I paid a visit to Afghanistan in 2004 on an invitation from the Afghan government in order to attend a ceremony commemorating the death of the ‘Lion of Panjshir’, Ahmed Shah Masood. I could not understand anything said during the ceremony as almost everybody spoke in Farsi. The speakers recited poetry while the others nodded their heads mechanically.
My friend, who was a journalist, and I thought many times of leaving the hall where the event was held. But we decided to stay a few minutes, lest our exit be misunderstood. We finally decided to go out quietly one after another, in order not to attract attention.
One of those invited to the event was a Sudanese academic. I could not understand why he had been invited. He was given the opportunity to speak in Arabic. His speech was translated into Farsi by a person standing by him. The translator did exactly as the speaker did: he screamed, smiled and got angry like him.
This Sudanese academic did not spare any part of Islamic history a harsh attack. We, he said, were the by-products of a fabricated history made up of lies and hypocrisy. He said we did not have anything right or beautiful in our history. Those present shook their heads in agreement like they had done in reaction to all other speakers. They were ignorant in the most part. They were exploited by this academic to promote his ideas.
I turned to my friend and asked him whether this man was in his right mind. He spoke so eloquently, but without providing any evidence for what he said. I asked him whether our history was fabricated as the Sudanese academic said. Are we the by-products of a big lie?
My friend kept looking at the Sudanese academic, and suddenly said, “Let’s go, I feel disgusted by this man”.
Then we wanted to visit some people who had been at the centre of media coverage for a long time. One of them was Abdul Rasul Sayyaf, who had played a big role in recruiting a large number of young men for the war in Afghanistan. The man’s thick beard, big turban and large frame had left an indelible mark in the minds of a large number of Arab youth.
We wanted to know his attitude towards the Hamid Karzai government and the reason why he had backed this government in elections in total contrast to what he had said to Arab delegates during fundraising campaigns.
A four-wheel-drive car took us to Sayyaf’s house, which was located in one of the suburbs of the Afghan capital, Kabul. The roads were unpaved and full of rainwater, which forced the driver to use all the capabilities of his vehicle to keep moving.
Sayyaf received us in his modestly furnished house. He talked about everything except his position on the Karzai government. When I asked Sayyaf about this, his face changed, as if he had not expected me to ask him this question. I do not remember Sayyaf’s answer to the question, because it was unconvincing to me anyway.
We left Sayyaf’s house angry at him and his talk. When we were by ourselves, my friend said: “This man owns a palace at the top of a mountain guarded by a battalion of his soldiers. He only invites foreigners and journalists to this palace. As for this house, where he invited us, he keeps it only for donors from the Gulf. He shows his artificial modesty, something he has mastered over the years. This man has managed to collect much money employing his talents. His big crime, however, is that he convinced so many youth to fight alongside him, but turned his back on them when he got what he wanted, becoming one of the Afghan warlords.”
I remembered this when I saw Ali Gomaa insulting his Al Azhar turban with his speech, which was recorded by the Egyptian army. In his speech, Gomaa asked the soldiers to kill peaceful demonstrators who opposed the military coup launched by Egyptian Defence Minister General Abdel Fatah Al Sisi. Then I remembered the same occasion when I saw Amr Khalid with his childish talk, which he started in a truncated manner, but one that had the same style as Gomaa’s speech.
These speeches were used to mobilise soldiers and policemen against demonstrators. The result has been more than 2,000 dead, including many women, children and old people, and 10,000 injured. Most of the injured could not find anybody to treat them because they are a bunch of “infidels” who want to divide Egypt.
Religion was used in the Egyptian crisis as a weapon against those who called for the return of legitimacy. It was the strongest weapon used against them. To utilise such a weapon, only a turban and a few verses from the Holy Quran, cited out of context, are needed. An ignorant audience is also needed. All these elements were present, that is why this weapon was used to the full.
Sayyaf disappeared from the picture after using religion to serve his own interests. He will die quietly in one of his houses, which are scattered across Afghanistan and Pakistan. Nobody, however, will mourn his death. Ali Gomaa, Amr Khalid and others who use religion to gloss over their crimes will also disappear in similar fashion. Those who fall down, particularly from pulpits, are usually rescued by no one.
History does not mention scholars who eat sweets at the courts of rulers. It only remembers those whose teachings leave an indelible mark on the walls of prison cells.
