Prohibition of education for women – the darkness of civilization Author: Zilka Spahić Šiljak

Allah commands education for everyone, but the Puritans deny it to women in the name of Islam.

One of the ways to subjugate people and nations is to deny them education or to devalue it by lowering standards to the extent that the number of formally educated individuals who are, in essence, uneducated and incapable of developing as political subjects and responsible citizens increases. Unfortunately, this is occurring today in Bosnia and Herzegovina, where there are more schools and diplomas than ever before, yet fewer truly educated people who possess the critical thinking and courage to act responsibly.

Education is a crucial prerequisite for personal, social, and economic well-being, and numerous laws and international documents guarantee equal access to education for all. Moreover, education is the first imperative in Islam. Therefore, it is both illegal and inhumane to prevent anyone from attending school. This is currently happening in Afghanistan, where, in recent months, there has been an outright ban on women’s education. It is astonishing that, in the 21st century, there are still people who defend such a ban under the guise of religion.

UNESCO statistics reveal that many Muslim countries are at the bottom of the list regarding literacy rates. Over 25% of the illiterate populations in countries like Pakistan, Bangladesh, Yemen, Sudan, Nigeria, Morocco, and Egypt are girls and women. For example, in Nigeria, the Islamist militant group Boko Haram kidnaps girls attending secular schools, using threats and force to prevent their education.

Education for both women and men is a strict obligation (farz) in Islam. Muslim women and men have priorities in their obligations and rights, with education being foremost. The first words of God revealed to Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) in 610 in the cave of Hira, near Mecca, were: “Iqra” – “Read, in the name of your Lord who created…” (96:1-5). God could have chosen to reveal instructions on prayer, fasting, or other important regulations first, but He chose education because it is the foundation of everything. This message is presented as a command, not a mere request or recommendation, and thus should take precedence over all other obligations. Education fosters enlightenment, cultivates nobility, and prepares individuals to explore new horizons within themselves and in the world around them.

The obligation to study and acquire knowledge was taken very seriously by the early Muslim women and men. Women were not only educated, but they also passed on their acquired knowledge to both women and men. They served as teachers of the Qur’an, transmitters of hadith (the traditions of the Prophet), and experts in fields such as medicine, poetry, language, and philosophy. One example of the most educated women in the early Muslim community of Medina in the 7th century was Aisha, the wife of the Prophet, about whom he himself said: “Take part of your faith from Humeira (a woman with a slightly tanned complexion).”

The great historian Ibn Hajar al-Askalani also wrote that he had never seen anyone as knowledgeable in religion, poetry, and medicine as Aisha. Numerous other women in the early years of Islam were exceptional scholars and teachers. It was not uncommon for prominent Islamic scholars to write about how they learned certain topics from women who led their own learning circles, or mini-schools. For instance, Imam Shafi studied under Professor As-Sajjidah Nafisah, born in 762 and the great-granddaughter of Hasan Ibn Abi Talib. The Qur’anic commentator Ibn Kathir records that when Imam Shafi arrived in Egypt, he was supported by a wealthy and learned woman, As-Sajjidah Nafisah, in whose house he often stayed and from whom he learned. When he became ill, he left a will stating that As-Sajjidah Nafisah should perform the funeral prayer. His body was first taken to her house so she could offer prayers, before being brought to the cemetery, where the final rites were conducted by men. Even though there were other educated men, including qadis, muftis, and theologians at the time, Imam Shafi chose to entrust this significant religious duty to a woman.

Ibn Taymiyya, a renowned theologian whose works are widely referenced in Wahhabi ideology, also had female teachers, such as Umm Zaynab Fatima bint Abbas al-Baghdadiya (d. 1314). She was a shaykha (female teacher) of a zaviya (Sufi spiritual house) in Cairo and an expert jurist who issued fatwas (legal rulings). Ibn Taymiyya publicly praised her expertise and excellence. However, he was uncomfortable when she lectured from the mosque pulpit, admitting that he intended to stop her from doing so. But in a dream, the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) appeared to him and reprimanded him, saying: “This pious woman is performing a worthy task.” Great philosophers such as Ibn Arabi, Ibn Hazm, Jalal al-Din Rumi, and other luminaries of Islamic history also had female teachers and were not ashamed to acknowledge this publicly, for knowledge is a precious gift, not defined by gender. Nonetheless, gender roles assigned to women and men have deeply influenced the production of knowledge and its impact on their lives.

The Darkness of Civilization in the Name of Religion

The message of Islam brought light to humanity, offering an ethical compass and guidance to be just and merciful toward all people and all of creation. How, then, is it possible that Muslims—who were given the first divine command to “Iqra” (Read)—have not only strayed far from that message, but have also opposed it, leaving behind a civilizational desolation in their families and communities?

The Taliban are not the first to ban women from education. Throughout history, there have been other groups, wearing different uniforms and guided by different ideologies, that have similarly restricted women’s rights. Both in the East and the West, women’s right to education was often denied. Those from wealthier families could sometimes receive education in specific fields that prepared them for their roles as mothers, housewives, or as members of spiritual communities. It was only in the 18th and 19th centuries that schools and universities for girls and women, and later co-educational secular schools, began to open in Europe.

In early Muslim communities, women had the privilege of education. However, with the rise of the Umayyad dynasty and later the Abbasid caliphate, opportunities for women’s education became more restricted. Instead of opening schools and upholding the first message of Islam—”Seek knowledge”—Muslim rulers, following the Byzantine example, established harems filled with women for pleasure. Within these harems, women could only advance if they were educated. Slave schools were established where women studied law, philosophy, art, and literature to impress the caliphs with their intellect. Outside the harem, Muslim women from the upper classes were generally educated within their families, though most lacked even that opportunity. The wealthier women could endow charitable institutions, as Fatima al-Fihri did in 857 in Fez, Morocco, when she founded the Al-Qarawiyyin Mosque and University. However, although she could donate her wealth to the waqf (endowment), she could neither teach nor attend the university, as it was reserved for men—just like Al-Azhar in Cairo, which remained exclusively for male education for centuries.

Muslims often take pride in the scientific achievements of the Islamic Golden Age (8th-14th centuries). However, this period is largely measured by the accomplishments of great male scholars who worked in institutions like the House of Wisdom (Bayt al-Hikmah) in Baghdad or the Dar al-Hikma in Cairo, and in the great libraries of Granada, Spain. Men had the power and privilege to lead the way in science and be world leaders in disciplines such as mathematics, astronomy, and philosophy, while women were largely excluded from these significant projects. The freedom that Muslim women experienced in the early community of Medina was gradually replaced by the confines of the home or the caliph’s harem, where women were educated not for the sake of knowledge or personal growth, but to win the caliph’s favor. A few women, with the support of a progressive family environment, pursued science and spirituality, inspired by their faith in God, and became recognized as authorities in their fields. However, most women did not have such opportunities.

Regrettably, there have been times in Islamic history when women were denied education, justified by interpretations of religion dressed in the garb of patriarchy and tribal customs—similar to the way the Taliban in Afghanistan are acting today. When customs and traditions become idols instead of God—whom believers are meant to worship—then every Islamic message, including the obligation to seek knowledge, can be distorted and reduced to serve patriarchal interests. When corrupt or unscrupulous leaders rise to power, they exploit local customs to prevent women from attending school, manipulating religious arguments about gender roles and claiming that a woman’s supposedly fragile nature should be limited to family duties.

Not too long ago, in the early 20th century, Muslim women in the Balkans were similarly prevented from attending secular schools, out of fear that they would become morally corrupt. One such example is the story of Ševala Zildžić, the first female doctor in Bosnia and Herzegovina. She had to obtain special permission from the head of the Islamic Community in Bosnia to complete her high school education and later enroll in the Faculty of Medicine in Zagreb. Despite constant harassment for attending school with boys, she persevered, thanks to her father, a wealthy merchant, and then reis-ul-ulema Džemaludin Čaušević. Čaušević, a progressive figure often criticized by his peers for his liberal views on women’s education and unveiling, played a crucial role in Ševala’s success in realizing her dream of becoming a doctor.

During the 1950s and 1960s, many families in rural Bosnia and Herzegovina, despite legal mandates from the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, resisted the education of their daughters. They paid fines to the state rather than comply with compulsory primary education laws, believing that educating girls, especially in secular schools with boys, would lead to moral decline.

This reductionist understanding of Islam and tradition has its roots in gender segregation, often justified by religion, which denied Muslim women their right to education. As a result, many of our grandmothers and mothers remained illiterate or barely finished primary school. However, they were intelligent and could have become scholars, contributing to their families and society. Unfortunately, ignorance and primitiveness, often masked as religious piety, deprived them of this basic human and religious right—the right to education.

If history, and even the present day, show examples of prohibiting women’s education—despite the explicit Islamic directive that education is mandatory for every person—then what can be said of other issues that are less clearly defined and left to evolve with societal progress, such as testimony, inheritance, polygamy, and other matters that could not be resolved overnight in a society where slavery was still a reality?

Today, although education is widely available and more women than men graduate from universities and earn doctorates, women still do not have equal opportunities. Often, men who publicly present themselves as devout believers tell these women that their degrees will help them cook and manage their households better. This speaks volumes about the enlightened minds of some contemporary Muslims, who, much like neo-Taliban, interpret the command “Iqra—Read” in a way that suits their patriarchal mindset. A fair and honest engagement with women requires faith, courage, and humanity, virtues that were demonstrated by great teachers in the history of Islam. These scholars were not ashamed to acknowledge women as their teachers and experts in various fields of science, unlike some individuals today who belittle women’s knowledge and academic achievements with dismissive comments about their relevance and practical application.

Light against darkness

It is encouraging that numerous Islamic organizations worldwide, including the Organization of the Islamic Conference (OIC), have spoken out against the ban on women’s education in Afghanistan. It is crucial not to remain silent in the face of the Taliban government’s irrational decisions.

However, as an ancient Chinese proverb states, “It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.” No matter how much the world is outraged by the ban on women’s education in Afghanistan and elsewhere, the minds where the darkness of primitivism, backwardness, coercion, and disrespect for both God and humanity prevail will not be changed by appeals and petitions alone. It is essential to address the root of the problem because banning education is one of the ways the Taliban draw global attention to the injustice and poverty suffered by the Afghan people, who have been repeatedly exploited for the political interests of powerful nations from both the West and the East.

The unenlightened and frustrated Taliban leaders, inspired by puritanical Wahhabi ideology, remain deaf to the pleas of numerous human rights organizations and the cries of women and families. They attempt to demonstrate their power and capacity to establish order—an order they bizarrely interpret as the ideal of Islamic life. However, the true Islamic ideal cannot be realized through bans on education, gender segregation, or the exclusion of women from public life. Despite this, the Taliban still find justification in historical periods when Islam was interpreted in an androcentric and exclusivist manner, where men were deemed superior to women, controlling their lives and deciding whether they could be educated, work, or even mix with men.

In countries like Saudi Arabia, gender segregation remains a reality, and many women on the margins of society lack access to education. Women from more privileged backgrounds may have this right, but within a segregated environment—separate schools for men and women. Any mixing of genders is seen as a source of disorder (fitna), providing the Taliban with a wealth of patriarchal interpretations of Islam, both past and present, to justify their political objectives.

Rather than simply condemning the Taliban, who deserve every criticism, it is important to deconstruct the political, economic, and religious foundations that uphold such grotesque practices—practices that Western powers often ignore as long as they benefit from oil and other resources.

If violations of women’s rights in Saudi Arabia and other Muslim countries are overlooked, while the Taliban in Afghanistan are criticized with outrage and disgust, we must seriously question the integrity of our moral compass and the selective nature of our criticism. The Taliban did not originate the interpretations of Islam that prohibit women’s education and enforce gender segregation; rather, they are following puritanical intellectuals whose ideas form the basis of Wahhabi ideology, which stifles the vitality of the Islamic message and transforms it into chains of oppression and injustice in the name of God.