A new wave of trendy Islamic preachers has been targeting upper middle class young people -- with considerable success. Gihan Shahine investigates the phenomenon, and interviews Amr Khaled, the trendiest and, until recently, most successful of them all it was a summer evening like any other at Al-Shams Sports club in the upper middle-class neighbourhood of Heliopolis. A cool breeze carried the strains of a familiar voice; a voice with a reputation of winning the hearts of many of those who listen. Droves of people flocked to hear him. It was not the voice of a popular singer, it was Amr Khaled, the 34-year-old da'iya (Islamic preacher). Khaled was on one of his visits to deliver a speech at the club that day, and his audience was mixed, both in age and gender . "It would break your heart to know how much God loves you," Khaled lectured in a soft passionate voice. "No matter how sinful you are, God will forgive all if you repent. Isn't it time to give up your sins?" "Oh God," sobbed a woman, trying in vain to hide her tears from her young daughter. Many started to weep silently and others looked up to the sky, as if asking God's forgiveness; the mood was intensely pious. "I love Amr Khaled," a teen boy enthused as he dashed out with friends after the speech. His friends nodded in approval. "I've listened to many sheikhs, but there is no one like him. Amr makes you love religion, rather than fear it; he is so uncomplicated and moderate." Twenty-one year-old Amr Mahran said he had been "changed radically" since he met Khaled when he was 18 years old. Mahran described his life as having been "so shallow, filled only with dating and going to bad places". That was until he attended a lesson given by Khaled. "The lesson was about trust-worthiness," Mahran told Al-Ahram Weekly. "I was so moved, I went to meet Khaled after the lesson. He received me with the warmth of a big brother. He taught me an important lesson, that to be a good Muslim I have to be successful and productive in my life. I studied, graduated and now I work hard to give back the LE10,000 I once took from my parents." Mahran laughs adding: "My parents can't believe how their spoilt son has changed." Mahran is not alone in his adoration. News that the preacher will be speaking is enough to bring huge audiences to mosques, homes or sports clubs in Egypt and elsewhere in the Arab world. His tapes and CDs sell like hot cakes and his programmes on satellite channels keep many Muslims world-wide glued to their TV screens. To the surprise of many, a liberal Lebanese entertainment satellite channel has recently started airing one of Khaled's popular programmes -- regarded by many as an indication of Khaled's super celebrity status. Khaled represents a new trend of da'wa (preaching) that has been on the rise, a group which includes other important preachers such as Khaled El-Guindi, the Yemeni El-Habib Ali, Mohamed Hassan, and many others who are less well known. Most of these new preachers have that comforting familiarity of one's next door neighbour. They hold non-Azhar university degrees, hail from the middle and upper middle classes, lecture in simple colloquial Arabic, and dress in western clothes. More importantly, perhaps, these preachers are independent and are not affiliated to any religious group, political party or official body. Their preaching technique focuses on divine love, as opposed to the more conventional attitude of reward versus fear of punishment. In choosing this perspective, this new generation of preachers has largely broken the mould of the turbaned, Azharite Sheikh. "This trend is a manifestation of post-Islamist piety following the decline of political Islam," said Asef Bayat, an Iranian professor of sociology at the American University in Cairo (AUC). Bayat has studied this new trend in an academic piece entitled Piety, privilege and Egyptian youths. "It is an active piety that is low in politics and high in ritual." The Egyptian population, Bayat explained, has always been largely pious compared with other Islamic communities. To be actively pious, however, is "to practice religion and also want others to practice it." Bayat went on to explain that this does not mean that the new preachers are forcing people to practice religion. "This new active religion is more of an individual thing. As opposed to political Islam, it does not bother other people," he added. Contrary to the Islamists, Bayat argues that those who are "actively pious" do not necessarily want to establish a religious policy, but rather are concerned with individual religious and ethical enhancement. They focus on a moralised form of preaching that, for instance, centres on marriage and family bonds. New preachers also address a congregation different from the grieved lower classes from which Islamist militants emerged. Their audience is mainly drawn from among the well-to-do. But their popularity has engendered opposition. Al-Habib Ali was deported from Egypt last summer for no apparent reason, the main charge against him being that he concentrated on preaching to upper-class businessmen, and convincing well-known actresses and singers to take the veil. Only a few days before the beginning of the fasting month of Ramadan this year, Khaled was suddenly asked to give up da'wa altogether, including appearance on satellite channels, until further notice. Soon after the news broke that he travelled to England where he will continue to preach while studying for a PhD at a UK university. The reasons behind Khaled's ban and sudden disappearance remain largely unclear. Khaled told forislam.com, the Web site for which he writes, that "certain authorities" first imposed restrictions on a Ramadan programme broadcast live on the Iqr'a satellite channel. This programme featured public participation, and Khaled was requested to restrict public contribution in the programme to "certain personalities which would be invited by name". Then he was asked to give up all da'wa activities on the grounds that he had "tackled issues that had recently caused problems". During a brief long-distance telephone conversation, Khaled told the Weekly that he would go on with his "mission", working via satellite channels. Even before the latest ban, Da'wa had not been smooth sailing for Khaled. His regular classes were banned several times, first in the Shooting Club in Mohandessin, then in Al-Hossari and Al- Maghfira mosques in the same district. Khaled was told, at the time, that massive congregations caused havoc with traffic in the area. He then moved to another mosque in the 6th of October satellite city. Again his sermons drew thousands of young attendees who were unfazed by the 30-kilometre drive from Cairo. And again, he was banned several times, the last time being June of this year. But whatever the reasons for the latest, overall ban, prominent columnist and expert on Islamic affairs, Fahmi Howeidy, insists that "banning Khaled was a big mistake". Khaled's sermons, Howeidy pointed out, never attempted fatwa (legal opinion), or dealt in politics or anything that would pose a threat to national security. According to Howeidy "he was only spreading sound values among people. Now his absence is likely to leave a dangerously large vacuum which could be filled by religious misconceptions or corruption and drugs. It is the young people who are at stake here." Howeidy contends that Khaled represents a moderate line which is "reconciled to God, people and the state order". Hussein Ahmed Amin, a veteran diplomat and the author of many works on Islam and Islamism, finds little to celebrate in the 'new preacher' phenomenon. "Khaled has become a public icon, massing thousands of youths around him; it is to be wondered where he, and his likes, would drive those masses in the future." Young people today, argues Amin, are mostly superficial, seeking ready-made ideas, falling readily under the spell of whoever comes into their lives, "be it a preacher or a pop singer". But Howeidy points to the growth of religious sentiment in society and argues that "Khaled has simply placed this sentiment in the public spotlight, which is the safest place for it to be, since everything is said in public." Few would deny, however, that the new wave of "trendy" preachers, such as Khaled, has offered an alternative both to official, orthodox da'wa (as represented by Al-Azhar and the Ministry of Al- Awqaf), or that of political Islam -- as represented by the Muslim Brotherhood or other, more militant, Islamist groups. "The clampdown on the Muslim Brotherhood and the 'nationalisation' of Islamic institutions had laid a siege on da'wa activities, creating a large vacuum in society," Howeidy explained, adding that religious education in schools and national TV programmes "were too weak to satisfy a growing public demand for religious education". Amin also stressed the people's "loss of confidence in official religious discourse [and their] opting for religious satisfaction away from the state hegemony." The establishment of the da'wa institutes, which offer a post- graduate diploma to non-Azhar graduates, has further encouraged the development of this trend. The institutes, now named Cultural Centres, were established by the Ministry of Al-Awqaf (Religious Endowment) in 1989, mainly to combat terrorism and extremist thought by providing people with non-militant religious education. Graduates are also granted a permit to work in da'wa activities, i.e. preaching. "New preachers present a genre that is quite different from the austere, authoritarian and less-compassionate orthodox discourse," Bayat maintained. "They have style, both in the manner of relating to their audience and the selection of topics they cover." The new trend may, indeed, be viewed as a concession by religious discourse to modernity, as Amin suggests. Technology -- computers, the Internet, global media, and cable TV -- has also been instrumental in communicating the new preachers' message. "It is thanks to modernity that this trend has broken through to an audience such as [the largely upper class students] attending the American University in Cairo." For Bayat, however, reaching out to members of the upper classes was a conscious decision on the part of new preachers. "They are addressing classes that were not previously tapped, namely the influential elite who are managers, professors and the businessmen," he said. This, according to Bayat, applies to Khaled. "It is not only due the fact that Khaled preaches in places like [the upper middle class district of] Mohandessin," Bayat noted, "but his choice of language, the issues he raises, appeal to young affluent people. When, for instance, he talks of going to Marina summer resort or a fashionable restaurant in Zamalek, then he must be directing his speech at a certain class." But Wahid Abdel-Meguid, deputy director of the Al-Ahram Centre for Political and Strategic Studies, regards the massive popularity of the new preachers as a manifestation of political and cultural vacuum. "Religious conviction is not a problem in itself, but too much of it is. It distracts people from attending to real-life issues." Bayat concurs that "The new trend shows a crisis of thought in this country." Bayat explained that a lot of people are attracted to the new preachers because they provide "easy access to knowledge which spares them the hardship of critical inquiry". Furthermore, orthodox preachers oppose the entry of what they dub "non-specialists" in the field of da'wa. "Preaching is a profession like any other; only those specialising in da'wa should engage in it as a profession," Al-Awqaf's Mohamed Zidan told the Weekly. He conceded, however, that he "never heard Khaled giving 'incorrect information'". But both Howeidy and Amin argue that a preacher does not have to be a specialist in terms of orthodox education, but should be well-read and possess the talent and communication skills of an orator. "Imam Abu-Hanifa, the founder of one of the four religious schools in Islam, was a silk-merchant," Amin reasoned. "For the state to fight corruption and terrorism, it should either encourage the new preachers, or take its hands off religious institutions, altogether" Howeidy said.
