Riyadh, April 28: They cruise the streets in huge Chevrolet Suburbans, staking out cafes for possibly unmarried couples on illicit liaisons.
The religious police, Saudi Arabia’s front-line defenders of controls on public behaviour, are now in reformers’ headlights.
The sacking and then apparent reinstatement this week of the outspoken progressive in the Commission to Promote Virtue and Prevent Vice underscored the tensions behind the battle.
The general manager of the muttawa in the holy city of Mecca, Sheikh Ahmed al-Ghamdi, was declared replaced Sunday in an order signed by the commission’s president, Sheikh Abdulaziz al-Humain, after having repeatedly declared his opposition to bans on gender mixing and requirements that men pray in groups, preferably in mosques.
“There is nothing in Islamic law about mixing,” Ghamdi had repeatedly said.
But that directly contradicted one of his key duties, to prevent fraternising between unrelated members of the sexes.
Hours later Humain’s order was cancelled with no explanation. Saudi media hinted that the reversal involved very high intervention from the country’s royal government.
It was a rare public tussle in the mostly behind-the-scenes battle.
The religious police prevent women from driving; require them to wear abayas; and block what they deem as inappropriate public entertainment.
Last year the semi-autonomous Saudi National Human Rights Association suggested in a report they were out of control.
“The commission enjoys extensive power including catching, arresting, inspecting and investigating. These authorities are not clearly specified in the commission’s law and its regulation, and as a result there is a fear that their acts may violate the rights of individuals.”
But for conservative Saudis, the commission is a godsend, more trusted than the regular police to prevent things like alcohol, prostitution, and sorcery from eroding the foundations of Saudi Arabia.
Although they fall under the interior ministry, they operate with great autonomy, and maintain a close alliance with both the courts and the powerful Grand Ulema, the supreme council of religious scholars.
Religious police spokesman Abdul Mohsen al-Ghaffari said last year they hate the name “religious police” and prefer “Al-Hisbah,” those who hold people accountable to morality laws.
“We are focusing on societal ills,” he said.
A number of cases in recent years have outraged even Saudis and embarrassed the government, prompting King Abdullah to install Humain to reform the commission a year ago.
Humain hired consultants to restructure the organisation, met local human rights groups, and consulted professional image builders in a broad public relations campaign.
The commission also investigated and punished some out-of-control officers for misbehaviour.
It launched regular training sessions as well, including the three-day “skills to deal with tourists.”
The organisation now must only undertake enforcement action together with police, and it has stopped using the untrained volunteers blamed for the worst incidents of the past, Ghaffari said.
Many people in Riyadh say they are harassed less than before.
Rights activist Fawziah al-Bakr said that the religious police were barely evident this year at the two major annual Riyadh public events, the Janadriyah fair and the international book fair.
“I hated to go to Janadriyah in the past because the muttawa hassle women all the time,” she said.
“And the only person who approached me at the book fair this year for not covering my face was another woman.”
Christoph Wilcke of Human Rights Watch says the group may have lightened up a bit but fundamental changes are still needed.
“They’ve been working on piecemeal reform. The big reform actually hasn’t happened,” including a new law under study which would define their mission and remove law enforcement powers.
—Agencies