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‘Su-Shi’ and interfaith dialogue with Anne Dijk and Arjen Buitelaar

su-shi-arjen-anne

Deviating slightly from our usual posts, we wanted to share with our readers an interview between Anne Dijk, a female Sunni scholar based in the Netherlands and Arjen Buitelaar, a male Shia scholar also from the Netherlands. They were interviewed by Arek Miernik who is from Poland, and the interview has been translated to English. You can read more about their backgrounds at the end of this post.

  1. What is the idea behind Su-Shi and how did it come about as your project?

Arjen Since the outbreak of the ‘Arab Spring’ we notice heightened and more open tensions between the different Islamic creeds, mainly Sunnites and Shiites, and the voices of the extremes on both sides become louder. Of course this is a development that has been going on for several decades by now, and the extremes on both sides kind of hijack the voice of the common and good willing majority of Muslims. We see both sides recruit people to war zones in countries they have never been to, and tensions, incomprehension and impotency grow. This kind of reached a peak when Mosul was conquered by ISIL forces. It was that moment that Anne Dijk participated in a radio talk on the differences and similarities between Sunnites and Shiites, and she emphasized that the differences weren’t that big (more on jurisprudential level), but in practice it often seemed impossible to get the groups together even for something simple like an iftar. I then decided to approach her, because it was the bitter truth and despite the talks (and efforts) from authoritative scholars that we share so many commonalities, that we are brothers and sisters or even each other’s souls, and that we should work together, we see that communities simply don’t do that and we wanted to change that.

Anne The idea behind su-shi is that we want to bring together Sunni, Shia and all possible creeds within Islam, together, on an equal basis, to meet on a personal level. We don’t want to ‘create’ one single creed, or try to undermine the differences, which exist. We want to strengthen the ummah by informing about the differences and also speak out against stereotypes and prejudices that cause harm to both groups.

Often, the stereotypes of arguments against the opposite groups are based on prejudices, which often only hold for the extremes, and not for the mass-mainstream. Getting to really know each other, in a safe place, where genuine interest and curiosity for the other, is hardly happening. Talks on internet fora very often result in harsh language and conversations that get hijacked by extremes. That’s why we focus on small get-togethers, to really give a platform for personal meetings, based on proper (academic) information.

  1. How do you create a “safe” and neutral space during your meetings and events? Considering the deep level of division and animosity that these differences can cause, exacerbated by current political events in the Middle East, how do you make sure that these divisive attitudes don’t make their way into your meetings?

Anne During the 1,5 year of preparation, before we went online, formal and open, we discussed this issue elaborately. How can we create a safe and neutral space? Of course we can never guarantee anything, but we made clear ‘houserules’. A few elements therein are, are that dialogue is the goal, not debate. Trying to convince the other of your own truth is not allowed either, sincere and open questions are. Tafkir is not allowed; anyone who considers him/herself Muslim deserves within sushi that we treat him/her as such. Per activity we try to make a ‘risk management’ – for example: we held a iftar last ramadan – what to do with the adhan? (su of shi time?) and what to do with the prayer? We try to prevent any kind if discussion of such issues: how? We talk about them openly and elaborate on potential differences. For example, we elaborated en public on the different times of braking the fast, and that the dates were presented for everyone who wanted to brake the fast at that moment (Sunnis) and that we would do one adhan at the shi time. Later, the prayer was open for everyone – everyone must feel free to be able to pray together, but if someone wanted to pray later, that was also fine.

Arjen I agree with Anne’s answer; these are good examples in practice. Within the core group we have a dozen different ethnic and sectarian backgrounds, so you can imagine we have lively talks on possible difficulties when organizing an event. I’d also like to emphasize that one of our core rules is to support respectful dialogue and denounce debate, which, in effect, could be focused on individual monologues only while dialogue forces to open up and listen to the other. It are these house rules that ensure the safe space individuals find themselves in. Added to that, it is important to note that we work with what we call an ‘oil spill formula’, by which we mean that every visitor is personally invited by someone he/she already knows within the ‘Su-Shi Community’. This way we ensure that people feel more secure to open up and say what is on their hearts. Another way we make sure people find themselves in a safe environment is that we do not use traditional set ups with podia for the speakers and people sitting on chairs for a few hours. Depending on the size of the group we either meet up at someone’s home and start with chit chat and dinner. Or like our last Iftar we met up in a ‘youth club’/lounge setting, having some armchairs, couches and tables to sit on, providing a more relaxed atmosphere and automatically ‘compelling’ people to mix up.

  1. The idea of meeting ‘the other sect’ in this environment presupposes that participants already have a certain degree of openness to it. Did you have any reactions so far from those sectors among both communities which prefer to maintain division and hostility?

Arjen Yes we did, though this was outnumbered by massive support messages. A certain degree of openness is definitely needed, simply because within the extremes of religions and ideologies people and or communities build virtual walls around them that make it impossible to reach out to. When people consider the other to be the devil, or inspired by the devil, or a hypocrite of some sort, and subsequently consider his words to be deceiving, how could one ever be willing to listen to it?

And this is kind of the scope of the hostile messages we received. Some extreme Salafists and Quranists who did not and will not acknowledge the existence of other creeds to be Islamic, and who attempted to defame some of our members on a personal level simply because there’s not much to argument about the content of our stance.

Because it is our policy to engage in dialogue and approach everything positively, instead of bogging down in endless debates, we do not react on that. Instead, these two negative approaches have given us plenty of points to further elaborate and communicate through the positive platform we’ve created.

  1. In your experience what are the main or most common reasons that the extreme sectors of each sect give as justification for their enmity towards the other sect? How much of it is theological, how much historical/political and how often is it perhaps rooted, or strengthened, by people’s personal experiences?

Arjen This is a fairly difficult question that needs some elaboration. It is most interesting that the extreme sectors from all creeds base themselves on core sources, just as much as mainstream creeds do. Sometimes even the exact same texts, yet interpreted differently. The narrower the boundaries of a sect become, the more stress they will put on their absolute authority to explain the meaning of texts and not to stray from the ‘right path’ by looking at explanations by authorities from outside their group’s ‘enclave’. The ‘other’ is literally demonized, and by defining ‘in-group’ and ‘out-group’ in terms of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’, ‘Light’ and ‘Dark’, and ‘divine’ and ‘satanic’ the justification easily becomes ‘theological’. It remains the question, however, whether the origins of the justification were theological by nature, or rather inspired by political motives. The same goes for stances on ‘historical truths’. These are based on the same kind of source texts that have alternatives that are consciously neglected, and have shortcomings. Subsequently these become indisputable dogma’s due to their absolute character, and are proposed as ‘real Islam’, yet are nothing more than fallacies. Used to manipulate and monopolize the conversation and hijack individual thought.

The main tradition that is used to justify sectarianism is that the prophet Muhammad ص would have said that Islam will be divided in 73 sects of which just one will enter paradise. This (weak tradition) is used to intensify the fear of individuals and groups to be amongst the dwellers of hell, causing people to know more about the ‘wrongs’ of the other than the ‘goods’ of themselves. With regards to other religions, Islam actually has the same opinion about truth as it has about herself. Christianity will be divided in 72 sects and Judaism in 71, both also have one rightly guided group. For Muslims it doesn’t seem to be their business to define which groups from other religions is the rightly guided one, as long as they do not interfere in Muslim matters. But as one reaction by a self-proclaimed institute wonderfully articulated their view on Islamic sectarianism: “the battle for influence over the Muslims continues…”

  1. Yours is clearly grassroots, bottom-up project. Do you think that the established Muslim leadership like traditional ulama etc. are falling short in building intra-religious bridges among Muslims at the top-down level?

Arjen The answer to this question has multiple layers; it would be too easy to say that they do or do not. In my opinion there are many efforts being made by the established Muslim leadership to build bridges, but their (and this is not reserved to Muslims or religious communities) focus is mainly on people from the top segments, not on community level. In the past decade alone we have seen the Amman Message, which is a great document that Su-Shi uses as well in our argumentation, and the Marrakesh Declaration, which apparently has been improved over a longer period since the 1990s and in its recent update specifically gained attention for its focus on minority groups such as the Yazidis and Christians who suffer much in the Middle East as we speak. Other attempts are being made as well, such as the annual Ghadeer Khumm Festival in Najaf, which I personally attended in 2013, and where leaders from different religious communities spoke. Including more subordinated sects such as the Druze community. All these attempts are very valuable and should be cherished.

At the same time, we see that these innumerably valuable official declarations are not lived after in practice. In real life they remain theoretical documents, that are sometimes not even lived after by important leader figures who endorsed them at first. Or that important religious leaders make statements that, unintended, lead to deeper sectarian rifts.

In parts of the Middle East region tensions are so high since the beginning of this millennium, that it is, of course, very hard to maintain these statements. Leaders can communicate with each other and make agreements at top level, but when blood is shed at ground level people will rather follow a leader that speaks their mind.

The main reason why these declarations hardly have an effect on ground level, however, is that most Islamic – and in fact Abrahamic – faiths are exclusivistic is in nature. When ground level believers hear from their leaders that they should respect and embrace believers from other faiths and sects, and at the same time read in their jurisprudences that those people from other faiths and sects are intrinsically ‘impure’ (najis) because of their ‘infidelity’ or being born to ‘infidel’ parents, than that is at least confusing. In practice, among migrant communities in the West, this means we see, for example, how certain Shiite groups try to find escapes from the statement by the highest authorities that ‘Sunnis are not our brothers and sisters, but our souls’, and try to explain how this still means Sunnis are not on the guided path. And vice versa we see the tremendous influence of Wahhabism which too, albeit being an extreme side faction, affects mainstream Sunnism as well by planting its poisonous seeds of hatred towards others. There is no other way to break this way of thinking, that is imported along with or even strengthened through immigration, down but by starting to work on this from a grassroots, bottom-up project. A project in which the participants themselves can add to the thinking process, and can themselves speak out for peace and cooperation instead of having to depend for that on top level leadership.

Anne It’s indeed a bottom up approach that we have, and that’s for many reasons. 1. We want to grow slowly in order to build real trust based on personal connection in stead of theoretical words only. And 2. To put into practise what those ‘top down’ approaches have tried to formulate but failed to implement.

  1. On a practical note, how do you fund your activities? The reason I’m asking is that as we know, with funding from established Muslim organisations often come agendas and expectations that might potentially jeopardise independence of a project or try to influence a project in a particular direction.

Anne We are up till now completely independent; meaning we don’t get any subsidies from any organisation from any denomination. We are very happy with our team; we all have a broad network so up till now we found free locations; the speakers were all unpaid and the food was covered by our volunteers alhamdulillah. But since we are a Foundation since this year, we are open for donations from individuals. Being independent and self-sustained makes you stronger. Maybe you grow slower, but inshaAllah the project can run longer. Being truly honest to your own values is the most important thing.

Arjen Before Su-Shi had become an organization and was still an idea, I have once organized an event in the Su-Shi spirit that we did receive donations for. From that I can confirm what you mentioned: there are donators that demand their agendas and expectations and try to influence what you do. This is very simple for me though; I reject such donators. Whenever the autonomy of a project or of our organization as a whole is in jeopardy, it isn’t worth what you gain. So when we think out a project, donators can support that of course, but not lay any conditions on us.

  1. Arjen, you are Shia and Anne, you are Sunni. What are the rough percentages in terms of sects among all people involved your project and those attending your events?

Arjen It’s difficult to speak in percentages. Few of our participants have a very homogenous background themselves, however some do. And the same then goes for who they invite through our ‘oil spill’ method. Overall, however, I think that people from a Sunni and Shiite background make up the majority -both close to the half- of participants of our events.

Anne We must also admit that we try to work towards a fair share as well. Meaning: we very consciously have 50% of the board Sunni, 50% of the board shi’i and one ‘neutral’ board member. In this way we direct towards an almost equal percentage of participants as well. Over all, most of our participants would consider themselves Sunni of Shia, we had a few Quranist participants and people with an Allevi background that are enthusiastic as well.

  1. What would be your personal message to people absolutely refusing to engage with the “other sect”, based in their conviction of the other sect’s “heresy” and their conviction that there is no “right” Islam outside their own school of thought?

Anne Allahu Alem. I would ask them so sincerely contemplate on this statement of “Allahu ‘Alem” and with this, try to focus on tazkiyya an-nafs, the cleansing of the soul. How can you, as an individual, be so sure? For me, in essence, ‘Allahu ‘Alem’ means absolute humbleness towards The Truth. Only God knows, that means, that we as human beings, per definition don’t.

Arjen I would like to emphasize that no layperson nor scholar is infallible, and that no matter what you personally believe, we do not all share the same beliefs and convictions. Nonetheless, we do live together, in a space that is becoming smaller and smaller. That brings tensions, but we are not animals. As humans we can use our reason to ‘defend’ our intellectual territories, we shouldn’t be so afraid of the other, and rather listen to each other. Dialogue is not about convincing one another, it is more about becoming stronger in your own convictions, but with respect for the other’s convictions in his or her own space.

***

Anne Dijk has a background in Religious Studies and a Master in Islamic Studies, specialised in Islamic Jurisprudence (Sunni). Fascinated by the transformations of the schools of law (madhahab) and the internal discussions, she found out that there is a deep ethical essence within the jurisprudence that differences of opinions (ikhtilaf) were deeply respected in history. In the hardened debate within Muslim communities nowadays, about ‘what is really Islamic’, she missed this ethical attitude. As Director of Fahm Institute she works on diverse ways to more understanding (fahm) of Islam. She is de co-founder of Su-Shi Intrafaith Dialogue, because she believes that world peace should start within yourself.

Arjen Buitelaar has a background in History and a Master in Religious Studies. From his Master’s thesis till now, he is conducting research of the Shi’ite communities in the Netherlands, at the moment primarily focusing on the role of rituals and symbolism in the shaping of (group) identity. Due to the increasing tensions between Sunnis and Shi’is since the start of the so called Arab Spring, he found it necessary to start with the Su-Shi Intrafaith Dialogue initiative to create better understanding between different Islamic creeds.

Arek Miernik has a background in English literature, is an Al-Mahdi Institute graduate, and leading figure of the wider Muslim community in Poland. Though primarily involved with the Polish Shi’i community, he doesn’t confine himself to it and is a heard voice in opinionated media on the wider Muslim community and its status in society. He is the heart behind the Strefa Islam blog, where this interview was originally published in Polish.

Disclaimer: the opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the original author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the website. The above interview was conducted by another organisation and not SSWH but has been reproduced with the permission.


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Glasgow to Guys- A Female Surgeon’s Story

by Safina Ali

Safina Ali, speaking at an interfaith conference.

Safina Ali, speaking at an interfaith conference.

Safina Ali is the surgical Head and Neck Fellow at Guys Hospital, London. She is an inspiration and role model to young Muslim women everywhere. 
The term “fellow” in the world of surgery is reserved for those undertaking specialist advanced training in particular area of surgery. She recently spoke at an interfaith delegation at the Scottish parliament as part of International Women’s day March 8, 2015. She was asked to share her journey as a focus on how a female from a minority background could reach far beyond societal expectations.
Safina grew up as a young Muslim girl in Glasgow, the first in her family to go to university, and here she shares her story from meagre beginnings in Ibrox, to becoming a surgeon in a major teaching hospital in the capital.  This speech was first posted on ‘Platform 505’ http://www.platform505.com/glasgow-to-guys-female-surgeons-story/

 

A Brief Family History

My grandfather had a profound effect on my life.

My grandfather was a Second World War veteran having fought in the Indian infantry.  After he arrived in Glasgow, he worked as a bus conductor, and took great pride in his role. His sense of purpose allowed him to work in a various sectors throughout his life and help raise a family. My mother is his eldest child. It was with great pride, several years later, that he then attended my university graduation and three years later my admission into the Royal College of Surgeons.

An arranged marriage in Pakistan beckons. 

After a few decades in the UK, there was nostalgic pull to the motherland, and my grandfather had a pipe dream that he would settle back in Pakistan in the early 70s.  Like many people of his generation, he feared his children would become too Anglicised so he sold his home and took his 6 children to Lahore and set up a bus company. This venture was unsuccessful, as he and his business associates were usurped, and were left with no choice but to migrate back to the UK. He initially left his family behind and then returned to collect them 3 months later after he had secured lodgings.

At this point the decision was taken to leave my mum and her younger sister behind. They were both teenagers and the fear of his daughters becoming too westernized was strong and besides which, they were of an age that they would be getting married soon (as per their cultural norm). My mum and aunt stayed back with their maternal grandfather in Lahore where they were home schooled in Urdu and Islamic studies. By the tender age of 16 a suitable partner had been chosen for my mum

Luckily for us all the match was a fortunate one. My father migrated to the UK after marriage. He started life here as a market trader, who arrived with the clothes on his back and a big dream in his heart. Like many other immigrants he had a steel will to succeed as failure was just not an option. I recall as a child being embarrassed by what my dad did, and the fact that we were six siblings in an era of 2.4 children! In primary school when asked about the size of my family, I lied and always said I had two siblings, as a family of 8 was just not the norm. However, now I would not change any of the enigmatic characters in my life for all the money in the world. Each of my siblings complements a facet to my persona.

How my interest in medicine was born

Having moved to Pakistan aged 14 my mum was married two years later very much a child herself. Prior to this she was at school and had dreamed of being a nurse and continued to educate herself despite having her first child at 17. She had 6 of us by the age of 28.

My early years were spent growing up in Ibrox, which may be regarded by some as one of the rougher ends of town. However, our top floor tenement flat was my haven and sanctuary. Fortuitously my maternal grandparents were to hand, being on the ground floor of the same tenement block. They would regularly babysit my younger siblings, so my mum could plan excursions. Going to museums or other cultural hotspots was as much for her as it was her children.

It was just by virtue of my mum’s many trips with her children to the Hunterian Museum that a passion for anatomy and by default medicine was born. The bell tower of the Glasgow University chapel as seen from our kitchen window became my goal, and there was nothing that was going to stop me.

My parents were however not keen for any of us to attend the local high school.  My primary school teacher was the last push of encouragement my parents needed to place me in a private school. It was not the smoothest of transitions for a child that had a very working class background.  My father’s big blue van with his company logo was a talking point for some of the other girls who arrived in executive cars.

My family has taught me that anything is possible when the circumstances in your life are favorable. I had a set of parents and grandparents that believed that the acquisition of knowledge and its execution were the makings of a perfect existence. They vociferously promoted gender equality by the true Islamic traditions, and not the tribalistic culture that they had been born into where woman were somehow regarded as second class citizens. My mum had 4 daughters, and in our cultural background that is sometimes perceived to be a burden, as you need to get them married off etc. My parent’s sole wish was that we were educated and self-sufficient.

On Being a British-Asian Muslim

I think my parents are actually very conservative Muslims, but they practice true Islamic traditions and not the Pakistani cultural norms. In doing so they have given us all equal opportunities. It seems “liberal” as this is a by-product of how my siblings and I have taken these opportunities. We are not moderated by my parents’ cultural background or identity. We see ourselves as Brit-Asian Muslims, a label which many of my generation can associate with. Although my siblings and I have the same core values we are very different in our interpretation of Islamic traditions and our cultural heritage. We have taken the best of what we see in both cultures from which we come, and implemented that into our daily routines. I guess I am more westernized in my dress sense, I tend to only wear Pakistani clothes at weddings or special celebrations. One of my sisters wears a head scarf (hijab) and again that was personal choice, nothing has been enforced.

Learning to be independent and other life’s lessons

Of course it’s not always plain sailing with the parents, and there have been times they had wished they had just a “normal” daughter. A very fond memory I have is my first challenge aged 21. I announced to my father I was off to work in South Africa for two months on my medical elective.

“Dad, Mandela is free! It’s all cool,” wouldn’t suffice to appease my father’s reservations about my travel plans to what he perceived to be one of the most dangerous places on earth. Obviously, then in a bid to keep me safe he declined the £3000 funds needed. My first taste of my newly found independence started with four letters and one outcome: HSBC and debt! But it was a lesson worth learning.

This trip was monumental to me in so many ways. It taught me valuable lessons, asides from having to fend for myself for the first time. Living amongst people of such diverse cultural mixes and religions, taught me the importance of cohesion. The world became a smaller place, and I saw the common thread of humanity, albeit thinly weaving us all together.

Training to achieve my goal

I did my undergraduate studies at the University of Glasgow Medical School. After completing basic surgical training in Glasgow, I embarked on the Higher Surgical Trainee, East of Scotland rotation, this took me to Edinburgh and Aberdeen.  I also took a year out to do a research fellowship at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Centre in New York.

Having trained in general ENT, and wanting to sub-specialize, I needed to do a further fellowship. I am now near finished my training as a head and neck cancer surgeon, and wish to be a consultant in an academic department. The fellowship at Guys is very prestigious and sought after. Unbeknown to myself when I started, I am the first female to do this fellowship since it was established 8-9 years ago.

Defying the odds

Being a surgeon to me has been nothing other than what I have trained to do on my chosen path. Although I have defied the odds somehow, I see it nothing out of the ordinary, however a recent interesting article in the British medical journal made me look over the profession rather than have the day-to-day perspective that I see (Ref 1).

Although 60% of doctors in training are women, we make up just 10% of surgeons on the specialist register. It also explored the psyche of women in the medical profession reporting that 50% of male medical students wanted to be surgeons compared with only 18% of females. The surgical arena was very much reported to be a male dominion with women feeling undermined and uninvited, despite having the expertise. With a lack of positive female role models, it just seems like an impenetrable place to many budding young female surgeons.

Whilst I have indeed defied the odds, women in surgery are STILL a rare breed. 

I am very much in a position that through my experiences both positive and negative, I can offer a unique insight into paving a clearer path for future generations. I am, after all, living in an era where for the first time in its nearly 200-year history, the Royal College of Surgeons of England elected its first female president. 

 

Disclaimer: the opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the original author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the website.

Image credits: http://www.platform505.com/glasgow-to-guys-female-surgeons-story/