Freedom and Justice Party campaign rally, Cairo, May 20, 2012. Marco Longari/AFP/Getty Images
Egypt’s revolution
is transforming the country’s Islamist landscape. The first wave of protests,
which lasted for eighteen days and successfully ousted President Hosni Mubarak
after three decades in office, triggered revolutionary changes within the
country’s Islamist movement. The Muslim Brotherhood (MB), Egypt’s largest
organized political group, serves as a good example. The group—which stood
united despite (or because of) oppression for long decades—witnessed major
transformations in just a few months. After years of of insisting on the
all-encompassing nature of the organization, it was only a few days after
Mubarak’s ousting that the group announced its intention to establish an
independent political party and to retreat from politics and focus on social
activities.
The MB-aligned
Freedom and Justice Party (FJP) was soon established, and its leaders had to
resign from the MB’s executive council. The party’s platform avoided
controversial stances adopted earlier by the draft manifesto released by the
Brotherhood in 2007, including banning women and Copts from running for
president. Within a few months, and parallel to the establishment of the FJP,
some major splits took place within the MB; most important was the dismissal of
Abdel Moneim Aboul Fotouh, the group’s iconic reformist leader, after he
announced his candidacy for president. This was followed by the dismissal of
many young cadres who had played a role during the eighteen days in Tahrir
Square and who later came to form their own party: the Egyptian Current.
Revolutionary
impact was not limited to the MB. Traditionally apolitical Salafi groups began
to seek a political role in revolutionary Egypt. With no significant
participation in the early days of protests, some Salafi groups joined the
uprising a few days before Mubarak stepped down. Their politicization became
more obvious later, when they started institutionalizing their political
activities and formed different political parties the potential of which is yet
to be seen.
Attempting to
understand these changes requires proper scrutiny of both movements’ internal
dynamics and ideology, as well as the governing external context. Two sets of
variables affect Islamist movements’ political outlook: perceived identity
threat and political opportunity. The definition of the former varies due to
differences in ideological orientation and political maturity, and its presence
leads to Islamists’ increased detachment from society and—consequently—their
stagnation and unity. The latter, on the contrary, leads to inclusion and
attachment that breeds diversity stemming from the emergence of more
sophisticated forms of affiliation to Islamic identity. Post-revolutionary
Islamism is therefore likely to witness further sliding transformation that
will eventually lead to the transcendence of identity-based Islamism and the
emergence of a new wave of diverse, policy-based Islamist activism.
The
landscape of Islamist organizations prior to the Egyptian revolution was
comprised of five main groups. First among them was the official religious
establishment, at the heart of which lies Al-Azhar. Despite its legacy of
centuries of scholarship, the institution had been increasingly disempowered
and discredited since the 1950s. The MB, established in the late 1920s,
represents along with its offshoots the second key player in the pre-revolution
Islamist domain, being the country’s largest opposition group and the world’s
oldest Islamist group. Third was the Salafi trend, which has been on the ascent
in Egypt since the 1970s. Despite having a handful of institutional incubators,
Salafism remains a largely social movement, with the vast majority of Salafis
not being attached to any organization prior to the revolution. Fourth were the
Sufi orders. While dominating the socio-religious scene until the turn of the
nineteenth century, Sufi orders have been on the decline ever since, as they
have come increasingly under the control of the state and lost social
legitimacy. Neoliberal Islam—manifested in the discourse and audience of new
preachers—represents the last group of pre-revolutionary Islamist actors. The
trend emerged in Egypt in the 1990s and developed a strong presence among urban
upper-middle classes. Other groups, including Al-Jama‘a Al-Islamiya and
Al-Jihad, were significant during the 1980s and 1990s, but have been on the
decline ever since, and have established close ties with either Salafi or MB
groups.
Neoliberal
Islam
The trend of
neoliberal Islam emerged with the emergence of ‘new preachers’ in the 1990s.
With fewer scholarly qualifications and less training, a more modern facade,
moderate discourse, and strong interpersonal skills, new preachers were “thick
on ritual and remarkably thin on dissent,” focusing primarily on “personal
salvation, ethical enhancement and self-actualization.”1 Televangelist
preachers soon became popular among the conservative upper middle classes.
Operating on the same modern, materialist paradigm of Salafism, advocates of
neoliberal Islam stressed integration more than identity, leading to a complete
shift in discourse that matched their audience, which was “inclined toward a
piety that could accommodate their privilege and power.”2 Their discourse
provided a ‘safe alternative’ for conservative upper-middle-class families and
the Islamist business community.3 On the one hand, a focus on morality and
individual salvation meant detachment from the ‘un-Islamic’ aspects of their ‘globalized’
lifestyle. On the other hand, the Protestant-like neoliberal discourse provided
them with enough legitimacy to sustain their lifestyle and retain their social
networks despite their new religiosity. In other words, new preachers advocated
a form of Islam that provided its followers with “safe religiosity which
entails no confrontation with the state or society.”4
Guided by audience
interests, new preachers adopted an apolitical discourse that focused on
charity and development efforts. Over the past decade, a few attempts have been
made by some new preachers to step into the political domain. These attempts
were met with fierce opposition from the regime, which attempted to use new
preachers as a stabilizing force, both because they operated within the dominant
neoliberal paradigm and hence provided the regime with Islamic legitimacy, and
because their charitable and development activities compensated for the regime’s
failures at a very low political price, especially when compared to the MB. New
preachers and their neoliberal Islamic audience were therefore operating on the
margins of politics, focused more on covering the regime’s shortcomings than on
challenging the regime or questioning its very legitimacy. This stance has
consistently put neoliberal Islamists at odds with other Islamists, who have
deemed them to be government elements that corrupt Islam. While the neoliberal
preachers, who were focused on integration, had programs on liberal satellite
channels, other Islamists, who focused on identity, were increasingly
retreating from this public sphere, choosing to present their shows on ‘Islamist’
satellite channels. Eventually, new preachers were not welcome to appear on
Islamist channels, and were left with no option but to increasingly side with
the regime’s business cronies and other elements maintaining the status quo.
Their neoliberal discourse, lack of scholarly qualifications, focus on
integration (which seemed to jeopardize or dilute their Islamist identity), and
mild stance toward the regime have provoked Sufis, Azharis, Salafis, and Muslim
Brothers respectively. Criticism by these groups delegitimized the new
preachers, who with their audience were then pushed further away from the other
Islamists. Conflict between the new preachers and other Islamist groups
escalated in the months preceding the revolution. Being more attached to the
regime, some new preachers supported the ruling National Democratic Party
candidates against the MB in the 2010 parliamentary elections, further widening
this schism.
The Salafi
Movement
Scholars argue that
Salafism is “par excellence a modern phenomenon and the result of the
objectification of religion.”5 Egypt’s first wave of Salafism came in the early
twentieth century at the hands of Sheikh Hamed Al-Fiqi, who established Gam‘iyyat
Ansar Al-Sunna in 1926 with the intention of reviving ‘orthodox’ Islam. While
that planted the movement’s first seeds, it was only in the 1970s that Salafism
became a popular movement. A few reasons contributed to the Salafi rise.
Besides the disempowerment of Al-Azhar, Egypt’s 1967 defeat in the war against
Israel created an identity crisis, which caused many Egyptians to turn to
Islamism. During his presidency, Anwar Sadat encouraged Salafism as an
apolitical discourse that would nonetheless delegitimize both Nasserists and
Muslim Brothers, especially after the latter reorganized. The return of
Egyptian workers and professionals who had exiled themselves to the Gulf during
Nasser’s presidency further contributed to the rise of Salafism, alongside the ‘petrodollar
effect.’ (The term ‘petrodollar effect’ refers to the sponsorship of religious
textbooks and the like by rich Gulf States, and the resulting export of Salafi
ideology.)
Salafism
grew in Egypt as a ‘new social movement.’ Instead of relying on an organization—as
the MB did—Salafis relied on a multi-polar network of preachers, largely
connected to Saudi Wahhabi scholars.6 While the number of organizations
proliferated, only a few had real significance. Most important are the
Ansarul-Sunna organization—with branches all over Egypt—and Al-Da‘wa
Al-Salafiya in Alexandria (DSA). Due to the way it was revived under Sadat,
Salafism had no significant political presence; its role was limited to the
socio-religious domains. Most Salafi scholars preached political quietism and
kept themselves away from the contentious issues, focusing instead on ritual
and individual salvation in their proselytizing. The attacks of September 11,
2001, swiftly transformed their relationship with the Egyptian regime, as their
intellectual ties with Salafi jihadists were more closely scrutinized, leading
to aggressive interrogation and recurrent imprisonment for Salafi leaders and
members.
With
the evident failure of Mubarak’s regime in the months preceding the 2011 revolution,
socio-religious tensions emerged which triggered the politicization of Salafis.
Lack of transparency and rule of law transformed the tensions which surrounded
the case of Kamilia Shehata in September and October 2010 into serious
religious strife, where Salafi antagonism was targeted at the Church instead of
the failed state.7 It was only a few months later that terrorist attacks
targeted a Coptic church in Alexandria, a Salafi stronghold, on New Year’s Eve.
State Security soon assumed a link between earlier Salafi protests and these
attacks, and hundreds of Salafi activists were rounded up and held in custody.
Some were seriously tortured during interrogation, and one follower of DSA—Sayed
Belal—died in prison.
Fearing
a confrontation with the regime, key DSA figures decided not to join the
protests denouncing the murder of Belal. Only a few days later—and following
the ousting of President Ben Ali in Tunisia—Abdel Moneim Al-Shahhat, DSA
spokesman, made a statement rejecting calls for protests on January 25, raising
questions about the organizers’ aims and insisting that they would cause more
damage to the Salafis and to the country.8 DSA and other Salafi groups
maintained their hostility towards revolutionaries until the second week of
protests.
The Muslim
Brotherhood
The
MB is Egypt’s largest opposition group, and the world’s oldest existing
Islamist movement. Over time, at least four different schools of thought, or
what could be seen as ideological leanings, have come to coexist within the
MB.9 First is the founder’s school: a relatively modernist school that existed
on the margins of Al-Azhar in the early twentieth century. It rejects turath
(the accumulated heritage of Islamic knowledge) as the defining authority, and
calls for a return to the Quran and Sunna as original sources, and to
practicing ijtihad (independent judgment) with
guidance rather than with slavish adherence to the ideas in turath. Second is
the traditionalist school, championed by Al-Azhar’s long history of
scholarship. It is characterized by heavy reliance on turath and acceptance of
the full authenticity of the four main Sunni schools of jurisprudence. The
traditionalist school also promotes the notion of ‘balanced identity,’ arguing
that each individual belongs to different circles of affiliation, including
schools of jurisprudence and theology, Sufi order, hometown, profession, guild,
family, and so on. Qutbism, the third school, is characterized by its highly
politicized and revolutionary interpretation of the Quran, which divides people
into those who belong to/support Islam/Islamism and those who oppose it, with
no gray areas in between. This school emphasizes the necessity of developing a
detached vanguard that focuses on recruitment and ways to empower the
organization while postponing all intellectual questions. While hardcore
Qutbism opens doors for political violence, Qutbis within the MB follow a
demilitarized version of the ideology, clearly distancing themselves from
notions of takfir (disbelief) and violence. The Salafi/Wahhabi school made its
way to the MB (and to broader Egyptian society) in the 1970s, forming the
fourth leaning within the organization. It is a modernist Islamist ideology
that has minimal respect for turath, relying instead on “a direct interface with
the texts of revelation,” which leads to “a relatively shallow and limited
hierarchy of scholarly authorities.”10 Salafism is characterized by a
conservative reading of sharia because it relies on “a textual approach, which
uses text more than wisdom and reason in understanding it, and adage more than
opinion,”11 leaving only small room for diversity. Salafi and Qutbi acceptance
of notions like democracy and diversity are minimal, and they generally believe
in a strong, broad central state that plays a major role in defining and
upholding public morality.
The
MB responded to years of threats and actual persecution by state authorities by
developing a “pyramid-shaped hierarchy [which] ensures that members dutifully
execute the aims of its national leadership at the local level.”12 Through its
strategy of centralizing decision-making and decentralizing implementation, the MB has sought to sustain unity within the
organization. Centralized decision-making was intended to keep disputes
contained in limited domains, while decentralization was an attempt to avoid
the possible consequences of security crackdowns, to create a sense of
belonging and empowerment among members, and to develop members’ executive
capabilities. This was reflected in the group’s recruitment and promotion
criteria, which are based on standards of religious practice and organizational
discipline. Observers note that “becoming a full-fledged Muslim Brother is a
five-to-eight year process during which aspiring members are closely watched
for their loyalty.”13
Arguably,
only a few principles kept the MB united as an organization despite the varied
ideological leanings of its members: a belief that Islam is an all-encompassing
system; rejecting violence as a means of political change in domestic politics;
accepting democracy as a political system; consequently accepting political
pluralism; and supporting resistance movements operating against foreign
occupation.
This
search for common grounds among the different MB factions had a structural impact
on the Brotherhood. It led to the emergence of a heavy-weight organization,
with exponentially growing membership and enormous room to maneuver due to the
diversity of activities in which the group is engaged. Yet, with the high
centralization of its decision-making, the MB was easily pressured by
successive regimes who wanted to control its decisions. Over the course of
decades, this led to the emergence of unspoken rules of engagement that enabled
the MB to oppose the regime while not seriously challenging it.14
Over
the past decade, the MB has had to undergo serious transformations. It was part
of the opposition that united around a “common foreign policy agenda” following
the Palestinian Intifada in 2000 and the invasion of Iraq in 2003. Its domestic
agenda has also increasingly prioritized democracy since 2005. After the
Brotherhood secured 20 percent of parliamentary seats in the 2005 elections, it
faced a vicious crackdown from the regime. This swift change from inclusion to
exclusion sparked dissent among members as they became more focused on
questions of policy and reform. While some chose to resign, others remained in
the group and added their critical discourse to its internal dynamics.
Another
wave of Brotherhood changes came from within. In mid-2009, former chairman
Mahdi Akef announced his decision to step down. This was significant not just
because of the precedent it set, but also because Akef was the last MB leader
with the historical legitimacy gained by joining the group at an early stage
and working directly with its founder. Mohammed Badie, Akef’s successor, who
follows the Qutbi tendency, belongs to another generation that lacks the
gravitas of Akef and his predecessors,15 a quality which had helped them to
resolve internal disputes within the MB. Without this authority among its
leaders, it became more difficult for the MB to postpone intellectual and
political debates while maintaining unity, particularly in light of the narrow
decision-making structures and the absence of proper internal governance
structures.16
The
subsequent executive council elections took the competition between different
MB factions to another level. Elections took place in a context of exclusion,
where the regime was fiercely cracking down on the organization and the path
for integration seemed occluded. The Salafi-Qutbi faction—being the most
powerful, as it was operating in its ideal historical moment—adopted an
exclusionary position, fearing that diversity in decision-making would lead to
organizational splits. The newly elected executive council did not include key
reformist figures like Aboul Fotouh and Mohammed Habib, the former deputy
chairman. The chairman’s selection of deputies also reflected this trend: all
three belonged to the Salafi–Qutbi school.
The
new leadership was soon faced with a wide range of challenges. The start of
2010 saw the return of Mohammad ElBaradei, former director general of the
International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), and the establishment of the
National Association for Change (NAC). The MB’s political calculation inspired
it to keep one foot in time with ElBaradei and the NAC, who were focused on
challenging the regime, and the other in line with its own social activities.17
The year ended with parliamentary elections in which the MB won no seats, which
had a serious impact on its membership. Having no parliamentary representatives
for the next five years meant that street presence was the only way for the
organization—officially outlawed—to remain heard. This, in turn, meant that the
MB needed to move one step closer to the NAC and other opposition groups.
Occlusion of political opportunity was met with despair and helplessness by
senior MB members, but the reaction of MB juniors was fury—and this anger was
soon transformed into hope with the ousting of Ben Ali in Tunisia.
Conclusions on
the Pre-Revolutionary Scene
Islamists
were generally excluded from the Egyptian polity prior to the 2011 revolution. Not a single Islamist political
group was legally recognized, and tolerance for their extralegal integration
was dictated by the regime’s need for legitimacy. During the 1980s, Mubarak’s
regime “needed a measure of legitimacy to help it maintain stability,”18 and
sought it partially by tolerating nonviolent groups. Islamists—primarily the MB—exploited
the opportunity by strengthening their organization and securing de facto
legitimacy by participating in parliamentary, student union, and syndicate
elections. Other symptoms of Islamic ascent included the rise of a ‘parallel
Islamic sector,’ which “had begun to coalesce in the interstices of Egypt’s
authoritarian state,”19 and an unprecedented boom in the number of private
mosques and Islamic associations, as well as growth of a parallel Islamic
banking sector. Islamic revival had “reached its peak by the early 1990s.”20
Islamists started “politicizing their achievements of social legitimacy in
society,”21 which contributed to the gradual erosion of the regime’s
legitimacy.
The Islamists’
threat to the regime’s legitimacy inspired a strategic transformation during
the 1990s: while crushing radical Islamists, the regime resorted to less
violent measures to sideline moderates. Components of the exclusion strategy
included “divide-and-rule tactics to break the ranks of the opposition and prevent
sustainable alliance building between Islamists and non-Islamists,” and
adopting policies that “significantly raised the costs of cooperation with
Islamists.”22 This was coupled with crackdowns on Islamist strongholds,
including student unions, syndicates, private mosques, the banking sector, and
private enterprise. The alignment of some secularitsts with the regime
legitimized these efforts, leading to both the exclusion of Islamists and the
emergence of a dual public sphere phenomenon that defined both the political
and socio-religious domains. The exclusion of moderate Islamists created space
for more extreme elements to flourish. Apolitical Salafism capitalized on its
historical moment and grew steadily—alongside neoliberal Islam—during the
second half of the 1990s. This, in turn, led to further divisions between
Islamist and non-Islamist opposition factions.
The
new millennium witnessed the ascent of a new generation to the frontlines of
Egyptian politics. Disenchanted with established political divisions, this
generation (usually referred to as the ‘1970s generation’) was more focused on
issues of national consensus. Its ascent increased “the prospects for effective
alliance building… [as activists] demonstrated a greater propensity for
pragmatism and compromise, despite their varying ideological commitments.”23
Islamists belonging to this generation were challenging the tactics of their
respective organizations and their focus on divisive identity politics instead
of uniting lines to achieve nationwide goals. Operating against the backdrop of
their own historical moment, these activists were increasingly marginalized
within Islamist circles, only to regain their influence in post-revolutionary
Egypt.
Islamists in
the Revolution
Inspired
by Mohammed Bouazizi, the Tunisian
street vendor whose self-immolation sparked that country’s revolution, a few
Egyptians set themselves on fire in front of the parliament, to protest their
living conditions and the country’s socioeconomic problems. Politicians and activists
soon followed by calling for a massive demonstration on Police Day, January 25—a
call which had different responses from different Islamist groups.
While some Salafi
groups were fast in their denunciation of the call for protest (including the
influential DSA), the relatively insignificant Salafi group Hafs issued a
statement encouraging Egyptians to participate.24 Consistent with the regime’s
strategy to downplay the significance of calls to protest, Sufi orders and the
official religious establishment remained silent.
The
Brotherhood’s reaction was more sophisticated. The group’s leadership was
cornered between two choices: extreme provocation of the regime, or detachment
from the broader nationalist movement. It therefore issued three statements between
January 15 and January 23 in escalating tones. The first statement
congratulated the Tunisian people for the successful ousting of Ben Ali and
called upon Arab regimes to “listen to the voice of wisdom” from their people
calling for reform; the second statement, issued January 19, included a
ten-point roadmap for reform to be enacted immediately; the third condemned the
interrogation and threats faced by MB leaders being pressured to boycott the
protests, and called for dialogue.25 While these official statements remained
ambiguous about the degree of the group’s own participation, a group of MB
youth members were quick to endorse the protest calls and begin rallying for
the cause.
The turnout on
January 25 exceeded expectations and thereby altered the political calculation
of the various parties. Between January 25 and 28, the co-opted official
religious institution and politically inexperienced Salafis were slow to react,
while the MB was modifying its position around the clock. In a statement on January
26, the Brotherhood asserted that its members were participating in their
personal capacity and that the regime should “comply to people’s will,”26 and
on the eve of January 28, the group announced its endorsement of the calls for
nationwide demonstrations. The regime responded by preemptively arresting a
large number of key MB leaders and activists, including a handful of executive
council members.
Islamists responded
differently to the unprecedented clashes that took place on January 28, and
their shocking death toll. Despite its conservative nature, the MB’s political
experience facilitated a swift change of rhetoric. Four increasingly strident
statements were made between January 29 and February 1, the last outspokenly
calling for Mubarak to step down. Meanwhile, a statement issued by the DSA on
January 30 condemned the “destruction of public property,” while not declaring
a stance vis-à-vis the protests, a position that the group maintained in its
statement following Mubarak’s second television appearance. Again, the official
religious establishment and Sufi orders remained largely silent.
When
Mubarak addressed the nation in his second televised speech, following the
million man march on February 1, he made some minor concessions.27 He offered a
roadmap for change that was more aligned with Islamists’ conservative thinking,
as the apparent ‘unconstitutionality’ of his stepping down made calls for him
to do so seem irrational, especially given the absence of a clear alternative.
The official establishment used the pro-Mubarak demonstrations that followed
this speech to confirm its loyalty to the regime. Both the Grand Sheikh of
Al-Azhar and the Grand Mufti issued statements hailing the president’s speech
and the changes it promised. The Sufi establishment remained silent, although
some Sufi sheikhs and Al-Azhar scholars joined the protests, giving rise to
dissent within the institutions upon which the regime depended.
The positions taken
by the MB during this period reflected an internal divide. On-the-ground
activists played an instrumental role in defending revolutionaries when thugs
attacked Tahrir Square the following day; they chanted alongside other
protesters and rejected talks with regime officials, thereby moving closer to
the core of the revolutionary movement. The MB leadership, however, was shaken
by Vice President Omar Suleiman’s carrot-and-stick interview in which he
offered the Brotherhood a seat in negotiations while accusing it of political
opportunism and jeopardizing the country’s national interests. The MB statement
of February 3 reflected a return to their earlier conservative position: while
it clearly rejected the regime’s threats and endorsed the revolutionary
demands, it opened the door to a “constructive, productive, and sincere dialogue,”
with the regime. The persistence of the revolutionaries was shaking the balance
of power, however, and caused the retreat of MB leaders from talks with
Suleiman after only one round.
Salafis
emerged in support of the protests only a few days before Mubarak stepped down.
Clearly departing from its earlier anti-revolutionary stance, the DSA issued
two statements on February 2. While the first condemned violence by protesters,
the second outlined a rather conservative roadmap for reform that including
abolishing the Emergency Law, combating corruption, and hiring the competent
and the pious. A few iconic Salafi figures began to appear at protests.28 The
official religious establishment remained all the while silent, while facing
serious pressure from those among its scholars who joined the demonstrators.
Immediate
Revolutionary Impact on Islamists
The
eighteen days preceding Mubarak’s fall had a deep impact on the Islamists who
took part in protests. Most significantly, it pushed them beyond the borders of
identity politics. Through their interactions with other groups and activists,
Islamists realized that their social and political counterparts were not
hostile toward Islam, and that their agendas were not anti-Islamic. Although
legal barriers to inclusion were removed, allowing the MB to form a legal
political party, this inclusive dynamic lasted no longer than a few weeks. A
few days after Mubarak’s resignation, the Supreme Council of Armed Forces
(SCAF) established a committee to draft constitutional amendments that would
facilitate the transition process. The committee was headed by retired judge
Tariq Al-Bishri and included a handful of judges and law professors, as well as
Subhi Salih, lawyer and former MB parliamentarian.29 While the MB accepted the
proposed roadmap, other political groups remained opposed. Soon, the procedural
debate was transformed into an ideological one: supporters of the amendments
were considered Islamists; those who opposed it were branded anti-Islamists.
This re-polarization revived the split in the public sphere, which in turn had
its impact on Islamists.30
The
short era of inclusion had a significant impact on all different Islamist
groups, but most importantly on the MB, which had relied on identity politics
to maintain its organizational unity. One week after Mubarak’s fall, the
Brotherhood declared its intention to establish a political party, and the FJP
was born. While the nomination of leaders (all of whom were members of the MB
executive council) raised serious questions about the party’s autonomy, the
establishment of a political party reflected a major shift in the group’s
political thinking.
The structure and
leadership of the FJP was met with dismay by different reformist figures within
the group. Ibrahim Al-Za‘farani, Khaled Dawood, and Hamid Al-Dafrawi—three
prominent reformist figures from Alexandria, all considered disciples of Aboul
Fotouh—decided to split with the MB and form their own political party. Soon
enough, and as they moved beyond identity politics, they realized that the
question of religious moderation was not the only one governing the political
domain: political orientation was also crucial. They consequently split into
three different political groups: two consider themselves center-right (the Nahda
and Riyada parties); the third (the Society of Peace and Development Party)
considers itself center-left.
Younger
members who had operated for a far shorter time in the context of oppression
found it much easier to move beyond identity politics and to rediscover Egypt’s
political landscape in light of revolutionary inclusiveness. A first wave of
protest came from a group of Cairene youth, who called for a nationwide
conference for MB youth with workshops that would focus on two main themes:
transforming the MB from an organization to an institution, and discussing
different scenarios for the relationship between socio-religious and political
activities.31 This conference, held on March 26, was followed by the dismissal
of key figures, young and old, who refused to join the FJP and formed their own
parties, or who joined Aboul Fotouh’s presidential campaign.32
If the moment of
inclusion was the main trigger for change within the MB, it was a combination
of perceived identity threat and political opportunity that altered Salafi
dynamics. Dozens of secular activists gathered in a demonstration in late
February and called for the second article of the constitution, establishing
the principles of sharia as the primary source of legislation, to be amended. Salafis,
who perceived this as a threat, responded with a massive demonstration after
prayers in Abbasiya the following Friday—the first Salafi demonstration since
January 25. The widening split in the public sphere that emerged during the
referendum on constitutional amendments further politicized Salafis. With the
MB supporting the amendments and most ‘secular’ political forces rejecting
them, Salafis—operating on identity politics—decided to side with the MB. This
decision was further encouraged by some marginal voices on the ‘No’ campaign
calling for the wholesale removal of Article 2, and other, more significant
voices, basing their opposition to the amendments in the assumption that a ‘Yes’
vote would empower Islamists. Over 77 percent of Egyptians voted for the
constitutional amendments. And instead of reading these figures as representing
the broader public’s choice of a less risky path to change, mainstream media
insisted that the outcome reflected the overwhelming electoral power of
Islamists. This, in turn, fed into the Salafis’ perception of themselves and
highlighted the opportunities that appeared to be associated with political
integration. Initially, however, and aware of their political inexperience,
Salafis were still hesitant to establish their own political parties and
instead announced their support of the MB.33
Subsequent
events, however, illustrated the divergence of MB and Salafi positions. The
resurfacing of the case of Kamilia Shehata and the state’s failure to resolve
it provoked Salafis to demonstrate again, calling for the Shehata’s release
from ‘church arrest.’ Demonstrations in front of the Coptic Church in Abbasiya
led to clashes between Salafi and Coptic youth. The silence of the MB provoked
Salafis to pursue an independent political track. They started establishing
their own political parties, most significantly Al-Noor Party (NP), which was
affiliated with leaders of the DSA. Despite these moves, Salafis remained
marginal on Egypt’s political scene as the MB retained its hegemony over the
political Islamist discourse. But, with the increasingly loud call by some
secular intellectuals and public figures for a set of supra-constitutional
articles, Islamists who viewed this as threat decided to respond. Salafis,
resorting again to identity politics, magnified the practically nonexistent
fear of the marginalization of sharia—the adoption of supra-constitutional
articles that would restrict the application of sharia. And on July 29,
hundreds of thousands of pro-Islamist activists responded to a call by the DSA for a
demonstration in Tahrir Square opposing these supra-constitutional principles,
and were joined by other Islamist factions including the MB.34 The
predominantly Salafi parade sent alarming signals to some political and social
groups, who feared that a Salafi ascent would jeopardize their civil liberties
and alter the political system in undesirable ways.
The ousting of
Mubarak took Egypt’s religious establishment by surprise. Its primary challenge
in the revolution’s aftermath was to regain both its political and its
scholarly legitimacy. Al-Azhar’s Grand Sheikh adopted a multidimensional
strategy for personal and institutional re-legitimization. On the one hand, he
reversed his position while insisting that he had always been a strong
supporter of the revolution, citing incidents such as sending an imam to lead
the Friday prayers in Tahrir Square as proof. To avoid scrutiny of these
claims, a key component of his strategy was to divert attention to other
issues. He formed a committee to revise the laws governing Al-Azhar, and
pledged to revitalize the organization in order to enable it to regain its
position as a leading scholarly institution. This was welcomed by observers who
feared Salafi assimilation into the institution after long years of
institutional disempowerment. He also relied on independent credible experts to
revisit laws regulating Al-Azhar and propose new legislation that would offer a
wider margin of financial and administrative independence. A shift was also effected
in the broader discourse, with Al-Azhar and the Grand Sheikh’s bureau issuing
statements supporting Arab revolutions and condemning the dictatorship of Arab
regimes.
Meanwhile, Al-Azhar’s
efforts to increase its legitimacy as an academic institution were based on
positioning itself as the guardian of religious authenticity and moderation,
and the patriarch of Islamists. Hence it launched initiatives that brought
together iconic figures from all Islamist groups, including Salafis and the MB.
It also embarked on a discussion about the ‘nature of the state,’ which
provoked significant debate in the public sphere. Al-Azhar contributed to this
debate by issuing a declaration representing its perception of the role and
nature of the state.35 Egypt’s Grand Mufti, who had initially waged
intellectual battles against Salafis, later followed in the footsteps of the
Grand Sheikh and hosted Salafi preachers in his office, emphasizing the need
for unity and cooperation.
The
Sufis, like the Salafis, were politicized as a result of the perceived threat
to their identity. The split in the public sphere between Islamists and
secularists catalyzed their politicization. Realizing there was an opportunity
to oppose the Salafis on a more moderate and inclusive platform while still
enjoying Islamist authenticity, Sufi orders began to increase their political
presence.36 Following a similar strategy to Al-Azhar, their politically active
elements chose to align themselves more closely with secularists than with
Islamists, since their identity was constantly threatened by their religious
rivals, the Salafis. This rivalry was further fueled by the Salafis’ show of
force in the July 29 demonstration, which the Sufis avoided. To no one’s
surprise, the first Sufi political party was formed by the sheikh of the Azmiya
order, who had been growing increasingly politicized in recent years. With
little political experience and limited capacity to organize and mobilize, the
party has not yet left the margins of Egypt’s political landscape.
Islamists’
Post-Revolutionary Challenges
The split in the
public sphere has led to an identity-based polarization, with political actors
characterized on one side as Islamist, and on the other, as secular. This
polarization has had the effect of marginalizing serious questions of reform
and policy which Islamists will have to face in post-revolutionary Egypt. These
include the relationships between state and religion, authenticity and
modernity, as well as the challenge of developing a coherent political program
and the unprecedented empowerment of individuals within organizations.
Various
scholarly attempts have been made to define the term ‘secular’ and assess how
it relates to religious values. Of these attempts, perhaps the most important
in the Egyptian context is that of Abdel-Wahab Elmessiri, who distinguishes
between two layers of secularism: the procedural and the absolute. While
procedural secularism amends procedures without challenging the governing value
system, absolute secularism aims at constructing its own frame of reference,
challenging the transcendental religious values that governed societies in
pre-secular times. For Elmessiri, these forms exist on a continuum, with
theocracies at one end, procedural secularism somewhere in the middle, and absolute
secularism at the other end. This clustering has a much greater illustrative
capacity than traditional Islamist-secular polarization. Arguably, the notion
of ‘absolute secularism’ has only marginal (if any) presence in Egypt’s public
debate. The question is therefore not whether religion should have a role in
the political system, but rather how this role should be managed, and which
domains it should cover.
Islamists
have responded differently to these questions. While Salafis refuse terms
designed to bridge the gap (such as the ‘civil state,’ a vaguely defined term
coined to end the secular-Islamist dichotomy, and intended to mean a state that
is neither hostile towards religion nor theocratic), Sufis tend to bypass the
entire question in their political discourse by avoiding any discussion on the
matter. The MB and Al-Azhar, meanwhile, demonstrate higher levels of
sophistication. With the experience of years of debate and discussion on the
matter, the MB presented its vision for a ‘civil state with an Islamic frame of
reference.’ While this articulation is still considerably vague, the group has
successfully distanced itself from the traditional Salafi stance and is working
hard to present itself as mainstream movement capable of acting as a bridge
between both sides of the political spectrum.37 Al-Azhar—with solid academic
credentials, insufficient political experience, and a dire need to
re-legitimize the institution—took part in the debate through its declaration
on the political system. The declaration successfully grabbed the attention of
both secular and Islamist activists, yet was harshly criticized by Islamists on
both political and scholarly grounds.38 An earlier attempt by Al-Azhar to
approach this rather contentious question had been made by Grand Mufti Ali
Gomaa before the revolution. Focusing on the ‘uniqueness’ of Egyptians’
understanding of religion, Gomaa examined modern history arguing that “Egypt
had not detached itself from Islam, but was only trying to respond to
contemporary challenges” through its legislation.39 He argued that the
contemporary Egyptian legal system presents a successful model for a civil
state that upholds sharia.
This question of
the relationship between religion and politics will play an instrumental role
in shaping the future for Islamist groups. The scholarly question of what
constitutes sharia and the political question of how much the state—rather than
the individual and society—should be involved in the application of sharia are
likely to spark real debates amongst Islamists. Upcoming events will encourage
Islamists to scrutinize this relationship between religion and politics, and
will eventually lead to the redefinition of the Islamist landscape.
Another
major factor that will affect the future of Islamism is the
authenticity-modernity dialectic. Long decades of exclusion from the polity
have hindered Islamist scholarship in sociopolitical domains. However, since
authenticity is such an integral component of Islamism, Islamists cannot simply
discard authenticity and unconditionally accept modern notions such as
democracy. If more politically experienced groups do so, they are criticized by
less experienced, more stagnant ones as ‘inauthentic,’ and their ‘Islamist
legitimacy’ is consequently jeopardized.
This
authenticity-modernity dialectic is most clearly manifested in the relationship
between neoliberal Islamists and all the others. While the neoliberals’
unconditional pursuit of relevance to modern societies has boosted their
popularity among globalized, modern segments of the society, their lack of
focus on authenticity has almost completely discredited them among other
Islamists.
Striking
a balance between authenticity and sociopolitical relevance is a major
challenge for different Islamist groups. Attitudes toward notions like ‘democracy’
and ‘the state’ reflect different groups’ positions on the matter. Al-Azhar—the
symbol of authenticity—issued a statement outlining the principles of an ‘Islamically
acceptable’ political system. While the definition was widely accepted by
different social groups and by intellectuals, signaling success on the
moderation parameter, it was criticized by Islamists, and particularly by
Salafis. More significantly, none of the Islamic activists or intellectuals
were invited to the first round of talks and workshops that Al-Azhar held in
the run-up to the publication of this key declaration. Arguably, Al-Azhar made
a political calculation—influenced by long years of disempowerment and state
control and the difficulty of fighting Islamists in the struggle for legitimacy—to
side with other social actors, and to win the battle for religious authenticity
and representation on non-Islamist grounds.
The
MB, being the most experienced political Islamist group, approached the
challenge differently. The group resorted to the writings of Yusuf
Al-Qaradawi40 and other credible scholars to justify its acceptance of a ‘civil’
state and emphasize the authenticity of that position. On other matters,
including questions of public morality, the group’s position remains vague, as
they attempt to appease audiences on both sides. The separation of the FJP from
the MB has given the group more room for political maneuvering, wherein the
party could adopt a politically correct stance while the Brotherhood as a whole
stresses religious authenticity.
The
question of identity governs the Salafi approach to this dilemma. Salafi
leaders seize every possible opportunity to highlight differences between their
position and those of other sociopolitical forces—including other Islamists—always
attempting to emphasize their own authenticity. On the question of the nature
of the state, for instance, they continue to reject the ‘civil’ state, promote
the ‘Islamic’ state, and stress their rejection of democracy.41 It is the lack
of Al-Azhar’s credibility that allows Salafis—arguably presenting less
scholarly sound and religiously authentic stances—to play the identity card in
post-revolutionary Egypt.
Sufis,
meanwhile, have adopted a stance contradictory to that of Salafis. Attempting
to emphasize their moderation—their key political strength—Sufis seem to
endorse democracy while emphasizing their authenticity in other domains,
including their reliance on Al-Azhar as a reference in religious practice.
Consequently, their rhetoric is hardly competitive on Islamist grounds, as they
make no serious attempts to authenticate their political stances. On the
question of the nature of the state, they too emphasize their acceptance of the
‘civil state’ with equal citizenship rights for all citizens regardless of
religion and gender. They do not, however, provide any religious authority for
this stance.
Neoliberal
Islamists, operating through Al-Hadara Party, have adopted more progressive
political stances (in contrast to their conservative economic ones): one party
spokesman announced his rejection of state intervention in cultural and moral
affairs, and insisted that movies and art should not be censored.42 Credibility
of this discourse among Islamists is minimal as it is hardly viewed as
religiously authentic.
Developing
coherent political programs is a key challenge for Islamists in the aftermath
of the revolution. While the current polarization of the Egyptian public sphere
is causing the retreat of most into identity politics, some remain persistent
in their focus on policy and reform. As events progress, however, more
Islamists are likely to be forced out of identity politics. With the
abolishment of legal barriers to participation and legal recognition already
being granted to a handful of Islamist parties, public debate will eventually
reshape alliances in a way that shifts the focus to policy rather than
identity. Questions of economy and foreign policy, among others, will prove to
be more important to Egypt’s public debate than Islamist identity politics.
Nonetheless, Islamist movements venturing beyond identity domains will have to
be cautious as they move into these new fields. A too-sudden shift will cause
it to lose its constituency, which would then resort to more rigid forms of
Islamism.
The
current scene suggests that Al-Azhar together with the more sophisticated
elements of the MB would be better able to navigate this path than other
Islamist groups. Al-Azhar’s authenticity and historical legacy, alongside its
pursuit of moderation and social reconciliation, with the MB’s political
experience and credibility among Islamists could serve toward that end.
Nonetheless, the political thinking of the current MB leadership seems to be
more concerned with identity and organization, and consequently allies itself
with more conservative elements. This kind of alliance therefore seems
unlikely.
Egypt’s
revolution has caused a major shift in the thinking of Islamist organizations.
The pre-revolutionary context—with its identity politics, split public sphere,
and state oppression—led to the emergence of autocratic organizations, in which
leaders wielded tremendous power. This power was challenged by the decision of
individual members to join the mass protests, usually against the will of their
leaders, as highlighted in earlier sections. This decision by MB youth altered
the group’s chain-of-command legitimacy, with events proving the youth to have
been right. Small, marginal Salafi groups, and junior members of the more
prominent ones, who joined the protest in its earlier days came to be viewed by
Salafis as political lifesavers: preachers who had begun by denouncing the
demonstrations later pointed to a few martyrs broadly identified as Salafis as
evidence of Salafi participation. The same applies to junior Al-Azhar scholars
who participated in the demonstrations from the beginning, as well as the
former spokesman of the Grand Sheikh, who resigned and joined the protests.
These and other incidents have challenged the governing perceptions of
leadership and led to a redistribution of power within Islamist groups, whereby
individual choice will have a major role in their decision-making and limit
top-down authority. The power of initiative-taking has been inspired and
magnified by the revolution, and poses a clear challenge to the leadership of
Islamist factions.
Ibrahim El-Houdaiby is a senior researcher at the House of Wisdom Foundation for Strategic Studies, an independent research center in Cairo. He was previously a board member of the Muslim Brotherhood’s English website, Ikhwanweb. He writes a weekly column for the Al-Shorouk, and is a contributor to Al-Ahram Online.
This essay is
adapted by permission from “Islamism in and after Egypt’s Revolution,” by
Ibrahim El-Houdaiby in Arab Spring in Egypt: Revolution and Beyond, edited by
Bahgat Korany and Rabab El-Mahdi, The American University in Cairo Press, 2012.
1-2 Asef
Bayat. Making Islam Democratic: Social Movements and the Post-Islamist Turn.
Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2007.
3 Patrick
Haenni and Husam Tammam. “Egypt’s Air Conditioned Islam.” Le Monde
Diplomatique, 3 September 2003. http://mondediplo.com/2003/09/03egyptislam.
4 Ibrahim
El-Houdaiby. “Trends in Political Islam in Egypt.” In Islamist Radicalisation:
The Challenge for Euro-Mediterranean Relations, edited by Michael Emerson,
Kristina Kausch, and Richard Youngs, pp. 25–51. Brussels: Centre for European
Policy Studies; Madrid: FRIDE, 2009.
5 Roel
Meijer. introduction to Global Salafism: Islam’s New Religious Movement, edited
by Roel Meijer. London: Hurst and Company, 2009.
6
Wahhabism
is a school of Islamism that follows Muhammad ibn ‘Abd Al-Wahhab. It calls for
the rejection of accumulated turath (accumulated heritage of Islamic sciences)
and the return to the original sources of Islam to understand them. It is widely
viewed as rigid, and while it claims to represent orthodox Islam, its
authenticity is contested by various competing schools, including Al-Azhar.
7
Kamilia
Shehata was the wife of a Coptic priest who allegedly converted to Islam, but
was held in custody by the regime before being sent back to the Church. Salafi
groups started mobilizing their supporters and staged demonstrations calling
for her ‘release’ from church.
8
Abdel
Moneim Al-Shahhat, “Lan Nataraja‘, Lan Nustadraj, Lan Nuwazzaf,” 19 January 2011,
http:// www.salafvoice.com/article.php?a=5105.
9
For
more on the MB’s version of Qutbism, see Bayat 2007, 36–42, and Ibrahim El
Houdaiby, “Four Decades after Sayyid Qutb’s Execution,” Daily Star Egypt, 28
August 2008, http://dailystaregypt. com/article.aspx?ArticleID=16062.
10
Bernard
Haykel. “On the Nature of Salafi Thought and Action,” in Global Salafism: Islam’s
New Religious Movement, edited by Roel Meijer. London: Hurst and Company, 2009.
11
Mohammad
Emara, “Tayarat Al-Fikr Al-Islamy.” Cairo: Al Shorouk, 2008
12-13 Eric
Trager. “The Unbreakable Muslim Brotherhood: Grim Prospects for a Liberal
Egypt,” Foreign Affairs 90, No. 5 (September/October), 2011.
14
For
more on the ‘rules of the game,’ see, for example, Khalil Al-Anani, “Al-Nizam
wa-l-Ikhwan fi Misr: Hal Tataghayyar Qawa‘id Al-Lu‘ba?,” Al-Jazeera, 3 August
2009, http://www.aljazeera.
net/NR/exeres/D25AB80C-7A5B-41B9-893E-23A8FFCE1727.htm; and Ibrahim
El-Houdaiby, “Al-Mawqef Al-Estrateigy li-l-Ikhwan,” Al-Shorouk, 23 July 2010.
15 Sayed
Zayed. “Hossam Tammam: Tayyar Al-Du‘ah Al-Judud Lan Yantahi,” Al-Nahar, 10
February 2010.
16
For
more on the impact of leadership change in the MB, see Ibrahim El-Houdaiby,
“Egypt’s
Brotherhood Faces Leadership Challenges,” Arab Reform Bulletin, Carnegie
Endowment, 10 November 2010, http://www.carnegieendowment.org/2009/11/10/
egypt-s-brotherhood-faces-leadership-challenge/9k8.
17
Abigail
Hauslohner, “Egypt’s Opposition: Will the Islamists Join ElBaradei?,” TIME
World, 14 April 2010,
http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1981368,00.html.
18
Hesham
Al-Awadi. In Pursuit of Legitimacy: The Muslim Brothers and Mubarak, 1982-2000.
London: I.B.Tauris, 2005.
19
Carrie
Rosefsky Wickham. Mobilizing Islam: Religion, Activism, and Political Change in
Egypt. New York: Columbia Press, 2002.
20
Bayat,
2007.
21
Al-Awadi,
2005.
22-23 Dina
Shehata. “Islamists and Non-Islamists in Egyptian Opposition.” In Conflict,
Identity and Reform in the Muslim World: Changes for U.S. Engagement, pp.
309-26. Washington, DC: U.S. Institute of Peace, 2009.
24
Eman
Abdelmonem, “Harakat Hafs Al-Salafiya Tad‘u li-l-Musharaka Yawm 25 Yanayir
Wa-Tu’Akkid: Al-Nizam Wasal li-Mada Ba‘Id fi-l-Zulm,” Al-Dustur, 20 January
2011, http://www.dostor.org/ politics/egypt/11/january/20/35443.
25-26 Amr
Hamid Rabie. Watha’iq 100 Yam ‘ala Thawrat 25 Yanayer. Cairo: Al-Ahram Center
for Political and Strategic Studies, 2011.
27
In his televised statement, Mubarak made it clear that he would not be running
for a sixth presiden- tial term, nor would his son Gamal run for the
presidency. He also announced that he intended to make some constitutional
changes.
28
Mohammed
Hassan, an iconic Salafi television preacher, appeared in the square, and was
inter- viewed by Al Arabiya on 31 January 2011:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZInCkm5vm8.
29
The
committee suggested that nine articles of the constitution be amended, and that
the transition begin with the election of a new parliament. That parliament
would name a committee to draft a new constitution. A new president would be
elected as a final step.
30
On
the controversy preceding the referendum, see, for example, Salma Shukrallah, “Will
Egypt Vote ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ to Constitutional Amendments?,” Ahram Online, 15 March
2011, http://english.
ahram.org.eg/NewsContent/1/0/7707/Egypt/0/Will-Egypt-vote-Yes-or-No-to-constitutional-%20
%20amendm.aspx.
31
Hanaa
Souliman, “The Muslim Brotherhood’s New Guard Rocks the Boat,” Daily News
Egypt, 3 April 2011,
http://www.thedailynewsegypt.com/egypt/the-muslim-brotherhoods-new-guard-
rocks-the-boat.html.
32
Jeffrey
Fleishman, “In Egypt, Muslim Brotherhood Showing Cracks in Its Solidarity,” Los
Angeles Times, 6 July 2011, http://articles.latimes.com/2011/jul/06/world/
la-fg-egypt-brotherhood-expelled-20110706.
33
Key
figures, including Al-Shahhat and Hassan, openly declared their intent to
support the MB
(see, for example, “‘Abdel Moneim al-Shahhat, al-mutahaddith
bi-ism al-Jama‘a al-Salafiya bi-l-Iskindiriya: Sa nad‘am al-Ikhwan
fi-l-intikhabat,” Umma wahda, 20 April 2011, http://ummah-
wahda.blogspot.com/2011/04/blog-post.html).
34
Anthony
Shadid, “Islamists Flood Square in Cairo in Show of Strength,” New York Times,
30 July 2011, http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/30/world/middleeast/30egypt.html.
35 Comprising
eleven points, the declaration supported the establishment of a national,
constitutional, democratic modern state with respect for civil liberties;
emphasized Al-Azhar’s role as the key scholarly Islamic institution; and
announced its support for the Palestinian struggle. A copy of the declaration
can be found at http://www.jusur.net/index-Dateien/image/azhar.pdf.
36
Ammar
Ali Hassan. “Al-Darsal-siyasili-l-turuqal-sufiyaba‘dthawrat25yanayir,”Aljazeera.net,
30 July 2011,
http://www.aljazeera.net/NR/exeres/21FA3618-C1B2-4D1B-82E6-00699D58A650.htm.
37
The
MB’s attempts to outline the role of state can be traced in their political
documents. The most
significant attempts include the 2004 reform initiative,
the draft manifesto of 2007, and platforms presented in different parliamentary
elections. Main ideas of these arguments are summarized in Essam el-Erian, “Al-Ikhwan
Al-Muslimun wa-mafhum al-dawla,” Sina‘at Al-Fikr, 30 November 2010,
http://www.fikercenter.com/fiker/index.php?option=com_k2&view=item&id=141:%D8%
A7%D9%84%D8%A5%D8%AE%D9%88%D8%A7%D9%86-%D8%A7%D9%84%D9%8
5%D8%B3%D9%84%D9%85%D9%88%D9%86-%D9%88%D9%85%D9%81%D9%87%
D9%88%D9%85-%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%AF%D9%88%D9%84%D8%A9-/-%D8%AF-
%D8%B9%D8%B5%D8%A7%D9%85-%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%B9%D8%B1%D9%8A%
D8%A7%D9%86&Itemid=72.
38
Mohammed
Anz, “Al-Jadal hawl wathiqat al-Azhar yastammir bi-raghm al-tawafuq,” Al-Ahram,
19 August 2011, http://www.ahram.org.eg/Al-Mashhad-Al-Syiassy/News/96106.aspx.
39
Ali
Gomaa. Al-Tajruba Al-Misriyya. Cairo: Nahdet Misr, 2008.
40
A
reputable Al-Azhar scholar and former member of the MB who fled the country to
Qatar in the late 1960s and later resigned from the group to become the Mufti
of Qatar, and the chairman and founder of the International Union of Muslim
Scholars.
41
Prominent
Salafi figures, including Al-Shahhat, Yasir Burhani, and Abu Ishaq Al-Huwayni,
have made recurring appearances denouncing democracy, and insisting that it
violates the sovereignty of God. The most frequently cited examples include the
legalization of gay marriage and extramarital sexual relations in democratic
countries.
42 For
more insights on different views of Islamists on this matter, see Reem Magued’s
interview with representatives of four Islamist parties at
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5F6e1LwlQoY.