The Shade of Swords: Jihad and the Conflict between Islam and Christianity

M. J. Akbar

Description

The Shade of Swords: M.J. Akbar writes the first cohesive history of jihad. From the Prophet Muhammed to the presence of British and American troops in Afghanistan, and more recently in Iraq, Akbar shows how jihad's origins lie in the earliest consciousness of Muslims, how it thrives on complex notions of persecution, victory and sacrifice. Jihad pervades the mind and soul of Islam. This book reveals its strength and significance, and this jihad has come to Iraq in a new Shia dimension.

Sujets

• Islam
• Sunnisme
• IS
• Conflict
• Irak
• Muslim ben al-Hajjaj
• Djihad
• Image and Scanner Interface Specification
• Religion
• Christianity
• Jihad
• Muslim
• Shia Islam
• Sunni Islam
• Terrorism
• Geopolitics
• Isis (disambiguation)
• Islamic state
• Iraq
• Musulmán
• Yihad
• Shia
• ISIS
• Sunni
• Political Science

Informations

• Publié par: Roli Books
• Date de parution: 31 décembre 2003
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9789351940944
• Langue: English

Extrait

About the book
‘To understand the complex forces—religious, political, and historical— that have fuelled the fervour for jihad, read this book.’ —Fareed Zakaria, Editor, Newsweek International
‘A sheer pleasure... his qualifications for pronouncing on contemporary Indian history are impeccable.’ —Khushwant Singh, India Today
‘Provocative, idiosyncratic, polemical and wide-ranging, M.J. Akbar’s writing reflects his depth of experience and his passion for his subject... Perhaps his most timely book yet.’ —William Dalrymple
‘In the crowded category of works on the historical forces behind September 11, Osama bin Laden and Al Qaeda, this book stands out.’ —Robin Elsham, Reuters
‘The most honest and candid survey produced in print about the roots of rage in Islam and Christianity.’ —Sreeram Chaulia, Asia Times
‘A wide, entrancing stretch of history [that] has a taste for flamboyant characters and lively anecdotes.’ —Radhakrishnan Nayar, The Times Higher Education Supplement
M.J. Akbar writes the first cohesive history of jihad. From the Prophet Muhammad to the presence of British and American troops in Afghanistan, and more recently in Iraq, Akbar shows how jihad’s origins lie in the earliest consciousness of Muslims, how it thrives on complex notions of persecution, victory and sacrifice. Jihad pervades the mind and soul of Islam. This book reveals its strength and significance, and this jihad has come to Iraq in a new, Shia dimension.

ROLI BOOKS
This digital edition published in 2015
First published in 2002 by The Lotus Collection An Imprint of Roli Books Pvt. Ltd M-75, Greater Kailash- II Market New Delhi 110 048 Phone: ++91 (011) 40682000 Email: [e-mail] Website: www.rolibooks.com
Copyright © M.J. Akbar, 2002
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical, print reproduction, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of Roli Books. Any unauthorized distribution of this e-book may be considered a direct infringement of copyright and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
eISBN: 978-93-5194-094-4
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Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Preface
Introduction
1 Chapter and Verse
2 The Joys of Death: A Bargain with Allah
3 Rebellions in the Dark of the Night
4 A Map of Islam
5 Circle of Hell
6 Allah! Muhammad! Saladin!
7 The Doors of Europe
8 Jihad in the East: A Crescent Over Delhi
9 The Holy Sea: Pepper and Power
10 The Bargain Goes Sour
11 The Wedge and the Gate
12 History as Anger, Jihad as Non-violence
13 Islam in Danger Zone
14 Jinnah Redux and the Age of Osama
Glossary
A Suggested Reading List
Thumbnail Sketches
A Relevant Calendar
To the memory of Ammiji and Abbaji, who are still with me
Acknowledgements
A uthors are loath to admit it but they labour under both conception and misconception. Time is one judge of the difference. This book has had an exceptionally tortured pregnancy, so the list of those in whose debt I am is long, much longer than the few names that will appear.
One of the first essays that I wrote on the shifting mood of the Islamic world emerged out of travel in the 1980s through the debris of a collapsing Soviet Union, and the sudden surge of Islam through some of the oldest Muslim countries in the world, in Central Asia. Faith quickly filled the space left behind by retreating communism.
My first visit to the region was in the same year that Margaret Thatcher tested Mikhail Gorbachev’s dawn by lighting a candle in a church in Moscow. The cue was irresistible. I insisted to my guide on a conducted tour of Dushanbe that on the coming Friday I wanted to pray at a mosque since I had been informed that Comrade Mikhail had released religion from Marxist chains. Allah knows how many telex messages were exchanged between my guide and his masters in Moscow. (Remember the telex? This book began in the pre-e-mail age and this is as good a time as any to acknowledge that this book could never have been completed in time without the blessed e-mail. So thank you, Bill Gates, or whoever.) When Friday arrived they drove me through some exquisite country for a couple of hours till we reached a mosque adjoining the shrine of a Sufi pir , or master. They had not been able to locate a mosque nearer than that.
The startled mullahs offered me a mute and suspicious welcome, very apprehensive at the thought of Marxist Moscow bringing a believer to their doorstep. They spread the finest melons, pomegranates and dry fruit before me, hoping I would eat and go away. Conversation was difficult. Their English was on par with my Uzbeg, that is, non-existent. Finally, desperate to say something, anything, I asked them something quite inane. What was this mosque called? The answer came. Lenin Mosque. I shrugged, quite certain that my question had been lost in the maze of languages. I asked it again. Lenin Mosque. I did some quick thinking. Allah, I reasoned, would understand, hopefully, on the Day of Judgment, the variable lifelong behaviour of an itinerant sinner like me. Allah is Merciful, and Muslims like me provide ample opportunity for Him to show His mercy. I am not a regular nimaazi, or prayer-goer, among other things. But I reckoned that however magnanimous Allah might be on other matters, He would never forgive me if I did not bow my head before Him in a mosque named after Lenin. I joined the half a dozen others who stood behind the imam that afternoon.
During my last visit to Central Asia, in 1992, mosques and medressahs were teeming through the old Muslim cities of Tashkent, Samarkand and Bukhara. Islam had simply shrugged off a century and half of defeat, subjugation and insult and reasserted itself through the minarets, across the skies of Central Asia.
The Muslim world, including the lost Muslim world of Spain and Portugal, traverses a marvellous geography of mountains and the unfathomable Sahara, to the fertility of the Nile and south to the heart of Africa. Then across the Red Sea to the conflicts of the Semitic nations; to the Holy Cities of Arabia and up to Jerusalem, claimed by three great faiths, each with enough reason to go to war for Jerusalem. The four ancient civilisations of Iraq, Turkey, Iran and South Asia form one arc, while a line from Albania through Caucasus across Central Asia establishes the northern frontier of Islam. The sultry charm of India opens up routes to the steamy ambience of south east Asia: a hundred races stretch across continents and countries through a welter of cultural differences but with a single and uniquely uniting faith that has bypassed the skepticism synonymous with religion in modern times.
Islam is a faith with a worldview, which sometimes surprises the world. The unity of response on basic issues, from a mosque in Baku to a mosque in Bali, startles a world that would prefer to divide this response into the preferred blocs of nationalism. This book also became one long travelogue through these lands. More correctly, the travel came before the book, and then the book demanded more travel. A chain of friends links these years of search. Do forgive me for mentioning only a few. Where does one start? Perhaps in the middle, where experience and reading were nudged towards an idea and the idea began its own journey. At that moment of departure I was privileged to receive the help of many distinguished friends and professional colleagues, but most of all from Patrick Wright who helped cajole thought into a sustainable viewpoint. One of these days I might even find a way of repaying my debt to Patrick, but I can’t think of any now.
A host – I use the word advisedly – of Indian ambassadors were generous in countries where one had no friends, no language and a great deal to look for. Hamid Ansari comes instantly to mind. Dapper, impeccable and generous to more than one fault, he looked after me through a fortnight in Iran, where I had some memorable discussions in the seminary at Qum as well as with officials and academics who were familiar with both the theory and the practice of the emerging Muslim mind. There were at least a dozen trips to that great swathe between the Middle East and Spain: history, out here, is far from dead. Or, perhaps, the dead are not far from history. During my last visit I also performed the umra, or the lesser pilgrimage in Mecca. My good friend Talmiz Ahmad was our ambassador in Saudi Arabia: he provided undiluted help and diluted sustenance. Dilip and Shovana Lahiri were their ever-generous selves in Spain. Hardeep Puri is too mobile for a diplomat, or is that an oxymoron? He seems to have helped everywhere, often working in mysterious ways his wonders to perform. My visits to Pakistan began in the late seventies: Manju and S.K.Singh made Islamabad even friendlier than it is to a visiting Indian. Let me add this: if the governments of India and Pakistan behaved with each other the way Indians and Pakistanis do when they meet individually, this would be a region of laughter rather than tears. I cannot say how much the friendship of Hameed Haroon in Pakistan meant and continues to mean to me. Together we have explored his country, Pakistan, across village and town, through books and argument. The list of Indian friends who have sustained me with their affection and, even more, with their tolerance is always going to be incomplete when placed in print. Fatma and Rafiq Zakaria are better called mentors. Fatma was instrumental in giving me my first job, in the inestimable Khushwant Singh’s Illustrated Weekly of India in 1971; now I feel adopted by them. It is a happy feeling.
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