Due to severe restrictions on Islamist political parties throughout most of Turkey’s history, charitable foundations and organizations have taken on a particularly important role in developing and defining Islamic politics in a country that is constitutionally secular, but, at least nominally, 99.9 percent Muslim.

To take only the most prominent example, the Gülen movement has become one of the most powerful and influential forces within Turkish society, with control of Turkey’s most popular newspaper, a major university, several television stations, a bank, etc. Internationally, the movement, through businesses, charitable groups, scholarly activity, and, in particular, affiliated schools, has done a tremendous amount to increase both its own and Turkey’s influence abroad. In a remarkably shrewd program of public diplomacy, it quietly runs conferences and tours of Turkey for foreign academics and opinion makers, which aim to increase public sympathy both for Turkey and for the Gülen movement’s own vision of Islamic modernism. Its influence has garnered attention; it is the subject of a remarkable literature, some unabashedly hagiographical, and some depicting an almost mafia-like network of control. The Gülen movement is also the most successful example of a religious movement integrating itself into the fabric of the Turkish political system, with strong mutual ties between itself and the AKP and, by all appearances, with influence on major bureaucracies (most notably the police, which it has apparently used to stifle criticism). For decades, the secular government viewed the movement as a direct threat to the state. In recent years, however, despite some apparent tensions, a relationship has developed between the AKP and the Gülen movement and has clearly strengthened both.

The Gülen movement is also the most significant example of a larger process, however. As Jenny White outlined in her landmark Political Mobilization in Turkey, the relationship between religious organizations and charities, on the one hand, and Islamist political parties, on the other, was central to the rise of what would become the AKP. It is a formula that has continued to work and one of the reasons why the AKP has, since it first came to power in 2002, almost completely dominated Turkish politics and, in many ways, initiated an era of transformation in Turkish society that is at least as profound as that undergone during Turkey’s transition to democracy under Adnan Menderes, between 1950 and 1960.

The same type of alliance between private charities and the AKP that marked its rise to power and continues to color its domestic policy can be seen in its foreign policy. In particular, the AKP has worked with the İnsan Hak ve Hürriyetler İnsani Yardım Vakfı (The Foundation for Human Rights and Freedoms and Humanitarian Relief), or IHH, in several highly conspicuous missions that have greatly increased Turkey’s regional visibility and prestige. This relationship, in turn, has allowed Turkey greater flexibility of action than it might otherwise have enjoyed.

The IHH initially developed as a response to the targeting of Muslims in the breakup of Yugoslavia. Despite harassment by the Turkish government and early controversies regarding use of funds and its relationship to militant Islamist groups, it has, since the 1990s, become one of the most effective and influential Islamic NGOs in Turkey. Like many civil society organizations, the IHH gained substantial credibility in the aftermath of the earthquake of 1999, which left the Turkish state looking lackadaisical and uncaring in comparison to the proactive and efficient response of civil society. In addition, the IHH highlights the growing prominence of self-consciously Islamic actors within the Turkish public sphere under the AKP.

The AKP has won elections, not just by carrying its base, but also by creating shifting coalitions—pulling in voters who, while not necessarily sympathetic to its religious profile, nonetheless see it as the best electoral option. The IHH, however, represents the AKP’s core constituency: more religious and, while still deeply nationalistic, far more aware of itself as part of an international community of Muslims. Although it is true that many in the AKP’s devout base would prefer a party that was more explicitly Islamic, there is little question that this group makes up the AKP’s most loyal supporters. Like most Turks, they tend to see Muslims in Central Asia, the Caucasus, and the Balkans as part of their “near abroad.” However, the IHH and groups like it have been especially innovative through their a longstanding interest and activities the Muslim Africa and the Arab Middle East, which has, in turn, helped to redefine the Turkish public’s commitment to these regions (and although the IHH has engaged in charitable activities outside of the Muslim world, the reality is that these efforts have been extremely limited in both scale and duration).

It is precisely because of this “internationalist” outlook that the IHH and similar groups have proven such valuable allies to the AKP in its regional foreign policy, which has taken on an increasingly “Islamic” tone in the past five or so years. Initially, Turkey made real efforts at EU ascension, at addressing the issue of Cyprus, and at improving ties with both Greece and Armenia. Since the middle of the last decade, however, most of these programs have stalled, sometimes because of Turkish decisions, but just as often because of choices quite outside of their control. As the 2000s wore on, therefore, the “strategic depth” envisioned by the AKP’s chief foreign policy strategist, Ahmet Davutoğlu, took on an increasingly (though never exclusively) Muslim character.

Groups like the IHH have been a central component of the “soft power” influence that Davutoğlu sees as central to Turkey’s growing regional role. For example, the IHH served as the vanguard for Turkish reconstruction work in Lebanon in the aftermath of Israel’s 2006 invasion. Their work has included, in addition to medical and other charitable support, the establishment of an “Istanbul Education Center.” Along with technical training, the school offers Turkish classes, Similar programs have been developed elsewhere. A survey of the IHH’s activities makes it clear that it is an Islamic charitable organization, but one also very much colored by its Turkish identity. From the AKP’s perspective, this has made it an important vehicle for Turkish ties to the region (and visits by AKP dignitaries make clear the IHH’s prestige). At the same time, the IHH also represents one means by which the AKP’s devout Sunni base has been able to pressure the government to take policies more in keeping with their vision. In the past year, the IHH was particularly active in pressuring Turkey to take a harder line with the Assad regime in Syria, and it appears to have facilitated Turkish contacts with the Syrian opposition.

The IHH played an even larger role in the dissolution of the Turkish-Israeli alliance, which the AKP has inherited from its predecessors. The close relationship between Turkey and Israel was largely the product of the Turkish military’s determination, in the 1990s, to define Turkish foreign policy. From the perspective of the AKP, a cooling of this relationship was attractive in terms of domestic politics (demonstrating that the civilian government had the final say over all matters of policy), electoral politics (Israel’s standing with the Turkish public was never high and declined precipitously after the Second Intifada), and for Turkey’s standing in the wider Middle East. In order to be an effective regional player, Turkey needed to be able to interact with Israel without appearing to be merely a U.S. proxy. Ideologically, politically, and strategically, the Turkish-Israeli alliance was an unwelcome inheritance for the AKP and grew increasingly sour over time. By 2009, Erdoğan was loudly berating the Israeli government for “knowing well how to kill,” while at the same time increasing Turkey’s contacts with Hamas and Hizbullah.

Although the IHH had facilitated these shifts, both by lobbying in Turkey and through its contacts in Lebanon and Palestine, its most dramatic contribution has been its participation in an international “Gaza Freedom Flotilla,” in 2010, which aimed to weaken the Israeli blockade of the Hamas-controlled Gaza Strip by transporting humanitarian aid directly to the Port of Gaza, bypassing Israeli controls. Despite claims that it had no role to play, there is little question that the Turkish government supported the flotilla, facilitating the IHH’s purchase of the Mavi Marmara ferryboat from the AKP-controlled Istanbul Municipal Government. The leader of the IHH, Bülent Yıldırim, specifically thanked the AKP and two other parties for their support at the ceremony marking the beginning of the flotilla. And although Foreign Minister Ahmet Davutoğlu later claimed that he attempted to persuade the IHH to bring the aid through an Israeli port, it seems unlikely, given the close relations between the AKP and the IHH, that real pressure was brought to bear. Indeed, the Turkish position at the time was simply that it had no way of controlling a civilian organization.

Although the flotilla was certainly designed to prompt a confrontation that would embarrass Israel and weaken the embargo of Gaza, it seems unlikely that anybody had foreseen Israel’s clumsy attack on the flotilla, which left nine activists killed and dozens injured. Despite the high human costs, however, Turkey had the excuse it needed to finally end an awkward alliance with Israel, while its moral stature in the region was now unparalleled. Turkey’s economy, its cultural output, and the broad model of a Muslim democracy all are important elements of its improved standing in the Middle East. Nonetheless, the assertiveness with which it has positioned itself as a critic of American policy in the region, along with its increasingly vocal support of Palestinian rights, has put it in a class by itself. According to recent polls, Tayyip Erdoğan is the most admired foreign political leader in the Arab world and most Palestinians see Turkey as their best regional ally.

Nonetheless, the AKP seems to have calculated that, while it has no particular interest in a warming of relations with Israel, it also has little to gain from further heightening tensions. The AKP successfully persuaded the IHH to forego a second Gaza Flotilla in 2011. Diplomatic ties will continue to be cool, but Turkey has a strong enough tradition in multi-party talks to serve as a mediator if the opportunity arises. In the meantime, Turkey can enjoy the independence and prestige of a public estrangement. Israel, in turn, is left painfully aware that it needs Turkey far more than Turkey needs it. Official apology or no, hopes in Israel that the estrangement with Turkey is temporary are simply wishful thinking. Posters placed by the Turkish Ministry of Culture and the Istanbul Municipality promise brotherhood with the Palestinians in their struggle to liberate Jerusalem, and Prime Minister Tayyip Erdoğan has voiced interest in a visit to Gaza.

An IHH aid flotilla played a similarly central role in another recent Turkish foray into regional politics. Initially, Turkey met the rise of the anti-Gaddafi resistance movement in Libya with considerable discomfort, finding itself at odds with both its Western allies and regional public opinion. To its credit, however, the Turkish government quickly changed tack, pairing minimal and grudging support for the NATO intervention with a very broad humanitarian effort, with the IHH again taking a leading role. At a time when the Libyan opposition was still protesting against Turkey’s apparent sympathy to Gaddafi, the IHH’s presence enabled the Turks to backtrack from an untenable position: it allowed them to address a real humanitarian crisis, to build bridges with an initially antagonistic Libyan opposition, and to distinguish themselves from their NATO allies by highlighting humanitarian projects over military intervention. As Turkey realized that Gaddafi’s position was hopeless, it began to build on these ties to reach out to the Libyan opposition. By July 2011, Turkey had clearly positioned itself as an ally of the Libyan opposition. Humanitarian aid had played a key role in allowing the AKP to negotiate a difficult transition and to reposition itself for a post-Gaddafi Libya.

The alliance between the AKP and Islamic charities such as the IHH has been mutually beneficial. The AKP mobilized its base as a means of increasing its outreach, both domestically and overseas. This cooperation has both appealed to the internationalist outlook of the AKP’s devout base and afforded Turkey increased influence in its “near abroad,” thus serving as an important component of the AKP’s emphasis on amplifying the country’s “soft power.” Under the AKP, charity abroad has served Turkey well.

Alongside this and numerous other recent U.S. policies, the Chicago Council Report looks increasingly futile and, in key places, wrong-headed—even if, doubtless, well-intentioned. One of the Report’s aims was to elaborate on President Obama’s 2009 Cairo speech offering a new opening to Muslims worldwide—a wonderful idea, but one that, only a year later, already appears moribund. As a core proposal, the Report suggested that the U.S. government, under the aegis of the National Security Council (NSC), should pursue an international “religious freedom” agenda. As a key tactic, the government should use American civil society to engage religious—particularly Muslim—communities abroad, helping them stave off “extremism,” and helping us protect our national security.

It is encouraging that at least one recent audience in an unnamed Gulf Arab country would still welcome American engagement, as Nakhleh relates. But a May 26 New York Times article paints a less rosy picture. Pakistan, the world’s second largest Muslim country, is pervaded with conspiracy theories about American perfidy toward the country and toward Muslims generally. Disturbingly, as Glenn Greenwald documents, many of these rumors have at least some colorable basis.

To date, Obama’s Cairo promises of improving relations with the Muslim world and with ordinary Muslims have gone unmet. We remain in Iraq. We remain in Afghanistan. We maintain our detention centers in Guantanamo and Bagram. We continue unmanned drone strikes with substantial “collateral damage.” We have done little to pressure Israel to withdraw settlements from the West Bank or to bargain seriously with the Palestinians. Suspicions of the U.S. therefore remain strong. It is true that Obama recently appointed a Muslim as special envoy to the OIC (as President Bush did too). Sadly, there may not be much else that is positive to report, since the Obama administration has continued or intensified many of the Bush era policies that have harmed our relations with the Muslim world.

Unless these key policies change, a government-managed plan of “engagement” with Muslim communities will not work. This goes first and foremost for the charmingly euphemized “kinetic” (read: military) option we have favored thus far. Almost ten years since 9/11, the U.S. mainland has suffered the highest number of terrorist attacks ever (if we believe the Department of Homeland Security)—though their actual impact on “national security” has been minimal. And, in Obama’s view, this approach will likely leave the U.S. fighting terrorists for ten more years—undoubtedly an understatement, since terrorism as a tactic cannot be “defeated.”

Yet it is equally unlikely that the more peaceful engagement envisioned by the Chicago Council Report will work in these circumstances. Certainly, religion should be recognized as an important factor in international politics. The U.S. government would also do well to improve its understanding of religion in world affairs, and diplomats and others should continue to interact with religious leaders abroad. Any such interactions, however, will pale before the worldwide attention sparked by continued use of the “kinetic” option. The Report’s proposal therefore comes off sounding like the Bush administration’s much ballyhooed, but ineffective, public diplomacy campaign toward the “Arab street”—that is, a public relations fig-leaf, this time carried out by representatives of American civil society.

Worse, the suggestion that the government, in the form of the NSC, should “coordinate” American civil society’s engagement is more than futile. If implemented, it could dim one of the few bright spots in American relations with the Muslim world: our civil society’s rich, pre-existing, and—most importantly— autonomous engagement with the Muslim world. A few examples of this engagement include the University of Notre Dame’s invitation to Tariq Ramadan to join their faculty; the work of left-leaning NGOs, such as Human Rights Watch, which report on human rights violations by all sides in the Israel/Palestine conflict; and the efforts of right-leaning NGOs, such as C-FAM and Brigham Young University’s World Family Policy Center, which work with Muslim scholars and diplomats to promote their own, admittedly debatable, vision of “family values.”

These diverse interactions are already put at risk by the government’s continuing overt and covert military operations, occurring potentially anywhere in the world, against people whom our security agencies unilaterally (and, given their track record on related issues, often wrongly) label as “terrorists.” The Chicago Report heightens that risk, imagining civil society “partners” “coordinated” by the NSC, which would be charged with “identifying . . ., training, and tasking the appropriate American interlocutors/sectors” for specific “assignment[s],” and highlighting the “responsibility of nonstate, nongovernmental actors” to ensure “widespread ‘ownership’ of a national engagement effort.” If implemented, this vision would destroy what the Report ostensibly values—the “unequivocally indigenous and autonomous” networks of engagement that already exist. It would raise the specter that any civil society interaction with religious communities may be directed by the NSC, and usher in the “securitization of religion.”

(In an earlier post, William Inboden cavils that the term “securitization of religion” inappropriately mixes national security issues with one of the supposed causes of the economic crisis. In fact, the phrasing is apt, given how the American security establishment has misjudged, misplayed, or just plain missed important developments in recent international politics—in a way reminiscent of the shortsightedness with which our financial wizards misjudged the securitization of financial instruments. Inboden also suggests that any NSC role would be largely administrative. Yet, even if true—and the terms of the Execute Order suggest otherwise—appearances matter very much in this area, particularly when Islam is clearly targeted as the primary religion for “engagement.”)

In many countries, Muslim civic and community leaders already challenge secular or Islamist authoritarians. As Nakhleh also states, “vast majorities of Muslims . . . abhor violence and the killing of innocent civilians.” For these groups, interactions with American NGOs potentially or actually coordinated by the NSC would be poisonous—even if many Muslims long for an end to dictatorial regimes. In fact, few actions could more quickly puncture the credibility and erode the influence of indigenous democrats. Even on its own terms, the Report’s proposal is illogical: its central idea is to “empower” majorities to improve their societies “from below,” yet the source is to come “from above”—from American civil society, under the watchful eye of the NSC.

Nothing inherent in Islam prevents democracies from developing and economies from flourishing. Of course, democracies in Muslim countries will differ from America’s, not least with regard to ideas of religious freedom. Many Americans will disagree with the laws and policies of Muslim democracies. But, as Nakhleh points out, Islamic political parties in Turkey, Morocco, Malaysia, and Indonesia have won power democratically and have proceeded to advocate for civil rights, gender equality, and religious freedom. By contrast, a number of Islamic dictatorships continue to be heavily supported by the U.S.

But we should not be deluded into thinking that bringing development or democracy to the Islamic world will necessarily make for harmonious relations between Muslim countries and the U.S. To take just one example, the Iranian democracy movement—like the Ahmadinejad regime—favors Iran’s nuclear program. Nor is it the case that development, or even democracy, will necessarily allow peaceful Muslim majorities to “face down” extremists. If by “face down” one means extirpate them, the experience of developed and democratic countries, where indigenous extremists still exist, suggests that this is impossible. If by “face down” we mean marginalizing them, this has, to a large extent, already been accomplished in the Muslim ummah.

Why, then, do the extremists seem to dominate the airwaves? Why, in particular, when there are so many other peaceful civic organizations working on myriad issues in most Islamic countries—as the Task Force Report itself recognizes? The primary and perverse reason is that the U.S. foreign policies noted above create popular anger and support the perception that the U.S. is anti-Islamic. This lends credence to radical voices in the Muslim world. Only a tiny fraction of those voices or their listeners in fact take action, let alone violent action, let alone against Americans, let alone in the U.S. itself. But on those rare cases that they do, what Colin Powell has termed our “terror-industrial complex” leaps into action.  By throwing the full weight of the Presidency and the national security establishment against common criminals and obvious losers—men literally holed up in caves and deluded twenty-something students—we vastly exaggerate their importance, distort our view of the Muslim world, and harm ourselves. Unfortunately, the Report itself contributes to this threat inflation with its loose and inaccurate talk of “vast terror networks” and “extreme religious views” empowered by globalization.

If the Chicago Report is really only a pragmatic effort to implement Cairo’s ideas, and especially the improvement of U.S. relations with Muslim communities, its best approach would have been to boldly advocate changes to the key policies noted above—namely, an unending and misguided “war” on terror, which distorts key aspects of foreign and domestic policy, and a mistaken belief that American and Israeli national security interests coincide. It might also have behooved such a distinguished panel to question some of the assumptions of the “war on terror,” starting with the quasi-religious basis on which it is being waged: in apocalyptic language, against unseen and eternal devils, with nary a thought to its effects.

Another idea would be to balance the emphasis on Islamic extremists with more coverage of those who use violence in the name of other religions—Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism, and Buddhism, for example. Of course, these extremists may not pose a threat to the U.S. (though if the U.S. became serious about promoting a two-state solution in the Middle East, some of them unfortunately might). Yet, highlighting their violence in proportionate measure with that of Muslim extremists would go far in aiding the report’s legitimacy in Muslim eyes.

At a minimum, the Chicago Council Task Force should rethink its conception of government management of civil society engagement with religious communities overseas. There is every reason to treat religion as a key issue in international politics. Indeed, our government should learn as much as possible about religion as an important political force, and Americans’ interactions with the Muslim world should be encouraged. But suggesting that the NSC should in some way manage civil society’s interactions with religious groups abroad risks harming the many “authentic” interactions that already occur and retarding the indigenous development of Muslim democracies.

The views below are based on discussions I had with other Task Force members during the writing phase of the report.  They are also colored by my experience in government, my familiarity with the thinking of some folks at the NSC on the topic of engagement, and my conversations over the last decade with hundreds of Islamic activists, NGO-types, Islamic political party officials, and Muslim thinkers across dozens of countries.  I concur with the argument made in the report, and in President Obama’s Cairo speech, that engaging religious organizations across the world would empower them to improve their societies from below and to serve the common good of their compatriots, and would also, indirectly, serve the interests of the United States, broadly defined.  In order for this approach to succeed, however, it must be pragmatic, nuanced, and not terribly doctrinaire or ideological.  Speaking from the perspective of the Muslim world, which has been my focus in the government for almost two decades, I want to emphasize that many Muslims are suspicious of this effort, particularly because of their experience with our policies since 9/11.  Many Muslims, however, have been elated by President Obama’s approach to engagement, and are eagerly interested in improving their relations with the U.S., knowing full well that the process will be fraught with challenges.

On a recent trip to a Gulf Arab country, I was gratified and pleasantly surprised by the response to the President’s focus on engaging Muslim “communities,” as opposed to “regimes,” and to the broad scope of such an engagement strategy—in economics, education, health, energy, rule of law, political reform, women’s rights and opportunities, entrepreneurship, and human rights.  Following the talk on engagement that I gave in that country, one person said, “Now that your government realizes that vast majorities of Muslims do not support radicalism and violence, let’s work together to remove the suspicion, anxiety, and mistrust from our relations and create better futures for both of us.”  In fact, I mentioned the Chicago Council’s report on this issue as an example of how the private sector in the U.S. is engaged in the process.  One thing that was apparent during the Q&A period was the audience’s interest in having a broad swath of engagement strategies across the U.S. government, as compared to the traditional role of the State Department and USAID.  The discussion focused on three points, which, in their view, underpinned the President’s Cairo speech:  that Muslim disagreements with the United States have been driven by specific policies, not values of good governance; that the low standing of the United States in Muslim countries, which has been largely driven by perceptions of a “war against Islam” in the previous administration, is reversible; and that effective U.S. engagement must be balanced, pragmatic, and based on mutual respect, justice, and fairness.

The report, I think, has succeeded in highlighting the rise of religions as a driver of the policy of states and non-state actors; in explaining why the U.S. should engage religious groups; and in delineating the who, how, and what to engage.  A few commentators on this blog have made important points about religious freedom, secularism, and the role of religion in the public sphere.  I view the report, on the other hand, not as a treatise on these issues, but as a pragmatic policy proposal that aims at implementing some of the key themes of the Cairo speech.  Improving the lives of average people through their community organizations by providing better health and education, cleaner water, higher paying jobs, and entrepreneurial opportunities would help empower these communities to seek a different form of government and, ultimately, to have a say in what’s happening in their countries.  Engagement for the common good and for a better life is a sure way to achieve social and civic peace, a more hopeful young generation of men and women, domestic stability through dialogue, and international peace.  Starting the engagement with a frontal advocacy of religious freedom will likely be misunderstood in many Muslim societies and will make many indigenous communities more suspicious of our intentions.

In fact, any talk of religious freedom as a key driver of the new engagement strategy will be rejected outright.  Saudi Arabia will not play if they hear we are pushing for the rights of the Shia minority—neither will Egypt, with its Coptic minority; Malaysia, with its Darul Arqam minority; nor Turkey, with its Alawite minority.  Religious freedom, broadly defined, is a worthy goal that I wholeheartedly support, but it should not drive the proposed engagement policy.  Regimes are already suspicious when they hear U.S. talk about engaging communities vice regimes; they will become doubly suspicious if they think we are trying to empower their minorities, whom they do not trust in the first place.  Some Muslim regimes would welcome our emphasis on majority rights, but not on minority rights.  Islamic political parties themselves—for example, AKP in Turkey, PJD in Morocco, PAS in Malaysia, and PKS in Indonesia—once empowered from below, and now active participants in the political process, would begin to push for civil rights, gender equality, and, yes, religious freedom.  In Indonesia, Nahdaltul Ulama and Muhamadiyya, the world’s largest Islamic NGOs have been pushing for these ideas without being forced to do so from above.

The report does not aspire to be either a definitive document or a theoretical treatise on the linkage between democracy and religious freedom.  Nor is it intended to be a defense of the democratic nature of the American political and social system.  Instead, the report is a set of useful proposals to policymakers in the Obama administration as they endeavor to translate President Obama’s Cairo speech into tangible programs and strategies for engagement.

I would like to offer a few concluding comments:

First, religious communities have emerged all over the world as active participants in the shaping of public policy in their societies. Thus, if the United States and other Western countries plan to pursue initiatives to help those societies improve themselves, they must engage religious communities.  As President Obama and his senior counterterrorism advisor have said both before and since the Christmas Day 2009 and Times Square 2010 failed terrorist plots, U.S. national interest dictates that we engage broader segments of Muslim societies in an effort to delegitimize the radical paradigm and undercut the extremist message of al-Qa’ida and its regional affiliates. Many Muslims agree that in order to undercut the radical ideology of a small minority of extremists, we would need to engage the vast majorities of Muslims who abhor violence and the killing of innocent civilians.  The report affirms this global view without becoming an apologia for a specific U.S. foreign policy.

Second, the report correctly recommends that the United States expand its civilian capacity through the involvement of numerous government departments in engaging the Muslim world, under the strategic direction of the National Security Council.  Whereas USAID and the Department of State have traditionally been the main, and often sole, players in global development projects, building a whole-government approach would mean that such other departments as energy, labor, education, commerce, and justice should also be involved in development projects ranging from education to micro-investment and good governance. The recent appointment of Rashad Hussain, an American Muslim attorney, as Special Envoy to the Organization of Islamic Conference (OIC) is but one example of American Muslims’ involvement in the U.S. government’s outreach to the Muslim world.

Third, engaging the Islamic world would a) serve the national interests of the United States; b) give credible mainstream Islamic organizations a stake in the future of their societies; and c) empower mainstream Muslims to face down the narrow, intolerant worldview of extremists and to offer a more inclusive vision as an alternative.  Religious groups—many of which are indigenous, credible, and influential—are already involved in a myriad of activities at the local level that touch people’s daily lives, including schools, hospitals, relief programs, and social services.  I concur with the report’s statement that “religion should not be viewed only as a problem, but also as a source of creativity, inspiration, and commitment to human flourishing that can and often does provide enormous opportunities.”

Fourth, The challenge of empowering indigenous Muslim communities is global and therefore must be addressed through global partnerships—perhaps including both European countries and a couple of modernizing Muslim countries, such as Turkey and Indonesia. Empowering civil society communities from below is the first step in the process of building a democratic culture conducive to good governance, the rule of law, and the freedoms of expression, association, and religion. To be credible, engagement also must include working with Islamic political parties across the Muslim world, including, for example, Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood, Palestine’s Hamas, Lebanon’s Hizballah, Turkey’s AKP, Morocco’s Justice and Development Party, Jordan’s Islamic Action Front, Kuwait’s Islamic Constitutional Movement, Bahrain’s al-Wifaq, Yemen’s Islah Party, Malaysia’s PAS, Indonesia’s PKS, and Kenya’s Islamic Party.

Fifth, while al-Qa’ida continues to target Western countries as well as recruit potential “jihadists” from those countries, the most effective way to face down, and ultimately defeat, such a threat is by reaching out to the vast majorities of Muslims across the globe. President Obama’s speech and his recent appointment of a distinguished American Muslim as Special Envoy to the OIC reflect his belief that we cannot defeat terrorism by the force of arms alone.  Helping Muslim communities attain their potential and empowering them to serve their societies through tangible initiatives—including economic development, job creation, modern education, new and cheaper sources of energy and, most importantly, clean water—promise to be a strong defense against hate and a promoter of domestic stability and good governance.

I rooted for the Saints, too, at least on the occasional moments when I walked by the TV set. But the juxtaposition of a victory credited with the power to lift up a people and landscape wracked by tragedy with the ongoing, even greater tragedy of another people and landscape nearby leads me to reflect on how our narratives of normalcy and tragedy are created and disrupted. The magnitude of Katrina and the earthquake in Haiti shattered, or at least suspended, our entrenched narratives about these places and people, but what fills the void? And what is the place of religion in our narratives, and in the lacunae that remain when they are disrupted?

Haiti has long provided an icon of desperation in the Northern imaginary. The resulting narrative tells us that Haiti, like much of Africa, is impossibly corrupt, and the vast majority of Haitians desperately poor. Haiti will never change; this is its normal state. A similar narrative obtained about much of Africa until Nelson Mandela’s release and the end of apartheid twenty years ago transformed South Africa and celebrities homed in to save the rest of the continent. Haiti, however, remained bleak, without hope. Syncretic religious practices melding Christianity and Vodou added to the fatalism about Haiti from the outside, as David Brooks’s recent column, asserting that “the influence of the voodoo religion” has helped to make Haitian culture “progress-resistant,” demonstrates so well. Not only could Haiti not change for the better; it was mysterious and ultimately anti-modern. Haiti had gone its own way from its 1791 slave rebellion to its revolution and eventual declaration of independence in 1804, showing the world that slavery was immoral, while frightening the US founding fathers among others. Its refusal to buckle under pressures from Europe and then the US, its corruption (aided and abetted by Europe and the US, as Elizabeth McAlister, and Jean Casimir and Laurent Dubois show in their contributions to the SSRC’s essay forum Haiti, Now and Next) and violent regimes, and the persistence of strange religious practices presumably showed that Haiti was different.  This inability to align itself with Europe and the US, along with its history as a pariah in the Caribbean intimated that either the Haitians were responsible for their own hopeless condition, or that history and lack of opportunity conspired to prevent them from doing anything about it. In a sense, Pat Robertson merely added an apocalyptic gloss to a long-standing secular story.

The earthquake destroyed not only lives and livelihoods in Haiti itself; it also upended these narratives from the outside. Haiti was hopeless, but the suffering caused by the earthquake was unimaginable, thus rendering aid—and new solutions—necessary. Bill Clinton had already made Haiti the new centerpiece of his foundation’s development efforts, and Paul Farmer, Catholic aid groups, and the Episcopal Church had long been involved in efforts to improve the daily lives of poor Haitians. Haiti, already a major center of church and NGO activity, is now the focus of innumerable new efforts to help.

The narrative void is not absolute, however. News reports have found both hope and hopelessness in daily coverage of rescues and newfound destruction, as the Northern imagination wobbles through alternating tendencies to create new narratives and reinforce old ones. Headlines a few days after the quake announced fears of conflict and vandalism, a common expectation for behavior by the poor and destitute in violent societies, only to be chastened soon thereafter with reports of Haitians coming together to pray and mourn. We were told that the Haitian government was completely non-functional, and that its President, René Préval, could be seen wandering aimlessly through the streets of the capital, yet somehow the Haitian justice minister managed to indict ten US missionaries on charges of child abduction.  And the Haitian ambassador to the US (interviewed the day after the earthquake on the Rachel Maddow show) pointedly refuted Pat Robertson’s thesis (that Haiti had brought about its own troubles through a pact with the devil made when it revolted against France) with a history lesson: not only had Haitian independence provided a potent example of freedom to Simon Bolivar and all of Latin America, but Haiti’s revolution against the French had paved the way for the United States to negotiate the entire Louisiana Purchase for a song.

The magnitude of the destruction and the upending of narratives also leave open the possibility, like Noah’s ark, of a completely new start in Haiti, on the part of both religious and secular external observers and aid-givers.  Aid to Haiti is indisputably necessary, but to what assumptions and expectations does it come attached? Now the narrative of hopelessness competes with the idea of Haiti as a tabula rasa for NGOs, donors, religious groups, and observers, opening the door to all sorts of new (and old) salvific projects.

Perhaps this is the reason why the Baptist missionaries, like the French Noah’s Ark in Chad before them, thought they could take Haitian children across the border to the Dominican Republic (and possibly eventually to the United States). If God was calling them to help and Haiti had turned into an anarchic void teeming with suffering children, whatever they could think of doing would be better for the children they found than their current, post-apocalyptic state.

Similarly, donor agencies and academic gurus also dream up plans to reconstruct Haiti anew, based on pet projects or examples of what has “worked” (and more often what has not) in other cases. I do not wish to disparage these efforts, and I have also contributed to them. Yet, as Elizabeth McAlister points out in her post, some of these plans—and, I would add, the ones most likely to attract the largest amounts of funding—encompass huge silences regarding the history of Haiti and the succession of “private deal-making” between Haitian elites and foreign governments and corporations. Uncovering these silences renders David Brooks’s call for the Haitian poor to be held to “an achievement ethos and tough, measurable demands” as well as the promotion of “locally led paternalism” silly and uninformed at best.

At worst, however, both the “rational aid” projects and the naïve schemes to save children by spiriting them away follow from assumptions that can rush in all too easily to fill the narrative void and influence subsequent aid initiatives. Debates about religion in the Northern imaginary are central to filling this space with preconceived ideas about Haiti and Haitians. In both of these instances, the ideas of external actors about religion—both Haiti’s and their own—form part of the incipient story. In both, Haiti’s actual religiosity is mostly ignored. Some—like Brooks, but also many others—do not wish to understand more about the Haitian religious landscape, which is rich and dynamic and intertwined with political maneuvering as well as social possibilities, as the transition from Duvalier to Aristide demonstrates. Others want to reinscribe Haitian religious practices within their own. Still others question how the always-suffering Haitian majority can even believe in a God, given the force of the destruction.

But Haiti is not a tabula rasa, in either its religious identities or its political, social, and economic configurations. René Préval demonstrated this with his apparently carefully orchestrated ecumenical day of mourning on the earthquake’s one month anniversary, when the head of the Vodou priests shared a podium with a Catholic Bishop, Protestant leaders, and the President himself, acknowledging the role of spiritual practices in both mourning and reconstruction.  And those who question the power and rationality of Haitian religious experiences from the outside might reflect on the fact that even the most well-heeled donors have not been able to resolve problems of coordination and distribution to get enormous amounts of aid to people a month after the earthquake struck.

In New Orleans, not much has been done since Katrina to reconstruct the city for the majority of its inhabitants, despite the flood of good intentions after the hurricane. The Saints’ Super Bowl win and the religious imagery used to describe it represent merely a momentary catharsis in the face of ongoing desperation. If we can begin to understand religious and spiritual experiences as something other than a momentary catharsis in Haiti, we might be able to help in ways that incorporate its rich cultural landscape, rather than try to create it anew. Perhaps we need to keep the narratives about Haiti today, including the role of religion there, disrupted, at least on the part of those of us who are acting and rushing in from the outside, so that we can learn more from Haitians about their own desires, histories, and hopes for the future.

Visit the SSRC’s essay forum “Haiti, Now and Next” here.—ed.