Today's Journalist

On politics, academia, history and a wealth of topics, Kerim Belci, editor in chief of Today's Zaman daily newspaper in Istanbul had much to say.

Today's Zaman daily newspaper is a thoughtful publication that appeals to the highly educated and to decision makers among the population. It is also widely distributed and available online, in English. It's readers are 100% university graduates. Kerim describes it as a paper with its own perspective and not, admittedly, an objective one, but at the same time, he encourages people to read the competition to "get the view from both windows".

I found Kerim to be a very well-rounded commentator, as both an accomplished academic and a journalist. Often a journalist will have a unique perspective because they are constantly investigating and writing. An academic may have expert knowledge but be somewhat removed from the unfolding of events on the ground. The imminence of the Arab Spring, for example, was identified not by Middle East experts, but by journalists .Kerim Belci's perspective was captivating, informed and academic.

So what has been the effect of decades of radical secularism and state control been on Turkish intellectual life? Kerim believes that it is of concern that Turkey has tended to produce neither radicals or liberals. He makes the case that Turkish madrassas were, until the 17^th/18^th centuries, “Harvard”. Turkey then became caught up, according to Kerim, in enlightenment France, 200 years too late, while the rest of Europe was already grappling with post-modernism.

In comparing Turkey to Malaysia, Kerim asserted that the former is nothing but a successful economic example, with nothing to offer in terms of intellectuals. He observes that Malaysia has produced better in the last hundred years because Turkish intellectual life has been state controlled. He accuses the state of imposing the proselytizing of the “prophethood” of Ataturk. He says the youth tended to blame their “backward” religious parents for Turkey’s backwardness, but that it was rather state control on universities that kept Turkey from developing a vibrant intellectual life.

Another question that followed us from Malaysia, because it was also pertinent here in Turkey, was the question of democracy. How had democracy been able to develop here, even now in the hands of a government with an Islamic reference? Kerim said that he saw Islamism as an ideology which tends to die once the party comes to power: it is forced to become more pragmatic.

Anwar Ibrahim comes to mind, beleagered Malaysian opposition leader. Anwar began as quite a staunch Islamist as a zealous young university activist, and is now known for his reform-minded and pluralistic approach to politics. Not that he has yet come to ultimate power, but to be a contender he knows that he needs these attributes. It may also be a case of growing up. A party or individual which may have once been radical, simply matures, if not forced to mature when faced with the reality of politics and leadership.

Kerim adressed a question about sectors of the Turkish public’s concern with the AK party’s commitment to the secularism so prized here. He related how the AK Party had claimed to have taken off “our Islamist t-shirts” and believes that ten years of evidence is lessening the concern.

Another persistent question posed by group members, which we all wanted answered, was: could the present Turkish government be considered a viable model for Middle Eastern countries to emulate in terms of Islamic democratic governance, post Arab Spring? Kerim maintains that the Turkish experience is unique, but that they can share lessons and experience. For example: don’t give money and weapons to the same people, referring to the enormous power given to the Turkish military and the abuses that occurred.

Going Deeper Parts I and II

Part I: From Top Kapi to Topbas

We spent the snowy morning exploring the Top Kapi Place, the main residence of the Ottoman Sultans between 1465 and 1856. There we discovered the many treasures and sacred objects jealously guarded and carefully preserved. It was thrilling to view such items as the, alleged, swords of the Prophet and his companions and the staff of Moses.

But even more thrilling were the treasures of the heart uncovered at Ustadh Osman Nuri Topbas' Sufi Centre. And although, unlike at Top Kapi palace, photography is permitted at the centre, the treasures there are equally elusive and difficult to capture. I didn't take photos at the Sufi centre, but it's riches are indelibly imprinted on my heart.


Sufism, or "tasawwuf", is known as the "mystical" discipline of Islam, intended to assist the believer toward Ihsan or "the internalisation of faith" as Sheikh Osman describes it. Sufic origins can be traced back to Hasan-al-Basri in the seventh century, though Sheikh Osman considers the prophet Mohammad's life, and all the prophet's lives, to have been sufic in in practice. While the term tasawwuf was not used among the prophet and his companions, nor was the word "fiqh". Fiqh was a discipline developed later as a methodology by which law could be extracted from the Islamic sources, now that the prophet was not available to legislate directly to the Muslims. Likewise, sufis maintain that tasawwuf is a discipline developed in order to develop the inner states that were formerly accessible through the direct presence of the prophet himself.

The Naqshbandi order, to which Sheikh Osman is affiliated, is one of the more conservative orders, preferring to chant the silent "thikr" (remembrance) than to chant aloud in group, to whirl or to dance. Naqshbandis claim to adhere the closest to orthodox Islam of all the orders, upholding Rumi's claim "I have one foot in the Shariah, and with the other I traverse the world". Sheikh Osman Nuri Topbas believes that the essence of Islam is "To love God and to serve the creation of God."

When I returned to the institute two days later and met with Sheikh Osman's second-in-charge, Abdullah Sert Hoca, I heard this principle expanded on. Our hearts should be for Allah, said Sheikh Abdullah, and our body for serving humanity. We should worship Allah as if we are the only one worshipping Him. And we should help humanity as if we are the only one helping.

Classically, tasawwuf has been very well-tolerated within Islam, more so in many cases than the mystical traditions of other faiths, although it has been grappled with over the centuries. It has been reformed both from within, most famously by the great Sheikh al-Gazzali, and from without, by the great Sheikh ibn Taymiyyah. But even ibn Taymiyyah never completely rejected sufism. He merely took exception to some of it's more unorthodox manifestations. Even he, one of sufism's harshest critics, considered sufic practices which fell within the scope of Qur'an and Sunnah, to be acceptable.

In recent times regarding sufism, however, it seems that the baby has been thrown out with the bath water, so to speak. This phenomena may originate from the "Wahhabiyyah" reform movement that took place as part of the establishment of modern Saudi Arabia. In "cleansing" the region of deviant religious practices, it seems that ibn Saud and his partner, Muhammad ibn Abdul Wahhab, whose religious ideology supported the new regime, may have gone to extremes. Upon the discovery of oil in the region, the Saudis were able to export their ideology, their books and their imams, far and wide.

To me this is a tragedy, as I perceive tasawwuf to be the heart, or very essence, of Islam. As Sheikh Osman asserts, Sufism is like the lactose in milk and if you take away the essence, you are only left with the shape. We must follow the law, he said, but we must fill in these shapes with spirituality. We do not throw away hadith science, for example, because of the existence of aberrant practices, such as fabrication. Similarly, we should not dispense with the Islamic science of the heart just because some have deviated and gone to extremes.

The reasons for, and the effects of, the absence of Sufism, or the path of the heart, in certain Islamic quarters are something fascinating to me and I strongly feel that this will be a focus for my future studies. It is interesting to note that there currently appears to be a revival of the spiritual in Islam even among Saudi sheikhs. Not only sufi groups but organisations such as Tablighi Jamaat are concerned with reviving individual development and spirituality among Muslims.


With Ataturk's 1925 enforcement of a radical secularization program in Turkey, sufism was banned, seen as a threat to secular Turkey. Dervish meetings, though outlawed, took place in secret. Whirling Dervishes are allowed to meet again now, but their practice must be performance-oriented, not for worship. Though not engaged in any practices such as whirling and loud thikr, the Naqshbandi order was also banned as part of Ataturk's 1925 secularization policy.

Obviously, with the pendulum having swung so far into the extremes of secularism, any Islamist contenders would have been forced to moderate in order to enter the Turkish political race. Indeed, staunch secularists remain concerned about the AK Party, the conservative liberal Islamist party that has been in power for ten years, and has enabled dramatic economic reform. One wonders whether it is also the presence of Sufism, widespread all though for many decades somewhat "underground" which has helped to facilitate moderacy and democracy in Turkey. A provincial AK Party member whom I met in Istanbul actually revealed to me that he was himself Naqshbandi.


Sheikh Osman Nuri Topbas' remarks regarding the maqasid al-Shariah and the Islamic state are reflected on along with Professor Kamali's thoughts on the topic at Appendix III.

Resources:

http://www.turkey-now.org/
http://www.philtar.ac.uk/


Part II
Practically Religious: Istanbul's Muftis and the Muslim Community of Istanbul

The ornate ante room at Suleymaniyeh Masjid in Istanbul, which once served as the Ottoman Sultan’s receiving room, now houses the office of Vice Mufti Sabri Demir. A diminutive man, clean shaven and dressed in shirt and trousers, he belied the stereotype of statuesque, hirsute and turbaned Islamic religious officials in flowing robes.

The role of Mufti was originally developed in the Ottoman period: the Sultan would consult him regarding religious matters. In Turkey today, every city has a mufti. Istanbul has a Grand Mufti. The government pays the muftis, but Vice Mufti Sabri Demir says that the muftis have religious freedom and are not controlled by the government. This is contrary to what we heard from journalist Kerim Balci, who informed us that there is a government organization called Diyanet which directly controls Turkish mosques, imams and even sermons. The mufti says that there was a time when the khutbas came directly from Ankara, but not anymore.

The office of mufti in Istanbul may not be a political one, but nonetheless serves a very practical role in the community. Due to the large number of minute matters of legislation is Islam, Muslims always have a lot of questions. Back in Australia I have noticed that, although local imams are usually accessible by telephone, there is sometimes a reluctance amongst Muslims to go to their imams with questions of fiqh, whether it is because there is a lack of confidence in the imams’ knowledge and qualifications, or whether it is simply more convenient to go to a “fast fatwa” style website.

The least of the problems I see with this approach is that the fatawa distributed on these sites are often culture-specific, and are in answer to a particular individual’s question and context. Secondly, the agenda and intentions behind the website may be unknown, the information unsound. Even worse, some inquiring Muslims, particularly new converts, may take their religious rulings from unqualified peers among them.

Surah an-Nahl instructs us thus: "O people, ask the people of knowledge if you do not know."

And from hadith, a stark prediction of our time:

Allah will not raise up knowledge by erasing it from the slaves (hearts), but He will raise up knowledge by bringing death to the scholars (when their appointed terms expire). When He has not left a scholar, people will then appoint ignorant leaders (or false scholars), and will ask them and they will give Fatwa (religious decrees) without knowledge, and will thus be misguided and also a source for misguidance.[Al-Bukhari, Ahmad & ibn Majah].

What impressed me about the services offered by the muftis here, was that they have a team available to answer religious questions and for counsel on various matters, both at the Suleymaniyeh centre and via a telephone service. There is even a female Vice Mufti available for the women. I think it is a great idea that religious advice can be accessed at a central, accessible source, administrated by local Muslim scholars of proper qualification.

Cold mosque, warm hearts

Upon waking at 3am from a twelve hour sleep, there was really no excuse not to go to Sultan Ahmet Mosque for fajr. So I headed out into the quiet streets. After making some pretty poor attempts at night photography, I headed into the masjid. Almost immediately a little black and white cat sprang into view. Spotting me, she wasted no time in approaching and curling herself around my legs, seeking warmth in the freezing cold.

I entered the inner courtyard and she bounded across in front of me, scaling the shelves outside the entrance to the prayer area, playing madly. She approached again as I sat to remove my boots, attracted by the rustling plastic bag I had produced from my coat pocket. I was so surprised when she jumped up on my lap and began enthusiastically snuggling in. We sat like that for awhile until I noticed others arriving and entering the mosque.

As I tried to shift the cat to stand up, she braced her little legs, not wanting to be moved. I let her sit a bit longer and asked the security guard about her. His English was not great but I managed to ascertain that the cat lived behind the Sultan Ahmet Mosque and is not a stray, but well fed and looked after. She certainly looked it- she was quite rotund and her coat was extremely clean and shiny, unlike many of the cats seen in the streets here.

As I finally ejected the cat and entered the mosque (the cat entered too by the way!) I noticed a woman making thikr at the back, not behind the screen though. I went and stood there too, and made a couple of cycles of prayer. After we had sat for awhile like that she stood up and began to speak to me in Turkish and to gesture. I recited my usual "Fazla Turkce bilyorum" (I don't speak much Turkish), then "Inglis". I guessed that she was saying, "It's cold here, let's move" so I nodded and followed her behind the screen were there were several more warm bodies.

The woman was very, very sweet. She looked a bit like my Mum-in-law actually. She carried a small prayer rug and made sure to share it with me.

The fajr prayer was beautiful: it was wonderful to hear the Imam recite, I felt filled with the Qur'an from head to toe.

The one and only reason I sat through 45 minutes of the Imam's lengthy post-fajr talk, in Turkish, was because I hoped to have a conversation with the kind woman afterwards. Finally, however, I was cold almost to shivering point and, regrettably, needed to move on. I wondered how long the Imam would actually talk for and how long the women would sit, praying, rocking gently, and murmuring quiet "amins" and thikr in the searing cold. I shared a warm farewell with the kind woman and left the mosque, affixing my almost permanent scarf/niqab across my face and hurrying back to the hotel and the physical comforts of air conditioning, coffee and fresh omelette.

To the mosque!

It is prayer time. I have showered, unpacked and rugged up. What will I find at Sultan Ahmet masjid? What will access be like? What will worship be like?

I am disappointed to find that everyone's gone out without me, thinking that I am asleep. I guess that is because I fiddled around for so long getting ready, got caught up watching world news...

I am reticent to head out alone, but the brother at reception reassures me and points out that you can easily orient yourself with the Blue Mosque.

So I head out tentatively, feel the caress of light, snowy air- it's not as cold now... I whirl around slowly in the cobbled street- every angle is a photograph, every view is a picture...

I make my way up the cobbled street towards towering minarets. I am waylaid first by the eye-catching shops, and then by their owners. I am ushered in and given tea. I am shown beautiful textiles under the glow of colourful lamps. There are three floors of things, multiple shops just like this.However will I choose what to buy? I fall in love with a red silk bed cover and a table cover in beautiful blue. I tell the assistant, his name "Qurban", that I will return with my friend who will help me to buy.

A few shocks greet me in the mosque courtyard. First, there are dogs. Alsatian dogs. Running around freely. I gulp and tread a wide path around them. I find, though, that because the freedom of street life is the norm for them, they are not particularly interested in passing humans. More charmingly, cats repose everywhere: outside carpet stores: on chess sets in shop windows: on icy courtyard benches. Australian cats by comparison seem cloistered, oppressed.

The next courtyard pest is very human and very interested in passers by. He is selling Istanbul guides. He is extremely skilled at his work and I want to bring him to Australia to work for my husband. (Ismail, wait until I explain the flawlessness of his technique, you will love it!) Needless to say I now own a guide and two books of postcards...

The athan begins, athans actually: competing calls from different sides of the city. I quickly set my camera to video in an attempt to capture it. Again, I am dervish-like, spinning, absorbing it all...

If I can claim to have got it right with packing for Istanbul, it is in the inspired wisdom of spending a couple of hundred bucks on my Salomon water-proof boots. I am loving them with thick merino socks. But I do not want to leave them on the shoe rack at the masjid! I bag them up and do so however, hesitantly...

I tumble into the centre of the vast salat room, a little ungraciously. Before I have even thought to look...up...an attendant strides towards me, pointing to the back and a small area behind screens, albeit beautiful ones. I head over, only mildly disappointed (I mean, I am in the Sultan Ahmet mosque!) and make my initial salat between women who pray swiftly in rustling winter abayas. It is only when sitting after my sunnah, waiting for the jamat to begin that I look...up...and gasp at the indescribable beauty of the ceiling.

I can hardly take it in. My prayer has not been mindful today and I understand that it reflects my scattered, post-flight condition. I hope this morning, after a marathon sleep, that I will be able to focus on my prayer, and further absorb and comprehend that ceiling and its staggering beauty.

(PS, learned a trick: can take my boots in plastic bag with me into the women's area ;))

From inscrutable Malaysia to incomprehensible Turkey ;)

Alhamdulillah, I could not have hoped for a better flight this time around. I slept stretched out across two-and-a-half seats: four hours and deep enough to dream. Along the other two-and-a-half seats was my friend Julia, who very cleverly slept the whole way. I watched bits and pieces of movies too: the new Footloose: the OLD Footloose...and I watched, transfixed, ALL of the recent Aussie film Red Dog. Anyone who hasn't seen that, should. I laughed aloud and cried aloud so I don't know what the other passengers must have been thinking...

Which brings me to one of the topics of my blog today. If I felt I wasn't quite sure what Malays were thinking some of the time (because they are so dang nice you can hardly believe it!), I had none of that problem arriving in Istanbul. It was quite obvious that the women at the visa counter did not like me. They did not like anyone. I know because I had to go back to the desk four times and dealt with both women there. Where a Malay women will immediately twinkle her eyes at you, and a Malay man will put his hand on his heart and dip in a short bow toward you, it is much harder to court the Istanbul personality. I don't get them and they don't get me either. Yet!

They think I am Turkish because of my scarf and my odd word of Turkish, sparse but confusingly well-delivered.I can see them trying to figure it out: she's not Turkish, but she is fair-skinned and wears a scarf and says masha Allah and insha Allah. What is she? I find myself having to spell out "I am Australian" and "I am Muslim" in more certain terms here. Finally they understand and are pleased. There is less English spoken but some speak extremely well. I am so psyched to get my Turkish going!

On the way in on the train it was freezing. Delightfully, it was also snowing. We were crammed into the carriage. There seemed to be an abundance of Turks, mostly men, going...somewhere. We assumed to work. They were all bundled up, like us, in coats and scarves, their skin pale olive mostly, and their expressions blank but with very alert eyes, without the Malay glaze of immediate warmth. But heck, these guys were heading to work in sub-zero temperatures, so I forgive you Istanbul!

I leaned back further and further into fellow group member Tiffany as the train continued to fill with Turkish men. I covered my face with my scarf to keep my nose from freezing off, but it was also a comfort psychologically under the unfamiliar gaze of all those sharp male eyes. There was one very kind gentleman who helped me with my bags as the carriage continued to fill unmercifully. He also helped me drag my cases across the tracks at Sultan Ahmet before disappearing into the snow.

Almost immediately my perceptions of the Istanbul personality were shattered as a couple outside the famed kofte place at Sultan Ahmet greeted us jovially and in excellent English, offering directions and smiles, and asking for nothing.

After a few days I learn that sometimes you just have to dig a little deeper in Turkey. It may also have been a matter of waiting to adjust culturally, because, quite frankly, arriving in Istanbul, fresh from a week in Malaysia, was like having blasted through a worm hole into a new dimension. In any case, what I have discovered is that the Turkish austerity can be deceiving, and tends to melt suddenly, like the snow into sunshine here, into enormous generosity. For example, a woman on the train who cut short her haughty glance as soon as I smiled, in the next moment was offering her seat to my companion, who was visibly tired and struggling on the packed train.



The staff at the Seraglio Hotel displayed a very dignified and industrious hospitality which was steeped in an unwavering culture of generosity, such as I have not seen in the service industry before. Honestly, I am convinced they would have lent me lira had I been short. Read my review of the wonderful Seraglio, among many other glowing ones here.

Higher Learning

The Malaysian personality is a little...inscrutable. You want to accept everything at face value, but if you are curious, like me, you do tend to wonder what's actually going on behind the veneer. There is no doubt that Malaysia's people are warm, genuine and hospitable. It's the face of the society that I really wonder about: especially the way the newspapers insist upon an image of Malaysia that upholds racial and cultural harmony, democracy and Islam simultaneously. The face of the opposition government is conspicuously absent, apart from one or two negative portrayals in opinion pieces.

Enquiring minds among us had plenty of opportunity to dig around under the surface over the last two days, as we met with a selection of the top political and academic minds in the country. On Wednesday we were privileged to meet with distinguished Malaysian ex-prime minister Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad, the retired patriarch often credited with bringing Malaysia into the twenty-first century.



Dr Mahathir does not see himself as a visionary. He speaks in very simple, unassuming terms. Rather than admitting to ever actually having a "vision" he prefers to say that "as you go along" it becomes clearer as to what needs to be done. He believes his bequest to Malaysia to has been not so much a vision, as a "contribution the development of a country."

Dr Mahathir likes to use simple Malaysian sayings to express himself. "If you lose your way go back to the beginning" is one that he shares with us. He has applied this principle to his views on Islam, and to his economic observations. He believes we should refer back to the Qur'an and the undisputed Sunnah for religious grounding, and that we should trade by the good, old-fashioned gold standard.

He speaks more about Islam than I had expected, and proficiently. He explains that our understanding of Islam should facilitate social harmony, and that there ought to be an emphasis on justice rather than process and punishment.

I find that Dr Mahathir's approach to Islam is more sophisticated than I had experienced from various speakers and sheikhs I had encountered when I first converted, usually on the internet, who often espoused an idealistic vision of "shariah" without ever explaining exactly what it was they meant. Until I began to study Muslim societies, I did not realize that men like Mahathir, and countries like Malaysia, have had to grapple with actually making a Muslim society work, with some semblance of democracy and concern for human rights, and so their approach to Islam is likely to be pragmatic and objective-oriented. But how is it that Malaysia has been able to retain Islam and approach democracy, when other Muslim societies have only been capable of producing authoritarian and somewhat medieval-style governments, such as Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan? This was a persistent question which we carried into each meeting with us and we wondered when it would be satisfactorily addressed...

After leaving Dr Mahathir's office, we drove to the International Islamic University of Malaysia (IIUM) for a program of lectures and discussion. First we heard from Professor Dr Abdelaziz Berghout, Deputy Rector and social scientist who specialises in Worldview Studies, particularly the development of Worldview Studies from an Islamic framework.

Upon Googling "Worldview Studies" one can clearly see the need to address and imbalance in the discipline: upon examining the first three pages of results, it became clear that the area is thoroughly dominated by Christian and Creationist thought. On the third page there was a website about Eastern Worldview, which only referred to Buddhist and Hindu thought. But why is Worldview Studies important for an Islamic Society and for society as a whole? This harks back to another of Dr Mahathir's simple wisdoms, "to know is to love": understanding other cultures facilitates social harmony. Prof Dr Berghout believes uniformity "degrades meaning" as per this Qur'anic verse:

Oh mankind! We created you from a single (pair) of a male and a female, and made you into nations and tribes, that you may know each other (not that you may despise each other).
(Surah Al Hujurat, verse 13) Prof Berghout sees the challenge posed by our differences being addressed by individuals and groups possessing a "globalised worldview" and therefore being well situated to understand each other and live together peacefully.

IIUM Rector, Professor Dato' Sri Dr Zaleha Kamaruddin finally joined us in time for question and answer. She was asked to comment on Islam and democracy in Malaysia: was it unique? Different? Why? Prof Kamaruddin did not make a profound or detailed statement on this, but used the Malaysian tea ritual as a metaphor to attempt to explain a culture of discussion and dialogue which she believed existed in Malaysia and aided its democratic efforts. Further elucidation on Islam and democracy by Dr Aldila Dato' Isahak failed to shed any more light on the Malaysian democratic experience for me, in fact I found it difficult to comprehend her argument. Maybe it was just me...

While we left IIUM feeling that we still had unanswered questions, we felt extremely grateful for the generous hospitality and attention to detail with which our delegation was hosted. It was seamlessly organized, warmly delivered and we were extremely well fed! Thanks IIUM.

Malaysia is relatively peaceful multi-cultural, multi-ethnic nation, as is our own Australia. But while our media seems to have enjoyed stirring the racial pot in the lead-up to Australia Day, the Malaysian media daily publishes exhortations towards racial harmony and unity. The New States Times, delivered to our door every morning, seems to have a definite government agenda, with a reassuring, somewhat paternalistic tone. It emphasises and re-emphasises the need for racial tolerance and harmony, and one wonders if it paints a more rosy picture than what actually exists on the ground.

Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad in our meeting on Wednesday seemed proud of the racial harmony of Malaysia, whilst also acknowledging that there have obviously been upheavals and sad days along the way. Several young people I have spoken to on the streets of KL so far report having friends from a variety of ethnic and religious groups.

Malaysia seems like a kind but careful, slightly old-fashioned parent. For a long time any discussion of racial issues was prohibited because it was felt that it caused more problems than it solved, a view upheld on Wednesday by Dr Mahathir Mohamad. To date there have been laws to prevent students here from engaging in political activism, not because, I believe, Malaysia is by nature an oppressive state, but because it was felt that such activity distracted students from their exploration of knowledge.

But a new shift in consciousness accompanies moves to amend those laws by the government because the perspective that they may actually stunt students' political growth has moved more to the forefront of Malaysian thinking.

Malaysia is by and large a peaceful and successful society that tends to err on the side of caution, but also demonstrates the courage to step up, courageously and always thoughtfully. Like any careful parent it understands that a certain amount of turmoil is required to facilitate growth, however much it can hurt.

Prof Dr Abdullah Ashan pointed out on Thursday afternoon at the Institute of Islamic Thought an Civilisation (ISTAC), that all the political parties in Malaysia are actually based on race, and he believes that a coalition government is better, towards the aims of plurality, transparency and accountability. Until recently I had not realized that Malaysian schools are also divided based on race, even though there are steps forward being made, such as the children's native languages beginning to be taught during school hours, instead of as an after school extra. Indian Malaysians whom I have since met in Australia tell me they have come to our country to study because of the limited access to university places for Chinese and Indian Malaysians.

Dr al-Ashan also brought us a step closer to understanding how democracy had been able to take root in Malaysia. Again he spoke in terms of the racial issue: because Malaysia was made up of three large ethnic groups, they had been forced to exercise a level of tolerance and to make compromises. For more on Dr al-Ashan's talk and his specialty, Huntington's "Clash of Civilisations" thesis, see Appendix II.

To me, the Malaysia meetings felt like climbing a mountain, and not just because the trip timetable was often arduous. It was because as we proceeded, it felt like the scholarship got more incisive and as we ascended through the ranks, ultimately to sit with Professor Dr Hashim Kamali, conclusions became more satisfying and the view became clearer and more comprehensive. See my summary of his remarks at Appendix III.

Post Script: Finally, Anwar, in Istanbul!

While newly acquitted Malaysian opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim was elusive in Malaysia, we were astounded to find that he was in Istanbul when we arrived, and lecturing at the Prime Minister's residence.

Anwar spoke astutely and authoritatively on democracy. On the question of the compatibility of Islam and democracy, he points to Muslim majority southeast Asian nation, Indonesian, which held free elections as early as 1955 and which he considers "more democratic than Florida".

Democracy, he asserts, is no stranger in the Muslim world.

Malaysia, however, he does not consider to be truly democratic, observing that there is "freedom of speech, but no freedom after speech". It is not surprising that Anwar is unconvinced of Malaysia's democratic status, considering what he has gone through at the hands of the corrupt system. Suffering an astonishing fall from grace after the 1997 Asian financial crisis, Anwar was fired from his position as Deputy Prime Minister, which he had held since 1993, staunchly allied to Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad. He was subsequently sentenced to six years in prison for corruption, and a further nine years on sodomy charges. The conviction was reversed in 2004 but in 2008 he was again arrested for alleged sodomy, the charge being overturned in 2012. During his time in custody he alleges he was mercilessly beaten and tortured.

During the Istanbul lecture he more than hinted at the true nature of his dramatic dismissal in 1998 and the events that followed. In fact, he revealed that it was his unwillingness to participate in corruption at the highest level that hastened his dismissal. Further, that it was his reluctance to be a party to the bailing out of Mahathir’s son that saw him so roundly dismissed and thoroughly degraded. It is hard to believe that the hospitable elderly man we met in Putrajaya was capable of orchestrating, or at the very least condoning the despicable treatment of Anwar Ibrahim that has lasted well over a decade.

Anwar spoke deftly on Maqasid al-Sharia, with an obvious practical knowledge of the subject and its application. On the topic of the Arab Spring and Turkey as a possible model for ensuing Arab democracy, he echoed journalist Kerim Belci, feeling that assistance could be given by Turkey but essentially, “let the Arabs decide.”

Day 2. I pray in a mosque: for the first time ever???

So, I never really elaborated on Day 2 and how KL began to claim a piece of my heart. As I said, the clouds cleared a little bit and with that came a new KL. We caught a train to the National Mosque and Museum. We also explored the Central Markets and China Town. As I was dressed casually in a cotton shirt and pants, I packed an abaya for the mosque at the same time realizing that the small backpack I chose to bring with me was not big enough for a day out while traveling. I made a mental note to try and purchase a bigger one at the markets.

Just as we approached the mosque, the batteries in my camera decided to run out. The mosque is beautiful. White, light and spacious with a beautiful luminous blue dome. Shoes are discarded at the bottom of the stairs before entering the mosque complex and purple hooded gowns and head scarves are offered to those who are not appropriately covered for entry. This is where I might begin to examine the site in terms of access, particularly for women.

We file through the beautiful courtyard area and gather at the entry to the salat area. As I arrive, a Muslim gentleman at the entrance to the grand salat room is already in impassioned conversation with a young woman in our group, concerning the status of women in Islam. (I say "grand" salat room, only because I cannot right now think of a better word, and do not yet have direct experience of any "grander" mosques as yet, but though large and ornate it is not overbearing in its grandiosity). Behind me, my Christian friend Julia is making dua with a circle of Muslim men seated on the floor. Why did my camera have to die now! Someone else from our group, thankfully, notes the moment and duly records it.

A huge space is spread out before me in which to pray, but as a Muslim woman I am accustomed to inquiring humbly, "Where do the women pray, please?" I ask the Muslim gentleman just this and he directs me to an area behind screens, right at the back, access to the spaciousness of the worship area stunted, confirming my broader experience with mosques. Still, I think, at least I am under the dome: I am here.

We went on to visit the Islamic Museum which contained exclusively Islamic artefacts, many of them from Turkey. I never saw evidence of a museum of traditional Malay folk history or anything like that. Perhaps such a thing exists, but my feeling is that artefacts pertaining to traditional Malay culture would not have been favoured during Islamisation due to their association with magic and the occult, forbidden in Islam. (After returning home I was to discover that KL does indeed have a National Museum containing artefacts from the cultural histories of all ethnic groups in Malaysia). I was impressed with the contemporary art movement in KL and the amount of space the newspapers devoted to it. I did not have time to visit the KL Art Gallery due to a heavy schedule of meetings and not really thinking of it until too late. But I believe the fact that there is a vibrant contemporary art movement in the society is indicative of a certain level of freedom which is able to allow and inspire self-expression.

Later, we return to the National Mosque for dhuhr prayer. As I again approach the entrance to the salat room I see a wondrous sight: at the halfway point of the main prayer area, in the very centre of that glorious space, behind the men who are clustered at the front, stands a row of praying Muslim women, all in white! With a sharp intake of breath I hesitate only for the briefest of moments before hastening to join them. Another woman with two little girls, also veiled for prayer, join us, followed by a woman all in black with niqab. As I make my salat inside a masjid “proper” for the first time in my life as a Muslim woman, I weep quietly… After salat-al-dhuhr, the men begin to disperse, and it is now that the women scatter like birds, retreating behind the screens at the back to perform their voluntary prayers in privacy.

Having come from Brisbane, where the women’s prayer area is always a little room, cut off, without, it seems, even the option to pray in the greater mosque area behind the men, as was done in the time of our Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, today’s salat was a peak experience for me. I come away wondering just what would happen if I entered one of the mosques back home and took up a space at the back to pray, behind the men? What could they do to me? What would they say? Is it time to demand for ourselves as Australian Muslim women the “dual option” as practiced here in Malaysia? By this I mean having the option to pray behind the men and fully enjoy the space of the masjid, or to enjoy the privacy of the screened area, as is also our right.