Post-9/11 Christian-Muslim Relations

J. NELSON JENNINGS

POST-9/11 CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM RELATIONS

Lessons from the Global South for U.S. Christians

Introduction The United States is not the center of the world—despite many Americans’ sensibilities to the contrary. Similarly, the Christian Church in the U.S. is not global headquarters for the worldwide Christian movement—even if short-term missionaries and funding for Christian projects continue to flow in substantial amounts “out there to the mission field.” To be sure, America and American Christianity wield much worldwide influence, but the world clearly is a big place with multiple power centers, be they social, economic, political, cultural, or religious.

Even though American power may not be as grand or unilateral as assumed by many within the U.S., the substantial global influence America does have requires everyone’s attention and evaluation. In today’s world in particular, how Americans (including American Christians) view Islam is especially worthy of note. Speaking here as an American about how we U.S. Christians can grow in our posture toward Muslims, I hope to shed some instructive light that will be helpful for anyone interested in Muslim-Christian relations and other types of interreligious interaction.

American Christians’ general disinterest in Islam changed dramatically on Sep- tember 11, 2001. The attacks that day on high-profile U.S. targets produced a meteoric rise in Americans’ patriotic desire to know the religion that was seen as fueling such violent attacks on their country. The U.S. government and media have been Americans’ most influential channels of relevant information. While much education has taken place since 9/11, American Christians’ understanding of Islam and of Muslims is still cursory, lacking in nuance, and fil- tered through American views of the wider world.

An irreplaceable way to learn about Muslims is to develop personal friendships with them and to study what they say about themselves. At the same time, there is an additional gold mine of instruction about Islam, Muslim peoples, and Muslim-Christian relations. The worldwide growth of Christianity means

215 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 16 (2006) 2 that millions of Christians live in the Global South. While in many cases their indigenous Christian traditions are younger than those in the West, they are in fact several generations old and have decades and even centuries of varied, direct, and ongoing encounters with Muslim neighbors. These Global South Christian communities, along with the Muslim communities with whom they interact, have much to teach sheltered and inexperienced American Christians in the area of Muslim-Christian relations.

The situations from which we will be learning here are four modest-sized cities in Southeast Asia and West Africa. All have significant Muslim-Christian interaction, each with unique histories and features. Several generations have passed since the initial meeting of Christians and Muslims took place, so the experience and changes that have accumulated are significant. Some of the situations have been marked more by peace; some have seen painful times of widespread violence.

We will take up these four cities in the order in which I visited them for research during the fall of 2005: Cagayan de Oro, Mindanao (southern Philip- pines), The Islamic City of Marawi on Mindanao, Jos in Nigeria and Kumasi in Ghana. (As the references and bibliography indicate, my research consisted of a combination of consulting published resources and—more importantly for this study—on-site observation and interviews. For the latter I took a qualita- tive approach, in which the researcher focuses on a limited number of key sources of information (instead of a quantitative approach that seeks comprehensive data from which deduced generalizations are made). The bibliography lists some of the strategic civic and religious leaders, along with regular “people on the street,” I interviewed. But, for reasons of their personal safety, some interviewees have been excluded. Please contact me for further information.)

Before examining these cities directly, a few more general comments are needed further to set the stage.

General Remarks As one general note, I should make the self-contradictory observation that generalizations are difficult to make with regards to relations between Muslims and Christians. The more one looks at particular situations, the more particular each situation appears. Unique histories, community make-ups, socio-economic factors, and political realities (just to name a few areas) inevitably help to shape each example of Muslims and Christians living together. Speaking across the board, one cannot simply speak across the board.

Having generally claimed specificity, I would quickly like to add the claim that specific situations should be analyzed in the various aspects of their multifacet-

216 POST-9/11 CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM RELATIONS ed complexities. All interpersonal and intercommunity relations are fraught with an intermingled array of factors that together make those relations what they are. Hence, even approaching the area of “Muslim-Christian” relations requires care and understanding in order to avoid unjustifiable oversimplifica- tion.

What makes a multifaceted approach especially important for this study is the fact that the labels “Christian” and “Muslim” (or “Islamic”) are specifically religious labels. They have often evolved as well into more comprehensive descriptions of people and movements, for example “Christian” political parties, “Islamic” states, “Muslim” rebels, the “Christian” West. On the one hand, such expanded scopes of the labels’ usages are understandable. Religion obviously is an important and indeed all-encompassing reality in people’s lives. Also, people often look first for religious affiliation in identifying others, both because it is so fundamental and because it often has become a litmus test for de- termining whether the other side is friend or foe. At the same time, for our pur- poses here we are going to anchor our analytical process in restricting the re- ferents of religiously descriptive terms to religious realities.

Finally, I should explain briefly why I have taken what might be called a modest approach of focusing on the smaller, targeted communities we will be con- sidering. In large part this is due to the particularity of specific situations just mentioned. Also, specifically where—geographically and historically—to look for lessons from which American Christians can learn is a related step. I have consciously steered clear of the most widely known (to Americans at least), and what therefore might be considered the most complicated to sort through, instances of Muslim-Christian interaction. Third, a related criterion has been that of “neutral turf,” that is situations into which Christianity and Islam entered during the same general time frame. The neutrality of areas helps to strip away other complicating issues and thus enables us to focus more on the issues of Christians and Muslims relating to each other as such.

Perhaps most importantly, looking at more manageable situations is a necessary, inductive measure to counteract the understandable, but untenable, tendency of both the Bush Administration and the U.S. media to make quick, generalized pronouncements about Islam, Muslims, and Muslim-Christian (and Is- lamic-Western) relations. Making a rapid response to the 9/11 attacks was a compelling political demand for the U.S. government. Coming to grips with what all that monumental event meant was a psychological need most Ameri- cans felt. The problem was that both the U.S. public and private sectors were for the most part starting from scratch. Taking on the whole matter bit by bit seems to be a necessary corrective to arriving too quickly at grand deductions.

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We will thus proceed now to look carefully at four fascinating cities and their Christian-Muslim communities.

Cagayan de Oro This bustling port city is situated in north-central Mindanao. With a population of about one-half million (Cagayan de Oro City 2003: 3; Cagayan de Oro City [Online]), Cagayan de Oro is one of a handful of similar-sized metropolitan areas on the Philippines’ enigmatic southernmost, and second largest, main island. The name “Cagayan” comes from an indigenous term, referring either to the “raking” for gold that has taken place in that area or to the “shame” experienced in a legendary encounter between two chieftains that ended in an un- planned, romance-induced settlement.

Cagayan prospers with several major manufacturing firms operating in the area (Cagayan de Oro City: 42), numerous highly respected educational institutions, and a stable, relatively crime-free environment. The current mayor (and former governor of an adjoining state), the Hon. Vicente Y. Emano, is widely credited with playing a central role in protecting and cultivating Cagayan’s peaceful prosperity. Besides a strong, no-nonsense stance of zero-tolerance for violence, Mayor Emano has proactively sought the input of various community leaders, especially including Muslims. He initiated and regularly attends a weekly open-air market that attracts many area vendors and residents, particularly young people. Emano also has actively recruited new businesses to invest and locate in Cagayan (September 1 (b) and September 7 (a) Interviews).

Cagayan’s socio-religious stability stands out in the midst of what has been over the past generation as well as further back in history, a violence-plagued Mindanao. The struggles actually go back to the Spaniards’ arrival in the mid- 1500s, a century following Islam’s northward spread into Mindanao and adjacent areas. Since the Spaniards recognized a similarity between the Islamic inhabitants they encountered and the Muslim “Moors” they had recently expelled from Iberia, the designation “Moros” arose for indigenous Mindanaons and has remained to this day as a largely pejorative label.

The Spaniards never succeeded in ruling the disparate sultanates of Mindanao (and further south) as they did the northern 80 percent of the Philippines. They did, however, establish early control over Mindanao’s northern and northeas- tern coastal areas, including the settlement that eventually became Cagayan de Oro. Muslim historical accounts stress the pre-Spanish presence of Islam in all of Mindanao (including in Cagayan)—and hence the Muslim character of Min- danao and of all native Mindanaons (September 1 (a) Interview, September 7 (b) Visit; Ronsing 1996: 3-4). By contrast, the city of Cagayan’s published history stresses how the indigenous people resisted Islam, including frequent

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Muslim raids, until they were converted to Christianity by Spanish missionaries (Cagayan de Oro City 2003: 1; Cagayan de Oro City [Online]; Lao 1980: 229-33). These contrasting living memories point to one of the many important aspects of the complex dynamics that have fueled so-called “Muslim-Chris- tian” conflicts in Mindanao.

American acquisition of the Philippines from Spain in 1898 led to a more aggressive, “civilizing” colonization of Mindanao (Gowing 1979: 34). More schools were begun, American missionaries replaced Spanish priests, and there were military campaigns into the interior, some of which were horrifically bru- tal (September 7 (b) Visit). Politically, “Christian Filipino leadership [was inte- grated] into the American colonial administration’s democratic structure as ac- tive partner” (Tan 1995: 4). Socio-economically, Filipinos from the north (Lu- zon and Visayas) were encouraged to settle in the “frontier” of Mindanao— something that actually had begun into Cagayan in the late 1700s (Radaza 1968: 202)—a movement that accelerated dramatically after World War II. In- digenous Muslim Mindanaons were gradually being squeezed on all fronts.

By all accounts, it was the Marcos government’s 1972 declaration of martial law that exacerbated the secessionist war (Cagoco-Guiam 2000: 76) in Min- danao. By the time the Tripoli Agreement was signed in December, 1976 to end that war, “The fighting had cost the lives of about 120,000 people and dis- placed 300,000 more” (Vitug and Gloria 2000: 27). During the three decades since, violence has continued with regular bombings, kidnappings, and clashes between “Christian” Filipino government forces and various “Islamic” opposi- tion forces—most notably the Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) and its splinter groups, the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) and Abu Sayyaf, plus recent incursions by the Southeast Asian jehadi group Jemaah Islamiyah.

Unlike other metropolitan areas (as well as several outlying areas) in Min- danao, Cagayan has not experienced such “Muslim-Christian” violence. Be- sides those factors mentioned earlier, several others have contributed to Caga- yan’s peaceful socio-religious environment. Children of different religious affiliations attend school together, often becoming close friends (September 3 In- terview). Also, there is a wide disparity between those affiliated with Chris- tianity and those who are considered Muslims—the latter comprising only about 5% of the total population (September 7 (a) Interview). Related is the fact that, aside from pockets of seafaring Bajau (oftentimes classified as Mus- lim but not regarded by other Mindanaon Muslim peoples as such—a whole story in itself (“Bajau, Badjao of Philippines” 2006, [Online]; August 30 and September 9 Interviews) and of the Tausug people who have recently immi- grated from southeastern Mindanao and the southernmost Philippine island areas, most Muslims in Cagayan are ethnic Maranaos. Practically everyone in

219 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 16 (2006) 2 and around Cagayan with whom I spoke equated area Muslims and area Mara- naos, including with respect to religion, language, dress, certain neighborhoods, and occupations (September 9, Interview). A cosmopolitan, prosperous, strongly governed general population, within which a small minority of mono- ethnic Muslims (i.e., thus without interethnic squabbles themselves) is envel- oped, makes for a peaceful environment.

One Muslim expert in Christian-Muslim relations described the situation in Ca- gayan de Oro as follows. While Cagayan had originally had been Muslim, gradually there was intermarriage with the Spaniards, creating a relatively un- biased melting pot. Maranaos who have moved to Cagayan (including many during the recent civil war) have simply sought to survive. Currently, there are two types of Muslims in Cagayan: those employed in regional offices, who have much exposure to Christians, and traders, who have small stalls and mall shops and have made alliances with local people and politicians (September 5 (b) Interview). All analyses reinforce the reality that Cagayan has enjoyed calm and prosperity on the northern coast of what has often been the stormy Island of Mindanao.

The Islamic City of Marawi Marawi City is a two-and-a-half hour drive from Cagayan de Oro, to the southeast. This city of over 130,000 (2002 Press Releases, no. 2002-151) is beauti- fully situated, nestled in the hills of north-central Mindanao and perched on the northern shore of Lake Lanao. Such a picturesque setting can mask the reality of the war and violence that, unlike Cagayan, Marawi City experienced during the secessionist war.

The city underwent several administrative changes during the twentieth century. On the heels of the difficult American military campaigns in and around Lake Lanao in the early 1900s, the municipality then named Dansalan was the American provincial capital of Lanao from 1907 to 1940 (September 6 (b) Vis- it). The city’s name was changed to Marawi City in 1956. Then, “Under the impact of Islamic awareness and consciousness in the City, the renaming of Marawi City into Islamic City of Marawi” took place in 1980 (Panda 1993: 45- 46; “Historical Background” 2003). That “Islamic awareness and consciousness” no doubt had been consolidated in part due to the 1959 Republic Act No. 2228 that divided Lanao Province along ethnic lines into Lanao del Sur (Mara- nao-Muslim, with Marawi City as the capital) and, to the north, Lanao del Norte (“to cover the Christianized areas of Lanao”) (2002 Press Releases, nos. 2002-156 & 2002-162). Furthermore, non-Maranao-Muslims fled Marawi City during the violence that broke out there in late 1972 (September 2, September 6 (a), and September 8 Interviews).

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Generations of various degrees of resistance to “Spaniards, Americans, and Filipinos” who had entered Mindanao as “colonizers” and had “no right to govern us” (“The Political and Religious History of the Bangsamoro People” 2001, [Online]) had built up the pressure that finally burst the stable dam of peaceful coexistence between most Muslims and Christians (August 30-Sep- tember 7 Interviews). Incidents that contributed to the violent outbreak of late 1972 included the Jabidah Massacre (Corregidor Incident) of 1968 and the Ma- nili Massacre of 1971 (Quimpo 2004 [Online]). The September, 1972 imposi- tion of martial law then sparked the MNLF attack on Mawari City exactly one month later “in one of the most dramatic episodes of the secessionist war” (2002 Press Releases, no. 2002-156).

One analyst of the day explained the underlying causes of the “Muslim-Chris- tian” conflict as follows: Under the Constitution, a Muslim is as much a citizen as his Christian compatriot…. However, at the back of his mind and in practice, he still owes loyalty to his traditional form of government and the laws of the sultanates .... To illustrate, a Muslim may be part-owner of a parcel of land which was allotted to his kin group or family .... Under the Constitution, however, the Philippine government under the doctrine of eminent do- main has superimposed its territorial boundaries over the sultanate territories which in- clude the forests, fishing grounds, and swamps. Thus a citizen, Muslim or Christian, may apply for land title and acquire legal right to a seemingly long-abandoned or idle land or forest that really are ancestral properties. If he asserts his legal rights, he is likely to run into conflict with multiple traditional land claimants from the old sultanates .... This is among the causes of armed conflicts in mixed Muslim-Christian set- tlements which is still unresolved by governmental approaches .... [T]he conflict did not in any way stem from religion .... The conflict arose from political and economic ri- valries. Religion entered into the picture because the protagonists carried the social, cultural, and especially, religious labels of “Christian” and “Muslim” in order to emo- tionally involve the two religious communities. (Saber 1975: 31-32) Even if such an explanation is overly reductionist in discounting the causal roles that religion and other factors beyond politics and economics played, it is nevertheless helpful for seeing beyond the simplistic religious categories often used to describe the violence.

A more multifaceted explanation, also given close to the violent 1970s, begins by asking, “What then was the big issue that knocked Mindanao and the Phil- ippines out of gear in the 1970s?” After noting “theories that ran the gamut” from religion to the press and the police, to economic neglect and exploitation, to military supplies from abroad, to migrant Christians upsetting local traditions, to a minority separatist movement, to ethnic self-preservation, to dis- crimination, and to misgovernment, he noted that these factors

221 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 16 (2006) 2 were relevant only in so far as they were all pieces of an enormously complex jigsaw. To pick any one of them as the outstanding cause for the upheaval would be a hin- drance to understanding the total picture. The crisis in Mindanao had long been sim- mering and it was due to come to a head. (George 1980: 11-12) Today there are still several army checkpoints through which one must slowly navigate along the main north-south route between the coastal city of Iligan and Marawi City. Upon approaching “The Islamic City of Marawi,” one is greeted by a large, colorful gate announcing it as such in both English and Ara- bic script. The small Christian community in Marawi continues to struggle with a circumspect sense of always being under close surveillance by its hos- tile surroundings (September 6 (a) Interview). Moving through the city con- firms its reputation of being over 95% Maranao-Muslim—and less prosperous than the cosmopolitan coastal city of Cagayan de Oro.

Violence in Mindanao seems to have abated from its earlier intensity and pace. Efforts at Muslim-Christian dialogue have been made, both during the violent 1970s and more recently (September 5 (b) and September 6 (c) Interviews). Even so, in many ways the “Muslim-Christian” problems of yesteryear can seem as intractable as ever.

Jos Just as its comfortable, drier climate enables the centrally located Plateau State city of Jos to escape the humidity acutely felt in other parts of Nigeria, so did an ongoing peace and stability provide Jos’ inhabitants a respite from the violence that had raged in other north-central Nigerian areas since the early 1980s. That calm was broken on 12 April 1994 with rioting begun by Hausa-Fulani youths directed against indigene (Berom, Anaguta, and Afizere ethnic groups) displeasure over a local political appointment. Over 100 speedy arrests and tri- als quickly quelled that unusual disturbance. However, Jos’ peaceful reputation was further shattered on 7 September 2001 when a minor Friday afternoon street scuffle erupted into a city-wide Christian-Muslim war that left hundreds dead, massive destruction, and lingering ethno-religious suspicion in its dark and ongoing wake.

The widespread clashes were reported to have been “between Christians and Muslims.” It was acknowledged as well that There was also an ethnic dimension to the conflict with many of the fighters on the Christian side members of the Berom tribe, a group native to Jos. Fulanis and Hausas - two of Nigeria's largest groups - make up a large proportion of the Muslims. (“Dozens killed in Nigeria violence” 2001, [Online])

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A later, painstaking analysis sums up the multifaceted crisis by connecting the uprisings of 1994 and 2001 and claiming, “The principal cause lay in the claim for the ownership of Jos …. [T]ension had over the years built up most especially when it came to issues bothering on political leadership and resource control” (Bagudu 2004: xi). Unraveling these various causes clearly requires at least a brief historical overview.

What is today the Plateau State of central Nigeria has for centuries been inhab- ited by numerous ethno-linguistic peoples. Important to the development of modern socio-political dynamics was Uthman dan Fodio’s reforming jihad, starting in 1804. That jihad led to the establishment of the Sokoto Caliphate, the southern portion of which stretched roughly across the northern half of present-day Nigeria. The Plateau State and its most important and capital city Jos (the name is a British corruption of the native settlement “Gwash”), along with the entirety of what is termed the “Middle Belt,” lie on the southern edge of that region. Slave raids into the area led to Jos eventually becoming a slave- trading center by the end of the nineteenth century (Bagudu 2004: 62).

Hausa-Fulani settlers, Islamized generations earlier, gradually moved into lands adjacent to the resident indigenes (predominantly Berom) and established their own political system in Jos in 1902 (Bagudu 2004: 64). This arrangement formed the basic backdrop for the contemporary competing Hausa-Berom claims as to who established themselves in Jos first (“The Foundation of Jos” 2005, [Online]). The situation became more complex by the interweaving of various realities that soon followed. First, British colonial authority spread into present-day Nigeria in the early 1900s, institutionalizing in parallel fashion an Islamic, emirate-governed northern half and a more Christianized southern half in the process. Jos and the entire Middle Belt were effectively on the border, zig-zagged as it was, between these two territories. With respect to British indirect rule through northern emirates, Jos was geographically within the north and hence effectively surrounded (at least on three sides) by Hausa-Fulani gov- erning authorities. Jos itself, however, was within a colonial “pagan” district and was thus, unlike more Muslim territories, politically open to Christian missionary activity (Crampton 1976: 72-75).

Second, just as colonial rule was being established, tin was discovered in the Jos area, and a bustling tin-mining industry soon developed. Jos then became an important British colonial administrative center, thus bringing in more outside settlers, including clerks and administrators. Moreover, railroads soon reached Jos and subsequently brought various southern laborers (some Chris- tian) into the area to work in the mining industry. Concurrently—and partly to minister in the aftermath of the 1918-1919 influenza epidemic—Christian mis-

223 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 16 (2006) 2 sionaries, expatriate and Nigerian alike, moved in and facilitated a substantial growth of numerous Christian denominations.

Hence, when Nigerian independence was achieved in 1960, Jos (plus, to varying degrees of complexity, the whole Middle Belt) lived in a state of delicate, multifaceted balance between north and south; numerous ethnic groups who had lived in the area for varying lengths of time; people of various socio-economic strata; different religious groups consisting of Muslims, Christians, and some traditionalists; ethno-religiously mixed and segregated neighborhoods alike; some people with and some without political authority; and, differing historical memories regarding Jos’ ethno-religious development. Develop- ments in post-independence national politics also had their effects on Jos and the rest of the north central region, particularly those connected with dis- cussions (in the late 1970s and again in the late 1980s) concerning the northern-desired implementation of Islamic law or shari’ah. When certain northern states moved to institutionalize shari’ah starting in 1999, predictably there was heightened unease among non-Muslims, which in some instances turned violent (Ostien, et al. 2005; Gaiya 2004). As an international incident, the Miss World contest, scheduled for December, 2002 in the capital city of Abuja, had to be moved to London because of domestic and international protests—coming from opposite standpoints—over the contradictions between the contest’s values and those of shari’ah.

The residents of Jos today seem to function under an uneasy interreligious truce. Central Jos, including the main market area with its landmark charred re- mains of the previously magnificent market structure that was torched in 2002, is largely Muslim. The more populous surrounding neighborhoods and communities are largely Christian. My interviews with various residents revealed the following three types of views on Muslim-Christian relations (October 19- 27 Interviews): • Most Christians are suspicious and fearful of Muslims. Their horrifying memories of September, 2001 are still vivid. For some Christians, unease with Muslims in Jos is focused on a more personal or local community level. For others, there is a strong belief that the violence in Jos was planned by Islamic militants as part of a grand strategy to control all of Nigeria, or at least northern Nigeria as it was under the Sokoto Caliphate in its pre-colonial glory days.

• Some Christians in ecclesiastical and educational leadership positions are proactively cooperating with Muslim counterparts at various levels. For example, the Lutheran Church in Nigeria spearheaded the formation of the Association of Christian-Muslim Mutual Relations in Nigeria (ACMMRN) that, together with the Nigerian Supreme Council for Is-

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lamic Affairs (NSCIA), has sponsored annual conferences on Christian- Muslim Relations. Dr. Danny McCain of the University of Jos cooperates with Muslim counterparts in a Faith-Based Awareness Programme that trains secondary school teachers. McCain has also publicly taken a position—not shared by some others—that Christians should not retaliate for churches being burned down or other acts of violence (McCain 2005: 24- 35). • Some Muslims believe the misunderstandings and land-ownership issues that caused the 2001 violence are being cleared up and improved. No doubt more extensive interviews, especially with more Muslims in Jos, would have uncovered other sorts of views as well.

The factors contributing to Muslim-Christian relations in Jos, northern Nigeria, and the entire country are many as well as interrelated. The presence of numerous Christian and Muslim traditions contributes to the respective religions’ diverse attitudes (“The Foundation of Jos” 2005: Ch. Four, [Online]). Problems remain, as does the challenge of solving them.

Kumasi With a population of approximately one million (“Kumasi” 2006, [Online]), Kumasi is a West African commercial hub situated in south-central Ghana. The city was established over 300 years ago, in the late 1600s, as the capital of what was to become the powerful Ashanti Kingdom. In comparison to cities in northern Nigeria, Kumasi seems like an oasis of calm and happiness. As to why that is the case, “Ghanaians are peace-loving people” is the predominate indigenous explanation. One can also see in Kumasi a history of successively strong leadership, both politically and religiously. Akan-Ashantis are the indigenous residents of the area. Hausa-Muslim traders started arriving from the north and northwest in the late 1700s and early 1800s (Hiskett 1984: 135). Fol- lowing the Sokoto or Fodio Jihad, the kola nut took on particular importance as a trading commodity (Pellow 2002: 44-45). It was not long before these traders’ influential and wealthy presence—as well as that of some Hausa political advisers—consisted of about 300 residents (among a total Kumasi population of 20,000) in one neighborhood near the city center and the ruler’s or Asante- hene’s palace (Robinson 2004: 127-28). The position of the Muslim community gradually worsened up until the mid-nineteenth century and then was reju- venated in the 1870s when the Ashanti sought their help against the invading British (Hiskett 1984: 135). Even so, all along “[t]hey had considerable religious influence on a number of rulers, and on the population at large, through the sale of amulets, by training Asante children in their Arabic schools, and by intermarrying with Asante.” Once the British colonial period began in 1874, “Northern soldiers recruited by the British to fight against the Asante and

225 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 16 (2006) 2 northern traders and laborers who were able to enter Kumasi freely, once Asante power was broken,” contributed to the growth of Kumasi’s earliest “stranger community,” or zongo (Schildkrout 1978: 68-69). These zongo grew and are significant sections of Kumasi and other southern Ghanaian cities today.

Christianity’s entrance into Kumasi was neither as early nor as smooth as Is- lam’s. Methodists got their foot in the door starting in 1841; the Ashanti al- lowed them to begin a school and mission station, while using them as inter- mediaries with the still distant but increasingly imposing British officials (De- Brunner 1967: 105). In 1869 the Ashanti attacked the Volta Region towards the east, captured the Basel missionary Rev. Friedrich Ramseyer, his family, and a missionary colleague, and took them back to Kumasi where they held them captive for four years (DeBrunner 1967: 122; Obeng 1996: 101). Later, under British colonial rule, in 1896, Ramseyer returned to Kumasi and began a Basel Mission station; sixteen outstations were occupied between 1896 and 1899 (DeBrunner 1967: 211). The Roman Catholics, after a failed first attempt in 1882, began their first congregation in 1903 and saw encouraging growth over the ensuing decades (Pfann 1970: 19-22, 50ff.).

Many other Christian groups entered or otherwise sprang up in Kumasi over the course of the twentieth century. The same is true of Muslim traditions, al- though they are not nearly as extensive in Kumasi as are Christians (either in number or in type). Perhaps most notable of the more recent Muslim traditions are the Ahmadiyyas, who came to Kumasi in the early 1920s from the Fantis, who lived to the south of Ashanti (Morgan 1990: 12). The Ahmadiyyas have grown into a sizeable presence in and around Kumasi, particularly through their highly respected schools and medical services. Since the 1970s, Middle Eastern Muslims, as well as Ghanaians who returned from studying in the Mid- dle East, have sometimes ridden petrodollars into Ghana with more funda- mentalist messages (Husein 2003: 76ff.). Aware of these tendencies, the leadership of the Muslim religious community proactively does not permit contro- versial preaching and teaching (October 29 (a) Interview).

In general, the Muslim population in Kumasi consists of various ethnic groups as well as Islamic traditions (Fatai 1999: 12, 16). The majority, non-Muslim Kumasi population—also quite diverse in its makeup—associates area Mus- lims with the zongo communities, which run along a corridor from the city center eastward. This string of areas may appear to outsiders to be homogenous, but in reality they are ethno-linguistic salad bowls, with a measure of religious diversity to boot (November 1 Interviews; Schildkrout 1978: 85-87).

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All of Kumasi is grateful for its peaceful existence, including that between Muslims and Christians. Again, most credit Ghanaians’ peace-loving nature. Many religious leaders credit the leadership of the present Roman Catholic Bi- shop, Peter Sarpong, along with that of the Asantehene, with maintaining cor- dial interreligious relationships. For example, their collaborative leadership dif- fused a brief flare-up surrounding a fiery Christian open-air preacher’s dese- cration of the Qur’an in 1995 (October 29 (a) and November 2 Interviews; Fatai 1999: 22). The importance in this regard of Bishop Sarpong’s long tenure (since 1970) and highly respected position in Kumasi cannot be overestimated. One can also point to strong traditional family ties and obligations that temper multireligious/denominational affiliations within families, thus creating tolerance (October 29 (b) Interview). Speaking historically and politically, there never were Muslim states established in Ghana as was the case in northern Nigeria (November 6 Interview).

Learning from these Communities When, then, can U.S. Christians learn about “Muslim-Christian relations” from the four situations we have just described? An initial and crucial point—and al- though we have already discussed this, it bears repeating—is the complex, multifaceted character of such relations. Samuel Huntington’s much discussed and widely influential thesis of the “clash of civilizations” (Huntington 1996) notwithstanding, understanding interactions between Christians and Muslims solely, or even primarily, within a framework of a clash between Western and Islamic worldviews and civilizations is overly simplistic. What our examination of each city has shown is that an array of factors—historical, economic, political, religious, ethnic, linguistic, and others—have contributed to the types of relationships that have transpired. Even characterizing the relations in the fa- miliar framework of “Muslim-Christian” can be misleading, since so many factors are involved besides (and in many instances are more important than) those connoted by the primarily religious labels of “Muslim” and “Christian.” Of course, no other single category (e.g., economic, ethnic) is adequate to char- acterize such complicated relations, either. Attempting to describe fully, or ul- timately, all such situations in such a single-category manner is too simplistic and reductionist.

Furthermore—and this point is also repetitive—each particular situation is unique and has to be understood on its own terms. That does not mean that different situations do not at all share common features on a broader and even global scale. Nor does it mean that common analytical tools cannot be used to approach them. What it does mean is that the particularity of interactions between people trumps the general descriptions of them, to the point that even our examination of cities, over and above particular neighborhoods, for example, stretches the limits of generalized conclusions that one can draw.

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Given those repeated qualifications of complexity and particularity, it still re- mains for us to identify lessons that U.S. Christians can learn regarding so- called “Muslim-Christian relations.” Here I have teased out seven of them. Ob- viously these are not exhaustive, but I hope they represent important features that are instructive as well.

First is the important role that post-colonial (or in more comprehensive worldwide terms, post-Second World War) national politics have played in local situations. In Mindanao, there was the Manila government’s policy to encour- age migration from Luzon and Visayas, the army’s covert operations in the 1960s, then the inflammatory 1972 declaration of martial law. In Nigeria, national debate on how shari’ah might be implemented in the country as a whole has stirred up local incidents. Also in Nigeria, the growth of the oil economy has served to enrich a few and impoverish many, adding fuel to local fires of frustration and deprivation. The Ghanaian national situation (not explicitly mentioned in the report above) has included a largely effective incorporation of Christian, Muslim, and traditional religious representatives politically, educa- tionally, and otherwise, thus enabling a relatively stable nationwide environment to be maintained. In all cases, the interreligious interactions in the cities we examined, as is the case in most towns and cities worldwide, have been af- fected by national political decisions.

Second is the varied set of colonial legacies. The aggressive U.S. system of direct rule in the Philippines spawned resentment towards the central government in ways that British indirect rule in Nigeria and Ghana (and elsewhere) did not. In Nigeria specifically, the British colonial program of maintaining separate northern and southern territories has had ongoing implications, especially for the Middle Belt area that includes Jos. The complex, global colonial legacy— including in the Middle East—clearly is an important factor in how many Mus- lim and Christian individuals and communities view their relationships with each other.

This leads to a third important feature, involving each situation’s global con- nections. One sad, heretofore unmentioned feature of both Nigeria and Ghana is their entanglement in the modern transatlantic slave trade, which was perpe- trated by both African and European traders. One can readily see relations with the global economy in Kumasi, foreshadowed by the entrance of Hausa and other northern traders and realized today in the bustling cocoa and kente cloth industries. Nigeria’s oil economy has just been mentioned. In the Philippines, the migration of northern Filipinos, as well as of transnational companies such as Dole, into Mindanao are clear indicators of the global economy at work.

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Of course, all of these global economic realities are part of the wider development of modern global history. The four contemporary cities we re- searched are incomprehensible apart from the global spread of Islam, then Spain, and then Britain. Related are the contrasting directions in which peoples living in these four cities—and this is also true of other communities around the world—instinctively look for their wider religious, cultural, educational, and linguistic identities. Regarding the Muslim peoples of Mindanao, one scholar has described the matter this way: While Christianized Filipinos have developed a new Philippine (Christian) culture, attractively blending East and West as a concomitant of their colonial experience, Islam- ized Filipinos have developed a new Philippine (Muslim) culture, attractively blending indigenous Malay and Islamic features as a concomitant of their contacts with the World of Islam (Gowing 1979: 165). Hence, for example, Y2K celebrations did not occur in Muslim areas such as Mindanao—because according to the Islamic calendar it was not “Y2K.” Ar- abic is an important language to learn there and in northern Nigeria. Young people aspire to further education in the Middle East, perhaps, instead of in the U.K. or the United States. Such different instincts are instructive for U.S. Christians to realize, insofar as some may assume that the entire world auto- matically looks first to America for its religious and cultural leads.

A fourth feature of these situations concerns supposed personality differences between ethnic blocs of people. That is, one could survey the situations we have examined and conjecture the roles played by a gentle Malay persona, an excitable Nigerian personality, and a peace-loving Ghanaian character. I would quickly want to debunk such notions. While certain general cultural traits of people can be identified, there are simply too many exceptions to an imposed general rule that can be unjustly and inaccurately applied. Besides, the violence that has occurred in Mindanao already throws a monkey wrench into what can appear, at first glance, to be an attractive, comprehensive scheme for explain- ing perceived interreligious interaction by allegedly more fundamental ethnic qualities.

Fifth is the consistent theme that arose in numerous interviews I conducted in all of these locations, namely the catalytic, disturbing roles played by outsiders that entered the communities. Long-time residents repeatedly testified that their communities were peaceful and full of pleasant, constructive, and mutually en- riching interreligious relationships—until certain outside influences entered and upset the balance. Usually those influences took the form of zealous preachers (whether Muslim or Christian) or, in the case of Mindanao, intellect- ualist political leaders. National armies sent in to calm disturbances often (but not always) contributed to the problems, either due to incompetence or corrupt

229 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 16 (2006) 2 collusion with the opposing forces. How U.S. Christians and others are to eval- uate the wishful claim “If they had only left us alone …” is a process about which I will not speculate here.

A sixth important feature of all of these situations is the variety of both Chris- tian and Muslim orders and denominations involved. Christians – especially including those in the U.S., who for the most part are still relatively unfamiliar with Islam—can too easily, but falsely, assume a homogeneity within Islam in general, as well as within particular Muslim communities. Various Muslims can of course hold the very same type of mistaken notion about Christianity and local Christian groups. What is in fact the case is that, in many instances, conflict situations are fueled more by intra-religious disagreements than interreligious ones. The Sokoto Jihad of the early 1800s, for example, had as its main objective to reform existing, nominal Islamic communities (Robinson 2004: 139-40). An awareness of Muslim and Christian diversity can assist U.S. Christians groping to understand many contemporary world events.

Finally, among the many facets of situations are the important roles played by the media, whether local, national, or international. The biases of the press, and the resulting skewed understandings of the public, are laments often documen- ted and often heard in my interviews. This has particularly been the case with regard to the situation in Mindanao: Many journalists use the label ‘Muslim’ liberally to refer to any item, food, design, or dance that is associated with the various ethnolinguistic groups in Mindanao .... The use of the word Muslim to describe the kind of dress, food or dance debases the deep religious meaning attached to the word since only an individual is capable of submis- sion to God’s will .... Perhaps the worse abuse of the word Muslim is its use as a marker for a criminal: a thief, a kidnapper, or a corrupt politician .... [Such a phrase] is, at the least, a contradiction in terms .... no journalist would ever dare use the word Christian to identify [a Christian] suspect (Cagoco-Gaium 2000: 72-73). How politicians in Nigeria have taken advantage of insufficient numbers of media personnel has also come under criticism (Falola 1998: 228). On a more international scale, how “contextual objectivity” colors the emphases of CNN, Al-Jazeera, the BBC, and myriad other networks is an ongoing challenge for the public to decipher (el-Nawawy and Iskandar 2003).

Immediately following 9/11, there was an overwhelming sense in the United States of the need, at both the political and personal levels, to arrive quickly at conclusions about Islam, Muslims, and how to relate to them. The inherited tendency was to look to America’s own resources for information. Genuine progress towards increased understanding has been made, but the perceived urgency inhibited what can come only through hard work and experience.

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Thankfully there are situations elsewhere in the world that can help Americans grow in healthy understanding. Here we have looked at select situations that are currently more on the periphery, in terms of current American political and media concern, of Muslim-Christian interaction. Through examining such ex- amples coolly and carefully, U.S. Christians should be able to move towards understanding and relating to Islamic people and countries with whom they have very real differences, but with whom they must constructively interact.

In more general terms, American Christians can use this opportunity to cultivate the habit of looking to Christians in the Global South for all kinds of collaborative efforts. The Christian Church has become more worldwide than ever before. It is incumbent on all Christians in the West —most especially in the United States—to change their modus operandi on any number of fronts to catch up with today’s demographic reality. May God help us to do just that.

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Crampton, E.P.T. (1976). Christianity in Northern Nigeria. 2nd ed. Zaria: Gaskiya Corporation. Debrunner, H.W. (1967). A History of Christianity in Ghana. Accra: Waterville Pub- lishing House. “Dozens killed in Nigeria violence.” (2001). BBC News, [Online]. Available at: http:// news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/africa/1534404.stm. el-Nawawy, M. and A. Iskandar (2003). Al-Jazeera: The Story of the Network That Is Rattling Governments and Redefining Modern Journalism. Cambridge: Westview Press. Falola, T. (1998). Violence in Nigeria: The Crisis of Religious Politics and Secular Ideologies. Rochester: University of Rochester Press. Fatai, Abdul Alhaji. (1999). “The Muslim Community in Kumasi.” Unpublished B.A. Long Essay. Legon: University of Ghana. “The Foundation of Jos.” (2005). AmanaOnline. [Online]. Available at: http:// www. amanaonline.com/jos/jos_01.htm. Gaiya, M.A.B. (2004). “The Complexity of the Shari’ah Debate in Nigeria.” In T.C.N.N. Research Bulletin 42: 26-43. George, T.J.S. (1980). Revolt in Mindanao: The Rise of Islam in Philippine Politics. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press. Gowing, P.G. (1979). Muslim Filipinos—Heritage and Horizon. Quezon City: New Day Publishers. Hiskett, M. (1984). The Development of Islam in West Africa. London and New York: Longman. “Historical Background.” (2003). Islamic City of Marawi, [Online]. Available at: http: //elgu.ncc.gov.ph/ecommunity/marawicity/index.php?id1=2&id2=1&id3=0. Huntington, S. P. (1996). The Clash of Civilizations and Remaking of World Order. New York: Simon & Schuster. Husein, A.R.H. (2003). “Co-Existence Among Muslim Groups in Ghana: A Case Study of Tijaniyyah and Ahlussunnah in Kumasi and Wenchi.” Unpublished M.Phil. Thesis. Legon: University of Ghana. Inagaki, H. and J.N. Jennings (2000). Philosophical Theology and East-West Dia- logue. Currents of Encounter 15. Amsterdam: Editions Rodopi. “Kumasi.” (2006). Wikipedia the Free Encyclopedia, [Online]. Available at: http://en. wikipedia.org/wiki/Kumasi. Lao, M.M. (1980). “History of Cagayan de Oro: A Brief Introduction.” Mindanao Journal VI: 228-41. McCain, D. (2005). Tough Tests for Top Leaders: God’s Strategy for Preparing Africans to Lead Global Christianity. Jos: MoreBooks. Morgan, M.A. (1990). “The History of the Admadiyya Movement in Ashanti.” Unpublished B.A. project. Kumasi: University of Science and Technology. Obeng, P. (1996). Asante Catholocism: Religious and Cultural Reproduction Among the Akan of Ghana. Studies of Religion in Africa Series. Leiden: Brill.

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Ostien, P. et al. (eds). (2005). Comparative Perspectives on Shari’ah in Nigeria. Iba- dan: Spectrum Books Limited. Panda, A.B. (1993). “Maranao Ulama Political Leadership in Marawi City: An Al- ternative to Traditional Politics.” Unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation. Quezon City: University of the Philippines, Diliman. Pellow, D. (2002). Landlords and Lodgers: Socio-Spatial Organization in an Accra Community. Westport: Praeger Publishers. Pfann, H. M. (1970). A Short History of the Catholic Church in Ghana. 2nd ed. Cape Coast: Catholic Mission Press, Cape Coast. “The Political and Religious History of the Bangsamoro People.” (2001). Moro Na- tional Liberation Front (MNLF), [Online]. Available at: http://www.mnlf.net/ History.htm. Quimpo, N.G. (2004.) “Options in the Pursuit of a Just, Comprehensive and Stable Peace in Mindanao.” The Bangsamoro Online [Online]. Available at: http:// www.bangsamoro.info/modules/wfsection/print.php?articleid=31. Radaza, F.D.Y. SJ. (1968). The Village: Early Cagayan dr Oro in Legend and History. Cagayan de Oro City: Xavier University. Robinson, D. (2004). Muslim Societies in African History. New Approaches to African History Series. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ronsing, A.G. (1996). The Law of Succession Under the Civil Code and the Muslim Code of the Philippines: A Comparative Study. Unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation. Petaling Jaya, Selangor: Kulliyah of Laws International Islamic University. Saber, M. (1975). “Majority-Minority Situation in the Philippines.” Mindanao Journal II: 20-38. Schildkrout, E. (1978). People of the Zongo: The Transformation of Ethnic Identities in Ghana. Cambridge Series in Social Anthropology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tan, S. K. (1995). Internationalization of the Bangsamoro Struggle. Rev. ed. Quezon City: University of the Philippines, Center for Integrative and Development Stud- ies. Vitug, M.D. and G.M. Gloria. (2000). Under the Crescent Moon: Rebellion in Min- danao. Quezon City: Ateneo Center for Social Policy and Public Affairs and In- stitute for Popular Democracy.

2005 Interviews and Visits (Cited in Article) Zamboanga City, Mindanao, Philippines August 30: Ateneo de Zamboanga University (Ateneo Peace Institute, Institute for Cultural Studies for Western Mindanao) Cagayan de Oro, Mindanao, Philippines: September 1 (a): local leader of the National Committee on Indigenous Peoples September 1 (b): Hon. Vicente Y. Emano (Mayor) September 2: Chinese-Maranao Christian woman September 3: Christian teenager September 5 (a): Maranao-Muslim medical doctor

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September 5 (b): Dr. Nagasura Madele, Capitol University September 7 (a): Sultan M.C. Macagungun and Imam Aleem September 7 (b): visit to a small Muslim village on the outskirts of Tagoloan September 8: Chinese-Maranao Christian man September 9: Group of Bajau people

Islamic City of Marawi, Mindanao, Philippines September 6 (a): Chancellor, Marawi City St. Mary’s Prelature’s Office September 6 (b): photo taken during visit to Marawi City September 6 (c): Dr. Moctar I. Matuan and Others at Mindanao State University

Jos, Nigeria October 19-27: various

Kumasi, Ghana October 29 (a): Alhaji Ahmad Seidu, Kumasi Central Mosque Secretary. October 29 (b): Global Evangelical Church pastor November, Adukrom community November 2: Most Rev Gabriel Justice Anokye, Auxiliary Bishop, Catholic Arch- diocese of Kumasi November 6: Dr. Elom Dovlo, University of Ghana (interview in Legon)

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