Of all the classes I have taken during my time here at Drew, I was surprised by how much I would love one in particular this fall semester: “Religion and Politics in the Middle East.” It’s a requirement for the Middle East Studies minor, and so one would think that it’s just a general, boring requirement that should be gotten out of the way.
But this was different—it was taught by Reza Aslan. That name may not mean much to some, but if you watch “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart” or read from The Daily Beast as much as I do, than you would know how it felt going into a classroom where my professor was something of a celebrity, even if it is the geekiest kind—the academic.
I didn’t know what to expect from him. Whether he taught at all, whether he was overly demanding and unjust, whether he’d let the celebrity status his authored books earned him bloat his head too much. I knew nothing, just as much as the rest of the few people sitting patiently for him.
I certainly can’t speak for the rest of my peers, but I found the class to be exciting and, admittedly, a bit exhilarating. I think it’s certain to say that I probably have never bought so many books for just one class. I thought I would be extraordinarily overwhelmed and thought to myself what had I gotten myself into. But I can honestly say I truly have never learned so much in class and actually enjoyed every second of it.
In “Religion and Politics,” we focused primarily on Arab Islamic cultures and the origins of Islam, and how it developed and changed over centuries.
One of the books we read was Aslan’s very own “No God But God.” I, like any normal human being, would think he just placed his own book on the syllabus to fill his pockets with cash, but just saying it was a fascinating read doesn’t do it enough justice. Just to be clear, I’m not blowing smoke up his backside. I’m the Opinions Editor, and rarely do I spare anyone any criticism, but Aslan is the kind of person who makes you want to passionately learn. And he flutters his lessons with stories of such interesting experiences he’s had.
We covered everything from the Prophet Muhammad’s childhood in Mecca, to the Ummah’s (Muslim community) rise as an intercontinental empire larger than the Roman Empire, to studying Islamic philosophy from people like Sayyid Qutb, whose ideas largely gave inspiration to Osama bin Laden and jihadists alike. We’ve studied why Al-Qaeda and jihadist groups have come to exist and what could possibly be an “antidote” to this radical ideology.
We’ve covered the Islamic Reformation and the subsequent fall of the Ulama (Islamic religious authorities) in the 20th century. We studied the identity issues that have plagued the Middle East and still do, and how many have tried to unite this rapidly changing region of the world around a unified Pan-Arab or Pan-Islamic identity.
Of course, with so much happening in the Middle East today, as there always is, we also focused on how the Western media may tend to propagate potentially misleading information that may fuel the massive culture of fear in the West. And we’ve discussed and analyzed the events currently taking place, tying them to historical events of the past.
We sat around and broke- down the Israeli-Gaza conflict a couple weeks ago, and how the 1967 Six Day War ties into it, to Egyptian President Mohamed Morsi’s executive decree for extra judicial powers and whether this, as the region is still transitioning, is an instance of history repeating itself—installing “temporary” autocratic powers for the purpose of “transitioning” to democracy just as deposed Egyptian dictator Hosni Mubarak did.
All in all, it was a true honor to have been able to be one of Reza Aslan’s students and learn from him this fall semester, as I’m sure the rest of my classmates would agree.
Taking “Religion and Politics” with him has surely enlightened me and strengthened my intellectual passion in this subject.
I hope that after reading this, many of you will consider taking his class next spring, “The Art of Protesting.” He’s a remarkable teacher and you’ll never regret that you did.
