by Dr Manzur Ejaz
Wednesday, January 18, 2006, in the Daily Times (Lahore, Pakistan)
Under the Raj class transformation in Punjab was rapid. The emergence of an urban trading class and spread of middle/petty peasantry, through the colonisation of western Punjab, ushered in a new era of competition among the various Punjabi communities. The dawn of the 20th century witnessed a diminishing of classical Punjabi Sufi thought and the emergence of Muslim Anjumans, Singh Sabhas and Hindu Mahasabhas
There may not be a technical argument for the construction of Kalabagh Dam (KBD) worth alienating an oppressed nationality or ethnic minority. And the people of Punjab need solidarity with the Sindhi people more than a dam whose benefits may never materialise or trickle-down to them.
However, this does not mean that unanimity of thought among people of various nationalities is a requirement. The Sindhis claim, for example, that while they follow Sufism — a milder and more liberal tradition of Islam — Punjabis are inherently fundamentalists. But such a distinction between Punjabis and Sindhis may not stand the test of history. Religious fundamentalism appears to be a function of social change rather than an inherent characteristic of any society. It was while contemplating this issue that an old discussion with Boota Sain came to my mind.
Returning from my village, I was excitedly describing the modernisation in rural areas that had taken place in the last few decades. I was impressed by the way every modern facility — sewerage, electricity, phone, cable TV, wireless — had reached far off rural areas. Boota Sain, sitting quietly in a corner, innocently asked a rather odd question “Are the Sunnis of your village and family divorcing their Shia wives?”
I felt offended and asked myself why I tolerated such illiterate and abrupt people around me. To keep my cool I said “Bootia, there is no connection between the village making progress and the Shia-Sunni conflict which is mostly a doing of Zia ul Haq and the mullahs.”
Realising my suppressed anger, Boota Sain lowered his eyes, and said “Rab da bhana inj hoya (God willed it this way), that Mullahs’ control of the society was initiated by our beloved Bhutto, followed by Zia ul Haq and their successors. Zia looked like a powerful player but he was just a puppet controlled from behind the scene. The same forces led to Sant Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale (1947-1984) and his fundamentalist Khalistani movement and Vajpayee and his extreme conservative Hindutva counter-revolution.”
I do not know what metaphysical entity or theory Boota Sain was referring to but I suddenly saw a connection in the simultaneous rise of fundamentalism in Muslims, Sikhs and Hindus in the northern part of the sub-continent. The proximity in geography and time further intrigued me: the emergence of religious extremism in north India (including Pakistan) within a few decades could not be ignored. I also realised that sectarianism and religious intolerance has been much more prevalent in the cities than in the villages. Earlier a Sufi streak of religion was much more common in the Punjab.
In dusty old villages, reading Sufi poetry and qissas (folk tales) was a common pastime. Waris Shah, Bulleh Shah, Maulvi Ghulam Rasool and other Sufi thinkers were popular readings in most Punjabi households. There used to be professional Heer singers along with those who specialised in rendering kafis, dohras and folk tales. Qawalis were the favourite occasion of gathering. And people used to see everything in the Sufi perspective: even the romantic folk tale of Heer Ranjha was understood to be a dialogue between the body and the spirit.
Till the 1960s, the intellectual discourse was predominantly Sufi; the Shia-Sunni conflict was almost non-existent in the villages. Many Sunnis used to visit Imam Bargahs during the first 10 days of Muharram. In cities like Lahore Sunnis used to offer sabeels (drinks) to Shia mourners. Shia-Sunni marriages were common.
However, during my recent visits I have seen both Sunni mosques and Imam Bargahs being protected by police at prayer times. One cannot rule out the possibility that the vice of sectarianism reached the villages along with the instruments of modernity. In some strange manner, sectarian hatred has accompanied tractors, TVs and electricity. It can be postulated that fundamentalism is more closely associated with mechanisation, commercialisation and urbanisation of society than the inherent genius of a nationality. Boota Sain has a point.
Punjab, accused today of supporting religious fundamentalism, produced more Sufi thinkers from the 16th to the 19th century than any other north Indian region. The roots of communalism and sectarianism can be traced back to the British Raj.
It appears that under the Raj class transformation in Punjab was much more rapid than in other north Indian regions. The emergence of an urban trading class and spread of middle/petty peasantry, through the colonisation of western Punjab, ushered in a new era of competition among the various Punjabi communities. The dawn of the 20th century witnessed a diminishing of classical Punjabi Sufi thought and the emergence of Muslim Anjumans, Singh Sabhas and Hindu Mahasabhas. The tragedy of 1947 partition was in the making much earlier before it actually happened.
After 1947, the three-way rivalry among Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs subsided. However, with the Green Revolution in East Punjab, the Sikh-Hindu collision manifested itself in the bloody Khalistan movement. The Green Revolution in Pakistani Punjab, and to an extent in North West Frontier Province, led to similar tensions in the form of the anti-Ahmedi movement and later on in the Shia-Sunni conflict.
Similar socio-economic changes in the rest of northern India gave birth to Hindu fundamentalism in the form of Hindutva. While many other factors may have played a secondary role, modernisation has been the common denominator in the rise of religious fundamentalism in north India.
Sindh and southern Punjab, dominated by a feudalism and tribalism, have not experienced the rise of competitive middle classes; or their size and influence has been quite limited. As a result, the traditional mode of thinking, expressed through Sufism, has maintained its predominance. Of course, the teaching of the mother tongue has helped the Sindhis keep their traditions alive but that has not been the determining factor. Had it been so, Sikh and Hindu fundamentalism could not have emerged because the use of the mother tongue in the respective areas was not disrupted.
The question is: will Sindh and southern Punjab stick to traditional modes of thinking if feudalism is eliminated and competitive middle classes emerge?
The writer can be reached at manzurejaz@yahoo.com
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
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Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Modernity and fundamentalism [in Sind and the Southern Punjab, with some notes on Sufism ]
by Dr Manzur Ejaz
Wednesday, January 18, 2006, in the Daily Times (Lahore, Pakistan)
Under the Raj class transformation in Punjab was rapid. The emergence of an urban trading class and spread of middle/petty peasantry, through the colonisation of western Punjab, ushered in a new era of competition among the various Punjabi communities. The dawn of the 20th century witnessed a diminishing of classical Punjabi Sufi thought and the emergence of Muslim Anjumans, Singh Sabhas and Hindu Mahasabhas
There may not be a technical argument for the construction of Kalabagh Dam (KBD) worth alienating an oppressed nationality or ethnic minority. And the people of Punjab need solidarity with the Sindhi people more than a dam whose benefits may never materialise or trickle-down to them.
However, this does not mean that unanimity of thought among people of various nationalities is a requirement. The Sindhis claim, for example, that while they follow Sufism — a milder and more liberal tradition of Islam — Punjabis are inherently fundamentalists. But such a distinction between Punjabis and Sindhis may not stand the test of history. Religious fundamentalism appears to be a function of social change rather than an inherent characteristic of any society. It was while contemplating this issue that an old discussion with Boota Sain came to my mind.
Returning from my village, I was excitedly describing the modernisation in rural areas that had taken place in the last few decades. I was impressed by the way every modern facility — sewerage, electricity, phone, cable TV, wireless — had reached far off rural areas. Boota Sain, sitting quietly in a corner, innocently asked a rather odd question “Are the Sunnis of your village and family divorcing their Shia wives?”
I felt offended and asked myself why I tolerated such illiterate and abrupt people around me. To keep my cool I said “Bootia, there is no connection between the village making progress and the Shia-Sunni conflict which is mostly a doing of Zia ul Haq and the mullahs.”
Realising my suppressed anger, Boota Sain lowered his eyes, and said “Rab da bhana inj hoya (God willed it this way), that Mullahs’ control of the society was initiated by our beloved Bhutto, followed by Zia ul Haq and their successors. Zia looked like a powerful player but he was just a puppet controlled from behind the scene. The same forces led to Sant Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale (1947-1984) and his fundamentalist Khalistani movement and Vajpayee and his extreme conservative Hindutva counter-revolution.”
I do not know what metaphysical entity or theory Boota Sain was referring to but I suddenly saw a connection in the simultaneous rise of fundamentalism in Muslims, Sikhs and Hindus in the northern part of the sub-continent. The proximity in geography and time further intrigued me: the emergence of religious extremism in north India (including Pakistan) within a few decades could not be ignored. I also realised that sectarianism and religious intolerance has been much more prevalent in the cities than in the villages. Earlier a Sufi streak of religion was much more common in the Punjab.
In dusty old villages, reading Sufi poetry and qissas (folk tales) was a common pastime. Waris Shah, Bulleh Shah, Maulvi Ghulam Rasool and other Sufi thinkers were popular readings in most Punjabi households. There used to be professional Heer singers along with those who specialised in rendering kafis, dohras and folk tales. Qawalis were the favourite occasion of gathering. And people used to see everything in the Sufi perspective: even the romantic folk tale of Heer Ranjha was understood to be a dialogue between the body and the spirit.
Till the 1960s, the intellectual discourse was predominantly Sufi; the Shia-Sunni conflict was almost non-existent in the villages. Many Sunnis used to visit Imam Bargahs during the first 10 days of Muharram. In cities like Lahore Sunnis used to offer sabeels (drinks) to Shia mourners. Shia-Sunni marriages were common.
However, during my recent visits I have seen both Sunni mosques and Imam Bargahs being protected by police at prayer times. One cannot rule out the possibility that the vice of sectarianism reached the villages along with the instruments of modernity. In some strange manner, sectarian hatred has accompanied tractors, TVs and electricity. It can be postulated that fundamentalism is more closely associated with mechanisation, commercialisation and urbanisation of society than the inherent genius of a nationality. Boota Sain has a point.
Punjab, accused today of supporting religious fundamentalism, produced more Sufi thinkers from the 16th to the 19th century than any other north Indian region. The roots of communalism and sectarianism can be traced back to the British Raj.
It appears that under the Raj class transformation in Punjab was much more rapid than in other north Indian regions. The emergence of an urban trading class and spread of middle/petty peasantry, through the colonisation of western Punjab, ushered in a new era of competition among the various Punjabi communities. The dawn of the 20th century witnessed a diminishing of classical Punjabi Sufi thought and the emergence of Muslim Anjumans, Singh Sabhas and Hindu Mahasabhas. The tragedy of 1947 partition was in the making much earlier before it actually happened.
After 1947, the three-way rivalry among Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs subsided. However, with the Green Revolution in East Punjab, the Sikh-Hindu collision manifested itself in the bloody Khalistan movement. The Green Revolution in Pakistani Punjab, and to an extent in North West Frontier Province, led to similar tensions in the form of the anti-Ahmedi movement and later on in the Shia-Sunni conflict.
Similar socio-economic changes in the rest of northern India gave birth to Hindu fundamentalism in the form of Hindutva. While many other factors may have played a secondary role, modernisation has been the common denominator in the rise of religious fundamentalism in north India.
Sindh and southern Punjab, dominated by a feudalism and tribalism, have not experienced the rise of competitive middle classes; or their size and influence has been quite limited. As a result, the traditional mode of thinking, expressed through Sufism, has maintained its predominance. Of course, the teaching of the mother tongue has helped the Sindhis keep their traditions alive but that has not been the determining factor. Had it been so, Sikh and Hindu fundamentalism could not have emerged because the use of the mother tongue in the respective areas was not disrupted.
The question is: will Sindh and southern Punjab stick to traditional modes of thinking if feudalism is eliminated and competitive middle classes emerge?
The writer can be reached at manzurejaz@yahoo.com
Wednesday, January 18, 2006, in the Daily Times (Lahore, Pakistan)
Under the Raj class transformation in Punjab was rapid. The emergence of an urban trading class and spread of middle/petty peasantry, through the colonisation of western Punjab, ushered in a new era of competition among the various Punjabi communities. The dawn of the 20th century witnessed a diminishing of classical Punjabi Sufi thought and the emergence of Muslim Anjumans, Singh Sabhas and Hindu Mahasabhas
There may not be a technical argument for the construction of Kalabagh Dam (KBD) worth alienating an oppressed nationality or ethnic minority. And the people of Punjab need solidarity with the Sindhi people more than a dam whose benefits may never materialise or trickle-down to them.
However, this does not mean that unanimity of thought among people of various nationalities is a requirement. The Sindhis claim, for example, that while they follow Sufism — a milder and more liberal tradition of Islam — Punjabis are inherently fundamentalists. But such a distinction between Punjabis and Sindhis may not stand the test of history. Religious fundamentalism appears to be a function of social change rather than an inherent characteristic of any society. It was while contemplating this issue that an old discussion with Boota Sain came to my mind.
Returning from my village, I was excitedly describing the modernisation in rural areas that had taken place in the last few decades. I was impressed by the way every modern facility — sewerage, electricity, phone, cable TV, wireless — had reached far off rural areas. Boota Sain, sitting quietly in a corner, innocently asked a rather odd question “Are the Sunnis of your village and family divorcing their Shia wives?”
I felt offended and asked myself why I tolerated such illiterate and abrupt people around me. To keep my cool I said “Bootia, there is no connection between the village making progress and the Shia-Sunni conflict which is mostly a doing of Zia ul Haq and the mullahs.”
Realising my suppressed anger, Boota Sain lowered his eyes, and said “Rab da bhana inj hoya (God willed it this way), that Mullahs’ control of the society was initiated by our beloved Bhutto, followed by Zia ul Haq and their successors. Zia looked like a powerful player but he was just a puppet controlled from behind the scene. The same forces led to Sant Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale (1947-1984) and his fundamentalist Khalistani movement and Vajpayee and his extreme conservative Hindutva counter-revolution.”
I do not know what metaphysical entity or theory Boota Sain was referring to but I suddenly saw a connection in the simultaneous rise of fundamentalism in Muslims, Sikhs and Hindus in the northern part of the sub-continent. The proximity in geography and time further intrigued me: the emergence of religious extremism in north India (including Pakistan) within a few decades could not be ignored. I also realised that sectarianism and religious intolerance has been much more prevalent in the cities than in the villages. Earlier a Sufi streak of religion was much more common in the Punjab.
In dusty old villages, reading Sufi poetry and qissas (folk tales) was a common pastime. Waris Shah, Bulleh Shah, Maulvi Ghulam Rasool and other Sufi thinkers were popular readings in most Punjabi households. There used to be professional Heer singers along with those who specialised in rendering kafis, dohras and folk tales. Qawalis were the favourite occasion of gathering. And people used to see everything in the Sufi perspective: even the romantic folk tale of Heer Ranjha was understood to be a dialogue between the body and the spirit.
Till the 1960s, the intellectual discourse was predominantly Sufi; the Shia-Sunni conflict was almost non-existent in the villages. Many Sunnis used to visit Imam Bargahs during the first 10 days of Muharram. In cities like Lahore Sunnis used to offer sabeels (drinks) to Shia mourners. Shia-Sunni marriages were common.
However, during my recent visits I have seen both Sunni mosques and Imam Bargahs being protected by police at prayer times. One cannot rule out the possibility that the vice of sectarianism reached the villages along with the instruments of modernity. In some strange manner, sectarian hatred has accompanied tractors, TVs and electricity. It can be postulated that fundamentalism is more closely associated with mechanisation, commercialisation and urbanisation of society than the inherent genius of a nationality. Boota Sain has a point.
Punjab, accused today of supporting religious fundamentalism, produced more Sufi thinkers from the 16th to the 19th century than any other north Indian region. The roots of communalism and sectarianism can be traced back to the British Raj.
It appears that under the Raj class transformation in Punjab was much more rapid than in other north Indian regions. The emergence of an urban trading class and spread of middle/petty peasantry, through the colonisation of western Punjab, ushered in a new era of competition among the various Punjabi communities. The dawn of the 20th century witnessed a diminishing of classical Punjabi Sufi thought and the emergence of Muslim Anjumans, Singh Sabhas and Hindu Mahasabhas. The tragedy of 1947 partition was in the making much earlier before it actually happened.
After 1947, the three-way rivalry among Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs subsided. However, with the Green Revolution in East Punjab, the Sikh-Hindu collision manifested itself in the bloody Khalistan movement. The Green Revolution in Pakistani Punjab, and to an extent in North West Frontier Province, led to similar tensions in the form of the anti-Ahmedi movement and later on in the Shia-Sunni conflict.
Similar socio-economic changes in the rest of northern India gave birth to Hindu fundamentalism in the form of Hindutva. While many other factors may have played a secondary role, modernisation has been the common denominator in the rise of religious fundamentalism in north India.
Sindh and southern Punjab, dominated by a feudalism and tribalism, have not experienced the rise of competitive middle classes; or their size and influence has been quite limited. As a result, the traditional mode of thinking, expressed through Sufism, has maintained its predominance. Of course, the teaching of the mother tongue has helped the Sindhis keep their traditions alive but that has not been the determining factor. Had it been so, Sikh and Hindu fundamentalism could not have emerged because the use of the mother tongue in the respective areas was not disrupted.
The question is: will Sindh and southern Punjab stick to traditional modes of thinking if feudalism is eliminated and competitive middle classes emerge?
The writer can be reached at manzurejaz@yahoo.com
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