Whenever the educational backwardness of the Muslim society in Bangladesh is discussed, a very familiar narrative emerges. People argue that the ulema declared English education haram, discouraged science and technology, resisted modern education, and that this is why the Muslim community fell behind. The argument is often presented in a way that makes it seem as though the entire historical decline of a civilization can be reduced to the poor decisions of a few religious figures.

Reality, however, is far more complex.

The biggest problem with this discourse is that it attempts to explain the educational crisis of the Muslim society almost entirely as a moral failure, while largely ignoring the questions of colonial restructuring and institutional engineering.

Colonialism as Epistemic Restructuring

British colonialism was not merely a political transfer of power. It was a complete restructuring of knowledge, language, social legitimacy, and institutional authority. It fundamentally changed what kind of knowledge would be considered valuable, which language would become the language of power, who would gain access to state institutions, and which social classes would be rewarded by the new order.

Dr. Rafiuddin Ahmed, one of the foremost historians of Bengali Muslims, describes this transformation with remarkable clarity:

“The abolition of Persian as the language of the courts and the introduction of English as the official language in 1837… struck at the very root of the Muslim position in the public service. It was not merely a change of language; it was the subversion of a social order. The new system created a ‘knowledge-gap’ that the traditional elite could not bridge without surrendering their cultural identity.”

— The Bengali Muslims, 1871–1906: A Quest for Identity

Language, Power, and Civilizational Anxiety

During the Mughal and Nawabi periods, Persian functioned as the language of administration, judiciary, and higher learning. The Muslim ruling class, the ulema, and large sections of the population were shaped within that linguistic and intellectual order. When the British removed Persian from the administrative structure and replaced it with an English centric bureaucracy, it was not perceived merely as a language transition. For many Muslims, it represented the imposition of an entirely new civilizational hierarchy by a conquering power.

This is an important context that is often either ignored or deliberately erased from public discussions. A section of the ulema did oppose English education, but reducing that opposition solely to ignorance or backwardness reflects a shallow reading of history. For many of them, the issue was political and civilizational. They believed that the newly imposed educational structure was not simply about acquiring knowledge, but also about psychologically internalizing colonial domination.

William Dalrymple captures this intellectual climate effectively while discussing the aftermath of 1857:

“For the Muslim elite of North India and Bengal, the British were not just bringing a new technology or a new language; they were bringing a new way of being human. The resistance of the Madrasas was, in essence, a resistance to a colonial project that sought to colonize the mind as much as the soil.”

— The Last Mughal: The Fall of a Dynasty, Delhi, 1857

This is precisely why the conflict between British colonialism and the ulema was never merely theological. It was also a conflict over power, culture, identity, and civilizational autonomy. The historical context surrounding the establishment of Darul Uloom Deoband makes this particularly clear.

The Colonial Construction of the Madrasa–School Divide

The same oversimplification exists in discussions surrounding the madrasa and general education divide. Many speak as though Muslim society voluntarily isolated itself from modern education. But pre-colonial South Asia did not possess such a rigidly bifurcated educational structure. Religious sciences, philosophy, mathematics, astronomy, language, and logic often coexisted within the same intellectual ecosystem.

Barbara D. Metcalf, one of the leading historians of Deoband and the South Asian ulema tradition, directly addresses this point:

“The very category of ‘religious’ education as distinct from ‘secular’ was a product of the colonial period. In the pre-colonial era, a single curriculum—the Dars-i Nizami—combined what we now call ‘rational’ sciences (ma’qulat) like logic and mathematics with ‘transmitted’ sciences (manqulat). Colonialism forced a retreat, where the Ulema felt compelled to ‘specialize’ in the religious to ensure the very survival of Islamic identity in a state that no longer patronized it.”

— Islamic Revival in British India: Deoband, 1860–1900

It was the colonial educational structure that gradually separated religious education from administrative and scientific education into two distinct institutional tracks. Madrasas were progressively confined into becoming primarily spaces of religious specialization, while access to state power, bureaucracy, and modern sciences became increasingly tied to another educational pathway. Over time, this structural separation became normalized to such an extent that many people now mistakenly treat it as something natural or self-created.

State Failure and Institutional Marginalization

This raises an important question. Is the failure to integrate modern science, technology, and engineering education into madrasa systems entirely the responsibility of the ulema?

Curriculum integration, research funding, accreditation, institutional modernization, and interdisciplinary education are not matters that isolated religious authorities can resolve on their own. These are fundamentally questions of state policy and institutional investment. Yet discussions surrounding Muslim educational decline frequently ignore the role of state failure and instead place the entire burden upon religious scholars alone.

Historian Sugata Bose also demonstrates how colonial economic restructuring weakened the institutional foundations of indigenous education itself:

“The colonial state’s ‘Permanent Settlement’ and subsequent resumption proceedings destroyed the Aima and Madad-i-Ma’ash (land grants) that sustained the rural education network of Bengal. By drying up the resources for indigenous institutions, the state ensured that the only path to social mobility was through the colonial school.”

— Peasant Labour and Colonial Capital: Bihar in the Early Modern World Economy

The Problem with Superficial Comparisons

Another issue worth examining is the superficial nature of many comparative arguments. Muslim societies are often told: “If Iran or Turkey could do it, why can’t we?” But these comparisons are usually sociologically weak.

In Iran, religious establishments and state institutions maintain an organic relationship. Individuals shaped by religious intellectual traditions actively participate within state structures, policy institutions, bureaucracy, and strategic sectors. In Bangladesh, however, almost all major power-producing institutions including academia, bureaucracy, media, judiciary, and policy circles are dominated by secular liberal educational frameworks, while the ulema remain largely institutionally peripheralized.

Expecting identical outcomes from entirely different institutional realities is analytically inconsistent.

Beyond Blame Narratives

None of this means that Muslim society is free from internal problems. Intellectual stagnation, anti-intellectual tendencies, scientific underdevelopment, and resistance to reform are all real issues that deserve criticism. But understanding a society’s intellectual crisis requires more than simply listing its mistakes. One must also examine the historical processes through which its knowledge systems were dismantled, its institutions weakened, and new epistemic hierarchies imposed upon it.

Because no serious analysis of Muslim educational decline can remain intellectually honest if it ignores the colonial reconstruction of knowledge, power, and institutions that shaped the modern Muslim condition in South Asia.