Radical Islam Losing Its Appeal

Economic distress and repression by the Kyrgyz government are helping dampen enthusiasm for Hizb ut-Tahrir. From EurasiaNet.

by Alisher Khamidov 15 December 2009

Economic adversity and aggressive government action in Kyrgyzstan have placed Hizb ut-Tahrir, a non-violent Islamic radical group, on the defensive. The underground organization now is struggling to regain traction as its membership dwindles.

 

The turning point for the group occurred in October 2008, when authorities targeted Hizb members for allegedly stoking riots in the southern town of Nookat. The unrest began after local authorities banned the public celebration of Orozo Ait (Eid al-Fitr), a Muslim holiday marking the end of Ramadan. Based on tenuous evidence, authorities prosecuted and convicted 32 individuals for fomenting the unrest.

 

Hizb ut-Tahrir, which seeks to replace existing governments in Central Asia with an Islamic caliphate through non-violent means, has long been banned by the Kyrgyz government. Prior to the Nookat events, Kyrgyz courts tended to impose relatively small fines or a suspended sentence on those prosecuted for supposed Hizb ut-Tahrir membership. But now affiliation with the group can result in a prison term of 15 years.

 

Information on the inner workings of Hizb ut-Tahrir is sketchy, but there is evidence that public support for the group is seriously eroding. In May 2008, the Kyrgyz State Agency for Religious Affairs put the number of Hizb ut-Tahrir members at around 15,000. A year later, after the Nookat convictions, the Interior Ministry claimed that membership was decreasing and said there were only 118 members in the country.

 

Economic hardship appears to be playing a role: unable to generate income in Kyrgyzstan, Hizb members, like many other men in the country, have left in search of work. A large percentage of these labor migrants have headed to Russia and Kazakhstan.

 

The hardening of the government’s tactics, however, has put the most pressure on Hizb members. “What can you do in this [repressive] environment? After Nookat there are no controls on police and prosecutors,” complained a Hizb member from Kara-Suu, a town in southern Osh Province, who spoke to EurasiaNet on condition of anonymity.

 

“They can arrest and torture anyone; they can put anyone they suspect in jail,” the Hizb member continued. “[President Kurmanbek] Bakiev gave them [unlimited] powers.”

 

Another Kara-Suu-based Hizb activist claimed that the government was indiscriminately targeting devout Muslims for persecution, including many who are not radically inclined. “They [government officials] claim they are Muslims, but their policies punish Muslims,” the activist said.

 

Yet another factor in Hizb ut-Tahrir’s decline is ideological/theological competition. In recent years the Kyrgyz section of the Ferghana Valley has witnessed the growth of other religious convictions, a trend that appears to have weakened Hizb’s appeal. According to some local analysts, mainstream Muslim leaders have emerged in many Kyrgyz towns who have been more successful than Hizb activists in putting spiritual issues on the political agenda. This, according to observers, has significantly reduced Hizb’s allure as an outlet for the discussion of spiritual issues.

 

“Hizb was a fad for many [Kyrgyz] Muslims when they were rediscovering and reestablishing ties with the Muslim world [after independence]. The same trend happened in other Muslim-populated countries. But things change and fads pass,” said Ulugbek Sokin, an Osh-based analyst.

 

Under the current circumstances, Hizb leaders are advising members to keep a low profile and avoid activities, including leafleting, that might put them at risk of arrest, according to a Kara-Suu activist.

 

At the same time, the ebb in public interest is prompting internal debate among Hizb leaders on strategy and tactics. A significant number of members believe that restoring Hizb’s membership base will require a shift in the group’s activities, with a more localized approach replacing the old focus of promoting of a regional caliphate. In some cases, Hizb activists have already moved in a local direction. An Osh activist, for example, organized a collective effort to purchase an expensive electrical transformer for his neighborhood. Another member from Nookat raised funds from local entrepreneurs to buy food and clothing for a local orphanage. And in Aravan, several members organized a micro-finance scheme that lends without charging interest.

 

Despite the changing in focus, Hizb ut-Tahrir members say they are not abandoning the drive for an Islamic caliphate. Some continue to stress that their non-violent process will take time. “We just have to do more work in the initial stage without claiming [unwanted] attention,” one of the Kara-Suu-based Hizb ut-Tahrir activists said.

 

Hizb ut-Tahrir’s apparent decline is prompting a policy discussion among competing Kyrgyz government agencies. Believing that danger posed by the underground group is receding, some Interior Ministry officials now favor easing up on the crackdown on unsanctioned religious activity, according to a source in Osh who is familiar with the Interior Ministry’s policy position.

 

But the Kyrgyz National Security Service (SNB), successor to the Soviet-era KGB, continues to view Hizb ut-Tahrir as a major security threat. “The situation in the religious sphere of Kyrgyzstan is explosive and requires immediate adequate measures and the mobilization of society,” Rustam Mamasadykov, deputy chairman of the SNB, said in his 29 October testimony to the Kyrgyz parliament. He added that the SNB has arrested 62 Hizb ut-Tahrir activists since the beginning of 2009.

 

Sokin, the Osh-based analyst, told EurasiaNet that because the SNB traditionally carries more weight in security matters than the Interior Ministry, the government crackdown on religious dissent is likely to continue.

 

REPRESSIVE MEASURES NOT ALWAYS POPULAR

 

Yet while the central government is keeping up the pressure on suspected Islamic radicals, in particular members of Hizb ut-Tahrir, the crackdown is not only squeezing Islamic radicals, it’s also placing many local officials in southern Kyrgyzstan in a bind.

 

Despite zero-tolerance legislation for members of Hizb ut-Tahrir and other alleged radical groups, some local officials admit they are reluctant to strictly enforce central government policies. The Islamists, after all, are their neighbors, relatives and constituents, they explain.

 

The central government has implemented a host of measures – outlined in a new law on religion signed by President Bakiev last January – that effectively enhances the ability of officials to control spiritual life in the Central Asian nation. The law, for example, imposes stricter rules on registration of mosques and seminaries. Registering a new mosque now requires the signatures of 200 people. Previous legislation required only 10. Clerics must go through periodic exams to establish their theological/ideological reliability. The law also prohibits private religious tutoring, the unsanctioned distribution of religious materials, and proselytizing. In addition, it bans mosques from admitting children. And in February, the Kyrgyz Ministry of Education instituted a dress code that effectively proscribed headscarves.

 

Local officials quickly discovered how unpopular the government’s religious initiatives are, especially in southern regions where religious sentiments run strong. In response to state efforts to impose the dress code, for example, many families stopped sending children to school. Similarly, official attempts to prevent children from attending mosques, control private tutoring, and check proselytizing have caused widespread anger.

 

Met with public resistance, local officials in several Osh Province towns are looking the other way when it comes to Bishkek directives. According to one mayor, one reason for this behavior is that local governments often have few resources and limited staff to implement central directives on religion. “Our budget mainly covers the salaries of local teachers, maintenance of schools, fixing roads, and disposing of waste. We apply for various [government and international] grants to cover other costs,” he said on condition of anonymity. “Controlling [how the new law on religion is implemented] is the job of the police and the SNB. We don’t interfere with that.”

 

Both Interior Ministry police and SNB activities are controlled by the executive branch of government in Bishkek.

 

Another mayor of a town of 20,000 told EurasiaNet that central authorities and local government employees operate in two different environments. Because local officials are elected and not appointed like regional governors, he stressed, they are more sensitive to local needs than government functionaries in Bishkek.

 

“When I was elected, a lot of people placed their hopes in me. I don’t want to lose the trust of my people,” said the mayor, who also spoke on condition of anonymity. He explained that unlike officials in Bishkek, local government employees live among their constituents and are linked through family and ethnic ties.

 

“When I take a walk to my office in the morning, I recognize every person on my way. One is a neighbor; another is a former classmate. In a small town like ours, people know each other and help each other,” he added.

 

The mayor’s assistant said that personal connections and kinship obligations often encourage local officials to go easy on alleged Islamic radicals. Bishkek authorities require local governments to identify and report to security services anyone suspected of having links to Hizb ut-Tahrir and other radical groups, he said. But local officials prefer to try local solutions aimed at keeping suspected Hizb activists in check, rather than reporting them to the police.

 

“If someone turns out to be a [Hizb] member, we try to resolve this problem with the help of the mahalla [local neighborhood council]. We rely on pressure from parents, relatives and aksakals [elders] to force these young people to abandon dangerous thoughts. Usually they [Hizb members] listen to us,” he said. The official added that seeing a community member go to prison on religious extremism charges “makes everyone in community unhappy.”

 

Authorities in Bishkek are seemingly aware of local officials’ leniency in enforcing directives aimed at Islamic radicals. At a government meeting on 29 October, Kanybek Osmonaliev, director of the State Agency on Religious Affairs, complained that local officials allowed for numerous violations in the construction of new mosques. An Osh police officer told EurasiaNet that local governments are also often reluctant to cooperate with Interior Ministry representatives on matters concerning suspected Islamic extremists.

 

To ensure compliance with central rules, Bishkek is stepping up pressure on local governments. In 2008, for example, the prosecutor’s office initiated several lawsuits against local government officials in Osh and Aravan towns for improperly distributing land plots for new mosques. But an official working for the town of Aravan said inspectors often simply extort bribes from local officials rather than ensure compliance with central rules.

 

These local officials suggest that to ensure effectiveness of central policies, Bishkek must solicit more local input when designing new policies. Instead, the trend in Bishkek seems to be toward increased centralization. Since an October government shakeup, Bakiev has moved to expand the authority of presidentially appointed governors and regional administrators. They are now charged with enforcing presidential directives and influencing the composition of local government bodies.