Veils of ignorance and fear

What does loathing of the hijab really mean?

Peoples of all faiths and of none should cheer news that Egypt's religious authorities are expected to issue a ban on the wearing of the niqab, or face veil. During a visit to a girls' school in Cairo, says the BBC, "Sheikh Mohamed Tantawi, dean of al-Azhar University, called full-face veiling a custom that has nothing to do with the Islamic faith." He instructed a pupil to take off her niqab, a move that has provoked predictable opposition from other clerics.

According to al-Jazeera: "Sheikh Safwat Hijazi, a scholar and preacher, said he would personally sue anyone who prevented his daughter or wife wearing full niqab from going about her daily life, including entering government offices. "Preventing a woman from wearing what she wants is a crime," Hijazi said. "Whoever says the niqab is a custom is not respectable."

That there can be a debate about this, however, is an advance in itself, especially when the Islamic credentials of the al-Azhar dean are so strong. (I was going to say "not open to question", but a) people are already questioning them and b) debate has to involve questioning, so it is another advance that no one's authority should be considered so absolute that it cannot be challenged.)

It is hard to argue that covering a woman's face does much to benefit her in any way at all. But what about the hijab? More specifically, what about western attitudes towards women wearing the headscarf here in Europe? Reading one passage in Brian Whitaker's new book, What's Really Wrong With the Middle East (which I will be reviewing for the NS), made me think about this.

When armies move on the ground to conquer and subjugate, they need moral and ideological cover. It is this that gives the dominant narrative of the "Muslim woman" its raison d'être. No wonder that the "Muslim woman" liberation warriors, the likes of Nick Cohen, Christopher Hitchens and Pascal Bruckner, were the same people who cheered American/British troops as they blasted their way through Kabul and Baghdad, and who will no doubt cheer and dance once more should Iran or Syria be bombed next. Soldiers shoot with their guns; they with their pens. They are hegemony's apologists.

Whitaker was quoting an article by Soumaya Ghannoushi, which you can find here. She was dealing with the situation in the Middle East, but it seems to me that those who are most vociferous in their opposition to the wearing of the hijab in Europe are taking, whether they realise it or not, an equally hegemonistic approach. For the underlying assumption is that no woman could ever freely choose to wear such an oppressive item of clothing, and that any who claim to have made such a choice of their own volition are suffering from some sort of false consciousness.

This very clearly represents a particular western, liberal vision of what freedom for women is, and as such is a perfectly valid view. What is not valid, however, is for this view to become so set that it is no longer open to argument; for the hijab to become an object of fear and hatred, utterly alien and "other", and subject to legal restriction. Last month the Flemish authorities banned the wearing of the hijab in schools, producing this reaction from the Antwerp imam Nordine Taouil: "We are getting the signal of 'you are not welcome'."

It doesn't help that those who view the headscarf in this way seem to listen only to the likes of Ayaan Hirsi Ali, who has said that she sees no difference between Islam and Islamism. (For good measure, her view of the Prophet Muhammad is that: "By our standards, he was a pervert. He ordered the killing of Jews and homosexuals and apostates, and the beating of women.") She doesn't call for the hijab to be banned, but she obviously doesn't see it as a choice anyone should make. "You can wear whatever it is that you want, you can give out whatever message that you want to give out -- but you have to understand that if that message is rejected, then you can't call people Islamophobic and expect to be taken seriously. If you choose to wear a veil, people might ridicule and oppose you," she said in an interview with the Independent's Johann Hari.

That, frankly, sounds to me exactly like an encouragement to ridicule and opposition, and to Islamophobia. And all of this is loaded into the wearing of the hijab -- when one doesn't have to look very far back in European history to find plenty of Christian women whose heads were covered by scarves, too (you could find many in villages in the Balkans and eastern Europe today where that is still the case).

Now it would be fair to admit that I would be surprised if my wife, my sisters-in-law, or any of my bare-headed, female Muslim friends, chose to start wearing the hijab. I would certainly ask them why they had chosen to do so. I hope, though, that I wouldn't be horrified. Why should I be, if I feel no such thing when I see the hijab-wearing girls walking to school near me in north London, or the similarly clad woman who looks after the crèche at my gym?

Some women who wear the hijab may be oppressed, but others are not. For many it may be no more arduous a convention or choice than the expectation that men working in the City of London should possess a pinstriped suit and a pair of smart shoes. Western liberals are right to argue for women's rights, but there are far more worthy battles than this. Equally, it would be a useful step for them to consider that, for some women, wearing the hijab is perfectly normal.

Should this be a battle they engage in at all? They may conclude that it is. It would be better, however, if they stopped to ask this of themselves occasionally, rather than contenting themselves with demonising a piece of cloth.

Sholto Byrnes is a Contributing Editor to the New Statesman
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The government must demand that Iran release Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe

Iran's imprisonment of my constituent breaches the Convention on the Rights of the Child.

I grew up with a very paranoid mother. She had tragically lost members of her family as a teenager and, as a result, she is extremely fearful when it came to her children. I used to laugh at her growing up – I indulged it but often scoffed at her constant need to hear from us.

A few days ago, I was in Parliament as normal. My husband, his parents and our baby daughter were all in Parliament. This rare occasion had come about due to my mother in law’s birthday – I thought it would be a treat for her to lunch in the Mother of Parliaments!

The division bells rang half way through our meal and I left them to vote, grabbing my phone of the table. “See you in ten minutes!” I told them. I didn’t see them for more than five hours.

The minute the doors bolted and the Deputy Speaker announced that we were indefinitely being kept safe in the chamber, all I could think about was my daughter. In my heart of hearts, I knew she was safe. She was surrounded by people who loved her and would protect her even more ferociously than I ever could.

But try explaining that to a paranoid mother. Those five hours felt like an eternity. In my head, I imagined she was crying for me and that I couldn’t be there for her while the building we were in was under attack. In reality, I later found out she had been happily singing Twinkle Twinkle little star and showing off her latest crawl.

That sense of helplessness and desperate impatience is hard to describe. I counted down the minutes until I could see her, as my imagination ran away with me. In those 5 hours, I started thinking more and more about my constituent Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe.

Here I was, temporarily locked in the Parliamentary chamber, surrounded by friends and colleagues and door keepers who were doing all they could to keep me safe. I knew I was going to be let out eventually and that I would be reunited with my daughter and husband within hours.

Nazanin has been detained in the notorious Evin prison in Iran for nearly a year. She only gets an occasional supervised visit with her two-year-old daughter Gabriella. She’s missed Christmas with Gabriella, she missed Gabriella’s second birthday and no doubt she will be missing Mother’s Day with Gabriella.

But it’s not just the big occasions, it’s the everyday developments when Gabriella learns a new song, discovers a new story, makes a new friend. Those are the important milestones that my mother never missed with me and the ones I want to make sure I don’t miss with my daughter.

Unfortunately, Nazanin is just one of many examples to choose from. Globally there are more than half a million women in prison serving a sentence following conviction, or are awaiting trial. Many of these women are mothers who have been separated from their children for years.

In 2010, the United Nations General Assembly unanimously adopted the Bangkok Rules - the first international instrument to explicitly address the different needs that female prisoners have. It was also the first instrument to outline safeguards for the children of imprisoned mothers.

The Bangkok Rules apply to all women prisoners throughout all stages of the criminal justice system, including before sentencing and after release. However, Nazanin’s case has seen a wilful flouting of the rules at each and every stage.

Rule 23 states that ‘Disciplinary sanctions for women prisoners shall not include a prohibition of family contact, especially with children’. Tell that to her daughter, Gabriella, who has barely seen her mother for the best part of a year.

Rule 26 adds that women prisoners’ contact with their families shall be facilitated by all reasonable means, especially for those detained in prisons located far from their homes. Tell that to her husband, Richard, who in almost a year has only spoken to his wife via a few calls monitored by the Iranian Revolutionary Guard.

Iran has ratified the Convention on the Rights of the Child and supported the Bangkok Rules, yet it is breaching both with its treatment of Nazanin. It is therefore incumbent upon our government to take the formal step of calling for Nazanin's release - it is staggering they have not yet done so.

As I pass the window displays in shops for Mother’s Day, most of the cards have messages centred around ‘making your mother happy’. If there’s one mother I’d like to make happy this year, it’s Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe.

Tulip Siddiq is Labour MP for Hampstead and Kilburn