All history as reconstruction of the past is of course myth

All of the key policy reports on madrasas in Pakistan since September 11, while acknowledging that only a minute fraction of madrasas promote militancy, recommend reforming the entire madrasa system and argue that even ordinary madrasas produce bigoted individuals. They question the quality of education at the madrasa, the socio-economic relevance of this education, and the basis of the authority of the head or imm. This paper, based on an ethnographic account of a Deobandi madrasa in Pakistan, shows that the madrasa system has its own hierarchy of knowledge, well-developed criteria for measuring knowledge, and its own socio-economic relevance. Further, it argues that the imm’s authority is not absolute or uncontested; rather, the community bases its support for a madrasa on many rational calculations about his efficiency and personal commitment. The paper thus highlights the need for a thorough study of the madrasa system before embarking on any reform.

By Masooda Bano, St Antony’s College.

INTRODUCTION

Contemporary international political discourse—policy papers by international think tanks, and some recent scholarly literature—present the madrasa, the centuries-old institution of Islamic learning, as an overtly political entity, and particularly so in Pakistan. The madrasas are accused of promoting religious fanaticism and sectarian violence within Pakistan, and of ‘breeding terrorists’ for international Islamic jihad.¹ Prompted by the US government, General Musharraf’s regime has spearheaded an aggressive drive to reform Pakistani madrasas. But what is being reformed and to what end? Answers to both these questions remain unclear.

This paper presents the results of a close study of one Deobandi madrasa in Pakistan, juxtaposed against the existing claims.² It argues that the current understanding of the functioning of a madrasa as well as its role in society is flawed in that, in the emphasis on the political outcomes of the madrasas, their social milieu is completely ignored. In fact, even today the madrasa remains primarily a spiritual and social entity in which the lim (pl. ulam) builds his authority through continual interaction with the community: there are substantial checks on that authority since the community’s support for a madrasa is not motivated by blind ideological conviction, but by very rational calculations about his efficiency and personal commitment. The paper argues that the current reform policies are based on normative judgments and designed to fit pre-conceived notions about what values are worth promoting in society and what kind of knowledge is valuable. In this process, what is being ignored is that madrasa education has its own hierarchy of knowledge, well-developed criteria for measuring knowledge, and its own socio-economic relevance.

The first section presents a brief account of international policy concerns about the madrasas in Pakistan, together with an overview of the Pakistani government’s madrasa reform plan. Section II reviews the most influential policy reports and academic texts that dominate the current debate on madrasas in Pakistan, listing its key claims. The paper then steps back (section III) to provide a brief historical account of the evolution and development of the Deoband movement before moving on (section IV) to an ethnographic account of a particular Deobandi madrasa in Rawalpindi, Pakistan. This account of the origin, operation, social and economic milieu of a madrasa attempts to enable an understanding of the motives of the imm (head), students and teachers, and of those individuals and the surrounding community who support the madrasa. The aim is to take the reader ‘inside’ the madrasa and develop an understanding of the relationship between it and the wider society.

THE POLICY CONCERNS AND THE REFORM PACKAGE

Since September 11, madrasas in Pakistan have become the focus of international policy discourse on controlling ‘terrorism’. On the basis of claims that key Taliban leaders were educated in madrasas located mainly in the tribal belts of Pakistan, the US government has become very critical of the madrasa system as a whole. The Pakistani madrasas are being seen as breeding grounds for Muslim fundamentalists and terrorists. The Pakistani government, with the financial assistance of the US government, has resolved to reform and increase its control over the madrasas. An integral part of this plan is to gather reliable information on the madrasas—their total number, the nature of their work, and their sources of funding. In 2003, a US $225 million package, to be spent over three years, was committed to madrasa reform.³ The thrust of the reform package is to introduce secular education in all the madrasas. The initial aim is to educate 800,000 students of 8000 madrasas in secular subjects, as taught in primary and secondary schools; this requires the training of 28,000 madrasa teachers to teach those subjects. The plan also provides financial incentives to the madrasas’ management in the form of money for teachers’ salaries, textbooks, stationery, computers, and furniture. The financial incentives are expected to enable the state to exercise greater authority over the working of the madrasa.

RECENT STUDIES ON MADRASAS

Academic analysis of the Pakistani madrasas is limited. The only significant publication since September 11 has been Qasim Zaman’s The Ulama in Contemporary Islam,⁴ which comments on the institutions where the ulam are trained, namely the madrasas. In line with the mood of the international policy discourse, this work is concerned with the politics of the ulam. Focusing mainly on Deobandi ulam, Zaman finds Barbara Metcalf’s thesis—that, following colonial rule, the ulam in order to cope with changing times focused on individual reform and personal religious responsibility—limiting. He contends (pp. 2–3) that this thesis ignores the public and political aspects of the operation of the Deobandi ulam. He criticizes Metcalf’s emphasis on the ‘social milieu’ of the ulam, for failing to examine their thoughts and discourse, which in turn limits her understanding of how they construct and retain religious authority. Zaman is particularly concerned with the role of the discursive medium of commentary in building the authority of the ulam. He develops interesting arguments about the political manoeuvring of the ulam to retain their authority, but in the process completely ignores the social basis of this authority.

In contrast to the scarce academic analysis, there has been an abundance of papers and reports on madrasas produced by international think tanks. While all of these acknowledge that the madrasas promoting fundamentalism constitute a very small percentile of the total number of madrasas in Pakistan, they end up arguing, nevertheless, against the whole madrasa system. The most prevalent explanation they give for the popularity of madrasas is the state’s failure to provide public education. Yet the madrasas’ ability to fill this vacuum is not therefore viewed favourably; rather, the system is projected as a major problem for the state. Such views were popular even before September 11. In 2000, Jessica Stern argued in Foreign Affairs that the Pakistani government supports militants and their religious schools as a cheap way of fighting India and educating Pakistani youth.⁵ She explained (p. 116) that these fighters do fight in Kashmir and Afghanistan but they also create a culture of violence that increases internal sectarianism.

Peter Singer’s paper for the Brooking Institute is another frequently quoted document on madrasas in Pakistan.⁶ Singer argues (pp. 3–5) that madrasas now increasingly dominate the field of education in Pakistan. He acknowledges that only around 10–15 percent of the schools are affiliated with extremist religious and political groups, yet he views an ordinary madrasa’s displacement of the public education system as a serious threat to the political and economic stability of Pakistan. He argues that, being detached from a state regulatory system, every madrasa is free to determine its own teaching syllabus, and most graduates are unable to multiply or find their nation on a map. Having no better options, Singer says, the poor send their sons to madrasas, where they receive at least some education (p. 7): ‘In and of themselves, the schools are not the preferred option of many parents, but rather draw students from general desperation.’ The madrasa system, in Singer’s view, thus produces unemployed young men, who are entirely dependent on others. He argues (p. 5) that graduates from madrasas have skills only to be imms or assistants at mosques, and there are not enough jobs for them in these areas. He recommends (p. 9) ensuring facilities for technical education to replace the madrasa system.

Since 2002, another policy report on Pakistani madrasas has gained much prominence. Its claims are not radically different from the two studies discussed above. Done by the International Crisis Group (ICG),⁷ it argues that the madrasas produce indoctrinated clergymen. Like Singer, the ICG report acknowledges that only a small number of madrasas are radical, and that too as a result of state-sponsored exposure to jihd. Yet, again like Singer, it raises grave concerns about the madrasa system as a whole. It argues that the problems with madrasas go beyond militancy, that even ordinary madrasas sow the seeds of extremism in the minds of their students, produce graduates with a narrow worldview and a lack of modern civic education, who, because they are living in poverty, become a destabilizing factor in society. It further argues that for these reasons the graduates are susceptible to romantic notions of sectarian and international jihd, which promises instant salvation. The report also pointedly observes: ‘Madrasas have become the fiefdoms of their clerics, who jealously safeguard autonomy because it gives them unchecked control of finances, their students, and what they are taught.’ It goes on to claim that 33 percent of all children in schools in Pakistan attend madrasas.

However, a recent study sponsored by the World Bank⁸ on the total number of students attending madrasas in the country argues that the bold assertions made in policy reports and popular articles on the high and increasing enrolment in Pakistani madrasas are inaccurate. Countering the ICG claim that 33 percent of Pakistani children enrolled in schools go to madrasas, this report maintains that madrasas account for less than 1 percent of all enrolment in the country. Basing the calculations on census data, the report argues that there is no evidence of a dramatic increase in the number of children going to madrasas in recent years, and the fears of radicalization due to rising madrasa populations are misplaced.

With the exception of the study just mentioned, which focuses on numbers rather than qualitative assessment of the madrasas, all the reports present a substantially negative image of the madrasa system as a whole. They argue that madrasa education should be reformed and replaced by modern education. They make strong claims about the quality of education, the operation, the accountability mechanism, and the basis of authority of the imm and of the madrasa, but the data gathering method upon which the claims are based is very limited. These studies neither draw upon extensive surveys nor provide thorough ethnographies; they rely instead on a few selective interviews that hardly justify the strength of the claims made. The claims also rest upon an underlying assumption—the sheer persuasiveness of ideology, the power of the imm fully to indoctrinate the students with religious bigotry and to exercise unchecked authority, and the corresponding passivity of students, parents, and the larger community, all of whom merely ingest the imm’s discourse without question.

It is worth asking if the average madrasa in Pakistan really does inculcate religious hatred among its students towards other sects; if there really are no checks on the authority of the imm, if the community, the parents, and the children have neither will nor means to hold the imm to account. We need also to ask if the quality of education really is objectionable and socially irrelevant, and if so, judged against which standards and by whom. This paper attempts to address some of these questions based on an ethnography of a Deobandi madrasa in Pakistan and extensive interviews with individuals who donate to the madrasa in cash and kind. However, before moving to the findings of the fieldwork, it will be helpful to have a brief look at the Deoband movement, to provide the necessary context for the present situation of madrasas in Pakistan.

THE DEOBAND TRADITION: A BRIEF ACCOUNT

Under Mughal rule, the madrasa had become the key educational institution for producing civil servants and judicial officials. With the establishment of British rule, state patronage—the madrasa’s principal source of financial support—disappeared. Changes in the administration and economy introduced by the English East India Company meant that madrasa education lost its usefulness as a route to employment. As a consequence, madrasa education, rather than addressing both the religious and worldly needs of the Muslims, became increasingly otherworldly.⁹

To survive in the changed environment, the madrasas had to reorganize dramatically. To begin with, they had to now build a support base among the general populace. The shift from reliance on the court to reliance on the people proved too demanding for most of the older madrasas, including the leading ones like Farang Mahal in Lucknow. It has been argued that lack of funding was one of the reasons for the eventual decline of Farang Mahal.¹⁰ The Deoband madrasa was born in this changed environment. The ulam who set it up argued that in these changed times it was important for Muslims to focus on individual reform, on personal religious responsibility. Whereas, from the 1870s onwards, many scholars from Farang Mahal entered public life to defend Islam, the Deobandi scholars kept out of politics, remaining focused on personal reform.¹¹

Deoband was, from the outset, distinct in its support base, its organizational structure, and its goals from the older madrasas. Instead of state patronage, the Deobandi ulam drew most of their income from popular contributions pledged annually by their many supporters. As opposed to training government servants for Muslim courts, the Deobandi scholars aimed to train educated ulam who would be dedicated to a reformed Islam and to individual reform. Finally, unlike Farang Mahal’s style of one-to-one teaching, Deoband adopted the bureaucratic model of British universities. However, the respect of students for teachers in the Farang Mahal survived intact in the new system. The ulam of Deoband from early on encouraged the establishment of branch schools. The curriculum and administration of these affiliated schools, set up by graduates of the parent institution, was subject to the control of the latter.

The Deoband school adopted the Dars-i Nim syllabus, which evolved at the Farang Mahal’s during the lifetime of Mullah Nim al-Din (d. 174 and the years immediately following his death, and remained dominant in Indian Islamic education. Dars-i-Nim consolidated the rationalist traditions of scholarship derived from Iran.¹² However, the Deobandi ulam placed much greater emphasis on the Qurn and hadith, known as the traditional sciences, as opposed to Farang Mahal’s emphasis on logic and jurisprudence, known as the rational sciences.

Pakistan inherited a fair share of Deobandi madrasas at the time of partition. Also, many ulam trained in the Deobandi tradition migrated to Pakistan.¹³ Given that Pakistan is predominantly Sunni, the presence of eminent scholars trained at Deoband resulted in continued expansion of the Deobandi tradition in Pakistan. As Malik shows, the Deobandi madrasas are the largest in number and thus most prominent.¹⁴ However, the external environment was no longer conducive to the flourishing of these madrasas: the newly created Muslim state carried on the British legacy of modernization. It did not even recognize madrasa education as such—to the extent that established religious scholars from madrasas with published books to their names were classed as illiterate and so excluded from the electoral register in the country’s first elections.¹⁵

In fact, the limited scholarship that exists on the religious elite in Pakistan shows that the post-September 11 focus on madrasa reform is not entirely new. A remodelling of madrasas was proposed as early as 1958. The concern then, however, was not militancy in the madrasas but the perception of them as backward and out of step with modern-day needs. However, the reforms proposed by the Ayub Khan government repeatedly met resistance from the religious elite, who initiated a demand for recognition of madrasa degrees by the state. Ayub Khan and Zulfiqar Bhutto both advocated reforms but refrained from enforcing any of the proposed plans: they did not want to clash directly with the religious elite, who commanded respect within certain constituencies.

Zia-ul-Haq’s Islamization agenda changed the climate in favour of that religious elite. Madrasa degrees were given equivalence to MA Arabic and MA Islamiyat. Also a system was set up for zakh to be collected by the state, and some state funds made available to madrasas. These two factors led to a dramatic rise in the number of madrasas in the early 1980s. The same period marks the birth of jihd culture in some of the Deobandi madrasas. As a consequence of the huge influx of Afghans into Pakistan because of the Soviet-Afghan war, and Zia’s decision to support the Afghans, a number of madrasas became training centres for fighters in this war. Malik shows that the Zia government actively encouraged the madrasas that moved to a jihdi culture.¹⁶

The question that arises is why the Deobandi madrasas, rather than those associated with other local traditions, should have supported jihdi culture during this period. Geography had some part in this: it is the Deobandi madrasas that dominated in the tribal belt of Pakistan and the NWFP, ¹⁷ the areas that were the entry point (and proved to be the final destination) for most Afghan refugees. As a matter of sensible practical policy, the Zia-ul-Haq government was therefore bound to focus on the Deobandi madrasas. That regional links were also important can be judged by the fact that most Deobandi madrasas in Sindh province refused to take zakh money during the eighties.¹⁸ There were strong historical links between the original madrasa of Deoband and Afghanistan: the Dr al-Ulm Deoband had many students from Afghanistan, whose Emir was a major patron. Therefore, in some ways it was also natural for the Afghans to seek refuge in Deobandi madrasas. Can the shift by a few Deobandi madrasas toward jihdi culture justify a suspicion of all Deobandi madrasas? The discussion that follows highlights the need to develop a more nuanced understanding of the madrasa system in Pakistan.

JAMIAT AL-ULUMAL-SHARIA

‘Jmiat al-Ulm al-Shara’ is an average, medium-sized Deobandi madrasa in Rawalpindi with some 350 students. Established in 1970 as a small madrasa under the name of ‘Dr al-Ulm Tadrs al-Qurn’ with a focus on nara and if (reading and memorization of the Qurn), the madrasa today teaches the entire Dars-i Nim. It is registered with Wafq al-Madris al-Arabiyya Pakistan (Association of Arabic Schools in Pakistan) and has its syllabus approved by Wafq al-Madris Multan.¹⁹ Until the recent checks on foreign students in Pakistani madrasas, it also hosted students from East Asia.

The madrasa is located at the low-income end of an affluent locality in Rawalpindi. Like most locations in Pakistan, it hosts many other madrasas of varying scale. On one side of the madrasa live affluent professionals, businessmen, and serving and ex-military officials. On the other side is the Pakistan Railways’ Housing Colony. The madrasa is thus situated in the narrow strip between these two prosperous communities. The immediate neighbourhood of the madrasa includes small grocery shops, motor workshops, small houses, and open fields.

The madrasa has expanded gradually under the leadership of its current head (imm), who took charge of the mosque that hosts the madrasa in 1965. At that time it was just a small prayer-hall built by a local industrialist, with the imm its only employee. The imm took up the job and residence there on the advice of one of his teachers, when he was a twenty-year old student. As legally required, a board of governors regulated the mosque at the time. The board continues to function. However, authority shifted toward the imm when, soon after his arrival, he expressed the desire to expand the mosque. None of the board members were in a position to help financially, but they did give the imm the authority to shape the place, provided he himself could mobilize the necessary funds.

Today the mosque has a grand building with a very fine interior. It accommodates up to 700 men for congregational prayers. Its madrasa issues seven different degrees in Islamic studies (the highest being accredited by Pakistan’s Ministry of Education as a master’s degree); it houses and feeds 350 students, and it holds 9000 books on Islam, some of them rather rare. The expansion process was not easy, however. The state donated the land but funds had to be mobilized entirely from the people. Even after construction had started there were periods of extreme tension and stress. The fluctuating inflow of funds made it impossible to pay contractors on time. The religious commitment of the contractor played a key role in sustaining work on the project during these low periods. Since the completion of the building, the project has expanded steadily with public support.

The madrasa does not view itself as only an educational initiative; it also claims a role in welfare. Its brochure states its objectives as threefold: to produce scholars of Islam, to spread the teachings of Islam to the wider society, and to carry out welfare programmes for the needy. The students are charged no fee and are provided free board and lodging. In addition, the Jmiat al-Ulm al-Shara has also been running a free medical centre since 1993. Renowned specialists in Rawalpindi and Islamabad volunteer their services on a regular basis at this clinic. The imm explains that the inspiration for this model comes from the Prophet’s mosque in Madina.

The nature and quality of knowledge in Jmiat al-Ulm
What is the nature of education in the madrasa? Is there a system of grading students? Who has the authority to grade? What are the main teaching methods? The many answers offered to such questions show that most analysts have not really tried to understand madrasa education, and have lost sight of the fact that it is extremely strenuous and complex. Jmiat al-Ulm issues seven different degrees in Islamic studies. The highest (as we noted) is accredited by Pakistan’s Ministry of Education as a master’s. But these degrees are not easy to attain. They are contingent on passing complex external examinations set by Wafq al-Madris Multan.²⁰ In preparation for these final exams, the madrasa conducts its own written exams three times a year.

Entry into the madrasa is fairly competitive—there are 150 to 200 applicants for the 100 places available each year. The selection process places as much emphasis on the personality of the applicant as it does on his performance in the formal entrance exams. The aim is to identify students who have the motivation as well as the calibre to cope with madrasa education, and who demonstrate a decent demeanour. Formal requirements include a primary degree. ‘The students who have cleared primary if memorize better. They perform even better after eighth grade, and even more after matric,’ explains one of the teachers.²¹ The selection process rules out applicants who have dropped out of primary or middle education—the imm does not want to admit students who think the madrasa is an easy option. ‘Our courses are much more demanding than school degrees. People do not realize this,’ he explains.²² In addition to these formal checks, the selection committee is keen to observe the personality traits of the child that indicate that he has an interest in if and religious education. ‘We can tell by the face of the child about his interest in if,’ the imm says.²³ He and the teachers are particularly keen to avoid children who are ‘awra’ (wayward), uninterested in studies, or are being forced by their parents because they have heard of the ‘thawb’ (religious reward) for if.

Once admitted, the students follow a set route. They start with if then move on to a two-year middle degree (eighth grade), which covers the secular subjects taught in the state schools: Mathematics, Science, English, and Pakistan Studies. After this, the students are promoted to matriculation level, where they start learning Arabic grammar and fiqh. Depending on their motivation and calibre, students can carry on their education within the madrasa up to a master’s degree.

The methods of teaching vary for if, middle degree, and matriculation. During the years of if the child is part of one big class, but also gets individual lessons from the teacher, depending on the pace of his memorization. Every day the teacher asks the children to recite lessons taught in the last seven days. The emphasis is on correcting pronunciation. However, the teachers argue that there is no standard method of helping students achieve if; it is up to the individual teacher to develop the strategy. The normal practice is to start from the beginning of the Qurn. However, many myths about the process prevail too. ‘I read somewhere that those who memorize Sra Ysuf first, memorize faster. Therefore, when my daughter wanted to do if, I suggested this to her. She completed the if within one and half years,’ adds the imm, while explaining the different strategies that people develop to achieve if.²⁴

In addition to teaching strategies there are also factors specific to the student that affect his ability to achieve if. Explaining that different students memorize at different pace, one of the teachers argued that some people are more intelligent from birth, while others (also) have if in the family. Also, there was consensus among the teachers that the children who start after matric memorize very fast, for which their explanation was that these students, being older, have a more mature grasp of the importance of their own time and their families’ resources. The imm also argues that the surroundings of the student make a difference. Unless the house has a notably religious atmosphere, it is considered much easier to do if within the madrasa. Once the child enters eighth grade the method of teaching switches to classroom lectures. From matric onwards, in addition to the lectures, small group discussions become a key teaching strategy. ‘Everyone has different levels of understanding; when there are five boys together in a group the one who knows more can guide the others,’ explains one of the teachers.²⁵

The academic year follows the Islamic calendar. The new class year opens after Raman holidays. The average school day is heavily packed: it starts with the fajr prayer and goes on till ar. The only time that the students are completely free is between ar and maghrib prayers, when they are free to go out of the madrasa. The teachers, however, encourage the students to utilize this break for sports activities. A recent donation of two computers has led to the initiation of computer training programmes for the students.

The school sees education as a never-ending process. Attaining the master’s degree does not mean the end of education—reading and reflection have to go on for life. Some students do pursue further formal qualifications. Many of those that I talked to wanted to do so at the International Islamic University in Islamabad; most wanted to focus on their spoken English and Arabic. As a whole, education at the madrasa is geared towards producing Islamic practitioners and scholars, able to meet the different religious needs of society. Those who leave the madrasa after completing if, matriculation, or bachelors, either go on to serve as imms, leading prayers in the mosque—often these are individuals who would not themselves be effective speakers and teachers—or khatbs—individuals who are good speakers, and able to respond well to questions. The students that are the pride of a madrasa are those who go on to Kulliyat-i shara, i.e., higher study and research in Islamic jurisprudence.

This case study shows that the madrasa has a complex hierarchy of knowledge designed to cater to the different needs of the society it is serving. Its students follow a rigorous academic routine in which the average day is much more heavily packed than a day in a secular Pakistani school. In this respect, the claim that madrasa students are not exposed to secular education is untrue. Rather, primary and secondary education is deemed compulsory within the madrasa before a student can move on to specialized courses. The fact that the madrasa students remain weak in some ‘secular’ subjects, notably mathematics, has more to do with the overall poor quality of teaching available in these subjects in the country as a whole—it is not something that can be specifically attributed to madrasa education.

Also, judging by this case, the madrasa system has an economic role, providing specialized training for jobs within the religious network. The imm affirmed with some pride that his students are employed as qrs, imms, khatbs even before they leave the madrasa. Singer’s claim about lack of job options for madrasa students seems questionable in the light of this case study.²⁶ Indeed, it seems that, as compared to government schools and colleges, the madrasa students have a better employment rate. Of course, the issue needs further investigation and detailed quantitative measures before any firm conclusions are drawn.

Factors that shape the decisions of the students
Interviews with the students as well as the teachers, themselves former students of madrasas, contradict the notion that madrasa education is only a choice of the poorest or even poor families. The case study shows that the students come mainly from the lower middle-income households rather than the absolute poor. It also shows that there is no single reason that a child becomes a student at a madrasa.

None of the students interviewed in the madrasa came from a completely destitute family. Those from villages often mentioned their fathers as being small landowners; those from the cities often came from middle-income households where the father was an engineer or small business trader. Some also came from poor families, in which the father worked in a workshop or store. The imm, the teachers, and especially the students were keen to reject the perception that most madrasa students are from very low income families, who cannot afford proper care for the children and so leave them at the madrasa to be fed and educated. One of the students said: ‘If today the madrasa started charging a fee, I am confident that the majority would stay and pay that fee.’²⁷

Interviews with the students, teachers, and a few parents show that the most prevalent reason for a child being in a madrasa is the parents’ regard for religious values. The majority of students at the madrasa mentioned that it was the wish of their father or mother that they become an lim. Most students, however, mentioned at the same time that their siblings were going to ordinary schools or were engaged in other occupations. Why they, and not the siblings, were sent to the madrasa is explained by their particular aptitude and capability. The imm explains that his father, who was the head of their village madrasa, wanted both of his two sons to become religious scholars. However, the imm’s brother proved not to have the aptitude and dropped out to become a technician.

In certain instances, the interviews confirm, it is not the family but the child himself who develops a strong preference for religious education. Five out of the twenty students interviewed said that they themselves developed a feeling for the value of gaining Islamic knowledge. Often this appreciation was an outcome of inspiration received from a cousin, friend, or acquaintance involved in religious education or teaching. Many of these students also emphasized the poor quality of education in ordinary schools as a factor in shaping their preference for madrasa education. Four of the students, who had done matric in secular schools before coming to the madrasa, were of the view that the madrasa education was much more rigorous and academically rewarding than the education in secular schools. They maintained that the education in the government or private schools that they had attended had been very poor and a waste of time.

Discussions with the students showed that the community also can, at times, be a factor in persuading a student to join a madrasa. One student said that in his village there was no trained lim, while the people felt the need for it. ‘My mother really wanted one of her children to become an lim. Since there was also a need in the community for an imm, I decided to get training in religious education.’²⁸

Sometimes, however, it is calculation that shapes a couple’s decision to send their child to a madrasa. The imm mentioned that some parents think that if will help their child in school since a fi gets 20 points in the matric exams. They also think that doing if will sharpen the child’s memory, which will help him perform better in the secular education system.

Clearly, as far as this case is concerned, the perception that most madrasa students come from poor families, that parents send their children to madrasas because they offer free board, lodging and education, is exaggerated. The students actually come from diverse economic backgrounds. The most prevalent reason for a child taking up madrasa education is the parents’ appreciation of religious values, irrespective of their economic status. The second important factor is the poor quality of education in ordinary state and private schools, where the child is neither equipped for the job market nor given a preparation in the affairs of religion.

Teacher–student relationship in the madrasa
The teacher in the madrasa ranks high on the hierarchy of employment options within the religious sphere. Teaching posts at reputed madrasas are prized positions. The teacher–student relationship in the madrasa focuses on personal bonding just as much as it does on academic merit. Discussions with the students and the teachers showed that mutual respect is a critical feature of this relationship. This respect between teachers and students at Jmiat al-Ulm strongly resembles Robinson and Metcalf’s description of teacher–student relationship in their studies of Farang Mahal and Dr al-Ulm Deoband respectively.²⁹ The students never raise their voices in front of the teacher. The teacher in turn is expected to treat them with the same respect and affection.

According to the imm, the ideal teacher is one who demonstrates great affection for his students and provides mentoring in every aspect of their life. Reminiscing about his favourite teacher, the imm said that everyone in the area loved him: ‘He was a teacher famous in the whole subcontinent. He was an extremely affectionate human being. When he went out the children from the area would get hold of his stick to ask him where he was going. Until the children let go of his stick he would not move from there.’³⁰

Other teachers also emphasized how the ideal teacher should be concerned with the overall well-being of the student. Such a teacher gives his time to share in the students’ joys and sorrows. Many teachers narrated stories about how their favourite teachers had honoured them by travelling great distances, even when they were very old and frail, to attend their marriage ceremonies. One of the teachers explained how he had married his teacher’s daughter.

There is a marked difference between the teacher–student relationship in a madrasa and that relationship in an ordinary school. Six of the twenty students interviewed had joined the madrasa after completing eighth grade or matric in secular schools; one of the students interviewed had joined after completing his BSc; another one was continuing with his masters degree at the same time. All were of the view that they felt and behaved very differently towards their teachers in the madrasa as compared to their previous teachers in secular institutions. One example given was considering it an honour to carry the teacher’s bag in the madrasa, something none of the students would ever think of doing for a teacher in the school or college. The inspiration for this behaviour comes from the established norms within the madrasa as well as from the stories of the Islamic role models that the students read about. Explaining this, one of the students quoted a saying from one of the caliphs: ‘Even if someone has taught me [just] one word, I am a slave of that person.’³¹

Similarly, an ideal student is one whose actions are good, who does not fight with others, and who does not have too many people complaining about him. The students are expected to stay in touch even after they have graduated. They either write letters or pay a visit if they are in town. The teachers, however, realize that times are changing and the close bond that the teachers and students had in the older generation is growing weaker. The imm holds the teachers partially responsible for this. In his view the teachers are not as committed to teaching as those in previous generations.

Jmiat al-Ulm’s self-perception
While the imm, the teachers, and the students, see the madrasa as producing scholars of Islam and dislike being viewed as economically marginal, in the discussion it was clear that they were conscious of the low prestige associated with the madrasa as compared to modern education institutions. This is reflected in an anecdote narrated by the imm: ‘Someone said that we rely on public money. I said, you are a government official, your salary comes out of the taxes collected from the people. At times these taxes also come with curses as people complain about taxes. In our case the money also comes from the people but it comes willingly. They are happy after giving this money.’³²

Similarly, at another point, while explaining the improvements in the madrasa’s facilities, the imm added: ‘Now we see our children playing with college and school-children in break time; before our children used to feel inferior to the school-children.’³³ He was of the view that the long period of British rule had changed peoples’ perception of good and bad.

The students in general shunned being projected as poor or disempowered. None of the students admitted feeling inferior to the students who attend secular schools and colleges. ‘We chose to come here. We could have stayed in the school system if we wanted,’ said one of the students who had come after completing eighth grade.³⁴ ‘We prefer it here; our time is much better utilized here. In the schools that we attended so much time was simply wasted,’ he added.

Relationship between the madrasa and the society
The previous section has reported the thoughts and views of the people inside the madrasa. I now turn to the madrasa’s relationship with society. How does a madrasa evolve? How does the imm develop his hold on the surrounding community? Can a madrasa emerge all at once after a big influx of money, and start to disseminate a narrow, ideological programme, or does the madrasa have to work hard to win the trust of the community before the public accept the authority of its head and listen attentively to his sermons?

Any discussion on the material means of survival of madrasas in Pakistan gets embroiled in the contentious issue of Saudi money. It is claimed that many madrasas rely on Saudi money given to promote the ‘Wahhb agenda’. The imm at Jmiat al-Ulm denies receiving any foreign financial support for the madrasa. He vehemently opposes receiving money from the government or any international donor. In his words: ‘As a rule the madrasa does not take money from any country’s government or any influential person. When governments help they help in order to promote their own agenda. If those agendas are not met they stop giving. In a poor man’s giving there is sincerity, and barakah (blessing). The poor man’s motivation is correct. All madrasas run with the support of poor or middle class people.”³⁵

Continuing with the Deobandi tradition of relying on contributions in cash and kind from the ordinary public, the madrasa maintains a receipt system for all kind of donations, which include zakh, adaqa, khayrt. But, given the current claims about the political motives of the madrasas, the question really is who is donating, in what form (cash or kind), and for what reasons. Interviews with the people who support Jmiat al-Ulm with donations in cash and kind show that there are two categories of donors in the case of madrasas, each with their own distinct perception of the madrasas.

The first category of donors, who seem to be the majority, view present-day madrasas as places where poor students get to memorize the Qurn and not as places of scholarly learning, which in the past they might have been. They were sceptical of the ability of a madrasa (not Jmiat al-Ulm in particular, but in general) to produce scholars of Islam, given the gradual decline in madrasa education over the decades.

In short, they saw madrasas as places where some good is being done by teaching poor children God’s word. This, in everyone’s view, is a virtuous deed, and for this reason most donors feel a direct association with the madrasa in their locality.

The other category of people who support the madrasas still view them as places of scholarly learning. They are often people who are themselves religiously inclined and actively engaged with the madrasas. The biggest donations to the madrasas came from wealthy individuals within this category.

Why do they donate? Interviews with over thirty people who support the madrasa show that both categories of donors support the madrasa because they are seeking rewards from God in this life and the afterlife. The other significant factor is a sense of social responsibility to local communal projects. In the interviews with the givers there was a general affirmation that the madrasa in the area is theirs. Part of this feeling of ownership stems from social interaction with the imm and students of the madrasa in their daily lives, and part of it is embedded in Islamic emphasis on the responsibility of the better-off to those less well-off in the same community. For most, the local madrasa, irrespective of its specific performance, was thus deserving of some support due to the public’s own inner compulsion to give. Many respondents said that the adaqa they had to give to ward off ill-fortune was often channelled towards a madrasa in their area. The feeling was that, however poor the quality of education in the madrasa might be, poor students do get to learn the Qurn there. This is viewed as a positive activity, by supporting which one would be helping these poor children as well as earning a reward in the afterlife.

Despite this inner compulsion to donate, it was clear that people do not give blindly. They make conscious judgements about the quality and efficiency of a madrasa and base the amount and frequency of their donations on these calculations. People choose to support a madrasa on the basis of very rational calculations about the efficiency and commitment of the imm of the madrasa. This also explains why in the same locality some madrasas expand much more than others. The donors make it clear that the visibility of the work, reputation built over time, social networks, and competence and commitment of the imm, are the critical factors in persuading an individual to support a particular madrasa.

It appeared that in making a decision about which madrasa to support, the visibility of its work was an important criterion. 350 students live and study within Jmiat al-Ulm’s premises at any given time. As part of their daily routine these students mingle with the local community, through the shopkeepers they deal with, and the children they play with on common grounds. They also interact daily with people who come to pray in the mosque. This constant presence of the students makes the work of the madrasa very visible. Everyone can see that a certain number of children are being fed and taught in this madrasa.

Then, the quality of the teaching and calibre of the imm are critical in making people choose one madrasa over another. The head of the madrasa is a part of the community; he is present in people’s lives at the time of key life-cycle ceremonies, like birth, marriage and death. Many senior students from the madrasa teach Qurn to children in neighbouring houses. This interaction gives the people a good idea about the imm who heads the madrasa. Along with this knowledge also comes the sense of differentiation. People get to form an opinion about the imm, his character, his calibre, and his knowledge. Many respondents said that they differentiate among imms from the quality of the khutbas (sermons) he gives, and by seeing whether he practises what he preaches. Also, people consult the imm on religious issues influencing daily life. In the words of one respondent: ‘One gets to know a lot about the capacity and capability of the imm through that.’³⁶

The fact that the people differentiate between madrasas was also evident in the interviews with students, teachers, and parents. Parents and students differentiated between madrasas as to their quality and effectiveness and chose one on that basis. Jmiat al-Ulm al-Shara admits students from all over Pakistan. Social networks are important in spreading the good name of a madrasa. The conduct and knowledge of the current teachers and their students become a living advertisement for the madrasa. They take the knowledge about the madrasa back to their communities. The manners and knowledge of an existing student help other parents judge the standard of education at that madrasa. Based on these observations they decide where to send their child for religious education. It is worth mentioning here that this analysis is very much in line with Metcalf’s observations about the ‘concentric circles of influence’ of the ulam at Dr al-Ulm Deoband.³⁷

Interviews also show that the visible signs of the imm’s commitment to his religious beliefs are important in mobilizing people. Self-sacrifice on the part of the imm is a critical factor for donors—it is important for the imm to convey humility and simplicity. According to the imm himself: ‘The mawlv’s living is among the people. The people surround him on all four sides. The mawlv goes to their homes; people come to his house. They continually get to know where their money is being spent. They can see the mosque and the madrasa. If I were to change cars every day they would question it in their minds.’³⁸

The fact that donors make their donations based on the efficiency and commitment of the imm was expressed by one of the women donors to the madrasa in these words: ‘I do occasionally make a small donation to the smaller madrasa in the area. I know that the imm of that madrasa lacks proper training and his commitment to his work appears questionable, especially when he sends out messengers with pathetic stories to collect donations. But the fact that God’s name is being taken in that place and relatively poor children are studying there makes me feel that I should donate at least a small amount to it. However, I give my main donation to Jmiat al-Ulm al-Shara because I know the imm there is knowledgeable and ensures a very high quality of education for his students.’³⁹

The study also shows that the biggest donations to the madrasa come from people who are more religiously inclined and who, because of their active interest in religious education, make a real effort to identify good madrasas. In their case giving is not tied to their local madrasa. These are people who will contribute to Jmiat al-Ulm not because it is in their neighbourhood but because they have the knowledge and access to compare the efficiency and performance of various madrasas and realize that this one is better than others. In an interview with one such donor, the reason given for supporting Jmiat al-Ulm al-Shara was that one gets to know the repute of the madrasa. Interviews with other such donors and the imm show that there are several different means that help build this repute. The Friday sermons of the imm, his publications, and those of other scholars associated with the madrasa, are two obvious means of building repute. Also, participation in gatherings of religious scholars, the newsletters produced by Wafq al-Madris, the scholarly work of students who graduated from the madrasa, and other similar networks, help establish the repute of the madrasa. What this indicates is that, as compared to the general public, those who are more religiously inclined are better informed and apply clear criteria for measuring the performance of, and differentiating among, madrasas.

These individuals explore various madrasas, meet like-minded people with shared interests, attend social ceremonies at these madrasas, read the published work of the imms of the madrasa, and make informed decisions about their efficiency. They thus become part of a network through which the repute of a good madrasa is spread. Many respondents, who themselves had limited knowledge about madrasas outside their own area, mentioned that they give to a specific madrasa on the recommendation of a relative known to be very religious and knowledgeable about religious institutions. The longer the madrasa survives, the more important the role of reputation becomes: in the case of established madrasas people start to donate from afar rather than just from the immediate community.

The above discussion shows that there are many checks on the imm. The community, the donors, as well as the parents, base their decision to donate to a madrasa or send their child to study there, on rational calculations about its performance, and not on blind religions or ideological conviction. Judgements about the efficiency of the imm are not made on general hearsay but on the basis of visible signs or direct experience of his work or the recommendations of those who have an established interest in and knowledge about the madrasa system. The duration of time that the madrasa has been working matters, not because it establishes familiarity, but because it indicates success in having survived the suspicion of so many others. Similarly, self-sacrifice on the part of the imm is important because it is evidence of his motivation: when the imm is clearly making a material sacrifice for the sake of the work he is doing, it is rational for the donors to think that he is not misusing donations. The imm thus is not above questioning, nor does his being a religious figure allow him to exercise unchecked authority and influence on the public. The people have their own means of checking on the imm. It is only when he meets the standards of competence and commitment demanded by the people that he is able to exercise some moral authority over them.

CONCLUSION

The investigation of Jmiat al-Ulm al-Shara and its relationship with the community suggests that the current understanding of the madrasa system is based on misplaced claims and normative judgements, which in turn raises serious ethical and practical concerns about the proposed policies derived from that current understanding. This paper questions the perception of a madrasa as an overtly political entity; it argues instead that a madrasa, even today, is primarily a social entity with a specific socio-economic role. The ulam may well project some authority through written commentary on the Qur’n (as argued by Zaman)⁴⁰ but their real moral authority builds through the day-to-day interactions with the immediate community. This argument is in line with Farhan Nizami’s historical analysis of madrasas in north India.⁴¹ Looking at the madrasas, Sufi orders, and qasbat (small towns) during 1803–1857, Nizami argues that the eminence the ulam enjoyed derived not merely from ideological factors but, equally importantly, from sociological ones. Noting that the people differentiated between ‘ulama-i-dunya’ (worldly scholars supported by the state) and ‘ulama-i-akhirat’ (religiously-minded scholars who lived off public charity or on their own earnings, and maintained an attitude of independence), Nizami maintains that their piety and erudition, combined with their poverty enhanced the status of ‘ulama-i-akhirat’ in the eyes of the ordinary people: their moral authority and social standing were built through their lifestyle and interaction with the community, and they were more socially effective and powerful for that reason. Directions for Further Research on Madrasas
Since the arguments developed in this paper are based on case study of a single madrasa, the scope of these claims is questionable. However, the intention of this study is to question the current generalizations by indicating the complex reality of how a madrasa is established, and how it functions in its social context. It should therefore serve as an argument for more detailed and extensive research on the madrasa network in Pakistan before any attempts to reform it. A series of studies is needed that focus on different types of madrasas in Pakistan, so that a meaningful typology and some clearly definable criteria for differentiation are evolved: it is reasonable to expect differences in relation to the syllabus they offer (if, nara, or fiqh), sectarian affiliation, reputation, number of students, geographical location, ‘period’ (whether established before partition, established in the 1960s and 1970s, established during the 1980s after Zia-ul-Haq’s Islamization), and the socio-economic characteristics of the surrounding community. Also, madrasas registered with the government are likely to differ from the unregistered ones. Only an honest effort to engage with the array of madrasas, and to develop an appreciation for the education they impart, will enable the policy-makers to come up with an effective and fair regulating mechanism. The study of Jmiat al-Ulm al-Shara suggests that as yet there has not been enough research on and understanding of the madrasa system in Pakistan to design reform policies or a regulatory framework that will be both fair and effective.

Source: Journal of Islamic Studies Volume 18, Number 1, Pp. 43-68