Indeed, leaving February 20 when it did allowed Al Adl to avoid some
of the harshest state responses against February 20 members, including
arrests, beatings, and house searches.34
Even though it ceased to formally cooperate with February 20, Al Adl
still finds common ground, slowly, methodically, with leftists in ways
that don’t overtly threaten its own existence. Nowhere is this more on
display than in Al Adl’s organizational evolution. The group is often
described by scholars and journalists as “banned yet tolerated”—​which
suggests that the group has been spared the fate of counterparts in
Egypt that have faced brutal crackdowns. But such a formulation is
incomplete. My research suggests that, just like the PJD, Al Adl is often
permitted to engage in activities that challenge the regime on politi-
cal grounds, but never those that might question the regime’s religious
foundations.35 It regularly holds protests on anodyne issues such as
economics, Palestinian rights, American foreign policy, corruption, or
unemployment. Yet, once its activities extend too far into the public
religious sphere—​that is, outside its own private discussions of its own
texts—​crackdowns against it increase. By and large, Al Adl appears to
realize this and abide by these limitations.
To facilitate its careful, cautious approach, the organization is now
compartmentalized into two distinct wings or “circles”: a religious cir-
cle (spawned at its formation in the early 1980s) and a political circle
(created in 1998 at a meeting in Marrakesh, a year after the PJD began
participating in politics). Just as is the case with the PJD’s relationship
with its affiliated religious movement, Al Adl’s dual organizational front
allows it to maximize its appeal to as many new recruits as possible. It
can make room for many personalities and sensibilities within the move-
ment: those, for example, who like Yassine’s writings on Sufism and per-
sonal transcendence can find a niche, as can those for whom the group’s
antigovernment stances hold special sway. Members claim that the move-
ment is undergoing organizational reform to better streamline its func-
tions, but it is noteworthy that, as one activist explained, it is basing its
reorganization on business models, not on other Islamist groups.
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Morocco 67

The group’s political circle now appears to function with some degree
of autonomy from its religious circle, increasingly resembling a political
party in waiting. It holds internal elections for its guidance council and
issues official statements on regional and international developments,
such as congratulating the Turkish prime minister on his party’s victory
in local elections in March 2014.36
The Egyptian coup of 2013 did not change Al Adl’s primary strat-
egy; rather, it cemented it. The coup seemed to exemplify the risks
of opposing an authoritarian regime too boldly. By exposing these
dangers, it also reinforced Al Adl’s strategy of slow, incremental,
bottom-​up political change. The group’s leaders also used the coup
to highlight their own criticisms of the Moroccan state and of the
Arab state writ large, publicly faulting the power of repressive police
forces and militaries. They even called upon international bodies
to condemn the Egyptian military, as if to suggest that appropri-
ate condemnation would never come from the Moroccan regime, a
regime that the group considers capable of the same injustices as the
one in Egypt.37

The Future of the “Moroccan Model” of Islamism

Political scientists have long written about the durability of authori-
tarian governments in the Middle East and about the strategies, tech-
niques, and practices employed to buttress their rule.38 The Moroccan
case now compels us to consider the durability of emerging forms of
political Islam: one that elevates a more modest, practical approach
to political survival over any dramatic remaking of Islamist political
thought. It is a model characterized by molding to state religious pol-
icy, deploying Islam selectively and strategically, resetting the power
relationship between party and movement, and proactively navigating
domestic and international competition.
The experiences of Morocco’s Islamists also suggest that claims of
political Islam’s demise are overblown. Electoral Islamism is not dead
but rather certain forms may no longer be viable. Islamists who work
within the confines of the state, and even in subservience to its long-​
standing institutions, such as those in Morocco, Tunisia, and Jordan,
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68 Countries

appear to be faring better than those with more revolutionary tenden-

cies. Yet, what sets Morocco’s Islamists apart is not simply that they
work within the confines of existing political structures, but rather
the nature of the structures themselves. In other words, the particular
structural contours of Moroccan state policy—​specifically in relation
to religious activism—​have significantly shaped Islamist behavior and
ultimately Islamist beliefs.
There is little doubt that extremist Islamist groups like the Islamic
State have been emboldened by the Egyptian coup and by the larger
perceived failures of the Islamist electoral experiment. But the experi-
ence of Islamists in Morocco suggests that mainstream Islamists could
also benefit from such setbacks. In many ways, the Egyptian coup and
the rise of the Islamic State have, counterintuitively, given Morocco’s
Islamists a new lease on life. This regional tumult has, first and fore-
most, altered expectations. As movements elsewhere continue to face
challenges, succeeding might now simply mean surviving.
Previously dismissed as co-​ opted “puppets,” Morocco’s Islamists
now appear more prescient than powerless. The coup in Egypt clearly
showed that if a movement challenges the authoritarian state too much,
it might suffer potentially existential consequences. Morocco’s Islamists
may have internalized this lesson from the neighboring civil war in
Algeria two decades earlier. The PJD used to claim that it helped pre-
vent Morocco from turning “into Algeria”; it now maintains that its
actions protected Morocco from turning into Egypt, or worse Yemen
or Libya.
The party remains intent on showing that it represents its own
unique model, untainted by the mistakes of others. Such national
pride can sometimes sound like a lack of self-​reflection or perhaps
even an Islamist anti-​cosmopolitanism. “We are a Moroccan party”
is a refrain heard often. Party leaders appear less interested in adopt-
ing new forms of political thought than in learning pragmatic lessons
from their own context. Informing this, of course, is the not-​so-​
subtle fear that importing new political ideas (or even appearing to
import them) could seem threatening to the religious thinking of the
regime.39
In the wake of the Islamic State’s rise, Al Adl has also benefitted: its so-​
called radicalism simply does not appear as “radical” as it once did. Both
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Morocco 69

Al Adl’s nonviolent activism and its commitment to working within the

confines of the nation-​state (even as it consistently finds fault with it)
allow it to appear more mainstream than it ever did before. The group
has seized this opportunity for wider appeal and access. Leaders meet
with foreign embassy officials, travel more, and speak out more than they
used to.
The ultimate question now is whether the approaches adopted by
Morocco’s Islamists are viable in the long term—​whether, in short,
their models of Islamist activism are sustainable. In the case of both
the PJD and Al Adl, there is little to suggest the development of any
long-​term strategic goals beyond mere survival. If their predicament
were represented by the metaphor of a race, it is still not clear what
“winning” would look like. Yet, the effects of losing—​of not being able
to run in the race any longer—​are far clearer. Indeed, grim examples
abound from across the region. The effects of losing are acutely palpa-
ble: the inability to hold government jobs and the inability to maintain
commitments and promises to its base for employment and security.
The PJD speaks little of far-​reaching plans other than to continue
fighting corruption within the existing system and to become the best
political party it can be. Leaders of Al Adl continue to appeal for a
“national pact,” where they would bring together various oppositional
movements, but it remains unclear what would transpire after such a
pact was formed. Its leaders also talked, in the wake of the Arab Spring,
of the desire for a “civil” state other than an “Islamic” one, but it none-
theless remains ambiguous what that state would actually look like.
Upon assuming office in 2011, one PJD leader was explicit about
his party’s aims: “Our goal,” he said, “is survival.” Three years later, the
regional chessboard looked different; the Islamist electoral ascent was
now on the wane. And that same leader bragged to a crowd of foreign
government officials in 2014: “We’re the one last Islamist party remain-
ing in government in the region.”40 The implication was clear. Any
long-​term plans would be subsumed by short-​term realities and struc-
tural constraints. Merely surviving was once again cause for celebration.
The forces motivating the monarchy to maintain the status quo are
also compelling: as long as Islamists don’t threaten the survival of the
regime—​and as long as those in the elected government, rather than
the royal court, can act as shields or shock absorbers for unpopular
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70 Countries

government polices—​there will be little motivation to crack down fur-

ther. But what if the shield overwhelms the state, if the PJD leader, in
other words, proves too popular? Another challenging scenario might
include increased pressure from Morocco’s Gulf allies to clamp down on
Islamists. Yet, thus far, such allies appear quite content with Morocco’s
convenient blend of crackdown and co-​optation.
An interaction between the PJD’s then-leader, Benkirane, and
Egyptian President Abdel Fattah al-​ Sissi exemplifies the dynam-
ics between Moroccan Islamist parties, the government structure,
and internal competition. Less than two years after Sisi deposed the
Egyptian Brotherhood, Benkirane, as prime minister, was faced with
the difficult and precarious position of meeting with him in the spring
of 2015. For many PJD youth activists, the meeting was tantamount
to hypocrisy: how could their leader shake hands with the man who
so violently cracked down on Islamists in Egypt? Of course, at the
time of the coup, the Moroccan king had congratulated Sissi, and
Benkirane’s foreign minister had even been dispatched to Sissi’s inau-
guration. But for many in the rank and file, this face-​to-​face meeting
was one step too far. Protests by young PJD members erupted in mul-
tiple cities across the country. A doctored photo of the meeting—​in
which Benkirane is pictured sitting on Sissi’s lap—​circulated on the
Internet.41
Benkirane, for his part, sought to stem criticism by stating that he
was meeting Sissi as an emissary for the country and the king—​and
not as a PJD member. His response was, no doubt, diplomatic, but it
also evinced the deeper message that not only would he do whatever
was asked of him by the king but also that he was able to sublimate
his loyalty to the party to that of the state. The ability of the party
base to protest, however, also offered up another lesson: that the
presence of the haraka networks makes space for internal protest.
How these tensions might play out under a less persuasive or popular
party leader remains to be seen. Yet, even those within the PJD who
are most critical of the accommodationist approach have relented
or moved on, either to Al Adl or from politics in general. Even the
historically most critical party leader, Mustapha Ramid, routinely
abided by the king’s edicts in his role as Minister of Justice in the
Benkirane government.
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Morocco 71

In writing about the relative “success” of Islamists in Morocco, then,

this chapter also calls for closer scrutiny of our very notions of Islamist
“success.” As Western social scientists, we seem particularly drawn to the
study of elections. The data sets are available, and, indeed, we tend to
reflexively study “them” the way we study “us.” We love measuring and
tracking “democracy,” focusing on winners and losers, on horse races,
victories, and defeats. We study these things, I suspect, because we are
guided by the belief that these outcomes matter—​that the winners of
elections actually win something. Yet, in authoritarian contexts—​even
post–​Arab Spring contexts—​does electoral success translate into suc-
cess writ large? What if long-​standing regimes have stacked the deck—​
rigged the rules—​to such an extent that electoral success might not
mean what we think it does? In the Moroccan context, it becomes
necessary to ask whether the PJD is really able to enact a far-​reaching
political agenda or effect widespread social change (or any kind of social
change for that matter) in a context where the king still dominates the
political sphere—​particularly when it comes to religion.
In thinking critically about what “Islamist success” means, this
chapter also suggests a closer look at non-electoral or extra-electoral
Islamist activism. This is an especially important question in a post-
coup moment where the Egyptian Brotherhood’s experiment with
electoral participation appears to have been nothing short of abject
failure. Is it perhaps conceivable that parties and movements that do
not participate in elections are actually having a more dramatic effect
on society? Evidence in Pakistan, for example, suggests this, and cer-
tainly the activism of Al Adl in Morocco confirms this as well. Al Adl
has become the largest Islamist group in Morocco without participat-
ing in elections. The PJD garners the headlines, the cabinet appoint-
ments, the fame, and the international attention, but perhaps Al Adl’s
activism is more durable. Perhaps the more influential model is the
one we don’t see every day. Thus, the Islamist “success stories” that
emerge from the region might not be measured or marked by election
results, but rather by the less concrete things: say, influencing judi-
cial appointments, religious practices, educational mores, and social
norms more broadly.
To participate or not to participate in the electoral process—that will
be the question facing the region’s Islamist parties and movements in
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72 Countries

the years to come. Regardless of the tactics and strategies such parties
and movements opt for, the lessons of the Moroccan experience are
unambiguous: abiding by the rules of the political process can help
ensure some form of survival and increased, if still limited, influence. In
the aftermath of the Arab Spring, the PJD’s Benkirane analogized the
ongoing protests in Morocco to a modest fire, one that heated rather
than destroyed the political process. “The fire was sufficient to heat
the bowl,” he said. “Thank God, it was not enough to burn it.” If it
had destroyed it, then it would have also destroyed the main Islamist
movements in the country—​the PJD and Al Adl—​who abide by and
ultimately benefit from it. Increasingly, both movements endure by
continuing not to “burn” existing political structures. Even if they do
not outwardly defend the political status quo, the largest Islamist move-
ments in Morocco continue to preserve and even bolster it. They do so
because their survival depends on it.
 73

4
Q Syria
Raphaël Lefèvre

The Syrian conflict has offered a unique opportunity for

the Muslim Brotherhood to make its comeback on the polit-
ical stage more than 30 years after President Hafez al-​ Assad
forced them out of the country. The local Brotherhood branch,
founded by Syrian clerics inspired by the ideas of Hassan
al-​Banna, entered parliament in the 1950s and 1960s before taking the
helm of the Islamist opposition to the Baathist regime in the early 1980s
and then seeking refuge abroad. In sociological parlance, the Syrian
Muslim Brotherhood therefore transformed from an open social move-
ment into a social movement organization, one characterized by a limited
staff and membership base and driven by the “primary goal” of “organi-
zational survival.”1 Its priorities, in other words, have more to do with
survival and adapting to a volatile environment than with any specific
political or ideological considerations.
On the one hand, the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood’s development
of an informal bureaucracy in exile has allowed it to train skilled
politicians who have safeguarded the organization’s core interests by
navigating—with considerable pragmatism—Syria’s troubled waters. On
the other hand, however, the bureaucratization of the Brotherhood has
also meant its “oligarchization”2—​or the concentration of power within
the hands of a few longtime Brotherhood figures. Not only has this
dynamic raised the specter of factionalism and constrained the group’s

73
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74 Countries

effectiveness on the ground but it has also alienated other Islamists who
increasingly view the group as more interested in organizational preser-
vation than in the actual implementation of its ideological agenda.

A Pragmatic Leadership
The Brotherhood’s focus on survival and its development of a cadre of
skilled politicians explain much of its success in becoming a driving
force of exiled Syrian politics. The group has routinely been accused
of directly “controlling” the opposition since the start of the conflict
in 2011.3 However, in actual fact, the Brotherhood has tended to exert
its influence in indirect ways. For instance, when the Syrian National
Council (SNC) was created in September 2011, Brotherhood officials
neither tried to “Islamize” its political program nor claim leadership.
Instead, they worked with other activists to build broad alliances.
They backed opposition figures with backgrounds very distinct from
their own to become heads of the SNC, such as Burhan Ghalioun,
a secular Sunni activist; Abdelbasset Sieda, a Kurdish academic; and
George Sabra, a Christian Marxist. In addition to forging these part-
nerships, the Muslim Brotherhood showcased its influence by acting
as a bloc during SNC voting sessions—​and this sometimes turned
them into the opposition’s kingmakers. Indeed, their internal cohe-
sion and political organization stand in stark contrast to the fragmen-
tation and shifting alliances that characterize the rest of the Syrian
opposition to date.
Muslim Brotherhood politicians again demonstrated their polit-
ical skill in December 2012 after the Obama administration pushed
the SNC to integrate the National Coalition for Syrian Revolutionary
and Opposition Forces, a new platform that was deemed more diverse
and representative of the Syrian spectrum. The Brotherhood, at first
reluctant to enter into a larger body in which their influence would be
diluted, finally endorsed the move after nominating their strongman,
Faruk Tayfur, as the new body’s vice president. They also penetrated
the National Coalition’s decision-​ making circles through alliances
with ideological fellow travelers, including the National Action Group
for Syria, a grouping of ex-​Brotherhood members from Aleppo; the
Committee to Protect Civilians, a humanitarian and military platform
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Syria 75

active in Homs; and the League of the Syrian Ulema, a lobby group
gathering religious scholars and headed by Mohamed Ali Sabouni,
a figure close to the Brotherhood. Yet while this complex cocktail of
mutual interests and Islamist sympathies, sometimes disguised, helped
the Brotherhood secure political influence, it further alienated those
who were already suspicious of its efforts to control the opposition.
These criticisms reached their apex following the March 2013 election
of Ghassan Hitto, an ally of Qatar seen by many as the “Brotherhood’s
man,”4 as head of the Syrian opposition’s “transitional government.”5
The row over Hitto’s election, his subsequent resignation, and the
almost simultaneous nomination of Saudi-​backed Ahmed al-​Jarba as
new head of the opposition also reflected the Brotherhood’s entan-
glement in regional power struggles. The Brotherhood had initially
supported the Qatari camp in the Syrian opposition in exchange for
increased media exposure and political support. This, unsurprisingly,
alienated Saudi Arabia. And when Riyadh ultimately seized the “Syrian
file” from Doha in 2013, the new landscape naturally translated into
a decrease in the Brotherhood’s influence. This pushed some of its
leaders to rethink their strategies. From then on, Faruk Tayfur did his
utmost to fix the group’s relationship with the kingdom—​sparing little
of his own political capital to court Riyadh and to support the Saudi
agenda within the Coalition. His first steps in this direction were
met with unease by other Brotherhood leaders.6 Indeed, at precisely
the same time, Saudi Arabia was encouraging the Egyptian army to
crack down on the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood. Yet Tayfur’s realist
approach eventually won over the rest of the organization. In January
2014, most of the Brotherhood members in the Coalition voted in
favor of Ahmed al-​Jarba when he ran for a second time as head of
the opposition. “We all realized that we don’t stand to gain anything
from confronting Saudi Arabia,” summed up a source in the leadership
remarked to me.7
This pragmatism even enabled the Syrian Brotherhood to emerge
unscathed from Saudi Arabia’s March 2014 designation of the Muslim
Brotherhood as a terrorist organization. “Saudi policymakers let us
know that our organization would be spared from their decision to
crack down on all Brotherhood branches in the region,” one of the
group’s leaders explained with tangible relief. Thousands of known
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76 Countries

Syrian Brothers now continue to safely work and live in the kingdom,
where many took refuge after Hafez al-​Assad’s repression in the early
1980s. And in November 2014, when the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood
designated as its new leader Mohamed Walid, a Syrian surgeon practic-
ing in Jeddah, the Saudi authorities did not raise any objections.8 In
turn, Walid would have warm words for the kingdom. After his elec-
tion, he thanked Saudi Arabia for “protecting” the Syrian Brothers in
their exile and for “supporting” the Syrian revolution.9 Perhaps more
significantly, he called the kingdom a “strategic powerhouse for all
Muslims in the world,” supported its standoff against Iran, and gave his
blessing early on to the Saudi military intervention in Yemen.10

A Centrist Ideology?
The accommodation with Saudi Arabia has also made long-​stand-
ing political differences between the leaderships of the Brotherhood’s
Syrian and Egyptian branches much starker. This divergence is noth-
ing new. But it emerged forcefully during the Arab Spring after
high-​ranking Syrian Brotherhood figures expressed bewilderment at
the way their counterparts dealt with Egyptian politics and, in par-
ticular, with the opposition. A few months before the July 2013 coup,
Zuheir Salem, a spokesman and chief ideologue for the Syrian Muslim
Brotherhood, bluntly argued that it had been a “mistake” for the
Egyptian Brotherhood to contest the presidential elections. “Egypt
was a sinking boat and you cannot come and change it the way you are
doing; I believe that we have to work within a coalition,” he said, refer-
ring to the Egyptian Brotherhood’s leadership.11 The Syrian Muslim
Brotherhood had also become increasingly critical of Mohamed Morsi
and his handling of the conflict in Syria. In May 2013, an official Syrian
Brotherhood publication used particularly harsh words to describe the
Egyptian president’s courting of Iran and Russia—​two allies of Bashar
al-​Assad’s regime. “It was painful for our people to hear President
Mohamed Morsi’s remarks in Moscow… . The Syrian people, includ-
ing members of our [organization], are waiting for an explanation and
wonder bitterly: where is President Morsi’s attitude taking him?”12
Even the Egyptian president’s last-​minute policy shift on Syria and his
call for a worldwide “jihad” against the Assad regime were met with
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Syria 77

widespread skepticism. “The Syrian people know best what is needed

for their future. Syrians don’t need foreign fighters,” asserted Ali al-​
Bayanouni, a top Syrian Brotherhood figure.13 The Egyptian army’s
2013 coup naturally pushed the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood’s leader-
ship to express solidarity with its Egyptian sister and to tone down its
criticisms of Morsi, but unease between the two branches persisted.
Ideologically, the Syrian Brotherhood also sought to distance itself
from its Egyptian counterpart. This desire was already visible a decade
ago when the Syrian organization published a “National Honour
Charter” and a “Political Project,” whose content was reiterated in a
“National Covenant” published in 2012. These documents stressed
the need to respect the religious, cultural, and political diversity of the
Syrian people while calling for the establishment of a parliamentary
regime free from religious oversight. Practically, this meant that leaders
of the Syrian Brotherhood were highly critical of the Egyptian branch’s
stipulation that neither a Coptic Christian nor a woman should be
chosen as president of Egypt. They also rejected Egyptian calls for the
establishment of an advisory council of clerics who would determine
whether legal rulings conform to Islamic law. “We don’t want to enter
the realm of theocracy,” summed up ideologue Zuheir Salem. To make
its “centrist” (wasatiya) approach more concrete to the public, the Syrian
Brotherhood spearheaded the creation of the Waad party in July 2013.
This “national party with an Islamic framework” intended to demon-
strate that Syrians can “work together” by gathering within a single
grouping a number of Muslim Brothers, independent Islamists, and
“national figures” including secular Sunnis and even some Christians
and Alawites.14 These moves helped place the leaders of the Syrian
Brotherhood in the orbit of Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s
AKP. Mostly based in Istanbul and with a field office in Gaziantep on
the Syrian–​Turkish border, Waad figures enjoy close ties to the Turkish
government and they have often spoken of their admiration for the
“Turkish miracle.”
Officially, the birth of Waad was meant to separate the Brotherhood’s
religious and social activities, on the one hand, and its political activism
on the other. Inside the new party, a decision-​making process involving
an equal number of Brotherhood members and nonmembers was spe-
cifically instituted to ensure a degree of independence from the parent
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78 Countries

movement. This initially contrasted with Egypt’s Justice and Freedom

Party, often seen as little more than an arm of the Egyptian Muslim
Brotherhood. Enshrining a clearer distinction between a religious
movement (haraka) and a party (hizb) had been a long-​ standing
demand of a number of Syrian Muslim Brothers. “This new party is
the product of the lobbying efforts undertaken by the most moderate
Brotherhood members and some of the youth a decade ago,” explained
a high-​ranking Waad figure. “It finally allows Muslim Brothers to work,
free from organizational constraints, with whoever agrees with their
vision of a post-​Assad Syria—​including secular Syrians and minorities.”
The rise of the new party also seemed to offer appealing career prospects
to young Islamists frustrated by the older generation’s monopoly on
the Brotherhood’s leadership. A figure close to the Brotherhood cyni-
cally observed that “the creation of Waad was a way to give positions
to ambitious politicians frustrated by the lack of opportunities in the
Brotherhood.”
It remains to be seen whether Waad will retain its self-​professed
“political independence.”15 The party’s independence was undermined
by the November 2014 election of its own head, Mohammed Walid, as
the new leader of the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood. Walid immediately
resigned from his post, but suspicion now lingers that the party was
always merely acting as the Brotherhood’s political wing. “The whole
idea behind the party was to show independence from the Brotherhood’s
leadership,” an activist close to Waad bitterly complained. “Walid’s
election destroyed everything.” The Syrian Brotherhood’s new leader
acknowledged as much when he stated in early 2015 that Waad had
“not grown and developed as planned.”16 Indeed, to date, the Muslim
Brothers still fund most of the party’s activities, and they have yet
to relinquish any of their seats to Waad members in the opposition
Coalition. The debate is likely to intensify between advocates of a more
radical separation between party and movement and those who argue
that it is an ill-​timed, costly, and mostly cosmetic initiative.

The Risk of Factionalism

Tension between the Syrian Brotherhood’s youth and the older genera-
tion largely pre-​dates the debate over the Waad party. It dates back to
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Syria 79

the mid-​1980s, when the group’s efforts at establishing a “bureau-

cracy in exile” to ensure organizational survival led to its “oligar-
chization”. Clique structures started to emerge and to compete
with each other for internal power. Factionalism thus became a
main feature of the Syrian Brotherhood. But additional cracks
in the foundation appeared after the 2010 election of Riyadh
al-​Shuqfa as the group’s leader. His election came to symbolize the vic-
tory of a powerful bloc made up mainly of conservative figures from
Hama and Idlib who belong to the older generation. Disappointment
at the election results prompted a group of reform-​minded Islamists
from Aleppo in their 30s and early 40s to defect from the Brotherhood
and to set up a parallel structure called the National Action Group
for Syria.17 “We were frustrated by the older generation’s monopoly of
power and we wanted to clearly separate politics from da’wa [religious
activities] by having our own political platform,” recounted a member
of the splinter group. “Our vision was very much neo-​Brotherhood.”
At first, the National Action Group gained traction by proposing
political initiatives aimed at gathering the exiled opposition under one
umbrella. It would become a founding member of the SNC, and its
leader, Ahmed Ramadan, would rapidly emerge as one of the opposi-
tion’s most influential figures.
Yet a series of challenges surfaced that effectively stalled the rise of
these ex-​Muslim Brothers. Internally, many members grew frustrated
with Ahmed Ramadan’s central role in the group’s decision-​making
process. “The National Action Group ended up making the same mis-
take as the Brotherhood,” resentfully argued one of its former mem-
bers. “The platform became heavily centralized around very few key
figures—​and this felt like an insult in the face of those of us who also
had ambitions.” Figures close to the group also suggest that this cen-
tralization of power eventually stymied debate and prevented the emer-
gence of a clear politico-​ideological vision capable of competing with
the Brotherhood’s. Externally, the tactical alliances forged between
the National Action Group and the Syrian Brotherhood—initially
meant to increase their mutual influence in the SNC and later in the
Coalition—resulted in much confusion within the rest of the opposi-
tion. “To me, whether they are Ikhwan [Brotherhood] or neo-​Ikhwan
is the same—​they come from the same background and I oppose their
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80 Countries

agenda,” summed up a left-​wing member of the Syrian opposition. An

official from the National Action Group agreed that it had “made mis-
takes” and that it would “take time” until the group developed an origi-
nal political project and became a truly independent force.
Concurrent with the birth of the National Action Group, the
Brotherhood took steps to prevent yet another generational split from
its ranks. “Our youth have been very active at the level of the base—​now
we want to give them more opportunities to organize, launch initia-
tives, and reach leadership positions,” explained a Muslim Brotherhood
figure who belongs to the older generation. The crisis in Syria indeed
seems to have fired up the youth, who, until then, were not particu-
larly involved in the affairs of the exiled organization. After 2011, young
Syrians affiliated with the Brotherhood flocked to Istanbul, where the
group’s headquarters is located, to take part in initiatives such as raising
the Syrian revolution’s profile on social media and setting up charities
that provide aid to the refugees. Others are the driving force behind
the publication of the group’s weekly newspaper and, more generally,
behind its public relations and outreach initiatives. Recent figures even
suggest that as many as half of the Syrian Brotherhood’s staff are junior
members of the group.18
It is in this context that the new generation began playing a more
important political role within the organization. The creation of the
Syrian Muslim Brotherhood’s youth office in 2012 provided the frame-
work in which young members could organize as an internal lobby
group and more effectively voice their grievances to the leadership.
This, at least initially, seemed to yield results. The youth office obtained
funds from the Brotherhood’s leadership to organize a large conference
in December 2012. The event gathered in Istanbul hundreds of youth
who, because of exile, had until then been scattered throughout the
world—​it thus had an important socializing role. The conference also
witnessed the rise of young and charismatic conservative politicians, a
few of whom were subsequently asked to join the Brotherhood’s top
leadership.19
Yet the specter of further generational tensions still lingers over the
Syrian Muslim Brotherhood. Politically, the youth contingent is domi-
nated by idealist and revolutionary figures who don’t see eye to eye with
the older generation’s attempt to seek an accommodation at all costs
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Syria 81

with Saudi Arabia and offer up any number of tactical concessions in the
name of pragmatism. In January 2014, a statement by a “group of sons of
the Muslim Brotherhood” criticized the leadership for tending to “ally
with personalities and groups that seek a political settlement with the
regime and that have strong ties to regional and international powers
while it reduces its interaction with those revolutionary forces working
to overthrow the regime using all means.”20 Organizationally, the youth
are highly critical of the murky power struggle within the leadership
that pits a bloc of Muslim Brothers from Hama and Idlib against those
from Aleppo. In February 2014, younger members attempted to intro-
duce greater transparency in the decision-​making process, but their ini-
tiative was thwarted by the Consultative Council (the Majlis al-​Shura,
which acts as the Brotherhood’s internal parliament). As mentioned
earlier, the election of 70-​year-​old Mohamed Walid as the head of the
Syrian Brotherhood came as a bitter disappointment. In an attempt to
heal the growing rift, the new leader nominated as his deputy Hussam
Ghadban, then head of the Brotherhood’s youth office.21 But youth
frustration still simmers. “We wanted to see a radical change in the
group’s leadership,” recounted a young and self-​described “revolution-
ary” Muslim Brother. “What we got instead is cosmetic change and
more of the same—​the old generation is still very much in control of
the Consultative Council and of the leadership.”

The Dilemmas of Military Work

In a further bid to appeal to the new generation, Mohamed Walid
promised to “concentrate on the youth” and to allocate 75 percent of
the Brotherhood’s financial resources to activities inside Syria—​which
are overwhelmingly carried out by young Muslim Brotherhood
members.22 This is also part of the group’s wider strategy to regain a foot-
hold in the country after three decades abroad. “We may have influence
in the exiled opposition but our organization cannot survive for long
if it continues to be based outside of Syria,” argued a member close to
the leadership. Initially, this willingness to reconnect with Syrians and to
contribute to the revolution on the ground led the Brotherhood to invest
in humanitarian efforts. Its charity arm, Ataa Relief, has been one of the
most active organizations in the refugee camps on the Syrian–​Turkish
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82 Countries

border. The Brotherhood also opened an office in Aleppo and another

in the countryside of Idlib. But in the context of the current conflict in
Syria, part of the Brotherhood’s strategy has also consisted of courting
rebel groups and forming its own brigades—​with mixed results.
These efforts only really took off in early 2012 when individuals
belonging to the Muslim Brotherhood participated in the creation of
the Committee to Protect Civilians (Himayat al-​Madaniyin), a platform
that distributes humanitarian aid around Homs and also provides rebel
groups with “logistical support.” A high-​ranking Syrian Brotherhood
figure recounted the strategy: “Given that the notion of armed struggle
was still rather controversial in opposition circles, Brotherhood lead-
ers temporarily decentralized decisions on this matter and left it up to
members themselves to engage, or not engage, in that type of activ-
ity.” Yet as the military struggle later came to dominate—and as some
rebel brigades began to engage in looting and executions—rumors
spread that the Brotherhood had grown frustrated and had formed its
own rebel groups.23 The move was formalized in December 2012 when
the group’s leadership announced the formation of the Shields of the
Revolution Commission (Hay’at Duro’ al-​Thawra), a military platform
gathering dozens of “centrist-​minded” rebel brigades that “trust the
Brotherhood.”24
In theory, the Shields had the potential to be an influential actor
on the Syrian rebel scene. Following its creation, it rapidly swal-
lowed many smaller brigades. Its fighters became equipped with
high-​quality anti-tank weapons. And by clearly rejecting “all calls for
takfeer, forced displacement, mass murder and sectarian and ethnic
discrimination,” the rebel platform portrayed itself as moderate in
unambiguous terms—​thus potentially attracting foreign backing.25
Yet despite these advantages, the Shields failed to emerge as a sig-
nificant force on the ground. While the Muslim Brotherhood’s sup-
port initially attracted funding, it also accentuated the mistrust of
other Islamist rebel groups—​be they similarly centrist or more radi-
cal. Some viewed the Brotherhood as self-​interested and still remem-
bered the group’s own history in the late 1970s when leaders called
for “jihad” against the Assad regime and joined hands with other
Islamist militias, only to retract from the alliance soon afterward and
to escape Syria, leaving thousands of fighters behind. “We haven’t yet
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Syria 83

managed to overcome the mistrust of the past,” acknowledged a

Brotherhood member tasked with handling relations with rebel
groups in Syria. This effectively prevented the Shields from join-
ing major rebel alliances such as the Islamic Front, the Syrian
Revolutionaries Front, or the Army of Victory (Jaysh al-​Fatah). In
addition, the Brotherhood’s lack of sophisticated understanding of
military action led to confused decisions that weakened the Shields.
For instance, an attempt to decentralize the platform’s command-​
and-​control structure to allow for local autonomy backfired. It took
until October 2013 for Shields fighters from Idlib province to mount
a coordinated attack with their counterparts in Hama on a regime
checkpoint. The lack of tight hierarchy may also have led some bri-
gades to “misbehave,” in the words of a source inside the Shields.
These embarrassing failures eventually led the Muslim Brotherhood
to reduce its support for the rebel platform. “The Shields have lost the
support of many inside the Brotherhood,” explained a figure in the lead-
ership. “Some argue that we should not get involved in military activi-
ties since we are first and foremost an organization focused on da’wa
and politics. Others are disappointed by the performance of the fighters
on the ground. And most of us find that the whole enterprise cost too
much money.” The election of Mohamed Walid may have put the final
nail in the coffin of the Shields. The new leader of the Syrian Muslim
Brotherhood made it clear that he intends to essentially focus on “mis-
sionary and educational activities” inside Syria.26 A source inside the
Shields confirmed the Brotherhood’s dwindling support: “Nowadays
the group’s leadership mainly provides us with media support as well as
food and clothes—​but we need money and weapons to continue training
and operating in Syria.” This growing tension has led a number of rebel
groups to defect from the Shields over the past year. Most of the defectors
have so far joined other mainstream Islamist rebel platforms close to the
Brotherhood’s ideology, including the Sham Legion (Faylaq al-​Sham) and
the Soldiers of Sham (Ajnad al-​Sham).27 This, however, could well change
in the medium and long term. Indeed, extremist Islamist groups are on
the rise precisely in the areas where the Shields have some presence. The
al-Qaeda affiliate Jabhat al-Nusra, now rebranded as Jabhat Fath al-Sham,
controls vast swathes of Idlib province, while the Islamic State, for long
confined to its stronghold of Raqqa and to Eastern Syria, emerged as a
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84 Countries

powerful force in the countryside of Homs and Hama. Given the

Brotherhood’s decreased support for the Shields, some brigades could in
the future be tempted to join these more radical alternatives—​which, in
addition to holding vast financial resources, also provide an increasingly
appealing ideological model.

The Challenge of Extremism

The leaders of the Muslim Brotherhood were slow to grasp the ideologi-
cal challenge stemming from the rise of extremist groups. At first they
even refused to acknowledge their very presence on the ground. In April
2013, the Brotherhood’s then-​leader, Riyadh al-​Shuqfa, insisted that
“there is no extremism in Syria.”28 It would take the meteoric rise of the
Islamic State for him to recognize their significance and to disassociate
the Brotherhood from such radical groups. “We disagree with ISIS, first
because of its extremist ideas, and second, because of its violent actions,”
he stated in September 2014 before advising Islamic State chief Abu Bakr
al-​Baghdadi to “refer to the Quran and the Sunna to understand Islam
correctly and to improve his approach.”29 Yet even then he went to great
lengths to argue that the Syrian people’s inherent “moderation and tol-
erance” would make the Islamic State a temporary phenomenon that
would quickly fade after the collapse of the Assad regime. His successor,
Mohammed Walid, adopted a more forceful approach against Islamist
extremists. Shortly after his election in November 2014, he criticized the
Islamic State for “deviating from the Syrian revolution’s track.”30 He also
threatened the use of “self defense” against the Islamic State in the event
Muslim Brothers came under attack inside Syria.31
But while the Brotherhood’s leaders came to realize the security
implications behind the rise of extremism, few seem to be aware of the
dangers that the Islamic State’s ideological orientation and achievements
on the ground pose to the wider group. Frustrated by the Brotherhood’s
organizational rigidity and poor military performance, a small number
of members may already have left the group in recent years to join more
radical platforms such as Ahrar al-​Sham, Jabhat al-Nusra, and perhaps
the Islamic State too. There is a growing risk that the “Islamic” governance
structures established by these organizations on the ground may become
an increasingly appealing alternative to young Islamists alienated by the
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Syria 85

pragmatism and seeming political opportunism of the Brotherhood’s

leaders. “ISIS has succeeded where the Brotherhood has failed,”
summed up (with a hint of admiration) a former Muslim Brother
who is now closer to radical Islamist groups in Syria. “It restored the
Caliphate and took many Muslims back to religion.” This vulnerability
of some members to the ideology of radical groups seems to have its
roots in the failure of the Brotherhood’s educational program and cur-
riculum (tarbiya).
Interestingly, the ideological moderation undergone by the
Brotherhood throughout the 2000s was not free from internal con-
troversy. The strongest resistance it faced came from the very clerics
responsible for the group’s educational program. This consequently
meant that aspiring Muslim Brothers continued to be taught a vari-
ety of ideas and authors that naturally included Mustafa al-​Sibai, the
founder of the Syrian Brotherhood and a supporter of democracy, but
also included radical figures such as Said Hawwa, who supported jihad
against the Syrian regime in the 1970s and advocated the restoration
of the caliphate.32 “Those responsible for the educational program still
teach the radical strands of Islamist thinking and, in the context of
today’s conflict in Syria, this has left a number of Muslim Brothers
ideologically confused,” explained a former member who himself went
through the curricula. “The group’s official discourse is one thing. But
behind closed doors some clerics still call for the establishment of an
Islamic state—​without elaborating much further on what they actually
mean by that.”
The growing gap between the Brotherhood’s official discourse and
the kind of speech that some members are spreading at the grassroots
level has become more evident since the U.S.-​led air strikes on Islamic
State strongholds in Syria and Iraq. The anti-​Western tone of some
Brotherhood clerics—something almost entirely absent from the offi-
cial discourse of the leadership—reached new heights. A video featur-
ing one such cleric was widely circulated on social media platforms
affiliated with the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood. In it, he lambasted the
United States in particularly harsh terms:

There is a global alliance led by America, the world’s leader in ter-

rorism, whose crimes are more than to be counted and greater than
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86 Countries

to be looked into. America has gathered its soldiers, troops, weap-

ons, equipment and allies to allegedly destroy ISIS… . O Americans!
O allies! Return home for we need you not! You are the cause of the
plague and the reason for the ailment. You are the ones who have
given these regimes power over us, shedding blood and destroying
the crops and the stocks. O Americans! O allies! O Westerners! The
Nation needs you not for it is a great time-​honoured nation and you
are those who installed all these oppressive regimes.33

In the video, the Syrian Brotherhood cleric also criticized the Islamic
State for originating from “international intelligence agencies” and for
declaring an “imaginary caliphate which all [religious] scholars have
declared to be null and void.” More appealing arguments may be
needed to effectively counter the ideology spread by extremist groups.
Mohamed Walid seemed to acknowledge as much in February 2015
when he stressed that “deep ideological differences exist between the
Muslim Brotherhood and [the Islamic State].”34 In a later intervention,
he specified that “the imposition of sharia by force is a mistaken under-
standing of the texts and a mistaken understanding of Islam itself.”35 It
will now be up to the group’s clerics to embrace the “centrist” discourse
of the Brotherhood’s leaders—​or risk losing parts of their base to more
radical Islamist groups.

A New Approach to the Brotherhood

The ways in which the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood has attempted to
regain a foothold inside the country after decades of absence, and the
type of challenges it has faced, illustrate the relevance of what is known
as resource mobilization theory for the study of Islamic activism. Over
the past decade, Brotherhood branches throughout the Middle East
have mainly been analyzed as social movements. Researchers focused
on the ways broad political structures affected grassroots support for
the Brotherhood, and this approach may still be valid in relatively stable
countries like Morocco or Tunisia. Yet in a regional political context
marked by the return of state authoritarianism and an intensifying
crackdown against Brotherhood branches, new theoretical lines of
enquiry have emerged. One particularly interesting approach is to better
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Syria 87

understand the factors behind the Brotherhood’s resilience despite all

the challenges mentioned in this chapter.
What distinguishes Brotherhood branches from the countless other
Islamist groups in the Middle East is the emphasis they place on the
development of an informal “bureaucracy.” And when they undergo
repression and have to seek refuge abroad, their “bureaucracy” is one
of the last tools they are left with. The case of the Syrian Muslim
Brotherhood demonstrates the key role these internal structures can
play in helping to raise a professional cadre of politicians, socialize the
youth into party loyalty, and unite members with the ultimate purpose
of preserving the organization under dire circumstances. It comes at a
high cost, however, as the group may ultimately become more inter-
ested in “organizational maintenance” than in the actual pursuit of the
political goals it was originally created for, something that may spur
internal disagreement and dissent.
Resource mobilization theory, with the focus it puts on the need
to study the internal and organizational nature of social movements,
offers theoretical insights that are relevant beyond the case of the Syrian
Brotherhood. It allows researchers to delve deeply into current inter-
nal debates within virtually all Brotherhood branches and to evaluate
the importance of splinter groups emerging out of the organization
on ideological, generational, or regional lines. This “neo-​institutional-
ist approach” also encourages scholars to consider the changing nature
of these groups’ decision-​ making structures and internal struggles.
Such avenues for research are crucial not only to better understand
the groups themselves but also because, as this chapter shows, internal
considerations, rather than ideological ones, often dictate key political
decisions.
8

5
QYemen
Stacey Philbrick Yadav

For the better part of 20 years, Yemen’s political landscape was

shaped substantially by the relationship between its largest Islamist
party, the Yemeni Congregation for Reform (Islah), and the regime
of former president Ali Abdullah Saleh. The 2011 uprising and ensu-
ing transitional process and descent into war have altered the position
of Islah by increasing the number of major players and reducing the
significance of party politics at the center in relation to armed conflicts
and populist pressure from the periphery.
The changing role of Yemen’s Islah party offers important lessons
not only for those interested in mapping Yemen’s domestic politics but
also for the study of Islamism more broadly. It speaks to the pressures
that mainstream Islamist parties face in the revolutionary (and counter-
revolutionary) climate of 2011 and its aftermath, balancing emerging
opportunities for political power with extra-​institutional challenges to
party relevance on the ground. In Yemen, the most pressing issues have
included the party’s ambiguous position on wider populist mobiliza-
tion, the murky relationship between the party’s Salafi right flank and
extremist organizations like al-​Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP)
and the Islamic State, and the impact of a fraught regional climate in
which Muslim Brotherhood–​allied parties face uncertainty and out-
right suppression.

88
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Yemen 89

Before the 2011 uprising and in the challenging years since, Islah has
remained adaptive and dynamic, pursuing a strategy of self-​preserva-
tion but not immune to miscalculation. In particular, this adaptabil-
ity has come at some cost for centrist Muslim Brotherhood members
within the party. While Islah has an ideological hard core of party lead-
ers with clear Muslim Brotherhood ties, these figures have never been
unconstrained in their ability to pursue their goals. Instead, they have
needed to be ever mindful of a Salafi flank within the party that has reg-
ularly flirted with other centers of power, as well as a tribal faction with
access to regime largesse. To add to this challenge, the party leadership
has been over-​reliant on external patrons and international organiza-
tions to maintain its political position in the context of a destructive,
ongoing war.
To the extent that its leadership grounds its politics in the Egyptian
Muslim Brotherhood’s school of thought, it is fair to consider Islah a
Brotherhood affiliate. Yet there are limits to this interpretation. On the
one hand, Yemen’s greater political openness in the 1990s and 2000s
gave the Yemeni Brotherhood organizational opportunities that many
others throughout the region, and certainly those in Egypt, lacked. On
the other hand, the Brotherhood’s necessary (and politically costly) rela-
tionships with other party factions mean that it has never been fully in
command of Islah. This is an important reminder to approach Islamist
organizations not as ideological monoliths, but as networks of actors
situated in specific relationships, and to inquire as much into their allies
and adversaries (both within and across organizations).
Taking this approach to Islah reveals the ways in which the Yemeni
Muslim Brotherhood has adapted to survive decades of authoritarian
encroachment—but also why it has struggled to navigate the tumultu-
ous politics of a failed transition and civil war. Like other Brotherhood
organizations in the region, Yemen’s movement can be characterized as
paradoxically “resilient and adaptable but also reactive and slow mov-
ing.”1 Ultimately, the Brotherhood’s increasing difficulty in adapting is
less about its Islamist ideology than it is about the declining relevance
of formal institutions as the arbiter of political power in post-​2011
Yemen. Islah poses the question, then, of what happens to mainstream,
gradualist Islamists in moments of more radical change.
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90 Countries

Islamism Before Unification

Because Yemen only came into being as a single unified state in 1990,
“Yemeni Islamism” is not a single phenomenon but is grounded in
complex histories and patterns of state–​society relations. Intra-​Yemeni
regionalism remains a significant fault line today and is intimately
interwoven with the story of Yemeni Islamism as well.2
Yemenis from the North and South were exposed to Muslim
Brotherhood ideology through scholarly and political interactions with
founder Hassan al-​Banna and his followers in Cairo and Beirut in the
1940s, but the ideological lessons from these interactions tended to be of
a generically republican and postcolonial nationalist variety.3 Yemenis
influenced by Banna criticized the legitimacy of the Zaydi Imamate in
the North and British colonial rule in the South, but this critique was
neither the sole purview of Islamists nor particularly sectarian in flavor,
with Zaydi Shiite and Sunni intellectuals alike seeking guidance from
their more organized and politicized Egyptian brethren. In part, this
was a reflection of the doctrinal closeness between the Sunni traditions
of the Shafi’i school and Zaydi Shiism, and the legacy of integration
between members of the two communities.
Indeed, the political Left was, and for many years remained,
the more significant target of Islamist mobilization. Following the
establishment of a republican regime in the Northern Yemen Arab
Republic (YAR), an organization led by students of the then m ​ ore
radical Brotherhood of the 1960s was promoted by the regime to
counter real and perceived threats of leftist interference from the
South.4 This “Islamic Front” functioned as an auxiliary to the emerg-
ing state in the YAR, but given the weakness of representative institu-
tions at the time, it functioned neither as a party nor a broad-​based
social movement.
In the 1980s, the leadership of North Yemen’s Islamic Front was
gradually incorporated into and empowered by the institutions of the
the expanding bureaucracy of the YAR. Islamists carved out distinct
ideological space under the wide tent of the ruling General People’s
Congress (GPC), even in the absence of formal partisan competition.
President Ali Abdullah Saleh drew several future leaders of Islah into his
governing apparatus, most notably Shaykh Abd al-​Majid al-​Zindani, a
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Yemen 91

prominent Salafi figure, and Shaykh Abdullah bin Husayn al-​Aḥmar,

paramount sheikh of the Hashid tribal confederation, whose attraction
to Islamism was largely driven by his social conservatism.5 President
Saleh also appointed the most prominent member of Yemen’s Muslim
Brotherhood, Yassin Abdul Aziz al-​Qubati, to head the Ministry of
Education.6 A Brotherhood-​affiliated newspaper was established in
1985, and when internal elections within the GPC were held in 1988,
Brotherhood-​affiliated Islamists won six out of the seven constituencies
in which they competed.7 As one scholar of the period remarked, “It
was clear, even in the muddled conditions of no explicit parties or party
platforms and of large numbers of candidates, that people wished for
a change. In Sanaa the Islamists seemed like those who might promote
such change.”8
It was from this internal faction within the ruling party that the
future leadership of Islah began to coalesce by the late 1980s. The uni-
fication of North and South Yemen in 1990 provided a major institu-
tional incentive for Islah’s formalization, even as the very concept of
hizbiyya (multi-​party politics) drove a wedge in Islamist ranks.9 Senior
Salafi figures rejected the notion of partisanship in favor of a more qui-
etist da’wa, but Muslim Brotherhood members were keen to seize the
political opportunities offered by new multiparty competition. In this,
they followed reasonably closely the “template” of other Brotherhood
organizations in the region, one characterized by “great responsiveness
to the political context and legal environment in which they operate.”10
Unlike other Brotherhood affiliates, Yemen’s Brotherhood faction
initially lacked the momentum to develop and unify into a strong social
movement (haraka), prompting Brotherhood leaders to align with those
Salafis who could countenance party building (like Zindani), as well as
tribal figures, to build a broad tent of social conservatives. Several tribal
and Salafi figures enjoyed popular support far greater than that of the
Brotherhood leaders, who could command only a modest following
in major cities and on university campuses in the early 1990s.11 Many
of the tribal figures were of Zaydi Shia background, and the Salafi
and Brotherhood wings each had different visions of the relationship
between state and society, making this a messy, uneasy grouping. But as
the party’s strong showing in the 1993 election would indicate, the three
factions that jointly made up Islah could together pose a formidable
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92 Countries

threat to the Yemeni Left, while helping to further cement Northern

dominance within Yemen’s political elite.

The Unity Regime and Islah’s Adaptive Islamism

Governing in coalition with Saleh’s GPC, the Muslim Brotherhood
spent much of the 1990s under the Islah tent, building an organiza-
tional base on the national level by mobilizing on university campuses
and via the networks of the Islah Charitable Society, one of only two
genuinely national nongovernmental organizations with branches in
every governorate. Like other Brotherhood affiliates in the region,
the charitable society, while nominally independent, had overlapping
membership with the political apparatus.
Alongside the Brotherhood faction’s growing organizational
capacity, the early decision of many Salafis to reject electoral poli-
tics effectively divided the country’s Salafi movement and conse-
quently strengthened the Brotherhood’s position within the new
Islah party, allowing Brothers to lay claim to influential leadership
roles. While the biggest names in the party remained Shaykh Zindani
and Shaykh Abdullah al-​Aḥmar—​with each representing important
non-​Brotherhood sources of mobilizational power—​the Brotherhood
designed and articulated party platforms, represented the party at
partisan functions, and did the organizational heavy lifting involved
in party building, moving quickly to establish branch offices, youth
organizations, and campus affiliates in every governorate. Meanwhile,
Salafis aligned with Islah engaged in heavily politicized da’wa through
tertiary educational institutions and Zindani’s Al-​Imān University,
relying on the party’s relationship with the GPC to stave off leftist
calls for curricular oversight.12
Islah’s effort to build a national base should be understood not only
as an expression of the Brotherhood’s leadership but also in relation to
North-​South divides. The combined legislative impact of Islah and the
GPC after 1993 gave “the North” a commanding majority in the parlia-
ment, fueling the Southern leadership’s anxiety and ultimately contrib-
uting to the outbreak of civil war in 1994. While Salafi figures were the
driving force behind the deployment of the armed Islamist auxiliaries
that supported the North during the fighting, Muslim Brotherhood
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Yemen 93

leaders lacked the capacity (and perhaps the will) to rein in targeted
violence in the South.
Islah’s transition from regime ally to adversary unfolded in fits and
starts over the remaining years of the 1990s, facilitated by the obsoles-
cence of the Yemeni Socialist Party after 1994. Islah participated in a
governing coalition until after the 1997 parliamentary elections, when
ministers began to resign in protest against the (predictable) encroach-
ments of the Saleh regime. Still, criticism of the regime was not uni-
versal, with different views emanating from Islah’s senior leadership.
The shift toward opposition to Saleh was deepest and earliest among
Brotherhood members, who began reaching out to non-​Islamist parties
without the support of senior tribal and Salafi figures. The result was
deepening tensions within Islah. Both Zindani and Shaykh al-​Ahmar
endorsed President Saleh’s 1999 move to amend the constitution and
consolidate power under a directly-​elected presidency, against vocifer-
ous opposition from disenchanted Muslim Brotherhood members.
By the early 2000s, the Brotherhood faction within Islah could
count on the fruits of its institution building over the previous decade,
as many campus activists entered the workforce and became increas-
ingly influential within professional syndicates and other NGOs. This
facilitated coordination with other parties, as both leftists and Islamists
had pragmatic and effective leaders who hoped to limit Saleh’s further
consolidation of power. It was the combination of a changing global
climate after the September 11th terror attacks and the assassination
of socialist Jar Allah Umar in December 2002, however, that pushed
Yemen’s Muslim Brotherhood to stem both Saleh and the Salafi Right
through the formation of a formal opposition alliance.
The six parties of the new Joint Meeting Parties (JMP) alliance
(which included Islah, the Yemeni Socialist Party, Nasserists, Baathists,
al-​Haqq, and the Union of Popular Forces) naturally had considerable
ideological differences and thus coalesced around issues of procedural
reform, decentralization, and anticorruption.13 Regime officials kept
Islah busy, exploiting wedge issues among JMP members and between
the Brotherhood and Salafi wings of the party. Brotherhood leaders
within Islah shifted considerable attention away from building grass-
roots support outside of the capital toward sustaining their delicate
alliances.
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94 Countries

Not only were its ties to constituents eroded by this elite focus, but
Islah’s participation in the JMP also led to Salafi efforts to “discipline”
Brotherhood members through campaigns of takfir, or excommunica-
tion, and even the establishment of a rival extrapartisan institution of
Salafis bridging the gap between Islah and the ruling party. Brotherhood
leaders, cognizant of the threat Salafi defection from Islah would pose
to their own viability, were under considerable strain; while some pulled
closer to the JMP, others refused to back opposition policies that they
feared would further alienate Salafis. These internal conflicts contrib-
uted to the postponement of the 2009 parliamentary elections.14
The agreement to delay the elections may well have been a decisive
one for the Brotherhood, as it further eroded the faction’s credibility on
the ground. Closing down formal institutional channels through which
Yemen’s increasingly educated and urban population could pursue its
grievances against the Saleh regime, the postponement occurred along-
side the growth of alternative channels of mobilization. Popular unrest
arrived well ahead of the rescheduled elections, and neither the JMP
nor Islah’s Brotherhood leadership were well positioned to respond.

How Islah Compared to Other Brotherhoods

Before 2011
Ideologically, the Brotherhood core of Islah can be characterized as
republican and modernist in its outlook and priorities, advancing
notions of citizenship that are nonsectarian, promoting some politi-
cal equality for women, and most of all calling for accountable gov-
ernance.15 At the same time, non-​Brotherhood pressures from within
the party have meant that Islah as a whole has adopted positions and
enacted policies that have been inconsistent with these principles. The
establishment of the JMP exacerbated these internal divides. On the
one hand, forming an alliance with leftists and other non-​Islamists left
the Brotherhood vulnerable to critique by Salafis of takfir. On the other
hand, the formalization of the alliance gave Brotherhood members a
network of allies and channels of support from outside the party with
which to balance against internal demands and pressures.16
The tensions within Islah are reflected in how different factions have
taken responsibility for the party’s political and evangelical roles. The
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Yemen 95

Brotherhood exerted a strong grip on a complex set of intersecting

institutions throughout the country, mobilizing students and women
activists through dedicated youth and women’s branches. The growing
power of these groups was reflected in internal elections in the 2000s.17
By contrast, the Salafi wing of the party played a larger role in the
organization’s da’wa efforts through “scientific institutes” that were not
formally under the control of the party and are better understood as
“aligned” with Islah. These institutions posed a particular challenge
to the Brotherhood in the 2000s, as they advanced a less republican
and more sectarian agenda and were seen as enabling, if not encourag-
ing, violence. The Houthi–​Salafi conflict thus became something that
Brotherhood Islahis could not fully disavow, but which many found
counterproductive to the JMP’s reform agenda. In the transitional
period after 2011, this tension came to a dramatic head as violence
occurred between supporters of the Zaydi revivalist Houthi movement
and rival militias aligned with Salafi factions of Islah.18
The centrifugal pressures that stem from the party’s fragmentation
mean that Islah’s experience has differed from other Brotherhood orga-
nizations, which have maintained greater internal coherence and dis-
cipline. At its most polarized moment following the death of Sheikh
al-​Aḥmar in 2007 through the delay of the 2009 elections, it seemed
possible that Islah might split into a Brotherhood wing tied to the JMP
and a Salafi organization, with the latter potentially aligning with the
regime. The 2011 uprising nonetheless showed that when the opportu-
nity for a split presented itself, the party had some institutional sticki-
ness. The Salafi faction could have very well defected in 2011 to the
Rashad Union, a newly established Salafi party, but the benefits offered
to Islah as a whole by the transitional process helped hold its dispa-
rate factions together, even as they did little to resolve its characteris-
tic fragmentation. Indeed, this fragmentation may have been essential
to Islah’s adaptability, allowing the party to be many things to many
people in a time of uncertainty.

Islah in a Climate of Revolutionary Change, 2011–​2015

As with other countries that experienced populist uprisings in 2011,
Yemen’s Muslim Brotherhood was not the primary driver of mobili­zation
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96 Countries

but managed to secure a substantial share of power in the transitional

process. As protest movements gathered strength in Tunisia and Egypt,
Yemen’s JMP responded with tepid, reform-​oriented “pink protests”
designed to signal its position as a loyal opposition with reformist, not
revolutionary, demands.19 This focus on reform was out of sync with
the aspirations of many young activists. While Brotherhood lead-
ers participated in protests, they took a backseat as youth activists in
“Change Square” and other squares throughout the country organized
for Saleh’s ouster. This decline in the JMP’s relevance (and, by extension,
the Brotherhood’s relevance) among protesters stood in stark contrast to
international mediation efforts pursued simultaneously, which sought
to work directly with organized opposition parties as representative of
“the Yemeni people.” Once it became clear that the Gulf Cooperation
Council–​backed transitional agreement would offer President Saleh and
his associates legal immunity for crimes committed before and during
the uprising, and that the transitional government would include many
Saleh loyalists, protesters began to target the JMP itself, critical of an
opposition that would agree to such concessions.20
With this shift in the protest movement came a shift in the
Brotherhood’s ties to its allies and adversaries. Whereas Brotherhood
leaders initially sought to piggyback on youth enthusiasm, Salafi mili-
tias soon began to work to control protest spaces, in alliance with some
tribal militias. Members of the Houthi movement, who had until this
point participated alongside other protest groups against Saleh, also
began to bring weapons to the protest squares, and the collaborative
relationship that had developed among some Islahi and Houthi youth
began to deteriorate.21 While the violence of Islah and Houthi members
pales in comparison to the warlike conditions that unfolded between
tribal militias and factions of the fractured armed forces outside the
capital, Islah–​Houthi skirmishes nonetheless undermined the coher-
ence of protest spaces and laid the foundation for substantial conflicts
during the transitional period.
Islah generally, and the Brotherhood specifically, became the single
greatest beneficiary of the transitional agreement after former president
Saleh and his closest associates. The framework established by the Gulf
Cooperation Council (GCC) and later adopted by the United Nations
hinged on a power-​sharing agreement between members of the JMP
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Yemen 97

and the General People’s Congress, the former ruling party. As the larg-
est and best-​organized member of the JMP, Islah played an important
role in brokering the JMP’s appointments, and was thus in a position
to heavily shape the “opposition” half of the transitional government.22
Given the divisions within Islah, this disproportionate reliance on the
JMP also offered centrist Brotherhood members a lifeline at a moment
of particular weakness.23
That said, unlike Egypt or Tunisia, Yemen is not a case in which
the Muslim Brotherhood has governed as such. Instead, before the
collapse of the transition period in early 2015, Islah’s Brotherhood
members worked to consolidate what hold they could over the institu-
tions that, theoretically, would remake Yemen’s political regime. The
GCC transitional framework was focused at the top—​it prioritized an
uncontested presidential election over parliamentary elections or civil
service reform, and it reallocated power primarily through cabinet and
ministerial portfolios.24 Because the “implementation mechanism”
(as the formal United Nations endorsement of the GCC agreement is
known) stipulated that the terms of the agreement “may not be chal-
lenged before the institutions of the state,” any opposition to its terms
took a necessarily populist form.25 This could be seen in dramatic acts
of opposition ranging from the “parallel revolution,” a series of sit-​ins
and coordinated work stoppages throughout the public sector,26 to the
Life March, in which tens of thousands of Yemenis walked hundreds of
kilometers on foot in protest against the immunity law required by the
transitional agreement and endorsed by the transitional government.27
In these and other cases, Islahi leaders, who had long campaigned for
political accountability, faced an acute credibility challenge as signato-
ries to and beneficiaries of an agreement that blocked accountability in
multiple ways. Yemen’s Muslim Brothers were thus in an ambivalent
position.28 On the one hand, leaders attempted to maintain ties to pro-
testers and retain the mantle of opposition; on the other hand, as a part
of the transitional government, they played a substantive role in sup-
pressing new forms of dissent, including through the authorization of
force against unarmed protesters opposing transitional terms.29
Even as its role of representative of “the opposition” was founder-
ing in the streets, the GCC framework guaranteed Islah a substan-
tial role in the National Dialogue Conference (NDC). Designed as
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the centerpiece of the transitional process, the NDC was intended to

address thorny issues that fell outside of the relatively narrow scope of
the transitional power-​sharing agreement.30 It included nine working
groups, but Islah was particularly active—​and polarizing—​in two:
the Sa’da committee (dealing with conflict in the historic Houthi
homeland) and the Rights and Freedoms committee. It was in this
context that Islah’s internal fissures were most evident, with the par-
ty’s delegates—responding to pressures from their right flank—pur-
suing more ideologically polarizing positions than the Brotherhood
members represented in the transitional government. This pressure
was intensified by the formation in June 2012 of a new Salafi party,
the Rāshad Union, which had no role in the transitional government
but was able to exert a rightward pull in NDC committee sessions by
caucusing with Islah.
The substantive sticking points were ideological and related to
familiar issues that many Islamist parties engage: the status of sharia
in the country’s legal system, the rights of women and non-​Muslims,
and issues of religious freedom. In the case of the Sa’da working
group, the conflict between Islahis and Houthis in committee ses-
sions paralleled the armed conflict that would escalate between mili-
tias aligned with both groups in 2013 and into 2014; their work was so
stymied that the committee’s final report was substantially delayed.31
As armed conflict between rival militias intensified, Islahis and Salafi
allies outside of the party sought to frame themselves as underdogs
to mobilize anti-​Houthi (and, in some quarters, anti-​Zaydi) senti-
ment.32 The end of the NDC raised the stakes for the Houthis, as
they lost the only formal institutional voice they were afforded by the
transitional framework and were thus returned to their position as
political outsiders. It was in this context that they pushed to revisit
the GCC framework in its entirety. Yemen soon found itself on the
path to civil war.

Islah Under Conditions of War

The breakdown of the GCC transitional framework began well before
Houthi militants arrived in Sanaa in September 2014, and is as much
a story of the outsized empowerment of Islah (and the Brotherhood
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Yemen 99

faction within Islah) by an unaccountable transitional framework as

it is about the ambitions of the Houthi movement itself. This is par-
ticularly evident in the Houthis’ explicit targeting of Islahis and Islah-​
affiliated institutions, as senior Brotherhood figures were detained,
prevented from traveling, and harassed in other ways.33 Brotherhood
figures maintained an impressive commitment to nonviolence in the
capital, but outside of Sanaa, they were neither able to exercise much
influence over Salafi militias nor to offset the sectarian polarization
that came from an increasingly aggressive campaign of violence by al-
Qaeda. A conflict that was largely institutional became, over a series of
months, almost intractably ideological.
The breakdown of the transitional process also reflected shifting
fortunes for the Muslim Brotherhood on a regional level. Despite
the threat of a republic on its borders, the GCC made space for Islah
in the transitional framework for two main reasons. First, while the
member parties of  Yemen’s JMP were universally undesirable in ide-
ological terms (from the standpoint of most GCC countries), they
were a preformed opposition that might be able to bring a speedy end
to the conflict and promote reform over genuine revolution in the
GCC’s backyard. Owing to its long-​standing role in Yemeni politics,
Islah’s leaders were also well known and at least some had political
and financial ties to the Gulf kingdoms. Second, there was unques-
tionably less concern over Islahi Brotherhood members’ republican-
ism than there might otherwise have been, given that the party’s
internal factionalism prevented much real Brotherhood autonomy
and that the Brotherhood’s grassroots base was so eroded by 2011.
In other words, Islah was simply not a tremendous threat, relative
to an electoral process in Egypt that Gulf actors could not as eas-
ily contain. That said, Yemen’s Muslim Brotherhood was swept up
in the broad Gulf campaign against the Brotherhood in 2014. Still,
regional shifts—​increased anxiety regarding Iran and polarizing sec-
tarianism first among them—​contributed to what Toby Matthiessen
has called Islah’s “rehabilitation” as a tactical ally in 2015, as major
Islah figures sought refuge in (and called for war from) Saudi Arabia
and elsewhere in the Gulf, and as the Saudis attempted to promote
their war in Yemen with the support of their own domestic Islamist
movement.34
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100 Countries

Today, several senior Islahis remain in exile along with other mem-
bers of the transitional regime. No longer an opposition in any mean-
ingful sense, the party’s Brotherhood leadership has committed to
President Hadi’s foundering government, in ways reminiscent of the
party’s old role as Saleh allies in the 1990s. The Muslim Brotherhood,
lacking a strong social movement foundation for many years now, is
heavily dependent on the legitimacy tenuously afforded it by interna-
tional agreements and the actors who back them. While the Yemeni
Brotherhood long disavowed violence as a political strategy in domestic
politics, it now depends on an international coalition of armies that
promises to restore their political position through force. While the
Hadi government has been only fitfully committed to peace negotia-
tions, a negotiated settlement is the likeliest way for the Brotherhood
to emerge from the current military impasse with a modicum of insti-
tutional power. The fact of the government’s equivocation in these
negotiations seems to suggest that Islah (or at least its Brotherhood
leadership) holds less sway than it did before the onset of the war.35
While it might be tempting to disregard Islah as “too different” to
tell scholars much about Muslim Brotherhood politics owing to its
internal fragmentation, it is also possible to read it as essential to the
broader Brotherhood story. Islah reinforces what we know about the
limits of politics without a strong grassroots movement, and of the
risk of working primarily within existing institutions and state struc-
tures. It tells a cautionary tale of the vulnerabilities that come with alli-
ances, with other Islamists and non-​Islamists alike. And it shows how
Brotherhood trajectories can be shaped by others’ use of force, even
when Brotherhood members themselves do not endorse violence as a
political strategy. As an organization schooled in North Yemeni tradi-
tions of negotiation and accommodation, the Islah party has shown
itself to be an adaptable organization capable of surviving Yemen’s civil
war.36 Whether the same can be said for the fortunes of its Brotherhood
leaders more specifically remains to be seen, but their political survival
is likely to depend far more on forces outside of Yemen than those
within.
 10

6
Q Libya
Omar Ashour

Islamists and their role in uprisings, democratic transitions, and

political violence has been one of the most debated issues in the wake of
the Arab spring’s collapse. Libyan Islamists have been a critical part of an
armed revolution that, with NATO’s assistance, was able to topple the
regime of longtime strongman Muammar Qaddafi. Several different
Islamist currents in Libya have also been an integral part of the democ-
ratization process, including electoral competition, constitution drafting,
and civil society activities. Libya’s Islamists also became heavily engaged
in the ongoing Libyan civil war. Islamists were not all on one side, how-
ever; the majority sided with the Tripoli government, and a small minor-
ity (mainly Salafis and former jihadist figures) sided with the Tobruk
government. After the establishment of the United Nations–​ backed
Government of National Accord (GNA) in December 2015, Islamist par-
ties and factions were once again divided. Some, including the Libyan
Muslim Brotherhood, accepted the GNA, while others attempted to
undermine it or to condition their acceptance.
Before delving into the analysis, a few Libyan peculiarities need to
be highlighted. First, the Libyan events of 2011 were the only politi-
cal revolution of the Arab uprisings. As opposed to Tunisia, Egypt,
Bahrain, Syria, and Yemen, revolutionary forces not only managed to
topple the regime but also fundamentally altered the political system.

101
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102 Countries

Tunisian, Egyptian, Bahraini, Syrian, and Yemeni pro-​change forces

did not have the capacity to do so, resulting in different trajectories of
transition, stagnation, or deterioration. Political compromises between
status quo forces and forces of change were the highlight in Tunisia. A
bloody defeat for the supporters of the January 25, 2011 uprising was the
main result in Egypt. Pro-​democracy forces in Bahrain faced a similar
fate. And a violent political stalemate between these forces, and within
them, was the result in Syria and Yemen.
Between August 2011 and May 2014, Libya’s pro-​revolution forces
had actually succeeded in substantially altering the status quo. They
were able not only to take down the entire Qaddafi regime by force but
also to institute unprecedented basic freedoms and free and fair elec-
tions for the first time in Libya’s history. Libyan Islamists were at the
core of the two processes. They significantly contributed to the fight
against Qaddafi forces. Several Islamist groups, factions, and figures
also participated in the electoral process, including post-jihadist ones,
such as those from the defunct Libyan Islamic Fighting Group (LIFG).
Islamists, with other Libyan conservative tribal forces, also tried to use
their newfound institutional space to implement their understanding
of sharia.
Since May 2014, when General Khalifa Haftar declared his second
televised coup, Libyan politics has changed significantly. Before then,
Islamists and their rivals were contesting politics on four fronts: a
media front, an electoral and institutional front, a judicial front, and
a military front. The latter was characterized by a “balance of terror”
rather than full-​fledged armed confrontation. Each political party or
coalition was attempting to extend its influence over, and strengthen
its alliance with, armed battalions of various affiliations. The May 2014
attempted coup turned that multidimensional conflict primarily into
an armed one. The majority of Islamist forces, including the Libyan
Muslim Brotherhood and ex-LIFG, were on the side of the Tripoli gov-
ernment, while a minority, mainly from the so-​called Salafi-​Madkhali
trend and former jihadist figures, sided with the Tobruk government
and General Hafter’s forces. This was before a third government, the
Government of National Accord (GNA) was established in December
2015, with international backing. The transformation of the conflict
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Libya 103

had major implications on Islamist behavior, especially in light of devel-

opments in nearby Egypt.
It is worth mentioning here that the Libyan branch of the Muslim
Brotherhood is a significantly different organization from its Egyptian
older sister, the main target of the July 3, 2013 military coup in Egypt. Two
critical differences are worth highlighting. First, the Libyan Brotherhood
had only a limited presence in the decades prior to the 2011 revolution.
Since the late 1990s, the group was largely inactive on universities, pro-
vided no social services, and had virtually no mosques or public spaces to
promote its views. Therefore, after the revolution, it had a limited base
of support compared to the Egyptian Brotherhood and even Ennahda
in Tunisia. Second, the Libyan revolution was primarily a popular
armed one and the Brotherhood participated in it. So, as opposed to the
Egyptian and the Tunisian Islamists, the Libyan Brotherhood’s experi-
ence in collective armed action, within a multiactor coalition, was much
more positive. That specific genre of armed action not only toppled a
brutal dictatorship but also helped the Libyan branch to avoid the dismal
fate of the mother organization in Egypt. These two key differences have
had a major impact on the political behavior of the organization.
This chapter is divided into three parts. The first section provides an
overview of the main Islamist forces in Libya, their backgrounds, and
their role in the transition. The second analyzes the salient issues facing
Libyan Islamists and how they affect their behaviors in Libya. These
issues are the 2011 armed revolution, the 2012–​2013 electoral process,
the 2014 attempted coup and civil war that ensued afterward, and the
rise of the Islamic State in Libya. The final section briefly concludes
with implications for the study of Islamism.

Libyan Islamist Actors: An Overview

The Libyan Muslim Brotherhood

“The Muslim Brothers established this party. We are a national civil

party with an Islamic reference… . We have Islamists and national-
ists,” said Al-​Amin Belhaj, the head of the founding committee for the
newly formed Justice and Construction Party.1 With this March 3, 2012
announcement, Libya seemed set to follow the electoral path of Islamist
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104 Countries

success set in Egypt, Tunisia, and other Arab countries. After decades
of fierce repression by the Qaddafi regime, the formation of a political
party in Libya was a heady experience.
The Muslim Brotherhood’s presence in Libya goes back to 1949.
But their first clear organizational structure was established in 1968
and quickly froze in 1969 after the coup of Colonel Qaddafi.2 The
Brotherhood was never allowed to operate openly and suffered extreme
repression. Indeed, when state television did broadcast something about
the group, it was the bodies of its leaders hung from street lampposts
in the mid-​1980s. Qaddafi’s media called them “deviant heretics” and
“stray dogs.” Fleeing repression, the Libyan Muslim Brotherhood was
reborn in the United States, where members established the “Islamic
Group—​Libya” in 1980 and issued their magazine The Muslim. In 1982,
many of the Brotherhood figures who were studying in the United
States returned to Libya to re-​establish the organization but ended up
in prison or were executed.3
The Libyan Muslim Brotherhood made something of a comeback
in 1999 and entered into a dialogue with the regime. Its rebirth was
bolstered in 2005 and 2006 by Saif al-​Islam Qaddafi’s initiatives, which
aimed to co-​opt and neutralize opposition groups, particularly Islamist
ones.4 This led to doubts about the group’s motivations during the 2011
revolution, charges Brotherhood leaders reject. “No, we did not plan
the revolution and we weren’t playing a double game with the regime,”
said Fawzi Abu Kitef, the head of the Revolutionary Brigades Coalition
in Eastern Libya and the former deputy defense minister in the National
Transitional Council (NTC), the body that led the revolution and then
de facto governed Libya for a period of several months (March 2011 to
August 2012) before the first elections.5 Abu Kitef was a leading figure
in the Brotherhood who spent more than 18 years in Qaddafi’s jails,
including the notorious Abu Selim prison.6 Indeed, from the outset,
the Brotherhood was supportive of the NTC, with some of its icons
joining it, such as Abdullah Shamia, who was in charge of economic
affairs in the NTC.
Libya’s Muslim Brotherhood modeled its new party after Egypt’s
Freedom and Justice Party (FJP). The Libyan Brotherhood is much
smaller than its Egyptian counterpart, however. In 2009, Soliman Abdul
Qadir, the former general overseer of the Libyan Muslim Brotherhood,
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Libya 105

estimated the number of Brotherhood members in exile to be around

200 and inside Libya to be a few thousand, mainly concentrated in the
professional and student sectors.7 While those cadres would be critical
for the movement and its party, they can hardly compare to the hun-
dreds of thousands of the Egyptian Brotherhood.
During its first public conference in Benghazi in November 2011,
the Libyan Muslim Brotherhood restructured the organization, elected
a new leader, increased its consultative council membership from 11
to 30, and decided to form a political party. In their party elections,
Mohamed Swan, the former head of the consultative council, narrowly
defeated the former Brotherhood leader Soliman Abdul Qadir and two
other candidates to become the leader of the new party, the Justice and
Construction Party (JCP). “Participation in the party will be based on
an individual, not group basis,” said Bashir al-​Kubty, the newly elected
general overseer of the Libyan Brotherhood. He meant that the party
would not be a political front.8 “They want it to be like the FJP in
Egypt, 80 percent Brotherhood and 20 percent others … to be able
to say that they are inclusive,” said Gumaa al-​Gumati, a former non-​
Islamist representative of the NTC in London.9
When Ali al-​Sallabi, a Salafi-​leaning Islamist figure once affiliated
with the Brotherhood, proposed a National Rally Coalition to include
the Muslim Brotherhood and other Islamists, Brotherhood leaders ulti-
mately rejected the proposal. The group’s objective in that phase of the
transition was to ensure control over its political arm. It ostentatiously
shunned alliances with post-jihadists (like those of the Libyan Islamic
Fighting Group, which changed its name temporarily to the Libyan
Islamic Movement for Change, or LIMC, before its members split into
various factions) to avoid any international outcry. It also rejected ini-
tiatives proposed by ex-​affiliates, like Sallabi, which they feared would
send the wrong message to the rank-​and-​file.10 Domestic and interna-
tional legitimacy, expansion of audience, and internal discipline have
been the determinants of the Libyan Brotherhood’s behavior since the
transition process began after Qaddafi’s fall.
The ever evolving Libyan political scene posed several major chal-
lenges to Libya’s Muslim Brotherhood, especially prior to the 2012 par-
liamentary elections. Unlike the Brotherhood in Egypt and Ennahda in
Tunisia, Libyan Islamists had little history of interactions with the masses.
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106 Countries

The Egyptian Brotherhood had a third life from the early 1970s, and
over the next four decades it worked hard to build mass support in uni-
versities, professional syndicates, unions, and on the streets. Ennahda
wasn’t much different, although mass outreach efforts were frozen in
1990, after the Tunisian regime launched a brutal crackdown. Due
to the complete lack of political opening over decades, the Libyan
Brotherhood did not have any real opportunities to connect with
ordinary Libyans. They also lacked any space to build organizational
structures or institutions within Libya or to create a parallel network of
clinics and social services.
Second, Libyan Islamists had to deal with persistent questions about
their commitment to democratic values, women’s rights, and pluralism.
The attempt to be inclusive was clear at the Justice and Construction
Party’s first annual conference on March 2–3, 2012. Walid al-​Sakran,
nonmember of the Brotherhood, was a candidate for the party’s leader-
ship, and five women attempted to join the 45-​member Consultative
Council. Three were successful. But even if the leadership had been
committed to pragmatism, the Brotherhood’s more conservative base
expect ideology to more directly influence behavior. The challenge for
the leadership was to legitimate its pragmatic behavior, including coali-
tions with non-​Islamists, to their followers. The experience of Islamists
in exile in the West and their fluid circumstances both at home and
abroad helped to ease the tension between political pragmatism and
ideological commitments. This applies particularly to the Brotherhood
and the LIMC, but not necessarily to local Salafis (who are more
numerous than the members of both organizations but lack a structure
and leadership).
Third, the constitution drafting process has posed thorny challenges.
The reference to the sharia as the principal source of legislation in
Article 1 of the August 2011 constitutional declaration raised eyebrows
in the West and among Libya’s liberals. Something similar happened
when Mustafa Abdul Jalil, the chairman of the NTC, spoke about the
superiority of sharia and the legitimacy of polygamy in the liberation
speech of October 23, 2011. “We are an Islamic state,” he said, pledging
to get rid of regulations that failed to conform to Islamic law.
The Brotherhood, the LIMC, Salafis, and conservative figures per-
ceived this as a victory. “The laws of Libya need to have an Islamic
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Libya 107

reference and that should be enshrined in the constitution,” Bashir al-​

Kubty told me.11 “The issue of the sharia is settled. It will be the supreme
source of legislation… . There is no point in making this debatable or
raising the Quran in Benghazi and Sabha,” said Abdel Nasser Shamata,
the head of the Crisis Management Unit in the NTC. His statement
was a response to demonstrations of a few hundred in Benghazi and
Sabha demanding the implementation of sharia in 2011 and 2012.12
The issue of sharia will remain a difficult, even intractable one as the
country alternates between political transition and civil conflict. Libyan
Islamists’ relative electoral successes occurred in 2012 without a thorough
update of their worldviews. This exacerbated political and ideological
polarization, which became increasingly evident in the new Libya.

The Libyan Islamic Fighting Group

Established in 1990, the LIFG was modeled along the lines of the
Egyptian al-​Jihad organization: secretive, elitist, exclusively paramil-
itary, and aiming for decisive action to topple the regime.13 However,
Libyan authorities discovered the group, forcing it to declare its
existence for the first time on October 18, 1995. A brutal crack-
down followed and the LIFG led a three-​year low-​level insurgency
based mainly in Eastern Libya. The group attempted to assassinate
Colonel Qaddafi on three occasions in 1995 and 1996. By 1998, the
Consultative Council of the LIFG decided to impose a three-​year
ceasefire in Libya, to be reviewed in 2001. But the events of 9/​11
changed the group’s calculations, as it put the leadership and organi-
zation in survival mode.
According to the LIFG leaders and members I interviewed in
Tripoli, the dialogue with the Libyan regime started in 2005. In
2006, six members from the consultative council were involved in
talks with the regime. By the end of 2010, the LIFG had published
a book, Corrective Studies in Understandings of Jihad, Enforcement of
Morality, and Judgment of People, in which it reviewed the ideas and
fatwas advocating rebellion against rulers and casting individuals as
apostates (takfir). In March 2010, Saif al-​Islam, Qaddafi’s son, her-
alded the release of LIFG commanders and praised their book in a
public conference attended by Western diplomats, academics, and
journalists.
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108 Countries

Like the Muslim Brotherhood and its offshoots, the LIFG and the
broader jihadist trend supported the February 2011 revolution, play-
ing a significant role in the removal of Qaddafi’s regime. This brought
a wealth of paramilitary experience to Libyan revolutionaries. LIFG
members and others were heavily involved in multiple armed conflicts,
including in Afghanistan, Algeria, and Chechnya. But, in an effort
to update its image, the LIFG first transformed itself into the Libyan
Islamic Movement for Change (LIMC), and many of its figures were
also members of the Tripoli Military Council. Two of its leading figures
established the al-​Watan (Homeland) Party and Tajammu’ al-​Umma
al-​Wasat (Centrist Umma Assembly) Party in November 2011 and April
2012, respectively.
The Salafi Trend

The existence of the Salafi trend in Libya goes back to the 1960s.14 As
in other countries, non-jihadist Salafism in Libya is divided into four
subtrends: status quo or authoritarian Salafism, apolitical or scholarly
Salafism, political-​reformist Salafism, and armed Salafism. Despite being
associated with Saudi theologians, status quo Salafism was able to grow
under the Qaddafi regime, mainly due to its support of the legitimacy of
authoritarian rulers, regardless of their behavior or “Islamic-​ness,” draw-
ing on a major strain of Sunni political theology. Like some Egyptian
Salafis, many of the sheikhs within this subtrend opposed the revolution.
Between February and August 2011, some of them were used for pro-​
Qaddafi propaganda, issuing statements on television and radio to cast
religious legitimacy on the regime and delegitimize the revolutionaries.15
After Qaddafi, the Salafi trend in Libya, despite its relatively large
numbers, suffered from a lack of leadership and organizational dis-
cipline. Additionally, Salafi ideology, being more fluid than is often
assumed, does not easily translate into specific political behavior. As a
result, Libyan Salafis engaged in the electoral process, helped fuel polit-
ical polarization, and participated in the armed conflict, but on rival
sides.16 One of the strands of armed Salafi-​jihadism, however, was able
to centralize its local structures and became a force to reckon with in
Libya: the branch of the Islamic State in Libya, specifically its Cyrenaica
and Tripolitania Provinces.
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Libya 109

Islamists and the 2012 Electoral Losses

“We certainly did not expect the results, but regardless … our future
is certainly better than our present and our past,” said Sami al-​Saadi,
former ideologue of the LIFG and the founder of the aforementioned
Umma al-​Wasat Assembly, which came in third in Central Tripoli.17
Saadi, once called “the Sheikh of the Arabs” by the Taliban’s Mullah
Omar and previously the author of the LIFG’s antidemocracy mani-
festo, accepted the defeat of Islamists in Libya’s first democratic
elections.
Indeed, the results raised eyebrows, even for analysts who did not
expect an Islamist landslide. In electoral district number one, where
Derna lies (commonly referred to as an “Islamist stronghold”), the
“liberal leaning” National Forces Coalition (NFC), a coalition of more
than 60 parties and hundreds of civil society organizations, swept with
59,769 votes, while the Muslim Brotherhood’s Justice and Construction
Party only got 8,619. Umma al-​Wasat Assembly came in third with
4,962 votes.
In the district of Abu Selim—​where many Islamists were perceived
as local heroes due to their sacrifices under brutal repression—​the NFC
still swept with 60,052 votes, defeating all six Islamist parties, which
together received less than 15,000 votes. Overall, liberal-​leaning parties
won the most votes in 11 out of the 13 electoral districts, with the NFC
winning 10 of those. Overall, the NFC claimed 39 seats, the JCP won
17 seats, coming in a distant second, while Umma al-​Wasat secured
only 2 seats.
Due to a somewhat confusing electoral law, those results only affected
80 out of the 200 seats of the General National Congress (GNC), whose
mandate was to appoint a prime minister, a government, and a com-
mittee to craft the constitution. The rest of the 120 seats were reserved
for individual candidates.
In some districts, though, Islamists weren’t too far behind. Across
Libya, they won second place in 10 out of the 13 districts, with the JCP
winning 9 of those and the Salafi-​leaning Originality Coalition win-
ning 1. In Misrata, the JCP came in second, after the local Union for
Homeland Party, but still managed to win almost three times the votes
of the NFC, which came in fourth.
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110 Countries

Islamists spearheading the opposition against Qaddafi were advised

by Tunisian and Egyptian Islamists and used rhetoric full of religious
symbolism in a conservative, Muslim-​majority country. Not surpris-
ingly for some, this was not enough. As discussed earlier, a key differ-
ence exists between the Egyptian Brotherhood and Ennahda in Tunisia,
on the one hand, and the Islamists of Libya on the other: the history of
institutionalism and interactions with the masses. In the four decades
of Qaddafi’s rule, Libya’s Islamists were unable to build local support
networks.
As a result of their organizational immaturity, Islamists were unable
to unite under one coalition to compete with former prime minister
Mahmoud Jibril’s NFC. Instead, Islamist votes were divided between
several parties. For example, the LIFG had to split votes between two
large factions: the al-​Watan Party, led by the LIFG’s former com-
mander, Abdul Hakim Belhaj, and Umma al-​Wasat Assembly, led by
the LIFG’s former ideologue, Sami al-​Saadi. Moreover, sometimes the
Salafi-​leaning Originality Coalition-​affiliated parties competed against
each other in the very same district, most notably district 11, where
three of their parties came in 2nd, 7th, and 13th in Tajoura and Souk
al-​Jum’a. Additionally, Originality Coalition leaders failed to mobi-
lize large sections of the Libyan Salafi community who boycotted the
elections, mainly out of theological convictions that elections are reli-
giously illegitimate.
Another reason for non-​Islamist success is the “blood” factor. “I am not
giving my family’s votes to the Muslim Brotherhood. Two of my cousins
died because of them,” explained Mohamed Abdul Hakim, a voter from
Benghazi.18 Despite believing that Islam should be the source for legisla-
tion, he still voted non-​Islamist. His cousins were killed in a confronta-
tion in the 1990s, likely between the Martyrs Movement (a small jihadist
group operating in his neighborhood at the time) and Qaddafi’s forces.
Nevertheless, many average Libyans, including Mohamed, do not distin-
guish between different Islamist organizations. For many, all Islamists are
“Ikhwan” (Muslim Brotherhood). The “stain” of direct involvement in
armed action, coupled with the fears of enforcing Taliban-​like laws or an
Algeria-​like scenario of civil war, has harmed Islamists across the spectrum.
Islamist rhetoric during the election campaign also contributed to
the poor showing at the polls. “It is offensive to tell me I have to vote
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Libya 111

for an Islamic party. What does that make me if I voted otherwise?! In

Libya we are Muslims… . They can’t take away my identity and claim
it’s only theirs,” said Jamila Marzouki, an Islamic studies graduate who
voted for the NFC, despite wanting Islam to be the ultimate reference
for Libyan laws.19
There were other factors as well boosting the popularity of non-
Islamists: The domestic and international legitimacy of Mahmoud
Jibril, his tribal affiliation (the Warfalla tribe is about 1 million
strong), and his leadership style, coupled with a hope-oriented cam-
paign pitch (while also exaggerating the repercussions of an Islamist
takeover and showing off Jibril’s “piety”), all produced a convincing
electoral success.

Political–​Military Coalitions and Regional Patrons

But if non-​Islamists were able to claim victory in elections, Islamists
and their allies in the General National Congress were able to form
more effective coalitions and therefore control the majority of votes.
This happened mainly by keeping these coalitions disciplined during
voting. The NFC failed to do so, and the subsequent reduction of its
bloc in the GNC led to further polarization and attempts to dissolve the
GNC, most notably General Hafter’s first and second coup attempts in
February and May 2014.
Parliamentary elections were held on June 25, 2014, in the middle of
Libya’s descent into civil conflict. This time, all candidates ran as inde-
pendents, with non-​Islamist factions win the majority of seats. Election
turnout was very low, however, at less than 18 percent, compared to 61.6
percent in 2012. The low turnout was mainly attributed to the escala-
tion of armed confrontations following General Hafter’s May coup,
which rejected both the new elections and the GNC.

Libya’s Islamists and Regional Dynamics

The actions of regional players have not only exacerbated the polariza-
tion in Libya but also directly spoiled reconciliation efforts at critical
junctures. The Sissi regime in Egypt is a prime example. As General
12

112 Countries

Abbas Kamel, chief aide of Abdel Fattah al-Sissi, said in a series of

leaks published between November 2014 and March 2015: “This man
is an opportunity, sir. He is speaking about the timing…  They are
planning something there [in Libya]. Yes, he is speaking about a form
of secret cooperation … unannounced to anyone…  No one will
hear or know about it…  He will come to you.”20 “The man” was
Ahmed Gaddaf al-​Dam, Qaddafi’s cousin and aide who was being
pursued by Libyan authorities as well as by Interpol for alleged crimes
against humanity. He had also been recently interviewed on a pro-​
regime Egyptian television channel to publicly declare his support for
the Islamic State.21
The exact date of the leaked conversation is unknown, but it
was almost certainly after Sissi’s military coup on July 3, 2013 and
before Hafter’s first “television coup” on February 14, 2014. The leak
revealed nothing particularly new but shed important light on the
regional dimensions of the Libyan conflict. Sissi’s military involvement
in Libya became common knowledge in official and expert circles
around November 2013. In August 2014, American officials exposed an
Egyptian-​Emirati secret airstrike in Tripoli—an unprecedented bomb-
ing raid by an Arab Gulf state on an Arab North African capital.22
Further details were exposed of actions that clearly violated the arms
embargo on Libya and UN Security Council resolution 1970. “We
should not forget the favor of Egypt. Our ammo came from Egypt.
400 containers from there,” said Saqr al-​Joroushi, the commander of
the “air forces” loyal to General Khalifa Haftar and the Torbuk govern-
ment, while the cheering crowd chanted “Allahu Akbar.”23
In February 2014, Egypt’s air forces struck again, this time in Derna
after Islamic State militants brutally slaughtered 21 Egyptian citizens in
Sirte. After the strike, Sissi’s regime sought United Nations approval for
a military intervention in Libya, then for a naval blockade of the Tripoli
government while lifting the embargo on the Tobruk side. All attempts
were diplomatic failures.
“Sisi doesn’t have credibility with, and he is in fact an opponent of,
the moderate Islamists and they are already looking to use his bomb-
ings as a pretense to abandon the talks,” a European diplomat noted
in March 2015.24 That may be an oversimplification on several levels.
 13

Libya 113

While they are certainly part of it, the Tripoli government is not exactly
run by “moderate Islamists” but by a multilayered coalition in which
pro-​revolution regionalists, such as Misratan revolutionary brigades
and local council, are a very influential faction. The Tobruk govern-
ment is not exactly “secular” either; It is a nonhomogeneous coalition
of military factions, regionalist forces, pro-​Qaddafi elements, and pro-​
revolution ones, with the military faction—​led by Khalifa Haftar—​
having more clout. The latter believe in the “Sissi model” of takeover,
including using Salafi figures to issue supportive fatwas for repressing
rivals.
The Western-​backed United Nations track offered an alternative
route—​with less bloody prospects and a potentially higher chance of
defeating the Islamic State and like-​ minded organizations without
empowering a ruthless dictator in the process. The immediate objective
was to build and empower a Government of National Accord (GNA)
led by Fayez al-​Sarraj, alongside potentially unified and professional
Libyan security and military forces. The GNA was established as a
result of a fragile agreement whose final draft was signed by 19 leading
politicians, from several sides, on December 17, 2015 (but also with a
significant number of defectors, including the heads of the rival parlia-
ments in Tripoli and Tobruk).
The strategy pursued by the Sissi regime has already produced a
series of negative consequences within Egypt, and the results may yet
prove even more damaging for Libya’s already precarious situation,
not to mention the rest of the region. The objective of Sissi’s strat-
egy is not about national reconciliation, social cohesion, or defeating
violent extremism. It is more about eradicating political rivals, mainly
the Muslim Brotherhood and other Islamist factions; empowering like-​
minded and loyal military figures; installing another repressive authori-
tarian regime on the borders of Egypt; and—​where the other objectives
intersect—​defeating the Islamic State. But the tactics employed toward
this last objective have been more likely to prolong the civil war in
Libya and reduce any potential for reconciliation and democratization.
And with these consequences, a stronger North African version of the
Islamic State, or something like it, will remain a possibility, even after
anti-​Hafter military, pro-​GNA forces were able to defeat the Islamic
14

114 Countries

State in Sirte in December 2016 and a coalition of Islamist and local

jihadist militias defeated them in Derna in July 2015.

THE Islamic State and Libya’s Islamists

The very fact that the Islamic State was able to gain control of Sirte,
Qaddafi’s hometown, in February 2016 alarmed all sides of the Libyan
civil war, particularly in the west (Tripoli and Misrata). The Islamist
Libya Dawn,25 a military force operating under Libya’s chief of staff
loyal to the Tripoli government, had deployed the 166th Battalion
around Sirte in an attempt to take over the city center, the univer-
sity, and other areas from Islamic State loyalists. In February 2015,
the Libyan Muslim Brotherhood supported the takeover but did
not officially declare any role in the fight. “ISIS forces there are esti-
mated to be somewhere between 100 and 150 armed vehicles [pick-​up
trucks and four-​by-​four SUVs],” said Mohamed Abdullah, a General
National Congress (Tripoli Parliament) member.26 The ground troops
of Libya Dawn, however, were not enough for a quick, decisive vic-
tory. But in May 2016, the GNA, using Tripoli’s chief of staff and
Libya Dawn forces, launched another attack on Islamic State strong-
holds in Sirte. This time, the attack was more successful due to inter-
national military, intelligence, and logistical support that included
airstrikes by the United States.27 By December 2016, the last Islamic
State stronghold in Sirte’s al-​Jiza al-​Bahariyya district, collapsed after
intense fighting. It was a pyrrhic victory, however. Libya Dawn forces
lost over 715 fighters and more than 3000 were injured in house-to-
house urban battles.
The rise of the Islamic State posed a significant challenge, not only
to the Muslim Brotherhood in Libya but also to Salafi factions, includ-
ing the remnants of the LIFG and its offshoots. Young Libyan Islamist
activists link the Brotherhood’s failure in Egypt to the rise of the Islamic
State in Syria and Iraq. In some Islamist circles, the radical narrative
and propaganda of the “caliphate” and its three Libyan “provinces”
(Cyrenaica, Tripoli, and Fezzan) are contrasted to the gradualist, bor-
ing, and unattractive approach of the Muslim Brotherhood and the
failures of post-​LIFG political parties and figures. This has implica-
tions for recruitment and radicalization. Derna is a good example of
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Libya 115

how Islamic State loyalists steadily advanced against other organiza-

tions, even as the latter had more resources and followers.
Libya’s local jihadists in Derna publically declared their oath of alle-
giance to Abu Bakr al-​Baghdadi, the leader of the Islamic State, on
November 13, 2014.28 The organization was able to recruit followers
from multiple political factions. One of them was the local Ansar al-​
Sharia Derna. Another current of support came from the returnees
of al-​Battar (Amputating Sword) Brigade, a Libyan-​dominated militia
whose elements fought initially against the forces of Bashar al-​Assad
in Syria and then, after giving an oath of loyalty to the Islamic State,
fought against multiple Syrian pro-​revolution forces and the Iraqi
army in Kirkuk.29 But the main organization that constituted the local
backbone of the Islamic State in Derna was the Consultative Council
of Islamic Youth (CCIY). In terms of strength and membership, it
ranked as the fourth militia in Derna in January 2014. CCIY officially
declared its existence in May 2014, after a military parade in the streets
of Derna. It steadily gained in recruitment, manpower, and firepower
to control parts of the city center in October 2014, before giving the
oath of loyalty to the Islamic State in November. The rise of CCIY/​
Islamic State in Derna coincided with the declaration of General
Hafter’s second coup attempt, the collapse of institutional political
process in Libya, and the failure of the Muslim Brotherhood approach
to political transitions, as demonstrated in neighboring Egypt.
The rise of the Islamic State in Libya did not stop in Derna. Overall,
the manpower of the organization in Libya was estimated to be in the
range of 2,000 to 3,000 in November 2015 by a United Nations report.30
The estimate rose in February 2016 to become, more likely, in the range of
5,000 to 6,000 members.31 From February 2015 to June 2016, the Islamic
State was able to control and influence areas that extended from al-​
Hisha/​Abu Qrin village about 100 miles west of Sirte to Bin Jawad town
located 100 miles east of Sirte. The Islamic State was removed from
Derna in July 2015 by a coalition of anti-ISIS armed Islamist and jihad-
ist groups operating under the title of “Derna Mujahidin Consultative
Council.” The Islamic State also operated in three districts in Benghazi,
mainly fighting against the forces of General Haftar. In other parts of
Libya, including the western cities of Tripoli, Misrata, Sabratha, and
Zuwara, the Islamic State operated in small cells, which lacked the
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116 Countries

capacity to control territory but were able to facilitate logistical support

for the “provinces,” as well as to strike when necessary, usually using
urban terrorism tactics.

Implications for the Study of Islamism

The Egyptian military coup of July 2013 has significantly affected the
region in general and Libya in particular. The message sent by the coup
to Libya, Syria, Yemen, and beyond is that of militarizing politics: only
arms guarantee political rights, not the constitution, not democratic
institutions, and certainly not votes. That message will have implica-
tions for Islamist political behavior, including both ideological and
organizational consequences, affecting the study of Islamism for some
time to come.
The Libyan Muslim Brotherhood has certainly taken a lesson from
the Egyptian coup and the fate of Brotherhood leaders and members
there. One lesson is the importance of having allies with “hard power”
capabilities. Powerful regional militias, factions within armed institu-
tions, and the arming of like-minded loyalists are all options that were
partially pursued in Libya. Several Libyan Muslim Brotherhood fig-
ures understand that the two Islamist organizations that have stood the
test of time and survived major onslaughts are Hamas and Hezbollah,
mainly due to the relatively well-​developed capacities of their armed
wings, in a region where bullets consistently beat ballots. This should
not be construed as a transformation toward jihadism. But it can
engender a subcategory within an armed Islamist typology, mainly
focused on a defensive “arms for survival” understanding of politics.
The level of militancy can increase, however, depending on how repres-
sive the political environment is, how radical the competitors are, and
the responses of young audiences. The rise of the Islamic State in Libya,
against all other Islamist actors, demonstrates some of the effects of the
aforementioned factors.
The import of the inclusion-​moderation hypothesis, which a num-
ber of other contributors to this volume have also discussed, has also
been affected by post-uprising Islamist transformations. In Libya, there
are two main relevant issues. The first is how political inclusion affects
Islamist stances on constitutional liberalism. As seen in the General
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Libya 117

National Congress, Islamist parliamentarians attempted to use their

electoral heft to implement laws that contradict constitutional liberal-
ism, including on minority rights and gender equality. The second con-
sideration is that if inclusion proves to be permanently unsustainable in
the region, which trajectory will unarmed Islamists ultimately take in
an environment where moderation simply does not pay off?
18

7
Q
Saudi Arabia
Toby Matthiesen

Saudi Arabia is one of the most important Islamic countries, stra-

tegically located and with huge financial resources at its disposal.
Given Saudi Arabia’s crucial position as custodian of the two holy
places of Islam, Mecca and Medina, as well as its increasingly pro-
active foreign policy, the question of what kind of foreign policy
the country should have is important not only for Saudis but also
Muslims more generally. Because debates about domestic politics are
restricted in Saudi Arabia, debates about foreign policy have become
arenas where conflicts between opposing social forces play out.
These debates are of tremendous importance for the Middle East
and beyond. Political Islam in Saudi Arabia thus has to be analyzed
in the context of Saudi Arabia’s regional policies.
In this chapter, I argue that apart from geopolitics, the dynamic
relationship between the Saudi state and Saudi Islamists has been
crucial in shaping the country’s foreign policy, particularly since
2011. Islam has, of course, long played a role and been used as an
ideological asset in Saudi foreign policy, especially since the time of
King Faysal.1 But other factors have tended to weigh more heavily
on decision making in foreign policy.2 Likewise, in the post-​2011
period, Islam is mainly used to support foreign policy decisions that
lay in the national interest of the kingdom as perceived by its rulers,
for example, in Yemen and Syria, as well as in its opposition to Iran.

118
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Saudi Arabia 119

Since 2011, Saudi Islamist actors have had to respond to a rapidly

changing regional environment and to power struggles in the Saudi rul-
ing family that culminated in the coronation of King Salman and the
appointment of his new administration in 2015. By and large, Islamist
actors were appalled by the public Saudi backing of the 2013 Egyptian
coup. The emergence of the Islamic State, on the other hand, was
greeted with some sympathy, because the Islamic State could feed into
anti-​Iranian and anti-​Shiite sentiment, which had been stirred up by
Saudi and Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) government rhetoric and
media for years. In addition, the quick advances of the group contrib-
uted to its popularity in Saudi Arabia, as did the fact that thousands of
Saudis and other GCC nationals joined it as fighters, commanders, and
ideologues. But the flow of Saudi fighters and financing to Syria were
publicly condemned and clamped down on by the government, espe-
cially after the declaration of the caliphate in mid-​2014. Meanwhile,
King Salman could build on his extensive contacts with various Islamist
forces in the kingdom, which he had forged as governor of Riyadh since
1963. Indeed, he and his new administration seemed to be closer to
Saudi Islamists, including supporters of the Muslim Brotherhood, than
his predecessor King Abdullah had been.3
As a result, and probably because this fits into the Saudi narrative of
the kingdom as the defender of Sunnis in the region, the war against
the Houthis in Yemen that started in March 2015 was endorsed by
Saudi Islamist forces from across the ideological spectrum. It was an
opportunity for Islamist clerics and public figures to declare their sup-
port for the new king and the Saudi leadership, as well as Saudi regional
policies, without losing face in front of their supporters.

A Fragmented Islamist Field
The question of what constitutes political Islam and “Islamists” in Saudi
Arabia is rather difficult to answer. Unlike in most other Arab countries,
Islamic scholars do wield considerable power in the political system
and hold key positions as judges, ministers, and in the religious police.
In other Arab states, Islamists have long confronted ostensibly secular,
often Arab nationalist regimes. The Saudi case is more complicated,
however.4 In some areas, Saudi Arabia conforms to many Islamists’
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120 Countries

notions of what should be implemented in an ideal Islamic state, for

example the public enforcement of morality, dress codes, the closure of
shops during prayer times, gender separation, the collection of zakat,
proselytizing at home and abroad, and the key role of sharia and ulama
(clerics) in jurisprudence. So the “Islamist” field is extremely complex
and hybrid, and many key Islamist figures are employed by the state.
Others outside the formal state apparatus overlap with government-​
controlled institutions in many arenas, for example in mosques, chari-
ties, and the mass media.
Broadly speaking, one can classify the Islamist field as follows: First,
there are the adherents of the official Wahhabi tradition. These are
the clerics on the Council of the Committee of Senior Ulama and the
ulama in the judiciary, the religious police, and parts of the education
sector.5 By and large, these clerics endorsed the kingdom’s response to
challenges at home and its role in the Arab counterrevolution since
2011. The Saudi grand mufti Abdulaziz al-​Shaykh declared that protests
were against Islam, forbidding them in other Arab countries (such as
Egypt) and in Saudi Arabia. He then endorsed the 2013 coup in Egypt
(even though the justifications of the coup depended heavily on the
mass protests of June 30, 2013). The mufti also endorsed the crackdown
on dissent and public protest inside Saudi Arabia, particularly against
Shia citizens. He also denounced the Islamic State as un-​Islamic and
supported the Saudi-​led intervention in Yemen.6
A second group, and an important one, is what one could loosely call
the “Sahwa” or post-​Sahwis—those who were involved in the movement
termed the Islamic Awakening (al-​Sahwa al-​Islamiyya) that emerged in
the 1980s and challenged the political dominance of the ruling fam-
ily in the early 1990s. The Sahwa is an umbrella term for a group that
was heavily influenced by Muslim Brotherhood networks in the king-
dom and fused Brotherhood ideology with local Wahhabi tradition. It is
worth remembering, however, that political parties are banned in Saudi
Arabia, and all these networks operate clandestinely. They therefore have
a less visible formal structure than elsewhere in the region.
These former Sahwis, who were, broadly speaking, associated with
the Muslim Brotherhood trend, largely supported the revolutions in
Tunisia and Egypt, as well as in Syria and Yemen, and welcomed the
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Saudi Arabia 121

Muslim Brotherhood coming to power in Egypt. They and their sup-

porters visited Egypt, helped their brothers there, established media
outlets, and invested in the country. Although these people have con-
nections to individual Saudi princes and may be employed by the state
bureaucracy, they were by and large critical of the Saudi handling of
the Arab uprisings. Some of them, such as the popular cleric Salman
al-​Awda, signed a petition calling for political reforms in early 2011.7
Indeed, in 2011 and 2012, there was some interaction between Sahwa
Islamists, liberals, and political reformers of various persuasions.
Together they unsuccessfully tried to push for democratic reforms in
the country. One of the key groups behind this alliance was the Saudi
Association for Civil and Political Rights (ACPRA), most of whose
leaders have since been imprisoned for their activism.8 Another issue
that most activists and many Islamists in the kingdom agree on is the
release of political prisoners.9
Salman al-​Awda also published a book in which he praised public
protests and the Arab uprisings.10 He reaffirmed his position in an open
letter to the government on March 15, 2013. In the letter he warned of
a sociopolitical explosion if political prisoners were not released and
reforms were not enacted immediately.11
So for most of the period from 2011 to 2014, Sahwa clerics disagreed
with the Saudi government over the handling of regional challenges
(with the partial exceptions of Syria, where both supported the opposi-
tion, even though there were disputes over which groups to support,
and of Bahrain, where both supported the crackdown on the opposi-
tion).12 But the emergence of the Islamic State and then the Houthi
takeover of Yemen’s capital in September 2014 posed severe challenges
to Saudi Arabia and led to a realignment between these Sahwis and
the Saudi regime, in particular after Salman took to the throne in early
2015.
The jihadists are another distinct strand of political Islam in Saudi
Arabia.13 Originally, Afghanistan and the Balkans were their main areas
of operation, but they then moved their focus to Iraq after 2003, then
Yemen, and, since 2011, Syria. In Syria, the foreign policies of the Saudi
state and its support for the armed opposition in many ways overlapped
with the short-​term aims of the jihadists. But the successes of Islamic
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122 Countries

State, the declaration of the caliphate, and the group’s increasingly anti-​
Saudi rhetoric undermined this consensus.
While a number of terrorist attacks have occurred in Saudi Arabia
since 2014, it is remarkable that throughout the period of 2011 to early
2014 there were no jihadist attacks in Saudi Arabia, even though Saudi
leaders took such a forceful stance to support the ancien régimes in the
region and undermine the democratic prospects of Islamists in Egypt
and elsewhere. However, jihadist attacks increased since the summer
of 2014, in particular attacks by Islamic State cells. They have targeted
the Shia minority in the Eastern Province, an Isma’ili mosque in the
southern city of Najran, as well as soldiers and security officials in other
parts of the country.14
A last group within Saudi Islamism consists of Shia Islamists, con-
centrated in the Eastern Province. Profound changes have occurred
among Shias since the beginning of the Arab uprisings. A protest move-
ment emerged in 2011 and lasted, with interruptions, until late 2013.
The movement was youth driven, but clerics and Islamist leaders were
the figureheads of the movement.

Saudi Support for the Egyptian Coup

Saudi Arabia has long given safe haven to Muslim Brotherhood sup-
porters, in particular those fleeing Gamal Abdul Nasser’s and Hafez
al-​Assad’s crackdowns in the second half of the 20th century. They
helped build many of the educational and religious institutions that
were set up in Saudi Arabia during the oil boom of the 1970s when
the country embraced political Islam as a counter-​ideology against
Arab nationalism and leftist ideologies.15 In the early 1990s, the Sahwa
movement started to criticize the ruling family over its alliance with the
United States and the deployment of American troops on Saudi soil
during and after the 1991 Gulf War. The Sahwa included many leaders
and sympathizers of the local branch of the Muslim Brotherhood that
came into being as a result of the migration of Brotherhood mem-
bers to the kingdom. This episode was arguably one of the key turning
points in the relationship between the House of Saud and the Muslim
Brotherhood, and it largely explains the fears of Saudi leaders and their
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Saudi Arabia 123

strong reaction to Brotherhood’s rise during the Arab Spring.16 This

issue has been crucial in shaping Saudi foreign policy and the attitudes
of Saudi and regional Islamists toward the Saudi regime.
Several Gulf states, above all Saudi Arabia and the United Arab
Emirates, played an important role in the Egyptian coup of 2013.17
Prince Bandar bin Sultan, the Saudi intelligence chief at the time, met
with Egyptian military figures and urged Western countries to support
a military takeover. The Egyptian Salafi Nour Party, which is said to
have close ties to Saudi Arabia, endorsed the coup.18 Some Salafis, on
the other hand, particularly from the Sururi group in Saudi Arabia,
criticized the government for supporting the coup.19
Supporters of the Muslim Brotherhood in the kingdom also voiced
their frustration with the coup publicly and criticized the Nour Party
for legitimizing the new regime.20 On social media, the four-​finger
symbol came to epitomize the massacre of Muslim Brotherhood sup-
porters in Rabaa al-​Adawiya Square in August 2013. It was widely
used by Saudis on Twitter and became a public way of expressing
dissatisfaction with the Saudi government, albeit on a foreign policy
issue. Most Sahwa clerics and other Saudi Islamist leaders denounced
the Egyptian coup and, implicitly or explicitly, Saudi Arabia’s role
in it.21
Saudi Arabia, in turn, clamped down on these public forms of dis-
sent, particularly any show of solidarity with the Muslim Brotherhood,
which the government designated a terrorist organization in March
2014.22 The government worried about Brotherhood sympathizers in
the kingdom mobilizing political opposition to the regime as they
had done in the 1990s. Using the four-​finger symbol on Twitter was
criminalized. The government also clamped down on a prominent
publisher that had become a rallying point for Islamic critics of Saudi
policies.23
There is also a strong military dimension to the Saudi alliance
with Sissi’s Egypt. Just days after Saudi-​led forces launched air-
strikes on Houthi targets in Yemen, a plan for a joint Arab military
force was unveiled on March 26, 2015. The campaign highlighted
the extent of the GCC’s ambition to shape regional affairs and
underscored the military support Egypt is supposed to provide
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124 Countries

in return for financial and political backing.24 As I will discuss later,

many Saudis think the alliance is useful, though the idea of prop-
ping up Egypt’s finances indefinitely is less popular. However, most
Saudi Islamists, in particular Sahwis and Salafi-​jihadists, see the
Sissi regime as illegitimate.

The Challenge of the Islamic State

On Syria, there was a convergence of interests between the Saudi
state and the Islamists, but both sides supported the Syrian uprising
for different reasons. The aforementioned Salman al-​Awda argued
that the Saudi government used the Syrian conflict to position
itself as a champion of revolutionary forces after having become
the region’s main counterrevolutionary force. He also stated that
Saudi Arabia was, naturally, pursuing its strategic interests in the
region, and this was reason enough to support the Syrian uprising.25
But when jihadist groups started to harbor more regional ambitions
rather than being solely confined to Syria (and Iraq), the alliance
between the Saudi regime and Islamists over Syria became more
problematic.
By early April 2015, the United Nations was estimating that 25,000
foreign fighters had gone to Syria to join Islamist militias. Many of
those fighters later ended up in the Islamic State,26 with several thou-
sand believed to be Saudi nationals. It is difficult to discern the true
extent of links between the Islamic State and Saudi Arabia, at the popu-
lar level. What is clear is that the Syrian rebellion initially had huge sup-
port among Saudis and was seen as a just uprising against a dictatorial
regime. Saudis’ support for the Syrian uprising also included a sectar-
ian component, framed as a “Sunni” uprising against an “Alawite” and
“sectarian” regime.
From relatively early on, funds and fighters flowed from Saudi Arabia
and other Gulf states, notably Qatar and Kuwait, to Syria. Many of the
Sahwa’s clerics became strong supporters of the Syrian uprising and
encouraged Saudis to send money to the rebels, and in some cases even
encouraged Saudis to go and fight in Syria.27
The declaration of the caliphate by what was then still called
the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria at the end of June 2014 altered
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Saudi Arabia 125

perceptions in Saudi Arabia, however. It forced the Saudi government

to reassess its support for the opposition in Syria especially since the
Islamic State denounced the Saudi monarchy and vowed to expand
into the kingdom. This was logical, given the large number of Saudis
in the organization, and given that, once the caliphate was declared,
conquering Mecca and Medina was bound to become one of the stated
aims of the organization.28 The Islamic State thus became increasingly
active inside Saudi Arabia, carrying out several attacks.
On November 3, 2014, one day before Ashura, one of the holiest
days in the Shia calendar, militants opened fire on a crowd leaving a
Shia mourning house (hussainiyya) in the eastern oasis of al-​Ahsa, kill-
ing several people. All organs of the state, including the official clergy,
were quick to denounce the attack, and within a few days the secu-
rity forces had hunted down the perpetrators while suffering casualties
themselves.29 But the attack, which was largely carried out by Saudis and
for which the Islamic State claimed responsibility, raised questions about
the extent of Islamic State support inside the kingdom, the capability of
the security forces, and the state’s willingness to protect its Shia minor-
ity. These concerns became even more pressing when, in May 2015, sui-
cide bombers targeted Shia mosques in Qudaih outside Qatif and in
Dammam. Both operations were claimed by the Islamic State’s “Najd
Province,” which vowed to rid the Arabian Peninsula of the “rejection-
ists” (rawafid), a derogatory term to describe Shia Muslims.30 Attacks
continued throughout 2016.31
The sectarianism Saudi Arabia employs to contain its own Shia pop-
ulation and to rally support for its regional ambitions (especially its
rivalry with Iran) has fueled the problem.32 Saudi recruits for al-​Qaeda
and the Islamic State are often motivated by a desire to counter Shiism
and Iranian influence in the region—​strategic objectives that the Saudi
media perpetuates ad infinitum.
Saudi Arabia initiated airstrikes against Islamic State targets in late
2014 but stopped after the start of the Yemen campaign in March 2015.
Just two months into his reign, in a sharp reversal of established Saudi
petro-​dollar diplomacy, King Salman launched one of the biggest for-
eign policy adventures in Saudi Arabia’s modern history—a military
intervention in Yemen. Although the intervention was intended to
crush the Houthi movement and reinstall the government of interim
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126 Countries

president Abd Rabbu Mansur Hadi, it also strengthened al-​Qaeda in

the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP), which profited from a power vacuum
and anti-​Houthi sentiment in South Yemen.
The Saudi branch of al-​Qaeda had carried out a series of attacks
in Saudi Arabia from 2003 to 2006. After its networks in the king-
dom were dismantled, the remaining militants merged with the Yemeni
branch to form AQAP in 2009 and used Yemen as their main base.
They expanded their area of operations gradually.33 Interestingly, unlike
most other Saudi foreign policy initiatives since 2011, the Yemen cam-
paign was strongly supported by the kingdom’s Islamists. This may in
part be because of affinities and links to Yemen’s Muslim Brotherhood
affiliate, the Islah party, which had suffered from the Houthi advance
and was rehabilitated as a tactical ally of Saudi Arabia after the start of
the Yemen intervention.

A Deadly Storm over Yemen

In the wake of the Saudi-​led campaign against the Houthis, a remark-
able discursive shift occurred among Islamists in Saudi Arabia with
respect to the Saudi monarchy. The post-​2011 regional policies of
Saudi Arabia, in particular Saudi support for the Egyptian coup and
its declaration of the Muslim Brotherhood as a terrorist organization,
were viewed negatively by most Saudi Islamists, even those depend-
ent on the Saudi state. Little criticism was voiced in public, although
some key clerics and public figures did openly condemn the coup.
The airstrikes against the Houthis, on the other hand, were almost
unanimously supported, even by people who had previously been very
critical of the ruling family and its handling of the Arab uprisings. The
war symbolizes a new realignment of King Salman and his administra-
tion with Sunni Islamists.34 Sectarianism seems to be one important
factor in this regard. A striking example of this is Salman al-​Awda,
who strongly supported the Yemen intervention and even gave a reli-
gious justification for the killing of the Houthis. In a long interview on
al-​Jazeera, he reiterated the government narrative that Iran was taking
over Arab lands and needed to be punished, which, in turn, made the
Saudi-​led intervention in Yemen legitimate. He also repeated a rather
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Saudi Arabia 127

simplistic sectarian reading of the situation in Yemen and of Zaidism,

the branch of Islam the Houthis subscribe to.35 His website, Islam
Online, also dedicated a special site to the military intervention.36
Mohamed al-​Arifi, another prominent Saudi cleric with millions of
followers on Twitter, also endorsed the campaign. He sent a message to
the Yemenis fighting with the Houthis that they should abandon them
in order not to be used by the “Safavid” state, a reference to the Persian
Safavid Empire.37
Ayid al-​Qarni, another prominent preacher, praised King Salman
for his bravery and called the war a long-​awaited chance for the “sol-
diers of God” to show the enemies of the kingdom their strength.
He wrote a poem in support of the king with the title “Labbayk ya
Salman” (“I am at your service, O Salman!”). His lyrics were turned
into a song accompanied by a rather martial video that presented the
war as a war against the “Majus” (Zoroastrians) that would eventu-
ally also lead to the death of Iranian supreme leader Ayatollah Ali
Khamenei.38 Meanwhile, Awad al-​Qarni, one of the key clerics of the
Sahwa movement, also generally supported the intervention, although
not as vocally as others.39 Saudi media, which is tightly controlled,
unanimously supported the war.40 There were thus hardly any publicly
dissenting voices within Saudi Arabia, also in part because of draco-
nian cybersecurity laws and fear of arrest.41 Among the few Saudi voices
critical of the war were those of dissidents abroad. Saad al-​Faqih, a
longtime dissident and Islamist activist based in London, broadly sup-
ported the intervention, saying he supported the defense of the Saudi
borders and “national security.” However, he was critical of the suffer-
ing that the Yemeni people had to endure as a result, and also criticized
the way the army prosecuted the war. He in particular criticized Saudi
Arabia for not reaching out earlier to the Yemeni Muslim Brotherhood
and the Islah party, which in his view could have profoundly changed
the situation.42 For their part, the Shia Islamist opposition abroad
more clearly and unequivocally denounced the Yemen war.43

The SHIA Islamists

The kingdom’s Shia population makes up about 10 to 15 percent of the
population and is mainly located in the country’s Eastern Province.
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128 Countries

Since the 1970s, Islamist movements have become the most powerful
political force among Shias, replacing the leftist and Arab nationalists
that had been popular since the 1950s.44 They led an uprising in 1979,
which was repressed. Many of their leaders spent long years in exile,
and tensions with the state remained high during the 1980s and early
1990s. An amnesty agreement in 1993 brought most exiles back and
led to an alliance of the state with the Shirazi movement, the most
prominent of the Shia Islamist movements. The Shirazi movement
has by and large maintained its pro-​government stance and did not
openly call for protests as part of the Arab uprisings in 2011.
Still, most Saudi Shias supported the uprising in neighboring Bahrain
and saw the Arab uprisings as an opportunity for change.45 A splinter
group of the Shirazi movement led by the cleric Nimr al-​Nimr called
for protests, and an uprising in Saudi Arabia’s Eastern Province started
in February 2011. It mainly involved peaceful protests but also occasion-
ally armed clashes with security forces. A small militant faction remains
active, particularly in the village of Awwamiyya. Nevertheless, the upris-
ing was mostly crushed by the end of 2013, with hundreds of people
imprisoned and more than 20 killed. Nimr al-​Nimr was arrested and
later executed.
A decentralized coalition of youth and opposition groups,
the Coalition for Freedom and Justice occasionally calls for pro-
tests, although turnout is generally small. The coalition is broadly
Islamist in outlook and advocates revolutionary change. Another
trend of Shia Islamists is the pro-​Iranian movement that is locally
known as Khat al-​Imam, referring to followers of the late Ayatollah
Khomeini. Supporters of this strand formed a militant group,
Hizbullah al-​Hijaz, which existed in the late 1980s and the 1990s.
Khat al-​ Imam broadly supported the protests since 2011 and
demanded the release of Shias imprisoned for their alleged role in
the 1996 Khobar Towers bombings and membership in Hizbullah
al-​Hijaz.46 But Khat al-​Imam did not take as confrontational a stance
toward the government as Nimr al-​Nimr’s followers did. A figurehead
of Khat al-​Imam in Qatif, the cleric Abdulkarim al-​Hubayl, even-
tually urged the youth to stop protesting and to refrain from using
weapons against the security forces.47
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Saudi Arabia 129

Crucially, none of the key Sunni Islamist leaders spoke out in sup-
port of the protests in the Eastern Province, despite repeated efforts by
Shia protesters to adopt inclusive and national slogans, for example, by
calling for the release of Sunni political prisoners. In fact, the crackdown
on the Shia protesters was another point of convergence between the
government and Sunni Islamists, and was in part justified with sectarian
arguments.
In the context of the Yemen war, the Coalition for Freedom and
Justice called for a protest on Friday, April 3, 2015, to denounce the
Saudi-​led airstrikes on Yemen. The protest call was couched in anti-
government language and denounced the airstrikes as an “aggression
on Yemen,” adopting the rhetoric of pro-​ Houthi and pro-​ Iranian
media. Given the pro-​war rhetoric in the country and efforts by the
government to suppress dissenting voices, this was a clear provocation.
Eventually, the protest was called off amid pressure from the govern-
ment.48 However, just a few days after the planned protest, security
forces raided a house in Awwamiyya, looking for wanted men. This
raised tensions, and intense gunfights erupted as the security forces
came under fire by militants in the village. One security officer was
killed, and several locals were wounded and arrested.
Under King Abdullah, anti-​Shiism had become less prominent, in
particular when “National Dialogue” sessions included prominent Shia
figures. But a renewed public anti-​Shiism was evident at least since the
sectarian clashes in Medina in 2009 and the first anti-​Houthi war of
2009–​2010.49 Increased tensions with Iran since 2011 and the Yemen
intervention have led to a worsening of sectarian relations in Saudi
Arabia, symbolized most strikingly by Islamic State attacks on Shia
mosques.50 A worsening of relations between Shias and the Saudi rul-
ing family appears to be one of the outcomes of the rapprochement
between King Salman and Sunni Islamists.

Conclusion
The period from 2011 to 2015 has seen profound political changes
in the Middle East that have gone hand in hand with changes in
Saudi foreign policy. Islamist actors in Saudi Arabia had to position
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130 Countries

themselves vis-​à-​vis these fast-​developing, unpredictable, and some-

times contradictory developments. The key events that defined
Islamist stances since 2013 were the Syrian uprising, the military coup
in Egypt, the emergence of the Islamic State and its declaration of
a caliphate, and the Saudi-​led war against the Houthis in Yemen.
Generally, Saudi Islamists did not agree with the government’s poli-
cies in Egypt and Tunisia, but they largely supported the crackdown
on the Shiite-​led protests in the Eastern Province and Bahrain and the
war against the Houthis. In addition, the Saudi government and the
Islamists are equally hostile to Iran, which they see as being behind
many of Saudi Arabia’s problems. Anti-​Shia actions were therefore a
point of convergence between the government and Islamists, as much
as anti–​Muslim Brotherhood policies and support for secular strong-
men were a point of contention.
There is considerable diversity of views among Saudi Islamists on
what lessons should be drawn from the Arab uprisings. One group
of younger Islamists and new Islamist intellectuals embraced democ-
racy and elections and even argued that sharia should not be imple-
mented immediately after a revolutionary situation but rather only
once voters choose to do so through democratic means. This was
a reflection of the Tunisian and Egyptian experiences. This group
includes people such as Salman al-​Awda, Mohamed al-​Ahmari, and
Mohamed al-​Abd al-​Karim. They reinvigorated the ideas of the
Sahwa, building on the political discourse of organizations such as
Association for Civil and Political Rights to advocate for democratic
change after 2011.51
While Islamists remain one of the key political forces in Saudi
Arabia, there is also a tendency among the younger generation to be
equally dissatisfied with the politics of Islamist movements as with the
old political order. Some have again become more interested in the
legacy of leftist and Arab nationalist movements in the region.
Others have been drawn to revolutionary violence as a result of the
failure of the Egyptian democratic experiment. The rise of the Islamic
State has given new impetus to those who accept violence as a political
tool, both abroad and at home. Saudi Islamists have supported a range
of violent actors abroad, but at home most have only called for political
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Saudi Arabia 131

reform and have refrained from challenging the ruling family directly.
Indeed, King Salman has reached out to Islamists in an effort to unite
Sunnis across the region and to strengthen Saudi Arabia’s geopoliti-
cal influence. It is not the first time that the Saudi state and Saudi
Islamists are joining forces to support what they see as “just wars.” And
the consequences may well be as long lasting—and unpredictable—as
on previous occasions.
132

8
Q Kuwait
Courtney Freer

Kuwait presents a unique microcosm featuring a variety of strands of

political Islam. While undoubtedly a rentier state, reliant primarily on
oil wealth and providing handsome disbursements to nationals, Kuwait
also houses a vocal parliament where political blocs openly compete in
elections. Among them are an active Muslim Brotherhood affiliate, four
primary Salafi blocs, and two major Shiite political organizations. It is
therefore something of an anomaly—​far from the more authoritarian
government systems that typify rentier states of the Gulf.
Despite featuring such a diverse range of Islamist blocs and experi-
encing some of the largest protests in the Gulf during the Arab Spring,
Kuwait’s political system has not changed dramatically. The chaos that
erupted throughout the region brought back memories of the disar-
ray of Iraqi occupation. Above all else, as Kuwaiti political scientist
Sami al-​Farraj put it, “Kuwait doesn’t have the luxury to be unstable.”1
This overarching concern for stability has led Kuwait’s ideologically
driven Islamist parties to seek compromise and gradual reform over
a strictly Islamist social agenda or radical political transformation—​
at least domestically. This desire for stability has become even more
pronounced since the 2003 Iraq War and Arab Spring. In the face
of regional instability following the uprisings of 2011 and the region-​
wide denigration of the Brotherhood after the failure of the Morsi

132
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Kuwait 133

government, the Kuwaiti Muslim Brotherhood and certain Salafi strands

have focused on advancing political reforms more broadly rather than
simply pushing a platform that was previously dominated by contro-
versial proposals to Islamize society.
Following Islamists’ short-​lived political successes in Egypt and
Tunisia, many feared that Kuwait’s Muslim Brotherhood sought to
“run the country.”2 In the face of the regional backlash against the
Egyptian Brotherhood, the Kuwaiti government has maintained
a delicate balance. Though it has been pressured to support moves
against the Brotherhood taken by the Egyptian, Emirati, and Saudi
governments (at least rhetorically), Kuwait has not restricted activity
of its own Brotherhood affiliate, which continues its calls for political
reform. Still, rumors abound about purges of Brotherhood members
from government;3 an Egyptian Brotherhood member was arrested in
Kuwait in March 2014 after the Sissi government issued an interna-
tional warrant for his arrest4 and former Brotherhood parliamentarian
Mubarak al-​Duwailah was sentenced to two years in prison in April
2016.5 Aside from these moves, however, the Brotherhood does not
appear to be singled out by the Kuwaiti government as a political or
security threat. The same could be said of the variety of Salafi political
blocs in Kuwait, which have largely been allowed to continue promot-
ing their platform.

The Muslim Brotherhood’s Place in Kuwaiti Politics

Notwithstanding its commitment to conservative social mores, the
Kuwaiti Muslim Brotherhood’s political bloc, the Islamic Constitutional
Movement (ICM), today is, as one secular advisor to the Kuwaiti gov-
ernment put it, “politically more liberal than those who call themselves
liberal.”6 In fact, the group’s “leaders are frustrated because they feel that
in a sense they have become more democratic than the political system
in which they operate—​and perhaps more than Kuwaiti society is ready
for.”7 The ICM’s agenda is shaped by local realities more than any desire
to reach power. As one ICM member of parliament explained, “We are
100 percent loyal to [the ruling family]. We want reform, repair, not
change.”8 In fact, the emir meets with members of the Brotherhood
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134 Countries

and attends their dīwānīāt, demonstrating that the Kuwaiti govern-

ment, unlike others in the Gulf, “isn’t in panic mode.”9 Though the
government has never legally recognized the ICM,10 its approach in
dealing with the bloc, and with the Brotherhood in general, is far more
accommodating than the repressive security-​led approach seen else-
where in the Gulf, primarily due to the organization’s well-​established
place in the country’s history.
One of the oldest Brotherhood branches in the Gulf, Kuwait’s
Muslim Brotherhood was formally founded a decade before the coun-
try’s independence, in 1951. Beginning in the 1960s, members of the
Kuwaiti Brotherhood’s Jama’at Islah participated in parliamentary
elections yet failed to make substantial gains until the 1970s with the
decline of Arab nationalism. Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, the
Kuwaiti Brotherhood benefited from government support through the
nomination of its members to government positions, specifically in the
education ministry, which housed a large number of supporters in cur-
riculum development.11
Although Brotherhood members had contested seats in parliament
since the 1960s, they did so as individuals, not as members of the
organization.12 In fact, some members of the Kuwaiti Brotherhood’s
older generation argued that the group’s formal entry into electoral
politics in the 1980s represented a deviation from the mission of da’wa
and incremental progress toward the ideal Islamic state as explained
by Hassan al-​Banna.13 Reservations also remained about the appro-
priateness of Islamists contesting elections in a non-​Islamic political
order and the movement’s ability to act effectively in the political
realm.14
The 1980s thus marked the first time Kuwait’s Muslim Brotherhood
appeared as a major political force, guided primarily by the goal of
Islamizing Kuwaiti society by taking measures such as pushing gen-
der segregation in education, restricting the availability of alcohol,
and limiting nationality solely to Muslims.15 Kuwait’s activist Salafis
also became politically organized during this period, and the influence
of both Islamist currents was felt in new legislation.16 With the dis-
solution of parliament in July 1986, the opposition coalesced around
Brotherhood and Salafi Islamists, merchants, the growing intelligentsia,
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Kuwait 135

and former parliamentarians, all of whom called for the restoration of

the legislature.17
The spread of revolutionary Islamist ideas in the 1980s also led to
an internal split in the Kuwaiti Brotherhood. Two strands emerged:
hardliners, who rejected participation in an un-Islamic government,
and a more mainstream grouping, which considered the practice of
political work a means of facilitating da’wa.18 Former parliamentar-
ian Abdallah al-​Nafisi represented the rejectionist position. In 1987,​
Nafisi resigned from Jama’at Islah on grounds that the discipline of
the political bloc was too tightly knit and not suited to the all-​encom-
passing nature of Islam.19 Although N ​ afisi had served as a member of
parliament, he came to believe that reform was simply too slow and
favored radical reforms instead.20 His “comments contributed to the
emergence of a new generation of the Muslim Brotherhood move-
ment that began to clash with the methods of the traditional symbols
of the movement in which they had been brought up in the seven-
ties.”21 ​Nafisi considered a clash with the government to be inevitable,
even proclaiming that “the greatest actual enemy to the Islamic move-
ment is the regime.”22
Prominent Brotherhood member Isma’il al-​ Shatti, on the other
hand, advocated a more participatory stance. He referred to himself
as a “gradualist reformer,” who hoped to effect gradual change toward
the Islamization of society through the political system.23 Furthermore,
he “explained that parliamentary work endowed the revivalists with
societal credibility.”24 This internal division between these two strands
led the Brotherhood to adopt inconsistent policies toward the regime,
sometimes hoping to effect change through gaining ministerial posi-
tions and at other times joining the opposition to do so.
New circumstances under Iraqi occupation led the Muslim
Brotherhood to focus increasingly on Kuwait’s liberation rather than the
social issues that the bloc had previously promoted.25 The Brotherhood
established a Committee of Social Solidarity inside the country, which
aimed to increase living standards for Kuwaitis by disbursing treasury
rations to markets of cooperative groups.26 During the Iraqi occupa-
tion, the Brotherhood was instrumental in “supervising the provision
of basic services to the citizens.”27
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136 Countries

In March 1991, following the liberation of Kuwait, the Brotherhood

founded the ICM.28 By creating a strictly political bloc while main-
taining Islah as its social arm, the Brotherhood hoped to gain more
influence in the rebuilding of postoccupation Kuwait. At this time, the
strand within the Brotherhood favoring gradual change over a dramatic
clash with the government gained primacy and became institutional-
ized through the ICM. Importantly, members of the Brotherhood did
not consider the new emphasis on politics to be “a switch” from their
past social work;29 rather, it was seen as a maturation, which came
about after Kuwaitis had effectively “run the country by themselves”
under occupation.30 Furthermore, since the movement had formally
broken off relations with the international Brotherhood organization
due to its refusal to support the liberation of Kuwait because of the
involvement of Western troops, the Kuwaiti Brotherhood became more
locally focused.
In the 1990s, ICM members focused on the gradual application of
sharia rather than liberalizing Kuwait’s politics.31 Its primary strategy
was to gain ministerial positions. But over time, the ICM sought to
check government power rather than be an instrument of it. By pur-
suing fewer government positions, the ICM became more flexible.31
The organization also learned to work more effectively with other
movements toward common goals32 and seemed willing to accept a
middle ground, or an interim period in which sharia was not fully
applied, to push other gains. For example, as Kuwaiti political scien-
tist Sami Awadh notes, members of the Brotherhood are adaptable
enough to accept an economic system with usury until a time when
an Islamic system can replace it.33 Such a willingness to effectively
suspend ideological goals demonstrated the failure of N ​ afisi’s faction
of the Brotherhood that advocated for more immediate political and
social change.
As the 2000s progressed, the ICM pushed for constitutional changes
such as an elected prime minister, the institution of a single electoral
district to reduce government gerrymandering, the legalization of polit-
ical parties, and, eventually, the creation of a constitutional monarchy.
It also continues to advocate wide-​ranging social and economic aims,
in keeping with traditional Brotherhood goals, such as “shap[ing] the
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Kuwait 137

Kuwaiti citizen according to his unique Islamic identity and true Arab
loyalty;” reforming the economic system “in line with the fair wealth
distribution principles;” and making it “a more productive system in
accordance with the Islamic principles of containment and integra-
tion.”34 By and large, however, the ICM’s agenda highlights political
reform efforts above issues of social policy, helping it to align with secu-
lar opposition parties.
Despite the fact that they share common goals, secular left-​leaning
political blocs and the ICM have often clashed over the issue of defend-
ing civil liberties. The ICM “supports liberalizing political reforms
rather faithfully, but it draws the line when liberalization leads in a
cultural direction.”35 For all its rhetoric about political freedom, the
ICM has promoted measures that place limits on personal freedoms,
such as the law on gender segregation in schools, rejection of female
suffrage, restricting hours when women can work, and legislation pun-
ishing religiously offensive speech. As one Kuwaiti liberal put it, the
perception is that “the Brotherhood used democracy to establish laws
that are unconstitutional.”36 As a result, secular blocs often express their
hesitance to ally with the Brotherhood. When asked about this, a for-
mer ICM parliamentarian remarked to me: “Of course we want Islam
to be our social norm and the government to respect Islam.”37
At the same time, because of the Brotherhood’s emphasis on political
reform, more conservative Islamists have criticized the ICM for promot-
ing a strictly political rather than religious platform. This has provided an
opening for Kuwait’s more conservative, and traditionally less politically
active, Salafi movement. The Brotherhood, not surprisingly, is considered
both the more flexible and the less confrontational of the two Islamist cur-
rents. Indeed, the popular perception is that “you can speak reason with
the Brotherhood. They’re part of the system of elites, so they would never
dream of overturning [the system].”38 Although they ultimately desire to
implement sharia, members of the Brotherhood take a slow, long-term
approach to this goal, considering that “the Quran came in stages.”39 This
more gradualist stance prevails today, as issues around government reform
appear more urgent than ever. At times, such a position has threatened ties
with Salafi blocs. When the two strands have been allied in parliament, ICM
deputies have become “often saddled with responsibility for controversial
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138 Countries

stances [particularly regarding social policies], while the Brotherhood’s

inclination might be to take a more pliant or gradual approach.”40
Despite the Brotherhood’s relative popularity,41 the most seats it
has won in parliament was 6 out of 50 in 2006. The Brotherhood has
never contested a plurality of seats, preferring to form coalitions with
other blocs that grant it a degree of political cover.42 By tempering their
demands for Islamizing society, the ICM has come to hold a more pow-
erful political position as a leading opposition bloc. Still, its more prag-
matic approach has left greater space for the development of a more
strict and maximalist Salafi current in Kuwait.

The Salafi Movement

The Salafi movement in Kuwait can be divided broadly between quiet-
ist and activist strands. The quietists are more powerful domestically,
while the activists have more followers abroad.43 Quietist Salafis tend to
be less politicized, preferring to focus on “peaceful proselytization and
daily religious practices.”44 Activists, on the other hand, favor “broader
political involvement.”45 In Kuwait, however, this distinction is some-
what blurred, as members of both the quietist and activist strands con-
test seats in parliament.
Kuwait’s Salafi movement became organized in the mid-​ 1960s
among quietists, “when a small group of youth adhering to the Salafi
Da’wa came together and drew up a basic instructional program, aim-
ing at awakening Kuwaiti society.”46 Like the Brotherhood, Kuwait’s
Salafis focused initially on apolitical issues, namely education and char-
ity.47 From the beginning, the Salafi movement considered itself dis-
tinct from existing Islamist organizations. As Salafi religious authority
Shaykh Abdullah al-​Sabt explained, “We know that these groups had
closed themselves through narrow partisanship… . That was one of the
reasons which led us to reject these groups and establish for ourselves a
real Salafi Da’wa.”48
By the end of the 1970s, the Salafis had found a following in Kuwaiti
society, in particular among merchant families.49 By the 1980s, the Salafi
trend also gained a foothold in labor organizations and student unions,
achieving an “unprecedented level of organizational development.”50
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Kuwait 139

Kuwait’s Salafis developed a more coherent organizational structure

under the banner of the Society for the Revival of the Islamic Heritage
(RIHS) in 1981, guided by the ideology of Egyptian cleric Shaykh Abd
al-​Rahman Abd al-​Khaliq.51 While the RIHS’s founding documents
cite charitable purposes, it became an umbrella organization for Salafis
in Kuwait and their primary institutional outlet for political participa-
tion.52 The RIHS also benefited from state support as well as funding
from the Saudi religious establishment. Notably, Abd al-​Khaliq was
“one of the first Salafis who extensively wrote books and articles about
politics and intended to reform Salafi jurisprudence about politics and
participation in social protest and using new media.”53 In fact, Saudi
clerics went so far as to issue a fatwa condoning the Salafis’ political
activity,54 which Abd al-​Khaliq announced on the eve of the 1981 polls.55
Kuwait’s 1981 election marked the first time anywhere in the world that
Salafis participated in parliamentary elections, with the RIHS winning
two seats.56
With the dissolution of parliament in July 1986, members of the
RIHS, like the ICM, became more independent of the government,
though they had never held as many posts as the ICM. RIHS followers
began “serious participation with the other political powers to put pres-
sure on the political decision-​makers to return parliamentary life to the
country.”57 Salafi members of parliament, along with the ICM, joined
the Constitutional Movement, which included a variety of ideological
currents and urged reform and restoration of parliament.58
During Iraq’s invasion and subsequent occupation of Kuwait, many
Kuwaiti Salafis fled the state for Saudi Arabia, where they became
involved with Saudi Salafi networks.60 Activist Salafis in Saudi Arabia
were appalled by the Saudi government’s decision to allow the U.S. mil-
itary into the kingdom and responded with a burgeoning protest move-
ment, Islamic Awakening, or Sahwa, which demanded wide-​ranging
political reforms61 and appealed to Kuwaitis residing in Saudi Arabia
during the Iraqi occupation.62 Meanwhile, other Kuwaiti Salafis sided
with the quietist strand, represented by the Saudi ulama, who did not
oppose Kuwaiti liberation at the hands of Western militaries, as had
been decided upon by their legitimate, and unquestionable, rulers.63
The RIHS became divided along quietist and activist lines following
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the Iraqi occupation, with the quietists overtaking the RIHS under
Shaykh Abdullah al-​Sabt’s direction.64 Despite claims to the contrary,
the RIHS has since maintained close ties with the Saudi religious estab-
lishment and is sometimes criticized for being “a puppet of Riyadh” or
“even cooperating with Saudi intelligence.”65
The Islamic Salafi Association (ISA), established in 1991 and linked
to the quietist RIHS, is focused on social morality yet uses political
means to enforce it, making it something of a hybrid between activ-
ist and quietist. Indeed, the ISA’s parliamentary agenda is concerned
primarily with Islamizing laws, instituting sharia as the sole source of
legislation, and banning “vices” such as music concerts and alcohol.66
The ISA competes for followers from the same pool of urbanized
elites (or hadhar) as the ICM, yet it touts itself as less politicized than
the Brotherhood. Members even criticize other political figures who
they consider to have insulted the emir, who, as an Islamically legiti-
mate ruler, they believe to be above criticism.67 More extreme quiet-
ists of the Madkhali school, however, consider the RIHS to violate the
principles of Salafism by having an organizational structure and par-
ticipating in elections.68 “For them, participating in politics and creat-
ing formal organizations lead to the corruption of one’s belief, making
people loyal to the organizations and their leaders instead of to God.”69
In 1996, the Salafi Movement broke off from the ISA, uniting people
primarily on the basis of their dislike of quietist Salafis, whom they
regard as tools of an American–​Saudi conspiracy to silence political
demands in the Gulf.70
The Umma Party (Hizb al-​Umma), meanwhile, is the only political
bloc that calls itself a party (political parties are formally banned). It
emerged in 2005 largely from members of the tribal badu population
inspired by sharia scholar Hakim al-​Mutairi.71 Although al-​Mutairi
had hoped to convert the Salafi Movement into a political party, he
clashed with his deputy Shaykh Hamad al-​Ali, who insisted on main-
taining the group’s loose structure.72 ​Mutairi thus left the movement to
found the Umma Party.73 Significantly, the party was the first political
bloc to unambiguously call for popular sovereignty, with parliament
determining the makeup of government, including the prime minister
and other cabinet appointments.74 It is thus disliked by conservative
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Kuwait 141

Salafis, who believe ​Mutairi is guilty of “blurring the distinction

between salafi and Muslim Brother thought and for compromising
the strict adherence to the text by allowing too large a role for reason
in its interpretation.”75
Since the Arab Spring, as illustrated by the proliferation of new Salafi
organizations in Kuwait, the activist strand has become increasingly
influential. Still, the quietists have generally been better represented in
government, with the RIHS dominant and many of its members enjoy-
ing positions in the Ministry of Religious Endowments. Nonetheless,
none of the activist Salafi movements has managed to break through in
terms of parliamentary representation, due in part to their similarities
with the already represented Muslim Brotherhood.76
Activists have tended to have only 1 member in the parliament, Walid
al-​Tabtaba’i, while the more quiescent ISA has tended to have 8 to 10
members. The relative electoral weakness of the activists is probably
due to the fact that the Muslim Brotherhood’s Islamic Constitutional
Movement, which traditionally has had strong parliamentary represen-
tation, provides an appropriate platform for many who are attracted to
activist Salafism. Unlike the Brotherhood in other countries, most of
the cadres of the ICM are influenced by Salafism, and their discourse is
similar to that of Salafi activists.77
Still, Kuwait remains a meeting place for activist Salafis and was
seen, at least before the Arab Spring, as the only Middle Eastern coun-
try where Salafis could freely express their ideas. In fact, Shaykh Abd al-​
Khaliq claims that the idea that “Egyptian Salafis should participate in
politics emerged during the meetings and workshops that these Salafis
had attended in his house and mosque.”78
The freedom granted to Salafi groups in Kuwait has extended to their
charitable activities outside the country, with serious consequences in
recent years. Several Salafi charities have funded some of Syria’s most
powerful militant organizations, and Kuwait has become, in the words
of U.S. Treasury Undersecretary David Cohen, “the epicenter of fund-
raising for terrorist groups in Syria.”79 Kuwait criminalized the financing
of terrorist organizations only in 2013, thereby allowing Salafi chari-
ties, of both the activist and quietist strand,80 a relatively free hand to
finance extremist groups. The government has been hesitant to restrict
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142 Countries

such support for extremist groups largely due to the popularity of the
cause. “According to one of the prime minister’s advisers, the govern-
ment would risk pushing the country into instability if it imposed any
constraints on the bank transfers and other means of sending money
to Syria.”81 By supporting the Syrian opposition, then, Kuwaiti Salafis
have managed to gain a degree of popular support at home, while not
threatening their position in domestic politics by stoking violence at
home.82
Inside Kuwait, Salafis’ participation in parliamentary life has
“diminished the ideological gap between the Muslim Brotherhood
and Salafis that existed in an earlier period.”83 In fact, their primary
difference more recently has been the ICM’s willingness to form par-
liamentary coalitions with Shiite deputies, something Salafis refuse.84
The Brotherhood, as the more politically pragmatic organization, has
traditionally been willing to ally with any bloc that would advance its
reform agenda, regardless of sect.

Development of Kuwaiti Islamism Today

Throughout the 2000s, Kuwait’s Muslim Brotherhood and activist
Salafis came to resemble one another more closely, banding together
with other opposition movements to advocate for broad-​ ranging
political reform. The 2006 debate over reformulating electoral districts
brought both blocs into the opposition in arguably the most vocal,
public manner since the suspension of parliament in 1986. They coop-
erated with leftist groups that supported dividing Kuwait into 5 rather
than 25 electoral districts. Such redistricting, they believed, would
change the nature of elections: “In the opinion of reformers, this matter
would transform elections from occasions to buy votes and to launch
campaigns to a race on the basis of program and ideology.”85
Not all Salafis supported the move, however, with many members
from tribal districts opposed, as they feared the new law could diminish
their political power.86 As the most organized political bloc, the ICM
played a leading role in the “We Want Five” movement,87 whose sup-
porters organized large demonstrations throughout May 2006. In the
midst of political upheaval, the emir was forced to dissolve parliament
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Kuwait 143

and call for new elections in June; the new, largely Islamist and oppo-
sition parliament proceeded to pass new electoral legislation, a major
coup for the newly united opposition.
The secular-​Islamist opposition also joined efforts to root out
graft, which came to a head with their demands to formally question
Prime Minister Shaykh Nasir al-​Sabah on charges of corruption. In
November 2008, three independent Salafi members of parliament initi-
ated a request to interpellate Prime Minister Shaykh Nasir on charges
of, among other things “failing to perform his constitutional duties
and achieving the wishes of the people.”88 Then-Salafi Movement par-
liamentarian Walid al-​Tabtaba’i justified the request not according to
religious reasoning, but rather democratic constitutional governance.89
Shaykh Nasir was finally grilled, behind closed doors, in December
2009 over his handling of the financial crisis and possible misuse of
state funds, marking the first time a premier had been interpellated.
Still, the government had only agreed to allow this questioning after
new elections had produced a sympathetic parliament.90 Predictably,
Shaykh Nasir was not removed from office, as the vote of no confidence
failed to muster the required votes.
Such public displays of government manipulation united opposition
movements further. Beginning in 2009, Walid al-​Tabtaba’i sided with
opposition, including members of the ICM, in calling for enhanced
parliamentary power and the right of the people to directly elect their
government.91 Tabtaba’i went so far as to proclaim in September 2012
that “we the people have decided that Jabir al-​Mubarak will be the last
prime minister from the House of al-​Sabah.”92 Similarly, ISA deputy
Khalid Sultan came out in support of “an ‘elected government,’ i.e.,
forcing the emir to choose his prime minister based on the parliamen-
tary majority.”93
By the late 2000s, as opposition to government policies grew, mem-
bers of the Brotherhood and activist Salafis kept up the pressure, using
Twitter to voice criticisms and participating in protests.94 The February
2012 election, spurred by the government’s resignation and dissolution
of parliament amid mass protests, produced a landslide for the oppo-
sition, with Islamist, tribal, and liberal candidates winning 34 of 50
parliamentary seats.95 The Brotherhood won all four seats it contested,
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144 Countries

while Salafis from across the spectrum won a total of 10 seats, mak-
ing them the most represented Islamist trend in parliament.96 In a
desire to prioritize political reform, the opposition agreed to not focus
on amending the constitution to declare sharia the primary source of
legislation.
The new parliament was voided, however, four months later, when
the constitutional court (composed of the emir’s appointees) declared
the dissolution of the previous parliament unconstitutional.97 The
court therefore reinstated the pro-​regime 2009 National Assembly. The
secular-​Islamist opposition coalition protested the reimposition of the
2009 parliament, which ultimately never met because its reinstitution
was so controversial. Several political blocs (including liberal groups
along with the ICM and ISA), youth associations, and labor unions
formed the National Front for the Protection of the Constitution in
September 2012, which also consisted of the majority bloc of some 34
opposition parliamentarians elected in February 2012. In October 2012,
warning of “chaotic sedition that could jeopardize our country [and]
undermine our national unity, ” the emir had the cabinet change voting
rules ahead of the December 1 elections.98 In addition, the emir “issued
a decree to change the electoral process, abolishing the country’s com-
plicated system that allowed each voter multiple votes.99
The opposition, to which the ICM and most Salafi groups belong,
boycotted the December 2012 polls, leading to a low 39 percent turnout
rate (compared to 60 percent in February) and returning a pro-​gov-
ernment National Assembly.100 Sunni Islamist representation was the
most drastically affected, decreasing from 23 MPs to 4.101 Considering
the inability of parliament to advance the Brotherhood’s agenda, the
ICM did not view the boycott as diminishing its political capital more
broadly.
In June 2013, weeks before the military coup that overthrew the Muslim
Brotherhood–​ dominated government in Egypt, the Constitutional
Court dissolved parliament for the second time in one year, but left
the same electoral law in place. Many opposition groups, including the
ICM, several tribal leaders, Salafi figures, and liberal groupings, again
boycotted the polls. When asked about the logic behind the ICM’s two
boycotts, one former ICM member of parliament explained that they
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Kuwait 145

were meant to expose the government as the source of political grid-

lock.102 He stated: “The more we stay away, the more we show it’s the
government that cannot perform.”103

Kuwait’s Sunni Islamist Movements in the Post-​coup Era

National malaise persisted in the immediate aftermath of the Arab
Spring, with left-​ leaning opposition leader Mus­ allam al-​Barrak
urging a return to protests until new elections were called under
new electoral laws.104 The ICM and ISA support Barrak’s ultimate
goal of a constitutional monarchy, appearing to privilege such
restructuring over social reforms. In early 2013, the ICM signed a
23-​page document drafted by Musallam al-​ Barrak, Brotherhood
figure Jama’an al-​Harbash, and Tariq al-​Mutairi of the liberal Civil
Democratic Movement.105 Political trends ranging from secular left-
ists to Salafis, as well as the largely Brotherhood-​dominated Student
Union, have signed the document, which “proposes a full parliamen-
tary system, with a stronger legislature, independent judiciary and
revised criminal code.”106
Significantly, as part of the opposition coalition, the ICM and activ-
ist Salafis dropped their once-​central demand of amending Article 2 of
the constitution to specify sharia as the primary source of legislation.107
Both groups have seemed increasingly willing to work alongside other
opposition movements to ensure progress on political reform.
Due to their continued cooperation in the face of government
restrictions, the authorities have detained Islamists and leftists alike for
criticizing other Gulf states. The leader of the Umma Party, Hakim
al-​Mutairi, was detained in March 2016 for insulting Saudi Arabia,
while Tariq al-​Mutairi of the liberal Civil Democratic Movement was
also detained due to Saudi complaints about some of his statements on
Twitter.108
Neither the Brotherhood nor the Salafi trend, however, is being
considered “a security threat,” as both continue to operate openly.109
While the Brotherhood is maligned elsewhere in the region, in Kuwait
it is “regarded more as a political nuisance than a security threat.”110
The April 2016 sentencing of former ICM parliamentarian Mubarak
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146 Countries

al-​Duwailah may point to a more targeted crackdown on Islamists

in the future, informed by the Emirati example. D ​ uwailah was sen-
111
tenced to two years in prison on charges of insulting and endangering
ties with an ally and insulting leaders of an allied state after remarks
he made about Abu Dhabi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Zayed al-​
Nahyan being “against Sunni Islam.”112
Having experienced growing government restrictions and seen even
worse elsewhere in the region, Islamists and secular opposition move-
ments appear to be banding together and are considered more dangerous
to the government as a result. As noted by Shadi Hamid, “The shared
experience of repression … encourages opposition groups to focus on
what they have in common. After all, they have a shared enemy—​the
regime. So they agree to prioritize the fight for basic freedoms and
democracy. Ideological divisions are put to the side.”113 Mubarak al-​
Duwailah explicitly called for the overcoming of traditional differences
in a January 2016 statement shortly after his arrest, signaling a very
public effort to overcome longstanding ideological divides.114
Opposition unity was tested when early elections were called in
November 2016. Most of the opposition competed, aside from some
secular blocs and the ISA, the Salafi Movement, and the Umma Party.
The ICM won all 4 seats it contested, while Salafis, mostly indepen-
dents, gained another 4 seats. Islamist representation extends beyond
these 8 seats, however, since other independents sympathetic to the
ICM and Salafi groups were also elected. Overall, the new parliament
has a very different profile than its predecessor, with only 20 of the 50
incumbents re-elected and with the broad-based opposition winning
almost half of the seats (24 of 50). With their relatively strong position
in parliament, Islamists in Kuwait will likely continue to promote the
anti-corruption and pro-reform agendas on which they ran, in con-
junction with other blocs when helpful. In fact, the first joint opposi-
tion meeting was held less than a week after the polls, following the
announcement that Shaykh Jaber al-Mubarak al-Sabah would be reap-
pointed as prime minister.
Kuwait’s Muslim Brotherhood and Salafi movements thus remain
leading political actors inside Kuwait—​in part due to the fact that there
is little organized liberal competition. As the liberal activist Ahmad al-​
Baghdadi put it, “Kuwait has liberals, but there is no liberalism. There
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Kuwait 147

is a big difference between the two. You will find liberal individuals,
but liberalism as a concept in society remains weak.”115 In such an envi-
ronment, Islamists are poised to remain ideologically and politically
appealing to the Kuwaiti population. Certainly, in the Kuwaiti context,
“religious affiliation is stronger than the liberal one because it is ideol-
ogy-​based and uses religion, the heritage of the people.”116 The allure
of such movements exists despite the fact that they have never earned
a plurality of seats in parliament and even in the face of the political
defeat of Islamist parties elsewhere in the region, namely Egypt.117
In the postcoup environment, Kuwait’s Islamists are working more
closely with other opposition groups, a move that provides them politi-
cal cover and helps them to avoid the mistakes of Egypt’s Islamists, who
were accused of failing to work with other parties. During this period,
Salafis have also increasingly acted like Brotherhood movements, privi-
leging political reform over traditional goals of Islamizing society. As
Nathan Brown writes: “The more salafis involve themselves in semi
authoritarian politics, the more they respond like Brotherhood-​type
movements.”118 Kuwait’s Salafi blocs have historically been more persis-
tent than the Brotherhood in pushing socially conservative legislation,
with members of parliament proposing in 2012, for example, a decency
law “to ban flirtatious behavior and ‘indecent attire’ in public, which
would include swimsuits on beaches.”119
Islamists have had to adopt a degree of flexibility in their social posi-
tions to maintain relevance in the most politically liberal state of the
Gulf, however. For example, as early as 2005, when women were granted
the right to vote and run for parliament, which the ISA opposed, ISA
member of parliament Ali al-​Omair stated that although “my religion
does not permit women to serve in the assembly, if a lady is elected
into parliament, we have to deal with her. We can’t isolate ourselves in
parliament.”122
As discussed earlier, the Kuwaiti Muslim Brotherhood is considered
to be more influenced by activist Salafism than branches elsewhere.123
Kuwait’s Brotherhood has maintained its commitment to Islamic social
values, at least in rhetoric, as have Salafis in parliament. Where they
differ is primarily in their willingness to cooperate with outside groups:
the Kuwaiti Brotherhood is willing to work with Shiite coalitions in
parliament and has traditionally held a more measured view of the
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148 Countries

United States and the West more generally after Kuwait’s liberation
from Iraqi occupation at the hands of an American-​led coalition.
Although the domestic influence of Kuwait’s Islamists in the past
was felt primarily through legislation concerning social and educational
reform,123 today the country’s Islamists are more willing to advance
broader political goals, even if this requires them to form coalitions
with secular blocs and even if it provokes further government crack-
down. Though much of this is likely a tactical change to give such
actors greater license to pursue their social policies in the future, the
experience of working with non-​Islamists to liberalize Kuwait’s politics
may have l​asting effects on the ways Islamists think about the state and
the protection of individual liberties, as it has in Tunisia and Morocco.
 149

9
QJordan
David Siddhartha Patel

Analysts often describe the historical relationship between

Jordan’s Hashemite monarchy and the local branch of the Muslim
Brotherhood as “symbiotic” and, compared to elsewhere in the
Arab world, relatively non-​confrontational.1 The Jordanian Muslim
Brotherhood has never been driven underground; its leaders were
never systematically jailed. Its organizations survived the banning
of political parties under martial law in 1957, after which the move-
ment operated openly as a registered charitable society and, in 1992,
formed a political party. The Brotherhood was allowed, even encour-
aged, to expand throughout the kingdom when it offered an alterna-
tive to pan-​Arab and leftist movements that the monarchy considered
a greater threat than political Islam. In return, the Brotherhood never
challenged the legitimacy of the Hashemite regime, including during
the 1970–​1971 Jordanian Civil War and after the controversial Israel-​
Jordan Peace Treaty of 1994. The consistency of this relationship
distinguishes the Jordanian Brotherhood from its sister movements
elsewhere, where periods of regime persecution and suppression
impacted Islamists’ organization, leadership, strategy, and “habits of
thought and behavior.”2 The “twin shocks” of the fall of Mohamed
Morsi in Egypt and the rise of the Islamic State in neighboring Iraq
and Syria have not fundamentally changed this relationship.

149
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150 Countries

The Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood has a broad conception of

reform and seeks to gradually “reestablish the Islamic way of life” in
the kingdom.3 It enthusiastically participated in elections when par-
liamentary life in Jordan resumed in 1989. Since the 1993 elections, the
relationship between the regime and the Brotherhood can be character-
ized by a repeated strategic interaction. In the months leading up to
each election, (1) the Brotherhood publicly calls for specific changes to
the electoral system, such as the number of votes each voter can cast,
apportionment, and redistricting, and (2) the regime then announces
incremental changes to the system, after which (3)  the Brotherhood
decides if it should participate in or boycott the imminent election. The
interaction is guided by the Brotherhood and the government’s belief
that a boycott delegitimizes, to some extent, the election and resulting
parliament in the eyes of the Jordanian public or the international com-
munity or both.
Before the start of the Arab Spring, this strategic interaction had
been repeated four times: prior to the 1997, 2003, 2007, and 2010 par-
liamentary elections.4 Despite the election of Mohamed Morsi in Egypt
in June 2012 and his overthrow in July 2013, the Jordanian Muslim
Brotherhood and the regime continued this pattern of interaction prior
to Jordan’s parliamentary elections in January 2013 and September 2016.
In other words, the Arab uprisings, including the coming to power
and fall of Islamist parties in Tunisia and Egypt and the rise of the
Islamic State, did not alter the nature of the strategic dynamic between
the Hashemite monarchy and the Jordanian Brotherhood. Regional
events only affected the parameters of the interaction, such as the spe-
cific electoral reforms the Brotherhood demanded and perhaps shifting
its “reservation point”—the minimum set of reforms under which the
group would participate. But the fates of sister movements and the
emergence of the Islamic State did not fundamentally alter the gradual-
ist goals of the Brotherhood in Jordan or upend its relationship with
the regime. The Muslim Brotherhood demanded electoral reforms, the
palace announced incremental reforms, and the Muslim Brotherhood
then decided whether or not to boycott.
The remainder of this chapter is divided into three parts. Part one
elaborates on the argument made previously, focusing on what the
Jordanian Brotherhood did and did not do to advance its agenda when
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Jordan 151

Islamists’ fortunes rose elsewhere—​during the Arab Spring. Part two

briefly discusses cleavages among Jordanian Islamists, including the
relationship between Salafis and the Muslim Brotherhood and what I
argue is the more important but often overlooked cleavage: the ongo-
ing and growing divide between Jordanian Islamists of Palestinian ori-
gin and Transjordanian Islamists. The split in the movement caused by
the Zamzam Initiative (discussed later) and the rise of an alternative
Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood group is merely the latest in a series of
defections by Transjordanian Islamists. The regime’s “deregistration” of
the Muslim Brotherhood can be understood as an attempt to pressure
the organization to commit to participate in parliamentary elections in
2016 (which it did). Part three concludes with a royal comment on the
relationship between the Jordanian Brotherhood and the Hashemite
regime.

The Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood, from Spring

to Winter
After protests spread to Yemen, Bahrain, Libya, and beyond, many
analysts, both in the region and elsewhere, thought that Jordan was
the most vulnerable regime still standing. This belief was reinforced by
the rise of nascent protest movements among tribal, youth, and locally
based hirak groups in Transjordanian-​majority areas, such as Dhiban
and Karak, which are often characterized as part of the heartland of sup-
port for the Hashemite monarchy. But when the Muslim Brotherhood
joined protests in Amman and urban centers, its demands did not esca-
late to call for the overthrow of the regime, and coordination with new
protest groups remained limited.5
The most that can be said about changes to the Jordanian
Brother­hood’s demands after the start of the Arab uprisings is that
it became more overt in demanding constitutional changes to con-
strain the monarchy’s institutional prerogatives. For example, the
Brotherhood called for removing the powers of the king to dissolve
parliament, select the prime minister without input from parlia-
ment, and appoint the Upper House.6 At the time, Brotherhood
leaders claimed that this emphasis on constitutional reform marked
a real shift.
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152 Countries

The Brotherhood’s shift to emphasizing constitutional reforms

alongside electoral ones, however, is overstated for three reasons.
First, the Brotherhood had long talked about such reforms. Its
reform initiative of 2005 lists as its number one priority “to carry
out urgently-​needed political and structural reform to activate the
section of the constitution that proclaims that the ruling system is
a constitutional monarchy with a representative government, and to
ensure that parliament assumes a position in keeping with this.”7 Its
post–​Arab Spring statements largely elaborate this established point.
Second, the Brotherhood’s most vocal statements about constitu-
tional reform came after the king established a Royal Committee for
Constitutional Review in April 20118 and as he issued a series of four
“discussion” papers on reform issues.9 The phrase malakiyya dusturi-
yya (constitutional monarchy) was already in the air before Muslim
Brotherhood leaders started using it; the “red” line had faded to
pink. Finally, the Jordanian Brotherhood basically was asking for the
same reforms that the Moroccan king had already proposed for him-
self. In the range of demands that it could have made, the Jordanian
Brotherhood selected a set that would not overly antagonize the
monarchy and, perhaps, still save face for the group within the wider
circle of Muslim Brotherhood organizations. It did not call for the
regime to be overthrown, and it did not challenge the basic legiti-
macy of the Hashemites.
Some observers noted that the Muslim Brotherhood organized
almost weekly protests in downtown Amman and reported this as evi-
dence of the Arab uprisings spreading to Jordan. These protests had
been recurring, though, since the early to mid-​2000s in the exact same
place and manner. After Friday prayers at the Grand Husseini Mosque
in downtown Amman, the Brotherhood would organize, often with
smaller leftist allies, a procession to a square at Ras al-​Ein. A single
Brotherhood truck distributes flags and banners at the beginning of
these marches and collects them at the end, serving as an amplifica-
tion system and stage during the event. All such protests are highly
choreographed, controlled by the Brotherhood, and approved by the
security forces. Jillian Schwedler has written about the nontransgres-
sive nature of these protests, both before and during the Arab upris-
ings.10 The Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood was not protesting in ways
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Jordan 153

it had not done before. Its tactics did not shift. It did not permit mem-
bers to test the boundaries of what the security services would tolerate.
All participants understood what game they were playing, and nei-
ther side tried to change the game. The Brotherhood demanded “real”
constitutional reforms to the electoral system to make it more repre-
sentative of the demographics and will of the Jordanian people. The
41 amendments proposed by the Royal Committee were approved,
including additional protections to personal rights and the creation
of a constitutional court to monitor legislation. The regime also tin-
kered, once again, with the electoral system. In April 2012, the regime
unveiled a new draft electoral law that met some longstanding demands
of the Islamic movement (e.g., abandoning the controversial single
nontransferable vote [SNTV] “one-​person, one-​vote system”) but also
introduced a mixed system where seats would be allocated to both dis-
tricts and a national list proportional representation system.11 Almost
immediately after the election of Morsi in Egypt, the Jordanian Muslim
Brotherhood announced it would boycott the upcoming Jordanian
elections if the draft electoral law was not further amended. In particu-
lar, the Brotherhood demanded that a greater percentage of seats be
allocated for party candidates, and, although the increase it demanded
was greater than what it had asked for in the past, the range (30 to
50 percent) remained in line with their gradualist approach.
Morsi’s rise to power in Egypt appears to have influenced the
Jordanian Brotherhood to demand greater reforms, but not maximalist
ones. It did not lead them to demand changes that would open a path
to win a majority of seats in parliament. The regime largely ignored the
movement’s most important demands and implemented other reforms,
such as the establishment of an independent election commission that
would blunt international observers’ criticisms.12 The election was
held in January 2013, but without the participation of the Jordanian
Brotherhood after the group decided to boycott.
Although the Arab uprisings did not alter the nature of the interac-
tion, they appear to have increased the minimum set of concessions
that the Brotherhood expected in order to participate. However, the
precise mechanism of impact is unclear; most accounts simply say that
the Jordanian Brotherhood was “inspired” or “encouraged” by events
elsewhere. Maybe they expected future diplomatic, organizational, or
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154 Countries

financial support from an empowered Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt,

which would decrease the “cost” of rejecting the king’s proposals.
Maybe Islamist victories elsewhere led them to believe that they had
more support among the Jordanian public than they had previously, or
maybe they were trying to use the illusion of widespread latent support
to get a better deal.
Two final and interesting conjectures have to do with inter–​
Muslim Brotherhood “competition.” Perhaps the Jordanian
Brotherhood feared participating and not getting as much elec-
toral support as Islamist parties had received in Tunisia and Egypt.
Moreover, the Jordanian interaction described previously paralleled
but (perhaps not unintentionally) trailed by a few months a some-
what similar process in Morocco. In March 2011, the Moroccan
king announced a plan for comprehensive constitutional reform,
pledged to reduce his powers, and appointed an ad hoc constitu-
tional committee. The Jordanian king appointed his committee in
April 2011. The Moroccan king announced the details of the new
draft constitution in June, and voters overwhelmingly approved it in
a referendum on July 1 (98.5 percent approved with 73 percent turn-
out). Henceforth, Moroccan kings would be obligated to appoint
the prime minister from the party that won the most seats in par-
liament and the prime minister would be the head of government
with the (theoretical) power to dissolve parliament. The Jordanian
committee issued its much less far-​reaching reform plan in August:
the king would retain the ability to appoint the prime minister,
although would do so in consultation with parliament. Morocco’s
Justice and Development Party (PJD), the country’s largest Islamist
party, participated in the parliamentary election on November 25
and won a plurality with 107 of 395 seats; their leader was appointed
prime minister four days later, as called for by the new constitution.
In contrast, the Jordanian Brotherhood immediately rejected its coun-
try’s amendments as not going far enough. One possible explanation is
that it felt less constrained. Unlike the Jordanian Brotherhood, the PJD,
as discussed in Avi Spiegel’s chapter, faces a strong domestic competi-
tor in Al Adl Wal Ihsan, which basks in nonparticipation and illegality.
The Brotherhood in Jordan does not have a serious Islamist rival with
 15

Jordan 155

which it must contend. Yet, why would the Jordanian government put
the Brotherhood in such a situation if it knew that the group would reject
its proposed reforms?

Intra-​Islamist Cleavages
This section is divided into two parts. The first briefly discusses relations
between the Muslim Brotherhood and Salafis in Jordan; the second dis-
cusses cleavages within the Muslim Brotherhood. A large body of literature
argues that authoritarian governments often seek to divide opposition,
often along ideological lines.13 I suggest that communal differences better
capture divisions among Jordanian Islamists than ideological ones.

Salafis

The vast majority of “Salafis” in Jordan are political quietists, and

many have effectively been co-​opted by the regime.14 Many promi-
nent Jordanian Salafis, such as Ali bin Hasan al-​Halabi and Salim al-​
Hilali, studied under the prominent Salafi scholar Mohamed Nasir
al-​Din al-​Albani, and Albani’s anti-​jihadist and relatively pro-​monar-
chical orientation remains influential.15 Many non-jihadist Salafis have
been incorporated into state institutions (especially the Ministry of
Religious Endowments) or are allowed to preach independently and
conduct outreach. There have been few significant moves by Salafis in
Jordan to organize to participate in elections, although some scholars
who run as independents are Salafis and some members of the Muslim
Brotherhood have clear Salafi leanings, such as Mohamed Abu Faris.16
Several prominent Salafi scholars have published books criticizing the
Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood, but their impact on the Brotherhood
has not received serious attention by scholars. Jordanian Salafis spend
much of their intellectual energy defending Albani’s ideas from criti-
cism by other Salafi scholars.
Meanwhile, there are several currents of Salafi-​ jihadism in Jor­
dan. One Salafi-jihadist current looks to influential ideologue Abu
Mohamed al-​Maqdisi, who is critical of any Muslims who take jobs
in the Jordanian government. A number of small Salafi-jihadist organ-
izations exist or have existed in Jordan, but many were discredited or
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156 Countries

dismantled by security services after the 2005 terrorist attack on hotels

in Amman.17
So far, the rise of the Islamic State appears to have had little effect on
the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood. Analysts’ estimates vary widely, but
several thousand Jordanians have gone to fight in Syria since the begin-
ning of the uprising there, many to fight with al-​Qaeda affiliate Jabhat
al-​Nusra (now known as Jabhat Fath al-​Sham after publicly distancing
itself from al-​Qaeda).18 Information is limited, but these jihadists seem
to be disproportionately Transjordanians (as opposed to Palestinian
Jordanians) and more likely to be from Salafi circles than those of
the Brotherhood. An unknown number of Jordanians—estimates
vary from a few hundred up to 3000—have joined the Islamic State as
either fighters or to work in their court system and bureaucracy, but
the group appears to have made few inroads into Jordanian territory.
In May 2014, a group in Ma’an offered an oath of loyalty to the Islamic
State in a YouTube video as the “Ma’an Martyrs’ Brigade,” but noth-
ing has been heard from them since. The February 2015 release of the
video showing the gruesome killing of Jordanian Air Force pilot Muath
al-​Kasasbeh quieted criticisms of the Jordanian role in the anti-​ISIS
coalition and, at least temporarily, turned public opinion dramatically
against the Islamic State.

Intra-​Brotherhood Divisions

Journalists and academics studying the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood

generally focus on ideological coalitions within the movement and track
the successes and failures in internal elections of purported “hawks,”
“doves,” “centrists,” and “Hamasists.”19 Shura Council and executive
positions are often analyzed to assess which of these “currents” or coali-
tions within the movement is ascendant at any moment.
In contrast, my research suggests that electoral contestation trans-
formed Islamic politics in Jordan into a form of ethnic politics.20 Over
time, the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood came to rely more and more
on the votes of Palestinian-​Jordanian Islamists and lost the support
of Transjordanian Islamists. In the 1989 elections, the Brotherhood
had found electoral support among both native Transjordanians
and Jordanians of Palestinian origin. Sixteen of their 22 deputies (73
percent) elected in 1989 were from districts with a Transjordanian
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Jordan 157

majority. In subsequent elections, however, the movement’s candi-

dates won fewer seats in Transjordanian majority districts but contin-
ued to win at the same rate in Palestinian-​Jordanian majority districts.
Consequently, the Brotherhood’s political arm, the Islamic Action
Front, increasingly came to represent one “ethnic” group—​Palestinian
Jordanians. In the 2003 elections, only five of its 17 parliamentarians (29
percent) came from Transjordanian majority districts. Brotherhood sup-
port has vanished from the southern Transjordanian heartland, where
the movement won only a single seat in the 2003 and 2007 elections.
Why did this occur? I argue that the ethnic transformation of the
Jordanian Brotherhood was an unintended by-​product of electoral
rule changes in 1993 and gerrymandering in 2001. Changes in voting
rules had different effects in different districts; they interacted with
differences across communal groups to dramatically reduce the elec-
toral prospects of Brotherhood candidates in Transjordanian districts
but not in Palestinian-​Jordanian majority districts. Redistricting in
2001 deepened Islamists’ disadvantages in Transjordanian areas by
effectively creating two electoral systems in Jordan: mostly single-​
member districts in Transjordanian majority areas (equivalent to a
first-​past-​the-​post system) and multimember districts in Palestinian-​
Jordanian majority areas (equivalent to an SNTV system). Since
Transjordanians rely more on government jobs and services than
Palestinian Jordanians do, survey data show that they are more likely
to want an elected representative who has wasta, or connections.
The Brotherhood’s willingness to boycott elections and its confron-
tational interactions with the regime make its parliamentarians poor
interlocutors with government bureaucracies.
The difference between so-​called “hawks” and “doves” has more to do
with disagreements on how accommodationist the Islamic movement
should be towards the Jordanian government than it does with ideo-
logical differences. Jordan’s peace treaty with Israel and controversy over
individual Brotherhood members’ connections with Hamas contribute
to ethnic tensions within the movement. But electoral boycotts and poor
relations with the regime affect members from Transjordanian-​majority
areas more than those from Palestinian-​majority areas because of differ-
ential demand for state services and jobs across those two communities.
This relates to hizb-​haraka (party-​movement) relations to the extent
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158 Countries

that the Muslim Brotherhood’s relationship with the regime affects the
group’s political party, the Islamic Action Front (IAF).
In short, what is usually described as an ideological divide is better
understood as an “ethnic” or communal one. Islamism is not declin-
ing among Transjordanians; they are simply not looking toward the
Muslim Brotherhood to represent them any longer. Defectors from
the Brotherhood leadership since 1989 have disproportionally been
Transjordanians. Of the 33 Muslim Brotherhood deputies from 1989
or 1993 or both, I identified 10 who subsequently resigned or were
expelled from the Brotherhood for going against nomination decisions,
boycotts, or the bloc’s position on votes of confidence. Eight of these
10 are Transjordanian, and most represented Transjordanian majority
areas such as Karak, Tafileh, and Madaba. At least 5 were prominent
leaders within the Brotherhood and held executive positions in inter-
nal organs. Similarly, members of the Shura Councils and executive
bureaus of the Muslim Brotherhood and IAF who have left since 1989
are disproportionately Transjordanians. Transjordanian defectors from
the Brotherhood formed the Islamic Center Party (ICP) in July 2001
with other aspiring politicians from outside the Islamic movement. The
core of the ICP is overwhelmingly Transjordanian, and its leaders are
mostly from Salt; several are from the same family.
Developments in the past few years have exacerbated this ethnic
cleavage within the movement. The decision to boycott the 2013 parlia-
mentary elections—​the second boycott in a row—​triggered what some
observers have described as the most important challenge the Jordanian
Brotherhood has ever faced. As during previous boycotts, several mem-
bers left the organization and ran as independents. But a larger split took
shape when a group of mostly Transjordanian “doves” met in Amman’s
Zamzam Hotel in October 2013. With government officials in atten-
dance, they called for a greater focus on domestic (i.e., “Jordanian”)
issues and for developing a reform program based on the broad prin-
ciples of Islamic civilization.21 This is not a new “post–​Arab Spring”
divide; rumors of such a split have surfaced regularly since the doves lost
internal elections in 2008. In February 2014, the Shura Council of the
Muslim Brotherhood expelled 10 members associated with this Zamzam
Initiative, including a former general-overseer of the organization,
ostensibly for violating the organization’s bylaws. These members are
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Jordan 159

mostly Transjordanian,22 and Zamzam leaders say that only 15 percent

of the 600 politicians involved in the group are Brotherhood mem-
bers.23 In its origins and composition, the Zamzam Initiative resem-
bles, in many ways, the earlier ICP “split.”
In March 2015, the Jordanian government approved an application
from defectors from the Brotherhood, including some of those affili-
ated with the Zamzam Initiative, to form a licensed Jordanian charity
under the banner of the “Muslim Brotherhood Society.” The original
Muslim Brotherhood was licensed in Jordan in 1945–​1946 as a “char-
ity” and as an “Islamic society” in 1953, but specifically as a branch of
the mother Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt. It remains unclear if the
Jordanian government sees the bureaucratic decision in March 2015 as
the licensing of a new charity or the adjustment of the status of the
old organization, but the regime exploited this opportunity to pressure
the Muslim Brotherhood. In effect, there currently are two Muslim
Brotherhoods in Jordan: the older, established, and larger faction, which
remains nominally connected to movements elsewhere, and the new
“Jordanian” Muslim Brotherhood, which appears committed to greater
collaboration with regime initiatives. On several occasions, the govern-
ment has stated that the old Muslim Brotherhood is illegal or unregis-
tered or both. In March 2016, the government banned the organization
from holding internal elections, and the following month police closed
the main Muslim Brotherhood office in Abdali in Amman, as well as
offices in several other cities.
A number of analysts describe these actions as a “major crackdown”
on the Jordanian Brotherhood; some equate it to an existential crisis
for the organization. This analysis presented in this chapter suggests a
different interpretation. Following the Brotherhood’s boycott of two
consecutive parliamentary elections, the regime used bureaucratic and
regulatory tools to essentially coerce the Muslim Brotherhood to partic-
ipate in the subsequent elections which took place in September 2016.
Brotherhood activists were not rounded up and detained. Although
their headquarters was closed, police merely sealed the doors with tape.
The organizational network of the Brotherhood was not dismantled.
The king wanted the Brotherhood to participate in (and therefore help
legitimize) elections and not boycott a third consecutive vote. Internal
divisions within the Jordanian Brotherhood and the fall of Islamist allies
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160 Countries

elsewhere provided an opportunity for the regime to weaken the rela-

tive bargaining power of the Brotherhood heading into yet another iter-
ation of the pre-​election strategic game described earlier in the chapter.
The regime’s gambit succeeded. In June 2016, the IAF announced that
it would participate in elections slated for September. A day later, the
unrecognized Muslim Brotherhood, denied the ability to hold internal
elections for a new leadership, appointed an “interim committee” to
replace its executive committee and lead the organization during this
period.24 A relative moderate, Abdul Hamid Thuneibat, was selected
to lead this committee. The unrecognized Muslim Brotherhood and its
allies participated in the 2016 election as the “National Coalition for
Reform” and won 15 seats, including 10 held by IAF members. None
were in the south. The recognized and Transjordanian-​ dominated
“Muslim Brotherhood Society” and the Zamzam group won 5 seats.
If the organizations do not reconcile, it is too early to say what
long-​term impact this “split” in the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood
will have, but it is important to note that it is not a new divide. The
Muslim Brotherhood survived the breaking away of the Islamic Center
Party a decade earlier and the occasional defection of leaders; it likely
will similarly survive this most recent loss of several dozen activists
and prominent members. The regime might use the court system and
bureaucratic licensing to aid the breakaway faction, but it is unclear if
the mostly Transjordanian Islamists leaving or being expelled from the
Muslim Brotherhood will be able to take any of the organization’s net-
works and charities with them. In July 2015, the Department of Land
and Survey reportedly transferred ownership of several properties to
the new and licensed Muslim Brotherhood,25 but there are no indi-
cations that the networks, charitable societies, and institutions of the
movement have shifted their allegiance or would cooperate with such a
change. The parallel Islamic sector will most likely remain loyal to the
older Muslim Brotherhood organization. But, if permanent, this split
further divides Jordanian Islamists along “ethnic” lines; it makes the
Muslim Brotherhood ever more dependent on Jordanians of Palestinian
origin and could make them even more likely to boycott elections in
the future. In the short-​term, however, the regime succeeded in induc-
ing the Brotherhood to participate in elections and not boycott a third,
perhaps decisive, consecutive time.
 16

Jordan 161

Conclusion
King Abdullah was remarkably candid during conversations in early
2013 with Jeffrey Goldberg of The Atlantic and expressed his dislike and
mistrust of the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood, whom he referred to
as a “Masonic cult” and “wolves in sheep’s clothing.”26 Leaders of the
Brotherhood met with the king two months after the Arab uprisings
began, but the two sides present vastly different accounts of what trans-
pired during the meeting. Brotherhood officials claim that they were
invited to join the government and implicitly offered their choice of
ministries. The king’s account is worth quoting at length:

They were the first people I saw in the Arab Spring. They were the
loudest voice, so I brought them in, and they said, “Our loyalty is
to the Hashemites, and we stood with you in the ’40s and ’50s and
’70s,” and I said, “That is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard.”
And they were like, “Aaaargh”—​they were shocked… . “My father
told me that you guys watched the way things were going, and when
you saw that my father was winning, you went with him.” I said,
“This is complete and utter bullshit, and if we’re going to sit here and
bullshit each other, then we might as well have a cup of tea and then
say goodbye… . If you want to have a serious conversation here’s
where we start.”

The king proceeded to outline areas of common interest and then said,
“I think you’re part of the Jordanian system, and I think you should be
part of the process… . I think we all leave this meeting feeling really
good, but—​I’ll be honest with you—​there’s 10 percent distrust from
me, and 10 percent distrust from you, I’m sure. But we have good vibes
here.”
King Abdullah continued by saying that, after the meeting,
Brotherhood leaders went to Cairo to meet with the Egyptian
Brotherhood’s General Guide and, after seeing what the Brotherhood
had achieved there, decided not to participate in the national dialogue
committee.27
My analysis suggests that both the king and the (old) Muslim
Brotherhood understand precisely the game they are playing, and that
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162 Countries

both sides prefer continuing to play it rather than interact in a differ-

ent, presumably more confrontational, way. The regime has resisted
pressure from its allies—​Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and the United Arab
Emirates—​to crack down significantly on the Brotherhood.28 The one
thing everyone in Jordan seems to agree on is that no one knows what
will happen in the absence of the Hashemites, and with instability
in Syria and the Muslim Brotherhood on the run in Egypt, both the
king and the Brotherhood share an interest in keeping their estab-
lished game going. The regime’s bureaucratic support for the Zamzam
Initiative and recognition of the new Muslim Brotherhood Society
will be limited; it was a tactic to coerce the 70-​year-​old organization
to rejoin the electoral process. As much as the king and regime would
prefer a more conciliatory and participatory Muslim Brotherhood,
they recognize that further dividing the Islamic movement between
mostly Palestinian-​ Jordanian “hawks” and mostly Transjordanian
“doves” risks politicizing the country’s most salient cleavage and could
give rise to new social movements and political actors claiming an
Islamic identity, including radical ones.
 163

10
Q
Pakistan
Matthew Nelson

This chapter examines the fragmented terrain of Islamist politics in

South Asia—​both mainstream and militant—​with a focus on Pakistan.
I  examine two political parties, namely, the Jamiat-​e-​Ulama-​e-​Islam
(JUI), led by Sunni Deobandi ulama (clerics), and the Jamaat-​e-​Islami
(JI), led by lay Muslim professionals, as well as militants broadly affili-
ated with these two groups.1
The chapter has three parts. The first focuses on the meager electoral
fortunes of the JUI and the JI—​fortunes that peaked at 11 percent of
the popular vote in 2002 before falling back to a postcolonial average
of around 5 percent. The second focuses on various forms of nonparty
religious outreach. The third describes some of the ideologically affili-
ated militants operating in Afghanistan and Pakistan’s Tribal Areas. (In
this context, I touch on evolving links between militants in South Asia
and militant formations based in the Middle East—​especially al-​Qaeda
and the Islamic State.)
For many of the actors discussed here, the terms of political success
are not defined by success at the polls. Instead, they are defined within
a competitive push to “Islamize” prevailing social norms and practices.
This ideological objective is pursued via electoral politics, peaceful non-
party activism, and militancy—​a complex mix of methods not seen in
most of the groups featured elsewhere in this book.

163
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164 Countries

Historical Background: Elections
Before the formation of Pakistan in August 1947, the views of those who
established the JI and the precursor of the JUI—​India’s Jamiat-​e-​Ulama-​
e-​Hind (JUH)—​differed from those of Muslim Brotherhood founder
Hassan al-​Banna. Suspicious of modern Arab or South Asian Muslim
“nationalism” and its explicit territorial constraints, they insisted that
new forms of religious and political solidarity should be grounded not
in the cultivation of new “nations,” but rather in a more pious ummah
(global Muslim community).2 Above all, they opposed efforts by
Mohammad Ali Jinnah and his broadly “secular” Muslim League to cre-
ate a Muslim-​majority state known as Pakistan. They saw Jinnah’s push
for Pakistan as a nationalist ploy to divide South Asian Muslims: Indian
Muslims on the one hand; Pakistani Muslims on the other.
Shortly after the founding of Pakistan, however, both the JI and
those who departed from the JUH to establish a pro-​Pakistan configu-
ration of the same group known as the JUI sought to rehabilitate their
“nationalist” credentials. Within Pakistan’s protracted constitutional
debates, both parties claimed that the Muslim-​majority state envisioned
by Jinnah would require careful oversight to avoid the introduction of
any law that might be considered repugnant to the terms of Islam. At
the same time, however, each disagreed about which group should be
charged with this supervisory task: whereas the JI stressed the leader-
ship of a revolutionary vanguard led by lay Muslim professionals like JI
founder Abul Ala Maududi, the JUI favored the leadership of religious
scholars trained in Deobandi madrasas.
Each group lobbied Pakistan’s Constituent Assembly to promote
what they saw as an “Islamic” constitution; however, the formal legal
impact of their views was largely thwarted by Pakistan’s bureaucratic,
military, political, and judicial elite.3 Initially, drawing attention to
its energetic student wing (the Islami Jamiat-​e-​Tuleba, or IJT, which
Hassan al-​Banna’s son-​in-​law Said Ramadan helped to establish in
Karachi after 1947), the Jamaat-​e-​Islami stressed the cultivation of its
own leadership cadre within Pakistan’s university-​educated bureau-
cratic and professional elite.4 But, over time, realizing that any effort to
shape the formal legal architecture of Pakistan would require a far more
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Pakistan 165

substantial presence within Pakistan’s elected National Assembly, the JI

also branched out to contest local elections, beginning with provincial
elections in the Punjab during the spring of 1951.5
Even as the JI entered Pakistan’s electoral arena, however, the JUI
opted to keep its distance throughout the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s. In
fact, it was not until the campaign preceding Pakistan’s first national
election in 1970 that JUI-​affiliated ulama entered the electoral process
to contest what they saw as a pattern of religious-​cum-​political central-
ization under the JI’s founder, Abul Ala Maududi. Mainstream elec-
toral politics, however, did not draw existing forms of Islamist activism
together.6 Instead, it emerged alongside persistent divisions between
“lay” (JI) and “clerical” (JUI) elites.7 Even within the JI, the decision
to field candidates in Karachi’s municipal elections (1958) prompted
an internal split—​above all, a split between electoral pragmatists and
religious ideologues that led some ideologues (e.g., Amin Ahsan Islahi)
to resign.
Throughout this Cold War period, anticommunist pressure also
shifted the terrain of Pakistani student politics away from left-​wing
groups like the National Students Federation (NSF) in favor of right-​
wing student groups like the JI-​affiliated IJT.8 In fact, a string of cam-
pus-​based victories for the IJT produced a powerful combination of
“mainstream” and “militant” student politics, with mainstream student
unions controlled by the IJT providing institutional cover for a band
of campus-​based vice-​and-​virtue vigilantes commonly known as the
Thunder Squad.9 Off campus, however, the electoral performance of
religious parties like the JI and the JUI remained extremely weak, partly
owing to an expanding program of political repression orchestrated by
Pakistan’s first military dictator, General Ayub Khan (1958–​1969).10
The marginalization of parties like the JI and the JUI was particu-
larly apparent during the elections of 1970 when, having contested
more than 150 seats, the JI won just 4. The JUI fared somewhat bet-
ter, winning 7 National Assembly seats (out of 105 contested) and
9 provincial seats. In fact, the JUI helped to form provincial gov-
ernments in Balochistan and Pakistan’s Northwest Frontier Province
(NWFP), with JUI leader Mufti Mahmud emerging as NWFP’s
chief minister.11
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166 Countries

Both the JI and the JUI operated at some distance from Pakistan’s
military and civilian elite during the 1950s and 1960s. But during
the 1970s, this pattern began to shift, particularly after the partition
of Pakistan in 1971 and the formation of Bangladesh—​an event that
prompted Pakistan’s new prime minister, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, to reart-
iculate a “religious” sense of Muslim nationalism as a bulwark against
the divisive terms of “provincialism.”12
Maududi resigned as leader of the Jamaat-​e-​Islami in 1972. But dur-
ing the next 15 years, his successor Mian Tufail Mohammad went on
to develop much closer ties with those at the center of power—​above
all, the military dictator who ousted Prime Minister Bhutto in 1977,
General Zia-​ul-​Haq. Domestically, Mian Tufail supported Zia’s bid
to “Islamize” Pakistan’s public school curricula (as well as its crimi-
nal laws) even as he criticized Zia for his failure to hold elections.
Internationally, Mian Tufail also praised Zia’s involvement in the anti-​
Soviet politics of Afghanistan, paying special attention to mujahideen
formations with ideological inclinations close to the JI, such as Hizb-
​e-​Islami.13 Mainstream electoral pressures and transnational mili-
tancy, in other words, were not incompatible during the Zia years.
On the contrary, long-​awaited National Assembly elections in 1985—​
conducted on a nonparty basis—​brought these two elements closer
together.14
After the Soviet withdrawal from Kabul in 1989, Afghanistan’s
burgeoning civil war saw the focus of Pakistani military and politi-
cal patronage shift away from those tied to the ideological perspective
of the JI (e.g., Hizb-​e-​Islami) in favor of guerilla commanders with
close ties to the Taliban and, thus, to various Deobandi madrasas. This
shift did not eliminate the JI; it merely pulled the prevailing balance of
forces away from JI-​affiliated mujahideen in favor of those with closer
ties to the institutional orbit of the JUI.
Within Pakistan, religious militancy typically unfolds in ways
that remain at least one step removed from any direct association
with the JI or the JUI. More often, this militancy is associated with
ideologically affiliated “partners” like Hizb-​e-​Islami or the Taliban.15
This pattern of loose affiliation poses certain challenges for analysts,
leading many to assume close ties in the absence of explicit evidence
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Pakistan 167

proving otherwise. For parties like the JI and the JUI, however,
this analytical dilemma (“guilty until proven innocent”) has not
been completely unhelpful. In fact, sweeping generalizations tend
to highlight broad patterns of ideological overlap while at the same
time shielding both the JI and the JUI from the culpabilities that
might follow from direct institutional ties. Within Pakistan, right-​
of-​center politics has never been limited to mainstream religious
parties or militants; instead it has been dominated by military dic-
tators like Zia-​ul-​Haq and, more recently, mainstream politicians
like Mohammad Nawaz Sharif of the Pakistan Muslim League. In
fact, within this right-​of-​center space combining mainstream par-
ties, militant factions, and military leaders, Pakistan’s “religious”
parties are often reduced to a purely supporting role. Ratcheting
public discourse to the right, they remain ideologically influential
notwithstanding their cautious relationship with violence and their
persistent failure at the polls.
In 1987, Mian Tufail’s successor as leader of the JI, Qazi Hussain
Ahmad, launched a concerted effort to shift his party’s base beyond its
original “vanguardist” orientation. He sought to create a mass party
focused on broader concerns—​including a more overt anti-​imperialist
and anti-​Western agenda.16 Together with the grassroots institutional
focus of the JUI, this mass-​based orientation allowed the JI and cer-
tain elements of the JUI to combine forces as part of a ruling right-​
of-​center coalition led by Nawaz Sharif after 1988. Known as the
Islami Jamhoori Ittehad (Islamic Democratic Alliance), this coalition
was formed with assistance from Pakistan’s Inter-​Services Intelligence
Directorate, the ISI, to counter the early resurgence of left-​wing popu-
lists like Benazir Bhutto. On a more general level, however, it grew out
of the earlier dictatorship of General Zia—​a dictatorship that incor-
porated both the JI and key elements of the JUI (especially the JUI-​S
faction led by Sami-​ul-​Haq) as well as Mohammad Nawaz Sharif, who
served under Zia as chief minister of the Punjab between 1985 and Zia’s
death in 1988.
As the war in Afghanistan receded from the headlines, those affil-
iated with the JI and the JUI-​S did not hesitate to join the Islamic
Democratic Alliance (IJI).17 In fact each saw this electoral alliance as an
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168 Countries

important vehicle for recapturing some of the patronage opportuni-

ties previously enjoyed under Zia. During the elections that followed
Zia’s death in 1988, however, this new coalition did not simply march
into power. Instead its results were mixed. On a national level, it was
defeated by Benazir Bhutto, who won 93 seats as compared to the IJI’s
54 (of which 8 were affiliated with the JI).18 On a provincial level, it won
in the Punjab, allowing Nawaz Sharif to remain in office as Punjab’s
provincial chief minister.
Benazir Bhutto’s government was short-​lived, however. In 1991, it
was dissolved by Pakistan’s president on charges of corruption and mis-
management, ushering in a new round of elections. And, this time, the
performance of the IJI improved. In fact, the IJI won both in Islamabad
(securing 106 National Assembly seats, with 8 attached to the JI) and,
once again, in the Provincial Assembly of Lahore.19
Like Benazir Bhutto’s government, this IJI government (led
by Nawaz Sharif ) was short-​ lived. Once again, Pakistan’s pres-
ident stepped in to dismiss it just two years later in 1993,
allowing Benazir Bhutto to return to power in subsequent elections
that reduced the strength of the JI to just 3 parliamentary seats.20
Clearly, the JI was not on a winning trajectory. In fact, when Bhutto
was dismissed for a second time, in 1997, the JI announced its inten-
tion to boycott the next round of elections, describing Pakistani polls
as “corrupt.”
The IJI, having been dissolved following the dismissal of Nawaz
Sharif in 1993, was not revived. But, in the ensuing 1997 elections,
Nawaz Sharif won by a landslide. In fact, he returned to power with a
whopping single-​party majority of 63 percent in Islamabad and 88 per-
cent in Lahore.21 Still, his government did not last long. After just two
years (1997–​1999), Sharif was deposed in a military coup—​a coup led
by General Pervez Musharraf that, somewhat ironically, revived the
dwindling fortunes of Pakistan’s Islamist parties.
Building on the “anti-​ imperialist” rhetoric previously cultivated
by the JUI and, somewhat later, by the JI, Pakistan’s religious parties
stepped forward to capitalize on the sense of public anger that had
emerged after America’s invasion of Afghanistan in October 2001.22 In
fact, when Musharraf announced a new round of elections during the
fall of 2002, the JI and the JUI charged into the limelight, leading a
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Pakistan 169

new religious alliance known as the Muttahida Majlis-​e-​Amal (MMA),

or United Council of Action, to secure their best-​ever result of 45 par-
liamentary seats.23
These 45 seats allowed the MMA to play a key part in Musharraf ’s
ruling coalition while, at the same time, forming yet another provincial
government in the Northwest Frontier Province (NWFP) bordering
Afghanistan. In effect, the JI and JUI re-​emerged after years of electoral
obscurity to rejoin that rare breed of religious parties: the breed that has
actually governed.
Within the NWFP, the MMA introduced a controversial Hisba Act
to monitor public “morality.” However, its spirited vice-​and-​virtue bri-
gades did not last long; the act was quickly struck down by the Pakistan
Supreme Court as an arbitrary form of Sunni parallel justice providing
inadequate protections for sectarian diversity while ignoring established
forms of due process. The MMA also introduced a federal bill seeking
to punish unrepentant male apostates with execution. However, this
bill failed to emerge from its standing committee; in fact, even today,
Pakistan has no statute governing the terms of apostasy. In effect, the
MMA’s “Islamization” agenda stalled. And as it did, the MMA began
to follow in the footsteps of so many ideological parties before it: dilut-
ing its ideological agenda, it sought to construct a populist program of
provincial economic reform.24
When General Musharraf’s political fortunes began to fade after
nationwide demonstrations protesting his ouster of Supreme Court Chief
Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry, the electoral fortunes of the MMA began
to suffer as well. During the 2008 elections, for instance, the NWFP’s
MMA government was badly defeated and, with the JI deciding (once
again) to boycott the polls, the national MMA was reduced from its peak
of 45 parliamentary seats to 7—​although, even then, the JUI faction led
by Fazlur Rahman (JUI-​F) managed to secure a place in the new federal
coalition led by Benazir Bhutto’s widower, Asif Ali Zardari.
Finally, during the 2013 general elections, both the JI and the JUI
returned to figures more in keeping with their average performance
since 1970. With a combined total of just 5  percent of the vote, the
historically “populist” JUI-​F won 15 National Assembly seats (all con-
centrated in the NWFP, which was renamed Khyber Pakhtunkhwa in
2010), while the more consistently “ideological” JI was limited to just 4.
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170 Countries

In 2013, younger religious voters seemed to be drawn away from

religious parties like the JI and the JUI in favor of a previously
obscure right-​of-​center party known as the Pakistan Tehreek-​e-​Insaaf
(PTI, i.e., the Party of Justice) led by former cricket champion Imran
Khan.25 (In 2013, Khan’s PTI emerged as the second-​largest party
in all of Pakistan’s major cities. In fact, the PTI went on to form
the provincial government of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa in coalition with
the JI.)
Despite the rhetorical appeal of religion, then, the evidence clearly
suggests that voters in Pakistan are not actually drawn to parties that
limit their agenda to a narrow interpretation of sharia. Even when the
JI and the JUI found themselves in a position to shape government
policy—​as they did as leading members of the MMA coalition in the
Northwest Frontier Province after 2002—​voters were put off by the
extent to which their “religious” policies failed to address (or directly
challenged) their core material concerns.26
For 65  years, religious parties have struggled to win national elec-
tions in Pakistan. Their persistent record of marginalization, however,
cannot be traced to any one historical factor: when not been harassed
by military dictators (Ayub Khan, 1960s), they have cozied up to them
(General Zia, 1980s; General Musharraf, 2000s). And yet, having done
so, they have persistently found themselves punished as authoritarian
“collaborators” whenever Pakistan has reverted to civilian elections.
Indeed, even when these parties have not opted to boycott elections,
their religious identity has been offset by right-​of-​center parties like the
Pakistan Muslim League (PML) and, in recent years, the PTI—​parties
that exploit similar forms of religious rhetoric in ways that dilute the
distinctive “Islamist” appeal of Islamist parties.

Beyond Elections: Outreach
As noted above, repeated electoral failures have drawn Pakistan’s “reli-
gious” voters away from explicitly religious parties like the JI and the
JUI in favor of alternative right-​of-​center parties like the PML and the
PTI. Recalling the basic distinction between hizb (party) and haraka
(movement), however, these same failures have also led some to pull
away from electoral politics altogether—​this time, in the direction of
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Pakistan 171

Muslim da’wa (religious outreach) with a focus on education, social

welfare, and private religious reform.
When it comes to social welfare, “Jamaati” groups like Al-​Khidmat
and “Deobandi” groups like the humanitarian Al-​Khair Trust figure
prominently. These groups have become increasingly well known for
their contributions to medical care and large-​scale relief in the wake
of natural disasters, such as the Kashmir earthquake in 2005 and cat-
astrophic flooding throughout Pakistan in 2011–​2012.27 At the same
time, however, both groups have also been accused of channeling fund-
ing to like-​minded militants in Kashmir, such as Hizb-​ul-​Mujahideen
and Jaish-​ e-​Mohammad articulating, respectively, “Jamaati” and
“Deobandi” views.
The rapidly expanding space occupied by social welfare organiza-
tions like Al-​Khidmat and Al-​Khair Trust, however, pales in com-
parison to that occupied by religious activists involved in the field of
educ­ation—​an enormous and dynamic enterprise stretching all the way
from Jamaati and Deobandi madrasas to a growing mix of fee-​based
private schools. These schools peddle their own brand of doctrinal edu-
cation along with the public sector curriculum underpinning the gov-
ernment’s annual exams.28
Within the realm of Muslim da’wa, however, competing Jamaati and
Deobandi activists also move beyond the sphere of social welfare and
education to build on the evangelizing outreach of (1) media-​savvy per-
sonalities like Israr Ahmed and Javed Ahmed Ghamidi (both of whom
joined, but later abandoned, the Jama’at-​e-​Islami) and (2) peripatetic
lay Muslim missionaries like the globe-​trotting Tablighi Jama’at (which
grew out of, but then rejected, key features of the madrasa-​based
Deobandi tradition still embraced by parties like the JUI).29
Israr Ahmed followed early JI defectors like Amin Ahsan Islahi in crit-
icizing the JI’s embrace of electoral politics. But, having left the JI, Ahmed
went on to form two evangelizing organizations of his own—​namely,
Tanzim-​e-​Islami (the Islamic Association) and Tehreek-​e-​Khilafat (the
Caliphate Movement)—​to promote the re-​creation of a global caliph-
ate in a region often described as the region of “Khorasan” (roughly
encompassing eastern Iran, Afghanistan, northern Pakistan, and Central
Asia).30 Ahmed was a key media personality during the late 1970s and
1980s, mostly at the urging of General Zia. In fact, his daily television
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172 Countries

appearances were quite influential; his role in radicalizing public reli-

gious and political discourse has often been described as “enormous.”31
Few were surprised when, during the 1990s, he emerged as a supporter
of the Taliban and their expanding political role in Afghanistan.
The media platform of Javed Ahmad Ghamidi is even better known
than that of Israr Ahmed, particularly given the boost Ghamidi received
after 1999 from General Pervez Musharraf. Unlike Israr Ahmed, how-
ever, Ghamidi has not stressed the revival of a global caliphate. Nor has
he supported the Taliban in Afghanistan. Instead, recalling the work
of his mentor, JI defector Amin Ahsan Islahi, Ghamidi has articulated
a more thoroughly individualized approach to contemporary religious
reform—​in many ways, an intellectual approach combining text-​based
analysis with a commitment to ongoing religious “self-​polishing.”32
Whereas Ahmed stresses the pursuit of state power, then, Ghamidi
stresses personal piety—​two very different elements of the “Islamist”
program first articulated by JI founder Abul Ala Maududi. Having said
this, however, both Ahmed and Ghamidi target the same demographic
that Maududi targeted as leader of the JI, namely, Pakistan’s profes-
sional middle classes. This is important, because, within the realm of
Muslim da’wa, Pakistan’s “Deobandi” Tablighi Jama’at is very differ-
ent, engaging a much wider social base. Often described as the largest
religious reform movement in the world, Tablighis are known for their
door-​to-​door evangelism, calling ostensibly “lapsed” Muslims, not to
Deobandi madrasas (like the JUI), but rather to Deobandi mosques.
Within Pakistan, it is impossible to rank the relative importance of
party-​based politics and Muslim da’wa. Nor is it possible to tease out
a simple relationship in which one anticipates or produces the other.
Each proceeds in tandem. The social welfare and humanitarian work of
JI affiliates like Al-​Khidmat, for instance, has not enhanced the electoral
fortunes of Jamaat-​e-​Islami itself. Nor has the rise of Deobandi move-
ments like the Tablighi Jama’at advanced the electoral performance of the
JUI. Apparently, ideological affiliations do not drive affiliates to the polls.

Transnational Politics: Militancy
Moving away from the relationship between grassroots activism and
Muslim voting, “inclusion-​moderation” theories consider the relation­ship
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Pakistan 173

between Muslim voting and militancy, stipulating that electoral success

is likely to reduce the appeal of extremism and violence.33 Unfortunately,
the reach of such theories has been limited in Pakistan. Indeed, whatever
electoral success Deobandi parties like JUI have enjoyed—​particularly
in provinces like the Northwest Frontier Province (now Khyber
Pakhtunkhwa)—​that success has largely failed to reduce the level of mili-
tancy associated with Deobandi Taliban groups in neighboring areas like
FATA (Pakistan’s Federally Administered Tribal Areas).
What we see in Pakistan is actually a complex pattern in which the
link between religious parties and Muslim militancy, including the
link between mainstream parties like the JI or the JUI and militants
with “Jamaati” or “Deobandi” affinities, is closely bound up with the
work of the Pakistan Army—​an army with a habit of projecting its
authority beyond its traditional base in West Pakistan (and, especially,
the Punjab) via (1) militants broadly associated with the JI (Al Badr in
East Pakistan during the 1970s; Hizb-​e-​Islami in Afghanistan during
the 1980s; Hizb-​ul-​Mujahideen in Kashmir after 1989) and (2) mili-
tants associated with the same network of Deobandi madrasas tied to
the JUI (Jaish-​e-​Mohammad and Harkat-​ul-​Mujahideen in Kashmir;
the Afghan Taliban; and so on). Indeed, religious militants in Pakistan
maintain a complex mix of ties: “ideological” ties with mainstream par-
ties and “operational” ties with parts of the Pakistan Army.
Even as one begins to appreciate this complex mix of ties, how-
ever, it is also important to stress that the Pakistan Army has not
merely collaborated, but also clashed, with JI-​and JUI-​linked mili-
tants. In particular, it has clashed with militants tied to formations
like the (Deobandi) Tehreek-​e-​Taliban Pakistan (TTP)—​the so-​called
“Pakistani Taliban.”
Typically, the JI and the JUI work with the Pakistan Army to distin-
guish between what are known as the “good” and the “bad” branches of
militant formations like the Taliban. The Afghan Taliban, focused on
seizing power outside of Pakistan (i.e., in Afghanistan), are regarded as
the “good” Taliban, whereas the Pakistani Taliban are seen as the “bad”
Taliban because they attack the existing social order, including the
Pakistan Army, inside Pakistan itself. On several occasions, however,
religious parties like the Jamaat-​e-​Islami have struggled to define their
relationship with these two different branches, with JI leader Munawar
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174 Countries

Hasan balancing his support for the Pakistan Army with a countervail-
ing pattern of support for the TTP (which attacked the Pakistan Army
for its role in supporting America’s “global war on terror” after 2001). In
fact, when TTP leader Hakimullah Mehsud, based in Pakistan’s Tribal
Areas, was killed by a U.S. drone strike, Hasan lauded Hakimullah’s
“anti-​American” credentials and described him as a Muslim “martyr.”
For many years, both branches of the Taliban swore allegiance to the
same Emir-​ul-​Momineen or “Leader of the Faithful,” Mullah Omar
(known for sheltering Osama bin Laden during the 1990s even as he
maintained close ties with the Pakistan Army). Mullah Omar was
not seen for several years, however, and, when his death was finally
revealed in 2015 two years after the fact, some insisted that his eldest son
Mohammad Yaqoob should succeed him. This view, however, was not
widely held, and for nearly a year, the Afghan Taliban were torn apart
by infighting. Some Afghan Taliban commanders considered forming
an alliance with the newly created Islamic State. But, eventually, most
chose to accept the authority of a new emir named Mullah Akhter
Mansour.34
The Pakistan Army sought to encourage talks between Mullah
Mansour and the Afghan government in Kabul.35 But the Afghan gov-
ernment saw Mansour as “irreconcilable” and, in April 2016, Mansour
was killed inside Pakistan by a U.S. drone, leading to yet another suc-
cession crisis and the emergence of a less charismatic Taliban leader
known as Maulvi Haibatullah Akhundzada.
In many ways, the Pakistan Army has tended to see the Afghan
Taliban as a key resource in a much larger push to offset the emer-
gence of any close relationship between the Afghan government and
the government of Pakistan’s archrival, India. But even as the army has
sought to promote a role for the Afghan Taliban in Afghanistan—​by
transforming Afghan Taliban “militants,” if you will, into a “main-
stream” political party like the JUI—​ the army has simultaneously
sought to contain the disorder surrounding renegade Taliban fighters
inside Pakistan itself. It has done so first with a series of negotiated
but fragile ceasefires in Pakistan’s tribal areas and, then, turning to
the very center of Islamabad, with an attack on a well-​armed mosque
known as the Lal Masjid (Red Mosque) during the summer of 2007.
(The political implications of this step could be seen in the fact that
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Pakistan 175

JI leader Munawar Hasan and JUI-​S leader Sami-​ul-​Haq supported a

fatwa seeking to invalidate the funeral prayers offered for any soldier
killed in the attack.)
The immediate effect of this attack on Islamabad’s Lal Masjid did
not lay in the pacification of renegade Taliban militants; instead, it
prompted those fighters to consolidate their efforts in a new militant
formation known as the “Pakistani” Taliban (a.k.a. the Tehreek-​e-​
Taliban Pakistan, or TTP).36 Initially, the TTP was led by Baitullah
Mehsud from South Waziristan. But, when Baitullah was killed by
a U.S. drone, his role was taken up by another member of the same
tribe, namely, Hakimullah Mehsud.37 Hakimullah was also killed by a
U.S. drone. The leadership of the TTP then shifted to a figure named
Fazlullah—famous for his role in the attack on Nobel Peace Prize win-
ner Malala Yousafzai.
The selection of Fazlullah in 2013 was controversial for at least two
reasons: first, because unlike Baitullah and Hakimullah before him,
Fazlullah was not a Mehsud tribesman; and, second, because for the
first time Fazlullah’s primary base of support was not in FATA but
in a “provincial” tribal area known as Swat.38 Like the fragmentation
within the Afghan Taliban that followed the death of Mullah Omar,
Hakimullah’s death ushered in a period of intense unraveling, includ-
ing a series of defections in which some TTP commanders threatened
to shift their allegiance to the Islamic State.
Islamic State leader Abu Bakr al-​Baghdadi had declared himself
“caliph” in June 2014, effectively usurping the role of “commander of the
faithful” that al-​Qaeda and the Taliban had long associated with Mullah
Omar. Shortly thereafter, al-​Qaeda leader Ayman al-​Zawahiri responded
with the formation of a new al-​Qaeda franchise in South Asia known as
al-​Qaeda in the Indian Subcontinent (AQIS).39 Since then, Islamic State
leaders managed to exploit various moments of instability within both
the Afghan and the Pakistani Taliban. As noted above, for instance, many
of those who opposed the leadership of Mohammad Yaqoob (Afghan
Taliban) and Fazlullah (Pakistan Taliban) considered joining forces with
the Islamic State. Dissident TTP commander Hafiz Said Khan, simi-
larly, pledged allegiance to Baghdadi as the leader of a new Islamic State
“province” known as Khorasan, even as—​somewhat confusingly—​
another TTP commander by the name of Omar Khalid Khorasani
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176 Countries

formed a splinter group known as the Jama’at-​ul-​Ahrar initially sus-

pected of enduring ties to al-​Qaeda.40
It is, perhaps, somewhat ironic that within Pakistan those with
the closest ties to the Islamic State have not been “Salafi” groups like
Jama’at-​ud-​Dawa or Lashkar-​e-​Taiba. (These groups remain far more
closely tied to the Army.) Instead, the liveliest support has come from
fragments of the “Deobandi” tradition. Indeed, there may be a further
irony—​namely, that within Pakistan “Deobandis” appear to occupy
both ends of the mainstream–​ militant spectrum simultaneously:
whereas Deobandi supporters of the JUI have enjoyed more electoral
success than any other religious party in Pakistan, Deobandi supporters
of the TTP have emerged as the most ferocious opponents of the state.
Clearly, when it comes to broad ideological formations like Deoband,
analytical conventions regarding the relationship between “mainstream”
and “militant” are often turned on their head. Not only has the influ-
ence of enormous Deobandi movements like the Tablighi Jama’at failed
to ensure any consistent measure of success for Deobandi parties like
the JUI, but whatever electoral success the JUI has enjoyed—​not only
at a provincial level in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa but also at a federal level
in Islamabad (where JUI leaders have held cabinet positions in sev-
eral different coalition governments)—​this electoral success has failed
to deter rampant forms of Deobandi militancy (both in conjunction
with the army and against it). Evidently, when it comes to Islamist
politics in Pakistan, “mainstream” and “militant” politics are not at all
incompatible.

Conclusion
Just a few months before he expressed his appreciation for the militancy
of TTP leader Hakimullah Mehsud, former JI leader Munawar Hasan
exchanged visits with Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood–​affiliated president,
Mohamed Morsi—​first in Cairo (June 2012) and then in Islamabad
(March 2013). Hasan later hosted a rally in Islamabad to protest Morsi’s
ouster by General Abdel Fattah al-Sissi—​a rally attended by the former
vice chairman of Imran Khan’s PTI, Shah Mahmood Qureshi.
In this context, internal JI party elections in March 2014 were signifi-
cant. Not only did they mark the first time a sitting JI leader (Munawar
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Pakistan 177

Hasan) sought re-​election only to be replaced after just one term in

office, but they also provided the JI’s new leader Siraj-​ul-​Haq with an
opportunity to distance himself from Munawar’s comments support-
ing the TTP, thus restoring his relationship with the army. Perhaps
the JI sought to cultivate closer ties with the Pakistan Army after see-
ing Egypt’s President Morsi ousted in June 2013. Perhaps Siraj-​ul-​Haq
merely sought to consolidate his ties with “pro-​army” parties like Imran
Khan’s PTI.41 Either way, the JI seemed to feel that, moving forward,
some effort to sustain its relationship with the army was important.
In Pakistan, Jamaati and Deobandi conglomerations broadly affili-
ated with the JI and the JUI are rarely forced to choose between “main-
stream” and “militant” politics. On the contrary, their engagements run
the gamut from elections to extremism simultaneously. Neither group
is defined by either form of engagement. Even beyond elections and
extremism, their affiliates are deeply involved in education, televange-
lism, humanitarianism, civil society activism, and more. It is, in fact,
this wider mix of engagements that underpins their enduring influence.
This is the mix of engagements that sustains their influence notwith-
standing a persistent pattern of failure at the polls.
178

11
Q
Southeast Asia
Joseph Chinyong Liow

Although the Arab Spring prompted discussions of Islamism, politi-

cal participation, and democracy across the Muslim world, mainstream
Islamists in Southeast Asia were not greatly influenced by the uprisings
and their aftermath. They were not looking for models of democratic
change, having already much earlier opened the door to democracy (in
the late 1990s during the Asian financial crisis). Islamists in Southeast
Asia also have nebulous ties with their counterparts in the Middle East
despite the potential for stronger links to be forged. Still, it is useful
to compare the trajectory of Indonesian and Malaysian Islamists with
their fellow travelers further west if only to provide some indication
of how Arab Islamists might fare given similar political circumstances.
This chapter will advance five arguments, some of which may appear at
cross-purposes with each other. First, although Islamist parties in Indonesia
and Malaysia have gained electoral support in recent years, that does not
necessarily correlate with greater support for Islamism. Second, Islamists
in Southeast Asia have by and large eschewed revolutionary approaches
to political change. With the minor exception of militant groups who
have sought to create Islamic states in Indonesia and Malaysia, Islamists
who seek to implement sharia have remained committed to the political
process. Third, in both Indonesia and Malaysia, structural conditions
have enhanced the prospects of Islamists achieving their sociopolitical

178
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Southeast Asia 179

goals. In Malaysia, the incumbent government led by the Malay nation-

alist party, UMNO (United Malays National Organization), has facili-
tated the gradual introduction of Islamic strictures in government, while
post-​Suharto Indonesia has decentralized lawmaking, allowing regional
and local governments the latitude to introduce various kinds of sharia
laws. Fourth, Southeast Asian Islamists have not been dogmatic about
their ideology. This has as much to do with expediency and opportun-
ism as it has with Islamic traditions in Southeast Asia, which are histori-
cally more accommodating of pluralism. Fifth, transnational links are
stronger between Islamist civil society organizations outside the realm
of mainstream politics than they are between Islamist political parties
themselves.

The Roots of Political Islam in Indonesia and Malaysia

Since independence in 1945, Islam has enjoyed an important—​if
often ambiguous—​place in Indonesian politics. This became imme-
diately evident after independence, when a vociferous debate sur-
faced among claimants to the fledgling colonial state over the place
of sharia in the new constitution. The most contentious issue was
whether a seven-​word clause—“with the obligation for adherents of
Islam to practice Islamic law”—should be included in the preamble
of the constitution. Commonly known as the Jakarta Charter, the
debate was resolved in favor of secular nationalists who feared that
the embryonic state would unravel if Islam were given too promi-
nent a place given the concerns of large non-​Muslim communities
in Eastern Indonesia.
Through most of their time in office, presidents Sukarno (1959–​1965)
and Suharto (1966–​ 1998) essentially marginalized political Islam—​
represented during the early years of independence by the Masyumi
party—although the expression of religious piety in civil society was
permitted by the state to bolster its legitimacy in the eyes of more pious
Muslims. Paradoxically, it was during this period in the political “wil-
derness” that the seeds for new patterns of Islamic thinking and activ-
ism were sown, and which eventually bore fruit. Primarily rooted in
student movements through the 1970s and 1980s, “civil” Islam would
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180 Countries

emerge to play a crucial role in mobilizing Islamist forces in the post-​

Suharto era.1
The watershed for Islamism in Indonesia came in 1997 when a finan-
cial crisis catalyzed a widespread reform movement that eventually led
to the overthrow of Suharto’s New Order regime. This reform move-
ment, known in popular local parlance as Reformasi, saw the emergence
of hitherto low-​key opposition figures into the public arena to agitate
for Suharto’s resignation. Among these were a host of Islamist activists,
including those of Masyumi lineage. With the introduction of free elec-
tions in 1999, Islamist parties such as Partai Keadilan Sejahtera (PKS, or
Justice and Prosperity Party), Partai Bulan Bintang (Crescent and Star
Party), and Partai Persatuan Pembangunan (United Development Party)
competed at the polls in 1999, 2004, 2009, and 2014 on an Islamist
platform that included introduction of sharia laws and a greater role
for Islam in society and state affairs.2 Nevertheless, these parties saw
mixed fortunes. Except for the notable performance of the Muslim
Brotherhood-inspired PKS, the newest among the Islamist parties,
Islamists failed to make any significant headway at the national level.3
Unlike Ennahda in Tunisia or the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood
during the Arab Spring, Indonesian Islamists never came to power on
their own; at best, they were minority members of ruling coalitions.
One reason is that in post-​Suharto Indonesia, the Islamist agenda,
rather than being concentrated in one or two parties, became dispersed
across a spectrum of Islamic and Islamist parties because of the frag-
mented nature of Islamic authority and the institutional weaknesses of
the parties themselves, leading to a dilution of the Islamist (indeed, the
Muslim) vote, as well as the broadening of the Islamist agenda.4
This broad canvas of Islamist parties is absent in Malaysia. In Malaysia,
the standard bearer of Islamism has primarily been the Pan-​Malayan
Islamic Party (PAS), although more recently the ruling and ostensi-
bly secular UMNO has pursued policies that are easily construed as
“Islamist” as well (e.g., policing and regulation of non-​Muslim activity
in defense of Islam and supporting PAS initiatives to implement sharia
by-​laws). As a political party, PAS was ironically born within UMNO
itself, when members of the Religious Bureau of UMNO questioned
the commitment of the party’s leadership to Islam and Muslim inter-
ests, and broke away in 1951.
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Southeast Asia 181

Regardless of the party’s overtly religious character and motivations,

its religious track record in Malaysian politics is checkered. Through
the 1950s and 1960s, it pursued a religio-​socialist agenda inspired by
Sukarno. After the May 1969 race riots, PAS moved further right along
the ideological spectrum and transformed into a Malay nationalist party
that contested UMNO’s claim to leadership of the Malay community
against the backdrop of heightened communitarian consciousness. By
1982, PAS moved to implement ulama (Muslim religious scholars) rule
in the party leadership through the formation of a Consultative Council
(Majlis Shura), made up of clerics who would oversee all party policies
and set it on course for a stronger and more explicitly Islamist agenda.
The early 1980s witnessed a flurry of consequential events in the
Muslim world that informed this reorientation not only in PAS but
also, as it turned out, in UMNO. This included the Afghan mujahideen
struggle; the Iranian revolution; the introduction of Islamic govern-
ment in Pakistan; the rise of Islamist movements and parties in Egypt,
Tunisia, and Turkey; and the general heightened Islamic consciousness
of the Malay-​Muslim population as appeals to Islam as “the solution”
gained greater currency across the country.
In response to the shifting mood in Malaysia, the UMNO-​led
government of Mahathir Mohamad sought to seize the initiative by
harnessing Islam to justify its developmental policies. It did so by
orchestrating an Islamization process, which expanded the size and
scope of the religious bureaucracy at the state and federal level, created
Islamic banking institutions, and established an Islamic university. At
the time, the policy stood in marked contrast to developments else-
where in the Muslim world where regimes experiencing similar pres-
sures from Islamist opposition forces, such as Egypt and Turkey, chose
to discredit, rather than leverage, the Islamist agenda.

Are People Who Vote for Islamist Parties Islamists?

The Bali bombing of October 2002, barely a year after the September
11 attacks in the United States, saw the world bestow on Southeast
Asia the epithet of the “Second Front” in the global war on terror.5
While most analysts recognize that terrorist and militant groups are
not representative of the Muslim population of Southeast Asia, there
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182 Countries

is consternation in some policymaking circles over the “conservative

Islamic high tide”6 that seems to be sweeping the region. The flowering
of Islamic organizations and the growing influence of Islamist move-
ments and parties, particularly in Malaysia and Indonesia, are often
pointed to as evidence. In the 1999 and 2008 Malaysian elections, PAS
slowly increased its popularity and number of seats in parliament, albeit
as part of an opposition alliance that included a major non-​Muslim
partner. The 2004 Indonesian elections saw the PKS winning 7.3 per-
cent of the total votes and 45 seats in parliament, a number significant
enough to make it a junior partner in President Bambang Yudhoyono’s
first coalition government. This was the first instance of Islamists in
the executive branch since Masyumi’s experiment in the mid-​1950s.7
Beyond tangible indicators such as electoral results, commentators also
detect a general “Islamic resurgence” from the increased Islamic “con-
sciousness” in the daily life of Muslims of the region, manifested pri-
marily in the adoption of Muslim dress, mosque attendance, and the
proliferation of Islamic symbols.8
One might be tempted to link the rise of this Islamic conscious-
ness with the success of Islamist parties at the polls. But there are a
number of sociopolitical and economic reasons apart from simply
religious motivations that have led people in Southeast Asia to vote
for Islamist parties. For instance, PAS has managed to secure support
from non-​Muslims, while both PAS and the PKS have opened mem-
bership to non-​Muslims.9 Indeed, participation in the political pro-
cess has encouraged a number of religiously-oriented parties to shape
a broader and more inclusive political agenda, one that moves away
from demands for the strict implementation of Islamic codes. In fact,
Islamist parties and movements have in many cases contributed to the
development of the democratic ethos by welcoming political liberaliza-
tion and participating in the electoral process.10
It would be instructive here (especially for policymakers) to note
the difference between spirituality or pietism as a personal conviction
and its public expression as a form of religiosity. Whereas the former is
largely related to the realm of personal convictions and the fulfilment
of individual religious duties, the latter can have important social and
political implications. In the social realm, it can manifest itself in the
call for greater adherence to Islamic norms and codes. In Indonesia,
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Southeast Asia 183

for instance, some scholars have noted an inverse correlation between

religious piety and support for Islamism in the form of either Islamist
parties or stricter Islamic legislation.11
Several reasons account for this in Indonesia. First, some of the parties
at the forefront of the drive to implement sharia have not been Islamist
parties, but secular parties such as Golkar, the largest political party in
Indonesia. Second, voters assessed Islamist parties not solely according
to their religious credentials, but also according to how well they were
able to “deliver the goods” in terms of sound policy proposals and the
personal appeal of their candidates. Given the proliferation of political
parties in the post-​Suharto era—​including Islamist ones—​the elector-
ate sought other ways to differentiate between parties, beyond abstract
ideological platforms. Third, Islamist parties themselves avoided exces-
sive focus on Islam in their campaigns. As Greg Fealy noted of the 2014
elections: “None of the four Islamic parties that passed the 3.5 percent
parliamentary threshold campaigned using Islamic concepts or doc-
trines. Rather, their appeals to their core constituencies emphasized the
practical benefits that they had or would deliver to their supporters.”12
All this points to the dilution of the Muslim vote and broadening of
the Islamic agenda in Indonesian society since the fall of Suharto’s New
Order and the advent of democracy.
Having said that, we should also recognize that there are diverse
voices in Southeast Asia that want a greater role for Islam in the polit-
ical realm. Some want to implement sharia for Muslims (with non-​
Muslims exempt); others want to make Islam the official ideology of
the state. Such groups and individuals also advocate the use of myriad
methods to achieve their aims, ranging from participation in the politi-
cal process to the waging of armed struggle, although the latter has
remained relatively rare.

Ideological Malleability: Islamic Legislation

and the Islamic State
Not unlike many of the other Islamist movements discussed in this
volume, a key characteristic of the standard bearers of political Islam
in Southeast Asia such as the PKS in Indonesia and PAS in Malaysia
has been their apparent readiness to compromise on their ideological
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184 Countries

commitments to enhance their appeal. A close look at their positions on

Islamic legislation, one of the keystone issues on any Islamist agenda,
illustrates this point.
Assessments of the PKS’s performance in Indonesia’s 2004 general
elections mostly attributed the party’s surge in popularity to its cam-
paign platform of “clean and caring government.” By casting its lan-
guage in reformist and egalitarian rather than creedal terms, the PKS
managed to distinguish itself from a slate of parties widely perceived as
elitist and tainted by corruption. Notable during the election campaign
was its restraint over the issue of implementation of sharia and forma-
tion of an Islamic state, which served to broaden its appeal among a
religious but still largely pluralistic Muslim electorate.
Cognizant of the political costs associated with the explicitly Islamist
appeals of its 1999 campaign when party leaders assessed that their per-
formance was adversely affected by an overtly Islamist agenda, PKS
leaders sought to contextualize, if not outright skirt, questions around
the place of sharia on their agenda without necessarily disavowing it.
True to form as an ideological offspring of the Brotherhood, PKS lead-
ers have consistently maintained that their political agenda is anchored
on issues of social welfare, anticorruption, and good governance, all of
which are informed by sharia.13 As PKS leader Tiffatul Sembiring put
it: “People often simplify sharia as cutting off hands and stoning. Sharia
is very broad, covering all aspects of life and having a universal nature.
In our understanding, a government creating public welfare performs
amar ma’ruf (doing what is correct) in the sense of sharia, and one erad-
icating corruption carries out nahi mungkar (rejecting what is wrong)
as obliged by sharia.”14 To allay fears, the party leadership declared that
they would not press the implementation of sharia before educating the
population on its merits.15 Rather, its implementation would be a natu-
ral outcome of the gradual, bottom-​up Islamization of society through
education and good governance.
At first glance, this calibrated perspective on sharia marked a
shift from the PKS’s disposition during its earlier forays into main-
stream politics. When its predecessors first participated in elections
in the late 1990s, they were involved in heated debates over whether
to revive and implement the Jakarta Charter in the national leg-
islature, which would have obliged the Indonesian government
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Southeast Asia 185

to endorse the introduction of sharia laws to govern the life of

Indonesian Muslims.16 Though the PKS eventually distanced itself
from other Islamist parties that championed the Jakarta Charter
resolution, it continued to advocate for society to be more explic-
itly organized around Islamic principles. Its approach was typified
by its support for the Medina Charter, based on the practice of the
Prophet Mohamed during the early Medinan period of Islamic his-
tory when Muslims lived in harmony with tribes that were permit-
ted to retain their own customs and religious rites.17
When both charters were subsequently defeated, many Islamists
recalibrated their strategy, pressing for the introduction of as many
elements of Islamic legislation as possible at the regional level short
of calling for the full implementation of sharia and an Islamic state.
The front-​line battle for enactment of Islamic law was thus moved out
of the national assembly to provincial and district legislatures. In so
doing, supporters of greater Islamic legislation—​including those in
the PKS—​took advantage of the post-​Suharto era of decentralization
in which local legislative bodies were granted expanded powers and
influence, including the right to formulate laws and regulate local
affairs.18
Since 2004, Islamic by-​laws have been implemented in a number
of provinces, including West Java, West Sumatra, South Kalimantan,
South Sulawesi, and Aceh.19 Significantly, mirroring to some extent
what happened in Malaysia, these by-​ laws were initiated not by
Islamist parties but by Golkar, the secular party that previously had
been Suharto’s vehicle to power. While some had predicted that the
appeal of sharia would eventually wane in Indonesia, evidence appears
to point to the contrary. In Aceh, Islamic laws implemented since 2001
has resulted in several public canings, including an episode where a
widow was caned after she was accused of adultery by a group of men
who broke into a house and found her with a married man, but not
before the men had gang-​raped her and beaten up her companion.20
Significantly, the piecemeal implementation of sharia by-​laws across
Indonesia has not elicited widespread opposition from local popula-
tions. In point of fact, according to some surveys, there are indications
that Indonesians have generally supported the introduction of more,
not less, sharia-​type legislation. One example is the 2013 Pew survey of
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186 Countries

Muslim attitudes, where up to 70 percent of Indonesians interviewed

desire sharia to be the legal code of the country.21
The elusive responses of the PKS to queries about its position on
sharia, which have been tactically predicated on ambiguity, cannot,
however, be read as a discernible ideological shift in the party. This has
been stressed clearly by scholars who observed that

Formally, PKS declares its support for the current format of the
Indonesian state: that is, a unitary republic based on the religiously
neutral ideology of Pancasila.22 But the party’s doctrinal documents
make clear that it regards comprehensive Islamization of the state
and implementation of sharia law as a longer term goal.23

Moreover, amid the cut and thrust of local election campaigning,

PKS leaders have been known to support sharia implementation, or
at least make statements to that effect.24 Similarly, party leaders have
spoken out strongly in support of an Anti-​Pornography Bill devised
not only to regulate the circulation of pornographic material but also
to police social activities deemed offensive by conservative Muslims.
Underlying this is the PKS’s belief—​drilled into its cadre through its
tarbiyah (religious education) programs—​that the implementation of
sharia, while a necessary expression of personal and communal piety,
must nevertheless be a gradual process flowing from a religiously con-
scious society, and not something that can be implemented by edict or
executive decree.
In Malaysia, Islamist movements such as PAS, the Angkatan Belia
Islam Malaysia (Muslim Youth Movement of Malaysia) or ABIM, and
newer movements like Hizb ut-Tahrir Malaysia and Ikatan Muslimin
Malaysia (Malaysian Muslim Network, ISMA) have all pushed for the
implementation of sharia laws, in particular highly controversial Islamic
criminal laws. It is important to note that a large segment of the incum-
bent UMNO party has also been either sympathetic to this push or, in
some cases, actively involved in agitating for implementation of sharia.
Since 1994, most Malaysian states have adopted the Sharia Criminal
Offenses enactment. These enactments were designed to regulate the
private life of Muslims such that they “measure up” to the exacting
moral demands of sharia as interpreted by the growing and increasingly
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Southeast Asia 187

proactive state Islamic bureaucracies.25 Moral police set up by these state

religious bureaucracies routinely raid night clubs, parks, and hotels in
an effort to curb un-​Islamic practices such as alcohol consumption and
khalwat, the consorting of unrelated men and women.
Until the mid-​2000s, the hallmark of PAS’s struggle has been the
quest for the application of sharia, with particular emphasis on the
enforcement of hudud, qisas, and ta’zir punishments.26 As early as 1993,
PAS had already submitted a hudud bill for discussion in the Kelantan
state assembly that it controlled shortly after winning the 1990 state
election. The bill included a section legislating against hudud offenses
such as wine drinking, apostasy, unlawful sexual intercourse (zina),
robbery, and accusing someone of zina without evidence.27 Prepared
by a committee comprising PAS ulama, the state Mufti, and other
ulama in Kelantan state’s Islamic Religion and Malay Council, the
bill proved highly controversial. Among the criticisms were how the
bill was prejudiced against women and introduced draconian and
inhumane punishments.28 In response to the blowback, PAS ulama
began to campaign fervently for the implementation of the laws by
issuing various publications and organizing public forums and semi-
nars to discuss the issue.29 Although the bill was eventually passed in
the Kelantan Parliament, it was not ratified by the Malaysian federal
government and thus could not be implemented. In Terengganu, a
similar bill was enacted in 2002 during the short period when PAS
controlled the state assembly. Once again, the laws were not gazetted
due to opposition from the central government. Ironically, despite
rejecting the hudud bills of PAS, the Malaysian government found
itself harried to move closer to the agenda of PAS when officials within
the state religious bureaucracy, many of whom were either members
of the UMNO party or supporters of it, started putting pressure the
government to introduce such laws.
Many government officials and UMNO leaders argued that it was the
responsibility of the government in an Islamic state to strive toward the
implementation of sharia.30 Indeed, the quid pro quo that led Malaysian
ulama to support Mahathir Mohamad’s Islamic State declaration (when
the former prime minister controversially declared publicly that Malaysia
was already an “Islamic state” without detailing how that was so) and
Prime Minister Abdullah Badawi’s Islam Hadhari pronouncement
18

188 Countries

(designed to spotlight the “moderate” aspects of Malaysian Islam) was

that the government would eventually institutionalize sharia legislation,
including hudud.31 Nakhaie Ahmad, the then chief of Yayasan Dakwah
Islam Malaysia (Islamic Dakwah Association of Malaysia) and a former
PAS leader, posited that hudud must be implemented and mentioned
that various provisions needed to be prepared to make this possible. For
instance, a detailed study of the legal system, sharia courts, and support-
ing enactments needed to be undertaken before hudud could be imple-
mented. He also criticized UMNO leaders for condemning the hudud
laws as obsolete and not suited to contemporary society.32 In short, the
demand for implementing Islamic law is winning support from a wide
spectrum of Malaysian Muslim society (including elements within or
linked to the ruling party) and is not merely an agenda confined to
opposition Islamists, as may be the case in some other Middle Eastern
contexts.
In a sign that both the Malaysian government and Islamist opposi-
tion were beginning to converge on the hudud issue, Annuar Musa,
chief of UMNO-​Kelantan and chief justice of the Kelantan’s sharia
court, declared in January 2014 that the state was prepared to con-
sider applying hudud laws. In response, PAS leadership in Kelantan
formed a technical committee to study the implementation of sharia
ordinances.33 UMNO’s gambit in Kelantan paid off on two counts:
it shored up the party’s religious credentials and its appeal as an
Islamic party, while applying immense pressure on the opposition
Pakatan Rakyat or People’s Alliance, whose component parties have
harbored residual suspicion of PAS’s Islamist agenda despite entering
into a coalition with them. Indeed, although some of PAS’s allies took
the position that the implementation of hudud may be tolerable in
Muslim-​majority regions so long as non-​Muslims stand outside its
jurisdiction, others have been less forthcoming. In point of fact, even
if such a delineation is possible in theory, in practice it would be dif-
ficult to implement especially when a crime, for example zina, involves
Muslims and non-​Muslims.34 On March 19, 2015, the Kelantan state
assembly passed the Sharia Criminal Code II Bill 1993 (amended 2015)
with the support of 12 UMNO assemblymen, and PAS President Abdul
Hadi Awang submitted a private member’s bill (bills introduced in
the Westminster parliamentary system by members who do not hold
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Southeast Asia 189

cabinet positions) in parliament to discuss amendments to the Sharia

Court Act of 1965, which would pave the way for the implementation
of hudud in Kelantan.
Unlike the PKS in Indonesia, there have been significant differ-
ences of opinion within PAS over the urgency of the Islamic state
agenda, as well as the manner in which to pursue it—with the con-
tours of two broad camps forming. The ulama, who have led the party
since 1982, have generally championed the top-​down formation of
an Islamic state in Malaysia. This is evident in the party’s attempts
to implement Islamic law where it has held power, such as in the
states of Kelantan (since 1990) and Terengganu (1998–​2004), as dis-
cussed earlier. While these attempts faced legal and structural impedi-
ments due to Malaysia’s federal constitution, Islamic laws have been
drawn up for these states with a view to eventual implementation.35
Moreover, the ulama leadership has argued that the electoral swing to
opposition parties is indicative of greater sympathy for Islamic gov-
ernance. The Ulama Council declared to that effect: “The Malaysian
people today have high hopes for PAS toward the advancement of the
country. Moreover, many among them hope to see an Islamic state
and welfare state come into being that would guarantee peace and
prosperity to all Malaysians.”36
On the other hand, reformist technocrats and activists who mostly
flocked to the party during the height of the Malaysian reform move-
ment in the late 1990s have argued that, rather than forcing the imple-
mentation of sharia by way of political pronouncements and executive
decree, the formation of an Islamic state and introduction of sharia
should be the “natural outcome” of a gradual, bottom-​up Islamization
of Muslim society in Malaysia.37 These reformists stood at the fore-
front of PAS’s entry into the opposition coalition known as the People’s
Alliance, rationalizing the move as an outcome of ijtihad (independent
reasoning) and tajdid (intellectual renewal) toward the Quranic imper-
ative of al-​Wasatiyah (the middle path).38
However, while reformists saw this as part of wider “post-​Islamist”
trends that also encapsulated developments in the Middle East in 2011,
conservatives were less sanguine. Relations between the two factions
came to a head during internal elections of June 2015, when con-
servatives swept into all major leadership positions in the party and
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190 Countries

its youth wings. This prompted intense discussions within the reform-
ist faction about whether to split from PAS and create a new Islamist
party to continue the struggle as part of the opposition coalition, or
to remain within the party but under conservative leadership. As for
the conservatives, their victory in party elections was quickly followed
by the severing of ties with secular opposition allies in the Democratic
Action Party on grounds that the latter’s criticism of its sharia law
agenda was tantamount to interference in internal party matters and a
contravention of the alliance agreement.
Differences between conservatives and reformists over the means,
however, have had little impact on the ends. Indeed, even reformist
technocrats have been compelled under the weight of public scrutiny
and political pressure to concede that creating an Islamic state and
implementing Islamic legislation remains the party’s ultimate goal,
albeit a long-​term one. Rather, it is over the question of the prioritiza-
tion of the Islamic state goal vis-​à-​vis other more immediate political
objectives that one finds a greater degree of ambiguity. This is evident
from PAS’s track record in national elections, where the party’s popu-
larity has appeared to decline whenever it pushes an overt Islamic
agenda.39
Nevertheless, this does not imply that the electorate is any less keen
on Islamic strictures. After all, there is, as this chapter has argued, little
that differentiates between PAS and UMNO today insofar as an Islamic
agenda is concerned. Rather, as with the case of Indonesia, where there is
more than one Islamist party or program to choose from, Muslim elector-
ates tend to look at other aspects of political platforms as well. In Malaysia,
this includes issues of local and national governance and economic policy
that are pursued alongside the implementation of sharia. For PAS, there
is the further dimension of non-​Muslim support, which it actively seeks
out. Unlike Indonesia, the demographics in Malaysia are such that any
Islamist party with pretensions of coming to power must secure a measure
of non-​Muslim support. UMNO has done so via its non-​Muslim partners
in the National Front coalition. PAS’s challenge at any given moment is to
fine-​tune the tactical utility of promoting an Islamic state—​which endears
the party to the conservative Malay-​Muslim heartland—​without compro-
mising its fledgling popularity among non-​Muslims, who, while openly
opposed to discriminatory policies of the ruling party, are nevertheless
 19

Southeast Asia 191

afraid of the prospect of further implementation of Islamic legislation, in

particular the Islamic penal code.

Southeast Asia and Transnational Islamism

Muslim activists and Islamists in Southeast Asia have always been well
aware that they are part of a wider network of believers. They have
sought with varying degrees of success to build on these linkages to
strengthen their own mobilization at home. Much of this has involved
attempts on the part of Islamic organizations and parties to coordinate
efforts with coreligionists abroad to advocate for Muslim causes.
Within the region, student groups such as Himpunan Mahasiswa
Islam (Indonesia), ABIM (Malaysia), and the National University of
Singapore’s Muslim Society of Singapore often come together to facili-
tate informal networks of Islamic groups. An annual meeting of the
three groups is held on a rotational basis. These meetings are meant
to strengthen the ties between the three groups and enhance their
proselytizing among Muslims in the broader region. Some earlier lead-
ers of this network, such as Anwar Ibrahim, Ghani Shamsuddin, and
Nurcholish Majid, would go on to play major roles in their respective
countries. Members of PAS Youth and ABIM were also known to have
visited Indonesian Islamist leaders such as Mohamed Natsir, the former
Indonesian prime minister who led the Islamist Masyumi party in the
early to mid-​1950s.40 It was during one of these meetings that Natsir
advised future deputy prime minister-cum-opposition leader Anwar
Ibrahim to join PAS, but Ibrahim eventually joined UMNO.41
At the international level, Islamist parties and groups from
Southeast Asia frequently attempt to coordinate their efforts to
address Muslim causes.42 In 1988, PAS organized a major gather-
ing of Islamist organizations entitled the “International Gathering for
the Solidarity of Muslims,” which was attended by representatives of
Islamist groups from Pakistan, Egypt, Indonesia, Philippines, Iran,
Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, and Sudan.43 With the outbreak of the
1990 Gulf War, a group of Islamist parties including Pakistan’s Jamaat-
​e-​Islami, the Muslim Brotherhood, and PAS, and led by Turkish Islamist
leader and future prime minister Necmettin Erbakan, traveled to Europe
and the United States to lobby for a resolution to the conflict. Of note
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192 Countries

was what came out of these efforts—​the creation of the International

Gathering of Islamic Groups with a secretariat in Istanbul.44 PAS and
the PKS have been important members of this body. Throughout the
1990s, it tackled issues affecting Muslims such as the conflict in Bosnia,
Kashmir, and Chechnya and generally articulated anti-Western and
anti-American positions.
Since the fall of the Suharto regime in Indonesia and after the
September 11 attacks and the ensuing war on terror, a second phase
of Islamic resurgence took shape in Southeast Asia. Unlike the first
wave where Muslim voters became more religiously attentive, the sec-
ond wave further politicized Muslim religiosity and brought to the fore
debates over the imposition of stricter Islamic laws and the need for an
Islamic state. At a global level, Muslims in Indonesia and Malaysia are
forging a greater sense of solidarity with their religious counterparts in
other parts of the world and becoming more attuned and responsive to
Islamic conflicts worldwide.
The September 11 attacks and their aftermath presented a diffi-
cult dilemma for Islamist parties in Southeast Asia. Officially, both
PAS and the PKS issued measured condemnations of the terrorist
attacks.45 Subsequent American actions in Afghanistan and Iraq were,
however, met with vocal condemnation. The situation was further
complicated by the discovery that the terrorist organization Jemaah
Islamiyah was comprised of some individuals who were sympathizers
of these parties. While certain PAS leaders urged their members to
fight alongside the Taliban,46 the former leader of the PKS, Hidayat
Nur Wahid, was more cautious and refrained from openly advocating
support.
Southeast Asian governments capitalized on the global fear of
Islamists to demonize Islamist opposition parties.47 In the case of PAS,
the immediate effect was its poor electoral performance in the 2004
elections where it lost the support of non-​Muslim Malaysians. In time,
however, Muslim voters grew increasingly disturbed by what they saw
as the disproportionate retaliation of the United States against the
Muslim world, with many coming to view the war against terror as a
war against Islam.48 This anti-​Americanism and anti-​Westernism con-
tinues to linger, spurred by the perceived double standards as exem-
plified in global reactions to the Charlie Hebdo affair, when Western
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Southeast Asia 193

leaders rallied in support of the principle of freedom of speech, a prin-

ciple which many Southeast Asian Muslims saw being used to deni-
grate their religion. Muslims in Southeast Asia increasingly came to see
themselves as members of an international community of grievance.
Islamists channeled this sense of frustration toward galvanizing sup-
port for Muslim causes and against Western hegemony. Needless to
say, this has been a significant factor in sustaining a steady stream of
support for Islamist parties and civil society groups.
The level of cooperation and coordination between Islamist groups
within the region and beyond in “defense of Islam” are further evi-
dent in two instances. In the wake of the American invasion of Iraq,
a number of Islamist parties convened in London to discuss potential
responses. This meeting included the Muslim Brotherhood (branches
from Egypt, Jordan, and Iraq), Jamaat-​e-​Islami (from Pakistan and
Bangladesh), Turkish Islamists as well as PAS and the PKS.49 The par-
ticipants agreed to organize a worldwide peaceful protest to take place
in March 2003. Each of the parties further agreed to pressure their
respective governments to boycott American and British products
and to organize humanitarian aid for the people of Iraq. Both PAS
and the PKS organized demonstrations in Malaysia and Indonesia,
respectively.
The second case in point is the Islamist reaction to the Israeli war
against Hizbollah in 2006. Islamist parties and groups in Southeast
Asia quickly moved to coordinate their efforts to provide assistance to
Hizbollah. On August 12, 2006, PAS organized the Southeast Asian
Islamic Organizations Roundtable Conference for Palestine and
Lebanon. Representatives of Islamist parties the world over, includ-
ing Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka, and Islamist groups from
Cambodia, Brunei, India, Indonesia, Thailand, Myanmar, and Malaysia
were in attendance.50 Even the Iranian government sent a senior cleric,
Ayatollah Ali Tashkiri. Hamas sent its leaders Khaled Meshal and
Khaleel Al Hayea as representatives.
In his opening speech, the moderator of the event Dato’ Yeop Adlan
Rose, former Malaysian deputy high commissioner to Singapore and a
member of PAS, condemned the atrocities committed by the Israelis.
He went on to blame the United States, the United Kingdom, and
other Western powers for their support of the Israeli state.51 He then
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194 Countries

went on to criticize the Organization of the Islamic Conference (OIC),

describing it as impotent, and called for the mobilization of the Muslim
ummah through a different global platform. All the subsequent speak-
ers reiterated this call for a new platform for Muslims.52 In so doing, the
Islamist groups in attendance were essentially presenting themselves,
through their newly established body, as an alternative to the OIC.
The second wave of Islamic revival also saw the emergence of new
Islamist players. One such group is Hizb ut-​Tahrir (HT), which defines
itself as an international political party seeking to implement sharia and
re-establish the Islamic caliphate. HT has chapters in over 40 countries
including Malaysia and Indonesia. The movement first found a foothold
in Southeast Asia in the late 1980s, but it was not until early 2000 that
the movement emerged openly in Indonesia and Malaysia. HT’s attrac-
tion for many Southeast Asian Muslims lies in its overtly anti-​Western
ideology. Unlike many of the Islamist parties that accept elements of
Western society such as democracy and capitalism, HT rejects these
ideas as un-​Islamic. What is further evident from close consideration
of Islamist participation in transnational networks is the existence of
something of an implicit hierarchy among Islamist movements world-
wide. Islamists in Malaysia and, to a lesser extent, Indonesia continue
to genuflect in the direction of Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood, at least for
inspiration. Conversely, attempts by Indonesian Muslim political lead-
ers to reach out to the Egyptian Brotherhood to share their experience
of democratization after military rule were met with polite disinterest.

The Challenge of the Islamic State

Authorities in Indonesia have confirmed that more than 150 Indonesians
have traveled to Syria and Iraq, while their Malaysian counterparts have
suggested that up to 70 Malaysians have gone to fight. It is likely that in
both cases, the actual numbers are significantly higher. The Singapore
government has also revealed that several of its nationals have made
their way there, while the Philippines has expressed concern that the
Islamic State could also recruit from among the Bangsamoro popula-
tions in their southern islands, although there is currently no evidence
of Filipino or Thai Muslims being involved. Indonesian and Malaysian
nationals have already been involved in martyrdom operations in Syria.
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Southeast Asia 195

When the Islamic State declared the formation of the caliphate on the
first day of Ramadan in June 2014, it was widely reported in Indonesia
and, in some small segments of the Muslim population, celebrated
through pledges of allegiance.53 In Malaysia, members of Muslim
political parties and civil society groups celebrated the martyrdom of a
Malaysian who died in Syria fighting alongside the Islamic State.54
Noticeably, the Islamic State appears to have gained some, albeit lim-
ited currency in certain quarters of Southeast Asia’s large Muslim demo-
graphic. This support derives from several factors. At an abstract theological
level, the Islamic State’s Southeast Asian sympathizers are cognizant of the
fact that its struggle resonates with several hadith concerning Bilad al-​
Sham (Greater Syria) that prophesied the creation of a Khilafah Minhajul
Nebuwah—an ideal caliphate many Muslims believe will emerge near the
end of times following the fall of dictators in the Arabian Peninsula, as well
as an eschatological struggle between the Imam Mahdi, or messiah, who
would be supported by forces raising black banners, as well as the Dajjal,
or antichrist. This millenarian perspective has been making its rounds in
discussions and local publications on the Syrian conflict in both Indonesia
and Malaysia.55
A second aspect of the group’s appeal is sectarian. The challenge of
the Islamic State is seen in some quarters as an extension of the Sunni–​
Shiite schism; to wit, the struggle against Bashar-​al Assad’s Alawite
regime is considered legitimate not just in Islamist circles, but more
broadly. Much in the same way, Islamic State militancy in Iraq is seen
as a consequence of Sunni grievance against the Shiite-​led government
of former prime minister Nouri al-​Maliki. These narratives have to be
understood in the context of tense Shiite–​Sunni relations in Southeast
Asia: Shiite Islam is banned in Malaysia and not widely accepted in
Indonesia.56 Finally, many Southeast Asian Muslims have been moti-
vated by the sheer magnitude of the humanitarian crisis in Syria to lend
support, principally in terms of financial contributions to Islamic chari-
ties purporting to be assisting Syrian victims of the conflict, although a
small number have also joined medical missions.
While the Islamic State has been embraced by several radical groups, it
has been rejected and virulently condemned by others. Jemaah Islamiyah,
the notorious terrorist organization responsible for several suicide bomb-
ings in Indonesia over the last decade and a half, has accused the Islamic
196

196 Countries

State of takfir (Muslims accusing coreligionists of being non-​Muslim)

and dismissed them as kharawij (heretics). Others, such as the conserva-
tive Majlis Mujahidin Indonesia (Indonesian Mujahidin Council), have
cast doubt over the Islamic State’s religious credibility, proclaiming that it
is an organization and not a caliphate, and hence has no legitimate claim
to the loyalty of Muslims. Furthermore, it pointed out that the process of
appointing Abu Bakr al-​Baghdadi as caliph violated Islamic law as it did
not take place before a religious Shura Council that represents the global
Islamic community.

The Arab Spring
The Arab uprisings were closely followed by Islamist parties in Southeast
Asia. Not without reason, it was in Indonesia that the protests of
the Arab Spring, especially in Egypt (and including the subsequent
coup), were predicted to resonate. Both Egypt and Indonesia have
large Muslim majorities and share similar strategic positions in their
respective regions as major powers; both had historically been ruled by
authoritarian military regimes; and both had a growing Muslim mid-
dle class, although it is debatable whether the size of Egypt’s middle
class was anywhere near what was created by the economic growth in
Indonesia under Suharto’s New Order regime, corruption and nepo-
tism notwithstanding. Both Indonesia and Egypt were also home to
significant Islamist undercurrents. In Egypt, the Muslim Brotherhood
managed to successfully penetrate society on such a scale that it could
emerge as the most viable party after the collapse of the Mubarak
regime. In Indonesia, Muslim activism was circumscribed during the
Suharto rule, but never eliminated. Indeed, it was the tarbiyah (Islamic
education) networks that sustained an Islamist discourse, which in
turn would generate the cadre-​ization of the PKS, catapulting it into
national prominence.
Given Indonesia’s democratization following the collapse of Suharto’s
regime in 1997—which ushered in a tempestuous few years of social
upheaval—it should be no surprise that the ouster of the Mubarak
regime and the Arab uprisings were widely embraced by Indonesia.
During this period, there was much talk about how Indonesia’s own
democratization experience could serve as a “model” for the reform
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Southeast Asia 197

processes underway in the Middle East. In hindsight, however, it

appears few Arab activists actually took these discussions seriously,
especially given the tendency, discussed earlier, for Arab Islamists to
disregard developments taking place elsewhere.57
To be fair, Egyptian Islamists faced a different dilemma after the
fall of Mubarak than Indonesian Islamists faced after Suharto’s fall.
The Brotherhood was strong enough to capture the presidency and
legislature if it wished (and it did). In Indonesia, no Islamist party
could do so. Indeed, such was the discrepancy that Indonesian Islamist
parties themselves such as the PKS looked to the success of Islamists
in Egypt and elsewhere as a source of inspiration to energize their own
struggle.58
In Malaysia, the Arab Spring quickly played into the hands of
an opposition that was engaged in major—and increasingly tense—
competition with the UMNO-​led incumbents. Under the leadership
of Anwar Ibrahim, who had since his student activism days culti-
vated close personal relations with Muslim Brotherhood members,
the Malaysian opposition coalition led by Ibrahim’s Keadilan party
(which included PAS) quickly called for a “Malaysian Spring,” draw-
ing comparisons between the ruling government in Malaysia and the
overthrown regimes in Egypt, Tunisia, and Libya. Demonstrations
were staged to express solidarity with their counterparts in the Arab
world, but these quickly shifted gear to become platforms for attacks
on the Malaysian regime. Opportunism aside, there was also an ele-
ment of coreligious affinity and cross-​fertilization, particularly among
PAS members, as well as members of the UMNO-​affiliated ulama,
who had always held the likes of Rached Ghannouchi (cofounder
of Ennahda in Tunisia) and the Brotherhood-​linked cleric Yusuf al-
Qaradawi in high regard.59
If the Arab Spring failed to deepen relations between Islamist par-
ties in the Middle East and Indonesia (and Malaysia), the military
coup in Egypt did prompt widespread condemnation in Southeast
Asia. Specifically, the coup was portrayed by conservatives in various
Islamist parties as a conspiracy between the United States and Israel to
remove the democratically elected Islamist leadership. In Malaysia, PAS
strongly opposed the anti-​Morsi coup, organizing large demonstrations
and using its publication, Harakah, to condemn the military’s actions.60
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198 Countries

The late Mursyidul ‘Am (spiritual guide) of PAS, Nik Aziz Nik Mat,
even lashed out at the Saudi regime for endorsing the Egyptian mili-
tary’s killing of civilians after the coup, opining that “the truth belongs
to God alone, not to the East and not to the West. Although the cus-
todian of the two holy places has been honored with this duty (to rule
over Makkah and Medina), it does not necessarily mean they hold the
key to the truth.”61
PAS reformists criticized the coup as a blatant contravention of
democratic principles and the will of the Egyptian people, the major-
ity of whom voted in Morsi. Notably, this view was also shared by the
Malaysian leadership, with Prime Minister Najib Razak openly criti-
cizing the coup. Meanwhile, in Indonesia, the Egyptian military was
widely disparaged for overthrowing Morsi. Given Indonesia’s own
historical experience with military regimes and political upheaval, it
was no surprise that criticism came not just from the Islamists, but
from across the political spectrum.62 As in Malaysia, several street
protests and demonstrations were organized by Indonesian civil soci-
ety groups against the coup, though nothing substantive or lasting
materialized.63

Conclusion
Despite PAS’s relatively strong showing in recent Malaysian elections
(especially in 1999 and 2008 but to a lesser extent in 2013) and the
general expectation that the PKS will improve its electoral standing in
future Indonesian elections, the likelihood of any Islamist party com-
ing to power in the region remains small. As the chapter stressed at the
outset, an increase in Islamic consciousness among the Muslim pop-
ulation in Southeast Asia does not necessarily translate into political
gains for Islamist parties on the national level. A good case in point
here is the Tablighi Jamaat. The Tablighi Jamaat, which is the largest
Islamic movement in the world in terms of sheer numbers, has played
an important role in catalyzing a revival of personal piety and adher-
ence to individual Islamic religious obligations in Southeast Asia. It has,
however, remained strictly apolitical, asserting the need to concentrate
on personal and individual reform. Adherence to the Tablighi Jamaat’s
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Southeast Asia 199

conservative beliefs in the social sphere is thus not necessarily indicative

of any political position or voting pattern.
There are, however, as noted earlier, parties and movements in
Southeast Asia that remain strongly committed to developing an Islamic
state. When analyzing the potential impact of these groups on the future
of Southeast Asia, it is important to remember that despite similari-
ties in rhetoric and objectives, no two Islamisms are alike. Islamic and
Islamist parties and movements have employed myriad methods rang-
ing from democratic participation to militancy. Islamist parties and the
methods they employ are constantly shaped by the sociopolitical con-
texts within which they operate, requiring analysts to be ever atten-
tive to local and regional particularities. For now, though, Southeast
Asian Islamists are for the most part in favor of gradual and incremen-
tal advancement of their goals through active participation in political
processes and the continued building of transnational networks. While
they cannot claim outright electoral victories nationally, they can point
to real tangible success in contributing to the “Islamization” of society
and even state bureaucracies, something that cannot necessarily be said
of many of their Arab counterparts.
20
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Engaging Islamists
20
 203

12
Q
Islamism and U.S. Foreign Policy
Peter Mandaville

On the face of it, the Arab uprisings of 2011 appeared to pose numer-
ous challenges to U.S. policy in the Middle East. First and foremost
among these was the demise of several regimes—​particularly Egypt,
Yemen, and Tunisia—​ whose leaders had been firmly aligned with
America’s strategic priorities in the region. And when it became clear
that the primary beneficiaries of the region’s new political realities
would be various Islamist parties and movements, Washington found
itself faced with another dilemma. Conventional wisdom suggested
that the United States had a deeply entrenched discomfort with such
groups. Some observers saw the United States as ideologically averse
to Islamism, whereas others traced this attitude to lingering fears in
Washington that even mainstream Islamists—​those who have chosen
to participate in the democratic process—​harbored agendas that ulti-
mately ran counter to U.S. security interests. In some cases, the United
States had been complicit in or, at the very least, had turned a blind eye
to efforts by its client regimes in the region to suppress and criminal-
ize Islamists. Thus, when these groups initially came to dominate the
transitional politics of the Arab world in 2011, Washington seemed to
face something of a predicament.
Several years on from these momentous events, the situation seems
to have reversed itself. Across the region, Islamist parties have been
toppled from power (Egypt), put on a political back foot (Tunisia), or

203
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204 Engaging Islamists

turned into deeply polarizing forces within society (Libya). How has
U.S. policy dealt with the phenomenal rise and equally dramatic fall of
mainstream Islamist actors from 2011 on? Is it possible to identify a shift
in U.S. policy toward these groups? Given recent developments, how
is Washington likely to approach the question of Islamist engagement
going forward?

The Myth of “One Man, One Vote, One Time”

To properly answer these questions, it is important to first have a general
sense of how political Islam has figured in U.S. foreign policy over the
last few decades. While we know from declassified State Department
cables that the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood was on the radar of the
U.S. government during the 1950s and 1960s, American foreign policy
granted no particular significance to these groups other than to won-
der whether their religious nature might make them useful partners in
checking the spread of socialism in the Third World.1
Political Islam did not become a discrete issue within U.S. foreign
policy until the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran. For many years, that
event shaped American understandings of Islamism even though the
revolutionary ideology behind it was not in line with the orientation of
most other Islamists and, indeed, was highly atypical even within Shiite
history and tradition. Meanwhile, during the 1980s the United States
aligned itself with the Afghan mujahideen in their struggle against Soviet
invasion because they were viewed through the lens of Cold War politics.
This led the United States to see the mujahideen primarily as a counter-
weight to Soviet expansionism, and to pay little attention to the politi-
cal and security vacuum created by the eventual Soviet withdrawal from
Afghanistan—​the very crucible that eventually gave rise to al-​Qaeda.
However, the event that set the tone for U.S. policy toward main-
stream Islamist movements and parties (of the Muslim Brotherhood ilk)
was undoubtedly the Algerian elections of 1991. When it became clear
that the Islamic Salvation Front (FIS) was poised to win the two-​thirds
parliamentary majority required to change the country’s constitution, the
Algerian military intervened to annul the elections. The ensuing political
conflict plunged Algeria into civil war for the better part of a decade. In
a speech on U.S. policy toward the Middle East delivered in the spring
 205

Islamism and U.S. Foreign Policy 205

of 1992, senior U.S. diplomat Edward Djerejian indicated that it was

prudent of the Algerian army to have prevented the FIS from coming to
power because Islamists reaching power through the ballot box would have
been a case of “one man, one vote, one time.” In other words, Islamists
would make instrumental use of democracy to capture the state, only to
subsequently dismantle the democratic system to ensure they could not
be removed from power. Ever since, the fear of a “one man, one vote,
one time” scenario has supposedly been the dictum governing U.S. policy
toward Islamists.2 At its core has been the belief—​or at least the strong
suspicion—​that the Islamist embrace of democratic ideals is likely a tacti-
cal shift in the service of a longer term totalitarian vision.

The Regional Roots of Islamist Policy

Islamist movements, for their part, were evolving rapidly with the times.
By the mid-​1990s, there were clear signs that these groups could no lon-
ger be understood by reference to the original vision of Islamist “found-
ing fathers”—​such as the Egyptian Hassan al-​Banna or Pakistan’s Abul
Ala Mawdudi—​who had been active in the first half of the 20th cen-
tury. In 1996, for example, a group of young leaders within the Egyptian
Muslim Brotherhood split from the movement and attempted to estab-
lish a separate political party, Hizb al-​Wasat (Party of the Center). They
complained about the Brotherhood’s conservative and intransigent lead-
ership and its inability to update its vision and agenda.
In addition to these clear generational and ideological differences
within Islamist groups, the trend toward Islamist participation in
democracy continued unabated. By the mid-​2000s, Islamist parties
had become fixtures in the mainstream politics of Morocco, Egypt,
Palestine, Lebanon, Jordan, Yemen, and Kuwait. In Turkey in 2002,
the Justice and Development Party (AKP), whose roots lay in Turkey’s
Islamist movement, won a landslide victory and has now been in power
for more than fourteen years.
During this same period, however, U.S. policy toward Islamists
remained very cautious. In 1995, Washington announced that it was
ceasing all contact with the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt. In the
years following 9/​11, some of the more influential voices shaping
views of political Islam in the United States were those—​such as Israel
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206 Engaging Islamists

and Egypt—​that wished to advance an understanding of Islamism

consistent with their domestic interests. By 2003, most Islamist par-
ties in the Arab world had decided to boycott the United States
in a gesture of protest at the American invasion of Iraq. In 2006,
the U.S. rejection of Hamas’ victory in the Palestinian legislative
elections seemed to confirm in the eyes of many the idea that the
United States was simply unwilling to do business with Islamists.
This interpretation of U.S. attitudes toward Islamism is far too sim-
plistic. Looked at from a different vantage point—​and augmented with
additional information—​those things that seem to suggest an ideologi-
cal aversion to Islamism on the part of the United States can be seen in
a different light.3
Take Washington’s apparent decision in the 1990s to cut off ties
with the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood. Speaking in 2005, the U.S.
Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice asserted that “we have not engaged
with the Muslim Brotherhood … and we won’t,” justifying this posi-
tion by reference to the group’s legal status in Egypt. Of course, the
U.S. government frequently engages all over the world with groups
deemed illegal by local governments and, in fact, low level outreach to
the Muslim Brotherhood continued even as Rice made this seemingly
categorical declaration. All of this suggests that the decision to stop talk-
ing to the Brotherhood a decade earlier had been the direct result of a
request from the Egyptian government rather than a deliberative policy
shift initiated in Washington. During that period, the Mubarak regime
had been looking for every opportunity to tarnish the reputation of a
movement it saw as a political threat by linking the Brotherhood in the
eyes of the public with terrorism (a preview, in other words, of the poli-
cies of President Abdel Fattah al-​Sissi). It hoped that an announcement
from Washington that the Brotherhood had been removed from its
list of local interlocutors would enhance this effect. In her announce-
ment, Condoleezza Rice justified the policy shift as a response to a
favor requested by a close and trusted ally of the United States. In other
words, the U.S. decision to cut off contact with the Brotherhood tells
us more about U.S.–​Egypt bilateral relations than it does about how
the U.S. viewed Islamist groups.4
Similarly, the uproar in Washington about the 2006 Hamas victory
is best understood as a function of U.S. concerns about Israel’s security
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Islamism and U.S. Foreign Policy 207

and the fact that a group officially designated as a terrorist group was
poised to take over the Palestinian Authority (PA)—​thereby making it
all but impossible under U.S. law for economic assistance to flow to the
Palestinian territories.
There are also other clues suggesting that U.S. policy toward Islamists
was more complicated than might first appear. For example, in a num-
ber of countries around the world—​including Indonesia and Yemen—​
Islamist parties participated in democracy training programs funded
by the United States Agency for International Development (USAID)
and the National Endowment for Democracy (NED) throughout the
late 1990s and 2000s. It is difficult to reach the conclusion that the
United States feared the rise of Islamists if U.S. government agencies
and American taxpayer dollars were actually helping these groups to
compete politically. Furthermore, over the course of the 2000s, it had
become routine for U.S. government officials to meet with representa-
tives of Islamist parties from the Middle East on the sideline of events
and conferences organized by prominent think tanks in Washington,
DC, such as the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, the
Project on Middle East Democracy (POMED), and the Center for the
Study of Islam and Democracy (CSID).

Revisiting Islamist Engagement

There were signs quite early in the Obama administration that the
United States recognized the need to re-​evaluate its stance on Islamist
groups. By late 2009, an informal working group on Islamism within
the State Department was looking at the issue and systematically cata-
loging U.S. diplomatic engagements with Islamists abroad. The latter
exercise revealed that American diplomats serving in countries where
Islamists were active actually had fairly regular contact with representa-
tives of these groups. There were of course a few notable exceptions,
such as Egypt, where blanket proscriptions against Islamist engagement
were in effect. But these were the exceptions rather than the rule.
In fact, there was no such thing as an overarching U.S. policy posi-
tion on Islamists. While custom dictated that these groups were gen-
erally not received in Washington, DC (if and when they could even
obtain visas to come to the United States) and while the United States
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208 Engaging Islamists

exhibited a clear preference for working with non-​Islamist segments of

civil society, it was not uncommon for diplomats serving in the politi-
cal section of U.S. embassies in the Middle East to meet from time
to time with Islamists. (Engagement with groups such as Hamas and
Hezbollah, officially designated by the U.S. government as terrorist
organizations, was—​and is—​regarded as a wholly separate matter.) In
net terms, the “limited contact” policy followed by the United States
during this period meant that Washington was not equipped to fully
understand, or try to shape, a segment of Arab political opinion and
activism that was clearly on the rise.
So by the time the Arab uprisings toppled regimes in Tunisia,
Egypt, and Libya in 2011, the United States had already been giving
some thought to the need for a new approach to Islamists, based in
part on a realization that these groups were now thoroughly part
of the political mainstream in many countries. In 2010, the U.S.
National Security Council began work on a Presidential Study
Directive focused on the question of what a push for genuine politi-
cal reform in the Middle East would look like—​including the nor-
malization of Islamists as political actors. The immediate challenge
after the revolutions of 2011 was therefore not one of figuring out
how to countenance the basic idea of increased engagement with
Islamists—​Obama administration officials had already come around
on that issue a couple of years prior to the uprisings—​but rather the
question of how, in practice, to implement a new engagement policy
and to identify an appropriate set of issues around which to build a
new outreach strategy.
The very particular geography of Arab transition made things tough
in this regard. In Egypt, the United States had had very little in the
way of meaningful contact with the Muslim Brotherhood for more
than 15 years. In Tunisia, Ennahda had been so heavily suppressed by
the Ben Ali regime that U.S. diplomats in that country never had any
opportunity to get to know them. The same went for Libya, where
Muammar Qaddafi had all but eliminated the Brotherhood as a force
in society. In sum, the United States suddenly found itself needing
to engage with Islamists in precisely the countries where it was least
equipped to do so.
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Islamism and U.S. Foreign Policy 209

The most straightforward way to characterize U.S. policy on Islamists

after the Arab uprisings is to say that Washington decided not to have
a specific and separate Islamist policy. There was a recognition within
the administration that the motivation and agenda of Islamists varied
considerably from country to country and that it was impossible—​and
unhelpful—​to treat all such movements and parties in the same fash-
ion. Having a policy toward Islamism, understood as a broad ideologi-
cal tradition, seemed unwise since U.S. policy is generally calibrated in
terms of American interests in specific countries. In much the same way
that the United States does not have a policy toward parties of the cen-
ter right, or green parties, it made little sense to have a specific policy
toward Islamism writ large.
As is clear from speeches given by Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and
Obama himself in the weeks and months following the Arab uprisings, the
United States sought to make clear that it wished to treat Islamists as noth-
ing more than one among many new political actors shaping the future of
Arab politics. It signaled areas of ongoing concern, however, by clarifying
that it was willing to work with all groups that renounce violence and
support the full and equal rights of all citizens, including women and
minorities. Privately, the United States also placed great emphasis on the
expectation that the Muslim Brotherhood would maintain its peace agree-
ment with Israel as a precondition for ongoing diplomatic cooperation.
When it came to the practicalities of engaging Islamists in 2011,
some cases were easier than others. Within a couple months of Ben
Ali’s ouster in Tunisia, for example, senior Ennahda leaders were vis-
iting Washington and securing relatively high-​level meetings at the
State Department. In Egypt, however, the magnitude of the sensitivi-
ties around the Muslim Brotherhood made things far more difficult.
One of the more complicated challenges here was actually a function of
American domestic politics. Many members of the U.S. Congress per-
ceived the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood as not dissimilar to Hamas.
Several prominent legislators raised questions about the administra-
tion’s intentions vis-​à-​vis the Brotherhood, with a few arguing that U.S.
economic assistance to Egypt should be curtailed if Islamists came to
power. In addition to managing these home-​front challenges, American
diplomats also had to race to keep up with a rapidly evolving political
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210 Engaging Islamists

situation in Egypt. As a firm reminder that engagement is in fact a

two-​way process, the Muslim Brotherhood was initially rather wary of
meeting with—​or officially acknowledging any meetings with—​the
U.S. government for fear of appearing too hasty and willing to do busi-
ness with a country it had criticized harshly for decades. Once it was
confident of its political dominance in Egypt toward the end of 2011,
however, the Brotherhood was only too happy to play up Washington’s
apparent embrace.

Normalizing Islamists
Arguably, the real test of U.S. policy toward the Egyptian Muslim
Brotherhood did not come until Mohamed Morsi assumed the presi-
dency in the summer of 2012. Up until that point, with the Supreme
Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) still running the country,
Washington felt confident that its long-​standing and trusted ally, the
Egyptian military, would serve as an ultimate guarantor of stability
regardless of whether Islamists were winning elections. Once the SCAF
was relieved of power in August 2012, however, Washington braced
itself for the worst. And it was alarmed by some early signs:  Morsi’s
first international trip would include China and Iran, raising fears in
Washington that the Brotherhood planned to reorient Egypt’s geostra-
tegic alignment away from the West.
The United States found itself pleasantly surprised, therefore, when
Morsi went on to offer a quite strident critique of Tehran’s role in
exacerbating Syrian violence. Then, in the autumn of 2012, when vio-
lence flared up in the Gaza Strip, Morsi played an instrumental role in
brokering Washington’s much-​hoped-​for ceasefire. This willingness to
help advance U.S. agendas in the region, coupled with the fact that the
Egyptian government maintained most other key aspects of security
cooperation with the United States, apparently convinced the White
House that the Muslim Brotherhood could be relied upon as a partner.
Indeed, it seems that the United States more or less reverted quite quickly
to a variant of its Egypt policy of the previous several decades: work with
and support whoever is in power in Cairo so long as U.S. strategic inter-
ests are protected. A corollary of this policy, of course, is the idea that
Washington is expected to refrain from harsh criticism of what happens
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Islamism and U.S. Foreign Policy 211

in the Egyptian domestic realm. And indeed, the United States said
and did relatively little about the various democracy and human rights
abuses that occurred under both the SCAF and Morsi—​not to mention
during the tenure of current president Abdel Fattah al-Sissi.
As Egyptian politics grew increasingly fraught and unstable in late
2012 and 2013, Washington, DC, along with several other European
governments, made various efforts to convince President Morsi to make
concessions to the opposition to stave off growing popular discontent.
Apparently confident that he had the situation under control and the
security apparatus under his thumb, Morsi refused to alter course.
When Defense Minister Abdel F ​ attah al-Sissi announced in July 2013
that he had assumed control of the government—​with Morsi under
arrest—​the United States expressed measured concern but stopped
short of labeling the events a coup to avoid jeopardizing ongoing mili-
tary aid and security cooperation.

U.S. Policy Towards Islamism After the 2013 Coup

After the military coup of 2013 in Egypt, Washington faced a conun-
drum. If it supported Sissi’s toppling of the country’s legitimately elected
president, it would appear to be going back on its strong commitment
in 2011 to take the cause of democracy seriously in the Arab world.
When Egypt’s security forces killed approximately 1,000 people pro-
testing the coup outside Cairo’s Rabaa al-​Adawiya mosque in August
2013, we saw the violent tip of a longer spear designed to systematically
eradicate the Muslim Brotherhood as a political actor and to recatego-
rize the group’s identity and activities under the mantle of “terrorism.”
Preoccupied by concerns with regional stability—​sectarian civil war in
Syria, increased violence in Libya and the Sinai, failing governance in
Iraq, ongoing concerns about Iran’s nuclear ambitions—​Washington
largely acquiesced in this campaign against the Brotherhood.
The question of the Muslim Brotherhood soon turned into the pivot
point of a regional geopolitical divide, with countries supportive of
Islamists (namely Turkey and Qatar) squaring off against a coalition
of nations (Egypt, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates) dedicated
to suppressing the Muslim Brotherhood. The rise of the Islamic State
complicated Washington’s calculus vis-​à-​vis the Brotherhood. The
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212 Engaging Islamists

United States has been loath to do anything that might offend those
countries—​Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Egypt—​on
whom it relies for countering the Islamic State and other extremist
groups.
What this means in practical terms is that since the summer of 2013,
U.S. engagement with the Muslim Brotherhood has been all but impos-
sible—​certainly within Egypt itself. Several key Brotherhood leaders
managed to leave Egypt before the height of the crackdown and to
take up exile in countries such as Turkey, Qatar, the United Kingdom,
Malaysia, and Sudan. Multiple and seemingly competing Muslim
Brotherhood “external offices” have been established outside Egypt,
with senior figures from different factions within the Brotherhood—​
such as former Minister of Planning and International Cooperation
Amr Darrag and Deputy General Guide Ibrahim al-​Munir—​seeking
to establish credentials and a power base among movement members
still residing in Egypt.
The Brotherhood also represents the dominant political force within
the diasporic Egyptian Revolutionary Council (ERC), established in the
wake of the 2013 coup. ERC members, who represent multiple political
and ideological orientations, began shuttling between Western capitals
to lobby against the new Sissi regime and, at least initially, to demand
the reinstatement of the Morsi presidency. While there were doubts as
to whether the ERC had any meaningful influence or support in Egypt,
some of its leaders obtained meetings in cities such as Brussels and
Washington, DC—​often invoking the ire of local Egyptian diplomats
and prompting angry recriminations from Cairo. In one particularly
notorious incident from early 2015, a Muslim Brotherhood member of
the ERC visiting Washington, DC, took a picture of himself making the
four-​fingered hand gesture that indicated solidarity with the victims of
the Rabaa killings in a government meeting room in front of the State
Department insignia. This photo was widely disseminated on social
media and generated a strong backlash from the Egyptian government,
which accused the United States of engaging with a terrorist group.
By the later part of 2015, there were indications that the ERC and
other exiled Brotherhood figures had softened their demands and taken
a more pragmatic measure of their circumstances. At the same time,
however, internal politics within the Brotherhood were heating up,
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Islamism and U.S. Foreign Policy 213

with multiple figures representing various factions claiming to speak on

behalf of the movement. Such fragmentation made the U.S. policy cal-
culus even more complex, since it was no longer clear whom the United
States should meet with even if it were willing and able to engage with
the Brotherhood.
Discussion of the Muslim Brotherhood in certain Western capitals since
2013 has taken on a broader significance. In 2014, the UK government
announced that it would be undertaking a review of the Brotherhood
with a specific focus on the question of whether the movement could be
linked to terrorism. This announcement immediately stirred controversy,
not least of all because it was widely rumored that London had been
strongly encouraged to undertake the review by governments in the Gulf
with major UK arms procurement contracts pending—​especially the
United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia. The UK Muslim Brotherhood
review dragged on into 2015. On multiple occasions it seemed that the
British government was on the verge of publicly releasing some of its
findings, only for such disclosures to be deferred amid ongoing diplo-
matic and domestic sensitivities. Perhaps as a sign of frustration with
apparent UK prevarication, the Emirati government in late 2014 issued a
new list of terrorist groups that contained the names of multiple UK-​and
U.S.-​based organizations, such as Islamic Relief Worldwide, the Council
on American-Islamic Relations, and the Cordoba Foundation, widely
viewed as mainstream—​prompting the United States to indicate that it
did not concur with the Emirati assessments.
Finally, in late 2015, the British government released a summary of
the key findings from its review. It stopped short of designating the
Brotherhood a terrorist organization, although it did find evidence that
figures in some of the Brotherhood’s transnational networks had likely
been involved in fundraising and other forms of material support to
groups such as Hamas. Separately, in early 2016, the UK Parliament
initiated a formal inquiry regarding the status of the Brotherhood in
British foreign policy, based in part on concerns about the motiva-
tions and approaches surrounding the government’s previous Muslim
Brotherhood review.
Since 2014, the U.S. government, at least prior to the election of
Donald Trump, said little about the Muslim Brotherhood except
to indicate, when asked, that it does not view the group as a terrorist
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214 Engaging Islamists

organization—​despite repeated entreaties from Cairo to designate the

Brotherhood as such. After the State Department photograph incident
referenced earlier, the U.S. government stopped meeting with represen-
tatives of the ERC or the Muslim Brotherhood in Washington, DC.
In what appeared to be a convergence between the political right and
Egyptian government lobbying, several members of the U.S. Congress in
late 2015 introduced legislation in both houses designed to force the State
Department to issue a finding on whether the Brotherhood merited des-
ignation as a Foreign Terrorist Organization (FTO). While the legislation
was approved in committee on a party line vote, it did not come up for a
full vote before the congressional session expired. After Donald Trump’s
victory in the 2016 U.S. presidential election, some of his advisors began
to suggest that designation of the Brotherhood would be a priority for
the new administration. In January 2017 the previous legislation was re-
introduced in congress, while the White House appeared to be consider-
ing moving forward with its own executive action on the issue.

Nonviolent Islamism in the Context of Islamic State

Since 2014, the Muslim Brotherhood along with various democracy and
human rights advocates have—​with good reason—​been urging the United
States to raise concerns with the Egyptian authorities regarding the judicial
process and the treatment of Brotherhood detainees. While there are signs
that Cairo has been responsive to lobbying on very specific and isolated
cases, there has been no broader shift in tack as a result of this pressure.
There is, however, another vantage point from which to view the ques-
tion of nonviolent political Islam in the present regional context—​and
one that would perhaps allow discussion of the Muslim Brotherhood to
proceed under a different heading. This requires backing out from the
domestic context of Egypt or any other single country, such as Jordan,
where governments have restricted the activities of nonviolent Islamists,
and to examine the question in its broader regional context. With the
rise of the Islamic State since 2014 and the adoption by certain govern-
ments of a narrative in which Islamism of any kind is tantamount to
terrorism, religiously inspired political activism has lacked any meaning-
ful channel of expression. This state of affairs has, in effect, handed to
the Islamic State and al-​Qaeda a monopoly on Islamist politics. Young
 215

Islamism and U.S. Foreign Policy 215

people in Egypt and elsewhere who understand their political commit-

ments in Islamic terms are faced with a stark binary choice: silence or
militancy.
In the short to medium term, then, it may be possible to open up a
new kind of conversation about nonviolent Islamists with key regional
governments by framing it as part of a broader discussion of regional
security and the effort to defeat the Islamic State. It is unlikely that
the Egyptian authorities would welcome the Muslim Brotherhood back
into the political fold anytime soon, but that is not necessarily required.
If encouraged to open up a little more political space—​a message prob-
ably most effectively delivered by the likes of Riyadh or Abu Dhabi—​
the Egyptian government may shift or at least render more complex the
decision calculus of frustrated and disenfranchised citizens starting to
consider the extremist option.

Looking Ahead
As with so many aspects of its Middle East policy today, the United
States finds itself mired in contradictions when it comes to political
Islam. On the one hand, engagement with the Muslim Brotherhood in
Egypt seems utterly out of the question, while on the other, Washington
enjoys fairly normal relations with similar Islamist groups and parties
in countries such as Tunisia, Morocco, and Kuwait. Viewed in another
way, this apparent schizophrenia is actually evidence of a certain level
of policy consistency:  the idea that the United States approaches its
engagement with such groups based on its country-​specific interests
and prevailing political circumstances. Seen in this light, it is not at
all strange that the United States should be comfortable doing busi-
ness with Islamists in countries where they are a normalized part of the
political landscape and where doing so does not jeopardize U.S. interests.
While the political setbacks suffered by Islamists in 2013 and 2014
may provide the United States with a temporary reprieve from the chal-
lenge of dealing with mainstream Islamists in the hard case of Egypt,
this is clearly an issue that Washington will ultimately have to con-
front. The Egyptian security apparatus cannot eradicate the Muslim
Brotherhood as a force in society, and it is likely that at some point the
government in Cairo will have to renegotiate the return of Islamists to
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216 Engaging Islamists

public life (as they did in the 1970s). Even after the coup of 2013, opin-
ion polls conducted by the Pew Research Center seem to suggest that
the Muslim Brotherhood is still viewed favorably by a significant por-
tion of the Egyptian public.5 Although it is clear that many Islamists
have yet to embrace a full conception of political pluralism, they are
hardly distinctive in that regard when one looks at other countries in
the region that enjoy strong support from the United States.
Two apparent trends seem likely to make this an even more pointed
and challenging question in the years ahead. First, the ongoing frag-
mentation and factionalization within the Egyptian Brotherhood
holds some real risk of seeing some elements adopt a more directly
confrontational and potentially even violent orientation. At the
same time, Islamists elsewhere in the region—​such as in Tunisia and
Jordan—​seem to be going in the other direction as they increas-
ingly accommodate themselves to formally secular political systems
or circumstances in which their political agency is severely circum-
scribed. In 2016, Ennahda member of parliament Saida Ounissi (in
an earlier version of her chapter in this volume6) and then Ennahda
leader Rached Ghannouchi went so far as to question whether the
label “Islamist” was even an appropriate way to describe the platform
and agenda of parties such as their own. Amr Darrag of the Egyptian
Muslim Brotherhood has also sought to initiate a debate within the
organization about the appropriate relationship between religious and
partisan activities, arguing that these two realms should be separate
and that Brotherhood members should be free to start, join, or vote
for multiple political parties.
While it is clear that the ongoing struggle in the region to define
the meaning and nature of Islamism—​or to transcend the standard
model of political Islam altogether—​will continue to complicate U.S.
policy calculations in the years ahead, the crux of the matter still comes
down to certain fundamental questions that Washington has already
begun to broach. In a speech given by then Secretary of State Hillary
Clinton in 2011, the United States openly recognized that it would be
impossible to have enduring stability and security in the Arab world
in the absence of democracy. Of course, it remains to be seen whether
this kind of thinking has any place in the foreign policy discourse of
Donald Trump, with early signs suggesting otherwise. Ultimately, U.S.
 217

Islamism and U.S. Foreign Policy 217

policy toward Islamism must be a function of a broader strategic insight

regarding the necessary democratic foundations of regional security.
The coming of genuine democracy to the Middle East will necessarily
involve the participation of Islamists. The United States does not have
to support their policies or values, but it does, for the sake of long-​term
stability, need to pay careful attention to the quality of the political
processes that bring them to—​and remove them from—​power.
218

13
Q
Politics or Piety? Why the Muslim Brotherhood
Engages in Social Service Provision
Amr Darrag, Freedom and Justice Party Leader,
in Conversation with Steven Brooke

Amr Darrag
Steven Brooke, in chapter 1, provides an informative and well-​researched
overview of the current Egyptian regime crackdown on social service
and educational organizations perceived as affiliated with, or in a posi-
tion to raise the profile of, the Muslim Brotherhood. His examination
seems intended to explore three distinct questions: first, whether the
social movement (haraka) or the political party (hizb) is to be privileged
by the Brotherhood in the future; second, whether the appeal of the
Brotherhood’s approach will diminish in favor of the Salafist-​jihadist
model; and a third, albeit related, question of whether the crackdown
on the movement’s social service networks will increase the potential
for violence.
I concur with the factual elements of Brooke’s account and I agree
with him that this lens provides a unique and much-​needed frame-
work through which to consider these important questions. Yes,
the closure of space for social services—​when coupled with the clo-
sure of so many other avenues of life in Egypt—​could possibly lead
to extremism on the part of some. Yes, I too hear many murmurs

218
 219

Amr Darrag 219

among younger Egyptians about the appeal of a confrontational,

radical approach, and again, yes, we need to think more seriously
about the relationship between a revivalist religious and social
movement that is the Brotherhood and the question of politi-
cal participation in a nonrepressive, truly representative political
environment.
And whereas I do not disagree with the specific representations
in the chapter, I disagree with some of the overall framing. In effect,
Brooke conveys the sense that individuals choose an ideological
stance and a course of action largely because of extrinsic, rather than
intrinsic, factors. In other words, the author seems to argue that how
individuals behave in the face of regime repression stems more from
the avenues the regime leaves open rather than their own assessment
of right and wrong. Furthermore, the author appears to posit that
the primary motive for the Brotherhood’s provision of social and
educational services is also extrinsic. Brooke does acknowledge that
“services were provided continuously and without the discrimina-
tion, ideological litmus tests, or checks on political allegiance that
we might expect to see if they were operated by a typical political
machine.” Elsewhere, though, he makes a fairly large logical leap to
suggest that this is because “the Brotherhood overwhelmingly viewed
social services as would a political party, in the sense that they were a
way to reach out to and mobilize voters.”1 The author also cites the
Brotherhood’s long history of registering its social service and educa-
tional institutions with various governmental bodies as support for
the contention that the Brotherhood deliberately operated within
regime rules.

Service, Belonging, and Polity

This narrative represents one of the most important areas of contention

between members of Islamic movements and those who study them,
and if readers are to understand Islamic movements, they must bear
the following in mind. The Brotherhood is fundamentally an Islamic
social movement, not just a political one, and it teaches its members to
view the value of service, first and foremost, through a religious lens.
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220 Engaging Islamists

Service builds character. Service is a form of charity that is obligatory on

those who can provide it and is diminished by reward, praise, or other
forms of recognition. Finally, and this is an aspect central to founder
Hassan al-​Banna’s message and is a defining feature of the contempo-
rary Muslim Brotherhood: Service to compatriots is an act of building
our country and serving our people. Service reinforces the notion that
these unrepresentative, corrupt, authoritarian, nepotistic regimes are
but a transient, unnatural imposition on the fabric of society rather
than having any permanence.
Furthermore, Islamic movements like the Brotherhood are inter-
ested in preserving structures like the nation-​state. Some Salafi and
many jihadist groups (not my preferred terminology) do not share this
perspective. They do not see the people of their countries as their peo-
ple. They are quick to engage in the ultimate act of delegitimization
(takfir). They do not see current nation-​states as their countries and
hence it’s easy for them to decide to dismantle what is already there and
set up what they envision as parallel countries. They decry and belittle
the Brotherhood’s recognition of the nation-​state, and they claim to
seek what they believe to be the only legitimate form of community in
Islam—a transnational caliphate. The Muslim Brotherhood and others
hold the view that Islam respects and encourages ever-​widening circles
of allegiance, attachment, and belonging. The smallest of those units
is the family, toward which one has clear obligations, and the largest
of those is humanity as a whole, passing through smaller units such as
neighborhoods, clans, and tribes if applicable, then communities and
nations, and then the transnational.
The fundamental basis for this progressive unity is not religious
or ideological, but rather geographic. Support for this position exists
throughout the trajectory of Muslim theology, history, and political
thought, starting with the personal and societal emphasis on obli-
gations to neighbors (irrespective of their faith). These obligations
are then expanded through the Constitution of Medina (establishing
mutually beneficial relations between Prophet Mohamed—​peace be
upon him—​and the original inhabitants of Medina), and then we see
contemporary articulations of citizenship, which are quite compat-
ible with the Constitution of Medina (e.g. from religious thinkers
 21

Amr Darrag 221

like Ennahda’s Rached Ghannouchi,2 Essam Teleema of al-​Azhar,

and others).3
The caliphate in Banna’s conception can exist because cohesion exists
across far smaller units not independent of, or irrelevant to, it. Banna’s
articulation of his understanding of the caliphate was very brief. He pos-
its that the caliphate is the articulation of broad-​based unity and affirms
that the Muslim Brotherhood seeks to re-​establish a caliphate. But he also
asserts that there are many prerequisite steps before a caliphate can begin
to be a realistic notion, such as cultural, economic, and social integra-
tion, as well as the evolution of treaties that define and enshrine mutual
cooperation leading to an entity resembling a Muslim league of nations
(the model of the European Union is probably closest to this concept).
Throughout its history, the Muslim Brotherhood has supported the pro-
gressive unity mentioned earlier and avenues for greater cooperation
among all nations, according to principles of mutual respect.
There is, of course, much hand-​wringing over the idea of the caliph-
ate from some Western politicians and writers who cast it as a byword
for everything that is to be feared about Islam and Muslims. Some
concerns are credible and require further examination, for example reli-
gious freedoms and equality, while some other concerns are merely an
extension of viewing Muslims as an exotic “other.” We should ask why
“states” desiring a “more perfect union” or European countries working
toward “an ever greater union” are seen as both natural and laudable,
but Muslim nations working toward the same are viewed with suspi-
cion, requiring endless justification.

Service, Utility, and Violence

The inability of many analysts to understand a spiritual, faith-​based

motivation for the choices Islamists make, individually and collec-
tively, represents a barrier to understanding the nature of “political
Islam.” The narrative of service provision as a pathway to power cannot
explain the resilience of social service provision over decades of repres-
sion and restriction. From 1977, when the Islamic Medical Association
was founded, to the eve of the January 25, 2011 revolution, there was
never a point in Egypt where it was even remotely conceivable that
Islamists would gain a sliver of political power, let alone a fair measure
2

222 Engaging Islamists

of it. Furthermore, in the context of the authoritarian nature of Egypt’s

governments, any such “gains” were always at the mercy of arbitrary
repression by the regime. The regime was willing to, and did, impede
service delivery by the Muslim Brotherhood throughout the 1980s,
1990s, and 2000s, and at no point during this period was a path to
political liberalization becoming clearer as a result of the Brotherhood’s
engagement with society.
The passage of time perhaps obscures the fact that the regime was
intent on crippling the Brotherhood through any number of mea-
sures. Brotherhood members were subjected to military trials, youth
members were routinely apprehended, torture regularly employed, and
all means of public participation progressively closed through the so-​
called siyasat tagfeef al-​manabe (roughly translated as the policy of dry-
ing out resources and avenues of activity). A key difference between
the Mubarak and Sissi regimes is that the former feared international
opprobrium while the latter believes, and for very good reason, that the
international community, specifically the United States, will acquiese
to, or even support, massive repression. Yet under President Anwar al-​
Sadat and then Mubarak, service provision continued, expanded, and
became entrenched. I fully realize that many analysts and readers have
difficulty abandoning utility-​based interpretations in favor of intrinsic,
faith-​based motivations, and this is a barrier that should be explicitly
acknowledged. And it is because of this—​because many of our actions
are not the most expedient or the most utilitarian, but rather are princi-
pled and faith-based—​that the movement continues to have adherents.
And it is also precisely for this reason that violent, radical approaches
will continue to have limited appeal among Brotherhood members
and supporters. (In other words, it is very unlikely that those faith-
fully committed to serving their societies, irrespective of differences in
faith or political trends, could turn to destroying those same societies
through engaging in violence or terrorism.)
To be a bit more thorough, let me further contextualize utility-​based
interpretations of the Muslim Brotherhood’s behavior. There is no
doubt that Muslims are obligated to think, to reflect, and to employ
the best means to bringing about their desired ends. Accordingly, indi-
vidual and group actions are not irrational or detached from consider-
ations like the likelihood of success. However, it is the framework for
 23

Amr Darrag 223

understanding “rational” choices that seems to be misunderstood. For

the Muslim Brotherhood, the primary drivers are moral and religious.
The ends are multilayered. Service delivery in the form of food aid,
accessible education, or healthcare serves multiple objectives: It helps
people in need; it brings with it a spiritual return for the individuals
involved in providing assistance; and it improves society. If the result of
Brotherhood-​led service provision is that the regime is pushed to engage
in further service delivery and improves its responsiveness to people’s
needs, then this is a success. If such improvements are sustained and
institutionalized, this is a further success, and so on. If service provision
fails to improve our popularity, this does not lead to a “reassessment” of
the utility of service provision as a primary, core mission of the Muslim
Brotherhood.
The Brotherhood’s reach in the mid-​1940s in terms of social service
provision and popularity was impressive. The repression that followed in
the 1950s and 1960s occurred with a fair measure of popular support for
the regime of Gamal Abdul Nasser. A completely utilitarian approach
would have led to the conclusion that service provision is an unreliable
means of securing popular support. The Brotherhood did not reach that
conclusion, and this was deliberate. Indeed, other groups came to pre-
cisely that conclusion starting in the 1950s and continuing to the present
day. The chasm between the Muslim Brotherhood and these other groups
is the Brotherhood’s privileging of faith over utility while not discount-
ing the latter, where other groups, such as the Islamic State, privilege
utility over morality and faith while occasionally discounting the latter
in the name of the former.
Hence, while Steven Brooke’s analysis is excellent and insightful and
does add an important dimension to the conversation, it does not truly
reflect the mind of Islamists such as myself and others I know. Yes, ser-
vice is a form of outreach and a way for people to know the movement.
But no, being shut out of the space of service provision does not, in and
of itself, lead people to strike a path to violence or to question funda-
mental tenets of their mission and identity. There will be exceptions,
of course, but the norm will not be that. The fact that some individu-
als will feel that there is no avenue before them other than violence is
a reflection on the failure of repressive regimes and the international
reaction to them, rather than a reflection on the success or lack thereof
24

224 Engaging Islamists

of our own philosophy. So, while the use of violence is an important

phenomenon to study and reflect on, and while it may incur a very high
cost to society, what needs to be examined—​and what is more relevant
to understanding violence—​is why the international community sup-
ports and normalizes repressive, authoritarian regimes when the evident
result is the radicalization of their citizens.
But beyond this question of violence from within the ranks of
Islamists, a more concerning outcome of the regime’s appropriation of
social and educational services is the one outlined by the author in his
conclusions: As this nepotistic, corrupt regime that has little concern
for individuals’ welfare destroys the last remaining means of helping
Egyptians preserve a measure of dignity, the prospect for widespread
social action becomes more real. For example, labor disruptions have
intensified since the military coup.4 The full effect on the poor of the
abrupt cessation of subsidies in the context of financial corruption and
the lack of a social safety net has not yet been felt (and a major desta-
bilizing effect is yet to be seen following recent agreements with the
International Monetary Fund, coupled with unprecedented inflation
and the complete failure of the military regime to achieve any successes
in the economy). In short, the factors that can often lead to widespread
disruption and protest are increasing rather than decreasing.

Moving Forward

The aforementioned emphasis on the centrality of service to the world-

view of Islamists is not an attempt to absolve the Muslim Brotherhood
from errors over the past five years. It is important in this context to
highlight the fact that the Brotherhood is currently conducting an
extensive review of its practices, particularly over the last six years since
the January 25 revolution. This review extends to long-term strategy
and the overall conceptualization of the nature of the struggle between
civilians and military rule. One of the key elements under review is the
relationship between the Brotherhood, as a religious and social move-
ment, and the Freedom and Justice Party (FJP)—or any other future
Islamist political parties for that matter.5 Since the establishment of the
FJP, the intention was to establish a clear line of separation between the
two entities. In reality, that separation may not have been completed
as intended.
 25

Amr Darrag 225

As some have pointed out, the FJP leveraged the goodwill that
the Brotherhood had established and drew on the movement’s social
credit to gain legitimacy with voters. In retrospect, I believe that this
was a mistake, caused more by the unusual circumstances that Egypt
faced, rather than as a result of a deliberate strategy. Prior to 2011, few
Egyptians anticipated that the day would come when their fellow citi-
zens would finally take to the street to bring Mubarak down. The lever-
aging of the Muslim Brotherhood’s goodwill occurred because it was
the Brotherhood, not the FJP, that was party to the events of January
and February 2011, simply because the latter did not exist then. To
Egyptians, it was the Muslim Brotherhood, and not the FJP, that made
sacrifices for Egypt. And so, perhaps as a reflexive reaction to the ques-
tion “why should voters trust your stewardship of the economy, the
government, and so on,” the FJP leveraged the Brotherhood’s goodwill
and popularity. I say this not to justify the overlap, but rather in the
course of trying to critically examine the practices of the past.
Conversely, the Brotherhood was unable to completely let go of
the FJP, although the relationship evolved considerably over time. I
can say that the majority opinion within the Brotherhood today is to
totally disengage the movement from any partisan competitive work
when the space for political and social activity is restored. We believe
there is a need for a truly independent political party (or parties) with
strong grounding in an Islamic worldview that seeks to translate that
worldview into a living reality. That party will have to elaborate its
own platforms and positions; it will develop its own talents and cad-
res; and it will be free to assume a principled but pragmatic approach
to politics. There is also a need for some Islamists to engage in new
political parties together with non-Islamists, where more inclusive
platforms are established; to develop programs that would mobilize
wider spectra of Egyptians from different backgrounds to address the
chronic problems facing Egypt, particularly during any transitional
period after the end of the era of military rule. We also believe that
there is an ongoing need for an effort aimed at broad-based religious,
societal reform. If the Islamic movement as a whole is successful in
understanding and implementing both religious and political efforts
separately, then there would be no pressing need to connect social
work to any political agenda.
26

226 Engaging Islamists

One final point: We now understand the actions of the current

regime in a somewhat different light from a simple regime versus
opposition binary, with the Brotherhood represented in the latter. We
believe that the battle currently taking place in Egypt is one of a mili-
tarized, centralized authoritarian vision of Egypt, borne of the legacy
of Mohamed Ali (d. 1805), which conceptualized Egypt essentially as
a garrison to serve the army. The military establishment, as it is con-
figured today, continues to prioritize the interests of the military over
the interests of the nation and its citizens. There is a sardonic reflec-
tion, common among many Egyptians, on this relationship between
the army and the nation, to the effect that while other countries have
armies that serve them, our army has a country that serves it. As long
as this relationship persists, the Egyptian citizen will always be alien-
ated from the so-​called Egyptian state, at least as it is articulated by
army-​aligned nationalist politicians and “thinkers.” And so today we
are thinking about how to rebuild Egypt in a way that incorporates
effective local governance and the empowerment of civil society with
better national decision making. This transition will undoubtedly be
challenging since Egyptians have a long-​standing tradition of central-
ized authority. Nevertheless, this tradition has been under consider-
able stress for the past 50 years due to the ineffectiveness of the state,
largely due to rampant corruption and poor administration. A closer
examination of mechanisms for conflict resolution and the structure of
the informal and microeconomy—​and, importantly, an emphasis on
decentralization and local authority—​may yield valuable lessons for
reconfiguring Egyptian governance.

Steven Brooke Responds

In his response to my chapter for Rethinking Political Islam, Freedom
and Justice Party leader Amr Darrag raises a number of notewor-
thy issues. I will have to think more deeply about these points,
but at the moment it might be useful to elaborate on two things
in particular: first, what I see as the precise connection between
the Brotherhood’s social service provision and its political support,
and second, the dynamics of societal radicalization and violence in
today’s Middle East.
 27

Amr Darrag 227

As Darrag rightly notes, social service provision serves as a way for

members to express their own intrinsic commitment to their religion
and movement, to serve others, and to provide a practical example
of Islam’s relevance to daily life. In my own research, those involved
in the Brotherhood’s social services speak passionately about their
personal and religious commitment to their work. But social service
provision also has a more instrumental side: building, over time, a
mass of popular support for the organization’s ideas and goals, which
can then be transformed—​gradually—​into broader social and politi-
cal change.
As a researcher, I am particularly interested in going beyond intuitive
but vague statements about how social services won the Brotherhood
supporters and identifying more precisely the mechanisms behind this
process, particularly during the authoritarian rule of Hosni Mubarak.
One common answer is that the Brotherhood—​like political parties
everywhere—​used its social services as a type of clientelism. But Darrag
is right that this type of thinking was anathema to those involved in
the effort, and the evidence strongly supports his contention. And as
I wrote in my original working paper, there was no evidence of the
discrimination, ideological litmus tests, or linkage of services to voting
behavior that we might expect to find were these operations focused
baldly on winning elections.6 Of the millions of Egyptians who inter-
acted with and benefited from the Brotherhood’s services, some would
go on to become supporters of the group, and some would even vote
for the Brotherhood’s candidates because of it. But others would use
the services while remaining staunch Brotherhood opponents.
This leads to a somewhat paradoxical conclusion: if the Brotherhood
were using their social services simply to buy electoral support—​as
their critics frequently charged—​then they would have become indis-
tinguishable from the myriad other parties in Egypt that do precisely
this. Historically, I  would argue that the Brotherhood’s social ser-
vices were effective at generating social and political support precisely
because they were depoliticized, regular, and not linked to the electoral
calendar. The group provided high-​quality and compassionate care and,
in effect, let the work speak for itself. But we need to distinguish, at
least to some extent, between the organization’s social service provision
pre-​ and post-​2011.
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228 Engaging Islamists

In light of this, Darrag’s critique of some of the Brotherhood’s behav-

ior in the post-​Mubarak period, that “the FJP leveraged the goodwill
that the Brotherhood had established and drew on the movement’s social
credit to acquire legitimacy with voters,” is a key insight. I think that
allowing this overlap to occur—​which, as Darrag notes, was as much a
product of particular circumstances as a considered strategy—​reduced,
at least in the popular imagination, the Brotherhood’s social service
activism to a simple electoral logic. And I think this misstep actually
underscores the success of the Brotherhood’s prior depoliticized, soci-
ety-​focused approach as opposed to an electoral, state-​focused one. I
find it interesting that both Darrag and Brotherhood youth activist
Ammar Fayed’s contributions to this volume discuss a growing consen-
sus that, in the future, the Brotherhood must erect a firewall between
the political and social sides of the organization. It will be fascinating
to watch this debate play out theoretically and practically across the
Middle East over the next few years.
One of the benefits of Rethinking Political Islam is to identify how,
as the organizers of the project put it, “the subsequent ‘twin shocks’ of
the coup in Egypt and the emergence of the Islamic State are forcing a
rethinking of some of the basic assumptions of, and about, Islamist move-
ments.”7 A key question—​if not the key question—​is how these events
should prompt us to reconsider the relationship between Islamist groups
and violence. As Marc Lynch has written, many of the conclusions we
had reached about Islamists and violence prior to the Arab Spring rest
on factors and mechanisms that have since changed dramatically:

The Brotherhood as examined and studied in this literature over the

past several decades no longer really exists. The core characteristics
that defined the Brotherhood’s internal organization and strategic
environment, and which guided political science research about it,
no longer operate.8

I have no special insight into the current—​let alone the future—​trajec-

tory of the Brotherhood in regards to violence. I am skeptical that the
Brotherhood will up and abandon the gradualist approach that made
it so successful for so long, but I cannot rule it out. State repression
under Gamal Abdul Nasser radicalized and ultimately fractured the
 29

Amr Darrag 229

Brotherhood, and the efforts of Egypt’s new military rulers against the
Brotherhood are at least equal to Nasser’s predations. But even after
the Rabaa massacre, which Human Rights Watch called “killings …
on a scale unprecedented in Egypt,” the Muslim Brotherhood largely
defied expectations of violent radicalization and, as the political sociol-
ogist Neil Ketchley argues, “successfully consolidated their organization
to wage a national campaign of non-​violent protest.”9, 10
But I also think a more productive avenue of inquiry in light of
recent, and rapid, developments in the region is to ask: “How attrac-
tive is the Brotherhood as a model for organized religious activism?”
Before the Arab uprisings, and during the flurry of electoral competi-
tion that briefly followed, the Brotherhood dominated the news, and
the headlines often spoke of their political successes. But today I am
unsure what being a member of the Brotherhood in Egypt might offer
a young Muslim. One cannot get involved in politics, protest, or even
organize in civil society without incurring significant risks to life and
limb. In these conditions, many will simply become apolitical. Others
may find violence—what Brotherhood youth activist Ammar Fayed
calls the “dominant political language” of the region today—a more
attractive outlet.
More generally, Darrag’s essay helpfully reminds us that many of
the processes we discuss—​such as engaging in service provision, the
relationship between social and political change, or sorting out gradual
versus revolutionary activism—​occur among individuals with strong
beliefs about what is right and wrong. So while seeking to account for
the movements, regimes, and international alliances that are currently
reshaping the Middle East, we should not lose sight of individuals’ per-
sonal and often deeply felt commitments. This is why, as our research
techniques evolve to provide deeper understandings of political Islam,
we should always be ready to sit down and seriously listen to what
Islamists themselves have to say.
230

14
Q
Ennahda from Within: Islamists
or “Muslim Democrats”?
Sayida Ounissi, Ennahda Member of the Tunisian Parliament,
in Conversation with Monica Marks

Sayida Ounissi
Editor’s Note: A version of this chapter was originally published on the
website of the Brookings Institution in March 2016, before Ennahda
leader Rached Ghannouchi’s May announcement separating partisan
activities from religious outreach and rebranding the party as “Muslim
democratic.”

As an Ennahda member of parliament in Tunisia, I’ve always been inter-

ested in how we’re portrayed both by the academics who study us and by
the media. I’ve often felt a strong discrepancy between what we would read
about ourselves, as an Islamist party, and who and what we actually are.
In this piece, I would like to address some of the issues raised by
Monica Marks, Avi Spiegel, and Steven Brooke in their contributions to
Rethinking Political Islam. First is the very identity of Ennahda and why
it is important to further discuss the supposed Muslim Brotherhood
paternity of our movement. Second, I focus on what the failure of the
“legalist” approach means for the next generation of Egypt’s Muslim
Brotherhood and its consequences for the rest of the Arab world. This
also offers an occasion to reinterpret the real impact of the Egyptian
coup of July 3, 2013 on the Tunisian transition. Third, the last section

230
 231

Sayida Ounissi 231

rethinks how we label a party like Ennahda and asks whether “Muslim
democrat” might be a more accurate description of the party’s orienta-
tion, rather than the traditional designation of “Islamist.”

Ennahda: The Tunisian Muslim Brotherhood or Bourguiba’s

Illegitimate Child?

I think it is time to recognize that the traditional approach that links all
contemporary Islamic value-​based parties to the Muslim Brotherhood
as a sort of “parent company” has reached its limits, especially in light
of recent decisions taken by these parties. The founding context of
Ennahda is more complex than a tentative importation of Hassan
al-Banna’s ideology into Tunisia by Rached Ghannouchi. The very
nationally grounded trajectory of the founders of the Islamic Tendency
Movement (which later became Ennahda) says a lot about the charac-
teristics of the Tunisian Islamic movement.
Much can be gleaned in this regard by examining the intellectual and
religious origins of Tunisia’s Islamic movement. For instance, the two main
founders of Ennahda, Abdelfattah Mourou and Rached Ghannouchi,
were both graduates of Zaytouna University, the first Islamic university in
the Arab world. Founded in 737, it gained a reputation for being respon-
sive to the changing needs of society. Understanding this is significant,
as Abdelfattah Mourou’s spiritual father is Sheikh Hmed Ben Miled, a
Zaytounite, rather than someone like Sayyid Qutb, as many may errone-
ously assume. Ben Miled played a key role in Tunisia’s national libera-
tion movement. He was heavily engaged in the struggle for the modern
Tunisian state and a supporter of the state institutions that formed its
bedrock. There is a famous picture of Miled with a group of scholars
from Zaytouna in front of the parliamentary building taking part in leg-
islative consultations during President Habib Bourguiba’s regime.
In the movement’s early years, Ennahda’s religious circles were ori-
ented toward Sheikh Tahar Ben Achour’s teaching and legal judge-
ments. A president of Zaytouna University and adherent of the Maliki
school of jurisprudence, Ben Achour was one of the modern fathers of a
more rationalist approach toward Quranic exegesis (tafsir) that empha-
sized the importance of maqasid al-​sharia, in other words the objectives
or ends, rather than the means, of Islamic law. An arch-​enemy of the
traditionalists, he was pushed out of the university in 1960.
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232 Engaging Islamists

Many Ennahda leaders, such as Rached Ghannouchi himself, also

participated in the rehabilitation of the controversial scholar Tahar
Haddad against traditionalist pushback to his ideas. Haddad wrote
against the more conservative scholarly wings of Zaytouna in his book
Women in Sharia and Society. He also held politically progressive posi-
tions on trade unions and social welfare. These are just some of the
figures who shaped a distinctly Tunisian progressive and rational-
ist approach toward sacred texts, providing fertile ground for Habib
Bourguiba to proceed with the modernization of state law, especially
with regards to social and personal statutes.
My aim here is not to deny the influence of thinkers whose ideas trav-
eled beyond their borders, such as those of Hassan al-​Banna, or of the
supranational fora where Islamist parties gather, debate, and exchange
ideas, but rather to note that the impact of such factors is not as deci-
sive as one might think. That said, they were certainly important at the
intellectual level, and the plethora of Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood
publications were the main philosophical “food for thought” of the
Tunisian movement, which subsequently reinterpreted that literature
in the context of its own unique, local ideological environment.
It is my belief that the “Grand Soir” of Islamist movements is more a
post hoc construct rather than a real (and realizable) objective of political
actors who have, in reality, showed much more pragmatism than originally
prophesized. One could even go so far as to say that Ennahda’s founding
generation were the illegitimate children of Bourguiba, insofar as they sub-
scribed to the idea of a struggle for national independence, the necessity of
a social renaissance, and the importance of modern governance tools.
As Monica Marks notes in her chapter, Ennahda members consider
themselves different from the Muslim Brotherhood at both the ideo-
logical and political level. Despite this, after the 2011 revolution, there
is still the tendency among a range of analysts to consider Ennahda
as simply the Tunisian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood. This has
led to a misinterpretation of the path the party has taken since 2011.
Furthermore, in Ennahda’s case, being able to experiment with more
than four years of actual political governance has had more impact on
its identity and political discourse than decades of underground activity.
The approach and objective of integrating within the state is to
secure the presence of the party not only as a legal, “normal” entity but
also as a legitimate political force able to both develop public policies
 23

Sayida Ounissi 233

and implement them. To change things from outside of the system has
been an illusion that most political parties, Islamist or otherwise, no
longer believe in. The process of ownership is long and necessary. As for
Ennahda, this process began in 2011 with the party’s legalization and
its first experience in leading a coalition government with two secular
parties.
Many Islamist parties (like in the case of Morocco’s Justice and
Development Party, or PJD) are setting up a range of new activities and
strategies, demonstrating the sort of long-​term vision these organiza-
tions want to develop, far from the unpredictable counter-​reactions of
a system in transition.
During Brookings’ U.S.-​Islamic World Forum in Doha in June
2015, we had the opportunity to discuss and debate with other young
Islamist activists from across the Middle East (Egypt, Morocco,
Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Jordan), whether in power or in the
opposition.1 It brought out the local nuances of positions and pro-
posals in each country. Even if we aren’t always looking for examples
to follow from outside our own national contexts, other models can
be instructive as counterexamples and signposts to avoid pitfalls. But
some of these experiences can also inspire. For example, Ennahda, the
Turkish Justice and Development Party (AKP), and the Moroccan
PJD have accumulated significant experience in successful state-​driven
economic development.
I always find myself surprised when analysts express surprise at the
pragmatism of these parties. There seems to be an implicit expectation
that these groups will behave like secretive and archaic religious broth-
erhoods, even when the entire expressed purpose of these groups is to
govern and to participate in the shaping of public policy. For example,
Ennahda’s tazkiya process (whereby party members “vouch” for pro-
spective applicants) has been more or less transformed into a simple
nonbinding recommendation. Many other “management”-​type strate-
gies are being modernized as the separation process between the party
(hizb) and the movement (haraka) progresses.
It is time to look deeper at the professionalization of political par-
ties in the Middle East, especially those in transitional countries like
Tunisia. Within Ennahda, we consider the debates about the iden-
tity of the state and the relationship between religion and politics
(including the place of sharia in the hierarchy of norms) to have been
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234 Engaging Islamists

resolved during the constitutional process of 2011–​2014. The result-

ing constitution, one that Tunisians are quite proud of, is a text that
is unlikely to be significantly amended anytime soon, especially after
four years of charged and thorough debate around the document’s
provisions. In fact, political parties which were still campaigning on
these potentially divisive topics during the 2014 parliamentary elec-
tions were roundly defeated. Even Hamma Hammami, the candi-
date from the far left party, the Popular Front, found it necessary to
reassure voters that he was Muslim and that he loved the Prophet
Mohamed during a television interview without even having been
asked about it. Interestingly, Nidaa Tunis—​a party defined by its
anti-​Islamism—​relied heavily on religious rhetoric during the par-
liamentary and presidential campaigns despite its “secular” label. I
remember one of its young members, after an appearance in a debate
with us on France 24, telling me that French journalists should stop
calling them laique (supporting the separation of religion from poli-
tics) because they are not and do not want to be seen as such by
Tunisians.2
The maturity of parties like Ennahda is also apparent through the
sorts of subjects they raise in public debate. It is no longer a matter
of the relationship between Islam and state anymore, or traditionally
“Islamic” issues, but rather a commitment to finding solutions to
corruption, economic development, social issues, and human rights.

The Failure of the “Legalist” Approach and the Consequences

of the Egyptian Coup

The failure of the legalist approach of Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood

has had a significant impact on the way a young generation of Arabs,
regardless of their political preferences, see institutions and political sys-
tems. For the Islamists among them, it seemed that despite their efforts
to understand and play by the rules, they would never be accepted.
Decisive results at the ballot box could be contested. Elections were not
a genuine means to access power. Moreover, the brutality of military
repression is heightening feelings of defiance among Islamists toward
the state and its institutions. More than a military coup, the events in
Egypt represent a major missed opportunity to reconcile a whole gen-
eration with the state.
 235

Sayida Ounissi 235

The risk of violent reaction from the younger generation cannot

be dismissed, though it is worth noting that, since the coup, the pro-​
Brotherhood student organizations that are still demonstrating against
military oppression have been careful not to fall into the trap of using
violence. That said, there is a correlation between the military coup
and subsequent crackdown and the rise of the Islamic State and other
extremist groups in Egypt. Violence begets violence, and this infernal
cycle is nourished by dictatorship, whether based on military power,
secular ideology, or Islamic rhetoric. We shouldn’t be surprised by the
loss of credibility of much-​vaunted “universal values,” which weren’t
strong enough to protect democratic transitions, human rights, and
individual liberties in much of the Arab world. This failure has led to a
loss of faith in democracy as the way to manage a society or as a good
system for power sharing.
We usually read that the Egyptian coup essentially induced Ennahda’s
decision to step down and accept the handing over of power to a tech-
nocratic government whose main mission was to organize legislative
and presidential elections within a year’s time. This has often been
interpreted as a surrender on Ennahda’s part, with the ouster of the
Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt as a kind of turning point in Ennahda’s
thinking. I think this view doesn’t quite capture the full picture and
tends to forget a number of important things.
Initially, the start of the Tunisian political crisis in the summer of
2013 wasn’t triggered by the coup in Egypt but rather by the assassina-
tion of Mohamed Brahmi, a prominent leftist politician. This reignited
the country’s previous crisis of February 2013, following the assassina-
tion of the politician Chokri Belaid. Though the Egyptian coup may
have accelerated the process and reinforced the demands of the secular
opposition, the confrontation inside Tunisia preceded the removal of
Mohamed Morsi from power.
But, more generally, we need to go back to the very start of the
democratic transition in 2011 to better grasp how events unfolded.
Consider, for example, the attitude of Ennahda since the October
2011 elections, after which the party decided to share power with
two very ideologically different parties, the secular-liberal Congress
for the Republic (CPR) and the socialist Ettakatol. I consider this a
continuation of a process that started in 2005 with the 18 October
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236 Engaging Islamists

Collectif, when various parties from the opposition to President

Zine al-​Abidine Ben Ali decided to launch an inclusive dialogue
process to reach consensus on fundamental issues.
The conclusions of these discussions were published in a book,
which summarized areas of agreement on core concerns, such as the
civil character of the state, the nature of the regime, the importance
of civil liberties, and women’s rights.3 In other words, sharing power
and prioritizing dialogue over exclusivism was part of Ennahda’s
philosophy well before the Egyptian coup and even the uprisings
of 2011.
Since the start of the democratic transition, it was not unusual to
hear Rached Ghannouchi speaking about the importance of making
the process as inclusive as possible, regardless of the political weight
of the various parties. This, he argued, was the best way to secure the
transition. A desire to minimize political resistance to democratization
by inviting the maximum number of political actors to participate
reflects a clear commitment on the part of Ennahda leaders. The polar-
izing nature of the lustration debate in 2013—​over whether or not
to bar old regime figures from electoral participation, which Monica
Marks discusses at length—​led us to further conclude that exclusion
couldn’t be the solution if we wanted to sustain the health and stabil-
ity of the transitional process. The Libyan and the Iraqi experiences
of lustration played an important role as counterexamples, helping
to convince Ennahda parliamentarians to vote against the proposed
electoral exclusion law to avoid a similar scenario. Given all of this, it
shouldn’t be surprising to see Ennahda calling for unity and inclusion.
As the head of a list of candidates in the parliamentary elections, I
campaigned on national unity, defending the proposal for a national
coalition government. To be sure, it required considerable time and
effort to explain to voters the necessity of bringing in as many politi-
cal forces as possible to support vital economic and social reforms. It
is not necessarily easy to campaign for the benefits of a complex and
unusual political balance.
These positions were taken in consultation with Ennahda’s
Shura Council after an intense internal debate. The negative tra-
jectory of the Libyan revolution, the deteriorating situation in
Iraq, and the internecine conflict in Syria ended up convincing
 237

Sayida Ounissi 237

the majority of Tunisians that lustration isn’t always a solution to

political crises.
Another thing to keep in mind is that the major threat at the time
was the dissolution of the Constituent Assembly and the exclusion of
Ennahda from the constitutional debate. Irrespective of anything else,
this could have derailed the entire democratic process. Ennahda, how-
ever, managed to secure the constitutional process by ensuring that the
constitution was finalized under the Ennahda-​led government of Ali
Laarayedh before handing over power to a temporary technocratic gov-
ernment. This, quite simply, was a success from our perspective. The
Egyptian scenario played the role of an a posteriori counterexample in
formulating Ennahda’s decisions.

The Meaning of Being a Muslim Democratic Party in the

21st Century

When Rached Ghannouchi first used the term “Muslim democratic,”

it was an effort to help the media understand the pitfalls of instantly
and unanimously labeling diverse political actors as “Islamists,” despite
their differences. Highlighting the parallel with Christian Democratic
parties in Europe, like Germany’s Christian Democratic Union,
seemed to be the easiest way to signify Ennahda as a political party
bringing together both democratic principles and religious values.
Many, both inside and outside of Ennahda, were initially surprised
by this new label and began to wonder what changes, if any, it implied
at the political level. The fact is we can no longer use a term so charged
with negative connotations when describing what we consider to be
one of the most positive phenomena taking place in the Muslim world
today. For the vast majority of Muslims, the Islamic State and its ilk are
those who misinterpret and abuse Islam and use religion as a marketing
tool for unspeakable, inhumane acts and for a brutal war for territory
with no end. We believe we have a critical role to play in countering
the Islamic State. The Islamic scholars Ennahda members consider as
references are serious and legitimate sources of religious interpretation
when it comes to positions on violence, barbarity, the modern state,
civil liberties, and the objectives (maqasid) of sharia.
It would be a waste of time and energy for us to take up the task of
constantly distancing ourselves from a violent and dangerous ideology
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238 Engaging Islamists

that is precisely the sort of model we are fighting against. No one, for
instance, would seriously link the French socialist president François
Hollande with Georges Cipriani, the historic leader of the terrorist
group Action Directe, despite both of them hailing from political
groups that claim inspiration from the same ideology. We, unfortu-
nately, are not afforded the same treatment and must therefore make
our differences from the Islamic State and other extremists clear to all.
In a nutshell, “Muslim democrat” is the most accurate term to
describe what Ennahda has been trying to accomplish since the begin-
ning: reconciling Islam and democracy in the Arab world.

Monica Marks’s Response

Ennahda Member of Parliament Sayida Ounissi contributed a rich
reflection to this volume. Her remarks presaged key decisions taken
at Ennahda’s 10th Congress, held May 20–​23, 2016. Here, I’ll engage
briefly with just two of the fascinating themes Ounissi raised—​
Ennahda’s integration as a Tunisian national actor and relabeling as
“Muslim democrats”—​and connect those themes directly to Ennahda’s
recent congress.
Ounissi first confronts accusations, common among secularly ori-
ented Tunisians who have opposed Ennahda on ideological grounds,
that Ennahda was birthed in the Mashriq (Arab East) and lacks proper
Tunisian bona fides. Instead of representing the local branch of a shady
international Muslim Brotherhood cabal, though, Ounissi argues that
Ennahda has pursued a “very nationally grounded trajectory” since
its inception, guided by leading figures in Tunisia’s reformist and
Zaytounian schools of thought.
Ounissi’s emphasis on the “Tunisianness” of Ennahda’s intellectual
history formed an essential subtheme at Ennahda’s 10th Congress. In
his opening address on May 20, party president Rached Ghannouchi
claimed that Ennahda’s support for unity and national reconciliation
is not a safqa taht al-​tawila (under-​the-​table deal) but anchored in
Ennahda’s view of Tunisian history:

Ennahda is a force for unity and togetherness, not for separation and
division. So we see Khaireddine al-​Tunsi, Ahmed Bey, Moncef Bey,
 239

Sayida Ounissi 239

the late za’im [leader] Habib Bourguiba, Farhat Hachad, Abdelazziz

Thaalbi, Salah Ben Youssef, Sheikh Mohamed Tahar Ben Achour,
and Tahar Haddad, God’s mercy be upon them and others, as sym-
bols of our beloved nation.4

Ghannouchi asserted—​before a crowd of 13,000 nahdawis (Ennahda

members) and on national television—​an inclusive re-​remembering
of Tunisian history, one that embraced both former president Habib
Bourguiba (president from 1957 to 1987) and his archrival Salah Ben
Youssef, politicians whose struggle for control of the anticolonial move-
ment foreshadowed important class-​based and cultural rifts between
Tunisia’s interior and coast.
Despite the pride of place Bourguiba holds in Tunisia’s collective
memory, some Tunisians—​particularly those from interior, more reli-
gious, and more Arabophone backgrounds—​resent the favoritism he
showed Tunisia’s sahel (northern coastal) regions and steps he took to
weaken Tunisia’s traditional religious institutions. Ennahda support-
ers have historically been among such critics of Bourguiba, not least
because of the hostility with which Bourguiba approached Ennahda
and its leaders throughout much of the 1980s.5
In his 2014 campaign for president, Beji Caid Essebsi played both
on nostalgia for Bourguiba and historical tensions between Bourguiba
and Ennahda. Promising to restore haybat al-​dawla (state prestige)
by re-​empowering Tunisia’s traditional political class, Essebsi ran as a
present-​day incarnation of Bourguiba—​impersonating even his dress
and speech patterns. This fueled Ennahda supporters’ fears that Essebsi
represented a continuation of Tunisia’s autocratic past and intended
to crack down on conservative Tunisians’ freedom of expression and
association.
Yet, despite such antipathies, Ennahda’s 10th Congress asserted,
at least at the rhetorical and elite political levels, a historical recon-
ciliation with Bourguibism. In perhaps the most quotable part of
her reflection, Ounissi previewed this reconciliation, arguing one
could call Ennahda’s founding generation the “illegitimate chil-
dren of Bourguiba” insofar as they supported “national indepen-
dence, the necessity of a social renaissance, and modern governance
tools.”
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240 Engaging Islamists

Recasting Ennahda as Bourguiba’s long-​lost, prodigal child helps

the party rationalize post hoc its alliance with Nidaa Tunis and with
Beji Caid Essebsi, Bourguiba’s great admirer. Perhaps more impor-
tant, though, forging a shared understanding of Tunisian history—​
one in which Ennahda is understood to have been molded by some
of the same forces of Tunisian reformism that influenced prominent
anti-​Islamist actors—​forms a critical plank of Ennahda’s longer-​term
effort to legitimize itself as a normal Tunisian political actor. Against
depictions popularized under former dictator Zine el-​Abidine Ben Ali
(1987–​2011) that painted Ennahda as a retrograde group of Wahhabi-​
inspired criminals, the party is slowly but surely hitting back, wrap-
ping itself in the flag of Tunisian reformist intellectual history.
But, as Ounissi implies, this redoubled effort at Tunisifying Ennahda,
or uncovering its pre-​existing but long ignored Tunisianness, isn’t merely
tactical. It’s part of a broader nationalization of Ennahda’s thinking—
and in the thinking of Ikhwani (Muslim Brotherhood–​oriented) parties
across the region replacing larger international goals with an increas-
ing focus on limited, national goals. Though Ennahda still sees itself
as connected (albeit in a cousin-like way) to Morocco’s PJD, Egypt’s
Brotherhood, and Turkey’s AKP, it has come to see itself foremost as
an essentially Tunisian actor, focused on the nationally limited goal of
bringing pragmatic, Islam-​inspired good governance to the Tunisian
polity. Idealistic transnational aims—​crafting an ummah beyond the
Tunisian citizenry—​have become the province not of Ennahda, but of
Salafist groups.
Ounissi acknowledges it wasn’t always this way. The Egyptian Muslim
Brotherhood’s writings used to make up Ennahda’s “main philosophi-
cal food for thought.” Yet, even then, Ounissi stresses that Ennahda
members read and “re​interpreted that literature in the context of [their]
own unique, local ideological environment.” That’s true. It’s also true
that essential pieces of the Brotherhood canon—​for instance, the works
of Brotherhood founder Hassan al-​Banna and firebrand thinker Sayyid
Qutb—​simply aren’t as widely read or as resonant with nahdawis as
they used to be.
Many nahdawis instead cite the work of an Algerian scholar Malek
Bennabi as having a greater impact on Ennahda’s thinking than Qutb’s,
especially since the 1990s. Bennabi’s influence has come up many times
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Sayida Ounissi 241

in my interviews with Ennahda leaders and base-​level supporters, and

shows through in works written by Rached Ghannouchi in the 1990s.
The scholars Francesco Cavatorta and Fabio Merone highlight the influ-
ence of Bennabi and the Tunisian-​North African roots of Ennahda’s
intellectual heritage at some length in an article published in 2015. They
note that as Ennahda outgrew the Qutb-​inspired Ikhwani strand of
thought “a process of rediscovery of more local sources of ideological
commitment to Islamism was initiated.”6
That process, Cavatorta and Merone argue, has enabled Ennahda to
view Tunisian modernity and reformism as originating not with secular
symbols like Habib Bourguiba but from a deeper, shared history of
Islamic reformist thinkers. Locating reformism on Tunisian soil allows
the party to position itself as a natural product of Tunisia’s ecosystem
rather than a wave washed in from the Wahhabi Gulf.
Moreover, locating flexibility and reformism within the Islamic tra-
dition has allowed Ennahda to understand itself not just as a Tunisian
actor but as an authentically Islamist party, even as it has made compro-
mises that contravene traditional expectations of what an Islamist party
is and does (i.e., create an Islamic state and implement sharia).
Cavatorta and Merone correctly argue that Ennahda has, from its
point of view, “been able to fulfill the Islamic project by subscribing
to a political system that enshrines liberty and justice”—​principles
it sees as fulfilling the ultimate objectives of sharia.7 This squares
with internal conversations and justifications Ennahda developed
while making religious compromises—​ on sharia, blasphemy, and
more—​ throughout the 2012–​ 2014 constitutional drafting process.
For instance, Ennahda came to accept the idea that sharia should not
be mentioned in Tunisia’s new constitution because that constitution
upheld freedom, justice, and human dignity—​higher principles and
objectives of sharia that superseded the importance of mentioning the
word itself.8
Ennahda’s ability to rethink the meaning of Islamism was shaped
not only by tactical concerns but also by a long process of internal
reflection and dialogue that began well before Tunisia’s revolution, and
was—​as Ounissi notes—​presaged in cross-​ideological opposition talks
that saw Ennahda forge key agreements with secular parties during the
2000s.9
24

242 Engaging Islamists

On a related note, Ennahda’s recent relabeling as “Muslim democrats”

reflects less a transformational rupture in how the party views itself than
frustration with outsiders not understanding its supposedly true demo-
cratic nature. We can understand Ennahda’s relabeling as also connected
to this process of Tunisification. Through its rebranding, Ennahda hopes
to be identified not as outsider Ikhwani Islamists but as a national Muslim
democratic party sprung from the Tunisian soil—​the same reformist soil
that produced Abdelaziz Thaalbi, Habib Bourguiba, Tahar Hadad, and
other guiding lights of Tunisia’s self-​proclaimed modernists.
Interestingly, it should also be noted that those modernists—​chief
among them, leaders of Nidaa Tunis—​prefer not to be called almani-
yeen (secularists) for a very similar reason. The word “secular” in Tunisia
often transmits negative connotations—​ marking one a product of
European or even colonially imported ideas. Nidaa Tunis, aspiring
to position itself as a powerful, locally accepted actor on the Tunisian
scene, hence identified as “a modern party for a Muslim people,” using
the word “modernists” as a more palatable euphemism for “secularists.”
One could argue that Ennahda is taking a similar approach to the word
“Islamist,” swapping it for a more palatable label that avoids outsider
connotations and aligns it instead with the Tunisian center, a center
that both Ennahda and Nidaa Tunis understand to be Muslim, mod-
ern, and democratic—​though each of these are malleable, quite vague
terms that mean different things to different Tunisians (and hence pos-
sess the power to politically organize and inspire).
As Ounissi’s reflection indicates, adopting the term “Muslim demo-
crat” indicates less a shift in how nahdawis see themselves—​for they
have seen themselves as Muslim democrats for some time now—​than an
effort to help media and outside actors understand the party on its own
terms. Referencing common conflation of the term “Islamism” with the
Islamic State, she says: “It would be a waste of time and energy for us
to take up the task of constantly distancing ourselves from a violent
and dangerous ideology that is precisely the sort of model we are fight-
ing against.” At the end of the day, Ouinissi says, the term “Muslim
democrats” more usefully communicates the positive connotations
of what she claims Ennahda has been “trying to accomplish since the
beginning”—​namely, “reconciling Islam and democracy in the Arab
 243

Sayida Ounissi 243

world.” As I have discussed elsewhere, overblown statements regarding

Ennahda’s 10th Congress—​indicating that Ennahda completely sev-
ered the relationship between religion and politics, or that the phrase
“Muslim democrat” represents an about-face in how the party already
conceived itself—​are exactly that: overblown.10 A variety of rationales
rooted in Ennahda’s history—​in conjunction with a long process of
debate between and among Ennahda’s base and leadership—​helped
the party support the congress’s changes. In general, nahdawis see these
changes not as self-​contradictory or as a tactical form of taqiyya (reli-
giously sanctioned lying), but as consonant with the party’s history and
overall approach to Islamism—​or, as it would like its critics to see it,
Muslim democracy.11
In closing, the “Tunisianness” or “Tunisification” of Ennahda’s tra-
jectory should be of great interest to scholars. How did the influence
of both traditional and reformist Zaytouna thinkers, including Tahar
Ben Achour, shape Ennahda’s early halaqat (religious discussion cir-
cles) and philosophical orientation? Which nahdawis first sought to
rehabilitate more controversial reformist thinkers like famed Tunisian
women’s rights advocate Tahar Hadad, when, and why? How exactly
did Ennahda come to acquire the reputation—​shared among many
of its secularly oriented domestic critics—​of being a non-​Tunisian
movement oriented towards the Muslim Brotherhood or, even more
radically, to the rigidity of Gulf Wahhabism, and how much of that
reputation was fairly earned? How do we reconcile such critiques with
the reality that Ennahda boasts the broadest and deepest core constitu-
ency of any political party in Tunisia? Each of these questions would
make the topic of an excellent thesis, and they represent precisely the
sorts of questions that historians interested in Tunisian Islamism, or in
what we might call the “nationalization” of Islamist movements more
broadly, should be asking.
Ennahda’s 10th Congress and Ounissi’s contribution to this project,
which presaged it, offer fascinating windows into a moment of party
normalization and nationalization—​snapshots that importantly illumi-
nate, too, the ways Islamist movements, and confessional ​or ostracized
movements more broadly, seek to build legitimacy and cultivate trust
in transitioning democracies.
24

15
Q
Is the Crackdown on the Muslim Brotherhood
Pushing the Group Toward Violence?
Ammar Fayed, Muslim Brotherhood

Editor's Note: Ammar Fayed is a Muslim Brotherhood youth activist and

Istanbul-based researcher. This is translated from the original Arabic.

The military coup of July 2013 forced the Muslim Brotherhood to

retreat to a climate of secrecy after the group had spent just a year
working openly and in power. The authorities soon designated it as
a terrorist organization and banned around 1,200 of the civil institu-
tions affiliated with the group or its members, to say nothing of the
thousands killed and imprisoned. The Brotherhood was left with no
other option but to protest in a climate characterized by exclusion and
McCarthyism.
This chapter discusses the effect of this unprecedented security cam-
paign on the group’s ideology and its internal decision-​making processes.
This is an important topic to explore especially after the arrest of the
group’s most influential leaders and the prevailing state of uncertainty in
the region. Violence, whether from the state or from armed militias, has
become the dominant political language in the nations that experienced
Arab revolutions, with the possible exception of Tunisia (which itself has
not been spared from growing terrorist threats). Even so, I argue here
that the likelihood of the Muslim Brotherhood resorting to violence in
Egypt is less than what many observers believe. Much of this has to do
with the current structure of the organization and the model of thought

244
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Ammar Fayed 245

and culture that has governed it for decades. This, however, is not incon-
sistent with the increased possibilities that a not-​insignificant segment of
members and supporters will resort to responding to the state’s violence
with violence, whether on an individual, decentralized level or by join-
ing more violent groups such as Sinai Province or Al-​Murabiteen, or
even by joining the ongoing wars in Syria and Iraq.

The Social and the Political: Returning to the First

Founding
Since its formation, the Muslim Brotherhood has primarily been a
social movement, whose program depends on effecting social change
as a foundation and a condition for political change. Therefore, Hassan
al-​Banna was concerned with first changing and reforming the social
order before changing the political order, as changing the latter was
contingent upon reforming the former. As a result, attention was pri-
marily directed to the ummah rather than “the authority.”1
This is one of the fundamental issues that confronts any researcher
or historian writing about the Muslim Brotherhood. Certainly, Hassan
al-​Banna sought large-​scale political change and was not satisfied with
religious preaching and fighting against moral deviations within soci-
ety. However, political reform, from his point of view, was not possible
without changing the conditions of society itself, as he considered the
political system (the ruling authority) a natural result of the state of
society. Therefore, when he founded the Muslim Brotherhood in 1928,
his focus was solely on societal conditions and completely avoided any
political participation. The first internal by-​laws of the Brotherhood,
issued in 1930, state that the group is not involved in politics. Article
2 states that “this group shall not become involved in political affairs,
whatever they may be.” Article 15 emphasizes non-​ engagement in
political affairs during the group’s meetings. Even more notable is the
fact that Article 42, which sets the mechanism for amending the by-​
laws, completely forbids changing some of the articles, including the
aforementioned Article 2, which prohibits the group from engaging in
political work.2
With these regulations in mind, the goals of the organization are
limited to the social and moral sphere. This includes spreading Islamic
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246 Engaging Islamists

teachings, combating illiteracy, raising awareness on healthcare (espe-

cially in the villages), fighting the scourges of society such as drugs
and prostitution, and remedying economic crises through preaching
and guidance. Accordingly, the group’s activities centered on opening
schools, holding lectures, and establishing headquarters for the organi-
zation in the various provinces.
However, priorities changed. In the opening of the first issue of
al-​Natheer magazine in May 1938, Hassan al-​Banna declared:

Until now, brothers, you have not opposed any party or organization,
nor have you joined them … but today you will strongly oppose all
of them, in power and outside of it, if they do not acquiesce and
adopt the teachings of Islam as a model that they will abide by and
work for… . There shall be either loyalty or animosity.3

Banna was not especially clear in defining his next steps, and, as
a result, the reality of his vision—​and the best ways to achieve it—​
remain contested. Banna mobilized the masses to build a strong social
and religious base, and over the years, he began to mobilize this base
politically. This manifested itself in a number of ways, such as forming
groups within the military, judiciary, and police that were loyal to the
Brotherhood. Another example includes creating the Special Military
Apparatus in the 1940s, which was perceived as a possible threat to the
regime.
In Banna’s imagination, did the Brotherhood’s ultimate goal necessi-
tate political rule after gaining a broad societal mandate? In other words,
was building a wide social base merely a means to the end of gaining
political power? This may not be as far-​fetched as one might think, espe-
cially given that Hassan al-​Banna described the “stages of da’wa [reli-
gious education and preaching]” as first, defining the idea and spreading
it; second, selecting supporters and members to form a strong base for
the organization; and finally, “implementation,” a nebulous term that
has perplexed insiders and outsiders alike. Banna did not elaborate
on what he meant by “implementation.” Confusion abounds since he
firmly rejected political party work and was not enthusiastic about class
revolutions built on favoring one class over the other. However, he also
did not reject the idea of revolting against governments that did not
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Ammar Fayed 247

respond to the aspirations of the people. He affirmed that if construc-

tive criticism and advice to rulers did not lead to change, then other
viable options ranged from the active repudiation of the ruling authority
(khal’) to separating and disengaging from it (ib’ad).4
However, the group adopted Hassan al-​Banna’s discourse of social
change, rather than direct political change. This discourse stressed
that building a broad base that believed in Banna’s ideas was the only
path to building a political regime that would (eventually) implement
them. The Brotherhood’s rejection of revolutionary change was fur-
ther entrenched after its painful experience under Nasser. The organi-
zation was always ready to offer political concessions in exchange for
greater freedom to practice its social and religious activities, believing
this to be the investment needed to achieve any true political change.
Hassan al-​Banna himself reinforced this trend when he and 16 others
withdrew their candidacies for the 1942 parliamentary elections in
exchange for greater leeway in carrying out the group’s religious and
social work.
In 2004, the then General Guide Mohammed Mahdi Akef
announced that the Brotherhood was embarking on a new phase under
the banner of “Openness to Society.” Internally, this signaled a progres-
sion up the theoretical ladder of priorities set by Hassan al-​Banna (the
individual—​the family—​the society—​the state—​“mentorship” [ustad-
hiyya] of the world). This new phase was characterized by widespread
competitive political participation and unprecedented engagement in
the public sphere.
The limited emphasis on political activity inside the organization
is reflected in the structure of its central technical committees. The
committees are divided into the following: the Political Committee,
the Professionals Committee, the Workers Committee, the Students
Committee, the Sisters Committee, the Charity Committee, the
Committee for Spreading the Islamic Dawa, and the Cubs Committee
(for students who have not yet reached university). All of these com-
mittees, with the exception of the Political Committee, are concerned
with directly communicating religious and moral messages to different
segments of society. These committees did not adopt political messages
except perhaps during the periods of electoral campaigning, which the
group went through only a few times during the 30 years that preceded
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248 Engaging Islamists

the January 2011 revolution. These periods were always viewed within
the group as the exception rather than the rule.
Did this change after the revolution? Certainly. There is a growing
feeling that it’s futile to believe that broad societal change is necessary
before the ruling regime can be changed. Social change is a continu-
ous process that cannot be measured easily. In addition, the state’s
centralized ideological apparatus has the ability to manipulate mass
public opinion.5 In other words, the capability of any social organiza-
tion to mobilize the masses remains limited in the face of a powerful
state. The centralization of the modern state—​particularly in authori-
tarian regimes—​furthered its dominance of the public sphere, includ-
ing in education, media, and religious institutions. The Brotherhood
experienced this first-​hand during President Morsi’s rule. The group
found it difficult to compete with the official bureaucratic organs of
the government. For instance, Egypt’s gargantuan state-​owned media
was able to influence the Brotherhood’s own constituency, despite
having been exposed to the group’s political and religious messages
for years.
Despite this, it’s important to highlight that the revolution inspired a
renewed confidence in the viability of civil and nonviolent approaches
to confronting authoritarian systems of control. Historically, emergent
social and political organizations aiming to mobilize public opinion
against the regime would be easily squashed in their infancy.
But after the revolution, a growing number of Brotherhood mem-
bers, particularly youth activists, became convinced that achieving “rev-
olutionary” goals like regime change could not be achieved through
the comparatively feeble means of “gradual reform” suggested by the
movement’s founder. Banna was inspired by previous calls for Islamic
reform that predate the modern state, when state–​society relations were
based on completely different power dynamics.
Going forward, the Brotherhood is unlikely to set aside societal
reform to focus on capturing the state through political campaigning.
Rather, internal debates within the organization will lead to limiting
the group’s direct participation in political activity. The Brotherhood
is more likely to restore its fundamental role as a social and religious
reform movement, as I discuss in the following section.
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Ammar Fayed 249

The “Primary Group”
Hassan al-​Banna worked to promote the model of the “primary group,”6
a vanguard that would provide the emotional support needed to inte-
grate people into social and public life. The term “primary group” was
coined by the sociologist Charles Horton Cooley to refer to a group
characterized by intimate, face-​to-​face association, and cooperation.
This produces strong ties of loyalty and solidarity.7 This group, in the
context of the Muslim Brotherhood, was to become a mediator between
the individual and society. To maintain the nascent Brotherhood’s
cohesiveness, Banna’s model emphasized the building and fostering of
emotional and spiritual ties between members as much as it empha-
sized the role of social and economic ties.
Discussing the importance of spiritual bonds in the Brotherhood is
beyond the scope of this chapter. But it is important to highlight that
Hassan al-​Banna grew up among the ranks of the Sufi orders (specifi-
cally the Hasafi order). He gained insights on the importance of spiritual
ties in strengthening the structure of a social organization. Later, Banna
would develop this philosophy and place it within a more cohesive and
holistic model. Through the system of usras, or “families” of 5 to 10
members, he was able to strengthen the internal ties between individuals
in the organization. This is confirmed by Waheed Abdul Mageed, who
argues that, while Banna’s Sufi tendencies were not apparent later in his
life, they found new expression in the consciously cultivated spiritual
bonds built between members of the Brotherhood.8
The three pillars of the usra as outlined by Banna emphasize the
fraternal connections between members: getting to know one other
(ta’aruf), understanding one another (tafahum), and looking out for one
another (takaful). For decades, and to this very day, the Brotherhood
has featured teachings and practices concerned with deepening the
spiritual connection between members (rabita), including through cul-
tural programs that focus on Islamic concepts such as “brotherhood,”
“preferring others over the self,” “the love of God,” and so on. Another
example is that of the daily “Bonding Litany” (wird al-​rabita), a prayer
recited daily by Brotherhood members. The word wird in Arabic, trans-
lated here as “litany,” refers to a set combination of supplications, spe-
cific selections from the Quran, and other selected religious passages.
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250 Engaging Islamists

This litany is a fixed daily ritual in which the individual vows to pray for
his fellow Brothers, and to remember them and the spiritual connec-
tion that binds them together, even if he doesn’t know them by name.
Since its founding, the notion of “comprehensiveness” (shumuliya)
has also been an essential feature of the Brotherhood. The group’s adop-
tion of a comprehensive approach is reflected in its religious, educa-
tional, social, developmental, economic, and political activities. Hassan
al-​Banna envisioned Islam as a holistic system dealing with all aspects
of life, one that leaves little room for modern notions of the secular.
According to Banna, Islam’s comprehensive nature does not mean that
every aspiring Islamic organization must cater to all spheres of life. Yet
for his organization, Banna explicitly desired to structure it in a way
that would reflect this comprehensiveness.
This particular aspiration of the Brotherhood has generated quite
a lot of analysis and speculation. It is unlikely that the organization
will abandon its conviction that Islam is a comprehensive system. The
Brotherhood views Islam’s rulings and teachings as relevant to both
private and public life, as well as in the economic and political spheres.
But does the Brotherhood as an organization have to be comprehen-
sive? Modern life has become exceedingly complex. The increased
specialization of knowledge has only accelerated with the advent of
the modern state and its ability to mobilize unprecedented power and
resources. In short, is it better to be a jack of all trades yet a master of
none?
The Brotherhood’s brief experience of being in power and its sub-
sequent removal by military coup has served to strengthen the idea of
separating the Brotherhood’s role as a social institution from its role as
a political force. The two functions now operate in tension and even
opposition, and the Brotherhood’s traditional practice of grouping them
together has only served to weaken both. The notion of Islam as “com-
prehensive” can still be maintained as an ideal, while organizationally
one may choose to focus on certain aspects of this comprehensiveness
(such as social, religious, or cultural programming) and eschew others
(such as forming a political party or directly participating in elections).
In this way, the group would be able to effectively leverage a strong and
principled constituency to influence the political arena. In hindsight,
it appears that the Brotherhood’s direct participation in competitive
 251

Ammar Fayed 251

politics has done substantial damage to decades of social and religious

institution building.
Despite its problematic aspects, focusing on Islam’s “comprehensive-
ness” has made the Brotherhood’s activities quite diverse, providing it
a number of ways to connect with varied sectors of society and help-
ing it to maintain an impressive membership base. It was these myriad
factors acting in concert that carried the Brotherhood to power in the
2011 elections, and not its reputation as a trustworthy and experienced
political party, as is normally the case. Despite criticisms within the
Brotherhood of its political performance, the diversity of its areas of
focus and its intertwining of social, religious, and spiritual activities
have continued to motivate members to work toward the realization of
Hassan al-​Banna’s vision.

The State and the Organization: The Struggle over

the Brotherhood’s Social Base
During the Muslim Brotherhood’s second phase (from the mid-​1970s
until around 1987), the leadership introduced several core features,
such as increased centralization (to which a greater atmosphere of
secrecy was added, contrary to Hassan al-​Banna’s organization, which
worked as an official, known group). They also ratcheted up the
group’s activities in the political and economic spheres. Moreover,
they set to work on the construction of a broad network of social
institutions, including schools, service projects, charitable groups,
and hospitals.
These changes produced a complex institutional structure that
prioritized more direct engagement with society and lent itself to a
heightened focus on a more “comprehensive” organizational model as
described earlier. This produced both a strong interconnected organi-
zational structure and a wide social base that could be relied upon to
support the group during its intermittent conflict with the state in the
years of Mubarak’s rule.
The 2013 coup sought to eliminate these two sources of the group’s
power and resilience. Events first kicked off with an aggressive anti-​
Brotherhood media campaign, designed to impair the performance of
President Morsi and his government, isolate the Brotherhood from its
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252 Engaging Islamists

social base, and remove any excuse the general populace may have had to
maintain sympathies with the organization. By the end of June 2013, the
state succeeded in “factionalizing the Brotherhood”—portraying them
as fifth columnists separate from the rest of the population with self-​
serving goals. The message was clear, that the Brotherhood didn’t have
Egypt’s best interests at heart, only its own. This was followed by a rapa-
cious security campaign that continues to the present day. Many have
fled or otherwise gone into hiding, including most of the members of the
Guidance Bureau, around half of the Shura Council, those in charge of
the Brotherhood’s administrative offices in the provinces, and most lead-
ers of the Brotherhood’s Freedom and Justice Party.
The targeting of the Brotherhood’s social base required eliminat-
ing the group’s civil and economic organizations. The state officially
announced that the assets of 1,370 individuals had been confiscated,
along with the assets of 81 companies, including 19 currency-​exchange
companies. A total of 1,125 associations, 105 schools, and 43 hospitals
were confiscated, in addition to the Brotherhood’s medical associa-
tion, which has 27 branches, as well as the two branches of the Rabaa
Adawiya Association.9
A widespread campaign of arrests, resulting in the apprehension of
over 40,000 people, occurred alongside a vengeful security crackdown,
which included acts of torture, public killings, and sexual assault. All
these actions have made violent action easier for Brotherhood members
to countenance. Violence found easier justification in a regional con-
text beset by instability, civil war, and the success of fanatical Islamist
groups such as the Islamic State.

A Climate of Violence and Chaos

The armed Islamist group Ansar Bayt al-​Maqdis (ABM) strengthened
its influence in the Sinai after the military coup. In its calculus, the
collapse of Islamists’ gamble on democracy proved the impossibility
of change through normal politics. In short, it was a victory for those
advocating force as the only effective route to change. This small group
in the Sinai exploited events to press the need for directly confronting
the state, and was able to attract members from outside the Sinai. The
rise of the Islamic State and the subsequent military campaign in the
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Ammar Fayed 253

Sinai against ABM led to additional popular support for the group,
which would go on to formally affiliate itself with the Islamic State,
rebranding itself as “Sinai Province.” This compelled Hisham Ashmawy,
a prominent ABM leader and former officer in the elite Egyptian Special
Operations “Thunderbolt” Force, to break off and form the group Al-​
Murabiteen.10 Ashmawy’s actions opened a wider arena for attracting
members from Cairo and the Nile Delta.11
At the same time that Sinai jihadists were escalating their activities
and seeking to expand their reach into the heart of the country, Egypt’s
largest civic Islamic organization was being crushed. The Brotherhood
was cast out from all the “pillars of democracy”—​the parliament, the
presidency, and the constitution. In this context—​and after the worst
instance of mass killings in Egypt’s modern history—​it is not a surprise
that armed groups sought to capitalize on these events and use them
as a pretext for violent action. Pointing to the Brotherhood’s aborted
reign as evidence, militant groups argued that democracy would never
permit an Islamist victory, even if fairly earned. It became simple to
paint the picture of a supposed “war on Islam” that could appeal to
disillusioned individuals.
There are a number of cases where members of or those close
to the Brotherhood and members of revolutionary Salafi groups
chose to take up arms within the ranks of the Islamic State’s Sinai
Province. A small number traveled to fight in Syria for armed
opposition groups. Their letters and other statements reveal the
degree of hostility toward the Brotherhood’s peaceful, gradualist
program and its disgraceful “surrender” to the state during the
Rabaa massacre, as well as in the cases of rape of female prisoners.
Sinai Province’s media arms churned out messages directly aimed
at young Islamists, particularly members of the Brotherhood, lam-
basting the ineffectiveness of nonviolence and democracy, and
advocating jihad and armed resistance against the state as the only
viable path forward.12

Is Violence the Brotherhood’s Inevitable Choice?

The University of Louisville’s Steven Brooke, one of the contributing
authors to Rethinking Political Islam, argues that the restriction of the
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254 Engaging Islamists

Brotherhood’s social activities and the shuttering of the group’s ser-

vice networks have left the organization with only one choice: hold-
ing demonstrations. He argues, moreover, that demonstrations on their
own are unlikely to produce a resolution to the conflict. Stuck in an
organizational holding pattern, the appeal of violence will likely grow.
Additionally, the destruction of the group’s social service infrastructure
strengthens the attraction of other, more violent models, such as those
of the Islamic State or al-​Qaeda in Yemen. Despite the strength of this
hypothesis (particularly its compelling claim that violent approaches
may find supporters among broad segments of society), there are a
number of factors that limit the applicability of Brooke’s argument to
today’s Muslim Brotherhood.
First, one’s motivation for joining the Brotherhood cannot be reduced
to a desire to be involved in social activism. There are any number of
complex motivations that drive an individual’s desire to be a member of
the Brotherhood. Eliminating one aspect of the group’s activities does
not necessarily mean that members will look for alternatives, whether a
violent approach that rejects the state or one accepting of state author-
ity. A field study that I conducted from October to December 2013
made clear that, for many members of the Brotherhood, the top prior-
ity was not social work. Rather, it involved providing support and care
to the families of the victims of the coup and those imprisoned, as well
continuing protests against the coup.13
In the current environment, it will be difficult to pursue social activi-
ties for a number of reasons. First, Brotherhood members are subject
to far-​reaching surveillance by state security, making it almost impos-
sible to carry out any activities unnoticed. Second, the group’s service
networks and other social institutions have been almost entirely shut-
tered by the regime. Third, due to the large number of people who have
been arrested, forcibly disappeared, or made to flee the country, it has
become necessary to focus internal efforts on supporting those bearing
the brunt of repression inside of Egypt, as well as on activities aimed at
delegitimizing the coup. Though there has been no decision to suspend
the group’s religious or social activities, they are simply not the prior-
ity. They have instead been left to individuals and smaller, more local
units to decide what headway can realistically be made in the current
environment.
 25

Ammar Fayed 255

Second, there is no doubt that the line between peaceful revolution-

ary protest and the use of more violent means is sometimes “blurry,”
as described by Steven Brooke. However, more than three years have
passed since the Rabaa massacre, and the predominant trend within
the Brotherhood (and the anti-​coup movement in general) remains
committed to peaceful political action. All the groups that have tried
to adopt some form of violence continue to be marginal with limited
appeal. The adoption of violence clearly contradicts the reigning cul-
tural and educational model within the Brotherhood. It is of course
true that, theoretically, any dominant culture can undergo change, but
this requires a conducive environment. For example, there were ample
opportunities in the 1960s to adapt the group’s culture in response to
Nasserist oppression, but the Brotherhood leadership was able to suc-
cessfully challenge those pressures and maintain the group’s positions
against violence and takfir (accusing a fellow Muslim of apostasy).14 The
current debate inside the group has provoked some similar responses.
When rumors began circulating that some leaders were moving toward
violent options in their opposition to the coup, this was met with broad
rejection within the group, both inside and outside the country. Later,
it became clear that the question of violence is not, in fact, the central
dispute. Rather, disputes appear more related to a clash between a tradi-
tional leadership unwilling to give up their control of the Brotherhood
and a new group of leaders that came to prominence after the coup that
rejects the “old” administrative model and seeks to implement structural
changes. Change in the organization’s culture as a result of the military
coup and its aftermath is possible, but, at the time of writing, the basic
requirements for such a shift aren’t present. One such requirement is the
emergence of legitimate and charismatic leadership with a clear strategy
and vision to manage internal conflicts within the organization.
A legitimate, charismatic leadership is necessary to effect radical
change of this kind, not only on an intellectual level but also on a practi-
cal one. In a centralized, conservative organization like the Brotherhood,
reshaping the organization’s structure and hierarchy is difficult to say
the least. Decentralization within the Brotherhood has been limited
to organizational and administrative activities and the allocation of
resources. Political decision making, or the crafting of a vision for han-
dling internal conflict, remains extremely centralized. One reason for
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256 Engaging Islamists

the recent exacerbation of internal divisions is the fact that most who
remain from the old Guidance Bureau are insistent that major decisions
must remain solely the purview of the acting General Guide Mahmoud
Ezzat—​a position accepted by all but one member of the Guidance
Bureau (Dr. Mohamed Kamal, killed by Egyptian police on October 4,
2016) and a number of recently elected provincial leaders. Likewise, the
Brotherhood’s Shura Council still maintains a palpable level of admin-
istrative control, despite the majority being taken under arrest or other-
wise prevented from engaging in organizational activity.
The Brotherhood has demonstrated a considerable level of flexibility
in adopting different methods under difficult circumstances to achieve its
priorities (protesting the coup and taking care of families of those killed
or imprisoned). However, the most important political decisions, the
setting of overarching organizational strategies, and the management of
financial resources within the group remain highly centralized. It should be
noted that many older leaders who have not been arrested have been will-
ing to give substantial roles to younger members. However, these roles are
confined to mid-level administrative positions and seats on technical com-
mittees. In effect, the Brotherhood’s centralized character remains, making
it extremely difficult to effect major changes to its intellectual trajectory.
Third, other models for social service provision do not necessar-
ily represent alternatives to the Brotherhood, as the group adopts
a very specific approach to social work. The Brotherhood in Egypt
considers social activities to be one of its primary roles and has his-
torically carried them out transparently and under the authority
and laws of the government. On the one hand, the Brotherhood,
from an Islamic perspective, sees social work as a necessity in and
of itself. Social work builds solidarity with local communities and
is connected to Islamic teachings on showing kindness to the poor
and the downtrodden. Yet on the other hand, the Brotherhood
is well aware that its social activities help it achieve a broader
reach within the country and strengthen its social base. In con-
trast, armed Islamist groups are not motivated to carry out social
activities in cooperation with the state, since their goal is to bring
about the state’s demise. As a result, these groups do not under-
take social work to win over constituents. Rather, they enter into
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Ammar Fayed 257

such projects as a “ruling authority” that seeks to present a model

for “Islamic rule,” which comes about after taking control of certain
areas or when the state’s hold on these areas weakens. This is the cur-
rent situation in the Sinai, in parts of Yemen, and in the territory
controlled by the Islamic State. However, where the state is clearly
present, such groups have little interest in the provision of social
services, as the elimination of the state through armed action takes
priority.
The difference between these two models is fundamental. The
Brotherhood, like other Islamic organizations such as al-​ Gam’iyya
al-​
Shar’iyya and Ansar al-​ Sunna, provides social and charita-
ble services for goals primarily related to Islamic values, which
encourage caring for the poor, the weak, and the hungry. Additionally,
the Brotherhood’s social and charitable activities have elicited increased
popular support for the group’s political activities. As Steven Brooke
discusses in his chapter, this model carries out social services through
official institutions subject to the law and operates under the authority
of the state. The other “model,” meanwhile, carries out social services
only to further the direct replacement of an absent or failed state with
“Islamic rule.”
Of course, one could argue that the Brotherhood is, in a similar
but less confrontational way, trying to present an attractive picture
of its own vision for Islamic rule. However, the alternative it seeks
to establish is a new political regime with a different ruling elite,
but still emerging from the extant structures of the current state. In
contrast, armed groups do not recognize the legitimacy of the state
at all, and therefore do not concern themselves with social service
provision unless they are able to replace the state’s authority with
their own. Only then would these armed groups—​acting as the rul-
ing power—​exert their authority in all areas of governance, including
social welfare.
This does not rule out the possibility that the harshness of the politi-
cal climate in Egypt may compel more individuals or unorganized
groups to embrace violence. Armed groups may exploit the current envi-
ronment to attract new members from beyond the Sinai, into the Nile
Valley and Delta. However, as discussed earlier, this expansion would
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258 Engaging Islamists

not be based around the goal of providing social services. Rather, these
armed groups’ top priorities are explicitly political and related to reject-
ing the current regime, and are powered by a belief in the impossibility
of challenging it through peaceful means.
My argument leads me to an additional conclusion. Due to contin-
ued oppression from above without any serious prospects of political
organization from below (what Shadi Hamid has called “a collective
loss of faith in politics”16), as well as the built-​in organizational red lines
mentioned earlier, it is unlikely that the Brotherhood will make a turn
to violence from within. However, all this pressure leaves space open
for new groups to emerge that could polarize Brotherhood members—​
especially its youth—​towards violence. This has been partially born out
already with the rise of self-​styled revolutionary resistance groups such
as “Hasm” and “Lewaa al-​Thawra.”16

An Uncertain Future
The number and size of Brotherhood-​linked demonstrations have
greatly decreased over the past two years for various reasons, includ-
ing the violent security response to protests, widespread arrests, and
mass prosecutions by kangaroo courts. This has led tens of thousands
of people to become either prisoners or outlaws forced to flee their
homes, or even Egypt altogether. Likewise, the long-​term continu-
ation of protests requires a clear political vision, especially since the
cost of participating in a demonstration could be death or years of
imprisonment. Generic slogans and platitudes, however enthusiastic,
will not do the trick.
The Brotherhood has yet to offer an alternative strategy to protest-
ing and mobilizing opinion against the regime. Many in the group
wager that the revolutionary moment has not passed, as the factors that
inspired the revolution have yet to be addressed (poverty, unemploy-
ment, a lack of social justice, oppression by the security forces, and so
on). Therefore, the thinking is that continued Brotherhood demon-
strations, despite smaller numbers, can still encourage others and help
them maintain a mindset of protest until a new spark takes hold, snap-
ping the spell of fear and frustration that has settled over the supporters
of the 2011 revolution.
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Ammar Fayed 259

This theory is plausible, since the revolution’s initial impetus did not
come from the Brotherhood and was driven instead by years of built-​
up grievances in the population at large. However, reproducing such a
mobilization in the face of the security force’s unprecedented repression
will prove difficult. First, it requires building alliances based around
broad demands, slogans, and programs that go beyond the tired dichot-
omies of the Brotherhood versus the Egyptian military, or a legitimately
elected government versus a regime that came to power though a coup.
In other words, the animating premise of the Brotherhood’s continuing
protests and demonstrations is unlikely to appeal to wider audiences or
recreate the conditions of the January 2011 revolution. As long as the
Brotherhood’s political imagination is unable to overcome the mind-
set of “coup versus legitimacy” and develop an alternative political dis-
course that meets the demands of the disaffected social segments that
ignited the revolution, then the Brotherhood itself may be an obstacle
in efforts to build a new culture of protest. Such attitudes will hinder
attempts to build broader political alliances between the various non-​
Brotherhood forces that also reject the military coup and Sissi’s rule.
Likewise, the Muslim Brotherhood has not been able to adopt a clear
vision, nor does it have clear answers when it comes to the possibil-
ity of coexisting with the current Egyptian state. The Sissi regime has
taken a hostile position toward the Brotherhood through every means
available to it, from the police to the judiciary and the bureaucracy. If
coexistence is not possible, does the group have recourse to any alterna-
tive scenario? Does the group truly seek, through its anti-​coup protest
activities, to exert pressure with the end goal of reaching some sort of
modus vivendi? What would be the contours and limits of such a settle-
ment, and what are the concessions that the group can give without
damaging its internal cohesion and morale?
The current internal conflict within the Brotherhood mainly revolves
around phrases such as “leadership change,” “institutionalization,”
“amending the bylaws,” and “rejecting individualism,” but more con-
ceptual and foundational questions and discussions over the group’s
long-​term vision are often absent from the debate. Some hypothesize
that leadership change—​if it occurs—​is what will lead to a more sub-
stantive internal discussion on these issues, as a new leadership would
be more keen on reversing the current state of intellectual stagnation.
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260 Engaging Islamists

In any case, attempting to categorize the different trends within the

Brotherhood by age or generation will be of limited use. Though it
may not seem immediately obvious, particular ideas do not remain the
single purview of a specific age group. Different points of view find
supporters among all age groups and at all organizational levels.
As always, there are those who adopt a radical vision of the cur-
rent struggle with the Egyptian regime, considering it to be a zero-​sum
conflict in which there can be no compromise. There are also those
who are more willing to offer concessions with the aim of coming to
some sort of deal, which would redraw the relationship between the
Brotherhood and the state. However, there is unanimous agreement
within the Brotherhood that it is impossible to achieve any meaningful
progress as long as Sissi remains in power. It is very unlikely—at least in
my opinion—​that this basic fact will change.
In my view, the coup and the unexpected repression that followed
it produced a change in the nature of the conflict at hand and compli-
cated opportunities for compromise with the regime. The conflict has
shifted from a political conflict between the Brotherhood and the rul-
ing regime into a conflict between the Brotherhood and the idea of the
Egyptian state itself. This “transition” occurred after the active involve-
ment of the state’s various institutions—​such as the police, the mili-
tary, the judiciary, and the bureaucracy—​which had not been directly
engaged in the conflict with the Brotherhood since the group’s re-​estab-
lishment in the 1970s. Additionally, for the first time in its history, the
Egyptian Coptic Church became directly involved in the state’s war on
the Brotherhood and the Islamists. This has made church leaders, in
the view of many, abettors to the killings and ongoing repression per-
petrated by the authorities after the coup.
These complications require a comprehensive settlement, and not a
token one. Likewise, they necessitate painful concessions and defined
commitments. At this point, however, there is no justification or capac-
ity for either side to do these things.

Conclusion
Why hasn’t the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt resorted to violence?
Examining this question can lead to a better understanding of the
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Ammar Fayed 261

consequences of the ongoing unprecedented security crackdown. This

chapter has used a sociocultural approach that acknowledges the com-
plicated relationship between individual members of the Brotherhood
and the character of the organization as a whole, which, on the whole,
still does not lean towards violence. I have also relied on the definition
of the Brotherhood and its various roles, as understood by its mem-
bers. The group fulfills different roles and carries out diverse activities
to meet the needs and interests of its members. This is what gives the
group the ability to maintain a portion of its internal operations even
if its external activities directed toward society are suspended for the
time being.
This is not to say that the Brotherhood will be able to contain the
anger of all of its supporters, or even that it represents the best available
model for those Islamists who reject the military coup. Armed groups
are still very much able to capitalize on this delicate political moment.
The military coup affected the Brotherhood in ways that could sub-
stantially change the face of the organization in the years to come. This
could open the door for a redefinition of the nature of its political,
social, and religious roles.
Can the Brotherhood coexist with the current state, regard-
less of whether Sissi stays or goes? Answering this question is the
Brotherhood’s central challenge. Until now, the group has not formu-
lated a clear political vision. Nor does it have the tools to remove the
military from its political calculus. Therefore, the Brotherhood must
work with other forces that reject the policies of the current regime.
Such an alliance can form a broad national front whose goals and
programs are based on the priorities of the revolution at large. This
national front could also delineate pragmatic proposals and plans to
coexist with the political and economic influence of the military for
the foreseeable future.
Some Brotherhood members have grappled with these questions and
presented various proposals, but the group is yet to hold an internal
dialogue to develop and adopt a unified position. Likewise, military
leaders have not shown any inclination to reach a settlement with the
Brotherhood, the conclusion of which could end their reliance on con-
tinuing repression. This makes it likely that the status quo will persist,
with all its tragic consequences.
26

16
Q
The Islamist Experience in Pakistan
Asif Luqman Qazi, Jamaat-e-Islami

Editor's Note: Asif Luqman Qazi is a senior figure in Jamaat-e-Islami.

In his chapter, Matthew Nelson has attempted to cover a multitude

of different organizations. To focus the discussion, I will elaborate my
views on Jamaat-​e-​Islami Pakistan, from my perspective as a senior
figure in the movement. Jamaat-​e-​Islami (“Jamaat,” or the JI) is a
mainstream political organization that represents a legalist approach
to change. This was the original framework that one traditionally
referred to when speaking about “political Islam.” Though this chapter
is focused on Jamaat, one may attempt to draw conclusions regarding
political Islam more generally.
Jamaat-​e-​Islami Pakistan is distinct among contemporary Islamic
movements in that it had strong democratic traditions right from its
inception in 1941; has a written constitution to govern its organiza-
tion; and has always operated within the framework of the country’s
constitution. It seeks to bring about societal transformation is through
appealing to the intellect, organizing communities, and rallying masses
around its program—​just like any other political party in the East or
West. It believes that Islam provides a universal and dynamic vision of
life that is valid and relevant for human welfare in all times and places.
Jamaat adopted the four-​point program presented by its founder,
Abul Ala Maududi, soon after Pakistan came into existence in 1947.
This program encompasses all its activities. They are: reforming the life

262
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Asif Luqman Qazi 263

and mind at the individual level; organizing, motivating, and training

virtuous individuals; reforming society more broadly; and reforming
the government and political structure. From the beginning, Jamaat
made clear that it would operate through legal means and would not
resort to secret or underground activities to achieve its objectives. It
was in this backdrop that Maududi, along with 33 other prominent
Islamic scholars, took a keen interest in the development of Pakistan’s
first constitution. These leading scholars—​belonging to all recognized
schools of thought in Islam—​unanimously adopted a 22-​point char-
ter to serve as an Islamic basis for the constitution of the country.1
Maududi was subsequently invited by Pakistan’s founding father,
Muhammad Ali Jinnah, to deliver five lectures on the foundations
of an Islamic system of life. These lectures were broadcast from offi-
cial radio channels and elaborated the social, political, and economic
underpinnings of a Muslim society that the newly established state was
to adopt.

The Influence of Islam in Pakistan’s Founding

This invitation by Jinnah was in keeping with his vision to establish
a system based on Islamic ideology. Although there are elements in
Pakistan that would like to paint Jinnah with a secular brush, the fact of
the matter is that he made numerous speeches between 1940 and 1947
where he assured the Muslim masses that the Pakistan he envisaged was
an Islamic one. For example, in one of his speeches he says, “Pakistan
does not mean just independence and sovereignty. It means [an] Islamic
ideology that we have to safeguard; it has been conveyed to us as a
valuable gift and a treasure.”2 On November 2, 1942, while addressing
students at Muslim University in Aligarh, in reference to the proposal
to partition the Indian subcontinent, he said: “Let me live according to
my history in the light of Islam, my tradition, culture, and language,
and you do the same in your zones [of activity].”3 His unequivocal
resolve reflected the aspirations of the Muslims of the subcontinent,
who had offered sacrifices for a homeland where they could fashion
their lives according to their faith. The first prime minister of Pakistan,
Liaqat Ali Khan, spoke to the Constituent Assembly upon the adoption
of the Objectives Resolution. Named for how it lays out the objectives
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264 Engaging Islamists

for the future constitution of Pakistan, the Objectives Resolution was

adopted in 1949. On the occasion, Khan said:

I would like to remind the house that the Father of the Nation,
Quaid-​ e-​
Azam [Muhammad Ali Jinnah], gave expression of his
feelings on this matter on many an occasion, and his views were
endorsed by the nation in unmistakable terms. Pakistan was founded
because the Muslims of this subcontinent wanted to build up their
lives in accordance with the teachings and traditions of Islam.4

Within this Islamic framework, the Objectives Resolution proclaims

Pakistan a democracy with equal rights for all citizens. It pays special
attention to safeguarding the rights of non-​Muslim minorities. What
this means in essence is that although all citizens have equal rights, the
state’s ideology will remain Islamic.
What proponents of secularism in Pakistan have presented from
other speeches of Jinnah is in fact a negation of theocracy, not Islam.
It is important to understand this difference.5 There is no concept of a
formalized clergy in Islam with the function of serving as an intermedi-
ary between God and man. Islamic principles are liberating and eman-
cipatory, and uphold a form of government that is participatory, not
autocratic. This was something that was very clear to both of Pakistan’s
founding fathers, Mohamed Iqbal and Jinnah. In fact, the Constituent
Assembly of Pakistan presented a workable model for a modern Islamic
nation-​state under the influence of the narrative developed by Iqbal
and Jinnah. At the 1930 Muslim League convention held in Allahabad,
Iqbal said: “What, then, is the problem and its implications? Is reli-
gion a private affair? Would you like to see Islam as a moral and politi-
cal ideal, meeting the same fate in the world of Islam as Christianity
has already met in Europe?”6 Additionally, Iqbal’s poetry in Urdu and
Persian is an elaborate testimony to his vision of Islam as a comprehen-
sive way of life, one inclusive of politics and governance alike.
In his message to the American people, Jinnah said:

The constitution of Pakistan has yet to be framed by [the] Pakistan

Constituent Assembly. I do not know what the ultimate shape of this
constitution is going to be, but I am sure that it will be of a demo-
cratic type, embodying the essential principles of Islam. Today, they
 265

Asif Luqman Qazi 265

are as applicable in actual life as they were 1300 years ago. Islam and
its idealism have taught us democracy. It has taught [the] equality
of man, justice, and fair play to everybody. We are the inheritors of
these glorious traditions and are fully alive to our responsibilities and
obligations as framers of the future constitution of Pakistan.7

And in another speech to government functionaries on October 11,

1947, he stated:

The creation of a state of our own was a means to an end and not
the end in itself. The idea was that we should have a state in which
we could live and breathe as free men and which we could develop
according to our own lights and culture, and where principles of
Islamic social justice could find free play.8

The Muslims of the subcontinent remained masters of their own des-

tiny for 800 years. They made up more than a quarter of its total popu-
lation. With their large numbers, and owing to their distinct culture,
civilizational heritage, patterns of social organization, and faith, they
saw themselves not as a minority community, but as a nation in their
own right. Accordingly, Jinnah supported the two-​nation theory and
the demand for a separate homeland for the Muslims of the subconti-
nent. The movement for Pakistan was preceded by several social move-
ments spanning two centuries, searching for the soul of Muslim societal
life within a broader community of faith and belonging. The educa-
tional movements of Deoband, Nadwatul Ulema, and Aligarh College
were social expressions of this revivalist quest.
The separation of state and faith, or secularism, is a concept devel-
oped in the Western world by virtue of its own peculiar historical pro-
cess. The West found renaissance and enlightenment by limiting what it
considered an oppressive dogmatic theology that had become an obsta-
cle to progress and development. Muslims, on the other hand, have a
history contrary to this narrative. For them, faith itself was the source of
enlightenment, renaissance, and progress. Their glory era—​from the 7th
century ad to the 18th century—​was marked by a strict observance to
their belief system. Enlightened by their faith, they expanded from the
Prophet’s city of Medina to three continents. They reached the zenith of
knowledge, arts and sciences, warfare and statecraft, trade, industry, and
26

266 Engaging Islamists

agriculture, and produced a rich treasure of law and jurisprudence. As

Israeli scholar Martin Kramer writes, “Had there been Nobel prizes in
1000, they would have gone almost exclusively to Moslems.”9
Their civilizational progress has remained directly proportional to
their observance of a dynamic faith, one that provided an enabling
environment for advancement. Islam transformed their lives and intro-
duced them to freedom, justice, equality, pluralism, tolerance, human
dignity, ethics, and morality. They had a message that was not eth-
nic, divisive, or sectarian but appealed to all of humanity as one frater-
nity. Although the political form of this high moral ground was lost to
hereditary dynasties 30 years after the death of the Prophet, these prin-
ciples remained part of Muslim societies to various degrees for more
than 1,000 years until their decay in the 19th century.
Today, the Islamic State is an expression of ignorance about, and not
an observance of, those glorious traditions. The more Muslims deviated
from their faith, the more socially primitive they became. The present-​
day decay of Muslims is a consequence of deviation from the political
and social vision of human life offered up by Islam. Their conditions
are further complicated by widespread poverty, illiteracy, ignorance,
corruption, and the oppressive rule of an elite class often subservient to
Western dominance. Despite these challenges, Islamist movements in
particular, and Muslim societies in general, see a reversion to an Islamic
ethos and worldview as a path to progress. In it they see not only a
path for salvation in the hereafter but also remedies for their worldly
woes. This sustained relevance of Islam to contemporary conditions, or
“Islamic exceptionalism” as termed by Shadi Hamid, behooves observ-
ers of Muslim societies to cultivate deep insights not just into political
Islam, but into Islam itself.10

Islam and the Constitution

Islamism in Pakistan has a history of harmony with constitutional and
democratic processes. Jamaat, for one, does not demand any radical
changes to the constitution of Pakistan. It is, in fact, the constitution’s
implementation in letter and spirit that Jamaat has always struggled for.
Frequent military interventions have held the full force of the constitu-
tion in abeyance for about half of Pakistan’s life as a country. Even those
 267

Asif Luqman Qazi 267

leaders who have been democratically elected have remained more

focused on perpetuating their own rule than on functions of gover-
nance. Neglecting constitutional imperatives has fomented dissent and
mistrust in the country. Had the government fulfilled its constitutional
obligations toward the Islamic clauses of constitution, the narrative
presented by militants might not have found an audience.
The constitution already has prescribed a framework for all state
organs to function within the confines of principles of the Quran and
Sunna. It approves of the advisory status of the Council of Islamic
Ideology (CII) and the supremacy of parliament in enacting legislation.
The CII is a constitutional body that advises the legislature on whether
or not a particular piece of legislation is repugnant to Islam. It consists
of Islamic scholars adhering to the major schools of thought, as well
as technocrats. Over the past few decades, the CII has generated an
enormous number of reports in response to parliamentary inquiries,
but these reports failed to shape legislation due to government neglect.
Jamaat is also more than content with the judiciary’s final authority to
interpret laws and the constitution. Despite the fact that Islamist par-
ties have had very limited success in parliamentary elections in Pakistan,
they have always accepted the results and conceded calmly. Their elec-
toral failure has never wavered their commitment to legalist, constitu-
tional, and gradualist approaches to bringing about political change.
They have demonstrated pragmatism and flexibility, particularly during
their forays into electoral alliances and coalition governments. Jamaat
has remained a coalition partner with Nawaz Sharif ’s Pakistan Muslim
League-​Nawaz (PML-​N) and was part of the Muttahida Majlis-​e-​Amal
(MMA), an alliance of Islamic political parties that led regional govern-
ments in two provinces. It is currently a coalition partner with Imran
Khan’s Tehreek-​e-​Insaf Party (PTI) in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province.

Religion and “The Pursuit of Happiness”

It is essential to understand that Islam is referred to as a “faith” that
encompasses the whole of life, and not as a “religion” that concerns
itself with a limited set of rituals, ethics, and spirituality. In Pakistan,
even non-​Islamist or secular political parties acknowledge Islam as their
deen (an all-​encompassing way of life). Being a faith, Islam is very much
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268 Engaging Islamists

concerned with both what is mundane and what is worldly. It is pre-

cisely through an engagement with worldly matters that it becomes
practical and relevant, rather than an abstract theology. “Life, liberty,
and the pursuit of happiness” is as much an Islamic phrase as it is an
American one. But the pursuit of happiness has a different cast within
an Islamic framework, far from the pursuit of worldly desires. A human
being has spiritual and emotional needs apart from physical needs that
contribute to his or her happiness. It should not, therefore, come as a
surprise that Jamaat engages in politics and governance in addition to
its social and religious activities.
Jamaat has been part of several administrations at the local and pro-
vincial levels and has contended with the challenges of governance, as
well as issues of public welfare and accountability. For long stretches,
Jamaat’s mayors have led local bodies in Karachi, Pakistan’s largest
metropolitan city with a population of over 23 million, and have even
earned appreciation from presidents hostile to the organization, such as
Pervez Musharraf. The World Bank has acknowledged provincial min-
isters of Jamaat in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province for their integrity
and performance.11 A whole host of issues make up its political agenda:
education, health care, agriculture, youth employment, ensuring a con-
tinuous supply of electricity and other public utilities, and rooting out
corruption.
There are divergent views among Jamaat members on the question
of whether the organization should enter into coalitions with other
parties. While some are of the view that remaining inside the cor-
ridors of power is useful to gain political influence, others think that
we should enter into coalitions only when we are in a leading role
to influence decisions. What distinguishes Jamaat’s leadership at vari-
ous levels is its religious zeal for public service and a track record of
transparency and integrity that even political rivals like Imran Khan
acknowledge. The success of the Turkish Justice and Development
Party (AKP) has particularly inspired Jamaat members to adjust their
agenda according to the needs of the masses. The dynamic personal-
ity of Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan has had an impact on
Pakistani society across political parties and has compelled Islamists to
rethink their strategies and become more inclusive. The Turkish AKP
has presented a model for Islamist parties with its modern outlook,
 269

Asif Luqman Qazi 269

broad-​based organizational structure, and pragmatic bread-​and-​butter

political agenda.

The Question of Violence

It should be mentioned here that there is nothing intrinsic in Jamaat’s
program that sets it on a collision course with the West. Even if there are
divergent views on policies with Western governments, Jamaat makes
a distinction between a government, on one hand, and its people and
values on the other. This is the reason Jamaat banned its members from
burning the flags of any country when protesting against any one gov-
ernment’s policies. It is, however, necessary to understand that we are
situated in our own time and space. We cannot remain indifferent to
events and incidents around us. The events in Afghanistan and Kashmir
and the continuous “war on terror” over the last 15 years have directly
affected the life of every Pakistani citizen. When you have more than
3 million refugees and another 1 million internally displaced per-
sons in your country, you have to grapple with and respond to the
situation. Jamaat has always been against foreign intervention in
Afghanistan, be it by Soviet or NATO forces. During the Soviet inter-
vention, Jamaat provided political support to the mujahideen and
their struggle for the liberation of Afghanistan from foreign forces.
Similarly, Jamaat organized mass rallies against the American invasion
of Afghanistan. Its members have been engaged in relief activities for
Afghan refugees on humanitarian grounds. However, contrary to neg-
ative propaganda, Jamaat never itself engaged in militant resistance.
During the Soviet occupation, some Jamaat members, motivated to
support Afghans in their resistance against foreign occupation, joined
the mujahideen entirely on their own accord as volunteers, without
any involvement from the organization. This occurred during a time
in which the Pakistani government itself, as well as many other coun-
tries (including the United States), lent their support to the Afghan
resistance. These Jamaat members were asked to return after the
Soviet withdrawal.
Apart from Afghanistan, Matthew Nelson’s chapter mentions two
other contexts where Jamaat is alleged to have been involved in mili-
tancy: East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) and occupied Kashmir. Both
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270 Engaging Islamists

of these cases are exceptional and extraordinary situations where the

people of these regions found themselves the victims of foreign military
invasion and occupation. The invading Indian army engaged in gross
human rights violations in both places. On the Kashmir issue, there
are United Nations resolutions that call for the right of the Kashmiri
people to self-​determination by plebiscite. Over 100,000 Kashmiris,
mostly peaceful, have given their lives in their struggle for self-​deter-
mination. Their resistance is indigenous, principled, and legal. Pakistan
is committed to support this movement, as Kashmir is an unfinished
story in the partition of the subcontinent. Jamaat, however, condemns
attacks on innocent civilians, whether in India or in any other part of
the world. That being said, such attacks by dubious elements should
not be used as a pretext to malign the genuine resistance of Kashmiris
against Indian occupation.
In East Pakistan, it was the Indian army that organized a separat-
ist militia named Mukti Bahni. The current Indian prime minister,
Narendra Modi, proudly admitted that India supported Bangladesh to
attain its freedom from Pakistan. 12 Mukti Bahni started targeting and
killing those who were against the secession of East Pakistan. Jamaat
members were compelled to form the Al-​Badar organization in defense,
with the support of the Pakistan army. Over the past 45 years, Jamaat-​
e-​Islami Bangladesh has actively participated in the electoral process
in Bangladesh. The people of Bangladesh have shown their trust in
Jamaat. There, the Jamaat was part of the coalition government.13 The
executions of Jamaat leaders in Bangladesh have been condemned by
international human rights organizations, who have questioned the
integrity and legality of the judicial process.14 The Bangladeshi govern-
ment is also heavily influenced by the Indian government and has tried
to level false allegations against Jamaat’s leadership as a way to appease
India.
It would be unfair to ignore the more than seven decades of peace-
ful, political, and social activism of Jamaat-​e-​Islami Pakistan and
instead focus on regional disputes to define Jamaat. In all three of
the aforementioned cases, foreign military invasions and the failure
of the state to provide security to all its citizens have been major
factors contributing to violent conflict. This is akin to blaming the
Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt for Palestinian resistance by linking the
 271

Asif Luqman Qazi 271

actions of Hamas to that of the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, as if it

were a direct proxy.
On the topic of Jamaat’s generally amicable relations with Pakistan’s
military, such engagement has been carried out in the national interest
and in the framework of the Pakistani constitution. There have been
moments of both convergence with and divergence from the military.
On the latter, for example, Jamaat played a key role in the Lawyers
Movement that brought an end to the unconstitutional regime of
General Pervez Musharraf.
As far as militant organizations in Pakistan such as Tehreek-​e-​Taliban
(TTP) are concerned, there are domestic root causes that have contrib-
uted to their emergence, but, at the same time, these factors have been
exploited by foreign intelligence agencies to further their own regional
objectives. In any case, Jamaat has always condemned these mind-
less attacks on innocent civilians that cannot be justified under any
logic. Jamaat leaders have also paid the price for these condemnations.
Several of its local leaders in areas like Peshawar, Darra Adam Khel,
Hangu, and Swat have been and continue to be killed by these mili-
tants. Particularly notable was the targeting of Jamaat’s former emir,
Qazi Hussain Ahmad in November 2012.15 Along with other political
parties, Jamaat has also supported the government’s National Action
Plan that provides full moral, political, and legal support to Pakistan’s
armed forces operating against militant groups to rid the country of the
scourge of terrorism.

Changing Internal Structures and Focusing on Elections

While its ideological impact has been fairly broad, Jamaat has thus far
had limited success in parliamentary elections. There are several reasons
for this. Jamaat’s distinctive organizational structure is frequently cited
as a reason for its limited electoral victories. Some analysts note that
our organizational structure is more suitable for a revolutionary strug-
gle, and not necessarily parliamentary elections. Jamaat leaders like
Qazi Hussain Ahmad, Khurram Murad, and Khurshid Ahmad have
expressed the need to adopt a more open and broad-​based organization
suitable to political campaigning. This is despite the fact that Jamaat is
considered the most internally democratic party in Pakistan, one that
27

272 Engaging Islamists

conducts regular elections at each level of the organization. A report

published by a think tank, the Pakistan Institute of Legislative
Development and Transparency (PILDAT), testifies to this fact.16 At
times, one feels a lethargic contentedness among some of Jamaat’s lead-
ers and members, despite its poor electoral performance. They are not
particularly obsessed with winning elections as much as they are keen
on participating in them. For us, mass communication of our message
is an objective in its own right, and elections provide an occasion for
this. This approach has been the subject of debate within Jamaat for
quite some time now.
The electoral success of Islamically ​ oriented political parties in
Turkey, Egypt, and Tunisia has underlined the need for bringing about
basic changes in political strategy and organizational structure. Jamaat
certainly wishes to broaden its social base to achieve greater electoral
success as well as to have a more pragmatic structure that encourages
influential personalities to run for leadership positions, rather than
treating them as equal to ordinary members. Jamaat experimented with
the Pakistan Islamic Front and a youth organization named Pasban in
the early 1990s, creating quite a stir in national politics, but elections
came too early for them to properly prepare. These innovative struc-
tures created friction among the old guard and the new recruits within
the organization, and consequently, they were rolled back after the 1993
elections to maintain organizational unity.
Another issue is a lack of real focus on winning elections as an objec-
tive. Jamaat’s organization has a heavy ideological and social agenda that
consumes considerable human and financial resources. Other political
parties make elections their sole focus. One solution currently on the
table is the creation of an independent political wing, although under the
same central emir. It appears this debate will surface more strongly after
the 2018 general elections. Before then, Jamaat’s leadership will likely have
to make some kind of decision on the issue. If and when this decision is
made, it would allow room for the now-​marginalized but more capable
cadre of affiliates to get involved in the party. These people prefer to stay
on the margins because of Jamaat’s regimental structure and rigorous
organizational activities, which they find difficult to keep up with. The
new structure would also allow the political wing to remain focused on
elections; provide an enabling environment, one that would have softer
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Asif Luqman Qazi 273

rhetoric with regard to ideology; and adopt a more credibly populist

approach that would resonate with the masses. This, in turn, would allow
the party to relax its generally strict culture to attract a broader base of
women and youth. The party has already started taking some substan-
tive measures in this direction. Women and youth have been designated
as priority areas in the Shura Council’s 2015 plan for the following three
years. Eleven special seats have also been added for women in the 75-​
member Central Shura. The Women’s Wing is now more active in inter-
national fora. A more popular culture for youth has been adopted with a
focus on sports. In addition, Jamaat’s social media operation is one of the
most proactive among political parties in Pakistan.

“Political Islam” is often used in a very broad sense, often lacking in

nuance. The phrase is employed to include far more than just political
groups or parties. Militant, terrorist, and social service relief organiza-
tions are also grouped under the term. Lumping them together can lead
to serious misconceptions. It bothers us that Jamaat is being viewed
through lenses of hostility and suspicion, in part because of an alleged
association with extremist groups that are also considered “Islamists.” It
bothers us because we don’t form our perception of America by look-
ing at the likes of the alt-​right or white nationalists, even though such
groups and individuals may enjoy significant public support. We will
not be able to develop mutual trust if we base our relations on stereo-
typing and assuming the worst. I firmly believe that cordial relations
between mainstream Islamist movements and the West can and should
be developed. I end here with a quote from the analyst and expert on
Islamist movements Graham Fuller:

Does Political Islam represent the last heroic stand of Muslim cul-
tural resistance to galloping globalization with an American accent?
Or does it represent the beginning of a new synthesis of Islam
with contemporaneity, enabling Muslim society and culture to
move into the new millennium more confident of its own cultural
foundations?17

I certainly believe in the latter of the two prospects.

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17
Q
More than the Muslim Brotherhood: The
Problem of Hamas and Jordan’s Islamic
Movement
Nael al-​Masalha, of the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood
in Conversation with Shadi Hamid

The longstanding stability between Jordan’s Muslim Brother­

hood and the Jordanian regime has often been interrupted by
changes in strategy on both sides. We are in one of those fluid
phases right now. In his chapter, Brandeis University’s David Patel also
addresses the effects of the Arab Spring—especially after Mohamed
Morsi and the Muslim Brotherhood won in Egypt—which led to a
series of internal revisions and changes within Jordan’s Islamic move-
ment. That said, I do agree with Patel that there hasn't been much fun-
damental change in how the movement and the regime perceive each
other. In other words, the relationship will neither end completely
nor change dramatically.
Speaking as a longtime figure in the Brotherhood, there are, in my opin-
ion, several reasons for the recent divisions with the Jordanian Brotherhood’s
ranks. The first has to do with Hamas’s complicated and controversial rela-
tionship with the Islamic movement in Jordan. Hamas changed its organ-
izational structure and strategic vision to more effectively deal with both
the Jordanian regime and the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood, with which
it has deep ties (irtibat al-​’adawi). These changes began in earnest after
Hamas moved its leadership from Jordan to Syria in 1999.

274
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Nael al-Masalha 275

Hamas has now turned into an organic and independent organi-

zation. These developments started in early 2001 and ended in 2008,
which is when Hamas became a regional organization directly affili-
ated with the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood’s Guidance Bureau rather
than its own formal leadership in Jordan.
After this organizational independence solidified, Hamas found
itself looking for a strong base of support for the movement, one deeply
rooted in society that would allow it to operate in broad daylight rather
than in an opaque manner. Thus, Hamas looked strategically at Jordan
for its deeply rooted Palestinian presence and the growth potential of
its population. According to some estimates, as many as 60 percent
of Jordanians are of Palestinian origin. Also, the Muslim Brotherhood
in Jordan and its affiliated institutions—​including the Islamic Action
Front—​have traditionally enjoyed considerable financial and politi-
cal resources. Therefore, it was both natural and easy to penetrate the
Brotherhood’s organization given Hamas’s capabilities, namely, its
overwhelming popularity as a result of its repeated victories in Gaza, its
steadfastness in Palestine within and beyond the Green Line (pre-​1967
borders), and the sympathy and support it enjoyed from Palestinians in
the diaspora and by Arab Muslims across the globe.
There arose a change in the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood’s lead-
ership in 2008, in conjunction with Hamas’s breakaway from the
Brotherhood’s leadership in Jordan. This amounted to a coup within
the Brotherhood, which came about as a result of the Brotherhood’s
leadership crossing all the red lines that had come to define relations
between Islamists of Palestinian origin and those of Jordanian origin.
Of particular significance was the appointment of a general overseer1 for
the Brotherhood and a secretary-​general for the Islamic Action Front—​
both of Palestinian origin—​who were well known for their loyalty to
Hamas. More important, however, was how Hamas was able to pen-
etrate and consequently exert control over all aspects of the Jordanian
Brotherhood. In so doing, they were able to make it seem that if you
weren’t with Hamas, you were against the Islamic movement overall, or
that if you weren’t for the Palestinian cause, you were for the Jordanian
regime and its various agencies.
Hamas worked in an organized fashion within the Jordanian
Brotherhood and its affiliated institutions, injecting huge amounts of
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276 Engaging Islamists

money to recruit members—​some of Jordanian origin—​who became

increasingly active and engaged in the Brotherhood’s projects. This
resulted in Hamas consolidating control over the Brotherhood’s orga-
nization in Jordan. Longtime Brotherhood members of Jordanian
origin started to become nervous after sensing that the group’s new
leadership was adopting a non-​Jordanian unpatriotic agenda. They felt
that the leadership was using the membership as pawns to implement
the policies of Hamas, which had begun to interfere in every detail.
This situation—​which started worsening during the Arab Spring—​
led to the following splits: first, a group of first-​and second-​rank
Brotherhood leaders put forward the Jordanian Building Initiative,
known popularly as Zamzam. Zamzam concentrates on presenting
a project of national reform based on citizenship; loyalty to Jordan
(while retaining an Islamic identity in line with the Jordanian con-
stitution); the acceptance of others regardless of religion and politi-
cal orientation as long as they accept joint action within a national
inclusive framework; and a desire to maintain a collegial and non-​
confrontational spirit when interacting with any party, including the
Jordanian regime.
This approach was met with harsh rejection by the Brotherhood’s
leadership, which, as discussed earlier, had come to represent Hamas’s
interests. Consequently, the leadership instructed its affiliated writers—​
who enjoy financial and logistical support from Hamas—​to attack the
idea and link it to being a scheme of Jordanian intelligence, and subse-
quently claim that Zamzam was a means by which to bring the Islamic
movement under state influence.
Second, because of adverse reactions to the Zamzam initia-
tive within the broader Islamic movement, another group of
Brotherhood members tried to put forward a reform project of their
own, leading to the formation of the “Group of Elders” (Majmu’a
al-​Hukama’). Comprised of first-​ generation former Brotherhood
and Islamic Action Front leaders, this new body could also claim a
significant membership of Palestinian origin. The Group of Elders
warned against the Brotherhood leadership’s behavior, stating that
it was putting the group and its future in Jordan at risk and call-
ing for its dismissal and restructuring. This resulted in the Group
of Elders coalescing around a centrist position. They proclaimed
that they had lost hope in the leadership of the Brotherhood and
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Nael al-Masalha 277

mobilized supporters to announce the establishment of a new party.

This group has been revitalizing its internal procedures and engag-
ing in discussions with many parties—​including those behind the
Zamzam Initiative. However, Zamzam’s leadership rejected in prin-
ciple the idea of a merger with the Group of Elders. Zamzam ulti-
mately put the issue to rest by registering a new party of their own
called the National Congress Party (Hizb al-​Mu’tamar al-​Watani).
As of the time of writing, the party is still in its early stages, with
roughly 20 percent of its members coming over from the Jordanian
Brotherhood, and 80 percent from elsewhere.
Third, the establishment of a new organization called the Muslim
Brotherhood Society (Jam’iyyah al-​Ikhwan al-​Muslimeen)—with the
installation of Abdul Majeed Thneibat as the society’s general overseer—
was a significant development. The society was established following
conferences discussing the Brotherhood’s reform efforts. A chorus of
voices then emerged calling for the dismissal of then-​General Overseer
Hammam Said, a revision of the Brotherhood’s organizational statutes,
and a restructuring of its leadership.
During these developments (which were being watched closely by
the Jordanian government), a discreet meeting was held in January
2015 between Abdul Majeed Thneibat and His Majesty King Abdullah
II at the Royal Palace. According to Abdul Majeed Thneibat, His
Majesty the King expressed concern that Arab leaders would bring
up the case of the Muslim Brotherhood in member states, including
Jordan, during their next meeting—​which was scheduled to be held
in early March. He added that many wanted designate the Muslim
Brotherhood as an illegal terrorist group within Arab League member
states. In this meeting, a request was made to help the Jordanian state
avoid any embarrassment, especially since the Brotherhood had a long
history of legal participation in Jordan, to the point where it had its own
Jordan-​specific slogans. The request was clear: the Jordanian Muslim
Brotherhood had to rectify its legal status in terms of its registration
permit to continue operating according to the current Jordanian laws
in force. It also had to change its founding statutes, which asserted
the group’s organizational ties with the Brotherhood in Egypt. Abdul
Majeed Thneibat then invited a group of Brotherhood members and
explained the situation. They then discussed possible ways forward,
arriving at a decision to register the group under the name “Muslim
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278 Engaging Islamists

Brotherhood Society,” and to appoint an interim leadership for six

months until elections were held to choose a new leadership. They
would then be in compliance with Jordanian law.
All in all, there are now four organizations or groups that have
emerged from the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood thus far:

1.  The old or parent group led by Hammam Said

2.  The Muslim Brotherhood Society led by Abdul Majeed Thneibat
3. The group functioning under the auspices of Zamzam and its
attendant National Congress Party
4.  The Group of Elders, which has recently announced the formation
of a new political party under the name of the Partnership and
Rescue Party (Hizb al-​Shiraka w’al-​Inqadh).

The Current Reality

When Zaki Bani Irsheid—​then the Brotherhood’s deputy general over-
seer—​was released from prison in 2016, he put forward an initiative based
on the principles of Zamzam to contain the ongoing division, but it was
shrouded in uncertainty and mistrust and was thus met with extreme
caution.2 The proposal promoted cooperation across the range of views
within the organization, as well as dialogue between the various factions.
To the ever-​watchful Jordanian government, the Islamist scene today is
in a state of disarray and division. The government is attempting to perpet-
uate this weakness in any way possible to keep the Islamic movement weak,
rather than risk the likely costlier option of attempting to eliminate it.
Consequently, this weakness and division is reflected in the Islamic
movement’s other social, political, advocacy, and union initiatives. It
has also lowered public confidence in its ability to serve the nation,
rectify the culture of corruption, or address the general weakness of
civil society.

The Vision
The overall situation in and around Jordan—especially given the pres-
ence of Daesh (the Islamic State) at its borders, the failure to reach a
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Nael al-Masalha 279

fair solution to the Palestinian conflict, and the region’s preoccupation

with different and sometimes conflicting agendas—keep each party
within Jordan and within the Islamic movement in a near-​constant
state of suspense. The state, taking advantage of the situation, is trying
to weaken the Islamic movement’s presence and activity. In response,
the movement is trying to endure, while sometimes overlooking the
gravity of the situation, waiting for things to pass like a summer cloud.
This paves the way for other groups—​such as Zamzam—​to fill politi-
cal vacuum and address blind spots. This gives them a better chance,
especially given that Zamzam’s ideology is a departure from the path
of da’wa (religious education and advocacy), which the parent Muslim
Brotherhood group, the Muslim Brotherhood Society, and the Group
of Elders have all retained.

Shadi Hamid Responds

I have two quick comments and questions. First, would it be possible for
you to address David Patel’s thesis that “what is almost always described
as an ideological divide is better understood as an ‘ethnic’ or ‘communal’
one”? It sounds like you would agree with this to an extent, but I would be
curious to hear a bit more, including on the question of whether ideology
and religious and moral issues are important in understanding tensions
between “hawks” and “doves” within the Muslim Brotherhood. Also, you
focus on the question of Hamas, which is obviously very important, but
what about divides over how confrontational the Jordanian Brotherhood
should be toward the government? There’s the perception among some
in the old Hammam Said–​led Brotherhood that the new (breakaway)
Muslim Brotherhood Society has been too deferential toward the monar-
chy and hasn’t pushed hard enough for political change. To what extent is
this a legitimate concern?
Second, could you say a bit more about the effects of the military
coup in Egypt on Jordan’s Islamic movement? How much did what
was going on in Egypt and the fear of a repeat scenario drive the new
strategy of those like Zamzam, the Muslim Brotherhood Society, and
the Group of Elders?
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280 Engaging Islamists

Nael al-Masalha Responds

On your first question, I think that the ideological and religious dimen-
sions of the orientation of the group’s doves and hawks are completely
different from the regional dimension.
Brotherhood members of Palestinian origin do not differ on the
need to support Hamas’s project in Jordan and Palestine; rather,
they only differ at times on the details. The Brotherhood mem-
bers of Jordanian origin and the hawks who support Hamas’s proj-
ect and work for its support apparatuses do so because they are
attracted to its religious and ideological framing. They are also
sometimes drawn in as a result of their personal and religious inter-
ests converging.
On the other hand, doves of Jordanian origin who are either involved
in the Zamzam project, the Group of Elders, or the new Muslim
Brotherhood Society engage in religious activity to serve the interests
of a national project. They are thus closer to the regime in approach
and are more likely to avoid confrontation, preferring to stick to “soft”
opposition in pursuit of political reform within the framework of their
ideological convictions.
Regarding the coup in Egypt, it has become evident that the coup
has failed to provide for the needs of the Egyptian people. The gradual
decline in enthusiasm among the Egyptian public toward the coup and
the resulting regime has provided an impetus for Islamic movements to
once again embark upon a project of reform and proffer political Islam
as society’s next alternative.
Furthermore, in addition to the Egyptian experience, both the
Libyan experience (with General Khalifa Haftar) and the Yemeni expe-
rience (with former president Ali Abdullah Saleh) have failed to provide
a viable alternative to political Islam.
The societal consciousness of the Arab people is gradually moving
toward a greater level of mistrust in the military. This reality will surely
be exploited in the future by Islamic movements running on platforms
of peaceful and gradual reform and will aid their being accepted by the
people. This is precisely what is encouraging a few trends in Jordan at
the moment, such as:
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Nael al-Masalha 281

1.  Zamzam’s establishment of an affiliated political party, The National

Congress Party, and the establishment of the Elders’ party, the
Partnership and Rescue Party, as I mentioned earlier.
2  A change within even the parent Muslim Brotherhood movement
toward greater openness, coalition-​building with a more national
orientation, and a focus on “soft” opposition.
3. A decline in support for the Muslim Brotherhood Society, due to
its inability to formulate a new and inspiring political project. It is
currently lost, having failed to distinguish itself from various other
emerging ideas and political parties.
28
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Religion, Ideology, and Organization

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 285

18
Q
How Much Do Organizational
Structures Matter?
Jacob Olidort in Conversation with Raphaël Lefèvre

Jacob Olidort
Given the changes in identities, doctrines, and actions of Islamist
groups vying in the tumultuous past six years, Rethinking Political Islam
is a critical opening for a new conversation on how we—​in academic,
policy, and public debates—​think about those Islamist groups we con-
sider to be politically relevant. The 20 chapters all underscore the com-
mon tension between the ideological principles of these organizations
and the alliances they have made, some of which go against these very
principles. To those who consider the long view of modern Middle
East history, these tensions come as no surprise, given that these are all
movements whose founding doctrines and early development during
the 20th century were just as much determined by political pressures
and personal interests.
While personality and generational differences have historically been
factors in how and whether groups survive in shifting political envi-
ronments, the pressures and stakes changed dramatically after the 2011
uprisings, when many Islamists were able to test their principles in posi-
tions of power and when the significance of their actions was ampli-
fied across the region through social media channels. As the chapters of
Monica Marks and Raphaël Lefèvre show, the missteps of the region’s

285
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286 Religion, Ideology, and Organization

oldest Islamist group, the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, had the effect
of alienating it from other Islamist groups in the region.
The impact of the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood’s actions on the
self-​perceptions and maneuvers of Islamists elsewhere are one example
of the ways in which local actions can have new kinds of transregional
impact. However, even where this impact is felt, these chapters remind
us of the need to tread carefully when describing how these groups
relate to and influence one another in their ambitions and priorities.
Here Joseph Liow provides a helpful reminder in the case of Southeast
Asia and the connections between local groups and their counterparts
in the Middle East. He argues that Islamists were able to build trans-
national connections through both the organizational efforts of stu-
dent groups, such as the Himpunan Mahasiswa Islam in Indonesia and
Angkatan Belia Islam Malaysia, and through coordinated humanitarian
efforts on behalf of regional political causes.
Liow’s discussion of the role of humanitarian campaigns and stu-
dent organizations in forging transnational bonds raises some of the
key questions we face when trying to understand the formation of
new “imagined communities” of Islamists both across and beyond the
Middle East, as well as within particular countries. Namely, do the
members of local Islamist groups build transregional links because
they identify with a common Islamist ideology; or because of shared
communal experiences of living under authoritarian states (as, for
example, Marks shows with Tunisian nahdawis recalling their treat-
ment under Ben Ali when looking at Sissi); or perhaps it is because
of the sectarian nature of certain conflicts; or still professional and
personal ties?
Ironically, the nature of these connections has become more
confused with the greater visibility we now have with social media
platforms. Likewise, changes at home can be caused by foreign
policy decisions, and the reverse. Here Toby Matthiesen, in his
chapter, shows how local Saudi support for the king ebbed and
flowed not because of domestic issues but rather because of per-
ceptions of the king in relation to major foreign policy develop-
ments, especially the country’s backing of Sissi’s government in
Egypt and its response to heightened Iranian influence in the
region. Similarly, David Patel reminds us concerning Islamists in
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How Much Do Organizational Structures Matter 287

Jordan that “the difference between so-​c alled ‘hawks’ and ‘doves’
has more to do with disagreements about how accommodationist
the Islamic movement should be with the Jordanian government
than it does with ideological differences.” In other words, the local
and the regional environment can be equally, if not more, deter-
minative of Islamist politics than ideological principles. Indeed,
with the increased sectarian dimension of many Middle East con-
flicts, it is these external factors that help define the narratives
and ideological priorities of Islamist groups and influence their
political alignments.
This raises another important issue of locating the influence and
impact of these groups. Much like the caution with which we describe
relationships between Islamist movements, so too is it especially
important to rethink the assumptions of where their political influ-
ence actually comes from. Here Matthew Nelson’s chapter on Islamist
parties that wield considerable influence in Pakistan despite their poor
electoral performance is a trend increasingly on display in the Middle
East, particularly given voters’ low confidence (and interest) in formal
political processes. This general political apathy may mean that, in
contrast to the early days of the Arab uprisings when Islamists found
opportunity within formal political institutions, perhaps Islamists
today don’t feel they need to rely on these spaces to claim influence.
And it is perhaps for this reason that ultraconservative Salafi groups,
who for decades explicitly eschewed formal politics, are today more
capable of maneuvering within political spaces that are either fluid
or failed. Thus, much like Nelson’s argument concerning Pakistan’s
Islamist groups, the poor performance of the Salafi Nour party, which
won only 12 seats in the 2015 Egyptian elections, should in no way
be misconstrued as a commentary on the weak influence of Islamic
politics in Egypt. Rather, to locate the dynamics of Islamic politics in
Egypt, as in other countries, we now need to look elsewhere—​in par-
ticular to social media platforms, publications, mosques, and the var-
ious public spaces throughout Egypt—​to witness where real political
influence is being negotiated.
Curiously, the chapters generally don’t highlight the most impor-
tant change that took place—​that all of these movements were prod-
ucts of a late 20th-century political space characterized by a stable,
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288 Religion, Ideology, and Organization

or at the very least predictable, political infrastructure and culture.

By the time these groups had politically matured, they found them-
selves operating within semi-authoritarian states whose accommo-
dation (or, more often, lack thereof ) of Islamist participation was
relatively easy to assess. And it was in response to such predictable
and stable political spaces that these Islamist groups formed their
identities. Today, by contrast, in nearly every country surveyed, the
local government has a mere façade of stability, at best, and rather
little about its policies that can be described as predictable. This adds
a measure of uncertainty for the Islamists operating within those
borders—​indeed, just as we are trying to rethink political Islam, so
too are Islamists rethinking their Islamism in relation to uncertain
local and regional settings.
Aside from the stability of local governments, the other major dif-
ference from the pre-2011 political situation is that political culture is
increasingly being defined and arbitrated in sectarian terms—​a point
that, interestingly, only one chapter discusses in any significant way.
Even though the main theater of sectarian tensions is in Iraq, Syria,
and Yemen, and while at the state level only Saudi Arabia and Iran
have officially embraced the themes that would make it relevant, it
is the sectarian significance of these conflicts that reverberates across
borders and could determine, for example, the “mouvance” (to use
Monica Marks’s term) of Salafi-​jihadists in places like Tunisia. More
discussion of this new sectarian flavor in regional politics would pro-
vide added insight into the regional rise of voices, such as those of
the Salafis, precisely because it is they who have created the political
language for reading significance into sectarian tensions.
Third is the question of social media, which earned no significant
treatment in these studies. While it is certainly easy to overstate the
importance of social media, there are significant analytical risks of
understating it. After all, it is through social media that the sectarian
portrayal of regional conflict is promoted, and it is through social media
that new transregional links are created in ways that hadn’t existed prior
to 2011. Therefore, not considering the role, if not the responsibility, of
social media in some of these large-​scale shifts risks mischaracterizing
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How Much Do Organizational Structures Matter 289

the dynamics of Islamist groups as merely local phenomena (and they

may, in some cases, be just that).
Finally, in terms of categories and terms, we too often remain mar-
ried to pre-​2011 typologies. Here Marks’s observation regarding “the
tendency, in both local and Western press, to label religiously ori-
ented actors as diverse as Salafi-​jihadists, Boko Haram, the Egyptian
Brotherhood, and Ennahda as ‘Islamists’ [having] generated additional
confusion regarding Ennahda’s identity” is just as relevant beyond the
case of Ennahda, and for which my own work tries to provide some
granularity.1 When looking at the Kuwaiti case, for example, even the
line between “Muslim Brotherhood” and “activist Salafi” has been
blurred. It is precisely when these groups are rethinking their found-
ing doctrines within fluid political settings that the academic and
policy communities would do well to revisit the fundamental differ-
ences between these groups (e.g., the legal-​theological Salafi orienta-
tion vs. the modern political ideology of the Brotherhood) as entry
points for understanding them. Specifically, it is the very distinctions
between the priorities of Salafis and Brotherhood-​inspired organiza-
tions—​the former aiming to ensure that only their understanding of
Islamic ritual and creed dominates, the latter that Islam in general be
in a position of social and political influence—​that provide the key to
understanding the different approaches to popular mobilization each
uses and why the former may resonate more today.
Indeed, given the scale of all of these political shifts and the blurring
of lines between groups, how precisely can we tell “extremists” from
“nonextremists,” and what does it mean to be “radical” (i.e., radical
in relation to what?) versus “moderate”? Certainly, the Islamic State is
unique in its grotesque brutality, which has alienated the organization
from even other jihadist groups, and can therefore be treated as an
isolated phenomenon. But when comparing the objectives and nature
of the many other groups, from the al-​Qaeda-​affiliated jihadists to the
Syrian militants to the nonviolent Salafis, might we as scholars not do
well to provide to readers some deeper and more descriptive vocabu-
lary for distinguishing these myriad groups at a time when so much
is at stake? Moreover, there is an added epistemological risk of using
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290 Religion, Ideology, and Organization

terms like “extremist” and “moderate” to distinguish, for example,

between the various Syrian opposition groups; we need to remember
that local voices (Assad, for example) use these same terms to push
their own very different, and often destructive, interests and agendas.
Here it is surprising to see some of the chapters promote the “inclu-
sion-​moderation hypothesis” as applied to the Muslim Brotherhood,
especially given that we now know the opaque nature of the causes
and contexts in which they have evolved over the last six years. Here
Courtney Freer offers the helpful reminder that “Islamists do not nec-
essarily moderate when included in a political system, nor do they
always privilege ideological policies over systemic political change more
broadly.”
It seems that given the transformative nature of these large-​scale
political changes, these circumstances must be somehow integrated
into our new thinking about political Islam, and specifically toward
understanding various Islamic groups as dynamic and relational to
their political environments. Here I disagree somewhat with Raphaël
Lefèvre’s argument that we need “a renewed focus on the kind of inter-
nal dynamics which take place within Islamist groups [that] may shed
light on the factors accounting for their resilience.” He argues for
adopting resource mobilization theory, in which Islamist groups are
studied according to their “organizational survival,” and suggests look-
ing at the internal bureaucracy that provides political and professional
opportunities to those who commit to a group’s cause. This may be
the case, but I wonder about the relevance of using these bureaucratic
relationships as an analytical prism at a time when Islamist groups’
political context is not always bureaucratic, much less local, and
when the increasing fragility of states does not always accommodate
the functions of organized bureaucracies. Rather, with the globaliza-
tion of the political sphere and the greater contact between various
Islamist groups, it may be more productive to understand them in
relation to those broader circumstances. Specifically, borrowing from
a typology I used to describe the different kinds of sectarianisms in
the Middle East, we could better understand Islamist groups today in
functional terms as they carve out spaces for themselves within these
new settings: institutional—​whether and to what degree they directly
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How Much Do Organizational Structures Matter 291

engage with local political institutions; exploitative—​whether they

embrace violent mechanisms to exploit local instability; or accommo-
dationist—​in which they engage politically relevant themes without
challenging existing institutions or directly becoming involved in for-
mal politics.2

Raphaël Lefèvre Responds

Rethinking Political Islam has offered welcome room for debate on
the shifting dynamics shaping Muslim Brotherhood groups in a new
Middle East. Jacob Olidort’s contribution is particularly useful in two
respects. First, he highlights some of the contemporary issues affect-
ing the Brotherhood that scholars have not sufficiently examined,
such as the role of social media and simmering sectarian tensions.
Second, and most important, he steps into the theoretical debate
about Islamic mobilization to argue that researchers must rethink cer-
tain assumptions in light of what we know now. In his view, today’s
Islamist movements are the “products” of their immediate political
environment—​in other words, to understand the decisions made by
the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, one needs to look primarily at the
“external circumstances” surrounding it, such as the Egyptian regime’s
crackdown on the movement since 2013. He worries that scholars, in
formulating their analyses, have not sufficiently taken into account
the sheer scale of political change the region has witnessed since the
Arab Spring.
That context deeply matters and impacts political—​and, in our
case, Islamist—​mobilization is actually a central theme of the chap-
ters included in Rethinking Political Islam and is, more broadly, a
well-​established argument in the theoretical literature. But there
are major issues with viewing this approach as the primary factor
explaining the “ideological priorities” and “political alignment” of
Islamist groups. Indeed, it implicitly denies them agency and auton-
omy from their immediate political environment while effectively
sidelining complementary theoretical perspectives. What instead
appears timely, in a Middle Eastern context marked by repression,
civil war, and state collapse, is to look at how national and regional
29

292 Religion, Ideology, and Organization

politics impact internal dynamics within these groups. Movements

affiliated with the Muslim Brotherhood are characterized by a com-
plex decision-​making process, thus making their very strategies and
ideological platforms the result of virulent debates and internal power
struggles. These are sophisticated organizations and informal bureau-
cracies with an agency of their own.

The Brotherhood as a “Bureaucracy”

Considering Muslim Brotherhood movements as “bureaucracies” may

at first glance seem out of tune with prevailing perceptions of the cur-
rent state of the Middle East. Jacob Olidort thus wonders about the
relevance of this approach “at a time when their political context is not
always bureaucratic, much less local, and when the increasing fragility of
states does not always accommodate the functions of organized bureau-
cracies.” In reality, however, there is no necessary contradiction between
these groups’ organizational sophistication and the unstable political
context around them. First, viewing the Muslim Brotherhood as an
informal bureaucracy does not imply that it functions like a Weberian-​
style centralized and hierarchical public administration. It merely refers
to the organization’s seemingly unique capacity, in the Islamist field,
to develop its own decision-​making model and mobilize resources and
staff to achieve its ends. This perspective on the Brotherhood is not in
contradiction with others—​in fact, it seeks to offer a more complete
picture of the movement by going beyond discourse analysis to under-
stand the complex web of factors that shape its decisions on crucial
issues.
Second, the currently dire situation faced by Muslim Brotherhood
branches in Syria and Egypt, both in exile due to the considerable
repression they face at home, does not diminish the relevance of such an
approach—​if anything, it heightens it. This may seem counterintuitive.
Yet my research into the evolution of the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood’s
networks since 1982 (when it was forced out of the country) suggests
that as Islamist groups go into exile, their priority shifts to organizational
survival—​and bureaucracy is the only tool they are left with. They use it
to continue thriving abroad by developing a professional cadre of mem-
bers, socializing sympathizers into party loyalty, mobilizing resources to
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How Much Do Organizational Structures Matter 293

create social and political opportunities for members, and protecting

themselves against major splits. In fact, the Brotherhood’s ability to use
its bureaucratic structures and networks is what has allowed it, in the
Syrian case and, I suspect, in the Tunisian and Libyan cases too, to sur-
vive against the odds for decades in exile before making surprisingly
successful comebacks. They may have lost ground since 2012 but their
resilience owes much to their organization.

Setting a New Research Agenda

While this institutionalist approach points to the Muslim Brotherhood’s

strengths, it also highlights some of the group’s weaknesses. As a social
movement grows older and gains in organizational sophistication, its
structures are likely to become more “oligarchized.” Members, who
often depend on its bureaucracy for social and professional reasons,
may become guided more by a desire to preserve the organization than
to achieve its stated goals. This has two negative implications for the
Muslim Brotherhood that may help explain the lack of popularity it
sometimes faces even in the more pious subsections of society. First,
the fact that the Brotherhood might be guided by an instinct for orga-
nizational maintenance might lead it to make decisions that contradict
its ideological message. This heightens popular mistrust of the orga-
nization’s “real” agenda and paves the way for the often more uncom-
promising Salafis to challenge its authenticity and religious legitimacy.
Second, the Brotherhood’s “oligarchization” means the emergence of
clique structures within the organization that can lead to the concen-
tration of power in the hands of just a select few. The group’s branches
from Syria to Egypt and Jordan are all directed by figures who have
been in control for decades—​they are “career Muslim Brothers” and
their continued monopoly on power is harming the groups’ outside
image and leading to generational splits.
This institutionalist approach to the Muslim Brotherhood draws on
the conceptual tools developed by sociologists Roberta Ash,3 John Mc
Carthy, and Mayer Zald4 in relation to their work on “resource mobi-
lization theory” in the context of “social movement organizations.”
Their theoretical insights are rich, and they offer avenues for the type
of multidisciplinary research into the Brotherhood that the literature
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294 Religion, Ideology, and Organization

on Islamist groups is sometimes still lacking. They point to the need

for studying these movements’ extensive networks, organizational
structures, decision-​making arrangements, and internal politico-​ide-
ological debates. Yet they also demonstrate the importance in times
of political uncertainty of focusing greater attention on the nature of
tensions between the base and leadership and older and younger gen-
erations. These internal dynamics weigh more heavily than we might
expect on Islamist groups’ political and ideological choices and, thus,
need to be examined more carefully. Being equipped with some of the
conceptual tools mentioned above and with the theoretical insights
of political science, sociology, and even anthropology and ethnogra-
phy can help us address these understudied yet increasingly important
themes at a critical point in time.
 295

19
Q
How “Religious” Are ISIS Fighters?
The Relationship Between Religious Literacy
and Religious Motivation

Andrew Lebovich

One aspect of the emergence of sharia, or Islamic law, into the fore-
front of public debate is that those trying to understand radicalization
have had to deal more seriously with the question of Islamic educa-
tion and the role that specific belief structures—​from Sufi to Salafi and
everything in between—​might play in somehow containing or shaping
forms of Islamic practice.
This relates to the endless, and often frustrating, back and forth
over whether or not fighters from the Islamic State are really “Islamic.”
One side of this debate has rightly noted that most of the group’s
foreign recruits are not religiously literate. Revelations in 2016 of
Islamic State internal memoranda appear at first glance to support
this assertion.
This mass disclosure of documents catalogs foreign recruits to the
Islamic State, including in sometimes minute detail their personal
information, past histories, and motivations for joining the fight. Thus
far, it is largely journalists who have explored the documents, and they
have done a good job of finding interesting information and aggregat-
ing initial trends.1 This is especially true when a journalist with deep

295
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296 Religion, Ideology, and Organization

experience and research skills like Yassin Musharbash goes in-​depth

with a collection of 3,000 of these documents.2 One element that
Musharbash noted in his initial distillation is that a large majority of
Islamic State recruits rank their own knowledge of the sharia as “weak,”
and relatively few of these fighters seem to have advanced training in
sharia.
Based on past debates about radicalization and the intersection
between belief and jihadist recruitment, it seems likely that at least
some observers will conclude from these documents that the Islamic
State and its recruits are cynically using religion or that the phenome-
non really has little to do with religion in the first place. However, such
a conclusion would be unwarranted based on the evidence available
and takes a far too simplistic approach to understanding the complexity
of the sharia and Islamic knowledge in general.
The relative weakness of someone’s knowledge of sharia does not nec-
essarily say much about how religious he or she is or wants to be. For
one thing, a depth of knowledge of sharia is not particularly common
even for observant Muslims, and it is in many ways a construct of out-
siders to think that it should be. The old Orientalist academic tradition
was built around the close study of texts drafted by religious scholars
(ulama) or well-​educated and highly literate Muslims concerned with
in-​depth issues of exegesis and interpretation. Some of these academ-
ics like Joseph Schacht focused on the study of sharia and component
legal issues (fiqh), and placed it in many ways at the center of Islamic
meaning and life.3 More recently, although scholars like Wael Hallaq
have questioned these older understandings, they too have placed the
sharia at the center of constructions of morality and practice in preco-
lonial societies. Hallaq describes the death of the “sharia system” that
accompanied colonialism as one of the reasons a certain Islamic past
and concept of statehood is simply irretrievable today.4
What these descriptions can elide in popular discussion is that deep
study of Islamic law was never particularly common among the masses
in the Muslim world and was generally reserved for the ulama, or reli-
gious scholars, who devoted their lives to the study of these issues.
Criticizing the depth of people’s religious feeling or even knowledge
on the basis of their lack of knowledge of sharia would be like ques-
tioning Americans’ sense of civic association because they didn’t make
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How “Religious” Are ISIS Fighters? 297

their career as a lawyer. They might not know anything about the
law, but there is much more to a sense of being American than just
that. Similarly, religious belief and practice—​even in more rigorous
forms—​is about far more than just the law. Academic debates have
sometimes been slow to understand this, particularly when it comes
to lazy descriptions of Sufism based on its supposed “mysticism” and
supposed (but often false) lack of religious orthodoxy—ignoring the
rigorous educational and interpretative training and histories of many
Sufi leaders over the centuries.
For Islamic State recruits, a weak knowledge of sharia could mean
many things. It could and does sometimes mean genuine ignorance
of even basic religious precepts, but not always. People join militant
movements for a variety of intersecting reasons, including belief, poli-
tics, economics, and more. Limited knowledge of an area of Islam
traditionally left to dedicated experts says little about the contours of
individual religious belief; if anything, it reflects our own projections
onto others about modernity and education. Someone can be an ardent
and even (dare I say) informed believer in the cause and justness of the
Islamic State without having much knowledge of the sharia. And the
group is certainly happy to propagate its own interpretations through
instruction and the dissemination of texts on sharia, but it is more than
likely that the people joining the Islamic State were already inclined to
support these interpretations.
Moreover, as the Muslim Brotherhood’s Amr Darrag argues in this
volume, one of the challenges for Western analysts in understand-
ing Islamic movements is accepting the role of faith in shaping the
actions of the movements’ members. Faith is difficult to define and
measure as an analytical category, and this is one reason the early
Orientalist scholars sought refuge in sources they could touch and
see.
However, Darrag may overstate his arguments about faith when dif-
ferentiating between organizations like the Muslim Brotherhood and
the Islamic State. He suggests that “the chasm between the Muslim
Brotherhood and these other groups is the Brotherhood’s privileging of
faith over utility while not discounting the latter, where other groups,
such as the Islamic State, privilege utility over morality and faith while
occasionally discounting the latter in the name of the former.” Whether
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298 Religion, Ideology, and Organization

or not this is true from an institutional perspective, we should not dis-

count the role that faith plays in motivating the decisions of Islamic
State recruits—a faith that may not be dependent on specific religious
knowledge or that may actively discount certain interpretations over
others, even if these recruits do not think highly of their own learning
in sharia. Additionally, in discounting faith as a possible motivation for
the Islamic State, Darrag makes the same mistake for which he critiques
those writing about the Brotherhood and assumes an instrumentaliza-
tion of Islam for political ends while ignoring the possibility that the
reverse might be true.
This point brings us to the question of countering recruitment to
the Islamic State and similar organizations. Because of the percep-
tion that jihadist recruits were deficient in their knowledge of the
“true” religion, a number of figures over the years, ranging from the
king of Morocco to the Metropolitan Police’s first head of the Muslim
Contact Unit Robert Lambert to imams and lay Muslims, have
argued that a major corrective must come from better Islamic educa-
tion from ostensibly moderate principles.5 There is nothing wrong
with this argument per se, but it ignores several issues. For instance,
recruits to jihadist groups may have thought about and rejected these
“moderate” principles and systems of belief before joining, rather
than joining because they were simply not aware of other interpreta-
tions. Additionally, American, European, and even Muslim govern-
ments have to varying degrees sought to promote so-​called moderates,
potentially discrediting these Muslim leaders through their associa-
tion with government programs.
Finally, these questions about Islamic education and regulating
authority structures are far from apolitical. Even though leaders of
Muslim countries and communities want to (understandably) inhibit
radicalism and violence, exerting control over religious structures also
means exerting control over believers. Countries like Turkey, Algeria,
and Morocco, for instance, have made efforts to take closer control of
mosques and appoint pro-​government imams partially under the guise
of countering radicalization. Morocco has also increasingly framed itself
as a counter-​radicalization partner not just in Morocco and Europe,
but in Sub-​Saharan Africa as well. Whether or not these programs and
initiatives are effective is a subject for another essay. But these initiatives
 29

How “Religious” Are ISIS Fighters? 299

not only further politicize Islamic education and training but also serve
as foreign policy tools for governments to reinforce their legitimacy
abroad—further tempting Western governments to ignore issues like
corruption and judicial abuses in favor of having strong partners against
extremism.6
30

20
Q
Do Islamists Have an Intellectual Deficit?
Ovamir Anjum

Although my primary area of research has been premodern Islamic

tradition, my interest in “political Islam” in general and in reformists
in particular goes back further than that, and has been the subject of
my more recent thinking. When interviewing leaders of the Egyptian
“revolution”—​as it was then being called—​during the summer of 2011
in Tahrir Square, I developed a suspicion that has since developed into
something stronger, though not quite a coherent thesis just yet. It is
that the reformists—​by which I mean “moderate Islamists” who are,
almost by definition, committed to working within the modern nation-​
state system—​have been devoid of a well-​grounded vision of Islamic
politics, by which I mean a vision backed by a densely elaborated dis-
cursive tradition.1 Notwithstanding the debate over the extent to which
social movements’ success depends on a coherent ideology (as opposed
to just effective framing), I note that in the context of fierce competi-
tion from militant, quietist, and pro-​establishment Islamic groups, this
deficiency appears to be taxing Islamists’ ability to deliver the goods
they promise and prevent radicalization.2
The impressive array of chapters on Islamists included in this
volume, enhanced by the authors’ productive engagement with
each other’s contributions, sheds unprecedented light on Islamists’
predicaments, transformations, strategies of survival, and future

300
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Do Islamists Have an Intellectual Deficit? 301

prospects, and gives much food for thought for future scholarship.
I will direct my comments here to the question of “framing” and
“ideology,” or what I shall refer to as discursive tradition.3 The dis-
tinction between the two concepts, pointed out in a number stud-
ies, turns on notions of durability, coherence, and manipulation:
framing being “innovative amplifications and extensions of, or anti-
dotes to, existing ideologies,” whereas ideology is a “fairly broad,
coherent, and relatively durable” set of beliefs and values that are
“pervasive and integrated” and concern not just politics but life in
general.4 Since Islamism sees itself as primarily about contesting
ideology (rather than alleviating a limited kind of injustice), such
a distinction may not be justified. However, a modified form of
this distinction may still be useful, since Islamic activists’ framing
of discourses designed for the political arena may differ from, even
as they draw on, theorists’ and clerics’ participation in Islam as a
discursive tradition. I explore the notion of discursive success in
terms of the density and coherence of a discourse and, taking my cue
from the contributions in the previous chapters, ask how the Islamic
movements’ “success” is related to their discursive success. I suggest
that mainstream Islamists (who are the focus of most of the contri-
butions here) suffer from an intellectual deficit, and that this deficit
is observable both at the level of movement framing and the deeper
ideological discourse.
This deficit can be discerned in the set of challenges facing Islamists
that most contributors have pointed out, such as intergenerational
tensions; perceptions by youth activists that their leaders lack princi-
ples and compromise endlessly; defection to more radical or militant
groups; and the growing frustration with the democratic experiment.
All these suggest an intellectual deficit on the part of the Islamists in
question, who have yet to produce a better, more coherent defense of
their politics. Compare the sleek media production of the Islamic State,
due in part to its framing success in attracting young, Westernized,
and tech-​savvy youth, or even to the impressive scholarly resources
offered by the Saudi sheikhs of the Gulf, to the soporific websites
of the Brotherhood or the South Asian Jamaat groups. Nonetheless,
the discourse of Muslim Brotherhood-inspired groups has shown
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302 Religion, Ideology, and Organization

notable success in some respects. For instance, despite all of the cur-
rent developments, a number of chapters have noted the ideological
or discursive distance of “the Islamist ideological corpus” from tak-
firi ideologies, as well as from the notion of violence as the primary
mechanism for change. In this respect, and others, the role of ideas
is crucial, although not determinative. Yet on the whole, if ideas that
are ensconced in a dynamic and deeply grounded discursive tradi-
tion constitute an important factor in the success of movements, the
relative weakening of such a discourse has been one of the Islamists’
weaknesses in recent decades.
Without reiterating the well-​worn debate on whether ideas matter,
I would like to suggest a couple of specific ways in which the ideology-
phobia of some important social scientific trends should be qualified,
and I do so as a foil to open up space for my argument. Materialist
explanations tend to push back against the claim that ideas have an
independent role, however variable and small, in the explanatory appa-
ratus. They do so in at least two ways: first, even when ideas do seem to
matter, their operationalization is decisively determined by their mate-
rial context; and second, ideologies are little more than frozen expres-
sions of commitments and interests whose material contexts have been
lost to us. The latter objection is non-​falsifiable and hence itself ideo-
logical. The former claim, in my view, is overstated. Mental constructs
and systems of ideas are not determined by context in any simple sense.
Such systems not only influence the weighing of moral options or how
scriptural interpretations are to be operationalized but also, just as
important, shape the very mental construction of the material context.
In other words, although context matters, the very perception and pars-
ing of context depends on pre-​existing ideas and frames.
Pushing this line of argument a bit, the materialist claim could
be turned on its head; no institutions and material factors in fact
exist except as mental constructs, at the mercy of the discursive tra-
ditions of which the subject is a part.5 Both idealists and material-
ists have learned to restrain their claims; one can commend Stacey
Philbrick Yadav’s formulation in chapter 5 that emphasizes the “itera-
tive relationship between discourse and institutions.” To the extent
that discourse matters, Islamic reformist discourse (by which I mean
 30

Do Islamists Have an Intellectual Deficit? 303

not only framing but also what has been called “ideology”) deserves
social scientists’ attention.
The gap between thinkers and the organizational leadership is often
minimal in movements in their early years, as in the lifetime of Hassan
al-​
Banna, Abul Ala Mawdudi, and, more recently, the Moroccan
Al Adl Wal Ihsan under the charismatic leader and scholar-​intellectual
Abdesslam Yassine.6 The difference between Morocco’s Al Adl and the
Justice and Development Party (PJD), as profiled by Avi Spiegel in his
chapter, suggests to me that the Al Adl members who draw on the more
confident and deeper writings of their late leader enjoy a great deal of
success without electoral participation. Yassine’s insistence, for instance,
that democracy is not quite the same as Islamic shura—exploring the
associations and corollaries of both while also rejecting the subservience
to the king—sits more harmoniously with the desire for an authentic
Islamic existence in modern times, as it recalls the prophetic critique of
the rulers by the ulama in the Islamic imagination.7 The Egypt-​centered
Islamists’ ambivalent embrace of democracy, in contrast, draws nearly
universal criticisms of inauthenticity.8 I agree with Spiegel that we need
to think of success in terms broader ​than ​electoral gains, and I would
suggest that discursive depth and the personal and political transfor-
mation of individuals ought to count for more. The success of Egypt’s
Salafis in 2012 shows that such transformative religious influence may
be turned into electoral gains relatively easily. Pakistan’s Islamists also
offer an instructive example where Mawdudi’s powerful writings once
shaped the larger national discourse without earning the Jamaat any
electoral victories. In contrast, when such grassroots religious influ-
ence is lacking, even political access is of limited use as the leaders are
reduced to making deals with other powers. In the Yemeni context, for
example, Yadav details such compromise in her discussion of “the limits
of [partisan] politics without a strong grassroots movement.”
Other Islamic trends, in contrast, fare somewhat better in their dis-
cursive density. The accretist-​traditionalists (my neologism for the gen-
erally pro-​establishment Sunni ulama defined by commitment to the
established schools of law, kalam theology, and moderate Sufism) can
boast a dense tradition, even if it loses in terms of sociopolitical rel-
evance and popularity to the Islamists. The Salafis, whom I categorize
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304 Religion, Ideology, and Organization

as originalist-​traditionalists, draw on long-​standing traditions of ahl

al-​hadith, the Hanbali legal school, and premodern sharia elaborated
most powerfully by late medieval traditionalists like Ibn Taymiyya,
Ibn al-​ Qayyim, and others. South Asian traditionalists have long
looked to the expansive Hanafi-​Maturidi tradition, reinvigorated by
authorities like Shah Wali Ullah, who can be seen as lying in some
respects between the Arab accretists and the Salafis. The Twelver
Shi’a, similarly, boast a comprehensive and dense legal and philo-
sophical tradition stretching without serious rupture back to the
beginning of the Safavid period in the 16th century. The Islamists of the
Brotherhood “school,” in contrast, while open to drawing selectively on
most of these traditions—and most alive to issues of social and political
justice precisely because of their receptivity to modernity—exhibit an
ambivalent relationship to the historical Islamic tradition. They relate
to it to reform and transform it, rather than be deeply transformed by
it. However, despite their modernism, their relationship to modernity
remains somewhat skeptical and tenuous. At an intellectual level, this
could plausibly result in a lack of interest in sustained investigation of
either tradition, the classical and the modernist. Alternatively, it could
generate exceptional interest in juxtaposing and investigating both. The
institutional conditions for the latter being nearly nonexistent in the
region, it is the former of the two options that is often taken.
For most Islamist activists, the original vision and style of Hassan al-​
Banna—​a charismatic leader and master of synthesis and com­promise—​
continue to set the tone. Mawdudi, a more theoretical, systematic,
and polemical mind, can be credited for being the first to furnish the
Islamists with a model of Islamic history, society, and state. In Egypt,
Qutb was the next influential figure after Banna, albeit one on the mar-
gins of the organization, who possessed the literary force, intellectual
passion, and charisma to create a self-​confident vision, one that may
have been derailed by his immoderation (or perhaps attractive pre-
cisely due to that), attributable in part to his prolonged imprisonment.
Otherwise, the Muslim Brotherhood’s leaders have been technocrats
and bureaucrats, not inspiring thinkers and visionaries. The Pakistani
Jamaat has done no better after Mawdudi. Perhaps the closest thing
mainstream Islamists have had to a powerful visionary since Qutb is
the Al Adl Wal Ihsan’s Abdesslam Yassine, whose luster has been dulled
 305

Do Islamists Have an Intellectual Deficit? 305

due to Morocco’s marginality in the broader region. Despite these

important influences, the mother organization in Egypt, and to varying
degrees elsewhere, seem to have Banna’s indelible mark of pragmatism,
compromise, as well as a measure of anti-​intellectualism.
The draining of intellectual resources may be one of the causes
of organizational insularity. Anti-​intellectualism, aggravated under
repressive conditions, seems to preclude any path to the top of the
organizational ladder other than loyalty and seniority, perpetuating
the old-​timers’ hold on authority. There are no Bannas, Mawdudis,
or Qutbs anymore, only aging avuncular figures best at surviving, not
inspiring. This seems to me to be the case with the two movements I
am most familiar with, the Egyptian Brotherhood and the Pakistani
Jamaat. Whether it is in fact so, and to what extent, is an interesting
problem for investigation.
My hypothesis of intellectual deficit could be challenged by at
least three kinds of reformist contributions to Islamic discursive tra-
dition. First, starting in the 1980s if not earlier, a newer generation
of reformist Azhari ulama such as Mohamed al-​Ghazali and Yusuf
al-​
Qaradawi, and intellectuals such as Salim al-​’Awa, Mohamed
Imara, and Fahmy Huwaydi, whom Raymond Baker has labeled “the
new Islamists,” have laid a framework for a more tolerant (read: less
anti-​Western, which may have something to do with Egypt’s liber-
alization under Sadat), although not necessarily more coherent or
cogent, sociopolitical vision of Islam.9 Second, a powerful trend of
the “economization of Islamism” has grown since the 1970s.10 As the
international focus shifted from an ethos of developmentalism that
had encouraged Islamist thought in the direction of state-​centered
ideologies, the focus partly shifted from capturing states to the cre-
ation of “Islamic” economy and banking. This latter trend has pro-
duced in its wake not only a new global economic sector but also
an ever-​growing literature on the subject. A third focus of Islamic
reformists has been on the “fiqh of minorities” with a view to the
growing minorities of Muslims in the West and the increasing glo-
balization of reformist communities and concerns.11 All three types
of projects, underway at a few reformist institutions in Pakistan,
Malaysia, and the West, are straddled by a concern to adjust Islam
to modernity.
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306 Religion, Ideology, and Organization

Even if some mainstream Islamists and their reformist ilk are pro-
ducing political, economic, and social scholarship in response to mod-
ern challenges, in what respects might they still be considered deficient?
Although the debate is far from over, much recent scholarship, by both
Western academics and Islamic traditionalists, has called into question
the cogency of each of these reformist discourses. The Islamists seek
to justify, it has been argued, an Islamic state without exploring the
full implications of the modern nation-​state and asking whether an
“Islamic state” is desirable or even possible; they call for social justice
but ignore or neglect the destructive aspects of neoliberalism vis-​à-​vis
family, community, and the environment; they make the case for a
modern Islamic economy, without sufficient reflection on how “moder-
nity” is to be attained without the uniquely materialist motivations at
its heart furnished by capitalism and secularism; and they offer a fiqh
of minorities without a well-​formed understanding of the host societ-
ies in the West.12 Furthermore, they are accused of impatience vis-​à-​
vis the meticulous, erudite scholasticism of medieval Islamic tradition
and take refuge in generalistic, result-​oriented instruments such as the
notion of public benefit (maslaha) and objectives (maqasid) of Islamic
law—​instruments that are similarly available for abuse by their equally
result-​oriented militant counterparts.13
To be sure, the Islamists have not failed in disseminating their mes-
sage. To the contrary, unlike the militant fringe, the reformist influence
of Brotherhood-​style Islamism is in varying degrees nearly ubiquitous
among literate religious Muslims. But precisely because of this, at
least some responsibility for the widespread intellectual malaise in the
Muslim world could be blamed on the Islamists, on their tendency to
paper over serious conflicts, such as between Islamic tradition and the
secular and liberal commitments of modern democracy; and their fail-
ure to provide meaningful ways to address threats posed by modernity,
such as economic inequality and environmental challenges, leaving the
large swaths of Muslims under their sway unprepared to take meaning-
ful action.
On the activist side, loyalty to the organization seems to be the first
principle of Islamist activism, and the large gap between learned and
potentially creative reformist thinkers and the organizations’ leaders
 307

Do Islamists Have an Intellectual Deficit? 307

chosen on the basis of seniority and loyalty seems largely impenetrable.

It is a legitimate question, then, to ask whether such an intellectual
deficit contributed to the Islamists’ lackluster performance in the events
of the Arab uprisings, particularly to what many scholars have viewed
as the Egyptian Brotherhood’s governance failures in the admittedly
all-​too-​brief opportunity granted them.
Simple intellectual incompetence or failure need not be construed as
a cause unto itself, and several explanations may be offered for this defi-
cit. One might argue that it is the very activist structure of social move-
ment organizations like the Brotherhood that precludes intellectual or
theoretical depth. Perhaps it is just the burden of having to survive
under brutal repression for generations that has led to conservatism and
engendered fear of critical scholarship that might call into question the
group’s foundational principles. In other cases, as in Pakistan, perhaps
it is participation in the messiness of electoral politics that dilutes the
impulse to dig in and ask tough questions. Alternatively, perhaps it is
just that all religions in the age of globalization are fated to inhabit a
world of “holy ignorance,” as the French scholar Olivier Roy has poi-
gnantly argued.14 These arguments may all be correct. In any case, they
highlight a set of fascinating problems for Islamists and scholars of
Islamism alike.
308
 309

Not es

q
Introduction
1. This book defines “mainstream” Islamist groups as those that operate
within the confines of institutional politics and are willing to work
within existing state structures, even ostensibly secular ones. They
have, with few exceptions, embraced parliamentary politics, electoral
competition, and mass politics more broadly. They are generally, though
not always, “gradualist” in orientation, favoring a slow, bottom-​up
approach to social and political change. We are not making a normative
judgment about the content of their beliefs and whether any of these
characteristics are good or bad. Most mainstream Islamist groups are
either Brotherhood or Brotherhood-​inspired movements, drawing in
some fashion on the Brotherhood’s frame of reference and “school of
thought.”
2. For more on Ennahda’s evolving relationship with Salafis in Tunisia,
see Shadi Hamid, Islamic Exceptionalism: How the Struggle Over Islam is
Reshaping the World (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2016): 208–​211.
3. Mareike Transfeld, “Houthis on the Rise in Yemen,” Carnegie Endowment
for International Peace, October 31, 2014, http://​carnegieendowment.org/​
sada/​?fa=57087.
4. Avi Spiegel, Reaction essay, (The Brookings Institution, Rethinking Political
Islam project, December 2015), https://​www.brookings.edu/​wp-​content/​
uploads/​2016/​07/​Morocco_​Spiegel-​2.pdf.

309
310

310 Notes to pages 17–19

Chapter 1
1. While the Brotherhood–​regime conflict is particularly prominent, it is
important to contextualize it within other episodes of regime violence:
targeting non-​Islamist activists with a draconian protest law; delegating
control of restive universities to the security services; targeting prominent
NGOs and rights activists, and stirring up moral panics in an attempt to co-​
opt religious discourse for itself. See Josh Stacher, “Fragmenting States, New
Regimes: Militarized State Violence in the Middle East,” Democratization
22, no. 2 (2015): 259–​275.
2. On the Brotherhood’s electoral strategy in less-​than-​democratic systems, see
Nathan Brown, When Victory Is Not an Option: Islamist Movements in Arab
Politics (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2012). See also Vicki Langohr,
“Of Islamists and Ballot Boxes: Rethinking the Relationship Between
Islamisms and Electoral Politics,” International Journal of Middle East Politics
33, no. 4 (November 2001): 591–​610.
3. David D. Kirkpatrick, “Egyptian Court Bans the Muslim Brotherhood,”
New York Times, September 23, 2013, http://​www.nytimes.com/​2013/​09/​24/​
world/​middleeast/​egyptian-​court-​bans-​muslim-​brotherhood.html?_​r=0.
4. As discussed later in this chapter, the campaign encompassed two types of
institutions: educational facilities and community associations. Mohammed
Sa’adni, “al-​Masry al-​Youm Tanshir Qa’ima bi-​Isma’ Jama’iyat ‘al-​Ikhwan’
al-​Mujammida (1) [al-​Masry al-​Youm Publishes the List with Names of the
Brotherhood Community Associations Whose Funds Are Frozen],” al-​Masry
al-​Youm, December 24, 2014, http://​www.almasryalyoum.com/​news/​details/​
363611.
5. Al-​Gam’iyya al-​Shar’iyya has apparently been able to sufficiently distance
its branches from the Brotherhood, and thus it has been allowed to resume
operations. Aaron T. Rose, “Administrative Court Lifts al-​Gameya al-​
Shareya,” Daily News Egypt, June 25, 2014, http://​www.dailynewsegypt.com/​
2014/​06/​25/​administrative-​court-​lifts-​al-​gameya-​al-​shareya/​.
6. Sarah Jamil, “al-​Masry al-​Youm Tanshir Qa’imat Wazirat al-​’Adl bi-​
Isma 87 Madrassa Taba’a lil-​’Ikhwan’ [al-​Masry al-​Youm Publishes the
Ministry of Justice’s List of Names of 87 Schools Affiliated to the Muslim
Brotherhood],” al-​Masry al-​Youm, December 30, 2013, http://​www.
almasryalyoum.com/​news/​details/​369022.
7. Sayyid Abdel Rahim, “Misr: Al-​tahafuth ‘ala 16 jama’iya ahliyya lil-​Ikhwan
[Egypt: Seizure of 16 Associations Belonging to the Muslim Brotherhood],”
al-​Arabiyya al-​Jadid, May 6, 2016, https://​goo.gl/​K4prdU; Hani Fathi,
“ ‘Hasr Amwal al-​Ikhwan’ Tatahafuz ‘Ala Mumtalakat Mistashfa al-​Zahra’
wa al-​Lu’Lu’a bi Beni Suef [Seizure of the Brotherhood’s Assets Including
the Zahra’ (Flower) and Lu’Lu’a (Pearl) Hospitals in Beni Suef ],” al-​Youm
al-​Sabea’, December 13, 2015, http://​goo.gl/​EbUzNF.
8. “Seized Properties of Egypt’s Banned Muslim Brotherhood Worth $1.1 Bln,”
al-​Ahram, January 24, 2016, http://​english.ahram.org.eg/​News/​185791.aspx.
 31

Notes to pages 19–20 311

9. Todd Ruffner, “Under Threat: Egypt’s Systematic Campaign Against

NGOs,” Project on Middle East Democracy, March 2015, http://​pomed.org/​
wp-​content/​uploads/​2015/​03/​Under-​Threat-​Egypts-​Systematic-​Campaign-​
against-​NGOs.pdf.
10. Ibid., 5.
11. “Egypt: Planned Asset Freezes Are Government’s Latest Tool to Eradicate
Civil Society,” Amnesty International, March 18, 2016, http://​www.
amnestyusa.org/​news/​press-​releases/​egypt-​planned-​asset-​freezes-​are-​
government-​s-​latest-​tool-​to-​eradicate-​civil-​society; Shahira Amin, “Egypt’s
NGOs Face ‘Orchestrated, Escalating’ Assault from Authorities,” Al-​
Monitor, March 23, 2016, http://​www.al-​monitor.com/​pulse/​originals/​2016/​
03/​egypt-​rights-​crackdown-​bahgat-​arrests-​ngos-​sisi-​travel-​bans.html#.
12. Mohammed Taha, “Dirasa: al-​Jama’iyya al-​Tibiyya’ tu’alij nahu 7 milyon
marid khilal 4 sanawat [Study: ‘(Islamic) Medical Association’ Treats
Approximately Seven Million Sick over Four Years],” al-​Jam’iyya al-​Tibiyya
al-​Islamiyya, January 2, 2015, http://​www.ima-​egy.net/​2013-​09-​24-​14-​31-​06/​
607-​7-​4.
13. “Mudeer Mistashfa al-​Rahma ‘aqab al-​istila’ ‘aleyha: al-​inqilab faqada
‘aqlahu [The Director of the Rahma (Mercy) Hospital Following Its
Seizure: The Coup Regime Has Lost Its Mind],” Rassd, January 14, 2015,
http://​rassd.com/​15-​128042.htm.
14. Baheyya Mekki, “bil-​Sawr … Amin al-​Qaloubiyya yatahafiz ‘ala
Mishtashfiyyat al-​Ikhwan bil-​Khanka [In Pictures … Security Forces
in Qaloubiyya Seize the Brotherhood’s Hospitals in Khanka],” Bawabat
al-​Qahira, January 14, 2015, http://​goo.gl/​V3a0YQ; Islam Abu Wafaa,
“Tafasil al-​tahafuz ‘ala mistashfa Dar al-​Salam al-​taba’a lil-​Ikhwan
bil-​Beheira [Details of the Seizure of the Brotherhood’s Dar al-​Salam
Hospital in Beheira],” Roz al-​Yusuf, January 14, 2015, http://​goo.gl/​
nG2WZQ; Karim al-​Bakri, “al-​Saha: La niya lidayna liighlaq mistashfiyyat
al-​Ikhwan [Ministry of Health: We Have No Intention to Close the
Brotherhood’s Hospitals],” al-​Shorouk, January 14, 2015, http://​www.
shorouknews.com/​mobile/​news/​view.aspx?cdate=14012015&id=3
f8b4507-​8ef4-​40ba-​8ac1-​bc6674e59c3d.
15. Hossam Rabea, “al-​Quwwat al-​Musallaha al-​Misriyya tuhawil al-​Ta’weed
‘an dawr jam’iyaat al-​Ikhwan al-​khayriyya [The Egyptian Armed Forces
Are Attempting to Substitute for the Role of the Brotherhood’s Charity
Associations],” Raseef 22, July 22, 2015, http://​raseef22.com/​politics/​2015/​
07/​22/​egyptian-​armed-​forces-​are-​trying-​to-​make-​up-​for-​the-​charitable-​
role-​of-​the-​brotherhood-​associations/​.
16. Maha Salem, “al-​Quwwat al-​Musallaha tawzea’ milyoniyyan wa nusf al-​
milyon kartona aghdhiya bil-​manatiq al-​akthar ihtiyajiyan [The Armed
Forces Distribute 1.5 Million Boxes of Food in Areas with the Greatest
Need],” al-​Ahram, July 15, 2015, http://​gate.ahram.org.eg/​News/​698177.
aspx; “Qafela tibiyya min al-​Quwwat al-​Musallaha Lil-​ahali bi’r al-​a’bd
312

312 Notes to pages 20–22

fi Shamal Sina’ [Medical Caravan from the Armed Forces for the People
of al-​Bir al-​Abed in North Sinai],” Dot Misr, February 7, 2016, http://​
goo.gl/​QDH7ks; “al-​Quwwat al-​Musallaha tarasil qafela tibiyya ila al-​
Wadi al-​Jedid [The Armed Forces Send a Medical Caravan to Wadi Jedid
(Province)],” Dot Misr, March 1, 2016, http://​goo.gl/​xc7a72; “Al-​jaish
yuwaza’ milyon wa nisf hassa ghathai’yya ‘ala al-​muwatineen bi al-munasiba
Ramadan [Egyptian Army Distributes 1.5 Million Boxes of Food to
the Citizens on the Occasion of Ramadan],” al-​Masry al-​Youm, June 4,
2016, http://​www.almasryalyoum.com/​news/​details/​959443; “General
Intelligence Service Hands Out Subsidized Food in Beni Suef,” Egypt
Independent, June 4, 2016, http://​www.egyptindependent.com//​news/​
general-​intelligence-​service-​hands-​out-​subsidized-​food-​bani-​swaif.
17. Steven Brooke, interview with IMA Manager, January 2014. Regarding
Wael Talib, see the photos from the campaign protesting his arrest at:
https://​goo.gl/​VsjKy7.
18. Al-​Ahram, December 28, 2013, 1.
19. Steven Brooke, interview with IMA manager, January 2014; Saeed Abdel
Rahim, “Misr ‘tatahafuz’ ‘ala al-​mistashfiyyat al-​islamiyya [Egypt “Seizes”
Islamic Hospitals],” al-​Arabi al-​Jadid, January 19, 2015, http://​goo.gl/​
2odzY8.
20. Mohammed Taha, “Dr. Ali Abu Saif: Basoos wa al-​Khalil wa Beni Suef
mistashfiyyat jadida tadakhil al-​khidmat qariban [Dr. Ali Abu Saif: New
Hospitals in Basoos, al-​Khalil, and Beni Suef are Entering Service Soon],”
al-​Jam’iyya al-​Tibiyya al-​Islamiyya, August 15, 2014, http://​www.ima-​egy.
net/​2013-​09-​24-​14-​31-​06/​497-​2014-​08-​15-​00-​57-​03.
21. “Hasr amwal al-​Ikhwan: mistashfiyyat al-​Jama’iyya al-​Islamiyya
mustamirra fi ‘amalha [Seizure of the Brotherhood’s Funds: The
Islamic Association’s Hospitals Continue Their Work],” Ru’yah,
January 15, 2015, http://​goo.gl/​Lu25uB; “State Confiscates
Medical Charity Associations for Brotherhood Affiliation,” Aswat
Masriyya, January 14, 2015, http://​en.aswatmasriya.com/​news/​view.
aspx?id=2951c14e-​b994-​4101-​ac16-​e28f29532889.
22. Baheyya Mekki, “bil-​Sawr … Amin al-​Qaloubiyya yatahafiz ‘ala
mishtashfiyyat al-​Ikhwan bil-​Khanka [In Pictures … Security Forces
in Qaloubiyya Seize the Brotherhood’s Hospitals in Khanka],” Bawabat
al-​Qahira, January 14, 2015, http://​goo.gl/​V3a0YQ; Islam Abu Wafaa,
“Tafasil al-​tahafuz ‘ala mistashfa Dar al-​Salam al-​taba’a lil-​Ikhwan
bil-​Beheira [Details of the Seizure of the Brotherhood’s Dar al-​Salam
Hospital in Beheira],” Roz al-​Yusuf, January 14, 2015, http://​goo.gl/​
nG2WZQ; Karim al-​Bakri, “al-​Saha: La niya lidayna liighlaq mistashfiyyat
al-​Ikhwan [Ministry of Health: We Have No Intention to Close the
Brotherhood’s Hospitals],” al-​Shorouk, January 14, 2015, http://​www.
shorouknews.com/​mobile/​news/​view.aspx?cdate=14012015&id=3
f8b4507-​8ef4-​40ba-​8ac1-​bc6674e59c3d.
 31

Notes to pages 22–23 313

23. “Al-​tahafuz ‘ala amwal al-​Jama’iyya al-​Tibiyya al-​Islamiyya [Seizure of

the Islamic Medical Association’s Funds],” Hizb al-​Hurriya wa al-​’Adala,
January 14, 2015, http://​www.fj-​p.com/​Our_​news_​Details.aspx?News_​
ID=61304; A. Sh. A., “ ‘Lajnat idarat amwal al-​Ikhwan’ tatahafiz ‘ala al-​
Jama’iyya al-​Tibiyya al-​Islamiyya [Committee Managing the Brotherhood’s
Funds Seizes the Islamic Medical Association],” al-​Masry al-​Youm,
January 14, 2015, http://​www.almasryalyoum.com/​news/​details/​629557;
Ali Ghanem, “Al-​inqilab yasriq al-​Jama’iyya al-​Tibiyya al-​Islamiyya …
al-harb ‘ala milayeen al-​marda [The Coup Regime Steals the Islamic Medical
Association … War on Millions of Patients],” Ikhwanonline, January 14,
2015, http://​ikhwanonline.com/​Article.aspx?ArtID=218310&SecID=230.
24. Amr Osman, “Religion and Politics in Post-​Coup Egypt,” Open
Democracy, November 28, 2013, https://​www.opendemocracy.net/​arab-​
awakening/​amr-​osman/​religion-​and-​politics-​in-​post-​coup-​egypt; David
D. Kirkpatrick and Mayy El-​Sheikh, “Military Enlists Religion to Quell
Ranks,” New York Times, August 25, 2013, http://​www.nytimes.com/​2013/​
08/​26/​world/​middleeast/​egypt.html?_​r=0.
25. “Mudeer mistashfa al-​Rahma ‘aqab al-​istila’ ‘aleyha: al-​inqilab faqid ‘aqilu
[The Director of the Rahma (Mercy) Hospital Following Its Seizure: The
Coup Regime Has Lost Its Mind],” ​Rassd, January 14, 2015, http://​rassd.
com/​15-​128042.htm.
26. The “Vetogate” website reported on a number of violations based on a
series of reports obtained from the Egyptian Ministry of Education. These
reports are compiled at http://​www.vetogate.com/​list/​783.
27. Rishwa al-​Tahtawi, “Mudaris ‘30 Yunio:’ Amwal taht al-​tahafuz … wa
Mudarisoon fawq al-​riqaba [June 30th Schools: The Money Is Seized, but
the Instructors Are Above the Monitoring],” al-​Masry al-​Youm, January 10,
2015, http://​www.almasryalyoum.com/​news/​details/​626211.
28. Mahmoud Taha Hussein, “Al-​Ta’leem: Lajnatan li-​bahath wadia’ madrasat
al-​Medina al-​Menawara al-​Ikhwaniyya bi al-​Iskanderiyya [Ministry
of Education: Two Committees to Investigate the Situation of the
Brotherhood’s Medina Schools in Alexandria],” al-​Youm al-​Sabea’, October
18, 2014, http://​goo.gl/​4VidzL.
29. “Ba’d al-​tahafuz ‘ala mudaris al-​Ikhwan … Khibraa’: ‘al-​qarar siyasi wa
laysa ta’leemi’ [After Seizure of the Brotherhood’s Schools … Experts: This
Is a Political Decision, Not an Educational One],” Rassd, April 21, 2014,
http://​goo.gl/​g2wHL1.
30. “Revolution of all the Brotherhood schools,” Facebook, http://​goo.gl/​
MSzbPm.
31. Ibrahim Qasim and Mohammed al-​’Alim, “ ‘Hasr amwal al-​Ikhwan’ …
Tahel mudeer mudiriyya al-​Ta’leem bil-​Giza lil-​niyaba idariyya [Seizure
of the Brotherhood’s Funds … The Referral of the Director of the Giza
Directorate of the Education Ministry to the Administrative Prosecutor],”
al-​Youm al-​Sabea’, September 24, 2014, http://​goo.gl/​3uJC9n; “Al-​niyaba
314

314 Notes to pages 23–24

al-​idariyya tua’qib maso’uli al-​Ta’leem bi al-​Giza bisabab mudaris al-​

Ikhwan [The Administrative Prosecutor Punishes the Responsible
Officials in the Giza Ministry of Education Because of the Brotherhood’s
Schools],” al-​Mogaz, March 3, 2015, http://​almogaz.com/​news/​crime/​2015/​
03/​03/​1895331.
32. Risha al-​Tahtawi, “ ‘Mudaris al-​Ikhwan’ kharij saytirat al-​Ta’leem
[The Brotherhood’s Schools Are Outside the Control of the Ministry
of Education],” al-​Masry al-​Youm, January 4, 2015, http://​www.
almasryalyoum.com/​news/​details/​620528.
33. Hazem ‘Adel, “20 Yanayir … Al-​hukm fi da’wa bi talaan qararat lajnat al-​
tahafuz ‘ala amwal al-​Ikhwan (Translation),” al-​Youm al-​Sabea’, January 6,
2015, http://​goo.gl/​J8Vt5b. Hazem ‘Adel, “25 November … Al-​hukm fi 9
da’awi li waqf al-​tahafuz ‘ala amwal mudaris al-​Ikhwan [November 25 …
Judgment in 9 Cases to Stop the Seizure of the Funds of the Brotherhood’s
Schools],” al-​Youm al-​Sabea’, October 21, 2014, http://​goo.gl/​bzWXKw;
Hazem ‘Adel, “Ta’jeel da’awi bi talaan qarar al-​tahafuz ‘ala 9 mudaris taba’a
li al-​Ikhwan li​21 Uktubir (Translation),” al-​Youm al-​Sabea’, September 2,
2014, http://​goo.gl/​dQMJ4s.
34. Risha al-​Tahtawi, “Ba’d riqabat ‘al-​Ta’leem: Mudaris al-​Ikhwan … ’
Aam min ‘al-​ishraf ‘ala al-​waraq’ (Tahqiq) [After Ministry of Education
Monitoring … A Year of ‘Supervision on Paper’ (Report)],” al-​Masry al-
Youm, January 10, 2015, http://​www.almasryalyoum.com/​news/​details/​
626218.
35. Shaima al-​Qarnashawi, “al-​Masry al-​Youm tanshir haythiyat waqaf al-​
tahafuz ‘ala amwal 9 mudaris Ikhwaniyya [al-​Masry al-​Youm Publishes
the Rationale (Behind) Halting the Sequestration of the Money of 9
Brotherhood Schools],” al-​Masry al-​Youm, November 25, 2014, http://​
www.almasryalyoum.com/​news/​details/​584773; Wissam Abdel ‘Alim,
“Nunshir hukm waqf tanfiz qarar al-​tahafuz ‘ala amwal mudaris al-​Ikhwan
[We Publish the Details of the Judgement Halting the Implementation of
the Decision to Seize the Funds of the Brotherhood’s Schools],” Bawabat
al-​Ahram, January 25, 2014, http://​goo.gl/​BulmFl.
36. Rishwa al-​Tahtawi, “ ‘Al-​Ta’leem:’ Al-​Khorouj ‘an al-​nas mahdoud … Wa
ijra’at jadida lil-​saytara [Ministry of Education: Departure from the Text Is
Limited, and There Are New Procedures for Control],” al-​Masry al-​Youm,
January 10, 2015, http://​www.almasryalyoum.com/​news/​details/​626212.
37. Egypt Independent, January 10, 2015, http://​www.almasryalyoum.com/​
news/​details/​626218; Risha al-​Tahtawi, “ ‘Mudaris al-​Ikhwan’ kharij saytirat
al-​Ta’leem [The Brotherhood’s Schools Are Outside the Control of the
Ministry of Education],” al-​Masry al-​Youm, January 4, 2015, http://​www.
almasryalyoum.com/​news/​details/​620528.
38. Mahmoud Taha Hussein, “Musdar bi al-​Ta’leem: ‘Al-​Wazir yajtama’
ghadan bi al ​Ra’is majmua’at 30 Yunio li wadaa’ ijra’at li al-​saytara ‘ala mudaris
al-Ikhwan … Wa qariban tughayyir ba’d mudeeri al-​mudaris … Wa
‘ard al-​qararat ‘ala lajnat idarat al-​Amwal bi Wazirat al-​’Adl [Ministry of
 315

Notes to pages 24–26 315

Education Source: The Minister Will Tomorrow Meet with the Head of the
June 30th Schools to Clarify the Procedures for Control over the
Brotherhood’s Schools … And Soon Will Change Some of Their Directors …
And Publicize the Decisions of the Committee Managing the Funds at the
Ministry of Justice],” al-​Youm al-​Sabea’, October 26, 2014, http://​goo.gl/​
gWkxMb.
39. Mahmoud Taha Hussein, “ ‘Al-​Ta’leem’ tentahi min mujalis mudaris
al-​Ikhwan … Wa irsal al-​isma’ li al-​lajnat al-​aminiyya [The Ministry of
Education Is Ending the Boards of the Brotherhood Schools … and
Sending the Names to the Security Committees],” al-​Youm al-​Sabea’,
January 10, 2015, http://​goo.gl/​ZDFzHa.
40. Alaa Hassanein, “Nunshir shurut al-​Tarbiyya wa al-​Ta’leem li al-​musalaha
ma’a mudaris al-​Ikhwan [We Publish the Ministry of Education’s Terms for
Reconciliation with the Brotherhood’s Schools],” al-​Wady, January 1, 2015,
http://​elwadynews.com/​news/​2015/​01/​01/​62708.
41. “Al-​Hayah al-​Youm liqa’ wazir al-​Tarbiyya wa al-​Ta’leem Doctor
Mahmoud Abu al-​Nasir wa istarad al-​tabilat al-​ta’leemi al-​jadid [Al-​
Hayah al-​Youm Speaks with the Minister of Education Doctor Mahmud
Abu al-​Nasr and Reviews the New Educational Tablet],” al-​Hayah al-​
Youm (TV Program), February 17, 2014, https://​www.youtube.com/​
watch?v=IVt-​ORfAgrk.
42. “President Approves New Anti-​Terrorism Law,” Daily News Egypt,
February 24, 2015, http://​www.dailynewsegypt.com/​2015/​02/​24/​president-​
approves-​terrorist-​entities-​law/​.
43. “Egypt Prosecutor Names Brotherhood Leaders as Terrorists,”
Associated Press, March 29, 2015, http://​abcnews.go.com/​International/​
wireStory/​egyptian-​militant-​group-​claims-​cairo-​university-​bombing-​
29985042; “State Confiscates Assets of Sentenced Defendants,
Charity Organization for Brotherhood Affiliation,” Aswat
Masriyya, March 26, 2015, http://​en.aswatmasriya.com/​news/​view.
aspx?id=0517282d-​bfbe-​4247-​8d43-​4dce184bd6db.
44. Rasha Tahtawi, “Wazir al-​Ta’leem: Ihkam al-​Riqaba ‘ala al-​Mudaris al-​
Ikhwaniyya Durura [Minister of Education: Tightening Oversight of the
Brotherhood’s Schools is a Necessity],” al-​Masry al-​Youm, April 16, 2015,
http://​www.almasryalyoum.com/​news/​details/​708508.
45. Ayman Ali, “Qidayat Mudaris al-​Ikhwan Taht al-​Qubba [The Issue of the
Muslim Brotherhood’s Schools in Parliament],” al-​Masry al-​Youm, June
1, 2016, https://​goo.gl/​YsQWJJ; Reem Mahmoud, “al-​Ta’leem Tabhath
Malafat Mu’allemi Mudaris al-​Ikhwan Qabl al-​Aa’m al-​Dirasi al-​Jadid [The
Ministry of Education Investigates Files of Teachers of the Brotherhood
Schools Prior to the New School Year],’’ al-​Fagr, September 5, 2016,
http://​www.elfagr.org/​2263470.
46. Hussam Tammam, The Salafism of the Muslim Brothers, Marased Paper No. 1
(Alexandria, Egypt: Biblioteca Alexandria, 2011), 9.
47. Ishaq Musa al-​Husaini, The Muslim Brethren (Beirut: Khayat, 1956), 52.
316

316 Notes to pages 26–29

48. Maha M. Abdelrahman, Civil Society Exposed: The Politics of NGOs in

Egypt (London: I.B. Tauris, 2004).
4 9. Steven Brooke, interview with IMA manager, January 2014.
50. Saeed Abdel Rahim, “Misr ‘tatahafuz’ ‘ala al-​mistashfiyyat al-​islamiyya
[Egypt “Seizes” Islamic Hospitals],” al-​Arabi al-​Jadid, January 19, 2015,
http://​goo.gl/​2odzY8.
51. Quintan Wiktorowicz, “Civil Society as Social Control: State Power in
Jordan,” Comparative Politics 33, no. 1 (October 2000): 43–​61.
52. Specifically, before proceeding outside the Ministry of Social Solidarity,
any dispute must first go before a three-​person board, consisting of two
Ministry of Social Solidarity representatives and a representative of the
concerned organization. A majority vote by that body determines whether
or not the claim advances to the courts (article 7). See also Kristina
Kausch, Defenders in Retreat: Freedom of Association and Civil Society in
Egypt (Madrid: FRIDE, April 2009), 7, http://​fride.org/​download/​WP82_​
Egypt_​Defenders_​Retreat_​ENG_​may09.pdf.
53. Marina Makary, “More Muslim Brotherhood-​Affiliated NGOs Dissolved
in Egypt,” Daily News Egypt, March 1, 2015, http://​www.dailynewsegypt.
com/​2015/​03/​01/​more-​muslim-​brotherhood-​affiliated-​ngos-​dissolved-​
in-​egypt/​; Nourhan Fahmy, “Egypt Dissolves 169 Muslim Brotherhood-​
Affiliated NGOs,” Daily News Egypt, February 23, 3015, http://​www.
dailynewsegypt.com/​2015/​02/​23/​egypt-​dissolves-​169-​muslim-​brotherhood-​
affiliated-​ngos/​.
54. “Ministry Dissolves 99 NGOs for Brotherhood Ties,” Aswat
Masriyya, March 18, 2015, http://​en.aswatmasriya.com/​news/​view.
aspx?id=d6d9c3ea-​127d-​40ff-​8724-​5d1fe36389ca.
55. Eli Berman and David D. Laitin, “Religion, Terrorism and Public
Goods: Testing the Club Model,” Journal of Public Economics 92,
no. 10 (2008); Melani Cammett, Compassionate Communalism: Welfare
and Sectarianism in Lebanon (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press, 2014).
56. The Brotherhood runs a parallel internal system of goods provision
whereby the organization furnishes aid (mostly in cash) to the families of
detained members. The previously described shift would essentially convert
the entire enterprise to this system, in which members and sympathizers
are privileged over outsiders.
57. Eva Wegner, Islamist Opposition in Authoritarian Regimes: The Party of
Justice and Development in Morocco (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University
Press, 2011), 68. See also Avi Spiegel, Young Islam (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 2015).
58. See for instance, “Muslim Brotherhood: Services for Egyptian Public
Regular, Unrelated to Any Election,” Ikhwanweb, January 20, 2013, http://​
www.ikhwanweb.com/​article.php?id=30582; “Ikhwan: la ‘alaqa lihamlat
‘ma’an nabni Misr’ bi mo’ad al-​intikhabat [Brotherhood: There Is No
Relation Between the ‘Together We Build Egypt Campaign’ and the Date
 317

Notes to pages 29–33 317

of the Elections],” Akhbar al-​Youm, January 22, 2013, http://​akhbarelyom.

com/​news/​newdetails/​121766/​1/​0.html#.U5C5L5RdVSr.
59. Abdelrahman Youssef, “Egyptian Brotherhood Leader Reflects on Group’s
Fate, Future,” al-​Monitor, May 22, 2016, http://​www.al-​monitor.com/​
pulse/​originals/​2016/​05/​egypt-​brotherhood-​leader-​interview-​sisi-​mistakes-​
future.html#.
6 0. See chapter 13 for Amr Darrag’s conversation with Steven Brooke.
61. Talaat Fahmy, “Muslim Brotherhood Press Statement,” Ikhwanweb, May
25, 2016, http://​www.ikhwanweb.com/​article.php?id=32544.
62. Osama al-​Sharif, “Will Jordan Ban the Muslim Brotherhood,” al-​Monitor,
April 6, 2016, http://​www.al-​monitor.com/​pulse/​originals/​2016/​04/​
muslim-​brotherhood-​group-​jordan-​government-​tension.html#.
63. Amal al-​Hilali, “La wa’dth wa la irshad ba’d al-​youm [No Preaching and
No Guiding After Today],” Huffpost Arabi, May 8, 2016, http://​www.
huffpostarabi.com/​2016/​05/​08/​story_​n_​9862998.html.
64. Monica Marks, “How Big Were the Changes Tunisia’s Ennahda Just Made
at Its National Congress?” Washington Post, May 25, 2016, https://​www.
washingtonpost.com/​news/​monkey-​cage/​wp/​2016/​05/​25/​how-​big-​were-​
the-​changes-​made-​at-​tunisias-​ennahda-​just-​made-​at-​its-​national-​congress/​.

Chapter 2
1. For a discussion of democratic loyalty, semiloyalty, and disloyalty, see Juan
Linz and Alfred Stepan, The Breakdown of Democratic Regimes (Baltimore:
Johns Hopkins University Press, 1979).
2. On Gulf actors see Marc Lynch, The New Arab Wars (New York: Public
Affairs, 2016).
3. Tunisia’s revolution began in December 2010 with protests in the interior
and eventually spread to the capital, ousting dictator Zine el-​Abidine
Ben Ali on January 14, 2011. For more on factors that sparked Tunisia’s
revolution, see Laryssa Chomiak, “The Making of a Revolution in Tunisia,”
Middle East Law and Governance 3, no. 1–​2 (2011): 67–​83.
4. See Vincent Geisser and Michel Camau, Le Syndrome Autoritaire. Politique
en Tunisie de Bourguiba à Ben Ali (Paris: Presses de Sciences Po, 2003);
Joshua Rogers, “‘There Is No Room for a Religious Party’: Negotiating
the Islamist Challenge to State Legitimacy in Tunisia 1987-​1991” (MPhil
Thesis, Oxford University, Oxford, 2007).
5. For more on Salafi jihadism in Tunisia, see Fabio Merone and Francesco
Cavatorta, “The Emergence of Salafism in Tunisia,” Jadaliyya, August
17, 2012, http://​www.jadaliyya.com/​pages/​index/​6934/​the-​emergence-​
of-​salafism-​in-​tunisia; Monica Marks, “Youth Politics and Tunisian
Salafism: Understanding the Jihadi Current,” Mediterranean Politics 18,
no. 1 (2013); Francesco Cavatorta, “Salafism, Liberalism, and Democratic
Learning in Tunisia,” Journal of North African Studies 20, no. 5 (2015).
6. For more on Ennahda’s founding and evolution, see Francois Burgat and
William Dowell, The Islamic Movement in North Africa (Austin: University
318

318 Notes to pages 33–37

of Texas, 1993); John Entelis, Islam, Democracy and the State in North Africa
(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1997); Kenneth Perkins, A History
of Modern Tunisia (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004).
7. Author interviews, 2011–​2016. Also see Susan Waltz, “Islamist Appeal in
Tunisia,” Middle East Journal 40, no. 4 (1986); Henry Munson, “Islamic
Revivalism in Morocco and Tunisia,” The Muslim World 76, no. 3–​4 (1986).
8. See Larbi Sadiki, “Political Liberalization in Bin Ali’s Tunisia: Façade
Democracy,” Democratization 9, no. 4 (2002): 122–​141; Emma Murphy,
Economic and Political Change in Tunisia: From Bourguiba to Ben Ali
(London: MacMillan Press, 1999).
9. Author interviews, 2011–​2016. See also Doris Gray, “Islamist & Secular
Quests for Women’s Rights,” Mediterranean Politics 17, no. 3 (2012); Tunisia
reports from Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and the
International Center for Transitional Justice (ICTJ).
10. Ennahda leaders had promised the party would not run a presidential
candidate and that it would seek a coalition government months before the
2011 elections. See Monica Marks, “Purists vs. Pluralists: Cross-​Ideological
Coalition Building in Tunisia,” in Tunisia’s Democratic Transition in
Comparative Perspective, ed. Alfred Stepan (forthcoming 2017).
1 1. Monica Marks, interview with Said Ferjani, July 5, 2011.
12. Monica Marks, interview with Yesmin Masmoudi, August 7, 2011.
13. Nahdawis grew more reticent to cite the AKP as a model to outsiders
after it came under increasing international criticism since the Gezi Park
protests of summer 2013. For more on Ennahda’s perception of the AKP,
see Monica Marks, “Erdogan Comes to Tunisia,” Foreign Policy, June 6,
2013, https://​foreignpolicy.com/​2013/​06/​06/​erdogan-​comes-​to-​tunisia/​;
Oguzhan Goksel, “Perceptions of the Turkish Model in Post-​Revolutionary
Tunisia,” Turkish Studies 15, no. 3 (2014).
1 4. Monica Marks, interview with Rached Ghannouchi, August 22, 2011.
15. The 150-​member Shura Council is the highest regularly sitting body in
Ennahda. It is intended to be a representative institution in which the
party debates and decides positions on important issues via a one-​person,
one-​vote system.
1 6. Monica Marks, interview with Osama Essaghir, March 20, 2013.
17. See Monica Marks, “How Egypt’s Coup Really Affected Tunisia’s
Islamists,” Washington Post, March 16, 2015.
18. Marc Lynch, “Rached Ghannouchi: The FP Interview,” Foreign Policy,
December 5, 2011, https://​foreignpolicy.com/​2011/​12/​05/​rached-​
ghannouchi-​the-​fp-​interview/​.
19. Monica Marks, interview with Rached Ghannouchi and other party
leaders, 2011.
2 0. Monica Marks, interview with Rached Ghannouchi, August 22, 2013.
21. Monica Marks, interview with Ennahda Executive Committee member,
December 18, 2012.
 319

Notes to pages 37–40 319

22. Monica Marks, interview with members of Ennahda’s Executive and Shura
Councils, 2013 and 2014.
23. See Nadeen Shaker, “In Cairo, Ghannouchi Warns Against
‘Democracy of the Majority’, ” Ahram Online, June 4, 2013, http://​
english.ahram.org.eg/​NewsContent/​2/​8/​73167/​World/​Region/​
In-​Cairo,-​AlGhannouchi-​warns-​against-​democracy-​of-​.aspx.
24. See Human Rights Watch, “All According to Plan: The Rab’a
Massacre and Mass Killings of Protesters in Egypt,” August 12,
2013, https://​www.hrw.org/​report/​2014/​08/​12/​all-​according-​plan/​
raba-​massacre-​and-​mass-​killings-​protesters-​egypt.
25. See “Remarks by the President on the Middle East and North
Africa,” White House Office of the Press Secretary, May 19,
2011, https://​www.whitehouse.gov/​the-​press-​office/​2011/​05/​19/​
remarks-​president-​middle-​east-​and-​north-​africa.
26. Lee Jae-​Won, “Saudi Arabia and UAE to Lend Egypt up to 8
Billion,” Reuters, July 9, 2013, http://​www.reuters.com/​article/​
us-​egypt-​protests-​loan-​idUSBRE9680H020130709.
27. See chapter 14 for Ennahda parliamentarian Sayida Ounissi’s perspectives
on the effects of the Egyptian coup and Ennahda’s relationship with the
Muslim Brotherhood.
28. Author interviews, 2011–​2015.
29. For more on Tunisian Salafi-jihadism, see the work of Fabio Merone,
particularly Fabio Merone and Francesco Cavatorta, “Salafist Mouvance
and Sheikh-​ism in the Tunisian Democratic Transition” (Working Papers
in International Studies, Dublin City University, 2012).
30. Monica Marks, “Youth Politics and Tunisian Salafism: Understanding the
Jihadi Current,” Mediterranean Politics 18, no. 1 (2013).
31. Fabio Merone and Francesco Cavatorta, “Salafist Mouvance and
Sheikh-ism in the Tunisian Democratic Transition,” Working Papers in
International Studies, Dublin City University, 2012.
32. On the Islamic State’s “start-​up” appeal, see Quinn Mecham, “How Much
of a State is the Islamic State?” in Islamism in the IS Age, Project on Middle
East Political Science, POMEPS Studies 12, March 17, 2015, http://​pomeps.
org/​wp-​content/​uploads/​2015/​03/​POMEPS_​Studies_​12_​ISAge_​Web.pdf.
33. The Soufan Group, Foreign Fighters: An Updated Assessment of the Flow
of Foreign Fighters to Syria and Iraq, December 2015, http://​soufangroup.
com/​wp-​content/​uploads/​2015/​12/​TSG_​ForeignFightersUpdate3.pdf. The
Soufan Group’s estimates are as of November 2015.
34. See Francesco Cavatorta, “The Rise and Fall of Uncivil Society? Salafism in
Tunisia after the Fall of Ben Ali,” Middle East Institute, October 6, 2015,
http://​www.mei.edu/​content/​map/​rise-​and-​fall-​uncivil-​society-​salafism-​
tunisia-​after-​fall-​ben-​ali-​0; Monica Marks, “Who Are Tunisia’s Salafis?”
Foreign Policy, September 28, 2012, http://​foreignpolicy.com/​2012/​09/​28/​
who-​are-​tunisias-​salafis/​.
320

320 Notes to pages 40–47

35. Author interviews with nahdawis, 2011–​2013. See also Monica Marks,
“Ennahda’s Rule of Engagement,” in Sada. Carnegie Endowment for
International Peace, September 2012, http://​carnegieendowment.org/​
sada/?fa=49728.
36. See also Monica Marks, “Ennahda’s Rule of Engagement,” September 2012.
37. Many Tunisian Ansar al-​Sharia members switched allegiances to the
Islamic State when the group rose to prominence in 2014.
38. Monica Marks, interview with Houda (a pseudonym), a female Salafi
student, August 10, 2012.
39. Monica Marks, interview with Houda’s mother, August 2012.
40. Leftist politician Chokri Belaid was assassinated on February 6, 2013, and Arab
nationalist politician Mohamed Brahmi was assassinated on July 25, 2013.
See Francesco Cavatorta, “Salafism, Liberalism, and Democratic Learning in
Tunisia,” Journal of North African Studies, 20, no. 5 (2015): 770–783.
41. John Thorne, “Tunisia Shuts Down Medieval City to Prevent
Salafi Demonstrations,” Christian Science Monitor, May 20, 2013,
http://​www.csmonitor.com/​World/​Middle-​East/​2013/​0520/​
Tunisia-​shuts-​down-​medieval-​city-​to-​prevent-​Salafi-​demonstrations.
42. Rory McCarthy, “Protecting the Sacred: Tunisia’s Islamist Movement
Ennahda and the Challenge of Free Speech,” British Journal of Middle
Eastern Studies 42, no. 4 (2015): 447–464.
43. Human Rights Watch, “Tunisia: Flaws in Anti-​terrorism Draft
Bill,” April 8, 2015, https://​www.hrw.org/​news/​2015/​04/​08/​
tunisia-​flaws-​revised-​counterterrorism-​bill.
44. Monica Marks, interview with Ennahda Shura Council member,
November 4, 2015.
45. Approximately a dozen leading parties had signed a pre-​election pledge
promising to complete these tasks within one year of election—​that is, by
October 23, 2012. See Monica Marks, “Convince, Coerce, or Compromise?
Ennahda’s Approach to Tunisia’s Constitution,” The Brookings Institution,
February 10, 2014.
46. That is, a coup driven by soft political power rather than hard, violent
power such as the use of the military force or the threat of it.
47. Amal Boubekeur, “The Politics of Protest in Tunisia,” SWP Comments 13,
March 2015.
48. Monica Marks, “What Did Tunisia’s Nobel Laureates Actually Achieve?,”
Washington Post, October 27, 2015, https://​www.washingtonpost.com/​
news/​monkey-​cage/​wp/​2015/​10/​27/​what-​did-​tunisias-​nobel-​laureates-​
actually-​achieve/​.
49. Monica Marks, “Convince, Coerce, or Compromise? Ennahda’s Approach
to Tunisia’s Constitution,” The Brookings Institution, February 10, 2014,
https://​www.brookings.edu/​research/​convince-​coerce-​or-​compromise-​
ennahdas-​approach-​to-​tunisias-​constitution/​; Rory McCarthy, “Protecting
the Sacred: Tunisia’s Islamist Movement Ennahda and the Challenge of Free
Speech,” British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 42, no. 4 (2015): 447–464.
 321

Notes to pages 47–56 321

50. Author interviews, 2012–​2013.

51. Essebsi had held positions under both the Bourguiba and Ben Ali
administrations.
52. Monica Marks, interview with Rached Ghannouchi, November 3, 2015.
53. Mounia al-​Arfaoui, “Sanusejjil hudurana bi-​tariqa ghair mu’tada,”
Correspon­dents.org, December 5, 2014, http://​www.correspondents.org/​ar/​
node/​5282.
54. Monica Marks, interview, June 4, 2014.
55. Monica Marks, interview, November 10, 2014.
56. For more on Ennahda’s 10th Congress, see Monica Marks, “How Big Were
the Changes Ennahda Just Made at Its National Congress?” Washington
Post, May 25, 2016, https://​www.washingtonpost.com/​news/​monkey-​cage/​
wp/​2016/​05/​25/​how-​big-​were-​the-​changes-​made-​at-​tunisias-​ennahda-​just-​
made-​at-​its-​national-​congress/​.

Chapter 3
1. For more information on the meeting, see Avi Spiegel, Young Islam: The
New Politics of Religion in Morocco and the Arab World (Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 2015).
2. For more on Islamist participation in elections, see the work of Shadi
Hamid, Nathan Brown, Jillian Schwedler, and Carrie Wickham, among
many others.
3. On “familial resemblances” between Morocco’s PJD and the Egyptian
Muslim Brotherhood, see Carrie Wickham, The Muslim Brotherhood:
Evolution of an Islamist Movement (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 2013).
4. Adding to this effect is that much of the recent scholarly material written
on Morocco’s Islamists appears in Arabic and French. See for example
the work by leading scholars Mohamed Darif and Mohamed Tozy. The
exceptions are Malika Zeghal, Morocco: Religion, Authoritarianism and
Electoral Politics (Princeton, NJ: Marcus Wiener, 2008); and Emad Eldin
Shahin, Political Ascent: Contemporary Islamic Movements in North Africa
(Boulder, CO: Westview, 1997).
5. On Morocco as a model, see Avi Spiegel, “Just Another King’s Speech?”
Foreign Policy, March 18, 2011, http://​foreignpolicy.com/​2011/​03/​18/​just-​
another-​kings-​speech/​.
6. Tariq Ramadan, professor of contemporary Islamic Studies at Oxford
University and grandson of the founder of the Muslim Brotherhood, also
noted the shifting sources and influences of new Islamist thought: “It’s not
coming just from the Middle East anymore,” Ramadan noted. “It’s coming
from North African countries and from the West. There are new visions
and there are new ways of understanding. Now they are bringing these
thoughts back to the Middle East.” (Anthony Shadid, “Islamists’ Ideas on
Democracy and Faith Face Test in Tunisia,” New York Times, February 17,
32

322 Notes to pages 56–60

2012, http://​www.nytimes.com/​2012/​02/​18/​world/​africa/​tunisia-​islamists-​
test-​ideas-​decades-​in-​the-​making.html).
7. For more on the PJD’s path to party formation, see Michael Willis,
“Between Alternance and the Makhzen: At-​Tawhid wa al-​Islah’s Entry into
Moroccan Politics,” Journal of North African Studies 4, no. 3 (1999): 45–​80.
8. For more on alternance, see Susan Miller, A History of Modern Morocco
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013).
9. Myriam Francois-​Cerrah, in her ongoing doctoral research at Oxford
University, makes the compelling argument that certain senior leaders did,
in fact, believe that Morocco was an “Islamic state.”
10. Quoted in Emad Shahin, Political Ascent: Contemporary Islamic Movements
in North Africa (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1998).
11. “We are not Algerian Islamists,” Abdelilah Benkirane would say, to avoid
scaring supporters or the state.
12. The PJD was mindful of what happened after the Shabiba Islamiyya
challenged the monarchy, which immediately prompted the regime
to suppress the group. The Shabiba soon splintered and was driven
underground.
13. In this case, the Democratic and Constitutional Popular Movement party
(MPDC).
14. One plea, for example, proceeds roughly as follows: “The main discussion
today is targeted at Moroccan youth. The Moroccan youth that we have
our hope invested in. We believe that they will respond to the needs of
the country, on the path towards ending corruption and tyranny… . We
must stand against corruption and stand with those that fight for our
rights. Every Moroccan, whether living in the mountains or valley or
desert, must give your vote to he/​she who deserves your vote, who truly
deserves it. Hence, the PJD invites you, and all citizens, to vote for it, so
that our voice may be a voice and opportunity strong against all tyranny
and corruption.” From “PJD2011 CHABAB,” YouTube video, posted by
Pjd Communication, 3:24, November 21, 2011, https://​www.youtube.com/​
watch?v=fUoZGv-​trAs.
15. “Video: Benkirane Walks Out of Event After Being Booed,” Morocco World
News, August 25, 2015, https://​www.moroccoworldnews.com/​2015/​08/​
166376/​video-​benkirane-​walks-​out-​of-​event-​after-​being-​booed/​.
16. For a humorous take on Benkirane’s favorite metaphors, see Hamdan
Design, “Benkirane vs Crocodiles & Ghosts |Photomanipulation
Progress|,” Facebook video, 1:06, July 16, 2013, https://​www.facebook.com/​
video.php?v=10201006535184485&theater.
17. Intissar Fakir and Maati Monjib, “Rabat’s Undoing: Why the Moroccan
Monarchy Should Be Worried,” Foreign Affairs, October 23, 2014, https://​
www.foreignaffairs.com/​articles/​morocco/​2014-​10-​23/​rabats-​undoing.
1 8. For more on PJD party discipline, see Spiegel, Young Islam.
19. For a quote on Benkirane needing the king, see Youssef Roudaby,
“Benkirane: «Il n’y a pas d’avenir pour le Maroc si nous entrons en conflit
 32

Notes to pages 60–64 323

avec le roi»,” Telquel, March 16, 2015, http://​telquel.ma/​2015/​03/​16/​

benkirane-​il-​ny-​pas-​davenir-​maroc-​rentrons-​en-​conflit-​roi_​1438474.
20. “Kalima ra’ees al-​hukuma fi mu’tamir jam’iyya khareeij Harvard,” Youtube
video, posted by Pjd Communication, 20:22, March 14, 2015, https://​www.
youtube.com/​watch?v=4_​qJ9ZRhpKQ.
2 1. For more on PJD recruitment and structure, see Spiegel, Young Islam.
22. “Morocco Women Protest Islamist PM’s Stay at Home Speech,” Yahoo,
June 24, 2014, http://​news.yahoo.com/​morocco-​women-​protest-​islamist-​
pms-​stay-​home-​speech-​183358711.html; and “Moroccan PM Furious
with Jennifer Lopez for Revealing Act,” Yahoo, June 8, 2014, https://​
news.yahoo.com/​video/​moroccan-​pm-​furious-​jennifer-​lopez-​061416576
.html.
23. See campaign videos and statements in run-​up to September 2015 local
elections.
24. For more on the feuding of Istiqlal and PJD, see Benjamin Roger, “Maroc:
crise gouvernementale, quelle solution pour le PJD?” Jeune Afrique, July 12,
2013, http://​www.jeuneafrique.com/​169708/​politique/​maroc-​crise-​
gouvernementale-​quelle-​solution-​pour-​le-​pjd/​; “L’éternel combat Istiqlal-​
PJD… ,” La Vie éco, March 16, 2015, http://​www.lavieeco.com/​news/​
actualites/​l-​eternel-​combat-​istiqlal-​pjd...-​33244.html.
25. For more on this, see Avi Spiegel, “The Fate of Morocco’s Islamists,”
Foreign Policy, July 9, 2013, http://​foreignpolicy.com/​2013/​07/​09/​the-​fate-​
of-​moroccos-​islamists/​.
26. “Le Maroc souligne la nécessité de préserver l’unité nationale de l’Egypte,”
Map Express, July 3, 2013, http://​www.mapexpress.ma/​actualite/​activite-​
gouvernementale/​le-​maroc-​souligne-​la-​necessite-​de-​preserver-​lunite-​
nationale-​de-​legypte/​.
27. For a quote on the king’s support of the government, see Mohamed
Etayea, “Abdelilah Benkirane, menacé, se voit attribuer des gardes du
corps,” Telquel, March 16, 2015, http://​telquel.ma/​2015/​03/​16/​benkirane-​
menace-​se-​voit-​attribuer-​gardes-​du-​corps_​1438496.
28. For more on Yassine and the early Al Adl, see the work of Mohamed Darif,
Malika Zeghal, and Avi Spiegel. Yassine’s personal website is also a great
source: http://​yassine.net/​ar/​index/​index.shtml.
29. For insightful analysis of the Yassine letter, see Henry Munson, Religion
and Power in Morocco (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1993).
30. For more analysis of the February 20 Movement, see Ahmed Benchemsi,
“Morocco’s Makhzen and the Haphazard Activists,” in Taking to the
Streets: Activism, Arab Uprisings, and Democratization, ed. Lina Khatib and
Ellen Lust (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2014).
31. For a report of one such debate on cross-​ideological cooperation, see
“Hiwar al-​furaqa’ al-​siyasiyeen awwal al-​ghayth qatra,” Jama’ah al-​’Adl wal-​
Ihsan, April 16, 2014, http://​www.aljamaa.net/​ar/​document/​79700.shtml.
32. See Al Adl communiqué at http://​www.aljamaa.net/​ar/​index/​index.
shtml.
324

324 Notes to pages 65–76

33. For a different take, see Taking to the Streets: Activism, Arab Uprisings, and
Democratization, chap. 7.
34. “World Report 2014: Morocco/​Western Sahara,” Human Rights Watch,
2013, https://​www.hrw.org/​world-​report/​2014/​country-​chapters/​morocco/​
western-​sahara.
35. See Spiegel, Young Islam, for a more thorough analysis.
36. Abdelwahed El Moutawakkil, “Le Président du Cercle Politique félicite
Erdogan pour la victoire de son parti aux communales,” Al Adl wal Ihsane,
March 31, 2014, http://​www.aljamaa.net/​fr/​document/​5404.shtml.
37. See Al Adl 2013 statement at http://​www.aljamaa.net.
38. This body of work is voluminous. A good place to start is the diverse
writings of Jason Brownlee, Eva Bellin, Ellen Lust-​Okar, Lisa Anderson,
and Gregory Gause.
39. Perhaps for the opposite reason, Al Adl’s Yassine readily looked elsewhere
for insights, even as far as Iran.
40. Second quote relayed to author by Michael Willis, from a 2014 address by
a PJD official in England.
41. For a fascinating analysis of PJD youth and varied responses to Sissi
meetings, see Idriss Benarafa, “Morocco Divided over Relationship with
Egypt’s Sisi,” Your Middle East, April 8, 2015, http://​www.yourmiddleeast.
com/​culture/​morocco-​divided-​over-​relationship-​with-​egypts-​sisi_​31255.

Chapter 4
1. John McCarthy and Mayer Zaid, “Resource Mobilization and Social
Movements: A Partial Theory,” American Journal of Sociology 82, no. 6
(1977): 1212–​1213.
2. Mayer Zaid and Roberta Ash, “Social Movement Organizations: Growth,
Decay and Change,” Social Forces 44, no. 3 (1966): 329–​330.
3. See for instance Ayman Sharrouf, “The Destructive Ascendancy of Syria’s
Muslim Brotherhood,” Now, December 3, 2014.
4. See for instance “From Dallas to Damascus: The Texas ‘Straight Shooter’
Who Could Replace Syria’s Assad,” NBC World News, March 30, 2013,
http://​worldnews.nbcnews.com/​_​news/​2013/​03/​30/​17500980-​from-​
dallas-​to-​damascus-​the-​texas-​straight-​shooter-​who-​could-​replace-​syrias-​
assad.
5. For a detailed and balanced account of the Muslim Brotherhood’s role in
the Syrian opposition, see Aron Lund, “Struggling to Adapt: The Muslim
Brotherhood in a New Syria,” in Carnegie Papers (Washington, DC:
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, May 7, 2013).
6. Raphaël Lefèvre, “Saudi Arabia and the Syrian Brotherhood,” Middle
East Institute, September 27, 2013, http://​www.mei.edu/​content/​
saudi-​arabia-​and-​syrian-​brotherhood.
7. Unless stated otherwise, this chapter draws from a series of interviews
conducted by the author from December 2012 until March 2015.
8. Raphaël Lefèvre, “New Leaders for the Syrian Muslim
Brotherhood,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace,
 325

Notes to pages 76–82 325

December 11, 2014, http://​carnegieendowment.org/​2014/​12/​11/​

new-​leaders-​for-​syrian-​muslim-​brotherhood-​pub-​57453.
9. Mohammed Hikmat Walid, “Interview: Muslim Brotherhood Leader
Walid,” Zaman al-​Wasl, February 17, 2015.
10. “Syria’s Muslim Brotherhood Leader Highlights Reforms, Future
Plans,” Yusra Ahmed, trans., Zaman al-​Wasl, March 20, 2015, https://​
en.zamanalwsl.net/​news/​9402.html.
11. Zuheir Salem, “The Brotherhood’s Man in London,” interview by Tam
Hussein, Al Majalla Magazine, April 23, 2013.
12. The Muslim Brotherhood in Syria, “Statement of the Muslim Brotherhood
in Syria on Current Developments,” The Syrian Observer, May 7, 2013,
http://​syrianobserver.com/​EN/​Resources/​24756.
13. Ali Sadreddine al-​Bayanouni, “A Brotherhood Vision for Syria: In
Conversation with the Former Leader of the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood,”
interview by Tam Hussein, Al Majalla Magazine, November 29, 2013.
14. Zaman al-Wasl, “Interview: Muslim Brotherhood Leader Walid,” The
Syrian Observer, February 17, 2015.
15. Zaman al-Wasl, “Waad Party Is Not Muslim Brotherhood Affiliate:
Deputy,” The Syrian Observer, March 19, 2014.
16. Zaman al-Wasl, “Interview: Muslim Brotherhood Leader Walid,” The
Syrian Observer, March 19, 2014.
17. For more on the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood’s internal dynamics, see
Raphaël Lefèvre, “The Muslim Brotherhood Prepares for a Comeback
in Syria,” Carnegie Papers (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for
International Peace, May 7, 2013).
18. “Syria’s Muslim Brotherhood Leader Highlights Reforms, Future Plans,”
Zaman Al-​Wasl, March 20, 2015.
19. These generational dynamics are covered in further detail in Raphaël Lefèvre,
“The Muslim Brotherhood Prepares for a Comeback in Syria,” Carnegie Papers
(Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, May 7, 2013).
20. Quoted in Raphaël Lefèvre, “A Revolution in Syria’s Muslim Brotherhood?”
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, January 23, 2014.
21. Raphaël Lefèvre, “New Leaders for the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood,”
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, December 11, 2014,
http://carnegieendowment.org/2014/12/11/
new-leaders-for-syrian-muslim-brotherhood-pub-57453.
22. “Syria’s Muslim Brotherhood Leader Highlights Reforms, Future Plans,”
Zaman Al-​Wasl, March 20, 2015.
23. Ruth Sherlock, “Muslim Brotherhood Establishes Militia Inside Syria,”
Daily Telegraph, August 3, 2012.
24. Riyadh al-​Shuqfa quoted in Raphaël Lefèvre, “The Brotherhood Starts
Anew in Syria,” Al Majalla Magazine, March 19, 2013. For a more
comprehensive account of the relationship between the Shields of the
Revolution Commission and the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood, see Ali el-​
Yessir and Raphaël Lefèvre, “Militias for the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood?”
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, October 29, 2013.
326

326 Notes to pages 82–91

25. This is an excerpt from the political platform of the Shields of the Revolution
Commission quoted in Raphaël Lefèvre, “The Muslim Brotherhood in Syria:
A ‘Centrist’ Jihad?” Turkish Review 4, no. 2 (March 2014).
26. “Syria’s Muslim Brotherhood Leader Highlights Reforms, Future Plans,”
Zaman Al-​Wasl, March 20, 2015.
27. Raphaël Lefèvre, “The Sham Legion: Syria’s Moderate Islamists,” Carnegie
Endowment for International Peace, April 15, 2014.
28. Elad Benari, “Syria’s Muslim Brotherhood: There’s No Extremism in
Syria,” Arutz Sheva, April 16, 2013.
29. “Syrian Muslim Brotherhood Leader: We Disagree with ISIS in Principle,
Approach,” Ikhwan Web, October 4, 2014.
30. Zaman al-Wasl, “Interview: Muslim Brotherhood Leader Walid,” The
Syrian Observer, March 19, 2014.
31. Ibid.
32. For more on the thought of Said Hawwa, see Itzchak Weismann, “Sa’id
Hawwa: The Making of a Radical Muslim Thinker in Modern Syria,”
Middle Eastern Studies 29, no. 4 (1993): 601–​623.
33. The complete video of the speech of Sheikh Abu Hafez is available at
“Kalima li​Shaykh al-​Da’iya Abu Hafez hawl al-​tadakhkhul al-​amriki wa
istihdaf Da’ish [Speech of Preacher Sheikh Abu Hafez about US Intervention
and Targeting Daesh],” YouTube video, posted by “durue alththawra,”
September 21, 2014, https://​www.youtube.com/​watch?v=qfK0l6YwTsI.
34. Zaman al-Wasl, “Interview: Muslim Brotherhood Leader Walid,” The
Syrian Observer, March 19, 2014.
35. “Syria’s Muslim Brotherhood Leader Highlights Reforms, Future Plans,”
Zaman Al-​Wasl, March 20, 2015.

Chapter 5
1. Nathan Brown, When Victory Is Not an Option: Islamist Movements in Arab
Politics (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2012), 60.
2. Susanne Dahlgren, Contesting Realities: The Public Sphere and Morality in
Yemen (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2010).
3. J. Leigh Douglas, The Free Yemeni Movement, 1935-​1962 (Beirut: American
University in Beirut Press, 1987), 124. For an elaboration of this point,
see Sheila Carapico’s discussion of Free Yemeni and Muslim Brotherhood
convergence around publication of the Sacred National Charter in 1948
(Carapico, Civil Society in Yemen: The Political Economy of Activism in
Southern Arabia, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007, 98).
4. According to Dresch, Brotherhood leader Yassīn ‘Abd al-​’Aziz al-​Qubātī
was among those expelled from Cairo following the Nasser regime’s
execution of Sayyid Qutb. See Paul Dresch, A History of Modern Yemen
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 246n58.
5. As an indication of the limits of arguments about sectarianism, the Aḥmars
are traditionally Zaydi, yet Shaykh ʿAbd Allah was one of the founding
 327

Notes to pages 91–94 327

members of the presumptively Sunni Islah party and his son Hamīd is one
of its leaders—​and leading financiers—​today.
6. Michaelle Browers, Political Ideology in the Arab World: Accommodation and
Transformation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 141–​142.
7. Dresch, A History of Modern Yemen, 175–​176.
8. Dresch, A History of Modern Yemen, 176.
9. Literally partisanship, but connoting a form of division among Muslims
likely to provoke fitna, or disorder, within the umma. The decision to
participate in an imperfect system was a wedge issue, as it has been among
Islamists elsewhere, and many Salafis opted not to participate in partisan
politics they decried as a form of hizbīyya.
10. Brown, When Victory Is Not an Option, 69.
11. Oral history interviews with midlevel Islahi leaders in the mid-​to late 2000s
consistently indicated the role of university politics and campus organizing in
the development of political skills and ideological coherence, as well as to the
building of postpartisan networks. See Stacey Philbrick Yadav, “Antecedents
of the Revolution: Intersectoral Networks and Post-​Partisanship in Yemen,”
Studies in Ethnicity and Nationalism 11, no. 3 (2011): 550–​563.
12. Stacey Philbrick Yadav, Islamists and the State: Legitimacy and Institutions in
Yemen and Lebanon (London: I.B. Taurus, 2013), 42–​43.
13. Sarah Phillips, Yemen and the Politics of Permanent Crisis (New York, NY:
Routledge for the International Institute for Strategic Studies, 2011).
14. Lengthy extracts from a number of interviews with leading JMP figures
at the time of the postponement are included in Stacey Philbrick Yadav
and Janine Clark, “Disappointments and New Directions: Women,
Partisanship, and the Regime in Yemen,” HAWWA 8 (2010): 83–​88.
15. As Muhammed Qaḥtān explained to Egypt’s Al-​Ahram, “There can be no
compromising on this principle and the republican theory. At the very
least, the Houthis have to say that they accept this. We need a nation state
that offers partnership to all and in which every person is free in his beliefs.
We are for democracy and the principle that the people are the source of
power.” (Ahmed Eleiba, “Interview: Mohammed Qahtan, Senior Member
of Yemen’s al-​Islah,” Al-Ahram, November 27, 2014, http://​english.
ahram.org.eg/​WriterArticles/​NewsContentP/​2/​116588/​World/​Interview-​
Mohammed-​Qahtan,-​senior-​member-​of-​Yemens.aspx).
16. Stacey Philbrick Yadav, interview with Raufa Hassan, January 7, 2009.
In individual (but significant and publicly discussed) cases, there was
demonstrable movement toward the political center by Brotherhood
figures. A prominent feminist figure, for example, recalled that a well-​
known Islahi leader from the Brotherhood faction once participated in
physically barring a bus of female students from reaching a research center
devoted to gender studies at Sana’a University, and then less than a decade
later threatened to resign from the party unless the Brotherhood faction’s
more gender-​progressive positions were adopted by the whole.
328

328 Notes to pages 95–97

17. Like Yemen’s other major political parties, no internal elections have been
held within Islah since the 2011 uprising. This makes it difficult to assess
the distribution of views within the party today, though a poll of partisan
youth ahead of the National Dialogue Conference suggested that senior
Brotherhood figures welcome youth mobilization more than youth voice.
(Ala Qassem, “Five Barriers to Youth Engagement, Decision-​Making, and
Leadership in Yemen’s Political Parties,” Saferworld Briefing, December
2013, http://​www.saferworld.org.uk/​resources/​view-​resource/​785-​five-​
barriers-​to-​youth-​engagement-​decision-​making-​and-​leadership-​in-​yemens-​
political-​parties).
18. For a good discussion of the consequences of the Dammaj conflict and
the dispersion of defeated Salafi students and militants, see Peter Salisbury,
“Yemen: Stemming the Rise of Chaos State,” Chatham House Middle
East and North Africa Program (London: Royal Institute for International
Affairs, May 25, 2016), https://​www.chathamhouse.org/​publication/​
yemen-​stemming-​rise-​chaos-​state.
19. Anthony Shadid, Nada Bakri, and Kareem Fahim, “Waves of Unrest
Spread to Yemen, Shaking a Region,” New York Times, January 28, 2011,
http://​www.nytimes.com/​2011/​01/​28/​world/​middleeast/​28unrest.html?_​
r=1. According to my own discussions with members of the JMP at the
time, the color-​coding of the early protests in January 2011 was deliberately
chosen to signal the “color of love” and to indicate that the JMP, unlike
opposition activists in Tunisia, was calling for reform, not revolution.
20. Erik Stier, “Saleh, Yemen Opposition Agree on Plan to Transfer
Power,” Christian Science Monitor, April 26, 2011, http://​
www.csmonitor.com/​World/​Middle-​East/​2011/​0426/​
Saleh-​Yemen-​opposition-​agree-​on-​plan-​to-​transfer-​power.
21. For an excellent account of the transformations that unfolded among
partisan and independent youth during 11 months of protest, see Laurent
Bonnefoy, Marine Poirer, and Jasper Cooper, trans., “The Structuration of
the Yemeni Revolution: Exploring a Process in Motion,” Revue Française de
Science Politique 62, no. 5–​6: 131–​150.
22. The JMP has always operated on a formal power-​sharing model internally,
but Islahi and non-​Islahi members have also long recognized Islah’s
disproportionate weight within the alliance. Under Saleh, members of the
smaller parties in the JMP suggested that they viewed their relationship
with Islah pragmatically, ceding some agenda-​setting power to the larger
party in exchange for its protection.
23. While Islah’s grassroots standing declined significantly over the 2000s, no
other member of the JMP saw great grassroots gains, meaning that Islah’s
claim to popular leverage over the other JMP member parties was largely
intact at the beginning of its shift into government in 2011.
24. United Nations Department of Political Affairs, “Agreement on
the Implementation Mechanism for the Transition Process in
 329

Notes to pages 97–100 329

Yemen in Accordance with the Initiative of the Gulf Cooperation

Council (GCC),” December 5, 2011, http://peacemaker.un.org/
yemen- transition-mechanism2011.
25. Ibid.
26. Abubakr Al-​Shamahi, “New ‘Parallel Revolution’ Against Corruption,”
Al-Jazeera, January 2, 2012, http://​www.aljazeera.com/​indepth/​opinion/​
2012/​01/​201211114410857143.html.
27. Media coverage of the Life March, in which tens of thousands of
Yemenis walked 264 kilometers over the course of four days, was
muted, but Yemeni activists and journalists at the #SupportYemen
media collective and Global Voices, among others, made ample use
of social media and citizen journalism to document the events. See
http://​lifemarch.supportyemen.org/​ and “Yemen: The Amazing Life
March Arrives in Sanaa,” Global Voices, December 24, 2011, http://​
globalvoicesonline.org/​2011/​12/​24/​yemen-​the-​amazing-​march-​of-​life-​
arrives-​in-​sanaa/​ for examples. Yemeni analyst Atiaf al-​Wazir covered the
event for Muftah. See Atiaf al-​Wazir, “In Yemen, the Life March Revives
the Debate on Immunity for Saleh,” Muftah, December 22, 2011, http://​
muftah.org/​in-​yemen-​the-​life-​march-​revives-​the-​debate-​on-​immunity-​
for-​saleh/​#.VaAvgPPD_​5q.
28. Farea al-​Muslimi, “Yemen’s Brotherhood: Early Losses and an Unknown
Future,” Al-​Monitor, September 25, 2013, http://​www.al-​monitor.com/​
pulse/​originals/​2013/​09/​yemen-​brotherhood-​losses-​unknown-​future.html#.
29. “Protests Continue Over ‘Life March’ Killings,” Yemen Times, December
26, 2011, http://​www.yementimes.com/​en/​1532/​news/​146/​Protests-​
continue-​over-​%E2%80%98Life-​March%E2%80%99-​killings.htm.
30. Farea al-​Muslimi, “Deadlocked Yemen,” Sada. Carnegie Endowment for
International Peace, June 20, 2013, http://​carnegieendowment.org/​sada/​
2013/​06/​20/​surmounting-​southern-​stalemate/​gb6g.
31. Arab Center for Research and Policy Studies, “Outcomes of Yemen’s
National Dialogue Conference: A Step Toward Conflict Resolution and
State-​Building?” February 2014, http://​english.dohainstitute.org/​file/​get/​
a6de2897-​5e7e-​417d-​953a-​90f10a527da9.pdf.
32. Nasser Arrabaye, “National Dimensions of the Saada Conflict,” Sada.
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, November 26, 2013, http://​
carnegieendowment.org/​sada/​2013/​11/​26/​national-​dimensions-​of-​saada-​
conflict/​guol.
33. Khalid al-​Karimi, “Islah Appoints Arrested Members as Dialogue
Representatives,” Yemen Times, March 16, 2015, http://​www.yementimes.
com/​en/​1868/​news/​4970/​Islah-​appoints-​arrested-​members-​as-​dialogue-​
representatives.htm.
3 4. See Toby Matthiesen’s chapter in this volume, p. 126.
35. Some analysts (like Salisbury, earlier) conflate the power of General Ali Muhsin
with the power of Islah and thus argue that his rising fortunes are coequal
to the rising fortunes of Islah. While the general certainly has ties to the
30

330 Notes to pages 100–110

organization and has played a coordinating role among Islah-​aligned militias, he

reflects neither the ideological nor the institutional foundations of the Muslim
Brotherhood cohort.
36. Laurent Bonnefoy, “The Islah Party in Yemen: Game Over?” Muftah,
February 27, 2015, http://​muftah.org/​Islah-​party-​yemen-​game/​
#.VQLcOvnF8VA.

Chapter 6
1. Omar Ashour, interview with Belhaj Al-​Amin, Tripoli, March 1, 2012.
2. Ahmad Mansour, interview with Soliman Abd al-​Qadr (former general
observer of the Muslim Brotherhood in Libya), “ ‘Ilaqat al-​Ikwan ma’
al-nizam al-​Libi [The Relationship Between the Brothers and the Libyan
Regime],” Bila Hudud, al-​Jazeera Arabic, August 7, 2005; Mahmoud
Al-​Naku’, “Al-​Harakat al-​islamiyya al-​haditha fi Libya [Modern Islamist
Movements in Libya],” Libya Forum for Human Development (2010): 23.
3. Ahmad Mansour, interview with Fawzi Abu Kitef [Muslim Brotherhood
leader and head of the Revolutionary Brigades Coalition], Shahid ‘Ala al-
Asr, al-​Jazeera Arabic, February 8, 2012.
4. Sami Kleib, interview with Soliman Abdel Qadir, Liqa’ Khas, Al-Jazeera,
May 30, 2009.
5. Mansour, Shahid ‘Ala al-​Asr, February 8, 2012.
6. Abu Selim is a maximum-​security prison in Tripoli, Libya. It was notorious
during the rule of Muammar Qaddafi for human rights abuses, including
a 1996 massacre in which Human Rights Watch estimated that more than
1,270 prisoners were killed by regime forces in two days.
7. Soliman Abdel Qadir, Al-Jazeera, May 30, 2009.
8. Khaled al-​Mahreer, interview with Bashir al-​Kubty, Al-Jazeera, November
21, 2011.
9. Ali al-​Zafiri, interview with Jum’a Al-​Gumati (former NTC representative
in London), Fi al-​’Umq, al-​Jazeera Arabic, February 16, 2011.
10. Omar Ashour, interview with Ali al-​Sallabi, February 1, 2012.
11. Bashir al-​Kubty, Al-Jazeera, November 21, 2011.
12. Omar Ashour, interview with Abdel Nasser Shamata, June 15, 2011.
13. Omar Ashour, interview with Noman Benotman (former Shura Council
member of the LIFG), April 27, 2010.
14. Omar Ashour, interview with Salem Mohamed (head of Salafi Forum in
Libya), June 17, 2011; Omar Ashour, interview with Noman Benotman,
April 12, 2011.
15. Al-​Sadiq Al-​Ruqay’i, “Al-​Islamiyun fi Libya: tarikh wa jihad—​Juz’ 3 [The
Islamists in Libya: History and Jihad—​Part 3],” Al-​Manara, January 12,
2012; Omar Ashour, interview with Noman Benotman, April 12, 2011.
16. Omar Ashour, interview with Salem Mohamed, June 17, 2011.
17. Omar Ashour, interview with Sami al-​Saadi, Cairo, August 2012.
18. Omar Ashour, interview with Mohamed Abdul Hakim, Benghazi,
June 2012.
 31

Notes to pages 111–118 331

1 9. Omar Ashour, interview with Jamila Marzouki, Benghazi, June 2012.

20. Omar Ashour, “The Sisi Leaks and Intra-​Regime Power Dynamics,” Al-
Araby, February 17, 2015, http://​www.alaraby.co.uk/​english/​comment/​
82beaa66-​eeb4-​4725-​8dfa-​d6e4f905958c.
21. https://​www.youtube.com/​watch?v=WssBlKvUbq4. This video has since
been deleted from YouTube.
22. David D. Kirkpatrick and Eric Schmitt, “Arab Nations Strike in Libya,
Surprising U.S.,” New York Times, August 25, 2014, http://​www.nytimes.
com/​2014/​08/​26/​world/​africa/​egypt-​and-​united-​arab-​emirates-​said-​to-​
have-​secretly-​carried-​out-​libya-​airstrikes.html?_​r=0.
23. “Ma wara’ al-​khabr—​Imkaniyya al-​hall al-​diplomasi fi Libya,” YouTube
video, 26:01, posted by Al Jazeera Arabic, February 18, 2015, http://​youtu.
be/​WWEd6V2LPyQ.
24. David D. Kirkpatrick and Eric Schmitt, “Arab Nations Strike in Libya,
Surprising U.S.,” New York Times, August 25, 2014.
25. Composed primarily of Misratan military units.
26. Omar Ashour, interview with Mohamed Abdullah (General National
Congress [Tripoli Parliament] member and the leader of the National
Front Party), Istanbul, March 2015.
27. Missy Ryan, “US Strikes Islamic State Strongholds in Libya,” Washington
Post, August 1, 2016, https://​www.washingtonpost.com/​news/​checkpoint/​
wp/​2016/​08/​01/​united-​states-​strikes-​islamic-​state-​stronghold-​in-​libya-​
expands-​campaign-​against-​militant-​group/​.
28. Mohamed al-​Herbawy, “Majlis Shura Shabab al-​Islam yumahid li iqamit
al-​khilafa fi Derna [Consultative Council of Islamic Youth Prepares for
Establishing a Caliphate in Derna],” Al-​Wasat, October 6, 2014.
29. Ibrahim Darwish, “ ‘Adat muqatili al-​Battar [The Return of al-​Battar
Fighters],” Al-Quds al-​Arabi, December 7, 2015.
30. “Libya a Massive Safe Haven for ISIS Now, U.N. Warns,” CBS News,
December 1, 2015, http://​www.cbsnews.com/​news/​libya-​safe-​haven-​isis-​
3000-​fighters-​un-​warns/​.
31. Andrew Tilghman, “Size of ISIS Force Declining in Iraq and Syria,
According to New Intel,” Military Times, February 4, 2016.

Chapter 7
1. Faysal sought to employ Islam as a counternarrative in his rivalry with
President Nasser and the latter’s form of Arab nationalism. In what was
termed the “Arab Cold War,” Saudi Arabia sought to reposition itself as the
central country of the “Islamic world” and established institutions such as
the Muslim World League and the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation
(OIC). See, among others, Jesse Ferris, Nasser’s Gamble: How Intervention
in Yemen Caused the Six-​Day War and the Decline of Egyptian Power
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013), and for the original
argument, Malcolm Kerr, The Arab Cold War: Gamal ‘Abd al-​Nasir and His
Rivals, 1958-​1970, 3rd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971).
32

332 Notes to pages 118–121

2. James P. Piscatori, “Islamic Values and National Interest: The Foreign

Policy of Saudi Arabia,” in Islam and Foreign Policy, ed. Adeed Dawisha
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983); Menno Preuschaft, “Islam
and Identity in Foreign Policy,” in Saudi Arabian Foreign Policy: Conflict
and Cooperation, ed. Neil Partrick (London: I.B. Tauris, 2016).
3. See for example Mary Atkins, “Saudi Arabia Has ‘No Problem’ with
Muslim Brotherhood: Foreign Minister,” Middle East Eye, February 11,
2011; Ibrahim al-​Hatlani, “Next Saudi Royal Generation Takes Lead,” Al-​
Monitor, June 24, 2015, http://​www.al-​monitor.com/​pulse/​originals/​2015/​
06/​saudi-​arabia-​future-​challenges-​king-​salman.html.
4. Of course, these Arab nationalist states also cooperated with Islamists
and had a much more nuanced approach than is generally assumed. For
an account of the Syrian case, see Thomas Pierret, Religion and State in
Syria: The Sunni Ulama from Coup to Revolution (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2013).
5. For background on the relationship between religion and politics in Saudi
Arabia, see David Commins, The Wahhabi Mission and Saudi Arabia
(London: I.B. Tauris, 2006); Natana J. DeLong-​Bas, Wahhabi Islam: From
Revival and Reform to Global Jihad (London: I.B. Tauris, 2007); Nabil
Mouline, Les clercs de l’Islam: autorité religieuse et pouvoir politique en Arabie
Saoudite, XVIIIe–​XXIe siècle (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2011);
Guido Steinberg, Religion und Staat in Saudi-​Arabien: Die wahhabitischen
Gelehrten 1902–​1953 (Würzburg: Ergon Verlag, 2002).
6. “Saudi Grand Mufti Slams Popular Protests as Anti-​Islamic,” Now,
November 28, 2012; “ ‘ISIS Is Enemy No. 1 of Islam,’ says Saudi Grand
Mufti,” Al Arabiya, August 19, 2014, http://​english.alarabiya.net/​en/​News/​
middle-​east/​2014/​08/​19/​Saudi-​mufti-​ISIS-​is-​enemy-​No-​1-​of-​Islam-​.html;
“KSA Stalled Safavid March,” Arab News, February 10, 2016, http://​www.
arabnews.com/​featured/​news/​878246.
7. For an analysis of how they reacted to the regional events in early 2011, see
Stéphane Lacroix, “Is Saudi Arabia Immune?” Journal of Democracy 22, no.
4 (October 2011): 48–​59.
8. Nora Abdulkarim, “Trial of Saudi Civil Rights Activists
Mohammad al-​Qahtani and Abdullah al-​Hamid,” Jadaliyya,
September 3, 2012, http://​www.jadaliyya.com/​pages/​index/​7174/​
trial-​of-​saudi-​civil-​rights-​activists-​mohammad-​al-​.
9. Over the past decades, and in particular since 9/​11 and the start of
the jihadist insurgency in Saudi Arabia in 2003, thousands of Saudis
have been imprisoned and in some cases held for years without public
trial. Estimates of the numbers of prisoners vary, but there are likely
thousands. Small, flash-​mob-​like protests calling for the release of
political prisoners have erupted in many places across the country,
including in Riyadh and Qasim, from 2011 onwards. Stéphane
Lacroix, Saudi Islamists and the Arab Spring, Kuwait Programme on
 3

Notes to pages 121–123 333

Development, Governance and Globalisation in the Gulf States, 2014,

http://eprints.lse.ac.uk/56725/1/Lacroix_Saudi-Islamists-and-theArab-
Spring_2014.pdf, 15–​18. See also the main Twitter account of the
movement for the release of political prisoners, https://​twitter.com/​
e3teqal.
10. For more on Al-Awda see Madawi Al-​Rasheed, “Salman Al-​Awdah: In the
Shadow of Revolutions,” Jadaliyya, April 27, 2013.
11. The letter was released on his Twitter account, @salman_​alodah. See also
Toby Matthiesen, Sectarian Gulf: Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, and the Arab
Spring That Wasn’t (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2013), 85f.
12. Lacroix, Saudi Islamists and the Arab Spring.
13. See for example Stéphane Lacroix, “Osama bin Laden and the Saudi
Muslim Brotherhood,” Foreign Policy, October 3, 2012.
14. Toby Matthiesen, “Sectarianism After the Saudi Mosque Bombings,”
Washington Post, May 29, 2015.
15. Stéphane Lacroix, Awakening Islam: The Politics of Religious Dissent
in Contemporary Saudi Arabia (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 2011).
16. Ibid.
17. Kuwait, the United Arab Emirates, and Saudi Arabia pledged funds to
Egypt immediately after the coup that brought Abdel Fattah al-​Sissi
to power. They again pledged $4 billion each at the start of the Egypt
Economic Development Conference held in March 2015 in Sharm El-​
Sheikh. See “Gulf States Again Prove to Be Egypt’s Bulwark,” Gulf News,
March 21, 2015, http://​gulfnews.com/​business/​economy/​gulf-​states-​again-​
prove-​to-​be-​egypt-​s-​bulwark-​1.1475506. See also David D. Kirkpatrick,
“Recordings Suggest Emirates and Egyptian Military Pushed Ousting
of Morsi,” New York Times, March 1, 2015, http://​www.nytimes.com/​
2015/​03/​02/​world/​middleeast/​recordings-​suggest-​emirates-​and-​egyptian-​
military-​pushed-​ousting-​of-​morsi.html?_​r=0, and David D. Kirkpatrick,
Peter Baker, and Michael R. Gordon, “How American Hopes for a Deal
in Egypt Were Undercut,” New York Times, August 17, 2013, http://www.
nytimes.com/2013/08/18/world/middleeast/pressure-by-us-failed-to-sway-
egypts-leaders.html.
18. Khaled Abou El-​Fadl, “Failure of a Revolution,” in Routledge Handbook of
the Arab Spring: Rethinking Democratization, ed. Larbi Sadiki (New York:
Routledge, 2015), 265f. Other Egyptian Salafi groups and parties, however,
did not endorse the coup and in fact denounced it. For more on the Salafis
in Egypt see Stéphane Lacroix, “Sheikhs and Politicians: Inside the New
Egyptian Salafism,” Brookings Policy Brief, June 11, 2012, http://www.
brookings.edu/research/papers/2012/06/07-egyptian-salafism-lacroix.
19. The Saudi cleric Nasir al-​Umar, seen as the leader of the Sururis, was
particularly vocal. See Jon B. Alterman and William McCants, “Saudi
Arabia: Islamists Rising and Falling,” in Religious Radicalism After the
34

334 Notes to pages 123–125

Arab Uprisings, ed. Jon B. Alterman (Washington, DC: Center for

Strategic & International Studies, 2015), 166f, http://​csis.org/​publication/​
saudi-​arabia-​islamists-​rising-​and-​falling.
20. See, for example, “Saudi Religious Scholars Accuse Egyptian Salafist
Al-​Nour Party of Obstructing Sharia,” Middle East Monitor, January
13, 2014, https://​www.middleeastmonitor.com/​news/​africa/​9200-​
saudi-​religious-​scholars-​accuse-​egyptian-​salafist-​al-​nour-​party-​of-​
obstructing-​sharia.
21. Marc Lynch, “Gulf Islamist Dissent over Egypt,” Foreign Policy, August 18,
2013; Lacroix, Saudi Islamists and the Arab Spring, 25–​27.
22. “Saudi Arabia Declares Muslim Brotherhood ‘Terrorist Group’, ”
BBC News, March 7, 2014, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-
middle-east-26487092; Stéphane Lacroix, “Saudi Arabia’s
Muslim Brotherhood Predicament,” Project on Middle East
Political Science, March 20, 2014, http://pomeps.org/2014/03/20/
saudi-arabias-muslim-brotherhood-predicament.
23. Madawi Al-​Rasheed, “Saudi Officials Shut Down Display at Book Fair,”
Al-​Monitor, March 13, 2014, http://​www.al-​monitor.com/​pulse/​originals/​
2014/​03/​saudi-​book-​display-​shut-​down.html.
24. For the statements made at the summit see “Qimma Sharm al-​Sheikh 28–​
29 Mars 2015,” League of Arab States, March 28, 2015, http://​www.lasportal.
org/​ar/​summits/​Pages/​default.aspx?Stype=1&imgLib=ArabicSummit&
year=2015#tab6; Hamza Hendawi, “Arab League Unveils Joint Military
Force amid Yemen Crisis,” Associated Press, March 29, 2015, https://
www.yahoo.com/news/pakistan-sending-plane-evacuate-those-stranded-
yemen-052519007.html?ref=gs.
25. “Islamische Kritik an der saudischen Regierung: Gespräch
mit dem Kleriker Salman al-Audah,” Neue Zürcher Zeitung,
April 17, 2012, http://www.nzz.ch/aktuell/international/
islamische-kritik-an-der-saudischen-regierung-1.16481903.
26. “UN Says ‘25,000 Foreign Fighters’ Joined Islamist Militants,” BBC News,
April 2, 2015, http://​www.bbc.com/​news/​world-​middle-​east-​32156541.
27. Lacroix, Saudi Islamists and the Arab Spring, 4f.
28. Control over Mecca and Medina was crucial for the legitimacy of caliphs
throughout much of Islamic history.
29. Toby Matthiesen, “Sectarianism Comes Back to Bite Saudi
Arabia,” Washington Post, November 18, 2014, cage/​wp/​2014/​11/​18/​
sectarianism-​comes-​back-​to-​bite-​saudi-​arabia.
30. Toby Matthiesen, “Sectarianism After the Saudi Mosque Bombings,”
Washington Post, May 29, 2015, http://​www.washingtonpost.com/​blogs/​
monkey-​cage/​wp/​2015/​05/​29/​sectarianism-​after-​the-​saudi-​mosque-​bombings.
For a detailed analysis see Cole Bunzel, The Kingdom and the Caliphate: Duel of
the Islamic States, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, February 2016,
 35

Notes to pages 125–127 335

http://​carnegieendowment.org/​2016/​02/​18/​kingdom-​and-​caliphate-​duel-​of-​
islamic-​states/​iu4w. Al-​Rafida is commonly used as a term by Saudi Islamists to
describe the Shi’a and signifies their rejection of the caliphs Abu Bakr, ‘Umar,
and ‘Uthman as rightful successors of Muhammad. See Raihan Ismail, Saudi
Clerics and Shīʿa Islam (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016).
31. “Nineteen People Arrested over Saudi Arabia Attacks,” Al-Jazeera, July 8,
2016, 160707214101387.html.
3 2. For this argument, see Toby Matthiesen, Sectarian Gulf.
33. Thomas Hegghammer, Jihad in Saudi Arabia: Violence and Pan-​Islamism
Since 1979 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010).
34. Yaroslav Trofimov, “New Saudi King Brings Major Change at Home and
Abroad,” Wall Street Journal, April 29, 2015.
35. “Liqa’ al-​Yawm -​Salman al-​’Awda,” Youtube video, posted by
Al Jazeera Arabic, March 30, 2015, https://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=1R5K4eNV_ww#t=38.
36. “  ‘Asifat al-​Hazm,” Islam Online, 2015, http://​www.islamtoday.net/​files/​
DecisiveStorm.
37. “Al-​Safawiyyin wa-​‘asifat al-​hazm [The Safavids and Operation Decisive
Storm],” YouTube video, posted by Al-​Qanat al-​Rasmiyya li Shaykh
Dr. Muhammad al-​‘Arifi, March 28, 2015, https://youtube/
RHCgeukHkss.
38. “ ‘Labayk ya Salman’: Jadeed al-​Shaykh Dr. ‘A’id al-​Qarni,” Sabq Online,
March 31, 2015, https://​sabq.org/​yE2gde.
39. Awad al-​Qarni, Twitter, https://​twitter.com/​awadalqarni.
40. Toby Matthiesen and Sebastian Sons, “The Yemen War in Saudi Media,”
Muftah, July 20, 2016, http://​muftah.org/​yemen-​war-​saudi-​media.
41. There was a controversy on Twitter when one Saudi Shiite writer,
Tawfiq al-​Sayf, expressed his regret for the victims of a suicide bombing
during a Houthi gathering in March 2015. Sayf was attacked on Twitter
for saying this, which some Saudis saw as an endorsement by a Saudi
Shiite for the Houthis for sectarian reasons. As soon as the war started,
however, Sayf sided with the Saudi government, saying on Twitter that
he would support any effort to protect the nation that would bring
Saudis together. He argued that some wars could lead to more wars,
but that he thought the idea of an Arab military force as a stabilizing
factor was a good idea and could lead to a resolving of the region’s
issues. Sayf ’s views are important, because he was in the early 1990s
the secretary general of the Reformist Movement, as the main Saudi
Shiite Islamist organization, the Shirazi Movement, was known at the
time. He has since served as an interlocutor between the Shiites and the
government. See Tawfiq al-Sayf, Twitter post, March 25, 2015, 10:27 PM,
https://twitter.com/t_saif/status/580964238153273344; “Hashtag «al-
Houthi yuhaddid al-Sa’udiyya» didd «Librali Shi`i» a’lana t’atufahu ma’a
36

336 Notes to pages 127–129

al-Houthiyeen,” Al-Khabr, March 22, 2015, http://www.alkhabarnow.

net/news/182783/2015/03/22; “War Gives Birth to a Solution,” Aawsat,
April 1, 2015, http://aawsat.com/home/article/326156/%D8%AA%D9%
88%D9%81%D9%8A%D9%82-%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%B3%D9%8A
%D9%81/%D8%AD%D8%B1%D8%A8-%D8%AA%D9%84%D8%AF-
%D8%AD%D9%84%D8%A7%D9%8B.
42. He also called on people in the south of Saudi Arabia to be on high alert
and defend themselves against any Houthi attack without relying on the
government. See for example the following speech: “Halaqa al-​bath al-​
mubashir li-​yawm al-​khamis,” YouTube video, posted by Qanat al-​Islah,
April 10, 2015, https://​www.youtube.com/​watch?v=D3fkTD57D0A.
4 3. See for example the tweets by Hamza al-​Hasan and Fouad Ibrahim.
44. See Claudia Ghrawi, “Structural and Physical Violence in Saudi Arabian
Oil Towns, 1953-​1956,” in Urban Violence in the Middle East: Changing
Cityscapes in the Transition from Empire to Nation State, ed. Ulrike Freitag
et al. (New York: Berghahn, 2015), 243–​264; Claudia Ghrawi, “A Tamed
Urban Revolution: Saudi Arabia’s Oil Conurbation and the 1967 Riots,”
in Violence and the City in the Modern Middle East, ed. Nelida Fuccaro
(Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2016), 109–​126; Toby Matthiesen,
“Migration, Minorities and Radical Networks: Labour Movements and
Opposition Groups in Saudi Arabia, 1950-​1975,” International Review of
Social History 59, no. 3 (Autumn 2014), 473–​504.
45. For background on political movements among the Saudi Shi’a,
including the Shirazi movement, see Fouad Ibrahim, The Shi’is of Saudi
Arabia (London: Saqi Books, 2006), and Toby Matthiesen, The Other
Saudis: Shiism, Dissent and Sectarianism (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2015).
46. For background on this political trend see Toby Matthiesen, “Hizbullah
al-​Hijaz: A History of the Most Radical Saudi Shi’a Opposition Group,”
Middle East Journal 64, no. 2 (Spring 2010), 179–​197.
47. For more on the protest movement in the Eastern Province see Toby
Matthiesen, “A ‘Saudi Spring’? The Shi’a Protest Movement in the Eastern
Province 2011–​2012,” Middle East Journal 66, no. 4 (Autumn 2012),
628–​659; Toby Matthiesen, “The Local and the Transnational in the Arab
Uprisings: The Protests in Saudi Arabia’s Eastern Province,” in The Silent
Revolution: The Arab Spring and the Gulf States, ed. May Seikaly and
Khawla Matar (Berlin: Gerlach Press, 2014), 105–​143.
48. Rori Donaghy, “Police Officer Killed in Security Raids on Saudi
Arabia’s Eastern Province,” Middle East Eye, April 5, 2015, http://www.
middleeasteye.net/news/security-forces-raid-saudi-arabias-eastern-province-
stop-anti-yemen-war-protests-451186533.
49. Toby Matthiesen, “The Shiʿa of Saudi Arabia at a Crossroads,” Middle East
Report Online, May 6, 2009.
50. Brian Murphy, “Saudi Shiites Worry About Backlash from Yemen War,”
Washington Post, April, 8, 2015, https://​www.washingtonpost.com/​world/​
 37

Notes to pages 129–135 337

middle_​east/​saudi-​shiites-​worry-​about-​backlash-​from-​yemen-​war/​
2015/​04/​07/​10b01be2-​dc7e-​11e4-​b6d7-​b9bc8acf16f7_​story.html?utm_​
term=.91ee91385241.
51. For more on this group of people see Madawi Al-​Rasheed, Muted
Modernists: The Struggle over Divine Politics in Saudi Arabia
(London: Hurst, 2015).

Chapter 8
1. Courtney Freer, interview with Sami al-​Farraj, Kuwait, November 13, 2013.
2. Courtney Freer, interview with British diplomat stationed in Kuwait,
Kuwait, November 14, 2014.
3. Nathan J. Brown and Scott Williamson, “Kuwait’s Muslim Brotherhood
Under Pressure,” Foreign Policy, November 20, 2013, http://​foreignpolicy.
com/​2013/​11/​20/​kuwaits-​muslim-​brotherhood-​under-​pressure/​.
4. Sylvia Westall, “Egypt Says Two Muslim Brotherhood Members Arrested
in the Gulf,” Reuters, March 12, 2014, http://​www.reuters.com/​article/​2014/​
03/​12/​us-​egypt-​brotherhood-​gulf-​idUSBREA2B23V20140312.
5. Habib Toumi, “Kuwait Former MP Sentenced for Insulting UAE,”
Gulf News, April 13, 2016, http://​gulfnews.com/​news/​gulf/​kuwait/​
kuwait-​former-​mp-​sentenced-​for-​insulting-​uae-​1.1710578.
6. Courtney Freer, interview with Sami al-​Farraj, Kuwait, November 13, 2013.
7. Nathan J. Brown, “Kuwait’s 2008 Parliamentary Elections: A Setback for
Democratic Islamism?” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, May
2008, http://​carnegieendowment.org/​files/​brown_​kuwait2.pdf, 9.
8. Courtney Freer, interview with Usama al-​Shahim, Kuwait, November
24, 2013.
9. Courtney Freer, interview with Abd al-​Aziz al-​Shayeji, Kuwait, November
27, 2013.
10. Nathan J. Brown, “Pushing Toward Party Politics? Kuwait’s Islamic
Constitutional Movement,” Carnegie Papers 79 (January 2007): 15, http://​
carnegieendowment.org/​files/​cp79_​brown_​kuwait_​final.pdf.
11. David Commins, The Gulf State: A Modern History (London: I.B. Tauris,
2012), 236.
12. Sami Nasir al-​Khalidi, Al-​Ahzab al-​Islamia fial-​Kuwaīt: al-​Shi’a, al-​Ikhwan,
al-​Salaf (Kuwait: Dār al-​Nabā’ Lil-​Nashar wa-​l-​Tawzī’, 1999), 175.
13. Ibid.
14. Ibid.
15. Sami Awadh, “Islamic Political Groups in Kuwait: Roots and Influence”
(PhD diss., University of Portsmouth, 1999), 185.
16. Al-​Khalidi, Al-​Ahzab, 176.
17. Jill Crystal and Abdullah al-​Shayeji, “The Pro-​Democratic Agenda
in Kuwait: Structures and Context,” in Political Liberalization and
Democratization in the Arab World: Arab Experiences, ed. Baghat Korany,
Paul Noble, and Rex Brynen (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers,
1998), 105.
38

338 Notes to pages 135–138

18. Mustafa Muhammad al-​Tahan, ʿAbdullah al-​ʿAli al-​Mutawa wa Qadaya al-

Muslimin fial-​’Alam (Kuwait: Mustafa Muhammad al-​Tahan, 2010), 94–​95.
19. Awadh, “Islamic Political Groups in Kuwait,” 192.
20. Ibid.
21. Ibid., 193.
22. Abdallah al-​Nafisi, quoted in al-​Khalidi, Al-​Ahzab, 180.
23. Joseph Kostiner, “Kuwait and Bahrain,” in The Politics of Islamic
Revivalism: Diversity and Unity, ed. Shireen Hunter (Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1988), 126.
24. Ibid.
25. Al-​Khalidi, Al-​Ahzab, 181.
26. Falah Abdallah al-​Mudairis, Jamaʿat al-​Ikhwan al-​Muslimin fī-​l-​Kuwait
(Kuwait: Huqūq al-​Tabaʿ wa-​l-​Nashar Maḥfūẓa, 1994), 40–​41.
27. Ibid.
28. In Arabic, the bloc’s name is al-Haraka al-Dusturiyya al-Islamiyya, or the
Islamic Constitutional Movement.
29. Courtney Freer, interview with former ICM member of parliament,
Kuwait, November 21, 2013.
30. Courtney Freer, interview with former ICM member of parliament,
Kuwait, November 24, 2013.
31. Al-​Khalidi, Al-​Ahzab, 188.
32. Al-​Tahan, ʿAbdullah al-​ʿAli al-​Mutawa wa Qadaya al-​Muslimin fial-​​’Alam, 111.
33. Al-​Khalidi, Al-​Ahzab, 189.
34. Awadh, “Islamic Political Groups in Kuwait,” 210.
35. “ICM Vision, Mission and Objectives,” Islamic Constitutional Movement,
3rd ed., January 2007, 3–​4.
36. Brown, “Pushing Toward Party Politics?” 11.
37. Courtney Freer, interview with Shamlan al-​Isa, Kuwait, November 17, 2013.
38. Brown, “Kuwait’s 2008 Parliamentary Elections,” 7.
39. Courtney Freer, interview with Ibrahim Hadhban, Kuwait, November 14, 2013.
40. Ismail al-​Shatti, quoted in Shafeeq Ghabra, “Balancing State and Society: The
Islamic Movement in Kuwait,” Middle East Policy 5, no. 2 (May 1997): 69.
41. Nathan J. Brown, “When Victory Becomes an Option: Egypt’s Muslim
Brotherhood Confronts Success,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace,
January 2012, http://​carnegieendowment.org/​files/​brotherhood_​success.pdf, 17.
42. There is no official membership list, though some 100 people are in
leadership positions, suggesting a broad following. Furthermore, regardless
of official membership, nonmembers often vote for the ICM due to its
involvement in broader political coalitions.
43. Shadi Hamid, Temptations of Power: Islamists and Illiberal Democracy in a
New Middle East (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 51.
44. Zoltan Pall, “Kuwaiti Salafism and Its Growing Influence in the Levant,”
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, May 2014, http://​
carnegieendowment.org/​files/​kuwaiti_​salafists.pdf, 3.
45. Ibid., 1.
 39

Notes to pages 138–141 339

46. Ibid.
47. Awadh, “Islamic Political Groups in Kuwait,” 232.
48. Ibid., 238.
49. Shaykh ‘Abdullah al-​Sabt, quoted in Awadh, “Islamic Political Groups in
Kuwait,” 233.
5 0. Pall, “Kuwaiti Salafism,” 5.
51. Ibid.
52. Bjorn Olav Utvik, “The Ikhwanization of the Salafis: Piety in the Politics
of Egypt and Kuwait,” Middle East Critique 23, no. 1 (April 2014): 19.
5 3. Pall, “Kuwaiti Salafism,” 6.
54. Ibid.
55. Steve L. Monroe, “Salafis in Parliament: Democratic Attitudes and
Party Politics in the Gulf,” Middle East Journal 66, no. 3 (Summer 2012):
421–​422.
56. William McCants, “Joining the Fray: Salafi Politics after the Arab Spring,”
World Politics Review, January 22, 2013, http://​www.worldpoliticsreview.
com/​articles/​12655/​joining-​the-​fray-​salafi-​politics-​after-​the-​arab-​spring.
5 7. Pall, “Kuwaiti Salafism,” 6.
58. Awadh, “Islamic Political Groups in Kuwait,” 241.
59. Ibid., 250.
60. Pall, “Kuwaiti Salafism,” 7.
61. Ibid.
62. Ibid.
63. Ibid.
64. Ibid.
65. Ibid., 8.
66. Ibid., 9.
67. Utvik, “The Ikhwanization of the Salafis,” 20.
68. Ibid.
69. Ibid., 9–​10.
70. Ibid.
71. Ibid., 11.
72. Utvik, “The Ikhwanization of the Salafis,” 19–​20.
73. Pall, “Kuwaiti Salafism,” 11.
74. Ibid., 11.
75. Ibid., 22.
76. Ibid., 23.
77. Pall, “Kuwaiti Salafism,” 11–​12.
78. Ibid., 11–​12.
79. Ibid., 12.
80. David S. Cohen, quoted in Karen DeYoung, “Kuwait, Ally on Syria, Is
Also the Leading Funder of Extremist Rebels,” Washington Post, April 25,
2014, http://​www.washingtonpost.com/​world/​national-​security/​kuwait-​
top-​ally-​on-​syria-​is-​also-​the-​leading-​funder-​of-​extremist-​rebels/​2014/​04/​25/​
10142b9a-​ca48-​11e3-​a75e-​463587891b57_​story.html.
340

340 Notes to pages 141–145

81. Ibid., 17.
82. Ibid., 21.
83. Ibid., 17.
84. Brown, “Pushing Toward Party Politics?” 17.
85. Ibid.
86. Al-​Tahan, ʿAbdullah al-​ʿAli al-​Mutawa wa Qadaya al-​Muslimin fial-​
’Alam, 125.
87. Monroe, “Salafis in Parliament,” 412–​413.
88. Brown, “Pushing Toward Party Politics?” 9.
89. Monroe, “Salafis in Parliament,” 416.
90. Ibid.
91. Kjetil Selvik, “Elite Rivalry in a Semi-​Democracy: The Kuwaiti Press
Scene,” Middle Eastern Studies 47, no. 3 (2011): 479.
92. Utvik, “The Ikhwanization of the Salafis,” 20.
93. Ibid.
94. Ibid.
95. Sylvia Westall, “The Quiet Influence of Kuwait’s Salafis,” Reuters,
June 27, 2012, http://​www.reuters.com/​article/​2012/​06/​27/​
us-​kuwait-​salafi-​idUSBRE85Q0Y220120627.
96. Sharmaake Sabrie and Pekka Hakala, “Policy Briefing: Kuwait’s Political
Crisis Deepens,” European Union, January 2013, http://​www.europarl.
europa.eu/​RegData/​etudes/​briefing_​note/​join/​2013/​491461/​EXPO-​
AFET_​SP%282013%29491461_​EN.pdf, 10.
97. Mohamed Badri ‘Aid, “Al-​tayar al-​Salafi fi al-​Kuwait: Al-​waqa’ wa​al-
mustaqbal,” Al Jazeera Center for Studies, May 29, 2012, http://​studies.
aljazeera.net/​reports/​2012/​05/​201252912302826133.htm.
98. Kristin Smith Diwan, “Kuwait’s Balancing Act,” Foreign Policy, The
Middle East Channel, October 13, 2012, http://​mideast.foreignpolicy.com/​
posts/​2012/​10/​23/​kuwait_​s_​balancing_​act.
99. Ibid.
100. Sabrie and Hakala, “Policy Briefing: Kuwait’s Political Crisis Deepens,” 11.
101. “Kuwait Election: Opposition Hails Boycott as Turnout Falls,”
BBC News, December 2, 2012, http://​www.bbc.co.uk/​news/​
world-​middle-​east-​20571958.
102. Ibid.
103. Courtney Freer, interview with Nasir al-​Sani.
104. Ibid.
105. “Freed Kuwait Opposition Leader Vows Protests Will Continue,” Gulf
News, July 8, 2014, http://​gulfnews.com/​news/​gulf/​kuwait/​freed-​kuwait-​
opposition-​leader-​vows-​protests-​will-​continue-​
1.1357223.
106. E.A.D., “Kuwait’s Opposition: A Reawakening,” The Economist, April
17, 2014, http://​www.economist.com/​blogs/​pomegranate/​2014/​04/​
kuwaits-​opposition.
 341

Notes to pages 145–150 341

107. Ibid.
108. Ibid.
109. “Kuwait Arrests Opposition Figure After Saudi Embassy Complaint,”
Middle East Eye, March 18, 2015, http://​www.middleeasteye.net/​news/​
kuwait-​arrests-​opposition-​figure-​after-​saudi-​embassy-​complaint-​
1329348434.
110. Brown and Williamson, “Kuwait’s Muslim Brotherhood Under Pressure.”
111. Ibid.
112. Toumi, “Kuwait Former MP Sentenced for Insulting UAE.”
113. “UAE to Try Kuwaiti Ex-​MP over Remarks on Abu Dhabi Crown Prince,”
Middle East Eye, March 9, 2015, http://​www.middleeasteye.net/​news/​
uae-​try-​kuwaiti-​ex-​mp-​over-​remarks-​abu-​dhabi-​crown-​prince-​1546132555.
114. Shadi Hamid, Temptations of Power, 54–​55.
115. “Al-​Duwaila: ‘Ala al-​quwa al-​siyasia an tafham hasasiat al-​marhala
tatalab ‘an al-​khalafat al-​taqlidia [Al-​Duwaila: The Political Forces Must
Understand That the Sensitivity of the Stage Requires the Transcendence
of Traditional Differences],” ICM, January 11, 2015, http://​www.icmkw.
org/​site/​pages/​topics/​alduilx_​-​yl649-​alqu649-​alsiasi629-​623n-​tfx_​m-​623n-​
xhsasi629-​almrxhl629-​ttt_​lb-​altyali-​yn-​alxlafat-​altqlidi629.php?p=60#.
VTOHgxfndKo.
116. Ahmed al-​Baghdadi, quoted in Carrie Rosefsky Wickham, The Muslim
Brotherhood: Evolution of an Islamist Movement (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 2013), 230.
117. Courtney Freer, interview with Abdallah al-​Nibari, Kuwait, February 2,
2014.
118. Rosefsky Wickham, The Muslim Brotherhood, 220.
119. Nathan J. Brown, When Victory Is Not an Option: Islamist Movements in
Arab Politics (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2012), 239.
120. Westall, “The Quiet Influence of Kuwait’s Salafis.”
121. Ali al-​Omair, quoted in Monroe, 413.
122. Pall, “Kuwaiti Salafism,” 11–​12.
123. Michael Herb, “Emirs and Parliaments in the Gulf,” Journal of Democracy
13, no. 4 (October 2002): 47.

Chapter 9
1. Bassam al-​ Emoush, Mahatat fi tarikh Jama‘at al-​Ikhwan al-​Muslimin fi
al-​Urdun [Stations in the History of the Society of the Muslim Brothers
in Jordan] (Amman: Academics for Publishing and Distribution, 2008);
Marion Boulby, The Muslim Brotherhood and the Kings of Jordan, 1945-​1993
(Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1999).
2. Carrie Rosefsky Wickham, The Muslim Brotherhood: Evolution of an
Islamist Movement (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013).
3. The Islamic Movement in Jordan, “The Islamic Movement’s Vision for
Reform in Jordan” (Public document, Amman, Jordan, 2005).
342

342 Notes to pages 150–155

4. The Muslim Brotherhood and its political party boycotted in 1997 and
2010 and participated in 2003 and 2007.
5. For one explanation why, see David Siddhartha Patel, “Roundabouts and
Revolutions: Public Squares, Coordination, and the Diffusion of the Arab
Uprisings” (Unpublished manuscript, 2013).
6. Tareq Al Naimat, “The Jordanian Regime and the Muslim Brotherhood: A
Tug of War,” Viewpoints no. 58 (2014).
7. Their number two priority for reform is to bring legislation and official
policy in harmony with the constitutional statement that Islam is the
source of legislation. See Islamic Movement, “The Islamic Movement’s
Vision for Reform in Jordan,” 12.
8. The committee proposed 41 amendments to the constitution in mid-​
August, none of which addressed Articles 34 through 36, which relate to
the powers the Brotherhood had challenged.
9. Abdullah II ibn Al Hussein, “Discussion Papers,” Official Website -​King
of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, http://​www.kingabdullah.jo/​index.
php/​en_​US/​pages/​view/​id/​244.html.
10. Jillian Schwedler and Ryan King, “Political Geography,” in The Arab
Uprisings Explained: New Contentious Politics in the Middle East, ed. Marc
Lynch (New York: Columbia University Press, 2014).
11. Curtis R. Ryan, “The Implications of Jordan’s New Electoral Law,”
Foreign Policy, April 13, 2012, http://​foreignpolicy.com/​2012/​04/​13/​the-​
implications-​of-​jordans-​new-​electoral-​law/​.
12. National Democratic Institute, “Jordanian Elections Show Marked
Improvement from Past Polls but Shortcomings Remain, NDI
Delegation Finds,” National Democratic Institute, January 24, 2013,
https://​www.ndi.org/​2013-​jordan-​elections; “The Carter Center Releases
Study Mission Report on Jordan’s 2013 Parliamentary Elections,” Carter
Center, February 14, 2013, http://​www.cartercenter.org/​news/​pr/​jordan-​
021413.html.
13. On the Jordanian regime’s tactic of deliberately dividing opposition,
see Quintan Wiktorowicz, The Management of Islamic Activism: Salafis,
the Muslim Brotherhood, and State Power in Jordan (Albany, NY: SUNY
Press, 2000); Ellen Lust-​Okar, Structuring Conflict in the Arab World:
Incumbents, Opponents, and Institutions (New York: Cambridge University
Press, 2007).
14. Many Islamists in Jordan are sensitive to the label “Salafi”; I have been
told by several interviewees that “I am salafiyya in aqida [creed], but not
in movement.” It is not clear if Salafi participation in electoral politics in
Egypt has changed how Jordanian Islamists use the term.
15. Wiktorowicz, The Management of Islamic Activism; Jacob Olidort, “The
Politics of ‘Quietist’ Salafism,” The Brookings Institution, Analysis Paper
no. 18, February 2015.
 34

Notes to pages 155–162 343

16. For more on Mohamed Abu Faris’ ideas in the context of Jordanian
politics, see Shadi Hamid, Temptations of Power: Islamists and Illiberal
Democracy in a New Middle East (New York: Oxford University Press,
2014), 161–​162.
17. Mohammad Abu Rumman and Hassan Abu Hanieh, The Jihadi Salafist
Movement in Jordan After Zarqawi: Identity, Leadership Crisis and Obscured
Vision (Amman: Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, 2009).
18. Mona Alami, “The New Generation of Jordanian Jihadi Fighters,”
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, February 18, 2014, http://​
carnegieendowment.org/​sada/​?fa=54553.
19. Ibrahim Gharaibeh, Jama‘at al-​Ikhwan al-​Muslimin fi al-​Urdun, 1946-​1996
[The Society of the Muslim Brothers in Jordan, 1946-​1996] (Amman:
Sindabad Publishing House, 1997); Nathan Brown, “Jordan and Its Islamic
Movement: The Limits of Inclusion?” Carnegie Papers, no. 74 (2006);
Mohammad Abu Rumman, The Muslim Brotherhood in the 2007 Jordanian
Parliamentary Elections: A Passing “Political Setback” or Diminished
Popularity (Amman: Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, 2007); Hamid, Temptations
of Power.
20. David Siddhartha Patel, “From Islamic to Ethnic Politics in Jordan”
(Unpublished manuscript, 2011).
21. In several respects, the Zamzam platform echoes the goals and language of
both the Egyptian Wasat Party and the Jordanian government’s “Islamic
outreach” efforts. See Wickham, The Muslim Brotherhood; Lawrence Rubin
and Michael Robbins, “The Rise of Official Islam in Jordan,” Politics,
Religion, and Ideology 14, no. 1 (2013).
22. I do not have the full list of 10, but all the names I know are
Transjordanian.
23. Khaled Neimat, “Brotherhood Moving Against
Members Involved in Zamzam,” Jordan Times,
November 28, 2013, http://​jordantimes.com/​news/​local/​
brotherhood-​moving-​against-​members-​involved-​zamzam%E2%80%99.
24. Khetam Malkawi, “Brotherhood Picks Moderate Leader to Manage New
Stage,” Jordan Times, June 13, 2016, http://​jordantimes.com/​news/​local/​
brotherhood-​picks-​moderate-​leader-​manage-​new-​stage.
25. Alami, Aida, “Rift Deepens Within Jordan’s Muslim Brotherhood,”
Al Jazeera, August 17, 2015, http://​www.aljazeera.com/​news/​2015/​08/​rift-​
deepens-​jordan-​muslim-​brotherhood-​150810121308733.html.
26. Jeffrey Goldberg, “The Modern King in the Arab Spring,” The Atlantic,
April 2013, 45–​55.
27. Ibid., 54.
28. The most notable exception is when a prominent Muslim Brotherhood
leader, Zaki Bani Ersheid, was sentenced to 18 months in prison for
criticizing the United Arab Emirates in a Facebook post. Months after
34

344 Notes to pages 162–165

being arrested, however, the post was still publicly available; Bani Ersheid
courted arrest and punishment.

Chapter 10
1. Deobandi Sunni clerics trace their roots to the Dar-​ul-​Uloom madrasa
in Deoband, India. They are characterized by a “reformist” critique of
the shrine-​based religiosity associated with some forms of South Asian
Sufism.
2. Further differences are worth noting. Whereas Hassan al-​Banna sought
to reform Muslim society from within, JI leaders like Maududi sought to
establish a revolutionary vanguard party set apart from the jahil (ignorant)
Muslim masses and poised to lead from above. This was not an extension
of Banna’s ideas; it was a response to early 20th-​century Muslim political
fragmentation in South Asia—​fragmentation extending from the Khilafat
Movement and Muslim leaders within both the Indian National Congress
and the Muslim League to the clerical leadership of the Dar-​ul-​Uloom
madrasa at Deoband and many others. Maududi’s ideas were rooted in
South Asia. However, they influenced ideologues within the Brotherhood
as well—​above all, Sayyid Qutb. See Abdelwahab El-​Affendi, “The Long
March from Lahore to Khartoum: Beyond the ‘Muslim Reformation’, ”
Bulletin 17, no. 2 (1990): 137–​151; Eran Lerman, “Mawdudi’s Concept of
Islam,” Middle Eastern Studies 17, no. 4 (1981): 492–​509.
3. See Matthew J. Nelson, “Islamic Law in an Islamic State: What Role
for Parliament?” in Constitution Writing, Religion, and Democracy, ed.
Asli Bali and Hanna Lerner (New York: Cambridge University Press,
2017).
4. See Vali Nasr, “Students, Islam, and Politics: Islami Jamiat-​e-​Tuleba in
Pakistan,” Middle East Journal 46, no. 1 (1992): 59–​76.
5. See Vali Nasr, Vanguard of the Islamic Revolution: The Jama’at-​i Islami of
Pakistan (London: I.B. Taurus, 1994), 28–​43.
6. It is worth pointing out that, compared to the modest electoral success
of the JI and the JUI, the electoral success of shrine-​oriented “Barelwi”
parties—​Barelwis constitute Pakistan’s largest denominational group—​
has been negligible. And to date, Pakistan’s “Salafis” have not sought to
establish their own political party at all.
7. See Sayyid A. S. Pirzada, The Politics of the Jamiat Ulema-​i-​Islam
Pakistan: 1971-​1977 (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2000); Joshua
T. White, Pakistan’s Islamist Frontier (Arlington, VA: Center on Faith in
International Affairs, 2008), 29.
8. See Matthew J. Nelson, “Embracing the Ummah: Student Politics Beyond
State Power in Pakistan,” Modern Asian Studies 45, no. 3 (2011): 565–​596.
9. Nasr, “Students, Islam, and Politics.”
10. Nasr, Vanguard of the Islamic Revolution, 153–​154.
 345

Notes to pages 165–169 345

11. The JUI’s efforts to form coalition governments with “regional” (as opposed
to purely religious) parties in Balochistan and the NWFP split the party—​
once again, between religious ideologues and political pragmatists. This
split was reinforced in 1988 when Fazlur Rahman took over from his father
Mufti Mahmud. Sami-​ul-​Haq (JUI-​S) led a group of ideologues working
closely with General Zia-​ul-​Haq and the JI; Fazlur Rahman (JUI-F)
led a group of “regional” populists who sought to distance themselves from
the JI. See Nasr, Vanguard of the Islamic Revolution, 164–​168; Pirzada, The
Politics of the Jamiat Ulema-​i-​Islam Pakistan, 67; White, Pakistan’s Islamist
Frontier, 29.
12. When Prime Minister Bhutto dismissed the JUI-​affiliated provincial
government of Balochistan in 1973, the NWFP government (led by JUI
Chief Minister Mufti Mahmud) resigned in protest. See Pirzada, The
Politics of the Jamiat Ulema-​i-​Islam Pakistan, 73.
13. See Vali Nasr, “Islamic Opposition to the Islamic State: The Jama’at-​e-​
Islami, 1977-​1988,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 25, no. 2
(1993): 261–​283.
14. Of the 68 candidates supported by the JI during the nonparty elections
of 1985, only 10 were successful. In effect, the JI was punished for
collaborating with the dictatorship of General Zia-​ul-​Haq between 1977
and 1985. See Nasr, Vanguard of the Islamic Revolution, 196–​197.
15. “Salafi” partners like Lashkar-​e-​Taiba also figure prominently.
16. See Humeira Iqtidar, Secularizing Islamists? Jama’at-​e-​Islami and Jama’at-​
ud-​Dawa in Urban Pakistan (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
2011), 93–​95.
17. White notes that the JI also signaled its dissatisfaction with various IJI (and
PPP) governments by criticizing their foreign policies, including the IJI’s
decision to accept a negotiated settlement to the civil war in Afghanistan—​
a decision that, according to White, eventually led the Jama’at to quit the
IJI in 1992. See White, Pakistan’s Islamist Frontier, 33–​34.
18. The JI fielded 26 candidates. The JUI-​F, contesting separately, won 7 seats.
19. The JI fielded 18 candidates. The JUI-​F, contesting separately, won 6 seats.
20. Together, the “Deobandi” JUI-​F and the “Barelwi” JUP (Jamiat-​e-​Ulema-​
e-​Pakistan) won four seats.
21. See The First 10 General Elections of Pakistan (Islamabad: PILDAT,
2013), 57.
22. The JI and the JUI also benefited from General Musharraf ’s efforts to
marginalize Pakistan’s political “old guard” by requiring candidates to
hold a university or high-​level madrasa degree. (The former helped the
lay leadership of the JI; the latter helped the ulema-​based leadership of
the JUI.)
23. See The First 10 General Elections of Pakistan, 62.
24. For a detailed account of MMA policymaking in the NWFP, see White,
Pakistan’s Islamist Frontier, 47–​83.
346

346 Notes to pages 170–171

25. Many of Imran Khan’s election rallies featured religious leaders from
a Far Right amalgamation known as the “Defense of Pakistan” (Difa-​
e-​Pakistan) Council—​a group that, in addition to the JI, included the
JUI-​S and pro-​army Salafis like Hafiz Saeed and his militant group
Lashkar-​e-​Taiba (LeT).
26. My own research suggests that material demands rooted in tribal
“customs” often clash with the terms of sharia, leading many families
to pursue forms of political patronage grounded in an appeal for
protection from the enforcement of Islamic law. (This is particularly
true with respect to Islamic laws of inheritance governing family
property—​Islamic laws that fly in the face of patrilineal customs
insofar as they guarantee specific “Quranic shares” to Muslim women.)
See Matthew J. Nelson, In the Shadow of Shari’ah: Islam, Islamic Law,
and Democracy in Pakistan (New York: Columbia University Press,
2011).
27. The space occupied by religious social welfare organizations has expanded
alongside the conditionalities imposed by international financial
institutions like the International Monetary Fund—​institutions seeking to
reduce the fiscal footprint of the Pakistani state in a context still defined
by very low levels of tax collection; see Chris Candland and Raza Khan
Qazi, “Pakistan: Civil Conflict, Natural Disaster, and Partisan Welfare,”
International Policy Digest, July 14, 2015, http://​intpolicydigest.org/​2015/​07/​
14/​pakistan-​civil-​conflict-​natural-​disaster-​and-​partisan-​welfare/​.
28. See Masooda Bano, “Contesting Ideologies and Struggle for Authority:
State-​Madrasa Engagement in Pakistan” (Working paper no. 14, Religions
and Development Research Programme, University of Birmingham,
Birmingham, England, 2007), http://​www.birmingham.ac.uk/​Documents/​
college-​social-​sciences/​government-​society/​rad/​working-​papers/​wp-​14.pdf.
In Pakistan, JI-​affiliated private schools include both the Hira and the Dar-​
e-​Arqam networks; those affiliated with “Barelwis” include the Minhaj-​
ul-​Qur’an network and AIMS (the Academy for Islamic and Modern
Studies).
29. See Mumtaz Ahmad, “Media-​Based Preachers and the Formation of New
Muslim Publics in Pakistan,” in Who Speaks for Islam? Muslim Grassroots
Leaders and Popular Preachers in South Asia (Seattle: National Bureau
of Asian Research, 2010), 1–​28, and also Khalid Masud, Travellers in
Faith: Studies of the Tablighi Jama’at as a Transnational Islamic Movement for
Faith Renewal (Leiden: Brill, 2000).
30. In 1991, Tanzim-​e-​Islami was joined by Tehreek-​e-​Khilafat to “bring
about an Islamic revolution by a ‘disciplined force’ that will culminate
in the establishment of [a]‌global caliphate”; see Ahmad, “Media-​Based
Preachers,” 14. More than any other figure in South Asia, Israr Ahmed’s
ideas reflect the millenarian views of the Islamic State.
 347

Notes to pages 172–176 347

31. Ahmad, “Media-​Based Preachers,” 18.

32. See Husnul Amin, “Post-​Islamist Intellectual Trends in Pakistan: Javed
Ahmad Ghamidi and His Discourse on Islam and Democracy,” Islamic
Studies 51, no. 2 (2012): 169–​192.
33. For an extension of Robert Michels’s inclusion-​moderation theory to
Muslim contexts, see Mona El-​Ghobashy, “The Metamorphosis of the
Egyptian Muslim Brothers,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 37,
no. 3 (2005): 373–​395; and Jillian Schwedler, Faith in Moderation: Islamist
Parties in Jordan and Yemen (New York: Cambridge University
Press, 2006).
34. One of the last holdouts was an Afghan Taliban commander by the name
of “Mullah Rasool.”
35. Afghan Taliban commanders like Abdul Qayyum Zakir opposed formal
negotiations with the Afghan government until all of the international
forces supporting that government had left. (Zakir withheld his
allegiance to Mullah Mansour until March 2016—​just a few weeks before
his death.)
36. See Michael Semple, “The Pakistan Taliban Movement: An Appraisal,”
Barcelona Centre for International Affairs, November 2011, http://​
www.cidob.org/​en/​content/​download/​56611/​1455664/​version/​3/​file/​
MICHAEL%20SEMPLE_​NOVEMBRE%202014%20%281%29.pdf, 5.
37. High-​profile attacks orchestrated by Baitullah and Hakimullah Mehsud
signaled the antistate politics of the TTP, with Baitullah suspected in
the 2008 assassination of Pakistan’s prime minister Benazir Bhutto and
the appearance of Hakimullah in a 2011 video recording the murder of a
Pakistan intelligence officer known as “Colonel Imam.” (Colonel Imam
played a key role in grooming Afghan Taliban figures like Mullah Omar.
His murder drew a sharp line between the loyalties of the Afghan Taliban
and those of the TTP.)
38. During the 1990s, Swat was home to a rebel movement known as the
Tehreek-​e-​Nifaz-​e-​Shariat-​e-​Mohammadi (TNSM), which pressed for a
special corps of qazis to “oversee” the government’s district courts. The
TNSM was founded by Fazlullah’s father-​in law, a former member of the
JI named Sufi Mohammad.
39. Unusually, the first leader of AQIS (Asim Umar) was known for his
“Deobandi” connections. A former deputy leader (Ustadh Ahmad Farooq),
known for his IJT connections, was killed in a U.S. drone strike in April
2015. See Sajid Iqbal, “Is Al-​Qaeda Seeking a New Constituency in
Pakistan?,” BBC News, July 20, 2015, http://​www.bbc.co.uk/​monitoring/​is-​
alqaeda-​seeking-​a-​new-​constituency-​in-​pakistan, and also Hasan Abdullah,
“Pakistan’s Top Militant Commanders,” Dawn, July 10, 2015, http://​www.
dawn.com/​news/​1170164.
40. Building on the ideological spadework of earlier JI defectors like Israr
Ahmed, the views articulated by Baghdadi are not unfamiliar in Pakistan;
348

348 Notes to pages 176–181

see Ali Akbar, “From TTP to IS: Pakistan’s Terror Landscape Evolves,”
Dawn, March 16, 2015, http://​www.dawn.com/​news/​1169542/​.
Omar Khalid Khorasani (Jama’at-​ul-​Ahrar) orchestrated the April 2014
killing of 23 Pakistani soldiers who had been held captive for several
years, spurring an anti-​TTP operation in FATA known as Zarb-​e-​Azb.
Fazlullah responded to this operation with an attack on the Army Public
School in Peshawar (December 2014), killing 141 people, including 132
children. See also Bill Roggio, “Taliban Splinter Group Jama’at-​ul-​Ahrar
Forms in Northwestern Pakistan,” Long War Journal, August 26, 2014,
http://​www.longwarjournal.org/​archives/​2014/​08/​taliban_​splinter_​
gro.php.
41. See Nasir Jamal, “Analysis: Why Jama’at Discarded Munawar Hasan,”
Dawn, April 1, 2014, http://​www.dawn.com/​news/​1096947. After
Munawar Hasan described Hakimullah Mehsud as a Muslim martyr, the
Pakistan Army demanded an apology; the JI reported that Hasan was
expressing his personal views.

Chapter 11
1. Even by the end of Suharto’s New Order era, greater space was created for
Islamic activism as Muslim leaders, hitherto marginalized from positions
of power, were brought into government. Suharto also formed Ikatan
Cendekiawan Muslim Indonesia (ICMI, or the All-​Indonesian Association
of Muslim Professionals), which would serve as the primary vehicle for
the New Order’s re-​engagement with Islamic social and political activism.
During this time, Islamist influence was also gradually emerging within
Golkar, the primary organizational vehicle of the New Order.
2. In addition, there were a number of Islamic (as opposed to “Islamist”)
parties aligned with Indonesia’s two main Muslim organizations,
Muhammadiyah and Nahdlatul Ulama. These were Partai Amanat
Nasional (PAN, or National Mandate Party) and Partai Kebangkitan
Bangsa (PKB, or National Awakening Party).
3. In 2004 and 2009, the PKS managed to score in the region of 7 percent
of popular votes. A regional exception was Aceh, where the Acehnese
provincial government was permitted to introduce various aspects of
Islamic law as part of the resolution of the longstanding separatist struggle
between the Gerakan Aceh Merdeka (GAM, or Free Aceh Movement) and
the Indonesian state.
4. Sunny Tanuwidjaja, “Political Islam and Islamic Parties in Indonesia:
Critically Assessing the Evidence of Islam’s Political Decline,” Southeast
Asia: A Journal of International and Strategic Affairs 32, no. 1 (2010): 29–49.
5. Greg Fealy, “Islam in Southeast Asia: Domestic Pietism, Diplomacy and
Security,” in Contemporary Southeast Asia: Regional Dynamics, National
Differences, ed. Mark Beeson (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 137.
He highlighted the international media’s inclination to refer to Southeast
 349

Notes to pages 181–184 349

Asia as a “second front” in the war on terror, as exemplified in Anthony

Spaeth, “Rumbles in the Jungle,” Time, February 25, 2002, http://​www.
time.com/​time/​world/​article/​0,8599,212723,00.html.
6. Dean Yates, “Indonesia’s Moderate Islamic Image Under Threat,” Reuters,
September 16, 2005, http://​www.redorbit.com/​news/​health/​245577/​
indonesias_​moderate_​islamic_​image_​under_​threat/​index.html.
7. Having said that, it is important to place the electoral fortunes of Islamist
parties in Malaysia and Indonesia in context. Not unlike Pakistan, where
the visibility and activism of Jamaat-​e-​Islami (JI) and the Jamiat-​e-​Ulema-​
e-​Islam (JUI) have only resulted in modest electoral gains, the performance
of the PKS and PAS at their peaks has not translated into significant
numbers of seats in the respective parliaments—​certainly not enough to
press an Islamist agenda in any meaningful way in parliament. But at least
in the case of Malaysia, there has been a discernible convergence of outlook
on Islamic governance between PAS and UMNO, as the chapter will show.
8. Vincent J. H. Houben, “Southeast Asia and Islam,” Annals of the American
Academy of Political and Social Science 588 (2003): 163. There are a number
of factors that have given rise to this greater Islamic consciousness, not
least the fact that people have increasingly studied in state religious
schools, which provide a curriculum endorsed by Islamic scholars rather
than the more syncretic or idiosyncratic and “localized” variant of the faith
taught by local preachers. See for instance Greg Fealy, “Understanding
Political Islam in Southeast Asia,” Asia Society: A Summary, May 21, 2003,
http://www.asiasociety.org/understanding-political-islam-southeast-asia.
9. The PAS Supporter’s Club was created in 2010 in response to the
perceived growing interest and appeal of PAS to non-​Muslims. However,
although the club has since been “upgraded” into a wing, its members
are still not allowed to vote in party elections or have representation
in the party’s central working committee. The PAS Supporters’ Wing
claims a membership of 40,000. In the case of the PKS, the number of
non-​Muslims who are associated with the party is negligible given that
the Indonesian population as a whole is up to 87 percent Muslim. See
Shazwan Mustafa Kamal, “Branded Toothless, PAS Non-​Muslim Wing
Wants Votes, Posts in Party Polls,” Malay Mail, May 18, 2015.
10. Muhammad Ayoob, The Many Faces of Political Islam: Religion and Politics
in the Muslim World (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2008), 94.
11. Michael Buehler, “The Rise of Shari’a By-​Laws in Indonesian Districts,”
South East Asia Research 16, no. 2, (2008): 255–285.
12. Greg Fealy, “Resurgent Political Islam or astute Islamic parties?” New
Mandala, April 14, 2014, http://​asiapacific.anu.edu.au/​newmandala/​2014/​
04/​14/​resurgent-​political-​islam-​or-​astute-​islamic-​parties/​.
1 3. Joseph Chinyong Liow, interview with Dr. Zulkifliemansyah.
14. Tiffatul Sembiring, “Shari’a a Reality and Asset of National Law,” Jakarta
Post, March 27, 2006.
350

350 Notes to pages 184–186

15. “PKS tidak akan paksakan syariat Islam,” April 19, 2006, http://​
zulkifliemansyah.com/​in/​pks-​tidak-​akan-​paksakan-​syariat-​islam.html.
16. Heffernan Van Zorge, “Creeping Sharia?” Van Zorge Report on Indonesia
VIII, no. 8, May 9, 2006.
17. Nadirsyah Hosen, “Religion and the Indonesian Constitution: A Recent
Debate,” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 36, no. 3, (2006): 419–440.
18. Consider, for instance, the following anecdote from PKS member of
parliament Zulkieflimansyah: “For us (PKS), the issue of sharia puts
us between a rock and a hard place. For example, when I ran as a
gubernatorial candidate in Banten last year, if you went to a traditional
community and didn’t support sharia then you were in trouble. They don’t
really care what sharia means, because for them sharia is an obligation
because they are Muslim. But the problem now is how do we define sharia;
that is the challenge.” See Dr. Zulkieflimansyah, “Special Interview with
Van Zorge Report,” Zulkieflimansyah, PhD, http://​zulkieflimansyah.com/​
en/​special-​interview-​with-​van-​zorge-​report.html.
19. See Buehler, “The Rise of Shari’a By-​Laws in Indonesian Districts”;
Robin Bush, “Regional Syari’ah Regulations: Anomaly or Symptom?” in
Expressing Islam: Religious Life and Politics in Indonesia, ed. Greg Fealy and
Sally White (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2008).
20. Yenn Kwok, “Gang Rape Then Caning: Welcome to Aceh’s Bizarre Moral
Crusade,” Time, May 8, 2014, http://​time.com/​91873/​aceh-​sharia-​law-​
islam-​rape-​kelantan-​brunei/​.
21. Pew Research Center, “The World’s Muslims: Religion, Politics and
Society,” Religion & Public Life Project, April 30, 2013, http://​www.
pewforum.org/​2013/​04/​30/​the-​worlds-​muslims-​religion-​politics-​society-​
overview/​.
22. On June 1, 1945, President Sukarno enumerated five principles of the
postindependence state in a speech to the preparatory committee for
Indonesian independence. Collectively known as Pancasila, the five
principles referred to (1) belief in a supreme God, (2) humanitarianism,
(3) the unity of Indonesia, (4) consultative democracy, and (5) social
justice. Significantly, the principles of Pancasila, and in particular the
first principle, was an attempt to accommodate the aspirations of activist
Muslim and Islamist nationalist counterparts who sought to define the
postindependence Indonesian nation with specific reference to sharia, yet
without compromising the imperative of national unity. These principles
continue to govern Indonesian society today.
23. Anthony Bubalo, Greg Fealy, and Whit Mason, “Zealous Democrats:
Islamism in Egypt, Indonesia, and Turkey,” Lowy Institute Papers 25 (South
Wales: Longueville Media, 2008), 68.
24. Fauzan Zidni, “Shariah Law in Indonesia,” Bukit Timah School, February
2, 2008, http://​bukittimahschool.blogspot.com/​2008/​02/​sharia-​law-​in-​
indonesia.html.
 351

Notes to pages 187–189 351

25. Joseph Chinyong Liow, Piety and Politics: Islamism in Contemporary

Malaysia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 129.
26. Dewan Ulama PAS, “Negara Islam: Antara Realiti Dan Cabaran,” Mimbar
Ulama 7 (2004): 25–​27.
27. Mohammad Hashim Kamali, Punishment in Islamic Law: An Enquiry into
the Hudud Bill of Kelantan (Kuala Lumpur: Ilmiah Publishers, 1995), see
appendix for the full text of the bill.
28. Ahmad Ibrahim, “Implementation of Hudud Laws in Malaysia,” in Hudud
in Malaysia: The Issues at Stake, ed. Rose Ismail (Kuala Lumpur: SIS Forum
Berhad, 1995).
29. Joseph Chinyong Liow, interviews with Nik Aziz, Hadi Awang, and Harun
Taib, July 2004.
30. Wan Zahidi Wan Teh, “Ciri-​Ciri Sebuah Negara Islam,” in Seminar
Perlaksanaan Hukun Syarak Di Malaysia, February 9–​10, 2001, 2.
31. Nakhaie Ahmad, “Hudud Dalam Konteks Perlaksanaan Syariat Islam
Yang Menyeluruh,” in Seminar Kebangsaan Cabaran Perlaksanaan
Islam Dalam Konteks Masyarakat Malaysia, June 28, 1992, 10. Those
who opposed the bill had argued that the bill was not comprehensive
enough and must cover more aspects of the hudud. See Abdul Halim
Muhammady, “Undang-​Undang Jenayah Syariah Dan Perlaksanaannya
Di Malaysia,” in Seminar Perlaksanaan Hukun Syarak Di Malaysia,
February 9–​10, 2001. There are, however, many government ulama
who support the bill, such as the Mufti of Perak and Selangor; See
Sayuti Omar, Talqin Untuk Mahathir (Kuala Lumpur: Tinta Merah,
1994).
32. Ibid., 13–​19. See speeches of UMNO leaders that criticize the hudud, in
Institut Polisi Studi dan Lajnah Penerangan Dewan Pemuda PAS Pusat,
Mahathir Serta Beberapa Pemimpin UMNO dan Penyokongnya Anti-​Islam
(Gombak: Dewan Pemuda PAS Pusat, 2002), 17–​24.
33. Md Izwan, “Umno sokong PAS laksana Hudud di Kelantan,” Malaysian
Insider, November 16, 2013, http://​www.themalaysianinsider.com/​bahasa/​
article/​umno-​sokong-​pas-​laksana-​hudud-​di-​kelantan.
34. Joseph Chinyong Liow, interview with Ong Kian Ming (DAP strategist
and member of parliament for Serdang), February 24, 2014.
35. For a detailed discussion about these impediments, see Chinyong Liow,
Piety and Politics, 58–​72.
36. “Dewan Ulama Sokong Penuh Kenyataan Presiden PAS,” Harakah,
December 29, 2009.
37. Party reformists have also maintained that Islamic law is not on the agenda
of the opposition coalition of which PAS is a part. See “Negara Islam
bukan agenda Pakatan—​Husam Musa,” April 9, 2008, http://​ganulening.
wordpress.com/​2008/​04/​09/​negara-​islam-​bukan-​agenda-​pakatan-​husam-​
musa/​.
38. Joseph Chinyong Liow, interview with Dzulkefly Ahmad.
352

352 Notes to pages 190–195

39. Briefly, PAS has performed better in national elections when it has
downplayed the goal of an Islamic state and focused on the pressing issues
of the day. For more on this, see Joseph Chinyong Liow, “Exigency or
Expediency? Contextualising Political Islam and the PAS Challenge in
Malaysian Politics,” Third World Quarterly 25, no. 2 (2004): 359–372.
40. PAS Youth Annual Report (1976–​1977), 36.
41. Joseph Chinyong Liow, interview with Hassan Shukri.
42. Joseph Chinyong Liow, interview with Azzam Tamimi (director of the
Institute of Islamic Political Thought and an Islamist figure associated with
the Muslim Brotherhood).
43. See program booklet of the International Gathering for the Solidarity of
Muslims, September 9–​10, 1998, Masjid Rusila, Terengganu, as cited in
Mohamed Nawab Bin Mohamed Osman, “Transnational Islamism and Its
Impact in Malaysia and Indonesia,” Rubin Center, August 29, 2011, http://​
www.rubincenter.org/​2011/​08/​transnational-​islamism-​and-​its-​impact-​in-​
malaysia-​and-​indonesia/​#_​ednref42.
44. Joseph Chinyong Liow, interview with Nasharuddin Mat Isa (deputy
president of PAS).
45. “Justice Party Chairman Condemns Attacks on America,” Antara,
September 14, 2001; “PAS Describes Attacks as ‘Heinous Crime’, ” New
Straits Times, September 13, 2001.
46. Nik Aziz, “US Threat to Attack America Unreasonable,” Bernama,
September 23, 2001.
47. Patvinder Singh and Zubaidah Abu Bakar, “PM Exposes Militant Links,”
New Straits Times, August 5, 2001.
48. “What the World Thinks in 2002,” Pew Research Center, December 2002,
5–​10.
49. Joseph Chinyong Liow, interview with Nasharuddin Mat Isa.
50. Mohamed Nawab Mohamed Osman, “Israel, Lebanon and the Rise of the
Islamists,” RSIS Commentaries 88, no. 6, August 24, 2006, https://www.
rsis.edu.sg/rsis-publication/rsis/843-israel-lebanon-and-the-rise-o/.
51. Ambassador Yeop Adlan Rose, speech, Conference of ASEAN and Asian
Islamic NGOs, Century Paradise Club, Kuala Lumpur, August 12, 2006.
52. Ibid., 3.
53. Institute for Policy Analysis of Conflict, “The Evolution of ISIS in Indonesia,”
IPAC Report no. 13, September 2014, http://​www.understandingconflict.org/​
conflict/​read/​30/​The-​Evolution-​of-​ISIS-​in-​Indonesia.
54. “Lotfi a ‘Martyr’ for Sacrificing His Life for ISIS, Says
Nik Abduh,” Malaysian Insider, September 15, 2014,
http://​www.themalaysianinsider.com/​malaysia/​article/​
lotfi-​a-​matyr-​for-​sacrificing-​his-​life-​for-​isis-​says-​nik-​abduh.
55. A comprehensive discussion of the eschatological dimensions of the Islamic
State’s popularity in Indonesia can be found in IPAC, “The Evolution of
ISIS in Indonesia.”
 35

Notes to pages 195–198 353

56. Shiite Islam has been banned as a consequence of two factors. First,
since the mid-​1980s, the Malaysian state has taken the initiative to
define “correct” Islam and to dictate the manner in which it can be
practiced. This has meant that any deviation from Sunni orthodoxy was
deemed a threat to “mainstream” Malaysian Islam and hence subject
to circumscription. By this logic, not only have Shiite Muslims been
targeted but also other Muslim sects like the Ahmadiyyah and the Al-​
Arqam as well. Second, the ban on Shiite Islam has been the result
of the Malaysian state’s interpretation of the centuries-​old Sunni–​
Shiite doctrinal divide. Not only is Shiite Islam banned, but also the
Department of Islamic Development of Malaysia (otherwise known
as JAKIM), which provides Friday sermons for all mosques in the
country, has frequently launched vitriolic attacks against Shiite Islam
through these sermons. See “Shia Are Not Muslims, Claims JAKIM,”
Malaysian Insider, December 13, 2013, http://​www.themalaysianinsider.
com/​malaysia/​article/​all-​branches-​of-​syiah-​teachings-​in-​malaysia-​are-​un-​
islamic-​claim-​jakim-​bern. A similar dynamic is evident in Indonesia. See
Azis Anwar Fachrudin, “Endless Sunni-​Shia Sectarianism in Indonesia,”
Jakarta Post, March 11, 2015.
57. Yang Razali Kassim, “Post-​Mubarak Egypt: Is Indonesia the Right Model?”
East Asia Forum, March 3, 2011, http://​www.eastasiaforum.org/​2011/​03/​
03/​post-​mubarak-​egypt-​is-​indonesia-​the-​right-​model/​. See also Tom
Pepinsky, “There Is No Indonesian Model for the Arab Spring,” Foreign
Policy, February 27, 2013, http://​foreignpolicy.com/​2013/​02/​27/​there-​is-​no-​
indonesia-​model-​for-​the-​arab-​spring/​; Yenni Kwok, “What Indonesia Can
Teach Thailand and Egypt About Democracy,” Time, May 29, 2014.
58. Tim Dakwatuna, “Arab Spring Bakar Semangat PKS,” Dakwatuna,
September 23, 2012, http://​www.dakwatuna.com/​2012/​09/​23/​23078/​arab-​
spring-​bakar-​semangat-​pks/​#axzz3acdmXXpU.
59. In fact, several Malaysian politicians I spoke with regarding this pointed
out that Qaradawi’s leading of Friday prayers on Tahrir Square on
February 18, 2011, rallied bipartisan Malaysian support for the Arab
Spring in Egypt.
60. “Huge Protest in Malaysia Against the Coup in Egypt -​Friday 28/​3/​2014,”
YouTube video, 1:39, posted by Omar Aldeeb, March 28, 2014, https://​
www.youtube.com/​watch?v=je0gRrKyjmI.
61. “Top PAS Leader Lashes Out at Saudi Regime,” Harakah Daily, August
21, 2013.
62. Muhammad Akbar, Mutia Ramadhani, and Yeyen Rostiyani, “MPs:
Egyptian Coup Is Bad Example for Democracy,” Republika Online, July 21,
2013, http://​www.republika.co.id/​berita/​en/​national-​politics/​13/​07/​20/​
mq8qyt-​mps-​egyptian-​coup-​is-​bad-​example-​for-​democracy.
63. Several videos of these protests have been uploaded on YouTube.
354

354 Notes to pages 204–227

Chapter 12
1. Steven Brooke, “U.S. Policy and the Muslim Brotherhood,” in The West
and the Muslim Brotherhood After the Arab Spring (Dubai: Al-​Mesbar
Studies & Research Centre in Collaboration with The Foreign Policy
Research Institute, February 2013), http://​www.fpri.org/​docs/​201303.west_​
and_​the_​muslim_​brotherhood_​after_​the_​arab_​spring.pdf.
2. Robert Satloff, U.S. Policy Towards Islamism: A Theoretical and Operational
Overview (New York: Council on Foreign Relations, 2000), http://​www.
cfr.org/​content/​publications/​attachments/​Satloff2.pdf.
3. See Maria de Ceu Pinto, Political Islam and the United States (Reading,
UK: Ithaca Press, 1999), and Fawad Gerges, American and Political
Islam: Clash of Cultures or Clash of Interests? (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 1999).
4. James Traub, “Islamic Democrats?” New York Times, April 29, 2007.
5. Pew Research Center, “One Year After Morsi’s Ouster, Divides Persist
on El-Sisi, Muslim Brotherhood,” May 22, 2014, http://www.pewglobal.
org/2014/05/22/one-year-after-morsis-ouster-divides-persist-on-el-sisi-
muslim-brotherhood/.
6. Sayida Ounissi, “Ennahda from Within: Islamists or ‘Muslim Democrats’,”
The Brookings Institution, Rethinking Political Islam project, February
2016, https://​www.brookings.edu/​wp-​content/​uploads/​2016/​07/​Ounissi-​
RPI-​Response-​FINAL_​v2.pdf.

Chapter 13
1. Steven Brooke, “The Muslim Brotherhood’s Social Outreach after the
Egyptian Coup,” The Brookings Institution, Working paper, Rethinking
Political Islam project, August 2015, https://www.brookings.edu/wp-
content/uploads/2016/07/Egypt_Brooke-FINALE-2.pdf.
2. Abdullah Saeed, “Rethinking Citizenship Rights of Non-​Muslims in
an Islamic State: Rashid al-​Ghannushi’s Contribution to the Evolving
Debate,” Islam and Christian-​Muslim Relations 10, no. 3 (1999), http://​
www.abdullahsaeed.org/​sites/​abdullahsaeed.org/​files/​Rethinking_​
citizenship_​rights.pdf.
3. Essam Talema, “Huquq Al-​Muwatanah fe al-​Mujtama’ al-​Islami
[Citizenship Rights in a Muslim Society],” Ikhwan Wiki, last modified
January 2011, http://​goo.gl/​1woZCf.
4. Samir Shalabi, “Why Do Egypt’s Rulers Fear the Working Class?” Egyptian
Streets, November 1, 2015, http://​egyptianstreets.com/​2015/​11/​01/​why-​do-​
egypts-​rulers-​fear-​the-​working-​class/​.
5. Amr Darrag, “Muslim Brotherhood Currently Undertaking
Comprehensive Political Reviews,” Middle East Observer, March 13, 2016,
http://​www.middleeastobserver.org/​muslim-​brotherhood-​currently-​
undertaking-​comprehensive-​political-​reviews.
6. Steven Brooke, “The Muslim Brotherhood’s Social Outreach after the
Egyptian Coup,” The Brookings Institution, Working paper, Rethinking
 35

Notes to pages 228–241 355

Political Islam project, August 2015, https://www.brookings.edu/wp-

content/uploads/2016/07/Egypt_Brooke-FINALE-2.pdf.
7. Shadi Hamid and William McCants, “Rethinking Political Islam,” The
Brookings Institution, May 6, 2016, https://www.brookings.edu/research/
rethinking-political-islam/.
8. Marc Lynch, “Is the Muslim Brotherhood a Terrorist Organization or a
Firewall Against Violent Extremism?,” in Evolving Methodologies in the
Study of Islamism, POMEP Studies 17 (Washington, DC: Project on
Middle East Political Science, March 5, 2016), http://​pomeps.org/​wp-​
content/​uploads/​2016/​03/​POMEPS_​Studies_​17_​Methods_​Web.pdf.
9. All According to Plan: The Rab’a Massacre and Mass Killings of Protestors in
Egypt (New York: Human Rights Watch, August 12, 2014), https://​www.
hrw.org/​report/​2014/​08/​12/​all-​according-​plan/​raba-​massacre-​and-​mass-​
killings-​protesters-​egypt; Neil Ketchley, “The Muslim Brothers Take to the
Streets,” Middle East Research and Information Project, Spring 2016, http://​
www.merip.org/​mer/​mer269/​muslim-​brothers-​take-​streets.
10. Steven Brooke, “Old Questions and New Methods in the Study of
Islamism,” Project on Middle East Political Science, January 26, 2016, http://​
pomeps.org/​2016/​02/​09/​old-​questions-​and-​new-​methods-​in-​the-​study-​of-​
islamism/​.

Chapter 14
1. “The Arab Uprisings and the Next Generation of Islamists,” The Brookings
Institution, May 26, 2015, http://​www.brookings.edu/​research/​opinions/​
2015/​06/​next-​generation-​islamists.
2. “Tunisie: quels sont les défis qui attendent le nouveau pouvoir? -
#DébatF24 (partie 2) [Tunisia: What Are the Challenges Facing
the New Government? -​#DebateF24 (part 2)],” YouTube video,
posted by France 24, October 28, 2014, https://​www.youtube.com/​
watch?v=M0CYOnO34LU.
3. “Notre voie vers la démocratie [Our Path to Democracy],” Collectif
18 octobre pour les droits et des libertés en Tunisie (The 18 October
Coalition for Rights and Freedoms in Tunisia), June 15, 2010, https://​goo.
gl/​nPTn8s.
4. From a recording of Ghannouchi’s speech taken by author. See also the
transcript of Ghannouchi’s speech in Ennahda’s newspaper, Al-​Fajr,
printed May 22, 2016.
5. See Henry Munson, “Islamic Revivalism in Morocco and Tunisia,”
Muslim World 76, no. 3–​4 (1986): 203–218. Also see Emma Murphy,
Economic and Political Change in Tunisia: From Bourguiba to Ben Ali (New
York: St. Martin’s Press in association with University of Durham, 1999).
6. Francesco Cavatorta and Fabio Merone, “Post-​Islamism, Ideological
Evolution, and ‘la tunisianité’ of the Tunisian Islamist Party al-​Nahda,”
Journal of Political Ideologies 20, no. 1 (2015): 37.
7. Ibid., 38.
356

356 Notes to pages 241–249

8. Monica Marks, “Convince, Coerce, or Compromise? Ennahda’s Approach

to Tunisia’s Constitution,” Brookings Doha Center Analysis Paper 10, The
Brookings Institution, February 2014, http://​www.brookings.edu/​research/​
papers/​2014/​02/​10-​ennahda-​tunisia-​constitution-​marks.
9. For more on the importance of these cross-​ideological opposition talks, see
Monica Marks, “Purists vs. Pluralists: Cross-​Ideological Coalition Building
in Tunisia,” in Tunisia’s Democratic Transition in Comparative Perspective,
ed. Alfred Stepan (forthcoming 2017).
10. Monica Marks, “How Big Were the Changes Tunisia’s Ennahda Party
Just Made at Its National Congress?” Washington Post, May 25, 2016,
https://​www.washingtonpost.com/​news/​monkey-​cage/​wp/​2016/​05/​25/​
how-​big-​were-​the-​changes-​made-​at-​tunisias-​ennahda-​just-​made-​at-​its-​
national-​congress/​. For a flavor of this coverage see Rached Ghannouchi,
interviewed by Christiane Amanpour, Amanpour, CNN, May 23, 2015,
http://​edition.cnn.com/​videos/​tv/​2016/​05/​23/​intv-​amanpour-​rached-​
ghannouchi-​tunisia-​ennahda-​islam.cnn.
11. “Taqiyya” refers to the legality of denying one’s Islamic faith in dangerous
situations. Some critics of Ennahda whom I have interviewed accuse the
party of playing down its Islamism as a form of tactical “taqiyya,” that
is, a means to negotiate through a tricky political situation rather than a
genuine philosophical progression.

Chapter 15
1. Rafiq Habib, “A Vision for the Political Future of the Muslim
Brotherhood,” in The Crisis of the Muslim Brotherhood, ed. Amr El-​Shobaki
(Cairo: Al-​Ahram Center for Political and Strategic Studies, 2009), 27–​28.
2. “The First Law of the Muslim Brotherhood in Ismailia,” in Ikhwan
Wiki: The Official Encyclopedia for the History of the Muslim Brotherhood,
http://​goo.gl/​Dla0Oj.
3. Hassan al-​Banna, Al-​Natheer, no. 1, May 30, 1938, http://​www.ikhwanwiki.
com/​index.php?title=%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%B9%D8%AF%D8%AF_​1_​
%D9%85%D9%86_​%D9%85%D8%AC%D9%84%D8%A9_​%D8%A7%D9
%84%D9%86%D8%B0%D9%8A%D8%B1.
4. Hassan al-​Banna, “Letter of Teachings,” from The Compiled Letters of Imam
Hassan al-​Banna.
5. For more information, see Louis Althusser, “Ideology and Ideological
State Apparatuses,” in Lenin and Philosophy and Other Essays, trans. Ben
Brewster (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1971).
6. Henri Thery, Les Groupes Sociaux, Forces Vives?, trans. Rushdi Kamel Saleh
(Cairo: General Authority for Cultural Palaces, 2013), 46–​52.
7. Henry L. Tischler, Introduction to Sociology (Belmont, CA: Wadsworth
Publishing, 2007).
8. Waheed Abdul Mageed, The Muslim Brotherhood Between History and
Future: How Was It and How Is It Now? (Cairo: Al-​Ahram for Publishing,
Translation, and Distribution, 2010).
 357

Notes to pages 252–263 357

9. The committee formed by the government announced the confiscation of

the Muslim Brotherhood’s assets. These are the final numbers, as of January
24, 2016. See Tarek Najim al-​Din, “Fardanaan Hasilat Almutahaffiz Ealaa
‘amwalahum min Al’iikhwan Bimisr,” al-​Jadeed al-​Arabi, January 24, 2016,
http://​goo.gl/​pndDW5.
10. “A Former Officer in the Egyptian Army Calls for Jihad Against Sissi,”
New Khalij, July 22, 2015, http://​www.thenewkhalij.net/​node/​17534.
11. Mokhtar Awad and Samuel Tadros, “Baya Remorse: Wilayat-​Sinai and the
Nile Valley,” CTC Sentinel 8, no. 8, August 2015, https://​www.ctc.usma.
edu/​posts/​baya-​remorse-​wilayat-​sinai-​and-​the-​nile-​valley.
12. “Egypt’s Executions: A Green Light for ISIS Recruitment of the
Muslim Brotherhood’s Young Men,” Al-​Monitor, June 24, 2015, http://​
www.al-​monitor.com/​pulse/​ar/​originals/​2015/​06/​egypt-​sinai-​muslim-​
brotherhood-​terrorism-​death-​sentences.html#. See also “Wilayat Sinai
Sends the Second Round of ‘Sawlat Al-​Ansar’ and Promises to ‘Butcher’
Sissi,” New Khalij, March 3, 2015, http://​www.thenewkhalij.net/​node/​
14135.
13. I conducted this study in coordination with the Egyptian researcher
Ahmed Zaghloul. The primary conclusion I reached during the
interviews is that members are convinced that the organization’s main
responsibility is, first, working to reject and confront the military
coup and continuing activities that express this rejection, and, second,
providing the necessary support to the families of those arrested and
killed. In light of events, the majority felt that this is what demanded
the Brotherhood’s attention, rather than that the group should return
to the religious and social realm. Likewise, there wasn’t a great fear
of getting swept into the perpetration of violence. Many members
expected that some individuals would turn to violence but that the
Brotherhood in general, given its structure and its political and religious
choices over the decades, would not alter its main strategy built on
peaceful civil activities and political opposition.
14. See Hassan al-​Hudaybi, “Preachers, Not Judges,” Ikhwan Wiki, http://​
www.ikhwanwiki.com/​index.php?title=%D8%AF%D8%B9%D8%A7%D
8%A9_​%D9%84%D8%A7_​%D9%82%D8%B6%D8%A7%D8%A9.
15. Shadi Hamid, Islamic Exceptionalism: How the Struggle Over Islam is
Reshaping the World (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2016).
16. Mohamed Saied, “What’s Behind Uptick of Attacks in Cairo?” Al-​Monitor,
November 13, 2016, http://​www.al-​monitor.com/​pulse/​originals/​2016/​11/​
egypt-​terrorist-​attacks-​cairo-​groups-​sinai-​meaning.html.

Chapter 16
1. Ali Tariq, “Ulama’s 22 Points,” History Pak, http://​historypak.com/​ulamas-​
22-​points/​.
2. Jamiluddin Ahmad, ed., Speeches and Writings of Mr. Jinnah, 7th ed.
(Lahore: Shaikh Muhammad Ashraf, 1960), 175.
358

358 Notes to pages 263–291

3. Ibid., 458–​459.
4. Abdu Sattar Ghazali, Islamic Pakistan: Illusions & Reality
(Islamabad: National Book Club, 1996), chap. 3.
5. For a detailed discussion, see Tarik Jan et al., Pakistan Between Secularism
and Islam (Islamabad: Institute of Policy Studies, 1998), 121–​130.
6. Latif Ahmad Sherwani, Speeches, Writings and Statements of Iqbal, 4th rev.
ed. (Lahore: Iqbal Academy, 2005), 302.
7. Ibid., 463.
8. Rizwan Ahmad, Sayings of Quaid-​I-​Azam, 4th ed. (Karachi: Elite
Publishers, 1980), 463.
9. Graham Fuller, The Future of Political Islam (New York: Palgrave,
2003), 12.
10. Shadi Hamid, Islamic Exceptionalism: How the Struggle over Islam is
Reshaping the World (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2016).
11. Report presented by Marc-Andre Franche, UNDP Country Director for
Pakistan on August 29, 2016.
12. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s speech in Dhaka, Bangladesh on June 7, 2015.
13. Jamaat e Islami Bangladesh was coalition partner in Bangladesh Nationalist
Party-​led regimes twice, in 1991-​1996 and in 2001-​2006.
14. See “Bangladesh: Halt Imminent War Crimes Executions,” Human
Rights Watch, September 1, 2016, https://​www.hrw.org/​news/​2016/​09/​01/​
bangladesh-​halt-​imminent-​war-​crimes-​executions.
15. Qazi Hussain Ahmad was the target of a suicide attack in Mehmand
Agency region in tribal areas of Pakistan on November 19, 2012.
16. See the Pakistan Institute of Legislative Development and Transparency’s
(PILDAT) Annual Report on Internal Democracy of major Pakistani
political parties for the years 2015 and 2016.
17. Fuller, The Future of Political Islam, xv.

Chapter 17
1. General Overseer is highest-​r anking position in the Jordanian
Muslim Brotherhood as well as other Brotherhood affiliates outside
Egypt.
2. Zaki Bani Irsheid was convicted and sentenced in February 2015 under a
provision in Jordan’s anti-​terrorism law criminalizing “disturbing [Jordan’s]
relations with a foreign state.”  

Chapter 18
1. Jacob Olidort, “Fall of the Brotherhood, Rise of the Salafis,” Omphalos:
Middle East Conflict in Perspective, Lawfare Institute, October 11, 2015,
https://​www.lawfareblog.com/​fall-​brotherhood-​rise-​salafis.
2. Jacob Olidort, “The Truth About Sectarianism: Behind the Various
Strands of Shiite-​Sunni Discord,” Foreign Affairs, January 25, 2016,
 359

Notes to pages 291–300 359

https://​www.foreignaffairs.com/​articles/​middle-​east/​2016-​01-​25/​
truth-​about-​sectarianism.
3. Mayer N. Zald and Roberta Ash, “Social Movement Organizations:
Growth, Decay and Change,” Social Forces 44, no. 3 (1966): 327–341.
4. John D. McCarthy and Mayer N. Zald, “Resource Mobilization and Social
Movements: A Partial Theory,” American Journal of Sociology 82, no. 6
(1977): 1212–1241.

Chapter 19
1. Mike Giglio, Munzer al-​Awad and Mitch Prothero, “Leaked ISIS
Documents Tell the Stories of Hundreds of Foreign Jihadis,” Buzzfeed,
March 19, 2016, https://​www.buzzfeed.com/​mikegiglio/​leaked-​
isis-​documents-​tell-​the-​stories-​of-​hundreds-​of-​foreig?utm_​term=.
cgQ2VEkxO#.rlJlXozn8.
2. Yassin Musharbash, “An Analysis of 3000 Islamic State Entry Documents,”
Abu Susu’s Blog, April 7, 2016, https://​abususu.blogspot.com/​2016/​04/​an-​
analysis-​of-​3000-​islamic-​state-​entry.html.
3. Joseph Schacht, The Origins of Muhammedan Jurisprudence
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967), 1.
4. On the sharia system and its demise, see Wael Hallaq, Shari’a: Theory,
Practice, Transformations (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009),
360–​366, 500.
5. Raffaello Pantucci, “British Government Debates Engagement with
Radical Islam in New Counterterrorism Strategy,” The Jamestown
Foundation, April 24, 2009, http://​www.jamestown.org/​single/​?no_​
cache=1&tx_​ttnews%5Btt_​news%5D=34898#.VwaoIbTm9RE.
6. Antony Drugeon, “Comment le Maroc vend «l’islam du milieu» à
l’international [How Morocco sells “moderate Islam” internationally],”
Telquel, February 21, 2015, http://​telquel.ma/​2015/​02/​21/​comment-​maroc-​
vend-​lislam-​du-​milieu-​linternational_​1435442.

Chapter 20
1. By discursive depth, I mean that a set of ideas is deeply explored in
such a way that the implications of and tensions among the various key
commitments of a given family of ideas has been explored sufficiently.
Marxism, for instance, is a dense modern tradition; Islamic kalam theology
and law are dense premodern traditions spread across centuries and
continents; so far, mainstream Islamism is not.
2. David Snow, E. Burke Rochford Jr., Steven K. Worden, and Robert
D. Benford, “Frame Alignment Processes, Micromobilization, and
Movement Participation,” American Sociological Review (1986): 464–​
481; Colin J. Beck, Radicals, Revolutionaries, and Terrorists (Cambridge,
UK: Polity Press, 2015), 163.
360

360 Notes to pages 301–306

3. Ovamir Anjum, “Islam as a Discursive Tradition: Talal Asad and His

Interlocutors,” Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa, and the Middle
East 27, no. 3 (2007): 656–672.
4. Robert D. Benford and David Snow, “Framing Processes and Social
Movements: An Overview and Assessment,” Annual Review of Sociology 26
(2000): 611–639, 613.
5. A discussion of the various approaches to ideology among social movement
scholars can be found in Beck, “Is Radicalism About Ideas and Ideology?”
in Radicals, Revolutionaries, and Terrorists, chap. 5.
6. Stacy Philbrick Yadav, “Yemen’s Muslim Brotherhood and the Perils of
Powersharing” (Working paper, The Brookings Institution, August 2015),
http://​www.brookings.edu/​~/​media/​Research/​Files/​Reports/​2015/​07/​
rethinking-​political-​islam/​Yemen_​Yadav-​FINALE.pdf?la=en.
7. Hoffner differentiates between the initial phase of a movement that often
needs a “man of words,” succeeded later by “fanatic” believers who convert
the ideas into practice. See Eric Hoffner, The True Believer: Thoughts on
the Nature of Mass Movements (New York: Harper and Row, 1951). A more
recent and nuanced scheme suggests that “effective leadership will have
the characteristics of each of these roles—the ability to creatively start a
radical movement, the Machiavellian ruthlessness to see it through, and
the pragmatism to know when to choose different strategies.” See Beck,
Radicals, Revolutionaries, and Terrorists, 67. Weber describes this process
in terms of charisma and its routinization. See Max Weber, “The Nature
of Charismatic Authority and Its Routinization,” in Theory of Social and
Economic Organization, trans. A. M. Henderson and Talcott Parsons (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1947).
8. Avi Spiegel, “Succeeding by Surviving: Examining the Durability of
Political Islam in Morocco” (Working paper, The Brookings Institution,
August 2015), http://​www.brookings.edu/​research/​reports2/​2015/​08/​~/​
media/​A02C6E64675D44E3BAF9BA97E3D19DF7.ashx.
9. ʿAbdesslam Yassine, al-​Shūra wa’l-​Dimuqraṭiyya, 1995, http://​www.yassine.
net/​ar/​document/​835.shtml.
10. Ovamir Anjum, “Salafism and Democracy: Doctrine and Context,”
Muslim World 106, no. 3 (2016): 448–​473.
11. Raymond W. Baker, Islam Without Fear: Egypt and the New Islamists
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003).
12. Charles Tripp, Islam and the Moral Economy: The Challenge of Capitalism
(New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006).
13. Tariq Ramadan, Radical Reform: Islamic Ethics and Liberation
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2008).
14. Wael Hallaq, The Impossible State (New York: Columbia University Press,
2013); Mahmoud A. El-​Gamal, “Contemporary Islamic Law and Finance: The
Trade-​Off Between Brand Name Distinctiveness and Convergence,” Berkeley
Journal of Middle Eastern and Islamic Law 1, no. 1 (Spring 2008): 193–201.
 361

Notes to pages 306–307 361

15. See Wael Hallaq, Shari’a: Theory, Practice, Transformations (New York:
Cambridge University Press, 2009), 511, for his account of the Syrian
accretist jurist Said Ramadan al-​Buti’s critique of the modern maqasid
discourse.
16. Olivier Roy, Holy Ignorance: When Religion and Culture Part Ways
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2006).
362
 36

Index

q
‘Abd al-​Khaliq, ‘Abd PJD and, 56–​57, 303 All-​Indonesian Association of
al-​Rahman, 138, wings of, religious and Muslim Professionals.
139, 141 political, 66–​67 See Ikatan Cendekiawan
Abdul Jalil, Mustafa, 106 Yassine formation Muslim Indonesia
Abdullah, King of Jordan, of, 62–​63 Amputating Sword (al-​Battar)
7, 162–​63 Afghanistan Brigade, 115
Abdullah II, King of Jamaat-​e-​Islami and, 269 Ansar al-​Sharia (AST), 42
Jordan, 277–​78 Pakistan and, 169–​70 terrorism, Ennahda
ABM. See Ansar Bayt Taliban, Pakistan and, 167, and, 43
al-​Maqdis 174–​76, 348n36 Ansar al-​Sunna, 18
Abu Kitef, Fawzi, 104 U.S., Cold War and, 204 Ansar Bayt al-​Maqdis
Abu Selim, 104 Ahmad, Qazi Hussain, 167–​68, (ABM), 252–​53
human rights abuses 271, 360n15 AQAP. See al-​Qaeda in the
at, 330n6 Ahmed, Israr, 172–​73 Arabian Peninsula
Aceh, 186, 350n3 Akef, Mohammed AQIS. See al-​Qaeda in the
activism Mahdi, 247 Indian Subcontinent
elections and, 28–​29 AKP. See Justice and Arab nationalist states, 119
Muslim Brotherhood, social Development Party Arab Spring, 285–​86
services and, 27–​28 Algeria, 204–​5. See also Islamic Al Adl and, 64–​66
Al Adl wal Ihsan (Al Adl), 6–​7, Salvation Front mainstream Islamist
55, 71, 72 alliances. See also Islamic movements and, 4
Arab Spring and, 64–​66 Democratic Alliance; Muslim Brotherhood of
Benkirane and, 65 non-​Muslim Jordan and, 151–​55
civil state appeal by, 69 partnerships Southeast Asia and, 179,
illegality of, 63 of rebels, in Syria, 83–​84 197–​98, 355n59
ISIS and, 68–​69 in SNC, Syrian Muslim U.S. and, 203–​4, 208–​10
military coup in Egypt Brotherhood al-​Arifi, Mohamed, 127
and, 67 and, 74–​75 Ash, Roberta, 293–​94

363
364

364 Index

Asia. See also Southeast Asia; human rights abuses by in Syria, 8–​9, 39
specific countries regime of, 34 in Yemen, 8, 98–​100
ISIS and, 9 religious education and, 40 coalitions. See also National
normalization and Benkirane, Abdelilah, 58 Forces Coalition
elections in, 12 Al Adl and, 65 Ennahda and, 36
al-​Assad, Bashar, 39 Mohamed VI and, 59–​60 Jamaat-​e-​Islami and, 268
assassinations on protests in Morocco, 72 Cold War
of Chokri Belaid, 45 Bennabi, Malek, 240–​41 Pakistan and, 166
Tunisian crisis and, 235 Bhutto, Benazir, 169 U.S., Afghanistan and, 204
AST. See Ansar al-​Sharia Bhutto, Zulfiqar Ali, Committee to Protect
authoritarianism, 27. See also 167, 346n12 Civilians (Himayat
specific topics Bourguiba, Habib, 231, 232 al-​Madaniyin), 82. See
al-​Awda, Salman, 121, Ennahda and, 239–​40 also Cairo Court for
124, 126–​27 Zaytouna University Urgent Matters
al-​Baghdadi, Abu Bakr, 115, and, 40 comprehensiveness
176–​77, 349n41 Brahmi, Mohamed, 235 (shumuliya), 250–​51
Bukkharri, Khalid, 59, 322n14 conferences
Balochistan, 166, bureaucracy of NDC (Yemen), 97–​98
346n11, 346n12 of Muslim Brotherhood, of OIC, 195
Bangladesh. See also East 87, 292–​94 PJD exploratory trips
Pakistan oligarchy, Muslim and, 54, 55
Jamaat-​e-​Islami in, Brotherhood in Syria Congress for the Republic
270, 360n13 and, 73–​74 (CPR), 47
Pakistan and formation constitution
of, 167 Cairo, Egypt, 37, 38, 211 of Pakistan,
Bani Irsheid, Zaki, 278, Cairo Court for Urgent 264–​65, 266–​67
345n30, 360n2 Matters, 18, 22, 23–​24 in Tunisia, 234, 237
al-​Banna, Hassan, 165, 220, caliphate, 220, 221 Constitutional Democratic
245, 246–​47 Caliphate Movement Rally (RCD), 47
on caliphate, 221 (Tehreek-​e-​Khilafat), Constitutional Movement,
on gradualism, 10, 221, 248 172–​73, 348n31 139. See also Islamic
Muslim Brotherhood of Cavatorta, Francesco, 241 Constitutional
Egypt registered by, 25 CCIY. See Consultative Movement
on primary group and Council of constitutional reform
Egypt Muslim Islamic Youth Hashemite monarchy, Jordan
Brotherhood, 249 centrism Muslim Brotherhood
Yemen before unification of Muslim Brotherhood in and, 151–​55, 342n8
and, 90 Syria, 77 in Morocco, 154
Bardo museum attack of Yemen Muslim Consultative Council of
Ennahda and, 44–​46 Brotherhood within Islamic Youth
Nidaa Tunis and, 45–​46 Islah, 94, 327n16 (CCIY), 115
Barelwi parties, 344n6 Christian Democrats, Cooley, Charles Horton, 248
al-​Barrak, Musallam, 144–​45 Germany, 36 Corrective Studies in
al-​Battar (Amputating Sword) CII. See Council of Islamic Understandings of
Brigade, 115 Ideology Jihad, Enforcement of
Belaid, Chokri, 235 civil liberties, ICM and, 137 Morality, and Judgment
assassination of, 45 civil state, Al Adl appeal of People (LIFG), 107
Belhajj, Al-​Amin, 103–​4 for, 69 corruption, PJD on, 59,
Ben Achour, Tahar, 231 civil war 322n14
Ben Ali, Zine el-​Abidine, Muslim Brotherhood of Council of Islamic Ideology
32, 317n3 Libya and, 9 (CII), 267
democracy and, 34 Muslim Brotherhood of coup
Ennahda and, 33–​34, 40 Syria and, 8–​9 Kuwait, era after, 144–​47
 365

Index 365

in Libya, Haftar attempts in Egypt, 37 international support

at, 102–​3, 111 Ennahda and, 33, 34, 38 for, 37–​38
coup, Egyptian military, 1, al-​Sissi and, 38 Islamic Medical Association
45, 234, 279. See also in Tunisia, 32, 33, 34 (IMA) and,
Egypt, military regime U.S. and, 216–​17 19–​20, 21–​22
of; twin shocks demonstrations. See protests Muslim Brotherhood
Al Adl and, 67 Deobandi movements, private schools
Egypt Muslim Brotherhood, 177, 349n40 and, 22–​25
protests and, 258 Deobandi Sunni clerics, NGOs and, 19, 26
Egypt Muslim Brotherhood, 164, 345n1 violence in, 309n1
revolution Derna, Libya, 114–​15 Egypt, Muslim Brotherhood
and, 258–​59 diplomatic engagement in, 1, 5–​6. See also
Egypt Muslim Brotherhood, policies, Freedom and Justice
violence and, U.S., 207–​10 Party; Islamic Medical
244–​45, 252, 254, discursive tradition, 301 Association; social
260–​61, 359n14 density of, 300, services, of Muslim
Egypt Muslim Brotherhood 303–​4, 362n1 Brotherhood in Egypt
and, 260 reformist contributions al-​Banna on, 249
Egypt Muslim Brotherhood to, 305 al-​Banna registration of, 25
social base and, 251–​52 districts. See redistricting Egyptian military coup
Egypt Muslim Brotherhood diversity, of political blocs in and, 260
social services and, Kuwait, 132 Ennahda and, 35, 36, 37, 38
254, 359n14 Djerejian, Edward, 205 FJP and, 224–​25, 228
Ennahda and, 37, 235–​36 domestic changes, foreign Indonesia and, 197, 198
Kuwait support for, 333n18 policy and, 286–​87 jihadism, ISIS and, 253
Pakistan and, 177–​78 al-​Duwailah, Mubarak, 147 leadership and internal
PJD and, 61–​62 disagreements of,
Salafism in Saudi East Pakistan, 269–​70 255–​56, 259
Arabia and, 123, Economic Reform and military coup, revolution
334n19, 334n20 Structural Adjustment and, 258–​59
Saudi Arabia’s Islamists (ERSAP), 19 military coup, violence
on, 123 educational program (tarbiya), and, 244–​45, 252, 254,
Saudi Arabia support for, 85. See also Ministry 260–​61, 359n14
122–​24, 333n18 of Education, Egypt; military coup and, 258
Southeast Asia and, 198–​99 private schools; Ministry of Social Solidarity
United Arab Emirates religious education and, 25, 26, 27
support for, 333n18 Egypt. See also Cairo, Egypt Morsi, U.S. and, 209–​11
U.S. policy after, 211–​14 Ansar al-​Sunna in, 18 Muslim Brotherhood of
violence and, 235 democracy in, 37 Libya compared to,
CPR. See Congress for the Saudi Arabia foreign policy 103, 104–​6
Republic and, 119 Muslim Brotherhood of
Tamarrod movement in, 45 Syria differences
al-​Dam, Ahmed Gaddaf, 112 Egypt, military regime of, 225. with, 76–​77
da’wa (religious outreach). See See also coup, Egyptian PJD on, 62
also religious education military political parties, social
in Pakistan, 171–​73, assets seized by, 19 movements and, 18, 28,
347n28, 348n29 Egypt Muslim Brotherhood 29–​30, 31, 219–​20
Zamzam and, 279 social services and, 17, private schools of, 22–​25
Defense of Pakistan 25, 28, 31 protests and, 253–​54,
Council, 346n25 Egypt Muslim Brotherhood 255, 258
democracy. See also Muslim social services shumuliya of, 250–​51
Democrats opposition strategy of, social base of, Egypt coup
Ben Ali and, 34 18–​21, 26–​27, 310n4 and, 251–​52
36

366 Index

Egypt, Muslim Brotherhood in PKS and, 183 Salafi-​jihadism and, 6,

(Cont.) Salafi movement in 32–​33, 40–​42, 43–​44
terrorism legislation Kuwait and, 139, sharia and, 231–​32, 241
and, 24–​25 143–​44, 145–​46 Shura Council of, 36, 48,
transregional dynamics in Southeast Asia, 182–​84 236–​37
results of, 286 2014 Libyan, 111 al-​Sissi and, 38
Tunisia and, 232 2012 Libyan, 109–​11 survivalism and, 52–​53
2011 revolutions and, 248 U.S. and 1991 taqiyya and, 243, 358n16
U.S. and, 204, 206, 215–​16 Algerian, 204–​5 10th Congress of,
usra model of, 249–​50 Ennahda, 230 238–​39, 243
violence and, 228–​29, AKP and, 35–​36, 318n14 terrorism, AST and, 43
253–​54, 255 Bardo museum attack transition politics and,
Egyptian Revolutionary and, 44–​46 50, 52–​53
Council (ERC), Ben Ali and, 33–​34, 40 Tunisia lustration law and,
212–​13, 214 Bourguiba and, 239–​40 46–​47, 48, 236
18 October Collectif, 236 coalition government Zaytouna University
elections, 4–​5, 287, 303. and, 36 and, 231–​32
See also illegality; constitution and, 237 ERC. See Egyptian
redistricting Egypt military coup and, Revolutionary
Ennahda promises before, 37, 235–​36 Council
34–​35, 318n10 human rights abuses ERSAP. See Economic
gradualism and, 10–​11 against, 34 Reform and Structural
ICM and, 7, 138, inclusion-​moderation Adjustment
143–​44, 145–​46 hypothesis and, 41 Essaghir, Osama, 36
ISIS, U.S. and, 13 inclusion within, 236 Essebsi, Beji Caid, 45, 238
Islah internal, 95, 328n17 ISIS and, 237–​38 Ghannouchi and, 51–​52
Islamic consciousness legitimization of, 232–​34 Tunisia lustration law
and, 182–​84 long termism of, 36–​38, 50 and, 48
Islamist success and, 71 Muslim Brotherhood and, extremism
Jamaat-​e-​Islami internal 231, 232 ISIS, Muslim Brotherhood
structure and, 271–​73 Muslim Brotherhood of Syria and, 84–​86
in Kuwait, 134, 139, of Egypt and, 35, nonextremism
143–​44, 145–​46 36, 37, 38 and, 289–​90
Libya Muslim Brotherhood Muslim Brotherhood of
challenges preceding Libya compared factionalism, 78–​81
2012, 105–​6 to, 105–​6 faith, 297–​98
Muslim Brotherhood as Muslim Democrat Party, al-​Faqih, Saad, 127
and, 10 237–​38, 242–​43 Faysal, King of Saudi Arabia,
Muslim Brotherhood of nationalism and, 118
Jordan boycotting, 7, 238–​42, 243 February 20 Movement. See
151, 154–​56 Nidaa Tunis and, 43–​44, Arab Spring
Muslim Brotherhood of 45–​46, 48, 50 field study, on Egypt Muslim
Kuwait and, 134, normalization of, 51–​52 Brotherhood,
143–​44, 145–​46 police abuse and, 44 254, 359n14
normalization and, in political models for, 35–​36 FIS. See Islamic
Asia, 12 political parties, social Salvation Front
Pakistan historical movements and, 10, 30 FJP. See Freedom and
background of, 165–​71 promises of, before Justice Party
Pakistan 1991, 169, 347n20 elections, 34–​35, 318n10 foreign policy
Pakistan 1997, 169, 347n21 Rabaa massacre and, 37, domestic changes
PAS and, 183, 38, 211 and, 286–​87
190–​91, 353n39 on religious of Saudi Arabia, 118, 119
PJD and, 58–​59, 155 education, 40–​41 framing, 301
 367

Index 367

Freedom and Justice Party al-​Banna on, 10, 221, 248 history

(FJP), 29–​30 elections and, 10–​11 of Jamaat-​e-​Islami, 165–​66,
Muslim Brotherhood of Ghannouchi and, 41 167, 345n2, 346n14
Egypt and, 224–​25, 228 of mainstream Islamist of Jamiat-​e-​Ulama-​e-​
Muslim Brotherhood of groups, 309n1 Islam, 165, 166, 167,
Libya and, 104–​5 Salifi-​jihadism in Tunisia 346n11, 347n15
Fuller, Graham, 273 and, 41, 42 of Pakistan
Group of Elders, 276–​77, elections, 165–​71
Al-​Gam’iyya al-​Shar’iyya , 279, 280 Hitto, Ghassan, 75
18, 310n5 Gulf Cooperation Council Hizb al-​Umma (Umma
GCC. See Gulf Cooperation (GCC), 96–​99 Party), 140–​41
Council hizb-​haraka. See political
General National Congress HADAS. See Islamic parties, social
(GNC), 109, 111 Constitutional movements and
General Overseer, 275, 277, Movement hizbiyya. See multi-​party
278, 360n1 Haddad, Tahar, 231–​32 politics
General People’s Congress Hadi, Abd-​Rabbu Hizbollah, 194–​95
(GPC), 90–​91, 92 Mansour, 8, 100 Hizb ut-​Tahrir (HT), 195
generational tensions, 204 Haftar, Khalifa, 102–​3, 111 Houthis
factionalism, Muslim Hallaq, Wael, 296 Islah, Yemen civil war
Brotherhood of Syria Hamas and, 98–​100
and, 78–​81 Jordan Muslim Brotherhood Islah conflicts with, 96, 98
Ghamidi, Javed Ahmad, 173 and, 274–​76 Saudi Arabia campaign
Ghannouchi, Rached, 238–​39 Palestinian-​Jordanians and, against, 125–​26
on AKP, 35–​36 275, 280 hudud laws, 188, 189,
on democracy in Egypt, 37 U.S. and, 206–​7 353n31
on Ennahda as a Muslim Zamzam and, 276 human rights abuses. See
Democratic Party, 237 happiness, pursuit of, 267–​68 also police abuse,
Essebsi and, 51–​52 haraka. See movements, Ennahda and
gradualism, Salifi-​jihadism social at Abu Selim, 330n6
and, 41 al-​Harakat al-​Dusturīa al-​ of Ennahda members by
inclusion and, 49–​50, 236 Islamīa (HADAS). See Ben Ali regime, 34
long termism of, 50 Islamic Constitutional
on Muslim Brotherhood of Movement IAF. See Islamic Action Front
Egypt, 36 Hasan, Munawar, ICM. See Islamic
Prophet Mohamed 176–​78, 349n42 Constitutional
and, 49–​50 Hashemite monarchy, Jordan Movement
Tunisia lustration law Jordan Muslim Brotherhood, ICMI. See Ikatan
and, 48–​50 constitutional reform Cendekiawan Muslim
GNA. See Government of and, 151–​55 Indonesia
National Accord Jordan Muslim Brotherhood ICP. See Islamic Center Party
GNC. See General National and, 149, 150, 151, ideology, 301
Congress 161–62, 345n30 of leadership, 303,
Gomaa, Ali, 22 Hassan II, King of 304–​5, 363n7
governance, by Morocco, 63 materialism and, 302
Jamaat-​e-​Islami, 268 Hay’at Duro’ al-​Thawra Ikatan Cendekiawan
Government of National (Shields of the Muslim Indonesia
Accord (GNA), 101, Revolution (ICMI), 348n1
102–​3, 113, 114 Commission), 82–​84 illegality, of Al Adl, 63
GPC. See General People’s Heshmat, Gamal, 30 IMA. See Islamic Medical
Congress Himayat al-​Madaniyin Association
gradualism. See also long (Committee to Protect inclusion
termism Civilians), 82 within Ennahda, 236
368

368 Index

inclusion (Cont.) Muslim Brotherhood popularity of, 137

Ghannouchi and, compared with, in post-​coup era, 144–​46
49–​50, 236 94–​95, 100 as reformists, 136–​37
in Libya, 106 Muslim Brotherhood Salafi movement in Kuwait
Prophet Mohamed of Yemen, Muhsin and, 142, 143–​44
and, 49–​50 and, 329n35 sharia and, 136, 138, 147
inclusion-​moderation Muslim Brotherhood of Islamic Democratic Alliance
hypothesis, 290 Yemen and, 89, 91–​92 (Islami Jamhoori
Ennahda and, 41 Muslim Brotherhood Ittehad) (IJI)
in Libya, 116–​17 republicanism within, Jamaat-​e-​Islami and,
in Pakistan, 173–​74 94 168–​69, 347n18
India. See also al-​Qaeda in the NDC and, 97–​98 Jamiat-​e-​Ulama-​e-​Islam
Indian Subcontinent power of, in JMP, 97, and, 168–​69
Jamaat-​e-​Islami, East 328n22, 328n23 Islamic Medical Association
Pakistan and, 269–​70 regionalism and, 92 (IMA), 19–​20, 21–​22
Jamaat-​e-​Islami, Kashmir Salafism and fragmentation Islamic Salafi Association
and, 269–​70 of, 94, 95 (ISA), 139,
Indonesia, 348n2. See 2011 revolution and, 141, 146–​47
also Aceh; Ikatan 88, 95–​98 Islamic Salvation Front (FIS),
Cendekiawan Muslim Yemen civil war and, 36, 204–​5
Indonesia; New 8, 98–​100 Islamic State (ISIS), 266
Order regime Yemen Muslim Brotherhood ABM, Sinai and, 252–​53
Arab Spring and, 197–​98 centrism within, Al Adl and, 68–​69
Egypt military coup and, 94, 327n16 Asia and, 9
198, 199 Yemen unity regime, Egypt Muslim Brotherhood,
minority status in, 181 Muslim Brotherhood jihadism and, 253
Muslim Brotherhood of of Yemen and, 92–​94 Ennahda and, 237–​38
Egypt and, 197, 198 Islah Charitable Society, 92 formation of, 1
sharia in, 180, 181, 185–​87 Islam in Libya, 108, 112–​16
terrorism in, 182–​83 happiness pursuit mass movements and, 2–​3
institutionalist approach, in, 267–​68 Muslim Brotherhood, faith
to Muslim Pakistan founding and, 297–​98
Brotherhood, 293–​94 and, 263–​66 Muslim Brotherhood of
intellectual deficit secularism, progress Jordan and, 156
leadership and, 305 and, 265–​66 Muslim Brotherhood of
of reformists, 300, 306 Islam, political. See Libya and, 114–​15
interpellation, of al-​Sabah in specific topics Muslim Brotherhood of
Kuwait, 142 Islamic Action Front (IAF), 7, Syria, extremism
Iran, 1979 revolution in, 204 159, 161 and, 84–​86
Iraq Islamic Center Party nonviolenct Islamism
Kuwait occupation by, (ICP), 158–​59 and, 214–​15
135, 139–​40 Islamic consciousness Pakistan and, 176–​77
U.S. invasion of, 194 elections and, 182–​84 religious literacy of, 295–​96
ISA. See Islamic Salafi in Southeast Asia, Sahwa support for, 124
Association 182–​84, 350n8 Salafi-​jihadism in Tunisia
ISIS. See Islamic State Islamic Constitutional and, 39
Islah (Yemeni Congregation Movement (ICM) Saudi Arabia and, 124–​26
for Reform) (HADAS) sectarianism and, 196
formalization of, 91 civil liberties and, 137 sharia and, 296, 297
Houthi conflicts elections and, 7, 138, al-​Sisi, UN and, 112–​13
with, 96, 98 143–​44, 145–​46 Southeast Asia and, 195–​97
Houthis and, 98–​100 formation of, 135–​36 U.S., elections and, 13
internal elections within, monarchy of Kuwait and, U.S. led air-​strikes
95, 328n17 133–​34, 146–​47 against, 85–​86
 369

Index 369

Islamic Tendency Movement Jamiat-​e-​Ulama-​e-​Islam religious education,

(MTI), 33–​34 and, 167–​70, recruitment
Islami Jamhoori Ittehad. See 174–​76, 347n23 and, 298–​99
Islamic Democratic Kashmir, India and, 269–​70 in Saudi Arabia, 121–​22
Alliance Musharraf and, in Sinai, 252–​53
Islamism 169–​70, 347n23 Syrian civil war, Tunisia
experts in, Islamists and, 2 Pakistan Army and, 271 and, 39
nonviolent, 214–​15 Pakistan constitution Jinnah, Mohammad Ali, 165,
transnational, 192–​95 and, 266–​67 263, 264–​65
Islamist groups, mainstream PJD and, 11 Joint Meeting Parties
defined, 309n1 TTP, Pakistan Army and, (JMP), 93–​94
twin shocks and, 1 177–​78, 349n42 Islah power in, 97,
Islamist movements. See TTP and, 271 328n22, 328n23
movements, social; violence and, 167–​68, 2011 revolution response by,
political parties, social 174–​76, 269–​71 96, 328n19
movements and women and, 273 Yemen Muslim
Islamist movements, Jamiat-​e-​Ulama-​e-​Hind Brotherhood, GCC
mainstream (JUH), 165 agreement
Arab Spring and, 4 Balochistan, NWFP and, and, 96–​97
discursive contributions 166, 346n11, 346n12 Jordan. See also Hashemite
of, to Islamic Jamiat-​e-​Ulama-​e-​Islam monarchy, Jordan;
tradition, 305 (JUI), 164 Islamic Action Front;
intellectual deficit of, history of, 165, 166, 167, Palestinian-​Jordanians
300–​301, 306–​307 346n11, 347n15 Abdullah, King of,
resilience of, in Morocco, IJI and, 168–​69 7, 162–​63
56, 67–​68 Jamaat-​e-​Islami and, 167–​ Abdullah II, King
Islamist parties, U.S. policies 70, 174–​76, 347n23 of, 277–​78
and, 12–​13. See also Musharraf and, Muslim Brotherhood
political parties, social 169–​70, 347n23 Society in, 159–​60
movements and; violence and, redistricting in, 157
specific Islamist parties 167–​68, 174–​76 Transjordanians and
Islamists, Islamism experts Jamʿiat Iḥyaʾ al-​Turath al-​ Palestinian-​Jordanians
and, 2. See also Shiite Islamī. See Society in, 156–​59
Islamists; success, for for the Revival of the Jordan, Muslim Brotherhood
Islamists Islamic Heritage in, 346n26, 359n1. See
Israel, 194–​95 Jam’iyyah al-​Ikhwan al-​ also Islamic Action
Muslimeen. See Front; Zamzam
Jakarta Charter, 180, 185–​86 Muslim Brotherhood Arab Spring and, 151–​55
Jamaat-​e-​Islami (JI), 163 Society divisions within, 156–​60
Afghanistan and, 269 al-​Jarba, Ahmed, 75 elections boycotted by, 7,
AKP and, 268–​69 JCP. See Justice and 151, 154–​56
in Bangladesh, 270, Construction Party Hamas and, 274–​76
360n13 Jebha Chaabia, 45 Hashemite monarchy,
coalitions and, 268 JI. See Jamaat-​e-​Islami constitutional reform
East Pakistan, India Jibril, Mahmoud, 110, 111 and, 151–​55, 342n8
and, 269–​70 jihadism, 220, 289. See also Hashemite monarchy
four-​point program Corrective Studies in and, 149, 150, 151,
of, 262–​63 Understandings of 161–​62, 345n30
governance by, 268 Jihad, Enforcement ISIS and, 156
history of, 165–​66, 167, of Morality, and Muslim Brotherhood
345n2, 346n14 Judgment of People; Society and, 159–​60
IJI and, 168–​69, 347n18 Salafi-​jihadism protests by, 152–​53
internal structure of, ISIS, Egypt Muslim regional dynamics
elections and, 271–​73 Brotherhood and, 253 and, 278–​79
370

370 Index

Jordan, Muslim Brotherhood Justice and Spirituality elections and, 139,

in (Cont.) Movement (Al Adl). 143–​44, 145–​46
Salafis of Jordan and, 155 See Al Adl wal Ihsan ICM and, 142, 143–​44
various organizations ISA and, 139, –​141
emerging from, 278 Kashmir, 269–​70 Muslim Brotherhood, 2006
Zamzam, Group of Elders Al-​Khair Trust, 172 election and, 142–​43
and, 276–​77 Khan, Imran, 171, 347n26 in post-​coup era, 144–​47
Jordan, Salafis in, 344n15 Khan, Liaqat Ali, 263–​64 Saudi Arabia and, 139–​40
jihadism and, 155–​56 Al-​Khidmat, 172 sharia and, 147
Muslim Brotherhood Khorasani, Omar Khalid, terrorism, Syria and, 142–​43
and, 155 176–​77, 349n41 2012 elections and, 143–​44
Jordanian Building Initiative. Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, 170. Umma Party and, 140–​41
See Zamzam See also Northwest
JUH. See Frontier Province Laarayedh, Ali, 46
Jamiat-e​ -U
​ lama-e​ -H
​ ind Kuwait Law of Associations, Egypt,
JUI. See diversity of political blocs 27
Jamiat-​e-​Ulama-​e-​Islam in, 132 leadership
June 30th Committee. See Egypt military coup of Egypt Muslim
Cairo Court for supported by, 333n18 Brotherhood, internal
Urgent Matters elections in, 134, 139, disagreements of,
Justice and Construction Party 143–​44, 145–​46 255–​56, 259
(JCP), 103–​4, 105 ICM and, 133–​34, 146–​47 ideology of, 303,
Justice and Development interpellation of al-​Sabah 304–​5, 363n7
Party (AKP) in, 142 intellectual deficit and, 305
Ennahda and, 35–​36 Iraq occupation of, legitimization, of Ennahda,
Jamaat-​e-​Islami and, 268–​69 135, 139–​40 232–​34. See also shar’iya
Justice and Development Party liberalism in, 146 al-​shar’a
(PJD), 6–​7, 71, 72 monarchy of, 133–​34, 140–​ liberalism, 3, 148, 149
Al Adl and, 56–​57, 303 41, 145, 146–​47 Libya. See also Derna, Libya;
Benkirane, al-​Sissi and, 70 post-​coup era in, 144–​47 General National
on corruption, 59, 322n14 redistricting in, 143–​44 Congress; National
coup in Egypt and, 61–​62 sharia in, 136, 138, 147 Forces Coalition
elections and, 58–​59, 155 stability in, 132–​33 Abu Selim in, 104, 330n6
formation of, 57–​58 Sunni Islamists in, 144 GNC in, 109, 111
Jamaat e-​Islami and, 11 Kuwait, Muslim Brotherhood Haftar coup attempts in,
Mohamed VI and, 57, in. See also Islamic 102–​3, 111
59–​60, 69–​70 Constitutional inclusion in, 106
morality and, 61 Movement inclusion-​moderation
on Muslim Brotherhood of elections and, 134 hypothesis in, 116–​17
Egypt, 62 Iraqi occupation and, 135 ISIS in, 108, 112–​16
nationalism and, 68 political context for, 133–​38 regional dynamics in, 111–​14
prime ministership and, 59 in post-​coup era, 144–​47 Salafism in, 108
Shabiba Islamiyya Salafism and, 134, 137–​38 sharia in, 106–​7
and, 322n12 2006 election, Salafi al-​Sissi and, 111–​12
survivalism of, 57–​58, 69 movement and, 142–​43 2011 revolutions and, 101–​2
Tawhid wal Islah and, 2013 elections and, 144 2014 elections in, 111
60–​61, 62 2012 elections and, 143–​44 2012 elections in, 109–​11
trips and conferences of, Kuwait, Salafi movement in, Libya, Muslim Brotherhood
exploratory, 54, 55 138–​42. See also Society in, 101
veto power and, 11 for the Revival of the alliances rejected by, 105
Justice and Prosperity Party. Islamic Heritage challenges for, before 2012
See Partai Keadilan Constitutional Movement elections, 105–​6
Sejahter and, 139 civil war and, 9
 371

Index 371

Ennahda compared to, 105–​6 Mansour, Akhter, 175 constitutional reform in, 154

FJP and, 104–​5 mass movements, 2–​3 Hassan II, King of, 63
ISIS and, 114–​15 materialism, ideology and, 302 international
JCP formed by, 105 Maududi, Abul Ala, reputation of, 55
militancy of, 116 262–​63, 345n2 mainstream Islamist
Muslim Brotherhood of MB. See Muslim Brotherhood movements in,
Egypt compared to, McCarthy, John, 293–​94 resilience of, 56, 67–​68
103, 104–​6 Mecca, 125 Mohamed VI, King of, 55,
Qaddafi and, 104 Medina, 125 57, 59–​60, 64, 69–​70
in U.S., 104 Mehsud, Hakimullah, monarchy in, 56, 70–​71, 155
violence and, 110 177–​78, 349n42 political parties and social
Libya Dawn, 114 Merone, Fabio, 241 movements in, 29,
Libyan Islamic Fighting Group militancy. See also jihadism 56, 62, 70
(LIFG), 102, 108 of Muslim Brotherhood in prime ministership in, 59
Corrective Studies in Libya, 116 protests in, 72
Understandings of Muslim Brotherhood of success for Islamists in, 71
Jihad, Enforcement of Syria and, 81–​84 survivalism in, 67, 69
Morality, and Judgment Pakistan and, 173–​77 Morsi, Mohamed, 9
of People by, 107 Ministry of Education, Muslim Brotherhood
Qaddafi, S., and, 107 Egypt, 24–​25 of Egypt,
Life March (Yemen), Ministry of Justice, Egypt, 24 U.S. and, 209–​11
97, 329n27 Ministry of Social Solidarity, Muslim Brotherhood of
LIFG. See Libyan Islamic Egypt, 25, 26, 27 Syria on, 76–​77
Fighting Group minority status, in revolution and, 17, 37
literacy, religious, 295–​96 Indonesia, 181 Movement of Unity and
long termism MMA. See Muttahida Reform (Tawhid wal
of Ennahda, 36–​38, 50 Majlis-​e-​Amal Islah), 60–​61, 62
of Ghannouchi, 50 models movements, social (haraka),
lustration law, Tunisia political, for Ennahda, 35–​36 2–​3. See also political
Constituent Assembly usra (family), 60, 249–​50 parties, social
and, 47, 48 Mohamad, Mahathir, 182, 188 movements and
CPR and, 47 Mohamed, Prophet, 49–​50 MTI. See Islamic Tendency
Ennahda and, 46–​47, Mohamed VI, King of Movement
48, 236 Morocco, 55 Muhsin, Ali, 329n35
Essebsi and, 48 Benkirane and, 59–​60 Mukti Bahni, 270
Ghannouchi and, 48–​50 PJD and, 57, 59–​60, 69–​70 multi-​party politics (hizbiyya)
Nidaa Tunis and, 48 Yassine and, 64 Muslim Brotherhood of
RCD and, 47 Mohammad, Mian Tufail, 167 Yemen and, 91–​92
lying, religiously sanctioned monarchy. See also Hashemite Salafi rejection of, in Yemen,
(taqiyya), 243, 358n16 monarchy, Jordan; 92, 93, 327n9
Lynch, Marc, 228 specific rulers Musharbash, Yassin, 296
of Kuwait, 133–​34, 140–​41, Musharraf, Pervez,
Malaysia. See also Pan-​Malayan 145, 146–​47 169–​70, 347n23
Islamic Party; United in Morocco, 56, 70–​71, 155 Muslim Brotherhood (MB).
Malays National morality, PJD and, 61. See See also Egypt,
Organization also Corrective Studies Muslim Brotherhood
Arab Spring and, in Understandings of in; Jordan, Muslim
198, 355n59 Jihad, Enforcement of Brotherhood in; Libya,
Egypt coup and, 198, 199 Morality, and Judgment Muslim Brotherhood
sharia in, 187–​90, 191–​92, of People in; Saudi Arabia,
353n31, 353n37 Morocco. See also Al Adl wal Muslim Brotherhood
Shiite Islamists in, Ihsan; Justice and in; Syria, Muslim
196, 354n56 Development Party Brotherhood in;
372

372 Index

Muslim Brotherhood (MB) Ennahda and, 238–​42, 243 OIC. See Organization of the
(Cont.) PJD and, 68 Islamic Conference
Yemen, Muslim NCA. See National oligarchy
Brotherhood in Constituent Assembly bureaucracy, Muslim
bureaucracy of, 87, 292–​94 NDC. See National Dialogue Brotherhood in Syria
elections and, 10 Conference and, 73–​74
Ennahda and, 231, 232 NED. See National Muslim Brotherhood
Guidance Bureau of, 252, Endowment for and, 293
256, 275 Democracy Organization of the Islamic
institutionalist approach New Order regime, 181 Conference (OIC),
to, 293–​94 NFC. See National Forces 195
ISIS, faith and, 297–​98 Coalition Originality Coalition (OC),
Islah compared with, NGOs. See nongovernmental 109, 110
94–​95, 100 organizations
mainstream Islamist groups Nidaa Tunis PA. See Palestinian Authority
and, 309n1 Bardo museum attack Pakistan. See also Defense of
oligarchy and, 293 and, 45–​46 Pakistan Council;
political parties, social Ennahda and, 43–​44, East Pakistan; Jamaat-​
movements and, 245–​51 45–​46, 48, 50 e-​Islami; Jamiat-​e-​
progressive unity of, 220–​21 lustration law and, 48 Ulama-​e-​Hind; Jamiat-​
resource mobilization Salafi-​jihadism and, 43–​44 e-​Ulama-​e-​Islam;
theory and, 293–​94 secularism and, 242 Tehreek-​e-​Taliban
Salafism and, 289 transition politics and, 50 Pakistan
social services and, 220 al-​Nimr, Nimr, 128 Afghanistan, Taliban and,
UK terrorism review of, 213 nonextremism, 289–​90 167, 174–​76, 348n36
U.S., ERC and, 212–​13, 214 nongovernmental Afghanistan and, 169–​70
U.S. and, 211–​12 organizations (NGOs) Bangladesh formation
usra model of, 60 Egypt military regime and, 167
Muslim Brotherhood Society and, 19, 26 Barelwi parties in, 344n6
(Jam’iyyah al-​Ikhwan in Yemen, 92, 93 CII in, 267
al-​Muslimeen), 277, 281 non-​Muslim partnerships Cold War and, 166
in Jordan, 159–​60 with PAS, 191–​92 constitution of,
“Muslim Democrats,” with UMNO, 191 264–​65, 266–​67
237–​38, 242–​43 nonviolent Islamism, 214–​15 da’wa in, 171–​73,
Muttahida Majlis-​e-​Amal normalization. See also 347n28, 348n29
(MMA), 170 legitimization, of Deobandi movements in,
Ennahda 177, 349n40
al-​Nafisi, Abdallah, 135 elections and, in Asia, 12 Deobandi Sunni clerics
nahdawis. See Ennahda of Ennahda, 51–​52 in, 164
National Action Group for Northern Yemen Arab Egypt military coup
Syria, 74, 79–​80 Republic (YAR), 90–​91 and, 177–​78
National Constituent Northwest Frontier historical background of
Assembly (NCA), 45 Province (NWFP) elections in, 165–​71
Tunisia lustration law Balochistan, JUH and, 166, inclusion-​moderation
and, 47, 48 346n11, 346n12 hypothesis in, 173–​74
National Dialogue Conference MMA in, 170 ISIS and, 176–​77
(NDC), 97–​98 NWFP. See Northwest Frontier Islam and founding
National Endowment for Province of, 263–​66
Democracy (NED), 207 militancy and, 173–​77
National Forces Coalition Obama, Barack, 207–​10 1991 elections in,
(NFC), 109, 110 Objectives Resolution, of 169, 347n20
nationalism. See also Arab Pakistan, 263–​64 1997 elections in,
nationalist states OC. See Originality Coalition 169, 347n21
 37

Index 373

Objectives Resolution PKS. See Partai Keadilan violence and, 253–​54, 255

of, 263–​64 Sejahter PTI. See Pakistan
political parties and social police abuse, Ennahda and, 44 Tehreek-​e-​Insaaf
movements in, 171–​72 political Islam. See
private schools in, specific topics Qaddafi, Muammar
172, 348n29 political parties, social Muslim Brotherhood of
secularism in, 264 movements and (hizb-​ Libya under, 104
sharia in, 171, 347n27 haraka), 4–​5, 9–​11. revolution and, 102, 108
social services in, See also multi-​party Qaddafi, Saif al-​Islam
172, 347n28 politics; specific political LIFG and, 107
success for Islamists in, 164 parties; specific social Muslim Brotherhood of
Pakistan Army movements Libya and, 104
Jamaat-​e-​Islami, TTP and, Egypt Muslim Brotherhood al-​Qaeda in the Arabian
177–​78, 349n42 and, 18, 28, 29–​30, Peninsula (AQAP), 88
Jamaat-​e-​Islami and, 271 31, 219–​20 Muslim Brotherhood of
Taliban and, 174–​76 Egypt Muslim Brotherhood Yemen and, 99
Pakistan Tehreek-​e-​Insaaf social services and, 219 Saudi Arabia and, 126
(PTI), 171 Ennahda and, 10, 30 al-​Qaeda in the Indian
Palestinian Authority in Morocco, 29, 56, 62, 70 Subcontinent (AQIS),
(PA), 207 Muslim Brotherhood 176, 349n40
Palestinian-​Jordanians and, 245–​51 Qaḥtān, Mohamad, 327n15
Hamas and, 275, 280 Muslim Brotherhood of al-​Qaradawi, Yusuf,
Transjordanians and, 156–​59 Syria and, 77–​78 198, 355n59
Pancasila, 187, 352n22 in Pakistan, 171–​72 al-​Qarni, Ayid, 127
Pan-​Malayan Islamic Party protest and, 70 al-​Qubati, Yassin Abd al-​Aziz,
(PAS), 181–​82 political repression, social 91, 326n4
elections and, 183, services of Egypt
190–​91, 353n39 Muslim Brotherhood Rabaa massacre, 37, 38, 211
non-​Muslim partnerships and, 221–​22, 252 Ramadan, Ahmed, 79
with, 191–​92 pragmatism, 233 Ramadan, Tariq, 321n6
PAS Supporters Club primary group, Egypt Muslim RCD. See Constitutional
and, 349n9 Brotherhood and, 249 Democratic Rally
September 11 attacks and, 193 prime ministership, in recruitment, 298–​99
sharia and, 188, 189–​90, Morocco, 59 redistricting
191–​92, 353n37 prisoners, political, 121. See in Jordan, 157
transnational Islamism also specific political in Kuwait, 143–​44
and, 192–​93 prisoners reformists, 136–​37, 300,
Partai Keadilan Sejahtera private schools 305, 306
(PKS), 181, 350n3 of Muslim Brotherhood in regional dynamics. See also
elections and, 183 Egypt, 22–​25 transregional dynamics
Pancasila and, 187, 352n22 in Pakistan, 172, 348n29 Jordan Muslim Brotherhood
September 11 attacks progress, 265–​66. See also and, 278–​79
and, 193 unity, progressive in Libya, 111–​14
sharia and, 185–​86, protests U.S. policies and, 205–​7
187, 351n18 Egypt military coup within Yemen, 90–​92
Zulkieflimansyah of, 350n18 and, 258 religious education. See also
Party of Justice. See Pakistan Egypt Muslim Brotherhood faith; private schools
Tehreek-​e-​Insaaf and, 253–​54, 255, 258 Ben Ali and, 40
PAS. See Pan-​Malayan in Morocco, 72 Ennahda on, 40–​41
Islamic Party by Muslim Brotherhood of recruitment, jihadism
PAS Supporters Club, 349n9 Jordan, 152–​53 and, 298–​99
PJD. See Justice and political parties, social religious literacy, 295–​96
Development Party movements and, 70 religious outreach. See da’wa
374

374 Index

resource mobilization Muslim Brotherhood on Egypt coup, 123

theory, 290 and, 289 Sahwa and, 122–​23
Muslim Brotherhood Muslim Brotherhood terrorism and, 123
and, 293–​94 of Kuwait and, al-​Sayf, Tawfiq, 336n42
Muslim Brotherhood of 134, 137–​38 SCAF. See Supreme Council of
Syria and, 86–​87 Muslim Brotherhood of the Armed Forces
revolution, 258–​59. See also Yemen, takfir and, 94 sectarianism, 288, 290–​91
Arab Spring; Egyptian in Saudi Arabia, Egyptian ISIS and, in Southeast
Revolutionary coup and, 123, 333n19, Asia, 196
Council; Hay’at Duro’ 334n20 in Saudi Arabia, 125, 126–​27,
al-​Thawra; Iran, 1979 Saleh, Ali Abdullah, 8, 90–​91, 129, 336n42
revolution in; Shields 93, 94, 96 in Yemen, 90–​91,
of the Revolution Salem, Zuheir, 76 126–​27, 326n5
Commission; 2011 al-​Sallabi, Ali, 105 secularism. See also non-​
revolutions Salman, King of Saudi Muslim partnerships
Morsi and, 17, 37 Arabia, 119 Nidaa Tunis and, 242
Qaddafi, M., and, 102, 108 Yemen military intervention in Pakistan, 264
Rice, Condoleezza, 206 by, 125–​27 progress, Islam
RIHS. See Society for the Saudi Arabia, 130–​31. See and, 265–​66
Revival of the Islamic also Sahwa Sembiring, Tiffatul, 185
Heritage AQAP and, 126 September 11 attacks, 193
Rose, Dato’ Yeop Egypt coup supported by, Shabiba Islamiyya, 322n12
Adlan, 194–​95 122–​24, 333n18 sharia, 295. See also Ansar al-​
Egyptian coup and Salafism Sharia; hudud laws;
al-​Saadi, Sami, 109 in, 123, 333n19, 334n20 Jakarta Charter
al-​Sabah, Nasir, 142 Faysal, King of, 118 Ennahda and, 231–​32, 241
al-​Sabt, Abdullah, 138, 140 fragmentation in, 119–​22 in Indonesia, 180,
Sahwa, 120–​21 ISIS and, 124–​26 181, 185–​87
ISIS supported by, 124 jihadism in, 121–​22 ISIS and, 296, 297
Muslim Brotherhood Muslim Brotherhood in Kuwait, 136, 138, 147
of Saudi Arabia of Syria, terrorism in Libya, 106–​7
and, 122–​23 and, 75–​76 in Malaysia, 187–​90, 191–​92,
Salafi-​jihadism, in Muslim Brotherhood of 353n31, 353n37
Jordan, 155–​56 Syria, Walid and, 76 in Pakistan, 171, 347n27
Salafi-​jihadism, in Tunisia political prisoners and, 121 PKS and, 185–​86, 187, 351n18
Ennahda and, 6, 32–​33, Salafi movement in Kuwait Sharif, Nawaz, 168
40–​42, 43–​44 and, 139–​40 shar’iya al-​shar’a (street
Ghannouchi and, 41 Salman, King of, legitimacy), 46
gradualism and, 41, 42 119, 125–​27 al-​Shatti, Isma’il, 135
Islamic State and, 39 sectarianism in, 125, 126–​27, al-​Shaykh, Abdulaziz, 120
Nidaa Tunis and, 43–​44 129, 336n42 Shields of the Revolution
rise of, 38–​39 Shiite Islamists in, 122, 125, Commission (Hay’at
twin shocks and, 6 127–​29, 336n42 Duro’
violence and, 39, 40, 43 Sunni Islamists in, 119, 129 al-​Thawra), 82–​84
Salafism, 220. See also twin shocks and, 119 Shiite Islamists
Jordan, Salafis Wahhabi tradition in, 120 in Saudi Arabia, 122, 125,
in; Kuwait, Salafi Yemen military intervention 127–​29, 336n42
movement in by, 125–​27 in Southeast Asia,
Islah fragmentation Saudi Arabia, foreign policy 196, 354n56
and, 94, 95 of, 118 Shirazi Movement, 128, 336n42
in Libya, 108 Egypt and, 119 shumuliya
multi-​party politics Yemen and, 119 (comprehensiveness),
rejection and, in Saudi Arabia, Muslim 250–​51
Yemen, 92, 93, 327n9 Brotherhood in, 7 al-​Shuqfa, Riyadh, 79
 375

Index 375

Shura Council, Ennahda, 36, Egypt military coup bureaucracy, oligarchy

48, 236–​37 and, 198–​99 and, 73–​74
Sinai, 252–​53 elections in, 182–​84 as bureaucracy, 292–​93
al-​Sissi, Abdel Fattah, 5, 211 ISIS and, 195–​97 centrism of, 77
antiterror legislation signed Islamic consciousness in, civil war and, 8–​9
by, 24–​25 182–​84, 350n8 educational program of, 85
Benkirane, PJD and, 70 sectarianism in, 196 factionalism, generational
democracy, Ennahda and, 38 September 11 attacks and, 193 tensions and, 78–​81
international support Shiite Islamists in, Hitto and, 75
for, 37–​38 196, 354n56 ISIS, extremism and, 84–​86
Libya and, 111–​12 Tablighi Jamaat in, 199–​200 militancy and, 81–​84
UN, ISIS and, 112–​13 transnational Islamism on Morsi, 76–​77
SNC. See Syrian National and, 192–​95 Muslim Brotherhood of
Council transregional dynamics Egypt differences
social base, of Egypt and, 286 with, 76–​77
Muslim stability, 287–​88 National Action Group for
Brotherhood, 251–​52 in Kuwait, 132–​33 Syria and, 74, 79–​80
social media, 288–​89 street legitimacy. See shar’iya political parties, social
social movements. See al-​shar’a movements and, 77–​78
movements, social success, for Islamists, 11 resource mobilization
social services, of Muslim elections and, 71 theory and, 86–​87
Brotherhood in Egypt, in Morocco, 71 SNC alliances of, 74–​75
218, 220 in Pakistan, 164 survivalism of, 73–​74
activism and, 27–​28 Sufism, 297 terrorism, Saudi Arabia
Egypt military coup and, Suharto, 180 and, 75–​76
254, 359n14 ICMI formed by, 348n1 Waad party created by, 77
Egypt military regime and, New Order regime of, 181 Syrian National Council
17, 25, 28, 31 Sukarno, 350n22 (SNC), 74–​75, 79
Egypt military regime Sunni Islamists. See also
opposition strategy Deobandi Sunni clerics Tablighi Jamaat, 199–​200
toward, 18–​21, 26–​27, in Kuwait, 144 al-​Tabtaba’i, Walid, 142, 144
310n4 in Saudi Arabia, 119, 129 al-​Tajammu al-​Islami al-​Salafi.
motivations for, Supreme Council of the See Islamic Salafi
222–​24, 227–​28 Armed Forces Association
organizational economics (SCAF), 210 takfir, 94
and, 27–​28 survivalism Taliban. See also Tehreek-​e-​
political parties, social Ennahda and, 52–​53 Taliban Pakistan
movements and, 219 in Morocco, 67, 69 Afghanistan, Pakistan and,
political repression and, of Muslim Brotherhood in 167, 174–​76, 348n36
221–​22, 252 Syria, 73–​74 Pakistan Army and, 174–​76
twin shocks and, 5–​6 of PJD, 57–​58, 69 Tamarrod (Rebellion)
violence and, 223–​24, Swan, Mohamad, 105 movement
226, 256–​58 Syria. See also National Action in Egypt, 45
social services, of Muslim Group for Syria in Tunisia, 45–​46
Brotherhood in rebel alliances in, 83–​84 taqiyya (religiously sanctioned
Pakistan, 172, 347n28 Salafi movement in Kuwait, lying), 243, 358n16
Society for the Revival of terrorism and, 142–​43 tarbiya. See educational
the Islamic Heritage Syria, civil war in program
(RIHS), 139, 140, jihadism, Tunisia and, 39 Tawhid wal Islah (Movement
141, 142 Muslim Brotherhood of of Unity and Reform),
Southeast Asia, 180. See also Syria and, 8–​9 60–​61, 62
specific countries Syria, Muslim Brotherhood in Tehreek-​e-​Khilafat (Caliphate
Arab Spring and, 179, air-​strikes against ISIS Movement),
197–​98, 355n59 and, 85–​86 172–​73, 348n31
376

376 Index

Tehreek-​e-​Nifaz-​e-​Shariat-​ assassinations and crisis Arab Spring and, 198

e-​Mohammadi in, 235 non-​Muslim partnerships
(TNSM), 347n38 civil war in Syria, jihadism with, 191
Tehreek-​e-​Taliban Pakistan and, 39 sharia and, 188–​90
(TTP), 174, 175, 176, constitution in, 234, 237 United Nations (UN)
349n38, 349n41 democracy in, 32, 33, 34 al-​Sissi, ISIS and, 112–​13
Jamaat-​e-​Islami, Muslim Brotherhood of Yemen, transition politics
Pakistan Army and, Egypt and, 232 and, 96–​97
177–​78, 349n42 Tamarrod movement United States (U.S.), 273
Jamaat-​e-​Islami and, 271 in, 45–​46 Afghanistan, Cold War
10th Congress of Ennahda, 2011 revolution in, 32, and, 204
238–​39, 243 235–​36, 317n3 air-​strikes against ISIS led
terrorism. See also September Turkey. See Justice and by, 85–​86
11 attacks Development Party Algeria 1991 elections
AST, Ennahda and, 43 twin shocks. See also coup, and, 204–​5
Egypt Muslim Brotherhood Egyptian military; Arab Spring and,
and legislation Islamic State 203–​4, 208–​10
against, 24–​25 Asia and, 9 democracy and, 216–​17
Egypt Muslim Brotherhood Ennahda and, 6, 33 diplomatic engagement
and ruling on, 18, Jordan and, 149, 150 policies of, 207–​10
22, 23–​24 mainstream Islamist engagement policies of,
in Indonesia, 182–​83 groups and, 1 under Obama, 207–​10
Muslim Brotherhood of Morocco and, 68 Hamas and, 206–​7
Saudi Arabia and, 123 Muslim Brotherhood of Iran 1979 revolution
Salafi movement in Kuwait, Egypt, social services and, 204
Syria and, 142–​43 and, 5–​6 Iraq invasion by, 194
Saudi Arabia, Muslim Salafi-​jihadism and, 6 ISIS, elections and, 13
Brotherhood of Syria Saudi Arabia and, 119 Islamist parties and policies
and, 75–​76 violence and, 228 of, 12–​13
UK review of Muslim 2011 revolutions Muslim Brotherhood, ERC
Brotherhood for, 213 Egypt Muslim Brotherhood and, 212–​13, 214
Thuneibat, Abdul Majeed, and, 248 Muslim Brotherhood
160, 277–​78, 345n26 Islah and, 88, 95–​98 and, 211–​12
TNSM. See Tehreek-​e-​Nifaz-​e-​ JMP response to, 96, 328n19 Muslim Brotherhood
Shariat-​e-​Mohammadi Libya revolutions compared of Egypt, Morsi
transition politics. See also to other, 101–​2 and, 209–​11
specific topics in Tunisia, 32, 235–​36, 317n3 Muslim Brotherhood
Ennahda and, 50, 52–​53 typologies, 289–​90 of Egypt and, 204,
Nidaa Tunisand, 50 206, 215–​16
Yemen, UN and, 96–​97 Umma Party (Hizb Muslim Brotherhood of
Transjordanians, Palestinian-​ al-​Umma), 140–​41 Libya in, 104
Jordanians and, 156–​59 UMNO. See United Malays policy of, after Egyptian
transregional dynamics National Organization military coup, 211–​14
Egypt Muslim Brotherhood UN. See United Nations regional dynamics and
results for, 286 United Arab Emirates, 213 policy of, 205–​7
Southeast Asia and, 286 Egyptian military coup SCAF and, 210
Tripoli, 112–​13 supported by, 333n18 United States Agency
TTP. See Tehreek-​e-​Taliban United Council of Action. for International
Pakistan See Muttahida Development
Tunisia. See also Ansar al-​ Majlis-​e-​Amal (USAID), 207
Sharia; Ennahda; Jebha United Kingdom, 213 unity, progressive, 220–​21
Chaabia; lustration United Malays National unity regime, Yemen, 92–​94.
law, Tunisia; Salafi-​ Organization See also Movement of
jihadism, in Tunisia (UMNO), 180, 181–​82 Unity and Reform
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university politics, 91, 327n11. Waad party sectarianism in, 90–​91,

See also Zaytouna Muslim Brotherhood of 126–​27, 326n5
University Syria, Walid and, 78 UN, transition politics
U.S. See United States Muslim Brotherhood of and, 96–​97
USAID. See United Syria creation of, 77 before unification, 90–​92
States Agency Wahhabi tradition, 120 unity regime of, 92–​94
for International Walid, Mohamed, 81 university politics in,
Development on extremism, 86 91, 327n11
US-​Islamic World Forum, 233 Saudi Arabia, Muslim Yemen, Muslim Brotherhood in
usra (family) model Brotherhood of Syria AQAP and, 99
of Egypt Muslim and, 76 centrism of, within Islah,
Brotherhood, 249–​50 Shields of the Revolution 94, 327n16
of Muslim Brotherhood, 60 Commission and, 83 civil war and, 8, 98–​100
Waad party, Muslim Hadi and, 8, 100
veto power, PJD and, 11 Brotherhood of Syria Islah and, 89, 91–​92
violence. See also jihadism; and, 78 JMP, GCC and, 96–​97
militancy; nonviolent websites, 301–​2 Muhsin, power of Islah
Islamism Wegner, Eva, 28–​29 and, 329n35
in Egypt, of military Western observers, 4 multi-​party politics
regime, 309n1 Wiktorowicz, Quintan, 27 and, 91–​92
Egypt military coup women, Jamaat-​e-​Islami republicanism of, within
and, 235 and, 273 Islah, 94
Egypt Muslim Women in Shari’a and Society Salafism, takfir and, 94
Brotherhood, Egypt (Haddad), 231–​32 Yemen unity regime, Islah
military coup and, and, 92–​94
244–​45, 252, 254, YAR. See Northern Yemen Yemeni Congregation for
260–​61, 359n14 Arab Republic Reform. See Islah
Egypt Muslim Brotherhood, Yassine, Abdesslam, 303, 304–​5
protests and, Al Adl formed by, 62–​63 Zaghloul, Ahmed, 357n13
253–​54, 255 Hassan II and, 63 Zald, Mayer, 293–​94
Egypt Muslim Brotherhood Mohamed VI and, 64 Zamzam (Jordanian Building
and, 228–​29 Yemen. See also Gulf Initiative), 158–​59, 160,
Egypt Muslim Brotherhood Cooperation Council; 278, 345n26
social services and, Joint Meeting Parties da’wa and, 279
223–​24, 226, 256–​58 al-​Banna and, 90 Hamas and, 276
Jamaat-​e-​Islami and, 167–​ civil war in, 8, 98–​100 Jordan Muslim
68, 174–​76, 269–​71 Life March in, 97, 329n27 Brotherhood, Group
Jamiat-​e-​Ulama-​e-​Islam NGOs in, 92, 93 of Elders and, 276–​77
and, 167–​68, 174–​76 regional dynamics Zaytouna University
Muslim Brotherhood of within, 90–​92 Bourguiba and, 40
Libya and, 110 Salafi rejection of multi-​ Ennahda and, 231–​32
Muslim Brotherhood party politics in, 92, Zia-​ul-​Haq, 168, 346n14
schools in Egypt 93, 327n9 Mohammad, M. T.,
and, 22–​23 Saudi Arabia foreign policy and, 167
Salafi-​jihadism and, 39, and, 119 Zulkieflimansyah (PKS
40, 43 Saudi Arabia military member of
twin shocks and, 228 intervention in, 125–​27 parliament), 350n18
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