Fabienne Samson

Classifications of Islam

What is, in fact, the question? Do I think before I classify? Do I

classify before I think? How do I classify what I think? How do I
think when I want to classify? … It is so tempting to want to arrange
the whole world according to a single code, a universal law governing
all phenomena: two hemispheres, five continents, male and female,
animal and vegetal, singular and plural, right and left, four seasons,
five senses, six vowels, seven days, twelve months, twenty-six letters.
Unfortunately, that does not work, it never did work, it never will
work. But that will not stop us from continuing for a long time to come
to categorize this or that animal depending on whether it has an odd
number of fingers or hollow horns.
Georges Perec (2003)

Classifying: What Does It Mean?

Naming, sorting, and classifying seem indispensable to our understanding of

the world around us. It is the primary vocation of social sciences: defining,
delineating, and classifying social facts so as to make them intelligible and give
them meaning. It is the very condition of human beings seeking to understand
their history and their contemporaries.
And yet, as Georges Perec (2003) said, all categorization will always be
imperfect, temporary, and illusory. The anthropology of modernity has, since
the second half of the twentieth century, understood that the world is made
up of tensions, social transformations, and endlessly reinvented traditions. In
France, Georges Balandier was one of the precursors of this new orientation in
this field. The objective was then to consider the mutations, movements, and
antagonisms experienced by societies and brought about by actors who were
marked by habitus and structural constraints, but who were also motivated by a
desire for individualism and a search for meaning. Classifying groups, defining
events, and categorizing these actors perhaps became all the more necessary in
order to grasp a world in perpetual motion.
However, naming means giving a fixed identity to a given moment. It there-
fore means taking the risk of producing knowledge which will soon have to
be reviewed. Thus, every researcher knows that working on social mutations
II FABIENNE SAMSON

means accepting that, sooner or later, his or her analyses will be called into
question.
The study of religion as social fact is concerned with societies first and
foremost and is no exception to the rule. There are many ways in which one
can believe, practice, and “deal with” all things spiritual, depending on the
historical age and context. Those who have sought to understand Islam have,
like everybody else, always devised categories which allowed them to make
sense of the behaviors and beliefs of Islamic actors. In the face of a religion
without a single authority—the way Catholics have their papacy—all manner
of classifications have been developed. Beginning with the seventeenth cen-
tury, this was primarily the work of Western specialists known as Orientalists,
who wrote dictionaries, grammars, encyclopedias, and notes on Oriental lan-
guages (Laurens 2004). Beginning with the eighteenth century and through-
out the nineteenth century, this much fantasized about, exotic Orient created
by the West (Said 1980), and often disparaged (see Ernest Renan’s theses on
Islamism), was studied so as to protect it from the Western domination that
would supposedly make this civilization disappear. During the nineteenth and
twentieth centuries, Orientalism served colonial conquest in order to enlighten
the administration on the customs and beliefs of the dominated peoples. Islam
as a mobilizing force was already a central problem and great Orientalists (for
example, Montagne and Massignon) became advisers to the Prince even if, at
times, they were at odds with the anti-Muslim policy, as shown in this issue
by Vincent Geisser. Besides, great decolonization thinkers (such as Jacques
Berque and Maxime Rodinson), themselves products of Orientalism, have
shown that this scientific discipline has not always necessarily been a product
of French colonial power.
As far as sub-Saharan Africa is concerned, at the beginning of the twentieth
century, social sciences too had a complicated relationship with Islam. Some
anthropologists refused to study it in the name of a pure and authentic Africa
(Griaule), while others perceived it as exogenous and therefore syncretic. From
that point on, there developed the idea of a “black Islam” mixed with local and,
in the eyes of colonial administrators, less daunting beliefs than the Islam that
was bringing forth Arab nationalist ideas (Rondot 1958).
Today, sociologists, historians, anthropologists, and political analysts stud-
ying Islam seem, for the most part, more rigorous and less influenced by the
ideologies or ideas of their time. This is true at least of those who study Islam in
non-Western societies, who consider it a social fact in its own right. Researchers
working on the Muslim question in France continue to be confronted, as Vincent
Geisser explains, with a “hot topic.” According to the author, there has histori-
cally been an “ambivalent relationship” between scholars and politicians on the
question of Islam, with the former being often (at times without being aware of
it) experts to the latter. If, as Vincent Geisser emphasizes, a new generation of
anthropologists and sociologists has changed things, the fact remains that the
majority of studies on Islam in France are produced, to this day, by political
CLASSIFICATIONS OF ISLAM III

analysts who are highly qualified on the subject but who often “indirectly reflect
the political preoccupations of the moment.”
The recent infatuation with Islamic studies, both in France and the rest of
world, is most certainly linked to the Iranian revolution of 1979 and the new
visibility of political Islam. Since the 1990s and the events of September 11,
2001, analysts have had to take into account the mobility of Islamic actors.
Where researchers had established certain categories that allowed them to make
sense of the various Islamic groups they were dealing with (Sufism, reformism,
Wahhabism, Salafism, and so forth), they are today faced with a terminology
which no longer corresponds to reality. Conscious of the limits of their speci-
fications and in order to follow the evolution of the religious mutations, they
today speak of “neobrotherhood movements,” “neo-Sufism,” “liberal Islam,”
“cultural Islam,” “confusionist Islam,” and so forth. “Post-Islamism,” “post-re-
Islamization,” or “neofundamentalism” are new formulae that attempt to show
the Islamic dynamism that exists throughout the world. However, this plastic-
ity does not render well the complex recompositions of contemporary Islam.
Researchers are faced with a real definition problem.
Besides, most Muslims do not recognize themselves in these terminolo-
gies; they call themselves by different names, and, above all, they often practice
outside their theoretical limits. Thus, we know of—and this issue will illus-
trate—Sufis influenced by ideas of reform (Mara Vitale and Gilles Holder)
or, conversely, “reformists” who take a brotherhood leader as their founding
hero (Abdoulaye Sounaye). Reform groups are so different from one another
that we wonder why we label them as such (Maud Saint-Lary and Denise
Brégand), with the generational issue often being an element which explains
Islamic pluralism (Marie Nathalie LeBlanc and Ashley Leinweber). Current
political Islamic actors, coming from all categories, evolve in opposite ways
(Mame-Penda Ba and Haoues Seniguer) and act in the same spirit as those in
the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (Ousmane Kane); Salafists are today
characterized by an often very nuanced kind of radicalism (Ould Ahmed
Salem). Religious actors muddy the waters, transcend boundaries, and naturally
combine theoretically paradoxical entities. Sometimes it is political authorities
themselves who use Islam in order to attract the sympathy (and therefore the
funds) of Middle Eastern countries, religion thus becoming an internal political
tool (Doris Ehazouambela).
In short, reality is always considerably more complex than an established
map. Furthermore, the appearance and use of classifications vary according
to the sociohistorical contexts (Ousmane Kane) and the designations do not
have the same meaning in the different societies in which they are used. They
evolve with time and are often used by one group for the purpose of discredit-
ing another. For example, if the Wahhabi category has negative connotations
in certain West African countries and is rejected by those who are called such
and who prefer the name of Sunni or Ahl al-Sunna (Mame-Penda Ba, Maud
Saint-Lary, and Denise Brégand), it can be used by Islamic leaders to define
IV FABIENNE SAMSON

their competitors and thus disparage them. Islamic groups are mobile, they
adapt to changes in their society, and are receptive to the proselytizing meth-
ods employed by other spiritual guides. We therefore know of “born-again”
Muslims who have taken their inspiration from evangelical movements, and
religious entrepreneurs for whom Islam is a market made up of “new syncretic
forms with the West” (Haenni 2005) and whose ideal is individual fulfillment
(Marie Nathalie LeBlanc). Many believers do not recognize themselves in any
of the categories and call themselves “simple Muslims” (Maud Saint-Lary),
not wishing to be prisoners to a classification. They construct a “DIY” form of
religious practice and create an orthodoxy which links the spiritual heritage of
their parents with personal research into specialist literature or on the Internet.
Others still dream of a great united ummah (community of believers) free of
Islamic pluralism, but they refute those who they believe are bad Muslims,
such as the Ahmadiyya Jama’at (Samson 2011). Finally, groups such as Islamic
NGOs refuse all religious labels (Mara Vitale) in order to attract a maximum of
resources from international and secular sponsors. As we can see, long is the list
of “cases” which are difficult to classify.
This issue does not intend to come up with an illusory solution to these clas-
sifications. Rather, its ambition is to highlight the difficulties, and to remind us
of the pluralism and fluidity of Islamic practices, which demonstrate the limita-
tions and pitfalls inherent in every definition. Each author will show the obsta-
cles connected to the categories employed, seeking to describe the complex-
ity of conceptualizing religious actors by means of a simplifying terminology.
Certainly, other works and articles have already addressed this question (Burgat
1988), but it has been useful to put together a special issue on this subject in
order to tackle the problem head on.

The Origins of the Problem

I started questioning the Islamic categories beginning with my initial articles

on Islam in Senegal. From the 1990s I studied a Senegalese Islamic movement
which was an offshoot of the Tijaniyyah and, more specifically, of the brother-
hood branch of Tivaouane (a holy city of the tariqah1 in this country). However,
this religious group, familiarly called the Moustarchidine movement,2 had been
founded and led by a spiritual guide (Moustapha Sy) who had broken away
from his family hierarchy, seeking to both distance himself from it and draw on
its legitimacy. Beside the quarrels with his relatives in Tivaouane, which were
confined to the press, his independence took specific forms: the movement’s
established presence in towns and cities (essentially in Dakar); the search for an
audience made up of young city dwellers; a new discourse for the improvement

1. The Arabic term for an Islamic brotherhood (plural: turuq).

2. The movement’s actual name is Dahiratoul Moustarchidina wal Moustarchidaty.
CLASSIFICATIONS OF ISLAM V

of urban morals; followed by political involvement through the creation of a

party (the PUR) and the marabout’s candidacy in the first round of the 2000
presidential election. I was therefore dealing with an Islamic organization which
still claimed to be part of Tijaniyyah, but which refused its elders’ way of “do-
ing religion.” It enjoyed the mystical aura of its leader, while at the same time
emphasizing, not unlike the so-called reformist groups of Senegal, the close-
ness between the spiritual guide and his disciples (talibés).3 It moreover wanted
to acquire a social and political dimension. Having started a new Islamic ap-
proach in Senegal and a profound transformation of the brotherhood system in
that country, the Moustarchidine movement was becoming hard to define using
the analytical tools which pertained to the more traditional Sufi movements. I
therefore ended up calling them a “neobrotherhood,” the only category which
seemed to illustrate the internal dynamics existing within the maraboutic world
of that time (Samson 2005).
“Neobrotherhood,” a term that Olivier Roy (2002) was one of the first to
use, pertains, according to the author, to those religious groups which claim
to be part of Sufi organizations but which “recruit according to modern forms
of religiosity (individualization, globalization) and no longer go through an
initiatory process, as is the case with the classic brotherhoods” (Roy 2002,
126–131; Coulon 2002, 23). To this definition one must add the political and
social dimensions of these Islamic movements, as well as a new discourse on
the decadence of today’s world, to which Islamization and/or re-Islamization
(the reactivation of Muslims’ fervor) are the only answer. However, the term
“neobrotherhood”—which took its inspiration from the “neo-Christian” groups
that abound in the evangelical world—is not without its problems. Brotherhoods
are not all the same throughout the Muslim world and they have been through
many internal evolutions and transformations. What, then, should we call the
future mutations of these movements that are already classified as “neo-?” This
question poses a challenge to specialists.
My own studies on various other Islamic groups of young urban Senegalese—
this time offshoots of the Muridiyyah who nevertheless took a lot of their inspi-
ration from the Moustarchidine—reinforced my intuition about a new religious
current in this country. Today, those who make the news in Senegal are these
“marabouts for the young,”4 who are very worldly and strongly involved in pol-
itics, and who often inhabit the public space in an ostentatious way. Criticized
by their elders for their lack of orthodoxy, they seek to exist in an original
religious autonomy. Some make music, others engage in politics or organize
large-scale social actions, while some are licensed matchmakers. They all want
to distinguish themselves from the others, but their common discourse is the
moralization (Islamization) of the country.

3. The Arabic term for a religious brotherhood follower.

4. This phrase is commonly used in Senegal to designate these religious leaders.
VI FABIENNE SAMSON

In what way are these movements original? Reform attempts have always
existed within Islam, both in the Sufi world and other movements. As Ousmane
Kane shows in this issue, great reformers within West African brotherhoods
wanted, well before colonization, to return Islam to an imagined original
purity. For this purpose, some led political struggles and founded Islamic states
(Uthman dan Fodio, El Hadj Omar Tall, and so forth). From this point of view,
the current reform movements within the Senegalese maraboutic brotherhoods
offer nothing new. They plan to organize society around Islamic values as they
conceive them. Their objective, as with many of their illustrious ancestors, is
to Islamize their environment, even if that means using political means to fur-
ther their ends (even though most of them do not really want to take power).
Nevertheless, these new groups distinguish themselves on several levels. First
of all, they are different with regard to their political positioning: they often
contest the established political regimes, while their forerunners, at least once
the country won its independence, were, with very few exceptions, legalists.
Secondly, they stand out above all through their rhetoric, in which they do
not hesitate to borrow their references from different Islamic registers. Thus,
the Moustarchidine movement, to return to this example, draws abundantly
on Salafism. Its leader gains his legitimacy from his maraboutic charisma and
the supernatural gifts associated with it; he has criticized believers’ excessive
devotion toward brotherhood guides, and has declared himself equal with his
disciples, with his own place in paradise not, according to him, guaranteed. He
has criticized the worship of saints and the marabouts’ non-Islamic practices
(Samson 2005) and, in 1990, declared that his friends were members of the
Algerian FIS and the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt. His political strategy is the
Islamization from the bottom of society up, but he did not hesitate in founding
a political party and standing for election (in 2000) in order to assert his ideas
in the political debate. Another distinctive characteristic of this movement is its
followers’ diverse opinions on subjects such as secularism, the implementation
of sharia, or the creation of an Islamic state. Some are much more radical than
others. Their spiritual guide, Moustapha Sy, remains evasive on these issues.
But they all see their movement as a project for an egalitarian society, which
contrasts with the hierarchical system that dominates religious brotherhoods.
Besides, according to Ousmane Kane (2005, 11), this is where the success of
these movements, which have sprung from Senegalese turuq, lies: in this coun-
try—unlike Mali or Northern Nigeria—they have been able to curb the expan-
sion of reformist movements “which have turned the egalitarian discourse into
their leitmotif.”
This analytical complexity, which defies all usual categories, is what gave
the idea for this issue. It will be centered on sub-Saharan Africa, but will also
open toward the Maghreb and France to enable comparisons that are indispen-
sable to the decompartmentalization of Islam’s image outside the Orient. By
questioning the analytical categories, we will effectively also need to review the
too commonly accepted representation of a central Islam (in the Arab world)
CLASSIFICATIONS OF ISLAM VII

and a peripheral Islam (in the rest of the world). The articles on France and
Morocco will allow us to show that researchers are presented with the same
difficulties as those working on Islam south of the Sahara since the Islamic
dynamics are the same. Furthermore, the choice of articles has centered, at first
without meaning to, on Francophone countries. This does not mean that Islam
in Anglophone countries does not encounter the same issues, but the advantage,
if ever there was one, is that we can make comparisons between sub-Saharan
countries sharing the same colonial logic.

The Categories: What Are We Talking About?

Alongside mystical or Sufi Islam, reform movements within Islam grew in scale
during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. During this period, the Muslim
world saw its military force contested for the first time, eventually leading to the
fall of the Ottoman Empire in 1920. Wahhabism (Muhammad ibn al Wahhab,
1705–1792) was born at this point in the Arabian desert, in an attempt to con-
struct a strict and puritan form of Islam. This movement advocated a return
to moral values, which translated into the banning of saint worship, mosque
decorations, music, poetry, and tomb prayers. It was very successful in the
nineteenth century and has inspired numerous fundamentalist groups (which
seek to return to the founding texts alone) (Roy 1995). Faced with Western
colonial conquest, two distinct schools of thought developed. Liberals thought
that Islam as a political system was the reason for the Islamic societies’ defeat.
They preached the Westernization of people’s ways of life. Reformists, for their
part, refused this pejorative connotation of Islam and applied themselves to
assimilating Western (essentially technical) modernity into their religion. The
return to the Prophet’s tradition had to allow for modernity. Muhammad Abduh
(1849–1905) was behind the movement known as salafiyyah (return to ances-
tors), which was taken up and developed by Rashid Rida (1865–1935), who
fought against customary law, maraboutism, the ulama tradition, Sufism, and
the four schools of Islamic law.
Faced with Western domination, many young people in the Arab countries
developed an affirmation of their national and Islamic identity, which became
their battle cry against colonization. However, the newly gained independence
saw new leaders being rapidly promoted and then quickly accused of playing
into the hands of the West; in the 1970s, political Islamic movements began
opposing the established regimes. Hassan al-Banna, an Egyptian schoolteacher
(1906–1949), and Abu al-Ala Mawdudi, an Indian essayist (1903–1979), were
the initiators of all these movements. Al-Banna formed the Muslim Brotherhood,
and Mawdudi the Jama‘at-i Islami. They both advocated a social reorganiza-
tion based on Islamic states, criticized nationalism, and aspired to build a great
ummah. Islam was to become a third way between capitalism and socialism.
While fundamentalism is not a political ideology, radicalism (the return to the
VIII FABIENNE SAMSON

roots) (Étienne 1987) introduced radical political action linked to the conquest
of the state, since sharia can only be implemented in a truly Islamized state.
In sub-Saharan Africa, even though Islamic states had already existed
(Ousmane Kane), the introduction of political Islamic ideas (stemming from
al-Banna and Mawdudi) happened too soon and was often linked to the ques-
tion of Arabization (Otayek 1993). This became an important objective for the
moral and identity rearmament in the face of the European school, becoming
at the same time an instrument in the political struggle. To this day, Arabizing
intellectuals in many countries find themselves in direct competition with Sufi
brotherhood guides; faced with the traditional legitimacy of the latter, they look
for their source of legitimacy in their knowledge. However, as many articles in
this issue will show, the boundaries between these different groups are blurred
and fluid. Also, at times, the best interests of a country’s unified ummah lead
these Islamic actors to collaborate within the same groups.
The various Islamic reforms are each linked to the particular context of a
country. Thus, elements such as whether Islam is in a majority or a minority,
whether brotherhoods have a significantly greater or smaller number of follow-
ers, and whether politicians acknowledge Muslim actors’ demands all have an
impact on the evolution and radicalization of each individual Islamic group.
Nevertheless, transversal trends do develop thanks to the mobility of the faith-
ful, the references to a globalized Islam, and similar aspirations to moralize/
re-Islamize societies.

Sufism/Reformism: Where Does the Boundary Lie?

In the world of brotherhoods, the current spiritual guides are all, irrespective of
the sub-Saharan country we look at, confronted with very strong competition
linked to an increase in the number of turuq founding fathers’ descendants.
They are all legitimate by virtue of the baraka inherited from their ancestors
and they all need to stand out in order to recruit followers and exist on the local
religious scene. This situation exists both in Senegal and Burkina Faso. Thus,
Mara Vitale paints the picture of several Sufi guides who, in order to distinguish
themselves, redefine their role as preachers and aspire to a new civil society.
Sheikh Bandé of the League of Muslim Women and Youth, Sheikh Ouedraogo
and his many humanitarian associations, or Sheikh Doukouré and his Ittihad
Islami association represent, like Moustapha Sy in Senegal, these new figures in
Burkina. Having broken with the traditions of their maraboutic families, while
at the same time maintaining close ties with them (so as to maintain their legiti-
macy), some have renounced the worship of saints and grave visits. They wish
to simplify the relations between sheikh (spiritual guide) and disciples (talibés),
and they no longer speak of Sufi mysticism, but rather explain how to apply the
Koranic message to day-to-day life. Some even seek to construct an “African
Islam” freed from Arab cultural connotations and integrated into the African
CLASSIFICATIONS OF ISLAM IX

context, while at the same time preserving the purity of the Koranic message.
Others have caused Sufism to evolve into a secularized, socially engaged re-
ligious form, stripped of its mystical character. They have become veritable
religious entrepreneurs constantly seeking support funds from Arab sponsors in
order to build health, university, and media centers.
These are the means they have found in order to stand out and make them-
selves popular with an audience made up of young people, women, and believ-
ers not affiliated with any brotherhood. These new leaders effectively reject
any reference to Sufism in the names of their organizations in order to attract
financial aid from Arab countries and recruit more than just disciples of their
original tariqah.
Standing out is also the principal concern of Chérif Ousmane Madani
Haïdara, founder of a movement known was Ansar Dine (those who help reli-
gion), which is very popular in Mali and is analyzed in this issue by Gilles
Holder. This religious guide and great orator oscillates between a popular form
of Islam, mystical practices, and reformism, which makes him a special charac-
ter on the Malian Islamic scene.
Although trained at a madrasah (Koranic school) run by the Tijaniyyah, his
father’s brotherhood, Haïdara has rejected the religious establishment based on
a traditional heritage and become the preacher or guide of “the voiceless, the
illiterate, and the outlaws of society.” A self-made man, he draws his legiti-
macy from a supposedly original baraka passed on directly from the Prophet,
casts himself as a reformer and an enemy of the Salafi-inspired Sunni reform-
ists, and criticizes the brotherhood lineages while at the same time remaining
loyal to the Maliki rite. The Islam he defends comes in the shape of a religious
group which is very well structured at a national level and has international
branches. He enjoys a certain mystical aura which followers ascribe to him,
at the same time as denouncing maraboutism. Preaching is his credo (his ser-
mons bring thousands of followers together) and he distinguishes himself by
using the national languages of Mali to spread Islam. His objective, not unlike
Sheikh Doukouré in Burkina Faso and his desire to create an African Islam, is
to propagate a universal Islam stripped of its Arab references. His other battle
is his disciples’ reaffirmation of their Muslim identity. This identity cannot just
be inherited; it has to be confirmed (in the Christian sense of the term) through
a daily engagement with Islam made concrete by the bayah oath (Islamic oath).
In actual fact, this bayah has a twofold character and is quite restrictive. It is
made up of a first oath, which is very common in the Sufi practices of West
Africa, but which the Ansar Dine use to pledge allegiance toward the religion
of Islam rather than their spiritual guide. Through this practice, Haïdara comes
close to Sunni reform rejecting all intermediaries (sheikhs) between believer
and God. However, the second bayah oath takes us back to the Sufi brother-
hoods since it consists of a follower pledging allegiance to the movement and
its guide, Haïdara himself. Thus, as Gilles Holder explains, this second bayah
“reintroduces in a central way the charismatic power” of the religious guide.
X FABIENNE SAMSON

However, since he does not belong to any specific brotherhood claiming direct
descent from the Prophet, Haïdara casts himself as the real sheikh, the only one
able to guide people toward the true path of Islam.
The boundaries between Sufism and reformism are equally blurred in
Niger. Abdoulaye Sounaye looks into the Izala movement, which is known
for spreading a strict form of Islam, and two organizations created after 2000
that have sprung from it (Kitab wa Sunna and Ihyau Sunna). He shows how
the leaders of these two groups—reformist Islamic voices with a strongly anti-
Sufi discourse—take their inspiration in their re-Islamization project from
the nineteenth century’s Uthman dan Fodio and his jihad. Uthman dan Fodio
(1754–1817), a central figure of the Sokoto Caliphate and a follower of the
Qadiriyya Sufi brotherhood, has become, for these antibrotherhood Muslims,
a “lieu de mémoire,” a site of memory. Muslim activists revisit his work and
rewrite history in order to turn him into a hero of the spreading of Islam in
West Africa. Thus, even though the Izala movement wishes to establish a real
Islamic state in Niger and fights against the current regime—which it believes
it to be not Islamic enough and too Westernized—in this example, the Sufi/anti-
Sufi dichotomy reveals its limits. The rigidity of classifications does not help
us understand this particular case where a group, which is radically opposed
to Sufism—considered as bid‘a (forbidden Islamic innovation)—and fights to
spread the sunna (prophetic tradition), takes a brotherhood leader as its founding
hero. However, by their rereading of history, the Izala see in Uthman dan Fodio
a defender of the sunna, which he apparently sought to implement within an
unfavorable context. By opposing the ulama of his time and the religious elites
who supported the king of Gobir—who, according to them, took anti-Islamic
measures and deceived the population—Uthman dan Fodio has become, for the
current Islamic activists, a defender of Islam and promoter of a pious life. His
reform has been justified by the moral corruption of his time, which is compared
to the present time, while he has become the ideal representation of a “good
leader,” a man of action who transformed his community and showed that a truly
Islamic community after the one created by the Prophet is perfectly conceivable.

Whither Reformism?

As shown by several other articles in this issue, the boundaries between the
various Islamic trends are blurred. What of the highly polysemic issue of re-
formism?
Maud Saint-Lary describes the emergence of “new Islamic thinkers” in
Burkina Faso. They employ a discourse in favor of a modernity characterized
by a desire for individual freedom in religious practice, while at the same time
expressing mistrust toward Western culture. She explains that the reformist cat-
egory covers two accepted meanings in that country: there are those who go
for a literal reading of the sacred texts, who are commonly known as Salafists
CLASSIFICATIONS OF ISLAM XI

or Wahhabis, and who identify with the Sunni movement; and those who do
not claim to belong to any group but who, through their practices, way of life,
and dress, adopt the Wahhabi “markers.” Thus, she notes that several charac-
teristics, which until recently were the exclusive domain of the most rigorist of
Muslims, are today spreading among simple believers. The rejection of ostenta-
tious ceremonies, the criticism of Sufism, the wearing of beards by men and of
veils by women, praying with crossed arms, and so forth are all features which
were initially classified as Wahhabi, but which are now being taken up by many
Muslims who are “without movement.” This generic reformism, as she calls
it (the term was inspired by Jean-Louis Triaud), allows us to understand that
many Burkinan believers reclaim these markers for pragmatic rather than ideo-
logical reasons. The rejection of Sufism is, in their case, linked to a desire to
create a unified ummah; the rejection of ostentatious ceremonies is explained
by a desire to fight against an expensive life; bodily markers (beard, veil) reveal
the intention to express one’s (non-Wahhabi) Islamic identity and are a fashion
phenomenon. Ultimately, it is all a question of degree and intensity between
strict reformists and the others. For example, while Wahhabi women wear
the full veil, the women of this particular Islamic revival show their faces and
refuse to wear black gloves.
The spread of a puritanical Islam among Muslims who do not follow
extremist movements is the manifest sign of a desire to moralize society through
believers who are individualistic in their practice and develop their own selves.
Their main concern is to know how to be a “good Muslim.”
Denise Brégand has noted similar things in Benin. The Ahalli Sunna, the
“people of the tradition” (the equivalent of the Sunni movement in Burkina
Faso), are re-Islamization actors who are very much involved in the dawah
(preaching), though this name brings together various concepts. She notes that
“more than a movement, it is a process reaching many believers.” Some of
them, like in Burkina Faso, are literalists, while others accept the interpreta-
tion of the Koran. Some reject the notion of reform as they believe they clarify
rather than transform Islam, while others accept reform as a sign of moder-
nity. Some follow a very puritanical practice and strict way of life, prescribing
the reclusion and full veil for women, while others are socially involved, with
women campaigning for the right to work and to choose their husband. There
are numerous examples showing the heterogeneity and permeability of this cat-
egory. As in Burkina Faso, the Ahalli Sunna inspire many believers who do not
see themselves as their followers, but who adopt some of their characteristics.
Once again, it is a question of degree.
Irrespective of their level of involvement, these Islamic revival actors in
Benin are centered on the idea that Islam must be a life choice rather than a
heritage. Most of them do not know the great reform thinkers (Rashid Rida and
so forth) but they all refuse certain cultural practices (such as the anniversary of
a death on the eighth and fortieth day) or magical (maraboutic) practices. They
are all engaged in a process of re-Islamization of their environment that takes on
XII FABIENNE SAMSON

various aspects: education, sermons, social actions, aiding the poorest, visiting
prisoners, and so forth. They all seek in their own way to conform to the image
of a pious and respectful Muslim they construe from the Koranic texts.

Youth and Reformism

The desire to moralize society and the personal quest to be a “good Muslim”
evolve with time, as Marie Nathalie LeBlanc explains. The author raises the
question of the link between youth (who are juniors within society) and Islamic
reform, and shows how the logic of the “reform of the self” and of society
changes with each period. In the case of Côte d’Ivoire, she compares young
people’s activism in the 1990s to that in the 2000s, when its society was deeply
affected by the political crisis. What these two groups of youths have in com-
mon is a desire to return to Islamic practices and beliefs, the elimination of inno-
vations, and the rejection of local customs. Both groups have believed that the
Islamization or re-Islamization of the Ivorian society is the answer to the loss of
faith and the failure of modernity, politics, and the economy. Nevertheless, the
young people of the 1990s were very much involved in association activism,
seeking to develop new forms of social control. Activism was an expression
of their faith. Young people in the 2000s are no longer activist, as the associa-
tions have been damaged by the political crisis. Today, as the author notes, the
spiritual quest is more individualized. Young people seek to become closer to
God, like their predecessors, while at the same time remaining anchored in day-
to-day life. The Internet has replaced the associations and, thanks to informal
discussion groups, chats, and Islamic forums, young people can express their
religious experiences, perceptions, and opinions. The necessity to moralize so-
ciety is moving toward a quest for personal fulfillment and it is through their
own knowledge that young people hope to change society. Islam has become
a consumer product (Islamic fashion, dress style, behavior, and so forth), thus
taking part in a “globalized youth culture.” These young Muslims of the 2000s
are religious entrepreneurs (Haenni 2005): many of them do Islamic business
(they “sell Islam” in the form of clothes and other Islamic objects, or as mara-
bouts, healers, djinn hunters, and so forth); the professional ambitions of others
lie within the advancement of Islam (for example, the sale of Islamic clothes al-
lows them to hope that they can rectify Muslims’ practices). Islam is an integral
part of their day-to-day life and remains an essential preoccupation, but follows
the dictates of a moral economy.
Ashley Leinweber, too, has noted the importance of the generational issue
in the perception of Islam in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Muslims there
are in a minority but they are extremely divided doctrinally. Far from the simple
Sufism/reformism dichotomy, the author points out the various causes of this
Islamic pluralism. She finds that the generational problems are central to under-
standing these internal divisions.
CLASSIFICATIONS OF ISLAM XIII

In the various provinces of the drc, important historical conflicts divide the
Muslim community despite attempts at achieving unity similar to those seen in
Burkina Faso. However, the characteristics of Islam in this country are as far
removed as possible from those of Islam in West Africa, where Sufis are some-
times associated with local syncretic practices and the members of reformist
movements are trained abroad. In the drc, in the Maniema region for example,
it is the turuq members, known as Sufis, who serve as strangers. Arriving in
the 1920 and 1930s, the brotherhoods (essentially the Qadiriyya) came from
Zanzibar and were very badly perceived by the Belgian colonial authorities.
Their disciples are generally descendants of “Swahili Arabs.” They are Arabized
and considered, to this day, to be non-natives. On the other hand, those known
as Tawahidi, who are associated with a reformist Islamic trend, are portrayed as
natives of this country. Thus, they preach in the local language so that followers
can understand the Koranic message. Turuq members preach in Arabic only. The
conflict between these two communities is reflected in the fact that prayers are
held in different mosques, with the Tawahidi believing that the Sufi rituals are
imbued with bid‘a. They criticize them for celebrating the birth of the Prophet
(mawlid), for practicing dhikrs (the invocation of God’s names), and so forth.
Over and above the doctrinal differences and origins ascribed to the follow-
ers of one group or another, the internal divisions between the drc Muslims are
linked to several factors which keep occurring in the country’s various prov-
inces. First of all, there are leadership problems between those who are Arabized
and those who are not, that is—over and above those who are considered as
locals or strangers—between those who have studied in their country and those
who have been trained in the Arab countries. There is also the question of the
place of Islam in the public space. Faced with domination by Christian schools
and aid organizations, some Muslims would like Islam to take part in the devel-
opment of the drc, accusing traditionalists of being too withdrawn into their
community and of not having the ambition to give a social dimension to Islam.
One of the primary causes of this misunderstanding is, however, generational.
The younger ones denounce the elders’ monopoly over the management of their
mosques, condemning them for their lack of open mindedness which, according
to them, is the source of divisions within the community and Islam’s lack of vis-
ibility in the national public space. Ashley Leinweber cites the work of Hamzati
Oyoko (1998), according to which the problems of the Muslims in the drc are
explained by the power conflict between “the ruling conservative class, made up
mostly of old people, and the class of young people, who represent the force of
change and reflect the aspirations of a very large majority.”

Islam and Politics

This debate over the right terminology designating Islamic groups is due to
the variety of Islamic movements. Each one creates its own doctrine, its own
XIV FABIENNE SAMSON

specific religious, social, and political ideas within a given historical and na-
tional context. Each believes they have found the right way to God and criti-
cizes the others for the errors in their analyses. Faced with this multitude of
directions, researchers and their classifications attempt to establish a conceptual
basis which would allow them to situate Islamic actors in relation to each other.
However, irrespective of the imperfections of any of their categorizations, they
are confronted with various pitfalls in which they could easily lose themselves.
In what way is contemporary “Islamism” new? This is a question raised
by Ousmane Kane, who shows the errors that can be committed by researchers
who are too attached to the concepts they devise. In his article, the author shows
the similarities between the political Islamic movements of previous centuries
(from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century), taking the example of West
Africa, and the militant Islamic movements of today. Thus, he establishes that
limiting the term “Islamism” to the current context does not allow us to gain a
historical perspective of the more or less radical groups of today, who see Islam
as a political and social program. The jihadis of the previous centuries fought
against social injustice and Western domination, and wanted to create a society
based on the laws and values of Islam. The current so-called Islamist move-
ments, which are very different in character and the strategies they employ,
have exactly the same objectives. While they take their inspiration from twen-
tieth-century ideologies (socialism, constitutionalism, third worldism), they are
also part of a long historical process, being inspired by their elders who have led
similar battles in previous centuries.
Ousmane Kane also shows that the Salafist/Sufi opposition makes no sense
today, any more than it did in the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries, since many
Muslim brotherhoods have always held reformist views and some have even
fought against the dominant political regimes. Finally—and in agreement with
the point of view argued in all the articles of this issue—past or present politi-
cal Islamic movements should always be placed in their proper context since
their radicalization depends on their relationship with the established political
order. Thus, if we leave aside the alarming way in which Islam and its political
actors are portrayed by the Western media, not all so-called “Islamist” groups
are essentially violent, but rather are pragmatic and adapt to the sociopolitical
environment.
Following the same line of thought, Mame-Penda Ba explains that within the
current Senegalese Islamic landscape, which is largely dominated by Sufi broth-
erhoods, Islamic reformism wants to establish a true Islamic society. However,
behind the unifying concept of “fundamentalism” (the return to the founding
texts of Islam), the Sunni movement (not to be confused with the vast majority
of Senegalese Muslims being Sunni as opposed to Shi‘ite), otherwise known as
Ahl al-Sunna,5 is characterized by a mosaic of small groups expounding various
and even opposed doctrines. Therefore, the problem of classification arises. The

5. As we have already seen, we find the same name in Burkina Faso and Benin.
CLASSIFICATIONS OF ISLAM XV

author shows the dangers of creating a pseudo-class (“Islamism”) that is sup-

posed to explain the variety within this phenomenon, of “conceptual stretching,”
or of an overly broad classification that includes very different groups under
the same name. She warns researchers against a desire to establish universal
concepts, reminding them of the need to contextualize each of them by taking
into account the social, political, and economic transformations in each country.
In Senegal, while no group calls itself Islamist, the Ahl al-Sunna category
is rich and diverse. All those who recognize themselves in this terminology
share a doctrinal fundamentalism, an imagined Islam (including the idea that
the modern period is decadent, non-Islamic), and a political utopia based on the
concept of a universal and total Islam (it must encompass all the aspects of the
believers’ lives and society). They all share a way of dressing (veil for women,
beard and short trousers for men, and so forth) and a way of behaving (a ban on
shaking hands with the opposite sex, praying with crossed arms, and so forth).
They do not belong to any brotherhood and employ an anti-Western, anti-Sufi,
and antisecular discourse. Nevertheless, these actors differ in terms of their
means of action, their objectives, and their rhetoric. Some want to take power
in order to change society and act accordingly (political parties and so on);
others defy power, which they see as ungodly, and hope to see the advent, one
day, of a truly Islamized society; still others tolerate the established regimes and
devote themselves to the dawah (preaching) in order to Islamize society. Thus,
Mame-Penda Ba suggests three groups which could represent the Ahl al-Sunna
movement in Senegal:
–– The modernizing reformers have been fighting since the colonial period
against maraboutism, the ignorance of the masses, destitution, “the exploita-
tion of man by man.” They defend the teaching of Arabic. After independence
(1960), the group split in two: those who tolerated secular state politics and
focused on the moral, educational, and cultural sphere, and the more radical
ones who wanted to be independent from power, questioning the social order.
–– The pietist and conservative Salafists declare themselves to be apolitical.
They do not want to take power but engage in dawah, the moralization of cus-
toms, social aid, proselytism, and education. Their goal is to correct the beliefs
and practices of their coreligionists. Theirs is a rigid, strict concept of Islam and
they believe in a literalist reading of the sacred texts.
–– The political fundamentalists or the Islamists advocate reform that is not
only moral but also political, and their objective is a takeover based on the
Koran and the sunna. Besides their doctrinal fundamentalism and their desire to
build an Islamic society, they distinguish themselves by a real desire to adopt
power (unlike other Islamic actors, such as Sufi guides, who engage in politics
in order to dominate the debate, but not out of a desire to lead).
While, as this article shows, political Islamic actors in Senegal adopt vari-
ous strategies and different types of action and rhetoric, this “Islamist” plural-
ism can equally be seen in Morocco. By taking the example of the Moroccan
Justice and Development Party (pjd), Haoues Seniguer explains the difficulties
XVI FABIENNE SAMSON

encountered when naming the groups that employ the language of political
Islam. Citing Olivier Roy (1995), he reminds us that the emergence of Islamic
radicalism in the 1980s led, in France in particular, to the construction of the
subject of “Islamism.” This term designates those movements which explicitly
consider Islam as a political ideology. However, this designation is unable to
disentangle the diversity of the many trends within this whole, or their evolution
and mutation on the social and political scene. The categories of “Islamic totali-
tarianism” or “radical Islam” offer a frozen representation of these socioreli-
gious phenomena, essentializing them while failing to take into account the
complexity of the individual and collective trajectories of the actors within them.
As Haoues Seniguer notes, there are various Islamisms and Islamists, who are
part of the general movement of history and the upheaval which their societies
undergo. Once again, contextualizing the concepts we use is of the essence.
In order to give substance to his observations, the author retraces the itinerary
of the Moroccan pjd, showing how the passage to politics and the exercise of
public mandates led to a secularization of the ideology of this religious party,
which was forced to critically examine itself and the actions of its leaders, who
were once confined to violence and clandestine living. The birth of La Jeunesse
islamique (Islamic Youth), a politicized association founded in 1969, caused a
rupture in the Moroccan approach to Islam. It directed its actions against the
central, albeit Islamic, government, denying its right to speak in the name of
Islam. Established in towns and cities, this association sought to re-Islamize
society and create what it held to be a truly Islamic state. After it was accused
of the murder of a left-wing trade unionist, it was disavowed by the regime and
several of its activists were jailed. In the face of repression, some of its leaders
founded Jamaat al-Islamiyya, from which the pjd stemmed in 1998. In order
to obtain a new respectability and legality, the party left behind its putschist
origins and recognized democracy. It presented itself as a classic party whose
references were primarily political, while religion became an added bonus, a
guarantee of its leaders’ morals and ethics. It no longer demanded the creation
of an Islamic state and recognized the status of the king as commander of the
faithful. Thus, as stressed by Ferjani (cited by Haoues Seniguer), the degree
of reformism pertaining to one movement depends on the interaction between
social and political forces within which it evolves. In the case of the pjd, its
leaders strove to improve its negative image and to make it respectable and
normal. Their legitimization strategy is based on the idea that one has to first
re-Islamize the Moroccan society (from the bottom up) and the latter would, in
turn, demand religiously stricter laws from the public authorities. Their radi-
cal discourse became merely a moralizing one centered on the demand that
the laws of the country conform to the Islamic values. These tactics produced
results, with the pjd winning the last legislative elections (2011) and obtaining
many seats in the Moroccan parliament.
The passage from radicalism to a legitimist position is also analyzed by
Zekeria Ould Ahmed Salem, who shows the extent to which, in Mauritania, the
CLASSIFICATIONS OF ISLAM XVII

radicalism of Muslim activists is conditioned by their—sometimes conflictual,

sometimes peaceful—relationship with those in power.
The presence of the aqmi movement in Mauritania could deceive a less
attentive observer initially unaware of the complexity of the political Islamic
actors in that country. In effect, in parallel with the “reradicalization” of some,
the vast majority of the Islamist movement has evolved toward a political prag-
matism which has helped it regain recognition.
At the beginning, the Islamist movement was very discreet in the country,
being made up of important business people close to the authorities, members
of Tabligh, the Muslim Brotherhood, and even antiestablishment brotherhoods.
They were not allowed to create any parties. Thus, these activists devoted
themselves to preaching and fighting against “cultural alienation” by promoting
Arabization. Zekeria Ould Ahmed Salem shows how the state’s attitude toward
them was decisive in their trajectory of radicalization and then moderation. In
1999, in order to please the United States, the Mauritanian authorities decided
to support Israel, which caused an uproar among the mainly pro-Palestinian
population. In 2003, the government suddenly banned ngos, university insti-
tutes, Islamic clubs, and associations, thus showing its commitment to the inter-
national fight against terrorism. On June 8, 2003, a foiled but bloody military
putsch was imputed to the Islamists, without a formal connection ever being
established. There followed many arrests and the exile of certain Muslim activ-
ists. A year later, a new coup attempt was again attributed to them.
On August 3, 2005, the regime was finally toppled by the army, and the
new government granted amnesty to the Islamists. The National Reform and
Development Party (rndd), an Islamist party better known as the Tawassoul
(“encounter, connection”), was recognized, winning local elections in many
towns and villages and thus taking root in the country. Faced with this new
recognition, the Tawassoul leaders declared their adherence to representative
democracy, which was the only way, according to them, to take over responsi-
bilities. Not unlike the Muslim Brotherhood, the Islamist party advocated recon-
ciliation with the authorities, even integration into the system, a “progressive”
and “process-driven” approach in its strategy to win power. From this point
on, they would refute the “all-or-nothing” attitude of certain groups and fight
against all forms of radicalization which could drive them back underground.
Beginning in 2007, the increasing number of terrorist acts and tourists killed
in Mauritania turned “moderate Salafists” into mediators with the young jihad-
ists who had been arrested. The latter were, in most cases, young Mauritanians
excluded from society and unemployed. They lived in a difficult situation and/or
were involved in crime, and they found recognition in the jihadi camps of (most
often) Algeria, where they became members of aqmi. Their crimes reflected
their anger against social injustice, the rigidity of the educational system, with
these youths seeking to justify their own violence by pointing at the violence
employed by the authorities, who had indeed gained power through the use
of weapons. Thus, their actions were directly linked to the national political
XVIII FABIENNE SAMSON

context. The Tawassoul leaders distanced themselves from them and suggested
that they debate the Koran as a way to confront their different conceptions of
Islam. For the “moderate Salafists,” who were much better educated than the
jihadists, the goal was to persuade them that theirs was the wrong interpretation
of the sacred texts and to allow them to return to moderation. However, in March
2010, even though they had initially gone along with this plan, the authorities
refused to show any clemency toward these young people, of whom many had
“repented.” They were given heavy sentences, which harmed the work done by
the Tawassoul, and the relationship of the latter with the state became strained.
Overall, though, the Mauritanian population seems to think that the jihadists are
in a minority within the political Islamic movement in this country, while the
Tawassoul leaders are gaining some sympathy as “centrist reformers.”
The picture of the relationship between Islam and politics would not be
complete if we did not also show how politics can use Islam. This is what
Doris Ehazouambela undertakes to show in the case of Gabon, describing how
President Omar Bongo’s conversion to Islam enabled his country to join the
main Islamic organizations (opep, oci, and so on) in order to gain access to the
resources of the Arab world. While the Gabonese president struggled to fin-
ish his development projects (such as the trans-Gabonese railway), his joining
Islam and pilgrimage to Mecca opened doors to all the prominent Muslim state
leaders. He was suddenly making profitable deals with the king of Morocco,
Gaddafi, the oil kingdoms of the Gulf, and initiating large projects across Gabon.
This study’s primary interest, however, is the way in which Omar Bongo sought
to disseminate Islam in his country, set a Muslim affairs policy that was useful
in controlling immigration, and proclaimed himself the general caliph of all
Gabonese Muslims, thus becoming both a “national pope” and leader of the
faithful. The Gabonese, who are mostly inclined toward a “reformist” concep-
tion of Islam acquired in the Arab countries where they did their studies, had
to accept their president’s caliphate and submit to it just like all immigrant and
native Muslims in that country. By acting in this way, Omar Bongo reinforced
his grip on the state, combining symbolic power with executive power. Since
his death, his son, also a convert, has followed in his father’s footsteps.

As we have seen, Islamic actors hardly resemble each other; they change con-
stantly, and are very much a part of their society’s environment. Whether in
the previous centuries or in our day, they are, to be sure, influenced by ide-
ologies, but they are first and foremost pragmatic. Their reasoning is realistic
and adapted to the political context in which they evolve according to their
strategies on development, local recognition, leadership competition, and re-
cruitment of new followers. This is one of the keys to understanding this abun-
dance of trends found in all of the articles brought together here. Obviously,
while Islam (and religion in general) is undergoing a globalized evolution and
CLASSIFICATIONS OF ISLAM XIX

a desire, everywhere in the world, for social moralization and “reenchantment,”

each specific Islamic group is different from the others and transcends concep-
tual boundaries since it exists in a relationship with the “world,” with other re-
ligious movements around it, and with opposing political and social forces, and
has to exist and stand out under this set of circumstances. All religious, social,
and political tactics can, in this case, be of use.

Centre for African Studies, EHESS, Paris.

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