How do tight-knit religious communities manage dissent? How do they employ social and emotional leverage to control the flock? This article explores the role of religious communities and the drive to live authentically. It draws upon the author’s experiences with Ahmadiyya Islam, as recounted in The Things We Think—a prequel to this piece.
The Spring of 2019 marks the 21st anniversary of the private release of my book, The Things We Think but are too Afraid to Say. If you’re not familiar with the backstory, check out my previous article, The Things We Think. Here, in this article, we’ll build on that background. We’ll explore the lessons learned and the experiences lived, having tracked Ahmadiyyat in the decades that followed.
Recap: The Things We Think
In 1998, I wrote a book of religious questions concerning topics which troubled me. The primary focus was gender inequality in the Qur’an, although I did also touch upon issues specific to communal and administrative aspects of Ahmadiyya Islam. From its inception and for the next 20 years, my book would remain private.19
So damaging my book was deemed to be, that even prior to completion, the leadership of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community expected that they would be its exclusive recipients. Or perhaps the Jama’at20 took this precaution with anything a member might compose which questioned the faith.
The Jama’at, however, never formulated a written response in rebuttal to my book, in all of these intervening years in which they have been its exclusive custodians. With the publication of The Things We Think, I fully expect apologists and writers from the Jama’at to begin correcting that omission, and seek to address it in some fashion. You see, 20 years on, my book is now public.
Topics
- Preparing for Blowback
- An Opportunity Lost
- The Social Repercussions of Dissent
- Questioning the Prophet’s Biography
- A Community is Essential
- Beyond the Things We Think
Sidebars and Resources
Preparing for Blowback.
It is with conviction and humility that I share with you that I no longer believe in Islam/Ahmadiyya. Belief in fact, isn’t really a choice. We are either convinced of a proposition, or we are not. What is a choice, however, is pretending to believe. One can pretend to believe by going through the motions or by showing up at religious gatherings while disagreeing with the speaker. One can pretend to believe by nodding along to stories of prophetic insights in paraphrased hadith (for which no one ever seems to furnish the source text). There are countless ways in which we acquiesce in order to blend in.
Indeed, it has been many years since I last believed that Islam’s claims of divine authorship had any truth to them. In one clean cut, both of the labels ex-Ahmadi and ex-Muslim, now apply. While these labels do not define the sum of my identity, they do help to normalize dissent. They only make sense, however, when given in the context of religion. These labels and the ex-Muslim movement give voice to those who do not have one.
Questioning religion can be contagious. It can kick start the process through which critical thinking in a formally passive flock is awakened. My own book of religious questions has been private for 20 years. In hindsight, perhaps I should have released my book publicly, right from the start—just as Nuzhat Haneef had done. Nuzhat is a former moosi1 and now an ex-Ahmadi.2 In 2004, Nuzhat wrote the comprehensive and thought-provoking book, Recognizing the Messiah.
As no official rebuttal has yet been written to Nuzhat Haneef’s book, I myself no longer await an official response to my own. Furthermore, my book is no longer held hostage to some potential reconciliation with Ahmadiyya theology, as it was when I had first released it to the Jama’at back in 1998. In my assessment, and speaking candidly, there are simply too many holes in Islam for any such reconciliation to be possible.
In addition, I no longer fear excommunication or blowback. Or rather, I have resolved within myself to be hardened against such things. As regards excommunication, I have already resigned from the Jama’at. Yes, I’ve formally resigned. The Jama’at cannot fire me, for I have already quit. With regards to blowback from within the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community, I am ready to reply with reason, evidence, and compassion. I will encourage others to explore the arguments whenever social and emotional manipulation is attempted—holding up a mirror to those who employ such tactics, and asking them if this behavior is exemplary of their esteemed religious faith.
I have made peace with the impending fallout in my personal life and with the social blowback my loved ones will incur within the Community. To normalize dissent, we have to start somewhere. Those who seek to shame the family members of we who are speaking out; these are the people onto whom our collective scorn should be directed. If anyone, these are the people who deserve to be the targets of a counter-campaign of naming and shaming. Not the families of those of us who are expressing dissenting beliefs. None of us should be discouraged from expressing open and honest disagreement with the ideological beliefs into which we were indoctrinated. Remember, we ex-Muslims do not coerce others to believe as we do. We do not force others to abandon their belief in Islam—“or else”.
For me, this journey has been about knowing when to let go of that which shackles the mind. To be sure, there are many beautiful aspects of community which I have enjoyed and for which I am grateful to the Jama’at. I will miss that tight-knit sense of community. I do not look forward to the inevitable fallout for either myself or my family. Indeed, there are huge social costs incurred when leaving an insular religious community like Ahmadiyyat. Many people so profoundly crave community (while also loathing controversy), that they will unconsciously acquiesce to a comforting lie. I, however, cannot down-regulate my brain to such an “off” position. I can no longer stay silent about what I have learned. Not about Ahmadiyyat, specifically; nor about Islam, generally.
I already know which of my family, extended family, and my friends are my true allies in life. We don’t have to share religious beliefs in order to stand by one another. We demonstrate solidarity as human beings by respecting each other’s right to hold different beliefs.
I do not expect the Jama’at to engage in a campaign of character assassination now that my identity is public. I will assume the better of them. I really do hope, however, that we can all focus on the ideas—theology, culture, institutions, and policies.
Should negative campaigning emerge, many members of the Jama’at who do know me personally will turn their attention and scorn towards those elements of the Jama’at who seek to engage in anything less than a dignified disagreement of ideas. For this reason, I am actually optimistic that any future dialogue will remain squarely focused on our respective ideas, even as these ideas are in opposition.
I welcome maintaining good relations with everyone in the Jama’at whilst engaging in rigorous debate and friendly dialogue. This includes good relations with Jama’at presidents, everyday office bearers, amirs, and missionaries. If we can challenge one another’s ideas with compassion and levity, I’m all for it. When we challenge ideas, everyone wins (well, at least everyone with an open mind).
As stated in my 2016 post Dialogue with Ahmadi Muslims, our intellectual disagreements about the ideas can be fierce while our shared humanity is always kept in view. I do see myself retaining lifelong friendships with devout Ahmadi Muslims with whom I might also share a platform to debate ideas.
Regardless of whether either of us succeeds, I’ll still shake your hand, give you a hug and part with a kind word.
from my blog post Dialogue with Ahmadi Muslims
An Opportunity Lost.
Looking back at the effort that had gone into writing my book, it does feel like an opportunity lost. That is, I should have shared my book more widely, and many years ago.
Once the Jama’at had decided not to answer my questions, it would have been nice of them to have actually communicated this to me. To be gracious in fact, they might have stated that I was now free to share my book with others, without fear of excommunication. Consider this hypothetical message, which would have been rather classy:
Since we have chosen not to answer your book of questions, we understand if you would like to now share it with others, to generate dialogue. Should you come across any satisfying answers, we ask that you please share them with us as well. We might also benefit from the discussion and in fielding similar queries in the future. May Allah assist you on your journey! Ameen.
Hypothetical follow-up from the Jama’at, granting permission for a limited release
The Jama’at, however, did not take this approach. Their implicit message at the beginning of this journey was that were I to continue to distribute the book myself,3 I might then not receive an official response. In my appraisal of the situation, the risk of excommunication also loomed large. What if the Jama’at mistakenly took my limited distribution of the book to be an attack? A declaration of hostility towards the Jama’at as an institution?
In fact, I could understand if the Jama’at were to interpret the public release of my book, without a courtesy notification beforehand, as an indictment of their beliefs. Accordingly, a written notice from the Jama’at such as the following, would have been truly gracious:
Since we have chosen not to answer your book of questions, we understand if you would like to now share it with others.
However, as you have written the book from the perspective of someone on the outside looking in, we would interpret the sharing of your book, whether in limited form or publicly, to be a declaration that you have left our Community. This of course, is your right. However, should you decide to go down this path, we recommend that you formally resign from the Jama’at prior to doing so. Otherwise, it will be our responsibility to formally announce your removal, given how the public release of your book will be perceived. We would like to save you and your family this awkwardness, should this be your decision.
Of course, if you no longer wish to share your book, then no further action is required. We would be happy to have you stay with us as a member of our Community. It is our sincere hope that in these intervening years, you might have found peace within Islam/Ahmadiyya, despite these questions. May Allah assist you on your journey! Ameen.
Hypothetical follow-up from the Jama’at, advising of options
At the start of this journey, all I had ever wanted was Ahmadiyya Islam’s official response to my questions. For me, it was about closure. I’d stay if the answers were reasoned and robust. I’d leave if the official and best answers possible didn’t measure up. If I had wanted to release the book publicly at the outset, and had I also been concerned about excommunication, the onus would have indeed been upon me to approach the Jama’at with my plans. I didn’t ever do this because I was hoping to one day read a written analysis and rebuttal to the questions raised by my book.
The hypothetical messages from the Jama'at shared above would have been classy, but in reality, the most important thing that the Jama'at could have done here, was to have communicated clearly that they had no plans to formulate an official response.
Instead, I only learned of this inadvertently, when my father had asked the Amir for a response to my book for the third time (that is, several years after the book’s private release to the Jama’at’s leadership).
Had I known at the outset that the Jama’at wasn’t up to the task, I would have thought more seriously about releasing my book in some broad fashion, back in 1998. That’s when I had an initial burst of energy and time to focus on religious inquiry. I’m certain that the ensuing discussions would have been wonderful opportunities for growth. Making such a move, however, would have also triggered my own excommunication, and it would have done so in an age where support communities for ex-Muslims did not yet exist.
After the Amir’s dismissal and admission that I wouldn’t be receiving a response from the Jama’at, I should have just released my book—and widely. However, at that stage in my life, I also had really just wanted to move on. I didn’t want to deal with the commotion that would be sure to follow. I didn’t want to deal with what would have been a rather public excommunication. At the time, I hadn’t the emotional strength nor the desire to deal with the fallout (does anyone ever, really?)
I did not set out to burn the boats. But I have since made peace with the fact that my coming out is now going to do exactly that. Hopefully, the losses will be minimal. However, it should be noted that none of the relations which might now be severed, will have been those of my choosing. You see, I believe that we can respect other human beings, even if we do not respect their beliefs. We can still maintain loving relationships with such people. In fact, I continue to do so, to this very day. The devout Muslims for whom I continue to share affection and love, must no doubt, feel rather conflicted when they read passages in the Qur’an admonishing them not to love me back.
You may be wondering why I have chosen to release my book today, after so many years. It’s quite simple, really. I believe it would truly be a shame if my findings and my experiences had to be repeated by others, and from scratch. Reinventing the wheel has never made sense. Fortunately, momentum is now building. We are normalizing dissent. We must continue to amplify the voices of those who are speaking out.
In building on the wisdom of others who have come before us, and in sharing that which we ourselves have learnt, we empower those who will continue striving in this campaign, long after we are gone.
In hindsight, it is obvious that critical discussion is exactly what the Jama’at did not want. To be fair, I do not know of any religious institution that really welcomes it. Unmitigated dissent and the open critique of an other-wordly theology are not conducive to retaining religious adherents. Most congregants only belong to their respective religious communities by sheer accident of birth. Once people begin to question scripture, they are less likely to contribute financially, to donate their time, or to submit to the dictates of religious authority.
The Social Repercussions of Dissent.
The public release of a book like mine without prior permission from the Jama’at would correctly be interpreted as a declaration that apostasy was either imminent or a fait accompli. Conversely, a limited distribution for a book like mine signaled more of a final Hail Mary pass thrown by the author in the hopes that it might be intercepted and answered well. Perhaps in the process, such an interception could resuscitate the author’s religious faith.
Speaking out like I have now, however, is not the most common reason for excommunication. Marrying someone from outside the Community, most definitely is. Even here, the Jama’at only bothers to formally excommunicate those over whom they already have some leverage—be it yourself (direct leverage) or your family (indirect leverage). Conversely, if you and your entire family have already drifted away from the Jama’at, then the Jama’at isn’t likely to bother with formal excommunication announcements. Granted, you’ll still be removed from the membership roster, for whatever that’s worth.
Growing up in the Ahmadiyya Muslim Jama’at, it was not unusual to hear announcements at large religious gatherings about who had been newly excommunicated. It didn’t happen every week or even every month, but it did happen from time to time. These proclamations were integrated into the regular announcements that you might hear at the end of a sermon. Announcements, such as a request for prayers for an ailing family member, or that the owner of a silver Toyota Tercel remove their double-parked vehicle immediately.
There was something different about the excommunication proclamations, however. These announcements had bite. Even as a child, I remember feeling genuinely uncomfortable on behalf of whoever it was whose name was being announced.
Such humiliation would occur when, for example, a woman in the Jama’at had married a Muslim man who wasn’t from the Ahmadiyya sect. For Ahmadi Muslims who are planning nuptials, any other kind of Muslim is in fact, the wrong kind of Muslim. In our example, the woman’s name would be announced, just as described above. Had the woman’s Ahmadi Muslim parents also attended her unauthorized wedding, then they too, would be included in the Jama’at’s excommunication proclamation. They too, would be humiliated in this way. To a lesser extent, even the woman’s extended family wouldn’t be spared some residual embarrassment.
The motivation for all of this drama was simple. A public reprimand delivers on its intended purpose. It perpetuates a culture of fear. Social and emotional leverage works in the background to intimidate people who might otherwise “step out of line”. The threat of excommunication, or the inability to ever be deemed worthy for marriage by the limited pool into which you and your loved ones are even allowed to marry, is paralyzing. This is all precisely designed to control you and the rest of the congregation. Religious communities let families do their dirty work. Indeed, most families do end up keeping their own in check.
Flashback: Staying Home for Your Daughter’s Wedding.
What is the cost of marrying outside of the Community?
Many years ago, I attended the wedding of a good friend (we’ll call her Rukhsana), and I discovered the answer first hand.
Rukhsana was fairly open minded and moderately practicing. She was intelligent, introverted, and attractive. For years, Rukhsana’s family had diligently sought to find her a match within the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community. Rukhsana did not wish to hurt her parents, and so she played by the rules. But time was passing her by. Rukhsana had hoped that one day soon, she too, would have a family of her own. The few Ahmadi Muslim suitors that Rukhsana’s parents had presented were unfortunately, rather unsuitable. So Rukhsana decided to take matters into her own hands. Within a year of having resolved to find someone herself, Rukhsana had done exactly that.
Rukhsana’s fiancé was a bright young man with a promising future ahead of him. Like Rukhsana, he was moderately practicing and quite open minded. They both respected each other’s religious background. You see, Rukhsana was an Ahmadi Muslim woman and her fiancé was a Sunni Muslim man. Neither of them required that the other convert. It was exactly the kind of progressive understanding and mutual respect that one would presume to find in a partnership of equals.
The planned nuptials, however, went against the formal policies of Rukhsana’s religious community—the Ahmadiyya Muslims. Ahmadi Muslim women are only permitted to marry Ahmadi Muslim men. Although Rukhsana disagreed with these rigid restrictions, she didn’t want to abandon her inherited faith by converting out. Perhaps she didn’t realize that resignation from the Jama’at was even an option. But to explicitly reject Ahmadiyyat in this way, would have also hurt her parents. Being reprimanded with excommunication was one thing. Leaving God’s chosen Community willfully, and in defiance, was another.
I remember Rukhsana’s wedding day. Quite vividly, in fact. It was bittersweet. Rukhsana was so happy to be getting married, but she also had a sadness about her. We all knew why: Rukhsana’s own parents and siblings would not be attending.
I can only imagine how powerless Rukhsana’s parents must have felt. They were elderly, and their only social circle was that of the Jama’at. Imagine having to choose between:
- Sharing this momentous day with your beloved daughter, and
- Embarrassing yourself with, and ostracizing yourself from, some of the most meaningful relationships in your Community and in your life.
Imagine feeling that, were you to attend your own daughter’s wedding, you would be in betrayal of, and displeasing to, your God.
In the context of religions like Islam, human relationships are secondary. It is the believer’s relationship with God and their love for the Prophet Muhammad, that is primary. For Rukhsana’s parents, God was represented in this world by the divinely instituted Ahmadiyya Muslim Community. For Rukhsana, this marriage was non-negotiable. She had worked so hard to reach this milestone.
On her wedding day, Rukhsana was all done up, as you’d expect a bride to be.
But this wasn’t the image seared into my memory. Rather, it was the image of Rukhsana holding a telephone to her face, while she tried holding back the tears.
Rukhsana was speaking to her parents. They wished Rukhsana happiness on this day, her wedding. They, however, would not be attending. To do so, would be to defy the clear mandate of the Jama’at. To attend, would be to court their own excommunication.
Being deeply religious Ahmadi Muslims, Rukhsana’s parents knew that they could not attend their own daughter’s wedding. By not attending, they were supposedly expressing disapproval of their daughter’s actions. At least, that’s how the reasoning is scripted by the Jama’at. Most parents in similar situations do approve of such marriages, but must act as if they disapprove. This disapproval is telegraphed symbolically through the parents’ absence at the wedding and all other wedding related functions—the mehndi, the nikah, the walima, etc.
Rukhsana’s parents valued their social relationships and their standing in the Jama’at. Getting excommunicated for attending their own daughter’s wedding would have been devastating. This, despite having approved of Rukhsana’s choice in a partner and having understood that it was the best option to have ever come into their daughter’s life. Rukhsana’s parents were genuinely happy for their daughter. They were deeply comforted knowing that their daughter had found such an upstanding man to marry.
No doubt, Rukhsana’s parents still faced a degree of embarrassment within the Community for even having a daughter who had married “outside”. Fortunately, there would always be some progressive minded Ahmadi Muslim families who were quietly sympathetic. Struggling to find a suitable match within the Community under the auspices of strict gender segregation is a problem familiar to many. The Ahmadiyya Muslim Community is no stranger to high divorce rates. The Community is also no stranger to a surplus of middle-aged single women who have sacrificed their child bearing years so as not to sacrifice their family’s honour by marrying “out”.
Sadly, Rukhsana’s story is not unique. This is the sort of mind-job and emotional anguish that insular religious communities like the Ahmadiyya can inflict on their own people.
The argument that ‘religion exists to bring stability and morality to society’ falls apart when this outcome is one that can exist. In many ways, it is linked to a culture of honour. The collective interest supersedes the rights of the individual. This causes trauma and has long-lasting effects. This trauma was not inflicted by Rukhsana’s parents on their daughter, but rather, by the Community on this entire family. And here, the less destructive path was taken.
The apologetic rejoinder, “But you are always free to leave the Jama’at at any time!” simply belies the anguish and the turmoil spawned by exercising this ‘choice’. Turmoil which has little to do with dropping Allah and Muhammad from one’s life—and everything to do with network effects socially engineered to inflict maximum emotional pain onto the lives of the very people whom we most dearly love.
We can see from the Qur’an that Allah Himself allows for the public humiliation of people who disrupt society’s social order. Public humiliation designed to demean or harm the individual acts as a deterrent for others contemplating the same.
Onlookers and witnesses are expressly forbidden from feeling compassion for those to whom punishments are being meted out. Says Allah in the Qur’an:
الزَّانِيَةُ وَالزَّانِي فَاجْلِدُوا كُلَّ وَاحِدٍ مِنْهُمَا مِائَةَ جَلْدَةٍ ۖ وَلَا تَأْخُذْكُمْ بِهِمَا رَأْفَةٌ فِي دِينِ اللَّهِ إِنْ كُنْتُمْ تُؤْمِنُونَ بِاللَّهِ وَالْيَوْمِ الْآخِرِ ۖ وَلْيَشْهَدْ عَذَابَهُمَا طَائِفَةٌ مِنَ الْمُؤْمِنِينَ
The adulteress and the adulterer—flog each one of them with a hundred stripes. And let not pity for the twain take hold of you in executing the judgment of Allah, if you believe in Allah and the Last Day. And let a party of the believers witness their punishment.
translation: Maulawi Sher Ali
source: Ahmadiyya Muslim Community
Although the offense of marrying outside of the Jama’at is not the same as committing adultery, the above verse on punishing illegal sexual relations telegraphs for Muslims that it is permissible to
(a) punish and humiliate people publicly, and
(b) not be moved by compassion in doing so.
Incidentally, while the above referenced Qur’anic translation uses the word adultery for the committed offence, the Arabic word zinā also includes the act of fornication. Thus, consensual intimacy between two unmarried 25-year olds will also trigger this very same punishment of 100 public lashings in communities where practicing Muslims have authority. Prior to the revelation of this particular verse, Muhammad relied on Judaic Law as his fallback. In those cases, Muhammad ordered people stoned to death for such offenses. Yes, even Ahmadi Muslim scholars accept this reading of Islam’s history and Muhammad’s actions.
Although the Jama’at has toned down these public excommunication announcements in recent years,4 it is clear that such practices are fully congruent with the spirit of the Qur’an. Such Islamic teachings lie dormant in the Qur’an for any Ahmadi Muslim Khalifa to “activate”. As long as the Qur’an is deemed to be the infallible, unchanging, and literal Word of God, these injunctions will forever remain on the books.
Today, the expression “sleeper cells” refers to people who have yet to be activated (for what is most often, a nefarious purpose). When it comes to Islam and the Qur’an, however, we have what I refer to as “sleeper verses”. These are injunctions which lay down rules that can be activated at any time, should they be deemed relevant. The Qur’an is, after all, deemed to be timeless by its believers.
Constrained Lives and Transit Time.
As a young man, I did feel very much constrained in expressing my views and in living authentically. I couldn’t just blurt out that I believed Islam was false. Nor could I marry (let alone date) whomever I wished. I couldn’t do these things without prompting some very unwelcome consequences. The inevitable dishonor to my family had always played on my mind. Sometimes, the humiliation takes the form of others pitying your parents for having done a poor job with your upbringing. If you’ve openly left the religion, people will gossip. They will claim that your parents must have messed up somewhere with your tarbiyyat—i.e. your moral training, discipline, and general character development. At least, that’s how your parents will be made to feel.
Another way in which we are held back, is in that human craving to be understood. Closely related, is our innate desire to not knowingly cause our loved ones any discomfort. Many of us come from backgrounds where, unfortunately, our immigrant parents did not have the same opportunities that we have had in pursuing higher education. Compounding this, the cultural outlook of such parents is often very limited. Such parents cannot fathom the life choices one might logically make as a non-Muslim. Such parents cannot fathom life on Earth as anything other than transit time en route to an eternal afterlife—time meant to be passed in solemn devotion and perpetual sacrifice to a deity who naturally, also recommends his own worship.
Take for example, the concept of dating and relationships. Or any manner of social mixing between men and women outside of the “absolute and unavoidable” requirements of one’s vocation. The choices made by ex-Muslims who live authentically are often triggering for their conservative, first-generation immigrant parents.
These otherwise benign lifestyle choices can send Muslim parents into a perpetual state of emotional discomfort and anguish. There is an intense emotional pain that comes with the belief that one’s 22 year old daughter is literally going to burn in Hell for having a boyfriend and having kissed him! Such Muslim parents believe that when their prayers are finally answered, such a daughter will eventually embrace the “truth of Islam” and repent—but only to discover that she is no longer marriageable. Rather, she is now destined to be a childless spinster for the rest of her days. This, because the young woman’s reputation and status as a chaste virgin would have been irrevocably lost. Effectively, the religious community would forever see her as damaged goods.
As a result, and in this way, many of us are held hostage; living inauthentic and artificially attenuated lives. This is insult to injury, especially for those of us who flat out, no longer believe.
Flashback: What if Someone Saw You!?.
When I was 22 years old, I got a personal taste of religiously inspired self-policing. My family was part of the tight-knit Ahmadiyya Muslim Community in Toronto, Canada. My siblings and I were born and raised in the West. We didn’t parrot regressive Pakistani norms (which apparently had ‘nothing to do with Islam’). We were sensible moderates.
One summer’s day, an old high school friend of mine (we’ll call her Kajal) reached out to reconnect. It had been a couple of years since our high school graduation and we now lived on opposite ends of the city. Kajal suggested that we catch up over lunch sometime. We’d also coordinate with our mutual friend Jonna (also, not her real name), so that she too, could join us.
The three of us met for lunch in the high visibility food court of a shopping mall, not too far from where we had all attended high school. It was really nice catching up with both Jonna and Kajal.
Later that weekend, one of my sisters asked about my high school lunch reunion. When I relayed that I had just had lunch with two female friends, my sister asked with clarifying concern, “You mean there weren’t any other guys with you at this lunch?”
I was a bit puzzled by the inquisitive tone, but responded immediately, “No, it was just the three of us.”
Now even more visibly alarmed, my sister exclaimed, “What were you thinking!? What if someone saw you!?”
I paused, momentarily confused. My sister’s actual concerns were now just starting to register. I realized that the appropriateness of my actions was being called into question, and yet, to my mind, I hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Why would that matter?” I asked. “Jonna and Kajal are just friends—and there were two of them with me! It’s not like I was on a date. I can understand how it might look if I had met with just one girl for lunch. But there were two of them! Why would anyone mistakenly think that one of them was a girlfriend?”
It’s worth mentioning here that throughout my questioning of Islam (i.e. my early 20s), it was always important to me that I never broke my parents’ trust. This meant that I continued to assume the prohibitions required of Muslims. Throughout all of my undergraduate years, despite some crushes, I never dated. I didn’t want to hurt my parents and I placed their happiness above my own.22
Not convinced in the slightest, my sister didn’t flinch. She was still concerned. She now saw me as someone who was well-intentioned, but also naively oblivious in these delicate social matters.
Although my sister was married, concerns over family honour didn’t ever seem to completely go away; and these concerns are not exclusive to Muslim women either. In the more egalitarian climate of the West, and especially if you come from a respectable Ahmadi Muslim family, your actions as a young Muslim male can also reflect poorly (or positively) on your family. My having lunch with two female friends had the potential to be misconstrued as me having a girlfriend or perhaps being a bit too ‘modern’. Either perception was enough to distress my sister.
Pleasing one’s in-laws and not giving them reason to look upon you or your family in a negative light plays upon the minds of many Muslim women, even after they are married. This culture of shame also permeates seemingly progressive Muslim communities. I can’t imagine what it must be like for Ahmadi Muslims living in countries like Pakistan.
Now while I was initially upset with my sister for rebuking me, I didn’t lash out at her.
Instead, I internalized that somehow, I might have risked letting my own family down. This feeling stayed with me for weeks. As a result, I grudgingly adopted a stricter code when meeting female friends; avoiding scenarios where there might not be at least one other male present.
I still haven’t shaken off many elements of this paranoid conservatism.23 This self-imposed rigidity was all tied to purdah, the Islamic concept of gender segregation and modesty. The practice of purdah bifurcates into concepts like family honour and norms like the aforementioned self-policing. But back to the flashback…
A few months later, Jonna reached out to me. She was going to be in my area and offered to meet up again. Kajal wouldn’t be joining this time. It was only Jonna who was going to be in my area, attending an event that day.
I froze. I didn’t even know how to tactfully navigate to a “No”. And this was because I just couldn’t rationalize nor could I internalize the expectations calling upon me to channel such religious rigidity. It just wasn’t part of my ethos. As a result of being pulled down the middle, I snapped at Jonna, rebuking her for suggesting that we meet up again so soon. She must have been so utterly confused and so deeply hurt. Jonna didn’t deserve that.
This was many years ago and we’ve since lost contact. To this day, however, my own abrupt reaction tugs at me whenever I think of that time. All Jonna had wanted to do was to see her old friend.
There’s a lesson here. It’s not just rigid Muslim families that police one another. True, some Muslim parents in the West force their daughters to wear hijab. Some make their sons homeless and beat them for having left Islam. But these are not the only kinds of dysfunction coming out of Muslim households.
Sometimes, the victims of Islam’s lesser cruelties (and their secondary effects), are the many obedient youth who hail from everyday Muslim families. People who love their parents but who are trapped between two worlds. People who have been fed several unhealthy servings of guilt. People who have yet to ascertain, articulate and assert their authentic voice.
Similar to Jehovah’s Witnesses, Ahmadi Muslims are encouraged to maintain close ties with one another. This happens structurally and thus, automatically. Ahmadi Muslims marry within the Community.5 They hold numerous events during the year which leave less time for devout families to socialize or even integrate with people outside of the Jama’at. For many, the Jama’at becomes their world.
The risk of losing the respect of a high proportion of one’s social network of lifelong relationships, is to put it mildly, disconcerting. This has been and continues to be a factor; even for those of us who are no longer practicing. Yes, even for those of us who’ve also grown up here in the West.
Now it is true that if one’s family wasn’t very plugged-in to the social life of the Community, then the fallout isn’t as severe. In my case, I had no such luxury. One of my sisters had had her nikah6 performed by the Khalifa of the Community—a very rare honour.7 Another sister was actively involved in Lajna8 youth projects and would later become Lajna President in a large European city.
In my own family, reputation and honour mattered. For an exploration of some of these hidden forces of control, see my essay Reasons Why Many Muslims Haven’t Left Islam—Yet.
Questioning the Prophet’s Biography.
It is my observation that confirmation bias permeates the upbringing of most Ahmadi Muslims. I am certain that this phenomenon is not unique to the Ahmadiyya Muslim Jama’at.
I do believe that in growing up as Ahmadi Muslims, we’ve only been exposed to, and have only learnt of, what distills down to a meticulously crafted revision of Islamic history. I submit to you that the Ahmadiyya Muslim Jama’at’s biography of Muhammad has been sanitized to suppress questionable incidents in Muhammad’s life. With Ahmadiyyat as our lens, Islamic history reads like a sugarcoated version of itself.
I submit for your consideration: Muhammad’s life contains many more uncomfortable incidents than you’ve likely explored or even fathomed. These problematic elements surface when you study Islam’s earliest source material.
If you’ve only ever read about Islam from bookstall literature available at the mosque and at Jalsa, then you’ve been reading with parental content filters on. All of your life.
Perhaps you don’t believe me. Well, consider how many of you (if not already engaged in tabligh with non-Muslims) even know what Islamic sources have maintained for centuries in regards to the events leading up to Qur’an 66:1-5.
Do you even know the backstory as to why these verses were revealed? Ahmadiyya Islam’s commentaries do their utmost to dismiss the most likely explanation by attributing it to “Christian writers”. The insinuation? The enemies of Islam have been seeking to sabotage the Faith! Disregard what they have to say, even though it might actually be true! Just succumb to tribalism and circle the wagons without further consideration of the matter!
I personally find these kinds of responses lacking. Islamic apologetics seem to be replete with appeals to an us-versus-them mindset, as well as conspiracy theories. On a related note, it seems impossible for some Muslims to fathom that a different perspective might actually be coming from an honest place of disagreement. For believers, disconfirming evidence often implies that a conspiracy is afoot.
Returning to the commentary on Qur’an 66:1-5, the Ahmadi Muslim flock are shielded from the very hypothesis that the Commentary writers have asked us to reject. We are shielded from the most fitting explanation; one that also happens to be the consensus view of several of the most respected mufassirun (Muslim exegetes of the Qur’an). It also happens to be a devastating blow to the myth that Muhammad was the most perfect human being to ever walk this earth.9 Ahmadiyya Islam is unable to provide a good alternative for why these verses were revealed. The Ahmadiyya tafsir instead, pivots to the supposed and rather obvious lesson that we should be deriving from these verses. Ironically, the Ahmadiyya tafsir states this moral lesson more succinctly than the Qur’an itself.
Watch the linked video on Qur’an 66:1-5 (10 minutes). Then ask yourself: which explanation is more likely?
- Foul smelling honey
- Mary the Copt
- There is no reasonable explanation, despite major tafsirs supporting the incident with Mary the Copt.
Now let’s turn to a story that I do suspect you’ll remember. It’s the story of an old woman in Mecca who hated the Prophet so much, that she used to throw garbage on him—every single day. One day, this woman hadn’t thrown trash on the Prophet, and he noticed that she hadn’t. As a result, the Prophet enquired about the old lady’s wellbeing.
A beautiful parable from Muhammad’s early ministry, isn’t it? I remember it from my childhood. Perhaps you do, too. Well, guess what? It turns out to be a fabricated story.10 What else in Muhammad’s life sounds great but has turned out to be a fabrication? Conversely, what else is embarrassing and widely accepted in classical sources yet suppressed in modern biographies? I submit to you that all of us who are Muslims would be well advised to revisit Muhammad’s biography more critically. And we need to do this from Islam’s earliest source material. We cannot rely on repackaged biographies conveniently sanitized so as to appeal to our modern sensibilities.
There was a time when I thought that Muhammad was an exemplary man. Much of what I had read in the biographies of Muhammad published by the Ahmadiyya Muslim Jama’at, did in fact, inspire me to revere Muhammad. However, what was inspiring to me once upon a time was nothing more, it turns out, than a curated and rosy depiction of the “Muhammad” that Ahmadiyya Islam just wanted me, you, and everyone else, to believe.
Muhammad is certainly a complex historical figure. We can reject his claim to prophethood but still admire his resolve during the persecution of Muslims in Mecca. We can appreciate his acclaimed truthfulness. We can applaud his emphasis on charity. We can do all of these things by extracting the lesson from the mythology. We should only take such sweeping narratives as historical facts, however, if it can be proved that each of these narratives in their original form were not embellished by the victors—those early Muslims who had expanded an empire at breakneck speed.
A Community is Essential.
In my late 20s, I started dabbling in the mosque scene again. I had recently moved to a new city and I missed that sense of community so familiar to me from Ahmadiyyat. At the time, there didn’t seem to be an alternative to the mosque. For many of us, the deepest friendships we’ve ever had can be traced back to the Jama’at. The only mental model we’ve ever had for what community is, and can be, has been the Jama’at. We can drop into any city in the world where a local Ahmadiyya Muslim community exists, and we’ll feel mostly at home. If nothing else, it will at least feel familiar. It’s certainly easier to build new connections this way. Building community is something which organized religions have often done well.
Living the ‘Just Pray and Have Faith’ Strategy.
Since the private release of my book in 1998, following my conscience meant that I didn’t come out to Jama’at functions very often. I would still attend the odd wedding or funeral though, but just for the people that I was or had been close to.
There was even a period subsequent to the private release of my book, where I actually compartmentalized my doubts for a time. I did so because I craved having that familiar sense of community again. Having just moved to a new city, and as a recent graduate, I was completely on my own.
During this period, I earnestly and without consciously attempting to, lived the parting advice given to me by the National Secretary. I implemented the “just pray and have faith” strategy.
The impetus for me to reconnect with community was purely social. Yet, to achieve congruence and a new mental equilibrium, one cannot help but attempt to reengage with religious practice and the blissful contentment that comes with religious belief and belonging. As Blaise Pascal had advised, if you crave religious belief badly enough, then through repetition, you can numb your mind into accepting religious propositions.
I loved having some community again. Being gender-segregated at every turn, however, it still felt incomplete. And although it left much to be desired, having this local Jama’at community was still better than having nothing. The social ties (with other men) forged during this time even helped me with an introduction for marriage.24 As much as I had tried, however, I could not maintain the needed level of cognitive dissonance for more than a few short years. Pascal’s numbing trick was no longer working. I could no longer contain the hitherto compartmentalized contradictions. Reason and authenticity were ripping through the ramparts.
Fast forward to today: you and I have other options.
Finding a group of liberal, questioning Muslims today is both possible and essential for the questioning mind. If you’ve already left Islam, joining a group of ex-Muslims will provide you with the emotional support and camaraderie to start flexing more of your authenticity.
From my own experience, the only way to intellectually disagree with Ahmadiyya theology and still continue to participate in the Community at a social level, is by disengaging your critical thinking faculties. In other words, you have to compartmentalize. You may even succeed at this for a time, as I did. However, there will come a time when the cognitive dissonance is too emotionally draining for you to continue in this way.
To reclaim your personal authenticity, you’ll have to leave the belief system behind. You’ll have to admit to yourself that you’re no longer a Muslim. You’ll probably have to disclose this fact to your loved ones so that you can finally be yourself. No more pretending. No more awkwardly nodding along at family dinner parties when an uncle spews off some cringe worthy Islamic obligation in commentary to a topic that had nothing to do with Islam.
You have to be prepared to walk away from the social benefits that you currently enjoy as a member of your religious community. You probably won’t have to give everything up, but you need to be prepared to.
Religion Minus the Bullshit™.
I am of the firm opinion that non-believers, especially those who have left traditional religions, are the people best positioned to appreciate the need for organizing new, opt-in communities. Communities that go well beyond the important groundwork laid by secular humanism. Communities which will replace much of what people have really wanted all along from the theistic religions that they were born into.
I call this endeavour Religion Minus the Bullshit.™ I hope to one day provide a blueprint for how we can organize communities around some best practices for living. Many of the foundational ideas have already been expressed beautifully. In this regard, Alain de Botton comes to mind. He is the founder of The School of Life. Alain’s TED Talk11 lays out many of the ingredients for the grand human project of how we might transplant and reuse the many positive practices that traditional religions have been able to institutionalize.
The basic solution entails that we marry good philosophy with community, with rituals, and with the regular exhortation towards virtue. My own ideas take these concepts one step further. I believe that if we were to create just one such community, then it wouldn’t actually work. Rather, we must create many such communities.
There is no one philosophy that we will all converge upon. I do believe, however, that there are perhaps a few dozen archetypes that we will be able to identify at the outset.12 As such, I envision a federation of communities that people can choose from and move freely between. There are, after all, many gray areas in ethics and philosophy. There are many defensible perspectives. Each of the belief-system communities that I envision will have their own core tenets and best practices for living. They will each have their own chapters (congregations) around the globe. People will join the community that most resonates with their values. As people grow in their thinking, some of them will gravitate towards a different philosophy-community than the one that they may have started with. Children will often explore and pick alternative communities to the ones that had resonated with their parents.
I still believe that religion-like-networks can serve a useful role in our lives. Gene based evolution did yield to the more flexible software of meme-based evolution. The latter is what gave us religion. I believe that these human instincts of ours still require a suitable outlet for exercising our own spiritual fulfillment.13 Belonging to a philosophy-community can also deepen our own personal development and anchor us to some useful civilizational firmware.
I also believe that the most honest way to reap these benefits of community and philosophy, is by starting fresh. Using new foundations. Starting clean allows us to add in the philosophies, rituals, and community centric practices which have proven useful to humanity, without having to tie ourselves to bronze-age baggage with all its attendant barbarity and discrimination. We will eschew unfounded supernatural claims, holy scriptures, holy prophets, and holy intolerance. No more us-versus-them tribalism, either.
Until we build replacement communities to foster new, positive identities, we will lean heavily on our existing ex-Muslim support communities to ease our journeys out of religion.14 These support communities will only be relevant so long as authoritarian religions exist.
If you want a highly secure community composed exclusively of ex-Muslims, and you happen to reside in North America, then EXMNA is the community for you. I joined the Ex-Muslims of North America in late 2015. Doing so gave me a shot in the arm. It was my personal reawakening. I realized what I had been missing all of these years since I had left Islam. EXMNA is a rapidly growing support community for people who know with certainty, that they no longer believe in the theological claims of Islam. You get to meet other ex-Muslims in your city, in real life.
It is worth mentioning here that one should not conflate being an ex-Muslim with being anti-Muslim. The vast majority of ex-Muslims reject anti-Muslim bigotry. We love Muslims. These notions are not incompatible. In fact, most of the people whom we love most in this world, are still Muslims. We just strongly disagree with the truth claims made by Islam. The mantra is simple: No bigotry, no apology.
If you still consider yourself Muslim, but don’t believe that Islam is infallible, then you should consider joining Muslimish. This organization is composed of ex-Muslims and Muslims of varying degrees of religiosity. It’s not just a support group—it’s a destination and a dialogue. Muslimish seeks to rebuild that sense of community that some of us have had to leave behind. If you’re a liberal minded Muslim who has come to the conclusion that at least parts of Islam don’t add up, then consider Muslimish. In fact, for you, it’s the only game in town.
At Muslimish meetups, you can express your doubts freely. You can talk through your religious issues with regards to Muhammad, the Qur’an, and Islam. All without fear of judgment.
Beyond the Things We Think.
So what’s next? Religions like Islam/Ahmadiyya are losing ground in secular countries. Educated populations with unfettered access to the Internet do not make for the best believers. We have access to scripture, translations, failed prophecies, and more. Most converts to Islam tend to leave after a few years in the faith. Increasingly, born Muslims are leaving too. For the sake of their families, most do not openly disparage the faith, even though mentally, they’ve already checked out.
Recognizing this, religious organizations like Ahmadiyyat are banking on growth in Africa, where religion is an easier sell. A strategy which apparently, even Ahmadi Muslim missionaries readily acknowledge.
One of the many reasons to pursue counter-apologetics is so that our families can ultimately accept our choices in life. We do this by reprogramming the cultural zeitgeist of Muslim thought. Once a live-and-let-live attitude is firmly established, relationships will heal. We become unencumbered.
Wouldn’t it be nice if parents could accept a heterogeneity of beliefs in the way they currently accept that each of their children will pursue a different choice of career? Wouldn’t it be nice if our extended families adopted this attitude? That day is coming. You and I will help usher it in. Don’t wait any longer. Make known your true convictions. Our campaign has only just begun, and the movement is stronger with you by our side. Now is the time to speak up.
Are You Planning an Intervention?.
If you’ve read The Things We Think but are too Afraid to Say, or you’ve read My Beliefs: A Treatise, then you know that armchair “Uncle Ji” apologetics aren't going to be a constructive use of your time, or mine. I hope you’ll understand that I am no longer interested in rehashing the basics with everyone who believes that an intervention is needed, or that they are the righteous ones whom God hath chosen for this mission.
As I have stated in my 2016 post, Dialogue with Ahmadi Muslims:
My writings are not only for me. They are meant to give others out there a voice. In fact, you who seek to do the intervention on me, well, I too would like to do an intervention—on you! I want to challenge your assumptions. I want to open your mind and your heart.
My doubting Islam began more than 25 years ago. It is only in the last decade that I have had the resolve to be more congruent with my beliefs. I’ve already had numerous discussions with ‘uncles', missionaries, and the like. Dialogue that spans over two decades.
Should any of you feel like they have something unique to say in defense of Islam/Ahmadiyya and with an aim to bring me back to the fold, then by all means, I encourage you to first write a public response which addresses my specific contentions in the aforementioned works.25 If notable personalities in the Jama’at rally around and promote your response as worthy of consideration, then I will add your response to my reading list. I will also consider engaging in a dialogue with you. I am especially interested in live-streamed conversations where both sides of the argument are presented, unedited and in full.
For many of us, organized religion brings with it social control and emotional blackmail. This is no less true in Muslim communities. I do not contend, however, that everyone who holds leadership roles in Muslim communities does so wishing to inflict pain on people who secretly do not believe in Islam. To suggest such a thing would be both immature and uninformed.
Likewise, volunteers and office-bearers in these religious communities do not consciously set out to make people’s lives difficult. As power dynamics shift, and fewer people remain believing Muslims, it’s important to stay mindful of the big picture. Let’s remember to show Muslims compassion. Let us begin by giving others the benefit of the doubt. Let us assume at the outset, that others have our best interests at heart, and the best of intentions. Whether religious or non-religious, most of us claim that we subscribe to the positions that we do, for the betterment of humanity. Let us demonstrate that tolerance and grace with our actions and in how we engage with one another.
Sadly, it is nonetheless true that many of us who wish to leave Islam cannot do so openly without facing some real consequences. Sometimes, the price paid for authenticity is much higher than just being ostracized, socially stigmatized, or emotionally manipulated.
Hailing from more fundamentalist Muslim backgrounds, some ex-Muslims risk not being able to complete their education. Some risk not having a roof over their heads. Others risk not being safe from physical abuse. I’m not just speaking of ex-Muslims in Saudi Arabia or Iran—I am talking about real abuse, even here in the West. Being honest and authentic often comes at a high cost: risking one’s safety, health, privacy, and reputation.
Having left Islam years ago, you may wonder why am I now running back in, so to speak, to challenge the stewards of my former religious establishment. It’s simple. I am determined to free those who are the hostages of religious indoctrination and control. Mentally, socially, and emotionally—many of us freethinkers have been held captive because we care so deeply about others. Many ex-Muslims do not know how to navigate the cacophony of resistance sure to come barreling down upon them were they to voice their doubts or profess their true beliefs.
Lessons from The Matrix.
Why is it that Morpheus, Trinity, and Neo go back into the Matrix? The answer is simple: to free minds and to offer them the opportunity to live authentically.
The protagonists of The Matrix trilogy wish to dismantle the system of falsehoods which enslave the lives of their fellow human beings.
Like other religions, Islam can foster communities that provide their members with significant social benefits. Many of us non-theists contend, however, that these are simply the fruits that come with being part of a tight-knit community with whom we share some basic values. Many of us maintain that where religion does seem to shine, it is because those who identify with it are in fact, more moral than their scriptures.15 Nevertheless, I am grateful that some of the choices and values instilled in my own life are those which can be traced back to my upbringing. I am not out to dismantle everything associated with religion/Islam/Ahmadiyyat. Few things in this world are so black and white.
Building New Communities.
The social impact of religion is nuanced and complex. At a fundamental level, however, religions like Islam are either other-worldly in origin, or they are man-made. The prophets and the scriptures of a theistic religion are either commissioned by a deity, or they are not. If a theistic religion is to be deemed false, then we must conclude that no divine agent was involved in its origin—at least not in any meaningfully directed fashion. This does not mean, however, that we can or should conclude with positive assertion that no divine agent could possibly exist. It just means that said religion under scrutiny is nothing more than the creation of man. To evaluate religious claims in general and Islam in particular, I have compiled and refer you to The Postulates.
I believe that Islam is false. As a logical consequence, I also believe that Ahmadiyya Islam is false. This does not mean that Islam/Ahmadiyya confers no advantages upon its adherents. It would be naive for anyone to suggest that. Here, I suggest that the concept of ‘metaphorical truth’ is at play with religions in general, including Ahmadiyyat specifically. A metaphorical truth is a belief that is factually wrong but for which you come out ahead if you actually believe in it (or at the least, if you act as if you believed).16
It is my sincere hope that we can reclaim the benefits offered by progressive religious communities as we go about building new communities. We will do this by layering what we have found to be true and beneficial atop new foundations which do not bear the baggage of the unsubstantiated and the cringe worthy.17 Our new foundations will be built with honesty, intelligence, wisdom, love, and reason. No prophets, no saints, no infallibility, no stoning to death.
Leaving a religion which was never commissioned by a divine agent is only the first step. The next step is to gather freethinking minds who wish to join, into communities centered around best practices for living. We’ll source from the best philosophy of several millennia of human wisdom. It is after all, our collective endowment. Yes, this endowment includes the best ideas from Muslim, Christian, Hindu, and Buddhist philosophers. History has clearly demonstrated that religion served a need for many of us. We can go beyond our ex-identities (the moving-away from labels) and form new, positive identities (the moving-towards labels) around which we might assemble.18 We won’t all agree on the same philosophies to organize ourselves by, and so we’ll create a federation of such communities. These communities will not make unsubstantiated claims that require mental gymnastics or the supernatural to defend.
If you believe as I do, that religion is man-made, then why don’t we just rebuild it on purpose, together? Why don’t we just use a clean canvas and start fresh? We’ll only add in that which is truly valuable. We’ll be selective. I do believe that this time around, we human beings can do a much better job.
Outwardly, religions have claimed to teach us that following what is true rather than what we just happened to have been born into, is important. Inwardly of course, religions have all conditioned their followers to assume a foregone conclusion at the outset of any quest for knowledge. Please don’t fall into this trap. If you care about what is true more than you care about what is merely convenient, then please detach yourself from the momentum of inherited belief. Please evaluate as objectively as you can.
We are all responsible to future generations. We should not indoctrinate children into that which is both unverifiable and which they would not accept as adults. Our children should not be stuck inside a web of social blackmail nor should they be trapped inside a fortress of emotional guilt. Let’s break that cycle.
My activism today is focused on helping my fellow ex-Muslims build and grow support communities. I have participated in projects with EXMNA, Muslimish, as well as communities on Reddit. The latter is for Ahmadi Muslims who are questioning both Islam generally and Ahmadiyyat specifically. My activism is focused on helping those who have doubts. I want them to know that they need not be, nor should they feel, isolated.
In the near future, I plan to move on from counter-apologetics to focus on the meta-framework of governance that will enable a federation of belief-system communities to take flight. Tearing down false ideologies is only a stepping stone to what really matters: building new communities of tolerance, love, and wisdom.
Many former believers crave a place where they can build and where they can belong. A positive identity that goes beyond the labels that we have used for dissent, awareness, and solidarity. It’s natural for us human beings to crave structure which is both affirming and prescriptive. I want to be a part of that solution.
Paying it Forward.
Most Muslims are good people. I hope you know that. I hope that this has also been your experience in life.
I know many wonderful, dignified, humble, and selfless people hailing from the religious community in which I grew up—the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community. People that I love and respect and whom I will continue to love and respect. To me, they are all far better than their scriptures. Many of them would argue, however, that what they possess that is good, comes from their adherence to hashtag True Islam.
Proponents of Ahmadiyya Islam will assure us that Ahmadiyyat represents the legitimate codification of the Islam originally espoused by Muhammad in 7th century Arabia. Proponents of Ahmadiyya Islam will claim that after the Khulafa-e-Rashideen, much of the next ~1300 years of Islamic history reveals that Muslims had veered away from the “true” teachings of Islam.
I believe, however, that Ahmadiyya Islam is little more than a sugarcoated reconstruction of Islam. A repackaging that can no longer hide the troubling positions contained within its own theology. I believe that Ahmadiyyat cherry picks Islamic sources and engages in truly convoluted apologetics to distance itself from the understanding and practice of a more authentically grounded Islam. Ahmadiyyat ignores a vast historical legacy captured in Islam’s earliest source material. This blog and my social media presence is where I have and where I will continue to make that case.
I believe that with civility, we should challenge our Muslim friends and family on religion. We should present the unflattering history of Islam as preserved in Islam’s earliest source material, which many Ahmadi Muslims have never even read. Most Ahmadi Muslims do not even realize that this material exists. I invite my Muslim brethren, regardless of denomination, to consider the moral conundrums raised in The Things We Think but are too Afraid to Say.
It’s time to speak up when you’re next approached about Islam by the apologists, your imams, your parents, your siblings, your cousins, and your friends. Share your knowledge. Voice your opinions. Encourage others to activate and engage in critical thinking.
As many of you join the fight to free minds, be prepared. At first, you will face resistance. It is my sincere wish, however, that you get to at least plant the seed of doubt. That seed is in fact, a gift. I wish that when I was younger, someone had planted that seed for me.
Remember to speak with kindness and with empathy. It’s time to pay it forward.
- Someone in the Ahmadiyya Muslim Jama’at who volunteers to donate 1/10th of their income instead of the basic 1/16th requirement. It telegraphs a higher level of commitment to the cause
- From the last pages of her book, it appears that in leaving Ahmadiyyat, Nuzhat has also left Islam. It does not appear that Nuzhat has adopted any new religion. I believe it is safe to say that like me, Nuzhat Haneef is non-theistic.
- Even in the limited fashion that I had originally planned
- At least in Western countries. I’ve personally witnessed a difference over the last few years as compared to the ostracizing announcements that were common in the 1980s when the Canadian Jama’at was also much, much smaller.
- Otherwise there are grave consequences, such as being excommunicated.
- The religious marriage ceremony for Muslims.
- This special exception was made because the Khalifa felt it important to fulfill the dream a family member had had about this marriage, and of the Khalifa performing the nikah.
- The ‘Lajna’ is the women’s auxiliary organization within the Community.
- The previous link for Qur’an 66:1-5 is a short video in which Hassan Radwan takes us through what tafsir Ibn Kathir contains in Arabic, but which is conspicuously absent in its English translation.
- In fact, if you can understand Urdu, listen in to the 2 minutes of this conversation, starting at time index 17:23, between Farhan Qureshi and Sarmad Ahmad. Both are ex-Muslims. Sarmad Ahmad relates how he had heard Mirza Tahir Ahmad relate this story numerous times and yet, it is a fabrication that only appeared roughly two centuries years ago. It cannot be found in a single book of hadith.
- Ignore the misleading title of “Atheism 2.0”. I think a better title would have been “Beyond Atheism”. The talk is about how we retain the best and most useful elements of religion whilst staying honest.
- We’ll also devise a process for managing forks; an orderly creation of new and distinct belief-system communities from antecedent ones.
- Here, I do not use the term ‘spiritual’ to refer to the connection with a deity that theists would assume. I use the term in the more abstract sense of mindfulness, meditation and the gratifying pursuit of inner contentment, peace of mind, and Eudaemonia.
- While my essay focuses on leaving Islam, this particular grand project for reinventing religion is something for people from all backgrounds. Former Christians, Hindus, Orthodox Jews, etc., will all be a part of this. So will tenth generation atheists.
- This sentiment was expressed most clearly by Alishba Zarmeen. She stated that “Most humans are more moral than the scriptures that they hold sacred.”
- This is a term which Bret Weinstein has coined. You can listen to Bret Weinstein and Sam Harris discussing this concept at time [1:05:15] in this episode of the Walking Up Podcast.
- That’s right; we’re going to skip moral parables celebrating prophets who were willing to kill their children because they heard voices in their head.
- I can’t emphasize enough that such communities will be opt-in only. For far too long, our species has had to contend with coercion. No more I say.
…the verse emphasizes the obligation of a person to whom a secret is confided not to divulge it, particularly when the parties concerned are husband and wife and the secret relates to a private domestic affair…