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Khaled Blankinship Seyyed Hossein Nasr
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VOLUME 33 WINTER 2016 NUMBER 1
AMERICAN JOURNAL
OF
ISLAMIC SOCIAL SCIENCES
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and interdisciplinary journal
INTERNATIONAL INSTITUTE OF ISLAMIC THOUGHT
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© The International Institute of Islamic Thought
ISSN 0742-6763
CONTENTS
Editorial .....................................................................................................................i
Articles
Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn in
the US, the Middle East, and South Asia
Jibreel Delgado.....................................................................................................1
The Faqīh as Engineer: A Critical Assessment of
Fiqh’s Epistemological Status
Ali Paya ...............................................................................................................25
Islamic Law and Political Ideology: Yusuf al-Qaradawi’s
Renewed Interpretation of Islamic Prayer Laws
Nesya Shemer ......................................................................................................52
The Politics of the Two Qiblahs and the Emergence
of an Alternative Islamic Monotheism
Eltigani Abdelgadir Hamid ..............................................................................67
Book Reviews
The Lives of Muhammad
(by Kecia Ali)
Hussein Rashid ..................................................................................................................92
God Is Beautiful: The Aesthetic Experience of the Qur’an
(by Navid Kermani)
Devin Stewart.....................................................................................................................95
Islam through Western Eyes: From the Crusades to the
War on Terrorism
(by Jonathan Lyons)
Zeina Sleiman ....................................................................................................................99
Muslims in the Western Imagination
(by Sophia Rose Arjana)
Brendan Newlon ...........................................................................................................102
Face Politics
(by Jenny Edkins)
Kathy Bullock...................................................................................................................105
Medina in Birmingham; Najaf in Brent: Inside British Islam
(by Innes Bowen)
Rebecca Masterton ..........................................................................................................109
Imagining Muslims in South Asia and the Diaspora:
Secularism, Religion, Representations
(by Claire Chambers and Caroline Herbert. eds.)
Showkat Ahmad Dar........................................................................................................113
The Lonely War: One Woman’s Account of the Struggle for Modern Iran
(by Nazila Fathi)
Babak Elahi......................................................................................................................116
The Study of Shi’i Islam: History, Theology, and Law
(by Farhad Daftary and Gurdofarid Miskinzoda, eds.)
Sophia Rose Arjana ......................................................................................................120
Men in Charge? Rethinking Authority in Muslim Legal Tradition
(by Ziba Mir-Hosseini, Mulki Al-Sharmani, and Jana Rumminger, eds.)
Shehnaz Haqqani.............................................................................................................125
Prophet Muhammad: The Sultan of Hearts (2 vols.)
(by Resit Haylamaz and Fatih Harpci)
Amr Sabet......................................................................................................................129
Forum
Sunni-Shi’i Rapprochement: Internal Contradictions
Hamid Mavani ..............................................................................................................133
Conference, Symposium, and Panel Reports
Opportunities and Challenges of Teaching Islamic Studies
in Theological Seminaries
Fatima Siwaju ...............................................................................................................148
Reflections on Political Islam: Concepts and Contexts
Nancy A. Khalil .............................................................................................................151
Islam in Africa, Islam in Globalization
Jay Willoughby ................................................................................................................153
Architecture, Culture, Spirituality 7: Nature and the Ordinary
Tammy Gaber...................................................................................................................156
The International Year of Light and Light-based Technologies
Sameen Ahmed Khan ....................................................................................................160
Editorial
Muslim Scholars’ Take on the Negative
Consequences of “Terrorism”
I pen this editorial feeling weary of having to address this particular topic yet
again. But please bear with me, for the senseless murder of fourteen innocents
in San Bernardino on December 2, 2015, occurred only twenty-two miles
from my home. Although I do not regularly attend the mosque that the killers
frequented, I personally know that its director is one of America’s best Muslim
leaders in terms of knowledge, wisdom, and kindness. Lastly, one victim recently graduated from the university at which I teach.
Over the years, I have addressed Muslim extremism and radicalism from
various vantage points: the identity of the Muslim extremists, whether their actions can be intellectually and religiously described as Islamic (AJISS 32:2),
and whether they could be decisively defeated (not wiped out) so that peace
will prevail (AJISS 32:4). I have deliberated how their violent acts against innocents evoke apprehension and fear, thereby stigmatizing and staining all
Muslims and even Islam itself (AJISS 29:1). I even addressed the erroneous
perception that America’s imams cause radicalism and suggested how they
should tailor their messages to combat extremism (AJISS 27:2). In this editorial, I explicate what a group of Muslim academics in the Middle East considers
to be the negative consequences of “terrorism” (maḍār al-irhāb).1
The first negative consequence of terrorism2 is that it “attracts God’s wrath
and subjects the perpetrator to God’s severe punishment, both in this world
and the hereafter.”3 These Muslim scholars had the following verse in mind
while extrapolating: “If anyone kills a believer deliberately, the punishment
for him is Hell, and there he will remain: God is angry with him, and rejects
him, and had prepared a tremendous torment for him” (Q. 4:93). In a hadith
narrated by Ibn Abbas, the young Companion who has been dubbed the “father of Qur’anic exegesis,” he said that when this verse was revealed the Companions asked the Prophet, “Even if the perpetrator repents, becomes a true
believer, and does good deeds?” The Prophet responded, “How else can he
repent?” (annā lahū al-tawbah).4
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Several versions of this hadith, as recorded in the main Hadith compilations, all of which go back to Ibn Abbas, emphasize two points: (1) as the last
verse revealed on the subject, Q. 4:93 was never abrogated (and if anything,
it may have abrogated others), and (2) any Muslim who kills another Muslim
deliberately cannot repent for it. In spite of the Prophet’s categorical explanation above, one version in al-Bukhari includes a comment by Mujahid, a Follower scholar who might have been unaware of the version that contains the
Prophet’s explanation, suggesting that there may be an exception for a perpetrator who “regretted” (illā man nadim) his actions.
Although Q. 4:93 pertains to intra-Muslim killing, which is the majority
of terrorist cases in today’s world, scholars cite Q. 5:32, which proclaims the
severity of killing and the reward for safeguarding any person’s life:
On the account of that [killing his brother], We decreed to the Children of
Israel that whoever kills a person – unless in retribution for murder or spreading corruption in the land – it is as if he kills all humanity. And whoever
saves a life, it is as if he saves the lives of all humanity.
This verse was revealed in the context of Cain killing his brother Abel.
Due to its severity, God forbade it to the people of Moses and of Muhammad.
It should be pointed out that it does not matter, in terms of proscription or
warning, which community is being addressed, so long as it is stated in the
Qur’an. Hence, all Muslims consider this verse applicable to themselves, just
as it was on the Children of Israel.
This first consequence, which is purely religious and theological in nature,
must be considered by those who claim to be believers. It is significant because
almost all violent extremists claim to be religious and more pious than “regular” believers, either at heart or in deed.5 Although motivated mainly by sociopolitical ideologies, religious motivations are always part of their agendas.
It would therefore be out of character for these “pious” violent extremists
to ignore what God and Prophet say about killing innocent people. However,
it is inconceivable that they, especially the leaders, simply bypass all the
Qur’an and Sunnah’s clear pronouncements on terrorizing innocent citizens.
This is why, despite the objections of some critics, such words as hypocrisy,
ignorance, and selectivity are sometimes used to describe the extremists.
Extremists are hypocrites precisely because they claim to be acting on
behalf of Muslims and Islam, despite violating the latter’s principles regarding
the value and sanctity of humanity and human life. They are ignorant because
they claim to be knowledgeable and eager to defend Muslims and Islam, and
yet miss or seem to be unaware of some basic Islamic knowledge and the
Muslim majority’s consensus against the use of violence. They are definitely
Editorial
vii
selective, because they choose only those texts or interpretations that support
their worldview and actions.
The second consequence is purely socio-political: to send “shivers into
people’s hearts, and spreads panic (al-dhu‘r) and horror (al-faza‘) among the
population.”6 Not only is this an absolute truth, it also debilitates entire populations: The innocent dead no longer have any life to lead, the injured and
traumatized victims are forever changed, and their loved ones are left to deal
with the consequences, none of which can be even remotely positive.
The resulting pain and panic is felt regardless of one’s faith, age, and
socio-economic status. The recent exodus of Muslim refugees to Europe is a
glaring example of the horror of terrorism. Thousands of people have died at
the hands of extremists, while millions have been displaced without any foreseeable hope of ever going home. It is disheartening to learn that one of the
San Bernardino victims, a young Muslimah who attended the same mosque
as the killer, was considered lucky despite having about four bullets in her
body. One can hardly imagine the terror that gripped the victims and their
families. To be the cause of so many people’s everlasting anguish is unforgivable before God and unpardonable by the population.
Here in the United States, every terrorist activity sends absolute shivers
into our spine, even in the comfort of our homes. On the day of the attack, the
director of my daughters’ Islamic school at the mosque abruptly dismissed
school in total chaos. Panic set in as some parents rushed to pick up their children on such short notice. The school was closed for a week, for the staff
thought that they or perhaps even the children might be attacked. One might
think this was an overreaction, but they would be wrong. Here in California,
several mosques were vandalized; one was firebombed. Before the attackers’
identities were revealed, my wife and I were glued to our television, praying
that the perpetrators were not Muslim. Unfortunately, our prayer was not accepted. We were not unconcerned about the victims, but we were justifiably
worried about the backlash if it turned out that Muslims were involved.
My hijab-wearing wife and daughter remain petrified. They get scary looks
from people while out shopping, unsure what people are thinking about them.
And so they constantly pray that no crazy person will harm them. When my
wife saw police cars parked at our neighbor’s home and the police talking with
them about matters unrelated to us, she panicked. “Is she telling them something about us?” she queried. Her reaction, understandably, was based on the
authorities’ “If you see something, say something” mantra. It took some reassurance on my part of God’s protection to calm her nerves. In addition, we had
nothing to fear since we have not done “something.” All of these unsettling
experiences, manifested in different ways and multiplied among America’s
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several million Muslims and the global Muslim community, are the consequences of the actions of a few Muslims extremists.
The third consequence is more social, political, and economic in nature,
for it “results in a lack of security and tranquility, and leads to widespread
killings, looting, theft and other crimes.”7 With the occurrence and threat of
terrorism on the rise, peace and security are things of the past. The world’s
security apparatus always reassures the public, but it cannot guarantee anything absolutely. Once again Muslim societies, with mediocre to non-existent
security agencies, are more susceptible and vulnerable than others. People in
the West see an increased deployment of security personnel after every terrorist attack, because peace and tranquility have been demonstrably destabilized. There is always a heightened sense of vulnerability, and so authorities
act to quickly restore the sense of (if not actual) order and calm.
For many Muslim societies, the hope and expectation of security is just
as compelling. But where terrorism has become a “norm” and the authorities
are far more indifferent, the lack of security seems to be deeply felt. Terrorism
also results in widespread looting and plundering, for law and order become
scarce. In this case, the consequences of terrorism are compounded, which
engenders a chaotic atmosphere in which other crimes flourish.
Other social ills result from terrorism, particularly, among Muslim societies. The cost of living increases, for in terrorist prone areas businesspeople
cannot carry out their usual activities and on-hand supplies cannot meet the
demand. One result of the ensuing scarcity is inflated prices. In the ensuing
struggle to survive, social trust and the compassion of the haves for the havenots eventually vanish.
Terrorism also leads to wondering who the potential recruits might be,
even though the majority is not inclined to extremism. Skepticism prevails,
suspicion is commonplace, and severe restrictive measures are easily instituted
and applied. And with that, even the most compassionate haves may find
themselves unable to help the have-nots. Since 9/11, the sincere charity works
of certain wealthy people in the Middle East have been seriously hampered
because they are suspected of helping terrorists. Some of us with distinctly
Muslim names have experienced difficulties sending money to our poor relatives in Africa, the Middle East, and South Asia for this very reason.
And the net effect of all of this is a vicious cycle of more killing and terrorism, suspicion, a lack of compassion, severe restrictions, and, of course,
more suffering for Muslims worldwide. Given all of this, why would Muslims
sympathize with the terrorists? Reading that most Muslims sympathize with
terrorists, as “revealed” by recent Islamophobia pollsters,8 is not only shockingly insulting but also completely untrue and unreasonable, nothing more
Editorial
ix
than a pathetic figment of the pollsters’ imagination and wishful thinking. For
more reputable polls and statistics, read “Muslim Americans Are More Likely
to Reject Violence, Intolerance than Many Other Americans.”9
This Issue
We begin this issue with Jibreel Delgado’s “Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn in the US, the Middle East, and South Asia.” Using
definitions from western sociologists of religion and conservative political
lobbyists and think tanks that match those offered by some Muslim scholars,
Delgado shows how most experts on religion in these three regions understand
it as a system that governs public behavior. He concludes that earlier midtwentieth century Muslim critiques of equating dīn and religion had little to
do with Islam’s intrinsic nature.
Next is Ali Paya’s “The Faqīh as Engineer: A Critical Assessment of
Fiqh’s Epistemological Status.” In his exploration of this topic, Paya argues
that many fuqahā’ and other scholars have not fully appreciated why Muslim
scholars like al-Farabi and al-Ghazzali classified fiqh within the category of
“applied sciences.” One result of this attitude, he concludes, is the emergence
of epistemic confusion. He observes that equating a faqīh with an ‘ālim is an
unfortunate consequence that helped the fuqahā’ further consolidate their
dominant position in the ecosystem of Islamic culture.
Nesya Shemer’s “Islamic Law and Political Ideology: Yusuf al-Qaradawi’s
Renewed Interpretation of Islamic Prayer Laws” looks at the methodological
principles informing al-Qaradawi’s rulings as regards Muslim minorities.
Comparing classical-era discussions on prayer times with al-Qaradawi’s new
interpretations, Shemer notes the ongoing historical process of change undergone by the Shari‘ah concerning these times in the context of extraordinary
circumstances. She also highlights how the shaykh’s political positions have
influenced both his rulings and intra-Muslim discussions in the West.
We close with “The Politics of the Two Qiblahs and the Emergence of an
Alternative Islamic Monotheism” penned by Eltigani Abdelgadir Hamid. He
examines and clarifies the “qiblah literature” to reveal the Ka‘bah’s role as
both a geographical locale and a spiritual magnet. Hamid seeks to answer several questions: Was the prayer direction changed from Makkah to Jerusalem
and then back to Makkah (Q. 2:142-44) a divine command or Muhammad’s
independent judgment? Was it a move to dilute the Arabs’ emotional attachment to the Ka‘bah or to win over Madinah’s Jewish community? Might it
have been a throwback to the Abrahamic heritage, envisaged by the Prophet
as a base for a wider, monolithic Islamic nationalism?
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The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 33:1
I hope that our readers will find these papers not only thought-provoking
and stimulating, but also sources of inspiration and motivation for their own
research.
Endnotes
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
“Al-Irhāb,” Mawsū‘at Naḍrat al-Na‘īm fī Makārim Ahklāq al-Rasūl, ed. Salih
ibn Abdullah ibn Humayd et al. (Jeddah: Dar al-Wasilah, 2012), 9:3828-36. In
some of the editorials listed above, I mentioned how various non-Muslim critics
like to observe that Muslims around the world do not speak out against extremism and terrorism, a situation that they use to “prove” Muslims as sympathetic
to extremists. Although what they say is not true, as shown in those editorials,
this explanation here will therefore serve as additional proof that classical and
modern Muslim scholars have always spoken against terrorism, a fact that both
critics and media outlets have always failed to acknowledge.
A terrorist is “an individual who uses violence, terror, and intimidation to
achieve a result,” and terrorism is “the calculated use of violence (or the threat
of violence) against civilians in order to attain goals that are political or religious
or ideological in nature; this is done through intimidation or coercion or instilling
fear.” Dictionary of Military and Associated Terms. S.v. “terrorist.” Retrieved
Dec. 20, 2015, from http://www.thefreedictionary.com/terrorist.
Mawsū‘at, 9:3836.
Ali ibn Muhammad al-Mawardi, Al-Nukat wa al-‘Uyūn Tafsīr al-Māwardī
(Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyyah, 2007), 1:520. This source also refers to alTabari and al-Suyuti.
The San Bernardino killer was said to frequent mosque several times daily, including the dawn (fajr) prayer. This particular prayer, out of all the daily prayers
due to its time, is considered to be an outward sign of serious commitment to
religiosity, notwithstanding the fact that many terrorists used to be hardened
criminals and party animals. Oddly, being pious does not prevent them from
committing heinous crimes and such other social ills as rape, doing drugs, and
killing innocent people.
Mawsū‘at, 9:3836.
Ibid.
http://www.nydailynews.com/news/politics/behind-trump-bogus-statisticsarticle-1.2459360.
Retrieved Dec. 22, 2015 from http://www.huffingtonpost.com/david-bier/muslim
-americans-violence_b_8812234.html?ncid=txtlnkusaolp 00000592.
Zakyi Ibrahim, Editor
Comparative Religion Department
California State University, Fullerton, CA
[email protected]
Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference:
Defining Dīn in the US, the Middle
East, and South Asia
Jibreel Delgado
Abstract
A number of far-right politicians and conservatives in the United
States continue to argue that the First Amendment’s freedom of belief does not apply to Islam because it is not a religion in the western
sense of the term, but a way of life that includes politics. By providing definitions from both western sociologists of religion and
conservative political lobbyists and think tanks, I show that most
experts on religion in the United States define religion as a way of
life that governs behavior in the public sphere. I also argue that these
definitions match similar definitions, offered by Muslim scholars
in the Middle East and South Asia for the last fifty years, of the Arabic word dīn, typically translated as “religion.” By tracing the origins of the idea that dīn signifies something other than religion
because of its relation to regulating public behavior, I show that earlier mid-twentieth century Muslim critiques of equating dīn and religion had little to do with any intrinsic nature if Islam itself and far
more to do with western scholarship of that period’s understanding
of secularity, conceptualization of the state, and prediction of the
inevitable demise of religious belief and practice.
KEYWORDS: Dīn, Religion, Ethics, Politics, Islam, Islamophobia,
Sociology of Religion, Law, Sharī‘ah, Theology, Taṣawwuf, Secular, Dunyāwīyah
Jibreel Delgado is a visiting research fellow at the King Faisal Center for Research and Islamic
Studies, Riyadh; a non-resident student research fellow at the International Institute for Islamic
Thought (IIIT), Herndon, VA; and a PhD Candidate at the School of Middle Eastern and North
African Studies, College of Social and Behavioral Sciences, University of Arizona, Tucson.
The research for this paper was made possible, in part, by a IIIT grant.
2
The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 33:1
Introduction
While speaking at a Tea Party event in 2011, radio host, Baptist minister, and
GOP House Candidate from Georgia Jody Hice made the following claim:
“Most people think Islam is a religion, it’s not. It’s a totalitarian way of life
with a religious component.”1 The following year in his book It’s Now or
Never: A Call to Reclaim America, he wrote: “Although Islam has a religious
component, it is much more than a simple religious ideology. It is a complete
geo-political structure and, as such, does not deserve First Amendment protection.”2 Other statements in this vein include that of Oklahoma state legislator John Bennett who, in an interview with Alyona Minkovski for HuffPost
Live, remarked: “I would even submit to you that Islam is not even a religion.
It’s a political system that uses a deity to advance its agenda of global conquest.”3 Evangelist Pat Robertson also made a similar statement on an episode
of the 700 Club for the Christian Broadcasting Network, which he founded:
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have to recognize that Islam is not a religion. It is
a worldwide political movement meant [sic] on domination of the world. And
it is meant to subjugate all people under Islamic law.”4 It might be suggested
that this type of rhetoric has become the norm among many right-wing Christian conservative politicians in America.
And yet there is a clear contradiction here: While right-wing politicians
say that Islam is not a religion, western academics, including those affiliated
with conservative Christian religious institutions, define religion as a “way of
life.” These definitions match similar definitions, offered by Muslim scholars
in the Middle East and South Asia for the last fifty years, of the Arabic word
dīn, typically translated as “religion.” By tracing the origins of the idea that
dīn signifies something other than religion because of its relation to regulating
public behavior, I will show that earlier mid-twentieth century Muslim critiques of equating dīn and religion had little to do with the nature of Islam
itself and far more to do with western scholarship of that period’s understanding of secularity, conceptualization of the state, and prediction of the inevitable
demise of religious belief and practice.
Modern Definitions of Religion
Martin Riesebrodt (1948-2014) was professor emeritus at the University of
Chicago’s Divinity School as well as its Department of Sociology. His most
important contribution to the sociology of religion is his thesis that religion is
first and foremost “based on communication with superhuman powers and is
concerned with warding off misfortune, coping with crises, and laying the
foundation for salvation.”5 He rejects the notion that this concept was a product
Delgado: Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn
3
of western modernity and that the term should not be used to refer to any concept or practice from pre-modern society or outside the West, arguing that
when “soccer games are seen as religious phenomena and the recitation of
Buddhist sutras is not, something has obviously gone wrong” [with the study
of religion in the social sciences and humanities].6 Religion is primarily defined as a set of practices “that are based on the premise of the existence of
superhuman powers, whether personal or impersonal, that are generally invisible” and are practiced as a means of contacting these superhuman powers
in control of those aspects of existence that are beyond the direct human control.7 In chapter 2 of The Promise of Salvation, Riesebrodt presents his theory
of religion in three parts: defining religion, understanding it, and explaining
it.8 His theory is based in part on what William James referred to as the “ontological imagination.”9
Riesebrodt’s practice-oriented theory is distinct from the concepts of religious tradition and religiousness that, as will be illustrated in the definition
of dīn offered by Egyptian scholar Muhammad Abdallah Draz (1898-1958),
have historically fallen under the label “religion” in earlier definitions offered
by western academia. Religions are first and foremost a set of practices in relation to superhuman powers, relegating theologies, or worldviews as Riesebrodt refers to them, to a secondary position. This leads to an avoidance of
discussions regarding purity of dogma or correctness in ritual, and the equation
of these with religion, in favor of a study of the whole of these systems of
practice whether or not they are deemed orthodox, unorthodox, heterodox,
authentic, or heretical by a particular clerical body.
Religious traditions, such as Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, and
Zoroastrianism, refer to the “cultural ways of life” to which a system of symbols provides continuity over time and by which systems of practices relating
to superhuman powers are encompassed. Religiousness is a subjective category regarding the individual appropriation of religiosity that can be socially
conditioned within a religious community. It is also a product of religion that,
for the sake of Riesebrodt’s sociological theory, must be clearly distinguished
from religion itself along with religious tradition. In defining religion, two
other important terms are presented and defined: religious tradition and liturgies. Part of Riesebrodt’s terminological distinction among religion, religiousness, and religious tradition are reminiscent of the type of distinctions Marshall
Hodgson was hoping to make by referring to that which is “Islamic” as opposed to that which is “Islamicate.”10
I agree with Riesebrodt’s centralizing of worship over metaphysics and
ethics as, in the case of Islam, these two concepts, the first being that of metaphysics or theology, falls under the Muslim philosophical tradition of kalām,
4
The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 33:1
which often concentrates on the study of monotheism and (memorization of)
God’s names and attributes, and the second being that of ethical or moral philosophy, in Islam ‘ilm al-akhlāq, are made religious when “performed” as
worship (‘ībādah). For Riesebrodt, liturgies, meaning “institutionalized rules
and guidelines for humans’ interactions with superhuman powers,” is the primary locus for the meaning of religion, as opposed to a work of speculative
rational theology. Liturgies are the collection of rules and meanings for human
communication with superhuman powers. These interventionist practices, as
Riesebrodt calls them, include, among others, prayer, sacrifice, and chanting,
and are related to discursive practices and behavior-regulating practices. In
the case of Islam, a sociological study should entail the study of such rituals
as prayer, supplication, pilgrimage, and animal sacrifice as well as the rules
governing them and how they are practiced within Muslim communities. The
discursive practices, including the more fundamental aspects of theology as
outlined in creeds, assist in the transmission of interventionist practices, their
understanding, and their explanation.
It is in that aspect of religion having to do with behavior-regulating practices that one finds a great level of confusion regarding the interplay, or lack
thereof, between religion and politics, the public and the private sphere. Riesebrodt states that practices of behavior-regulation “pertain to the religious reshaping of everyday life with respect to superhuman powers” that revolve
around “the avoidance of sanctions or the accumulation of merits.”11 Included
among these practices are one’s treatment of others, eating customs and diet,
marriage and burial rites, dress codes, and specific times allocated for specific
acts of worship. He astutely observes that while many of these practices of
behavior regulation are not worship rituals in and of themselves, it is only
their being practiced at the behest of these superhuman powers that legitimates
them. Interpreted in such a way, they can develop a significance like that accorded to the interventionist practices of liturgies: “[E]thical behavior or the
intensive study of sacred texts can be interpreted as a form of religious service
and thus take on the quality of an interventionist practice.”12
When he states that “it is as if the limits were constantly in flux” as regards
the secularity and religiousness of these practices, he touches upon a dialectical
problem into which other sociologists of religion, such as José Casanova, have
delved quite deeply. Indeed, it parallels earlier discussions regarding the distinction between that which is dīnī (religious) and that which is dunyawī
(worldly), or the dichotomy of mu‘āmalāt (social transactions) and ‘ībadāt (ritual worship) to be found in premodern Muslim scholarly discourse.13 It is at
this level of religious practice, that of behavior regulation, that religion and
Delgado: Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn
5
secularity blur, as all social interactions, including economic transactions and
infrastructure, as well as governance and the establishment and enforcement
of laws, are conducted by humans informed by some notion of what is or is
not properly regulated behavior.
In sum, the three types of religious practices (interventionist, discursive,
and behavior regulating) relate to one another so as to comprise religion in
such a way that interventionist practices lay at the center. Riesebrodt provides
a convincing reason as to why interventionist practices take center stage in
the concept of religion: Those sociologists of religion and religious studies
experts who lend primacy to the behavior-regulating practices present religion
as a mere subcategory of morality and ethics. I would add that by making
these practices primary, many of them consequently conflate religion with
politics. When discursive practices are made central, religion is identified first
and foremost as a subcategory of philosophy, a scholastic theology and the
construction of worldviews by classes of priests or clergy who claim authority
over it, while the overwhelming majority of religious practitioners, who do
not belong to those classes, play an insignificant role.
Riesebrodt’s emphasis on worship practices highlights religion as a “system of warding off misfortune, overcoming crises, and providing blessings
and salvation.”14 These three themes can be identified in religions throughout
history and across cultures and geography. The construction of theological
worldviews and the regulation of both public and private behavior are important aspects of religious practice; however, they play a role secondary to and
contingent upon the interventionist practices.15
Casanova cites a statement by anthropologist Mary Douglas that many
in Islamic studies would do well to heed when discussing dichotomous relationships, like those of Salafi and Sufi, traditionalism and modernism, or
ijtihād and taqlīd: “Binary distinctions are an analytic procedure, but their
usefulness does not guarantee that existence divides like that. We should look
with suspicion on anyone who declared that there are two kinds of people, or
two kinds of reality or process.”16
One of the most ambiguous binaries is that of public versus private, especially with regards to that which is religious versus that which is secular,
another binary with contested boundaries. As Casanova states, theories of secularization fail to account for the many ways in which social movements and
mobilizations worldwide defy easy categorization as either political or religious movements. The privatization of religion with respect to the modern
social order is understood as an essential characteristic of modernity, as an
outcome of the freedom of conscience and the right to privacy that would lead
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to a normative understanding of a modern secular state and capitalist economy
freed from the clergy’s control. He identifies this binary of public and private
as originating with the ancient Greek division of the city into oikos and polis.
This dualistic perception of social reality, he maintains, fails to capture one of
modernity’s most significant characteristics, that of the social sphere or civil
society that lies
between public and private proper, yet has expansionist tendencies aiming
to penetrate and absorb both. The actual empirical boundaries between the
three spheres, moreover, are highly porous and constantly shifting… Indeed,
each of the three spheres may be said to have both private and public dimensions.17
Jurgen Habermas, in a presentation of his views on post-secularism or the
perceived resurgence of religion, which is, in reality, a continued sustained
relevance of religion in the public sphere, echoes Casanova’s argument that
“the loss of function and the trend towards individualization do not necessarily
imply that religion loses influence and relevance either in the political arena
and the culture of a society or in the personal conduct of life.”18 He refers to
three phenomenon as being the primary reasons for the perceived religious
resurgence after a supposed dormancy: increased global Christian missionary
activity, particularly in Latin America, sub-Saharan Africa, and Southeast Asia;
a radicalization among fundamentalist groups; and the innate potential for violence in many religions being increasingly exploited by political actors such
as the clerics of Iran, the Hindu nationalists of India, and the Christian American religious right leading up to the 2003 invasion of Iraq.
When mentioning those once-secularized societies that are now undergoing desecularization, the United States is conspicuously absent. On the other
hand, Habermas does refer to Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and the affluent European countries. He also correctly points out that the harmony found
between modernization and religiosity in the United States cannot be considered an exception to the rule, as described by secularization theory, but ought
to be viewed as the norm that disproves the secularization theorists’ primary
assumptions.
The Task Force on International Religious Freedom of the conservative
Witherspoon Institute think tank summarized philosopher William P. Alston’s
account of religion as follows:
(1) a belief in a supernatural being (or beings); (2) prayers or communication
with that or those beings; (3) transcendent realities, including “heaven,”
Delgado: Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn
7
“paradise,” or “enlightenment”; (4) a distinction between the sacred and the
profane and between ritual acts and sacred objects; (5) a view that explains
both the world as a whole and humanity’s proper relation to it; (6) a code of
conduct in line with that worldview; and (7) a temporal community bound
by its adherence to these elements. Though not every religion includes all
of these elements, all religions include most of them, such that we understand
that religion involves a combination of beliefs, behavior, and belonging in
a community.19
This task force, comprised of political scientists Monica Duffy Toft,
Daniel Philpott, and Timothy Samuel Shah, after paraphrasing Alston, distills
four core characteristics defining religion20: (1) an unseen order, as described
by William James in his 1902 book The Varieties of Religious Experience, or
ultimate reality, whether understood as transcendent or immanent; (2) the adjustment of people’s lives to harmonize with the unseen order; (3) the human
being’s ability to connect with this ultimate reality, either through reason or
revelation, or a combination of the two; and (4) religion as community practices that are, citing Riesebrodt, “in the context of an institutionalized social
and cultural meaning.”21 This aligns with what the task force regarded as the
four major dimensions of religious freedom: (1) the religious freedom of intellectual and spiritual inquiry, (2) the religious freedom of practical reason,
(3) the religious freedom of human sociality, and (4) the religious freedom of
political and legal expression.22 Religion is thus defined as
the effort of individuals and communities to understand, to express, and to
seek harmony with a transcendent reality of such importance that they feel
compelled to organize their lives around their understanding of it, to be guided
by it in their moral conduct, and to communicate their devotions to others.23
Modern Definitions of Dīn
Popular works relevant to this discussion, according to Muslim intellectuals,
include Ali Shariati’s Religion vs. Religion, the title of which in the original
Persian is Madhhab ‘alayhi Madhhab.24 Shariati makes no semantic distinction between dīn and madhhab, which, when used in the context of Islamic
jurisprudence, denotes a school of law. However, when used in other contexts
and in many non-Arabic languages such as Urdu and Persian, it means a religious or sectarian community. On the other hand, Ghulam Ahmad Parvez’s
Islam: A Challenge to Religion posits Islam as a dīn in opposition to religion,
which he refers to as madhhab. The late Ismail al-Faruqi correctly pointed out
that this terminological juxtaposition contradicts how dīn is used in the Qur’an
to refer to Islam as well as other religions, including that of the kāfirūn.25
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Abul Ala Mawdudi (1903-79): Dīn as State
In his 1941 discussion of the linguistic definition of dīn, Mawdudi identifies
four core concepts: (1) the dominance of an authority in relation to (2) the
obedience of the one upon whom authority is imposed, (3) the regulations
imposed by the authority and the required observance of these regulations,
and (4) the calling to account by the authority for the observance or nonobservance of the authority’s dominance and regulations. He follows this with
his conceptualization of the shar‘ī (Islamic) meaning of dīn, which he considers one of the most important Qur’anic terms: an entire way of life.26
According to Mawdudi, the Islamic definition of dīn has four components, all of which correspond respectively to the four core concepts identified above. His wording varies only slightly from that used for the components
of the linguistic meaning: (1) sovereignty (al-ḥakimīyah as opposed to alqahr in the linguistic meaning), (2) obedience (al-iṭā‘ah), (3) a system of
thought and action as opposed to laws or rules (niẓām fikrī wa ‘amalī instead
of ḥudūd wa qawānīn), and (4) the system of reward and punishment meted
out for one’s obedience or disobedience (al-mukāfāt as opposed to almuḥasibah wa al-quḍā’).27 He presents several Qur’anic verses as examples
of the term being used in each of these meanings and argues that certain
verses present instances where dīn stands for the entire way of life (niẓām
al-ḥayāt al-kāmil) and encompasses all four component meanings (almustalaḥ al-jāmi‘ al-shāmil), such as “Lo! Religion [al-dīn] with Allah (is)
the Surrender (to His Will and Guidance) (Q. 3:19).”28
What is most relevant to our discussion here is his argument that no other
language has a word with such a comprehensive meaning. In his opinion, the
term that comes closest, but which ultimately fails to completely capture this
Arabic word’s far wider significance, is state. However, he never explains
how he reached this conclusion. Mawdudi excludes religion from meaning
the same as dīn.29 While analyzing the verse “And Pharaoh said: Suffer me to
kill Moses, and let him cry unto his Lord. Lo! I fear that he will alter your religion [dīn] or that he will cause confusion in the land,” (Q. 40:26),” he argues
that when looking at the story of Moses and Pharaoh in its entirety, it becomes
clear that dīn in this verse cannot refer merely to religion (al-naḥlah wa aldiyānah [creed and faith]), but also includes the the civil order or sociopolitical
system (niẓām al-madanīyah) as well.
He cites several other verses that, according to him, use dīn in its comprehensive sense as a complete way of life (niẓām al-ḥayāt al-kāmil al-shāmil)
doctrinally (‘aqadīyah), intellectually (fikrīyah), morally (khuluqīyah), and
Delgado: Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn
9
practically (‘amalīyah). For Mawdudi, religion, which corresponds to naḥlah
and diyānah, does not include that which is madanī, defined as that which relates to human society; is civil or sociocultural; or what can be termed secular
(e.g., civil rights or civil liberties [ḥuqūq madanīyah]) or civil disobedience
(‘asyān madanī). This conception of religion as something wholly privatized
corresponds to certain scholarly views on religion that were prevalent, yet by
no means universally accepted, in the West at the time, as will be discussed
further in the following sections.
Muhammad Abdullah Draz (1894-1958):
Religiosity and Doctrine
Muhammad Abdallah Draz dedicated an entire book to dīn and its meaning.30
Draz was born in Kufr el-Shaikh, the son of Abdallah Draz (1874-1932), an
Azhari scholar and student of Muhammad Abduh (1850-1905) known for his
critical edition of al-Shatibi’s work on the objectives of Islamic law, AlMuwāfaqāt fī Uṣūl al-Sharī‘ah, which he co-edited with his son Muhammad.
Following in his father’s footsteps, Draz graduated from al-Azhar in 1916
while at the same time studying French privately. By 1930 he had become a
professor in the college of uṣūl al-dīn at al-Azhar. In 1936 he traveled to
France, and in 1947 obtained a doctorate with honors from the Sorbonne. His
dissertation on morality in the Qur’an was published in 1950 by al-Azhar. It
was translated into Arabic only in 1973 by Abd al-Sabur Shahin, and into English in 2009.31
His other major work translated into English is Nabā’ al-‘Aẓīm (The
Quran: An Eternal Challenge). He returned to Egypt and taught at the University of Cairo as well as the Azhar affiliate Dar al-Ulum. In 1949 he was made
a member of Egypt’s Council of Senior Scholars. He passed away in 1958
while attending a conference in Pakistan, where he spoke on Islam’s view of
other religions. During his lifetime he maintained links with such reformist luminaries as Abd al-Hamid b. Badis (1889-1940) in Algeria and the Egyptian
judge Ahmad Shakir (1892-1958), the elder brother of Mahmud Shakir, whose
definition of dīn I will also be examining.32
After an introductory section on the history of religions, in which he discussed ancient Egypt, Greece, Rome, the Christian and Islamic eras, and finally
post-Enlightenment Europe, Draz divides his book Al-Dīn into four parts: (1)
“On Determining the Meaning of Dīn,” which is most relevant to the present
discussion; (2) the relationship between dīn and aspects of culture and civilization (al-thaqāfah wa al-tahdhīb), such as ethics and moral behavior (al-akhlāq),
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philosophy, and other fields of knowledge, (3) humanity’s natural inclination
toward religion and its role in society, and (4) the origins of religious belief according to numerous schools of thought. In the latter Draz includes those of
Descartes and Henri Bergson as well as what he refers to as the “school/doctrine
of revelation” (al-madhhab al-ta‘līmi aw madhhab al-waḥīy) to which he obviously belongs. The book ends with a section entitled “The Position of Islam
Regarding Other Religions and Its Relationship to Them,” which was also the
title of his final lecture given at the conference in Pakistan.
The first part of the book is further divided into four sections: linguistic
meaning, customary meaning, substantive elements, and psychological elements. He begins by taking it as a given that Islam, Christianity, Judaism,
Zoroastrianism, Buddhism, idol worship, and other religions all fall under the
term dīn. That being the case, its meaning must encompass all of the elements
shared by these traditions. Next, he comments on some of the difficulties related to ascertaining the meaning of terms through dictionary definitions. For
example, the average Arabic dictionary defines dīn as milla that, as one
quickly learns upon locating the latter term, is defined as dīn. Classical etymological dictionaries may not simplify matters. For example, in such works
as Al-Qamūs al-Muḥīṭ or Lisān al-‘Arab, a word has historically meant one
thing as well as its opposite. Therefore, dīn means both rulership and servitude,
glory and abasement, coercion and beneficence, obedience and disobedience,
along with both Islamic monotheism and anything one believes.
Draz identifies three formulations of dīn that signify three distinct meanings: dāna/yadīnu, dāna lahu, and dāna bihi. The first form means to possess
or own, to rule over (malakahu, ḥakamahu, and sāsahu) as well as to conquer,
call to account, judge, and reward or punish. One example comes from the
Qur’an’s first chapter, “māliki yawm al-dīn,” meaning “king or master of the
Day of Judgment.” The second form, dāna lahu, means obedience and servitude, whereas the third verbal construction, dāna bihi, signifies belief in something or way of practice (‘aqīdah wa madhhab). Accoring to Draz, the creed
and opinion that one sticks to would be referred to as madhhab naẓarī,
whereas that which is taken as one’s custom and way of living or lifestyle,
way of life, lifeway, and so on is referred to as madhhab ‘amalī.
To put it succinctly, Draz states that dīn signifies the relationship between
two parties, one of which is glorified and mightier than the other. All meanings
included here have to do with this relationship’s governing order (al-dustūr
al-munāẓim). This binding obligation (ilzām) at the core of the meaning of
dīn is further divided into that which is financial (dayn) and that which is behavioral (dīn) by changing the first short vowel. Draz takes a moment to crit-
Delgado: Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn
11
icize some of the Orientalists who claimed that this word, in all of its uses,
was taken from either Hebrew or Persian. In fact, he argues that perhaps this
claim originates from some tendencies toward shu‘ūbīyah, which in the context of mid-twentieth century Orientalism, specifically the entry of the Encyclopedia of Islam First Edition, can only be translated as racism, for it “seeks
to divest the Arabs from any virtue, including linguistic.”33
Returning to the subject at hand, he identifies the third usage of dīn, adopting a specific belief and practice as one’s way of being, as the usage that most
succinctly captures the meaning of religion as it is used in the study of religion.
It is ultimately divisible into (1) the subjective state that one refers to as religiosity (tadayyun) and (2) the objective fact of a religious doctrine, comprised
of principles, customs and rituals, artifacts and scriptures, taken by a given
community as its members’ belief system and social praxis. One should note
that Riesebrodt was adamant that religiousness and religious tradition, two
terms that seem to correlate with tadayyun and the phrase used for doctrine
(al-mabādī’ i‘tiqādan aw ‘amalan), be clearly differentiated. While he distinguishes between interventionist, discursive, and behavior-regulating practices, Draz locates all of these practices under religious doctrine.
Mahmud Muhammad Shakir (1909-97):
Dīn as Culture
Scholars and intellectuals have made numerous attempts to discern the true
meaning of culture and its relationship to religion. Two examples are Riesebrodt’s theory of religion and its being distinguished from religious tradition,
and Marshall Hodgson’s Islamic/Islamicate distinction. The Egyptian intellectual Mahmud Muhammad Shakir presented his own definition of culture,
which must be considered in order to understand “the positions of presentday Islamic orthodoxy, should any idea of a ‘dialogue’ be contemplated” by
western scholars of the Arab and Muslim-majority countries and scholars from
within the Arab intellectual tradition.34 Other than Majdi Wahba’s 1989 article
and the 2009 work by Ahmad Atif Ahmad, very little has been written about
Shakir in English-language scholarship.35 His two most important works on
culture are his 1964 Abāṭīl wa Aṣmār (Lies and Fabrications)36 and his 1987
Risālah fī al-Ṭarīq iā Thaqāfatinā37 (A Treatise on the Way to Our Culture).
Here I will examine his definitions of culture, civilization, and religion.
In his Abāṭīl wa Aṣmār, Shakir argued that there is a struggle between political forces representing western civilization and the people of the Arab and
Muslim-majority countries. The most dangerous arena for this battle is that
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of culture, which takes place in literature and ideological writings. While this
struggle occurs primarily within what Bourdieu would call the fields of cultural production, Shakir argues that this is, in reality, a political conflict38 because, according to him, culture is an essentially comprehensive term and
refers to two core concepts, one building from the other.39 The first core concept is the set of acquired values and behaviors implanted in the very self of
a person. This idea corresponds to Bourdieu’s notion of the habitus.40 The second core concept is comprised of the fruits of this habitus in terms of intellectual production. As the creation and transmission of this habitus is done within
a specific language, the importance of linguistic groups to the delineation of
a culture is paramount. A culture’s primary components are its language and
dīn, typically translated as religion, according to Shakir.41
The relationship between religion and culture in Shakir’s thought is quite
similar to the way in which poet and literary critic T.S. Eliot imagines it.42
Eliot writes that culture is the intellectual and material embodiment of a people’s religion. However, the meaning of religion that has become normative
in the Judeo-Christian tradition is not as comprehensive as dīn, according to
Shakir, who examines its usage in pre-Islamic literature and in the Qur’an and
Hadith texts before delineating its full meaning.43 Shakir states that for Muslims, dīn, in terms of its use in the Qur’an and clarification in the Prophetic
teachings (Sunnah),44 can be divided into four issues: (1) law (Shari‘ah), (2)
morals (adab), (3) worship and creed (‘ibādah and tawḥīd), and (4) principles
of discernment and deduction (istinbāṭ and istidlāl). This last issue is closest
to what is called formal logic and reason,45 and is where the disagreement between the ahl al-qiyās (the legal analogists) and the ahl al-ẓāhir (the legal
anti-analogists) was born.46
Shakir points out that interpreting terms and qualifying and modifying
some expressions in intellectual discourse is an old problem within the AraboIslamic intellectual fields. This is, he maintains, especially important in contemporary times. He therefore argues that Muslim intellectuals must
consistently state that the meaning of religion in the Judeo-Christian tradition
is not the same as dīn for the Muslims.47 Looking at the Makkan revelations,
Shakir claims that Islam was not referred to as a dīn in this comprehensive
four-part meaning, and that this full meaning was delayed in its explication.48
At this point, religion was called milla (faith community).49
In the Madinan revelations, dīn is used to refer to reckoning, like the Day
of Judgment, or to obedience and subjugation and singling God out in divinity.
All of these fall under theology and ritual acts of worship, and then laws,
ethics, justice, and fairness within reason, as further elaborated in the Sunnah.50
Delgado: Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn
13
Thus one cannot use dīn for milla, except the milla of Ibrahim, which the
Qur’an explicitly states is Islam.51 He completes this portion of his argument
by reminding Muslim intellectuals of their obligation to correct the principles
that they use when deducing and discerning, the fourth aspect of dīn, as much
and as soon as they can.52
With religion and language being the primary components of culture,
Shakir categorically rejects the idea of a global culture that connects, or is
shared by, all of the separate and distinct cultures (identified by their religions,
sects, languages, and races). The apparent cultural borrowings are found only
in those superficial matters that do not touch the culture’s core. If that core is
affected, then the culture has changed. Shakir, who admits that the issue is
complex and complicated, does not claim to have given an exhaustive description.53 His focus is, unsurprisingly, on two cultures, namely, the AraboIslamic and Northern Christian European, and the impossibility of their being
harmonized or amalgamated. He claims that Machiavelli’s notion of the ends
justifying the means has entered into the sphere of dīn for the agents of the
northern Christians’ intellectual and religious fields,54 represented by the Orientalists and missionaries.
The belief in the sufficiency of following pure reason, which Shakir defines as ahwā’ (inclinations/desires), along with what he construed as postEnlightenment Europe’s self-aggrandizement, cause its people to present their
civilization as a global one, something that Shakir believes no society has ever
claimed before. His explanation of western culture’s development in line with
a pessimistic interpretation of Machiavelli’s thought echoes critiques made
by Rashid Rida (1865-1935), one of Shakir’s intellectual mentors and the
teacher of his elder brother Ahmad, of post-World War I European social science represented by Herbert Spencer and his theory of social Darwinism.55
Through colonialism, these ideas affected Muslim political, cultural, intellectual, and religious fields.56
Muhammad Hamidullah (1909-2002): Creed, Worship,
and Perfect Religiosity
The works of Muhammad Hamidullah, who translated the Qur’an, edited early
Islamic texts, and in his capacity as a teacher and research scholar impacted
Islamic studies in South Asia, Turkey and Western Europe, have been grossly
understudied. He had a tremendous influence on Islamic studies in Turkish
academia from the mid-1950s to the late 1970s, a time when religious knowledge was being transferred from traditional modes of transmission to modern
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university-style modes of knowledge production, intellectual exchange between western scholars of the region (e.g., European and American Orientalists), and scholars working from within the tradition. All of them were seeking
to synthesize classical Islamic studies and modern principles of the social sciences and the historical-critical method.57
The State of Hyderabad, where Hamidullah was born, was a liberal Islamic state with a history similar to that of al-Andalus in that, upon its downfall, its intellectual elites were forced to disperse and thus graced many other
societies with their genius.58 At its height, this state had Yemeni and African
army divisions; a population of Yemenis still lives there. The first documented
recording of the Hamidullah family in India appears in the 1490s as judges in
the city of Madras (Chennai). All generations up until the time of the British
Raj are documented as judges and experts in Islamic law working throughout
western and southern India, moving every few generations to different cities
in Hyderabad, Gujurat, and elsewhere.
Muhammad belongs to the twenty-fourth generation. His father was a
mufti and exegete who directed Hyderabad’s interest-free banking system,
and his grandfather Muhammad Sibghatullah Madrasi (d. 1872) was Madras’
chief judge and a collector and copyist of early Islamic manuscripts. Many of
these can be found in the special collections of leading American university
libraries. When the Nizam of Hyderabad lost control of the financial, educational, and legal systems to the British, the Sibghatullah family lost its social
position. Although Sibghatullah signed a fatwa calling for boycotting the
British in India, he did permit those of his children whom he considered to be
the brightest to receive both a traditional Islamic education and a British education in Latin, astronomy, modern sciences, and other subjects.
From the 1870s until the state’s annexation by India in 1948, family members traveled to Damascus, Cairo, Yemen, and other Muslim regions to either
buy or copy manuscripts and have them sent to their family homes in Madras
or Hyderabad. These people, who included his two uncles Husayn Athaullah
and the judge Sayyid Athaullah, were ordered to make copies of any new
manuscript on the market if they could not buy it outright.
Hamidullah attended Osmanlia University, founded in 1918 as India’s
first Urdu-medium university and named after the last niẓām, Osman Ali Khan
(1886-1967). There, he studied under the Sufi theologian, exegete, and dean
of theology Muhammad Abd al-Qadir al-Siddiqi (1871-1962), who also
taught the Yemeni Abd al-Rahman al-Mu’allimi (1894-1966), an editor of
classical works59 whose grave is currently a shrine visited by people from
Yemen and elsewhere. He then continued his studies in Europe. His first article
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15
was published in 1926, in the journal Islamic Culture, edited by his teachers
Muhammad Asad (1900-92) and Marmaduke Pickthall (1875-1936). One of
his professors at the University of Bonn was famed German Orientalist Carl
Brockelmann (1868-1956). He graduated in 1935 with a doctorate, and obtained another one from the Sorbonne the following year.
In 1946, as the independent Nizamate of Hyderabad was being embargoed
by the Indian military (it was annexed in 1948), Hamidullah went into selfimposed exile in Europe. In 1947, he participated in the first Pakistani Constitutional Assembly with Mawdudi and Sulayman Nadwi (1884-1953), two
important Muslim scholars and activists. He corresponded with Mawdudi, as
well as with the philosopher and poet Muhammad Iqbal (1877-1938), the German scholar of Sufism Annemarie Schimmel (1922-2003), and Said Ramadan
(1926-95), the son-in-law of Muslim Brotherhood founder Hassan al-Banna
(1906-49) and father of the Swiss Muslim philosopher Tariq Ramadan.
In Turkey, Hamidullah lived in the same small hotel room throughout his
time as a visiting professor (1954-79) while simultaneously holding a post in
the French National Center for Scientific Research (1954-78). Counted among
his Turkish students are Fuat Sezgin and Yusuf Kavakci, the father of Turkish
politician Merve Kavakci, whose father-in-law was interested in Hamidullah
upon his arrival in Istanbul. In fact, this man used to take Dr. Kavakci and his
wife to attend Hamidullah initial talks in Turkey. Hamidullah did not return
to Pakistan until the late 1970s, when President Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq
(1924-88) started writing letters to him, referring to him as his “big brother”
and inviting him to become a citizen. Although he refused this request, he did
visit and give a series of lectures, compiled into Khitab Bahawalpur and translated by Afzal Iqbal as The Emergence of Islam. A few years later Islamabad
conferred the Hilal Imtiaz award upon him – 10 million Pakistani rupees,
which he donated to the International Islamic University in Islamabad. A wing
of its library was subsequently named after him.
His European education and ties to India’s scholarly class of India is representative of a group of intellectuals, including both Shakir and Draz, whose
families had historically belonged to their societies’ religious and political elites
and served as judges and administrators. With the advent of modernization,
they became academics in the newly established modern secular universities
and helped usher in an era of scholarship marked by publishing critical scholarly editions of classical works from pre-modern Arabic, Persian, and Turkish.
In 1997, after suffering a stroke, Hamidullah became concerned about outsiders
expressing interest in handling and publishing his works. His subsequent moves
from Paris to Pennsylvania and then to Jacksonville, FL, were kept secret.
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He was especially concerned about Saudi publishers, whom he felt had
ruined his French translation of the Qur’an in 1996, just as they had ruined
the English translation of his friend Abdallah Yusuf Ali (1872-1953) just four
years earlier. They then glutted the French market, and many companies that
had relied upon publishing his French translation were forced to close their
doors. Before 1979, Islamabad’s Dawa Academy published his books. Habib
and Co., which was dedicated to publishing his works, was bought by a Saudi
company and destroyed. The entirety of his personal library, gathered from
1946 to 2002, is held in the United States; his pre-1946 collection remains in
the family’s ancestral home in Hyderabad.
Hamidullah’s discussion of dīn is part six of his above-mentioned lecture
series given in Pakistan during the late 1970s. He begins by defining a prophet
as someone whose primary characteristic is a teacher of dīn. His description
of dīn starts with the Hadith of Gabriel, found Saḥīḥ al-Bukhārī and Saḥīḥ
Muslim, as well as other Hadith collections. This hadith provides a complete
summary of the term, and Hamidullah suggests that the event described
therein occurred during the last year of the Prophet’s life. The version narrated
on the authority of Abu Hurayrah (d. 681) and found in Saḥīḥ Bukhārī is as
follows:
One day while the Prophet was sitting in the company of some people, (The
angel) Gabriel came and asked, “What is faith?” Allah’s Apostle replied,
‘Faith is to believe in Allah, His angels, (the) meeting with Him, His Apostles, and to believe in Resurrection.” Then he further asked, “What is Islam?”
Allah’s Apostle replied, “To worship Allah Alone and none else, to offer
prayers perfectly, to pay the compulsory charity (Zakat), and to observe fasts
during the month of Ramadan.” Then he further asked, “What is Ihsan (perfection)?” Allah’s Apostle replied, “To worship Allah as if you see Him, and
if you cannot achieve this state of devotion then you must consider that He
sees you.” Then he further asked, “When will the Hour be established?”
Allah’s Apostle replied, “The answerer has no better knowledge than the
questioner. But I will inform you about its portents.
1. When a slave (lady) gives birth to her master.
2. When the shepherds of black camels start boasting and competing with
others in the construction of higher buildings. And the Hour is one of five
things which nobody knows except Allah.
The Prophet then recited: “Verily, with Allah (Alone) is the knowledge of
the Hour –.” (31. 34) Then that man (Gabriel) left and the Prophet asked his
companions to call him back, but they could not see him. Then the Prophet
said, “That was Gabriel who came to teach the people their religion.”60
Delgado: Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn
17
Hamidullah’s definition of religion conforms to this tripartite division of
īmān, islām, and iḥsān. In the Hadith collections, īmān (faith) is comprised of
the Sunnis’ six pillars of belief and islām comprises the five pillars of practice.
He identifies iḥṣān (perfection) as taṣawwuf. The terms he uses to refer to
these three aspects of dīn are ‘aqā’id (doctrinal beliefs), ‘ībādāt (devotional
practices), and taṣawwuf, respectively.61
In the ensuing comparative analysis of Islamic conceptions of belief, worship, and spirituality with those of Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Judaism, and Zoroastrianism, the discussion is primarily polemical as regards
the superiority of Islamic conceptions of monotheism, revelation, the nature
of prophecy, heaven and hell, good and evil, free will and determinism, prayer
and fasting, pilgrimage and charity, and so on. It includes a critique of the
Austrian Orientalist Aloys Sprenger (1813-93) and his view that the Prophet
suffered from epilepsy.62
In his description of taṣawwuf, Hamidullah provides the literal definition
of iḥsān: “to lend beauty to an object; to beautify or to carry out a task in a
beautiful way.” The shar‘ī (religious) definition is “true acceptance of God’s
commands and worshipping Him with utter sincerity.”63 He then identifies
sulūk and ṭarīqah, both of which have the literal definition of treading a path,
as describing sincerity in performing religious acts or treading the Path of
God. But the main word he uses for this aspect of dīn is taṣawwuf, which, as
he states later, took on the same meaning as sulūk and ṭarīqah. He then returns
to the Hadith of Gabriel and its description of iḥsān as a type of constant
awareness of God’s presence.
Another word used to denote this meaning is taqwā, often translated as
God-consciousness. He identifies one of the conducive means to maintain this
constant awareness as the superogatory fasting, prayers, and supplications
taught via the Hadith literature. For Hamidullah, this seems to be the extent
of taṣawwuf because he offers a subtle critique of later developments in Sufism, first and foremost as regards the debates that ensued over the concept of
waḥdat al-wujūd (the unity of existence) advanced by Ibn ‘Arabi (1165-1240).
He does not dwell on this particular matter, as his critique seems to problematize the issue and not to support either side.
Discussion
There exists an alleged “Transantlantic Network of Hate,” which is held to include some academics and politicians, that is actively promoting Islamophobic
prejudice and racism throughout the United States and Europe.64 One of its tac-
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tics is to argue that Islam is not a religion due to its supposedly unique relationship to politics and the regulation of behavior in the public sphere. And yet
many of the same Christian conservatives who make this claim actively seek
to promote their version of Christianity’s influence in the political sphere. Further examination reveals that definitions of religion coming from sociology,
political science, and religious studies all point to a relation among the religious,
the social, the public, and the political.
In addition to the false binaries mentioned by Casanova is the universalistparticularist dichotomy tackled by Riesebrodt, which dilutes the definition of
religion to such an extent that the Super Bowl can be considered religious,
whereas any practice outside of Western Europe and its colonized derivative
territories – even those occurring in the West before the nineteenth century –
cannot be considered a religion or religious. The liberal definition of religion
formulated in the 1800s, which asserts the complete separation of religion and
politics, has continuously been negotiated at every level of western society.65
Riesebrodt’s distinction between religious practice and religious traditions also
solves the problem of differentiation between religion and culture presented
by Shakir and Eliot, corresponding respectively, in the Islamic Studies context,
to that which is Islamic and that which is Islamicate, to use Hodgson’s term.
Mawdudi’s statement that religion is not dīn was clearly influenced by individualist definitions of religion, such as that of William James, as well as
modernist liberal definitions of religion typified by the sociologists of knowledge Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann. In addition, it was based on secularization theory’s predictions of religion’s total retreat from the public sphere
and the eventual demise of its influence on society, which would come to regard
religion “as a separate sphere, distinct from politics and economics.”66 Although
Hamidullah’s definition of dīn does not mention religion’s role in politics, his
lecture series was dedicated to the concept of the state. Moreover, many of his
other works, including his doctoral dissertation, show that he considered religion to play an integral role in governance.67
Shakir presents a four-part division of dīn: i‘tiqādāt wa ‘ibādāt (creedal
beliefs and acts of worship), adāb wa akhlāq (virtues and ethics), shar‘ (the
body of laws), and istinbāṭ (epistemology), thereby showing strong parallels
with the Witherspoon Institute’s four characteristics of religion and religious
freedom: (1) the unseen order; (2) life’s harmonious adjustment to the unseen
order; (3) community action and political and legal expression; and (4) understanding the unseen order through reason, revelation, or some combination of
the two. Finally, Draz subsumes all four characteristics under religious doctrine
as one aspect of religion, the other aspect being religiosity, which corresponds
Delgado: Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn
19
to religiousness and which Riesebrodt excludes from his sociological definition
of religion.
Moving past terminological differences and focusing on the content of the
terms used, one can find four elements used to equally define dīn and religion:
epistemology (istinbāṭ, the intellectual grasping of the unseen order), faith and
worship (‘aqīdah wa ‘ibādah, interventionist practices), law (shar‘, behaviorregulating practices, as well as legal and political expression), and ethics (adab,
akhlāq, taṣawwuf, and the harmonization of life with the unseen order).
The order is not necessarily one of importance, for it is partially patterned
after the classical manner for Islamic religious knowledge: language and logical
reasoning come first and are followed, respectively, by basic creed and ritual
worship, law (ḥalāl wa ḥarām), and the virtues (fadā’il). Of the Witherspoon
Institute’s four major dimensions of religious freedom, the freedom of intellectual and spiritual inquiry and the freedom of practical reason are represented
by (1) and (2), and the freedoms of human sociality and of political and legal
expression are represented by (3) and (4). The last two, law and ethics, would
fall under Riesebrodt’s category of behavior-regulating practices.
Shakir’s removal of ritual worship and ethics from traditional fiqh (typically translated as Islamic law) provides a possible solution to Fazlur Rahman’s
(1919-88) critique of traditional Muslim scholarship for not developing distinct
legal and ethical systems. It can also function as a starting point for developing
the ethical and legal system in Islam sought for by Rahman.68 Points 2, 3, and
4 also conform in some ways to a type of categorization attributed to early Hadith scholars who divided the Sunnah into three parts: sunan (manner of worship), ḥalāl wa ḥarām, and fadāʾil.69 Law, defined as those aspects of religious
teaching that are directly related to issues involving the illicitness of and punishment for specific crimes (e.g., murder, theft, and fraudulent business practices) and that, I suspect, would be protected under the religious freedom of
political and legal expression, would be of a far more limited scope than the
entire range of personal, social, private, and public behaviors not necessarily
enforced by any governing authority. These would fall under the heading of
“ethics” or “virtues.”
Conclusion
From at least as early as William James and his individualized understanding
of religion to Peter Berger and the social theorists of the mid-twentieth century
mentioned by Habermas, Muslim intellectuals encountered definitions of religion that presented it as something entirely personal and with little to no impact
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on social life, something that would slowly disappear from even the personal
realm. Muslim critiques of the equation of dīn and religion, like those of Mawdudi, were developed within the prevailing context of western scholarship of
that period’s understanding of secularity, conceptualization of the public sphere,
and prediction of the inevitable demise of religious belief and practice. This
discourse of “Islam as opposed to religion” has now come to influence a number of Islamophobic political actors in the United States.
In arguing that Islam is not a religion but a way of life that encompasses
politics, they wish to give the impression that the religious freedom of Christians is under threat. Under the pretext of protecting religious freedom, their
actual goal is to curtail religious freedom, particularly for Muslims. More recently, this type of argumentation has come to dominate the rhetoric of leading
Republican presidential candidates.70 When these figures call for closing
mosques or banning Muslims from running for president, they feed into the
Islamophobic hysteria that finds its bases in such contradictory premises analyzed above. Therefore, according to them, Islam should not be accorded the
same rights and freedoms as a true religion, such as Christianity, which is also
a way of life that should inform public policies, including laws pertaining to
marriage, birth control, and other issues.
I have shown that the most basic definitions of religion, including those
of the Christian right to which these American political actors belong, describe
religion as a way of life that informs the believer’s social and political life.
The argument can be laid forth as follows: If Islam is a dīn and that term is
defined by leading modern scholars of Islam as being identical to that of religion as used by leading western scholars, including those with ties to hardright conservative groups, then those same groups must consider Islam a
religion. Islam as a way of life is a religion, just as much as Christianity and
all other religions are considered ways of life.
Countless people from all cultures, regardless of socio-economic or ethnic
background or level of education, have asked such basic questions as: “How
can I avoid pain and misfortune?” “How do I avert crises and attain safety
and happiness?” “What happens after we die?” Religions answer that these
matters are under the control of superhuman powers that can be contacted,
and these answers inform the understanding, worldview, and moral perspective of the person convinced by them. While there may have been a relatively
brief moment in human history during which religion’s role in the public
sphere was seriously in question, the future will in all probability show a
greater role for religion in the social and political arenas. In addition, religious
discourse will continue to shape and be shaped by the social order.
Delgado: Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn
21
Even within that moment in history when intellectuals thought that religion was on its way out of the public sphere, Anglicanism remained the state
religion of England and such leading Civil Rights activists as Malcolm X and
Martin Luther King, Jr., were also religious leaders. This period of the midtwentieth century, seen as the height of secularism, saw the birth of Liberation
Theology in Latin America and the adding of “under God” to the American
pledge of Allegiance. Today in the United States, Christian philosophers like
Cornel West are counted among the leaders of anti-racism and anti-Islamophobia activism.71 The U.S. Department of State now has an Office of Religious and Global Affairs along with the Office of International Religious
Freedom, USAID’s Faith-Based and Community Organizations, and the
White House Office of Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnerships.72 All of
this challenges the various reductionist, essentialist, naïve, and anachronistic
theories that continue to exclude religion as a useful category of historical
analysis.
Endnotes
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
Alex Lazar, “Jody Hice: ‘Most People Think Islam Is a Religion, It’s Not,’” The
Huffington Post, June 25, 2014, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/06/23/
jody-hice-islam_n_5523166.html.
Jody Hice, It’s Now or Never: A Call to Reclaim America (Bloomington: West
Bow Press, 2012), 151.
Chris Branch, “State Rep. John Bennett Stands by Anti-Islam Comments: ‘Islam
Is Not Even A Religion,’” The Huffington Post, September 22, 2014, http://www.
huffingtonpost.com/2014/09/22/oklahoma-john-bennett-islam_ n_5863084.html.
Nick Natalicchio, “Robertson: ‘Islam Is Not a Religion. It Is a Worldwide Political Movement Meant [sic] on Domination,” Media Matters for America, June
12, 2007, http://mediamatters.org/research/2007/06/12/robertson-islam-is-nota-religion-it-is-a-world/139073.
Martin Riesebrodt, The Promise of Salvation: A Theory of Religion (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 2010), xii.
Ibid., xi.
Ibid., 75.
Ibid., 71.
Ibid., 74.
Ibid., 76. See Marshall G. S. Hodgson, The Venture of Islam: Conscience and
History in a World Civilization (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974).
Ibid.
Ibid.
See, for example, Ali ibn Muhhammad Mawardi et al., The Discipline of Religious and Worldly Matters (Morocco: ISESCO, 1995).
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14. Riesebrodt, The Promise of Salvation, 86.
15. Ibid., 91.
16. José Casanova, Public Religions in the Modern World (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1994), 41; from Mary Douglas, “Judgments on James Frazer,”
Daedalus 107, no. 4, Generations (fall 1978), 161.
17. Casanova, Public Religions, 42.
18. Jurgen Habermas, “A “post-secular” Society – What Does That Mean?” Reset
DOC, September 16, 2008, http://www.resetdoc.org/story/00000000926.
19. Timothy Samuel Shah, Matthew J. Franck, and Thomas F. Farr, Religious Freedom, Why Now?: Defending an Embattled Human Right: The Witherspoon Institute Task Force on International Religious Freedom (Princeton: Witherspoon
Institute, 2012), 11.
20. Ibid., 12.
21. Riesebrodt, The Promise of Salvation, 76, 83.
22. Shah, Franck, and Farr, Religious Freedom, 17.
23. Ibid., vi.
24. Ali Shariʻati, Religion vs Religion (Albuquerque: Abjad, 1993).
25. Ismail R. Faruqi, “Review of “Islam: A Challenge to Religion,’ by Ghulam
Ahmad Parwez,” Ismail Faruqi Online, May 2, 2009, http://www.ismailfaruqi.
com/articles/review-of-islam-a-challenge-to-religion-by-ghulam-ahmad-parwez.
See Q. 109:6.
26. Abu Al-Aʻla al-Mawdudi, Al-Mustalahāt al-Arbaʻah fī al-Qurʼān: Al-Ilāh, alRabb, al-ʻIbādah, al-Dīn (Cairo: Dar al-Turath al-ʻArabi, 1975), 117.
27. Ibid., 120.
28. All translations of the Qur’an are from Marmaduke William Pickthall, The Glorious Qur’an (New Delhi: Goodword Books, 2002).
29. Mawdudi, Al-Mustalahāt al-Arbaʻah, 128.
30. Muhammad Abdullah Draz, Al-Dīn: Buḥūth Mumahhidah li Dirāsāt Tārīkh alAdyān (Cairo: Matbaʻat Al-Saʻadah, 1969 [1952]).
31. Muhammad Abdullah Draz, The Moral World of the Qur’an, trans. Rebecca
Masterton (London: I.B. Tauris, 2009).
32. Muhammad Abdullah Draz, Dirāsāt Islāmīyah fī al-ʻAllāqāt al-Ijtimāʻīyah wa
al-Dawlīyah (Kuwait: Dar al-Qalam, 1974) and personal communication with
Abd al-Rahman al-Zunaydi and members of the Faculty of Sharia, Department
of Culture at Al-Imam Muhammad Ibn Saud Islamic University in Riyadh.
33. Draz, Al-Dīn, 31; the author of the Encyclopedia of Islam entry, whom Draz
does not mention by name, was the American Orientalist Duncan Black MacDonald (1863-1943).
34. Magdi Wahba, “An Anger Observed,” Journal of Arabic Literature 20, no. 2
(1989), 189.
35. Ahmad Atif Ahmad, Islam, Modernity, Violence, and Everyday Life (New York:
Palgrave Macmillan, 2009).
36. Mahmud Muhammad Shakir, Abāṭīl wa Asmār (Cairo: Matbaʻat al-Madani,
1972).
Delgado: Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn
23
37. Mahmud Muhammad Shakir, Risālah fī al-Ṭarīq ilā Thaqāfatinā (Cairo: Maktabat al-Khanji bi al-Qahirah, 2006).
38. Shakir, Abāṭīl, 8-9. See Pierre Bourdieu, The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and Literature, trans. Randal Johnson (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993).
39. Shakir, Risālah, 71-73.
40. Pierre Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice, trans. Richard Nice (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2014).
41. Shakir, Risālah, 74.
42. T. S. Eliot, Christianity and Culture: The Idea of a Christian Society and Notes
towards the Definition of Culture (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1949). I am very
thankful to Professors Adel S. Gamal of the University of Arizona and Dr. Abdullah Abdul Raheem Oseilan, Chairman of the Literary Club of Madina, two
students of Mahmud Shakir who have provided me with a great deal of insight
into the life and personality of their teacher.
43. Shakir, Abāṭīl, 413.
44. Ibid., 415.
45. Ibid., 417.
46. Ibid., 318.
47. Ibid., 419.
48. Ibid., 430.
49. Ibid., 436.
50. Ibid., 437.
51. Ibid., 440.
52. Ibid., 441.
53. Shakir, Risālah, 75.
54. Ibid., 78.
55. Mahmud Uthman Haddad, Rashid Rida and the Theory of the Caliphate: Medieval Themes and Modern Concerns (Ann Arbor, MI: UMI Dissertation Information Service, 1995); Muhammad Rashid Rida, Al-Khilāfah aw al-Imāmat
al-‘Uẓmā (Cairo: Matba‘at al-Manar, 1922), 10; Ahmad Atif Ahmad, Islam,
Modernity, Violence, and Everyday Life (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009),
28.
56. Shakir, Risālah, 79.
57. See Philip Dorroll, “‘The Turkish Understanding of Religion’: Rethinking Tradition and Modernity in Contemporary Turkish Islamic Thought,” Journal of
the American Academy of Religion 82, no. 4 (December 2014) for a discussion
of the history of Turkey’s ilahiyat (divinity) faculties that makes no mention of
Muhammad Hamidullah. It does, however, mention his student and colleague
Annemarie Schimmel, who remained in continuous contact with him until his
death.
58. The following biographical information was gathered through personal communication with Sadida Athaullah during February 2015.
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59. Ahmad B. Ghanim al-Asadi, Al-Imām ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn Yaḥyā al-Mu‘allimī
al-Yamanī: Ḥayātuhu wa Athāruhu (Cairo: Maktabat al-Ridwan, 2006).
60. Muhammad Muhsin Khan, “Belief,” Center for Muslim-Jewish Engagement,
accessed March 15, 2015, http://www.usc.edu/org/cmje/religious-texts/hadith/
bukhari/002-sbt.php#001.002.048.
61. Muhammad Hamidullah, The Emergence of Islam: Bahawalpur Lectures on the
Development of Islamic World-view, Intellectual Tradition and Polity, trans.
Afzal Iqbal (Islamabad: Islamic Research Institute, 2004), 156.
62. Ibid., 159-60.
63. Ibid., 176.
64. Yasmine Taeb and Sina Toossi, “Meet the Transatlantic Network of Hate,”
ThinkProgress, March 12, 2015, http://thinkprogress.org/world/2015/03/12/
3633135/translatlantic-network-hate.
65. Riesebrodt, The Promise of Salvation, 9.
66. Ibid., 8 and 64-65. Berger has since acknowledged the disproving of his theory.
See Peter L. Berger, The Desecularization of the World: Resurgent Religion and
World Politics (Washington, DC: Ethics and Public Policy Center, 1999).
67. Muhammad Hamidullah, Majmu‘āt al-Wathā’iq al-Siyāsīyah fī al-‘Ahd Nabawī
(Cairo: Matba‘at Lajnat al-Ta’lif wa al-Tarjamah wa al-Nashr, 1941).
68. Fazlur Rahman, Islam (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979), 256.
69. See Akram Diyaʼ Umari, Ibn Hazm Ali ibn Ahmad, and Baqi ibn Makhlad, Baqī
ibn Makhlad al-Qurṭubī wa Muqaddimat Musnaduh: ʻAdad mā li Kullī Qāḥid
min al-Ṣaḥābah min al-Ḥadīth (Beirut: n.p., 1984).
70. Alan Rappeport, “Donald Trump Says He Would Be Open to Closing U.S.
Mosques to Fight ISIS,” The New York Times, October 22, 2015, http://www.
nytimes.com/politics/first-draft/2015/10/22/donald-trump-says-he-would-beopen-to-closing-u-s-mosques-to-fight-isis.
71. See “Reflections on the Problem of Black Suffering: A Conversation with Professor Sherman Jackson and Professor Cornel West” (Fields Center for Equality
and Cultural Understanding, Princeton, March 29, 2010), https://www.youtube.
com/playlist?list=PLF688C703231CA03F.
72. United States, Department of State, Office of Religion and Global Affairs, Religion and Global Affairs, February 27, 2015, http://www.state.gov/r/pa/pl/
238144.htm.
The Faqīh as Engineer:
A Critical Assessment of Fiqh’s
Epistemological Status
Ali Paya
Abstract
Following a brief discussion on the differences between science
and technology as well as engineering’s main characteristics, I explore fiqh’s epistemological features. The upshot of my discussion
is that although Muslim scholars like Farabi and Ghazzali consciously placed fiqh in the category of “applied sciences,” it seems
that many of the fuqahā’ and other Muslim (or even non-Muslim)
scholars have not fully appreciated the significance of this point.
The result, as I argue, has been epistemic confusion on the part of
many fuqahā’ and perhaps other Muslim scholars.
It has generally been assumed that fiqh has the (immediate) aim of
acquiring knowledge and discovering objective truth about reality,
and that by doing so it can fulfill its other purpose: dealing with
practical issues. I shall argue that this misconception has contributed
to some unfortunate consequences. Equating a faqīh, who is a practical problem-solver par excellence (i.e., an engineer), with an ‘ālim
Ali Paya is a senior visiting research fellow at the Department of Politics and International Relations, University of Westminster, London; an associate professor of philosophy at the National
Research Institute for Science Policy, Tehran; and a philosophy professor at the Islamic College,
London. He has a PhD in the philosophy of science (University College London), an MSc. in
the history and philosophy of science and mathematics (Chelsea/Kings College London), an MA
in philosophy (University of Tehran), and a BSc in Electronic Engineering (Sharif University of
Technology). His research interests include Muslims’ intellectual legacy (including Muslim social
and political thought); philosophies and methodologies of social and human sciences; the cultural,
social, and ethical impact of modern sciences and technologies; and futures. His latest publications are Analytic Philosophy from the Perspective of Critical Rationalism (forthcoming, 2016)
and “What and How Can We Learn From the Quran?” Islamic Studies (forthcoming, 2016).
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(a man of knowledge) has helped the fuqahā’ further consolidate
their dominant position in the ecosystem of Islamic culture. In turn,
this has paved the way for the dominance of instrumentalistic/
pragmatic approaches, in contrast to truth-oriented activities, in traditional centers of learning in Muslim societies.
KEYWORDS: Fiqh, Engineering, Science, Knowledge claims, Pragmatic measures, Correspondence truth
Introduction
In his Iḥṣā’ al-‘Ulūm1 (The Enumeration of the Sciences), Farabi (c. 870-950)
presents the first comprehensive classification of the sciences of his day. He
categorized the known sciences of Islamic civilization’s intellectual ecosystem
into five categories:
I. Science of Language: Syntax, grammar, pronunciation and speech, poetry
II. Logic (including oratory [rhetoric] and the study of poetry)
III. The Preliminary Sciences: 1. Arithmetic: Practical and theoretical; 2.
Geometry: Practical and theoretical; 3. Optics; 4. Science of the heavens:
Astrology and Astronomy; 5. Music: Practical and theoretical; 6. Science
of weights; and 7. Science of tool-making
IV. Physics (sciences of nature) and Metaphysics (sciences concerned with
the Divine and the principles of things)
V. Sciences of Society: 1. Politics, 2. Jurisprudence (law or fiqh), and 3. Theology (dialectics or kalām [apology])2
Interestingly enough he refers to both fiqh and kalām as ṣanā‘ah (i.e., a
technique or technology).3 The technology of fiqh enables human beings to
infer and determine those issues that the Lawmaker (wādi‘ al-sharī‘ah) left
unspecified by referring to what is explicitly determined and to endeavor to
correct their inferences according to the Lawmaker’s intention.4
Similarly, Ghazzali (1058-1111) divides knowledge into several different
but overlapping general categories in the first book of his Iḥyā’ al-‘Ulūm alDīn (Revival of the Sciences of Religion), which deals with knowledge (kitāb
al-‘ilm).5 In each of them, further subcategories are introduced and contrasted
with each other. The first category consists of two subcategories: farḍ ‘ayn
(wājib-e ‘aynī; absolutely obligatory) vs. farḍ kifāyah (wājib-e kifāyī; conditionally obligatory).The former refers to the knowledge Muslims are obliged
to study; the latter denotes knowledge that is not obligatory upon everyone.
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
27
In this case, if even one member of the community studies such knowledge,
then no one else is religiously obliged to do so.
The second category contrasts two subcategories: religious (shar‘ī) and
non-religious (ghayr shar‘ī) knowledge. This latter subcategory is divided
into three further sub-categories: praiseworthy (maḥmūd), blameworthy
(madhmūm), and permissible (mubāḥ).6 Ghazzali defines praiseworthy knowledge as “that upon which the activities of this life depend, such as medicine
and arithmetic. They are divided into sciences the acquisition of the knowledge
of which is farḍ kifāyah and the sciences the acquisition of the knowledge of
which is meritorious though not obligatory.”7 He goes on to state:
[Those] sacred sciences that are intended in this study are all praiseworthy
(maḥmūd). Sometimes, however, they may be confused with what may be
taken for praiseworthy but, in fact, are blameworthy. For this reason sacred
sciences are divided into praiseworthy and blameworthy sciences. The
praiseworthy sciences comprise sources (uṣūl), branches (furū‘), auxiliary
(muqaddimāt), and supplementary (mutammimāt).8
According to him, the sources are the Qur’an, the Sunnah (the Prophet’s
sayings and deeds), the agreement or consensus of all Muslim scholars (ijmā‘),
and the traditions related by the Companions (athār al-Ṣaḥābah). Furū‘,
which are drawn from these sources, are of two kinds: “The first kind pertains
to the activities of this world and is contained in the books of fiqh and entrusted
to fuqahā’, the learned men of this world; the second pertains to the activities
of the hereafter.”9 Having clarified the fuqahā’s position, Ghazzali sates:
“Upon my life I declare that jurisprudence is also connected with religion, not
directly but indirectly through the affairs of this world, because this world is
the preparation for the hereafter, and there is no religion without it.”10
The above examples suggest that Muslim scholars knew that fiqh belongs
to the applied sciences.11 Nevertheless, it seems that the majority of fuqahā’
have not fully appreciated the significance of this. Despite the fact that Muslim philosophers, scientists, theologians, historians, interpreters of the
Qur’an, and mystics have stressed the importance of theoretical approaches
for understanding Islam’s core message and to live as true Muslims, it seems
that as far as the majority of Muslims are concerned, theoretical deliberations have not seriously challenged the dominance of the jurisprudential
approach.
As a result, to a large extent the ecosystem of traditional Islamic culture
has been shaped by the dominant legalistic trend, which has badly affected
its diversity and plurality and has caused it to remain severely underdevel-
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oped. Since all legal systems, religious or otherwise, belong to the realm of
technology, the dominance of legal systems implies the subordination or even
the annihilation of knowledge-garnering pursuits via technological activities.
But ironically, in the absence of the healthy development of such knowledgeoriented activities, technological disciplines and practices also suffer and become impoverished. The end result is the general impoverishment of the
whole eco-system.
I argue here that the misconception of (at least some of) the fuqahā’ (and
perhaps some other scholars) with regard to fiqh’s epistemological status has
played a major role in its emergence as the Muslim world’s dominant intellectual discipline. Of course this epistemological deficit should not be regarded
as the sole contributory factor to fiqh’s rise. Other causes and factors should
also be taken into account, among them the political interests of powerful
groups and agents along with the general public’s unawareness of its responsibilities and rights in the community and vis-à-vis policymakers. However,
for the purpose of the present paper and in view of the fact that social, political,
and economic aspects of its ascendency have already received some attention,12
I limit the scope of my study to the misconception of fiqh’s epistemic status.
In what follows, I shall briefly discuss the differences between science
(knowledge) and technology in general (section 2) and argue that fiqh belongs
to the broad category of technologies as opposed to the category of sciences
(knowledge) proper. I will then expound upon the main characteristics of engineering as a particular field within the broad church of technologies (section
3), briefly explain the main characteristics of applied sciences, and argue that
the meanings attached to engineering and applied sciences have changed
greatly over time. While both are part of technology, the narrowed modern
meaning of applied sciences now refers to a particular activity that may be regarded as only a small part of engineering in the general sense.
Engineering, however, is a far richer activity. So while engineering may
once have had a more limited meaning and the scope of applied sciences
may have been wider, in modern times this situation has changed rather
drastically. In this respect, the ṣanā‘ah of fiqh can no longer be identified
as an applied science, although once that identification was quite correct.
In the last section (section 4), I shall posit that fiqh could be regarded (with
some provisos) as a branch of soft engineering. To sharpen the focus of my
discussion, I clarify the differences among fiqh, sharī‘ah, uṣūl al-fiqh, and
maqāṣid al-sharī‘ah13 and then highlight the implications of this categorization by drawing parallels between how these two groups of experts perform
their jobs.
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
Science and Technology: Similarities and Differences14
29
Both science and technology are socially constructed. However, despite great
degrees of interaction and mutual impact, especially as far as modern science
and technology are concerned, they remain distinct entities. Science, or more
generally knowledge, responds to human beings’ cognitive needs. All types
of technologies, however, serve two main purposes: They either (1) respond
to a human being’s non-cognitive needs (e.g., cars, cutleries, chairs, etiquette
norms, and clothes) and thus belong to this first sub-category or (2) facilitate,
as tools and instruments, a human being’s cognitive pursuits (e.g., telescopes,
laptops, glasses, pens, cyclotrons, and universities), but cannot directly respond to our cognitive needs. Therefore, they belong to this second subcategory. Some technologies, such as mobile phones and tablets, could play both
roles.
All knowledge/scientific claims are conjectural (conjectures about reality)
and remain so until they are refuted. The growth of knowledge/science is
achieved either by the via negativa or the via positiva. The former refers to
what we learn about (some aspect of) reality by exposing and eliminating the
errors of our past corroborated conjectures. For example, we no longer maintain that Earth is located at the center of the universe or that the sub-lunar
realm is made of earth, water, air and fire. The latter denotes all of those conjectures that have, despite our best efforts to expose their defects, remained
corroborated. Einstein’s theory of relativity is a case in point. Through these
dual paths, we strive to move closer to a true picture of reality. Truth, in the
sense of the correspondence of our conjectures to reality, is therefore the sole
aim of knowledge/science. For technology, the aim is always pragmatic (i.e.,
oriented toward solving practical problems).15
Knowledge or science claims, which are general or universal, differ from
both data and information (e.g., particular entities, processes, events, or contexts). On the other hand, knowledge/science claims, even if about particular
things (e.g., the solar system’s composition, the Himalaya’s glaciers, or the
Amazon’s flora and fauna) are, in principle, generalizable: What we learn
about/from those particular cases can be explained in terms of general laws
and used to further our knowledge about similar cases in other contexts. In
other words, while data and information only provide raw material for descriptions, knowledge claims provide different layers of description and explanations for the phenomena under investigation.
Knowledge claims should be objective (i.e., publicly accessible and assessable)16 which means that they differ from intuition, flashes of insight,
inspiration, and private and personal experiences. Of course, as critical ra-
30
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tionalists argue, all of these phenomena could and would pave the way to acquiring knowledge.17 But their role in producing knowledge is vital. In the
absence of these capacities, which have a substantial function in creating
conjectures, knowledge could not perform this function.18 But these phenomena mostly (though not exclusively) belong to what is known as “the context
of discovery,” namely, the context or sphere in which scientists and technologists stumble upon new conjectures as answers to the challenges introduced
by reality. But “the context of discovery” differs from the “context of assessment,” which is where all knowledge claims and proposed solutions are critically assessed.
Although scientists are immersed in local cultures and traditions and carry
their cultural and metaphysical baggage as well as value systems, they do their
best, in their quests to understand different aspects of reality, to keep their conjectures free of such external influences in order to depict reality itself as faithfully as possible. What makes this task possible is the public accessibility and
assessability of scientific (knowledge) conjectures. The critical assessment of
these conjectures in all fields of science/knowledge within the limits of human
cognitive abilities, as well as the knowledge reservoir available to humanity
at each point in time, helps conjectures produced by scientists/scholars to (as
much as humanly possible) overcome their biases so that they represent reality
itself. In other words, science or knowledge strives to be value-neutral.
To be value-laden is a vice for scientific (knowledge) conjectures that aim
to portray reality, whether natural or socially constructed, rather than the peculiarities of the scientists/scholars’ upbringing, biases, or prejudices concerning reality (unless studying such biases is the goal. But even then, the outcome
ought to be objective in the sense explained above). For technologies, on the
other hand, being impregnated with those values cherished by their inventors
or end users is not only a virtue, but also an indispensable characteristic. Technologies ought to be user-friendly, for the more they reflect the values and
pragmatic preferences of their inventors or end users, the more acceptable
they will be.
Scientific (knowledge) conjectures aim to transcend particular contexts
and account for each context’s particularities by incorporating initial and
boundary conditions in the theory’s general body. Einstein’s general theory of
relativity is supposed to be valid throughout the universe, despite the fact that
the particular form of the space-time curvature caused by the gravitational field
of the black hole in our galaxy’s center differs from the space-time curvature
caused by a quasar’s gravitational field. Technologies, on the other hand, are
context-sensitive, for without proper fine-tuning a technology devised to re-
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
31
spond to the needs of people in a specific environment or context may not work
properly in other environments of contexts. For example, a car designed for
Europe’s cold and wet climate has to be modified appropriately before it can
be used in Africa’s hot and dry deserts. An astronaut walking on the Moon’s
surface must wear a space suit, as opposed to a tuxedo or wooly jumpers.
Another notable difference pertains to the fact that scientific knowledge
is by and large cumulative, whereas technological know-how is to some extent
tacit and non-cumulative. Those past scientific (knowledge) conjectures that
have been successful over a long period of time and have successfully defeated
our best and most effective attempts to falsify them are routinely incorporated
as approximations in the subsequent and more explanatory theories. As for
technologies, since part of their know-how is transferred through some sort
of master-disciple relationship or acquired as personal skills, in many cases if
the know-how is lost it is lost forever,19 or at least its retrieval would be extremely difficult.20
The criteria for judging advances are also different. In science, the criterion of approaching the ideal of the truth about reality provides a rough (and
admittedly not yet very well formalized) measure for progress.21 In technology
and engineering, where the main concern is usually devising improvements,
more effective practical solutions, or more efficient machines and instruments,
pragmatic considerations are more prominent.22
Contrary to the view held by a number of writers, including Martin Heidegger,23 technologies do not have essences but only functions, which cause
them to become individuated. Their users could add or omit functions in order
to adapt them to the purposes they have in mind. For example, a person could
use a chair or an umbrella as a weapon if he/she so desired. I recently came
across two interesting cases in this regard: using AK-47s (Kalashnikov machine guns) to jump a car with an almost dead battery and using ordinary plastic water bottles as light bulbs.24 Of course, each technology’s ability to assume
new functions is limited.
The final arbiter for science is always reality, which corrects/exposes the
mistakes/shortcomings in the conjectures produced by scientists/scholars to
capture some aspects of reality. For technologies, on the other hand, the users’
tastes and preferences (which together form an important part of their networks of meaning) are just as important for judging the technology’s desirability as are the constraints imposed by reality for judging the efficacy of its
functions.
Each specific technology is identifiable as such only for those who share
a network of meaning or a collective intentionality that recognizes that par-
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ticular technology and its characteristic functions. For example, an Amazonian
tribal member will see a laptop as a thing, not a laptop. Philosophers define
such a case as the difference between “seeing” and “seeing as.”25 Seeing something as something particular is only possible for those who share in the network of meaning related to that thing.
Earlier it was suggested that the aim of science is to discover the truth
about reality. At the most basic level, such truth corresponds to fundamental
laws that govern reality at those levels. In the natural sciences, fundamental
laws are our best guesses for capturing the fundamental laws of nature. It is
therefore important to distinguish between these laws and the fundamental
laws of science. The latter, as suggested above, are our best representations
of the former. Fundamental laws are universal and valid in all contexts. In
the realm of technologies, which is a realm entirely constructed by us and
which is contrary to realm of science/nature, all laws are phenomenological
(technological/empirical).26
Phenomenological laws are used in specific contexts and for particular
phenomena (e.g., the classical laws of gases, Ohm’s law of electric resistance
in electric circuits, Hooke’s law of elasticity, the laws of fluid dynamics, and
Coulomb’s law of the force between two electric charges). According to critical rationalists, all such laws are derivable from fundamental laws either directly or by “approximate derivation.” For example, Coulomb’s law is a
consequence of Maxwell’s equations and the Lorentz force for static charges,
and the Euler equation for a perfect fluid is a consequence of the fundamental
law of dynamics27 and Kepler’s law, which states that the planets’ elliptical
orbits can be approximately derived from Newtonian theory.28
While the fundamental laws introduced by science are idealized and usually operate under the restriction of the ceteris paribus [all or other things
being equal or held constant] clause, phenomenological/technological laws
are not universally valid and thus are subject to initial and boundary conditions
of the contexts within which they are applied. These laws, as was suggested
above, forge a link between the fundamental laws of science and technological
know-how.
The difference between scientific (fundamental) laws and technological
laws is important from another point of view: Scientific laws do not tell technologists what to do, but only specify the boundaries or limits of what cannot
be achieved. For example, the principle of energy conservation informs technologists and engineers that it is impossible for them to construct a perpetual
motion machine. Similarly, entropy suggests that they can make a machine
that functions at a 100 percent efficiency rate.29
On Engineering
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
33
Engineering belongs to the broad church of technology. In line with the main
objectives of technological activities, engineers in all fields either respond to
people’s non-cognitive needs or provide tools to assist scientists/scholars pursue knowledge. Nevertheless, despite sharing the main objectives of all technologies, it differs from other types of technologies. For example, politicians,
managers, mayors, shopkeepers, door-to-door salesmen, and bankers are all
technologists, but they are not engineers.
A third term that needs to be explained in this context is applied science,
which, notwithstanding the label science, belongs to the realm of technology.
Even a cursory glance at the history of ideas reveals that the meanings of technology, engineering, and applied sciences have changed over time. Technology is related to the Greek concept techne. “This concept and its Latin
equivalent, ars, encompassed a broad range of activities—rhetoric as well as
carpentry, medicine as well as sculpture.”30 “The phrase ‘applied science’ …
had been coined by Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1817, translating the German
Kantian term ‘angewandte Wissenschaft.’”31 The term engineering also has a
chequered past. Since the mid-nineteenth century, when the phrase engineering sciences (probably as a translation of Ingenieurwissenschaft) was introduced into Britain, its meaning has evolved considerably.32
Some writers maintain that applied science no longer serves a useful purpose and thus should be dropped to avoid the wrong implication that it is about
some sort of knowledge.33 I agree with this sensible suggestion; however, because the term is still used by some, I suggest that one should bear in mind
the following points: (1) these sciences are part of technology and have nothing to do with science/knowledge and (2) the boundary between them and engineering is not rigid. Other writers maintain that an applied scientist’s main
task is to ascertain whether a particular theory can be applied to a particular
problem.34 In other words, his/her task is to determine whether or not a particular problem could be deduced as one consequence of a certain theory (or
technological law). To do this, he/she needs to find suitable initial and boundary conditions that can serve as the minor premises of a deduction in which
the theory (or the technological law) is the major premise. However, an applied
scientist can only deduce the theory’s “in principle” applicability, a task that
can be regarded as a small part of modern engineering.
An engineer’s main task is to turn an “in principle” solution into an actual
solution by relying on abilities and techniques that are highly practical and not
based on rule-following procedures. A case in point is an electronic engineer
who wants to construct an amplifier.35 An applied scientist or an engineer work-
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ing in that capacity would develop a model based on a deduction from theories
(laws) of the circuit elements (e.g., transistors, capacitors, resistances, and inductors) that are, in turn, based on the basic laws of electromagnetics. The
model, thus calculated, represents an “in principle” solution. Now, to actually
produce an amplifier that works properly, an engineer usually makes several
local changes in the calculated values of the circuit elements while taking into
consideration a certain degree of tolerance for the prescribed values. In doing
so, he/she deviates to some extent from the original values and design that had
been developed with the help of the original theory. These changes in the
model, or in any other device or system for that matter, represent the contextual
and environmental requirements that the device or the system have to fulfill.
The construction of the iconic Sydney Opera House is another typical example. When Danish architect Jørn Oberg Utzon presented his plan in 1958,
he had taken into account the nitty-gritties of the laws dealing with static and
structural engineering. These technological/phenomenological laws were, in
turn, based on the fundamental laws of Newtonian mechanics and other basic
sciences. However, actually building it took the construction firm Civil &
Civic, monitored by the engineers Ove Arup and Partners, fifteen years of extremely hard work and involved thousands of ingenious tricks and techniques
that could not be found in any textbook.36
While pursuing their education and training, engineers learn a great deal
of basic science and mathematics. They are then exposed to the sort of technical knowledge needed to solve problems. Since engineers deal only with
practical problems, the knowledge they need differs from pure theoretical
knowledge. Part of what they know can be derived from theoretical knowledge
indirectly through engineering textbooks, which are full of such valuable derived knowledge that can be used to design effective devices and systems.
This part of their knowledge can be termed the knowledge of phenomenological laws, which is the knowledge used by applied scientists or engineers
working as applied scientists. Phenomenological/technological laws, as stated
above, are based on the more fundamental laws of pure science.
However, engineers need more than just a knowledge of phenomenological laws in particular fields if they are to become good problem solvers. They
also need to know what Gilbert Ryle, somewhat misleadingly, called knowledge how or know how, which differs from the knowledge why or know why
of pure scientists.37 Knowledge how is the knowledge of how to perform
things, how to design an appropriate solution. Herbert Simon has explained
the differences between science and engineering as “[w]hile science deals
with how things are, engineering deals with what things ought to be.”38
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
35
Knowledge how can be taught by observing a master or an expert directly
or, in some cases and to some extent, by a reading the instruction booklet prepared by the relevant experts. Recipes for certain dishes; how to drive cars,
swim, or make dresses; and how to operate a washing machine, a dish washer,
or a camera – all of these examples show that know-how takes different
shapes, forms, and degrees of complexity. To varying degrees, all people possess this type of knowledge, defined as the ability to construct or change reality. Engineers, however, are expected to apply this know-how to complex
engineering systems based upon their aptitude and ability to do so. This ability
very much depends upon a sound and constructive relationship between one’s
hands and one’s mind/brain.
It also emerges after actual wresting with specific problems. Here, the
guidance of a master or expert could greatly help the novice better develop
his/her grasp of the particular knowledge how in question. But people, even
when exposed to the same regime of theoretical and applied education and
training, show varying degrees of mastery. A good engineer is one who has a
developed vision, insight, intuition, ability, or aptitude that allows him/her to
“see” the solution for a particular problem in a particular problem-situation.
This ability sets him/her apart from his/her peers.
The British engineer G. F. C. Rogers states that “[e]ngineering refers to
the practice of organizing the design and construction [and operation] of
any artifice which transforms the physical world around us to meet some
recognized need.”39 In other words, an engineer’s main tasks are to organize,
in the sense of devising appropriate designs for particular problems (planning and design); translate the designs into finished constructs or products
(construction); and then use the constructed artifice to meet the recognized
need (operation).40 It must be emphasized here that construction does not
only signify material products, but denotes non-tangible or less-tangible
products, such as organizations, systems, algorithms, and a set of rules and
practices.
Drawing on Thomas Kuhn’s distinction between normal science and revolutionary science,41 some writers have distinguished between normal technology and normal design and revolutionary technology and radical design.
Kuhn defined normal science as “a puzzle-solving activity,”42 meaning a routine activity of deducing particular solutions for particular problems in light
of the established laws in the particular paradigm guiding the normal scientists’
activities.43 Revolutionary science refers to the periods of radical conceptual
change and paradigm shift.44 As the above definition implies, Kuhn reduced
science to applied science, which is part of technology.
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Edward Constant defined normal technology as “what technological communities usually do,” as comprising “the improvement of the accepted tradition or its application under ‘new or more stringent conditions.’”45 Walter
Vincenti defined normal design as “the design involved in such normal technology. The engineer engaged in such design knows at the outset how the device in question works, what are its customary features.”46 But radical design
is very different, for “how the device should be arranged or even how it works
is largely unknown. The designer has never seen such a device before … The
problem is to design something that will function well enough to warrant further development.”47
Normal design is an evolutionary process, for improvements to the existing solutions come in a gradual and piecemeal manner. Gradual changes in
the environment that are being absorbed by osmosis prepare the ground for
further subtle changes to existing solutions and devices. It must be emphasized
that just as in normal science, normal technology and normal design comprise
the bulk of day-to-day ongoing activities in applied science, technology, and
engineering. As one expert said, “For every highly innovative design engineer
there are thousands of useful and productive engineers designing from combinations of off-the-shelf technologies that are then tested, adjusted, and refined until they work satisfactorily.”48
The Faqīh as Engineer
To avoid any misunderstanding, I will now clarify the relationship between
fiqh and several closely related disciplines and concepts, namely, uṣūl al-fiqh,
sharī‘ah, maqāṣid al-sharī‘ah, mujtahid, mufti, and fatwa. I begin with a very
general definition, which will be followed by a more technical definition when
discussing the fiqh’s link to engineering.
Fiqh is a term for Islamic law, particularly as it is interpreted and implemented by legal experts from among the ‘Ulamā. Whereas the sharī‘ah is
ideally the comprehensive body of law ordained by God, fiqh involves Muslims’ commitment to understand God’s law and make it relevant to their
lives. As such, it is a religious form of what is called “jurisprudence” in the
West, and it extends its reach from matters of worship to detailed aspects of
everyday conduct. A member of the ‘Ulamā who is trained in fiqh is called
a faqīh (jurist).49
A closely related notion, and one that is often mistakenly identified with
it, is Shari‘ah, which incorporates all of the laws introduced through the
Qur’an and the Sunnah (the Prophet’s saying and deeds). The Shi‘ah have an
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
37
additional source: the Imams. Uṣūl al-fiqh is a semantic-hermeneutical tool
that helps fuqahā’ formulate their expert opinions concerning shar‘ī problems.
Wael Hallaq suggests the following definition: “[A] discipline or a field of
study specializing in methods of interpretation and reasoning …, with the aim
of arriving at new legal norms for unprecedented cases or rationalizing existing ones.”50
The maqāṣid al-sharī‘ah signify the aims and objectives that the supreme
Lawmaker, God, intended to be achieved by implementing the Shari‘ah. Mohammad Hashim Kamali has made the following observation:
Generally the Shari‘ah is predicated on the benefits of the individual and
that of the community, and its laws are designed so as to protect these benefits and facilitate improvement and perfection of the conditions of human
life on earth. … The underlying theme in virtually all of the broad spectrum
of the aḥkām is realisation of benefit (maṣlaḥah) which is regarded as the
summa of the maqāṣid. … The maṣāliḥ (pl. of maṣlaḥah) thus become another name for maqāṣid and the ‘ulamā’ have used the two terms almost interchangeably. The ‘ulamā’ have classified the entire range of maṣāliḥcum-maqāṣid into three categories in a descending order of importance, beginning with the essential maṣāliḥ, or ḍarūriyyāt, followed by the complementary benefits, or hājiyyāt, and then the embellishments, or taḥsiniyyāt.
The essential interests are enumerated at five, namely faith, life, lineage, intellect and property. … The essential maṣāliḥ, in other words, constitute an
all-encompassing theme of the Shari‘ah as all of its laws are in one way or
another related to the protection of these benefits. These benefits are an embodiment, in the meantime, of the primary and overriding objectives of the
Shari‘ah.51
Fiqh is also related to ijtihād, a procedure undertaken by a learned jurist
or a faqīh that applies fiqhī and uṣūlī methods of interpretation and reasoning
to derive appropriate fatwas from the Shari‘ah. The person who does this is
known as a mujtahid. This term is mostly (though not exclusively) used by
Shi‘is; Sunnis use mufti. Fuqahā’, mujtahids, and muftis are ranked in a hierarchical manner.52
From the above, it is clear that none of these briefly introduced terms,
concepts, practices, and disciplines deal with Muslims’ cognitive/epistemic
needs in a direct way. Rather, they all respond to Muslims’ non-cognitive
needs or (possibly) facilitate (as tools and instruments only) their cognitive
pursuits. In this sense, they all belong to the general category of technology.53
Among these technologies, fiqh has a particular status. I will now discuss this
status.
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My contention that a faqīh is an engineer can be better understood if we
compare both of their tasks. In his Qawā‘id- Fiqhī (The General Rules of
Fiqh), Mahmoud Shahabi defines fiqh as:
‘ilm [sic.] fiqh has been established to discuss the five types of rulings related
to prescribed duties (ahkām taklīfī) (namely, obligation (wujūb) recommendation (istiṣḥāb), prohibition (ḥormat), discouragement (kirahat), and permissibility (ibaḥe)) and the declaratory or conventional laws (ahkām wad‘ī)
(such as being a cause (sababiyat), being a condition (shartiyat), being an
obstacle (māne‘iyat), validity (ṣihat), and non-validity (fisad)).54
Both of them deal with practical issues. In addition, the categories determining the boundary of a faqīh’s activities, namely, the five types of religious
duties, resemble those that determine the boundary of engineering activities.55
The same could be said about a physician or a surgeon, for all of these people
deal with practical problems for particular problem-situations and are involved in the triad processes of normal design, construction,” and operation/
application.
Many Muslim scholars have noted that fiqh and medicine are, to some
extent, similar. The contrast between al-ṭibb al-ruḥānī (spiritual medicine)
and al-ṭibb al- jismānī (corporeal medicine) is a constant theme in Islamic
culture. In his Iḥyā’ al-‘Ulūm al-Dīn, Ghazzali, after defining fiqh as a type
of [applied] science, like medicine, whose acquisition is conditionally obligatory (fard kifāyah/wājib kifāyī), pre-empts a possible objection to his approach via an imaginary dialogue with his reader:
If you should say, “why have you regarded medicine and jurisprudence in
the same way when medicine pertains to the affairs of this world, namely
the welfare of the body, while upon jurisprudence depends the welfare of
religion …?” then know that … in fact the two sciences differ. Jurisprudence
is superior to medicine on three counts; first because it is religious knowledge and unlike medicine, which is not religious knowledge, jurisprudence
is derived from prophecy; second, it is superior to medicine because no one
of those who are treading the road to the hereafter can do without it, neither
the healthy nor the ailing; while on the other hand only the sick, who are a
minority, need medicine; thirdly, because jurisprudence is akin to the science
of the road of the hereafter, … .56
His argument for fiqh’s superiority over medicine is interesting in that it
shows an epistemic attitude that does not favor temporal sciences and technologies. Such an attitude, which can be seen both among fuqahā’ and mystics
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
39
(Ghazzali belonged to both groups) has had a continuous and seriously negative impact upon the healthy development of science and technology in Islamic culture’s ecosystem.57 The negative epistemological impact of fiqh being
the most prestigious discipline is exacerbated by the fact its practitioners’
power and social status have caused the majority of Muslim seminary students
to regard it as the most attractive discipline. Thus other disciplines of “the Islamic sciences” did not receive the attention they deserved. But Ghazzali’s
argument, regardless of its epistemic attitude, cannot conceal the fact that fiqh,
like medicine, is a type of engineering.
One can also argue that like engineers, fuqahā’ attend to specific problems
that respond to people’s non-cognitive needs or facilitate their cognitive needs
within the sphere of religious outlook and network of religious beliefs. For
example, fiqh explains how to perform the required ablutions and prayers, fulfill the pilgrimage, conduct business transactions, and many similar issues according to the general rules of fiqh and masā’il al-fiqh (problems of fiqh).
These rules and problems resemble engineering’s phenomenological laws and,
in turn, are “derived” from the main sources, namely the Qur’an, the Sunnahs
of the Prophet and Imams (the latter for the Shi‘ahs only), ‘aql (intellect), and
ijmā‘ (consensus of the jurists).
Importantly, the differences between the fiqhī schools have no impact on
the general nature of this practice as a branch of soft engineering. Any differences that might appear in their fatwas pertain to the specific content of their
specific rulings. However, there are differences in terms of general methodology and epistemology. To better appreciate this point, consider the following
example: German, Japanese, American, and Russian mechanical engineers
produce many types and models of cars, but all of them, regardless of their
varied appearances and efficiencies, obey the same phenomenological/technological laws. In other words, these differences are due solely to the engineers’ implementation of ame laws in tandem based upon their own personal
social, economic, and cultural considerations.
Both a faqīh and an engineer are trained to acquire the basic tools for
practical problem-solving. He (mostly he, since there are very few female
faqīhs, mujtahids, and muftis) is not trying to solve fundamental epistemic or
abstract doctrinal issues, for his concern is purely practical. And yet he can
only solve practical problems if he has acquired a certain level of theoretical
background knowledge (e.g., doctrinal, theological, philosophical, historical,
and even scientific) with respect to the problems in question.
Like engineers, fuqahā’ adjust their solutions to the problem-situations
and the contexts within which they are expected to be used. For example,
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religious edicts concerning prayer and fasting in places like Scandinavia
differ from the same edicts for places nearer to Saudi Arabia. A recent dispute over fasting during long, hot summer days brought differences among
the Iranian fuqahā’ into sharp focus. An edict issued by Ayatollah Bayat Zanjani declared:
With reference to the mawthawqih (trusted news) of ‘Ammar and the report
(rawāyat) of Mufaddal ibn ‘Omar of Imam Sadiq which is included in the
chapter 16 of Wasā’il al-Shi‘ah, in the section entitled “The One Whose
Fasting Is Correct,” those who fast but cannot endure thirst can drink water,
but only to a minimal extent that quenches their thirst. In this case, their fasting is not invalid and does not need to be repeated.58
In an explicit and unexpected reaction to the above edict, Ayatollah
Makarem Shirazi warned the public that such fatwas should be ignored.59 Similarly, Yusuf al-Qaradawi’s fiqhī ruling for Muslim minorities in Europe, which
permits them to connect ṣalāt al-ẓuhr and ṣalāt al-‘aṣr, as well as ṣalāt almaghrib and ṣalāt al-‘ishā’ by performing the second prayer immediately one
after the first one, has generated controversy among the more traditional Sunni
fuqahā’ and muftis.60
Such rulings belong to an emerging branch of fiqh known as fiqh alaqallῑyāt (the jurisprudence of Muslim minorities)61 and more vividly demonstrate the contextual nature of a faqīh’s activities. Another example is Ayatollah
Sistani’s collection of fatwas for his followers living in the West.62 The nuances
of these religious edicts are not always the same for those of his followers
who live, for example, in Iraq. This reality clearly shows fiqh’s pragmatic nature, some of which is seen in the way fuqahā’ change their fatwas in response
to changing circumstances or even to changes in their own considerations.
Said Fares Hassan discusses one such example in the case of Qaradawi,
who has given two completely different fatwas to two almost identical religious question, namely, if a Muslim living in a non-Muslim environment can
accept the invitation of his non-Muslim friends, neighbors, or colleagues.63 A
more recent example is the change in the fatwa issued in 2005 by Egypt’s then
grand mufti Ali Gom‘a (Jom‘a) as to whether Muslim men can attend a prayer
led by a Muslim woman.64
Like engineers, some fuqahā’ are sharper than others and more competent in producing effective solutions. The nuances contained within their
edicts with regard to the same problems are therefore the result of two sets
of factors: individual ability and, as suggested above, the particular problemsituations with which they deal. A faqīh’s socioeconomic background and
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
41
his intellectual and cultural upbringing, as well as the milieu in which he operates, also influence his proposed solutions. Ayatollah Motahari highlighted
this issue thus:
If one compares the fatwas of fuqahā’ and also takes into consideration their
personal history and their attitude toward real life issues, one would see that
how the faqīh’s background knowledge and his information and understanding of the real world influence his fatwas. To the extent that the edict of an
Arab faqīh has the smell of Arab, and the fatwa of a non-Arab has the smell
of non-Arab, the edict of a rural faqīh has the smell of rural areas and the
fatwa of an urban faqīh has the smell of urban areas.65
An example here is the differences between the views of the Lebanese
mujtahid Ayatollah Seyyed Hossein Fazlullah and the Iraqi mujtahid Ayatollah
Seyyed Sadiq Shirazi. The former maintained that self-flagellation and using
blades during the mourning ceremonies in ‘Ashura is forbidden, whereas the
latter ruled that such acts are recommended.66
Engineers distinguish between optimization and satisficing. The latter term
refers not to the best solution, but to the one that is satisfactory.67 To some extent, this resembles the difference between two types of fiqhī edicts, namely,
wājib (obligatory), which indicates that the faqīh thinks he has reached an ideal
understanding of the relevant religious verdict, and al-iḥtiāṭ al-wājib (obligation
to exercise caution in applying the edict), which implies that he doubts its correctness. Thus he allows his followers to follow another fatwa that might be
more satisfactory in their particular circumstances. A case in point is those fatwas that regard the People of the Book (Ahl al-Kitāb) as ṭāhir (clean). For followers of these fuqahā’ who happen to have an Ahl al-Kitāb stepmother or a
stepfather, living under one roof with their parents would become almost impossible. In such cases, if the faqīh’s fatwa is al-iḥtiāṭ al-wājib, then the follower could turn to another faqīh who regards the Ahl al-Kitāb as ṭāhir.68
Like engineers, fuqahā’ can produce effective solutions only if they use
more than mere conceptual frameworks and intellectual arguments. For instance, they often need to reconstruct the problem-situation to get a better grasp
of the issues and the proposed solutions’ suitability. The story of Allameh Hilli
(1250-1325) and his edict concerning the uncleanliness of well water is relevant
here. Until his ruling, all Shi‘ah mujtahids had held that if a dead animal were
found in a well, a certain amount of its water had to be removed before the rest
of it could be regarded as clean and fit for drinking or washing. Allameh, however, opined that this ruling was only recommend and preferable. When faced
with this very situation, he ordered his servants to cover the well and not to use
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its water so he could study the problem-situation without any self-interest. After
this procedure, he decided that his earlier ruling was sound.69
The majority of fuqahā’ and engineers are engaged in “normal design”
activities, meaning that they use their expertise to gradually improve upon existing solutions or introduce other solutions based on a new arrangement of
the existing know-how or solutions to the known problems. A case in point is
the fatwa of Ayatollah Sane‘i concerning a new type of ghusl (a type of religious ritual of washing) called “the ghusl in lieu of wudu’” (obligatory washing ritual before daily prayers).70
In contrast to the “normal” fuqahā’, the number of founding jurists (alfuqahā’ al-mu‘assissūn) is very limited. Founding jurists are those great innovative individuals who deal with issues that have no precedent and are of
great importance and gravity. These innovative fuqahā’ suggest groundbreaking solutions and thus pave the way for substantial conceptual development.
The founding mujtahids of the four Sunni schools are good examples of this
second category. A more recent example of a founding jurist is Ayatollah
Khomeini, who developed the theory of “the guardianship of the faqīh” and
issued some revolutionary edicts with regard to the role of an Islamic government. One such edict was that the government can oblige the faithful to abandon their routine religious duties (e.g., daily prayers or hajj) for as long as it
deems doing so to be necessary.71
Even a cursory glance at the collections of religious edicts, known as
majmū‘ fatāwā among the Sunnis and tawḍīḥ al-maṣā’il among the Shi‘ahs,
clearly shows that these texts, which resemble the handbooks and manuals
published by engineers to teach the end users how to operate various devices,
machines, or systems, always undergo subtle changes. This is to be expected,
because some instructions become obsolete due to changes in the intellectual
and technological/practical environments and new instructions are added to
deal with new issues (al-masā’il al-mustaḥdithah). Two examples here are
atoning for one’s sins by freeing a slave (now irrelevant) and the acceptability
of IVF treatment for barren couples (a new issue).
Another similarity between fuqahā’ and many engineers is that they both,
rather mistakenly, think that they rely on inductive reasoning for devising solutions.72 In both disciplines, problems at the higher level of abstraction are
more conceptual and relatively less structured, whereas those at a lower level
are more or less well-defined. The influence of the ambience and environment
is greater at the upper levels of the design process in both fiqh and engineering,
whereas the influence of the context on this process at the lower levels is usually minimal.
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
43
Another important similarity is that both groups seek to achieve certainty.
This is not a goal for theoretical researchers, however, because they are only
concerned with epistemic value. Certainty belongs to the realm of personal
psychology73 and thus only confirms/affirms what one already knows. The
following example is instructive here. Suppose an individual has booked a
flight to Makkah. The airline has informed him/her of the relevant details.
Now, if a day before the flight he/she contacts the airline and asks them to
confirm the flight’s details, assuming that nothing has changed, their response
does not add an iota to the passenger’s knowledge about the flight, but only
provides psychological reassurance. To achieve certainty, engineers usually
increase the margin of safety well beyond the calculated values, whereas
fuqahā’ rely on their subjective sensitivities in light of acquiring more confirming evidence.
One point that needs to be clarified here is that fuqahā’ famously claim
that the “task of faqīh is to obtain expert knowledge (know-how) about fiqhī
topics and not their specific instances.” This is reflected in how they formulate
their fatwas, which usually take the form of a hypothetical statements: “If
what is stated in the question (istiftā’) is the case, then the fatwa (ḥukm [judgment]) would be …” On this basis, some may argue that their approach differs
from that of the engineers. But a closer look at the issue shows that this claim
is incorrect.74
Unfortunately, the expression “identification of topics rather than instances” is misleading. This is a good example of what Wittgenstein identifies
as the misleading power of language and against which he warns.75 This means
that the faqīh is responsible for resolving specific problems (topics) in a general fashion. How his believers or followers do or do not apply the proposed
solution is not his concern. However, one must realize that it is usually hiss
followers who bring these problems (and topics) to his attention. When a faqīh
himself identifies a problem (topic), he does so as a believer who has come
across the problem, just like his followers. But unlike them, he is obliged to
devise a general solution.
Engineers follow this same procedure. For example, understanding that
people needed to wash their clothes, they came up with the general solution
of manufacturing washing machines. They provide the necessary instructions and then leave it up to the end users (their “followers”) to adjust the
solution and its accompanying instructions to their particular contexts (e.g.,
where to place or use it), with which they do not interfere. After all, they
cannot imagine all of the possible contexts. Incidentally, in recent decades
and due to a better appreciation of diverse contexts, appliance manufacturers
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ask their end users about their own contexts so that they can adjust their appliances accordingly. This resembles applying fatwas to various contexts.
The fatwas concerning fasting in different geographical locations is a case
in point.
In other words, both groups are interested in devising generic solutions
in which the general limits of potential solutions, as opposed to specific cases
in which the solutions can be used, are determined. The number and diversity
of such cases are indeterminately large. Even in the case of specific solutions,
such as constructing a bridge over a river, engineers only issue general instructions, for example, the maximum weight or height of the load. It is then
up to the end users to choose how to meet their particular needs within the
limits set by the engineers: the shapes of the boxes used to transport their
goods, which type of vehicle to use, and when they can cross the bridge. The
possibilities are infinite, and the engineers bear no responsibility for telling
the end users what to do in each case. This is also true for the fuqahā’ – they
can instruct those who are fasting that they should stop eating before fajr
(dawn), but not when to begin their pre-fast meal, exactly when to stop, which
body posture to adopt while eating, what to eat and drink, whom they can eat
with, and so on.
Conclusion
If the arguments presented here are sound, then their implications for the discipline or practice of fiqh will be significant. The first immediate consequence
is that if the faqīh is to be effective, he must constantly improve his knowledge
and awareness of local and particular problem-situations and contexts. If an
engineer is assigned to construct a dam on a particular river, he must have a
first-hand understanding of the relevant requirements. Unlike a theoretical
scientist, he cannot discuss the issue in terms of abstract theoretical models.
And unlike an applied scientist, he cannot apply those models by relying on
approximations with regard to the initial and boundary conditions. He must
travel to the region, fully familiarize himself with the situation, and then do
his best to adjust the existing theoretical and applied knowledge to the task’s
specific requirements.
In a similar way, if a faqīh living in Qom or Najaf or Cairo or Makkah is
asked how believers living in a remote part of the globe with totally different
conditions should fulfill their religious duties, he cannot simply rely on the
customary rulings; rather, he must make sure that he fully understands the relevant conditions and adjust his rulings accordingly. I have had first-hand ex-
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
45
perience in dealing with Muslims born and raised in the West who are seriously dissatisfied with the rulings issued by fuqahā’ and mujtahids who live
thousands of miles away in completely different cultural and environmental
settings and yet pass rulings on their particular situations. Some of these Muslims talk quite openly about the need for producing home-grown mujtahids
and fuqahā’ who will have a first-hand awareness of the problems that they
face.
A second implication is that given the ever-increasing complexity of these
new problems, all competent engineers have realized that they can be effective
only if they keep up with scientific and technological developments. If a faqīh
is an engineer, he also must ensure that he is well-versed about these same
changes. For example, a faqīh who knows nothing about modern banking cannot possibly produce a sensible fatwa on such modern business contracts as
futures, swaps, collateral debt obligations, and other types of derivatives. Similarly, a faqīh who is insufficiently educated about modern developments in
genetics, proteomics, molecular biology, cloning, neuroscience, and similar
fields will be completely unable to issue informed fatwas on any of the countless problems emerging from these developments.
The last, though by no means the least, implication is that if fiqh belongs
to the broad church of engineering, then just as each major field of engineering
is divided into many sub-specialties and engineers are trained as specialists in
specific areas, fiqh should also move toward specialization and the fuqahā’
should begin specializing in sub-categories that deal with a specific range of
highly specialized issues. Given the incredibly fast pace of change in almost
all spheres of modern life, which is mainly driven by scientific and technological change, it seems that if the “technology” of fiqh does not adapt itself,
it will be in danger of becoming an obsolete technology that can no longer
offer any meaningful or applicable services.
Endnotes
1.
2.
3.
4.
I have also dropped the definite article al from the names of all non-Arab authors.
Hence Farabi rather than al-Farabi.
Farabi, Iḥṣā’ al ‘Ulūm, ed. Osman Amin (Paris: Dar Byblion, 2008). The above
quote is from S. H. Nasr, Science and Civilization in Islam (Chicago: ABC International Group, 1968/2001), 60-62, with some revision based on the original
Arabic text.
Farabi, Iḥṣā’, 85. As stated earlier, section 2 deals with the notion of technology.
It will become clear that technology is a correct translation of ṣanā‘ah.
Ibid.
46
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 33:1
Ghazzali, Iḥyā’ al-‘Ulūm al-Dīn (The Revival of the Sciences of Religion), book
1, “The Book of Knowledge,” trans. Nabih Amin Faris (Lahore: Islamic Book
Service, 1962), 23-40. This text is available online at http://www.ghazali.org/site/
ihya.htm.
Ibid., 30.
Ibid.
Ibid., 31.
Ibid.
Ibid., 33.
For the accurate characterization of this term, see section 2.
See, for example, Muhammad Qasim Zaman, “The ‘Ulamā and Contestations
on Religious Authority,” in Islam and Modernity: Key Issues and Debates, ed.
Khalid Masud, Armando Salvatore, and Martin van Bruinessen (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2009); Nikki R. Keddie, “The Roots of the ‘Ulamā’s
Power in Modern Iran,” Studia Islamica 29 (1969): 31-53; Said Amir Arjomand,
ed., Authority and Political Culture in Shi‘ism (New York: State University of
New York Press, 1988); Linda S. Walbridge, ed., The Most Learned of the Shi‘a:
The Institution of Marja‘ Taqlid (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001); Knut
Vikør, Between God and the Sultan: A History of Islamic Law (London: Hurst,
2005).
I should like to thank an anonymous referee of this journal for bringing to my
attention the need to deal with these different categories and for his/her other
useful comments.
This section draws heavily, but not exclusively, on my “How Indigenous Are
‘Indigenous Sciences’? The Case of Islamic Sciences,” in Asia, Europe, and the
Emergence of Modern Science: Knowledge Crossing Boundaries, ed. Aron Bala
(London: Palgrave, 2011) and “A Critical Assessment of the Programmes of
Producing ‘Islamic Science’ and ‘Islamisation of Science/Knowledge,’”The International Studies in Philosophy of Science (2015). Both it and, in fact, the
whole paper are informed by critical rationalism, a philosophical approach originally introduced by Karl Popper. See, for example, his Conjectures and Refutations (London: Routledge, 1963/2002) and Objective Knowledge (Oxford:
Oxford University Press: Oxford, 1979). It was developed further by other
philosophers, the most important one being David Miller, in his Critical Rationalism: A Restatement and Defence (Chicago: Open Court, 1994) and Out of
Error (Surrey, UK: Ashgate, 2006).
Of course, in the final analysis all successful pragmatic measures owe their success to their connection to truth and reality. See Popper, Conjecture and Roger
Trigg, Reality at Risk (Sussex, UK: The Harvester Press, 1980).
Ali Paya, “The Misguided Conception of Objectivity in Humanities and Social
Sciences,” in The Crisis of the Human Sciences: False Objectivity and the Decline
of Creativity, ed.Thorsten Botz-Bornstein (Kuwait: Gulf University for Science
& Technology Publications, 2011). Of course an individual may have subjective
knowledge, but such knowledge is, first of all, of no use for the public because it
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
47
is by definition subjective. But second, and more importantly, given that it cannot
be properly assessed in the public arena its representativeness of the truth about
reality remains uncorroborated, or at least not properly examined.
Popper, Conjectures & Refutations; Ali Paya, Analytic Philosophy: Problems
and Perspectives (Tehran: Tarh-e Nou, 2015).
Ibid.
Language is a good case in point. When the last native speaker of a particular
language dies, the way it is spoken by its native speakers is lost forever.
Joseph Agassi, Technology: Philosophical and Social Aspects (Dordrecht: Reidel, 1985). It must be stressed that what is said in the text does not entail that
technological progress does not benefit from past experiences and a gradual
process of improving upon earlier technologies. Since technologies ought to respond to the needs of users in specific contexts, adjusting them to these contexts
usually requires some personal touch, finesse, and adeptness that, contrary to
scientific knowledge, are not part of an objective and detached World 3. World
3, as defined by Popper in his Objective Knowledge, is the abode of all ideas
and thoughts constructed by human beings and made publicly available. Scientific theories, blueprints of technological inventions, rules and regulations, music
and melodies, movies and paintings, novels and myths are all inhabitants of the
world. World 3 complements two other worlds, namely, World 1, which represents physical reality (and perhaps beyond), and World 2, which the signifies
subjective cognitive and emotive capacities of each individual.
Sjoerd Zwart, Refined Verisimilitude (Dordrecht: Springer, 2001).
As suggested earlier, in the final analysis pragmatic considerations rely on the
notion of truth for their credibility: An effective instrument is the one that remains true to its design, assuming that the design itself is correct and free from
errors of judgment.
Marin Heidegger, “The Question Concerning Technology,” Basic Writings (London: HarperCollins, 1993).
(1) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWI8DkQ8Zdg and (2) http://www.bbc.
co.uk/news/magazine-23536914.
Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, II. xi (Oxford, UK: Blackwell, 1953/2009), 193-229.
David Miller, “Putting Science to Work,” 2009, available at: http://www2.warwick.ac.uk/fac/soc/philosophy/people/associates/miller/oxdocs/science-tech.pdf;
Ali Paya, “Do the Fundamental Laws of Physics Furnish Us with a Faithful Picture of Reality?” in Ali Paya, Analytic Philosophy from the Perspective of Critical Rationalism (Tehran: Tarh-e Naqd, 2015.
Michel Le Bellac, et al., Quantum Physics (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2006), 11.
Grigor A. Gurzadyan, Theory of Interplanetary Flights (Amsterdam: Overseas
Publishers Associations, 1996); Nicholas Maxwell, “The Need for a Revolution
in the Philosophy of Science,” Journal for General Philosophy of Science 33
(2002).
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29. Miller, “Putting Science to Work,” 2013.
30. Eric Schatzberg, “From Art to Applied Science,” Isis 103, no. 3 (2012): 556.
31. Robert Bud, “‘Applied Science’: A Phrase in Search of a Meaning,” Isis 103,
no. 3 (2012): 537-45.
32. Ronald Kline, “Construing ‘Technology’ as ‘Applied Science’: Public Rhetoric
of Scientists and Engineers in the United States, 1880-1945,” Isis 86, no. 2
(1995): 194-221.
33. Miller, “Putting Science to Work,” 2009.
34. To complete this part, I have mainly relied on Joseph Agassi, “The Confusion
between Science and Technology in the Standard Philosophies of Science,”
Technology and Culture 7, no. 3 (1966): 348-66.
35. In her How the Laws of Physics Lie (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1983),
101-12, Nancy Cartwright gives a detailed account of the steps that need to be
taken from theory to practice in order to construct an amplifier. I have benefitted
from her example.
36. The story of this iconic building’s completion can be studied on the Sydney
Opera House’s webpage: http://www.sydneyoperahouse.com/the_building.aspx.
37. Gilbert Ryle, The Concept of Mind (London: Hutchinson, 1949), 41.
38. Herbert Simon, The Sciences of the Artificial (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press,
1969). Quoted in David Channell, “Special Kinds of Knowledge,” Science, 253:
5019 (1991), 573.
39. G. F. C. Rogers, The Nature of Engineering: A Philosophy of Technology (London: Macmillan, 1983), chap. 3. Quoted in Walter Vincenti, What Engineers
Know and How They Know It (Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press,
1993), 6. I have relied heavily on this book to complete part of the arguments
made in this section and the next. In the above quote I made a slight change to
what he had added in the bracket to the original quote.
40. Ibid., 6.
41. Thomas Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1971).
42. Ibid.
43. Kuhn identified the main aspects of normal science as follows: (1) increasing
the precision of agreement between observations and calculations based on the
paradigm, (2) extending the scope of the paradigm to cover additional phenomena, (3) determining the values of universal constants, (4) formulating quantitative laws which further articulate the paradigm, and (5) deciding which
alternative way of applying the paradigm to a new area of interest is most satisfactory. Ibid. Quoted in John Losee, A Historical Introduction to the Philosophy
of Science (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 198.
44. Kuhn, The Structure.
45. Edward Constant, The Origins of the Turbojet Revolution (Baltimore: The Johns
Hopkins University Press, 1980). Quoted in Vincenti, What Engineers Know, 7.
46. Vincenti, What Engineers Know.
47. Ibid., 8.
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
49
48. Ibid.
49. Juan E. Campo, Encyclopedia of Islam (New York: Facts on File, 2009), 238.
50. Wael B. Hallaq, An Introduction to Islamic Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 177.
51. Mohammad Hashim Kamali, Maqāṣid al-Sharī‘ah Made Simple (London: The
International Institute of Islamic Thought, 2008), 1-4.
52. Roughly based on Hallaq, Introduction, 173 and 175. With regard to the Sunni
conception of a mujtahid, Hallaq writes: “Mujtahids are of various ranks, the
highest of which is reserved for the one who is said to have fashioned the very
methods and principles that he and others in his school apply, while those who
are loyal to, and capable of applying, these principles belong to lower ranks.”
(Ibid., 175). The highest ranking mujtahids are the founders of the Shafi‘i, Hanbali, Maliki, and Hanafi schools. Among the Shi‘ah, the highest ranking mujtahids are called Ayatollah and Ayatollah al-‘Uẓmā (Grand Ayatollah).
53. It is worth emphasizing that any religion, including Islam, can be regarded as
comprising two main parts: ontological-epistemological and technological. The
first part comprises two short statements: (1) The whole realm of being has a
Lord or Master, and (2) Human beings can, in principle, know the Lord or Master
of the realm of being. These two short statements, which of course need to be
unpacked to reveal their indefinite depth of meaning and information, constitute
the main metaphysical and epistemological aspects of religions. The second aspects of all religions are their rituals, legal advice, and ethical prescriptions, all
of which belong to the realm of technologies, as defined in the text. These “religious technologies” manifest the general functions of all technologies in a religious context by responding to the believers’ non-cognitive needs (e.g., hajj or
zakat, which help strengthen social solidarity) and by facilitating (as tools) Muslims’ quest for drawing closer to God and knowing Him better. I have discussed
religious technologies in several papers, among them “Religious Technology:
Approaches and Challenges,” Journal of Methodology of Social Sciences and
Humanities 18 (winter 2013) and “A Critical Assessment of the Notions of ‘Islamic Science’ and ‘Islamisation of Science/Knowledge,’ International Studies
in the Philosophy of Science 30, no. 1 (2016).
54. Mahmoud Shahabi in his Qawā‘id- Fiqhī (Tehran: Farbod Publications, 1962),
6.
55. It should be noted that a faqīh’s fatwa also applies to him, and thus he should
observe the above five categories as well. In this way the faqīh, like the engineer,
is bound by them.
56. Ghazzali, Iḥyā’ ‘Ulūm al-Dīn, 39.
57. In his Mafhūm al-Naṣṣ (Beirut: Markaz al-Thaqafa ql-‘Arabi, 1990), chap. 3,
Nasr Hamed Abu Zayd discusses some of the negative aspects of Ghazzili’s
epistemic attitude.
58. http://www.bayatzanjani.info/.
59. www.khabaronline.ir/detail/303603/culture/religion.
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60. Yusuf al-Qaradawi, Fī Fiqh al-Aqallīyāt al-Muslimah, 77-79. For the controversy over his fatwa, see http://www.islamoday.net/bohooth/artshow-86-108130.
htm and http://www.azahera.net/showthread.pht?t=5564. Militant Salafis had
accused him of “innovation,” There were a number of articles against him on
their main website, namely, allaahuakbar.net; all of them have been removed.
See John Esposito, The Future of Islam (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010)
and Barry Rubin, The Muslim Brotherhood: The Organization and Policies of
a Global Islamist Movement (London: Palgrave, 2010).
61. For an account of the jurisprudence of Muslim minorities, see Said Fares Hassan,
Fiqh al-Aqallīyāt: History, Development, and Progress (London: Palgrave,
2013).
62. As-Sayyid Ali al-Hussaini as-Seestani, A Code of Practice for Muslims in the
West (London: Imam Ali Foundation, 1999).
63. Hassan, Fiqh al-Aqallīyāt, 82.
64. http://www.alarabiya.net/articles/2005/04/14/12186.html. I would like to acknowledge that this example was suggested to me by my colleague Dr. Nehad
Khanfar.
65. Morteza Motahari, Dah Goftar (Ten Lectures) (Tehran: Sadra Publications,
1983), 122.
66. See, http://www.jameehmodarresin.org/index.php?option=com_content&task
=view&id=325&Itemid=39; http://www.bayynat.org.lb/; http://www.english.
shirazi. ir/.
67. Vincenti, What Engineers Know, 220.
68. Mohammad Ismail of the Islamic College brought this issue to my attention and
provided me with the example cited in the text.
69. Morteda Motahari, Khatm-e Nabuvvat (The End of Prophecy) (Tehran: Sadra
Publications, 1977).
70. http://1saanei.org/?view=02,00,00,00,0.
71. See Ali Paya, “Recent Developments in Shi‘i Thought,” in Islamic Democratic
Discourse: Theory, Debates, and Philosophical Perspectives, ed. M. A.
Muqtedar Khan (New York and Oxford: Lexington Books, 2006), 123-48.
72. I do not mean that ONLY the fuqahā’ and engineers rely on inductive mode of
inference and induction; many scientists and non-scientists (e.g., philosophers,
theologians, ordinary people) also use this mode. But the point is that they are
all mistaken. Induction, as Karl Popper (The Logic of Scientific Discovery,
1959/2002 and Conjectures and Refutations, 1963/2002) and David Miller (Out
of Error, 2006) have argued, is neither valid as a mode of inference nor possible
as a method for discovery. The validity of the inductive mode of reasoning
hinges on the validity of the so-called “principle” of the “uniformity of nature.”
But this “principle” has been arrived at by induction from observed phenomena!
In addition, induction cannot be used as a method for developing a “hypothesis”
for our observations of facts, for it is based on the assumption that such observations must be done while the observer is completely free from all prejudices,
Paya: The Faqīh as Engineer
51
foreknowledge, prior expectations, and so on. But modern epistemologists have
shown that “all observations are theory/hypothesis-laden” and, therefore, it is
not possible to observe/collect facts in the absence of prior guiding theories/ hypotheses. I also do not mean that the fuqahā’ and engineers ONLY use the inductive mode of inference. Of course they also use the deductive mode. In fact,
they actually use both modes of inference in tandem. As an example of their reliance on inductive thinking, one can cite the rule of istiṣḥāb, according to which
the faqīh extends his past certainty with regard to something to his present attitude toward it and thus dispels his present doubt about it. In other words, the
faqīh’s reasoning is based on the assumption that if something had a certain status in the past, then it should be regarded as preserving that status in the present,
even if the faqīh currently has doubts about it.
73. Miller, Out of Error, 2006.
74. This point was brought to my attention by Yaser Mirdamadi.
75. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell,
2009).
Islamic Law and Political Ideology:
Yusuf al-Qaradawi’s Renewed
Interpretation of Islamic Prayer Laws
Nesya Shemer
Abstract
This article suggests a new way of looking at the preeminent
methodological principles informing the oeuvre of Yusuf al-Qaradawi, the greatest Muslim scholar of our generation, specifically
with regard to his rulings for and about Muslims living in Europe.
The case study presented here is taken from the field of Muslim
prayer law, a field that has to date been subjected to very little research. By comparing the discussions of classical Muslim scholars
on the topic with the new interpretations proffered by al-Qaradawi,
one can notice the process of change undergone by the Shari‘ah
concerning prayer under extraordinary circumstances from Islam’s
early days down to the present. We can also see how his political
outlooks have influenced his ruling on this issue and the discussion
thereof among Muslims who do not reside in the West.
KEYWORDS: Yusuf al-Qaradawi, Islamic law, Islamic prayer, Muslim minorities, fiqh al-aqallῑyāt
Introduction
In December 2012, a very interesting incident took place during an Egyptian
parliamentary session: Salafi MP Mamdun Isma‘il of the Asala Party called
for the ‘aṣr prayer in the middle of the proceedings. The speaker of the Parliament told him: “We are not less Muslim than you, and if you wish to pray
Nesya Rubinstein-Shemer is an associate professor at the Department of Middle Eastern Studies at Bar Ilan University, Ramat Gan, Israel. Her areas of specialization are Islamic law, relations between Judaism and Islam, and political Islam. Her book, Jews and Israel in the Eyes
of Islamism: Israel, Hamas, and Antisemitism in Sheikh Yusuf al-Qaradawi’s Thought, will
be published soon.
Shemer: Islamic Law and Political Ideology: Yusuf al-Qaradawi
53
there is a mosque around the corner.” After that, MP Shaykh Askar, head of
the Parliament’s Committee on Religious Affairs, stressed that a tradition in
the name of the Prophet allowed the combining prayers to avoid placing hardship (ḥaraj) on the nation.1
The background of this incident is a wide-ranging discussion of Islamic
law regarding the prayer times and the feasibility of joining them (al-jam‘
bayna al-ṣalātayn). The article’s first part surveys the discussion in classical
Islamic sources. The second part treats the renewed interpretation in Yusuf alQaradawi’s legal ruling for Muslim minorities in Europe. Current research generally focuses more upon his legal rulings concerning socioeconomic issues
and less upon those in the field of Islamic ritual (‘ibādat).2 This article shows
how the principles of his fiqh al-aqallῑyāt reflect on this particular subject.
Over the past two decades, a new legal doctrine has developed in Islamic
jurisprudence: fiqh al-aqallῑyāt al-Muslimah (legislation for Muslim minorities).3 This new field is designed to answer the special requirements of large
Muslim minority communities in the West that are confronted by continuous
conflicts linked to identity and observing the Shari‘ah in daily life. This new
doctrine derives from the necessity to keep these communities within the Islamic framework by creating new legal norms that are suited to their special
needs. The founders of this system are Taha Jabir al-Alwani from Virginia4
and Yusuf al-Qaradawi of Egypt.5 Al-Alwani is head of the Fiqh Council of
North America and of several other Islamic institutions. Both scholars established the European Council for Fatwa and Research (ECFR).6 Al-Qaradawi
now serves as its president.
Al-Qaradawi (b. 1926) has authored over 100 books on Islamic law in
general and on laws for Muslim minorities in the West in particular. Considered one of the leading Islamic thinkers of our time, this influential preacher
is often quoted and appears in the media and on the Internet. As a result he is
considered, as Alexandre Caeiro and Mahmoud al-Saify put it, “one of the
most influential Muslim scholars in the West.”7 He is extremely popular, and
not only in the West, due to his weekly program on al-Jazeera as well as his
websites, sermons (which are broadcast directly), and many books.8
Al-Qaradawi’s Political Outlook as Regards the West
Al-Qaradawi currently serves as the Muslim Brotherhood’s religious and ideological authority, despite his formal refusal to be appointed its general secretary. He defines his religious outlook as “moderate” (wasaṭῑyah) and wishes
to provide a balance between contradictions: intelligence vs. heart, conservatism vs. modernism, extremism vs. liberalism, and so on.9 He sees the re-
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forms in Islamic law in a positive light. This view is the basis of his doctrine
“The Law of Muslim Minorities,” which provides Muslim minority communities with some room for maneuver in order compromise between their everyday life and Islamic law. This outlook has three major goals. The first one is
to bring about unity and union among Muslim minorities by enabling them to
keep their Muslim identity while living under a non-Muslim government. By
becoming “Islamic ambassadors” to the West, they will help spread Islam
there and thus realize the final vision of spreading Islam worldwide.
According to al-Qaradawi’s worldview, Europe represents the next target
for Islam. In 2003, he publicized a religious ruling that details the plan for
Islam taking over Europe:
Islam will return to Europe. Islam has twice entered Europe and has left her
... it is possible that the next conquest, with the help of Allah, will be through
preaching and ideology. Conquering does not have to be through the sword
… [The capturing of Makkah] was not through the sword or by war but with
the help of an agreement [at Hudaybiyyah] and through peaceful means.
Perhaps we will capture these countries without war. We want an army of
preachers and teachers that will represent Islam in all languages and with
all dialects.10
This ruling was expanded into a book that was published in 2005: The
Signs for the Victory of Islam (Al-Mubashirāt bi Intiṣār al-Islām). In it, he
writes about the signs that herald the world’s redemption under the rule of
Islam, the only true religion, after it overcomes its enemies (e.g., heretics and
Jews). Qaradawi cites many Qur’anic verses and hadiths, as well as examples
from history, to prove this. Thus, for example, he quotes Q. 24:55 to prove
that God made an eternal promise to Muslims that at the end of days they will
rule humanity, which will walk into the light of Islam. That is how the world
will be reformed.11
According to a tradition attributed to the Prophet, Islam will rule over
every single place.12 One of the signs foretelling this redemption is Islam’s return to Europe. Al-Qaradawi quotes the Prophet, who told his Companions,
when they asked him, which city would be captured first: Constantinople or
Rome? The Prophet replied that it would be Constantinople. Al-Qaradawi
identifies Constantinople as today’s Istanbul and Rome as today’s Rome and
argues that this hadith heralds what will happen at the end of days. The first
part of the promise has already taken place: Mehmet the Conqueror conquered
Constantinople. Now, the only thing left is to fulfill its second part, which represents Islam’s invasion of Europe.
Shemer: Islamic Law and Political Ideology: Yusuf al-Qaradawi
I think that this invasion is through the pen and language and not through
the sword. The world will take Islam to its heart after it will tire of the materialistic ideologies and will search for something spiritual, Godly direction
and will not find any other salvation except for Islam.13
55
He calls this “conquering in the ways of peace,” a way that will enable,
at the end, the establishment of a great worldwide Islamic state (itisāʽ dawlat
al-Islām fi al-Mashāriq wa al-Maghārib).14 That is the vision. In regard to its
pretentiousness, al-Qaradawi stated in the book’s introduction that humanity
should continue to dream the biggest dreams. He quotes his teacher Hassan
al-Banna, who said that: “The reality of today is the dream of yesterday, and
the dream of today is the reality of tomorrow.”15
In order to carry out his vision, one must worry about how Muslims living in the West can fit into society (without being assimilated) while keeping
their Muslim identity, thereby enabling them to influence but not be influenced. For this reason, al-Qaradawi founded the ECFR to establish a religious infrastructure that would adapt Islamic laws to life in the West. He
considers this one of the goals of modern Islamic rulings. In his The Islamic
Law of the Middle Way and Renewal (Fiqh al-Wasaṭīyah wa al-Tajdīd), he
writes that one goal of modern Islamic law is to deal with the religious problems of those Muslim minorities who live in a society that contradicts their
religion.
Muslims in the West must maintain their Islamic identity and will do this
if they are integrated into the Islamic community. Their religious obligation
is to become integrated and then contribute to their society in order to be “live
examples who work to represent Islam in their attributes and their behavior,
living Islam and calling them [western citizens, to Islam] through their words,
actions, and attributes.”16 According to al-Qaradawi, their presence helps block
Jewish influence because Muslims are “a political balance in the western
countries in order for them to oppose the Zionist lobby there.”17
In the second chapter of his Fiqh for Muslim Minorities, al-Qaradawi defines the very presence of Muslim communities in the West as a necessity
(ḍarūrah) under the title The Necessity of Muslim Existence in the West
(Ḍarūrat al-Wujūd al-Islāmῑ fῑ al-Gharb).18 He explains this need as follows:
Muslims should not abandon the strong and influential West to the influence
of the Jews alone, who exploit it in order to reach their goals and ambitions,
influence its policy, culture and ideology, whereas we Muslims are separated
from this [process]. We are isolated in our countries and we abandon the
arena to others.19
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In his Yusuf al-Qaradawi: Islam and Modernity, Samuel Helfont surveys
a number of this scholar’s rulings for Muslim minorities in the West on such
socioeconomic topics as interreligious marriage, political integration, and interest-bearing mortgages. He shows that the goal of making appropriate rulings
for these Muslims, including al-Qaradawi’s rulings, deviate from the religious
law discussion on the crux of the matter. For example, he ignores the opinions
of classical Muslim jurisprudents. One of his rulings states that there is a religious law to integrate into the West, to become a citizen, and to participate in
its political life because doing so gives Muslims the power to influence western
politics. This ruling is based on the premise that Islam and politics are one. He
allows Muslims to take out interest-bearing mortgages, which is prohibited, to
buy a house and settle down. He even allows female converts to remain married
to their non-Muslim husbands, even though traditional Islamic rulings prohibit
such a union. He justifies his decision by saying that this will make it easier
for women to convert.20 But in another case, he ruled that Muslim men cannot
marry Jewish women, thereby overruling Q. 5:5, because “every Jewish
woman is a soldier in the spirit of the Israeli Defense Forces.”21
The following section will show how al-Qaradawi’s renewed rulings have
expanded into the area of Muslim rituals, an area in which new interpretations
are less desired. We will also delve into the classical Islamic sources and discuss the differences between them and his rulings. At the end of the article,
we will present an additional development: Although al-Qaradawi specifies
that his new rulings are designed solely to ease life for those Muslims living
in the West, from the moment such permission was granted by an important
religious authority like al-Qaradawi, control was lost and the easements began
spreading even among Muslims living in the Muslim world.
Al-Jam‘ bayn al-Ṣalātayn in Islamic Legal Sources
Muslim jurists derived the duty to pray at defined and fixed times directly from
Q. 4:103: “Set up regular prayers, for such prayers are enjoined on believers at
stated times.” A Muslim is required to pray five prayers every day: (1) ṣalāt
al-ṣubḥ (or al-fajr), from dawn until sunrise; (2) ṣalāt al-ẓuhr, from the time
of zawwāl al-shams (i.e., when the sun slightly inclines from the center of the
sky until the time that one’s shadow reaches one’s body length); (3) ṣalāt al‘aṣr, between the time one’s shadow reaches one’s body length and continues
expanding until sunset; (4) ṣalāt al-maghrib, which begins at sunset and lasts
until the disappearance of the red (or white) light that remains after sunset
(maghīb al-shafaq); and (5) ṣalāt al-‘ishā’, which may be performed until midnight. These prayers are considered compulsory (mafrūḍāt or maktūbāt).22
Shemer: Islamic Law and Political Ideology: Yusuf al-Qaradawi
57
Ma‘dhūrūn are people who, for whatever reason (‘udhr), cannot pray each
prayer at its proper time. For example, a traveler (musāfir) is exposed to various risks and long prayers could result in his/her death: “When you travel in
the land, there is no sin on you for shortening the prayers if you fear that the
disbelievers may harm you…” (Q. 4:101). Thus they were given certain leniencies: “The traveler’s prayer obligation is like that of any person; however,
he/she is allowed to pray a short prayer and to connect the two prayers (aljam‘ bayn al-ṣalātayn).”23
Al-jam‘ bayn al-ṣalātayn means to perform two prayers one after another
during a single time slot, for example, praying ṣalāt al-ẓuhr on time and then
immediately afterward praying ṣalāt al-‘aṣr, or praying ẓuhr and ‘aṣr at the
time of ‘aṣr. The first option is called jam‘ taqdīm (connection with the earlier
prayer), and the second option is called jam‘ ta’khīr (connection with the later
prayer).24 Jam‘ is permitted between ṣalāt al-ẓuhr and ṣalāt al-‘aṣr and between ṣalāt al-maghrib and ṣalāt al-‘ishā’. However, it is prohibited to attach
the morning prayer to any other prayer and to connect ṣalāt al-‘aṣr and ṣalāt
al-maghrib.25 A short prayer means shortening a four-rak‘ah prayer to two
rak‘ahs (i.e., the second, third, and fifth prayers). The morning prayer remains
two rak‘ahs and the evening prayer remains three rak‘ahs.26
Connecting two prayers is also allowed in other circumstances. The ulama
agree upon connecting the prayers performed by Muhammad during the pilgrimage. Muhammad preformed jam‘ taqdīm between the noon and the afternoon prayers at Mount Arafat, and performed jam‘ ta’khīr between the
evening and the night prayers at Muzdalifah. There are two explanations for
this: (1) the pilgrimage falls into the category of a long journey, during which
connecting prayers is permitted27 and (2) Abu Hanifah states that this jam‘ is
part of the pilgrimage rituals (manāsik al-ḥajj) and that the Prophet’s custom
should be followed without any link to the travel argument.28 There are two
other reasons as well, even in the absence of travel: fear and rain.29
Is a Muslim allowed to combine two prayers without a reason? Sunni
ulama are divided over this issue. At the center of this debate is a tradition narrated by Ibn Abbas that is quoted in the hadith compilations under the subchapter “Connecting Two Prayers While in Town” (Al-Jam‘ bayn al-Ṣalātayn
fī al-Ḥaḍr): “In the name of Sa‘id b. Jubayr, in the name of Ibn Abbas: The
Prophet connected the noon and the afternoon prayers and the evening and
night prayers when he was in Madinah without fear and without being on the
road (min ghayr khawf wa lā safar). Muslims found this puzzling. The hadith
continues to state: “Abu al-Zubayr said: ‘I asked Sa‘id why did the Prophet do
so, and he remarked that he, in his turn, asked Ibn Abbas who was told that the
reason was not to lay hardship on his nation (kay lā yuhhārij ummatahu).’”30
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In another version, it is reported that the Prophet connected prayers in Madinah
“without fear and without rain” (min ghayr khawf aw maṭar).31
According to these traditions, Muhammad combined the two prayers without a justified reason (bi lā ‘udhr). This assumption contradicts the idea of
prayer’s importance and of maintaining its times. Only a minority of the early
jurisprudents accepted the simple explanation of these two versions of this hadith (ẓāhir al-riwāyatayn) and ruled that connecting prayers is permitted without a constraint (‘udhr) as long as the worshiper does not make it a permanent
custom. Among these jurisprudents are Ibn Sirin,32 Rabi‘ah,33 Ashhab,34 Ibn alMundhir,35 and al-Qaffal al-Kabir.36 Most other scholars ruled that one cannot
connect prayers without a constraint or necessity (‘udhr wa-ḍarūrah) by the
power of concensus.37 Ibn Rushd, while addressing the Hanafi prohibition,
wrote: “There is a consensus that one is not permitted to connect prayers in
town without a justified constraint. Therefore, it is not permitted to pray two
prayers in the time slot of one.”38 The Hanbali jurisprudent Ibn Rajab, in his
Fatḥ al-Bārī: Sharḥ Saḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, debates Ibn Abbas’ hadith at length,
mentioning that there are some problems in its line of transmitters, as well as
within those of its different versions (fīhi du’f, fī isnādihi maqāl).39
Thus the jurisprudents gave eight possible explanations for its invalidity:
1. The hadith is abrogated (mansūkh) by the consensus of the ulama (ijmā‘).
As al-Tirmidhi wrote, none of the ulama approve of it. Ibn Rajab mentions
that this consensus shows that there must have been a text (naṣṣ) that contradicted it.
2. This hadith contradicts many others that praise the duty of praying on
time. We wish to present some examples. The basic hadith with regard to
the times of prayer is known as the Hadīth of Jibrīl (Gabriel).
In the name of Ibn Abbas: The messenger of Allah said: The angel Gabriel
was revealed to me twice at the Ka‘bah and prayed the noon prayer with
me as the sun inclined at the measure of shirāk,40 prayed with me the afternoon prayer when his shadow reached his length, the evening prayer at the
time that the faster concludes his fast, the night prayer when the shafaq disappeared,41 and the morning prayer at the time that the faster is forbidden
from eating and drinking. The next day, he prayed with me the noon prayer
when his shadow was like him, the afternoon prayer when his shadow
reached double his length, the evening prayer when the faster concludes
his fast, the night prayer until a third of the night, and the morning prayer
at the isfār.42 Then he turned to me and said: Muhammad, these are the
times of the prophets who were before you and your time is between these
two times.43
Shemer: Islamic Law and Political Ideology: Yusuf al-Qaradawi
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
59
The conclusion here is that prayer must be carried out only during the time
range defined by Gabriel. Another hadith cited by Abu Rajab is called “The
Hadīth of the Rulers” (“Hadīth al-Umarā’”). Abu Hurayrah reported in the
name of the Prophet: “There will come a day when evil rulers will rule
over you and make the prayers later than their times.” Ibn Rajab explains
that if prayers could be postponed without a justified legal reason, then
this hadith would not mention the rulers who postpone the prayers. Another
hadith cited by Ibn Rajab is the Hadīth of Disrespect (Hadīth al-Tafrīṭ):
Abu Qatadah transmitted in the name of the Prophet: “One day the men
slept and did not pray the morning prayer; they woke up only when the
sun had risen. The Prophet told them: ‘Whoever fell asleep against his will,
it is not considered as if he disrespected prayer. But, whoever was late for
the time of the next prayer – he is disrespecting prayer.” Ibn Rajab cited a
hadith similar to that of Ibn Abbas: “Whoever connected two prayers without a constraint (min ghayr ‘udhr) committed one of the great sins
(kabā’ir).” Ibn Rajab continues to elaborate on the different versions of
this hadith from other transmitters, such as Umar ibn al-Khattab, and mentions that this one might also have been narrated by Ibn Abbas.
The Prophet prayed the noon prayer at the end of its time and the afternoon
prayer at the beginning of its time. It seems as though he connected prayers,
but in reality he prayed each prayer during its time. This is known as jam‘
ṣūrī (from the word ṣūrah) because it is only an apparent jam‘. The Prophet
did this to show that one can postpone the prayer until the end of its time.
The presence of rain, as transmitted in other versions of this hadith found
in Bukhari and Malik.
The reason was a journey (safar). The proof is that other versions of this
hadith say that this jam‘ took place during the Battle of Tabuk.
The Prophet was ill. We have already heard from Ahmad ibn Hanbal that
jam‘ was a leniency (rukhṣah) for the ill and a nursing woman.
Because of work or occupation (shughl), according to the version of the
hadith mentioned in al-Nisa’i.
The last possibility is to give a simple understanding: One can connect
prayers without a constraint. A minority of jurisprudents, among them Ibn
Sirin and Ashhab, hold this view.
The long discussion and the differences in this hadith’s various versions
only demonstrate how controversial it was among the ulama and how they
strove to interpret it in different ways. Their last choice was to claim that it
should be understood in a simple straightforward way and thus one can connect prayers without a legally justified reason.
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The legal schools disagree over whether the constraints are limited to
those defined in the hadith or whether one can draw analogies from similar
but unmentioned cases. For example, the Malikis and Hanbalis see an analogy
between rain and hail or strong wind, since both of them also prevent the worshiper from praying on time. The Shafi‘is and Hanafis, however, claim that
this analogy is invalid because these constraints existed during the Prophet’s
time but were not mentioned.44
The Shi‘ah have always tended to make legal decisions according to the
Hadith of Ibn Abbas. According to their fiqh, one may pray ṣalāt al-ẓuhr and
ṣalāt al-‘aṣr, as well as ṣalāt al-maghrib and ṣalāt al-‘ishā’, one after the other
without any extenuating circumstances. It is, however, recommended to separate them by reciting an optional prayer (nāfilah) between them.45
Al-Qaradawi and Connecting Prayers
So far we have discussed classical Islamic legal sources regarding the possibility of connecting two prayers if necessary. We have focused on the Hadith
of Ibn Abbas and shown the reservations of most of the scholars. We now
move on to modern times and analyze al-Qaradawi’s rulings on the matter.
In his Fiqh al-Aqallῑyāt,46 al-Qaradawi was asked if Muslims living in
Europe are allowed to connect the noon and afternoon prayers as well as the
evening and night prayers during the summer due to the gap of a few hours
between the evening and night prayers. In such cases, the time of the evening
prayer may be 9:00 p.m. and the night prayer at midnight. Another problem
is that dawn sometimes comes very early, such as at 3:00 a.m., and that a Muslim who wishes to pray on time would not be able to wake up for work. There
are also cases in which the shafaq remains in the sky until morning, which
means that the conditions for the night prayer cannot be fulfilled.
Al-Qaradawi opens his fatwa by citing Q. 4:103, which states that each
prayer must be performed exactly on time. Islam, however, offers leniency
based on circumstances and understands that sometimes a Muslim cannot pray
exactly on time due to various constraints. It is also possible to include any
other constraint that causes hardship to Muslims, as mentioned in the Hadith
of Ibn Abbas.47
Al-Qaradawi mentions that one can find in the ancient source texts certain
leniencies for those Muslims living in harsh circumstances. He states that this
is one of the wonders of Islam. According to him, the Hadith of Ibn Abbas
anticipated obstacles that Muslims would face in the future. He stresses that
this hadith is highly reliable because it is cited in the reliable collections and
is transmitted by Ibn Abbas, who is considered the most learned man among
Shemer: Islamic Law and Political Ideology: Yusuf al-Qaradawi
61
the Muslims (khabῑr al-ummah).48 Ibn Abbas’ desire to introduce leniency
into Islam corresponds with Q. 2:185. Al-Qaradawi dedicates only half a sentence to the fact that most jurisprudents did not accept this particular hadith.
However, he greatly elaborates on the minority opinion (of the jurisprudents
mentioned before, such as al-Qaffal) that accepted it in a simple way. He concludes by claiming that the hadith is very reliable and enough to permit Muslims in Europe to connect the evening and night prayers during the summer
and the winter, when the days are short.49
One must understand that Islam considers prayer the most important ritual, for it is the thread of faith between a Muslim and God. According to the
majority of Muslim scholars, whoever does not pray is an infidel deserving
of death.50 Nevertheless, the basis of al-Qaradawi’s legal decision is the fear
that insisting on observing the five prayers on time would eventually lead to
great difficulties for Muslims residing in the West who want to maintain a
normal daily routine. This could make them stop praying and thereby lose a
basic component of their Islamic identity. For al-Qaradawi, preserving this
identity, particularly in a non-Muslim environment, constitutes the main ideological platform of fiqh al-aqallῑyāt.51 He understands that all can be lost by
demanding too much, and thus was prepated to compromise on three, rather
than five, times for the daily prayers. In this case, he applies his ijtihād based
on the principle of “Islam must adapt to every time and every place.” This
type of ijtihād is referred to as selective ijtihād (al-ijtihād al-intiqā‘ῑ), namely,
the scholar’s ability to choose that opinion which is the most suitable (in his
view) from the others in accordance with the spirit of the Shari‘ah (maqāṣid
al-Sharῑ‘ah) and the public good (maṣāliḥ al-khalq).52
Al-Qaradawi almost ignores the fact that the majority of the ulama have
rejected this hadith on the grounds that is both marginal and unreliable. Thus
he expresses two other principles associated with his method: muwāzanah
(the scholar’s ability to consider different opinions) and tarjῑḥ (the scholar’s
capacity to freely select the opinion he prefers without being bound by prejudice or to a specific madhhab).53 He goes even further and argues that Ibn
Abbas’ hadith embodies the idea of easing the law (taysῑr) mentioned in Q.
2:185. The view that God does not want to burden Muslims but to make things
easy for them is the fundamental principle of al-Qaradawi’s thought regarding
laws relating to Muslim minorities.54
Choosing this hadith as a basis for his religious rulings and outlook as regards the political goals of fiqh al-aqallῑyāt, as he himself expresses them,
raises the question of his rulings’ legitimacy. How does one explain a ruling
that pretends to remain inside the framework of religious law discussions but,
in reality, stems from political considerations for spreading Islam worldwide.
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The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 33:1
From Fiqh al-Aqallῑyāt to Fiqh al-Ummah:
The Influence of al-Qaradawi’s Fatwa
A question on this topic, posted to the “On Islam” website, which is associated with al-Qaradawi, was answered on May 15, 2005: Can prayers be connected during demonstrations?55 A group of jurisprudents began their answer
by citing the Hadith of Ibn Abbas, which they said allows one to connect
prayers without a justified legal reason. They rejected all attempts to interpret
the hadith and accommodate it by one of the permitted constraints, and also
claimed that the Prophet could not have done so because he was sick, for not
all of his fellow worshippers had been sick at the same time. In addition, one
cannot define his connecting of prayers jam‘ ṣūri because that required one
to know the exact time of the first prayer’s end and the second one’s beginning. When prayer times are determined by the Sun, bad weather makes it
very hard to determine the exact prayer times.
The authors of this fatwa paid great attention to the those jurisprudents
who held the minority opinion and ruled that the prayers could be connected
on the basis of hardship during the demonstration, lack of security, lack of
water for purification,56 and lack of an adequate place for prayer. These circumstances create hardships that allow one to move up or postpone the
prayer times. They ignored the demonstration’s cause and the fact that
demonstrating is not a constraint forced on an individual, but a matter of
choice.
In support of their view, they quoted al-Qaradawi’s fatwa from July 5,
2001, (published on qaradawi.net), where he was asked if one could connect
prayers in the case of a party that lasts late into the night. He started by recommending that one leave temporarily to pray and even serve as an example
for good Islamic conduct, but concluded: “In any case that a person cannot
pray on time, he or she can pray earlier or later.”57
On February 3, 2011, he led the Friday service in Cairo’s Tahrir Square
in front of a crowd of millions. This prayer symbolized Mubarak’s overthrow
and the Muslim Brotherhood’s victory. It was called jum‘at al-naṣr (the Friday
prayer of victory). Al-Qaradawi connected the Friday prayer and the afternoon
prayer, an action that caused debates in various Islamic forums,58 including
the one at al-Azhar,59 with regard to its permissibility. This situation is even
more legally complicated because it is not a regular connection between the
noon and afternoon prayers, but between the jum‘ah and the afternoon prayer,
since he made an analogy between the jum‘ah and the noon prayer. We must
assume that al-Qaradawi’s reason was the difficulty of letting the crowd leave
and reconvening it later for ‘aṣr.
Shemer: Islamic Law and Political Ideology: Yusuf al-Qaradawi
63
Al-Qaradawi bases his ruling for lenience (minhaj at-taysῑr) upon a tradition that was considered weak and even invalid by the majority of earlier
Muslim scholars in order to keep Muslims living in the West within the Islamic
framework and to integrate them into the West. His great popularity has caused
a leniency originally meant only for these Muslims to spread throughout the
Muslim world, even in those lands that do not experience long or short
evenings. In addition, he might be attempting to bridge the gap between Sunnis and Shi‘ahs, who have always prayed at three intervals during the day.
Conclusions
Prayer is the Muslims’ most important and frequent ritual. Thus the Qurʼan
and the jurisprudents were clear that each one had to be performed on time.
Islamic law, however, considered constraints (i.e., fear, travel, or pain) that
may prevent this and thus allowed them to connect their prayers in certain
cases. Modern reality presents even more problems in this area, such as meeting work or social obligations. Today’s Muslims also live in new lands, such
as Northern Europe. Fiqh al-aqallῑyāt was created to help Muslims integrate
into western societies.
Al-Qaradawi sees Muslim settlement in the West as a positive in terms
of carrying out his political vision: spreading Islam worldwide. The purpose
of this particular religious ruling, as well as some others, is to adapt Islamic
law to existing realities in the West to make it easier for Muslims to live there.
He does this by choosing to rely upon a spurned minority opinion. His standing as the world’s leading Muslim cleric and his popularity have caused his
ruling to spread past the communities for which they were intended and to
become the norm. Apparently this is just the beginning of a process of the
deep change taking place in Islamic law.
Endnotes
1.
2.
3.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P7BRFHsFW_s.
Bettina Gräf and Jakob Skovgaard-Petersen, eds., Global Mufti: The Phenomenon
of Yusuf al-Qaradawi (New York: Columbia University Press, 2009), 17-21.
Although it is a relatively new field, several studies deal with the subject. The
major scholars in the field are Shammai Fishman, Alexandre Caeiro, Khaled
Abou El Fadl, Jorgen Neilson, and Sarah Albrecht. For examples, see Shammai
Fishman, Fiqh al-Aqalliyyat: A Legal Theory for Muslim Minorities (Washington,
DC: Hudson Institute, 2006); Khaled Abou El Fadl, “Islamic Law and Muslim
Minorities: The Juristic Discourse on Muslim Minorities from the Second/Eighth
to the Eleventh/Seventeenth Centuries,” Islamic Law and Society 1, no. 2 (1994):
141:87; Alexandre Caeiro, “The Power of European Fatwas: The Minority of the
64
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 33:1
Fiqh Project and the Making of an Islamic Counterpublic,” International Journal
of Middle East Studies 42 (2010): 435-49; Jorgen S. Nielsen, Muslims in Western
Europe (Edinburgh: The New Edinburgh Islamic Surveys, 2004).
Shammai Fishman, “Some Notes on Arabic Terminology as a Link between
Tariq Ramadan and Sheikh Dr. Taha Jabir al-Alwani, Founder of the Doctrine
of ‘Muslim Minority Jurisprudence’ (Fiqh al-Aqaliyyat al-Muslimah),” 2,
http://www.e-prism.org/articlesbyotherscholars.html (viewed Dec. 23, 2012).
Al-Alwani has been living in Egypt since 2006.
Al-Qaradawi is better known throughout the world. There are many books and
articles about him, including Gräf and Skovgaard-Petersen, eds., Global Mufti.
On the EFCR, see their official site at http://www.e-cfr.org/ar/.
Alexandre Caeiro and Mahmoud al-Saify, “Qaradawi in Europe, Europe in
Qaradawi,” in Gräf and Skovgaard-Petersen, Global Mufti, 135.
Sarah Albrecht, Islamisches Minderheitenrecht: Yusuf al-Qaradawi’s Konzept
des Fiqh al-aqalliyā (Würzburg: Ergon Verlag, 2010), 49-52.
Yusuf al-Qaradawi, Fiqh al-Wasaṭīyah al-Islāmīyah wa al-Tajdīd (Cairo: Dar
al-Shuruq, 2010), 37-38.
Yusuf al-Qaradawi, Al-Jazeera Television (Qatar), Jan. 24, 1999 quoted in
Ephraim Herrera and Gideon M. Kressel, Jihad: Fundamentals and Fundamentalism (Tel Aviv: Dvir Publishing House, 2009), 39-40. See also Samuel Helfont,
Yusuf al-Qaradawi: Islam and Modernity (Tel Aviv: The Moshe Dayan Center,
2009), 97-98, [Hebrew].
Yusuf al-Qaradawi, Al-Mubashirāt bi-Intiṣār al-Islām (Cairo: Maktabat Wahba,
2005), 13.
Ibid., 27-28.
Ibid., 30.
Ibid., 31.
Ibid., 8.
Al-Qaradawi, Fiqh al-Wasaṭīyah, 233.
Ibid., 234.
Yusuf al-Qaradawi, Fī Fiqh al-Aqallīyāt al-Muslimah: Ḥayat al-Muslimīn Wasaṭ
al-Mujtama‘āt al-Ukhrā (Cairo: Dar al-Shuruq, 2001), 33.
Ibid.
Helfont, Yusuf al-Qaradawi, 89-98.
Ibid. 99-100.
EI2 s.v. “Miḳāt,” (A.J. Wensinck) and Ṣalāt (G. Monnot).
Yahya ibn Sharaf al-Nawawi, Rawḍat al-Ṭālibīn (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub alIlmiyyah, 1992), 1:483. Muhammad b. al-Hassan al-Shibani, Al-Aṣl (Hyderabad:
Matba‘at Majlis Daʼirat al-Ma‘arif al-Uthmaniyyah, 1966), 1:147. Prayers can
be combined only on special occasions such as travel or pouring rain. A detailed
debate of the subject can be found in Muhammad ibn Idris al-Shafi‘i, Al-Um
(Beirut: n.p., 1968), 1:94-95. See also Malik ibn Anas, Al-Mudawwanah alKubrā (Beirut: Dar Sadir, 1977), 1:203-05. The Malikis allow a sick person to
combine prayers; the Shafi‘is forbid it.
Shemer: Islamic Law and Political Ideology: Yusuf al-Qaradawi
65
24. Al-Shafi‘i, Al-Ūm, 1:95; Malik ibn Anas, Al-Mudawwanah al-Kubrā, 1:142; alNawawi, Rawḍat al-Ṭālibīn, 1:498.
25. Al-Nawawī, Rawḍat al-Ṭālibīn,1:498.
26. In early Islam, the Muslims in Makkah would pray two rak‘ahs in the noon and
afternoon prayers. When they moved to Madinah, the prayer was extended to
four rak‘ahs. The traveler is left with the “original” obligation of two rak‘ahs.
Ibn Hajar al-Asqalani, Fatḥ al-Bārī bi Sharḥ Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī (Beirut: Dar alKutub al-‘Ilmiyyah, 1959), 1:464.
27. There is a long debate regarding the reason – whether it is because pilgrims are
considered travelers or if this is part of the laws of pilgrimage itself. According
to the first assumption, those pilgrims who live in Muzdalifah and its surroundings could not combine the prayers. According to the second opinion, if this is
a part of the laws of pilgrimage without a link to travel, then all are permitted to
combine prayers at Arafat and at Muzdalifah. See al-Nawawi, Rawḍat alṬālibīn, 1:498-99; al-Shibani, Al-Aṣl, 1:147; Malik ibn Anas, Al-Mudawwanah,
1:249.
28. According to the opinion of Abu Hanifah, one is not allowed to combine prayers
at all, not even when traveling. He only allows this at Arafat because it is part
of the pilgrimage rituals. Yahya ibn Sharaf al-Nawawi, Al-Majmū‘ Sharḥ alMuhadhdhab (Cairo: Sharikat al-Ulama, 1966), 4:471.
29. Other versions of the Hadith of Ibn Abbas, which appear in Ibn Rajab’s Fatḥ
al-Bāri, mention the following reasons: travel (safar), fear (khawf), rain (maṭar),
harm (‘adhr), and necessity (ḍarar). It is interesting that all of these words, except khawf, sound roughly the same. This could lead us to conclude that the different versions lies in hearing the tradition incorrectly. See Abd al-Rahman ibn
Ahmad, Ibn Rajab, Fatḥ al-Bāri: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhāri (Madinah: Maktabat alGhurabaʼ, 1996), 4:261.
30. Muslim ibn al-Hajjaj al-Qushairi, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim bi-Sharḥ al-Nawawī (Beirut:
Dar al-Kutub al-Ilmiyyah, 1960), “Bāb al-Jam‘ fī al-Ḥaḍar,” 1:489-92.
31. Ali ibn Habib al-Mawardi, Al-Ḥāwī al-Kabīr (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr, 1994), 2:17,
note 3.
32. Abu Bakr ibn Sirin al-Basri, a Follower, heard hadith from Abu Hurayrah and
Ibn Abbas. Born during the reign of Uthman (d. 732), he was known for interpreting dreams. See: EI2 s.v. “Ibn Sirin,” (T. Fahd).
33. Rabi‘ah ibn Farukh al-Taimi al-Madani (a.k.a. Rabi‘at al-Ra’i, born during the
first Islamic century, was learned in hadith. Khayr al-Din al-Zirakli, Al-Aʽlām
(Beirut: n.p., 1969), 3:42.
34. Ashhab ibn al-Aziz al-Qisi was a Maliki Egyptian jurisprudent (d. 826). Ibid.,
1:335.
35. Ibn al-Mundhir al-Nisaburi was a Shafi‘i jurisprudent (863-940). Ibid., 6:184.
36. Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Isma‘il al-Shashi (904-76) was a famous Shafi‘i jurist
in Transoxania. See http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.
20110803100356814.
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The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 33:1
37. Ibn Hajar al-Asqalani, Fatḥ al-Bari bi Sharḥ, 2:24; Ibn Abd al-Barr, Al-Tamhīd
Limma fī al-Muwaṭṭa’ min al-Maʽānī wa al-Asānīd (Rabat: al-Matba‘ah al-Malikiyyah, 1967-90), 12:215-16.
38. Ibn Rushd, Bidāyat al-Mujtahid wa-Nihāyat al-Muqtaṣid (Cairo: Dar al-Fikr,
1950), 1:182.
39. Ibn Rajab, Fatḥ al-Bāri, 4:263-64.
40. Shirāk is the name of a small measurement used in Makkah. Here, it means that
the noon prayer time begins when the Sun starts to veer from the middle of the
sky and there are hardly any shadows. See Shams al-Haqq al-Azam Abadi, Awn
al-Ma‘ābūd: Sharḥ Sunan Abī Dāwūd (Beirut: Dār al-Fikr, 1979), 2:55.
41. The redness of the horizon after sunset. See al-Mawardi, Al-Ḥāwī al-Kabīr, 2:29.
42. Isfār is the whiteness of the day. See al-Nawawi, Al-Majmmū‘, 3:18.
43. Abadi, Awn al-Ma‘abūd, 2:55-57; al-Nawawi, Al-Majmmū‘, 318; al-Mawardi,
Al-Ḥāwī al-Kabīr, 2:10.
44. Al-Mawardi, Al-Hāwi al-Kabīr, 2:10.
45. Muhammad Bakir al-Majlisi, Biḥār al-Anwār (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-Wafaʼ,
1983), 79:331-37.
46. Yusuf al-Qaradawi, Fī Fiqh al-Aqallīyāt al-Muslimah, 77-79.
47. Ibid., 77.
48. EI2 s.v. “Ibn Abbas,” (L. Veccia Vaglieri).
49. Al-Qaradawi, Fī Fiqh al-Aqallīyāt al-Muslimah, 78-79.
50. On the importance of prayer in Islamic law, see Nesya Rubinstein-Shemer,
“Larger than Life: Prayer during Wartime in Islamic Law,” Studia Orientalia
112 (2012): 103-26.
51. Albrecht, Islamisches Minderheitrecht, 61-62.
52. Ibid., 67-68.
53. Ibid., 68-71.
54. See Alexandre Caeiro, “Transnational ʽUlamaʼ, European Fatwas, and Islamic
Authority: A Case Study of the European Council for Fatwa and Research,” in
Producing Islamic Knowledge: Transmission and dissemination in Western Europe, Martin van Bruinessen and Stefano Allievi (London: Routledge, 2010), 5.
55. http://www.onislam.net/arabic/ask-the-scholar/8240/8394/8317/52850-200408-01%2017-37-04.html.
56. An interesting question is if one is allowed to do tayamum at demonstrations.
57. http://www.qaradawi.net/library/50/2289-2011-11-17-10-41-12.html.
58. See, for example, http://www.islamtoday.net/bohooth/artshow-86-108130.htm
and http://dvd4arab.maktoob.com/f161/2822868.html.
59. http://www.azahera.net/showthread.php?t=5564.
The Politics of the Two Qiblahs and
the Emergence of an Alternative
Islamic Monotheism
Eltigani Abdelgadir Hamid
Absract
Changing the prayer direction from Makkah to Jerusalem and then
back to Makkah was probably one of the first Muslim community’s
most contentious incidents. Due to its being highlighted in Q.
2:142-44, it has aroused an unending debate among Muslim exegetes, jurists, and western historians as to why the qiblah was
changed. Was it based on a divine command or Muhammad’s independent judgment, a move to dilute the Arabs’ emotional attachment to the Ka‘bah, or a move to win over Madinah’s Jewish
community? Might it have been a throwback to the Abrahamic heritage, envisaged by the Prophet as a base for a wider, monolithic
Islamic nationalism? This article seeks to closely examine and clarify the “qiblah literature” in an attempt to reveal the Ka‘bah’s role
not only as a geographical locale but also as a spiritual magnet,
and to find out whether this incident represented a break or a continuation of an earlier strategy of socio-religious change.
Introduction
In its very basic Arabic meaning, qiblah designates the direction of the sacred
mosque (al-Masjid al-Haram) toward which all Muslims must pray regardless
of their geographic location. All jursits agree that Muslims used to perform
shortened forms of prayers in Makkah. However, the exact prayer direction
Eltigani Abdelgadir Hamid is professor of politics and Islamic studies at Zayed University,
UAE. He earned his Ph.D. in politics from the University of London (SOAS). Apart from numerous academic articles, he has authored four books, one of which,Uṣūl al-Fikr al-Siyāsī fī
al-Qur’ān al-Makkī, has been translated into English as The Qur’an and Politics. His publications deal with conceptual frameworks, state, and society. His current research focuses on social
and political transformations in Muslim societies, political economy, and Qur’anic studies.
68
The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 33:1
remains unknown. Was it directed toward Makkah, or did they only start to
face that city after they migrated to Madinah and explicitly instructed to do
so (Q. 2:144)? If this was a post-hijra development, then did they pray toward
Jerusalem while living in Makkah? Or was there no specific qiblah? These
questions have become a center of prolonged discussion not merely because
of an idle fascination with history, but because this change and its related issues had huge theological and political repercussions. In an attempt to settle
this dispute, some Muslim commentators brought in the notion of “abrogation,” whereas non-Muslim scholars posited the “Jewish factor.” Both explanations, however, run into difficulties and are open to criticism, as will be
shown below.
Although the primary focus is on the qiblah issue, this seven-section paper
seeks to discuss the larger theological and political contexts of Islam’s formative years. The first four sections analyze the exegetic, Hadith, and sīrah material, in which the views of commentators and Hadith reports are thoroughly
examined and evaluated. Section 5 focuses on the text itself in an attempt to
bring in specific Makkan revelations that the commentators have mostly overlooked. Section 6 goes even deeper into the Makkan revelations and analyzes
the Abrahamic and Mosaic heritages, together with some recent contributions
to the topic. Section 7 wraps up the topic and presents my conclusions.
The Qiblah Literature
Looking into the Qur’an, which is the basic source of this debate, we come
across thirty-nine occasions that mention the qiblah. Seven of them mention
it explicitly, whereas the remaining thirty-two refer to al-Masjid al-Haram,
al-Bayt, or the Ka‘bah. Notwithstanding such repetition and recurrence, the
Qur’an does not specify the geographical point toward which the Prophet
prayed during the Makkan period, or whether he was following a specific
Qur’anic command or conducting his own ijtihād (free reasoning). That being
the case, we have to turn to the tafsīrs (commentaries) as supplementary
sources.
However, issues in this body of literature are not classified systematically
according to subject; rather, they are scattered throughout the Qur’an’s chapters. In order to impose a system that makes sense of these bits and pieces of
information, it was perhaps Ibn Abbas and his disciples who began, during
Islam’s first century, to employ a methodology that enabled them to ask about
various issues and formulate multiple answers that, consequently, shaped the
entire tafsīr field.1 Working through this massive body of literature has enabled
Hamid: The Politics of the Two Qiblahs
69
us to identify some relevant findings and positions that can broadly be divided
into the following four versions, all of which are readily reported and freely
circulated among the mufassirūn: the Jerusalem direction, the Makkan direction, the unspecified direction, and the united Makkah-Jerusalem direction.2
The Jerusalem Direction
This position, which is related to Ibn Abbas on the authority of Mu‘awiyah
ibn Abi Salih through Ali ibn Abi Talha,3 reads:
When the Prophet migrated to Madinah and found that the majority of its
population was Jewish, Allah directed him to pray toward Jerusalem. The
Jews were then pleased. The Prophet continued to do so for some months,
though his wish was (to pray) toward the qiblah of Ibrahim (Makkah). He
used to look (during prayers) into the heavens. Then Allah revealed the
verses: “We see the turning of thy face (for guidance) to the heavens. Now
shall We turn thee to a qiblah that shall please thee. Turn then thy face in
the direction of the Sacred Mosque.” (Q. 2:144)4
A similar account is also related to al-Barra ibn Azib (not to be confused
with al-Barra ibn Ma’rur). However, his account differs on three crucial points:
He did not say that the majority of Madinah’s population was Jewish, that the
Prophet’s act was prompted by their presence, or that “Allah directed the
Prophet toward Jerusalem.”5
The Makkan Direction
Ibn Abbas also related this version on the authority of Mujahid. Ibn Jurayj,
Sa‘id ibn al-Musayyib,6 and al-Zamakhshari7 have all strongly supported it.
In Ibn Jurayj’s opinion:
The first prayer the Prophet performed was toward the Ka‘bah, but later he
was turned away (ṣurifa) toward Jerusalem. Accordingly, the Ansar also
prayed for about three years toward Jerusalem prior to the Prophet’s immigration. Upon his arrival at Madinah, he continued to pray toward Jerusalem
for sixteen months, after which Allah redirected him toward Makkah.8
The Unspecified Direction
This is the conclusion reached by Ibn Zayd (d. 128 AH),9 a client of Umar. He
maintains that Muslims used to pray toward whatever direction they wanted,
since they believed that all directions belong to Allah. Then Allah revealed:
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“To Allah belong the East and the West: whithersoever ye turn, there is Allah’s
Face” (Q. 2:115). The Prophet then said: “Those Jews have chosen one of
Allah’s Houses (referring to Jerusalem), so pray toward that direction.” Hence
the Prophet and the Muslims began to do so for some months (more than ten).
Consequently, the Jews said: “He could not find the qiblah until we gave him
guidance.” The Prophet disliked what they said and raised his eyes (in prayer)
to the heavens. Then Allah revealed: “We see the turning of thy face (for guidance) to the heavens: now shall We turn thee to a qiblah that shall please thee.
Turn then thy face in the direction of the Sacred Mosque (Q. 2:144).10
The United Makkan/Jerusalem Direction
Ibn Abbas also related this account through the reports of al-A‘mash and Mujahid: “While in Makkah his qiblah was toward Jerusalem. But he used to situate the Ka‘bah between him and the Jerusalem Mosque” (kānat qiblahtuh
bi Makkah Bayt al-Maqdis, illā annahu kāna yaj’al al-Ka‘bah baynahu wa
baynahu).11 In other words, he prayed toward the sacred mosque of Jerusalem
while facing the Ka‘bah. After migrating to Madinah, he continued to pray
toward Jerusalem until he was redirected toward the Ka‘bah.
An Assessment
At the heart of these four competing accounts is a disagreement about facts.
There appear to be two opposite contentions: (1) those who support the “new
start” thesis (i.e., the qiblah of Jerusalem was inaugurated only after the
Prophet arrived in Madinah) and (2) the upholders of the “continuation” thesis,
those who hold that this was not a new policy because the Prophet had been
praying toward it while living in Makkah.
The “new start” hypothesis is related to al-Barra and Ibn Abbas, who were
later followed by other commentators and scholars. Their major point can be
construed in the following fashion: Upon his arrival at Madinah and in recognition of the Jewish influence therein, the Prophet decided to pray toward
Jerusalem. There is, however, no agreement among the exponents of this view
on whether that decision was based on a divine command (as stated in Ibn
Abbas’ version) or was a political initiative of the Prophet (as can be inferred
from al-Barra’s report).12 It is important to note here that neither of them mentioned anything about a Qur’anic verse being abrogated. But three of Ibn
Abbas’ disciples, namely, al-Hassan, ‘Ikrimah, and Abu al-‘Aliyah, asserted
that this was what had happened to the qiblah verses.13 Accordingly, two issues
were mixed up: appeasing the Jews and abrogating some verses.
Hamid: The Politics of the Two Qiblahs
71
Confronted by the fact that no Qur’anic verses can be interpreted as instructing the Prophet to pray toward the Jerusalem mosque, some upholders
of the abrogation thesis changed their position, saying that his sunnah was
abrogated.14 Other mufassirūn and jurists who shared this view but were uncomfortable with a Qur’anic verse abrogating a sunnah cited “whithersoever
ye turn, there is Allah’s Face” (Q. 2:115) as the needed evidence.15 But upon
close examination, this Madinan verse does not oblige the Prophet to pray toward Jerusalem, and hence it is pointless to assume that it was abrogated.
Lastly, the abrogation hypothesis was dealt a strong blow by some critics
of Hadith who questioned the validity of Ibn Abi Talha’s report on the basis of
inqiṭā‘ (disconnection)16: He had not heard it directly from Ibn Abbas. But even
if he had, it is considered mawqūf 17 (suspended) because Ibn Abbas had not
heard it directly from the Prophet. Thus al-Bukhari and Muslim considered it
a personal opinion and did not include it in their Ṣaḥīḥs. Moreover, if this opinion is truly related to Ibn Abbas, it contradicts the united Makkan/Jerusalem
direction, which is also related to him through Mujadid and al-A‘mash.
The second account18 is plausible because it is reported, independently,
that the Ansar were also praying toward Jerusalem, an act that must have been
based on the Prophet’s instruction or approval. If true, this report also invalidates the notion of wooing the city’s Jews, for why should the Prophet face
Jerusalem prior to his encounter with them? The only problem here is that it
says nothing about the authority on which the Prophet based his shift or why
he did so. It is claimed that he was redirected (ṣurifa) toward Jerusalem, but
the exact verses (if there were any) that redirected him are not mentioned.
Relating the Makkan period to the Madinah period, the third account may
present a sound argument. Ibn Zayd maintains that no specific qiblah direction
was prescribed while the Muslims were in Makkah; that the choice was left
to the Prophet; and that, accordingly, he decided to pray toward Jerusalem in
line with what he saw as an “established prophetic tradition.” Nevertheless,
this account is silent on at least two points: When did he shift the direction to
Jerusalem, and was the “established prophetic tradition” that of facing toward
Makkah or Jerusalem?
The united Makkan/Jerusalem direction attempts to reconcile all of the
clashing opinions.19 After his migration, the Prophet dropped the Makkan qiblah and “continued” to pray toward Jerusalem. Although no justification for
doing so is given, it could be based on a very simple geographical fact: Praying
toward Makkah and Jerusalem simultaneously could be done only if one was
physically in Makkah.20 As for why he chose to face Jerusalem instead of
Makkah, no conclusive answer can be given. A. J. Wensinck and other western
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scholars21 say, following one of the views related to Ibn Abbas, that he continued to pray toward Jerusalem to win the Jews’ sympathy. Wensinck argues
that once the Prophet arrived in Madinah, he turned more and more to the religion of Abraham and made it the basis of his monotheistic religion. In his
view, the Prophet changed the prayer direction because he failed to win over
the Jews. Thus, in a moment of disappointment he turned away from
Jerusalem and began talking of the Ka‘bah and the hajj as a Muslim rite.22
In his Muhammad: Prophet and Statesman, M. Watt provides a diametrically opposite perspective: “The change of qiblah,” he says, “could be interpreted as a gesture to some of Madinah’s anti-Jewish clans to win their
support and show that Muhammad was committing himself to them.”23 Curiously enough, a third explanation is provided by Abu Ishaq al-Zajjaj (d. 311
AH), the grammarian mufassir who was the first one to emphasize the idea of
the Ka‘bah-centered Arab sentiment: The qiblah was initially diverted from
Makkah to Jerusalem to test the Arab polytheists, who had become too attached to the Ka‘bah (alifu al-Ka‘bah).24 Al-Zamakhshari and Sayyid Qutb
also agreed with this view.25 And yet all of them are problematic and open to
criticism, as will be shown below.
The Hadith Literature
Checking the tafsīr literature, based on various reports related to Ibn Abbas
and his disciples, has shed some light on this issue. But since these reports
are ridden with inconsistences and provide no satisfactory answers to many
questions, it might be better to turn to the Hadith literature, namely, to alBukhari (d. 256 AH) and Muslim (d. 261 AH).
In his Ṣaḥīḥ and in keeping with his fiqh-based method of Hadith classification, al-Bukhari presents his qiblah-related material in various sections.
In the chapter on tafsīr, he dedicates six sections to the issue of the qiblah and
its change. Under each section he brings a hadith, most of which are reported
on the authority of al-Barra, Ibn Umar, Anas, and other Companions.26 None
of the reports, however, come through Ibn Abbas. Remarkably, al-Bukhari
never mentions any hadith that could throw some light on the prayer direction
during the Makkan period. Commenting on “But Allah would never let your
faith to waste” (Q. 2:143), he says: “‘Your faith’ means your prayer at the
House (ṣalātukum ‘ind al-Bayt).”
Unexpectedly short, this statement is also “problematic,” as Ibn Hajar,
the renowned commentator and editor of al-Bukhari’s work, notices, for it
does not directly address that particular question. Clarifying al-Bukhari’s
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73
meaning, Ibn Hajar devised the following explanation: “As if he was alluding
to the confirmed and valid opinion that the prayers at the House (Makkah’s
holy mosque) were directed toward Jerusalem.”27 But this is exactly what Ibn
Abbas reported in his report, which al-Bukhari excluded from his Ṣaḥīḥ.
Muslim’s (d. 261) Ṣaḥīḥ contains almost the same hadiths reported by alBukhari. But instead of confining himself to the fiqhī side, Muslim focused
on the general subject of mosques, which led him to bring in some material
on the Madinah mosque and link it to the Ka‘bah-Jerusalem discourse. This
approach resulted in what later came to be known as the “merits of Median”
literature. He divided this material into, among other sections, the demolition
of the Ka‘bah, the permissibility of staying in Makkah, the merits of Madinah,
and “that no riding camel should be saddled.”28 In none of these sections do
we see anything related to the qiblah.
It seems rather surprising that neither al-Bukhari nor Muslim provided
specific information on the qiblah, as we had expected. But seen from another
perspective this could be important, for if they found no authentic hadith related to the Prophet on why the qiblah was changed, we could consider these
contending views as nothing more than personal opinions and examine them
on their own merits.
The Sīrah Literature
Not completely satisfied with what I found in the Hadith literature, I decided
to check the sīrah sources, the earliest one of which is that of Ibn Ishaq (d. 213
AH), which has been reproduced by Ibn Hisham as Al-Sīrah al-Nabawīyah.
Sifting through this voluminous work, we encounter three cases that are
closely related to the question of qiblah: the attack on Abdullah ibn Mas‘ud,
the violent reaction of Sa‘d ibn Abi Waqqas, and the Makkan orientation of alBara’ ibn Ma‘rur.
The attack on Ibn Mas‘ud, being the earliest incident of confrontation, is
intensively highlighted in the sīrah sources. It is reported on the authority of
‘Irwa ibn al-Zubayr that his father said:
The first person (after the Prophet) who publicly recited the Qu’ran in
Makkah was Abdullah ibn Mas‘ud. The Companions met one day and said,
“By God, the Quraysh have never heard this Qur’an recited publicly to them.
Can any one of you do that?” Abdullah ibn Mas‘ud said, “I will.” The Companions said, “We fear that they (the Quraysh) will harm you. We need someone who has ‘ashīrah (a strong clan) to protect him.” Ibn Mas‘ud said, “Let
me go, and God will protect me.” He left them and headed toward the Ka‘bah
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until he reached al-Maqam in the early morning, where members of the
Quraysh were sitting in their usual places. Standing up at the Maqam, Ibn
Mas‘ud began reciting “In the name of God, al-Raḥmān,‘alam al-Qur’ān,”
raising his voice with that. When the Qurayshi leaders realized that he was
reciting the same message that Muhammad was preaching, they were outraged and started slapping him. But he continued to recite. When he returned
to his friends with an injured face, they said, “This is exactly what we
feared.”29
The Prophet probably anticipated and feared this as well. It becomes clear,
then, that public recitations of Qur’anic verses either inside or around the Sacred House were not tolerated. In fact, such activities might lead to fighting.
The second incident, Sa‘d ibn Abi Waqqas’ violent reaction, is reported
by Ibn Hisham.
Whenever they wanted to pray, the Companions would go along (Makkah’s)
mountain trails (shi‘āb) to conceal their prayers from their fellow Makkans.
One day, when Sa‘d ibn Abi Waqqas and a small group of Companions were
praying at one of these trails, a small group of (Makkan) polytheists appeared
and began blaming and bothering them so much so that they were soon drawn
into a fight. At that juncture, Sa‘d ibn Abi Waqqas struck a polytheist with a
dead camel’s jaw (or leg) and injured him. That was the first blood to be shed
in Islam.30
The obvious significance of this incident might help us answer why the
Prophet choose to pray toward Jerusalem. According to this account, he did
so to avoid such unnecessary confrontations and bloodshed. But such goals
could not be achieved merely by diverting the prayer direction. Other drastic
measures were certainly needed, and one of them turned out to be migration.
This is most likely one of the reasons why he told some of his Companions to
secretly migrate to Abyssinia, to “disperse all over the land and God will reunite you.” (Tafarraqu fi al-arḍ fa inna Allāha sayajma‘ukum).31
A cursory reading of the sīrah sources might give two wrong impressions:
that these migrants were the weakest Muslim slaves who were exposed to torture (e.g., Bilal and Ammar) and that their numbers were negligible. In fact,
about eighty-three free and formidable personalities, among them al-Zubayr
ibn al-‘Awwam, Abd al-Rahman ibn ‘Awf, Ja‘far ibn Abi Talib, ‘Uthman ibn
‘Affan, and ‘Amr ibn Sa‘id ibn al-‘As accompanied the persecuted slaves.32
Had the Prophet allowed them to stay in Makkah, where they could have been
humiliated or provoked, they surely would have retaliated in the same way as
Sa‘d ibn Abi Waqqas had. To avoid such incidents, the Prophet told them “disperse,” thereby reemphasizing his non-confrontation policy.
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It has perhaps become clear that the Prophet first “refrained” from praying
at the Makkan shrine and then instructed all of his followers to move to Madinah for a political reason: to avoid unnecessary fights with the Qurayshi leaders over the Ka‘bah. Had he chosen to remain, the nature of the struggle might
have been obscured and he would have been seen as one who wants to rekindle old tribal feuds and jealousies. The entire issue would have been seen as
a nationalistic struggle over the Ka‘bah or a clannish struggle between the
Banu Abd Shams and Banu Abd al-Muttalib for its ownership. In other words,
Muhammad would have appeared as someone who fights to regain his grandfather’s position.33
However, this calculated and temporary withdrawal must not be misunderstood as absolute and final. In the Prophet’s initial belief, the Ka‘bah was
still the original qiblah and the Muslims would one day be able to face it in
their prayers or assert their control over it. This view can be seen in the case of
al-Barra ibn Ma‘rur a senior Companion and distinguished Ansari leader.
Sometime before the hijra, al-Barra and a group of his people were travelling from Madinah to Makkah. When it was time to pray, he announced that
he had decided to orient himself to the Ka‘bah. The group refused to follow
him on the grounds that the Prophet prayed toward al-Sham (i.e., Jerusalem)
and that they could not disobey him. When they reached Makkah, al-Barra
said to the Prophet: “I set out on this trip and decided not to leave this building
(e.g., the Ka‘bah) behind me. Thus I faced it during my prayers, whereas my
companions did not. I feel bad about this. What do you say?” The Prophet
replied: “You were facing a (true) qiblah. If only you had been patient” (la
qad kunta ‘alā qiblah, law sabarta ‘alāyha).34
This incident, which no sīrah or Hadith expert has ever disputed, provides
further support for the united Makkan/Jerusalem thesis that Ibn Abbas reported. It shows that while the Prophet himself was praying toward Jerusalem,
he was keeping an eye on Makkah and did not discourage people from facing
it, provided that they took the necessary precautionary measures.
The Qiblah in the Makkan Verses
So far, most of our attention has been given to the works of Qur’an and Hadith
commentators, despite the fact that the greater part of them focus almost exclusively on the so-called qiblah verse (i.e., Q. 2:144), which was revealed at
Madinah. Once in that city, the Prophet and his followers were explicitly directed to turn once and for all toward Makkah. This caused the commentators
to view this event as a complete abandonment of Jerusalem or as a new discovery of the Makkan qiblah.
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Other pre-Madinah verses, among them “[He is] Lord of the East and the
West” (Q. 73:9) and “Let them worship the Lord of this House” (Q. 106:3),
which contain frequent references to the Holy Houses of joint worship indicate
an earlier intensive Qur’anic concern with the Makkan shrine, tend to be overlooked. For example, in Q. 95:1-3, the Prophet was specifically told to consider the “link” among the land of the Fig and Olive (Jerusalem), Mount Sinai,
and the City of Security (Makkah, Q. 95), with its much-frequented House
(al-Bayt al-Ma‘mūr, Q. 52:4). Along the same lines, the Prophet was reminded, right from the beginning of his mission, that the same fundamental
truth revealed to him had also been expressed in the “earlier scriptures” (alṣuḥuf al-ūlā) of Abraham and Moses (Q. 87:18-19; 20:133).
It is worth recalling here that before Islam’s advent, the Quraysh had asked
Muhammad to arbitrate35 their struggle over who would control al-Bayt alHaram. When he went public with his mission and began reciting Qur’anic
verses that slightly criticized the Quraysh’s misuse of the Ka‘bah, a new conflict developed between him and its leaders, especially with his immediate
cousins, the Banu ‘Abd Shams, who now saw him as a competitor instead of
as the arbitrator he used to be.
The earliest signs of the Qur’anic criticism and disapproval of this “misuse” is “My signs used to be rehearsed to you, but ye used to turn back on
your heels in arrogance: talking nonsense (around the Ka‘bah) about the
Qur’an, like one telling fables at night” (Q. 23:66-67). The basic meaning
here centers on the pronoun bihi, which refers to the Sacred Mosque or the
Qur’an that was recited in the public space around it.36 The implicit objection
runs like this: “You (Quraysh’s leaders) claim to be the Ka‘bah’s custodians
and protectors, yet you misuse it (e.g., turn it at night into a place of sins and
avarice) by leaving out the Prophet and the Qur’an.” Other signs of criticism
and disapproval are: “And the places of worship are for Allah (alone): so invoke no one along with Allah” (Q. 72:18) and “Let them worship the Lord of
this House, who provides them with food against hunger, and with security
against the fear of danger” (Q. 106:3).
Given this explicit trend, one might think that the Prophet’s next step
would be to seize the Ka‘bah. But at the time this was neither possible nor
useful. Instead, two pieces of valuable counsel were conveyed to him. The
first one was: Be patient and rest assured that God is a transcendental being.
The Ka‘bah is His House only in a metaphorical sense, because God is not
space-limited. To make this point clear, a new Qur’anic concept, namely,
“Lord of the East and the West” was introduced in Q. 73:9 and repeated on
other occasions (e.g., Q. 28:26, 9:73, 40:70, and 17:55). The second one was:
Follow a policy of partial and temporary withdrawal from the Ka‘bah in order
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77
to avoid any confrontations for which the Muslims were not ready. This is
conveyed in the next verse: “And have patience with what they say, and leave
them with noble dignity, and leave Me alone with those in possession of good
things of life” (Q. 73:10-11). The Arabic ihjur (in the imperative) literally
means to dissociate, keep away, emigrate, avoid, or part company. It is possible
that the Prophet translated wa ahjurhum as avoiding the Qurayshi leaders.
Hence he began to focus on reciting the Qur’an and performing the voluntary
night prayers, which do not require a qiblah or a mosque.
This prophetic way of translating divine commands into actions and policies is worth analyzing, for it shows that he based his decisions on three interrelated components: the Qur’anic text, his own interpretation of that text,
and his assessment of the real-world situation. It is rather surprising that some
exegetes and Hadith experts have not noted this dynamic internal relationship
between the Prophet and the Qur’an, or the external relationship between him
and the real world. Whenever the Qur’an introduced a concept, laid down a
general rule, or passed a value judgment, the Prophet would try to adapt it to
the real world. If something went extremely wrong in this process, new verses
would be revealed to rectify the situation, a process that in some Qur’anic
passages is referred to as “abrogation.”37
In light of the Prophet’s threefold function, namely, as a receiver, interpreter, and actor, we can understand most of his political steps, among them
his secret trip to al-Ta’if, sending some of his Companions to Abyssinia, secret
contacts and negotiations with tribal leaders, and undisclosed final emigration
to Madinah. Similarly, we should assume that his “withdrawal” from Makkah
was a temporary policy based on his own interpretation of “And have patience
with what they say, and leave them with noble dignity” (Q. 73:10) as well as
on his understanding of the balance of power between his tiny group and the
formidable Qurayshi leadership.
It must be noted, however, that this withdrawal was accompanied by a
strong expectation of a victorious “return” (based on an interpretation of
“Their purpose was to scare thee off the land, in order to expel thee; but in
that case they would not have stayed therein after thee” [Q. 17:76-77 and other
verses] and a return to a new Makkah that would be stripped of its clannish
cloak and situated within a wider and deeper monotheistic tradition, as will
be shown below. Surprisingly al-Zamakhshari, the Persian-born commentator,
was the only tafsīr expert to grasp this idea of temporary withdrawal. The
Prophet, he contends, was originally inclined toward the Ka‘bah but faced
Jerusalem both temporarily and for a purpose.38
In concluding this section, one point stands out: The Makkan sūrahs related to the qiblah and the prayers overlap with the early Madinan revelations,
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particularly as regards Qur’an 2. If one looks carefully into the above-mentioned Makkan verses and tries to relate them to the immediate textual context
of the oft-quoted Madinah verse “And We appointed the qiblah to which thou
was used, only to test those who followed the messenger from those who
would turn on their heels (Q. 2:143), it would appear that this latter verse is
an extension of the Makkan verses. In fact, the passages that come both before
and after it are rejoinders that recapitulate and expand upon previous discussions and comments spread over the Makkan sūrahs,39 as will be shown below.
The Abrahamic and Mosaic Heritages
The Makkan verses referred to above do not exhaust all of the information on
the Ka‘bah. Several of the other longer Makkan sūrahs provide more information not only on the Makkan qiblah, but also on Abraham, the monotheistic
father-Prophet who founded it, and on the spiritual and historical contexts
within which the concept of qiblah acquired its importance and significance.
Aspects of his story appear in thirty-two Makkan passages: idol-worshippers
(Q. 21:51-73; 26:69-77), his frank conversation with his father and the latter’s
furious response (Q. 19:41-47), his hijra and sojourns (Q. 19:49), the good
tidings he and his wife received (Q. 11:69-76), and his efforts to purify the
Ka‘bah (Q. 22:26).
Our purpose here, however, is to explore Q. 14 and Q. 17, both of which
are late Makkan revelations of particular relevance to our inquiry: They provide a unifying narrative that opens up the stories of Abraham, Moses, and
Muhammad into each other, as well as associate Makkah’s Sacred Mosque
with its Jerusalem counterpart. Moreover, all of them are situated within the
common trans-tribal Abrahamic monotheistic tradition.
When reading through Q. 14, one immediately notices that the opening
verses present a concise summary of the Prophet’s mission: to “bring forth all
humanity, by their Sustainer’s leave, out of the depths of darkness into light.”
With some variations in its scope of jurisdiction,40 this is the same mission
entrusted to all of Muhammad’s predecessors. Ironically, prophets appointed
to fulfill these tasks are themselves forced into the darkness of exile, as we
are told in the middle of the chapter.
The chapter’s centerpiece, from which its title is derived, is Abraham’s
heartfelt prayer.
And [remember the time] when Abraham spoke [thus]: “O my Sustainer!
Make this land [Makkah] secure, and preserve me and my children from
ever worshipping idols, for verily, O my Sustainer, these [false objects of
worship] have led many people astray! Hence, [only] he who follows me
Hamid: The Politics of the Two Qiblahs
[in this my faith] is truly of me, and as for him who disobeys me, Thou art,
verily, much-forgiving, a dispenser of grace! O our Sustainer! Behold, I have
settled some of my offspring in a valley in which there is no arable land,
close to Thy sanctified temple, so that, O our Sustainer, they might devote
themselves to prayer. (Q. 14:35-41)
79
In this illuminating prayer, and after referring explicitly to both branches
of his family, namely, the sons of Ismail (the Arabs) and of Isaac (the Jews),
Abraham prays for all of the believers. His prayer is recalled in this place to
illustrate, in one commentator’s view, that the new revelation (the Qur’an)
bears out the same universal revelation of prayer, charity, and love of Allah
and humanity, wherein the universality of Islam will bless all believers from
all nations.41 A corollary of this view may be the acknowledgment of the “ancestral” heritage shared by Jews, Christians, and Muslims.42
Apart from this prayer, the chapter stresses the idea of the forced “repulsion from the land” that most prophets, we are told, had encountered, starting
with Abraham, the émigré prophet par excellence, to Moses, who led his people in a phenomenal exodus. Several verses describe the provocative threats
issued by haughty unbelieving leaders to their seemingly powerless prophets,
followed by a solemn divine promise: “And the unbelievers said to their messengers: ‘We shall most certainly expel you from our land, unless you return
forthwith to our religion.’” This threat is immediately followed by a comforting divine promise: “Most certainly shall We destroy these evil-doers, and
most certainly shall We cause you to dwell on Earth long after they have
passed away” (Q. 14:13-14).
The optimistic connotation here is unmistakable, for these verses refer to
the “cyclical” feature of human history. Although painful and frustrating, such
forced expulsions may pave the way for the prophets’ inevitable return and
triumph, thereby leading to the unbelievers’ collapse and removal from the
land, provided that certain prerequisites are met. The lessons to be drawn from
this chapter are twofold: (1) The Makkan leaders learned that they might expel
the Prophet and his followers, but that they will find themselves on the losing
side because Allah will protect the Muslims and (2) the Muslims learned that
even though they might be persecuted and expelled, one day they will return
in triumph and inherit the land.
The second chapter is Q. 17, which is known both as The Night Journey
and, interestingly, the Children of Israel. Its dominant themes are clearly expressed in the opening verses, which reveal the Prophet’s unobserved night
journey from Makkah’s Sacred Mosque (al-Masjid al-Haram) to its Jerusalem
counterpart: the Farthest Mosque (al-Masjid al-Aqsa). This account is imme-
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diately followed by an explicit reference to Moses and the Book that was given
to him as “a guide to the children of Israel” (Q. 17:2). The chapter then describes some turning points in the Israelites’ history that took place around
the Farthest Mosque.
The Qur’an declares that the Prophet’s night journey was designed to “expose him to some of Our Signs” (li nurīyahu min ayātinā; Q. 17:1), which
probably refers to the same “cyclical” features of history exposed in Q. 14,
namely, incidents and experiences in which the Jews, Christians, Romans
(i.e., Byzantines), and Persians had been involved. The concept of “expulsion
from the land” is reemphasized here as well, but with one difference: It is
formulated as God’s direct proclamation to the Prophet: “Their purpose was
to scare thee off the land, in order to expel thee; but in that case they would
not have stayed therein after thee except for a little while. [This was Our]
way with the messengers We sent before thee: thou wilt find no change in
Our ways” (Q. 17:76-77).
Reflecting on these two chapters (Q. 14 and Q. 17), one notices the emergence of the notion of “God’s way” (sunnat Allāh), a reference to a law-like
regularity that the Prophet could not miss. According to this notion, the history
of earlier prophets may be understood in terms of an opposition between
prophets and their poor and oppressed followers43 and the arrogant disbelieving
holders of power. Anticipating a disruption of their status quo, the latter group
hastens to both outlaw and “expel” the former group, who accept their lot patiently and enter their phase of “punitive exile.” But stimulated by the prophetic
vision and spiritual impetus, they may acquire solidarity and strength – qualities
that, in Qur’anic terminology, develop through the hardships and sufferings
experienced during their “expulsion.” Although usually outnumbered by the
unbelievers, the prophets and their followers not only “return” from their exile,
but also triumph over and replace their powerful opponents in the land.44
This concept of “withdrawal and return” deserves more attention, because
it has recently acquired a powerful explanatory potential. In non-Qur’anic
sources, it is of course traceable to Plato’s metaphor of the cave.45 Ibn Khaldun
(d. 1406),46 the Muslim philosopher of history, resuscitated it in the Islamic
tradition, after which it was much later appropriated and popularized by the
world historian Arnold Toynbee (d. 1975) in his Study of History. Expanding
this idea into a systematic explanatory framework, Toynbee tried to make it
congruent with Muhammad’s exile from and return to Makkah.47 What both
scholars noticed can be construed to mean, among other things, that the hijra
and all that happened thereafter, including the change of qiblah and the revival
of the Abrahamic heritage, was part of a pre-planned course of action.48 Relating these two chapters to one another and to the Prophet’s precarious polit-
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81
ical situation during his last years in Makkah, it would not be improbable to
assume that he might have entertained the idea of his impending hijra and thus
was looking for potential allies who could somehow help him encircle the
Quraysh. In other words, how could he recite whole passages about hijra and
not notice his own probable hijra and the consequent divine promise?
Now that we have been introduced to Abraham, the founder of the Ka‘bah,
promulgator of monotheism, and venerated ancestor of both the Jews and the
Arabs, as well as to the former’s trials and troubles around Jerusalem, it is time
for us to work out the possible implications for the Prophet and his emerging
community.
Islamic Monotheism
The process of recalling the Abrahamic heritage must have conveyed a clear
message to the Prophet. The past is recalled, as John Dewy says, “not because
of itself but because of what it adds to the present.”49 Immersed in the ancient
history of prophets relayed by Makkan revelations and facing an imminent
threat from his enemies, it seems most likely that his attention would be inclined
toward a two-track policy: (1) the immediate “political” realities and considerations, namely, forging a broad tribal coalition that might include the Jewish
community against the Quraysh forces and (2) reviving the deeper “spiritual”
connections between Makkah and Jerusalem as the holy centers of an earlier
monotheistic tradition. This would allow Muhammad to present himself as a
proponent of that tradition, along with Abraham and Moses.
A good number of verses made this “monotheistic tradition” abundantly
clear to the Prophet. During his miraculous Night Journey, this point became
even clearer. In the words of Muhammad Asad, the purpose of this event was
“to show that Islam is not a new doctrine but a continuation of the same divine
message which was preached by the prophets of old, who had Jerusalem as
their spiritual home.”50 Indeed, some Makkan verses (e.g., Q. 6:90) explicitly
directed the Prophet “to follow the guidance” received by the earlier prophets;
other verses informed him that the Qur’an is part of “the Mother of the Book”
(umm al-kitāb) from which all other scriptures had been revealed (Q. 13:39).
Therefore, it was only natural for him to situate himself and his religion within
the monotheistic tradition of Abraham and Moses. Moreover, it was also only
natural for him to redefine his followers’ identity in such a way that personal
piety, national identity, and the transnational Abrahamic spiritual heritage would
be united and linked to the one supreme God. And as both Abraham and Moses
constitute part and parcel of this spiritual continuum, so do the Ka‘bah and
Jerusalem.
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From this standpoint, the fundamental “contradiction” is not between the
Prophet and the true and sincere followers of Abraham and Moses (the “People
of the Book,” some of whom were suffering Roman [i.e., Byzantine] and Persian persecution), but between him and the idol worshippers who had hijacked
the Makkan shrine and exploited it for their own material interests, thereby
blocking the spread of his message among the Arab tribes. Based on this conception, the Prophet was waiting for the balance of power to turn in his favor.
As soon as this happened, he began to terminate the hijra phase and embark
upon a policy of return.
But then a serious credibility problem propped up: How could he proceed
without giving a wrong and confusing impression to the Jews, the Qurayshi
polytheists, and his followers? Facing such a multidimensional problem, the
Prophet felt that his own ijtihād (personal judgment) was not enough and so
he raised his eyes to heaven looking for idhn, a higher supportive permission.51
It was against this background of suspense and tension that Q. 2:244 was revealed: “We see the turning of thy face (for guidance) to the heavens: now
shall We turn thee to a qiblah that shall please thee. Turn then thy face in the
direction of the Sacred Mosque.”
This verse, enjoining an immediate change of qiblah, can be understood
as securing the Qur’anic approval for which the Prophet had been waiting. But
more importantly, it also widened the concept of qiblah in such a way that it
revived the Makkan mosque and preserved the option of praying to any other
direction (including Jerusalem) during the optional prayers.52 A new, wider
concept of “Islam” itself was also reemphasized, according to which Islam has
remained the religion of all prophets, from Abraham and onward to Jacob,
Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad. In line with both of these newly expanded concepts, the Prophet widened the concept of mosque. In his Sunnan, Ibn Majah,
one of the six imams of Hadith, reports on the authority of al-A‘mash that Abu
Dharrr once asked the Prophet about the world’s first mosque. The Prophet
told him that it was al-Masjid al-Haram. “What was the second?” Abu Dharr
asked. The Prophet told him it was al-Masjid al-Aqsa and then added, “and
then (in addition to these two mosques) all of Earth has been made a muṣallā
(mosque) for you, so pray wherever the prayer time arrives.”53
A corollary of this concept meant that the Prophet was not expected to
focus on the disjunctive concept of the “centrality” of either Jerusalem or
Makkah, but to develop a harmonizing synthesis that would place both cities,
and later on Madinah, on the same level as genuine spiritual centers. “No riding
camel,” he says, “should be saddled (i.e., start out a journey) except to (these)
three mosques: this very mosque of mine; the Holy Mosque (in Makkah), and
the Aqsa Mosque.”54 And instead of presenting himself as the negation of other
Hamid: The Politics of the Two Qiblahs
83
prophets, he presented himself as a synthesis of Abraham and Jesus. Reportedly,
the Prophet once said: “I am the (fulfillment of) the prayer of my father Ibrahim,
the good-tidings of my brother Isa, and the (realization of) my mother’s
dream.”55 In this perspective, the Farthest Mosque is not abandoned; rather, it
is subsumed into a higher level of universal monotheism.
Having followed the Prophet’s “spiritual” track alluded to above, I now
pick up the other one, namely, the political track that sought to forge a broad
tribal coalition against the Quraysh. One of the most striking indicator of that
policy was, of course, the Sahīfat al-Madīnah (the Charter of Madinah), the
broad-based agreement that brought together several of Madinah’s Jewish
communities and the Muslim to protect the Madinah against aggression by
the Makkan forces.56 The Prophet feared these forces because Makkah had
become, in addition to its place as a temple-city, an important caravan city.57
Its tribal chiefs served as the Ka‘bah’s custodians and administrators, and also
took care of the pilgrims who flocked to it each year.
These chiefs had become both politically and economically powerful figures. Understandably, the Qur’anic criticism and the Prophet’s direct attacks
targeted this gross material power along its ideological justification and social
base. In contrast to the Qurayshi leaders’ unmitigated parochial outlook, which
was based mainly on noble descent, the Prophet was intent on presenting a
more inclusive Islamic nationalism based on belief and capable of aggregating
a broader coalition of ethnic groups, social classes, and religious affiliations.
The ultimate goal here was to present a viable substitute system. Qur’an 2:143
proclaims this substitute system to be the justly balanced community (ummatan wasaṭan).58
Parallel to that, but linked to it, was the Prophet’s intensive effort to link
his new ummah to the older Abrahamic religious tradition, the residuals of
which were still lingering in the Arabs’ hearts. In the absence of a strong central authority, it is reasonable to assume that the Prophet considered the
Makkan shrine an important locus around which Arab popular feeling could
coalesce. The future of his emerging Muslim community was closely related
to how well he could use the ancient Abrahamic religious symbols and sentiments to integrate the dispersed and warring Arab tribes into some kind of
supra-tribal unity.59
This envisaged integration did not mean endorsing their entire belief system or pseudo-religious practices. On the contrary, the Prophet, backed by the
Qur’an, never hesitated to expose the Qurayshi leaders’ religious and moral
errors, portray them as deniers of the truth (al-mukādhibūn), or communicating the most daring Qur’anic ideas about an alternative just society. In order
to minimize the expected violent reactions, he was keen to follow a gradual
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reformative method rather than a revolutionary one. In a candid conversation
with his wife A’ishah, he once stated that “were it not that your people (i.e.,
Quraysh) had a recent experience of the jāhilīyah (hadithu ‘ahdin bi aljāhilīyah), I would have ‘demolished’ the Ka‘bah and ‘reconstituted’ it on the
Abrahamic foundations.”60
To be sure, the concept of “reconstituting it on the Abrahamic foundations” referred to in the Hadith was not confined to the pre-Islam Arab traditions. Rather, it could be extended to some Jewish theology and practices,
which certainly aggravated the antagonism between the Prophet and the
Jewish communities in the same way as it did with his Arab opponents.
Madinah’s Jewish leaders were disappointed, among other things, by the
changed qiblah. However, they might have been even more annoyed by
what they saw as a wholesale process of reappropriating the Abrahamic heritage. After all, Muhammad was preaching that “Abraham was not a Jew,
nor yet a Christian” (Q. 3:67), but rather a common ancestor of all monotheists – Muslims included. For one who is not quite aware of what reconstituting a new Islamic monotheism on the “Abrahamic foundations” means,
namely, that both Jewish and Arab parochialism are superseded, it would
appear as if Muhammad “hated” the Jerusalem qiblah, as Kister61 and others
have claimed.
Conclusions
Pulling together the scattered pieces of information on the qiblah, we may
venture to summarize the controversy in a few points. Like many other Islamic
rituals, prayers were gradually instituted over a number of years. At the very
initial stage they were confined to the Dawn and Evening prayers,62 as well
as to the solitary night prayers accompanied by a prolonged recitation of the
Qur’an. At this stage, no public call to prayer (adhān), collective prayers during the day, or qiblah were required. In the second stage, when the number of
Muslims increased, they were allowed to pray collectively but only in Dar alArqam or in the city’s outer mountainous surroundings.63 It was probably during this stage that the question of qiblah arose, and it was possible that the
Prophet chose to pray toward Jerusalem and Makkah simultaneously. It might
have been at the third stage, immediately after the Prophet’s Night Journey,
that the Jerusalem qiblah was reaffirmed, since the daily canonical prayers
were finally prescribed during that night. A year later, the Muslims migrated
to Madinah, where they continued to pray toward Jerusalem, as one could no
longer pray to Makkah and Jerusalem simultaneously.
Hamid: The Politics of the Two Qiblahs
85
In turning away from the Ka‘bah, the Prophet’s chief aim was to avoid
confrontations with the Quraysh. Perhaps he also wanted to expose his followers to a spiritual sense of hijra and to make them feel the universal, extratribal aspect of Islam. His “return” to the Ka‘bah policy was a resumption of
the same earlier policy but with some differences: the shift in the balance of
power as well as the adoption of a trans-racial, extra-sectarian value system
that stood in contrast to those of the Quraysh in Makkah and the Jews.
While we agree that the Prophet had attempted to win over the Jews and
was certainly disappointed by their opposition, it is important to realize that
the changing the qiblah and linking up Islam with the Abrahamic heritage was
not necessarily a reaction to that. Numerous Makkan verses and concrete incidents show that he had been intent upon returning to Makkah and the Ka‘bah
years before he ever met with any Jews. Moreover, the phenomenon of a political rapprochement ending up in bitter estrangement is hardly unique. The
Prophet’s reconciliatory attempts toward his own war-like fellow Arabs also
sometimes failed and ended in bloody confrontations.
Finally, two methodological points concerning how we analyze and interpret the Qur’anic concepts need to be made. The first concerns the method
used in this paper: “separating” the concept of qiblah in order to discern its
historical and political dimensions. Although this concept is closely connected
with other Islamic elements (e.g., prayers and pilgrimage), its analytical separation has proved to be useful. For instance, it has allowed us to focus on the
qiblah’s external “political dimensions,” unearth its “historical” genealogy,
and grasp its cultural connotations. Such a separation in no way entails separating Qur’anic verses or chapters into small, disconnected boxes.
This brings us to the second methodological point, which is related to
what we see as the main shortcoming of existing tafsīr literature, particularly
when dealing with the qiblah verses. Most commentators have limited themselves to analyzing the qiblah change and the few verses related to it. Disconnecting these verses from earlier Makkan revelations has caused great
confusion. Had those commentators extended their research into the Makkan
period, they might have noticed that the Prophet’s awareness of and attachment to Jerusalem neither grew suddenly at Madinah nor was it prompted
by Jewish opposition. And if they had been willing to scrutinize the relevant
wider Qur’anic context or pay attention to the progressive nature of Qur’anic
legislation, they could have stopped looking for non-existent “abrogated”
verses.
In his Islam and Modernity, Fazlur Rahman (d. 1988) castigates Muslim
commentators and jurists for their “atomistic” approach to the Qur’an and
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speaks out against what he calls “a general failure to understand the underlying
unity of the Qur’an,” which yields a definite weltanschauung.64 In this research, it has become clear to us that the whole controversy over the qiblah
issue has been fuelled by this type of “atomistic” approach. Had the commentators not focused exclusively on one verse, they could have seen the wider
theme of universal monotheism that the Qur’an had been driving at since the
earlier revelations of the Makkan chapters. And had not some of the modern
scholars of Islam shared this same approach, they could have seen that the
Prophet’s return to Makkah was not occasioned by an anti-Jewish Islamic
stance or a pro-Arab sentiment, but rather as part of an earlier, wider plan of
“withdrawal and return” that he had set his mind to since the Divine promise
had been conveyed to him in Q. 14 and Q. 17.
Finally, it should be recalled that the qiblah, as a mere geographical expression, has no significance. It becomes important only as a spiritual symbol
that refers to the core value of tawḥīd (unification) that represents the “defining
characteristics” of the Islamic monotheistic belief system, as well as to the
universal community of Islam. “In any culture,” says Karl W. Deutsch, “certain behavior patterns stand out as a leading or model patterns; certain groups
of persons as cultural models and bearers of prestige; certain regions as cultural centers.”65 Our addition of “certain spiritual symbols” would be quite in
line with this statement.
Endnotes
1.
2.
3.
For a concise summary of Ibn Abbas’ efforts in tafsīr, as well as his disciples
and the reliability of their reports, see Muhammed Husain al-Dhahabi, Al-Tafsīr
wa al-Mufassirūn (Cairo: Maktabat Wahba, 2000), 1:50-62. And see also
Muhammad al-Fadil ibn ‘Ashur, Al-Tafsīr wa Rijāluh (Cairo: Dar al-Salam,
2008), 26-31; and I. Goldziher, Madhāhib al-Tafsīr al-Islāmī, tr. Abd al-Halim
al-Najjar (Cairo: Maktabat al-Khanji, 1955), 82-99.
See al-Tabari, Jāmi‘ al-Bayān, ed. Sidqi Jamil al-Attar (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr,
1988), 2:7-8; al-Zamakhshari, Al-Kashshāf, ed. ‘Adil Ahmed Abd al-Mawjud
(Riyadh: Maktabat al-‘Ibaykan, 1998), 1:340-43; and al-Qurtubi, Abdullahi
Muhammad ibn Ahmed al-Ansari (d. 671), Aḥkām al-Qur’ān, ed. Arfan al‘Asha (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr, 1993), 1:140; and Ibn Kathir (d. 774), Tafsīr alQur’ān al-‘Aẓīm (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyyah, 1998), 1:324-32.
Mu‘awiyyah ibn Abi Salih himself was reporting on the authority of Ali ibn Abi
Talha al-Hashimi. The latter was a reliable transmitter, says Ahmed M. Shakir,
but he has been criticized either because of his Shi‘ah leanings or because he
did not hear directly from Ibn Abbas. However, the meaning of the hadith, says
Ahmed M. Shaker, is sound and was related to Ibn Abbas through other ways.
Hamid: The Politics of the Two Qiblahs
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
87
See Ahmed M. Shaker’s commentary note in al-Tabari, Jāmi‘ al-Bayān, ed.
Mahmud Muhammad Shakir (Cairo: Maktabat Ibn Taimiyyah, n.d.), 2:527.
Ibid., 2:8.
See the text of this account in ibid., 2:6.
Sa‘id Ibn al-Musayyib, a distinguished second-generation scholar, says that the
Ansar had been praying toward Jerusalem three years before the Prophet’s arrival. See al-Tabari, Jāmi‘ al-Bayān, 2:7.
See al-Zamakhshari, Al-Kashshāf, 1:340. Sticking to this opinion consistently,
al-Zamakhshari contends that even Moses and his Israelite followers were instructed, during their stay in Egypt, to pray toward Makkah. See his comments
on Q. 10:87 in ibid., 3:166.
Ibn Jurayj (d. 150/761), Tafsīr Ibn Jurayj, ed. Ali Hasan Abd al-Ghani (Cairo:
Maktabat al-Turath al-Islami, 1992), 41. His full name is Abd al-Malik ibn Abd
al-Aziz ibn Jurayj. His grandfather Jurayj was a Roman slave. Reportedly, Ibn
Jurayj was the first one to compile the Hadith. See K. Brockleman, trans. Mahmud Fahmi Hijazi, Tārīkh al-Adab al-Arabī (Cairo: al-Haiyaa al-Misriyyah al‘Ammah li al-Kitab, n.d.), 3:161.
His full name is Abd al-Rahman ibn Aslam al-Madani.
Ibn Zayd’s opinion found its way into the abrogation thesis. See, for instance,
Abu Ja‘far al-Nahhas, Al-Nāsikh wa al-Mansūkh, ed. Muhammed Abd al-Salam
Muhammad (Kuwait: Maktabat al-Falah, 1988), 76.
See Ahmed ibn Hanbal, Al-Musnad (1/325) and al-Zamakhshari, Al-Kashshāf,
1:340.
Al-Tabari introduced these two positions as follows: “Scholars have differed on
that; some of them said that (the decision) was a choice made by the Prophet;
others said that it was based on a divine command.” He states that the first position was represented by ‘Ikrimah, al-Hasan al-Basri, and Abu al-‘Aliyah. The
second position was related to Ibn Abbas through Ali ibn Abi Talha. See alTabari, Jāmi‘ al-Bayān (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr, 1988), 2:7-8.
Ibid., 2:7
Al-Qurtubi is one of the mufassirūn who concedes that there was no Qur’anic
verse to be abrogated, and hence it was the Sunnah that was abrogated. According to him, this in itself was evidence that the Qur’an could abrogate the Sunnah.
Al-Qurtubi, Aḥkām al-Qur’ān, 1:140.
This is al-Razi’s position (d. 604). See al-Razi, Al-Tafsīr al-Kabīr (Beirut: Dar
al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyyah, 2000), 2:102.
On the meaning of inqiṭā‘ (disconnection), see Abd Abdullah al-Nisaburi, Kitāb
Ma‘rifat ‘Ulūm al-Ḥadīth (Beirut: Dar al-Afaq al-Jadidah, 1980), 27. Some
scholars, however, argued that the disconnectedness of Ibn abi Talha’s report is
insignificant because he had also heard it from Mujahid, and both of them are
reliable reporters.
For the definition of ḥadīth mawqūf, see al-Hakim al-Nisaburi, Kitāb Ma‘rifat,
20. See also Ibn al-Salah, Muqaddimat Ibn al-Ṣalāḥ, ed. Salah ibn Muhammed
ibn ‘Iwaydha (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyyah, 2010), 73.
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18. This account, which is reported on the authority of Sa‘id ibn al-Musayyib
through Qatadah, affirms that the Ansar had been praying toward Jerusalem
three years before the Prophet’s arrival. See al-Tabari, Jāmi‘ al-Bayān, 2:7.
19. According to Ibn Hajar, al-Bukhari alluded to this acceptable opinion, and alHakim and others validate the hadith on which it is based. See Ibn Hajar al‘Asqalani, Fatḥ al-Bārī bi Sharḥ Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr, 1996),
1:133.
20. Al-Suhaili, Abdul Rahman (d. 581), one of the main commentators on the Sīrat
Ibn Hishām, agrees with the united Makkah-Jerusalem qiblah and contends that
there have been conflicting reports on this issue because it was not clear to the
people whether the Prophet was indeed praying toward the two qiblahs simultaneously. They realized that only after he left Makkah. See his Al-Rawdh alUnuf fī Sharḥ al-Sīrah al-Nabawīyah li Ibn Hishām, ed. Abdul Rahman al-Wakil
(Cairo: Dar al-Kutub al-Hadithah, 1969), 4:114. As far as I know, probably only
Ibn Kathir (d. 774) noticed this. “When the Prophet migrated to Madinah,” he
says, “it became impossible for him to combine the two [qiblahs].” Ibn Kathir,
Tafsīr al-Qur’ān al-‘Aẓīm (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyyah, 1998), 1:325.
21. See, for instance, William H. McNeill, The Rise of the West: A History of Human
Community (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 421. See also Albert
Hourani, A History of the Arab Peoples (London: Faber & Faber, 1991), 18.
22. A. J. Wensinck, “The Kibla,” in The Encyclopedia of Islam, vol. v, new edition.
ed. C. E. Bosworth et al. (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1986), 82.
23. W. Montgomery Watt, Muhammad: Prophet and Statesman (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1961), 144.
24. Quoted in al-Qurtubi, see al-Qurtubi, Aḥkām al-Qur’ān, 1:140.
25. Sayyid Qutb, Fī Ẓilāl al-Qur’ān (Cairo: Dar al-Shuruq, 1998), 1:127. He contends that the new Arab converts were turned away from the Ka‘bah so as to
purify them from the residual effects of the pre-Islam era.
26. Al-Bukhari, Muhammad ibn Isma‘il, Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr,
1998), 15:176-78. See also al-Asqalani, Ibn Hajar, Fatḥ al-Bārī, 2:60.
27. Al-Asqalani, Ibn Hajar, Fatḥ al-Bārī, 1:132. As for Ibn Hajar’s personal opinion,
he clearly supports the Makkan-Jerusalem united direction because, in his view,
it combines the two possible answers and because al-Hakim and other Hadith
experts have validated the report on the authority of Ibn Abbas.
28. Muslim ibn al-Hajjaj, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, ed. al-Nawawi, 9:114-37. See hadith nos.
1333, 1352, 1397.
29. Ibn Hisham, Al-Sīrah al-Nabawīyah, ed. Mustafa al-Saqqa (Beirut: Dar Ihya’
al-Turath al-‘Arabi, 1997), 1:351. See also Ibn al-Jaziri, ‘Izz al-Din Ibn al-Athir
(d. 1234), Usd al-Ghābah fī Ma‘rifah Ṣaḥābah (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr 1998), 3:28081. Ahmad ibn Hanbal reports a similar account in his Musnad.
30. Ibn Hisham, Al-Sīrah al-Nabawīyah, 1:300.
31. Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr (d. 463), Al-Durār fī Ikhtisār al-Maghāzī wa al-Siyār, ed.
Shawqi Daif (Cairo: Dar al-Ma‘arif, 1991), 48.
Hamid: The Politics of the Two Qiblahs
89
32. This is the number given by Ibn Ishaq. See Ibn Hisham, Al-Sīrah al-Nabawīyah,
1:368.
33. For a thorough discussion of the role of the Prophet’s grandfathers Hisham and
Abd al-Muttalib in establishing Makkah’s institutions and traditions, see Husain
Mu’nis, Tārīkh Quraysh (Beirut: Dar al-Manahil, 2002), 115, 139.
34. Ibn Hisham, Al-Sīrah al-Nabawīyah, 2:52-53.
35. See al-Mas‘udi, Ali ibn al-Hasan (d. 345), Murūj al-Dhahab wa Ma’ādin alJawāhir, ed. Sa‘id Muhammed al-Laham (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr, 1997), 2:275.
36. See al-Zamakhshari, Al-Kashshāf, 4:239.
37. See, for instance, Q. 22:52: “Never did We send a messenger or a prophet before
thee, but, when he framed a desire, Satan threw some (vanity) into his desire:
but Allah will cancel anything (vain) that Satan throws in, and Allah will confirm
(and establish) his signs.”
38. Al-Zamakhshari, Al-Kashshāf, 1:340.
39. Compare, for instance, the following Makkan verses: “And the places of worship
are for Allah alone ” (Q. on your heels in arrogance: talking nonsense about the
(Qur’an) like one telling fables by night ” (Q. 23:66-67); “Let them worship the
Lord of this House, Who provides them with food against hunger, and with security against fear ” (Q. 106:3-4); “They say: ‘If we were to follow the guidance
with thee, we should be snatched away from our land.’ Have we not established
for them a secure Sanctuary, to which are brought as tribute fruits of all kinds –
a provision from ourselves but most of them understand not” (Q. 28: 57) with
the verses “ and who is more unjust than he who forbids that in places of worship
of Allah, His name should be celebrated” (Q. 2:114); “Be sure We shall test you
with something of fear and hunger, some loss in goods, lives and the fruits of
your toil, but give good tidings to those who patiently persevere ” (Q. 2:155); “It
is not righteousness that ye turn your faces towards East or West; but it is righteous
to believe in Allah…” (Q. 2:177); “And remember Abraham said: my Lord, make
this a City of Peace, and feed its people with fruits – such of them as believe in
Allah and the Last Day” (Q. 2:126), respectively. The comparison shows clearly
how the same ideas about the qiblah, which were concisely expressed in the
Makkan revelations, were expanded and elaborated in the Madinan revelations.
40. Like, for instance, the universality of Muhammad’s message (referred to in this
verse as al-nās [humanity]), whereas the missions of other prophets were “to
bring out qawmaka (thy people).”
41. The Holy Qur’an, trans. Abdullah Yusuf Ali (Madinah: The Presidency of Islamic Researches, 1413), 703.
42. There is an intense debate among both Muslim and western scholars on how
Abraham managed to visit Makkah. For a detailed analysis of the Islamic
sources, see Reuven Firestone, “Abraham’s Journey to Makkah in Islamic Exegesis: A Form-Critical Study of a Tradition,” Studia Islamica 76 (1992): 5-24.
43. On some occasions, such as Q. 28:5, the Qur’an refers explicitly to “those who
were depressed in the land.”
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44. For the Qur’anic promise that believers will ultimately triumph, see Q. 30:47,
30:60, and 7:129.
45. Plato, Plato’s Republic, tr. G. M. A. Grube (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1974), 168.
46. In his Muqaddimah, Ibn Khaldun did not explicitly mention the idea of “withdrawal and return.” However, he did stress history’s “cyclical” nature and the
unceasing opposition between nomads and sedentary populations. He must have
drawn both concepts, among other things, from Qur’anic sources, as attested to
by his reflections on Q. 6:26, where he contended that the Israelites were intentionally left to “wander through the wilderness for forty years” because during
their Egyptian bondage they had lost all of the necessary characteristics needed
by a group to triumph over their enemies. Returning triumphantly to the promised land required the rebirth of a new younger generation, which takes years of
labor and suffering. See Ibn Khaldun, Maqaddimat Ibn Khaldūn (Beirut: Dar
al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyyah, 2009), 112.
47. See Arnold J. Toynbee, A Study of History: Abridgement of Volumes i-vi by D.
C. Somervell (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1946), 228. According to one
scholar, Toynbee was not just influenced by Ibn Khaldun; he had, in fact, “appropriated him as intellectual ancestor.” See Robert Irwin, “Toynbee and Ibn
Khadun,” Middle East Studies 33, no. 3 (July 1997): 468.
48. In Fazlur Rahman’s view, the whole idea behind the Prophet’s hijra and what
happened therein are intelligible only in the light of his over-riding concern to
take Makkah. See Fazlur Rahman, “Pre-Foundations of the Muslim Community
in Makkah,” Studia Islamica 43 (1976): 21.
49. John Dewy, Reconstruction in Philosophy (New York: The New American Library, 1952), 29.
50. Muhammad Asad, The Message of the Qur’an, Translated and Explained
(Gibraltar: Dar al-Andalus, 1980), 998.
51. This was not the only time when the Prophet reportedly waited for permission.
On the day of his hijra, he confided to Abu Bakr that he had been “granted permission” to leave Makkah. See Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyyah (d. 751), Zād al-Mi‘ād
fī Hadīy Khayr al-‘Ibād, ed. Mustafa Abd al-Qadir ‘Ata (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub
al-‘Ilmiyyah, 2007), 322.
52. Al-Bukhari reports on the authority of Jabir that the Prophet used to pray on his
(moving) camel in whatever direction it went, but that he would stop and face
the qiblah if he wanted to perform one of the canonical prayers. See al-Asqalani,
Ibn Hajar, Fatḥ al-Bārī, 2:62.
53. Ibn Majah, Abdullahi Muhammad ibn Yazid al-Quzwini (d. 275), Sunan Ibn
Mājah, ed. Sidqi Jamil al-Attara (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr, 1995), 1:244.
54. Al-Bukhari and Muslim report this hadith. See al-Asqalani, Fatḥ al-Bārī, 3:383
and see also Ibn al-Hajjaj, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, 9:142.
55. Al-Tabari, Jāmi‘ al-Bayān, 1:773. See also Al-Zamakhshari, Al-Kashshāf, 1:323.
56. For the text of this document, see Ibn Hisham, Al-Sīrah al-Nabawīyah, 2:11516.
Hamid: The Politics of the Two Qiblahs
91
57. For pre-Islamic Makkah’s economic importance and the trade activities of
Quraysh and its allies, see Mahmoud Ibrahim, “Social and Economic Conditions
in Pre-Islamic Makkah,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 14, no. 3
(1982): 347-50.
58. This is how Abdallah Yusuf Ali translated the term ummah wasaṭ. Muhammad
Asad translated it as the “community of the middle way” and the “middlemost
community.” See Muhammad Asad, The Message of the Qur’an, 30.
59. T. Izutsu, Ethico-Religious Concepts in the Qur’an (Montreal: McGill University Press, 1966), 61.
60. Muslim, Abu al-Husain ibn al-Hajjaj (d. 261), Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, ed. Al-Imam alNawawi (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyyah, 1995), 9:75. In this version,
jāhilīyah is replaced by kufr.
61. As quoted in Suliman Bashear, “Qur’an 2:114 and Jerusalem,” Bulletin of the
School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London 52, no. 2 (1989):
230. A detailed account of the political and military struggles between Muhammad and Madinah’s Jewish leaders can be found in Muhammad Husain Haykal,
Ḥayāt Muḥammad (Cairo: Dar al-Ma‘rifah, 2000), 229-31.
62. See Ibn al-Jazri, Usd al-Ghābah, 1:30. See also Ibn Hajar al-Asqalani, Fatḥ alBārī, 2:5-6, 9-11.
63. Ibn al-Jazri, Usd al-Ghābah, 1:30.
64. Fazlur Rahman, Islam and Modernity (Chicago: The University of Chicago,
1982), 2-3. Some scholars and commentators had noticed this kind of “underlying unity” of the Qur’an and referred to it as ‘ilm al-munāsabah. See, for instance, al-Zarkashi, Badr al-Din Abu Abdallah (d. 794), Al-Burhān fī ‘Ulūm
al-Qur’ān, ed. Mustafa Abdulgadir ‘Atta (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyyah,
2007), 1:42; and Muhammed Abdullahi Darraz, Al-Naba al-Adhim (Doha-Qatar:
2007), 143, particularly his intensive analysis of Q. 2:148-94.
65. Karl W. Deutsch, Nationalism and Social Communication (Cambridge, MA:
The M. I. T. Press, 1962), 38.
Book Reviews
The Lives of Muhammad
Kecia Ali
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2014. 342 pages.
The title of Kecia Ali’s latest book, The Lives of Muhammad, suggests that
it is another biography of the Prophet. And it very much is that book, not as
biography but as historiography, cultural study, and the methods of the Study
of Religion. By focusing narrowly on the material, she is able to be expansive in her thought and raise several important issues in the study of Muhammad’s life, both from the perspective of the believer and the non-believer.
Most importantly, and what makes this book particularly successful, is that
she recognizes conflict and contradiction without offering resolution. The
result is a work that can be extremely useful in classroom settings, in addition to making a valuable contribution to what we think about the meanings
of Muhammad.
The work is structured into six chapters, with shorter introduction and
conclusion sections. However, the length of these two sections belies the depth
of material contained therein. In the introduction, Ali maps out the scope of
her project: a diachronic study of the biographies of Muhammad. She argues
for the increasing dialogic between non-Muslim and Muslim views of the
Prophet, especially since the nineteenth century. Her statement of what she
chose to exclude is greatly appreciated, for it helps point out that there is a great
diversity of Muslim thought concerning Muhammad. By making the breadth
of the material omitted explicit, she allows the reader to understand in more
concrete terms her statement that “[religious] traditions have always been internally heterogeneous” (p. 3).
The first chapter focuses on questions of constructing a historical Muhammad. Ali begins with a basic outline of the Muslim narrative version of his
life story, but immediately begins to bring up some of the issues, both in terms
of the sources and the narrative’s neatness. She explicitly mentions Hagarism
and the more recent work of Fred Donner in laying out the historical context
of Muhammad. She then deftly works through this scholarship, giving the
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reader a sense of both rationales underlying the approaches and their weaknesses. This chapter excels in helping the reader understand how the Muslim
narrative was constructed, from the explicit Sunni and Shi‘ah differences on
the Prophet’s death (p. 22) to an implicit understanding that constructing a
narrative bounds and binds a community (p. 10). She does spend some time
on Muhammad as the source for a ritualistic practice, legal authority, and spiritual life, but it is not the main area of focus.
It ends with a discussion of early non-Muslim constructions of Muhammad, which establishes the back-and-forth between Muslim and non-Muslim
communities presented in the following chapters. Early European scholars
looked at Muhammad as “monstrous,” and thus his followers were “monstrous” as well (p. 30). This trope was deployed not only against the external
threat of the Turks, but also against the internal threat of the Catholics (p. 31).
The legend of Muhammad and the myths of Muslims loomed large in the
minds of European Christians during the period covered in this chapter. However, the concerns seem to be more about European insecurities than actual
knowledge of or concern with Muhammad and Muslims.
In chapter 2, aptly titled “A True Prophet,” we read of how Muhammad’s
claim to prophethood is either claimed or challenged. One of the chapter’s
highlights is recognizing that the claim/challenge division does not necessarily
parallel a Muslim/non-Muslim division. Ali pulls out Muslim sources critical
of Muhammad and non-Muslim sources that praise him. In this section we
begin to see more fully the interaction among different cultural groups. With
the rise of colonialism and the spread of English as a language of the learned,
we find, for example, Egyptians and Europeans reading Indian authors. However, Ali does mention the inherent power asymmetry in this process: The colonized read the works of the colonizers in far greater volume than the colonizers
read the work of the colonized. One practical impact of this imbalance is that
Muslim authors had to use the methods and logics of European colonizers,
which did not always align with the methods that Muslims scholars had built
over the centuries. This turn to a debate that depends upon a modality of engagement and proof determined by non-Muslims established the ongoing constructions of Muhammad from the nineteenth century onward.
In the third chapter, which discusses Muhammad’s earliest Companions,
Ali argues that part of the emphasis on this group comes from reformist movements that “owe a profound debt to Protestantism, including its assumptions
about authority and texts” (p. 81). This observation supports the argument from
the previous chapter that Muslim societies were operating within a new cultural
language, one that affected how they saw themselves. The history of great men
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and reformers became more normative, and biographies of Muhammad began
to fill this function. He was no longer a religious and mystical figure, “a channel
of mercy and grace to this world” (p. 93), but a genius and social reformer who
constructed a better society. One work that falls into this pattern is The Benefactor, an Urdu-language biography of Muhammad and the first four caliphs.
As an example of the layering of information in it, Ali points out that The Benefactor was translated into English and then distributed by the Nation of Islam.
This simple statement opens up avenues of discussion around transnationalism,
orthodoxy, and cultural history.
Chapters 4 and 5 deal with Khadijah and A’ishah, respectively, two of
Muhammad’s most well-known wives. While each chapter offers unique elements in the discussion of each woman, there is a certain resonance across the
chapters as well. They are linked in the ways Muslims communities use to construct themselves, and many of the historical concerns that we see in one are
mirrored in the other. It is generally taken as fact that Khadijah was 40 when
she married Muhammad and then proceeded to bear him seven children. This
fact suggests that perhaps she was not as old 40, but that her biography was
constructed in that way in order to use the number 40, which was commonly
viewed as a magic number in the Abrahamic traditions. Ali points out how
Muhammad’s marriage to her, and to no other woman while she was alive,
when she was 40 highlights the fact that he was not sexually deviant, as many
later critics would make him out to be.
One can juxtapose this with the age of A’ishah at consummation, traditionally believed to be when she was nine. Ali points out the conflicting sources
as well as how at one time it may have been advantageous to have her be nine:
Since she was born after the advent of Islam, she could not have known anything else. Ali clearly indicated how both of these wives play a role in the rhetoric of “Muslim women need saving.” At the same time, they are also deployed
as examples of the freedom women enjoyed during Muhammad’s lifetime.
Both usages are fraught with problems, many of which the author highlights
in her chapters.
The final chapter looks at contemporary biographies of Muhammad. We
see him placed in a pantheon of enlightened figures, both in a way that would
be recognizable to those in the Study of Religion and as someone who is recognized as being a great spirit. Ali does deal with some modern polemicists,
but pays greater attention to voices that struggle with meanings of Muhammad.
She points out writers like Karen Armstrong and W. M. Watt and places them
in an intellectual context that deepens an appreciation of their work. This chapter is notable for the author’s discussion of how Muslims are engaging with
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biographies of Muhammad. It is a hint of the etic/emic debate on how Muslim
scholars should approach Muhammad; however, she adds nuance by pointing
out that Muslims have multiple identifications. One can further argue from her
work that the dialogic of knowledge means that we are also more accepting of
multiple methodologies.
Ali’s conclusion offers a summation and points out other avenues of discussion, such as images of Muhammad or the neo-liberal incorporation of
Muhammad into capitalism. Like much of the book, a simple description does
not do justice to the layering of approaches and thoughts. It is well-crafted
and easy to read, and yet that simplicity itself is deceptive in terms of the depth
of ideas. At one level, this book can easily find its way into an introductory
course on Islam. It also contributes wonderfully to the literature around
Muhammad and could be useful in a course on the history of Muhammad or
a comparative course on religious figures. However, I believe it can be used
most effectively in a theory course on the Study of Religion. It touches on
themes of community formation, religious narrative, and hagiography. The
chapters appear to stand alone rather well and can also be incorporated into a
variety of other courses.
Hussein Rashid
Adjunct Assistant Professor of Religion, Department of Religion
Hofstra University, Hempstead, NY
God Is Beautiful: The Aesthetic Experience
of the Qur’an
Navid Kermani, Trans. Tony Crawford
Cambridge, UK: Polity Press, 2015. 400 pages.
God is Beautiful is the English translation of a work originally submitted as a
doctoral dissertation in Islamic studies at the University of Bonn in 1997 and
published as Gott ist Schön: Das ästhetische Erlebung des Koran in 1999.
Four printings since then attest to its popularity, which stems from its handling
of a fascinating topic – Muslims’ experience of the Qur’an. This subject has
been largely ignored in western scholarship, notable exceptions being art historical investigations of Qur’anic calligraphy and Kristina Nelson’s work on
Qur’anic recitation. Rather than attempting a historical, linguistic, or grammatical analysis of the Qur’an, Kermani here engages in reader-response criticism to explain how the Qur’an both affected and continues to affect Muslim
readers. This work presents itself as an alternative path to the Orientalists’
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negative assessments of the Qur’an as an aesthetic text, which implied that
Muslims’ claims about its beauty were simply the results of bias, devotion,
blind adherence to tradition, and imperfect understanding. Kermani divides
the discussion into six chapters, each of which investigates the topic from a
different angle.
Chapter 1, “The First Listeners,” discusses accounts of early reception of
the Qur’an, stressing that from the very beginning its appeal was its linguistic
beauty as much as the content of its message. He examines, among many others, the famous example Umar ibn al-Khattab’s conversion after he heard the
beginning of Sūrat Ṭāhā (Q. 20) and was enraptured by its beauty and eloquence. The aesthetic experience of the Islamic message was thus inseparable
from its theological or religious aspects. Chapter 6, “The Sufi Listeners,”
makes a similar point by focusing on the reception of the Quran in mystical
circles and especially on accounts of qatlā al-Qur’ān, figures who, upon hearing certain verses, were so affected emotionally that they died on the spot.
Through its linguistic form, the Qur’an has a visceral effect on the hearer that
cannot be reduced to the mental reception of doctrine.
Chapter 2, “The Text,” considers the Qur’an’s poeticity. According to
the theories of modern poets and literary critics such as Pablo Neruda or
Roman Jakobson, the Qur’an certainly qualifies as a poetic text, but by its
own standards this is not the case because the Qur’anic text regards poetry
as fundamentally fictional and involving the propagation of falsehoods,
whereas the truth of the message is paramount in the Qur’an. In addition, its
content is seen as being distinct from the typical themes of poetry. For listeners as well, the text’s poetic features are not seen as an end in themselves,
but rather as a means to convey and enhance God’s message, which remains
the focus.
Chapter 3, “The Sound,” makes the point that in many passages the
Qur’an presents itself as an oral-aural phenomenon, an orally performed text
that is received by hearing, and not a written text to be received by reading.
Thus, in the Qur’an the verb qara’a generally means “recite” and not “read,”
and it refers to the delivery of the text and not to its reception. The science of
Qur’anic recitation similarly emphasizes the primacy of oral performance over
written transmission, and Kermani cites the grand mid-twentieth-century
Egyptian project to produce the ten well-known readings of the Qur’an, each
in their eight sub-traditions, as an indication of the potential of the scripture’s
oral form to re-establish its superiority over the written form. Kermani stresses
a point discussed by European scholars, most notably by Widengren in the
1955 work The Ascension of the Apostle and the Heavenly Book, that many
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Qur’anic passages suggest that the oral messages derive from a celestial book
that exists on another plane, is not tangible, and to which neither the Prophet
nor his audience have direct access.
Chapter 4, “The Miracle,” focuses on classical theories of the Qur’an’s
miraculous nature (i‘jāz al-Qur’ān). It mentions in passing the Mu‘tazili theory of ṣarfah (turning away), as well as the works of al-Rummani (d. 384/994),
al-Khattabi (d. 386/996), and al-Baqillani (d. 403/1013), but focuses primarily
on the theory of Abd al-Qahir al-Jurjani (d. 474/1078) in Dalā’il I‘jāz alQur’ān. One of the main points made is that the theory of i‘jāz is not simply
a consequence of the conviction of the Qur’an’s superiority that became enshrined in theological doctrine, but rather was influenced from early on by an
appreciation for the text’s aesthetic aspects and was explicated by al-Jurjani
and others in great detail using all of the technical arsenal of the Arabic rhetorical tradition.
Chapter 5, “The Prophet among the Poets,” compares prophecy with theories of artistic genius, drawing primarily on modern German romanticism.
Kermani makes the important point that Islamic tradition embraces rhetoric
and poetic features as perfectly compatible with revelation and, indeed, as
present in revelation in a superior form. Rather than working to distance the
Prophet from rhetorical ability, and thus bolstering the idea that the text was
not in any way his invention and instead came from a divine source, Islamic
tradition stressed the Prophet’s eloquence and, while maintaining some distinction between prophetic inspiration (waḥy) and poetic or mystical inspiration (ilhām), admitted that the two were related.
The possible criticisms of this work have more to do with what Kermani
does not say than with what he does say. The adoption of reader-response criticism allows the author to focus on the text’s reception, and this involves some
sidestepping of historical and interpretive problems. For example, his discussion of tajwīd is fine, but one still wonders how authentic the tradition is. Was
the Qur’an recited in such an elaborate manner during the first few Islamic
centuries, in an equally elaborate fashion but one that differed from modern
conceptions in particular ways, or in a completely different manner altogether?
How did the tradition change over time? How much of recitation practice
might one retrieve from classical manuals of recitation or descriptions of actual
performances?
At several points Kermani does list poetic elements in the text, including
rhyme, and recognizes that the aesthetic experience cannot be separated entirely from the text itself. Nevertheless, the emphasis on reception frees him
from having to answer whether there is any discrepancy between what is
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objectively present in the text and what is experienced or understood by the
audience.
Kermani recognizes that the Qur’an contains elements that may be compared with poetry and saj‘, the rhymed prose associated with the pre-Islamic
soothsayers (kuhhān), but he stresses that while the literary features may be
similar, their content and function have changed completely, thereby rendering
the Qur’an categorically unlike the earlier texts. Surviving fragments in the
poetry of Umayyah ibn Abi Salt, al-Kalbi’s The Book of Idols, and other texts
suggest that the pre-Islamic Arabs had substantial bodies of religious poetry,
most of which was probably suppressed because it was too obviously pagan.
The imagined completeness of the changes involved in moving from pre-Islamic to Qur’anic modes of expression may thus be exaggerated.
In addition to soothsayers, there were also prophetic figures in pre-Islamic
tradition, evident not only in the Qur’anic stories of Hud, Salih, and Shu‘ayb,
the prophets of ‘Ad, Thamud, and Midian, respectively, but also in the record
of the “false prophets” who were near contemporaries of the Prophet, the
most famous example being that of Musaylimah “the Liar.” Saj‘ and of course
oratory were used as well to perform religious functions. Certainly, the genres
used by the soothsayers were modified and changed, but many of their formal
features were preserved intact and their original functions are not entirely
lost.
When Kermani claims that “soothsaying” proper is not found in Qur’anic
passages that formally resemble the kāhin’s pronouncements, this is only partially true. The Qur’an does not predict which tribe will attack first or suggest
whether it will be advantageous to travel to Syria for trade this year, but it does
present oracular predictions. The obvious modification is that nearly all of the
oracular texts in the Qur’an predict the Day of Judgment and the ultimate fate
of believers and unbelievers. The most notable exception is the beginning of
Sūrat al-Rūm (Q. 30), which predicts a Byzantine victory over the Persians in
the near future, according even more closely with more conventional understandings of soothsaying.
The author’s concern with a German audience is evident in his frequent
citations of German literary figures and philosophers such as Heinrich Heine,
Goethe, and others. The effect of this, to suggest that discussion of the Qur’an
can fit easily into German intellectual and cultural discourse – equivalent, in
the American context, to mention of Thomas Jefferson, De Tocqueville, The
Federalist Papers – may be lost on the American reader and even potentially
confusing. The work is written in the style of a rambling essay with a number
of digressions and asides that do not move the main argument forward. There
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99
are a number of technical slip-ups, such as khujja (evidence) (p. 225), which
should be ḥujja, or khaya for “fear” (p. 236), which should be khashya. Nevertheless, it successfully presents a fresh view of the Qur’an, thereby counterbalancing studies that view the Qur’an as a normative text, a source of legal
or theological principles, or an ideological battleground. God is Beautiful can
change readers’ perspectives by urging them to look at the Qur’an, the literature that has grown up around it, and its place in society through a different,
aesthetic lens.
Devin Stewart
Associate Professor, Middle Eastern and South Asian Studies Department
Emory University, Atlanta, GA
Islam through Western Eyes: From the
Crusades to the War on Terrorism
Jonathan Lyons
New York: Columbia University Press, 2014. 272 pages.
Jonathan Lyons’ Islam through Western Eyes takes a critical and historical approach to understanding the anti-Islam discourses that continue to emerge
across North America and Europe. His main argument is that their origins can
be traced back to the Crusades and that the current Islamophobic climate has
been in the production since then. Thus an inherent anti-Islam discourse has
been ingrained into the western imagination, and its effects are still being seen
today.
In the introduction, the author notes that the answer to understanding
much of this western Islamophobic movement has been in the making since
the fifteenth century anti-Islam discourse as it relates to the Crusades. Lyons
notes that we need to develop a deeper understanding of the history of this
discourse in order to fight its modern version and to understand the causes of
the current Islamophobic climate. This certainly sheds a more complex light
on many of the issues facing Muslims in Europe and North America, and gives
readers a new angle from which they should understand and interpret this
growing sentiment.
The book is divided into five main chapters following the introduction.
The first is essentially a chapter on methodology, which delves deeper into
Foucault’s critical theories on discourse and power. Lyons particularly focuses
on Foucault’s Archeology of Knowledge, in which he argues that certain forms
of knowledge are privileged over others in order to create a larger narrative
about a particular topic or group of people. The author clearly takes a post-
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structuralist historical approach to understanding the issue at hand, one that
takes a critical perspective on socially constructed knowledge that is highly
motivated by the special interests of those establishing such knowledge.
This discussion leads us to pose an important question: “Just what do we
mean by ‘Islam’? And why do we mean this instead of something else?” (p.
42). And, more importantly, who benefits from spreading certain types of
knowledge?
This final question really sets the framework for the book, as it seeks to
question how knowledge of Islam in Europe was established as well as the
interests involved when a greater understanding and knowledge of Islam and
Muslims was being spread. As such, the book’s second part delves into the
western image of Islam. This chapter is mostly focused on addressing the
shifting perspective of Muslims in Europe. Lyons highlights how there was
a constructive effort to otherize Muslims in the eleventh century – a prerequisite for the Crusades and the ability to garner support for these military
invasions. This set the framework for demonizing and othering Muslims
across Europe.
The next three chapters address the western perception of Islam and Muslims, particularly as it relates to science, violence, and women. These chapters
focus on understanding the causes and misrepresentation of Muslims as antiscientific, violent, and oppressors of women – the predominant narratives that
have formed the foundation of the anti-Islam discourse ever since the Crusades
and which are all familiar to those living in North America. In particular, the
version of Islam as a violent and female-oppressing religion has formed some
of the foundations for the ongoing “war on terror” and the othering of Muslims.
The author argues that the Muslim contributions to science, mathematics, and
technology were erased and covered with a “pre-modern” and backward interpretation of Islamic civilizations. Furthermore, Muslims were represented
as violent and suicidal. All of this has been coupled with an interpretation of
Muslim civilizations that oppress women in various forms.
While the book certainly does a good job of allowing the reader to place
much of the anti-Islam discourse within a historical interpretation of how European relations with Islam have shifted, it misses some key related issues. For
one, it is quite surprising to find little mention of Edward Said’s Orientalism
(1978). Having really developed the foundational understanding of how the
anti-Islam discourse evolved through European explorers and interpretations
of Islam, Lyons’ book seems to make Orientalism more relevant for understanding today’s Islamophobia. Although Said’s analysis was focused less on
the Crusades, it certainly gave a more holistic understanding of how different
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factions of European society created the Orientalist discourse of Islam (ranging
from the military to academic and European explorers). Not only does the book
fail to really include any discussion of Orientalism’s role in creating the antiIslam discourse, but Said also heavily used Foucault’s poststructural approach
to understanding the construction of knowledge and how interests were involved in creating the false image of the “East” and of Muslims.
While Said focused predominantly on the “East” as a whole, Lyons is
more interested in understanding the West’s interpretation of Islam and Muslims. This leaves one wondering what the role of non-Muslim Arabs is within
this context. Unfortunately, modern Islamophobia has also spread to Arabs
and Asians of various faith backgrounds. This leads one to conclude that there
is something far more at play here than anti-Islam, more of a profound issue
relating to the interpretation of the East, and of racial prejudice.
Furthermore, the author seems to equate much of the “West” with Christianity. In the third chapter, where he elaborates upon the western idea of
Islam, he discusses the Church’s role in changing the perspective of who and
what Islam represents. This essentially otherized Muslims and fed much of
the foundational anti-Muslim sentiments that drove the Crusades. While
much of fifteenth-century Europe was certainly influenced by Christianity,
this is no longer the case. And to presume that both Christianity and the West
have created anti-Islam sentiments only misrepresents the current problem.
In fact, the Catholic Church has been far more respectful of Muslims and
their faith. That being said, since the author focuses so heavily on the historical discourse, he fails to really acknowledge some of the issues that have
created the anti-Islam discourse currently of concern to many Muslims living
in the “West.”
This book gives the reader a strong foundation for understanding European
interpretations of Muslims during the Crusades; however, it cannot holistically
account for understanding Islamophobia as it exists today. Numerous other factors have contributed to this climate, among them racial prejudice and antiimmigrant sentiments, the events of 9-11, and western military interests in
various Middle Eastern and Asian regions. In Islam through Western Eyes,
Lyons certainly does not give a universal understanding for the current antiIslam discourse; however, he does provide a small piece of the puzzle for understanding the climate – and perhaps that is all he intended to do.
Zeina Sleiman
Doctoral Candidate, Political Science
McMaster University, Hamilton, ON, Canada
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Muslims in the Western Imagination
Sophia Rose Arjana
New York: Oxford University Press, 2015. 261 pages.
Through research spanning 1,300 years, Sophia Rose Arjana presents a historical genealogy of monstrous representations of Muslims that haunt the
western imagination and continue to sustain the contemporary bigotry of Islamophobia. The central question introduced in the first section, “Introduction:
Islam in the Western Imagination,” is “How did we get here, to this place of
hijab bans and outlawed minarets, secret renditions of enemy combatants,
Abu Ghraib, and GTMO?” (p. 1).
To answer this question, Arjana highlights connections between historical
representations of Muslims and monstrosity in imagery, literature, film, and
popular culture to produce a volume she describes as “an archive of Muslim
monsters” and “a jihad – an effort – to reveal Muslims as human beings instead
of the phantasms they are often presented as” (p. 16). This work is a timely
contribution that will benefit scholars researching anti-Muslim sentiment, Islamophobia, postcolonial and subaltern studies, the psychology of xenophobia
and genocide, or who are interested in historical manifestations of Islamophobia, antisemitism, and racism in art, literature, film, and media.
In the first chapter, “The Muslim Monster,” the author argues that cultural “ideas of normativity are often situated in notions of alterity” and that
monstrous representations of Muslims have functioned as an enduring signifier of alterity against which the West has attempted to define itself since
the Middle Ages. Through the production of dehumanized and monstrous
representations, Muslims became part of a mythological landscape at the
peripheries of Christian civilization that included dragons, giants, and dogheaded men. The grotesque and uncanny attributes of monsters reveal the
anxieties of the society that produces such images, and chief among those
is the fear of racial contamination and the dissolution of culture through intermingling with the foreign and the strange. Each of the following chapters
focuses on depictions of Muslims as monsters in visual arts and literature
within a particular era or context.
The second chapter, “Medieval Muslim Monsters,” introduces Muslim
monsters of the Middle Ages, many of which survived as tropes used to vilify
Muslims, Arabs, Jews, and Africans for centuries thereafter. This chapter introduces monsters such as “the giant, man-eating Saracens of medieval romances and the Black Saracens, often shown in medieval art executing saints,
harassing and killing Jesus, and murdering other Christian innocents” (p. 19)
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and Muslims “portrayed as demons, black-skinned monsters, Satan, or souls
condemned to the underworld” (p. 25). Arjana describes the imagination of a
monster geography in which sinister creatures dwell in dark and unnatural
lands, always threatening to transgress into Christian space.
A parallel to this is the casting of Prophet Muhammad in terms of perversion, by identifying him as a heretic, schismatic, or sexual deviant whose appetites and teachings transgressed the boundaries established by God, decency,
and the Church. Such representations demonstrate the special place of Muslims as catch-all miscreants possessing every negative trait and against which
medieval Christian identity could be defined as pure and good.
The third chapter, “Turkish Monsters,” reveals European Christian insecurities following the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople. As a powerful
Muslim empire that had overtaken a former hub of Christendom, the Ottomans
exemplified a threatening alterity. Consequently, turbans and other recognizably Ottoman symbols evoked not only Muslims, but also Jews, as being quintessentially non-European. Examples provided in this chapter include
paintings of turbaned figures attending the dismemberment of Christian martyrs, Elizabethan dramas such as Marlowe’s Tamburlaine and Shakespeare’s
Othello that include anti-Muslim themes, and the icon known as a Turk’s head,
which was used in Elizabethan cooking and sport. Fantastic stories about Muslims and their bleak, haunted lands became common elements in the literature
of the era until Muslims were very nearly naturalized within the realm of myth
in the same terms as dragons, giants, and demons.
Chapter 4, “The Monsters of Orientalism,” describes the place Muslims
came to occupy in the fantasy stories of early modernity and within the literary
genres of the Enlightenment, Orientalism, Romanticism, and Gothic horror.
Islam was utilized in allusive critiques of Catholicism and religion in general
as being superstitious and irrational, and served as a marker of the fantastic
and sensual in travelers’ accounts of exotic lands. In Orientalist works, it became the symbol par excellence of the mysterious East against which the West
and western identity must be distinguished and defined. Within the context of
colonialism, Muslims and Jews were racialized as Orientals, essentially backward and irrational people who could never assimilate into modern western
societies.
As racialized characters in literature, they represented anxiety about the
racial purity of Europeans. Arjana describes the colonization of the Orient and
the corresponding commodification of Oriental tropes into cultural products,
including their use in the literature of Romanticism and Gothic horror, where
villains in stories such as Vathek, Zafloya, and Dracula were made more mon-
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strous by possessing an Oriental mystique. In these genres, mere association
with Islam or the East enhances a character’s monstrosity and evil.
In chapter 5, “Muslim Monsters in the Americas,” she charts the development of medieval representations of Muslim monsters in the context of
New World exploration. Muslim monster archetypes contributed to the imagination of a Christian American destiny and the divine inheritance of a new
Promised Land. In the process, “explorers constructed a complex narrative
about the people they encountered. This included claims that they were devilworshipers, as if American Indians were lapsed Christians. American Indians
were also identified with Muslims” (p. 138), or with Moors or Moriscos.
In this chapter, Arjana also introduces the construction of Muslim monsters
in Hollywood films and in television series, in which “Muslim characters are
depicted as villains harassing, kidnapping, raping, terrorizing, and killing innocents, often Americans or Europeans,” and notes that “Muslim men have
been depicted as medieval and have been juxtaposed with white Christian moderns” (p. 141) with a striking regularity. The popularity of films featuring Muslim or Arab villains formed a standard model for plots in which Muslim men
play the parts of cruel, violent, and sexually aggressive villains who pose a
threat to the safety and purity of white Christian women. At the same time, the
contrast between the white hero and the savage Oriental villain are used to create a new sense of time in which modernity and civilization are uniquely western, while Muslims are imagined as inhuman relics of a barbaric past.
In the second half of chapter 5 and in chapter 6, “The Monsters of September 11,” Arjana describes monsters imagined in the “war on terror” and
post-9/11 America, including the reduction of real-life terrorists to caricatures
driven by hatred and conceived as mere “killing machines whose lives hold
no value” (p. 151). In the same period, movies about alien invasions or zombie
hoards provided an outlet for anxieties about terrorist sleeper cells whose brutal
ideology might infect the minds of Americans and transform them, zombielike, into killing machines.
The author describes the news media’s adoption of phrases and tropes from
fantasy films when describing Muslims, as well as the proliferation of monster
movies mirroring shifts in the political discourse about Muslims. The frightening result of Muslims being so closely linked with fantasy monsters has been
the perpetration of indiscriminate violence against real Muslim bodies paralleling the violence against zombies or other monsters in horror films. Linking
dehumanization with violence, Arjana describes crimes committed in the context of the twentieth century’s wars, genocides, and at Abu Ghraib, where atrocities committed by American soldiers were revealed through leaked images,
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such as those of “the hooded figure connected to electrical wires, the naked
man on a dog leash held by a female soldier who smiles for the camera, the
naked piles of bodies, and the other bodies, some alive, some dead ... soldiers
grinning for the camera, giving the thumbs up” (pp. 178-79), and so on.
Arjana begins this book by stating that “the portrayal of Muslims as the
antithesis of good Americans is not only common – it is the norm” (p. 10), and
ends by warning that “the post-human condition of Muslims is something that
has yet to be undone” (p. 183). The inhuman treatment of Muslim detainees in
Abu Ghraib and elsewhere, as well as the persistence of anti-Muslim rhetoric
and Islamophobia worldwide, stand as grim evidence supporting her argument.
Some of the monsters in this work, such as the dog-headed cynocephalie
referenced in every chapter except the last, may seem to be only tenuously
linked with hijab bans, GTMO, or the general vilification of Muslims. However, the persistence of this image speaks to its power as a symbol of Oriental
alterity. Certainly, all of the examples in this collection support Arjana’s compelling argument that imagery and representations disfiguring the inward or
outward humanity of a group re-imagines that group within the class of monsters. This serves the political function of distinguishing us from them and seeks
to excuse or justify the vilification, abuse, or extermination of the Other.
Through her genealogy of Muslim monsters, Arjana has revealed the discursive
process by which humans are imagined as monsters so that monstrous violence
can be perpetrated against them with the pretense of legitimacy.
Brendan Newlon
Doctoral Candidate, Department of Religious Studies
University of California, Santa Barbara, CA
Face Politics
Jenny Edkins
New York: Routledge, 2015. 230 pages.
Over the last decade, public discourse in Europe and North America has been
overwhelmingly in favor of banning the face veil (niqab). Politicians like Jack
Straw in the UK or John Charest in Québec have commented on its putative
hindrance to community integration due to its covering of the face. So a book
entitled Face Politics would seem to offer some insights into this anti-niqab
dynamic. A quick perusal of the index for “niqab,” “Islam,” and “Muslim
women,” however, comes up unexpectedly empty. What, then, is “face politics”
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and how can an academic discussion about the “face” not mention niqab, arguably one of the most burning issues of “face politics” this century?
The book is a profound, intellectually challenging, sometimes dense, and
yet empathetic and beautifully written exploration of how contemporary western politics is predicated around individuality and the separatedness of being,
signified by the idea of the face as a “window onto the [individual’s] soul” (p.
165). Because she believes that “a politics that makes the face is a politics that
produces the person as an object” (p.7), the author wishes to propose a different
concept of the face, that of a mask hiding our inseparable connectedness, and
concludes that such an alternative would lead to a profoundly different, and
better, political society, one symbolized by the concept of the tango. Indeed,
the tagline on the dedication page is “If the face is a politics, dismantling the
face is also a politics,” from French philosopher Gilles Deleuze and psychoanalyst Félix Guattari’s 1980 book A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and
Schizophrenia.
In the preface, Edkins explains how she came to write this book, which
began as a far simpler “project on the contemporary politics of the portrait
photograph in the west” (p. xv). She was intrigued by the posters of people
missing after 9/11 that were posted around New York and the artist Sebastião
Saldago’s 2003 exhibition of images of refugee children in camps. She
wanted to know what “portrait photographs do. Why are they so powerful in
the western imaginary? Why are they used so often? What response do they
prompt, what political action? (p. xv).” Her interest in the New York posters
spun off into an inquiry about missing persons more generally, and the current
book grew out of a shift from an interest in images of the face to a “more
substantive exploration of face politics” (p. xv). Questions about portraits
and photographs of faces, about the impact of “digital photography, moving
images, smart phones, Facebook pages” on portraiture led Edkins to ask questions like:
Aren’t new media artists now exploring altered ways of making faces –
generic faces, reconstructed faces – or even obliterating the face? Does this
go alongside a new concept of the person, and new political possibilities?
…What is the face in the photograph? Why the face or headshot? Why obliterate the face? What is the face anyway?” (p. xvi).
To answer these questions, Edkins, a scholar of international relations,
delves into neuroscience, psychology, anthropology, visual studies, and art theory. Along the way she explores philosophical concepts such as the nature of
being, what makes a person or an individual, and how the face relates to indi-
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viduality and becomes a basis for political society. The beauty of the book is
her accessible writing style, empathy with the reader as well as the subjects
whose portraits, photographs, and/or selves she writes about, and honest selfdisclosure about her own reactions to “the face.” Face Politics is not jargonistic;
however, due to the depth of its philosophical enquiry, its argument is sometimes complex.
Edkins begins by noting the face “is paradoxical” (p.1):
We pay attention to reading each other’s faces – reading people’s moods, personalities and origins into their facial appearance. We search for clues as to
who the persons opposite us may be and what they may be thinking … On
the other hand, the importance of the face … is often traced to a particular
historical and geographical juncture. In the European imagination, the face
came to prominence in painting with the beginnings of portraiture in the Renaissance and Enlightenment periods … historians of art have drawn a connection between the rise and spread of portraiture and the rise of the concept
of the individual – or rather, at least at first, the individual propertied male –
as the building block of European political organisation. (pp. 1-2)
Face Politics includes an Introduction and four chapters, with the last
part of chapter 4 serving as a summing up and conclusion. In chapter 1,
“Faces in Photographs,” Edkins explores what happens when we look at
photographs of faces using several artistic exhibitions, including Suzanne
Opton’s Soldier face (photographs of returned American soldiers with their
heads lying vertically on a table and displayed controversially on billboards);
Robert Lyon’s Intimate Enemy (a book with photographs of perpetrators and
victims in Rwanda’s genocide; without captions saying which photograph
is of which kind of person); and Ly Daravuth’s Messengers (a 2000 exhibition in Phnom Penh), mixing up (without saying who is who) photographs
of children who used to be messengers for the Khmer Rouge with contemporary children dressed as messengers. All of this is designed to destabilize
the idea that we can “read character, experience, or emotion” (p. 8) from
the face.
Chapter 2, “Moving Faces,” takes us into neuroscience, including what
happens to people who have paralyzed faces that cannot show emotion (Mӧbius
Syndrome), exploring scientific evidence as to whether or not we can read
emotion from facial expression, the science around people’s ability to mirror
facial emotional expressions, and artistic work exploring a connection between
humans and inanimate objects. Chapter 3, “From Face Capture to Face Blindness,” begins with the growing phenomenon of face-capture software and its
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implications for political control, and then moves into a discussion of scientific
and artistic work on the overstated ability of computer software and people to
recognize faces and physiognomy. It ends with a discussion of the science of
face blindness, those people who struggle or cannot recognize even family
faces. Finally, chapter 4, “Facelessness: Another Politics?” opens with a study
of facial disfigurement, its impact on the person and those around them, and
scientific and artistic attempts to help people cope through plastic surgery (i.e.,
artists painting portraits of the process of the plastic surgery). After analyzing
the experience, science, and art around face transplants, the chapter’s final section, “Face, Personhood, and Politics,” concludes the entire book.
There is obviously much to respond to in such a multifaceted and wideranging book. Let me finish by returning to what prompted my interest in the
book in the first place: face politics and the niqab. By using the word burka on
one page, nestled in between her discussion of facial disfiguration and face
transplants, Edkins does refer to the face politics of Muslimah face coverings.
Presenting the burka as somehow related to how cosmetic surgery reveals the
face to be a mask, the burka’s apparent facelessness produces the trauma of
not being able to see the mask (face) of a person, which is normally what we
rely on to conceal “the awful way in which we are all ultimately unfathomable
to each other.” (p. 159). The burka thus “exposes our fear of our own precarious
subjecthood” (p. 160).
To give such short shrift to one of western society’s most pressing questions is surprising. In other chapters the author deals extensively with statements made by people suffering from Mӧbius Syndrome, face blindness,
facial disfigurement, face transplants, and so on. So why not discuss the experiences of those who wear the niqab? To be fair, she does state clearly that
this book is meant only as an introduction to what is obviously an immense
topic requiring further research (p. xvii). Yet to place her brief discussion of
the burka in a section on facelessness demonstrates that she herself is still
writing about the “face” from inside a western paradigm, even as she tries to
envisage a politics of the face that is about empathy and connectedness as opposed to separation.
Niqabis can experience facelessness in western society, including among
fellow Muslims attuned to western concepts of the face, akin to how others
react to facial disfigurement (p. 148), but not among a Muslim community
attuned to the normality, even meritoriousness, of covering the face. We can
learn to interact with a niqabi on a level that does not require access to the
face. We can even learn to recognize her, read emotion from her, and feel connected to her.
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An alternate politics of the face need not see a face covering as “exposing
precarious subjecthood,” but rather as encouraging connectedness through nonfacial means. Of course the authoritarian nature of many contemporary Muslim-majority societies and political movements seeking to impose this practice
raises questions about what kind of politics face covering can lead to, and
whether more progressive alternatives are also possible, as Edkins has asked
in Face Politics. There are evidently rich possibilities in using her work for
questions related to Muslim women and face politics in Muslim-majority and
western societies.
Kathy Bullock
Director of Research, The Tessellate Institute
Lecturer, University of Toronto, Mississauga, ON, Canada
Medina in Birmingham; Najaf in Brent:
Inside British Islam
Innes Bowen
London: C. Hurst & Co., 2014. 230 pages
Medina in Birmingham; Najaf in Brent: Inside British Islam by Innes Bowen
seeks to explain to a mainly non-Muslim readership the complexities and nuances of different Muslim groups that have come to live in Britain since the
1950s. The book aims to be “a guide to the ideological differences, organisational structures and international links of the main Islamic groups active in
Britain today” needed in order partly to counter the perception that Muslims
form one homogenous mass. It follows in the tradition of ethnographic works
begun in the colonial period, that were produced in order to inform the British
Government about the thinking and culture of those under its administration
and, more importantly, about whether they were planning any uprisings or
posed any threat. An example of this approach can be seen in Bowen’s assurances that the Twelver Shi‘a living in Britain do not unequivocally support
Iran:
The most striking feature of Britain’s Shia community is the lack of influence
that the Islamic Republic of Iran exerts over it, despite all of its resources.
[…] The fact that Najaf school secularism has triumphed over Tehran’s Islamism will be something of a relief to [the] British government. (p. 162)
Bowen also remarks on how little Britain’s police force know about the Muslim
groups with which they have co-operated:
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A police officer I spoke to despaired at the ignorance of many of his colleagues, yet even he knew little about 95 per cent of the mosques in his patch
and was oblivious to the fact that one of his favoured Muslim organisations
had played host to a jihadi leader from Pakistan. (p. 2)
This book, then, may also be used as a guide book for Britain’s police that are
having to implement the Government’s counter-terrorism strategy.
The book is divided into eight chapters, each of which examines the political origins and sources of funding for some of the major Muslim groups in
Britain: the Deobandis, Tablighi Jamaat, the Salafis, Jamaat-e Islami, the Muslim Brotherhood, the Barelwis, the Twelver Shi‘a, and the Isma’ilis. These are
based upon research carried out privately by a convert named Mehmood
Naqshbandi (p. 6). The information about Naqshbandi that Bowen provides is
limited, stating simply that he has put together his research in his bedroom
while working full time in IT. Strangely, she does not mention the following
part of his biography:
Mehmood Naqshbandi has worked as a consultant with the IT company
Logica for over twenty years. He specialises in IT solutions for investigation,
intelligence and the criminal justice system. He provides Technical Authority
services to the Police, Home Office, Ministry of Justice, the Crown Prosecution Service, the Serious Fraud Office and other government agencies.
Mehmood converted to Islam in 1982 and is active in the Muslim community in Britain. He has observed at close hand the growth of Muslim militancy over two decades and uses his knowledge and insights to advise
government departments and the police on topical issues.1
Many Muslim intellectuals in Britain have expressed their disapprobation
of the British Government’s counter-terrorism programme, entitled “Prevent”
(see the following open letter signed by over 360 leading academics:
http://www.protectingthought.com), and the fact that its approach toward Muslim communities has been conducted with “suspect until proven innocent” as
a starting point, overlooking much of the hard social and communal work that
individual Muslims and Muslim organizations have carried out in the face of
immense social, political, and psychological challenges. Bowen’s book similarly makes the question of affiliation to terrorist groups a major theme. It includes, as some criteria of whether Muslims are “moderate” or not and can
therefore be trusted or not, the issue of loyalty to the monarchy (Does that also
make non-Muslim anti-monarchist Britons suspect?); the degree of secularism
and support for secular society (What about all the British Christians who feel
that they are under attack from hard-line secularists?), and whether there is the
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desire to see a society run according to “sharia” law (itself an immense subject
that is not explored in the book).
The other theme addressed is that of “integration,” another complex issue
that is presented here somewhat superficially, based upon the state-cultivated
assumption that the degree to which Muslims are “integrated” into a society
depends solely upon Muslims themselves (Issues such as prejudice against
Muslims that prevents them from integrating are overlooked). One way in
which Bowen assesses whether her interviewees are “integrated” or not is the
way that they dress. A good, well-integrated Muslim that is “on our side” is one
who wears a suit or jeans and is clean shaven; a not-so-good Muslim that obstinately refuses to integrate is one who has a beard and wears loose clothing.
Bowen is very clear about who are to be considered the “good Muslims”
that tick the right boxes: the Nizari Ismailis and the reformist Dawoodi Bohras.
The Agha Khan, the head of the Nizaris is “the most European of the Islamic
figureheads.” He “has the appearance of a debonair individual wearing a suit
and tie” (p. 167). The Nizaris do not use “sharia law” to settle disputes; rather,
they “appear at ease with secularism” and “make use of Britain’s arbitration
law.” They “displayed affection towards Britain, its institutions and rulers,”
and so Bowen can conclude that “If true faith and true integration for British Muslims are about feeling a love for Britain and its people, then the Ismailis
have led the way” (p. 185). Bowen uses terminology that expresses her sense
of how she sees traditional Dawoodi Bohras as alien and “Other,” describing
their clothes as “costumes” (p. 175), “uniform” (p. 178), “garb” (p. 192). A
good Bohra is someone who does not wear it all the time: “Haki Kapasi wears
jeans and, like other reformist women, only covers her hair at religious gatherings” (p. 182). This statement comes within the context of discussing Bohras
who marry non-Muslims and drink alcohol.
Her discussion on the Shi‘i community in London uses the same kind of
terminology that the British military used in Iraq, calling Northwest London
the “Shia Triangle” (obviously reminiscent of the British naming a particular
area north of Baghdad the “Sunni Triangle” and another area south of Baghdad
“the Triangle of Death”). Bowen’s “Triangle” actually overlooks a fairly large
Shi‘i population in South London. But just as the British colonialists did not
let the reality of demographics on the ground spoil their carving up of the Middle East and North Africa into sections, so here we find that a region has been
named and given a reality of its own in the mind of the author, and by extension,
potential readers.
The emphasis on this particular Triangle is all the more puzzling when
Bowen then says that “away from the powerbase of North West London, it is
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Muslims of Indian and Pakistani origin who run over three-quarters of Britain’s
Shia mosques and Islamic centres” (p. 146). In the midst of this semi-military
approach to Shi‘i populations in London is a sudden switch to that subject that,
for some reason, so many non-Shi‘a cannot resist peeking into: temporary marriage. From her interview with myself, which took approximately 90 minutes
or more and during which a range of topics were covered, Bowen has selected
this topic, claiming that I am a “candid supporter” (p. 137) and have laughed
about it being “quite common.” This is, unfortunately, a misinterpretation of
my reaction toward what was for me simply a point in passing among other
far more important points. It is not quite clear where this fits into the overall
discussion of the book.
While providing a useful overview into the ideologies and affiliations of
the above-mentioned groups, what would perhaps enrich the book still further
would be to provide the colonial context out of which, in particular, the IndoPak organisations emerged. It would also perhaps be helpful to show how
Britain’s intelligence services have both sponsored and utilized such groups.
Bowen hints at this when, in answer to the question of why Britain has allowed members of the Muslim Brotherhood to settle and continue to operate
from within its borders, she explains that “the Brothers are important as a
source of information and access to Islamist politicians abroad” (p. 114). However, just as she was reticent on providing Mehmood Naqshbandi’s full credentials, similarly, she omits to mention that the Sufi Muslim Council, set up
as a kind of “response unit” to Salafism, was, in fact, the brainchild of certain
Neo-Conservatives in the United States.
As the ex-British ambassador to Uzbekistan, Craig Murray, sacked for
highlighting human rights abuses, has revealed:
We found that one of the prominent authors on the SMC website, who also
writes for the SMC magazine “Spirit”, is Zeyno Baran “a self confessed
neocon who works for the ultra right wing Hudson Institute. She is close to
the Uzbek regime and close to the oil and gas interests in Washington and
Central Asia.” Hedieh Mirahmadi, another member of the Sufi Muslim
Council, a practicing Naqshbandi and colleague of one of its self-proclaimed
leaders, Hisham Kabbani, is revealed to be “an apologist for the Uzbek
regime and the founder of the neocon “Committee on the Present Danger”.
She is also a foreign policy analyst at the right-wing neocon think tank, the
American Enterprise Institute.”2
Similarly to the language that the British Government used in its military
policies in Iraq and Afghanistan, Bowen echoes the “hearts and minds” mantra
that came to circulate in the media several years ago: “The Sufis may have
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won the fight to counter the influence of the Salafis. But when it comes to the
bigger battle for Muslim hearts and minds – that against the Deobandis – the
Sufis still have a long way to go” (p. 134).
Bowen also does not go further to explain why Ashur Shamis, a member
of the Muslim Brotherhood who set up a separate organization from the
Libyan Muslim Brotherhood Organization in order to overthrow Colonel
Gaddafi, was assisted by British intelligence with regard to protecting his
safety and why he was accused of receiving American and British support
(pp. 103-04).
This book is a smooth and easy read. It is well-structured and perhaps
packages existing intelligence on Muslim organizations and groups into a form
that makes it more accessible for Government members, police, and the general
reader. From an academic perspective, it requires more critical analysis of the
author’s own ideological perspective and transparency with regard to links to
those organizations from which she obtained her information.
Endnotes
1.
2.
This information was given for a conference entitled ‘Muslim-Government Relations in Changing Security Contexts’.https://www.soas.ac.uk/politics/events/
muslimgovtconf/participants/#MehmoodNaqshbandi).
https://www.craigmurray.org.uk/archives/2006/08/the_neoconserva/.
Rebecca Masterton
Director, Online Shi‘a Studies
London, United Kingdom
Imagining Muslims in South Asia and the Diaspora:
Secularism, Religion, Representations
Claire Chambers and Caroline Herbert, eds.
London and New York: Routledge, 2015. 239 pages.
Islam has been wrongly interpreted by representing it synonymous with terror
and “the Muslim,” as Hamid Dabashi maintains in Norway: Muslims and
Metaphors (2011), “is a metaphor of menace, banality and terror everywhere”
(p. 2). Consequently, Muslims in and beyond South Asia are being stigmatized
by the newly constituted environment known in the western scheme of things
as “Islamophobia.” The state of disgrace and misery of Muslims continues to
increase and is being facilitated by the biased ideas and thoughts propounded by some journalists and writers to construct often misleading and
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one-dimensional images. This had led to Muslims being harassed, dishonored,
and rebuked. The present book evinces their increasingly stereotyped and demonized portrayal.
Imagining Muslims in South Asia and the Diaspora is a critical evaluation
and analysis of representations of these Muslims in literature, the media, culture, and cinema. The essays highlight their diverse representations and the
range of approaches to questions concerning their religious and cultural identity as well as secular discourse. In addition they contextualize the depictions
against the burgeoning post-9/11 artistic interest in Islam and against cultural
responses to earlier crises in the Subcontinent, including the 1947 partition,
the 1971 war and subsequent secession of Bangladesh, the 1992 Ayodhya
riots, the 2002 Gujarat genocide, and the ongoing tension in Indian-occupied
Kashmir.
The book contains thirteen chapters divided almost into four equal sections that are aptly titled and followed by references and an index. In the introduction, editors Claire Chambers and Caroline Herbert comprehensively
present these representations by quoting various scholars to explore the existing stereotypes.
The first section comprises three chapters that examine key concepts and
issues in framing and self-fashioning Muslim identities and cultures. In the
first chapter, “The Making of a Muslim,” Tabish Khair highlights some powerful reflections on six incidents from his life that combine public events with
personal history in order to explore Muslim identity fashioning. The next
chapter, Anshuman A. Mondal’s “Representations of Young Muslims in Contemporary British South Asian Fiction,” cross-examines recent literary fiction
by setting literary representations of young Muslims, principally those produced by writers of South Asia and Muslim heritage writing in English, but
also those from other Muslim backgrounds as well as by non-Muslim writers.
The section ends with “Before and Beyond the Nation,” in which Lindsey
Moore adumbrates the many coordinates shared by female South Asian Muslim and Arab Muslim writers.
The next section contains four chapters that focus on the literary explorations of experiences and histories of cultural intermingling in (and among)
India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and the western diaspora. Muneeza Shamsie’s
“Restoring the Narration” highlights the cultural and artistic relationship between Spain and South Asia by analyzing how the English-language poetry
and fiction of contemporary South Asian writers of Muslim origin challenges
the fractious rhetoric of the present. In “Music Secularism and South Asian
Fiction,” Caroline Herbert bases her assumptions on Shashi Deshpande’s novel
Small Remedies and tries to point out the relationship among music, memory,
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and national identity. She also tries to examine what imaginative resources
(e.g., music, history, and the interaction between music and fiction) might offer
to our understanding of the minoritization of Muslim subjectives and of the
shared histories of the Subcontinents’ Muslim and Hindu cultures.
In A Shrine of Words, Rachel Farebrother seeks to synthesize two schools
of criticism on the work of Kashmiri-American poet Agha Shahid Ali by stressing his use of form and context in the troubled region of Kashmir, respectively,
by focusing on repeated images of thresholds and sacred architecture in his
The Country without a Post Office. The essay details Kashmir’s long history
of colonization, which began in 1586, and the fact that this reality has received
little attention in the West. Thus, Srinagar became a city from where no news
can come. In Hamlet in Paradise, Peter Morey explores Tariq Ali’s description
of Kashmir as “the unfinished business of Partition” and argues that Mirza Waheed’s 2011 The Collaborator is characterized by a politics of procrastination
that rejects the common positions of both India and Pakistan.
The third section is concerned with literary engagements with the politics
of extremism that exists within and beyond the nation-state. In “Liberalizing
Islam through the Bildungsroman,” E. Rashid explores Ed Husain’s The Islamist, which was shortlisted for the George Orwell Prize for the Best Political
Writing in 2008. Rashid’s examination caused him to argue that the Bildungsroman form of the memoir reflects the project of reforming British Islamism into structures of secular-liberalism. The author ends by arguing that
“The Islamist does not offer a straightforward blueprint for the political reform.
Instead, it is concerned with the anxious relationship between political reform
and narrative re-form.
In “Enchanted [R]ealms, [S]ceptical [P]erspectives,” Madeline Clements
explores the Islamic affiliations and affinities mapped by Rushdie’s post-9/11
fiction. Focusing on the transnational thriller, Shalimar the Clown inquires discursive, imaginative, or empathetic South Asian Muslim perspectives on
geopolitical events. Claire Chambers uses Tahmima Anam’s The Good Muslim
to explore Bangladeshi Islam, secularism, and the Tablighi Jamaat. Her essay
concentrates on the young Bangladeshi state’s gravitation toward the Islamic
Right since the 1980s and Anam’s representations of the Tablighi Jamaat (Society for the Propagation of Religion), a non-violent, apparently apolitical proselytizing Deobandi sect based on six foundational Islamic principles.
The final section centers upon the critique of the circulation of distorted
images of Muslim subjects in the public domain in the West. Cara Cilano’s
Saving Pakistan from Brown Men argues that the pervasiveness of both the
savior’s and the victim’s stances throughout representations of Benazir
Bhutto’s political career and “Pakistan’s last best hope democracy.” Shamira
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A. Meghani discusses contemporary British and North American discourses
on diasporic South Asian Muslims and same-sex desire and identity in her
“Queer South Asian Muslims.” In the final chapter, “After 9/11: Islamophobia
in Kamila Shamsie’s Broken Verses and Burnt Shadows,” Aroosa Kanwal details how Shamsie’s novels confront the negative international attitudes toward
Muslims and Islam, and accordingly points out the widespread misrepresentation of Islam and South Asians.
The book is about (1) imagining Muslim identities and cultures on the
basis of the literary, cinematic, and media representations of the disputed category of the South Asian Muslims and (2) the imaginings of authors with detailed and nuanced understandings of Muslim identities and cultures who, in
many cases, seek to write reply to media distortions. The essays have been
interwoven specifically to reveal how Muslims have become caught up in the
process of redefining what it means to be a Muslim and how Muslim representations have undergone a substantial change since the 1988 controversial
publication of Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses and the 9/11 tragedy. But it does
have its limitations, such as imagining Muslim representation in isolation and
not interacting with the Islamic text in any really meaningful way.
Apart from some typographical errors, the book is a concise critical analysis of representations of South Asian Muslims. Therefore, it will be helpful
for students, researchers, and academics interested in a variety of subjects to
imagine the diversity of representations of Muslims and the range of approaches to questions of Muslim religious and cultural identities as well as
secular discourse.
Showkat Ahmad Dar
Doctoral Research Scholar, Department of Islamic Studies
Aligarh Muslim University, Aligarh, India
The Lonely War: One Woman’s Account
of the Struggle for Modern Iran
Nazila Fathi
New York: Basic Books, 2014. hbk. 297 pp.
Nazila Fathi’s The Lonely War joins a number of similar journalist memoirs
by Iranian or Iranian émigrés, including Roxana Saberi’s Between Two Worlds
(Harper Collins: 2010), Ramita Navai’s City of Lies (Public Affairs: 2014), and
Maziar Bahari’s Then They Came for Me (Random House: 2011), which was
recently reissued as Rosewater and adapted into a film by The Daily Show’s
Jon Stewart. Fathi and Bahari mostly grew up in Iran, whereas Azadeh
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Moaveni and Roya Hakakian mostly grew up in the United States. Thus they
offer a different sort of history, one that is less inclined toward nostalgia or narratives of leaving and return.
As a proverbial first draft of history, Fathi’s memoir appeals to a wide audience interested in current affairs, but also to policy wonks in both the media
and politics. Fellow journalists seem captivated by such stories, particularly
when they involve the author’s attempts to analyze civil society in the Islamic
Republic. Fathi’s work will also appeal to Iranians in the diaspora, others interested in the Shi‘ah polity’s internal problems, and those concerned with questions of social class in addition to gender in the Islamic Republic.
Fathi sums up her main argument at the end of the book when she states
that Iran’s middle class has been unable to “fulfill a historic mission to create
institutional reform” (p. 267). Class is the key word here, for much of her
book focuses on the conflict between an educated secular middle class and
an uneducated or religiously indoctrinated working class. In this sense, this
book provides a popular demonstration of what sociologists Farhad Nomani
and Sohrab Behdad have analyzed at a more empirical and theoretical level
in their Class and Labor in Iran (Syracuse University Press: 2006). They argue
that much of the conflict is economic, that religious questions are manifestations of class conflict, and that class conflict is often couched in religious ideology and narrative.
Although less sociologically sophisticated, Fathi’s memoir approaches the
question of class through individual stories: hers and others. She shows how
complex conflicts of class, religion, and gender are manifested in people’s daily
lives. But although she attempts to give voice to segments of Iranian society
other than her own, she sometimes falls into broad generalizations. Some of
her stories challenge our assumptions, and others reinforce them or introduce
new ones.
The book is divided into three parts, “The Formative Years, 1979-1989,”
“Awakening, 1989-1999,” and “The Decade of Confrontation, 1999-2009,”
each of which consists of eight or nine chapters. Putting her journalistic training
to good use, Fathi deploys what is sometimes still referred to as “human interest.” Many chapters center on an individual with whom she has personal
contact (e.g., her parents’ maid Nessa and later her own maid Nasrin), representative members of a social block (e.g., Masoud, the black market VHS
seller), and public figures like President Khatami or Nobel Peace Prize winner
Shirin Ebadi.
This character-driven approach conveys her story at multiple levels. Fathi
relates these individuals’ stories in order to outline historical events and simul-
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taneously depict the social formations that result in different political loyalties.
For example, one key figure in her narrative is Nessa. Introduced in chapter 2
and reappearing in chapter 15, her story is that of how the poor and working
class both gained and suffered as a result of the Islamic Republic’s populist
ideology. This method of individual “characters” symbolizing whole sectors
of Iranian society runs through the entire memoir.
The author relates stories that are both unfamiliar to western readers,
among them the 1995 workers’ protests, and such well known (if not well understood) events as the 1979 Revolution and the 2009 protests. She presents
these events both through her own perspective and through those of figures
like Nessa. Fathi’s own perspective represents that of Iran’s educated, secular,
and reform-minded middle class that, she claims, has failed to achieve its historical mission of reform. Nessa represents the point of view of the religiously
conservative working class.
The danger in this approach is that the author sometimes tends to overgeneralize. For example, she claims that the working class is less educated and
more religious than the middle class. And, indeed, this does seem to plague
some of her narratives, especially her story of Nasrin, another domestic worker
whom she and her husband hire only to find out that she has begun to spy on
their family. But despite this tendency, Fathi’s rendering of history through her
own and others’ points of view offers a complex picture and allows her to present counterintuitive images. For example, a seemingly traditionalist Ministry
of Culture and Islamic Guidance official betrays a desire for change and freer
forms of expression, despite his traditional and conservative appearance. The
author deploys these multiple perspectives to familiarize her western readers
with historical issues that might be new to them, as well as to defamiliarize
certain events or historical situations that we take as given: that Iran’s youth,
for example, are all digitally savvy critics of the regime.
In addition to relating her story through these various perspectives, she
also uses another interesting method of narration: recurring motifs. For instance, one image that serves as a sort of coda and that appears among the
book’s photographs, is a swimming pool that comes to symbolize freedom,
particularly for women. In an early chapter entitled “Our Bodies, Our Battlefields,” Fathi tells of how she and her friends were newly required to wear
the hijab in public in their early teens, and how one night they defied a ban
on women swimming in public by plunging into a pool fully dressed but
without the hijab. This story contrasts the freedom she feels in the water with
the way her wet clothes drag her down. At the end of the memoir, she describes how, despite living in exile, she wishes she could go back to a Tehran
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in which she could plunge into a swimming pool and “swim in those waters
again” (p. 268).
Indeed, clothing and its relation to individual freedom becomes another
modest but meaningful motif in this memoir. Of course the headscarf, manteaux, full chador, and hijab in general are key images. But seemingly mundane sartorial signs became important: a schoolteacher deemed Fathi’s white
socks decadent, or Khomeini’s granddaughter Zahra Eshraghi wearing of pant
suits and cowboy boots. Men’s clothes also take on important implications,
beginning with her father’s defiantly “Western” tie but also including the plastic slippers favored by religiously conservative men, and Khatami’s pragmatic
dress shoes.
The relevance of the author’s work to Islamic history is the way she addresses class and gender in the formation and transformation of Iran. Fathi attempts to present historical moments and social movements from multiple
social points of view. Her human-interest stories relate history through the eyes
of specific “characters” other than herself or her class. However, the perspective
remains tied to her own class position, as when she describes how her housemaid Nasrin became an informer. Specifically, she notes that women like Nasrin and Nessa were favored by the regime because they were willing to serve
as symbols of religious conservatism through their modest dress and loyalty.
They were correspondingly rewarded, at least until the end of the war.
Nasrin’s access to power comes despite, and in some ways because of, her
working class background. The poor became the symbol of the Islamic Republic’s “Rule of the Oppressed” as outlined by Nomani and Behdad (Class
and Labor in Iran, p. 1), according to which the taghotian (the arrogantly
wealthy and powerful) are vanquished by the mostazafan (the dispossessed).
Fathi sees that she is caught in this struggle – this lonely war – that the Islamic
Republic created early on and which continues to plague civil society. In this
context, domestic workers like Nessa and Nasrin, along with young Basijis
from working-class and peasant backgrounds, feel a sense of entitlement and
power.
However, in depicting this sort of class conflict, Fathi’s narrative falls
prey to overgeneralization and monolithic characterization. For instance, she
notes at one point that “Nasrin was no longer my maid – she was something
else entirely” (p. 227). The status of “maid” is never really interrogated here.
Even though the author is careful to explore the economic changes that transformed Iran’s economy and shifted power, she never questions the social relations and economic conditions that give some Iranians the privilege of hiring
a maid and other Iranians the necessity to work as maids.
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Ultimately, The Lonely War provides a compelling journalistic narrative
of power struggles – of lonely wars at the national, class, and individual levels.
As such, it cannot help but fall into overgeneralizations at some points; however, overall the book is insightful, compelling, and often surprising and counterintuitive in its conclusions. I believe it is one of the strongest journalist
memoirs about Iran published during the past decade.
Babak Elahi
Associate Dean/Professor, Department of English
Rochester Institute of Technology, Rochester, NY
The Study of Shi’i Islam:
History, Theology, and Law
Farhad Daftary and Gurdofarid Miskinzoda, eds.
New York: I.B. Tauris, 2014. 616 pages.
Shi’i Islam is a broad subject encompassing history, theology, ritual, culture, and other topics. Several current monographs provide an overview of
one or more of these subject areas. Two examples that come to mind are
Pedram Khosronejad’s edited volumes on Shi’i pilgrimage, ritual, and material culture, The Art and Material Culture of Iranian Shi’ism: Iconography and Religious Devotion in Shi’i Islam (2011) and Saints and Pilgrims
in Iran and Neighboring Countries (2012). While these volumes help us
understand the pilgrimage practices, art, and other cultural expressions of
Shi’ism, they are not focused on the fundamentals, such as the movement’s
history, various theological schools, legal traditions, and textual sources.
The Study of Shi’i Islam: History, Theology, and Law helps to fill this void
with its large and serious collection of essays on Imami, Ismaili, and Zaydi
Shi’ism.
The volume is organized into eight sections: “History and Historiography,”
“The Qur’an and Its Shi’i Interpretations,” “Shi’i Hadith,” “Shi’i Law,” “Authority,” “Theology,” “Rites and Rituals,” and “Philosophy and Intellectual
Traditions.” Contributions include essays by some of the greatest contemporary
scholars working in Shi’ism, including Mohammad Ali Amir-Moezzi, Etan
Kohlberg, Sajjad Rizvi, Maria Massi Dakake, and Wilferd Madelung.
The Study of Shi’i Islam opens with a preface that includes a succinct
and important discussion about the marginalization of Shi’ism in the academy. The reasons for the lack of attention, which has been somewhat remedied in recent years, include a worldview that used Western Christianity to
create categories of Islam and the popularity of scientific Orientalism. As the
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121
editors point out, “the orientalists studied Islam according to the Sunni perspective of their manuscript sources and, borrowing classifications from their
own Christian contexts, they too treated the Sunni interpretations of Islam
as ‘orthodoxy,’ in contrast with Shi’ism which was taken to represent a ‘heterodoxy’ or, at its extreme, a ‘heresy’” (p. xvi). In much of western academic
scholarship, Sunni Islam has been presented as the proper, ordered Protestant
version of Islam and Shi’ism as its Catholic antithesis, complete with saints,
shrines, and relics.
The first section contains an introduction and three additional chapters
on the origins of Shi’ism, the field’s approach to the Ismailis, and the status
of the Fatimids in Islamic history. Written by Wilferd Madelung, the introduction includes a survey of the field of Islamic studies, which has at times
been negligent in its study of non-Sunni Islam. Madelung then moves on to
a beautiful description of early Islamic history, focusing on the Quraysh, the
Prophet’s life, the years surrounding his death, and the tensions between Ali
and the other three caliphs. As Madelung argues, a critical reflection of both
Sunni and Shi’i sources needs to take place, that is free of both sectarian
and academic biases, for the history of Islam is “still awaiting critical, unbiased investigation” (p. 16).
The remaining chapters in this section present reflections on early
Shi’ism that take into account some of the problems in the field. AmirMoezzi starts at the beginning by focusing on the phrase dīn ‘Alī (the religion of Ali), asking, “Is this not the same as Islam, as Muhammad’s
religion?” (p. 17). This is the starting point for this section and the book at
large, and points to the larger issues surrounding sectarianism in the study
of Islam.
Each section of the book starts with an introduction, an innovative and
clever way of organizing each unit that provides a framework for the following chapters. In the second section, Meir Bar-Asher gives us a survey
of Shi’i tasfīr that includes an extensive reflection on Qur’anic exegesis as
well as the Shi’i approaches to tasfīr. Even for a novice in Shi’i studies, this
is an indispensible resource for the teaching of Islamic studies courses ranging from the Qur’an to Islamic history. Bar-Sher does us the favor of including a wide range of Shi’i voices – Imami, Zaydi, and Ismaili – rather
than privileging one school of thought over the other. The remaining chapters in this section examine Shi’i exegesis in historical perspective, exegesis
and its relationship to esoteric interpretations of the text, ta’wīl and mystical
thought, and the question of authority. Students interested in gender and
other identities situated in power dynamics may find this last chapter espe-
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cially illuminating; Bar-Asher asks important questions about privilege that
need attention.
The third section examines the Hadith, the great corpus of literature that
stands alongside the Qur’an. Etan Kohlberg’s introduction provides a clear
and useful explanation of the differences between Sunni and Shi’i hadiths as
well as the status of these reports in the Imami, Zaydi, and Ismaili communities. This crucial aid points out the differences among various strains of Shi’i
thought that help determine their various legal systems. This essay is followed
by Maria Dakake’s investigation of early Shi’i writings and their contributions
to a counter-narrative that is distinct from Sunni sources. As she argues, the
Shi’i corpus
presents a direct contrast to some of the prevailing conceptions of knowledge and its transmission in the contemporaneous Sunni tradition, and this
points to a unique and coherent Shi’i view of the nature of religious knowledge which was consistent with its larger theological premises, and which
existed as a subtext of Shi’i sectarian differences with the non-Shi’i community. (p. 201)
The two remaining chapters in the section cover pre-Buyid hadiths and
the hadith of the “pen and paper,” in which the Prophet reportedly wished to
write something on his deathbed. The focus here is on the variety of reports
surrounding this episode and how they contribute to our understanding of Hadith as a genre. As the author of this chapter, Gurdofarid Miskinzoda, puts it,
“the main value of such a story is not whether what it tells us is true or false,
but rather what is its purpose” (p. 231).
The fourth section focuses on Shi’i law. Mohyddin Yahia authors the
introduction, which, in contrast to the previous sections, discusses each of
the chapters that follow. He also uses the example of temporary marriage
(zawāj al-mut‘ah) to discuss larger issues involving Sunni and Shi’i legal
traditions. Here, the author concentrates on the Imami tradition, the ways
in which it relates to Shi’i fiqh in general, and the differences between earlier and later Shi’i approaches to the law. The remaining chapters examine
disparate topics that fall under the umbrella of law. The first, by Christopher
Melchert, focuses on Islamic piety, the development of such Shi’i devotional traditions as mourning; recollection (dhikr), a central practice among
Sufis; fasting and extra prayers; and other traditions that resemble taṣawwuf
(Sufism).
The author also makes a connection to Sunni Islam by describing the
“considerable overlap between Shi’i and Sunni sayings about renunciation”
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123
(p. 293) and suggesting that some of what we think of as Shi’i may in fact be
Sunni. As for the link between Shi’ism and Sufism, this is left open-ended
with the comment that “the Twelvers seem to have been opposed to them from
the start” (p. 294). This leaves the reader no choice but to identify Shi’i piety
with those practices so common in various Sufi orders, whether it was disavowed by Imami authorities or not.
This question of authority is taken up in the fifth part, which examines
questions surrounding doctrine, power, and authority in Shi’ism. Andrew
Newman’s introduction covers a wide breadth of topics, all of them important
for the chapters that follow. He begins by discussing the state of the field and
the contributions of scholars like Amir-Moezzi, Rahnema, and Dabashi, and
then goes on to talk about more recent trends in scholarship, including the attention given to non-Twelver branches as well as political Shi’ism such as
Hezbollah. He concludes by presenting the three chapters in this section, including his own on Twelver theology and its inclusion of “non-elite voices”
(p. 389). All of these contributions provide a more complicated picture of Shi’i
authority than is often assumed. As Sajjad Rizvi writes, “The theological and
philosophical structure in a sense took precedence over any corroborating scripture —it was the heart of the believer illuminated by the love and fidelity to
walaya that guided one to truth” (p. 410).
Part 6 includes two essays on theology, prefaced by Madelung’s introduction, in which he provides a succinct and helpful summary of the subject.
For those unfamiliar with the impact of Mu’tazilite theology on Islam or on
the Zaydi point of view, this is an indispensible resource. Madelung also highlights the Imamate, various schisms within Shi’ism, and the classical philosophical influences on Shi’i theology. His chapter follows the introduction on
early theology in the work of al-Kulayni, which examines some large theological questions, among them free will and God’s omnipotence, as well as
the Mu’tazilite voice within these debates. Like much of the book, it is a useful
resource for the classroom, in teaching about Islamic theology, some of the
early debates surrounding serious issues, and the influence of Greek thought
on these questions. The other chapter in this section, authored by Hassan
Ansari and Sabine Schmidtke, takes up the work of al-Tusi and its reception
among Shi’i thinkers.
The following section examines rites and rituals, a particularly interesting
topic given the numerous supplications, gatherings, pilgrimages, and commemorations popular in Shi’ism. Gerald R. Hawting points to this rich culture
in his introduction, which includes numerous commemorations of the deaths
of martyrs as well as other important occasions. He also argues that some of
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the practices in Shi’i Islam may reflect traditions of other Abrahamic faiths
that are rooted in the past. For instance, “Although it is understood primarily
as a ritual of commemoration, it is clear that ‘Ashura has its roots in ancient
ideas of sin and atonement” that has an association with “the Day of Atonement in Judaism” (p. 505).
The following chapter focuses on this solemn occasion – ‘Ashura – by
looking at its performance in Lebanon and India. In this chapter, Sabrina Mervin provides us with a detailed account of the Battle of Karbala, in which
Husayn, the Prophet’s grandson, was killed along with most of his companions. This event sets up the five rituals that comprise ‘Ashura: the pilgrimage (ziyārah) to Husayn’s shrine, the gathering at which mourning is
expressed (majlis Ḥusaynī), the public processions (mawkib Ḥusaynī), the selfmortification (zanjīr/tatbīr), and the dramatic re-enactments of the battle in
the form of “passion plays” (ta‘ziyah). She also discusses the gendered aspects of these rituals, the representation of religious imagery, and the religious
authorities’ attempts to curb the practice of self-mortification. The final chapter examines the Ismailis of Central Asia and their ceremony of the Luminous
Lamp (Chiragh-i rawshan), in which a series of rituals culminates in the
lighting of a lamp.
The final section in this volume focuses upon philosophy, a vast and rich
subject that is at times more theological than the tradition of falsafah with
which some Islamic scholars are more familiar. As Daniel De Smet writes in
his introduction, some of these works would be considered “a form of theology, mixed with mystical and ‘esoteric’ speculations” (p. 545). He goes on
to define general concepts in the field of philosophy and then Shi’i philosophy, providing a history, discussing Ismaili Neoplatonism, and outlining
Twelver Shi’i philosophical thought and theology. After this useful project,
the two remaining chapters take up two individuals – Shahrastani and Ibn
Sina – and examine their contributions to Shi’i philosophy and Islamic
thought in general.
The volume ends with Azim Nanji’s epilogue, a thoughtful albeit brief
one-page reflection on the study of Islam and Marshall Hodgson’s contribution
to it, which as he writes, “overturned the assumption of a normative Islam” (p.
599). This is the final contribution in this fine collection of scholarship, and
serves as a reminder of the rich, varied, and complex tradition that constitutes
Islam, to which the Shi’as have contributed a great deal.
Sophia Rose Arjana
Faculty, Iliff School of Theology
Iliff School of Theology, Denver, CO
Book Reviews
Men in Charge? Rethinking Authority
in Muslim Legal Tradition
Ziba Mir-Hosseini, Mulki Al-Sharmani, and Jana Rumminger, eds.
London: Oneworld Publications, 2014. 286 pages.
125
At a time when men’s assumption of leadership roles through all-male events
and publications is a popular phenomenon, Men in Charge?, a byproduct of
a project by the women-led organization Musawah, could not have been published at a more opportune moment. Comprising a foreword by Zainah Anwar,
Musawah’s director, an introduction by the editors, and ten chapters from academics and activists of varied backgrounds, the book historicizes and problematizes the Islamic idea of qiwāmah (authority) and wilāyah (guardianship),
among other legal patriarchal precepts. It successfully argues that the Islamic
legal tradition with regards to gender roles rests on the false notion of male
superiority.
Men in Charge? carries immeasurable value for scholars and students
of Islam, religion, women’s and gender studies, activists working toward gender-egalitarianism, and (Muslim) feminists seeking empowerment within a
religious framework. It also speaks to reform leaders and lawmakers in Muslim states, who might better understand the fundamental assumptions upon
which family laws operate and their disconnect from the reality that women
and families face. The book’s major success lies in covering several important
layers of the myth of male authority, from the theoretical gaps in the notions
of qiwāmah, wilāyah, and istikhlāf to a practical examination of the impact of
these legal principles and proposals for new and creative approaches for feminists to apply in their vision of a gender-egalitarian Islam.
Men in Charge? can be divided into two sections: (1) a theoretical discussion of the problems raised through fiqh rulings on gender and proposes
new ways through which Muslim feminists can approach those problems and
(2) an analysis of the established ideals’ practical impacts. Ziba Mir-Hosseini’s discussion in the first chapter, “Muslim Legal Tradition and the Challenge of Gender Equality,” effectively contextualizes the book’s broader
discussion: What Muslim scholars did in the early twentieth century to challenge the legal tradition’s normative thought in an effort to move toward
more democratic and egalitarian family systems.
According to the ideas of the scholars from the past and those from the
more modern period, there appears to be an inconsistency between the two
groups’ understanding of “woman.” This suggests that the idea of woman is
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reified, rather than clearly defined, by “Islam.” Omaima Abou-Bakr, in “The
Interpretive Legacy of Qiwāmah as an Exegetical Construct,” shows this by
tracing the evolving meaning of qawwamūn in the exegetical tradition. She
demonstrates that through multiple interpretive philosophies, the Qur’an’s descriptive reference to men as qawwamun evolved historically into the normative prescriptive construction of qiyām (later qiwāmah). This concept thus
gradually developed as a juristic model that shapes hierarchical gender relations in Muslim family dynamics.
Asma Lamrabet continues this evolutionary approach by discussing the
evolution of three concepts from what was, she argues, originally Qur’anically intended to be spiritual conceptions to what later emerges as a patriarchal tool against women: “istikhlaf (equality in building human civilization),
wilayah (shared responsibility of men and women), and qiwamah (management of public and private space by men and women)” (p. 66). She also highlights the role of politics in these terms’ shifting definitions. Her argument
that qiwāmah was never meant to be understood as an honor but as a responsibility that functions exclusively within a normative framework of conjugal
relations, may be seen as a subtle reaffirmation of the traditional claim that
the husbands’ responsibility for their wives validates their authority over
women. However, Lamrabet denies any direct link between responsibility
and authority, arguing that existing links result from the patriarchal conceptual framework of traditional notions of marriage. The chapter is an excellent
example of Muslim jurists’ compromising Qur’anic principles in order to enforce patriarchy.
Ayesha Chaudhry and Sa‘diyya Shaikh offer insightful strategies for feminists. In her “Producing Gender-Egalitarian Islamic Law: A Case Study of
Guardianship (Wilāyah) in Prophetic Practice,” Chaudhry writes how Muslim
feminists and reformers can challenge forced marriages and increase women’s
agency in marriage and divorce. She suggests that viewing Prophet Muhammad as a complex figure – who, while a part of a patriarchal social milieu,
made efforts to interrupt patriarchy and limit men’s rights – would solidify
the gender-egalitarian cause. Recognizing that her strategy may appear disingenuous and selective, Chaudhry reminds readers that selective approaches
like this “have always appeared in Muslim writings, in the pre- and postcolonial periods” (p. 103).
Similarly, Shaikh suggests, in her “Islamic Law, Sufism, and Gender: Rethinking the Terms of the Debate,” that a Sufi-oriented approach to evaluating
gender relations in fiqh can extract a benevolent interpretation of the Shari‘ah.
Her analysis of Ibn Arabi’s ontological framework based on the relationship
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127
between jamāl (beauty) and jalāl (majesty) as fundamental to Islam, as well
as his religious constructions of “women,” “men,” and God-human relationships, are especially useful arguments for Muslim feminists. Further, her compelling discussion of Muslim religious anthropology, which “addresses
question of what it means to be a human being from a religious perspective”
(p. 106), provides new avenues for re-examining Muslims’ relations with each
other and with God.
Concentrating on the family codes in Morocco and the United Arab Emirates, Lynn Welchman’s chapter functions as a transition into the practical and
legal adaptations of wilāyah and qiwāmah discussed in proceeding chapters.
Welchman offers a brief history of the codification processes and the reforms
of family laws in the Arab world under the aegis of larger political powers. Exploring issues of maintenance, obedience, divorce, and male guardianship over
children, she also examines the Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of
Discrimination against Women’s (CEDAW) reports on women in the Arab
world. The chapter also discusses the CEDAW committee’s critical engagements with laws that, taking a man’s qiwāmah as a norm, secure the husband’s
status as the head of the family and the rights he enjoys in exchange.
The last three chapters examine the practical impact of ideas of wilāyah
and qiwāmah and their failure to speak to women’s realities as well as to protect their rights. Marwa Sharafeldin investigates Egyptian activists’ efforts
to reform the current Personal Status Law (PSL), which has a detrimental
effect on women and families. She explores the contentious relationship between the NGOs’ proposals for reforms and the dominant Islamic jurisprudence: On the one hand, the reforms view qiwāmah as a shared responsibility
between spouses, but on the other they maintain the historic juristic pairing
of the wife’s obedience in exchange for the husband’s maintenance.
Sharafeldin also shows that attempts at reform are highly influenced by political and socioeconomic factors, as well as the activists’ own ideological
and religious situatedness. The author’s brief discussion on the relationship
between knowledge and authority, in terms of interrogating traditional standards of valid Shari‘ah interpretations, is a significant contribution to the
volume.
In the next chapter, Lena Larsen explores how Muslims deal with the
tensions between the lived realities of Muslim women in Western Europe
and the idealized notion of marital roles in juristic doctrine. Larsen concludes, from fatwas issued by Syed ad-Darsh and the European Council for
Fatwa and Research (ECFR), that muftis maintain the prevailing juristic
gender-complementarity and hierarchy model despite acknowledging the
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changing realities that challenge it and their failure to provide any substantive solutions to the new problems that juristic ideals pose for the contemporary Muslim family.
Co-written by Mulki Al-Sharmani and Jana Rumminger, “Understanding Qiwāmah and Wilāyah through Life Stories” continues the practical considerations of these concepts and shows how men’s juristic rights affect
women. The author’s aims to collect women’s stories included producing
knowledge that would facilitate social and political reforms in the participating countries. Many of the collected stories illustrate that male guardianship over women rarely functions as a system of security and protection for
young women; rather, it becomes a tool of exploitation and marginalization.
The women’s experiences with challenging and often oppressive gender relations in their marriages become a source of knowledge for them about
Islam, or at least a motivating force to question the established norms and
their pertinence to and impact on their lives.
The last chapter, “The Ethics of Tawḥīd over the Ethics of Qiwāmah,”
presents a moving account by Amina Wadud in which she exposes various failures of the idea of qiwāmah in fiqh. She first ponders the impact of slavery on
African-American family structures that dominant juristic discourses neither
represent nor acknowledge. She then argues that that the notion of qiwāmah
contradicts tawḥīd because it requires unequal relations among humans. Her
proposed tawhidic paradigm replaces the existing vertical hierarchy of God
above man and man above woman with God above both men and women. In
this view, women and men are in a direct and vertical relation with God, but in
a direct and horizontal relation with each other.
The common themes pursued across the book deserve a mention. Some
authors (e.g., Mir-Hosseini and Sharafeldin) explicitly point out that the reforms of family laws in Muslim countries fail to acknowledge the very assumptions of marriage posited by the Muslim legal tradition: that God
placed women under male authority and that marriage is a contract of exchange and sale. Abou-Bakr and Lambrabet expose the circular logic that
God granted men this authority because they are superior due to their socially privileged status as men. Importantly, also, the discussion of gender
privileges a specific set of gender roles and rights, overlooking other important ones. Welchman and Larsen briefly discuss the disregard of traditional inheritance rights, and Sharafeldin addresses the lack of mention of
inheritance laws as well as women’s right to interfaith marriages in reforms.
However, all three chapters could have benefited from a more thorough
analysis of these omissions.
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129
The book maintains a fine balance of the theory and practice of qiwāmah
and wilāyah. While at times feeling slightly repetitive – for example, many
chapters repeat the meanings and origin of qiwāmah – it promises to be an important part of the canon on Islamic feminist scholarship. The message of a
clear contradiction between the Qur’an and its interpretations cannot be highlighted enough. Men in Charge? is a continuation of the Islamic feminist struggle to convey this message, to show the contradictions within the Islamic
tradition itself, and, in fact, to deconstruct the mere idea of an “Islamic tradition” and question its authority.
Shehnaz Haqqani
Doctoral Candidate, Islamic Studies
University of Texas at Austin, Austin, TX
Prophet Muhammad: The Sultan of Hearts
Resit Haylamaz and Fatih Harpci
Clifton, NJ: Tughra Books, 2014. vol. 1: 531 pages; vol. 2: 490 pages.
For those seeking solace from the trepidations of this world, Prophet Muhammad: The Sultan of Hearts is a thoughtful work of reflection and comfort.
This two-volume comprehensive narrative of enchanted times recollecting
the “Prophetic” summoning introduces the readers to Prophet Muhammad’s
sīrah (biography) within a lucid and flowing stream of emotion. More than
simply an effort to record events, stating who said what and did what based
upon whose narration, as many of the traditional biographies tend to do, this
work infuses events with meanings and feelings. As the authors indicate, the
purpose is not to speak about the Prophet, but to “let him be observed in his
own actions” (p. xvi), creating thereby an “awareness” of his life not as a sole
figure, but “in connection with his companions” in order to “present a life
model that has been miraculously constructed” (p. xvi).
This sīrah is not about reinterpreting events. In fact, a great deal of what
it says falls back on the earlier and primary biographies of such figures as Ibn
Hisham, Ibn Sa‘d, Ibn Kathir, Ibn Abd al-Barr, and al-Tabari, as well as the
nine Sunni canonical Hadith collections (p. xvii). Its claim to novelty is not
due to this “synthesis” alone, but more to its focus on the Prophet’s life in society as a member of that society, rather than on the wars in which he engaged,
as if those events were the most significant aspects of his mission (p. xiii).
The authors’ intention, as they put it, is not simply to speak about the Prophet
in their own descriptions, but rather to observe him in his own actions. His
multi-dimensional personality is brought forth not only as a Prophet, but also
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as a human being, father, husband, friend, leader, and judge, among numerous
other roles and dimensions, but above all as a mercy to humanity in a world
in which “people were neither distanced nor ‘otherized’” (p. xv).
This biographical account is divided into two rather extensive volumes.
The first one starts from the very beginning: Ibrahim’s prayer in the valley
of Bakka (Makkah) that Allah to send a Messenger from his progeny to call
its inhabitants to the way of faith. It also offers the harbingers and signs related and leading to the cosmic call of Muhammad, the “Seal of the
Prophets.” The second chapter, in fact, is titled “The Shared Request of All
Prophets,” as they all spoke and prophesied about him. The following chapters trace what ancient scholars said about his advent, the Prophet’s lineage,
the incident of the elephant, his life as an orphan, his high status among the
Makkans, the start of the revelation and the subsequent hardships, the
Prophet’s migration to Madinah, and, finally, the Muslims’ victory over the
unbelievers at the Battle of Badr.
Starting with the first volume, it is interesting to cite the hadith in which
Allah tells Adam that “had it not been for Muhammad, I would not have created you” (p. 9), as this indicates a full historico-divine cycle in which Prophet
Muhammad is both a beginning and an end. His calling and sending, that is,
becomes the real “end of history” not in the sense that there is nothing after
it, but in the sense that this was the moment of perfection in human history.
Events before the calling were all leading to this climax, after which it they
would start moving toward the end of time.
It is perhaps within this context that the tradition that the Prophet had been
sent with the “Hour” well-nigh may be understood. Hence the obligation that
all of the prophets and revelations before Muhammad had to foretell him, as
well as the crucial significance, as another historico-divine cycle, of the Mahdi’s
future coming and Jesus’ return as a “re-celebration” of him. The first cycle is
the end of history, whereas the second cycle is the end of time. No wonder that
Muhammad was the shared request of all prophets (p. 8), for it was a collective
appeal for the perfect “moment.” As prophets of Allah, they were naturally
yearning for that moment as an act of faith, reason, and lineage.
Their plea was heard when a new star was born (p. 50) to herald his advent
and birth, and when a Jewish merchant in Makkah, recognizing the sign, cried
out: “The tribe of Israel has now lost the lineage of Prophethood. This is how
it’s written. Now the Prophethood rests with the Arabs….” (p. 51). Even before the Prophet’s time had come, the harbingers of his arrival were anchored
in place when Muhammad earned the title of “the Trustworthy” (al-Amīn) not
for his power or wealth, but because of his stature and respect (p. 75).
Book Reviews
131
Such was his stature that perhaps, against much of the custom of those
days, it was Khadijah, Muhammad’s first and most beloved wife who was fifteen years his senior, who proposed marriage even though he was working
for her (p. 85). In a straightforward manner that might have perplexed many
modern-day women, she said:
O my uncle’s son! Verily I am interested in marrying you because of our
close family ties. Your remarkable status within your tribe, your beautiful
morals and your steadfastness in protecting what is entrusted to you and in
speaking the truth…. (pp. 87-88)
This was not simply an instance of personal judgment. When the Makkans
decided to repair the damaged Ka‘bah, a dispute erupted between the tribes
as to which one would have the honor of placing the Black Stone back in its
spot. The dispute threatened to turn into something more serious before Abu
Umayyah, the oldest male Qurayshi, suggested that they appoint a judge. They
agreed that the first man to enter the Ka‘bah’s doors would be the judge. Auspiciously, this person turned out to be Muhammad. Thus even before his
prophethood they were willing to accept the decision of the “Trustworthy.”
He asked them to place the Black Stone on a piece of cloth, thereby allowing
each tribe to hold a side and lift it up, after which he raised the stone with his
own hands and placed it back where it belonged (pp. 94-96).
Ironically, when he declared his prophetic calling, the Quraysh’s leadership turned against him despite being unable to question his integrity or trustworthiness (p. 163).l In fact, it was easier to claim that he was an oracle, a
poet, or a magician, even when none of these would stick, than to accuse him
of being untrustworthy. Even his unbelieving uncle Abu Lahab’s denunciation
of the Prophet as a liar (p. 167) found no resonance among the people. In fact,
Abu Jahl, another of his sworn enemies, actually admitted that “Muhammad
tells the truth; he never lies!” (p. 226).
Yet attempts were made to injure the Prophet’s family by forcing his sonsin-law to divorce his daughters Ruqqayah, Umm Kulthum, and Zaynab. Abu
al-‘As, Zaynab’s husband, refused to do so; the other two complied. This was
a source of great grief to the Prophet and his family (pp. 190-91). His Companions, especially those who were poor, were also abused and tortured by
the unbelievers, frequently beyond endurance (pp. 201-03). The town’s entire
atmosphere became highly charged when, as the authors put it, “everyone had
practically become a spy… and people were like parasites, carrying information to and from one another” (p. 207). This reality, together with the death of
his uncle Abu Talib and Khadijah, as well as the Qurayshi plan to kill him,
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led the Prophet to migrate to Madinah. Despite all of the trials and tribulations
that followed – fighting the Makkan and other pagans and facing the conspiracies of the Jews and the Hypocrites – this was the beginning of a new era
and a new civilization (pp. 441 and 437), the details of which follow in the
second volume.
Volume 2 opens with the aftermath of the Battle of Badr and the developments that led to the Battle of Uhud and the Muslims’ defeat a year later. It
then presents the Battle of the Trench, when the large number of tribes that
had gathered to invade Madinah were forced to withdraw by a strong wind.
This is then followed by chapters dealing with the Prophet’s umrah; his sending of ambassadors to Abyssinia, Byzantine, the Copts of Egypt, and Kisra
the Emperor of Persia; the Battle of Khybar with the Jews; the conquest of
Makkah; and finally with the Prophet’s death.
Haylamaz and Harpci’s biography has contributed a highly commendable
and laudable work that weaves Islam into the present as a living reality. The
two volumes are an emotional journey into the Prophet’s life, one takes readers
beyond the traditional chronological accounts. It is more about the spiritual
elements of beauty and justice in Islam over and above strict legalities. Their
claim to originality carries the readers through time, back in history to Islam’s
source, and then reconnects them to the present. They purport to show how
the “Abu Lahabs” and “Abu Jahls” of olden times still live among us, reflecting pride, arrogance, and the denial of truth, along with a call to the “Abu
Bakrs, Umars, Uthmans and Alis of our age to duty” (p. xiii).
Essentially, this work summons Muslims to their “calling.” What this
sīrah contributes is not new information or interpretations, but the way it paints
a spiritual portrait that takes the Prophet’s life and Islam beyond the mere limitations of ritualism, to which both have unfortunately been reduced in contemporary times. As one astute observer has put it, ritualism is what is left of
a religion after it has lost its spirit.2
Endnotes
1.
2.
Page 161 states, incorrectly, that Safiyya bint Abd al-Muttalib (the Prophet’s
aunt) was the “wife of Abu Lahab.” Acutally, she was his half-sister. Abu Lahab’s
wife was Umm Jamil bint Harb, as p. 165 states.
Source not available.
Amr Sabet
Department of Political Science, Lugnet Campus
Dalarna University, Falun, Sweden
Forum
Sunni-Shi’i Rapprochement:
Internal Contradictions
Hamid Mavani
Abstract
Ecumenical initiatives to promote Sunni-Shi’i reconciliation and
mutual respect have failed to take root because they do not tackle
the incendiary issues that prompt each branch to view the other with
disdain, if not as outright apostates or unbelievers. I argue that this
will not change until the main fault lines in their worldviews, communal self-understanding, sacred narratives, history, theology, and
philosophy are confronted head-on.
If this cannot be done, then all proclamations of Muslim unity and
brotherhood/sisterhood under one ummah will remain hollow and
lack substance, because each side’s internal discourse would remain
unchanged. Any type of mutual tolerance and coexistence prompted
by expediency and power dynamics cannot be expected to be deeprooted and long-lasting. The United States, along with such other
local and foreign players as Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Iran, Iraq, and
Syria, have instrumentalized Sunni-Shi’i sectarianism to promote
their own myopic vested interests. The result is clear for all to see:
an exponential increase in Sunni-Shi’i antagonism.
Hamid Mavani’s expertise in Islamic studies stems is solidly grounded on academic training
and specialized theological training at traditional seminaries in the Muslim world. His primary
fields of interest include Islamic legal reform, women and Shi‘i law, Islamic theology and political thought, Islam and secularity, transnational Islam in Asia, intra-Muslim discourse, and
Muslims in North America. In addition to authoring Religious Authority and Political Thought
in Twelver Shi‘ism: From Ali to Post-Khomeini (Routledge: 2013) and a number of articles, he
also translates Arabic- and Persian-language Islamic texts into English. His current major book
research project deals with the structural and foundational reform of the principles of Islamic
legal theory. He is presently assistant professor of religion, Claremont Graduate University,
Claremont, CA.
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Introduction
It is no exaggeration to assert that almost all ecumenical initiatives (taqrīb almadhāhib) at promoting Sunni-Shi’i rapprochement have failed to take root
and sustain themselves. As a matter of fact, one can make a case that the contemporary Sunni-Shi’i rivalry and aversion is rapidly spiraling downward and
has reached a fever pitch in Syria, Iraq, Yemen, Bahrain, Afghanistan, Lebanon,
and Saudi Arabia. I argue that this failure is a logical outcome of structural and
foundational differences that have gradually become crystallized in each party’s
worldviews, communal self-understanding, sacred narratives, history, theology,
and philosophy, all of which regard the “other” as having deviated from the
normative, pristine, pure, unadulterated, and ideal Islam.
No meaningful reconciliation can take place without addressing these
vital issues and accepting the other as equal, both of which mean going beyond
tolerance and toleration. If this is not done, the potential for sectarian warfare,
in spite of the apparent sectarian harmony, will always remain simmering just
below the surface, ready to erupt due to acute tension or a perceived vulnerability. While the laudable and courageous efforts of Shaykh Mahmud Shaltut
(d. 1963), the rector of al-Azhar University who issued a historic fatwa that
proclaimed the validity of the legal school of Twelver Shi’ism and permitted
it to be taught at al-Azhar1 are noteworthy, a sustained and robust rapprochement can only come about by addressing doctrinal disagreements.
However, the recent upsurge in communal tensions and conflicts cannot
be attributed solely to doctrinal matters or the misuse and abuse of Islam. The
conflicts are now so complex and deep-seated that no single factor can be
blamed and no single solution can be devised to resolve them. The multifaceted conflicts are partly due to economic (e.g., poverty and economic exploitation) and political (e.g., the inequitable distribution of the state’s powers
and resources) factors, along with foreign influence and invasions.
And then there are the ethnic, cultural, and religious elements used to accentuate, exacerbate, and justify these conflicts even further. Consequently,
one must understand that these conflicts are rarely one dimensional, for all of
these factors are involved and, at times, exploited and manipulated to advance
the participants’ own vested interests. As such, although local and foreign
players do play a role in fanning and sustaining the flames of sectarian identity
and then exploit and instrumentalize the generated hatred and animosity to
pursue their own goals, in my estimation they are no more than secondary actors in the sense that they only magnify and exacerbate the existing sectarian
antagonism. This mutual antipathy has degenerated into detonating bombs
within mosques full of worshippers and pronouncing the other as an apostate
Mavani: Sunni-Shi’i Rapprochement: Internal Contradictions
135
(takfīr), a largely Wahhabi and Salafi undertaking directed against the Shi’is
and Sufis.
The Prophet’s death in 632 confronted the community with a major crisis
of authority and leadership: Who would succeed him as ruler in both the temporal and religious domains? After an intense, protracted, and acrimonious
debate, Abu Bakr, an early convert and the father of Muhammad’s wife,
Ayesha, was chosen to succeed him in temporal matters only. Ali’s supporters,
who crystallized as the Shi’is, interpreted this act as a sin, a glaring act of disobedience to the Prophet’s directive on Ali’s succession, and the usurpation
of his right to lead. Historians from both branches of Islam have attempted to
minimize the differences between the Companions and gloss over their disputes to project the image as homogenous and united; however, the fact remains that the succession acrimony was the beginning of a major rupture that
has only widened over time.
It is important to note that from the Shi’i perspective, the genesis of this
split was not a political dispute on who should become the caliph, but rather
one of who should be arrogated with the mandate to continue to provide authentic and authoritative leadership and guidance in both the temporal and religious affairs, given that the Muslim community was still in its infancy phase
and quite fragile. They argued that such a function could only devolve on a
person who was graced with the divine gift of infallibility.
Shi’i polemical works view the first three caliphs, namely, Abu Bakr,
Umar, and Uthman, as illegitimate rulers and usurpers, demagogues and political opportunists whose plans to seize power were helped along by two of
the Prophet’s wives: Ayesha (daughter of Abu Bakr) and Hafsa (daughter of
Umar). In one case, the Qur’an explicitly reprimands Hafsa: “The Prophet
told something in confidence to one of his wives [Hafsa] and she disclosed it
[to Ayesha]—God made this known to him…” (Q. 66:3) and “His [i.e.,
Muhammad’s] Lord may well replace you [Hafsa and Ayesha] with better
wives if the Prophet decides to divorce any of you: wives who are devoted to
God, true believers, …” (Q. 66:5). Thus, you find very few Shi’is named
Ayesha, Hafsa, Abu Bakr, Umar, or Uthman.
But some of the Twelve Imams, whom the Shi’is regard as infallible and
divinely appointed through an explicit decree and as the Prophet’s legitimate
successors, did just that: The First Imam, Ali, named two of his sons Umar
and Uthman; the Third Imam, Husayn b. Ali, named two of his sons Uthman
and Abu Bakr; the Fourth Imam, Zayn al-Abidin, named one son Umar; the
Seventh and the Tenth Imams, Musa al-Kadhim and Muhammad al-Jawad,
respectively, each named a daughter Ayesha.2
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From the Shi’i perspective, this usurpation of Ali’s right to lead is the genesis of all the injustice, oppression, and corruption that befell – as will continue
to befall – the Muslims until the return of the Messianic Imam: the Mahdi.
This includes the Sunni caliphs’ persecution of the Shi’is and killing of
the infallible Imams. They argue that if Ali had been allowed to lead, the community would have avoided these crises because he was gifted with the attribute of infallibility and inerrancy. As such, even the slaughter of the
Prophet’s grandson Husayn b. Ali (d. 680) and his supporters on the plains of
Karbala, Iraq, was the direct consequence of the deliberations at Saqifah, the
assembly hall where the proceedings to select Abu Bakr were held.
It is in this context that the Shi’is petition the Mahdi to return and correct
the wrongs by establishing justice and equity on Earth and avenging the indignities perpetrated by the Umayyads upon Husayn, his family, and followers. In other words, the victory and vindication of Shi’ism is linked to the
reappearance of the Mahdi who will fight against the bughāt – defined in Shi’i
literature as those who fought against any of the Twelve infallible Imams or
usurped their authority – to first transform the dār al-Islām (Abode of Islam)
to dār al-īmān (Abode of Conviction or True Faith), before battling against
the apostates, People of the Book or the polytheists.
Moreover in the Shi’i narrative, part of which is shared by Sunni scholars
such as Ibn Qutaybah,3 after Abu Bakr’s assumption of power Umar went to
Ali’s house to forcibly obtain his allegiance (bay‘ah) to the new caliph. When
he refused to respond, Umar threatened to torch the house and break down
the front door. Fatima, the Prophet’s daughter and Ali’s wife, reprimanded
him and reminded him of the Prophet’s statement concerning her high status
and the reverence due her. Ignoring her words, Umar stormed the front door
and caused Fatima, who was standing behind it, to fall to the ground and suffer
a miscarriage.
Ayatollah Hosein Fadlollah (d. 2010) of Lebanon declared this account
ahistorical, questionable, and incredulous on the grounds that Ali, who was
famed for his battlefield bravery and fearlessness and considered the personification of Arab muruwwah (chivalry), would not have remained silent and
passive when confronted with such an egregious violation of his family’s sanctity. This break from tradition resulted in virulent fatwas issued by Ayatollahs
Wahid Khorasani, Fazil Lankarani (d. 2007), Bashir Husayn Najafi, Husayn
Nuri Hamadani, Muhammad Taqi Behjat (d. 2009), Taqi Qummi, Jawad
Tabrizi (d. 2006), and other leading jurists. Eminent jurists also tacitly approved the publication of several books written to refute his views and
methodology by not coming to his defense.
Mavani: Sunni-Shi’i Rapprochement: Internal Contradictions
137
The scene of Fatimah falling to the ground and aborting her child is etched
in the memory of all and evokes strong emotions that ultimately demonize
and dehumanize all Sunnis. Thus Umar is generally viewed as the arch enemy
and even today many parts of the Shi’i world celebrate his death at the hand
of Abu Lu’lu with great joy and fanfare, known as Omar koshān (It is said
that the assassin’s shrine, located in Kashan, Iran, was shut down in 2007 at
the instruction of Ayatollah Mohamad Taskhiri, an exponent of Sunni-Shi’i
rapprochement). In addition, Abu Bakr refused to give Fatima the Fadak estate
as part of her inheritance on the grounds that prophets leave nothing for their
posterity to inherit. She expressed her displeasure with both men, accused
them of usurping her husband’s rightful succession, and never spoke with
them again.4 It is of little significance whether these reports are historically
factual or not so long as Shi’is perceive them to be accurate, factual, and in
direct contravention to the Prophet’s statement that “Fatima is a part of me,
and he who makes her angry, makes me angry.”5
These doctrinal and historical issues constitute serious impediments to
any durable rapprochement even in the presence of asserted major areas of
overlap and commonalities, such as the shared major tenets of faith (e.g.,
monotheism, the Day of Resurrection, and the finality of prophethood) and
ritual practices (e.g., prayers, fasting, and pilgrimage); the same prayer direction (qiblah); the affirmation that the Qur’an is God’s verbatim speech that
has been perfectly preserved in its original; and that both branches follow the
Prophet’s Sunnah (i.e., his statements, practices, and tacit approval).
While legal accommodation on rituals is easier to accomplish, this is not
the case with the significant interpretive divergences emanating from the doctrine of Imamate: Only the infallible Twelve Imams can interpret the Qur’an
and prophetic traditions authoritatively,6 and thus only they can succeed the
Prophet as religio-political figures and, as such, an explicit appointment was
made in Ali’s favor:
Ali did not base his right to the succession on an implied appointment by
Muhammad. Rather he claimed to have had the best title … It was not a secondary thesis developed by the Shīʻah after his death but an essential part
of his message during his reign.7
The Doctrine of Imamate
Mohammed A. Amir-Moezzi, a contemporary scholar at the Sorbonne, states
that: “The true axis around which [the] Imamate doctrinal tradition revolves
is that of Imamology, without the knowledge of which no other great chapter,
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as is the case with theology or prophetology, could be adequately studied.”8
The major differences and disputes emanating from the ensuing disagreement
demonstrate its importance: “The greatest dispute, indeed, in the community
has been that over the imamate; for no sword has ever been drawn in Islam
on a religious question as it has been drawn at all times on the question of the
imamate.”9 The contemporary scholar Wilferd Madelung writes: “No event
in history has divided Islam more profoundly and durably than the succession
of Muhammad.”10
Given this doctrine’s central and indispensable nature in Shi’ism, it should
come as no surprise that the first three caliphs are viewed as usurpers who
snatched away Ali’s rightful place. This issue is the most important point of
contention and, as a result, the Shi’is view many of the Companions as untrustworthy, lacking in integrity, and as having deviated so far from the path
of Islam that they became unbelievers. Abu Hanifah, founder of the Hanafi
Sunni school of thought, stated: “The fundamental basis of the Shi’i creed is
the misguidance (or going astray) of the Prophet’s Companions.”11
This view is a source of great consternation and animosity because the
Sunnis hold the “rightly guided” caliphs in high esteem and believe that all of
Muhammad’s Companions possess moral probity. When faced with some difficulty in this regard, they neither judge nor censure them for their conduct
and behavior due to a directive reportedly issued by the Prophet: “Do no vilify
a single one of my Companions.”12
Intolerant statements against the Sunnis are not the norm, as they are accorded the status of muslim (one who has pronounced the dual testimony of
faith), but not mu’min (a believer with sound faith), in terms of the ladder of
faith. This is how some Shi’i scholars bridge the sectarian divide for the sake
of Muslim cohesion and unity in an attempt to maintain social relations with
the larger community. As such, both agree that one enters Islam by confirming
one’s belief in one God and the messengership of His Prophet, which legitimize intra-Muslim marriages and the consumption of meat slaughtered by
each other.
Sunni-Shi’i Strife
Recent flare-ups that have been transformed into a raging inferno of sectarian
violence has led to a belated but forceful intervention by Ahmed El Tayyeb,
al-Azhar University’s rector, who has categorically denounced and expressed
his revulsion against anyone anathematizing the Shi’is or referring to them as
rāfiḍī (i.e., those who reject the legitimacy of the first three caliphs). Most re-
Mavani: Sunni-Shi’i Rapprochement: Internal Contradictions
139
cently, he responded to such inflammatory rhetoric on several satellite channels on the grounds that this would make it lawful for Sunnis to murder them
and confiscate their properties.13
More alarming was the October 5, 2015, communique issued by several
Saudi clerics calling upon believers to support ISIS, whom they called “pious
fighters,” and annihilate the Assad regime along with the Russians and the
Iranians: “Give all moral, material, political and military support”14 to defeat
Assad and its Iranian and Russian backers. This brought a stern response from
the UN offices: Adama Dieng and Jennifer Welsh said, “[A]dvocacy of religious hatred to incite or justify violence is not only morally wrong, but also
prohibited under international law.”15
Even more egregious and damning was a supplication offered at the end
of one of the daily prayers at Makkah’s Grand Mosque by the governmentappointed imam: “We petition God to endow the pious fighters (mujāhidīn)
in Yemen, Syria, Iraq, and all other places with honor, might, victory, and
unity. O God, we seek your help against the rāfiḍī apostates (repeated twice),
treasonous Jews, misled Christians, and the scheming and conspiring hypocrites.”16 Abdollah al-Dosari, a Saudi TV host on Wesal TV, expressed his
pleasure and delight at the death of more than 30017 Iranians during the hajj
stampede in October 2015: “Praise be to God who relieved Islam and the Muslim from their (Iranians) evil. We pray that God will usher them into Hell for
all eternity.”18
Many edicts are issued by Saudi-trained scholars that the Shi’is and Sufis
are innovators, or polytheists, unbelievers, and heretics for venerating their
saints, praying at their shrines,19 and seeking their intercession to help them
gain salvation; for practicing precautionary dissimulation (taqīyah) when they
feel it is in their best interest to do so, which many Sunnis view as a license
for duplicity and trickery; for the Shi’i claim that the extant Qur’an has been
distorted by removing verses that praised the infallible Imams; for cursing
and dissociating themselves from some of the Companions; for placing their
head on a tablet (turbah) of soil from Karbala or elsewhere when praying;
adding the phrase “Ali is the friend and supporter of God” to the call to prayer
or the creedal formula, which the Sunnis misinterpret as elevating Ali to
Muhammad’s status; for engaging in missionary activity; and for innovation
when it comes to the rites and rituals connected with commemorating
Husayn’s martyrdom.
There have been instances on the Shi’i side as well. This is especially
true in India and Pakistan, where the badge of “Umar” is sometimes placed
on a dog and then released in a Sunni-populated area; Islamic law views
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dogs as ritually impure (najis). The Sunnis, who revere Umar, naturally view
this as an act of sacrilege. In addition, Shi’i satellite channels like Ahl El
Bait TV with Sheikh Hassan Allahyari at the helm, continuously curse and
dole out vulgar profanities on the Companions, among them Ayesha and
Hafsa. They also celebrate Umar’s death at the hand of Abu Lu’lu with joy
and fanfare.20
These are some of the primary ingredients that have produced the volcanic
eruption of intra-Muslim violence and bloodshed. The catastrophic and horrific four-year war in Syria, along with the recent intervention by Russia and
Iran to prop up the infamous brutal and savage Assad regime, has only further
aggravated the existing communal animosity and ill-will. In many ways, Syria
has become the site of a proxy war being waged by Iran, Saudi Arabia, Qatar,
America, Russia, and the Kurds, all of whom want to preserve their own interests and power base. The hole card of sectarianism appeared (i.e., framing
the conflict as one pitting Sunnis against Iranian-backed Shi’is) to be a powerful way to galvanize support; however, it eventually acquired a life of its
own and became uncontrollable, as both Iran and Saudi Arabia are beginning
to comprehend.
Sunni and Shi’i Jurists’ Response
Ayatollah Ali Khamena’i sought to defuse the crisis created in 2011 when
the Kuwaiti Shi’i cleric Shaykh Yasser Habib termed Ayesha “an enemy of
God”21 by ruling: “We prohibit insulting the symbols of our Sunni brothers,
as well as accusing the wife of the Prophet of what affects her dignity and
honor. Moreover, it is forbidden to insult any of the wives of the prophets
and especially [those of] their master the Great Prophet [Muhammad].”22
Other Shi’i jurists like Ayatollahs Wahid Khorasani, Fadlollah, and Nasir
Makarim Shirazi,23 as well as Sistani’s office, have given similar legal opinions. Here is a question posed to the latter in October 2013 and the response
from his office:
QUESTION: A video clip has been seen several times on social network web
sites showing a congregation during the martyrdom of al-Imam al-Jawad
(a.s.). This group of people from the area known as al-A’dhamiyyah are
shown shouting out insults upon Umar, A’isha, and others. Is this type of
behavior condemned by the supreme religious authority, especially since it
involves the insult of religious figures of our brothers of the Sunni school
of thought, and it could potentially fuel unrest amongst the people of Iraq
and jeopardize peace?
Mavani: Sunni-Shi’i Rapprochement: Internal Contradictions
141
RESPONSE OF SISTANI: This type of behavior is condemned, strongly denounced, and contrary to the commands of the Imams of the Holy Household of the Prophet (s.a.w.a.) to their followers. Allah is The Guide.
The Seal
Office of Ayatullah Sayyid al-Sistani
Holy City of Najaf24
Iran has been at the forefront of attempting to minimize sectarian animosity in its external (secondary) discourse in order to consolidate its strength
with the Sunnis in its confrontation with the West. However, its internal (primary) discourse favors the intensification of sectarian identity and “otherizing”
all Sunnis, both at home and abroad. For example, the country’s Sunni leaders
have often complained of harassment and persecution, and the lack of religious
freedom, as well as government interference in their children’s religious education and in setting up their seminary curriculum.25 Tehran has several
churches and synagogues but not a single Sunni mosque.
Another poignant example of the fragility of Sunni-Shi’i brotherhood
claims is the following: In 1989, Iran inaugurated a week of unity (hafteh-ye
wahdat) to promote Sunni-Shi’i reconciliation. The whole week was chosen
to accommodate the two different dates of Muhammad’s birthday: Sunnis believe he was born on Rabi’ al-Awwal 12, and Shi’is believe he was born on
Rabi’ al-Awwal 17. However, when it was time to offer the ritual prayer during
the 2015 commemoration, they could not agree on who should lead the joint
prayer. Thus two congregational prayers were held in the same hall.26 This
forcefully and eloquently shows how difficult it is to transcend sectarian
boundaries even when the invited guests are inclined to do so.
Rapprochement or Expediency?
Despite the apparent major differences on doctrinal matters, both sides have
occasionally promoted mutual tolerance and co-existence when prompted by
expediency and power dynamics (i.e., political ecumenism). However, such
an approach only gives a semblance of artificial unity and temporarily suppresses sectarian impulses. A recent example is Ayatollah Sistani’s call to regard the Sunnis as not only their “brethren” (ikhwān), but also as part and
parcel of their “selves” (anfus).
Such a statement represents a clear break from tradition and thus, most
probably, was issued out of expediency due to Iraq’s sectarian civil war,
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bombs being detonated in Shi’i localities, and to block the violent “Sunni”
Muslim extremist27 groups from exploiting anti-Sunnism to recruit followers.
It therefore lacks credibility in terms of representing a modified Shi’i worldview, which would require him to disown, contextualize or dismiss past
Imami scholarship on this subject as just polemics wherein Sunnis are demonized. For instance, in the section on “Jihad,” the Sunnis are included as
one of the categories against whom jihad will be waged (jihād al-bughāt)
upon the return of the Mahdi, presaging the end of times. Anything short of
a radical change in Shi’i worldview, the Sunnis will dismiss categorically
such superficial and shallow proclamations as examples of invoking taqīyah
to preserve a larger good.
The Path toward Rapprochement
Attaining a more durable rapprochement requires fundamental ideological
and doctrinal reinterpretation, an undertaking that would be less daunting if
both sides were to acknowledge that there is no such thing as a pure, constant,
static, and unchanging Sunni or Shi’i Islam, something “pure” that has been
untouched by human hands. Religious ideas and doctrines never develop in a
vacuum, insulated from social, political, cultural, religious, economic, and all
other values. Acknowledging that religious thought and ideas evolve and are
mediated through human history and experience would infuse intellectual humility and destroy all exclusive truth claims for salvific efficacy based on the
hadith that only one of Islam’s seventy-three sects will be saved. This hadith
is of dubious authenticity, even though it has been relayed through multiple
channels of transmission and recorded in multiple works. A critical investigation, however, demonstrates that many of these chains are weak or contain an
unknown person.
When Ali became caliph in 656, Mu’awiya rebelled and fought him in
the prolonged and bloody Battle of Siffin under the pretense of avenging Uthman’s murder. However, his real aim was to seize power for himself by destabilizing Ali’s caliphate and preoccupying him with recruiting soldiers and
waging war. During the battle, a group of his supporters disparaged, insulted,
and abused Mu’awiya’s followers. He promptly ordered them to cease and
desist by saying: “I surely detest your vilifying and abusing them. But if you
were to describe their deeds and recount their situation, that would be a more
appropriate and convincing way of arguing. Instead of abusing them, you
should say: ‘O God, save our blood and their blood, produce reconciliation
between us and them.’”28
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143
Before appointing Malik al-Ashtar to the governorship of Egypt, Ali composed an epistle for him to use as his point of reference. In it, he advocates
unconditional universal human dignity irrespective of one’s faith affiliation
or lack thereof. How, then, could his followers possibly justify the reviling
and cursing of other Muslims out of love for Ali and his family? This is in direct contravention: “Infuse your heart with mercy, love and kindness for your
subjects . . . for they are of two kinds: either they are your brothers in religion
or your equals in creation.”29 The concept of universal human dignity is also
deeply anchored in the Qur’an: “We have indeed honored the descendants of
Adam” (Q. 17:70).
The Fourth Imam, Zayn al-Abidin, who was present at the massacre in
Karbala in 680 and witnessed the harrowing events unfolding in front of
him, was subsequently chained and taken to Damascus and, along with his
family members (including the women), was eventually imprisoned. And
yet he composed a supplication in which he petitions God to preserve Islamdom’s territorial integrity.30 His spirit of magnanimity and generosity
could become paradigmatic in overcoming the deep-seated animosity toward
the first three caliphs and some of the Companions, among them Ayesha
and Hafsa.
The bitterly opposing doctrinal positions on succession to the Prophet
could be mitigated if the infallible Imam’s authority were divided into (1)
authority over the Muslims’ strictly religious and spiritual affairs and (2) authority over their social and political aspects of life (caliphate), which is to
be distinguished from succession (wisāyah) and inheritance (wirāthah). The
former, which demands that the person be exemplary and infallible, can be
known only through divine decree, as no one else could be privy to this information. However, in the area of socio-political guidance the public appears
to enjoy agency and free will due to the tradition of paying allegiance
(bay‘ah) to the leader and the social contract bond. As a result, Shi’i scholars
argue that the Imam’s legitimacy and status does not depend upon whether
he holds political office and enjoys public consensus or acknowledgment,
for his appointment is a divine grace and can be discovered only through divine designation.
As for the Sunni world, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Kuwait, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Malaysia have to abandon their virulent anti-Shi’i propaganda, as
well as their negative stereotypes and misrepresentations of Shi’i rituals as
polytheistic, both of which seek to dehumanize them. Such hostility has become very prevalent in their societies. This is especially true of Saudi Arabia,
which actually exports its anti-Shi’i ideology abroad by dispatching religious
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leaders (imams) trained in its seminaries and providing financial support to
those centers that toe its anti-rational and dogmatic Wahhabi ideological line.
Nicholas Kristof writes: “Saudi Arabia has supported Wahhabi madrasas in
poor countries in Africa and Asia, exporting extremism and intolerance.”31
Wealthy businesspersons from these countries are the financial lifeline for
many of the satellite channels that promote sectarianism. Apparently, they
have adopted this strategy of fragmentation to strengthen their position as they
jockey for power against Iran.
The self-complacent and self-righteous belief of many Salafis and Wahhabis that they alone possess the pure and authentic Islam is another great liability, because it leads them to excommunicate those Muslims who do not
share their worldview. Instead, a good policy would be to adopt the Qur’anic
dictum that “none can judge another except God.” They also need to become
introspective and engage in critical analysis to scrutinize Muslim history and
provide a more accurate account of the past instead of glorifying it as the
“golden era,” a nostalgia to return to the lost utopia, in keeping with the Sunni
triumphalist worldview. No such historical epoch ever existed, and such a notion is both erroneous and ahistorical.
Conclusion
The spread of puritanical, dogmatic, sectarian, and anti-rational Wahhabi and
Salafi theology, as well as their venomous anti-Shi’i propaganda, thanks to
Saudi petrodollars and open-ended American support for the kingdom despite
its continuing gross violation of human rights, does not bode well for the promotion of inter-denominational rapprochement, especially in the context of
Iran’s regional ascendancy; its pursuit of nuclear energy; its currently substantial influence in Iraq, Bahrain, Syria, Lebanon, Yemen, and Saudi Arabia’s
Shi’a-majority Eastern Province; and the fear in the West and among the Sunnis (articulated by King Abdullah of Jordan in December 2004) of an emerging
ideological Shi’i crescent or arc.32 In the words of Kristof: “It’s time for a
frank discussion about our ally Saudi Arabia and its role [in] legitimizing fundamentalism and intolerance in the Islamic world.”33
Charting the origin and development of Sunnism and Shi’ism, along with
their mutual relations and the impact of polemics on its formulation and development is complex, for ideologies never appear and evolve in abstraction
or in a vacuum; rather, they influence and are influenced by historical, social,
political, cultural, and other factors. Contemporary perceptions of the past are
formulated through this hazy prism. Thus sectarian identity is not static, but
Mavani: Sunni-Shi’i Rapprochement: Internal Contradictions
145
rather in a state of flux, meaning that it is both dynamic and changing in response to context and socioeconomic and political conditions.
The enmity and disdain harbored in many quarters is fourteen centuries
old, and the cumulative effect of the scars inflicted on both sides evoke strong
emotions of contempt and hostility. This divide cannot be overcome with hollow and empty slogans combined with proclamations of brotherhood, panIslamic unity, and the politically correct language of discourse. The core issues
must be confronted both honestly and seriously. President Erdogan’s recent
statement during his visit to Iran, “I don’t care about Shia or Sunni, I care
about the Muslim,”34 will do little to bridge the divide. Instead, Fetullah
Gulen’s model of inter-religious and inter-cultural dialogue could be used as
a starting point in formulating an intra-Muslim paradigm.
Unfortunately, the sectarian genie is out of the bottle. It will require serious
introspection and self-interrogation of the doctrine, creed, history, and its evolution, along with an understanding of those who weaponize and fan the
flames of sectarianism for ulterior motives. This will require allowing a greater
scope for reason and rationality in Islamic thought (i.e., a move toward the
Mu’tazili theology and ethics), along with a good dose of intellectual humility,
a critical mindset that allows for religious plurality, a non-judgmental attitude
on matters of salvific efficacy, and revision of the seminaries’ curriculum used
to train Muslim clergy. Only in this way can the existing polemics, which are
based on popular religion and are ahistorical, be weeded out so that the Muslim world can begin bridging this divide and transcending the age-old mutually exclusive and polarized categories that allow both sides to be exploited
by those who are only interested in pursuing their personal agendas by promoting politics of identity.
Endnotes
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
[Al-Islam.org], “Al-Azhar Verdict on the Shi’a,” http://www.al-islam.org/shiite-encyclopedia-ahlul-bayt-dilp-team/al-azhar-verdict-on-shia, accessed 10 October 2015.
Muhammad b. Muhammad Mufid, Kitāb al-Irshād: The Book of Guidance into
the Lives of the Twelve Imams, trans. I. K. A. Howard (London: Muhammadi
Trust, 1981), 268, 290, 391, 459, and 506.
Abdallah b. Muslim b. Qutaybah, Al-Imāmah wa al-Siyāsah, ed. Taha Muhammad al-Zayni (Cairo: Mu’assasat al-Halabi, 1967), 47.
“Ṣaḥīḥ Bukhārī,” http://www.sahih-bukhari.com/Pages/results.php5, vol. 4,
book 53, hadith no. 325, accessed 2 November 2015.
Ibid., vol. 5, book 57, hadith no. 61, accessed 2 November 2015.
146
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 33:1
Mahmoud Ayoub, “The Speaking Qur’an and the Silent Qur’an: A Study of the
Principles and Development of Imami Shi‘i Tafsir,” in Approaches to the History
of the Interpretation of the Qur’an, ed. Andrew Rippin (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1988), 184-85.
Wilferd Madelung, “Shiʻism in the Age of the Rightly-Guided Caliphs,” in
Shi‘ite Heritage: Essays on Classical and Modern Traditions, ed. Lynda Clarke
(New York: Global Publications, 2001), 15.
Mohammad Ali Amir-Moezzi, The Divine Guide in Early Shi‘ism: The Sources
of Esotericism in Islam, trans. David Streight (Albany: State University of New
York Press, 1994), 23.
Muhammad b. Abd al-Karim al-Shahrastani, Kitāb al-Milal wa al-Nihal, tr. A.
K. Kazi and J. G. Flynn (London: Kegan Paul International, 1984), 19.
Wilferd Madelung, The Succession to Muhammad (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 1.
Khatib al-Baghdadi, Al-Kifāyah fī ‘Ilm al-Riwāyah (Hyderabad: n.p., 1938), 126.
Taqi al-Din b. Taymiyyah, Al-Ṣārim al-Maslūl ‘alā Shātim al-Rasūl (Beirut: Dar
Ibn Hazm, 2003).
[ABNA], “Grand Imam of al-Azhar Strongly Condemns Calling Shias as Infidels; Quran, Sunnah Reject Excommunicating Shia Muslims,” 8 August 2015,
http://en.abna24.com/service/africa/archive/2015/08/08/704699/story.html, accessed 5 September 2015.
[Reuters], Angus McDowall, “Saudi Opposition Clerics Make Sectarian Call to
Jihad in Syria,” 5 October 2015, http://www.reuters.com/article/2015/10/05/ usmideast-crisis-saudi-clerics-idUSKCN0RZ1IW20151005, accessed 5 November 2015.
[UN News Centre], “Syria: UN Human Rights Officials Alarmed at Rise of Incitement to Religious Violence,” 13 October 2015, http://www.un.org/apps/
news/story.asp?NewsID=52258#.Vl42F3arS00, accessed 7 November 2015.
[Shi’i News and Resources], Saudi Imam Calls for Daesh Victory, Condemns
Shi’a,” 3 November 2015, http://www.shii-news.imes.ed.ac.uk/shii-news-saudiimam-calls-for-daesh-victory-condemns-shia/, accessed 10 November 2015.
The actual figure is significantly higher. The Saudis provided a low and erroneous estimate of 717 from the outset and have gradually been raising it over
time. Most reports put the number of deaths between 1,400 and 4,000.
[MEMRI TV], “Saudi TV Host Abdulellah Al-Dosari Celebrates Death of Iranian Pilgrims in Hajj Stampede in Mecca,” 3 October 2015, http://www.memritv.
org/clip/en/5134.htm#.VjOPlgItmE4.email, accessed 14 November 2015; [BBC
World News], “BBC Documentary: Freedom to Broadcast Hate,” 19 March
2014, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qjNBsvwcAoQ, accessed 3 November 2015.
In the early 1800s, the House of Saud destroyed Husayn’s shrine in Karbala.
[The Official Site for Ahl El Bait TV], https://eng.abtv.org/content/live-streaming, accessed 20 November 2015.
Mavani: Sunni-Shi’i Rapprochement: Internal Contradictions
147
21. “Sheikh Al-Habib’s Reply to Aisha’s Supporters,” 22 October 2011, https://
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x22herRuSOw, accessed 22 November 2015.
22. [Islam Times], “Fatwa Closes the Door in Front of any Sedition between the
Sunnis and the Shiites,” 9 October 2010, http://www.islamtimes.org/vdcgnu9w.
ak9yq4j5ra.html, accessed 15 October 2014.
23. file:///C:/Users/Hamid/Downloads/estefta-maraje-hormat-en.pdf, accessed 30
October 2015.
24. [I.M.A.M.], “Sayid Sistani’s Fatwa about the Prophet (S.A.W.A.)’s Companions,” 13 October 2013, https://secure.imam-us.org/fatwa/companions?utm_
source=Sayyid+Sistani%27s+fatwa+about+the+Prophet%27s+%28s.a.w.a.%29
+companions&utm_campaign=Sistani+Companion+Sahabah&utm_medium=e
mail, accessed 5 November 2015.
25. “Iranian Authorities Close Tehran Sunni Mosque,” Al Arabiya News, 9 February
2011. http://www.alarabiya.net/articles/2011/02/09/136981.html, accessed 2 November 2015.
26. http://www.binanews.ir/news69201.html.
27. This nomenclature is taken from Zakyi Ibrahim, “Violent Muslim Extremism
Flagrantly Dares the World: A Critical Reflection,” American Journal of Islamic
Social Sciences 32, no.4 (fall 2025), i.
28. Ali b. Abi Talib, Nahj al-Balāghah, compiled by Sharif al-Radi, trans. S. A. Reza
(Rome: European Islamic Cultural Centre, 1984), Sermon 205, 417-18.
29. Abdulaziz Sachedina, The Islamic Roots of Democratic Pluralism (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2001), 110.
30. Zayn al-‘Abidin (Ali b. al-Husayn), Sahīfa-ye Sajjādiyyah (The Psalms of
Islam), trans. William C. Chittick (London: The Muhammadi Trust, 1987), supplication no. 27.
31. [The New York Times], Nicholas Kristof, “Sentences to be Crucified,” http://
www.nytimes.com/2015/10/29/opinion/sentenced-to-be-crucified.html?_r=0,
October 29, 2015.
32. Lawrence G. Potter (ed.), Sectarian Politics in the Persian Gulf (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 16.
33. Kristof, “Sentences to be Crucified.”
34. [The New York Times], Tim Arango, “Turkey and Iran Put Tensions Aside, for
a Day,” http://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/08/world/middleeast/turkey-and-iranput-tensions-aside-for-a-day.html, April 7, 2015.
Conference, Symposium, and Panel Reports
Opportunities and Challenges
of Teaching Islamic Studies in
Theological Seminaries
On Saturday, November 21, 2015, from 9:00 a.m. to 11:30 a.m., a panel coorganized by the International Institute of Islamic Thought (IIIT) entitled “Opportunities and Challenges of Teaching Islamic Studies in Theological
Seminaries,” was held during the Annual Meeting of the American Academy
of Religion (AAR) at the Marriott Hotel in Atlanta, GA. The panel was presided
over by Reverend Dr. Serene Jones (president of Union Theological Seminary
and AAR president-elect), and included contributions from Nazila Isgandarova
(Emmanuel College), Munir Jiwa (Graduate Theological Union), Jerusha
Lamptey (Union Theological Seminary), Nevin Reda (Emmanuel College),
Feryal Salem (Hartford Seminary), and Ermin Sinanović (IIIT). Amir Hussain
(Loyola Marymount University) served as respondent.
The purpose of the roundtable was to address the growing trend among
Christian seminaries in North America of offering courses and, in some cases,
professional degrees in the study of Islam, which has often involved hiring
Muslim academics. The panelists endeavored to explore the opportunities
and challenges posed by this new context, as well as the possible future direction of theological schools in addition to the future trajectory of Islamic
studies at them.
Nazila Isgandarova, a spiritual care coordinator for the Center for Addiction and Mental Health in Canada and a graduate student at Emmanuel College,
spoke of her personal experience as a Muslim student in a theological school.
She noted that one of the unique advantages of studying Islam in a Christian
environment is that it provides a space for the exchange of ideas. Isgandarova
identified clinical pastoral education (CPE) as one of the major advantages of
studying at a seminary. She emphasized that Islamic spiritual care education
should be grounded not only in the Islamic tradition, but also in the conceptual
and methodological frameworks provided by CPE. While she acknowledged
Conference, Symposium, and Panel Reports
149
the criticisms leveled by some that CPE was “too Christian,” she indicated that
steps were being taken to render it more multicultural and inclusive.
Munir Jiwa, director and associate professor at the Graduate Theological
Union’s Center for Islamic Studies, began by providing a brief historical
overview of his institution. Jiwa, whose academic background is in anthropology, provided some insights on his pedagogical approaches. He stated that
he teaches within the “five media pillars” through which Islam is contemporarily viewed: 9/11 as a temporal marker, extremist violence and terrorism,
debates surrounding veiling and the status of sexual minorities in Islam, the
clash of civilizations thesis, and the Middle East as a spatial marker. Jiwa focused on the challenges of designing courses on Islam within theological
schools, given that the students are more likely to be embedded in communities of practice and thus may make the discussion of their faith in an academic
setting quite daunting. He also identified how the religious positionality of
the professor of Islamic studies could affect classroom dynamics. Jiwa concluded by highlighting opportunities for interfaith collaboration that draw on
the diversity within the classroom.
Jerusha Lamptey, assistant professor of Islam and ministry at Union Theological Seminary, outlined several challenges and opportunities presented
through teaching Islam in a predominantly Christian environment. Lamptey
pointed out that Islamic studies is a discipline of its own, with its distinctive
terminology, methodology, and protocol. She noted that many Islamic studies
scholars were placed individually into theological schools, where faculty and
students had only a limited awareness of their field. She therefore insisted that
these scholars should be able to talk across disciplinary lines, which would
require that they have a foundation in the study of religion as an academic
subject. Lamptey also indicated that one of the distinct advantages of teaching
Islam in a theological school was that it provided a “third space” for Muslim
scholars who approached their tradition as believers. She added that the faith
of the Muslim scholar was, for the most part, not regarded as a barrier to comprehensive instruction in a seminary.
Nevin Reda, assistant professor of Muslim Studies at Emmanuel College,
noted that Islam is primarily taught as a religious tradition within the wider
discipline of religious studies at most universities, having moved from its previous location within the field of Orientalism in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. While she acknowledged that this move has removed some of
the “colonialist trappings” associated with studying Islam, she argued that religion departments did not provide space for the study of all aspects of the Islamic tradition, in particular its theological and practical dimensions. She
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stated that the inclusion of Islam in theological settings constituted a second
institutional shift that provided opportunities for expanding the scope of its
study. Reda observed that introducing Islam into theological settings posed
certain pedagogical challenges for the professor, who must cater to students’
increasingly diverse educational needs. However, she insisted that the presence
of Islamic studies in seminaries offers opportunities for building relationships
of trust and forging networks of creativity and collaboration.
Feryal Salem, assistant professor of Islamic scriptures and law as well as
co-director of Hartford Seminary’s Islamic Chaplaincy Program, pointed out
that this program was the only accredited one in the United States. She noted
that one of the major challenges for Islamic studies teachers is the Christocentric framework that was cognitively embedded in seminaries. Salem asserted that this framework, which was historically determined by the fraught
relationships between religion and science and religion and reason, was not
easily mapped onto the Islamic context. She added that the challenge lay in
the dual process of looking at Islam from within the tradition and adopting an
interdisciplinary approach through which Islamic studies would fit organically
into a theological setting. She also indicated that one of the theological
school’s unique advantages lay in the fact that students could approach religious traditions from both faith-based and academic perspectives.
Ermin Sinanović, director of research and academic programs at IIIT, emphasized the institute’s commitment to providing support for faith-based
voices in the study of Islam. He echoed several of his co-panelists’ sentiments
by refuting the notion that it was impossible for a believer to engage in a rigorous academic study of his/her religious tradition. Sinanović indicated that
the AAR’s “Study of Islam” section was established by Ismail al-Faruqi (d.
1986), a co-founder of IIIT, and that it was intended to provide a space for
faith-based perspectives in the study of religion. He further noted the increasing “securitization” of Islamic studies in colleges and universities, a trend that,
fortunately, is not prevalent in seminaries.
Amir Hussein, professor of theological studies at Loyola Marymount and
outgoing editor of the Journal of the American Academy of Religion, provided
a brief response to the panelists. He indicated that scholars in non-theological
settings grapple with issues concerning their faith just as much as do their
counterparts in seminaries. Hussein asserted the need to recover the “prophetic
voice” of theology, in which connections could be made with the political and
economic contours of society.
Fatima Siwaju
MA Student, Department of Religion
Syracuse University, Syracuse, NY
Conference, Symposium, and Panel Reports
Reflections on Political Islam:
Concepts and Contexts
151
The International Institute of Islamic Thought (IIIT) participated in the annual
meeting of the American Academy of Religion (AAR) in Atlanta, GA, held
November 21-24, 2015. In addition to the participation of staff and associates
in several meeting events and panels, IIIT maintained a book booth in the Exhibit Hall, co-organized a panel on “Opportunities and Challenges of Teaching
Islamic Studies in Theological Seminaries,” and held its second annual AAR
Reception and Special Lecture.
Offering a tribute to Ismail al-Faruqi (d. 1986), IIIT co-founder and cofounder of the AAR’s “Study of Islam” section, Abubaker Alshingieti (executive director, IIIT) and Ermin Sinanović (director of research, IIIT) expressed
great pride in rekindling a stronger IIIT presence at the AAR by reviving the
historical link established by al-Faruqi. Fittingly, John Esposito (Georgetown
University), al-Faruqi’s first doctoral advisee, delivered the keynote speech:
“Reflections on Political Islam: Concepts and Contexts.”
An intellectual giant in his own right, Esposito presented a historical
analysis of the rise of political Islam movements during the latter half of the
twentieth century through his individual interactions, appointments, and presence in spaces of influence at critical times. His keynote speech served both
as an intellectual analysis as well as a personal journey, full of spontaneously
sprinkled firsthand stories and narratives from private conversations. He emphasized the critical need to avoid ahistoric analyses of such movements and
to resist symptomatic treatments that have become a popular approach by
western governments blind to their own roles in such undesired behaviors and
violence.
Referring to challenges like ISIS and youth radicalization, Esposito stated
that “unless you understand the context within which political Islam arose...:
who were the players, what were the issues for these movements, and also
what their interactions were with government, you can’t understand why we
continue to screw up today.” Making specific reference to recent government
initiatives on Countering Violent Extremism that are youth-centric and target
the great role religion occupies in people’s lives, he reminded the audience
that discounting a history of oppression by western-backed authoritarian
regimes is a myopic perspective to the rise of radicalism.
His speech spanned over fifty years of political history and American
involvement in Muslim-majority nations with an emphasis on the Iranian
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Revolution onward. During that time, he would fly into the DC area from
Boston as a consultant for the State Department. Flying into Baltimore (as
opposed to Washington’s Reagan airport) paid off, he said. “Invariably, the
cab drivers you would get were Iranian generals who had fled the country,
and they were a gold mine of not only information on Iran, so you could
show up [to the State Department] and look really knowledgeable, but they
would say things like, ‘I was in the class with Anwar Sadat when the U.S.
trained us to do x.’” He shared these stories to show that history often repeats
itself, and yet we react as if current events are peculiar. If an equal value is
not placed on Muslim life, he argued, we should not be surprised to witness
radical behavior.
His experience with various disciplinary groups like the AAR can be
traced back to the Iranian Revolution. In fact, he argued, it was not until that
moment that the academy started to take a notable interest in the study of
Islam. After that event, he saw grant resources open, jobs surface, and a subsequent response made by the disciplinary groups.
Throughout his lecture, Esposito referenced an array of meetings he had
attended with government officials, panels he had sat on at academic conferences, and talks he had delivered. He ultimately expressed a strong concern
with the deep state and concluded that while authoritarian regimes are strong,
western regimes are stronger.
Following his talk, Esposito engaged several audience members in an energetic question and answer session and signed copies of his new book, Islam
and Democracy after the Arab Spring (Oxford University Press: 2015), coauthored with Tamara Sonn and John Voll. During his richly decorated career,
Esposito authored and co-authored over forty-five books on wide-ranging topics, including Islam, law, gender, politics, and globalization. His work has
been translated into more than thirty-five languages. A past president of both
AAR and MESA (the Middle East Studies Association), he currently holds
the position of Professor of Religion and International Affairs and Islamic
Studies at Georgetown University (Washington, DC).
Well-attended with over fifty participants, many reception attendees networked and mingled over refreshments before and after the lecture. At the reception, Alshingieti announced that following the suggestion of Esposito,
beginning next year, IIIT will confer an annual Best Dissertation in Islamic
Studies award.
Nancy A. Khalil
Doctoral Candidate, Department of Anthropology
Harvard University, Cambridge, MA
Conference, Symposium, and Panel Reports
Islam in Africa,
Islam in Globalization
153
On October 15, 2105, the International Institute of Islamic Thought commemorated Ali Mazrui’s (1933- 2014) first death anniversary by convening a seminar to honor their mutual close and lasting relationship. Mazrui served as the
editor-in-chief of the American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences (2009-14),
participated in many of the institute’s events, and was awarded the IIIT Distinguished Scholar Award in 2011. In addition, he bequeathed his collection
of papers and publications to IIIT.
His widow Pauline Utimazrui opened the seminar by recalling how her
late husband always spoke the truth regardless of the consequences, how he
decided to attend Columbia University because so many African students were
going there, and how he sought to bring up controversial issues to force people
to think outside the box. She said that he was a very happy and grateful man
who appreciated others, liked to live a simple life and be in the moment, and
did not believe in accumulating wealth.
Keynote speaker Ebrahim Rasool, former ambassador of South Africa to
the United States and a long-time activist who was jailed for his anti-apartheid
activities, spoke on “Ali Mazrui: Beacon at the Intersection of Islam and
Africa.” He described Mazrui as follows:
Standing for justice is the point of the triangle which is least populated, or
if it is populated it may well be populated in the absence of understanding
the implications of belief in the unity of God or the understanding of the dynamism of knowledge. Professor Ali Mazrui will be remembered for epitomizing the completeness and perfection of this golden triangle [of belief,
knowledge and justice], for indeed his knowledge was founded in his unflinching commitment to Tauhid or unity and this, in turn, impelled him towards utilizing his intellect both towards identifying the sources of injustice
in the world and positing theoretical and practical solutions towards justice.
He reminded his audience how Mazrui never shied away from controversy, as can be seen in his battle with National Public Radio (NPR) in terms
of his production and defense of “The Africans: The Triple Heritage,” disagreements with much of post-colonial Africa’s ideological or philosophical
thinking, and assertion of a distinction between theological Islam and historical Islam. On a more personal level, in 1969 he rejected an invitation extended
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by the University of Cape Town to deliver a public lecture because he could
not bring along his white British wife.
After this, Mazrui’s colleagues Abubaker al-Shingieti (IIIT), Seifudein
Adem (Binghamton University), Sulayman Nyang (Howard University), and
Bernadette Paolo (The Africa Society) reflected upon their interactions with
him. Nyang told stories about how Mazrui was not apologetic about being
an African, that he was comfortable with this identity and with English, that
he was very influential in the Middle East, and that he was not afraid to talk
with those whom the West did not like. Paolo, after talking about their work
together, said that he was “as loyal and kind as he was brilliant … he was a
presence.”
Caitlyn Bolton (City University of New York), who presented “Making
Africa Legible: Kiswahili Arabic and Orthographic Romanization in Colonial
Zanzibar,” focused primarily on how Christian missionaries were determined
to romanize the modified Arabic script used to write Kiswahili in order to
make Zanzibar more “legible” to Europe, thwart Islam’s inroads, and monitor
their minions’ correspondence. The colonial officials, surprisingly, disagreed
with this policy and asserted, contrary to the missionaries’ claims, that the
modified Arabic script was eminently suitable for representing Kiswahili’s
sounds. However, after independent Tanganyika and Zanzibar united to create
Tanzania, romanization won out mainly because it was more practical and
utilitarian (necessary to get a job). This was perhaps also due to the 1964
pogroms against the island’s Arab elites by the African-majority Zanzibaris
and the long-standing Omani slave trade. Moreover, the more populous and
largely Christian former Tanganyika had nothing in common with Zanzibari
culture and history, and Swahili was already an accepted transnational tribal
language.
Youssef Carter (University of California, Berkeley) spoke on “Muhajirrun
wal Ansar: Mobilities and Memory among Muslims of African Descent” in
the context of the Mustafawiyy Tariqa, a transnational Sufi order instituted in
1966 by Shaykh Mustafa Gueye Haydar in Senegal. A small group of predominantly African-American Muslims founded a community in Moncks
Corner, SC. The community, located on a former slave plantation, is close to
the port of Charleston, through which approximately 60 percent of all African
Muslim slaves passed. Following Ali Mazrui’s concept of a “Triple Heritage,”
Carter discussed how African and African-American Muslims live a “triple
consciousness” in terms of being “African elsewhere” and articulate a collective desire to inhabit a Muslim-majority environment, one that is particularly
West African (regardless of actual location). Shaykh Arona Faye Al-Faqir,
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who leads this particular community, focuses his students’ attention on spiritual purification and righteousness and has become known both in Moncks
Corner and nearby states as a man of great generosity who often houses and
feeds people in need. One of his main efforts involves helping formerly incarcerated Muslims find jobs. Carter concluded by suggesting that West
African Sufism could serve as a possible site of convergence capable of reconciling supposed rifts between an American body politic and Muslim communities situated on American soil.
Naveed Sheikh’s (Keele University, UK) presentation, “Can the Subaltern
Act? Mazrui on the Error in ‘Terror,’” stated that Mazrui wrote for a broad
constituency, saw religion as more important than race, was a skeptical liberal,
and considered terrorism a highly politicized term applied to those who “challenge a system that doesn’t work for them.” Mazrui, an “unapologetic Muslim,” remarked that the UN might be fighting terrorism without investigating
its causes, which reflects an inability to engage with its context and is one
sign of a continued imperial mindset. Mazrui was all about understanding, for
“understanding is not to condone.” Sheikh refuted the contention that Mazrui
made only marginal contributions to the question of political violence and terrorism by stating that he did not regard terrorism as standing alone qua politics
or field of study, but rather as being related to and flowing from “the entirety
of structural, historical, and cultural forces that have shaped Muslim societies
since the advent of imperialism.” Therefore, Mazrui’s “subaltern approach to
terrorism and terrorism studies has to be understood in the context of the larger
themes, tropes, and commitments that characterize his paradigmatic treatment
of the Third World.”
Ahmed Salem (Zayed University, UAE), “Mazrui’s Islamic Scholarship:
Expanding Horizons, Meeting Challenges,” spoke on how Mazrui moved from
political science to cultural studies, and from African studies to global studies.
In terms of mainstream political science, he was an Africa-first scholar and
was far more interested in applied, instead of theoretical, research. He was a
comparativist as opposed to only a political scientist, because he also included
international relations in his research. Mazrui asserted the primacy of culture
over economics and security, saw Islam as an impactful cultural force in Africa
vis-à-vis postcolonial politics and also in domestic politics, and always called
for employing Islamic values in African, even non-Muslim, contexts. Mazrui
also maintained that Islam is an African religion, because there are just as many
North African Muslims as there are sub-Saharan Muslims, and that Islam is
the best way to resist colonialism. Although he never “detached” himself from
Africa, where he was recognized as a towering scholar, he was not welcomed
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in African studies circles because he used Islam to respond to the intellectuals’
far-reaching embrace of both Marxism and Afrocentrism.
Rachid Mrani (University of Quebec), who spoke on “Values between Islamic and Western Models: Mazrui’s Struggle for a System of Universal Values,” remarked that Mazrui considered Islam a set of core values that guide
human life and therefore do not threaten either humanistic or western values.
Mazrui maintained that both civilizations shared the same values until the
onset of modernity and secularism, after which barriers to understanding were
raised. He highlighted the danger of stereotypes and binaries, said that there
must be a differentiation between provocation and freedom of expression (e.g.,
Salman Rushdie), and that it is dangerous to make one’s values the standard
by which to measure others. One essential Islamic value for today, Mazrui believed, was to respect diversity, for “We have created you from male and female and made you peoples and tribes that you may know one another” (Q.
49:13). Throughout his life, Mazrui sought to reconcile the Islamic world and
the West by making each one’s values, concepts of sacredness, and social realities. He was also interested in how language and culture shape the Muslims’
various environments and called for renewing Islamic thought so that it would
remain relevant to the Muslims’ daily life.
Jay Willoughby
AJISS
Herndon, VA
Architecture, Culture, Spirituality 7:
Nature and the Ordinary
Architecture, Culture, Spirituality (ACS) members Julio Bermudez (Catholic
University of America, Washington DC), Norman Crowe (Professor Emeritus,
Notre Dame School of Architecture), and Paul Tesar (North Carolina State University) co-chaired and organized the 2015 ACS symposium, which explored
nature and the otherwise ordinary that form the spiritual foundations of architecture and culture. The symposium was held at Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu, NM,
from June 18-21. Past ACS symposia have focused on various themes revolving around the ideas of creating and understanding sacred places.
This year’s focus allowed researchers to discuss and critique nature’s important role and unraveling what has become “ordinary” as captured by Jalal
al-Din Rumi’s quote: “Things are such, that someone lifting a cup, or watching
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the rain, petting a dog or singing, just singing – could be doing as much for
this universe as anyone.” Of the fifty abstracts submitted, twenty-three made
it through the blind peer-review process for presentation. Intentionally, ACS
symposia have remained small in order to allow the formation of an intimate
community of presenters, keynote speakers, and a small number of non-presenting attendees.
Set in the remote and idyllic New Mexico desert, Ghost Ranch, formerly
the residence of renowned artist Georgia O’Keeffe, the inspirational and sacral
landscape of mesa filled, red-ochre desert was entirely conducive to understanding and sharing reflections on the sacred. Local spaces including a
mosque, madrasa (Islamic school), pueblo, and churches were visited as well.
As this symposium focused on understanding the relationships of the sacred
to space and design, the religious beliefs of various faiths, including Islam, were
covered. However, the symposium’s plural and inclusive content enabled another contextual understanding of Islamic spaces, one that may not have been
discussed or disseminated in an exclusively themed conference.
Presentations of the first day focused on The Spirituality of Rooted Culture.
Nader Ardalan (Harvard University GSD) presented “Mud and Mirror,” which
focused on the Great Kavir of Yazd in Iran; Linda Berry presented “Water as
Doorway to Spirit”; and Hyejung Chang (Clemson University, SC) presented
“Community as Virtue: Returning to our Native Spirit.” In the following session, The Spirituality of Landscape viewed through the Lens of Art, Rebecca
Krinke (University of Minnesota) presented “The Lightning Field”; Dennis
Alan Winters (Tales of the Earth: Landscape Architects, Toronto) analyzed
“Georgia O’Keefe and Spirituality of the Sexually Charged Landscape”; and
Katherine Bambrick Ambroziak (University of Tennessee) discussed “Environments of the Found Object: Revealing Value through a Process of Seeking
and Making.”
Norman Crowe, the first keynote speaker, reflected upon “Science, Spirituality, and Nature: A View from New Mexico.” He talked about the region’s
sacred history and the shadows of ancient wisdom and spiritual sense as found
in Pueblos’ settlements. The lecture aptly prepared everyone for the following
day’s field trips.
The two sessions and a keynote speaker fittingly set the tone for the symposium: the intimate and collective contemplation of ideas of dualities of traditional and principles highlighted in the first session, and the concepts of
heightening perception of nature, ritual, and people from the second session.
In addition, it prepared the group for considering the important local sites to
be visited the following day and establishing the groundwork for a continuous
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conversation of what the sacred, in all its layers of ephemeral and concrete,
can mean.
Field trips to experience local spaces of sacred interest are a tradition of
ACS symposia. This year, the group explored the mosque and madrasa designed by the late Egyptian architect Hassan Fathy at Dar al-Islam, his only
project in North America.1 These structures were built using the design approaches of mud architecture for which he was renowned and which he adapted
to the New Mexico desert. The entire complex was part of the first Islamic
community in the United States; the buildings were completed in 1982. The
group toured both buildings, discussed their construction and creation with a
local Muslim who had participated in the entire process. Today, Dar al-Islam
serves as an educational retreat space about Islam. Following this the group
went to visit Taos Pueblo, a living Native American community that has existed
on the site for over one thousand years and is constructed out of adobe. On its
return to Abiquiu, the group visited the adobe church of San Francisco de Asís
Mission Church in Ranchos de Taos.
That evening the second keynote speaker, Rina Swentzell (renowned artist,
author, and scholar on Puebloan culture, values, and philosophy) presented
“Being in Place: Architecture and Spirituality in the Pueblo World.” She reflected on both her personal experiences of living in a Pueblo and on the worldviews, cosmologies, and spaces of Pueblo culture.
Visiting these important local sites as a collective and within the framework of the symposium theme served to underscore the event’s tone with reflections on the relationship of sacred to nature and the everyday and grounded
what could have become very academic notions with palpable and shared tactile experiences.
On the third day, Anat Geva (Texas A&M University) explored Spirituality in Architectural Experience in her “Nature as the Spiritual Foundation
of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Sacred Architecture: Earth, Sky, Light, and Water.”
Lindy Weston (University of Kent, Canterbury, UK) spoke on “Gothic Architecture and the Liturgy of Construction.” In the fourth session, Body, Time,
and Movement in Relation to Spiritualty, Brandon Ro (VCBO Architecture,
Salt Lake City) presented “Sacred Time as One Eternal Round: Understanding
the Chiastic Pattern of Temple, Cosmos, History”; Jody Rosenblatt (Ball State
University, IN) analyzed “Heidegger’s Path”; and Galen Cranz (University
of California) focused on “The Body as a Site of Spiritual Practice: Can Architecture Help?” In session five, Sources of Place and Spiritualty, Tom Bender discussed “Life-Force Energy: The Sacred Root of Place, Architecture,
and Community”; Elizabeth Deveraux (Deveraux Architectural Glass, Cali-
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159
fornia) presented “Spiritual and Artistic Inspiration of Nature”; and Chelsea
Rushton (University of Calgary, Canada) talked about “Motherland: Making
Space for the Sacred, Creating Sacred Space.”
In the sixth session, The Aural in Sacred Space, Mark Baechler and Tammy
Gaber (Laurentian University, Canada) presented “The Voice of Abraham’s
House,” a study of sound from a mosque, church, and synagogue. Trent Smith
(University of Utah) presented “Enhancing Contemporary Acapella and Sacred
Harp Workshop: Variations on spatial Arrangement and Hierarchy.”
In the day’s final session, Quotidian Environments and the Sacred,
Michael Crosbie (Faith & Form magazine and University of Hartford) and
Suzanne Bott (University of Arizona) explored “Discovering the Sacred
Within the Quotidian: The Role of ‘Spirit of Place’ in Creating Sacred Environments”; Christopher Domain (University of Arizona) focused on “Judith
Chafee: Art and Daily Life”; and Jill Bambury (University of Cambridge, UK)
reflected upon “The Sacred in the Street: Care Giving and Community Building as Everyday Spiritual Practice.”
The third and final keynote speaker, Eliana Bormida (Bormida & Yanzon
Arquitectos) and Eduardo Vera (Eduardo Vera Paisajes & Jardin) both from
Mendoza, Argentina, used their joint “Connecting Man, Culture, and Nature:
Wine Landscape and Architecture In Mendoza, Argentina” to reflect on the
sacred role that nature, context, and ritual play in their designs.
The symposium’s densest day – five sessions – proved to be well laid out
due to the appropriate grouping of papers. This is a credit to the event’s organizers, as the original proposal was intentionally broad themed and did not
further dictate the sub-themes to be covered. Rather, the selected papers were
carefully considered and grouped with the “finer grained thesis” that emerged
from them.
On the last morning, “Environment and Spirituality as Reflected in the
Written Word,” Ben Jacks (Miami University, Oxford, OH) explored “Sacred
and Real: Instrumental and Transcendent Writing about Architecture and
the Built Environment”; Tom Barrie (North Carolina State University) spoke
on “Modernism and the Domestic”; and Clive Knights (Portland State University) presented “The Crisis of Expectations: Recovering the Figurative in
Architecture.”
ACS 7 closed with the annual membership meeting, during which plans
for future symposia and the development of ACS discussed. The final session
encapsulated the tone of the entire symposia – the ideas presented went beyond the extended abstracts and elaborated upon in the presentations. Each
author shared in an open and dynamic manner. The sharing of academic
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ideas, field trips, keynote lectures and the sublime context of Ghost Ranch
all created a unique experience that heightened not only awareness of the
topic academically, but personally as well. For those interested, the extended
abstracts of all presentations are available online at http://www.acsforum.org/
symposium2015/papers.htm.
The Forum for Architecture, Culture, Spirituality is an international scholarly group established in 2007 “to advance the development and dissemination
of architecture and interdisciplinary scholarship, research, practice and education on the significance, experience and meaning of the built environment.”
For information on ACS and previous symposia, visit www.acsforum.org.
Endnote
1.
Please see Tammy Gaber, “A Moment in the American Desert: Hassan Fathy’s
Dar al-Islam,” AJISS 32, no. 4 (fall 2015), 127-31.
Tammy Gaber
Assistant Professor, School of Architecture
Laurentian University, ON, Canada
The International Year of Light
and Light-based Technologies
Numerous conferences have been held on themes related to the Islamic golden
age of science during the mid-eighth to thirteenth centuries. But the event reported here is the “event of events,” so to say. The United Nations declared
2015 the International Year of Light and Light-based Technologies (IYL-2015)
to stimulate global interest in light-related sciences and technologies. The
IYL-2015 partnership, formed in 2010, is a cross-disciplinary educational and
outreach project with over 100 partners from more than 90 countries, accompanied by UNESCO’s International Basic Sciences Program. UNESCO’s executive board adopted this resolution during its October 2012 session; the UN
declared IYL-2015 in December 2013.
The year 2015 marks numerous anniversaries in the field of optics. The
oldest among these is the 1000th anniversary of the appearance of Ibn alHaytham’s (965-1040) encyclopedic Book of Optics (Kitāb al-Manāẓir) by
the Arab scientist. Ibn al-Haytham became a central figure in the documents
submitted to UNESCO’a board and eventually the UN. The International
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Steering Committee of IYL-2015 launched an International Working Group
“Ibn al-Haytham” (IWG, http://www.IbnAlHaytham-iwg.org/) to highlight
the contributions of other Arab scholars to optics. Azzedine Boudrioua, a
professor of optics from the University of Paris, is the IWG’s chair and coordinator; Roshdi Rashed, the world-renowned mathematician, science historian, and 2007 King Faisal International Prize Laureate, is the honorary
chair.
During this long-ago era, intellectual activity in the Islamic world passed
through two stages simultaneously: (1) the translation into Arabic of countless
ancient Sanskrit, Pahlavi, Syriac, and Greek scientific and philosophical texts
as well as (2) original contributions of the highest caliber made by both Muslim
and non-Muslim scholars living in the Islamic world. Even if these original
contributions were to be set aside, the very act of translation and preservation
entitles all of those involved to a very special place within the history of science.
These Arabic-language works were later translated into Latin and other European languages and thereby paved the way for the Renaissance.
In the context of optics, the encyclopedic works of Ibn al-Haytham and
his teacher Ibn Sahl (940-1000) deserve special mention. Rashed both examined and translated the Arabic manuscripts into French and English and thus
shed new light on the Muslims’ contributions to science and to optics in particular. For instance, in 1990 Rashed examined Ibn Sahl’s original manuscripts,
which are available in the libraries of Damascus and Tehran. From this study,
he made the sensational historical discovery that the geometric study of refraction, hitherto attributed to Willebrord Snell (1580-1626), René Descartes (15961650), and/or Pierre de Fermat (1601-65) in its sine law form, was known and
written upon by Ibn Sahl in his On the Burning Instruments, written in 984.
Similar researches by Rashed and others have clearly shown that many of the
discoveries in optics and other sciences were known in the Islamic world centuries before they became known in Europe.
As part of the IYL-2015, UNESCO hosted an international conference
from September 14-15, 2015, at its Paris headquarters. This event, which focused on the accomplishments made during Islamic civilization’s golden age
and by Ibn al-Haytham, had a very high profile inauguration. Among the dignitaries present were Irina Bokova (director-general, UNESCO), John Dudley
(president of the Steering Committee, IYL-2015), Mohamed Amr (ambassador
and chairperson of UNESCO’s executive board), Ziad Aldrees (ambassador
and permanent delegate of Saudi Arabia to UNESCO), and Sheikh Faisal bin
Qasim Al Thani (founder and chairman, the Al Faisal Without Borders Foundation, http://www. AlFaisalFoundation.org).
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Putting the conference in perspective, Bokova stated that “today, at this
time of great change, when ignorance and violent extremism are rife, it is essential [that] we do everything to teach the common history of humanity, to
share the histories of women and men who did so much in the past to impact
on the world as we know it today. Ibn al-Haytham stands out in this pantheon
as a great scientist and humanist.” Dudley noted that “studying the history of
science and the lives and works and ideas of its pioneers such as Ibn alHaytham can yield many important lessons, and provide inspiration for the future.” The inaugural session was covered by scores of media personnel.
The event featured about thirty presentations distributed into eight sessions:
“History Guiding the Future: The Example of Ibn al-Haytham,” “Light-based
Technologies for the Future,” “Education and Investment in Science & Technology,” “The Legacy of the Ibn al-Haytham Conference,” “History of Optics-1,” “History of Optics-2,” “The Impact of Light Science and Technology,”
and “Optics and Photonics in the Arab and Islamic Worlds.” Each session was
moderated by a distinguished expert.
Renowned speakers in the history of light science, as well as international
experts in research, technology, and education, presented talks over two days
and provided decision makers, scientists, and the public at large with new historical insights and informed discussions. They further debated the current
trends and challenges of research and education in Arab, Islamic, and other
countries worldwide. Simultaneous translations were made in UNESCO’s official languages: Arabic, Chinese, English, French, Russian, and Spanish.
A co-located exhibition showcased the digital images of these golden age
documents and scholarly works, courtesy of the Qatar Digital Library
(http://www.qdl.qa). It also featured an exceptional piece, the microscope built
by Antonie Philips van Leeuwenhoek (1632-1723), which was exhibited to the
public for the first time due to its scientific and historical value. In addition, a
documentary film produced by the Qatar National Library displayed various
golden age scientific manuscripts. The Ibn al-Haytham Exhibition highlighted
his achievements and manuscripts (in digital form).
About 400 scientists, science historians, diplomats, and science policy experts, along with the IWG’s members, participated in the event. While some
speakers concentrated on the historical aspects, others focused on the current
situation in the Arab countries and the developing countries in general and suggested various improvements. Several speakers pointed out that inadequate
supplies of electricity and poor lighting conditions affect a sizeable part of the
world’s population. They suggested some interesting technical and practical
solutions to save power and significantly improve lighting systems.
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163
Various speakers concentrated on the status of education and research in
the Arab world. In their co-authored “Need to Create International Science
Centres in the Arab Countries,” Sameen Ahmed Khan (Dhofar University,
Oman) and Azher Majid Siddiqui (Jamia Millia University, India) proposed
that such centers be modeled after European institutions. They reasoned that
photonic technologies can serve as a vehicle for international collaboration
across the Arab world, citing Jordan’s SESAME Synchrotron facility, which
is jointly operated by nine countries.
The need to initiate the African Synchrotron Program was also covered.
A synchrotron light source produces very intense pulses of light/X-rays that
allow detailed studies of objects at the atomic level with a precision that is
not possible by traditional X-rays and lasers. The extraordinary power of synchrotron light has had an immense impact in such fields as archaeology, biology, chemistry, environmental science, geology, medicine, and physics.
Synchrotrons cost billions of dollars and require substantial technical expertise, meaning that international collaboration is essential for their continued
operation.
A significant component of the conference was the “White Paper on Optics
and Photonics” produced by the Ibn al-Haytham Working Group. Among its
suggestions were the translation and digitalization of this scholar’s works, the
creation of an Ibn al-Haytham International Society as well as such societies
for other golden-age luminaries, and the establishment of a database of experts.
The IWG has created a forum in which these and other ideas arising from the
presentations and discussions can be pursued.
Sameen Ahmed Khan
Department of Mathematics and Sciences
College of Arts and Applied Science
Dhofar University, Salalah, Oman
IIIT Proudly Presents
ABU ZAYD AL-BALKHI’S
SUSTENANCE OF THE SOUL:
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Lying preserved in Istanbul’s Ayasofya Library is an astonishing manuscript. Written by the
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In addition to explaining symptoms and treatments, al-Balkhi gives advice on preventive measures and how to return the body and soul to their natural state. This approach displays his keen
understanding of the human condition and the medical nature of the human emotional state –
an astonishing feat, given that many of these conditions remained largely unknown and thus
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Entitled Masalih al-Abdan wa al-Anfus (Sustenance for Bodies and Souls), al-Balkhi’s manuscript is composed of two distinct parts. The book presented here, an English translation of the
second part, will perhaps be of great interest to readers due to the worldwide increase in anxiety
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UNDERSTANDING
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DR. MUSFIR BIN ALI AL-QAHTANI’S work contributes to the ever growing body of scholarly
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The author draws attention to the importance of understanding various levels of maqasid,
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thought, countering religious excessiveness, the need for recreation and leisure, citizenship
and nation-belonging, spreading beauty and harmony in Islam, and the role of Muslim
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IIIT Distributors: www.amazon.com
islamicbookstore.com • T: 410-675-0040 • F: 410-675-0085
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Wholesale Orders: IIIT • T: 703-230-2844 • F: 703-471-3922
[email protected] • www.iiit.org
IIIT Proudly Presents
THE MIRACULOUS
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Bassam Saeh
PBK: $8.95 ISBN 978-1-56564-665-0
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This study illustrates why the language of the Qur’an is miraculous, unique, and evidence of
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The author attempts to remove this veil and present the Qur’an to readers as if hearing it for
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Dr. Bassam Saeh holds a BA in Arabic literature from Damascus University, Syria, and an MA
& PhD in modern Arabic poetry from Cairo University. He has been Head of the Arabic Department in Tishreen University, Syria (1977) and has taught in a number of other universities,
including: Algeria, Saudi Arabia, and Oxford. He was the founder and principal of Oxford
Academy for Advanced Studies (1990 – 2005). He has been presenter of several radio and TV
programs and author of several books.
***
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In this issue
ARTICLES
Religions, Lifeways, Same Difference: Defining Dīn in
the US, the Middle East, and South Asia
Jibreel Delgado
The Faqīh as Engineer: A Critical Assessment of
Fiqh’s Epistemological Status
Ali Paya
Islamic Law and Political Ideology: Yusuf al-Qaradawi’s
Renewed Interpretation of Islamic Prayer Laws
Nesya Shemer
The Politics of the Two Qiblahs and the Emergence
of an Alternative Islamic Monotheism
Eltigani Abdelgadir Hamid
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