Reviving the Sacred Market

When Gandhi was asked what he thought of Western civilization, he famously replied "I think it would be a good idea" (if the West were to act as civilized as they claim to be). The same response can be apt to the question of what to think of the so-called free market, as extolled by so many modern uber-capitalists (even after the 2008 bank crash). It sounds so nice. The market described by them is an engine of prosperity, a bottomless pit of wealth-creation that rewards those who operate on innovation and ingenuity to serve the consumer. The reality though is anything but.

The globalized market of today is an ugly, inefficient, lifeless mess. It functions, through endless streams of advertising propaganda, to create insatiable demand among misinformed customers while ignoring their crucial needs. In fact, until the rise of public relations in the early part of the 20th century, courtesy of Edward Bernays, the demand-based economy as we see today didn't event exist. The supermarkets of the world, with their aisles and aisles of largely useless items, gives an illusion of choice. But underneath this veneer is the truth that much of the diversity of items found in locations across the world has given way to mass standardization. Visiting a mall in Saudi Arabia or Malaysia, with the exception of the absence of skimpy clothing, is hardly much different than visiting one in France or the US. Both are incredibly crass, spiritually vacuous, and reek of artificiality.

This free market is far from free. It encourages hoarding, allows collusion between mega corporations to rig and manoeuvre the market, and favours larger multinational monopolies over small local business. It periodically jeopardizes the public welfare at private expense through what the business sector refers to as 'externalities'. On a larger level, it functions as a cover for the pyramid scheme known as global finance.


Contrast this with the humbly elegant markets that existed for much of Muslim history, and you will realize what we have lost. The true free markets of the Muslim world, of which only a few remnants remain, were vibrant centers that pulsated with life and energy. The hustle and bustle, the pungent aroma of spices, the arresting sight of colourful pigments and dyes, the cacophony of the haggling merchants, all contributed to make the Muslim market a unique sensory experience. The real jewels of the medieval Muslim world were not the Taj Mahal or the Hagia Sophia. They were the fez cap makers of Tunis and the spice traders of Cairo. They were the Kapali Carsi of Istanbul and the carpet dealers of Isfahan. Commerce was the hallmark of Muslim civilisation.

Yet there was a sense of sacredness to Muslim commerce. The market would traditionally be located in close proximity to the Masjid, and this was not by accident. There was no dichotomy between earning a lawful income and performing salah, between the mundane activities and the holy, all were considered worship. Our Prophet (pbuh), himself a merchant, spoke of the high station granted in Paradise to righteous merchants, and trade was an important vehicle for propagating the faith to all corners of the world.

The principles of the Muslim market were beautiful in their simplicity. There were no market barriers to access for any prospective merchant who wished to ply his trade. There would be minimal intervention by the state in the market activities, except mainly to verify the accuracy of weights and measures, quality of the goods and the purity of the coinage. Prices would not be fixed, as this violated the tenet that demand and supply are forces under the control of God. In fact, the entire ethos of market participation was to foster a sense of independence from worldly actors and a pure submission to the Almighty, a far cry from the 'paycheck mentality' of today.

The reason the market thrived was that it was an organic product of the community that surrounded it. Major crime was rare. The customers and fellow merchants would all be family members, friends or close acquaintances. This communal aspect predominated over economic considerations much of the time. For example, it was not uncommon for a shopkeeper to close shop early once he had earned a sufficient livelihood for the day, to give his neighbouring shopkeeper a chance to make his earning. This would be unthinkable nowadays. This symbiotic relationship between the market and tight-knit community can explain why both suffered simultaneously in the post-colonial phase in Muslim lands.

Traditional bazaars relied on the fraternity and integrity of the merchants to survive. Rather than external government pressure, harmony was maintained through a sense of solidarity and internal control nurtured by the faith. But times have changed. Even the most basic market actions, such as the classic price bargaining (with an assortment of verbal and non-verbal cues depending on the time of day and seniority of the customer) have largely disappeared.

While Muslim modernists seem wholly fixated on retrofitting the existing financial architecture to transform it into the ideal 'Islamic economy', they often ignore the centrepiece of the market. Re-establishing the classic Muslim market is essential for any effective programme to combat riba. The idea of the market is not dead, but its spirit lies dormant within the Muslim communities, waiting to be revived.

Some encouraging efforts have been made in this regard. I will like to call the attention of all readers to an upcoming event planned by the UNRIBA campaign on 23 August to discuss with some local and international freemarketeers over their attempts to return to the classical market. Their work is inspiring, but more needs to be done by the rest of us. It's high time we brought back the market.

Please click here for more information on the event.