Akbar Ahmed is a welcome departure from the roar of Muslim rage. Journey into Islam, his latest book, is an anthropological account of his 2006 travel with a team of research assistants to the three major regions of the Muslim world: the Middle East, South Asia and East Asia. It tells of mutual suspicions between the West and Islam, fed by stereotypes of the other, and how those perceptions can be reversed through direct personal exchange, how conversations even with extremists can change minds. It offers Ahmed's wise observations and reflections, documented in prose and photographs, and it has powerful implications for all of us.
I must put my cards on the table: Akbar is my friend and colleague. I was a skeptic when I first heard him in 2001, but I found the potency, eloquence and courage of his message irresistible, a vital counterpoint to the drumbeat of clash and turmoil. His central point is that civil dialogue, aimed at listening and learning -- without stifling one's own perspectives and concerns -- allows each side to understand the other, discover a common humanity, and sometimes even to develop friendships.
For Journey into Islam, Ahmed and his research team interviewed some 120 people in each of nine countries at universities, hotels and cafes, madrassahs and mosques. Ahmed had access to people that most non-Muslims would not have, including prime ministers and presidents, princes and sheikhs, but mostly ordinary Muslims. The team asked what they read, what changes they had witnessed in their communities and societies, the nature and extent of their access to technology and the news, people they regarded as role models, both contemporary and historical, and how they viewed America. The findings of his research are consistent with those of the surveys of public perceptions and opinions in Islam conducted by the Pew Global Attitudes Project and Zogby International. While his samples may be less representative of the broader populations than those of the Pew and Zogby surveys, they probe more deeply and are probably more candid. This was an exercise in dialogue as well as social science.
Ahmed reports that Muslims see themselves in a world spinning out of control, due principally to the cold forces of globalization, which brings the "poisons of greed, ignorance, and anger" into their lives. They find refuge by returning to their roots. The problem, he observes, has been exacerbated by the War on Terror, which has fueled the most revolutionary factions of Islam. Ahmed is hopeful that in time the more modern, democratic, and humanistic factions will re-emerge, and that we can accelerate such a development by returning to sanity through commitment to a more enlightened model of engagement: dialogue.
These are not the frothy slogans and dreams of a Pollyanna. Ahmed knows that some people are fanatics, beyond constructive dialogue. At the same time, as Pakistan's ambassador to Great Britain in the 1990s, he learned about changing minds and opening doors to tolerance and moderation. This book describes his extending that mission from the lofty halls of diplomacy to places where ordinary people live.
We are assaulted daily by apocalyptic images of suicide bombers acting in the name of Allah. Islam has been assaulted no less by grotesque images of Abu Ghraib and women and children killed by United States military, collateral damage inflicted in the name of freedom and democracy. Such images have become etched in the minds of the general public on each side, yet neither set bears any resemblance whatever to the lifestyles, morals and aspirations of the mainstream of either side. Ahmed's aim is to understand, chronicle, and correct these gross and toxic distortions.
Like the proverbial Persian rug, the book is not without a flaw. The absence of interviews of Persians, in fact, is a distinct flaw. More basically, anthropological research is usually plagued by questions about the representativeness of the observations, and this one is no different. While some 85% of Islam is Sunni, the countries visited were more predominantly Sunni than that, so the Shia perspective -- centered in Iran, a vast country not included in the study -- is underrepresented. Ahmed does discuss basic differences between Sunni and Shia Muslims, to be sure, but he does not probe beneath the steep ascent of Shia influence in recent years from Iran on down a crescent that runs through Iraq, Syria and Lebanon. This important development has been effectively documented by Reza Aslan and others, and the interested observer would do well to read Aslan's No god But God, too. The fundamental distortions between the perceptions and realities that Ahmed reports are bound to exist everywhere, but the differences between Sunni and Shia attitudes would be worth knowing more about, particularly given the title of his book.
Ahmed's work, in any case, with that of Aslan and others, reveals a powerful, widely overlooked truth: despite popular images to the contrary, Islam is undergoing profound reform. Muslims are seeking their religious roots for answers, but they are not hopelessly stuck in the past. The West can influence this crucial process for the better by acknowledging what is worthy about Islam and encouraging the expansion of that worthiness by showing more interest and respect. The colossal failures of hard power should make Ahmed's approach the preferred alternative for idealists and policy makers alike.
This is an important, extremely timely book. It provides an opening for those who have grown weary of TV accounts of our dire circumstances and battles lost in the war against terrorism. If you would like to learn about Islam today from a humble, learned man, a voice of reason, one who understands intimately both Islam and the West, you should read this book. You might discover that the prospects for shifting the course of the world from clash to mutual understanding and respect are real, and in our hands.