Islam Versus Global Capitalism

Below a Islamic reaction to the global economic crisis, a plan to replace paper money with gold dinars, also of interest, theestablishment of Murabitun outposts in England, Indonesia, Germany, South Africa, and Mexico, where missionaries found willing converts among Mayans caught up in the Zapatista rebellion. (They now number more than three hundred there and run a pizza restaurant, carpentry workshop, and Islamic school in San Cristóbal de las Casas.)

Also see Robert Fisk on the Gulf ditching the dollar in oil trade. (see video below)

And Islam, the Mediterranean and the Rise of Capitalism - a look at how Islam shaped the tradition of early capitalism

The Golden Compass

On the morning of July 10, 2003, Umar Ibrahim Vadillo stood beside the whitewashed brick facade of the Mosque of Granada and looked out over the Darro River. Before him lay the ramparts of the Alhambra, where five hundred years earlier the legions of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella had completed the Reconquista of Moorish Spain. Beyond the Alhambra, Vadillo saw the shores of the eurozone, and beyond them the citadels of world finance: Brussels, Paris, Frankfurt, London; the marble-floored temples where hedgefund managers, central bankers, and currency speculators paced and traded and plotted. Vadillo had been invited to Granada to celebrate the opening of the mosque, the first to be built in the city since the fall of Al-Andalus; the occasion was being marked by an ecumenical conference on the theme of “Islam in Europe.” Rather than invite some wizened imam promising to build bridges, or a conciliatory local politician, the organizers had invited Vadillo, a forty-sixyear- old convert and a bookish interpreter of the relationship between Islam and paper money, to deliver the keynote.

Inside the mosque’s prayer hall, an audience of two thousand local converts, Moroccan and Syrian immigrants, and North African students had gathered. When it was his turn to speak, Vadillo ambled to the center of the stage and hunched over the lectern, his hair slicked back and his ferret-like face wreathed by a trim beard. After putting his notes in order, he began a measured disputation on the origins of debt, the commodification of currency, and the proper Islamic medium of exchange. The members of the crowd sat rapt as Vadillo outlined the history of currency and its role in the subjugation of peripheral economies. Eventually he revealed how Muslims could undermine Western capitalism. “The end to the enslavement of the Muslim masses does not require a jihad in the traditional sense,” but a struggle to quit the dollar, the pound, and the euro and return to a single, gold-backed currency: the Islamic dinar. The fortresses of fiat money standing beyond the sylvan hills of Granada could be besieged by prudent investments, their walls breached by the revival of the caravan, and their treasure usurped — if only Muslims would “stop being naive about the banks and the financial institutions.”

The conference was a uniquely high-profile event, and many in the audience were new to the gospel of the gold dinar. But Vadillo had been honing his message for years. It was in Granada, in 1991, that he had first delivered his “Fatwa Concerning the Islamic Prohibition on Using Paper- Money as a Medium of Exchange.” Communism had fallen, Francis Fukayama had declared the end of history, stock markets were bustling, and the New Economy was ascendant. Where many saw the promise of a new, benevolent world order, Vadillo saw magical thinking. “The enormous debt of the countries and the even bigger debt of the individual persons to the banks DOES NOT EXIST on paper,” he wrote. “It is pure computer data.” National economies were financing growth by borrowing vast sums and manipulating their currencies. The financial system, he argued, would only exist for as long as people believed in it; once they realized it was an illusion, the global economy would collapse.

Although the Granada speech provoked controversy in the West (“The Corrosive Hagiography of Muslim Spain,” one headline read), it also buoyed the popularity of the Murabitun, the modern Sufi sect that counts Vadillo as a lieutenant. Named after an eleventh-century Spanish Islamic revival movement, the Murabitun is devoted to restoring the world to the economic and political system established by the prophet Mohammed when he governed Medina. Though militant, the Murabitun eschew violence; shortly after 9/11 they issued a statement announcing that “capitalism will not be abolished on the battlefield, but in the marketplace where it is practiced.” They consider the obsession with sexuality among Islamic fundamentalists to itself be a sign of decadence. And as discontent with globalization has peaked, the Murabitun have established outposts in England, Indonesia, Germany, South Africa, and Mexico, where missionaries found willing converts among Mayans caught up in the Zapatista rebellion. (They now number more than three hundred there and run a pizza restaurant, carpentry workshop, and Islamic school in San Cristóbal de las Casas.)

Vadillo, who declined repeated requests to be interviewed for this article, is a peripatetic finance guru, part Ali Shariati and part Joseph Schumpeter, traveling far and wide to lecture on the “mutation in social values” caused by a half-century of American imperialism underwritten by the dollar. In the past decade he has barnstormed halls of government, corporate boardrooms, and academic conferences from Kazakhstan to the Philippines, armed with PowerPoint presentations featuring outstretched hands cupping piles of glimmering currency stamped with the Dome of the Rock (his own design). The West’s prosperity is illusory, he insists, an empire of rot concealed by the veneer of the middle-class lifestyle its citizens have enjoyed. If Muslims would just turn away from the West and adopt the dinar — if Indonesian rice farmers would stop accepting paper money, if the Saudis would price oil in gold, if Iran would demand dinars for dates — it would induce a cataclysm on par with the Wall Street crash of 1929, and a golden age of Islamic trade would ensue.

Full article here.


Robert Fisk on the Gulf ditching the dollar

Postal Systems in the Pre-Modern Islamic World

Postal Systems in the Pre-Modern Islamic World
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007. xii + 214 pp. $101.00 (cloth), ISBN 978-0-521-85868-7

In Postal Systems in the Pre-Modern Islamic World, Adam Silverstein examines the development and evolution of networks transporting material objects, and in some cases important personalities, over long distances via stations “posted at convenient intervals along a route” (p. 1). These postal networks were (theoretically) restricted to official government usage, and were vital to the state as a means of gathering intelligence.

The book is divided chronologically into three sections. The first of these (chapter 1), covers the pre-Islamic postal systems of the Sasanians, Byzantium, and central Arabia. The purpose here is to identify the formative influences on the Arab barid (post) and offer a corrective to the widely held view that the Muslims simply appropriated the Roman/Byzantine postal system. Silverstein counters that the Arabs adopted Sasanian postal traditions when they inherited Sasanian territories. This is demonstrated by the continuing use of terms such as awwana for way-station, and by Muslim literary sources that explicitly recognize Sasanian influence. Furthermore, the Byzantine postal service (known as the Cursus Publicus) was already in severe decline by the time of the Arab conquests. While the early Umayyad caliphs may still have been acquainted with some of its features, it “was not something with which the Arabs or the populations they came to rule would have had any meaningful experience” (p. 42). Silverstein concludes that the conquering Arabs built upon their own very basic postal system by gradually integrating local structures (from Byzantine in the case of Syria and Egypt, from the Sasanians in Iraq and Iran), while drawing primarily on the Sasanian model.

In chapters 2 and 3, Silverstein focuses on the creation of a global caliphal “postal system, controlled by a bureaucratically sophisticated capital” (p. 51). Beginning with the Umayyad and stretching into the middle ‘Abbasid periods (roughly 661 through 847), chapter 2 documents the rise of the caliphal barid. Initially created through a piecemeal integration of local networks, the post was expanded and centralized under the Marwanid Umayyads (684-750). This process included the expansion and maintenance of roads, the appointment of postal chiefs, the general (empire-wide) adoption of Sasanian administrative practices, and the transformation from a public- to a government-funded institution. The latter was a particular Arab innovation that set the caliphal barid apart from both its predecessors and most of its successors (which relied on the local population for supplies and mounts). Following the collapse of the Umayyad dynasty, an event many scholars ascribed to the postal system’s failure to deliver timely and accurate intelligence, the early ‘Abbasid caliphs transformed its basic elements into a highly malleable network. The period from 750 to 847 witnessed a considerable variation in the efficiency, upkeep, reliability, and general effectiveness of the barid from caliph to caliph.

In chapter 3, Silverstein discusses the central features and eventual fragmentation of a formal centralized governmental barid led by a specific administrator, during the reign of al-Mutawakkil (847-61). In this period, the post filled a myriad of administrative functions. For instance its employees served as a secondary check on the potential abuses of local tax officials, and informed the central government of “uprisings in the provinces” and “the spread of detrimental rumours” (p. 105). The system was consolidated into an independent governmental department (diwan al-barid) and placed under the direct supervision of a high-ranking official in Baghdad. This centralization spawned similar postal diwans in the smaller political states that arose in the aftermath of ‘Abbasid decentralization. The second half of the chapter surveys a number of these successor regimes including the Fatimids in Egypt and Syria, the Samanids and Ghaznavids in eastern Iran and Afghanistan, and the Buyids and Seljuks in western Iran and Iraq.

The third and final section of the book consists of two chapters that examine the later postal systems of the Mongols and the Mamluks. Silverstein affirms the Mongol Yam’s debt to the Chinese Yi while also emphasizing its uniqueness as a largely land-based and predominantly steppe-dominated institution. He also traces its steady fragmentation and localization, which mirrored the decentralization of the Mongol empire as a whole. As for the Mamluk barid, Silverstein contests the claim that it was modeled after the Mongol system, arguing for a more interdependent relationship between the postal networks of the two empires. He emphasizes the modest territorial extent, the governmental financing, and the primarily military nature of the Mamluk system. While the Mamluks drew on aspects of both the ‘Abbasid caliphal and Mongol post, they created “an unprecedented institution” (p. 185) that withered away after the collapse of the Mongol threat.

The most impressive aspects of Silverstein’s work consist of his efforts to contextualize and compare the postal systems of pre-Islamic and early Islamic empires, specifically routes, administration, financing, and mounts. What emerges is a revealing set of patterns that distinguish individual postal networks and--in many cases--explain their eventual decline. Financing, for example, was a persistent problem, with many states placing the burden for postal supplies such as mounts on local populations. This invariably (a) led to local resentments and (b) encouraged wide-scale corruption that undermined the system’s efficacy. In this regard, the government financing of the post instituted by the ‘Abbasids is of particular interest as a unique and valuable innovation. Silverstein also highlights the corrosive effects associated with allowing civilian access to the post, as merchants abused and overtaxed the system’s resources to the point of collapse. The contrast with those systems that severely restricted civilian use through the spacing and placement of stations (e.g., the Fatimids, the Mamluks) is striking. Finally, Silverstein offers a fascinating survey of the different modes of transport utilized by each empire, ranging from human runners and homing pigeons to mules, horses, and racing camels. He presents reasoned evaluations of their speed and connects the use of certain types of transportation to the financial strains associated with maintaining an effective empire-wide postal network.

In his attention to detail, Silverstein sometimes plunges into long discussions of technical terms and the provenance of words that leave the reader a little confused. More problematic are his attempts to establish connections between postal systems on the basis of their utilization of common terms. Although he states clearly that such correlations do not necessarily imply a borrowing from one empire to another, there are instances where he seems to fall into this very trap.

The biggest questions surrounding Silverstein’s work, however, concern his widespread use of literary sources, especially with respect to the pre-Islamic and early Islamic periods. While he acknowledges the problematic provenance of these sources and cautions against assuming their historical veracity, it is virtually impossible to offer a detailed discussion of early postal systems without them. When possible, Silverstein supplements literary sources with archaeological or other corroborating evidence but there still remains considerable doubt about the conclusions of the first three chapters. These should be treated with a degree of caution.

Postal Systems in the Pre-Modern Islamic World is a valuable contribution on a subject that has not been systematically studied across time periods or comparatively analyzed across empires. In this regard, Silverstein’s work is an important step towards a broader understanding of a premodern institution central to the commercial health and military efficacy of most--if not all--premodern empires.