Paul Goble
Staunton,
February 27 – Russia’s Islamic community, extraordinarily diverse in tsarist
and Soviet times, has become even more varied since 1991, a situation that
makes nonsense of the widespread view that there is some “statistically average
Muslim” and means that one-size-fits-all policies are doomed to failure,
according to a Moscow ethnographer.
In
an interview on the Mnenia.ru portal yesterday, Akhmet Yarlykapov, a senior
scholar at the Center for Ethno-Political Research of the Russian Academy of
Sciences, describes the nature and sources of this growing diversity and warns
of the dangers of ignoring it (mnenia.ru/rubric/society/v-rossii-ne-sushchestvuet-srednestatisticheskogo-musulmanina/).
“The uniqueness of Russia consists
that the Islamic regions [of the country] are so very different one from other,
Yarlykanov says. And that variety means that it is almost always a mistake to
assume that any one characteristic or even any trend is true of all its various
components.
Thus, for example, “if we take
Daghestan and to a lesser extent Chechnya and Ingushetia, then in these places
there has not been a rebirth of Islam but rather the coming out of Islam from
the underground.” But if we consider
such regions as Kabardino-Balkaria and Karachayevo-Cherkesia, then it would be
correct to use the term ‘re-Islamization.’”
The same problem exists regarding
the use of terms like “traditional” and “non-traditional” Islam, the Moscow
scholar says. In Daghestan, Chechnya,
and Ingushetia, Sufism is the traditional form, but in other North Caucasus
republics, there was no Sufism. And that in turn means that re-Islamization is
different in different places a well.
Because all these different things
are going on all at once and because they have created “a mosaic of Islamic
opinion,” Yarlykapov argues, it is extremely difficult and counterproductive to
“single out something as ‘tradition’” and something else as non-traditional and
assume that one can support the one or the other in every case.
“Soviet Muslims also were extremely
diverse,” he continues. There were those that many in the West call part of
“official Islam,” which included the Muslim Spiritual Directorates who were
almost “government employees” and their followers. There were numerous trends of independent
“unofficial” Muslim groups who had “complicated” relations with the official
brand.
And there were what many call
“ethnic Muslims,” people who “considered themselves Muslims but new little or
nothing about the faith. Taken together, these constituted what became in the
1980s, “Soviet Islam,” which had little to do with theology but rather with the
flowering of “pre-monotheistic” practices such as visits to holy places.
All of these trends represented
efforts to survive under duress rather than a search for the faith, Yarlykapov
suggests, and he calls attention to one curious reality: The MSDs then, just as
the Wahhabis do today, condemned those who were shifting from attention to
theological truths to pre-monotheistic practices.
The relationship between Islamic
identity and political identity has also changed. In tsarist times, the
religious identity was predominant; in Soviet times, the political one became
more important; but now there is a struggle between them, with some Muslims
viewing Islamic identity as more important but others just the reverse.
Today, the Moscow ethnographer says, “the
overwhelming majority of Muslims consider themselves Rossiyane [that is,
non-ethnic Russians] and is politically loyal to the Russian state. In a
political sense, then, they conceive themselves as part of the [non-ethnic]
Russian nation [natisya].”
But
in addition, there are others who believe “that is it necessary to establish
their own state” and are willing to go into the forests to fight. There are
those who believe that “a compromise is possible.” And there are those who
believe that they must have their own state but that now is not the time to
fight for it.
This
last group, Yarlykapov suggests, resemble “the situation of the ultra-Orthodox
in Israel who do not recognize the state of Israel but nevertheless, live on
its territory. There are such Sufi
groups in Daghestan. They are not large, but one must not forget about them” in
any assessment of the umma in the Russian Federation.
The
MSD system, created by the tsarist regime in the 18th century and
revived by the Soviet leadership in the 1940s today has collapsed, the
ethnographer says. These institutions
“are not part of the state system; in legal terms, these are simply social
organizations without a strict hierarchy.” Muslim communities form around imams
not around them.
The
Russian government does not comprehend this complexity, the scholar continues.
And it has not figured out what to do.
“The sad thing is not that the policy of the state is anti-Islamic; the
sad thing is that the state does not have a clear policy regarding Islam,” and
as a result, “each state organ acts” on its own and as it thinks best.
The
relationship between the various groups within Russian Islam and the Russian
Orthodox Church are equally complicated, Yarlykapov argues. These involve in
the first instance concerns about missionary work by one side among the
followers of the other and in the second differences in the relationship of the
faith to those in power.
Yarlykapov said that he personally does not see any clear policy about Islam existing in the Russian Orthodox Church. That Church is angry that “in the North Caucasus, there are many cases” when Russians have become Muslims, “especially in Daghestan, where quite a high percent of ethnic Russians have accepted Islam.”
Thus, neither the state nor the Church has done much to move beyond “stereotypes rooted in a lack of knowledge about Islam” and neither has helped Russian society to move beyond Islamophobic attitudes, which are growing because of the influx of Muslim gastarbeiters from Central Asia and the South Caucasus.
Islamophobia is on the rise throughout the world, the scholar says, “but for Russia this is a particularly serious problem,” because a large share of all Muslims there are citizens of the country and because they form a large share of the population as a whole. Inter-religious conflicts in Russia are thus “especially dangerous.”
If Russians can get beyond Islamophobia, Yarlyapov suggests, they will see some amazing things going on among the Muslims living among them. A large number of Russia’s Muslims “read Arabic or at least English and have the chance to become familiar with the fetwas of sheiks living many thousands of kilometers away.”
These Muslims are part of the larger problem of “’electronic muftis,’” who are playing an increasing role in the lives of the faithful and often have far more influence in the lives of believers than the mullah or imam at the local mosque. “Today it is possible to go to one mosque but to be a follower of another imam who lives thousands of kilometers away.”
The Russian academic community unfortunately has not helped as much as it might, the Moscow investigator says. While there is no shortage of research on Russia’s Muslims, there is a severe shortage of high quality sociological work. Indeed, there is less of that now than there was at the end of the Soviet period.
If one looks to the future, Yarlykapov says, it is clear that the Muslims are not going to become a majority of the population by 2050. They form at most 20 percent now, many Muslim nationalities are not growing fast, and a large share of the Muslims inside Russia consists of migrants who at some point will go home.
But if one focuses on culture, Muslims will be playing an expanded role. “Russia will continue to remain a country where the most varied cultures exist, including within Islam itself.” That means whatever some may think or want that “Russia in the future will preserve all its cultural multiplicity.”
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