Chapter 1
Introduction: Womenâs Rights and Islamic Concerns with Ijtihad over those Rights
Ijtihadâinterpretation. In the many years Iâve been conducting research on womenâs rights in Pakistan and in other parts of the Muslim world, this one term seems to rise to the top whenever I question how someone has reached the conclusion that they hold about womenâs rights, especially in modern times. Despite formal laws or policies, divergent viewpoints exist as individuals or groups conduct ijtihad, integrating understood Islamic norms, mores, and values with perceptions on society. Aside from how this terminology is used in the formal classical sense, discussed below, it has become an everyday concept in popular discourse, and it is this conception that is being interrogated here.
This is a book about reality and promise, not a book about rhetoric. It is about the reality of how different Muslim communities are interpretingâin this case within Pakistan, but it is a phenomenon occurring worldwideâthe intersections of Islam and modernity, and where womenâs roles and rights fit into that equation. Many Pakistanis hold the view that only one version of Islam is practicedâor should be practicedâbut what that version consists of is heavily contested; in other words, there is no âone version.â Compounded with this, many people essentialize the rights Muslim women have, as if everyone shares and embraces a one-dimensional view of womenâs rights. This is categorically incorrect as there are many prevailing views within just one family, one neighborhood, one community in Pakistan, and virtually no consensus. What is it that sets groups apart, that enjoins demonstrative reactions to othersâ interpretations of the place and position of Islam and of women in society? It is ijtihad. In seeking to comprehend the contours of difference, we may also find common grounds of understanding of the rights women should have in modern times, acceptable within Islamic society and unfettered by political posturing which too frequently subverts efforts to engage in constructive discourse.
The concept of ijtihad itself has varying meanings. In brief, it was through a practice extant during the classical period of Islam when accomplished religious Sunni jurists and scholars, through personal efforts independent of any particular Sunni school (madhab) of jurisprudence (fiqh), would reach a decision based on their own understandings of law, tradition, and acceptable actions in Islam. They would issue a fatwa (legal pronouncement), and consider this to be an interpretation that would be included as a source of sharia (Islamic law).1 This occasionally led to the creation of a new madhab, though on occasion was criticized as either hawa (personal opinion, often understood as evil desires) or âaql (human reason), without any basis in the Qurâan, Sunnah, or other early precedents and hence not be admissible as a source of religious law. The âdoors of ijtihadââopening new possibilities of interpretationâare said to have closed some 1,400 years ago among Sunni practitioners, and there would be no further innovations on that front.
Religious scholars have long conducted some form of ijtihad in response to social challenges. While in the orthodox sense, ijtihad is only to be carried out by a qualified religious scholar, we find today that political and social leaders frequently posture themselves as such to promote their understanding of what Islam says about somethingâwhether they use the terminology of ijtihad or notâand encourage their interpretation to be embraced by their constituencies. The issuance of fatwas has become nearly commonplace and often controversial throughout the Muslim world.2
Khalid Masâud (2009: 47) argues that taqlid, the following of a distinct madhab and hence school of jurisprudence, had by the eighteenth century in South Asia become a symbol of identity and captured a social attitude. Yet ijtihad remained an important practice in the subcontinent, necessary to respond to the new challenges created by British colonialism and essentially was a requirement for becoming a mufti (an interpreter or expounder of Islamic law) or a qadi (legal scholar) in those times. Muhammad Iqbal, the philosophical founder of Pakistan, captured the necessity to continue to practice ijtihad in his well-known Reconstruction of Religious Thought in Islam when he wrote:
Masâud (2009:84) avers that Iqbal spoke of ijtihad in the plural sense, of âinterpretations,â and that âhe recognized the significance of collective ijtihad instead of individual ijtihad.â Elsewhere Masâud (2012:43) argues that the act of interpretation is a âsocial constructionâ that reflects the social environment and concerns of the time. Qasim Zaman (2012:75) observes that the term has taken on a new vitality and meaning in contemporary times,
Zaman argues that several modernist Sunni âulema have expressed grave misgivings about how ijtihad is operationalized today as many professing it set aside âtime-honored methodsâ resulting in âinterpretive anarchy.â Our concern here moves beyond Zamanâs analysis of what occurs when religious scholars conduct ijtihad as it instead focuses on the cacophony of voices claiming âthis is what Islam saysâ without necessarily having substantive grounding in methods or texts. It is this everyday ijtihad that often takes us beyond interpretive anarchy and into undocumented realms of belief and practice. This is of compelling importance when we delve into the arena of interpretations on womenâs rights.
What is meant by womenâs rights is a contentious issue today worldwide, whether in industrialized capitalist states, economically underdeveloped postcolonial states or in the economically variable Muslim majority states. Patriarchy remains overwhelming prevalent nearly everywhere. There are 57 million more men than women in todayâs world: globally, women are 49.6 percent of the population while in Pakistan they comprise 48.6 percent.4 Women account for two-thirds of the worldâs 796 million adult illiterates and gender disparities in adult literacy rates remain wide in most regions of the world. This is more exaggerated in Pakistan than in many other world areas as 57 percent of adult women have received no education whatsoever while an additional 16 percent have received only primary education. In effect, nearly two-thirds (73 percent) of adult women in Pakistan are uneducated (NIPS 2013:39). Womenâs participation in the global labor market for the past two decades still hovers at just over half, while menâs steadily remains over three-quarters5; in Pakistan, merely 13 percent of workers in nonagricultural sectors are women.6 Women constitute roughly only one-fifth of elected members of parliaments worldwide as well as in Pakistan.7 Limiting marital choices, access to education, participation in labor markets, having the ability to introduce legislation and change laws, and the right to life itself indeed has enormous implications for our understanding of womenâs rights.
What constitutes accepted roles and rights of women provide for fundamental values upon which Muslim social order has historically been constructed. As Lila Abu-Lughod (1998: 3) notes, in the postcolonial world, women have become potent symbols of identity, society, and the nation. The late Ernest Gellner (1983: 33) has written that Islam has provided a common moral language that has unified disparate communities in the past; its propensity to do so now and in the future, its ability to interrogate, renew and reform its valuesâislah and tajdidâis being challenged on a number of fronts, the most compelling of which concerns the rights of women. Indeed, contemporary Muslim societies are undergoing unprecedented social change as Muslims are rethinking and renegotiating the contours of traditional society, particularly womenâs place in the larger social order. Womenâs place, as Farida Shaheed (2011: xi) has observed, is not static despite the myth âthat womenâs struggles for their rights are alien to societies that have embraced Islam.â Instead, women have mobilized throughout the Muslim world, and particularly in the past century, to identify and affirm rights, albeit what these comprise are contested terrains (Mirza 1981; Shaheed 2011). Many postcolonial Muslim states, in particular, are struggling to identify the trappings of colonization and Westernization that have encroached upon their social norms, values, economies, polities, and current legal structures. Revitalized Islamic worldviews combined with the engendering of Muslim civil society are raising profound questions, notably in conceptualizing women and rights as being central to this discourse. As societies are negotiating and clarifying new interpretations under rapidly changing circumstances, ijtihad is often invoked to justify resultant views. One verse in the Qurâan, Sura 4: 34, particularly animates this discourse more than any other,
This verse places concrete limits on womenâs social actions by placing them under menâs jurisdiction, and presumably allows for violence against women. It is often referred to as one of the reasons for why Muslim laws cannot grant full equality to men and women. Two transnational NGOs, Women Living Under Muslim Laws (WLUML) and Musawah, encourage research on understanding the original intent of Islam and sharia before it became subverted by patriarchy and patriarchal interpretations of the Qurâan,9 advocating that there are other ways this and other verses that seemingly intrude on womenâs rights can be translated and understood.
At the same time, greater pressure exists within the international arena for asserting womenâs rights at the level of states becoming Parties to international human rights treaties. Foreign policies and development assistance is often tied to human rights records, and both donors and Western governments shy away from supporting those states which are condemned by global popular culture in their treatment of women and their treading on womenâs rights. The stresses and pressures placed upon states to address womenâs rights are evident in the following statement made in The Report of the Commission of Inquiry for Women in Pakistan:
Islamic republics, for myriad reasons, often become States Parties to international treaties regarding women. Ann Mayer (1999) shows that Muslim states often ratify UN conventions, but they also register numerous reservations based on their adherence to âhigher lawsâ that, they claim, âthe international community is powerless to change.â She contends that, in the case of womenâs rights issues, the goal is to convince the global community that their reservations are compatible with womenâs equality. These reservations often serve to free states from having to look deeply into their existing laws and make them comply with a given conventionâs goals. But having so many reservationsâsuch as we see when Muslim states became Parties to the Vienna Human Rights Convention or the Beijing Platform for Actionâwaters down the original strength and potency of an instrument.
As an example, more than two-thirds of UN membersâ166 countriesâare States Parties to the UN Convention on the Elimination of all forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), of which 22 are Muslim majority states.10 States Parties to the Convention are obligated to review the impact of existing laws on women, change those laws which discriminate against women, and submit periodic reports to the UN Division for the Advancement of Women (DAW) on their progress. CEDAWâs principle of State Obligation requires States Parties not only to bring their domestic law in line with the Convention, but also to ensure the practical realization of rights by undertaking extra measures to implement enabling conditions so that womenâs capacity to access the opportunities provided is enhanced. Article 5 asserts that States Parties must strive to modify âthe social and cultural patterns of conduct of men and womenâ to eliminate prejudice based on stereotyped beliefs of the inferiority of women.11 Most Muslim states have voiced concerns that some key elements of CEDAW may be contradictory to Islamic tenets, despite the lack of consensus on what Islam supports and advocates regarding womenâs rights.12 CEDAW blurs the lines separating the public and private spheres, and is the first international human rights instrument to do so.
The fluidity of most interpretations of what constitutes ânon-discriminationâ and womenâs rights depends in large part on political context, more so than economic or social contexts. However, there also seem to be some issues that Muslim states find difficult to resolve, especially those states that have set their internal political discourse within an Islamic framework. These issues manifest particularly in regard to female inheritance and other aspects of Muslim family law. The inherent contradictions for a state to negotiate common ground between conflicting views on womenâs rights are indeed formidable.
The example of what occurred in Tunisia in the 1950s reveals how different the interpretations of womenâs rights are in different Muslim majority states. In this predominantly Maliki fiqh13 environment, then president Habib Bourguiba had declared it was incumbent on the state to conduct ijtihad in its efforts to modernize, and therefore provided women unprecedented rights under the Tunisian Personal Status Code. This extraordinary legislation came into effect on January 1, 1957, two and a half years before the adoption of the new stateâs Constitution. It outlawed polygamy on the grounds that the Qurâan only allowed for it provided a man would treat each wife equally, but that was not actually possible. Mohammad Talibi, a distinguished Tunisian expert on Islamic law, argues for a markedly different interpretation of men and womenâs respective rights in Islam. He claims that many verses in the Qurâan affirm that equality is absolute, that âwomen and men are created from one entityâ and that,
Indeed, Bourguibaâs emphasis on political and economic transformation replete with changes within the family to achieve these goals was the first challenge of the Tunisian stateâs modernity project. Its impact on the cultural framework was so pervasive that all subsequent legal efforts to eliminate discrimination against women in Tunisia can only be regarded as incremental. Katerina Dalacoura (1998: 151) argues that in developing the Code of Personal Statusâas well as ...