The Muslim Brotherhood: should we engage?

Rethinking Islamism V.

Last summer I began a series of posts entitled "Rethinking Islamism". I did this not, as some readers appeared to think, to apologise or even propagandise (!) for political Islam, but because it is a dominant ideology in many countries, and to understand it, and then decide how to engage with it, seemed important to me – not least because at that particular time a great deal of attention was being paid to Turkey, whose AKP government represents either the dangers or the possibilities of an Islamist (or at least Islamist-leaning) party coming to power, depending on your point of view.

One book published in the past few months, but overlooked by most literary sections (apart from that of the Economist), adds significantly to the subject. So what follows is a review of a title I would highly recommend, especially to those who see radical Islam, jihadism, Wahhabism, Salafism and Islamism as one huge monolith and all equally to be feared: The Muslim Brotherhood: the Burden of Tradition by Alison Pargeter (Saqi Books, £20).

As the author states at the beginning, the Muslim Brotherhood, or Ikhwan, "is one of the longest-surviving but also perhaps the most controversial of all Islamist movements to have emerged from the Middle East. The interest and controversy over the Brotherhood spring from the fact that it represents a complete conundrum to many of those trying to fathom it." Is it a social movement? A political party? A transnational organisation? Committed to democracy or to the imposition of an Islamic state?

Has it always been a fomenter of bloodshed, as the former Kuwaiti minister Ahmad al-Rabi is quoted as saying: "The founders of the violent groups were raised on the Muslim Brotherhood, and those who worked with Bin Laden and al-Qaeda went out under [their] mantle." Or is it now a moderate movement with which the west should engage, as an influential 2007 article in Foreign Affairs argued?

The difficulty is that it has been all of the above since Hassan al-Banna formed the MB in 1928. At times, more moderate voices have been in the ascendant, at others more extreme. Frequently in different countries (or even within individual countries), both tendencies have been vocal simultaneously, and the MB has had difficulty reconciling these or disowning members whose views do not help the Brotherhood present itself as progressive.

Ultimately, as Pargeter makes clear throughout her book, the MB cannot do so, because it is constantly in danger of being outflanked by the real jihadists. In order to maintain its popular support and Islamist legitimacy – primarily in Egypt, where it was founded and from where the Murshid, or Supreme Guide, has always come, but also in the Arab Middle East and North Africa, where it is also strong – the MB has to appear to imbue its slogan, "Islam is the solution", with force and fire.

Foremost in this is the problem of the legacy of Sayyid Qutb. It was Qutb, the most famous figure in the MB's history (more so, probably, than al-Banna himself), who developed a new theory of takfir, which allowed Muslims to consider nominally Muslim governments as having apostasised. It is this theory that has since given impetus to a host of extremist and confrontational groups.

In 1969 Qutb's views were rejected by the then Murshid, Hassan al-Hodeibi, in his book Preachers Not Judges. But by then the younger man had already become a martyr figure, having been executed in prison by the Egyptians. As Pargeter notes, the Brotherhood

. . . may reject the concept of fighting against the state and Qutb's more radical ideas, but it seems they cannot relinquish him as a hero. He is considered one of the most important thinkers in the contemporary Islamic movement and as such there is a strong pride in him, all the more poignant because he died for his beliefs.

This taints the MB to this day, as while the likes of al-Qaeda's second-in-command, Ayman al-Zawahiri, are scornful of the Brotherhood's moderation, Qutb and his writings are one of the Brothers' main influences and justify, in their eyes, their terrorism. The more consistent view of the MB has been to make a distinction between "resistance" to occupation and "violence". Thus armed action is legitimate when carried out by Hamas, but generally the Brotherhood's line is for peaceful change – sometimes remarkably so.

Pargeter quotes Robert Leiken and Steven Brooke, authors of the Foreign Affairs article mentioned above: "Every Muslim Brotherhood leader with whom we spoke claimed a willingness to follow suit should Hamas – the Palestinian offshoot of the Brotherhood – recognise the Jewish state."

These, at any rate, are not the bogeymen of popular myth. Nor are the Brotherhood's adherents in Europe who, according to Pargeter, are so marginal in Britain and Germany (where their Arab origins leave them vastly outnumbered by Muslim groups of south Asian provenance in the former and Turkish in the latter) that they would make poor shock troups for "Eurabia", were that state envisaged by the conspiracy theorists even their aim.

In fact, the Ikhwan, as presented in Pargeter's book, come across much of the time as divided, uncoordinated, ineffective ditherers, and certainly not sufficiently dangerous to warrant being designated an international terrorist organisation, as was feared in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks.

Why, then, do the Brothers matter at all? Well, despite their lack of international organisation or overall programmatic coherence, they are the main representatives of moderate political Sunni Islam, and in many if not most parts of the world, the Islamist parties most likely to participate in government take a lead from or are in some way affiliated with them.

Most particularly, if Egypt ever had free and open elections, the MB would almost certainly win.

It is not at all clear what the Muslim Brotherhood meant, when its Cairo HQ declared in 2004 that it was in favour of a "democratic, constitutional, parliamentarian" regime within "the framework of Islamic principles". But when they have worked out what precisely that could be, it should be of very great interest indeed to the wider world.

As Pargeter quotes a US state department official as saying: "The region is going Islam . . . We see this in nearly every country in the Middle East. We either understand it and engage with it or find ourselves completely out of the picture."

Sholto Byrnes is a Contributing Editor to the New Statesman
Getty
Show Hide image

Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times