KUALA LUMPUR, Nov 20 — The syariah authorities in Selangor have charged the former mufti of Perlis, Dr Asri Zainul Abidin, with preaching Islam without a permit to do so.
For Malaysia-watchers worldwide, this case will be seen as a litmus test for the country, the Najib administration, and the government and syariah authorities of Selangor (now under the control of the opposition Pakatan Rakyat). The outcome of the case will also tell us where Islam is headed in a country that has often been cast as an exemplary model of normative Islam at work. But is it really?
Asri's “crime” was to preach Islam without an official permit. But in the past few weeks, the man himself has been vilified by his critics and accused of being — among other things — a Wahhabi Muslim as well.
Those who have followed Asri's career would have seen in him an inclination towards rational debate and objective discourse above all else. During the recent controversies that raged over the question of whether yoga was permissible for Muslims, for instance, he noted that the fatwa against it did not make sense. His speeches have been peppered with constant reminders to Muslims to think and behave in a rational manner, and not to be blind in matters of faith.
Is this, then, the root cause of the anxiety over the man and his ideas? Asri's critics have labelled him as arrogant and confrontational. But those who have leapt to his defence — including prominent politicians from both sides of the ideological divide — have argued that his polemics have been directed mainly at outdated traditional practices that have for too long been mistakenly assumed to be Islamic.
In this respect, Asri (picture) can perhaps be likened to the kaum muda (younger generation) of Muslim progressive intellectuals of the 1920s and 1930s — who likewise challenged the authority of traditional scholars, whom they regarded as being out of touch with the times. Then, as is the case now, any critique of the traditional status quo was seen as an attack on Islam per se, and progressives were likewise called “Wahhabis”. At the heart of the matter is the question of who has the right to speak on Islam and matters Islamic. Islam does not have a clergy or priestly class. Men like Asri emphasise the role of individual reason in the search for faith.
Right after he was charged by the Selangor religious court, Asri said: “This will not stop me from delivering the message... They think this is a small matter; they think they can just stop people from teaching but, for me, this case is very significant.”
Clearly, the man is prepared to go to court to defend the right of Muslims to think for themselves and to ask serious questions about Islam, rather than to blindly believe whatever their teachers tell them.
But perhaps this too is the reason Asri is loathed by so many in the religious establishment, and why he has been seen as a threat by some. Whatever the facts of the case may be, it remains true that Asri is a unique individual in the contemporary Malaysian context: an ulama who is at ease dealing with the real issues of society, and whose appeal transcends ethnic and religious barriers. He has even been seen as a moderate voice among the country's non-Muslims.
The outcome of the case will tell us too where Malaysia is headed today, at a time when both the ruling Barisan Nasional coalition and Pakatan Rakyat are desperately trying to carve out a new image and identity for Malaysia as a multicultural and multi-confessional nation.
Will the “new Malaysia” dreamt of by Prime Minister Datuk Seri Najib Razak or the opposition have a place for rational Muslim intellectuals like Asri? Or will he be sacrificed for the sake of realpolitik?
Either way, it is Malaysia and Malaysians who will live with the consequences. — The Straits Times
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