The questions, the road and the companions that make us "us"

When we said "A river would come before us and we would be tested by it," we are not ignoring that we are placing a "we" in parentheses. In a political party, or a political movement that has taken on modern formats in some way, what shape does this "we" take, and what spirit does it assume?

Which road are we on? Where does this road lead, what is its destination, and who determined this destination and the foundation of this togetherness? These are the questions that make "we" a "we," and they must be remembered every day.

Today, for an important part of this community, these questions are not so unknown. Accordingly, the answer is not so ambiguous either. That is why there is not much hesitation about the verdict concerning those who drank their fill from the funds. Perhaps the problem arises from the intermingling of those who are within a mass party in the modern sense and those who are conscious of this mission. Perhaps it arises from the fact that those who are in that consciousness, instead of steering those masses on the way, are influenced by those masses and join in their wake.

The noble verse explains that these distinctions among those who linger at the riverside emerge only through a trial. So the road is always open to every possibility. This is a difference that is not small, and it needs to be dwelt upon, of course.

The Qur'anic story that tells of the trial of the river in fact contains very deep lessons that will always shed light for Muslims on politics, the road and leadership. Lessons that those who intend to set out on the long road, and who insist on carrying this intention to the end, should take to heart. Cautionary memoirs on how a person's view of many matters, of the road, of himself and of his reasons for setting out changes after he has set out. A few years ago, on an occasion in this same column, we wrote the following, and I would like to repeat it on today's occasion:

The road is the best school. Lessons that will not be learned in any established school are learned on the road. But of course only by those who know how to take the lessons, as in all schools. Passing along a road is no guarantee of learning all the lessons of that road. Those arduous roads are full of all kinds of perils and hardships. Every peril, every hardship is a trial, and no one has been given a guarantee in advance of passing through it.

Some grow so accustomed to this road that they create a comfort, a domain of power for themselves within it. Forgetting that they are travelers of the road, they attempt to appropriate it. Some grow tired, think they lack the strength, and withdraw to the side in the middle of the road.

Some confuse their relationship with the road with their relationship with their companions and, falling for the seduction of those coming from the opposite road, go away. Some think the road has ended, think they have arrived, and pitch camp at some point along the road. Yet the road does not end, the hardship of the road does not end, and union (vuslat) is not attained until the soul leaves the body.

According to some narrations, Talut (Saul) parts ways at the very first stop with most of his soldiers, who numbered eighty thousand (at least four-fifths of them), because they made his identity, origin and lineage a pretext. The rest submit to the charismatic authority that Talut had won at the outset by recovering and bringing back the chest held by their enemies, who had caused their abasement.

But even those who submitted are not yet sure that they have the qualities to bear this great struggle. They need to be tested, but this is not his idea, it is God's command. It is not he but God who will conduct the trial, though the privilege of announcing it has been given to him. Those who, from a river that will come before them, drink their fill by putting their mouths to it will have failed this trial, though there will be no harm in their taking a handful with their hands and drinking it.

"When Talut set out with the troops, he said: 'God will test you with a river. Whoever drinks from it is not of me, and whoever does not taste it is of me, except for those who take a handful with their hand.' But they drank from it, except for a few of them." (Al-Baqarah: 249).

What the nature of this river is, God knows. There are surely many who explain that this river is a symbol of the way all social movements, in their periods of power, forget their ideals, their concerns and their causes, incline toward worldly life and the blessings of power, plunge into the rush for spoils, and covet more than their due.

Today this story is frequently invoked in this dimension and because of these possibilities of association it contains. There is no obstacle to understanding it so, provided that one does not break away from the literal meaning of the event. The loyalty of the masses gathered around a leader of this charisma, who had brought a people out of abasement and, arriving with a miracle, presented to them hopes of future victory as an almost certain possibility, may not be long-lasting.

There are far more meaningful lessons here about politics. No community's loyalty to its leader remains at the same level forever. Even a leader of Talut's caliber, who had secured a great consensus when setting out, can lose significant masses in what might be considered a simple first test.

He loses them, but he knows that this is not a defeat. He has come to know those whose quality has been tested for the real great battle, and has seen fully with whom, and how far, he can walk.

But when they reach the water, most fall away, and he crosses with even fewer people. Yet the test does not end here either. This time a new trial comes for the individuals with their own selves, their fears, their courage, their emotions. A new situation emerges regarding how those who remain see themselves, how they see the enemy, and how much they trust in God. As a result of those who fell away at each junction, very few remain, and the remainder are fearful of facing the enemy. They have, after all, in ordinary times magnified in their eyes the enemy armies that always had the strength to defeat them, while seeing themselves as very weak.

To be realistic, in this comparison they truly are very weak. In no objective, realistic comparison is it possible for so few people to confront an army like the superpower of the age and defeat it. Yet the journey they have set out on requires them, if they are believers, to carry a faith that they will attain victory. With the falling away of the fearful as well, the remainder comes to about a fifth. It is narrated that this last number is equal to the number of believers who fought against the Quraysh at the Battle of Badr.

"When Talut and those who believed with him crossed the river, they said, 'We have no strength today against Jalut (Goliath) and his army.' But those who were certain that they would meet God said, 'How many a small company has overcome a large company by God's leave. God is with the patient.'" (Al-Baqarah: 249).

The verses containing the story of Talut and Jalut are thus narrated in an atmosphere that was already preparing Muslims for the Battle of Badr. "How many a small company has overcome a large company by God's leave." But here the real condition is that believers truly believe, that they give importance not to lineage, sycophancy, clientelism and partisanship but to piety (taqwa), competence and merit, that on setting out they do not fall for the glitter of spoils, the temptation of worldly blessings or the corruption of power, that they bear the hardship of the road, and that they do not forget that worldly life is nothing but a road whose account will be seen in the Hereafter.

The remainder stand against Jalut's army with a single faith. After many trials, although their numbers have greatly diminished, they do not disperse. They bear no trace of the psychological unease, anxiety and disarray normally expected of those who experience such a separation. Together with those who passed all the trials successfully, as those who know God as their guardian (wakil), their faith and morale having grown even greater, they stand against the enemy.

Does the fact that a very small community sets out against very large groups, relying on God, without calculation and without taking any precautions, mean that they have entirely abandoned a plan of precaution?

This is exactly the question that must be asked and examined at this point in the story.