Egyptian-born Ibrahim Abu Mohamed is the new Mufti of Australia. A political moderate, though religiously orthodox, he faces formidable challenges within and outside of the Islamic community, writes Barney Zwartz.
IT IS the oddest question I have been advised to ask the new Mufti of Australia, the figurehead of Australian Islam: why don’t you wear the clothes of a man of God? Dr Ibrahim Abu Mohamed, immaculate in a beautifully cut navy suit with a lemon shirt and lemon and navy tie, is obviously taken aback, but he laughs and answers with aplomb. ”There is no specific Islamic clothing for the Muslim male. So whatever culture he’s living in, that’s how he dresses. But the one that gives the fatwa [religious ruling] is not the clothing, it’s the one inside the clothing.
”If I wear Islamic clothing then give it to someone else, would that person be able to give fatwas? Small minds debate men, larger minds debate things, great minds debate issues and ideologies.”
A much more important question, one everyone I speak to in preparing for this interview advises me to ask, concerns his poor command of English. How can he cope with the media, mainstream Australia and the diverse Muslim communities here if he has to do it through an interpreter?
This is something he has been asked a lot, he replies through his interpreter, Nasser Kat, saying he understands the importance of good English. ”I promise that, given time, I will solve this problem. I can understand 80 per cent of what is said and can reply, but I don’t feel that if I speak in English I will have the same speed, depth and richness that I speak in Arabic.”
But, he continues, more important than using English words is conveying the right meaning and ideas – language is not just words but culture, history, identity.
His diplomacy and tact should give Australia’s Muslims hope that his unanimous appointment as Mufti last month by the Australian National Imams Council may be third time lucky for the Muslim community. The first Mufti, Sheikh Taj al-din al-Hilali, from Lakemba Mosque – a few kilometres down the road from Dr Ibrahim’s radio station in the western Sydney suburb of Fairfield – was appointed to save him from deportation in 1988. His colourful language and claims made him a media sensation, but most Muslims outside Lakemba cringed at his antics.
Controversial remarks in 2006 comparing scantily clad women with ”uncovered meat” inviting rape were the last straw, and the imams replaced him with Sheikh Fehmi Naji el-Imam of Melbourne’s Preston Mosque, a gentle and popular leader. But Sheikh Fehmi, who was in his 80s and had suffered a serious stroke, was too ill to give the role any public traction.
With Egyptian-born Ibrahim Abu Mohamed, the imams have opted for a highly regarded scholar – he is the author of 26 books – but, it seems, a scholar with considerable political savvy. In his 60s, he is vigorous and confident, a political moderate though religiously orthodox. But, as he acknowledges, the challenges he faces are formidable, from unifying and integrating Muslims to clarifying misconceptions within and outside of the Islamic community.
I have flown to Sydney to meet the Mufti – the mountain, one might say (as I am a stout chap), has come to Mohamed. The taxi driver from the airport is a Lebanese Muslim who has heard of Dr Ibrahim but has no interest in what he says because Lebanon has its own mufti with a representative in Sydney. The Turks, one of the most numerous groups among Australian Muslims, have a natural rivalry with Arabs and are led by Turkish imams sent by the home government. Australia’s Muslim communities come from some 70 countries, and most have their own structures and leaders. How will the Mufti draw them together?
First comes the rhetoric. ”For Muslims there is a religious requirement that we establish good relations with 28 people: seven neighbours in front and behind and to each side,” he says. But because Australia has 20 million people, that means each of the nation’s 500,000 or so Muslims must befriend 40 people.
Then comes the diplomat and politician. ”It’s important to have lines of dialogue. My role as Mufti doesn’t invalidate the structures Muslims already have. My role is to complement what already exists, and those structures are a support to my role,” he says.
Rather than talking straight to the Turkish or Lebanese communities and risking being ignored, he will work with their leaders so that their credibility and his credibility reinforce each other.
”If I speak to the Turkish community they may not know or trust me, but if I speak through their own leaders they will understand me and may accept what I am saying.”
But Dr Ibrahim is still in honeymoon mode, because he has yet to begin his new role as Mufti. He plans to launch himself in about a month. Meanwhile, he goes to bed at 3am and rises at 6am so that he has time to plan what he wants to do in the job, how he will do it, and with whom. And when he does, it will be from a modest office, simply furnished, the walls decorated with quotes from the Koran and with a bumper sticker over the front door proclaiming ”We love Jesus too”.
Simplicity is nothing new to him. Ibrahim Abu Mohamed’s parents were small farmers who sent him to Islamic school almost as soon as he could speak. He could recite the whole Koran from memory by the time he was nine, a remarkable feat that marked him out.
”I was very devout,” he says. ”I had a very deep awareness of Allah from then until now. I’m still very struck by awareness of God.”
He was an avid reader, devouring everything his eyes fell on, but he did not plan to be a scholar. He wanted to be a pilot, and even began the preparation, but had to give up. ”My mother was worried, and cried, and was adamant that I not do it.”
He studied at Islam’s most famous university, Al-Azhar at Cairo, where he got his doctorate, then from 1988 to 1996 he taught Islamic studies in Abu Dhabi before moving to Sydney in 1997. He founded his radio station soon after arriving in Australia. Called Quran Kareem Radio, it broadcasts 24 hours a day, providing Koranic readings and other religious programs, mostly in Arabic, and relies on local donations and advertising. In 2005 he founded a respite centre for Muslims with special needs, which he still manages.
Does Dr Ibrahim see the role of Mufti as symbolic and ceremonial, as providing rulings on religious questions, or as providing social leadership in dealing with the media and politicians? All of those, he replies, but one of the most challenging missions is to merge the Muslims of Australia into the collective ”we”, part of the national identity of Australia, while still being Muslims.
”It’s very important that the Muslim community feels an integral part of Australia, not a ghetto or an external part. It’s very important to open the door of discussion and interaction between Muslims and others, because so far it’s been a relationship of enmity and distrust and this has to be faced so it can become one of peace and trust.”
Multiculturalism, he says, makes this more difficult. In Muslim countries that have a Mufti, most people are similar in culture, language and religious affiliation, and the Mufti is part of the institution of the state, with powers and responsibilities that Dr Ibrahim will not have in Australia. Here he must rely entirely on his logic and powers of persuasion and on dialogue. Another problem is the convoluted factionalism among Islamic groups, particularly in New South Wales, where three groups all claim to be the true state Islamic council, and the spoils in money and influence can be significant.
He believes his main role is to clarify two sets of misconceptions, one in the way Muslims see themselves, and one in the mainstream community. To the latter, he wants to explain that Muslims are not trying to take over Australia and that they do not come to this country just to go on the dole. ”They must have the idea that Muslims are part of society, they are humans like everyone else.”
But the challenge within the Muslim community is much more difficult because it is actually trying to change very powerful ideas, ”and when you try to change such ideas in a person it is almost as if you are attacking his dignity. It’s easy to change all the furniture at your house, or you can even change your house, but to change ideas is very difficult, and it’s not done overnight.”
Muslims have many misconceptions about themselves as Muslims and their responsibilities to others and to the state, he says. ”I want to tackle the basis of Muslims’ understanding of their interaction with non-Muslims on two levels. First, is it based on hatred, war and enmity or peace, love and mutual existence? Second, is it based on purely religious principles or on civil and humanitarian principles in an Islamic framework?
”I want to remove the idea that the natural relation is one of enmity to one in which Muslims exist with non-Muslims in the world, and that’s a reality. What Muslims have to do is live in peace and love with non-Muslims, they have to integrate completely and complement the society they live in. I don’t want Muslims to be outsiders.”
Ask any Muslim if they love Australia and they will say yes, he says. And do they love where they come from? They love that, too. Which do they love more? Both the same, it’s not a valid question.
”Your home is not a piece of land you call your own. It’s about your history, your culture, your freedom and dignity, your relationship with the state that protects you and that you also protect and give it its rights.
”This question, ‘Which country do you love more?’, might have been asked of the older generations that came here, but today 65 per cent of Australian Muslims were born here, and most of them have not been part of that world, they don’t identify with their home countries so much.”
Dr Ibrahim says this question is designed to isolate, to put the Muslim in a difficult position. Why can’t their home be Australia?
He wants to ”open up the ghetto”, but he says one of the factors hindering this is the media. When Muslims are attacked in the media they feel they are being vilified, so they step back behind a wall of fear. ”I want a strong relationship with the media so this wall of fear can be broken and the ghetto opened.”
WHEN the talk turns to terrorism, as eventually it must, the Mufti becomes animated. Radicalism is a disease the world over, regardless of religion, race or nationality, he says, citing Norwegian Anders Breivik who killed 76 people this year and the Oklahoma bomber Timothy McVeigh. To attach terrorism to religion is to do religion an injustice, he says. The solution to Islamic radicalism, he believes, is a better Islam.
”Radicalism is not fought just with security measures but intellectual and ideological measures as well. Jails and detention centres are not a way of fixing or removing wrong or radical ideas, they are actually a way of instilling these ideas deeper.”
All jails do is control freedom of movement, he says. If radicals are punished, they will feel they are a martyr for a cause, a hero, and that cause gains prestige. So politically moderate Muslims must challenge the radicals’ ideas in an open environment.
”Generally wrong behaviour on the street, any type, is based on a wrong idea, a misconception. Once you deal with these ideas and misconceptions, you can also fix the behaviours.”
The interview over, I take a cab back to the airport. Before we leave, the Mufti takes the driver aside and quietly pays the fare.
Barney Zwartz is religion editor.
