The relationship between Jamaat-e-Islami and Qawmi Muslims (followers of Deobondi school of thought) has long been a complicated story in the landscape of Islamic politics in Bangladesh.
A recent remark by Maulana Abdul Malek, khatib of Baitul Mukarram National Mosque, has stirred political debate once again. Before the election, he had warned voters that a party does not become haq (righteous or true to Islam) simply because its monogram contains a Quranic verse. But at a recent religious gathering, he described joining an alliance with Jamaat as gomrahi, or going astray.
Maulana Abdul Malek himself belongs to the Qawmi tradition and serves as secretary for academic affairs at Markazud Dawah, an advanced research institution for Qawmi students. His remarks therefore appear to reflect more than an individual scholar's opinion; they hint at a longstanding unease within an entire religious tradition.
Although Jamaat's leadership has not issued an official response, anger has surfaced among its grassroots supporters on social media. They have questioned why the khatib remains silent about wrongdoing by members of the ruling party across the country. In a video, Jamaat lawmaker Amir Hamza can be heard saying that the imam of the grand mosque has become angry.
Most members of the National Ulama Alliance, the Islamic wing of the National Citizen Party (NCP), which is part of Jamaat-led 11-party alliance, have Qawmi educational backgrounds. Its spokesperson has said that religious perspectives and political perspectives are not the same.
Maulana Mamunul Haque has also found himself caught up in the controversy. The Bangladesh Khelafat Majlish, which he leads, is part of Jamaat's alliance. Yet he is the son of the widely respected Qawmi scholar Shaykhul Hadith Azizul Haque and is himself a Shaykhul Hadith. In response, Mamunul Haque said that although Maulana Abdul Malek was a distinguished religious scholar, he had never accepted him as his political mentor.
The controversy has been further inflamed by Hefazat-e-Islam's initiative for "Islamic unity". The most influential organisation in the Qawmi tradition is seeking to bring seven Qawmi political parties under one umbrella. Jamaat is not part of the initiative, but two of those seven parties are allied with it. The initiative, which has been underway for several months, has stalled over one question: Will any party be allowed to remain in an alliance with Jamaat after this unity is formed?
Hefazat's organising secretary, Mufti Bashirullah, told the BBC that the answer is no. He also made it clear that their dispute with Jamaat is religious, not political.
Hefazat chief Muhibbullah Babunagari has used even harsher language. At a religious gathering in Chattogram in August 2025, he reportedly described Jamaat as a "deceitful Islamic party" and said that, in terms of religious belief, it was "worse than the Qadianis".
In response, Jamaat Assistant Secretary General Ahsanul Mahboob Zubair described the remarks as "false, fabricated and vulgar". Jamaat had generally avoided such attacks in the past. Its response suggests that it has now broken with that practice.
This raises a question: If nearly everyone in Islamic politics speaks of broadly similar goals, why do a large section of Qawmi scholars regard Jamaat as so distant from them?
The answer is that there are three main sources of conflict. There are disagreements over aqidah, or fundamental Islamic beliefs. There is competition over who has the authority to interpret Islam. And there are deep-rooted historical suspicions.
Why, then, do Qawmi scholars sometimes sit alongside Jamaat despite their objections, only to denounce it as misguided at other times? Because beliefs do not change, but political calculations do.
Rift began within Jamaat itself
This conflict did not originate outside Jamaat. It began within the organisation itself.
When Jamaat was founded in 1941, several scholars from the Qawmi or Deobandi tradition were among its members. Maulana Manzur Nomani was one of them. He was a founding member and the party's deputy ameer. Another founding member was Abul Hasan Ali Nadwi, a member of Deoband's governing body who also served on Jamaat's first Majlis-e-Shura, or consultative council. Both men left the organisation within a year.
Nomani later wrote in his book Maulana Maududi Ke Saath Meri Rafaqat Ki Sarguzasht (An Account of My Association with Maulana Maududi) that he disagreed with some of the writings of Jamaat's principal founder, Syed Abul A'la Maududi, concerning the Prophet Muhammad's companions, earlier Islamic scholars and the spiritual dimensions of Islam.
In his autobiography Karwan-e-Zindagi, Ali Nadwi wrote that Maulana Maududi viewed worship, Sufism and the pursuit of faith as means of establishing an Islamic state. According to Nadwi, an Islamic state was an important part of religion but not its ultimate objective. The ultimate goal was to cultivate devotion to Allah in people's hearts and attain salvation in the afterlife.
Both men were Indian scholars. In Bangladesh, one of the leading figures in the same tradition was Maulana Shamsul Haque Faridpuri, known as Sadar Saheb Huzur of Gopalganj and founder of Lalbagh Madrasah in Dhaka. He supported Jamaat for many years. Later, however, he criticised Jamaat and Maududi's beliefs and their practical application, publishing a book titled Bhul Shongshodhon (Correcting Mistakes).
The criticism of Jamaat by these three scholars had one important consequence: it became impossible to dismiss the dispute between Jamaat and the Deobandi tradition as mere jealousy on the part of outsiders associated with madrasahs. People who had once been part of Jamaat's own circle raised these criticisms and allegations. Jamaat, however, has its own explanations and counterarguments regarding their objections.
Following criticism by these former Jamaat associates and Qawmi scholars, the dispute between the two sides took on a formal character. On 3 August 1951, senior scholars from the Deobandi tradition issued a joint fatwa declaring that Maududi's ideas and some of Jamaat's positions were contrary to the aqidah of Ahl-e-Sunnat wal Jamaat.
The allegations centred on three main issues. First, criticism of the Prophet's companions. Second, a political interpretation of religion—in other words, viewing acts of worship such as prayer, fasting and Hajj as training for governing a state. Third, rejecting the belief that prophets are free from sin.
Among the signatories were Husain Ahmad Madani, a senior Hadith scholar at Deoband; principal Qari Muhammad Tayyib; Muhammad Zakariyya, author of Fazail-e-Amaal; and Muhammad Mian, secretary of Jamiat Ulama-e-Hind, among others.
According to the fatwa, the scholars reached their conclusion after examining Maududi's writings, as well as Jamaat's publications and decisions at the time. The fatwa was first published in Delhi's daily Al-Jamiyat. It was later reprinted in full in Darul Uloom, Deoband's monthly publication. Deoband subsequently reaffirmed the same position on various occasions in response to questions.
Is it only a question of belief?
No. The question of religious authority is also central: Who gets to determine what Islam says? Is it the person who has spent years studying at a madrasah and obtained the traditional scholarly credentials passed down through generations? Or can someone educated in the modern system also speak authoritatively about Islam on the strength of persuasive writing?
Maulana Maududi was not himself a traditionally trained Islamic scholar. Jamaat was built around a cadre of ideologically committed activists, for whom a traditional religious qualification was not a prerequisite for leadership.
In his book The Ulama in Contemporary Islam, Muhammad Qasim Zaman, a professor of religion at Princeton University, has shown that the question of authority is a major source of tension between traditional scholars in the Indian subcontinent and modern Islamic thinkers such as Maulana Maududi.
Seyyed Vali Reza Nasr of Johns Hopkins University, in his book Mawdudi and the Making of Islamic Revivalism, has shown that Maulana Maududi sought to place the responsibility for religious leadership in the hands of ideologically committed activists rather than reserving it for people with traditional religious qualifications.
This poses a challenge to Qawmi scholars, who regard themselves as custodians of religion. A Hadith states that scholars are the heirs of the prophets (Sunan al-Tirmidhi, 2622). Yet some Qawmi scholars believe that a political organisation is seeking to take over the role of those custodians.
There is also a concern within Qawmi circles that, if Jamaat grows stronger, it may seek to take control of madrasahs and mosques. Similar allegations have been heard in various areas since the 13th parliamentary election.
The implications are evident in contemporary politics. On issues such as women's policy, religious sentiment and voting, both Hefazat and Jamaat seek support from the same religiously observant population. As a result, disagreements over belief can quickly turn into a contest over who should lead.
This does not mean that objections over aqidah are merely an excuse. Rather, the dispute becomes so intense partly because political competition lies behind it.
Deep wounds from history
The first of these old wounds dates back to 1947. During the partition of the subcontinent, Deobandi scholars themselves were divided. Husain Ahmad Madani supported a united Indian nationhood, while Shabbir Ahmad Usmani supported the Pakistan movement.
Maulana Maududi questioned whether the Muslim League's leadership was qualified, in Islamic terms, to lead the community. At the same time, he opposed the idea of a united Indian nationhood. After Pakistan was established, he moved there and began demanding an Islamic constitution. Scholars who had supported Pakistan's creation were angered by what they saw as an attempt by someone who had not participated in the movement to reap its benefits.
The 1971 Liberation War also became a source of conflict. Jamaat's position throughout the war was in favour of a united Pakistan. However, the main section of Qawmi political activists was influenced by Jamiat, led by the Madani family of India, and supported the Liberation War. The section influenced by Nizam-e-Islam, meanwhile, chose to remain silent.
Although the events of 1971 may not feature prominently among the arguments Qawmi leaders currently make against Jamaat, there is no denying that Jamaat's role during the Liberation War creates additional political risks for Qawmi leaders who are now allied with it.
The 2013 Shapla Chattar events also left a deep mark on relations between the two sides. According to a widely held account, Jamaat and its student wing, Islami Chhatra Shibir, provided manpower and logistical support for Hefazat's march towards Dhaka.
At the time, various quarters described Hefazat as an "ally" of Jamaat. In response, Hefazat's then chief told the media, "Rather than calling us Jamaat's allies, shoot us dead."
After the night of 5 May, many in Qawmi circles came to believe that Jamaat had tried to use Hefazat as a tool to achieve its own political objectives.
But the mistrust has not been one-sided. In 2018, after the state recognised the educational qualifications awarded by Qawmi madrasahs, Hefazat leaders gathered at a thanksgiving event. Jamaat leaders criticised the gathering, describing it as the Qawmi scholars' "political surrender" and accusing them of allowing themselves to be used by the Awami League government.
Between rivalry and alliance
Despite the tensions, there have been repeated attempts at unity. Qawmi scholars and Jamaat have often appeared on the same political platform.
In the 1970s, Nizam-e-Islam and Jamaat were together in opposition alliances against Ayub Khan. In the 1990s, the two sides took to the streets demanding a caretaker government, albeit under separate banners. When the BNP-led four-party alliance was formed in 1999, Islami Oikya Jote and Jamaat joined the same coalition and eventually shared power.
Jamaat's former ameer, Professor Ghulam Azam, wrote a book titled The History of Efforts for Islamic Unity in Bangladesh about these attempts at unity. In it, he praised the efforts of Shaykhul Hadith Azizul Haque, Mamunul Haque's father.
However, that alliance also raised serious questions within Qawmi circles. Many scholars asked how people who considered Maulana Maududi's aqidah erroneous could join the same coalition as Jamaat.
Syed Fazlul Karim, the then Pir of Charmonai, left the Islami Oikya Jote over what he regarded as Jamaat's "flawed aqidah". A section of Jamiat Ulama-e-Islam also voiced objections.
In the 1980s, one of the leading figures in the Qawmi tradition, Muhammadullah Hafezzi—known as Hafezzi Huzur and a presidential candidate at the time—led the Khelafat Andolon. His position was that Islamists should unite on the basis of Deobandi aqidah, rather than following Maududi-oriented groups or any other party.
The Islami Oikya Jote, which had been formed by Qawmi parties, eventually fragmented into several factions.
In the new political circumstances following the July 2024 uprising, Jamaat and Charmonai—longstanding rivals—initiated an effort to consolidate Islamist votes under one umbrella. But as other Islamic parties joined the initiative, Charmonai withdrew. Some parties stayed with Jamaat, others reached an understanding with the BNP, and still others maintained independent positions. One electoral bloc turned into three.
Hefazat is now seeking to reunite at least some of the many fragmented Qawmi parties. Why?
One notable trend has emerged since 2024: Qawmi followers joining Jamaat, something that was previously rare. Several Qawmi-educated scholars, students and teachers, including Mufti Ali Hasan Usama, once known for anti-democratic "jihadi" rhetoric, have joined Jamaat. Some of the new recruits have also called for the formation of Chhatra Shibir committees in Qawmi madrasahs.
Many believe this is the main reason behind Hefazat's unity initiative. Senior scholars fear that divisions among Qawmi parties are weakening them and that younger generations are losing faith in them. Joining Jamaat, in this view, is a response to that frustration.
Beliefs remain, political calculations change
This brings us to another question: If the dispute with Jamaat is so deep, why do Qawmi parties keep forming alliances with it? Their objections over aqidah remain much the same as they were in 1951. If aqidah alone determined political choices, such comings and goings would not happen.
It appears that aqidah does constitute a wall, but political calculations determine when its gates open: how close a party is to power, where its votes lie, and how secure its leadership is.
Calling someone "misguided" or "deceitful", invoking "political realities", or breaking up an alliance just as it is about to come together may all be different outcomes of the same political calculations.
Whether these outcomes are right or wrong, good or bad, and which side is correct are questions that may require more time to answer. It is also unclear whether Jamaat has a clear intellectual position that can resolve the doubts Qawmi scholars have about it.
One thing is clear: unless Jamaat openly explains how it views Maulana Maududi's "controversial positions" on certain issues and how far it is willing to reconsider or accommodate differing views, the wall of suspicion among Qawmi scholars is unlikely to come down anytime soon.
Nor will the complexities of the political landscape of Islamist groups in Bangladesh be resolved.
* Manzurul Haque is senior subeditor of the Religion section at Prothom Alo. He could be reached at [email protected]
* The views expressed are the author's own.