An Exploration into the Foregrounding of Religion

In “The Prophet’s Hair” and “Civil Peace” in Relation to Theft, Violence, and Post-Colonial Identity

***Originally submitted 12 April 2019 to Dr David Sigler and Ms Shuyin Yu, in part for credit, for ENGL 307: Literature After 1700 at the University of Calgary***

***Not only is this essay subject to copyright, but any unauthorized use without citation is considered academic misconduct (plagiarism). You are welcome to consult this paper if you provide the appropriate citation(s)***

Franz Werfel stated, “Religion is the everlasting dialogue between humanity and God. Art is its soliloquy.” – a sentiment that is captured by Rushdie’s “The Prophet’s Hair” and Achebe’s “Civil Peace” through these text’s interaction amongst its many themes. “The Prophet’s Hair” foregrounds its narrative in Islam to establish a satirical commentary on how Islam can be distorted and turned to extremist forms, in order to justify the atrocities and debauchery in Indian society. In contrast, “Civil Peace” utilizes the foregrounding of Christianity to foil “The Prophet’s Hair” and demonstrate its narrative morals of repentance, forgiveness, and closure amongst the common struggle in postcolonial Nigeria. Within this paper, I will compare and contrast how each short story uses its own respective religious perspective to provide discourse on theft and violence– using a paragraph for each. I will then conclude by summarizing the contrasting central themes within these two texts and offer a perspective to contextualize the impact that these narrative structures have in our modern world within a postcolonial perspective.

Theft is depicted in each story with a different purpose: Rushdie using theft as a narrative device that propels the action, a cause of apparent ‘religious’ beliefs that ultimately leads to tragedy. Meanwhile, Achebe’s depiction of theft produces a religious outcome and concludes with an optimistic note. “The Prophet’s Hair” depicts Hashim as someone who is “fond of pointing out that while he was not a godly man he set great store by ‘living honourably in the world’” embodying the very evil in both Islam and society. Hashim is greedy, arrogant, and adulterous – which he reveals, “thundering” over his wife and “turning on his children” – and is by far, the greatest hypocrite within the text. Upon finding the relic of the Prophet Muhammad’s hair, his resolve is to keep it as “there are American millionaires who purchase stolen art masterpieces and hide them away” – spurring his reconversion and new devotion to Islam. The irony within this is contained in Hashim’s justification, where Islam strictly forbids theft and condemns thieves to a punishment of dismemberment (Forte). Yet Hashim finds no error in equating his moral righteousness to the foundations of American Capitalism. This first instance of theft not only brings about Hashim’s religious rampages, “leaving the children stunned [and] his wife in tears,” but also sends his daughter Huma to likewise ‘sin’ and hires a thief. Despite Huma’s “unseemly [devotion to Islam] as any good Muslim girl [should do]” her “insupportably nostalgic notion” of the threats of “incipient acts of disobedience” highlights her devotion to spirituality – if not religion – and brings her exercise with “the most wretched and disreputable part of the city” all the more tragic. It seems then that in the story’s climax, amongst the near death of the entire household and the insanity of the mother, that theft is shown to corrupt the characters in the story. This includes theft that is rationalized by the devout, as Hashim proclaims “the Prophet would have disapproved mightily of this relic-worship. He abhorred the idea of being defied” and theft that is seemingly spurred by spiritual beliefs, as Atta says, “Maybe I’m crazy – maybe the awful things that are happening have made me cracked –".

But I am convinced there will be no peace in our house until this hair is out of it”. Thus, it becomes clear that Rushdie uses this religious foregrounding to comment on the characters, who misunderstands, misinterpret, and distort religious teachings. Rather than accepting responsibilities for their flaws and errors – Hashim’s capitalist indulgences, Atta’s apparent lack of strength and independence, Huma’s inability to accept responsibility – but instead attribute the tragedy to the Prophet Muhammad’s hair, symbolically attributing such tragedies and shortcomings to Prophet Muhammad – and by extension Islam – himself. Comparatively, Achebe’s notions of theft are significantly nobler. Though Islam and Christianity both agree on the deplorability and criminality of stealing, Proverb 6:30 says “Men do not despise a thief if he steals to satisfy his hunger when he is starving.” This is often preached to expand beyond the denotations of hunger and starvation (Bandow), and so 6:30 states that the only time theft is understandable is when one is desperately in need. Such is the case in “Civil Peace” with the climatic band of thieves arriving at Jonathan’s home. The band declares, “We no be bad tief. […] No Civil War again. This time na Civil Peace.” and in indeed there seems to be evidence of the widespread impact of the war on the Nigerian peoples. Within the text, such evidence includes Jonathan’s elation at his house’ survival of the war, remarking, “Only two houses away a huge concrete edifice some wealthy contractor had put up just before the war was a mountain of rubble. In other words, Jonathan has learned to accept destruction as a given – highlighting the tragedy of this war. Further, Jonathan observes “Some of his fellow ex-miners who had nowhere to return at the end of the day's waiting just slept outside the doors of the offices and cooked what meal they could scrounge together in Bournvita tins.” here these workers have been reduced to helplessness and utter poverty. Contextually, the war also produced a hundred thousand military casualties, two million civilian deaths, nearly five million displaced, and an additional three million refugees (Stremlau). Taken together, it is easy to see that the desperation and violence that drives the thieves is a direct outgrowth of the war, which can also lend a sense of both pity and empathy for the thieves within the story. Yet despite the unfortunate circumstances, Jonathan never falters in his faith, nor does he blame God for his poor circumstance. Given the Christian principle from Jeremiah’s 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” – which says God’s plan will be executed, Jonathan is instead able to continue with his life. He holds onto his great work ethic, and improves his situation by “strapping his five-gallon demijohn to his bicycle carrier” the night after the robbery, “and his wife, sweating in the open fire, was turning over akara balls in a wide clay bowl of boiling oil.” Through his faith, Jonathan is able to forgive, forget, and move on, declaring, “Let it go where everything else has gone. Nothing puzzles God.’” where his religion allows him to move on, instead of being dragged down as is the case with Rushdie’s characters. While Rushdie depicts religion as the cause, albeit distorted cause, and scapegoat of his character’s troubles, Achebe foregrounds a sense of religious conscientiousness that eases his character’s burdens and propels them forward in life.

Interestingly, the occurrences of violence in these texts create similar effects to the commentaries established by theft; yet deliver these arguments in the opposite way. “The Prophet’s Hair” depicts violence as an outcome of circumstance, which criticizes the ‘phoney’ Islamic preaching of Hashim and the deplorable societal values in that narrative. Meanwhile, “Civil Peace” highlights this violence as the cause of society’s detriments and is religiously justified as a necessary evil. The violence depicted in “The Prophet’s Hair” is generally quite superficial, we see Atta’s beaten state in the introduction, there is some domestic violence spurred by Hashim, attacks against the debtors, and the final climactic murder of Huma by her father – none of which are overly grotesque or brutal. The simplicity of these violent acts, however, allow for a nuanced approach to detailing these acts interactions with the narrative, which again engage on levels of religious hypocrisy and by the tenants of Islam, heresy. Islam outlines the use of violence in very strict terms within Sharia Law (Etienne), and despite the many variations amongst the variety of Muslims – Rushdie does not specify which sect his character’s reign from, nor does it matter – the central theme is that violence is only permitted to punish heresy and to protect the sanctity of Islam in Jihad (Etienne). The irony lays in that the “rogues”, or as Islam would label them, heretics, are the ones who have beat Atta for his misdeeds. Although it appears society may abide by the tenants of Islam, and therefore punish Atta, it is also made clear that society itself has been perturbed and corrupted, such as the executioner is too guilty of heresy. It follows then, that religion, and indeed Islam itself have nothing to do with the unsightly status of Indian society depicted – as Hashim would have you believe – but instead is reflective of the rottenness that society itself has become. This idea is reinforced by Hashim’s use of domestic violence – similar to the modern day Islamic Extremists and their distorted use of jihad to harm and inflict terror on innocent civilians via ISIS or Al Qaeda, Hashim embarks on a rampage against his family and later, the debtors. Hashim’s justification for doing so lays in his distaste for his family’s apparent lack of faith, as well as the debtors pointing out Hashim’s hypocrisy in the “Quran’s strictures against usury”. He proceeds to beat on his wife and children, going so far as to call the debtor a, “thief of other men’s money” and “tried to cut off the fellow’s right hand”. Directly, Hashim is hypocritical and deluded in his interpretation of a capitalist-based Islam, one that is clearly tainted by the desire for profit as opposed to the Islamic teaching from the Ahadith, “None of you has faith until he loves for his brother or his neighbour what he loves for himself.” The murder of Huma is likewise a tragic story of honour, for in Islam the dishonour to the family – as Huma would have done, considering her defiance of her father and her resolution of using “the deplorables [in town]” – would grant Hashim the right to seek vengeance on her. Once again, though he does this, he is hypocritical and reinforces this sense of disorder, this core corruptness in society, and the lack of any morality within this society as a whole. Though this violence acts as a result of the character’s actions and misled faith, it serves as a reflection of their perturbed state and reveals their greatest shortcomings and hypocrisies. When looking towards “Civil Peace” violence is rarely referenced directly, and yet is permeated as an undercurrent throughout the text. Overall, the story’s use of violence parallels the way Jonathan has learned to ignore the violence of the past in order to move forward, instead choosing to follow and trust in God. This is first represented with the death of Jonathan’s son, which is only briefly alluded to, “five inestimable blessings--his head, his wife Maria's head and the heads of three out of their four children.” Jonathan is then focussed on his bicycle, passing his son’s death in a nonchalant manner, “As a bonus he also had his old bicycle--a miracle too but naturally not to be compared to the safety of five human heads”. This absurdity is further reinforced when it is revealed that he is able to bury and recover his bicycle from the burial ground, seemingly without much emotional grief as “That night he buried [the bicycle] in the little clearing in the bush where the dead of the camp, including his own youngest son, were buried. When he dug it up again a year later after the surrender all it needed was a little palm-oil greasing. 'Nothing puzzles God,' he said in wonder.” This passage not only demonstrates Jonathan’s acceptance of life’s violence but also directly refocuses on God. He states “nothing puzzles God” but Achebe craftily places this phrase so as to reference both Jonathan’s son’s death, as well as the preservation of his bicycle. This normalized acceptance of violence continues as later, in the capital, Jonathan’s “children picked mangoes near the military cemetery” – another oblique reminder of the war's carnage. Lastly, the violence depicted in the climactic robbery always remains unseen – Achebe achieves this in his form, grounding most of the action in dialogue, with succinct fragments instead of lengthy descriptions – reminding the family and the reader that the ever–present and impending violence found in Nigeria is typically as dangerous and frequent as direct violence. Likewise, though, Jonathan remains optimistic, speaking to God both during the robbery, “'To God who made me; if you come inside and find one hundred pounds, take it and shoot me and shoot my wife and children. I swear to God.” as well as after, “Nothing puzzles God”. As a whole then, Jonathan understands and is aware of this great violence that precedes and causes much of the hardship he and his family endures. However, they are able to accept and find closure through their faith, and in doing so continue on with their struggle, choosing to fight and survive. Contrasted again with the corruptibility found in “The Prophet’s Hair” and the chaos and hypocrisy that consume the characters, their pseudo-faith destroys them, whereas Jonathan’s faith saves him.

Having established the religious foregrounding of theft and violence in these two texts, contextualizing religion in both India and Nigeria and the link religion plays into colonialism, will be instrumental in providing further meaning to how these texts operate in a post-colonial world. For India, British Imperial Rule saw the institutionalization of differences based on the identity between its subjects as a matter of policy (Mill), specifically along religious lines. This effect would erupt with British decolonization of the subcontinent in 1946 following the end of the Second World War, and lead to the partition of India and Pakistan – or in theory, Hindus and Muslims – in 1971 (Khan). What occurred instead was what British Prime Minister Edward Heath described as, “a mass orgy of Indians beaten, mutilated, tortured or raped in communal violence between [Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims.]” (Khan). The death toll has been estimated up to two million with another twenty million people displaced (Khan). Such is the setting for “The Prophet’s Hair” with the legacy of British assimilation distorting the core values of Islam, pushing society into poverty, and its citizens into debauchery. Further, Hashim’s ‘capitalist-Islam’ as I have alluded to several times in this paper, is the direct consequence of British Imperial rule and mercantilism, indoctrinating the subcontinent into such greed and excess. The Nigerian story of colonization starts much earlier, as Christianity came to Nigeria in the 15th century through Augustinian and Capuchin monks from Portugal (Kenny). Like in India however, the British Empire would ultimately spark the alluded civil war as their institutionalization of differences manufactured tensions between the British-Unified Biafra people and the British back federalist government (Stremlau). In this way, there is a dissonance between the effects of British rule in “Civil Peace” but is easily rationalized when considering the positives of Jonathan’s faith also come at a cost of false hope, a loss of indigenous culture, and a fragmented, broken, ‘white colonial man’s’ religion. Both these texts, though vastly different in their approach to religion and the depictions of theft and violence, both offer strong unified post-colonial commentary on the negatives of colonialism. Further, the semiotics have disappeared from both societies in many ways – Rushdie shows the prophet’s hair and the Islamic religion itself has become distorted, while Achebe focuses on a foreign religion and a protagonist who speaks without the stereotypical Nigerian accent. Both stories also highlight some form of subaltern mimicry, and the destruction of both these societies order, but as well their culture and identity as a whole.

Through the foregrounding of religion in “The Prophet’s Hair” and “Civil Peace” in relation to theft, violence, and post-colonial identity, it becomes clear that both offer strong commentary on the use of faith. Religion’s power is seen both as a scapegoat and source of evil, as well as a source of optimism and closure. However, the implications of both uses of faith highlight the strong colonial histories these societies face, and the lasting legacies of these colonial times, and how they will impact these nations and their peoples for generations to come.

Works Cited

Bandow, Doug. “Capitalism and Christianity: The Uneasy Partnership?”. International Journal on World Peace, Vol. 19, No. 3. Paragon House. JSOR, https://www.jstor.org/stable/20753363. Accessed 12 April 2019.

Etienne, Bruno. “Islam and Violence.” Peace and Wars Between Cultures: Between Europe and the Mediterranean, Vol. 18, No. 3. History and Anthropology, DOI: 10.1080/02757200701389204. Accessed 12 April 2019.

Forte, David F. “Islamic Law and the Crime of Theft: An Introduction.” Cleveland State Law Review. Cleveland State University, https://engagedscholarship.csuohio.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?referer=https://www.google.com/&httpsredir=1&article=1956&context=clevstlrev. Accessed 12 April 2019.

Kenny, Joseph. “Sharīa and Christianity in Nigeria: Islam and a 'Secular' State.” Journal of Religion in Africa, Vol. 26, Fasc. 4. Brill, DOI: 10.2307/1581837. Accessed 12 April 2019.

Khan, Yasmin. “The Great Partition: The Making of India and Pakistan, New Edition.” Yale University Press, 2007. Google Books. N.p., n.d. Web. Accessed 12 April 2019.

Mill, James. “The History of British India: In Three Volumes.” Baldwick, Cradock and Joy. 1987. Google Books. N.p., n.d. Web. Accessed 12 April 2019.

Stremlau, John J. “The International Politics of the Nigerian Civil War, 1967-1970”. Princeton University Press. 1977. Google Books. N.p., n.d. Web. Accessed 12 April 2019.