'Muslim Holidays' Affair: Religious Competition and ...

Journal of Southern African Studies, Volume 26, Number 3, September 2000

The 1996 ‘Muslim Holidays’ Affair: Religious Competition and State Mediation in Contemporary Mozambique* Eric Morier-Genoud (State University of New York at Binghamton)

Political commentators often cast religious con ict as the result of the numerical growth and political rise of a single faith. When Islam is involved, arguments about religious fundamentalism are quick to surface and often stand as an explanation in their own right. Yet, as useful as this type of explanation may be, it usually fails to address properly, if at all, two sets of important issues. It avoids, rst, the question of the rise of other religions and their contribution to tensions and con icts. Second, it reduces the role of the State to a reactive one. The State becomes an object of contest or conquest, or it is simply ignored. Adopting a different approach, this article investigates a controversy that took place in Mozambique in 1996 around the ‘of cialisation’ of two Islamic holidays. It looks at the role played by religious competition and state mediation. The article shows that the State’s abandonment of religious regulation – the establishment of a free ‘religious market’ – fostered religious competition that created tensions between faiths. It suggests that strife ensued because deregulation was almost absolute: the State did not take a clear stand in religious matters and faith organisations started to believe that the State was becoming, or could become, confessional. The conclusion discusses theoretical implications for the understanding of religious strife as well as Church and State relations. It also draws some implications for the case of Mozambique more speci cally, implications which should have relevance for countries such as Malawi, Zambia and Zimbabwe where problems of a similar nature have arisen.

Introduction In early 1996, a erce controversy broke out in Mozambique over the proposal for a law that would turn two Muslim festive dates into public holidays – Ide-Ul-Fitre (the end of Ramadan) and Ide-Ul-Adha (the festival of sacri ce and return from Mecca). The law had been drafted by a group of Muslim Parliamentarians in 1995 and it had now come before the Assembly. If passed, the law would create not only two Islamic of cial holidays, but also the rst religious public holidays in Mozambique since independence. For opponents of the proposal, this meant the law would undermine the secular nature of the State. It might initiate a process of Islamisation of the State and, in turn, lead to a religious war in Mozambique. For proponents of the legislation, the law was merely an attempt to redress the injustice and marginalisation that Muslims had suffered before as well as after * An early version of this paper was presented at the 1998 Annual Meeting of the African Studies Association, Chicago, Illinois. Some rst thoughts were written at the time of the affair with Professor Yussuf Adam in a special edition of the electronic newspaper Notmoc (Maputo), 75 (31 March 1996). Martin Murray, Didier Pećlard, Anne Pitcher and anonymous readers provided useful comments on earlier drafts of this article. Jocelyn Alexander kindly edited my English. ISSN 0305-7070 print; 1465-3893 online/00/030409-19 Ó

2000 Journal of Southern African Studies


independence. The legislation was thus intended to re-establish equality between faiths and thereby contribute to peace in the country. The controversy was very heated, and the vote of a majority of deputies in favour of the law in March 1996 did not improve the situation. The controversy continued unabated while pressures shifted from the Assembly to the President of the Republic and the Supreme Court who now had the power to validate or veto the law. After almost a year, the Supreme Court declared the Ides law unconstitutional. After yet another year, deputies nally shelved the legislation that the President had sent back to Parliament for reformulation or cancellation. Most if not all commentators have analysed what came to be known as the Ides affair as having to do solely with Islam. Arguments took different forms, but all agreed that the controversy had to do with the rise of this faith. The international and specialised press was most explicit in making this argument. It presented Mozambique as a country where Muslim organisations had gained so many converts that Islam had either started to ‘ ex its political muscles’ or become a resource over which political parties were ghting.1 As we shall see, this line of reasoning is not false: Islam has been ‘rising’ to some extent, Muslims have become increasingly involved politically over the last decade and political parties have been courting this faith more than ever in recent years. But this line of reasoning is insuf cient insofar as it does not address properly, if at all, some crucial questions and issues. First, it does not analyse the development and politicisation of other religions, their competition with Islam and their role in the Ides affair. Secondly, it does not look at the role the State played in the rise and politicisation of Islam, in the development of religious competition and in the making and unfolding of the controversy. To be precise, it is not that commentators ignored the State or other religions entirely – it is rather that they presented them as passive or reactive forces. The State was usually described as an object of contest or conquest; non-Islamic faiths were presented as merely responding to a situation created by Islam. Much of the literature concerned with religious tensions and con icts, where Islam is involved, faces the same problems. First, some authors simply ignore the role of other religions in building tensions and con icts. The typical example here is Samuel Huntington who, in his Clash of Civilizations, presents Islam as the only active religious force worldwide and the only potential (or actual) source of con ict.2 When Huntington considers to what Islam may be reacting, he does not mention any other religion (not even those sectors of Christianity that target Islam for their evangelisation and ‘spiritual warfare’ programmes),3 but focuses on western civilisation and modernity.4 Second, other authors may take into consideration the multiplicity of religions, but they still underplay their interaction and the role religious competition and state policies have in creating or preventing religious strife. The literature on ‘fundamentalism’ is a case in point: it hardly 1 See the Mail and Guardian (Johannesburg), 5–11 July 1996, p. 16; Africa Con dential (London), 37, 15 (19 July 1996), pp. 6–7; Catholic World News (Rome), 30 April 1996; Marche´s Tropicaux (Paris), 14 June 1996, pp. 1222–1223. 2 S. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order (Touchstone, New York, 1996). For a critique, see S. Chan, ‘Too Neat and Under-thought a World Order: Huntington and Civilisations’, Millennium, 26, 1 (1997), pp. 137–140, and S. Brower, P. Gifford and S. Rose, Exporting the American Gospel: Global Christian Fundamentalism (London, Routledge, 1996), p. 9. 3 On Protestant aggressiveness, see Brower et al., Exporting the American Gospel, and, for Southern Africa more speci cally, P. Gifford, The New Crusaders. Christianity and the New Right in Southern Africa (London, Pluto Press, 1988). On the renewed militancy of the Catholic Church, see A. Riccardi, ‘Le primat de l’e´vange´lisation’, in G. Kepel (ed), Les Politiques de Dieu (Paris, Seuil, 1993), pp. 99–117. 4 This defect is found in much if not most of the literature on Islam and more particularly on Islamic fundamentalism. See for example, J.S. Trimingham, The In uence of Islam upon Africa, 2nd edn (Longman, London, 1980), ch 6; J.L. Esposito, The Islamic Threat. Myth or Reality? (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1992); and L. Davidson, Islamic Fundamentalism (Westport, Greenwood Press, 1998).

The 1996 ‘Muslim Holidays’ Affair 411

ever considers the interaction between different religious ‘resurgences’ and it rarely considers the role the State plays in fostering or preventing these ‘rises’.5 Finally, there is a small but fast-growing literature that deals speci cally with religious competition and state mediation. But it does not even consider the possibility of religious tensions and con ict. Following an economistic and neo-liberal theoretical model, it only looks at how state ‘deregulation’ fosters competition between faith organisations and, in turn, increases religious freedom, pluralism and the quality of church ‘products’.6 This article aims at contributing, at a general level, to the debate on religious tensions and con icts, particularly those where Islam is involved. Speci cally, it hopes to add to our understanding of the Ides affair in Mozambique. Contrary to theories about the ‘rise of Islam’ and politico-religious conspiracies, the article will test the hypothesis that con icts around faiths have to do primarily with competition between faiths and the State’s mediation of religion – what I have called the ‘religious regime’. It will be suggested that the de-regulation of religious competition (the establishment of a ‘free religious market’) and a laissez-faire state role can, and in this case did, lead to tensions and con ict around faith. The article proceeds in three steps: rst, it details the affair and its most common explanations. Second, it analyses the history of religious competition in Mozambique and the history of state mediation up to 1996. Finally, the conclusion draws out methodological and practical points about Church and State relations, religious strife, and the case of Mozambique more speci cally.

The ‘Muslim Holiday’ Affair The Controversy and its Actors The controversy in Mozambique around the law to make an of cial holiday of the Ide-Ul-Fitre and Ide-Ul-Adha erupted almost by surprise. The legislation had been drafted in 1995 by a group of Muslim deputies from all political parties and it had seen no opposition, public or otherwise, at that time. Yet when it reached the discussion stage in the Assembly of the Republic in early 1996, debates became heated. The law was to create the rst of cial religious holidays in Mozambique since independence in 1975 and both were to be Islamic. For opponents of the project (Christian Churches, opposition parties and the independent press), this meant the law would undermine the secular nature of the State as it would favour one religion over others. Some opponents argued further that, considering the number of faiths in the country, the law would undermine national unity and thus possibly ‘destabilise’ the country. In a more religious and conspiratorial vein, some actors claimed that this legislation could be a rst step towards the Islamisation of the State and that it could therefore bring a religious war. In contrast, proponents of the project (Frelimo, 5 Among others, see G. Kepel, The Revenge of God. The Resurgence of Islam, Christianity and Judaism in the Modern World (University Park, Pennsylvania State University Press, 1994); R. Antoun and M. Hegland (eds), Religious Resurgence. Contemporary Cases in Islam, Christianity, and Judaism (Syracuse, Syracuse University Press, 1987); and N. R. Keddie, ‘The New Religious Politics: Where, When and Why do ‘Fundamentalisms’ Appear?’, Comparative Studies in Society and History, 40, 4 (October 1998), pp. 696–723. 6 L. Iannaccone, ‘Religious Markets and the Economics of Religion’, Social Compass, 39, 1 (1992), pp. 123–131; M. Chaves, P. Schraeder and M. Sprindys, ‘State Regulation of Religion and Muslim Vitality in the Industrialized West’, Journal of Politics, 56, 4 (November 1994), pp. 1087–1097; M. Zeghal ‘E´tat et marche´ des biens religieux. Les voies e´gyptienne et tunisienne’, Critique Internationale, 5 (1999), pp. 75–95. For a critique of this approach, see R. Robertson, ‘The Economization of religion? Re ections on the Promise and Limitations of the Economic Approach’, Social Compass, 39, 1 (1992), pp. 147–157. It should be said here that this literature draws from insights made by Peter Berger more than twenty years ago in The Sacred Canopy. Elements of a Sociological Theory of Religion (New York, Doubleday Anchor Book, 1969). Although a Marxist, Berger did not mention or consider religious tensions and con ict either.


the party in power, and Muslims) argued that the legislation was about compensating a religious community that had been discriminated against in both colonial and post-colonial times. They pointed out that the Catholic Church had been favoured under Portuguese rule and they recalled that Christmas had been declared an of cial holiday in 1982 under the secular label of ‘Family day’.7 The law would thus merely re-establish equality between faiths. As for secularism, proponents declared themselves in favour of a more exible and pluralist model whereby all religions had their own of cial religious holiday. To be consistent, they proposed drafting a new project to make a public holiday of Holy Friday.8 In spite of the extensive protest, a majority of deputies voted in favour of the law in March 1996. Contrary to what one might have expected, this did not put an end to the controversy. Rather, it shifted activism and protest from the Assembly to the President of the Republic – he now had the power to either sign or veto the law. But to avoid taking a decision (or to gain time), Joaquim Chissano decided to send the law to the Supreme Court for a consideration of its constitutionality. The Court took six months to give its verdict, six months during which the controversy continued. Finally, in December 1996, the judges announced that the Ides law was unconstitutional. In their view, it went against two principles in the constitution, namely the secular nature of the State and the equality of all citizens.9 Surprisingly, this verdict did not end the controversy either. The law still had to be annulled. The President of the Republic chose not to do so himself but to return the legislation to Parliament. The Assembly had either to annul the law or to reformulate it and vote again with the necessity this time of obtaining a two-thirds majority to pass the law. After almost two years, Parliament nally returned to the legislation in late 1998. In a new twist, a majority of Parliamentarians decided not to discuss the issue. They chose instead to postpone sine die both the debate and the vote. The justi cation given was that deputies would thus be able to consider the law at a later (unde ned) stage as part of a larger discussion on all public holidays in Mozambique.10 The motivation for such a decision is unclear. It may have been a way for Parliament to cancel the law without losing face. It may have been a way for deputies to shelve the law for some time in the hope of passing it later, after spirits had cooled off. Either way, the fact of the matter is that the decision put an end to the controversy – at least in the short term. Not surprisingly, Churches and other religious institutions were at the fore of the Ides controversy. They had no direct say in Parliament, but they made their voice heard quite effectively nevertheless. They pressured parliamentarians, sent letters of support or protest to the Assembly and they wrote to, and met with, the President of the Republic. The Catholic Church took the most militant stance. Almost all bishops made declarations to the press and, after the legislation was passed, the Episcopal Conference and various parishes in the south of the country sent letters of protest to the Assembly.11 The Nunciature and the San Egidio Community sent notes of protest to the Department of Foreign Affairs. 12 The Catholic Church argued that the law went against the secular nature of the State because it was a compromise with fundamentalist Islam, and that the law and the whole affair could ignite a religious con ict in Mozambique.13 The Protestant Christian Council (CCM) put 7 On the history of this public holiday, see mediaFAX (Maputo), 971 (15 March 1996), pp. 3–4 and mediaFAX, 978 (26 March 1996), p. 1. 8 The Holy Friday law project was to be discussed in the followingparliamentary session, but never was. See Noticias (Maputo), 5 March 1996 and 21 May 1996. 9 See the judges’ decision and argumentation in mediaFAX, 1172 (30 December 1996), pp. 5–6. 10 See mediaFAX, 1659 (9 December 1998), and Metical (Maputo), 369 (9 December 1998). 11 Copies of the letters in possession of the author. The Episcopal Conference’s letter is reproduced in Rumo Novo (Beira), 16 (August 1996), while various Catholic declarations can be found in Noticias, 6 and 7 March 1996. 12 Imparcial (Maputo), 10 April 1996. 13 Among others, see Cardinal dos Santos’ declarations to Noticias, 6 March 1996, p. 56, and the editorial of Vida Nova (Nampula), 4 (April 1996), p. 2.


forward roughly the same arguments, though less aggressively. Although CCM and the Catholic Church together sent a letter of protest to the government, Protestants used a more moderate tone and even seemed ready to compromise. Indeed, while the Catholic institution stood against all religious public holidays, CCM declared before and after the vote that it was ready to accept the law if Protestants were given an equal privilege.14 For their part, Muslims overwhelmingly favoured the law. All major organisations made declarations in favour of the legislation and no less than 15 brotherhoods and communities in the north of the country sent letters and faxes of congratulation to Parliament after the law was passed.15 As the controversy unfolded, some ssures appeared in the Muslim community regarding the lack of consultation and political manipulation. Still, hardly anyone dared oppose the law.16 As for the smaller or less prominent religious institutions, such as the Hindu or Zionist Churches, they either refused to take a stand, remained silent, or modestly demanded equal treatment of all faiths.17 Although the Ides law project was launched by a group of parliamentarians from all political parties present in Parliament, Frelimo, Renamo and the Uniaõ Democra´tica ended up adopting different positions. The tiny Uniaõ Democra´tica stood of cially, and eventually voted unanimously, against the proposal. Following closely the Catholic argument (two of its three leaders are former Catholic seminarians),18 it declared that the country was secular and that the nation should be concerned with the issue of work and development rather than religious holidays.19 Renamo, the main opposition party, held a similar view – at least of cially. In fact, its parliamentarians were divided. Renamo had been saying for many years that it stood for religious liberty for all, yet the law demanded that the party choose between the Ides law which was supported by Muslims and strict secularism which Christians favoured. In the end, Renamo chose of cially to oppose the law but it did not demand a disciplined vote in Parliament. As a result, its deputies of Christian origin voted against the proposal while those of Muslim origin abstained. Frelimo, the party in power, not only stood clearly and of cially in favour of the law, but it also managed to silence any internal dissent. It had a small majority in parliament, and this permitted it to pass the legislation in 1996, and to postpone the nal decision on the law in 1998.

Interpretations of the Controversy and its Origins As noted above, most if not all explanations of the Ides affair held that Islam was at the root of the controversy. Proponents of this position argued that this faith had grown enormously in Mozambique over recent years. Reliable gures to back such a view did not exist at the time of the affair. Some state projections were made public just before the vote in Parliament, but they were hotly contested and soon shown to be unreliable. Besides, they indicated a rise of Islam similar to, if not lower than, that of other monotheist religions.20 14 See CCM secretary-general’s declarations to Savana (Maputo), 8 March 1996, pp. 2–3, and to mediaFAX, 968 (12 March 1996), p. 1. 15 Copies in possession of the author. 16 Two Muslim voices opposed the law. One came from the Association Anjuman Annuaril Islamo. There is good reason to believe that its position had more to do with politics within the Muslim community than with opposition to the law per se. The other voice came from PIMO, a political party that claims to represent Muslims (see below) and which argued that the law was not enough. For Annuaril, see A Voz do Annuaril (Maputo), 12, 29 March 1996; for PIMO, see Savana, 8 March 1996, pp. 14–15. 17 Some Hindu and Zionist statements can be found in mediaFAX, 970 (14 March 1996), p. 3; mediaFAX, 976 (22 March 1996), p. 1; and Savana, 8 March 1996, p. 3. 18 Jose´ Chicuara Massinga (deputy for the Uniaõ Democra´tica and president of the PANADE party), interview, Maputo, 10 November 1994. 19 See for example the declarations made in Noticias, 5 March 1996. 20 In 1991, the National Directorate of Statistics estimated that 24.1% of the population was Muslim, 21.5% Catholic and 19.7% Protestant. For a critique of these estimates, see Africa Con dential, 37, 15 (19 July 1996), p. 7.


Similarly, the religious gures from the 1997 population census (released after the affair and no less problematic)21 indicated an increase of Islam hardly bigger than that of other monotheist religions (see Table 1). Nonetheless, explanations of the Ides affair assumed that Islam had grown exceptionally in Mozambique, and two lines of reasoning were developed from this ‘factual’ basis. The rst held that the increase in Muslims had made this faith a resource for which political parties would compete – the controversy was thus a struggle over Islam as a constituency. The second line held that the rise of this faith permitted Muslim organisations to launch a political offensive to gain advantages for themselves – the controversy was thus a struggle of Islam, for political power. These two lines of explanation are not exclusive: many analysts saw both dimensions at work at the same time. But for reasons of clarity, we shall treat them separately below. Table 1. Approximate percentage of population by religion, 1975 and 1997 Religion

1975

1997

Muslims Catholics Protestants Animists & others

13% 20% 5% 62%

17.8% 23.8% 7.8% 50.6%

Source: Compiled from Na Entrega do Testemunho 1975 (Acçaõ Missiona´ria Portuguesa em Moçambique, 1992); ‘IV Recenseamento Geral da Populaçaõ – 1970’, in Moçambique: Panorama Demogra´ co e Soćio-econo´mico (Instituto Nacional de Estat´õ sticas, Maputo, 1995); II Recenseamento Geral da Populaçaõ e Habitaçaõ – 1997 (Instituto Nacional de Estatõ´sticas, Maputo, 1999).

Before we do so, we need to make a short excursus into history. All the explanations we will review share a built-in historical knowledge and this needs to be made explicit. The rst assumption is that Frelimo has had a problematic relationship with Islam. The origins of this dif cult link have to do with the constitution of Frelimo as a liberation movement and with the party’s rule after Independence. We cannot go into the details of this history here, but we can say rst that Frelimo was built up as a Christian and animist movement. There was an early connection in the 1960s between the movement and some Muslim leaders in northern Mozambique where most Muslims can be found. However, the colonial state arrested all ‘subversive’ leaders between 1964 and 1966, and it managed subsequently to co-opt most of the other Muslim leaders.22 Frelimo seems to have been unwilling or unable to counter the Portuguese strategy, and incapable of recruiting effectively

21 Some of the census results are simply not credible. For example, animism would have almost disappeared, dropping from 50 per cent in 1975 to 2.1 per cent today. Similarly, people without religion would now reach 23.1 per cent. The methodology used seems at best disputable. The question used was vague (‘what is your religion or belief?’) and it was addressed to anyone down to ve-year-old children! 22 E. Alpers, ‘Islam in the Service of Colonialism? Portuguese Strategy During the Armed Liberation Struggle in Mozambique’, Lusotopie 1999 (Paris, Karthala, 1999), pp. 165–184; M. Cahen, ‘Le colonialisme tardif et la diversi cation religieuse au Mozambique (1959–1974)’, Lusotopie 1998 (Paris, Karthala, 1998), pp. 377–395; Fernando A. Monteiro, O Islaõ, o Poder e a Guerra (Moçambique 1964–1974) (Porto, Universidade Portucalense, 1993).


and signi cantly among Muslim followers.23 After independence, Frelimo’s relations with Islam did not improve. The new holder of state power implemented a policy hostile to all religious organisations after 1975 – even engaging in a ‘secular Holy war’ to eradicate religion from 1978 to 1981.24 Even after it gave up its attacks on religion, Frelimo kept strict control of religious practice and teaching and this was not well received by Muslims. Finally, when Frelimo tried to branch out to Islam in the mid-1980s (to counter internal war and international criticism), it made the mistake of using its leaders of Muslim origin who were distrusted by the majority and who thus created more problems than they solved.25 The second historical element built into explanations for the Ides affair is that Islam was marginalised and has remained so until fairly recently. Some authors and politicians argue that Frelimo was responsible for this marginalisation. The truth is that Islam was marginalised in colonial times, when the Portuguese government opposed this faith in alliance with the Catholic Church.26 It has to be said, however, that Frelimo did not challenge this marginalisation after independence. This led to serious dissatisfaction among Muslims and explains a third historical element, namely the support Renamo gained from a large section of this community. Indeed, when the guerrilla movement started to expand in the early 1980s, it was quick to tap into the resentment of this group of people and it soon gained support from Muslims inside as well as outside Mozambique. Information on Renamo’s links to Islam is sketchy, but we do know that the movement sent representatives to Arab monarchies in 1978 and in the mid-1980s and we do know that some of the arms the movement received subsequently came from, and through, Islamic countries.27 Internally, the information available does not indicate that Renamo had a speci cally pro-Islamic policy. But the guerrilla movement did have a systematic pro-religious stand and this seems to have been enough to build up a large following among Muslims.28 The rst multi-party elections in 1994 showed this most clearly: Renamo won an overwhelming majority in Islamic areas, particularly on the coast of Nampula province where the seats of most Islamic brotherhoods are located. 23 Edward Alpers and Fernando Monteiro emphasise ideological commitments (socialism and unity) and various mistakes as an explanation for Frelimo’s failure to counter the Portuguese strategy and to gain Muslim support. My impression is that ethnic and religious divisions (the two often overlapped) also played an important role. Frelimo’s followers were overwhelmingly animists and Christians, from Maconde, Nyanja or Chewa ethnic background,whereas Mozambique’s Muslim populationis predominantly Macua and Yao. Moreover, if Frelimo’s leaders were more diverse ethnically, they were almost all of Christian origin, and the few Muslims present were from the south of the country and from religious schools (Ana sm, Ismailiism and Wahhabism) disconnected from the Islamic majority. See Alpers, ‘Islam in the Service of Colonialism’, p. 178; Monteiro, O Islaõ, o Poder e a Guerra, pp. 249, 297–298, 302, and A. Isaacman, Mozambique. From Colonialism to Revolution, 1900–1982 (Boulder, Westview Press, 1983), p. 102. 24 I borrow the expression from F. Constantin and C. Coulon, ‘Minorite´s musulmanes et pouvoir politiqueen Afrique orientale’, Annuaire des Pays de l’Oceán Indien, 6 (1979), p. 32. For details of this period, see E. Morier-Genoud, ‘Of God and Caesar. The Relation between Christian Churches and the State in Post-Colonial Mozambique, 1974–1981’, Le Fait Missionnaire, 3 (September 1996), ch 4. 25 In a report to the Minister of Justice at the end of 1984, the director of the Department of Religious Affairs highlightedthis problem and went as far as saying that as long as these Frelimo elements continued in the leadership of Muslim organisations, Frelimo would not succeed in co-opting Islam. By 1989, the same director reported only limited success. Ministry of Justice (MJ), Department of Religious Affairs (DAR): 61/DAR/MJ/84, Director of DAR to Minister of Justice, 5 November 1984; MJ/DAR: 4/DAR/MJ/89, ‘Situaçaõ no seio da Comunidade Muçulmana’, 24 April 1989. On Frelimo’s Muslim leaders, see footnote 23. 26 Alpers, ‘Islam in the Service of Colonialism?’. 27 Renamo’s envoy to Arab countries in 1978 and the movement’s head of religious affairs thereafter was Issufo Momade, a Muslim. Jose´ Augusto (director of Renamo’s department of foreign affairs, Europe and USA), interview, Maputo, 13 May 1994; T. Muianga, ‘Respondendo a` Albino Magaia’, Savana, 29 December 1995; A. Vines, Renamo: Terrorism in Mozambique (London, James Currey, 1991), pp. 67–68; W. Finnegan, A Complicated War. The Harrowing of Mozambique (Berkeley, University of California Press, 1992), pp. 33–34. 28 K.B. Wilson, ‘Cults of Violence and Counter-violence in Mozambique’, Journal of Southern African Studies, 18, 3 (September 1992), p. 540; Vines, Renamo, p. 110; Finnegan, A Complicated War, p. 63.


Drawing on this historical base, the rst line of explanation of the Ides controversy argued that a Frelimo strategy, if not conspiracy, was at the root of the 1996 ‘Muslim Holiday’ affair: Frelimo intended to use the affair to take away Renamo’s religious support and it hoped to bolster its own popularity nationally and internationally.29 Considering what we have just seen, it seems quite possible that Frelimo created this affair deliberately, though it is also possible that Frelimo merely took advantage of a situation which came into being largely independently. Either way, the argument is that the Ides law proposal was used to force Renamo to choose sides between Muslims who supported the law and Christians who opposed it. The law forced upon Renamo a choice that would diminish its religious support in forthcoming elections. Judging by the declarations made by Frelimo leaders during the affair, there is no doubt that Frelimo did take advantage of the Ides affair to do just that. Ironically, one of the main proponents of this argument of manipulation was Renamo itself. To avoid dividing its constituency, the party chose to denounce the law as a Frelimo trick at the same time as it reminded everyone that it had fought militarily for religious freedom in Mozambique. For example, Marcelino Xavier, the party’s secretary-general, declared in March 1996 that: If there is some space for religion [in Mozambique now], it is because there has been a war. We did not understand why Frelimo was saying that religion did not exist. President Samora [Machel] entered Mosques wearing his shoes and he forced Muslims to eat pork knowing that they couldn’t. Mosques were not respected. This shift of 360° [on the part of Frelimo] leaves us concerned … .30

In addition to dividing Renamo’s constituency, this line of explanation argues that Frelimo’s strategy aimed at bolstering its own support. At the international level, it is said that the Ides law was intended to improve Frelimo’s image in Muslim countries and to increase its nancial support from Islamic countries as well as from western nations concerned with the advance of Islam in Mozambique. Evidence that this was Frelimo’s intention never became public. But we do know that Frelimo worked hard for many years to charm Arab and other Muslim states and we know that much of the party’s policy of co-opting Islamic organisations since the early 1980s had this aim.31 In addition, the minister of Foreign Affairs made statements linking the law to aid from Muslim international organisations.32 At the national level, it is often said that Frelimo was trying to please or pay back Asian Muslims who would act as a bridge to Islamic countries (notably the monarchies of the Persian Gulf) and who had been important nancial supporters during the 1994 elections. Probably more importantly, it seems that Frelimo attempted to use the Ides law to co-opt the (non-Indian) Muslim brotherhoods based in northern Mozambique. According to the leader of an important tariqa, the ‘Cadiria Baghdad’, a group of Frelimo deputies held a meeting with all brotherhood leaders in early 1994 to offer the Ides law in exchange for electoral support.33 Interestingly, Renamo’s president, Afonso Dhlakama, 29 Imparcial, 489 (8 May 1996), pp. 1–2; Demos (Maputo), 27 March 1996, pp. 8–9. 30 Quoted in mediaFAX, 963 (5 March 1996), p. 1. 31 Mozambique started making overtures to Muslim states and international organisations in 1983. For example, in 1984, a representative of the World Muslim League (WML) came to Maputo and it seems that the desire for collaboration and cooperation was signi cant and mutual. But, as mentioned earlier, Frelimo had problems relating to local Muslim communities and organisations and this prevented it from receiving any signi cant support for many years. For example, while Zimbabwe and Malawi received generous aid from international Muslim organisations, Mozambique only received $2 million in 1988. See footnote 25; MJ/DAR: ‘Actas de Conversaço˜es [with WML representatives]’, 30 April 1984; MJ/DAR: 671/DAR/MJ/84, 20 August 1984, Director of DAR to WML; and MJ/DAR: 4/DAR/MJ/89 ‘Situaçaõ no seio da Comunidade Muçulmana’, 24 April 1989. 32 See, for example, Noticias, 29 August 1996, p. 7. ´. 33 See Bilal (Maputo), 29 March 1996, p. 11; mediaFAX, 976, 22 March 1996, p. 2. On the brotherhoods, see A de Carvalho, ‘Notas para a histo´ria das confrarias islaˆmicas na Ilha de Moçambique’, Arquivo (Maputo), 4 (1988), pp. 59–66.


seems to have been well aware of this strategy towards Su sm on the part of Frelimo: he denounced the legislation as a mere pay-back to ‘half-a-dozen extremely rich Indians’ who, he argued, had nothing in common with the Muslim majority in northern Mozambique.34 The second explanation for the origin and nature of the Ides affair focuses on the politicisation of Islam and the efforts of this faith to gain political power. As a South African journalist argued at the time, the Ides affair was a result of Islam beginning to ‘ ex its political muscles’.35 The main evidence for this reading is of course the fact that the law was proposed in Parliament by a coalition of 56 Muslim deputies across party lines, something never seen before in Mozambique. More generally, commentators pointed out that Muslims have become increasingly involved over recent years in public affairs as a religious group. From speci c claims in the late 1980s, Muslims have moved on to political activism in the early 1990s. These claims were initiated with calls to be included in the Peace talks that began in Rome in 1989 under the supervision of the Catholic Church. Such calls turned into demands in the early 1990s when leaders from the community insisted on representation in the commissions resulting from the 1992 Peace Agreement.36 Finally, demands transformed into political lobbying on the occasion of the rst multi-party elections in 1994 when Muslims started to negotiate their support for and inclusion in the electoral lists of political parties, most notably of Renamo and Frelimo.37 Internationally, the politicisation of Islam is said to come from countries such as Sudan and Iran who support local Muslim associations, have sent religious NGOs to the country and who push Islam as an issue in their relations with the Mozambican state.38

Religious Competition, the State and the Ides Affair As useful and insightful as they may be, the lines of interpretation reviewed above have serious limitations. First, they only see Islam at the root of the Ides affair, whether as an actor or an object of the controversy and they do not take other religions into account. Yet we have seen that Christianity, for example, was very active in the affair. What was this faith’s (and other faiths’) role in the affair and in the making of the affair? Second, these interpretations do not take into account the State (as distinct from the holder of state power). Yet the State was crucial in allowing the discussion of, and voting on, the Ides law and, later, in annulling it. Finally, the lines of explanation reviewed are too conspiratorial. The affair is reduced to Islam plotting to gain political power and/or Frelimo plotting to increase its Muslim support and to undermine Renamo’s. This is not to say that conspiracy did not take place, but rather that this conspiring needs explanation too. To try to clarify these issues and to add to our understanding of the Ides affair, we shall now turn to the broader context of the controversy and, more speci cally, to the issues of religious competition and state mediation up to 1996.

Religious Competition in Mozambique Although both Islam and Christianity existed in Mozambique before the nineteenth century, competition between organised faiths became widespread only during the second half of that century. Up to then competition was limited to a few port cities and to the Zambezi 34 35 36 37

Dhlakama’s most explicit statement on this issue can be found in Marche´s Tropicaux, 31 May 1996, p. 1119. A. Meldrum, ‘Mozambique fears growth of Islam’, Mail and Guardian, 5–11 July 1996, p. 16. Yussuf Adam, personal communication; Notmoc, 37 (8 March 1995); Notmoc, 75 (31 March 1996). E. Morier-Genoud, ‘The Politics of Church and Religion in the First Multiparty Election of Mozambique’, Internet Journal of African Studies, 1 (April 1996). 38 Africa Con dential, 37, 15 (19 July 1996), p. 7; Imparcial, 8 May 1996, pp. 1–2.


basin.39 Later, Muslim Su orders were established in the country and Islam spread inland from the coast of northern Mozambique.40 Protestant Churches made their way into the country from neighbouring British colonies, and the Catholic Church expanded as new religious orders entered the country from neighbouring lands, and as the Portuguese colonial State helped the Church.41 Important here is the way that these religious developments took place: rst, they were outgrowths of earlier works. Islam spread from a basis on the coast and Christianity from missions over the border. Second, these developments took place freely and openly. Missionaries and evangelists could work wherever they wanted, the only limitation being their acceptance or rejection by local people and chiefs. Third, competition was rarely direct, as there was suf cient space and potential converts for every organised faith to work without interfering with another. In fact, most religious organisations (Church, religious order and tariqa) carved out a particular area and people to work with, many even entering into ‘comity’ agreements so as to avoid overlapping and clashes. This fairly free and fair competition ended gradually after 1920 as Portugal asserted full control over Mozambique and started to impose its own religious regime. As Salazar secured his hold on power in Portugal in alliance with the Catholic Church, religious policies became increasingly favourable to the Catholic institution.42 In 1940, Lisbon signed a Concordat and a Missionary Accord with the Vatican. According to these agreements, the Portuguese state and its administration would support the Catholic Church (not least nancially) in exchange for a say in the institution’s affairs and the Church running social institutions in overseas territories.43 Implicit in the accords was the marginalisation of, if not opposition to, other faiths. Of course, Portugal could not be of cially or openly against non-Catholic faiths since international law and neighbouring imperial Protestant states would not allow it. Still, it managed to do so discreetly and indirectly, by taking measures and passing laws that favoured the Roman institution and discriminated against Protestant and Muslim institutions.44 As a result, while the Catholic Church expanded tremendously after 1940, the number of believers of other faiths stagnated and non-Catholic faiths in Mozambique were contained geographically: Islam was locked in the north and on the coast and Protestantism was blocked into the south.45 After 1959, some loosening up of colonial discriminatory religious policies was seen in anticipation of, and later in response to, the

39 T. Henriksen, Mozambique: a History (Rex Collings, London, 1978), pp. 29–34, and N. Hafkin, ‘Trade, Society and Politics in Northern Mozambique, 1753–1913’ (PhD thesis, Boston University, 1973). 40 For Islam, see Hafkin, Trade, Society and Politics, ch 2; E. Alpers, ‘East Central Africa’, in N. Levtzion and R. Pouwell (eds), History of Islam in Africa (Athens, Ohio University Press, 1999); and E. Alpers, ‘Towards a History of the Expansion of Islam in East Africa: the Matrilineal People of the Southern Interior’, in T. Ranger and I. Kimambo (eds), The Historical Study of African Religion (Berkeley, University of California Press, 1972), pp. 172–201. 41 For Protestantism, see P. Harries, ‘Christianity in Black and White. The Establishment of Protestant Churches in Southern Mozambique’, Lusotopie 1998 (Paris, Karthala, 1998), pp. 317–333, and A. Helgesson, Church, State and People in Mozambique. A historical study with special emphasis on Methodist developments in the Inhambane region (Uppsala, Studia Missionalia Upsaliensia LIV, 1994). A good overview of Catholicism can be found in J. Duffy, Portuguese Africa (Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 1959), ch 5. 42 Yves Leónard, Salazarisme et Fascisme (Paris, Editions Chandeigne, 1996). 43 M. da Braga Cruz, ‘O Estado Novo e a Igreja Cato´lica’, in F. Rosas (ed), Portugal e o Estado Novo (Lisbon, Editorial Presença, 1992), pp. 201–221. 44 Helgesson, Church, State and People in Mozambique, and T. Cruz e Silva, ‘Igrejas protestantes no Sul de Moçambique e nacionalismo: o caso da ‘Missaõ Su´õ ça’ (1940–1974)’, Estudos Moçambicanos (Maputo), 10 (1992), pp. 19–39. 45 This policy could not, however, prevent the existence of some Muslim nucleuses in the centre and south of the country and a few Evangelical missions in central Mozambique. On the latter, see P. Thompson, Life Out of Death. A Miracle of Church Growth in the Face of Opposition (London, Hodder and Stoughton, 1989), and L. Schultz, Moçambique Milestones (Kansas City, Nazarene Publishing House, 1982), ch 6.

The 1996 ‘Muslim Holidays’ Affair 419 Table 2. Approximate percentage of population by religion, 1960 and 1975a Religion

1960

1975

Catholics Muslims Protestants Animists & others

9% 18% 2% 71%

20% 13% 5% 62%

Source: Compiled from ‘III Recenseamento Geral da Populaçaõ (1960)’, in Moçambique: Panorama Demogra´ co e Soćio-econo´mico; Na Entrega do Testemunho 1975; and ‘IV Recenseamento Geral da Populaçaõ (1970)’, in Moçambique: Panorama Demogra´ co e Soćio-econo´mico. a Religious gures in Mozambique are problematic if not unreliable. They should therefore be taken as indications only. In this case, Catholic gures are most probably in ated and the others underrated – for ideological reasons as well as because of the method of calculation. The gures for 1960 are for the African population only; non-Africans were mostly Catholic, but they constituted less than 2 per cent of the population.

war of liberation.46 But these reforms were limited and tactical and they did not change the pattern of (unequal) growth of faiths as Table 2 shows. National independence in 1975 did not bring freedom to religious institutions in Mozambique. As mentioned above, Frelimo implemented a strongly secular and soon even anti-religious policy. It nationalised all social services (most of which had been in religious hands), it limited the movements of religious personnel, and it even forbade religious activities in some areas such as former ‘liberated zones’ after 1975 and in proximity to social institutions after 1978. Furthermore, it did not allow new religious organisations to enter Mozambique and it did all it could to prevent the emergence of new faith organisations inside the country. As a result, no religious expansion and no competition was seen after independence. With the Africanisation of the state bureaucracy and the movement of state personnel all over the country, the religious institutions that had previously been contained in speci c areas (namely Islam and Protestantism) saw the spread of some of their believers. These formed new religious communities and often established a rst presence in some previously ‘unreached’ areas. Numerically this was not important, but, added to the ‘seeds’ laid down during the 1960s’ colonial religious policy reform, it created a rm base for later developments. Religious expansion was not however to come for many years, as state restrictions continued until the late 1980s and a war of destabilisation, started in the late 1970s under the direction of Rhodesia (and later South Africa), developed into a full-scale civil war between the Renamo guerilla movement and the Frelimo state.47 Organised faiths did not give up their plans for expansion in the face of restrictions and 46 See Cahen, ‘Le colonialisme tardif et la diversi cation religieuse’, and Alpers, ‘Islam in the Service of Colonialism?’. 47 On Frelimo’s post-colonial religious policy, see Morier-Genoud, ‘Of God and Caesar’.


war. Rather, they took a long-term perspective, organising for the day when religious evangelisation would be possible again. We can distinguish ve strategies to prepare for later expansion. First, some religious organisations and movements initiated, or reinforced, bases in the provincial capitals of unreached provinces. Most notably, ‘mainline’ Protestant Churches discreetly sent pastors to the north, to Beira, Quelimane and Nampula.48 Second, some organised faiths gained access to new areas, if not always in Mozambique itself, through the humanitarian arm of their institutions or through confessional NGOs. This was the case, for example, for the Lutheran Church and the Africa Muslim Agency that established a rst presence in Mozambique in this way.49 This was also the case for World Vision that spread its evangelical message into new provinces as it gave humanitarian aid.50 Third, many if not most religious institutions started to operate in refugee camps in Mozambique as well as in neighbouring countries. Some Churches followed their ock to help them materially and spiritually. But others, more cynically, saw an opportunity to evangelise amongst a ‘captured’ and concentrated people who would spread back on their own all over Mozambique after the war. 51 More radically and politically, a few extreme right-wing individuals and Churches allied with the CIA, the South African intelligence and Renamo to work in rebel areas.52 Finally, a last strategy was to step up the training of theologians and evangelists. It is dif cult to know exactly how much of an increase in training resulted, but the number of students in religious institutions clearly grew in the 1980s. By 1997, there were no less than 120 students in Sudanese, Saudi Arabian and Egyptian universities, and more in Algeria, Libya and Pakistan.53 There were as many, if not more, students in Christian seminaries and universities in Africa, Europe and the Americas (Brazil and the United States in particular).54 After years of preparation and planning, the end of religious restrictions after 1989 (see 48 See the examples of the Nazarene and Presbyterian Churches in, respectively, F. Howie, The Mozambique Story (Kansas City, Nazarene PublishingHouse, 1993), ch 3, and C. Biber, Cent ans au Mozambique. Le parcours d’une minorite´. Reportage sur l’histoire de l’e´glise presbyte´rienne du Mozambique, 2nd edn (Lausanne, Edition du Soc, 1992). 49 For the Lutheran Church, see E. Bachmann and M. Bachmann, Lutheran Churches in the World. A Handbook (Minneapolis, Augsburg Fortress, 1989), pp. 76–77. For the Africa Muslim Agency, see Crescente (Maputo), 14 April 1995, p. 7, and MJ/DAR: 65/DAR/MJ/85 (director of DAR to director of the Africa and Middle East section of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs), 26 January 1985. 50 Evangelical institutions are often accused of practising ‘rice bowl Christianity’, i.e. conditioning their aid on conversion. In Mozambique, two different mainline Protestant pastors told us about their encounters in the late 1980s with evangelicals (including World Vision) who preached while giving humanitarian aid. For similar accusations in the Latin America context and a balanced discussion of World Vision’s case, see D. Stoll, Is Latin America Turning Protestant? The Politics of Evangelical Growth (Berkeley, University of California Press, 1990), ch 9. 51 The Baptist ConventionChurch (Convençaõ Baptista, a Church linked to the American Southern and First Baptists) was quite explicit in this strategy. It called it ‘refugee ministries’. Most bluntly, a 1992 issue of the American Southern Baptists’ magazine stated about Mozambique: ‘The Brocks stress they do not need war and suffering to evangelise. But the country may never again see such a concentration of people searching for answers.’ Mr Brock himself declared ‘when the war is over, our opportunity is over’. The Commission (Richmond, VA), December 1992, p. 40. 52 S. Askin, ‘Mission to Renamo: The Militarisation of the Religious Right’, Journal of Theology for Southern Africa, 69 (December 1989), pp. 106–116, and S. Askin, ‘Mission to Renamo: The Militarization of the Religious Right’, Issue, XVIII, 2 (1990), pp. 29–38 (the two papers are different despite the similar title). Note that Askin’s argument that these Churches or individuals were simply manipulated by politicians is contradicted by the fact that some of these institutions worked on both the government and Renamo’s side and by the fact that some of them are still working in Mozambique today. In other words, manipulation went the other way too. A case in point is ‘Open Doors’. Sarel Jordan (Open Doors International), personal communication by e-mail, 17 June 1999. 53 The Muslim World League Journal, 25, 2 (June 1997), p. 15; Domingo, 9 July 1995; and Noticias, 24 September 1987. 54 Considering the number of Christian Churches in Mozambique and the scattered nature of data, it is impossible to give a global gure for Mozambican Christians studying abroad. But most Churches sent at least one pastor or priest to a regional seminary (e.g. in Kenya for the Nazarenes and in South Africa for Open Doors) or to the Church home country’s religious university (e.g. in Italy for the Catholics and in the USA for the Methodists).


below) and the end of the war in 1992 led to unprecedented competition between organised faiths. The Catholic Church made huge efforts to restart and staff its mission stations. Lacking personnel, it brought in new religious orders (e.g. Maryknoll and Verbi Divini), it relied ever more on ‘base communities’, and it stepped up its strategy of educating the elite. It reopened various sophisticated private secondary schools and, in 1996, it inaugurated the third Catholic University on the continent.55 Protestant Churches had few personnel problems in comparison. They were quick to put all their energies into expanding into the north of the country. Historic institutions (Methodist, Nazarene, Presbyterian, Baptist, etc.) were helped in this expansion by the arrival in Mozambique of many new evangelical and Pentecostal Churches.56 Islamic organisations had similarly no lack of personnel and they chose to expand too, in the south of the country and more particularly into previously unreached rural districts. All this expansion led to the building of many mosques and churches in the country as well as to the conversion of large numbers of people. Though gures are fragmentary and often unreliable, there is little doubt that Mozambique saw after the end of the war a restoration of Catholicism, the geographical expansion of Islam and the spatial and numerical explosion of Protestantism.57 This rapid expansion of faiths quickly led to tensions and some degree of con ict. Most tellingly, accusations of fundamentalism, false teaching and wrong-doing increased dramatically in the early 1990s. Among others, neo-Pentecostals were accused of being involved in mere commercial enterprise; reformist sheikhs were attacked for ‘innovation’ and ‘inventions’; the Catholic Church and some Muslim organisations were charged with introducing or fomenting fundamentalism in Mozambique.58 Tensions and rivalry spread, in general terms, as a result of increased competition. More speci cally, it spread as a result of two factors. First, there was the radicalisation of sectors of all monotheist religions, a phenomenon noted for the whole of the African continent.59 Most notably, there was an increase in the number of radical Muslims under the in uence of mainly Sudan and Iran, and in the number of fundamentalist Protestants supported from, if not by, the United States.60 Second, rivalry emerged because new organisations initiated work in previously untouched territory and because different institutions started to proselytise in the same areas. Islam expanded in the rural districts of the south where Christianity had its strongest 55 All Africa News Agency, 28 September 1998. For more details on the University, see Rumo Novo, 15 (April 1996), pp. 4–14, and the university’s internet homepage at: http://www.sdnp.org.mz/entidade/catolica/default.htm. 56 Among the new organisations or movements are Campus Crusade for Christ, Good News Ministries International, Love Southern Africa, Jesus Alive!, Korean Evangelical Mission Fellowship, OMS International, Friends Reaching Out Ministries and Operation Mobilisation. 57 Catholic statistics indicate a restoration of the level of personnel and population percentage of 1978 (if not yet of the pre-independence golden era). Individual Protestant Churches all talk of tremendous increases in membership — the Baptists claim to have tripled the number of their believers between 1989 and 1998, the Presbyterians to have now more believers in the north than in their historical base in the south, and the Nazarene to have grown 40 per cent in 1995 alone. Although there are no gures for Islam, the expansion of this faith in the south is agreed upon, while the global gures from the 1997 census do not indicate any signi cant increase as we have seen above. For Catholic gures, see F. Foy (ed), Catholic Almanac 1978; Catholic Almanac 1998 (Huntington, IN, Our Sunday Visitor Publishing Division, 1977 and 1997), pp. 433 and 354. For Protestants’ gures: Together, A Newsletter for Nazarene in Higher Education, 4, 4 (November 1996), p. 2; Baptist statistics reported by e-mail to the author by Sandra Higgins (International Mission Board), 3 March 1999; interview with Simiaõ Chamangu (President of the Presbyterian Synod Council), Maputo, 10 May 1996. 58 For a case of controversy (attacks and counter-attacks) over fundamentalism, see Savana, 6 January 1995, pp. 1–4; for some accusations of false teaching in Islam, see Noticias, 25 April 1991, and for accusations against neo-Pentecostals, see the controversy around the Igreja Universal do Reino de Deus. 59 P. Gifford, ‘Some Recent Developments in African Christianity’, African Affairs, 93, 373 (October 1994), pp. 513–534. 60 Although the United States government does not of cially support Churches, in Mozambique USAID works with, and nances, American evangelical NGOs such as World Vision and the Adventist Development and Relief Agency. See USAID Fiscal Year 1997 Congressional Presentation at http://www.info.usaid.gov/pubs/cp97/ countries/mz.htm.


bases; radical Islam gained momentum in the north, particularly in Nampula province, where a traditional and syncretic form of this faith was dominant; Protestants, notably evangelicals, spread in the centre and north of the country where Islam and Catholicism had their largest following. Because both radical Islam and fundamentalist Protestantism established their strongest base in central Mozambique, this became the country’s religious ‘hot spot’.61 The con icts of the early 1990s had little in common with what was to come with the Ides affair, however. First, they did not engage the whole nation. They remained local problems that found local solutions. Second, they did not split religious organisations between Christian and Muslim camps. Con icts and competition were as much intrareligious as inter-religious and alliances were seen not only within denominations but also across religions. For example, rivalry and even physical ghting emerged between Muslim organisations and brotherhoods in Nampula province in 1991 and 1993 over rituals, the interpretation of scriptures and proselytism.62 Similarly, serious tensions emerged between Protestants in Zambezia, Nampula and Niassa as evangelicals and Pentecostals worked at converting Muslims and ‘pagans’ at the cost of ecumenism and mainline Churches.63 Competition also led to alliances across religious af liations. Most notably, the Catholic Church made an alliance in 1995 with established Muslim organisations in Nampula to monitor and counter what they saw as an invasion of ‘fanatical or fundamentalist ideology’.64 Though no formal alliance seems to have been established elsewhere, Muslims, Catholics and ecumenical Protestants converged on various occasions in denouncing ‘fundamentalism’ (of all origins) and in criticising, for example, the Igreja Universal do Reino de Deus (IURD).65

State Mediation Since Independence As discussed above, when Frelimo came to power in 1975, it adopted a constitution committed to secularism, in marked contrast with the colonial state, and a policy of strong religious control.66 Since it aimed at establishing socialism, Frelimo’s policy eventually went farther than merely containing the expansion and competition of religions: it tried to limit faith to the realm of individual choice, it prevented religious institutions from working in certain areas, and it discouraged people from attending church or mosque. After the party’s 1977 Third Congress at which Marxism–Leninism was adopted of cially, Frelimo started to prevent religious institutions from working in or near social institutions (such as 61 See following paragraphs and references. 62 Noticias, 25 April 1991; 15 May 1991; and 21 October 1993. 63 Personal communication from a consultant of the Christian Council of Mozambique, Lisbon, December 1997; Pierre Jeannet (De´partement Missionnaire des E´glises de la Suisse Romande), interview, Lausanne, 10 November 1993;Elias Nacaca and Silvino Jossene (Igreja Evange´lica de Cristo de Moçambique), interview, Cuamba, 5 March 1994. 64 Indian Ocean Newsletter (Paris), 695 (25 November 1995), p. 3. On the collaboration between Muslims and the Catholic Church more generally, see J. Damia˜ o, ‘O Islamismo em Moçambique a` Luz do S´õ nodo Africano (Experieˆncias Pastorais)’, Rumo Novo, 9 (April 1994), pp. 36–51. 65 On fundamentalism, see Savana, 6 January 1995, pp. 1–4. On IURD, see Savana, 7 October 1994; mediaFAX, 721, 23 March 1995. 66 Secularism has a Christian origin and it is therefore usually biased against non-Christian faiths and believers. Constitutionally, this was the case in Mozambique after independence. In practice, however, Frelimo favoured accommodation. This was notably the case with family law, a classic and crucial bone of contention between Muslims and the secular state in Africa. For a discussion at the continental level, see Lamin Sanneh, The Crown and the Turban. Muslim and West Africa Pluralism (Boulder, Westview Press, 1997), part 4. For Mozambique, see S. Arnfred, ‘Re ection on Family Forms and Gender Policy in Mozambique’ (unpublished paper, 1990), and B. Isaacman and J. Stephen, Mozambique: Women, the Law and Agrarian Reform (Addis Ababa, United Nations Economic Commission for Africa, 1989), ch 4.


schools and hospitals), closed some praying sites and initiated an anti-religious propaganda campaign.67 Again such actions went well beyond control and secularism. What is important here, though, is that evangelisation and competition were prevented, all religious organisations were treated equally (even when attacked), and the result was that religious tensions and con icts decreased dramatically. Most authors dealing with religion in Mozambique after independence argue that Frelimo ‘shifted’ its policy on organised faiths in 1982.68 This is because the State held a well-publicised meeting with all religious institutions that year, a meeting where it declared that its policy was to be changed at once.69 This is also because some changes occurred after 1982 – some praying sites were returned to religious organisations and some foreign missionaries were allowed to return to Mozambique. But the nature of Frelimo’s ‘policy shift’ has been largely misunderstood in the literature, and the extent of the changes overplayed. First, if it is true that some churches and mosques were allowed to reopen, this applied to only some buildings; more precisely, those closed in 1978–1979, and not those nationalised at Independence.70 Similarly, if some missionaries were allowed back into the country, this process was highly selective and tactical. Second, although it is true that the State put an of cial and de nitive end to its ‘anti-religious offensive’ (initiated in 1978), Frelimo did not give up secularism, religious control and restrictions. Quite the reverse: Frelimo not only continued this policy, but also formalised a series of restrictions (e.g. the interdiction on creating new churches),71 and gave the State more means to enforce its policy by creating a Department of Religious Affairs with extensions at provincial and district levels.72 In other words, although some changes were seen from 1982, the post-independence ‘religious regime’ of secularism, restrictions and control remained rmly in place. If something like a policy shift in religious matters happened, it took place in 1989. Prior to that date, Frelimo had moved closer to organised faiths and made concessions to gain religious support in the face of guerrilla war and international hostility.73 Thus Chissano visited the Vatican in 1987 and invited the Pope to visit Mozambique. To convince the Holy Father, Frelimo started in 1988 to return for the rst time religious property nationalised in 1975. In a similar move, the State permitted the construction of an Islamic centre in Marracuene in 1988 (the rst such construction since independence) and it invited the ambassadors of Egypt, Libya, Nigeria and Palestine to the laying of the rst 67 For an overview of the period, see Morier-Genoud, ‘Of God and Caesar’, ch 4. 68 See, for example, A. Vines and K. Wilson, ‘Churches and the Peace Process in Mozambique’, in Paul Gifford (ed), The Christian Churches and the Democratisation of Africa (Leiden, E.J. Brill, 1995), p. 133, and Helgesson, Church, State and People in Mozambique, ch 1. An exception is J. Luiza, ‘A Igreja das Palhotas. Geńese da Igreja em Moçambique, entre o Colonialismo e a Independeˆncia’, Cadernos de Estudos Africanos (Lisbon), 4 (September 1989), p. 71. 69 See the minutes of the meeting in Frelimo, ‘Consolidemos aquilo que nos une’. Reuniaõ da Direcç aõ do Partido e do Estado com os representantes das con sso˜es religiosas, 14 a` 17 de Dezembro 1982 (Instituto Nacional do Livro e do Disco, Maputo, 1983). 70 MJ/DAR: 41/DAR/MJ/84 ‘Possibilidade de restituiçaõ dos imoveis de certas seitas religiosas ocupadas ou encerradas sem nenhuma base legal’ (director of DAR to Governor of Gaza), 27 January 1984, and MJ/DAR: ‘Balanço das actividades do DAR desde a sua criaçaõ’, 4 July 1984. 71 MJ/DAR: ‘Relato´rio das actividades do DAR no ano de 1984’, 15 January 1985; MJ/DAR: ‘Relato´rio das actividades de 1985’, 3 December 1985. 72 There existed after 1975 a Service of Religious and Associational Affairs (SAAR) on the basis of which the Department of Religious Affairs was developed. But SAAR existed little more than on paper, with no full-time employees and no of ces in the provinces. MJ/DAR: 006/SAAR/MJ/1983 ‘Relato´rio restrito dos serviços’ (SAAR to Minister of Justice), 6 January 1983; MJ/DAR: 200/DAR/MJ/84, Director of DAR to Government, 20 March 1984; and Manuel Alferes (former SAAR director), interview, Maputo, 24 June 1996. 73 On Frelimo’s gradual change of policy, see E. Morier-Genoud, ‘Y a-t-il un speći cite´ protestante au Mozambique. Discours du pouvoir postcolonial et histoire des E´glises chre´tiennes’, Lusotopie 1998 (Paris, Karthala, 1998), esp. pp. 416–417.


stone.74 Still, if changes were building up, a turning point in Frelimo’s religious policy only came in 1989 with the party’s Fifth Congress.75 On that occasion, the party decided to reverse its policy of religious restrictions and control. That is, it decided to alter at once the religious regime in force, thus nally complying with the demands of many countries, most notably western nations.76 Soon after the Congress, Frelimo abandoned the project of a religious law that it had discussed at length with all major organised faiths since 1988, a law which was to continue secularism, a degree of control and some restrictions.77 In 1990, the government decreed that religious organisations could become involved in education and, in 1991, it passed a law allowing organised faiths to work in health.78 Although there was no legislation to that effect, the State started during the same period to register and allow almost any religious institutions to come and work in Mozambique.79 Having lifted all restrictions, we can say that Frelimo established a ‘free religious market’.80 Mozambique’s new ‘free religious market’ regime was without rules, regulations and rights. As the head of the Department of Religious Affairs (DAR) noted in 1992, by merely lifting restrictions, the country eventually found itself without ‘any legislation regulating matters related to religious freedom’, a situation which does not seem to have changed to this day.81 Faith organisations were allowed to preach and establish themselves wherever they wanted and they had the right to work in health, education, humanitarian aid and development. However, at the same time, they were given no juridical personality (they had instead to register with DAR), they were given no legal rights (notably custom exemptions), and no limits were set on their proselytism. This had three immediate consequences. First, having no juridical personality, religious organisations had problems dealing independently with government bodies and private companies, and in the end they had to work through DAR, which thus became an institution of ‘tutelage’ as the director of DAR himself noted.82 Second, the absence of legal rights led to inequalities between religious organisations. Some institutions gained exemptions and privileges while other did not, depending on the favours an organisation managed to gain from state and government circles. Finally, religious expansion and proselytism was not regulated – state of cials could favour some organisations, but they had no tools to prevent con icts.83 74 Noticias, 9 November 1988. 75 On Frelimo’s Fifth Congress, see M. Hall and T. Young, ConfrontingLeviathan. Mozambique Since Independence (London, Hurst, 1997), pp. 201–203. 76 Hall and Young, Confronting Leviathan, p. 200, note 42, and Isaias Funzamo (former head of the Swiss Mission/Presbyterian Church and former president of CCM), interview, Maputo, 31 March 1994. 77 There were at least two drafts of the law. One or the other version was discussed with each major organised faith in the country. See MJ/DAR: 54/DAR/MJ/88, director of DAR to Minister of Justice, 4 June 1988 and MJ/DAR: 59/DAR/MJ/89, Director of DAR to Minister of Justice, 16 May 1989. We consulted the 1989 draft of the law at the Center of African Studies (CEA), University of Eduardo Mondlane (UEM), folder 357. 78 Boletim da Republica (Maputo), Series 1, Second Supplement, 1 June 1990 (Decreto 11/90), and Boletim da Republica, Series 1, Second Supplement, 31 December 1991 (Lei 26/91). 79 Between 1990 and 1995, the Department of Religious Affairs registered no less than 150 new religious institutions, doubling in effect the number of (legal) Churches in the country. MJ/DAR: List of registered religious institutions, 5 de Junho de 1991; Nova Vida, 6 (June 1995), p. 11. At the provincial level, numbers also exploded, even in such a remote province as Niassa. Jean-Barnabe´ Manuel Tabou (director of DAR-Niassa), interview, Cuamba, 5 May 1994. 80 On the ‘religious market’, see R. Finke, ‘Religious Deregulation: Origins and Consequences’, Journal of Church and State, 32 (Summer 1990), pp. 609–626; Berger, The Sacred Canopy, ch 6. 81 UEM/CEA, folder 357: 172/DAR/MJ/1992 ‘Auseˆncia de legislaçaõ em certos sectores da vida social das populaço˜es’ (Director of DAR to the President of the Commission of Social Affairs of the Assembly of the Republic), 28 April 1992, p. 1. 82 Ibid, p. 2. 83 The governor of Nampula could do little more than offer mediation when physical ghting erupted between different Muslim organisations in Nampula in 1993; see above. Similarly, the State could do nothing when, in 1999, some American fundamentalist protestants in Maputo went to evangelise inside a Mosque in the middle of the month of Ramadan. See Panafrican News Agency, 8 January 2000; personal communication by e-mail from a US embassy of cial, January 2000.


The growing importance of patronage led to the involvement of religious organisations in politics, and the involvement of political parties in religious affairs. Thus, for example, the Brazilian neo-Pentecostal Igreja Universal do Reino de Deus entered Mozambique through an alliance with the Frelimo party. The Church supported Frelimo in the 1994 election in exchange for which Frelimo rented a whole oor of its own headquarters as well as state cinemas for use as praying sites.84 In 1994, Mozambique became a full member of the Islamic Conference Organisation at the same time as Frelimo was making deals with Mozambican Muslims in anticipation of the rst multi-party election (one of the deals being the Ides holiday law as we have seen). Muslims bargained over their participation in electoral lists and some of them even created, without any of cial reaction, a political party (PIMO) which was of cially non-denominational,but which made explicit statements that it was denominational, even if the law did not allow it. No less tellingly, Joaquim Chissano became an adept of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi transcendental meditation sect around 1992. In 1993, his government signed a contract awarding the religious organisation charter company-like rights over land and people in two-thirds of the country: 20 million hectares for the building of ‘paradise on earth’!85 Although the deal was eventually cancelled, Chissano still managed to introduce courses of transcendental meditation in the police force, the army and among ministers.86 This laissez-faire religious policy in which politics and patronage became prominent could not in the end but undermine the secular identity of the state. Signi cantly, accusations that the State was becoming or had become Muslim, Christian or even Catholic – in other words confessional – increased dramatically in the 1990s.87 Yet, faced with such ‘side effects’ of its policy, Frelimo did nothing to rectify the situation. It retreated from its most dubious religious deals only when forced to and, even then, only in part. For example, although the ‘Paradise on Earth’ project was cancelled in 1993, president Chissano was still promoting Transcendental Meditation in the government in 1999. Likewise, although the State stopped renting some of its cinemas to IURD, it still granted the Church a television channel in 1998, thus creating the rst religious channel in Mozambique.88 Further, Frelimo never tried to make a distinction between its deals as a party (and a holder of state power) and the position and options of the State itself. During the whole Ides affair for example, the head of the Department of Religious Affairs not only defended his party’s view in support of the law, but he was very active as a state of cial in promoting the controversial legislation and attacking any opposing view.89 In short, although the religious regime in Mozambique remained of cially secular and the State continued to be committed publicly to religious equality, the day-to-day practice of the government and administration had become unclear by 1996. If the State had not become confessional, it gave at least the impression that it could become so.

Conclusion Taking into consideration the religious competition taking place at the time of the Ides affair and the type of mediation the State was practicing under the guidance of Frelimo, it 84 A good overview of the Church’s activities in Mozambique can be found in Savana, 7 October 1994, pp. 16–17; mediaFAX, 721, 23 March 1995; Imparcial, 492, 13 May 1996. 85 See P. Oliveira, ‘Le Pre´sident et le Transcendant’, Politique Africaine, 52 (December 1993), pp. 150–151; Savana, 4 February 1994, 18 February 1994, 18 March 1994, 20 May 1994. 86 Monthly Review Bulletin (London), l6 (11 November 1997), p. 3; Indian Ocean Newsletter, 17 July 1993, p. 2. 87 For Muslim accusations, see mediaFAX, 568 (10 August 1994), p. 3; Savana, 6 January 1995, pp. 1–4. For Christian accusations, see the Ides affair itself. 88 On transcendental meditation, see footnote 86, and the sect’s electronic magazine Enlightenment, March 1999 (at http://www.enlightenment-magazine.org). On IURD’s TV channel, see Domingo, 25 May 1997, p. 33; mediaFAX, 28 December 1998, p. 2. 89 See the director of DAR’s of cial statements in Domingo, 17 March 1996, p. 9.


should be clear why the proposal of a Muslim public holiday raised the spectre of Islamisation of the State. It should also be clear how such a controversy took place in Mozambique and why it shook the country and ‘national unity’ so deeply. The religious leanings of the State were unclear and seemed about to change. Similarly, religious competition and state mediation help explain how tensions and rivalries, which in the early 1990s were inter-religious as well as intra-religious, suddenly crystallised into a con ict that split Mozambicans along clear Christian–Muslim lines. Last but not least, these two dynamics elucidate the predominance of conspiracist explanations among actors in and commentators on the Ides affair. This is not to say that there was no ‘rise’ or politicisation of Islam in Mozambique or that no conspiracy took place. Rather, it is to say that the relative rise of Islam and the conspiring turned into a problem and eventually into a national affair only because all organised religions were competing heavily at the time, and because the State’s religious stance had become unclear and seemed up for grabs. Put differently, it is only because Frelimo ‘deregulated’ the religious market in Mozambique (under heavy external pressure) that organised faiths started to grow again and it is only because the State did not maintain a clear position that a speci c political deal seemed about to change the whole Mozambican religious regime and thereafter challenge the (secular) nature of the State. What are the consequences of the ‘Muslim holiday’ affair? Can we conclude that, because the controversy has died out, the affair is over and all that will be left of the Ides law is the memory of an unfortunate episode in Mozambican politics? This is of course impossible to predict, especially since the law has been shelved by the Assembly of the Republic rather than annulled. Still, the argument made in this article is that the Ides controversy was not just the result of conspiracy or the electoral politics of Frelimo, Muslims or anyone else. It was also, and more importantly, the result of structural changes in state religious policies and mediation. If this analysis is correct and if we take into account how Frelimo solved the affair (i.e. without addressing its structural origins), we may advance the hypothesis that problems and con icts around faiths will probably continue in Mozambique. Assuming that each con ict increases the intensity of the next, one may forecast that not only will religious tensions and con icts persist, but they might become more severe. Since Christianity and Islam are the most important religions in the country, it seems quite possible that future problems will increasingly oppose these two faiths, even though the antagonism between them was not extensive in the early 1990s. In sum, con ict around religion is likely to continue in Mozambique even if the Ides affair disappears. That is, religious tensions and con icts will probably carry on if the State maintains a ‘free religious market’ approach without adopting a clear position, or religious regulations or law. Beyond the case of Mozambique, what does this affair tell us? First, it shows that many if not most of the arguments and theories about ‘fundamentalism’ and about the ‘rise of Islam’ (or the rise of any other religion) offer limited explanations of religious tensions and con icts. They omit other faiths, the competition between faiths and the role the State plays in mediating and regulating their growth and competition. Put differently, they omit the religious regime in place. Second, the Ides affair tells us something about relations and con icts between faiths. It shows that religions, and most notably Islam and Christianity, are by no means doomed to ‘clash’ as Huntington and his followers would have it. All depends on relations between religions on the ground, as well as the religious policies enforced in a nation – and internationally. Finally, this affair tells us something about the relationship between religious regimes and religious tensions and con icts. It shows that a policy of religious ‘deregulation’ (the creation of a free ‘religious market’) increases competition between organised faiths and that such increased competition does not merely


bring greater religious freedom, pluralism and improved religious ‘products’, as neo-liberal sociologists would like us to believe. It also brings tensions and con ict, especially it seems when deregulation goes too far and/or when the State does not have a clear or secular position. ERIC MORIER-GENOUD Beau-Site 13, 1004 Lausanne, Switzerland