THIS is essentially an age of narratives. Narratives not only shape people’s attitudes and behaviour they also form the contours of politics, identity and ideology.

Each society has its own grand narratives and strengthens them through creating sub-narratives.

Myanmar is a unique case where certain narratives have triggered the politics of ‘numerology’, which is fuelling Buddhist-Muslim tensions not only there but also in other Southeast and South Asian nations.

In fact, it has given birth to a Buddhist extremist nationalist movement in the region. The extremist monks are trying to build their movement on the pattern of Muslim radical movements. Interestingly, the mindset of both movements appears similar as hardliner monks have also started talking about ‘monk power’.

Each radical and nationalist movement needs certain narratives from which it draws its ideological and political arguments. Narratives provide the structural relationship between idea and action. Usually a narrative is described as a sequence of related events in the past and recounted for rhetorical or ideological purposes.

For instance, Khilafat-i-Rashida — the Islamic caliphate established by the four righteous caliphs following the Prophet’s (PBUH) era — remains a major source of inspiration for a common Muslim as a model Islamic state. The Muslim extremists, while exploiting this notion, tend to build their own narratives around the concept of the caliphate system.

Islamists embed this grand narrative in their national identity. Islamic organisations and most religious-political parties in Pakistan present it as an ideal and the only model of governance.

Hizbut Tahrir (HT) espouses an alternative electoral process to elect a caliph and traditional religious parties consider the Islamic caliphate a complete system which they argue must be enforced in its original or traditional form.

The Taliban and other major militant groups in Pakistan share a similar connotation of the caliphate system and consider the Taliban era in Afghanistan (1996-2001) a manifestation of Khilafat-i-Rashida. Many Muslims in Pakistan conceive the implementation of the caliphate system as the purpose of the establishment of Pakistan and the ultimate objective of the state.

A more critical narrative of Khilafat-i-Rashida has been constructed by sectarian organisations in Pakistan. Sunni sectarian groups use this narrative to counter the fundamental Shia concept of Panjatan Pak (The Prophet and the four immediate members of his family; Ali, Fatima, Hasan and Husain). The Sunnis also use the term Haq Char Yar (the first four caliphs), which has been extracted from the concept of the Khilafat-i-Rashida.

In Myanmar, 969 vs 786 has a similar connotation. The number 786 is a numerical representation of the Islamic blessing, but hardliner Buddhists in Myanmar claim the sum of the three numbers signifies a Muslim plan for dominating the world in the 21st century.

In fact, Burmese Muslims have long used the symbol to identify halal restaurants. Irrespective of its original context, the numerical representation of 786 has become a negative symbol for many Buddhists in Myanmar.

The extremist monks have formed a radical 969 Buddhist movement and use the number 969 to ‘oppose’ 786. According to monks, 969 represents the ‘three jewels’: the nine attributes of the Buddha, the six attributes of his teachings, and the nine attributes of the sangha, or monastic order.

The 969 movement, led by monks Wirathu and Wimala, enjoys support from senior government officials and some members of the opposition party, the National League for Democracy headed by Nobel peace laureate Aung San Suu Kyi. She is herself reluctant to talk in favour of Muslims. In recent remarks to the media, she denied that Muslims had been subjected to ethnic cleansing.

The monks are emerging as a political force in Myanmar. They had played a central role in the pro-democracy ‘saffron revolution’ uprisings against military rule in 2007. Many monks were put behind bars during the uprising and later treated as heroes. When political transition started in Myanmar the hardliner monks, who were part of the uprising, felt politically isolated and marginalised.

The monks intensified the 969 movement. When Arakanese Buddhists and Rohingya Muslims first clashed in western Arakan, the violence was largely a regional issue. But it did not remain confined to that. Hardliner monks exploited it and tensions spread across the country.

The International Crisis Group in its recent report on Myanmar rightly pointed out that “anti-Muslim sentiments and violence are not a new phenomenon in Myanmar, with riots and killings having occurred regularly since the British colonial period. At this delicate moment of transition, the risk of these old enmities resurfacing is serious”.

While Buddhists are happy that their political power is increasing, interestingly, their 969 movement is also concerned about the fact that the Buddhist population could decrease as compared to other religious and ethnic minorities in the country because many Buddhists are becoming monks who cannot marry and raise a family.

According to some estimates, the total strength of monks in Myanmar has reached two million and many more people are in line to become monks.

Also, they are concerned about the increase in the Muslim population because of polygamy among the Muslims. Second marriages with Buddhist women have become something of a trend among well-off Muslims. This is creating many religious and social complexities.

These are some of the main factors shaping Buddhist nationalism. Though Buddhist nationalist and extremist tendencies are being nurtured in a very local perspective in Myanmar, narratives like the 969 movement have the power to export these extremist trends to other Buddhist-dominated countries, especially Sri Lanka, where anti-Muslim sentiments are growing.

One can also draw parallels between this emerging Buddhist movement and Islamisation movements in the Middle East of the 1950s and 1960s, but that’s another debate.

The writer is a security analyst.