Naeem's Blog

More specifically, I’m referring to entire cause-and-effect mindset and how the entire human race has effectively embraced it as a fundamental doctrine. Science, the New Age god of the religiously disinclined, has stated that everything in this world operates on the cause-and-effect model. This isn’t limited to the laboratories, but has found its way in everything we say and do.  

Our sustenance comes not from our Creator, but from our monthly paychecks. 

Our success comes not from our adherence to our principles, but from our efforts and struggles. 

We have becomes slaves not of our Lord, but of this materialistic worldview.

And so, when we decide to stand up and struggle for the truth in the face of tyranny and oppression, we find ourselves restricted to ‘proven’ tactics and ‘established’ movements. We must determine the odds of victory and evaluate the calculus of success.  We must choose pragmatism over idealism.  We must compromise and concede for that is the way of the accomplished high priests of the material world.  Our models of success are no more founded on the anachronistic ways of the Prophets, but on the avant-garde techniques of today’s global leaders.

So it is when we finally see a breath of 'fresh' air in our political worlds, we see cause for celebration. We have inexplicably convinced ourselves that political success can only come in the form of a political party that is born from the same decrepit system that has been plaguing and ruining our societies.

The examples set forth by our beloved Prophets, we tell ourselves, are strictly limited to the spiritual realm.  Any issues we may have with our political or economic existence must be dealt with tried and tested methodologies extracted from our textbooks and institutions.  To suggest that the spiritual world can interoperate in the political is extreme folly. At least, that is what the secular materialists have taught us so effectively.

We are so affixed to the cause-and-effect model that we have lost sight of the power of our Lord. With the 'unparalleled power' of our modern minds, an ark in the middle of the desert would be foolish, escaping from a ruthless army and fleeing towards the ocean would be mad, and 313 would never, ever defeat 1000. We have convinced ourselves (or have become convinced) that the only way to victory is by our efforts, not by our principles and beliefs.

Thus, instead of sticking to our principles and looking to our religion for guidance, we rejoice when political idealists such as Obama or Pakistan’s Imran Khan tantalize us with their flowery promises of hope and change. We naively see in them a means of rectifying our broken system. Instead of realizing that never did a Prophet make change from within the broken system, we blindly pursue success with political parties.

Would a Prophet ever submit himself to the evil machinations of modern-day democracy by leading a political party?

It matters not, for those Prophetic examples set forth in our Holy Book are to be read strictly for spiritual blessings, not for any practical application.

Sadly materialism is alive and well, even in the more spiritually inclined amongst us.

While I wholeheartedly agree with Imam Zaid’s synopsis of this regrettable development, I do wish that he could have tempered his remonstration with a viable, holistic alternative.  It seems that he throws out the baby with the bath water when it comes to the role of Muslims in contemporary politics.  Are we to step back from the big stage of the political world and solely focus on reforming our selves?  Is the world of international politics and global economics so hopeless and vile that our only chance at success is to relocate into our ivory towers and focus on individual acts of worship? And if there is space for Muslim in modern politics, is it limited to the confines of the established political machinery (ie. voting, lobbying, boycotts, political parties, etc.)

I recall seeing a similar approach (of avoiding feasible solutions) when it came to our scholars’ universal denunciation of terrorism.  Most Muslims realized that killing innocents while claiming it to be an act of Islamic Jihad was haram.  But no scholar ever offered a viable model on the role of Islamic Jihad in this modern day and age.

Similarly, Muslims throughout the world realize that the process of creating an Islamic society based on the principles of Divine Revelation must not violate those very same Islamic principles.  I think it’s fair to say that most Muslims reject the approach of the Muslim Zionists.

But the question remains: How then can Muslims legitimately struggle to create a society based on the Quran and Sunnah?  How can Muslims live Islamically, not only on the personal level, but also in the socio-politico-economic realms?

Have we begun to embrace the Western approach to religion and politics as purportedly stated by Prophet Isa (as) "Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's"? Is the S-word (Shariah) becoming as difficult a topic to broach as the J-word? Granted, there may be no practical role for Shariah and Jihad talk in our lives, but what exactly is the legacy we will be passing on to the next generation? Last year, in the midst of the furor over anti-Shariah legislation proposed in various states across America, many attempted to downplay the role of the Shariah as strictly a personal code of conduct.

Slippery slope, meet Muslims in the West.

To what end will we continue to emasculate and emaciate the pristine teachings of our dear Prophet (saw)?

For the record, just as I do not believe the mere abolishment of riba and the establishment of an economic system based on the Quran/Sunnah would, by itself, usher in a period of universal Islamic justice and Divine pleasure, I do not consider the struggle for the Khilafa and its re-establishment as a panacea for the countless ills plaguing the Muslims. That being said, the economic and the political struggles are equally as vital to our worldly and other-worldly success as our spiritual and social struggles.

Are we to attain spiritual nirvana before we are allowed to initiate pro-Khilafa or riba-free movements?

I say not all this in some jingoistic manner, attempting to rile up the masses with faux calls for Jihad and what not. My concern is rooted in the abdication of our collective responsibility to these foundational principles of Islam.  While it is reasonable, even expected, that not every Muslim is capable of implementing the principles of Jihad or the struggle for a Shariah-based society, at the very least we must all commit ourselves to intellectually developing as well as preserving these ideals in a manner most pleasing to our Creator.

* I realize that I am basing my conclusions on simply an excerpt from a larger book, so I may have to adjust my analysis based on a complete reading.

You all know the perfect picnic weather, right?  Bright, sunny day with a cool, gentle breeze.  Not too warm, not too cold. Colorful flowers dotting the landscape with an occasional fluffy, white cloud dotting the blue sky.

And if dark, gray clouds accompanied by a bitter, misty gust come rumbling across the sky, everyone packs up and goes scurrying for cover.

Well, not everyone.

Here in Saudi, where the scorching sun shines over the desert land for most of the year, a gloomy, dreary forecast – which most of the world despises - cheers up the locals and has them rushing out to the desert to snatch up prime picnic real estate.

They get giddy when the forecast includes light showers and a deep chill.  When this type of weather strikes (which typically will last for a day or two), many employees call in sick, kids miss school, and college campuses are empty.  Most of Riyadh can be found picnicking out in the cool, wet desert.

During my first six years or so, I used to get a real kick out of this phenomenon.  I would laugh to myself, ‘How in the world can one enjoy a picnic in such overcast, gloomy weather?’

Only after having lived in the desert climate for almost 10 years have I begun to appreciate the citywide excitement when a cold, winter shower hits the area.  You see, it’s a rare occasion, which brings with it the blessings of rain - much appreciated and celebrated in this dry, arid land.  It is only in these rare moments that Saudis are able to bundle up, start up a nice, warm campfire, and enjoy the wet, misty air with a cup of Arabic coffee.  

And the occasional drizzle on their picnic is a source of joy instead of dejection.  The picnic temporarily relocates into the vehicle, or a tent for the more adventurous intent on camping out for the entire day, and everyone goes back out when the rain stops.

The ideal location for such a picnic is anywhere water has collected, which is why you’ll find rain-induced lakes (really just glorified puddles) in the desert surrounded by jeeps and trucks, with people huddled around a fire and children playing in the sand.

Having grown up in Baltimore, I despised the cloudy, rainy weather and was overjoyed when I initially moved to sunny Saudi.  But it’s taken me almost 10 years to get over my honeymoon with the sun and now I too get “misty”-eyed (see what I did there?) when the weather turns gray and chill.

Ever since ever, I’ve been a strong advocate of old-school parenting – where the child is taught that the world does not revolve around him.  I strongly believe that a child ought to be taught to serve her elders, as a means of nipping in the bud any form of self-absorption or sense of entitlement.  And I’ve always considered it acceptable to allow a child to fall down and pick himself up on his own.

That’s why I absolutely love this article. I’m learning that parenting is a fine balance between expressing unconditional love for the child while simultaneously maintaining a level of indifference.  Crazy, right?

The child needs to learn that the parents won’t always be there to save the day. And this requires us to force ourselves to turn away when they are going through painful experiences. Obviously, it doesn’t mean that I turn my back on them when they are in dire need, but I need to give them space to fall down and get back up:

Dan Kindlon, a child psychologist and lecturer at Harvard, warns against what he calls our “discomfort with discomfort” in his book Too Much of a Good Thing: Raising Children of Character in an Indulgent Age. If kids can’t experience painful feelings, Kindlon told me when I called him not long ago, they won’t develop “psychological immunity.”

“It’s like the way our body’s immune system develops,” he explained. “You have to be exposed to pathogens, or your body won’t know how to respond to an attack. Kids also need exposure to discomfort, failure, and struggle. I know parents who call up the school to complain if their kid doesn’t get to be in the school play or make the cut for the baseball team. I know of one kid who said that he didn’t like another kid in the carpool, so instead of having their child learn to tolerate the other kid, they offered to drive him to school themselves. By the time they’re teenagers, they have no experience with hardship. Civilization is about adapting to less-than-perfect situations, yet parents often have this instantaneous reaction to unpleasantness, which is ‘I can fix this.’”

Also I really believe that so much of this helicopter parenting, where the parents hover over the child, is about parents and their inability to create a life outside of their nuclear homes.  With the extended family having gone the way of the 8-track and box-set televisions, higher divorce rates leaving parents isolated, as well as social circles becoming smaller and smaller, too many parents have nothing but their children left as social outlets:

We have less community nowadays—we’re more isolated as adults, more people are divorced—and we genuinely like spending time with our kids. We hope they’ll think of us as their best friends, which is different from parents who wanted their kids to appreciate them, but didn’t need them to be their pals. But many of us text with our kids several times a day, and would miss it if it didn’t happen. So instead of being peeved that they ask for help with the minutiae of their days, we encourage it.”

As a homeschooling parent, I embarrassingly admit that I have my hovering skills pretty much in high gear.  My wife and I are constantly aware of our children’s state of being.  We are greatly involved in their daily activities.  But the greatest difference, I believe, between my style and that of my counterparts profiled in this article is my lack of constant approval.

I try to balance my ‘shabaash’ and ‘atta boys’ with ‘you’re work is terrible’ and ‘get out of my face!’

Meanwhile, rates of anxiety and depression have also risen in tandem with self-esteem. Why is this? “Narcissists are happy when they’re younger, because they’re the center of the universe,” Twenge explains. “Their parents act like their servants, shuttling them to any activity they choose and catering to their every desire. Parents are constantly telling their children how special and talented they are. This gives them an inflated view of their specialness compared to other human beings. Instead of feeling good about themselves, they feel better than everyone else.”

The old-school father in me has always felt comfortable in setting limits for my kids.  And with kids being kids, these limits are always being tested, but it’s essential that the parent be prepared to say no and simply walk away.  Tears may be shed and emotions will be high, but the principle always overrides these temporary fits of emotion.

But the one place where I clearly feel I have fallen short is in giving my kids too many choices.  I am always waffling between giving them the ‘responsibility’ to make adult choices and forcing decisions upon them.  Am I properly balancing this act?  Not sure.

As a parent, I’m all too familiar with this. I never said to my son, “Here’s your grilled-cheese sandwich.” I’d say, “Do you want the grilled cheese or the fish sticks?” On a Saturday, I’d say, “Do you want to go to the park or the beach?” Sometimes, if my preschooler was having a meltdown over the fact that we had to go to the grocery store, instead of swooping him up and wrestling him into the car, I’d give him a choice: “Do you want to go to Trader Joe’s or Ralphs?” (Once we got to the market, it was “Do you want the vanilla yogurt or the peach?”) But after I’d set up this paradigm, we couldn’t do anything unless he had a choice. One day when I said to him, “Please put your shoes on, we’re going to Trader Joe’s,” he replied matter-of-factly: “What are my other choices?” I told him there were no other choices—we needed something from Trader Joe’s. “But it’s not fair if I don’t get to decide too!” he pleaded ingenuously. He’d come to expect unlimited choice.

When I was my son’s age, I didn’t routinely get to choose my menu, or where to go on weekends—and the friends I asked say they didn’t, either. There was some negotiation, but not a lot, and we were content with that. We didn’t expect so much choice, so it didn’t bother us not to have it until we were older, when we were ready to handle the responsibility it requires. But today, Twenge says, “we treat our kids like adults when they’re children, and we infantilize them when they’re 18 years old.”

And finally, I completely agree with this concluding statement:

“In fact, by trying so hard to provide the perfectly happy childhood, we’re just making it harder for our kids to actually grow up. Maybe we parents are the ones who have some growing up to do—and some letting go.”

One more thought. Throughout my entire reading of this lengthy piece, I was overcome by the lack of spiritual discipline that exists for so many of these families.  I’m assuming that many of them may be church-going regulars, but sadly Christianity is completely lacking on this front.  One of the pillars of Islamic teaching is the constant battlefront we must maintain against our nafs.  And when this is a foundational teaching in the home, I’m convinced that many of these issues of narcissism, depression, low self-esteem, and what not can be better addressed.

Well, I wouldn’t necessarily call him my friend. 

An acquaintance perhaps.

A colleague maybe.

Regardless, the fact remains that I’ve known him for a very long time and he’s always demonstrated terribly poor social skills in my company.  He consistently exhibits selfish behavior while rarely, if ever, willing to reciprocate my acts of generosity.  I’ve lost count of the number of times that I have taken this mooch out for a meal, allowed him company in our family outings, and provided him a place to sleep. His charming personality is such that I foolishly continue to bathe him with gifts while getting nothing in return.

I seriously doubt that he has any other friends besides me.  In fact, I know with certainty that he has no other friends, for no one else would tolerate his boorish behavior.  So while I realize I may be too accommodating of his unbecoming idiosyncrasies (to put it mildly), the poor soul really has no one else.

But still, I shouldn’t excuse his disgusting attitude.  In our younger days, he went so far as to cause several run-ins between myself and my parents.  At the time, I was too immature to realize his failings, so I embarrassingly sided with him.

And it doesn’t stop there.  His unwelcome contributions have played a significant role in countless arguments I’ve had with my wife.  She can’t stand that I continue to socialize with him, but some relationships are awkwardly inexplicable and simply impossible to get out of.

And worst of all, I’m convinced this disgraceful little runt has played a direct role in damaging my relationship with Allah (swt).  He clearly isn’t the most devout of Muslims, as he is sadly lackadaisical in his worship while uncomfortably exuberant in his worldly endeavors. Unfortunately I have found myself accompanying him on one too many of his indulgent adventures.  While I’m adamant on drawing the line when it comes to clear Haram activities, he’s always keen to push those boundaries.

He loves to eat.

He loves to laugh.

He loves to socialize.

Odd traits for someone who has no real friends.

Every time I tell myself that we must part ways, I find myself returning his phone calls and allowing him back in my circle.  No lie, but the last few Ramadans I’ve told myself that I’m going to purge myself of his distasteful company, sorta like TV or the Internet.  I semi-seriously joke with him that I’ll tie him up in the same way Allah (swt) ties up the devils. And every year, I last for the entire month without contacting him, plus an extra few weeks after, but just like the TV and the Internet, he inevitably returns to my life.

And here I find myself reading these pathetic paragraphs, wondering why in the world I continue to associate myself with this most ugly of beings.

I’m sure you’re wondering the same. 
But don’t judge me.
Seriously.

Because you may have an equally vile friend in your own life, who is more controlling, more obnoxious, more devious.

And worse yet, you may not even know about him.

He is your nafs.

I despise mine, yet I continue our dysfunctional relationship where I grant him everything he desires, while he joyfully continues to sabotage my life and after-life.

I wish I could simply un-friend him ala Facebook.  (sigh)