Law and Tradition in Classical Islamic Thought: Studies in Honor of Professor Hossein Modarressi 023011329X, 9780230113299

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Palgrave Series in Islamic Theology, Law, and History

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Law and Tradition in Classical Islamic Thought Studies in Honor of Professor Hossein Modarressi

Edited by

Michael Cook, Najam Haider, Intisar Rabb and Asma Sayeed

st

Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2023 with funding from Kahle/Austin Foundation

https://archive.org/details/lawtraditioninclO0OOunse

Law AND TRADITION IN CLASSICAL IsLAMIC [THOUGHT

PALGRAVE SERIES IN ISLAMIC THEOLOGY, LAW, AND HISTORY

This groundbreaking series, edited by one of the most influential scholars of Islamic law, presents a cumulative and progressive set of original contributions that substantially raises the bar for rigorous scholarship in the field of Islamic Studies. By relying on original sources and challenging common scholarly stereotypes and inherited wisdoms, the volumes of the series attest to the exacting and demanding methodological and pedagogical standards necessary for contemporary studies of Islam. These volumes are chosen not only for their disciplined methodology, exhaustive research, or academic authoritativeness, but also for their ability to make critical interventions in the process of understanding the world of Islam as it was, is, and is

likely to become. They make central and even pivotal contributions to understanding the experience of the lived and living Islam, and the ways that this rich and creative Islamic tradition has been created and uncreated, or constructed, deconstructed, and reconstructed. In short, the volumes of this series are chosen for their

great relevance to the many realities that shaped the ways that Muslims understand, represent, and practice their religion, and ultimately, to understanding the worlds that Muslims helped to shape, and in turn, the worlds that helped shape Muslims. Series Editor:

Khaled Abou El Fadl is the Omar and Azmeralda Alfi Distinguished Professor in Islamic Law at the UCLA School of Law, and Chair of the Islamic Studies Program at UCLA. Dr. Abou El Fadl received the University of Oslo Human Rights Award, the Leo and Lisl Eitinger Prize in 2007, and was named a Carnegie Scholar in Islamic Law in 2005. He is one ofthe world’s leading authorities on Islamic law and Islam, and a prominent scholar in the field of human rights.

Titles Custom in Islamic Law and Legal Theory: The Development ofthe Concepts of ‘Urf and ‘Adah in the Islamic Legal Tradition Ayman Shabana The Islamic Law of War: Justifications and Regulations Ahmed Al-Dawoody Shi’i Jurisprudence and Constitution: Revolution in Iran

Amirhassan Boozari Constructing a Religiously Ideal “Believer” and “Woman” in Islam: Neo-traditional Salafi and Progressive Muslims’ Methods of Interpretation Adis Duderija Fatigue of the Shari'a Ahmad Atif Ahmad Law and Tradition in Classical Islamic Thought: Studies in Honor of Professor Hossein Modarressi Edited by Michael Cook, Najam Haider, Intisar Rabb, and Asma Sayeed

LAw AND TRADITION IN CLASSICAL IsLAMIC [HOUGHT

STUDIES IN HONOR OF PROFESSOR HossEIN MoDARRESSI

EDITED BY

MICHAEL Cook, NAJAM HAIDER, INTISAR RABB, AND ASMA SAYEED

palgrave macmillan

LAW AND TRADITION IN CLASSICAL ISLAMIC THOUGHT

Copyright © Michael Cook, Najam Haider, Intisar Rabb, and Asma Sayeed, 2013.

All rights reserved. First published in 2013 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN® in the United States—a division of St. Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

Where this book is distributed in the UK, Europe and the rest of the world, this is by Palgrave Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries.

ISBN: 978-0-230-11329-9 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Cook, Michael. Law and tradition in classical Islamic thought : studies in honor of Professor Hossein Modarressi / Michael Cook, Najam Haider, Intisar Rabb, Asma Sayeed. pages cm.—(Palgrave series in Islamic theology, law, and history) ISBN 978-0-230-11329-9 (hardback)

1. Islamic law—Interpretation and construction. 2. Modarressi Tabataba’i, Hossein. 3. Islamic law—History. 4. Islamic law—Philosophy. 5. Shi’ah—Doctrines. 1, Haider, Najam Iftikhar, 1974- II. Rabb, Intisar A. Ill. Sayeed, Asma. IV. Title. KBP440.74.C66 2012 340.5'909—dc23

A catalogue record of the book is available from the British Library. Design by Newgen Imaging Systems (P) Ltd., Chennai, India. First edition: January 2013

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Contents

List of Figures and Tables

vii

Acknowledgments

ix

Series Editor Preface

xi

Introduction

xiii

PartI

Source Studies

1

The Aba Basir Tradition: Quranic Verses on the Merits of the Shi'a Etan Kohlberg

2

Criteria for Emending the Text of the Qur'an Behnam Sadeghi

21

3

Muawiya in the Hijaz: The Study ofa Tradition Najam Haider

43

Part II

4

Shi‘d Tradition

The Kitab al-wasiyya of‘Isa b. al-Mustafad: The History ofaText

67

Hassan E. Ansari 5

Women in Imami Biographical Collections

8]

Asma Sayeed 6

Why Incline to the Left in Prayer? Sectarianism, Dialectic, and Archaeology in Imami Shi‘iism Michael Cook

Part III 7

Islamic Legal Traditions

Dissent and Uncertainty in the Process of Legal Norm Construction in Muslim Sunni Law Baber Johansen

99

tay

CONTENTS

vi

Islamic Legal Minimalism: Legal Maxims and Lawmaking When Jurists Disappear

8

145

IntisarA.Rabb

Cultivating Human Rights: Islamic Law and the Humanist Imperative Khaled Abou El Fadl

9

PartIV 10

167

Philosophical Traditions

Yahya b. ‘Adi’s Discussion of the Prolegomena to

the Study of aPhilosophical Text Robert Wisnovsky 11

187

Two Commentaries on Najm al-Din al-Katibi's al-Shamsiyya, Copied in the Hand of David b. Joshua Maimonides (fl. ca. 1335-1410 CE)

203

Sabine Schmidtke

12

Logic in the Khayrabadi School ofIndia: A Preliminary Exploration Asad Q. Ahmed

22h

PartV_ Historical Traditions 13.

The Eastern Travels of Solomon: Reimagining

Persepolis and the Iranian Past Roy P Mottahedeh 14

Al-Hasan b. Misa al-Nawbakhti on the Views of Astronomers and Astrologers

247

269

Wilferd Madelung 15

Conversion and Law: A Muslim-Christian Comparison

279

Richard W. Bulliet

Part VI.

The Scholarly Output of Professor Hossein Modarressi

Bibliography of Works by Professor Hossein Modarressi Compiled by Intisar A. Rabb and Hassan E. Ansari

293

A Bibliographical Note on the Persian Works

301

Hossein Kamaly Contributors

305

Index

oll

Figures and Tables

Figures Zu Pads 6.1

Number of Roots Occurring a Certain Number of Times Flowchart of Variant Readings of Q6.57 The Boundaries of the Meccan Sanctuary with Directions

ae 29

to Qatar and Kifa

102

6.2

The Ka'ba and the Center of the Sanctuary from a Point about 8 Miles from the Boundary in the Direction of Qatar

103

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Plate II: MS Firkovitch Yevr.-Arab. II 812, f. 7a

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Tree I: Sample of Relevant Logicians and Logical Works from

al-Tiisi to the Farangi Mahallis

232

$2.2

Tree II: Sample of Relevant Farangi Mahalli Logicians and Logical Works

239

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Tree III: Sample of Relevant Khayrabadi Logicians and Logical Works

259

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Conversion to Islam in Iran

281

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Hypothetical Conversion Rate to Christianity

284

Tables ee | The Verses and Their Position in the Abi Basir Tradition 6.1

Chart of Distances from the Boundary ofthe Sanctuary to Mecca on Various Roads

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Acknowledgments

We would like to thank the Department of Near Eastern Studies at Princeton

University and its chair, M. Siikrii Hanioglu, for their generous financial support of this project. We would like to express special thanks to Amineh Mahallati for her help and suggestions for the cover art and support ofthe project; to Roy Mottahedeh for his contributions to the cover art, his help in composing the introduction, and

his general contributions to and support of the project; and to Sheila Canby, Jeri Wagner, and Julie Zeftel at The Metropolitan Museum of Art for granting permission to use the cover art. We also express our gratitude to Wilferd Madelung, Andras Hamori, and Tariq al-Jamil for their helpful contributions to the introduction. Finally, we gratefully acknowledge our debt to Khaled Abou El Fadl, the editor for the Palgrave Series in Islamic Theology, Law, and History, as well as to Burke Gerstenschlager, Kaylan Connally, and Katherine Haigler at Palgrave Macmillan,

for their work in bringing the current volume to press.

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Series Editor Preface

This is the first edited collection of scholarly studies to be published in the Palgrave Series in Islamic Theology, Law, and History. It is a volume that I take great pride in introducing to the readers of the series. This single volume includes articles by some of the most prominent scholars in the field of Islamic Studies, covering a broad array of topics in Islamic theology, philosophy, law, and history. In many ways, the collection contained in this book represents an illuminatingly informative survey of some of the most compelling scholarship being done in the Western academy in the field of Islamic Studies. The editors of this book have already written an introduction setting out the contributions made by each author, and I dare not burden the reader by repeating the same information. Read cover to cover, this volume will leave its readers with a sense of having been treated to an enlightening and enjoyable engagement with the Islamic tradition. This collection is distinctive not just because ofthe range and significance of the topics treated, but also because of the unparalleled caliber of the scholars contributing to the work. The articles in this volume are model examples of the kind of serious and rigorous scholarship so urgently needed in the field of Islamic Studies. The contributors to this volume are some of the most illustrious and renowned scholars in their respective fields. This by itself makes the present collection attractive to any series editor, and makes this book indispensable to any worthwhile library as well as to all serious students of Islam. But further to this, the prominence of the contributors is a notable testament to the importance and eminence of the scholar being honored: Professor Hossein Modarressi of Princeton University. This is another reason why I take special pride in introducing this volume to the readers of this series. I have the privilege and honor of being one of Modarressi’s many admirers, students, and disciples. I can attest to the profound impact that this stoic, soft-spoken, brilliant, and masterful sage of the Islamic tradition has had upon all those who have had the good fortune of studying under or working with him. Modarressi’s profound humility and ethical probity is matched only by his encyclopedic knowledge, unparalleled scholarship, generosity, and kindness. Considering the weight and extent of his impact upon the field of Islamic Studies, this volume is a fitting, but relatively modest, acknowledgment of his achievements and his legacy. Aside from considerations of fidelity and admiration, it is fitting for the Palgrave Series in Islamic Theology, Law, and History to honor Modartessi because of what he and this series represent. Through his teaching and writings, Modarressi truly epitomizes the realization of the scholarly standards that this series was created to

xii

SERIES EpIroR PREFACE

uphold. As all those who are familiar with his work will readily attest, Modarressi’s scholarship sets a standard that is truly hard to follow, but his never-ending quest for

learning and investigation is infectious and inspirational. The authors in this collection have all been touched and inspired by Modarressi’s works, and regardless of

whether they are able to uphold the same standards, without a doubt, Modarressi’s legacy lives on in every article included in this volume. And for that, this volume

represents a very special event in the history of the series. Both the contributors and the honoree enhance the reputation and mission of this series. KHALED ABou EL FapL Los Angeles, California November 2011

Introduction

Hossein Modarressi’s scholarly path has traversed three centers of academic excellence: Qum, Oxford, and Princeton. He started in the “seminary” (hawza) system in the Iranian city of Qum, where he received a complete traditional education in the classical Islamic sciences, with a focus on Islamic philosophy, theology, and law.

He also pursued a modern secular education in state schools, at the University of Tehran, and elsewhere, culminating in a PhD in Islamic law from Oxford University. It is rare that one person can master disciplines and make key contributions in such disparate worlds. Professor Modarressi’s command of scholarship and assistance to scholars in each makes him truly exceptional. As a jurist and a historian of Islamic law, his expertise is well recognized in Iran’s scholarly circles and unparalleled in the Western academy. If the former arena offers scholarly breadth and the latter critical depth, it is fair to say that Professor Modarressi has succeeded in combining the two with his keen acumen to achieve a three-dimensional grasp of Islamic law and tradition. We might even say that his long-practiced expertise has produced a further dimension: the scholarly intuition arising from sustained, comparative study

and engagement with these two academic worlds. He effortlessly exhibits a sharp sense of what scholars in the legal context have referred to as the spirit or “taste” of the law (dhawg al-shari‘a). And he has managed to spread an appreciation of that taste to others. This volume brings together the work of asmall number of Professor Modarressi’s students and colleagues from his time in Europe and the United States in acknowledgment of the enormous impact that he has had on so many scholarly trajectories.

The encounter between the two worlds in which Modarressi made his mark begins in Iran. Modarressi was a scholar who, already in 1977, had reached the highest levels of training in Iran’s traditional educational system, and he was a wellknown historian ofIran. He had long been interested in Western scholarship as well as that of the rest of the Muslim world, and his curiosity led him to intellectually engage with scholars globally. On a visit there that year, Roy Mottahedeh met him at a history conference in Hamadan, attended by local and Western historians. The two became instant friends. Modarressi offered to help obtain manuscripts for this historian from America who had limited ability to access many of the documents and histories abundant in Iran (a generous tradition that Modarressi would continue with his future colleagues as well). The two would develop a lasting scholarly

exchange and enduring friendship. Sometime later, Modarressi decided to pursue a higher degree from a Western institution. Though Mottahedeh was then at Princeton—known for its program

xiv

INTRODUCTION

of Islamic Studies—he felt that he was not qualified to instruct his friend. Instead, Modarressi chose to attend St. Antony’s College at Oxford University. There, he worked with Wilferd Madelung to complete his doctorate in 1983. Yet, even Madelung hardly considered himself a teacher to Modarressi, who was already a recognized Islamic law scholar upon arrival at Oxford and received, during his time there, increased recognition from the scholars of Iran. True to form, Modarressi’s dissertation on khardj (land tax) was a model of exhaustive research, covering the

doctrines of all sects and schools in the Islamic tradition. Modarressi arrived at Princeton as a visiting professor in 1986 and was tenured the next year. He was a teacher’s teacher. Unfailingly collegial and helpful to his new peers, he devoted time to reading their drafts and improved them in fundamental ways. On occasion, he offered lengthy comments written around the margins of an ill-drafted page in mouse-tail style (dum-i mish), invariably revealing new perspectives and sources for the particular issue at hand. It was also commonplace for Modarressi to offer gentle caveats that saved his colleagues and students from embarrassing errors in their teaching or research. More often than not, these caveats would begin with a delicately generous, “As you know....” Though not intended

ironically, this preamble was inevitably registered as such in the conscience of the beneficiary. His grasp of the Islamic tradition was so extensive that one colleague would remark—only partially tongue-in-cheek—that he felt “lucky to have some colleagues who know an awful lot about many things, and one colleague who knows

everything.” As a devoted teacher, Modarressi deploys his encyclopedic memory along with his deeply analytic mind for the benefit of his students in other ways as well. In preparation for classes, he typically mines the sources and consults colleagues for readings to offer the best translations and analyses, and to set the tone for instructive conversations. In some respects, he also learns from his students insofar as their interests have drawn him into new fields, which he takes care to master in order to

teach. One of his most remarkable qualities is his exacting standards as a teacher. Students often recall their trepidation about submitting work to a professor whose knowledge of their chosen subject far surpasses what they hope to gain in a lifetime. Yet, his advising exhibits patience alongside exacting conscientiousness. For his advanced students, he teaches seminars tailored to their interests and labors through the lengthy prose and footnotes of their dissertations. Predictably, he prods them to be critical of the sources, expansive in scope, and cognizant of interdisci-

plinary links. Modarressi’s intellectual and pedagogical contributions have taken shape in the context of teaching and research appointments at several institutions over the past quarter-century. In addition to his position as Bayard Dodge Professor of Near Eastern Studies at Princeton University, he has served as Mahdi Senior Research

Scholar at the School of International and Public Affairs at Columbia and as the Golestaneh Fellow in Islamic Studies at St. Antony’s College at Oxford. He has also taught at Yale Law School, at Harvard Law School, and at the Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales in Paris. His presence as a teacher, scholar, and mentor in these institutions has itself helped to transform the field of Islamic Studies. It has become a field that recognizes the importance of the full landscape of early Islamic

INTRODUCTION

7

history and law—including parallel developments in what would evolve into Sunni, Shi, and Khariji contexts. To be sure, while the focal points of his own scholarship have been in Islamic law and Shi‘i tradition—whence the title of this volume—the range of his knowledge and teaching extends far beyond the contexts of law and Shi'ism. Furthermore, marking Modarressi’s scholarly method is an approach that takes stock ofawide range of early sources, without presupposing the inevitability of its outcomes. To this approach and to his scholarly achievements he joins the virtues of generosity and humility. Through executing stellar scholarship, he has exerted considerable influence on the field, distinguishing him as a scholar-teacher of towering intellect and ofmagisterial scope. *

*

*

When he arrived at Princeton, Modarressi had already published extensively—writing in Persian, Arabic, and English—and he has continued to publish prolifically ever since. A list of his numerous and wide-ranging publications is included at the end of this volume. His publications are in Persian before 1980, and shift to include contributions in

English, beginning with the appearance of Kharaj in Islamic Law in 1983. Some of his early writings discuss regional and political history, many of them meticulously documenting the religious landscapes, monuments, and families of Qum across the centuries. Two major contributions in particular, Qum dar qarn-i nuhum-i hijri, 801-900: Fasli az kitab-i Qum dar chahardah qarn (Qum in the 9th/15th Century: A Chapter in the Fourteen-Century-Long History of Qum) along with Turbat-i pakan: Athar va binaha-yi qadim-i mahdida-yi kunini-yi dar al-mu minin-i Qum (Blessed Grounds: Edifices Lying within the Contemporary Limits of the City of Qum, Abode of the Faithful), provide indispensable works of reference. Taken together, these articles

and monographs on Qum attest to Modarressi’s regard for this city as a longtime center ofintellectual life in the Muslim world. Further, Modarressi and a number of

his Iranian friends and colleagues, among them the late Iraj Afshar, avidly collected inscriptions, and deciphered and interpreted obscure texts in manuscripts. They also composed sophisticated local histories, thereby furthering nuanced scholarship on the sociopolitical, economic, and intellectual history of Iran. Modarressi’s annotated editions and analyses of Safavid-era diplomatic correspondence, decrees, and endowment deeds also confirm his sustained attention to the multiple elements of text and context that make up the narratives of history. These works in turn provide keys to uncovering broader trends in disparate areas of research, from Persian administrative history to the arts of letter-writing in the sixth/twelfth century. While Modarressi’s Persian contributions in the field of Iranian history remain untranslated, a number of his influential English monographs on Shi‘ studies and law have been published in Persian. The availability of this scholarship in Persian is a significant development that allows the fruits of Modarressi’s career in the West to be harvested in the land where his intellectual journey began. Over the last 25 years, Modarressi’s scholarly interests expanded in a number of directions. With his first book in English, Kharaj in Islamic Law, Modarressi substantially changed the landscape of studies in Islamic law and tradition in the

xvi

INTRODUCTION

West. He shifted from the regional and political histories of his early career to English writings revolving around broader themes of Islamic law and Shi‘ tradition, with excursions into Quranic studies, history, and theology. In that first work, he deals comprehensively with the highly charged issues of early Islamic taxation. His Introduction to Shit Law (1984) provides an indispensable reference point for students and other researchers interested in the study of Shi‘i law. In it, he offers frameworks for analysis of Shi‘i law by depicting distinct periods of intellectual activity and political reality in ways that move beyond a reductive discussion of “early” and “late” periods. In particular, he outlines the development of key legal doctrines along themes of rationalism and traditionalism from the earliest periods of Islamic legal writing until today. In “Some Recent Analyses of the Concept of Majaz in Islamic Jurisprudence” (1986), he identifies ways in which Muslim scholars draw on insights from Arabic linguistics in their use of figurative language in legal interpretation. In each of these contexts, one of Modarressi’s most important contributions lies in broadening the scope of scholarly research in the West. His work takes for granted that serious scholarship must address the views of all Muslim groups that have left us literary records of their intellectual and other activity. In taking on some of the most challenging and controversial topics in the field, Modarressi has also highlighted the diversity of early Islamic historical writings and jurisprudential thought, both Sunni and Shii. Often, his contributions document the way in which later understandings inverted earlier ones. “Early Debates on the Integrity of the Qur'an” (1993) draws on varied historical evidence to illustrate

polemical uses of hadith literature and to investigate the question whether early Muslims believed the Qur'an as collected in the time of ‘Uthm4n to be complete. Crisis and Consolidation (1993) surveys early legal, theological, and political sources to comment on similarly important questions about the nature of leadership in the collective memory of the early Shii community. The latter work remains among his most significant and influential publications. Modarressi’s scholarship is further distinguished by his efforts to present the sources themselves. His latest book, Tradition and Survival (2003), brings together

decades of meticulous collection and analysis of written Shi‘i heritage dating to the first three centuries, that is, from the time of ‘Ali to the end of the Minor Occultation (329/941). Far more than a bibliographic survey, this work sifts through thousands ofsources to point out the most influential contributions ofearlier scholars and show the impact of each on shaping Shi law and tradition; it also draws attention to turning points in law and theology. This is a work whose writing became possible only after decades of meticulous collection, research, and analysis. Already, this work has established itself as an indispensable reference, providing a starting point and methodological resource for any work on Shi‘ law and tradition. In significant respects, Modarressi’s writings have connected a millennial scholarly tradition in the Muslim world with the much younger one of Islamic Studies in Europe and America, where the field has achieved prominence only in the last two centuries. Early researchers in the West labored with scant access to the sources and inadequate analytical tools for a thorough treatment of the complex history of Islamic law and tradition. Modarressi has worked with a far richer array of

INTRODUCTION

XVii

sources—for example, identifying for the first time in Tradition and Survival Shi‘ texts traceable through multiple written records to periods beginning as early as the first/seventh century. This was akin to discovering long-lost ruins of a civilization about which archeologists had believed all traces to have long since perished. Thanks to Modarressi’s reconstitutions, we can now discern the topography of the city and even hear echoes ofthe conversations of its inhabitants.

Unusually for a Festschrift, the contributors to the present volume represent three generations of scholars. A substantial number were graduate students at Princeton, where they had the distinction of being Modarressi’s pupils; some were also his PhD advisees. A second group of contributors have been his colleagues at Princeton and elsewhere; some are his contemporaries, some are junior scholars whose careers he has advanced in more ways than one. The third and most senior generation is represented by a single scholar, Wilferd Madelung. His presence in this volume gives us particular pleasure: it is rare indeed for a Festschrift to include a contribution by the PhD adviser of the honoree. The first part of this volume is devoted to the study ofearly sources, a subject at the core of much of Modarressi’s scholarly output. Etan Kohlberg examines a tradition preserving an encounter between the sixth Imam, Ja‘far al-Sadiq, and one of his students, the Kifan traditionist Abi Basir. Tracing the growing prominence of the account in early Shii literature, Kohlberg argues that the account was central

to the formation of a distinctive Shi‘ identity. Behnam Sadeghi focuses on the text of the Quran itself, evaluating claims of early emendations to the text. And Najam Haider traces the disparate portrayals ofthe first Umayyad caliph, Mu‘awiya b. Abi Sufyan, in the Sunni sources and the subsequent use of one particular tradition in Muslim legal polemics pertaining to the ritual prayer. The second part turns to the Shi‘i tradition, the scholarly area most associated with Modarressi’s output. Hassan Ansari examines the history of a short work attributed to ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad on the subject of the wasiyya, which classical sources conceived as referring to the Prophet’s designation of‘Ali as both his successor and the first Imam. Asma Sayeed examines representations offemale hadith transmitters and scholars in selected Imami biographical literature. She highlights differences between Imami and Sunni patterns in women’s religious education, concluding that varying “social cultures” associated with Aadith transmission are largely responsible for the differences noted. Michael Cook concludes the section by tackling a thorny problem that stems from Shiii traditions prescribing tayasur (inclining to the left) in the direction of the prayer. In the course of his analysis, Cook finds an example of early modern antiquarianism in a Shii setting. The contributions in Part Three cover Islamic legal traditions and address controversies surrounding varied legal methodologies in different contexts. Baber Johansen traces traditions of legal pluralism and dissent in usa/ al-figh (jurisprudential) discussions, highlighting the construction of legal norms in novel cases. Through an analysis of the works of Muslim jurists writing at the height of the

xviii

INTRODUCTION

era of systematization of Islamic jurisprudence, he draws attention to the human element of “contemplation (ta’ammul)” that these jurists insisted was necessary for law to be a continuing and evolving enterprise. Intisar Rabb likewise examines legal norms, considering an intriguing hypothetical first proposed by Muslim jurists writing during the same period of systematization: What would happen if all jurists disappeared? She uses the thought experiment to consider attitudes concerning the core requirements for an Islamic legal tradition and to draw parallels between Imami Shi‘i law in the aftermath of the greater Occultation, Sunni law in the absence ofjurists, and American law in a regime of “legal minimalism.” In a different vein, Khaled Abou El Fadl explores the intersections and tensions

between the universal human rights tradition and the Islamic legal tradition. He makes the case that while each of them constructs normative, expansive worldviews with goals concerning human welfare, on close examination, the two are not mutually exclusive. Part Four takes up the Islamic philosophical tradition. Robert Wisnovsky presents a description, transcription, and translation of a philosophical work by the fourth/tenth-century Christian philosopher Yahya b. ‘Adi that was previously thought lost. This text offers a pedagogical guide to the organization and purpose of studying philosophical works in that era. Sabine Schmidtke highlights intersections between Jewish and Islamic thought in logic and philosophy from the “late” (postsixth/twelfth century) period through a study ofthe writings of David Maimonides. Through an analysis of holdings on logic in the Firkovitch Collection at the Russian National Library in St. Petersburg, Schmitdke presents writings on logic also otherwise thought lost. Finally, Asad Ahmed

traces the development of logic in the

Indian scholarly context, focusing specifically on the Khayrabadi tradition. His study maps the overlapping and cross-cutting links between Indian scholars on logic over a span of nearly 700 years. The fifth and final part comprises historical studies. Roy Mottahedeh traces the symbolic association of the Prophet Solomon with notions of power and prestige in the Persian and Islamic traditions. Specifically, he draws out the ways in which the preservation and transformation of Persian pre-Islamic monuments informed Islamic historical memory. Wilferd Madelung details the place of astronomers and astrologers in the broader intellectual spectrum of the third/ninth-century Muslim world through an analysis of the writings of al-Hasan b. Misa al-Nawbakhti, as preserved by the Mutazili scholar, Ibn al-Malahimi. Finally, Richard Bulliet builds on his earlier work on the impact of conversion on Muslim social institutions with an analysis of the relationship between conversion rates and the development of legal systems in Islam and Christianity, A bibliography of Modarressi’s writings concludes the volume. This is followed by Hossein Kamaly’s short essay on Modarressi’s Persian scholarship. We include this to acquaint his European and American readership with a corpus of his writings to which they are less likely to have immediate access and to call attention to this important facet of Modarressi’s scholarly contributions.

What the editors and contributors have in common is that, in different contexts

and in different ways, they have all benefited from the extraordinary extent and

depth of Modarressi’s knowledge and understanding of Islamic law and tradition in

INTRODUCTION

xix

all its manifestations. They have also been at the receiving end of his generosity in

offering insights and sources to which access would otherwise have been difficult or impossible. Having received so much, we see this volume as an opportunity to give a little back. MicHAEL Cook NayaM HaIpDER Roy MoTTAHEDEH INTISAR RABB ASMA SAYEED

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Source Studies

Chapter |

The Abi Basir Tradition: Qur’anic Verses on the Merits of the Shi‘a’ Etan Kohlberg

Al-Kulini’s a/-Rawda—the eighth and last volume of his renowned a/-Kafi—contains an account of a meeting between the sixth Imam Ja'far al-Sadig (d. 148/765) and his follower Aba Basir. The account begins with an introductory passage, in which Abii Basir tells the Imam that, though he is old and approaching death, he remains ignorant of his fate in the next world. The Imam reassures him that no believer will be punished by God, adding: “This (exemption from punishment) applies only to you (i.e., the Shi‘a), and not to the rest of mankind.” Next, Aba Basir complains

about the term “Rafida” by which the Shi'a are addressed by their enemies. Abi Basir takes it to be a term of abuse, but the Imam explains that it is in fact an honorific.! He goes on to tell Abi Basir that since the Shi'a alone follow the ah/ al-bayt (family of the Prophet), God will accept the good deeds of the righteous among them and will forgive the sins of those among them who do evil. The Imam then asks: “Aba Muhammad, have I made you happy?” (Aal sarartuka?), to which Abt Basir replies: “May I be made your ransom, tell me more!” (ju“iltu fidaka zidni!). This leads to

the main part of the account in which the Imam cites ten different passages from the Qur’an and explains how each one relates to the Shi‘a. Many of these passages are introduced with the formula: “God has mentioned you in His book” (la-qad dhakarakum allahft kitabihi). Each explanation is followed by the Imam asking: “Have I made you happy?” and Abi Basir responding with “May I be made your ransom, tell me more!” In conclusion, the Imam makes two pronouncements. First,

he says that every verse that mentions the inhabitants ofParadise refers to the Imams and their Shi‘a, and every verse that mentions the inhabitants of Hell refers to the

enemies and opponents of the Imams and their Shi'a. Second, only the Imams and their Shi‘a belong to Abraham’s religion (milla).? Al-Kulini provides two versions of

the ending. In the first, the Imam asks: “Have I made you happy?” but Abu Basit’s

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answer is not reproduced. In the second version, Aba Basir’s answer is: “This is sufficient for me” (hasbi).? This account is of interest not least because of the identity of the Imam’s interlocutor. Abii Muhammad Yahya b. (Abi) |-Qasim al-Asadi known as Aba Basir (d. 149-— 150/766-767) was a prominent Kifan follower of the fifth Imam Muhammad al-Baqir (d. 114 or 117/732 or 735) and his son al-Sadiq, and arguably the most

prolific transmitter of Shi‘i traditions of his generation. Because of his trustworthiness and his knowledge of Shi‘i law, he was one of a small circle of disciples entrusted by al-Sadiq with providing answers to queries of a legal nature.’ The account, which may be called “the Abia Basir tradition,” is preserved in a number of versions. The following is an attempt to analyze these versions and to place the account within the broader context of exegetical traditions on the merits of the Shiva.

1. Versions of the Abi Basir Tradition 1.1. Al-Kulini, al-Kafi Al-Kulini (d. 329/941) introduces the Aba Basir tradition with the following isndd (chain of transmission): a number of our colleagues (‘idda min ashabinda) < (i.e.,

transmitting from) Sahl b. Ziyad < Muhammad b. Sulayman (i.e., al-Daylami) < his father” Sulayman was the author of a kitab (notebook of traditions). As has

been noted by Modarressi, this Aitab was transmitted by his son Muhammad.° It is thus not inconceivable that the Aba Basir tradition was included there, and if so, it can be dated to the second half of the second/eighth century. In the version recorded by al-Kulini, it is Sulayman al-Daylami who tells the

story. He recounts that he was at the home of al-Sadiq when Abi Basir arrived and goes on to describe what transpired at the meeting. According to his account, the Imam cited ten Qur’anic verses in the following order: 1. Q40:7: “Those who bear the throne, and all who are round about it, praise and glorify their Lord, believe in Him, and ask forgiveness for those who believe” (alladhina yahmilana L‘arsha wa-man hawlahu yusabbibina bi-hamdi rabbihim wa-yu'minina bihi wa-yastaghfiruna li-lladhina dmani).’ The Imam explains that those for whom forgiveness is sought are the Shi‘a, to the exclusion of all others.* Elsewhere, those who are meant are said to be the shi‘at al Muhammad (followers of the family of Muhammad)? or the shi‘at Muhammad wa-al Muhammad.’ 2. Q33:23: “Among the believers are men who were true to their covenant with God. Some of them have fulfilled their vow, and others are still waiting; they

have not changed in the least” (mina -mu’minina rijalun sadagi ma ‘ihadi Maha ‘alayhi fa-minhum man qadaé nahbahu wa-minhum man yantaziru wa-ma baddali tabdilan). The Imam explains that the believers (ie., the Shi‘a) were

true to their covenant to show love and loyalty (waldya) to their Imams, and did not forsake the Imams for others.!!

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. Q15:47: “They will be like brothers, reclining on couches face to face” (ikhwanan ‘ala sururin mutaqabilina). This verse, which forms part of a pas-

sage describing the delights awaiting the believers in Paradise, is interpreted by the Imam as referring solely to the Shi‘a (md arada bi-hadha ghayrakum).”? - Q43:67: “On that day close friends will become enemies to one another, except the God-fearing” (a-akhilla’u yawma’idhin ba‘duhum li-badin ‘aduwwun illa !-muttaqina). The Imam explains this in exactly the same way as he explained the previous verse (md ardda bi-hadha ghayrakum).*

- Q39:9: “Are those who know equal to those who do not know? Only those possessed of understanding remember” (hal yastawi lladhina ya‘lamana wa-lladhina la ya‘lamina innama yatadhakkaru ula |-albabi). The Imam explains: “We are those who know, our enemies are those who do not know,

and our Shi'a are those possessed of understanding.”™4 . Q44:41—42: “A day when a patron will be of no avail whatsoever to his client, and they will not be helped, except those on whom God has mercy” (yawma la yughni mawlan ‘an mawlan shayan wa-la hum yunsarana illa man rahima llahu). According to the Imam, “those on whom God has mercy” are ‘Ali and

his Shi‘a.'° In another tradition on this Qur’anic passage, al-Sadiq tells his

disciple Zayd al-Shahham that those on whom God has mercy are actually the Imams; yet thanks to them, their Shi'a will also benefit from His compas-

sion (wa-lakinna nughni ‘anhum).'° . Q39:53:

“O my servants who have transgressed against yourselves, do not

despair of God’s mercy. God forgives all sins; He is forgiving and compassionate” (yd ‘ibadiya lladhina asrafu ‘ala anfusihim la taqnata min rahmati Mahi inna llaha yaghfiru l-dhunuba jami an innahu huwa l-ghafuru l-rahimu). This, says the Imam, refers exclusively to the Shi'a (md ardda bi-hadha ghayrakum).”” The same interpretation is found in al-Qummi’s Tafsir (nazalatfi shiatamir al-mu’'minin khdssatan).'® A different view appears in a tradition that Aba Hamza al-Thumili (d. between 148/765 and 150/767) cites from al-Baqir.'” Two versions are mentioned: according to the first, the verse refers only to Fatima’s offspring;”° according to the second, it refers to the followers of these offspring (shi‘at wuld Fatima). . Q15:42 (=Q17:65): “You have no authority over my servants” (inna ‘ibadi

laysa laka ‘alayhim sultanun). A\-Sadiq explains that the ‘ibdd of this verse are the Imams and their Shi‘a.?? Elsewhere, only the Shi'a (hadhihi I-‘isdba) are

said to be meant.” . Q4:69: “They will be with the prophets, the truthful, the martyrs, and the righteous on whom God has bestowed favor; good company are these!” (fa-ula’ika ma‘a lladhina an‘ama llahu ‘alayhim mina |-nabiyyina wa-l-siddiqina wa-l-shuhada’i wa-l-silibina wa-hasuna ula’ika rafiqan). For al-Sadig, the truthful and the martyrs are the Imams, and the righteous are the Shi'a; and he exhorts the Shi‘a to act righteously, in conformity with the epi-

thet al-salihun that God bestowed on them.” A different gloss is attributed to the third Imam al-Husayn b. ‘Ali (d. 61/680), for whom this verse constitutes a proof that every single Shi‘ speaks the truth and is a martyr (siddig shahid).” The belief that both Imams and Shi'a are martyrs is often

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ErAN KOHLBERG encountered in Shi‘j texts. According to Shi‘i scholars, the Imams are martyrs because they were killed or poisoned, while the Shi'a are granted this rank because they lead a virtuous life.”° 10. Q38:62-63: “They say: ‘Why do we not see here men whom we used to regard as wicked? Did we take them (wrongly) as an object of mockery, or have they escaped our sight?” (wa-qala md lana Ia nara rijalan Runna na‘udduhum mina Lashrari a-ttakhadhnahum sikhriyyan am zaghat ‘anhumu |-absdru2). According to the Imam, those referred to are the Shi‘a: their enemies, when they reach Hell, will realize with astonishment that those whom

they had regarded in this world as wicked are in fact enjoying the pleasures of

Paradise.””

1.2. Al-Qadi al-Nu‘man, Sharh al-akhbar and Da‘a’im al-islam The Abi Basir tradition is recorded (without an isd) in two works of the famous

Ismaili jurist al-Qadi al-Nu‘man (d. 363/974): Sharh al-akhbar and Dad’im al-islam.*® The former comprises traditions on the merits of the Imams up to al-Sadiq, while the Daa’im al-islam became the official legal code of the Fatimid state from the time of the caliph al-Mu‘izz (r. 341-365/953-975). The same text of the Aba Basir tradition appears, with only minor variations,2” in both works, allow-

ing us to ascribe a single version to al-Nu‘man. There are a number of differences between this account and that of the K@f?: only al-Nu‘man’s text contains the statement that Aba Basir had become blind by the time of his meeting with al-Sadig,*° while only the Kafi has the passage about the Rafida.°*' In response to the Imam’s repeated question “Have I made you happy?” Aba Basir replies in al-Nu‘man’s version with “yes” (naam or bala) before adding “so tell me more” (fa-zidni, occasionally with “may I be made your ransom”). There are differences in the order of the verses cited, and two verses mentioned in the Kaff (Q15:47, Q43:67) are missing from al-Nu'man altogether. The concluding passage in al-Nu‘man’s text contains only the first of the two pronouncements by al-Sadiq found in the Kafi, and the wording is somewhat different.*?

1.3. Ibn Babawayh, Fada il al-shi‘a This short work by the traditionist and jurist Muhammad b. ‘Ali Ibn Babawayh (d. 381/991) consists of 45 traditions on the merits of the Shi‘a. The Aba Basir tradi-

tion (no. 18) has the following isméd: Muhammad b. al-Hasan b. Ahmad b. al-Walid (d. 343/954—955) < Muhammad b. al-Hasan al-Saffar (d. 290/902—903) < ‘Abbad b. Sulayman < Muhammad b. Sulayman < his father Sulayman al-Daylami.*? The text follows that of the Kafz, with only minor deviations.** The major difference between the two versions is that four of the ten Quranic passages that al-Sadig cites and interprets in the Kaft (Q33:23, Q15:47, Q43:67, Q39:9) are missing from Ibn Babawayh. It may well be that a copyist omitted these passages at some stage of the transmission. The alternative, however, cannot be ruled out, namely that Ibn Babawayh preserves an earlier version, and that the four passages in the Kaff are a later addition.

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1.4. Al-Mufid (attrib.), al-lkhtisas The /khrisas consists largely of traditions and preserves some older Shi‘ texts. It has traditionally been regarded as a work of the Shi‘i theologian and jurist Muhammad

b. Muhammad b. al-Nu'man known as al-Shaykh al-Mufid (d. 413/1022), though this is in all likelihood a misattribution.* Here too, the Aba Basir tradition appears with a complete isndd: Muhammad b. al-Hasan b. Ahmad b. al-Walid < al-Hasan b. Mutayyil < Ibrahim b. Ishaq al-Nihawandi < Muhammad b. Sulayman al-Daylami < his father Sulayman.°*° Abi Basir speaks in the first person (as in al-Nu‘man’s Sharh). The introductory passage closely resembles that of the Kafi, while the con-

cluding passage consists of a single tradition, cited on the authority of the fourth Imam, ‘Ali Zayn al-‘Abidin (d. 94-95/712-713). The main body of the tradition

deviates from the K@fi at several points: the first Qur’anic passage listed is Q42:5 (rather than a conflation of this verse with Q40:7); Q15:47 is missing; and there are differences in the order of appearance of the Quranic passages. Particularly noteworthy is the discussion of Q39:53: the Imam cites a Shi'‘i girda (variant reading) of this verse in which the word /akum is added after yaghfir.’ Aba Basir, who had evidently never heard this girda before, wonders about it (“This is not how we read it” (laysa hakadha nagra’‘uhu)), to which the Imam replies: “If God were to forgive all sins, whom would He punish? By God, (in this verse) He refers only to us and to our Shi‘a.”*? This exchange is only attested in the /kAtisds, and it is the only instance ofa

Shit girda in the various versions of the Aba Basir tradition.

1.5. Anon., Faraj al-karb In the A ‘lam al-din, a work of belles lettres (adab) by the Shi‘i author and exegete

al-Hasan b. Abi |-Hasan al-Daylami (fl. eighth/fourteenth century), the Aba Basir tradition is quoted from an anonymous work entitled Faraj al-karb.*° The Faraj may well have included the tradition in its entirety, but al-Daylami only cites it from the end of the introductory passage. The main body ofthe tradition comprises nine out of the ten Quranic passages found in the Kai (only Q38:62—63 is missing), but in Table 1.1

The Verses and Their Position in the Aba Basir Tradition

EE OE Ben Kafi Verse

Q40:7/42:5

1

Q33:23

2

Q15:47 Q43:67

3 4

Ee ee EEE Ie Ee Tkhtisas Fada’il Sharh

eee Faraj

1

1

1

-

2

A)

-

-

3

4 3

2

39:9

5;

7

-

5

9

Q44:41-42 Q39:53

4

y 8

7

8 7

8

4 6

2 3

Q15:42

6 7

Q4:69

9

5

5

4

Q38:62-63 Se

10 SS

8

3

6

6

6

5

=

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a different order, Only in the Faraj does the tradition end with Aba Basir declaring: “I went away (from al-Sadiq’s home) happy.” As can be seen from this analysis, the Aba Basir tradition is a composite text comprising a number of exegetical passages on the merits of the Shi‘a, each passage highlighting a particular merit. It is the combination of these passages that gives

this tradition its persuasive force. The number of Qur’anic verses, and the order in which they are quoted, do not substantially affect the tradition’s core message. This,

coupled with changes that regularly occur in the process of transmission, may lie behind the difference between the number and position of the verses quoted in the various versions. By the same token, it is difficult to tell which version comes closest to the original text.

2. The Aba Basir Tradition and Shit Exegesis The Qur’anic passages adduced in the Aba Basir tradition are only a small fraction

of the verses that early Shi‘i exegetes interpreted as referring to the Shi'a.*! Yet these passages, as seen through the interpretative lens of the early exegetes, depict some of the major characteristics of the Shi'a. In the following sections of this chapter, the verses interpreted in al-Kulini’s version of the Aba Basir tradition will be compared with interpretations of other verses dealing with similar themes. These themes may be summarized as follows: the Shi'a are the God-fearing (muttagun) (Kafi no. 4

in my enumeration), the righteous (sa/ihin) (Kafi no. 9), and those possessed of understanding (w/i /-albab) (Kafi no. 5); they show loyalty (waldya) to their Imams (Kafi no. 2); Satan has no authority over them (K@fi no. 8); their sins will be forgiven

and they will benefit from God’s mercy (K@fi nos. 1, 6, 7); they will enjoy paradisiacal bliss (Kafi nos. 3, 10).

2.1. The Shi'a as God-Fearing (muttagin) The first adduction of muttagiin in the Qur’an occurs at Q2:2. According to a tradition on the authority of al-Sadiq, the muttagin of this verse are “our Shi‘a.” It is they who are described in the next verse (Q2:3) as “those who believe in the unseen (al-ghayb), pray as they should, and mimma razaqnahum yunfiquna. This last phrase, usually rendered as “spend from that with which we have provided them,” is interpreted here as meaning that the Shi‘a announce what the Imams have taught them (mimma ‘allamnahum yunbi tina). This tallies with the view that it is incumbent on the Shi'a to proclaim their faith. Such a view cannot easily be squared with the need to conceal one’s beliefs (tagiyya).*? This difficulty is resolved in a variant of this tradition, where the Imam’s words mimma ‘allamnahum yunbi ana are followed (as a gloss?) by “they recite what we have taught them of the Qur’an.”4 The tension between concealing and revealing the Shi‘ faith also comes to the fore in an exegesis on Q2:2 from the Tafsir that is ascribed to the eleventh Imam al-Hasan

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al-‘Askari (d. 260/874).4° Here the muttagun—identified as shitat Muhammad wa-Ali—are said to ward off (ittaqaw) and reject unbelief and sin, and to guard

against (iraqaw) revealing the secrets of God and His legatees,“° while also preventing the concealment of knowledge from those who deserve to receive it.4”

An interpretation of the muttaqan as referring to the Shi‘a is likewise found in an exegetical tradition on Q19:85 (“on the day that we shall gather the God-fearing (from the grave) and send them to the Merciful as a deputation” [yawma nahshuru l-muttaqina ila l-rahmani wafdan}). The Prophet is reported to have told ‘Ali that on the Day of Resurrection some people will rise from their graves with faces as bright as snow; they will be given she-camels oflight carrying golden saddles crowned with pearls and sapphires, and will ride on them until they reach God’s throne. In reply to ‘Ali's question as to the identity of these people, the Prophet declared: “These are your Shi'a and you are their Imam.”™* In a somewhat different formulation, the Prophet tells ‘Ali that “these are your devoted Shi‘a and our devoted Shi‘a (shi‘atuka wa-shi atuna |-mukhlisin), and you are their Imam.”™?

2.2. The Shi'a as Righteous (salihiin) The nearest equivalent that I have discovered for the interpretation ofsalifan as the Shi'a occurs in an exegetical tradition on Q98:7 (“those who believe and do righteous deeds are the best of creation” [inna lladhina amana wa-amila l-salihati ula’ika

hum khayru l-bariyyati]). In this tradition, the Prophet on his deathbed informs ‘Ali that the verse refers both to him and to his Shi'a. The tradition is reported on the authority of Yazid b. Sharahil al-Ansari, described as a secretary of ‘Ali (katib Ali).”° According to Ya‘qib b. Maytham al-Tammar, it was included in the Kitab Al?! as well as in a book—or in several books—written by his father Maytham, who was executed in 60/680 by the Umayyad governor of Kifa for his outspoken support for ‘Ali.>? The tradition is further cited by the Companion Jabir b. ‘Abd Allah (d. c. 78/697-698).°° The Prophet is also said to have made this announcement on an earlier occasion at the home ofhis wife Umm Salama (d. 59—-60/679—680).*4

2.3. The Shi‘a as Those Possessed of Understanding (ula l-albab) The interpretation of w/a Lalbab as referring to the Shi'a is found not only in the exegesis to Q39:9,” but also in the exegesis to (92:269,79" 39.21," and O15:19,

In one representative account, ‘Ali b. “Ugba b. Khalid?’ and Mu‘alla b. Khunays”

meet al-Sadiq at his home. He greets them, sits down, and declares: “By God, you (representing the Shi'a) are ‘those possessed of understanding’ in the Book of God” (antum wa-llahi ula l-albabfikitab allah) before citing O13:19.%

2.4. The Shi‘a Show Love and Loyalty to Their Imams In Q14:37, Abraham says to God: “And cause people’s hearts to turn to them” (fa-j al af idatan mina |-nasi tahwi ilayhim). Shii tradition interprets this as a request that

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the hearts of the Shi‘a should turn to the Imams.°! According to a variant reading, the request is that the hearts of the Shi‘a should love the Imams (tahwa ilayhim)—an allusion to the principle of walaya.® Another relevant verse is Q19:58: “And among those whom we guided and chose” (wa-mimman hadayna wa-jtabayna). The seventh

Imam Misa al-Kazim (d. 183/799) declares that the reference is to “our Shi'a, whom God guided to love us (hadahum allah li-mawaddatind), and whom He chose for our religion.”

2.5. Satan Has No Authority over the Shi'a Commenting on Q16:99 (“he has no authority over those who believe and who trust in their Lord” [innahu laysa lahu sultanun ‘ala ladhina amanu wa-‘ala rabbihim yatawakkalina)), al-Sadiq states that Satan has no authority to turn the believers away from the walaya, although when it comes to (other) sins he can harm them just as he can harm others (fa-amma l-dhunib wa-ashbah dhalika fa-innahu yanal minhum kama yanal min ghayrihim).©* This is in line with a statement of al-Sadiq on Q15:42: when asked how this verse could apply to the Shi‘a, given that there

are sinners among them, he explained that Satan will be unable to render unbelief attractive and belief hateful in their eyes.

2.6. The Sinners among the Shi'a Will Enjoy God’s Mercy Exegetical traditions that address the issue of the sinning Shi‘i are associated inter alia with the following verses:

1, Q9:102: “They have mixed a righteous deed with an evil one. God will certainly®® forgive them” (khalata ‘amalan saliban wa-akhara sayyian ‘asa llahu an yatiba ‘alayhim). Al-Baqir is reported to have told his disciple Khaythama al-Ju'fi that this verse was revealed concerning Shi‘is who have sinned (shi‘atind

l-mudhnibin). He went on to state that when the word ‘asd is pronounced by God, it indicates that the event in question will necessarily occur (al-‘asd min allah wajib) (and that the Shi'a will therefore be pardoned in the world to come).°”

2. Q4:48 (=Q4:116): “God does not forgive the association of any partner with Himself. He forgives whomever He wants for anything short of that” (inna aha la yaghfiru an yushraka bihi wa-yaghfiru ma dina dhélika li-man yasha'u). In commenting on this verse, the Prophet is said to have told ‘Ali that those who will be forgiven are “your followers and sympathizers” (shi ‘atuka wa-muhibbuka).8

3. Q25:70: “Except those who repent, believe and do righteous deeds. For their evil deeds, God will substitute good ones” (é/lé man taba wa-dmana wa-‘amila amalan saliban fa-ula’ika yubaddilu llahu sayyi atihim hasanatin). Al-Bagir

explains to his disciple Muhammad b. Muslim al-Thagafi (d. 150/767) that

on the Day of Resurrection the sinning believer (a/-mu’min al-mudhnib) will

Tuer Aso Basir TRADITION

iy!

be brought to the place of reckoning. God Himself will undertake his interrogation, without telling anyone about it. He will inform the believer of his

sins, and after the latter has acknowledged them, God will order the angels

who write down men’s deeds to change the record so that what had been evil deeds will now be reckoned as virtuous ones. When the people read this, they will declare: “This servant has not committed a single offense.” The man will

then be sent to Paradise. Al-Baqir concludes by stating that this is the inner meaning (ta’wil) of Q25:70, adding that the verse only applies to sinners who

are Shi‘is.® In a similar tradition al-Sadiq, addressing Sulayman b. Khalid (d. mid second/eighth century),”° states that once the believer has confessed his sins God will tell him: “I have kept (your sins) concealed (satartuha ‘alayka)” in this world and will forgive you your sins today.” At God’s command, the angels will change the record of the man’s actions so that instead of sins,

it contains virtuous deeds; when this is shown to the people, they will be astounded to see that he had not committed a single offense (sayyia).”* That God would act in this fashion was already promised to the Prophet in the world of preexistence.”°

4, Q55:39: “On that day neither man nor jinn will be asked about his sin” (fa-yawma ’idhin la yusalu ‘an dhanbihi insun wa-la jannun). In Ibn Babawayh’s Creed, those referred to are said to be “the Shi‘a of the Prophet and the Imams.””* The eighth Imam ‘Ali al-Rida (d. 203/818-819) is reported to have declared in explication of this verse that if someone believes in the truth (i.e., is a Shi‘i), but commits a sin and does not repent

of it in his lifetime, then he will be punished during the barzakh (the period between death and resurrection); when he is brought back to life, no sin will be left about which he may be questioned.” In a Shi‘i reading (gira) of this verse, the word minkum appears after /a yusalu, yielding

the following: “On that day none of you (i.e., none of the Shi'a) shall be questioned about his sin.””°

2.7. The Shi‘a in Paradise The following examples are representative of the identification of the dwellers of Paradise as the Shi'a: 1. Q56:10-12:

“Those who have won the race, those who have won the race,

they are the ones who are brought near (to God), in the gardens of delight”

fi jannati l-na‘imi). In a (wa-Lsabiqnna Lsabiquna ula’ika |-mugarrabuna

Prophetic tradition, the verse is said to refer to ‘Ali and his Shi‘a, who will be

the first to enter Paradise.”” In other traditions, the verse is said to refer to ‘Ali alone.’®

2. Q74:38-39: “Every soul shall be held in pledge for what it has done, except the Companions of the Right” (kullu nafsin bi-ma kasabat rahinatun illa ashaba

/-yamini). The Companions of the Right are said to be the Shi‘a of ‘Ali” or of the ahl al-bayt.®° In a lengthy tradition in al-Kulini’s Kaft, Masa al-Kazim

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identifies the ashab al-yamin as “our Shi‘a”*! or (in a variant) as “we and our

Shiian@ 3. Q83:25-28: “They are given to drink of pure wine sealed with a seal of musk— that is everyone’s desire—and mixed with the water of Tasnim, a fountain at which those drink who are brought near (to God)” (yusqawna min rahigin makhtimin khitamuhu miskun wa-fi dhalika fa-l-yatanafasi l-mutandfisuna wa-mizajuhu min tasnimin ‘aynan yashrabu biha l-mugarrabuna). In an account cited on the authority of the Yemenite Jewish convert Kab al-Habr (also known as Ka‘b al-Ahbar) (d. 34/654—655),®° this verse is adduced as

proof that the Qur’an refers to the Shi'a; it is they who will drink from the fountain of Tasnim.84 Muhammad b. Abi |-Qasim Muhammad al-Tabari (d. after 553/1158—1159), who cites this account, declares that the Shi‘a should inscribe it in letters of gold, since it is recorded with a Sunni isndd (and is thus

particularly valuable in polemics with non-Shi‘is).*° 4, Q88:8—9: “On that day there will be contented faces, well pleased with their

deeds” (wujuhun yawma idhin na‘imatun li-sa‘yiha radiyatun). Those referred to are said to be shiatal Muhammad.*®

2.8. Conclusion The Aba Basir tradition is noteworthy in that it comprises an unusually large number of Quranic verses that Shit exegetes take to refer to the Shi'a. It also deals with many of the principal themes concerning the Shi‘a that are elaborated in early tafsir. There are both apologetic and polemical elements: its main thrust is to reinforce the self-image ofthe Shi'a as a select group of believers, whose unique position finds expression in the words of the Qur’an; at the same time, it seeks to present the adversaries in a negative light.*” These characteristics place our text squarely within the mainstream of classical Shi tradition. This, together with the fact that its protagonist is the venerable Aba Basir, may well account for its prominent position within the exegetical literature.

Notes *T am grateful to Frank Stewart for his helpful comments on this article. 1. For more on this see Kohlberg, “The Term ‘Rafida’ in Imami Shi‘i Usage,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 99 (1979): 677-679, reproduced in Kohlberg, Beliefand Law in Imami Shi‘ism (Aldershot: Variorum, 1991),

2. For similar pronouncements on Abraham’s religion see, for example, Bari, Kitab almahasin, ed, Jalal al-Din al-Husayni al-Muhaddith (Tehran: Dar al-Kutub al-Islamiyya, 1950), 1:147, nos. 54-56 > (i.e., quoted in) Majlisi, Bihar al-anwar (Tehran: Dar al-Kutub

al-Islamiyya, 1956-74), 68:87-89, nos. 15-17; Furat b. Ibrahim, Tafsir Furat al-Kufi, ed. Muhammad al-Kazim (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-Nu‘man, 1992), 2:377, no. 506 > Majlisi,

68:98, no. 4; Kulini, a/-Kafi (Tehran: Dar al-Kutub al-Islamiyya, 1955-57), 1:435, no.

91; Nu'man, Sharh al-akhbar fifada’il al-a’imma al-athar, ed. Muhammad al-Husayni

Tue Ast Basir TRADITION

13

al-Jalali (Beirut: Dar al-Thaqalayn, 1994), 3:484, no. 1400; Ibn Shahrashab, Manaqib al Abi Talib (Beirut: Dar al-Adwa’, 1985), 4:132 > Majlisi, 46:33, no. 28. For millat Ibrahim see Paret, Der Koran: Kommentar und Konkordanz (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer,

1971), 30-31.

. Kulini, 8:33-36, no. 6 > Majlisi, 68:48-51, no. 93. For al-Kulini (or Kulayni) and his Kaft see Amit-Moezzi and Ansari, “Muhammad b. Ya‘qib al-Kulayni (m. 328 ou

329/939—40 ou 940-41) et son Kitab al-kaft: Une introduction,” Studia Iranica 38 (2009): 191-247. As noted by the authors of this article, there is clear-cut evidence that

the Rawda formed part of the Kafi, despite doubts expressed by some late Twelver Shi‘i

scholars (“Kulayni,” 232). . See Kishshi, Rijal al-Kishshi (Karbala: Mu’assasat al-A‘lami li-l-Matbu‘at, n.d. [1962?)),

153, 206; Modarressi, Tradition and Survival: A Bibliographical Survey of Early Shi‘ite Literature (one volume to date, Oxford: Oneworld, 2003), 395; cf. Kohlberg, “Imam

and Community in the Pre-Ghayba Period,” in Authority and Political Culture in Shi‘ism, ed. Said Amir Arjomand, 25—53 (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988), 36, reproduced in Kohlberg, Belief and Law in Imami Shi‘ism. That the Abi Basir of our account is identical with Yahya b. (Abi) |-Qasim is maintained in Ardabili, Jami‘ al-ruwat (Qum: Maktabat Ayat Allah al-‘Uzma al-Mar‘ashi al-Najafi, 1982-83),

2:336. There are several other early Shi‘i transmitters known by this byname. The best known among them is Aba Muhammad Layth b. al-Bakhtari al-Muradi, who likewise transmitted from al-Bagir and al-Sadigq (see Ardabili, Jami‘ al-ruwat, 2:34-35;

van Ess, Theologie und Gesellschaft im 2. und 3. Jahrhundert Hidschra (Berlin and New York: W. de Gruyter, 1991-97], 1:331-332; Modarressi, Tradition, 315-316; Sayyari, Revelation and Falsification: The Kitab al-qiraat of Ahmad b. Muhammad al-Sayyari, ed. Etan Kohlberg and Mohammad Ali Amir-Moezzi [Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2009] [English], 58, no. 5 and index).

. For the volume Sayyari Sayyari

expression ‘idda min ashabind see Husayn ‘Ali Mahfuz’s introduction to the first of the Kafi, 50; Amir-Moezzi and Ansari, “Kulayni,” 212. For Sahl b. Ziyad see (English), 66, no. 23 and index. For Muhammad b. Sulayman al-Daylami see (English), 57, no. 3 and index. For Muhammad’s father Sulayman al-Daylami

(a transmitter from Ja‘far al-Sadiq and Masa al-Kazim) see Modarressi, Tradition, 373-374.

. Modarressi, Tradition, 374. . In al-Kulini’s text, the words wa-yu’minana bihi are missing. This is probably the result of a conflation with Q42:5 (yusabbibuna bi-hamdi rabbihim wa-yastaghfirina li-man

fi -ardi). On the relationship between these two verses see Sayyari (English), 216-217, no. 479. . Kulini, 8:34. In a somewhat different formulation, this also appears as a separate tradition (Kulini, 8:304, no. 470 [Yanus (i.e., b. ‘Abd al-Rahman) < unidentified transmitter

< Abi Basir]; Najafi, Ta’wil al-ayat al-zahira (Qum: Madrasat al-Imam al-Mahdi, 1987], 528, no. 4 [Yunus b. ‘Abd al-Rahman < Aba Basir] > Katkani, Kitab al-burhanfi tafsir

an (Tehran: Capkhana-i Aftab, 1954-55], 4:92, no. 10, Majlisi, 24:209, no. 5). al-qur

,

, LIE 12k

Al-Sadig is reported to have given the same explanation to his follower Sulayman b. Mihran al-A‘mash (Furat, 2:376-377, no. 506 > Majlisi, 68:97—98, no. 4). Qummi, Tafsir, ed. Tayyib al-Misawi al-Jazairi (Najaf: Matba‘at al-Najaf, 1966-67), 2:255 > Maijlisi, 68:78, no. 139. Najafi, 531, no. 13 > Majlisi, 23:364, no. 26, 24:208, no. 1. this verse Kulini, 8:34—35 > Katkani, 3:303, no. 6. For a different Shi‘i interpretation of ; 1-5. nos. 3:301-303, see the sources cited in Katkani, Kulini, 8:35. This also appears as a separate tradition on the authority of Sulayman al-Daylami (Furat, 1:225-226, no. 303 > Majlisi, 68:56—57, no. 103). See also ‘Ayyashi,

14

ETAN KOHLBERG

Tafsir, ed. Hashim al-Rasili al-Mahallati (Qum: Capkhana-i ‘Ilmiyya, 1960-61), 2:244, no. 22 (Abii Basir < al-Sadiq) > Katkani, 2:347, no. 6, Majlisi, 68:36, no. 76; Kulini, 8:214— 215, no. 260 > Majlisi, 68:81—82, no. 142.

13%, Kulini, 8:35 > Katkani, 4:152-153, no. 1. 14. Kulini, 8:35. IS}. Kulini, 8:35. For this interpretation see also Ibn Mansir al-Yaman

(attrib.), Kitab

al-kashf, ed. Rudolf Strothmann (London: Oxford University Press, 1952), 23.

16. Kulini, 1:423, no. 56 > Majlisi, 24:205, no. 3 (with al-Majlisi’s explication), 47:55, no. 93; Ibn Shahrashab, 4:400 > (in a somewhat different version) Majlisi, 24:257, no. 3. For

Zayd al-Shahham see Modarressi, Tradition, 401-402. Cf. Shadhan b. Jabra‘il, Kitab al-fada’il (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-A‘lami li-l-Matbi‘at, 1988), 137 (for Aba Yamama read Aba Usama, which is the kunya of Zayd al-Shahham). There are numerous examples of the same verse being taken as referring to the Imam(s), to the Shi'a, or to both (cf. Kohlberg, “Imam and Community,” 32). Wr Kulini, 8:35 > Huwayzi, Tafsir nar al-thagalayn, ed. Hashim al-Rasili al-Mahallati (Qum: Mu’assasat Isma‘iliyan, 1991-92), 4:491, no. 70. 18. Qummi, 2:250 > Majlisi, 68:14, no. 15. 119). It may have formed part of Aba Hamza’s Tafsir (for which see Modarressi,

Tradition, 377) and is cited in Hirz al-Din’s attempted reconstruction of the work (Abi Hamza al-Thumali, Tafsir al-quran al-karim li-Abi Hamza Thabit b. Dinar al-Thumaili, reconstructed by ‘Abd al-Razzaq Muhammad Husayn Hirz al-Din [Qum: Matba‘at al-Hadi,

1999-2000], 287, no. 264). 20. Ibn Babawayh, Ma‘ani al-akhbar (Najaf: al-Matba‘a al-Haydariyya, 1971), 106, no. 4 >

Katkani, 4:78, no. 2, Huwayzi, 4:490—491, no. 69. Ae Qummi, 2:250 (Aba Hamza < al-Bagir) > Majlisi, 23:80, no. 16, 68:14, no. 15. The

tradition is also cited in Najafi, 518, no. 21 > Karkani, 4:78, no. 4, Majlisi, 24:258—259, no. 8. Here three of the four MSS on which the edition is based (as also Katkani and

Majlisi) have wuld Fatima while the fourth MS has shi‘at wuld Fatima. It might be suggested that the word shia before wuld Fatima was added at a later stage, after the adoption of the doctrine of ‘isma (protection from error and sin) of the Imams (see EV’, s.v. “‘Isma”

[W. Madelung]). 22) Kulini, 8:35. 225 Barqi, 1:171, no. 137 (Ali b. al-Nu'man < unidentified transmitter < al-Sadiq) > Majlisi,

68:94, no. 36; ‘Ayyashi, 2:242, no. 17 > Katkani, 2:344, no. 6. Cf. ‘Ayyashi, 2:243, no. 18 (Abu Basir < al-Sadiq) > Katkani, 2:344, no. 7; Ibn Mansir al-Yaman (attrib.), 37. 24, Kulini, 8:35—36 > Huwayzi, 1:514, no. 388. See also ‘Ayyashi, 1:256, no. 190 (an excerpt from the Aba Basir tradition) > Katkani, 1:393, no. 8, Majlisi, 68:32, no. 69; Tabrisi, Majma‘ al-bayan fi tafsir al-quran (Beirut: Dar Maktabat al-Hayat, 1961), 5:153 > Majlisi, 68:32; Kohlberg, “Imam and Community,” 32. IIS. Tabrisi, Mishkat al-anwar (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-A‘lami li-l-Matba‘at, 1991), 96; Majlisi, 82:173, no. 6 (from al-Rawandi’s Da‘awat). 26. For further details see E/, s.v. “Shahid” (E. Kohlberg). 2H Kulini, 8:36 > Fayd, Tafsir al-safi (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-A‘lami li-l-Matbii‘at, 1982), 4:307, Majlisi, 8:354-355, no. 6, Huwayzi, 4:467, no. 75. See also Qummi, 2:243 >

Katkani, 4:62, no. 2, Majlisi, 68:13, no. 14, cited in Bar-Asher, Scripture and Exegesis in

Early Imami Shiism (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 221; Furat, 2:361, no, 491 (an excerpt from

the Abu Basir tradition). See further Sayyari (Arabic), 121, no. 468 and the references in Sayyari (English), 213. » Nu'man, Sharh, 3:464—467, no. 1356; Nu‘man, Da‘a’im al-islam, ed. Asaf A. A. Fyzee (Cairo: Dar al-Ma‘arif, 1963-65), 1:76-78. For al-Nu‘man see Daftary, “Al-Qadi

Tue Ast Basir TRADITION

1

al-Nu‘man, Isma‘ili Law and Imami Shi‘ism,” Le shi‘isme imamite quarante ans apres:

Hommage a Etan Kohlberg, ed. Mohammad Ali Amir-Moezzi, Meir M. Bar-Asher, and Simon Hopkins (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009), 179-186. Many Twelver Shi‘ authors regarded him as one of their own, and often quoted from his works (Daftary, 180-181). 29. For example, in the Da@’im it is the narrator who describes the conversation between Aba Basir and al-Sadiq, while in the Sharh Abi Basir speaks in the first person. In both

works, the Imam cites Q33:23 before Q40:7, but in the Da‘a’im he then comes back to ©3323:

30. There are conflicting reports as to whether Aba Basir was born blind or only lost his sight in old age. See Kohlberg, “Vision and the Imams,” Autour du regard: Mélanges Gimaret, ed. Eric Chaumont, with the collaboration of D. Aigle, M. A. Amir-Moezzi, and P. Lory, 125-157 (Louvain-Paris: Peeters, 2003), 141-146.

31. This may not be fortuitous, since the Isma‘ilis do not appear to have subscribed to the view that this term denotes praise. Bet Appended to al-Nu‘man’s version is a statement which the Imam is said to have made in al-Abtah (near Mecca) when hearing a group of pilgrims: “How much clamor there is, and how few (true) pilgrims!” (ma akthara I|-‘ajij wa-agalla |-hajij) (see further Kohlberg, “Vision,” 145-146). It is doubtful whether this forms part of the Aba Basir tradition.

D3! Ibn Babawayh, Fada’ilal-shi‘a, ed. (with a Persian translation) Amir Tawhidi (Tehran: Intisharat-i Zurara, 2002), 56 > Majlisi, 68:52. The entire tradition (with a facing Persian translation) appears at 56-64. In referring to this text, al-Katkani (Katkani,

2:344, no. 8) says that it is taken from Ibn Babawayh’s Bisharat al-shi‘a. This may, in fact, be another title for the Fada’ il (cf. the discussion in Sayyari [English], 237-238, no. 551). Al-Najafi cites an excerpt from Ibn Babawayh, but does not reveal from which of his works it is taken (Najafi, 518-519, no. 22). For ‘Abbad b. Sulayman as a transmitter from Muhammad b. Sulayman see Ardabili, 1:430. 34. As in the K@fi, the first Qur’anic passage in Ibn Babawayh is a conflation of Q42:5 and Q40:7, but the wording is different: wa-l-mala’ikatu yusabbihina bi-hamdi rabbihim wa-yastaghfirana li-lladhina aman (Ibn Babawayh, Fada’il, 60). In Ibn Babawayh, Q44:41 is not followed by Q44:42 but, in what is presumably another conflation, instead continues with Q26:89 (ila man ata llaha bi-qalbin salimin) (Fada’il, 60). The

alternative ending in the K@fi, in which Abi Basir says “hasbi,” is not reproduced. es For al-Shaykh al-Mufid see EP, sx. “al-Mufid” (W. Madelung); Tamima BayhomDaou, Shaykh Mufid (Oxford: Oneworld, 2005). For the /khtisds see McDermott, The Theology of al-Shaikh al-Mufid (d. 413/1022) (Beirut: Dar al-Machreq, 1978), 27, 34. Those who question al-Mufid’s authorship of the /kAtisds include Aba |-Qasim al-Kha’i (d. 1413/1992) (see his Mu‘ jam rijal al-hadith [n.p.: Markaz Nashr al-Thaqafa al-Islamiyya, 1992], 8:197), Hossein Modarressi, who refers to the work as “pseudo-Mufid”

(“Early

Debates on the Integrity of the Qur'an: A Brief Survey,” Studia Islamica 77 (1993): 5-39, 18, note 75), and Hassan Ansari (“Limamat et l’occultation selon l’imamisme: Etude bib-

liographique et histoire des textes,” PhD diss. {Paris: Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes (Sorbonne), 2009], 109, note 521 and the studies cited there).

36. Mufid (actrib.), a/-/kAtisds (Najaf: al-Matba‘a al-Haydariyya, 1971), 101-104 > Majlisi, 47:390—393, no. 114; referred to in Majlisi, 68:51. Al-Hasan b. Mutayyil al-Qummi was an authority of Ibn al-Walid and the author of a Kitab al-nawdadir (Ardabili, 1:

220-221); Ibrahim b. Ishaq al-Nihawandi al-Ahmari was accused of extremism (fi madhhabihi

rtifa‘) (Ardabili,

1:18-19;

Modarressi,

Crisis and Consolidation

in the

Formative Period of Shi‘ite Islam (Princeton, NJ: Darwin Press, 1993}, 23, note 30). BLE In the printed edition of the ZkAtisds this word is missing, but it is clear from the context that it should be there. A gira with lakum is attested in Sayyari (Arabic), 123, no. 473

16

ETAN KOHLBERG

and Najafi, 519, no. 23 (where yaghfiru lakum jami‘an al-dhuniba should perhaps be emended to yaghfiru lakum al-dhuniba jami an). 38. Mufid (attrib.), ZkAtisds, 103. In Majlisi (at 47:393), both the Shi‘ giraa and the exchange between al-Sadiq and Aba Basir are missing. For this type of exchange between Imam

and disciple see Sayyari (English), 43-44. For Shi‘ variant readings see in general Sayyari (English), 41-45 and the literature cited there. Cf. Encyclopaedia of the Quran,

ed. J. D. McAuliffe (Leiden: Brill, 2001-6), s.v. “Readings of the Qur'an” (Frederik Leemhuis). 3), For whom see Encyclopedia Iranica, ed. Ehsan Yarshater (London: Routledge and Paul Kegan, 1982-), s.v. “Deylami, Abi Mohammad” (E. Kohlberg). ;

40, Daylami, A‘lam al-din fi sifat al-mu’minin (Beirut: Muassasat Al al-Bayt li-lhya al-Turath, 1988), 452-454 > Majlisi, 27:123-125, no. 111. At Daylami, 461, what is

presumably the same work is cited under the title Mufarrij al-karb. The work is not mentioned in al-Tihrani’s al-Dhari a ila tasanif al-shi‘a (Beirut: Dar al-Adwa’, 1983). It is unlikely to be the Faraj al-karb wa-farah al-qalb of al-Kaf‘ami (for which see Tihrani, 16:156, no. 423), since al-Kaf‘ami lived a century after al-Daylami. 41. Muhammad b. al-‘Abbas known as Ibn al-Juham (alive in 328/939-940) is said to have devoted an entire work to this subject. This text (now lost) is entitled Za’wil ma

nazalafi shi‘atihim (see Tasi, Fihrist (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-Wafa’, 1983], 181, no. 652. Ibn al-Juham’s best-known work is the Ta’wil ma nazala min al-quran al-karim fi l-nabi wa-alihi, of which extensive fragments survive; see Sayyari [English], 35, 36 and index). For arguments used by Shi‘i authors to explain the absence of any explicit mention of the Shi‘a in the Qur’an see Bar-Asher, Scripture, 88-93; Encyclopaedia of the Quran, sv. “Shi‘ism and the Qur’an” (Meir M. Bar-Asher), at 4:595-596.

42, ‘Ayyashi, 1:25-26, no. 1 (Sa‘dan [the nickname of ‘Abd al-Rahman] b. Muslim [for whom see Sayyari (English), 140, no. 235] < unidentified transmitter < al-Sadiq) > Katkani, 1:53, no. 2, Majlisi, 2:21, no. 59. The beginning of this tradition is cited in Fayd, 1:79, Majlisi, 67:17. 43, See Kohlberg, “Taqiyya in Shi'i Theology and Religion,” in Secrecy and Concealment: Studies in the History of Mediterranean and Near Eastern Religions, ed. Hans G. Kippenberg and Guy G. Stroumsa, 345-380 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1995), 373-378. 44, Ibn Babawayh, Madani, 21, no. 2 (Sadan b. Muslim < Aba Basir < al-Sadiq) > Katkani, 1:53, no. 3, Majlisi, 2:16-17, no. 38, 92:375, no. 3, Huwayzi, 1:26, no. 5. Majlisi and Huwayzi have yabuththin (“to propagate”) for yunbi'ain. See also Qummi, 1:30. For mimma ‘allamnahum yabuththiin see further Tabrisi, Majma‘, 1:83 (Muhammad b. Muslim < al-Sadiq). The understanding of rizg as knowledge (sustenance for the soul) was upheld by an anonymous scholar, who glossed mimmda razaqnahum

yunfigun as mimmd ‘allamnahum yu'alliman. This gloss was quoted by Abii Nasr ‘Abd al-Rahim b, ‘Abd al-Karim al-Qushayri (d. 514/1120), son of the renowned Sifi Abi |-Qasim al-Qushayri (Qurtubi, a/-Jami'‘ li-ahkam al-qur'an (Cairo: al-Hay’a al-Misriyya al-‘Amma li-l-Kitab, 1987], 1:179),

45, For this work see Bar-Asher, “The Qur’anic Commentary Ascribed to Imam Hasan al-‘Askari,” Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 24 (2000): 358-379. 46, Cf. Kohlberg, “Tagiyya,” 351-360. 47, ‘Askari (attrib.), Zafsir (Qum: Madrasat al-Imam al-Mahdi, 1988), 67 > Najafi, 33, no. 3, Majlisi, 2:64, no. 2. 48, Najafi, 307-308, no. 14 > Majlisi, 68:140-141, no. 84. Similarly Furat, 1:247, no. 334 > Majlisi, 7:194-195, no. 61. 49, Qummi, 2:53-54 > Katkani, 3:24-25, no. 2, Majlisi, 7:172-173, no. 2. The words wa-shi atund l-mukhlistin are missing from Majlisi. In Katkani the text has wa-/-mukhlisan fi walayatika. .

Tue Ast Basir TRADITION

Li

50. Ibn al-Juham > Najafi, 831, no. 3 > Majlisi, 68:53, no. 95; Haskani, Shawahid al-tanzil li-gawd‘id al-tafdil, ed. Muhammad Baqir al-Mahmidi (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-A‘lami li-l-Matbu‘at, 1974), 2:356, no. 1125 > Tabrisi, Majma’, 30:203. See further Ibn Shahrashab, 3:68 > Majlisi, 38:8, no. 13. Yazid is mentioned as an associate of Muhammad b. al-Hanafiyya in Tabari, Ta’rikh al-rusul wa-l-mulak, ed. M. jrede Goeje et al. (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1879-1901), second series, 674, 731.

fs For Kitab Ali see Kohlberg, “Authoritative Scriptures in Early Imami Shi‘ism,” in Les retours aux écritures: Fondamentalismes présents et passés, ed. Evelyne Patlagean and Alain Le Boulluec, 295-312 (Louvain-Paris: Peeters, 1993), 300—301; Amit-Moezzi, Le guide

divin dans le shi'isme originel: Aux sources de l’ésotérisme en Islam (Paris-Lagrasse: Verdier, 1992), 187 = The Divine Guide in Early Shi‘ism: The Sources ofEsotericism in Islam, trans.

David Streight (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), 74; Modarressi, Tradition, 4-12. 52% Ibn al-Juham (kurub abihi) > Najafi, 831-832, no. 4 > Katkani, 4:490, no. 2, Majlisi, 23:390, no. 100, 27:130-131, no. 121 (kitab abihi), 68:53-54, no. 96; Tasi, Amali (Najaf: Matba‘at al-Nu‘man, 1964), 2:19-20 (kutub abi) > Majlisi, 68:25, no. 46. For

Maytham al-Tammiar see Modarressi, Tradition, 42-44, 398; for Kitab/Kutub Maytham see Modarressi, Tradition, 43-44. His son Ya‘qib was a mawild (client) of ‘Ali Zayn

al-‘Abidin and a follower of al-Bagir (Tisi, Amdli, 2:20 > Majlisi, 68:25, no. 46). 32s Ibn al-Juham > Najafi, 832-833, no. 5 (Aba Hamza al-Thumali < Abi Ja‘far [i.e., al-Bagir] < Jabir b. ‘Abd Allah) > Katkani, 4:490, no. 3, Majlisi, 68:54, no. 97. A similar report, with a Sunni isndd, is also cited from Jabir b. ‘Abd Allah (Furat, 2:585, no. 754 > Haskani, 2:361—362, no. 1139; Tabari, Bishdrat al-mustafa li-shi‘at al-murtada (Najaf: al-Matba‘a al-Haydariyya, 1963], 122 > Majlisi, 68:133, no. 65). In this tradition, the Prophet tells those present that, on the Day of Resurrection, ‘Ali and his Shi‘a will be triumphant (a/-fa ’iziin), and Q98:7 is then revealed in confirmation of these words. See

also Nu‘man, Sharh, 1:202, no. 167 (on the authority of‘Ali’s great-grandson ‘Abd Allah b. Muhammad b. ‘Umar b. ‘Ali). Cf. Bargi, 1:171, no. 140 (Jabir < al-Bagir) > Majlisi,

68:30, no. 59; Irbili, Kashf al-ghumma fi ma'‘rifat al-a’imma (Beirut: Dar al-Adwa’, 1985), 1:322 (without isndd).

54. Tasi, Amadli, 2:283-284 (Yahya b. al-‘Ala’ al-Razi [for whom see Modarressi, Tradition, 393-394] < al-Sadiq) > Majlisi, 68:70—71, no. 130. De For which see (besides the Abii Basir tradition) Saffar, Basd’ir al-darajat, ed. Muhsin Kaéabaghi al-Tabrizi (Qum: Maktabat Ayat Allah al-‘Uzma al-Mar‘ashi al-Najafi, 1984), 54-56 (nine traditions); Furat, 1:245, no. 330, 2:363-365, nos. 492—496; Kulini,

1:212, nos. 1-2; Nu‘man, Sharh, 3:500, no. 1435; Tabrisi, Mishkat, 98-99; Najafi, 511— 512, nos. 1-4; Kohlberg, “Imam and Community,” 32; Bar-Asher, Scripture, 107. 56. Sayyari (Arabic), 26, no. 92.

a7 Sayyari (Arabic), 122, no. 472; Numan, Sharh, 3:500, no. 1434. 58. In some versions: ‘Ugba b. Khalid. Father and son were both disciples of al-Sadiq; see Modarressi, Tradition, 193-194, 388-389. Do} A Kafan confidant of al-Sadig, executed in 133/750 by order of the ‘Abbasid governor of Medina Dawid b. ‘Ali. See van Ess, 1:320-321; Kohlberg, “Taqiyya,” 355-357; Modarressi, Zradition, 326; Sayyari (English), 70, no. 34.

60. Barqi, 1:169, no. 135 > Katkani, 4:70, no. 13, Majlisi, 68:93, no. 35, Huwayzi, 4:480, no. 24; ‘Ayyashi, 2:207-208, no. 25 > Katkani, 2:287, no. 4, Majlisi, 68:35, no. 74; Numan,

Sharh, 3:473, no. 1373. See further ‘Ayyashi, 2:208, no. 26; Najafi, 231, no. 8.

6l. Furat, 1:224, no. 301 > Majlisi, 23:224, no. 38; ‘Ayyashi, 2:233-234, no. 41 > Katkani, 2:320, no. 13, Majlisi, 68:86-87, no. 11; ‘Ayyashi, 2:233, no. 39 > Katkani, 2:320, no. 11, Majlisi, 68:85-86, no. 9; Tabrisi, al-Shrijdj (Beirut: Murassasat al-A‘lami li-l-Matbia‘at, 1989), 160 > Majlisi, 32:97, no. 67. Cf. Bar-Asher, Scripture, 194-195.

ETAN KOHLBERG

18

62. For this gird’a see Sayyari (Arabic), 71, nos. 274, 275 and the references given in Sayyari (English), 153-154. 63. Najafi, 305, no. 12 > Majlisi, 23:223-224, no. 37, 24:374, no. 102. In contrast, Zayn al-‘Abidin states that those meant are the Imams (or the ah/ al-bayt) (nabnu ‘unind bihd)

(Tabrisi, Majma’, 16:48 > Fayd, 3:286; Ibn Shahrashab, 4:129 > Fayd, 3:286, Majlisi, 24:147, no. 21, Huwayzi, 3:351, no. 114). 64. ‘Ayyashi, 2:270, no. 69 > Fayd, 3:155, Katkani, 2:384, no. 7, Majlisi, 63:255, no. 123, Huwayzi, 3:86, no. 225. See also Qummi, 1:390; Najafi, 263, no. 23. Al-Najafi explains (264) that the believers of this verse are the Shi'a.

65. See the references given above, note 23. 66. This translation reflects al-Baqir’s understanding of the verse. 67. Furat, 1:170-171, no. 218 > Majlisi, 68:55, no. 100; ‘Ayyashi, 2:105, no. 105 > Katkani, 2:155, no. 3, Majlisi, 69:172-173, no. 19. In ‘Ayyashi as cited in Majlisi, shi‘atina -mudhnibin is replaced by shi‘atina l-mu’minin. This could be a scribal error (due to the graphic similarity between the two words), or it could be the result of areluctance to refer to the Shi‘a as sinners. For Khaythama see Sayy4ri (English), 160, no. 298. For this sense of ‘asd see, for example, Muqatil, Tafsir Mugatil b. Sulayman, ed. Ahmad Farid (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 2003), 1:252 (to Q4:99), 2:269 (to Q17:79)

(wa-l-‘asamin allah wajib); Tabari, Jami‘ al-bayan ‘an ta’wil ay al-quran (Cairo: Mustafa al-Babi al-Halabi, 1968), 5:185 (to Q4:84); ‘Ayyashi, 2:105—106, no. 106 (to Q9:102);

Tasi, al-Tibyadn fi tafsir al-quran, ed. Ahmad Shawqi al-Amin and Ahmad Habib Qusayr al-‘Amili (Najaf: Dar Ihya’ al-Turath al-‘Arabi, 1957-63), 5:189 (to Q9:18), 8:170 (to Q28:67) (gil: inna ‘asa min allah fi jami‘ al-qur an wajiba); Lane, An Arabic-English Lexicon (London: Williams and Norgate, 1863-93), s.v. ‘asd, at 2049a. 68. Ibn Babawayh, Man la yahduruhu |-fagih, ed. Hasan al-Misawi al-Kharsan (Najaf: Dar al-Kutub al-Islamiyya, 1957), 4:295, no. 892 > Katkani, 1:374-375, no. 4; Najafi, 141— 142, no. 22 > Majlisi, 68:140, no. 82.

69. Tiasi, Amaili, 1:70-71 > Najafi, 382-383, no. 20, Katkani, 3:175, no. 3, Majlisi, 68:100, no. 4; Tabari, Bishdrat al-mustafa, 7. For al-Thaqafi, a Kifan jurist and a prolific transmitter from al-Baqir and al-Sadiq, see Modarressi, Tradition, 344-345; Sayyari (English), 57, no. 3.

70. A Kafan jurist and expert on the text of the Qur'an, who lost an arm fighting alongside Zayd b. ‘Ali (d. 122/740) against the Umayyads. See Modarressi, Tradition, 374-375;

Sayyari (English), 100, no. 121. We Cf. van Ess, 5:446, Ws Barqi, 1:170, no. 136 (to Q25:70) > Katkani, 3:174-175, no. 2, Majlisi, 68:148-149, no. 97. Tek Saffar, 85-86, no. 11 > Majlisi, 17:153-154, no. 59; Kulini, 1:443—444, no. 15 (alluding to Q25:70) > Najafi, 383, no, 21, Katkani, 3:175, no. 6, Majlisi, 17:154, no. 60. 74. Ibn Babawayh, Risdlat al-i'tigadat (Tehran: lithograph ed., 1899-1900), 94 (trans. Fyzee, A Shi'ite Creed [London: Oxford University Press, 1942], 75-76) > Majlisi, 7:251, no. 9, Ty. Tabrisi, Majma’, 27:98 > Fayd, 5:112, Majlisi, 7:81, Huwayzi, 5:195, no. 42. Cf. Qummi, 2:345 > Fayd, 5:112, Majlisi, 6:246, no. 77, Huwayzi, 5:195, no. 41; Kulini,

3:242, no. 3, cited in Halevi, Muhammad's Grave: Death Rites and the Making of Islamic Society (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007), 216. For the period between the moment of death and resurrection and the shifting interpretations of the term barzakh see Halevi, 197-233 and index. 76. Sayyari (Arabic), 150, no. 551; Furat, 2:461—462, no. 604 (Maysara < al-Rida) > Majlisi, 8:353-354, no. 3, 92:56, no. 31; Ibn Babawayh, Fada’il, 100-102, no. 43 > Majlisi,

Tue Ast Basir TRADITION

19

7:273-274, no. 45, 8:360, no. 28; Najafi (citing Ibn Babawayh), 638-639, no. 20 > Majlisi, 24:275-276, no. 61, 68:144, no. 91. According to the traditions cited in these sources, it was Ibn Arwa (i.e., ‘Uthman) who removed the word minkum from this verse.

Tis Mufid, Amali (Najaf: al-Matba‘a al-Haydariyya, 1947-48), 175-176 > Majlisi, 68:20, no. 33; Tasi, Amaili, 1:70 (> Najafi, 643, no. 6 > Majlisi, 24:4, no. 13) > Fayd, 5:120, Majlisi, 35:332, no. 1, 68:20, no. 33, Huwayzi, 5:209, no. 20; Tabari, Bishdrat al-mustafa, 7, 88-89; Irbili, 1:312 > Majlisi, 35:335. 78. Ibn Babawayh, “‘Uyain akhbar al-Rida (Najaf: al-Matba‘a al-Haydariyya, 1970), 2:65 (Ali: fiyya nazalat) > Majlisi, 35:335, no. 14; Irbili, 1:320 > Majlisi, 35:332, no. 2. TA) Qummi, 2:395 > Fayd, 5:250, Katkani, 4:403, no. 1, Huwayzi, 5:458, no. 24 (al-yamin amir al-mu'minin wa-ashabuhu shi ‘atuhu); Furat, 2:514, no. 672. 80. Barqi, 1:171, no. 139 > Katkani, 4:403, no. 2, Majlisi, 68:29, no. 58; Furat, 2:513, no. 671; Ibn al-Juham > Najafi, 737, no. 8 > Katkani, 4:403, no. 3, Majlisi, 7:192, no.

55, 24:8, no. 23. 81. Kulini, 1:434, no. 91 > Katkani, 4:402, no. 1, Majlisi, 24:338, no. 59, 82. Najafi, 737, no. 7 (according to one manuscript). Similarly Furat, 2:513, no. 670 (on the

authority of al-Bagir). Shi‘i exegesis of some verses from Siira 56 (al-Waqi‘a) contains further examples of ashab al-yamin as the Shi‘a. See Qummi, 2:348 > Fayd, 5:122, Katkani, 4:277 (to Q56:27); Ibn al-Juham > Najafi, 651, no. 13 > Katkani, 4:285, no. 7, Majlisi, 24:1, no. 1, 68:53, no. 94; Ibn al-Juham > Najafi, 651, no. 14 > Katkani, 4:285, no. 8, Majlisi, 24:1, no. 2, 68:53, no. 94 (ending); Kulini, 8:260, no. 373 > Katkani, 4:285, no. 4 (all to Q56:90—91). See in general Amir-Moezzi, Guide divin = Divine Guide, index,

s.v. ashab al-yamin; Kohlberg, “In Praise of the Few,” in Studies in Islamic and Middle Eastern Texts and Traditions in Memory of Norman Calder, ed. G. R. Hawting, J. A. Mojaddedi, and A. Samely, 149-162 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 149-150.

83. 84. 85. 86. 87.

For whom see E/’, s.v. “Ka‘b al-Ahbar” (M. Schmitz).

Tabari, Bisharat al-mustafa, 50-51 > Najafi, 778-779, no. 11, Majlisi, 68:128—129, no. 59. Tabari, Bisharat al-mustafa, 51 > Majlisi, 68:129, no. 59. Najafi, 787, no. 2 > Katkani, 4:454, no. 7. Cf. Kohlberg, “In Praise,” 149-156.

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Chapter 2 Criteria for Emending the Text of the Qur’an Behnam Sadeghi!

1. Introduction A number of premodern and modern scholars have proposed emendations to the text of the “‘Uthmanic Qur'an.” However, discussions of the principles that should underpin such work remain meager. It is therefore desirable to delve into methodology more deeply than has been customary. The methodological question is this: By what criteria should one assess a proposed emendation? The answer will necessarily depend on one’s model of textual error. This is because any attempt to go from the given text to the original one will use a model of how and why the text could have changed in the first place.? Some previous writings on this topic tend to conceive of error according to a “unitary model” that focuses on one specific kind, namely, what may be called an “error of the hand,” a type of scribal mistake that can generate a difficult text, that is, a text that is obscure, seemingly incorrect linguistically, or anomalous. I call for a variegated model that takes into account a wider range of possible errors, and in the course of evaluating some specific emendations, | discuss types of mistake that have not been yet considered. I show how the failure to take into account the different kinds oftextual error can cast doubt on a proposed emendation that is otherwise supported by the unitary model. It is convenient to broach the problem through a critique of the most interesting relevant work done so far, namely, a lucid recent essay written by Devin Stewart.* Stewart discusses some proposed emendations, accepting some and rejecting others. While doing so, he lays out criteria for what constitutes a good proposal. His article has the merit of being reflective and methodologically conscious, more so than the writings of others who have done similar work. It is an engaging contribution to a hopefully burgeoning discussion on the theory behind emendations. The need for

Wp

BEHNAM SADEGHI

such introspection is palpable in a field that has become an airfield for flights of fancy.’ One way to engage with Stewart’s criteria is by discussing their application to specific cases. Here I treat two emendations that he says “have a high probability of being correct,” and I argue that they do not.° Both apparently involve what he takes to be “Qur’anic passages where the received text does not make sufficient sense and an apt emendation can provide a superior reading.”” In both cases, he follows this procedure: “If the text as it stands indeed appears to be corrupt, one searches for an emendation that involves minimal or explainable changes to the rasm or ductus, fits the immediate context, concurs with parallel passages, if any, and gives an improved reading.”® The process thus involves two steps: showing that the received text is wrong, and showing that there is a suitable alternative that is graphically like the received text—the similarity making it easy to see how a scribe could have mistakenly read or written one text instead of the other. Attributes that make an alternative reading suitable include fitting the context and matching parallel passages. The two steps of this schema are broadly sound, but the manner in which they are understood and applied requires significant modification. To begin with, one

needs to add the important caveat that a reading that agrees with a parallel text is not necessarily better. This is so because of the phenomenon of assimilation of parallels, a common cause of textual change that generates errors that actually agree better with parallels than with the original text. I will come back to this point, as it is important for both of the emendations that I will now discuss. One also needs to consider other forms of error, such as assimilation of nearby terms? Another caveat concerns cases in which “the received text does not make suf ficient sense,” especially in regard to once-occurring words (hapax legomena) and expressions. There are no Arabic books beside the Qur’an that are contemporaneous with it. Philological research on hapax legomena, dependent as it is on later literature, reveals later meanings of the words, which due to linguistic or social

change might not reflect their Quranic meanings. (Etymological research is an even less reliable guide to meaning: words very frequently acquire meanings different from their prototypes in the parent language.) Words could thus become dif ficult to understand if their meaning or usage changed after the time of the Prophet; yet in such a case an emendation that “makes sufficient sense” replaces the correct (i.c., original) text with a wrong one. Such a pitfall can arise frequently, considering that the list of words used in a book will have more rare words than common ones.'” In the Qur'an, for example, there are about 4,000 morphemes that occur just once (accounting for about half of the list ofdistinct morphemes), 1400 morphemes that occur twice, 650 morphemes that occur three times, etc.!! One might choose

to look at roots instead of morphemes, and when one does so, a similar decreasing trend emerges. As Figure 2.1 shows, there are 320 roots that occur just once, 190 that occur twice, 117 that occur thrice, 84 that occur four times, etc.!? For every number between 1 and 100, the figure shows how many roots occur with that fre-

quency. (Roots occurring more than a hundred times are not shown.) The upshot

is that while, as could be expected, a lot more of the Qur'an is made up of common

CRITERIA FOR EMENDING THE QuR’AN

0

Figure 2.1

20

40

60

23

80

100

Number of Roots Occurring a Certain Number of Times.

roots than uncommon ones, the list of roots contains more uncommon roots than common ones. One would expect some of the hapax legomena to have undergone changes in meaning or usage after the Prophet, considering that Qur’anic Arabic is distinct from classical Arabic and differs even from the Arabic used in the hadith literature.'* So, a difficult hapax legomenon will not necessarily require an emendation. But what if there is another passage that uses, in a similar context or expression, a different word instead of the difficult hapax legomenon? Should

the hapax legomenon be necessarily discarded in favor of this other word? Even here it is not safe to say that the hapax legomenon is erroneous, since the Qur’an is full of repeated texts that differ in one, two, or a few words, and usually this

phenomenon does not involve any textual difficulty. Given the pervasiveness of such cases, and given the large number of hapax legomena, naturally some of

these altered repetitions will involve hapax legomena whose meanings or usages have changed over time. These observations concern the manner in which the twofold criteria are fleshed out. But there is also a part of my critique that concerns not how the criteria are understood and applied, but rather whether they are satisfied to begin with in the two cases studied here. By bringing into play evidence that Stewart has not considered, I show that in both instances the received text is plausible. Because

the given text makes sense, Stewart’s own first criterion is not satisfied. The case studies, therefore, not only illustrate the methodological points, but also shed light on certain ideas in the Qur'an. Furthermore, the first case study illustrates the effects of the standardization ofthe skeletal text (rasm) of the Qur’an on its recita-

tion and the influence of local textual traditions in this canonization process. In particular, one discerns the influence of the Ibn Mas‘iid tradition upon some ofthe ‘Uthmanic readings in Kifa. While conforming to the “Uthmanic skeletal text, some of the Kifan reciters were influenced by Ibn Mas‘tid’s readings. The first case study shows how reading the ‘Uthmanic skeletal text with a disposition formed by the Ibn Mas‘tid tradition produced a strained reading.

BEHNAM SADEGHI

24

2. The First Case Study: Denial of Punishment and Punishment of Denial in Sara 6 2.1. Introduction The first case concerns Q6.57. Before stating the proposed emendation, it is necessary to provide some background about the disputed point. The verse is as follows: Qul inni ‘ala bayyinatin min rabbi wa-kadhdhabtum bihi, ma “indi ma tastajilina bihi: ini L-hukmu illa li-llahi. (Yaqussulyaqdilyaqdi bi-) |-haqq {ali|, wa-huwa khayru |-fasilin. Say: I have clear proof from my Lord, but you have rejected it. I do not have with me that which you ask to be hastened: the decision rests with God alone. He [the disputed point] the truth. And He is the best at distinguishing who is right.'*

There is a difference between the version of the Companion of the Prophet, Ibn Mas‘iid, as reported by al-A'mash—henceforth labeled IM—and the ‘Uthmanic text.

IM gives Gale = or yaqdi bi-l-haqgi in transliteration, meaning judges according to the truth. This reading seems to have been popular in Kifa during the first century.'> By contrast, the ‘Uthmanic text—henceforth labeled U—has $=) vos.'° In comparison with IM, U lacks the ya’at the end of the first word and the 4a’at the beginning of the second one. The skeletal difference is such that the two texts cannot represent alternative spellings of the same words; the words are necessarily different. For this reason, this may be called a skeletal morphemic difference."” U has been read in two ways. One reading is U1, yaqdi -haqqa, meaning fulfills the truth, determines the truth, executes the truth, gives what is due, or, if one

were to accept a questionable yet popular gloss in the works of exegesis, gives the judgment of the truth. U1 was popular especially among Iraqi readers.'* The other reading for U is U2, yaqussu L-haqqa, which means tells the truth. U2 was popular among Hijazi reciters.'? Thus, U1 shares with IM not only the verb gada, but also prominence in the city of Kifa, an important “coincidence” that I will eventually explain below. U1 and U2 both conform to the ‘UthmAnic skeletal text; thus their difference is morphemic (different words) but not skeletal. The Seven Readers

conform to this skeleton, some espousing U1 and others U2, and so do some other authorities. The three readings are shown in the following diagram. The variants prompt two questions corresponding to the two points in the diagram marked with question marks: What was the original ‘Uthmanic reading, U, and what was the Prophet’s reading? UDs yaqdi |-hagqa is reminiscent of IM’s yagdi bi-l-hagqi, since the verb is the same but for the absence of yd’at the end. Now, IM’s version is linguistically correct, reads naturally, and is attested elsewhere (Q40.20 and 40.78), which at least shows

that it is plausible, Unlike IM, however, U1 is difficult. The main difficulty is the absence of yd. Normally, such an absence would make the verb jussive (majzum), but that would be wrong here. Rather, the authorities say that the ya’ is dropped to make the writing conform to the pronunciation, citing other instances in the

CRITERIA FOR EMENDING THE QUR'AN

25

Ul Gall ai, yaqdi l-haqqa U2

Prophetic Prototype

(i

Gall Gal =

aaa piciee

Gal pat yaqdi bi-l-haqqi

Figure 2.2

Flowchart of Variant Readings of Q6.57.

Qur'an of this phenomenon.”° Nonetheless, such an occurrence is highly anomalous, and it remains true that U1 is difficult.?!

Is it possible to determine which, between U1 and U2, is the correct reading of U, that is, the original one? It has been shown that U1 is difficult. The possible meanings of U1, fulfills the truth, determines the truth, or gives what is due, are feasible; however, U2’s tells the truth is particularly apt: it fits the context and mirrors other instances in which “the truth” occurs in the sara, as will be shown later. In light of these considerations and others (to be mentioned later) in favor of U2, I offer the hypothesis that U1’s

yaqdi l-hagga represents an attempt to fit yagdi into the somewhat unaccommodating ‘Uthmanic skeletal text. This entails that the “Uthmanic skeletal text existed before the U1 reading came into being. I postpone to the end the question of what may have led a reader of U to prefer the verb yagdi and hence U1 despite the ensuing difficulty. In short, the proper ‘“Uthmanic reading is U2, while U1 is a misreading, But to take U2 as the original ‘UthmAanic reading does not settle whether it was also the Prophetic reading. Addressing that question requires weighing U2 against IM. In other words, to say that U2 is better than U1 if one adheres to the ‘Uthmanic skeletal text begs the question of how this skeletal text itself compares to that of IM.” The question now is this: Which is the original reading, U2 or IM? This brings us finally to Stewart's emendation. He compares the two and chooses IM.’ His two-step argument involves establishing (1) that U2 is apparently wrong, and (2) that IM is plausible and fits the context. I will argue that he is right about the

latter but wrong about the former: U2 is both linguistically sound and well suited to the context. In addition, I’ll show that it is easy to see how a scribe or somebody who read and dictated the text could mistake U2 for IM. To be sure, a rebuttal that is structured in this form does not prove that IM is secondary, but it does show that it is not “clearly a better reading.”** There is no good reason for thinking so, and IM is merely plausible. First I will consider Stewart’s point that IM is plausible—briefly, since he and I agree. Then, I will refute his view that U2 is not.

26

BEHNAM SADEGHI

IM is indeed plausible. It fits lexically. The reading gives yaqdi bi-l-hagqqi, pric decides/judges according to the truth.” Stewart says in its support that the phrase occurs also in Q40.20 (cf. 40.78), a parallel that was cited already in the premodern period in support of U1.” The repetitive nature of the Qur’an makes it understandable if the same clause occurred in the verse at hand. Moreover, IM fits the context. The context is the opponents’ denial of the revelations about God’s retribution and the Hour. They sardonically ask that the punishment be hastened (tasta‘jilana). The point is that it is God who rules on the dispute (yaqdi), or alternatively it is He who decides or determines (yaqdi) when and how to fulfill the threat of the punishment or the Hour. Furthermore, immediately before this point it is stated that the decision on the Hour is God’s alone (ini LAukmu illa li-llahi), and, immediately after, the

terminal clause of the verse declares that God is the best at distinguishing who is right (wa-huwa khayru I-fasilin). Several people—for example, Abi ‘Amr b. al-‘Ala and Devin Stewart—have cited these surrounding phrases that are linked to the idea ofjudgment in order to corroborate the verb yagdi.*°

2.2. The Lexical Correctness of U2 But U2 is also plausible. At the most basic level, one would like to know if the lexical meaning of yagugu fits the clause in which it appears. Stewart thinks not. He takes the word yagussu to mean “he relates, tells, narrates a story” and concludes that “one does not generally say ‘to narrate the truth.”?” As another argument, Stewart writes

that the Qur’an uses the verb gassa only to talk about the past, making the verse at hand anomalous. One can hardly disagree with Stewart’s point that “narrates the truth” seems odd;

one narrates a story or narrative. But does yaqussu have to mean narrate? And does yaqussu take as its object only a story as Stewart supposes? And does the Qur’an use the verb gaga only for the past as he believes? The answer is negative to all of the above. To be sure, there are instances of the verb in the Qur’an in which narrate gives the best translation—cases concerning the accounts of bygone prophets and communities. However, there are also many instances in which narrate would be a poor rendering:

* One usually does not “narrate a disputed point.” So in Q27.76, from the context it seems that clarify, settle, or explain would be the right interpretation, as noted already by some premodern exegetes:78 Inna hadha l-Qurdna yaqussu ‘ala bani Isra’ila akthara lladhi hum fthi yakhtalifina;

Verily this Qur'an clarifies/settles for the Children of Israel most of their disagreements. * One does not “narrate signs” or “revelations.” So, in Q6.130 and 7.35, the sense is recite, deliver, convey, or explain:

rusulun minkum yaqussina ‘alaykum ayati; messengers from among you, conveying to you my signs.

CRITERIA FOR EMENDING THE QuR’AN

ai.

* One does not “narrate a prohibition.” So, in Q16.118, the sense is mention, tell,

tell about, state, explain, or specify: Wa-‘ald lladhina hadi harramna ma qasasna ‘alayka min qablu; We have forbidden the Jews what We have mentioned to you previously. * One does not “narrate a messenger.” So in Q40.78 and 4.163—4, even though the object is earlier prophets, narrate is not a good translation. Given the context, the right translation is te// about or mention: Wa-la-qad arsalna rusulan min qablika minhum man qasasnd wa-minhum man lam naqsus ‘alayka;

We did send messengers before you: some We have mentioned to you and some We have not. wa-rusulan qad qasasnahum ‘alayka min qablu wa-rusulan lam nagsushum alayka;

messengers We have told you about previously and messengers We have not. ¢ In addition, in Q28.11 the meaning isfollow: Fa-qalat li-ukhtihi qussihi; She said to his sister, “Follow him.”

Clearly, the uses of the verb gaga in the Qur'an reveal a variety of meanings besides narrate, including some or all of the following: tell, tell about, make known, explain, settle, make clear, clarify, specify, convey, and follow. In none of these senses does the verb require a narrative as its direct object. Some of these meanings happen to be mentioned by Edward Lane in his Lexicon as well, including explain, make known, recite, deliver,

and follow.” All of them, with the exception offollow, fit U2 very well. Thus, Sher Ali’s translation of U2 as “He explains the truth,” Pickthall’s “He telleth the truth,” Abdel

Haleem’s “He tells the truth,” Yusuf Ali’s “He declares the truth,” Rodwell’s “He will declare the truth,” and Muhammad Asad’s “He shall declare the truth,” are all lexically valid. So is Qatada’s gloss, “He tells the truth,” yagalu -hagga.*® Nor is gassa used (as Stewart asserts) only to talk about the past. This point is proved in Q6.130, 7.35, 12.5, 27.76, and 28.11. All indications are that gassa in U2 is lexically suitable. There is a lesson here. If yagussu had been a hapax legomenon, or if it had occurred in the Qur’an only in the sense of“narrate,” one might not have been able to learn some ofits other meanings, and its use in Q6.57 would have been difficult, leading some scholars to emend it erroneously. Only because the word happens to occur elsewhere in the Qur’an in senses that fit the verse at hand was it possible to vindicate it. The difficulty of ahapax legomenon might thus represent a limitation of our knowledge rather than a textual error.

2.3. The Contextual Suitability of U2 lexical meaning, but also the Not only is yaqusw /-hagga unproblematic in terms of context supports it—both the immediate context and that of the sara as a whole.

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The key lies in the mention of “the truth,” a/-hagg, which acquires a completely different function depending on the choice of IM or U2. This section argues that the connotation of “the truth” associated with U2 fits the immediate and broader contexts in Sura 6. The next section considers parallels in other saras. For IM, truthfulness describes the manner in which God judges: God judges according to the truth, which is to say, justly. By contrast, U2’s point is that, contrary to what the deniers say, God speaks the truth in His revelations when threatening punishment. That theme occurs in the present verse and pervades much of the sara, resulting in several uses of the word al-haqg to make the same point. The verse at hand concerns those who scoff at the Hour, denying (wa-kadhdhabtum) the catastrophe that may befall them as it did previous afflicted communities. They mockingly ask that the punishment be hastened (tasta‘jilina).*' Indeed, the opponents’ rejection of Muhammad’s message about divine retribution is the primary theme of the first 73 verses of the st#ra (Q6.1-73), expressed in vocabulary that is found also in the present verse, including the verbs kadhdhaba and ista‘jala.* It is against such denials that the sara insists on the truth of the warnings about impending retribution. Significantly, three other verses in this sara use the word al-hagq in making the point that the threat of punishment is real. The opening pericope of the stira states, “They denied the truth when it came to them (kadhdhaba bi-l-haqqi jaahum). Soon enough they will hear news ofjust the thing they mocked. lamma They should note how many generations we have destroyed before them” (Q6.5—6). More to the point, a later passage states, “They say: “There is nothing but the life of this world; we will not be resurrected.’ If only you could see them when they are put before their Lord: He will say, ‘Is this not the truth?’ (a-laysa hadha bi-l-haqgi)”

(6.29-30). Even more directly, and only nine verses after the disputed point, the text says: “He is able to send you punishment... Your people denied it, and yet it is the truth (wa-huwa I-haqqu)” (6.65—6). Thus, U2 fits the immediate and larger

contexts. And the three verses mentioned above, including the one near the disputed spot, use al-hagg, “the truth,” in a manner similar to U2 and unlike IM. The phrase “with clear proof,” ‘ala bayyinatin, with which the verse begins provides another contextual indication of U2’s suitability. It occurs only six other times in the Qur'an (QI1.17, 11.28, 11.63, 11.88, 35.40, 47.14). It can refer explicitly to God’s revelations and scriptures (Q11.17, 35.40), and can be used in an immediate

context of divine punishment (Q11.17, 11.28, 47.14), or be cited by prophets whose communities will soon be destroyed, namely, Noah (Q11.28), Salih (Q11.63), and Shu'ayb (Q11.88). The association of this phrase with the revealed words of God makes it understandable why it would be juxtaposed, in the verse at hand, with the truth of the threats revealed by God. In fact, a similar thing happens in Q11.17 (‘ala bayyinatin...innahu |-haqqu). Another contextual element is the terminal phrase of the verse, which states that God is the best at distinguishing who is right, or the best settler of disputes, khayru Lfasilin. | mentioned above that the word fasilin fits IM. However, there are also four considerations that favor U2. First, it is not necessary to consider the occurrence offasilin in the terminal phrase as being prompted by yaqdi, “He judges.” It could just as well resonate with the seven other instances of fs-/which make this the sara with the most occurrences

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of the root fs-/. (The sara alone has 19 percent of the 43 instances of fs-/ in the Qur'an.) In fact, there is an occurrence nearby, just 25 words earlier. Verse 55 reads wa-kadhilika nufassilu |-ayati wa-li-tastabina sabilu L-mujrimin. Second, the meaning of U2 fits the ending with fasilin. This is supported by the ways in which the Qur'an uses the relatively few occurrences of the verb fasala. The uses in the sense of “depart” are irrelevant and may be ignored (Q2.249, 12.94). That leaves only three other instances, Q22.17, 32.25, and 60.3: Inna llaha yafsilu baynahum yawma |-giyamati; Inna rabbaka huwa yafsilu baynahum yawma |-qiyamati fi-ma kana fihi yakhtalifana; yawma I-giyamati, yafsilu baynakum.

All three occurrences mention yawma l-qiydmati, the Day of Judgment. In the third case there is an ambiguity, as is illustrated by the difference in the translations of Pickthall and Yusuf Ali: the former has, “He will part you,” while the latter gives,

“He will judge between you.” The first two instances of yafsilu, however, are clear. Both refer to religious disputes, and both promise that God will distinguish who is

right. The judgment is about whose religious views are right, not just about how punishment is meted out (i.e., fairly or not); hence my interpretation of the terminal phrase in Q6.57 as “He is the best at distinguishing who is right,” or “He is the best settler of disputes.” From the context, the dispute is with those who reject Muhammad’s message about the Hereafter. The terminal phrase thus reinforces U2’s point that this message is true and the deniers are wrong. Third, U2’s yagussu and the terminal fasala can keep similar company in other verses; so, it is not surprising for them to be associated here. Compare Q32.25 and Dio:

Inna rabbaka huwa yafsilu baynahum yawma |-qiyamati fi-ma kanu fihi yakhtalifuna

Inna hadha |-Quriina yaqussu ‘ala bani Isra’ila akthara ladhi hum fihi yakhtalifuna Both verses are about settling “that which they disagree over.” The first verse uses

yafsilu and the second uses yaqussu to refer to the idea of settling or clarifying. Thus, the appearance of both verbs in the verse at hand is not without mutual resonance. Fourth, as Aba ‘Ali al-Farsi (d. 377/987) has noted previously, fas/in could hark

back to yaqusu, which indicates speech, just as elsewhere in the Qur'an f/can refer to speech as opposed to judgment. Aba ‘Ali gave the following examples: Q86.13, 11.1, and 7.32.”

2.4. Parallels for U2 Outside the Sara Many other passages besides the ones already quoted from Sura 6 state that God’s promises about divine retribution or the Hour are the truth (faqq), and several of these also refer to denials ofthe retribution as Q6.57 does. See, for example, Q7.44, 10.4, 10.53, 10.55, 18.21, 21.97,°31.9, 31.33; 40.77, 41.53, 42.17-18, 45.32, 46.17,

56.95, 69.4951, and 78.39. All of these verses employ “truth” in a manner similar

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to U2 and unlike IM. Among these parallels, perhaps the one most disputed verse is Q42.17-18. This passage combines the scoffers’ lenge that the Hour be hastened (yasta‘jilu), the truthfulness of the Scripture (with the word al-hagq used twice), and the error of those

similar to the sardonic chalHour and the who deny the

Hour: Allahu Uadhi anzala |-kitaba bi-l-haqqi wa-l-mizana wa-ma yudrika la‘alla l-sa‘ata garibun, yasta‘jilu biha lladhina la yu'minina biha wa-lladhina amani mushfiguna minha wa-ya‘lamina annaha I-baqqu ala inna lladhina yumarina fi L-sa‘ati lafi dalalin ba‘id. God is the One who sent down the Book with truth, and also the balance. Whar will make you realize that the Hour may be close? Those who deny it ask that it come soon, but those who believe in it fear it; they know that it is true. Surely, those who dispute

concerning the Hour are far astray.

This text is similar to our Q6.57 in both word choice and theme, notably in its use of the verb yasta‘jilina and its focus on denial of the Hour. And it uses the word al-hagg in a manner that is similar to U2 rather than IM. Other passages that say that God speaks the truth (Aaqq) or that His message or promises are the truth (haqg) include Q33.4 (wa-llahu yaqulu |-haqqa), 34.6, 38.84 (wa-l-haqga aqilu),

2.91, 2.144, 10.76, 10.94, 10.108, 11.17 (incidentally, containing ‘@/a bayyinatin like the verse at hand), 11.45, 11.120, 13.1, 13.19, 22.54, 28.13, 28.48, 28.53, 30.60,

32.3, 35.5, 35.31, 40.55, 43.29-30, and 47.2. These passages, too, use Aagq in manner that is similar to U2 and unlike IM.

2.5. Finding the Original Version: Four Types of Error It has been shown that IM and U2 both make sense and fit the context. But which version is the original? It is possible to imagine scenarios in which the difference between IM and U2 is not due to a scribal error (say, if the Prophet recited both

versions), in which case it would not make sense to ask which is the original. If, however, we assumed that there was a scribal error, with or without the Prophet endorsing the resulting textual diversity, which version would likely be the original one? Given the current state of our knowledge and based on the analysis of this one variant, it is not possible to provide a definitive answer; however, some relevant evidence should be examined. One may ask which is easier to imagine, a scribal error that changes IM to U2 or one in the opposite direction? Answering this question requires taking into consideration four types of error that seem potentially relevant here: (1) changes due to assimilation of parallels, (2) changes due to assimilation of nearby terms, (3) failings of short-term memory that are not due to the last two mechanisms, and (4) “errors of the hand.”

Assimilation of parallels refers to textual changes that arise when a scribe’s familiarity with a parallel makes him or her write the text more like the parallel.°° IM becomes a candidate for assimilation of parallels if one can find a sentence that uses the verb yagdi in a similar context. There is indeed a close parallel in Q40.20: wa-llahu yagdi bi-l-hagqi. There is a close but less exact one in Q40.78: fa-idha

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jaa amru ahi qudiya bi-l-haqgi. On the other hand, U2 becomes a candidate for assimilation of parallels if one can find a sentence that uses the verb yaqussu ina similar context. But there is no close parallel that uses the verb; only remote parallels do so. These include Q18.13 (nahnu naqusu ‘alayka naba'ahum bi-l-haqgi), Q3.62 (inna hadha la-huwa |-qasasu l-hagqu), and Q11.120 (wa-kullan naqussu alayka min anba’i l-rusuli ma nuthabbitu bihi fuidaka wa-ja aka fi hadhibi L-hagqu). It follows that IM is a much better candidate for assimilation of parallels than U2. If the error was due to assimilation of parallels, U2 should be considered the original.

Assimilation of nearby terms happens when a scribe is influenced by words that appear nearby.*’ IM becomes a candidate for assimilation of nearby terms if

one can find another instance of the verb gada nearby. Indeed, that verb occurs

four times in the sara, including twice near the disputed spot. Only 11 words later there is la-qgudiya (Q6.58), and 61 words later there is li-yugda (Q6.60). There are two other occurrences of the verb earlier in the sara, though not nearby (Q6.2, 6.8). On the other hand, U2 becomes a candidate for assimilation

of nearby terms if one can find another instance of the verb gassa nearby. But there is only one instance in the sara, and it is not nearby, being located in verse

130. It follows that IM is a candidate for assimilation of nearby terms whereas U2 is not. If the error was due to assimilation of nearby terms, again U2 should be considered the original. Sometimes a scribe’s short-term memory fails, and one word is switched with another without this being caused by the above mechanisms. When this happens, usually a frequent word does not change to a rare word. Change in the opposite direction is more likely.** In the case at hand, neither word is rare. The verb gassa occurs 19 times elsewhere, whereas the verb gada occurs 63 times. Some may consider the three-to-one ratio as favoring U2 as the original. If so, however, this repre-

sents no more than a slight edge, not enough to conclude anything. The fourth kind of error seems to be the only one taken into consideration by Stewart. It subsumes (but is not limited to) what nowadays would be called “typos.” In the kinds of change described previously, the scribe may or may not recognize

the error if they were asked about what they wrote. But in this fourth type, they certainly would. It would be as ifthe scribe wrote “no single meaning” (as I once

did while copying a quotation) and when you questioned them right away, they told you that they meant to write “no settled meaning.” In other words, the scribe

writes something that they do not intend at the moment they write it—whether they later come to accept the new version is another matter. The mind would seem to play a significant role in the case of “single” vs. “settled,” but most such errors

are more like Ate vs. the, where the mind plays a relatively limited role, hence the label “error of the hand.” Errors of the hand tend to yield obviously wrong texts, as is familiar to us from our own experience with typos, though occasionally the result is linguistically tenable. However, neither IM nor U2 is obviously wrong or

even slightly implausible. Thus, if this sort of error did occur at the disputed point,

it would have belonged to the category of errors of the hand that are tenable, and it could have gone equally in either direction, from IM to U2 or the other way around. It would be worth investigating how likely this category oferrors (sensible errors of the hand) is.

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In summary, for the first two types of error only U2 could be the original text. For the third kind, either could be the original (although perhaps U2 is very slightly more likely). For the fourth type, sensible errors of the hand, either could be the original, though it is not clear how probable this category of mistakes is. So, at present, U2 has a good claim to being the original, but one cannot dismiss IM either. A systematic study of the codex of Ibn Mas‘iid might lead to a more decisive verdict, if it is found for example that at disputed points, significantly more of the “Uthmanic readings cannot be explained as cases of assimilation (as compared to Ibn Mas‘iid’s readings), or if there is a pattern of Ibn Mas‘iid using more frequent words. Finally, I reject the following argument in favor of IM: it might be said that in trying to decide between IM and U2, one should use the U1 witness as a control, which would tip the scale in favor of IM since the agreement of U1 and IM is best explained by their shared ancestor having the verb yagi. Such a conclusion would be sound if all other things were equal, that is, if there were no indication of how the concurring readings could have arisen independently or how one could have influenced the other. However, in this case there are three reasons why the concurrence of IM and U1 does not mean derivation from a common ancestor. First, it was already noted that U1 seems to presuppose the “Uthmanic skeletal text. Ifitpostdates the divergence between the text types of Ibn Mas‘tid and ‘Uthman, which give respectively IM and U, it cannot be used as an independent witness for distinguishing between the two. Second, the use ofthe verb gadd@ in U1 could reflect assimilation of parallels or nearby words, just as |demonstrated above for IM. In fact, already in the premodern period, the same parallel (Q40.20) was cited to justify U1, underscoring how easily such an assimilation could have taken place.*° Third, at least in the case of the Kifan reciters who favor Ul, like Hamza and al-Kisa’i, their reading was not independent from IM: it derived from IM. This is not mere speculation. Comparing the text of the codex of Ibn Mas‘iid as described by al-A’mash with the ‘Uthmanic readings reveals the persistent (direct or indirect) influence of Ibn Mas‘td’s text upon the Kiifan readers Hamza and

al-Kisa’i. In the case at hand, the difficulty of U1 betrays the strain of trying to read the ‘Uthmanic skeletal text with a disposition shaped by Ibn Mas‘tid’s IM. It is well known that Ibn Mas‘iid’s codex used to be popular in Kifa.*! U1 probably originated when Kafa was completing the transition to the parallel ‘Uthmanic textual tradition.

3. The Second Case Study: Heavenly Comestibles Stewart justly dismisses another author's reduction of the houris to grapes.*? However, his own playing down of the perks of paradise is not persuasive either. I am referring to his demoting of heavenly bananas or plantains (talh) to dates (tal’). The verse in question, Q56.29, has wa-talhin mandadin, “and clusters of bananas.”*? Stewart recommends wa-tal‘in mandidin, “and clusters of dates.” In doing so, he agrees with the reading ascribed to ‘Ali.44 The suggestion derives

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plausibility from the facts that the difference is in a single letter and that the two letters have fairly similar shapes. Stewart's first justification is this: “It seems odd that bananas are mentioned here, for they do not occur elsewhere in the Qur'an.” In other words, talhis a hapax legomenon. But there is nothing wrong with hapax legomena; there are many of them in the Qur'an, just as in other books.*° His second reason is that dates “would have been an important feature of the environment in which the Qur'an was revealed.” So, the problem with bananas is that they were not staples like dates. But it is a misunderstanding of the Qur’anic Paradise to assume that it is limited to things that were common in and around Mecca. Quite the opposite, Paradise is resplendent with novelties. Its inhabitants wear “bracelets of gold” and “green garments of silk and brocade” (Q18.31). They are served in “vessels of silver and goblets of crystal” (Q 76.16). There are rivers of milk,

honey, and wine (Q47.15). It is safe to say that rivers of milk, honey, and wine were not important features of the environment in which the Qur’an was revealed; thus, if bananas were not, that should not bar them from Paradise either. After all, in Heaven there is “every kind of fruit” (Q47.15), not just mundane staples like dates, though the staples are available too (Q55.68).*” If bananas are a problem, then so are all the other marvels, At any rate, it is not clear just how common bananas and plantains were in Arabia, although the Qur’an itself mentions dates, olives, grapes, and pomegranates

more often.*8 Stewart goes on to support “dates” with a parallel passage, as reportedly ‘Ali had done.*? The parallel is the mention in Q50.10 of tall palm trees (located on earth, not in Heaven) “with clusters of dates,” laha tal‘un nadidun. He writes that the use “of the adjective nadid, cognate and synonymous with manddd, suggests the equivalence oftalhand tal‘”*° But here we have a botanical similarity in nature, not just a verbal parallelism in literature. Since bananas and dates both actually come in clusters, referring to “clusters of bananas” and “clusters of dates” need not imply

equivalence. Even if the physical similarity did not exist, there would be nothing odd about the verbal parallelism, since in the Qur’an it is exceedingly common for a sentence or phrase to be repeated except for changes to one, two, or a few words. There is normally no need to emend anything when this happens. Stewart does not consider possible meanings of talh beside bananas. While early

exegetes usually glossed ta/h as bananas or banana trees, the word was also applied to a tree species in Arabia that could have been mentioned for the fragrance of its blossoms, its shade, or its beauty.! This would fit the Qur’an’s descriptions of Paradise, which mention shades (Q 4.57, 36.56, 56.30, 76.14, 77.41) and allude to

fragrance (Q76.5, 76.17).2 And it would not be the only reference to a tree: the

lote tree is mentioned immediately before (Q56.28). There would be nothing odd in mentioning an aromatic and pleasant tree as the heavenly counterpart to Hell’s arguably foul-smelling Zaqqiim (Q37.62, 44.43, BGp2)7° The possibility that talh is a tree is strengthened somewhat by the expression ard taliha for “a land abounding with the tree ralph,” and the expression ibi/ taliha for a camel made sick by eating of the ralh tree.” Which is likely to be the original, talh or tal? As in the first case study, the error that occurred, if any. Let us consider them one answer depends on the type of

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by one. First, assimilation ofparallels: the received text (talhun) becomes a candidate for assimilation of parallels if one can find a sentence that uses ¢a/h in a similar context. Such a passage does not exist since ta/h appears nowhere else. So, the received

text cannot have been generated by this mechanism. On the other hand, the proposed text (tal‘wn) could have occurred to the author of the ‘Ali traditions by way of the assimilation of the parallel in Q50.10 (tal‘un nadidun).” Second, assimilation of nearby terms is irrelevant here, since neither word makes an appearance in the vicinity of the disputed spot. Third, failures ofmemory that are not due to assimilation: within this type of error, the direction of change tends to be from a rare word to acommon one. Unlike the once-occurring tal/, the word tal‘appears four times. Thus, for this type of error, the received text (talhun) is perhaps slightly more likely to be the original than the proposed text (¢al‘un). Fourth, errors of the hand: if this were the error, either version could be the original. The upshot is that of the three relevant types of change, one does not fit Stewart’s proposal, another is slightly unfavorable to it, while the third accommodates it and the received text. There is no discernable reason for rejecting the text as it stands, although it is not possible to disprove textual change either.

4. Conclusion Scholars who have written on emendations to the Quran have not taken into account the fact that involuntary textual change does not occur by just one mechanism. It can take different forms, and therefore, given a variant, there may be more

than one candidate for what caused the textual change. Given two contrary readings at a disputed spot, one kind of error might favor one reading, while another type might favor the alternative or leave either choice feasible. In weighing variants, one should evaluate the different causes that demonstrably account for textual changes in the premodern era. In particular, I have enumerated four common types of error that are relevant to the two cases discussed here. Given several credible mechanisms that could have caused a change, one should not choose one of them in an arbitrary fashion. Rather than prejudging the matter, one should consider each mechanism and determine which version, if any, it favors. The decision whether to accept an emendation comes at the end of this procedure, as it depends on knowing which type of error occurred or could have occurred in the case at hand. This procedure sometimes leaves the choice between two alternatives unsettled. For example, suppose a variant is supported by a parallel. Since the Qur’an contains repetitions, the corroboration provided by the parallel may suggest that the variant is the correct reading, and that the given text resulted from an error of the hand. But it could also be that the given text is correct and that the variant represents an assimilation of the parallel. Which version one takes to be the original thus depends entirely on which mechanism one picks as the cause of textual change—assimilation or error of the hand—a choice that is not always clear. Indeed, in the two cases

examined in this essay, no absolutely definitive indication could be reached. This

is because some types of error, if they occurred, could have worked in opposite

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directions, leaving both the given and the proposed texts feasible. Is there, then, a way out of indeterminacy? A stronger indication can arise in cases in which the different mechanisms for textual change all work in the same direction; though even in such a case caution is needed. This could happen, for example, in the case of a textual variant that simultaneously is difficult (hence being a possible error of the hand), is a candidate for assimilation, and is not made up of rare words. I gave an example of this in the first case study: U1 is inferior to U2 because it is difficult, not a rarity, and unlike U2 a candidate for assimilation. In addition, there may be cases in which although the different mechanisms of textual change work in opposite directions, one mechanism is nonetheless much more likely than the other. But when should one consider emending the text to begin with? Instances in which the tradition itself preserves a plausible variant may call for practicing textual criticism. In the absence of a variant, however, what does it take to consider a text

corrupt? This problem should be approached with greater caution than has been customary among scholars who have proposed emendations. In general, a hapax legomenon is not problematic. Even if it be difficult or obscure for the modern reader, that might signal an archaism or a case of poetic license. If a difficult word appears elsewhere in a similar sense, that assures us that it is not lexically wrong; but if it does not, that does not mean that that the hapax legomenon is erroneous and needs to be emended. Furthermore, ifaword is employed in a parallel passage in a manner that is similar to its use in the verse at hand, that can show that the usage is possible. But if it is not corroborated in this fashion, that does not mean

that it is wrong and requires emending. In fact, corroboration by a parallel passage is double-edged: it shows that the word’s occurrence in the sentence at hand fits the Quranic repertoire of expressions and could indeed represent the original wording, but it also makes the word a candidate for assimilation of parallels, indicating that

it could be secondary.

Notes 1. I thank Devin Stewart and the editors of the volume in which this article appears for their written comments. A note on the dates: a /ijri year overlaps two consecutive years in the Gregorian calendar, of which I give only the first. 2. For the literature and an introduction to the field, see Devin Stewart, “Notes on Emendations of the Qur’an,” in The Quran in Its Historical Context, ed. Gabriel S. Reynolds (London: Routledge, 2008), 225-48.

3. In this essay, I use the word “error” in a purely technical sense to refer to inadvertent changes as a scribe wrote a text, and I do so without prejudice to the question of whether the Prophet came to endorse the resulting text. If the Prophet did approve of the text, then such a so-called error should be considered the correct text. 4, Stewart's article is cited in endnote 2, above. 5. Undisciplined conjectural emendations tend to proliferate because they are free of reasonable constraints. Qur’anic Studies is not the only field that requires weeding. Emanuel Tov has highlighted the need for pruning the overgrowth of the emendations proposed for the Jewish Bible, “most of which can now be considered unnecessary.” He

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says that most scholars agree that “emending the biblical text should be a last resort when solving textual problems.” He warns that “it may be that an apparently incorrect or unsuitable reading was, nevertheless, the original one” (emphasis mine). See Emanuel

Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 2nd rev. ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press,

2001), 356. . Stewart, “Notes on Emendations,” 233. Stewart, “Notes on Emendations,” 229.

. Stewart, “Notes on Emendations,” 229. assimilation of parallels and assimilation of nearby terms in the Jewish Bible, see Emanuel Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 261—63. For references to the literature on the assimilation of parallels and nearby terms in New Testament manuscripts, see Behnam Sadeghi and Uwe Bergmann, “The Codex of aCompanion of the Prophet

. For oO OND

and the Qur’an of the Prophet,” Arabica 57, no. 4 (2010): 343-436, 388, footnotes 85

and 87. For assimilation of parallels and nearby terms generating differences between Companion codices, see Sadeghi and Bergmann, “Codex,” 388, 391-92, 401-403. For a likely example of assimilation of parallels in the /adith literature, see Behnam Sadeghi, “The Traveling Tradition Test: A Method for Dating Traditions,” Der Islam 85, no. 1 (2008): 203-42, 222. 10. More of a book is made of common

words than uncommon ones, but if one eliminates repetitions and simply looks at the list of words used, there are more uncommon words than common ones. For the frequency distribution of rare words, see Harald Baayen, “Word Frequency Distributions,” in Quantitative Linguistics: An International Handbook, ed. Reinhard Kohler et al. (Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2005),

397-409. Nk Behnam Sadeghi, “The Chronology of the Qur’an: A Stylometric Research Program,” Arabica 58 (2011): 210-99, 245, 279, Figure 27.

I obtained these numbers by analyzing the word-by-word tagging of the Qur’an created by Rafi Talmon and Shuly Wintner, available from http://cl.haifa.ac.il/projects/quran/. Existing errors or discrepancies in the reckoning of roots in the Wintner-Talmon database will certainly not change the trends. oe Fred Donner, Narratives of Islamic Origins: The Beginnings of Islamic Historical Writing (Princeton, NJ: Darwin Press, 1998), 55—61. 14. My translations of the Qur’anic passages are often based on those of other translators. I

have consulted the following: M. A. S. Abdel Haleem, The Quriin: ANew Translation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004); Arthur Arberry, The Koran Interpreted (London: Oxford University Press, 1983); Muhammad Asad, The Message ofthe Qur’in (Gibraltar: Dar al-Andalus, 1980); Abdalhaqq Bewley and Aisha Bewley, The Noble Quran: ANew Rendering of Its Meaning in English (Norwich: Bookwork, 1999); Thomas Cleary, The Quran: ANew Translation (Chicago: Starlatch Press, 2004); Rashad Khalifa, The Quran: The Final Scripture (Tuscon: Islamic Productions, 1981); E. H. Palmer, The

Quran: Translated by E. H. Palmer (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1900); Marmaduke

Pickthall, The Meaning ofthe Glorious Qurian: Text and Explanatory Translation (Beirut: Dar al-Kitab al-Lubnani, 1971); J. M. Rodwell, The Koran (London: Dent, 1978); George Sale, The Koran (New York: Garland, 1984); Mohammad Saeed Shakir, The

Glorious Quran (Qum: Ansariyan, 1998); Mawlawi Sher Ali, The Holy Qur'an: Arabic Text and English Translation, 14th ed. (Surrey: Islam International, 1989); ‘Abdullah

Yusuf Ali, The Meaning of the Holy Qur'an (Brentwood, MD: Amana, 1991), - IM (yaqdi bi-l-haggi) was found in the codex of Ibn Mas‘td (d. 33/653) according to an important report of al-A'mash quoted by Ibn Abi Dawid. I have argued elsewhere that this tradition is likely to contain reliable information (see the citation below). IM

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eit

has also been ascribed to Ubayy b. Ka‘b (d. 30/650), al-Nakha‘l (d. 96/714, Kafa), Ibn Waththab (d. 103/721, Kiafa), Talha (d. 112/730, Kifa), Ibn ‘Abbas (d. 68/687), alA'mash (d. 148/765, Kifa), Sa‘id b. Jubayr (d. 94/712, Kiifa, Mecca), and Mujahid

(d. 102/720, Mecca). The reading was clearly common in Kiifa, probably due to the popularity of the codex of Ibn Mas‘td in that city. This list does not include any of the Seven Readers, which is to be expected since IM has a skeletal morphemic difference with the “Uthminic version. See Ibn Abi Dawid, Kitab al-Masahif, 2nd ed., ed. Muhibb al-Din Wa‘iz (Beirut: Dar al-Bash@ir al-Islamiyya, 1423/2002), 314; Sadeghi and Bergmann, “Codex,” 390-94; ‘Abd al-Latif Muhammad al-Khatib, Mu‘ jam

al-giraat (Damascus: Dar Sa‘d al-Din, 1422/2002), 2:440—42. 16. On the origin and dissemination of the ‘Uthmanic text, see Michael Cook, “The Stemma of the Regional Codices of the Koran,” Graeco-Arabica 9-10 (2004): 89-104;

Hossein Modarressi, “Early Debates on the Integrity of the Qur'an: A Brief Survey,” Studia Islamica 77 (1993): 5-39; Sadeghi and Bergmann, “Codex,” 364-70, 375-77,

394-99, life For skeletal morphemic

differences, see Behnam Sadeghi and Mohsen Goudarzi, “Sana 1 and the Origins of the Qur'an,” Der Jslam 87, no. 1-2 (2010 nominally; 2012 online): 1-129, 2-3, footnote 2. 18. U1 (yaqdi l-haqqa) has been ascribed to Ibn ‘Amir (d. 118/736, Damascus), Aba ‘Amr (d. 154/770, Basra), Hamza (d. 156/772, Kifa), al-Kisai (d. 189/804, Kufa), al-Sulami (d. 74/693, Kufa), Said b. al-Musayyab (d. 90s/708-18, Medina), and ‘Ali b. Abi

Talib (d. 40/661). Among the Seven Readers, the Iraqis are all in this list, except ‘Asim (d. 127/744, Kafa). The role of Kifan reciters is apparent, and it is linked with the

circulation of IM in Kafa. See al-Khatib, Mu‘jam al-qira at, 2:440—42. The regional patterns for Ul and U2 among the Seven Readers have been noted by scholars before. See, for example, Aba Jafar Muhammad

b. Jarir al-Tabari, Jami‘ al-bayan ‘an ta’wil

ay al-Quran, ed. Sidgi Jamil al-‘Attar (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr li-l-Tiba‘a wa-l-Nashr wa-l-Tawzi’, 1415/1995), 7:276; Aba al-Barakat ‘Abd Allah b. Ahmad al-Nasafi, Madarik al-tanzil wa-haga’ig al-ta’wil, ed. Sayyid Zakariyya (Riyadh: Maktabat Nizar Mustafa al-Baz), 1:318.

The reading has been ascribed to Ibn Mas‘iid as well, probably incorrectly. The attribution could have arisen from a corruption of IM, or it could have originated in a misunderstanding: if an authority said that Ibn Mas‘id’s reading supports U1 as against U2, that could be easily be misunderstood as saying that it was U1. 19. U2 (yaqussu L-haqqa) has been ascribed to Nafi’ (d. 169/785, Medina), Ibn Kathir (d. 120/737, Mecca), ‘Asim (d. 127/744, Kafa), Aba Ja‘far [Yazid] (d. 130/747, Medina), Ibn ‘Abbas (d. 68/687), Ibn Muhaysin (d. 123/740, Mecca), ‘Ali (either ‘Ali b. Abi Talib

or al-Kisa’i, probably the former), Mujahid (d. 102/720, Mecca), al-A’raj (either Humayd b. Qays, d. 130/747, Mecca,

or ‘Abd al-Rahman

b. Hurmuz,

d. 117/735, Medina,

Alexandria). From this list, the U2 reading seems particularly associated with the Hijaz. See al-Khatib, Mu‘ jam al-qird at, 2:440—42. 20. AL-Khatib, Mu‘jam al-gird'at, 2:440—42; Abi Ja'far Muhammad b. al-Hasan al-Tusi, al-Tibyanfitafsir al-Qurian, ed. Anmad Habib Qasir al-‘Amili (Qum: Maktab al-I‘lam al-Islami, 1409), 4:153-54; Aba ‘Abd Allah Muhammad b. ‘Umar Fakhr al-Din al-Razi, Mafatih al-ghayb, 3rd ed. (Beirut: Dar Ihya’ al-Turath al~Arabi, 1420), 13:9; see also the editor’s annotation in Ibn Abi Dawid, Kitab al-Masahif, 314, footnote 4. Other instances of such deletions in the Qur’an include the omission of the waw in sa-nada Lzabdniyya (Q96.18) and the ya’ in fa-md tughni l-nudhuru (Q54.5). See the following endnote for a discussion.

38

BEHNAM SADEGHI

2M Muhammad Muhaysin has compiled a list of 21 cases in which all of the reciters in the

‘Uthmanic tradition deleted the letter ya’ from the writing where it would normally be expected, plus five cases of deletions of waw agreed upon by most readers. The agreement of readers from different cities that are not disposed to concur supports Muhaysin’s thesis that the skeletal oddity, along with the skeletal text in general, predates them all and goes back to the codices sent out by ‘Uthman. Twenty-six cases may seem a lot— enough at first sight to cast doubt on my claim that U1 is anomalous. However, note two things: first, many of the cases in Muhaysin’s list are aberrations motivated by rhyme and rhythm, a consideration that does not apply to Q6.57; second, in the Qur'an there are 731 cases of i followed by the definite article and 313 cases of # followed by the definite article, which leaves no doubt that Ul is highly anomalous. See Muhammad Salim Muhaysin, al-Fath al-rabbani fi ‘alagat al-giraat bi-l-rasm al-‘Uthmani (Riyadh: Jami‘at al-Imam Muhammad b. Sa‘td al-Islamiyya, 1415/1994), 260-63. Some might say that it is not just the missing ya’ thatmakes UI] anomalous. Mujahid considered U1 difficult on account of meaning. He reportedly argued that if the verb were yaqdi, it would have to go with 6i-/-hagqi rather than al-hagqga, and hence the verb must be yaqussu. But al-Nahhas points out correctly that this does not necessarily follow since yaqdi need not mean “judge.” See Ibn Abi Hatim al-Razi, Tafsir, ed. Muhammad al-Tayyib (Sayda: al-Maktaba al-‘Asriyya), 4:1303; Ahmad b. Muhammad al-Nahhas,

Ma‘ani al- Quran, ed. Muhammad ‘Ali al-Sabiini (Mecca: Jami‘at Umm al-Qura, 1988), 2:434-35. 22K Stewart does not discuss U1, and evaluates U2 as the alternative to IM as I am about to do now. He does not seem to be aware ofthe existence of U1. For example, he writes that al-Suyati, in his 7afsir al-Jalalayn, endorses IM. In fact, al-Suyati merely glosses U1, which Stewart seems to have mistaken for IM. Al-Suyiati’s gloss is a/-gada@ al-haqq, a gloss for U1 that is common in the tafsir literature. (Stewart also mistakenly writes that al-Suytti mentions no other reading. But al-Suyiti also mentions U2; he writesffgiraa yaqussu ay yaqilu.) See Jalal al-Din Muhammad b. Ahmad al-Mahalli and Jalal al-Din

al-Suyuti, Tafsir al-Jalalayn (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-Nar li-l-Matbia‘at, 1416), 137. M3 For many scholars, preferring an existing textual variant is not called an emendation;

normally, “emendation” is used when the textual tradition itself does not offer the proposed reading as one of the variants (Tov, Textual Criticism, 352). This terminological distinction does indeed seem useful; however, in this essay (and perhaps only in this essay), I adopt Stewart’s convention for the sake of convenience. It is worth noting that, ceteris paribus, the bar for making emendations should be set higher than that for preferring a textual variant, since in the latter case there is more evidence for the preferred reading. 24. Stewart, “Notes on Emendations,” 232. 2D, Badr al-Din Muhammad b. ‘Abd Allah al-Zarkashi, a/-Burhanfi ‘ulim al-Qurian, ed. Muhammad Abi I-Fadl Ibrahim (Cairo: Dar Ihya’ al-Kutub al-‘Arabiyya, 1376/1957), 1:338. 26. For the argument the famous Basran reader, Abi ‘Amr b. al-‘Ala’, gave for his reading

see, for example, al-Tusi, Tibyan, 4:152-53; Ibn Abi Hatim, Tafsir, 4:1303; Aba ‘Abd Allah Muhammad b. Ahmad al-Qurtubi, 7zfir, ed. Ahmad ‘Abd al-‘Alim al-Bardani etal. (Beirut: Dar [hya’ al-Turath al-‘Arabi, 1405/1985), 6:439; al-Tabar Jami‘ al-bayan, i, 7:276; Abu Ishaq Ahmad al-Tha'labi, a/-Kashf wa-L-bayan, ed. Abi Muhammad b. ‘Ashir et al. (1422/2002), 4:153; Ibn ‘Atiyya, a-Muharrar al-wajiz fi tafsir kitab al-‘aziz (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 1413/1993), 2:299. For Stewart’s use of the same argument, see Stewart, “Notes on Emendations,” 232. Uy Stewart, “Notes on Emendations,” 232.

CRITERIA FOR EMENDING THE QuR’AN

39

28. The word yaqussu is glossed as yubayyinu and other similar terms. The earliest authorities cited are Mugatil and Ibn ‘Abbas. See Aba al-Layth Nasr b. Muhammad

al-Samargandi, Tafsir al-Samarqandi, ed. Mahmiid Matariji (Beirut: Dar al-Fikn), 2:591; Mansur b. Muhammad al-Sam‘ani, Tafsir al-Quridn, ed. Yasir b. Ibrahim (Riyadh: Dar al-Watan, 1418/1997), 4:112; al-Husayn b. Mas‘iid al-Baghawi, Tafsir, ed. Khalid

‘Abd

al-Rahman

al‘Akk

(Beirut:

Dar

al-Matrifa),

3:427;

al-Nasafi,

Madarik al-tanzil wa-haqa’ig al-ta’wil, 1:318; Abi al-Faraj Ibn al-Jawzi, Zad al-masir fi ‘ilm al-tafsir, ed. Muhammad b. ‘Abd al-Rahman (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr li-l-Tiba‘a wa-l-Nashr wa-l-Tawzi’, 1407), 6:79; al-Qurtubi, Tafiir, 13:231.

2D) 30. 3 Sy,

Edward Lane, An Arabic-English Lexicon (Beirut: Libraire du Liban, 1968).

Muaatil b. Sulayman, 7afir (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 1424/2003), 1:349. The verb ista‘jala occurs 17 times in the Qur'an, usually in a similar sense. The sara’s preoccupation with the skeptics’ denial of divine retribution or Muhammad is manifested in a variety of ways. It can be explicit. Some ofthe verbs used in the sara in references to rejection include kadhdhaba (Q6.5, 21, 27, 31, 34, 39, 49, 57, 66, 147,

148, 150, 157), jahada (6.33), a‘rada (6.4, 35), naa (6.26), sadafa (6.46, 157), hajja (6.80), iftard (6.21, 24), kafara (6.30, 70, 89), jadala (6.25), and khada (6.68). (The frequent occurrences of kadhdhaba and the denial motif have been noted previously by Joseph Lowry.) The theme of rejection of retribution can also be implicit, involving ancillary themes: Consolation is provided to the derided Prophet. Mention is made of what might (not) convince the scoffers, such as signs and miracles or angels descending. The irony that the denial of doom will bring about doom is touched on a number of times. And the dismissive words of the deniers are quoted, such as their asking that the punishment be hastened (6.57 and 6.58), their labeling the message as “fables ofthe ancients” (6.25), etc. Angelika Neuwirth has noted that the sara has three parts: (I) verses 1-73, (II) verses

74-153, and (III) 154—65. Denial ofdivine retribution is conspicuously the focus ofpart I. In the other sections, the theme of denial also appears, though without being linked per se to the Hour or divine retribution. See Joseph Lowry, “When Less Is More: Law and Commandment in Sarat al-Anam,” Journal of Quranic Studies 9, no. 2 (2007): 264-84, 282, footnote 31; Angelika Neuwirth, Studien zur Komposition der mekkanischen Suren (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1981), 290-291. Here are some explicit references in the sara to punishment or resurrection, though implicit references abound as well: kam ahlakna min qablihim... fa-ahlaknahum bi-dhunubihim (Q6.5), fa-haga bi-lladhina sakhara minhum ma kanii bihi yastahzi ina (6.10),

“agibatu l-mukadhdhibina

(6.11), ‘adhaba yawmin

‘azimin (6.15), yawma idhin

(6.16), wa-yawma nabshuruhum (6.22), wa-in yublikiina illa anfusahum (6.26), idh wugifi ‘ala l-nari (6.27), dhagn l‘adhaba (6.30), jaathumu I-sa‘atu baghtatan (6.31), atakum ‘adhabu Ilahi aw atakumu I-sa‘atu (6.40), fa-akhadhnahum bi-l-ba'sa’i wa-l-darra’i (6.42), idh jaahum ba’sund, akhadhnahum baghtatan (6.44), fa-qutia dabiru l-gawmi (6.45), qul ara'aytum an atakum ‘adhabu lahi baghtatan aw-jahratan hal yuhlaku illa l-qawmu I-zalimana (6.47), wa-lladhina kadhdhabu bi-ayatina yamassuhumu l-‘adhabu bi-ma kant yafsugiina (6.49), wa-ndhur bihi lladhina yukhafina an yubshart (6.51), wa-kadhalika nufassilu l-ayati wa-li-tastabina sabilu l-mujrimina (6.55), ma tasta‘jilina bibi (6.57), qul law anna ‘indi ma tasta'jiluna bihi la-qudiya Lamru bayni wa-baynakum (6.58), thumma yab‘athukum fihi li-yugda ajalun musamma thumma ilayhi marji‘ukum (6.60), thumma ruddi ila llahi mawlahumu l-hagqgi ala lahu L-hukmu wa-huwa asra‘u l-hasibina (6.62), |-gadiru ‘ala an yab‘athu ‘alaykum ‘adhaban min fawgikum aw min tahti arjulikum (6.65), wa-‘adhabun alimun (6.70), ilayhi tubsharina (6.72), li-tundhira umma |-qura (6.92), ‘adhabun shadidun (6.124), l-naru mathwakum

BEHNAM SADEGHI

40

(6.128), liga'a yawmikum hadha (6.130), muhlika l-qura (6.131), in yasha'u yudhhibkum (6.133), inna ma tu‘adina la-atin (6.134), wa-la yuraddu ba’suhu (6.147), dhagu ba’sana (6.148), and inna rabbaka sari‘u I-‘iqab (6.165).

Ber I would thus translate the first two Qur’anic quotations as follows: “On the Day of Judgment, God will distinguish who among them is right” (Q22.17); “On the Day of Judgment, your Lord will distinguish who among them was right about the matters over which they used to disagree” (Q32.25). In his gloss on Q32.25, al-Baydawi gives the same interpretation for yafsilu as mine. See ‘Abd Allah b. “Umar al-Baydawi, Anwar al-tanzil wa-asrar al-ta’wil, ed. Muhammad ‘Abd al-Rahman al-Mar‘ashli (Beirut: Dar Ihya al-Turath al-‘Arabi, 1418), 4:223.

34, I would translate the two Qur’anic quotations, respectively, as follows: “On the Day of Judgment, your Lord will distinguish who among them was right (yafsilu) about the matters over which they used to disagree” (Q32.25); “This Qur'an clarifies (yaqussu) for the Children of Israel most of the things over which they disagree” (Q27.76). Oo: Fakhr al-Din al-Razi, Mafatih al-ghayb, 13:9. 36. “One’s knowledge of other passages shapes one’s memory of the verse at hand, generating substitutions, additions, and deletions that hark to the parallel” (Sadeghi and Bergmann, “Codex,” 388). For more references on this type of textual change, see endnote 9, of “Tt is more likely for a word to be used by mistake at a certain point if it is used in a nearby passage. A word is on the scribe’s mind if he heard it a moment ago or if he expects to hear it soon due to prior familiarity with the passage at hand. Such a word can insinuate itself into the writing” (Sadeghi and Bergmann, “Codex,” 388). For more references on this type of textual change, see endnote 9. 38. Sadeghi and Bergmann, “Codex,” 389. She), Already in the premodern period, IM was cited to corroborate U1. See the following endnote. 40, See al-Zarkashi, al-Burhanfi ‘ulim al-Quran, 1:338. 41, Mahmid Ramyar, Taérikh-i Quran, 2nd ed. (Tehran: Amir Kabir, HS 1362/1983),

340-53. 42. Stewart, “Notes on Emendations,” 242-44, 43, Stewart, “Notes on Emendations,” 232-33. The phrase has been translated variously: clustered plantains, clustered bananas, Talh trees with flowers (or fruits) piled one above another, fragrant fruits, banana trees (with fruits) one above another, serried acacias, aca-

cias flower-clad, and clustered acacia. So, not everybody accepts bananas or plantains— a point to which I will return. 44, For the reports about ‘Ali, see al-Tabari, Jami‘ al-bayan, 27:334, al-Mirza Husayn Taqi al-Nari al-Tabrisi, Mustadrak al-wasa’il wa-mustanbat al-masa’il (Beirut: Mu’assasat Al al-Bayt li-[hya’ al-Turath, 1408-09/1987-88), 4:226; ‘Ala’ al-Din ‘Ali b. Husam al-Din al-Muttaqi al-Hindi, Kanz al-‘ummal, ed. Safwat al-Saqqa (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-Risala, 1409/1989), 2:519; Muhammad Baqir b. Muhammad al-Majlisi, Bihar al-anwar, 2nd ed. (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-Wafa’, 1403/1983), 8:109, 89:66. Referring to

the bananas reading, Bellamy reports, “‘Ali said that this made no sense.” The sources do not mention ‘Ali saying any such thing. I thus emend Bellamy’s statement to the following: “Ali thought that this made no sense.” This is speculation, however. It is equally possible that ‘Ali thought that bananas made sense but remembered having heard “dates.” See James Bellamy, “Some Proposed Emendations to the Text of the Koran,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 113, no. 4 (1993): 562-73, 562.

45, Stewart, “Notes on Emendations,” 233. 46. See above, the Introduction, for documentation,

CRITERIA FOR EMENDING THE Qur’AN

41

47. The proposed tal‘ appears four times in the Qur'an, but never in the context of Heaven:

Q6.99, 26.148, 37.65, 50.10. 48. In the premodern period, bananas and plantains were cultivated in Arabia, especially

Yemen and Oman, and in Abyssinia, but the chronology is not clear. See Andrew Watson, Agricultural Innovation in the Early Islamic World: The Diffusion of Crops and Farming Techniques, 700-1100 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 51-54, 171-72; cf. G. R. Smith, “Zafar,” EP. Watt writes that bananas came to be grown in Medina sometime after the Prophet (W. M. Watt, “al-Madina,” E/’), Nowadays, bananas are produced in Yemen and elsewhere (A. K. Irvine, “Haraz,” EP; Mustafa

Al-Shihabi, “Filaha,” £7; G. R. Smith, “al-Yaman,” EP; G. Rentz, “Djazirat al-‘Arab,” EP). For agriculture in the Qur’an, see Patricia Crone, “How did the Quranic Pagans Make a Living?,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 68, no. 3 (2005):

. . . .

387-399. For the reports about ‘Ali, see endnote 44. Stewart, “Notes on Emendations,” 233. Lane, Lexicon. For the reference to camphor in Q76.5, see Hanne Schonig, “Camphor,” Encyclopaedia

of the Quran. . The Qur'an does not mention the smell of the Zaqqim. But a Bedouin reported that it was a real tree in Arabia with “a pungent odour” (Lane, Lexicon). 54. Lane, Lexicon. vs. ‘ayn) as the variant instead of 20: Alternatively, one may consider the variable letter (4a’ the whole word. Seen this way, the rest of the two words are identical (¢a/), forming a parallelism; and thus the four instances of ta/‘can all be considered parallels that could be assimilated in the verse at hand.

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Ear The Quranic recitation (gir@a) during prayer is of particular importance with jurists requiring a corrective measure or even the repetition of a given prayer for mistakes. In fact, jurists devote entire sections of their legal works to this topic, covering issues such as (a) the selection of Qur’anic chapters for the first two prayer cycles, (b) the

need for reciting entire chapters as opposed to smaller fragments, and (c) the audibility or silence of the recitation in certain prayers and prayer cycles. A central controversy pertaining to the Quranic recitation is the uttering of the formula, “In the name

of God, the Beneficent, the Merciful”

(the basmala) at

the start of the prayer prior to the recitation of (the rest of) the Fatiba.? Although the issue may seem innocuous and minor, debates over the basmala are intricately linked to discussions about the integrity of the Quranic text itself. Jurists must first determine whether the phrase is part and parcel of the Qur’an or simply a device inserted at the end of one chapter to denote the start of the next. The Fatiha merits particular attention in these debates given the broad consensus concerning its recitation in the first two cycles of every prayer. If the basmala is the first verse of the Fatiha, then its inclusion in the prayer recitation is self-evident, and the central question becomes the manner of its recitation (audible vs. silent). If, on the other hand, it is not a part of the Fatiha, then its incorporation in the prayer recitation is extraneous and requires some other justification.

The remainder ofthis study explores the use of the prayer leadership tradition in juristic discussions of the basmala. Before turning to the tradition itself, however, it is first necessary to examine the central parameters of the legal debates surrounding this issue. Consequently, the section that follows outlines the primary arguments put forward by the Maliki and Shafi‘i law schools.

2.1. The Maliki Discourse The Malikis assert that the sole function of the introductory basmala is to indicate the start of a new Quranic sira.*° As a result, the phrase is not a part of the Fatiha

Mu‘Awiya IN THE HyAz

49

and should not be recited (either audibly or silently) in the prayer. Maliki jurists rely on two lines of reasoning to support this view. The first is grounded in textual evidence (i.e., traditions dealing with the structure of the Quranic text and the form of the daily prayer), while the second is predicated on the living tradition (@mal)?’ of Medina.°® The earliest articulation of the textual argument is found in the Muwatta’ of Malik b. Anas (d. 179/796), the eponymous founder of the Maliki law school.”

Malik quotes two accounts that depict the Prophet and the first three caliphs as

beginning the prayer recitation with the line, “Praise be to God, Master of the

Worlds” (Q1:2).°° A third tradition praises the Fatiha as an especially blessed Qur’anic chapter (linking it to Q15:87°!) but does not count the basmala as one of its verses. A similar approach informs Sahniin’s™ (d. 240/855) narration of Malik’s

rulings in al-Mudawwana al-kubra, which includes two reports that the Prophet “began the recitation with ‘Praise be to God, Master of the Worlds,” and a third

that claims the first three caliphs “did not recite the basmala when they began the prayer.” Cognizant of the potential for ambiguity, Sahnin notes that (in these cases) the basmala was recited “neither silently to oneself nor audibly.”© Most subsequent Maliki jurists cite these traditions (taken from Malik and Sahni) as clear and definitive evidence for the basmala’s omission from the Fatiha. Over time, the scope of the Maliki textual argument expanded from the prayer recitation to the relationship between the basmala and the Quranic text. The fifth/

eleventh century jurist Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr,®° for example, offers a series of explanations for the basmala’s presence in the earliest written copies of the Qur’an.” He then quotes numerous variants ofa report (not mentioned by Malik or Sahnin) in which the Prophet describes a “dialogue” (subsequently referred to as “the dialogue tradition”) that occurs during the ritual prayer between God and a worshipper, where each verse of the Fatiha serves as a formulaic response to a specific divine question.®* These traditions exclude the basmala but still manage to divide the Fatiba into seven verses (as required by the exegesis of Q15:87) by placing a “verse stop” between the words alayhim and ghayr in Q1:7. This is the numbering convention associated with the Qur’anic reading of Medina, Syria, and Basra as opposed to that of Kafa and Mecca.”° Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr concludes that the basmala is not a part of the Fatiha since the chapter already consists of seven clearly demarcated verses.’! Rather than the accounts mentioned by Malik and Sahnin, Ibn ‘Abd al-

Barr considers the dialogue tradition as the strongest and most conclusive proofof the correctness of the Maliki position.”

The Andalisi scholar Muhammad b. Ahmad al-Qurtubi (d. 671/1273) articulates a variant of the textual argument in his exegetical-juristic work entitled al-Jami‘ li-ahkam al-Qur‘an. He focuses primarily on disagreements over whether

the basmala is the first verse of every sara (the Shafi‘ position) or foreign to

the Qur’an except in the case of Q27:30 (the Maliki position).’° Al-Qurtubi

deems the second view (attributed to Malik b. Anas) more authoritative, inas-

much as it is based, counterintuitively, on the lack of a consensus among the

scholars. Specifically, he states that the Qur’anic text must be verified by cer-

tain (gat) knowledge and established through multiple independent chains of transmission (tawdtur). This level of proof requires a uniform agreement among Muslims regarding the inclusion or exclusion of a particular verse. The lack of

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such a consensus in the case of the basmala proves that the phrase is external to the Qur’anic text. Similarly to Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr, al-Qurtubi combines the stipulation that the Fatiha must contain seven verses (Q15:87) with a general Maliki embrace of the Medinan/Syrian/Basran numbering of the Qur’anic verses.”4 The second and more foundational justification for the Maliki position draws on the living tradition of Medina. Malik does not explicitly invoke this argument, but it is implicit in his reliance on reports narrated and preserved by Basran (as opposed to Medinan) chains of transmission.”” Dutton explains Malik’s exclusive use of Basran traditions by arguing that “there were no Aadiths on these matters in Medina because there was no need for them.””° In other words, the practice of omitting the basmala was so broadly accepted in Medina that Medinans never felt the need to circulate supporting traditions. Malik was therefore forced to rely on Basran traditions.’’ While it may be true that Medinans of Malik’s time did not recite the basmala, there were certainly Medinan traditions in circulation that dealt with the issue. These reports, however, endorsed the audible recitation of the basmala.’* Malik was undoubtedly aware of this contradictory textual evidence and preferred the Basran accounts precisely because they aligned with the Medinan practice during his lifetime. El Shamsy’s work suggests that this was typical of Malik given his belief that normative legal authority was imbued not in reports about the sayings of the Prophet but in the practice of the Medinan community as a whole.” As will become clear below, the apparent disparity between Medinan practice and Medinan traditions created an opening for competing schools to question the integrity of Medinan ‘amal as a source oflaw.®° A number of Maliki jurists forward a line of reasoning that relies on the normative authority of Medinan living practice to reconcile contradictions in the textual evidence. Ibn Abi Zayd (d. 386/996),*! for example, alludes to reports of early authorities reciting the basmala audibly and silently at the start of the prayer.*? He then offers contradictory traditions that seem to support the omission of the phrase altogether.®° In order to resolve this textual confusion, Ibn Abi Zayd turns

to Medinan ‘mal that excludes the basmala from the Quranic text and rejects its recitation in the ritual prayer.** A similar logic informs Aba Bakr b. al-‘Arabi’s (d. 542/1148) discussion that begins with a vast catalogue of traditions that support a range of (both Maliki and non-Maliki) views.® Faced with these contradictions,

Ibn al--Arabi cites the living tradition of Medina as the best indicator of proper practice and the strongest proof for the basmala’s omission.®° Maliki jurists were keenly aware of the problems associated with relying on traditions to support their stance on the basmala. There were simply too many inconsistencies in the evidence that could be (and were) used by rival law schools to advocate competing views. The primary Maliki justification, therefore, rested on the normative authority of Medinan ‘amal.8’ Such an argument was first articulated by Malik, further developed (in the case of the basmala) by Ibn Abi Zayd and Ibn al-‘Arabi, and ultimately employed by Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr and alQurtubi to dismiss opposing traditions unequivocally and without detailed explanation.

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2.2. The Shafi‘T Discourse In contrast to the Malikis, the Shafi‘is hold that the dasmala is an integral part of the Fatiha and concentrate their efforts at affirming its Qur’anic nature. Once this fact is established, they address the recitation in the prayer, arguing that the basmala should be recited in a manner identical to any other Qur’anic verse. If the prayer recitation is audible, it should be recited audibly, and if the recitation is silent, it

should be recited silently. The foundation for most Shafi‘ discussions of the basmala was laid by Mu-

hammad b. Idris al-Shafi‘t (d. 204/820), the eponymous founder ofthe school, in his

al-Umm.** Rather than presenting a detailed explanation of the issue, al-Shafi‘ cites traditions that fit into one of three categories: (a) those that state that the Fatiha must be recited in prayer,®? (b) those that depict the Prophet and the first two (or three) caliphs as “opening recitation with ‘Praise be to God, Master of the Worlds,’”®° and

(c) those in which important Companions (e.g., ‘Abd Allah b. ‘Abbas) and jurists (e.g., Said b. Jubayr) clearly state that the basmala is the first verse of the Fatiha.?! On the basis of this evidence, al-Shafi‘it affirms the basmala’s place in the Fatiha and (implicitly)? argues for a consistency in the prayer recitation (e.g., the recitation of

the basmala should agree with that of the other verses in the Fatiha).?? Subsequent Shafi‘i jurists offered similar textual arguments, featuring traditions that supported their views and refuting those of their rivals. In al-Hawi al-kabir, ‘Ali b. Muhammad al-Mawardi (d. 450/1058)”* quotes the proof texts offered by Maliki (and Hanafi) jurists in excising the basmala from the Fatiha.” He then provides a series of explanations that either neutralize the meaning of those accounts or restrict their scope.”° This is followed by seven Prophetic traditions that unambiguously affirm the basmala’s place in the Quranic text.” Al-Mawardi also draws support from historical accounts of the compilation of the first mushaf. Specifically, he claims that ‘Uthman’s Qur'an included the basmala at the start of every chapter and asserts that its broad acceptance constitutes a consensus in favor ofits inclusion.”* In terms of recitation, al-Mawardi quotes traditions that depict the Prophet perform-

ing both the audible and silent basmala” and concludes that the Shafi't position best reconciles these apparent contradictions. Accounts that favor an audible basmala refer to audible prayers (i.c., fajr, maghrib, ‘isha’), while those that support the silent

basmala refer to silent prayers (i.e., zwhr, ‘asr).!°° Al-Mawardi’s discussion is generally representative of the majority position in focus and the amount of Shafi‘ law, although some jurists differ slightly in terms of space they devote to the issue. At one end of the spectrum, al-Ghazali (d. 505/1111)"”! succinctly summarizes the dominant Shafi'l stance without citing any evidence or acknowledging divergent opinions. Yahya b. Sharif al-Nawawi (d. 676/1277),' by contrast, offers a detailed defense of the introductory basmala, utilizing ambiguous

traditions to support the Shafi‘i stance and dismissing those not open to reinterpretation as unsound or weak.'°? Al-Subki (d. 771/1370)'™ focuses on the circumstances of revelation and presents arguments predicated on the integrity of the Qur’anic text. He is particularly invested in countering the (Maliki and Hanafi) claim that the very existence of acontroversy surrounding the éasmala precludes its

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inclusion in the Qur’an. The primary strength of the Shafi‘i position (according to most of the school’s jurists) lies in its ability to reconcile overtly contradictory traditions that support both the silent and the audible basmala. At this point, the extent of the divide between Malikis and Shafi‘is over the basmala should be fairly clear. Maliki jurists forward arguments predicated on traditions in which the Prophet and the Companions omit (or do not recite) the

basmala and a reading of the Qur’an that allows for seven verses in the Fatiha (without the inclusion of the basmala). The central proof of the Maliki position,

however, is the living tradition of Medina whose authority decisively outweighs (and serves as the arbiter for) any contradictions in the textual evidence. The Shafi‘is, on the other hand, rely overwhelmingly on textual arguments, meticulously reconciling contradictory traditions to confirm both the basmala’s inclusion in the Fatiha and its audible or silent recitation in the prayer.

2.3. (Re-)Enter Mu‘awiya The differences in the nature of the underlying evidence and argumentation offered by each of the law schools leave the Shafi‘is at a distinct disadvantage. Specifically, their use of written accounts is (by definition) subject to a greater degree of doubt

and uncertainty than the Maliki reliance on Medinan ama that claims a direct and continuous connection to the Prophet through the generational transmission (tawatur) of knowledge. Given this fact, it is not surprising to find jurists (both

Shafi‘i and non-Shafi‘i) who questioned the integrity’ of Medinan ‘amal and disputed its normative authority.'°° It is at this point that we return to the account at the center ofthis study, namely, the prayer leadership tradition, and explore its potential for undermining the reliability of Medinan @mal. This tradition was embedded in the earliest layer of Shafi‘ discussions ofthe basmala and first recorded by al-Shafi‘i himself. It is worth quoting again in full: Mu'awiya came to Medina and led them [the Medinans] in prayer, without reciting the basmala and without performing a takbir when he descended (for prostration) and when he arose (from it). After he completed the prayer [lit. recited the tas/im], the Emigrants and Helpers called out to him, “O Mu‘awiya, you have robbed your prayer! Where is the basmala? Where is the takbir when you descend and when you rise?” He led them in another prayer (salat ukhra) in which he said [the basmala and takbir] for

which they had censured him,!°” Al-Shafi't also cites a slightly differing version of the incident in the following account:

Mu’awiya performed the prayer in Medina for which the recitation was audible. He pronounced the basmata audibly in the Fatiha but did not pronounce it for the (second) sira through the end of the recitation. He also did not offer a takbir when

he bent down for prostration through the end of that prayer. When he finished the prayer [lit. recited the taslim], Emigrants who had observed this yelled out from all

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directions, “O Mu‘awiya, did you rob the prayer or did you forget?” When he prayed after that, he recited the basmatla for the siira after the Fatiha and pronounced a takbir before he bent down for prostration.!°8

The first point to note here is that al-Shafi‘'s did not employ these traditions to contest the integrity of Medinan ‘amal,’” but rather to discuss whether a prayer must be repeated if the basmala is consciously omitted.!!” The first account suggests that Mu'awiya repeated the disputed prayer, this time reciting the basmala and performing the takbir, while the second implies that he changed his practice for subsequent prayers. Most modern commentators follow al-Shafi‘l’s lead and mention these traditions primarily when dealing with the issue of prayer repetition." By contrast, the seventh/thirteenth-century Shafi‘l jurist al-Nawawi makes the prayer leadership tradition part of an attack on the conceptual integrity of Medinan amal. Specifically, he questions the assumption that Medinan practice at the time of the Prophet was synonymous with Medinan practice at the time of Malik. In order to ascertain the original practice of Medina, he argues, it is necessary to rely on

traditions that refer back to the time of the Companions.!? He then quotes a variant of the prayer leadership tradition as proof that the Helpers and the Emigrants in Medina originally recited the phrase both at the start of every séra (including the Fatiha) and between individual savas during the ritual prayer.'!* The section concludes by listing alternate chains of transmission that reinforce the veracity of the account.'"* This line of reasoning is further elaborated not by a Shafi but by the late Zaydi jurist ‘Abd Allah b. Ahmad b. Ibrahim al-Sharafi (d. 1062/1652) in his al-Masabih al-satia al-anwar. Al-Sharafi breaks with the majority Zaydi opinion (identical to that of the Shafi‘is) that prescribes the audible basmala for audible prayer cycles and the silent basmala for silent ones. Instead, he favors the audible dasmala in all prayers (the minority Zaydi and majority Imami position)!” based on (a) Qur’anic arguments involving Q17:46,'!° Q17:110,""” Q2:200,"'8 and Q48:26'” and (b) traditions drawn overwhelmingly from the preeminent Zaydi collections.'”° Al-Sharafi next addresses some of the factors that led the other law schools to either neglect this view or reject it outright. He argues that the audible basmala was the original practice of Medinan Qur'an readers as clearly evidenced by the prayer leadership tradition.!?! It was ultimately perverted by Mu‘awiya who—out of hatred for ‘Ali—ordered his provincial governors to kill anyone who recited the basmala aloud in prayer. According to al-Sharafi, this persecution led to the gradual replacement of the audible basmala with the silent basmala or its omission altogether.'”” By employing the prayer leadership tradition in this manner, al-Sharafi is able to attack the Malikis and the Shafi‘is, while simultaneously confronting dissension among the Zaydis themselves. With respect to the two Sunni schools, he notes that the text supports the audible basmala without explicitly specifying whether the remainder of the recitation is audible or silent. This suggests that Medinan practice initially aligned with the Imami and (minority) Zaydi position in favor of the audible basmala for all prayer cycles. It only changed under the duress of Umayyad persecution. The strength of such an argument is augmented by the fact that the prayer leadership tradition was first recorded by al-Shafi‘i himself. In addressing

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Zaydi opposition to the audible basmala, al-Sharafi is able to link the silent or omitted basmala to Mu‘awiya, the patriarch of the Umayyad dynasty and one of the figures most reviled by the Shiva. The arguments of al-Nawawi and al-Sharafi are aimed at undermining two Maliki positions: (a) that the basmala should be omitted from prayer recitation and the Quranic text and (b) that Medinan

mal constitutes a normative source for

law. They claim that the living tradition of Medina was corrupted so that it held no greater authority than the practice of any other city. Although the prayer leadership traditions always contained the potential for this line of reasoning, it took five centuries before they were applied in this manner.

3. Conclusion In this chapter, I examined the emergence and use of a tradition that describes an encounter between Mu‘awiya and a number of Companions over the form of recitation in daily prayers. In the first half of the chapter, I explored the historical context of the prayer leadership tradition by surveying the broader genre of accounts that purport to describe Mu‘awiya’s visits to the Hijaz. At times, he is depicted as forcefully confronting the Companions on matters of ritual law, while at others he is viewed as willing to defer to their religious authority. There are undoubtedly multiple explanations for this discrepancy. The accounts likely reflect later polemical controversies over ritual law. They were also certainly influenced by debates over the legal authority and political legitimacy of the Umayyads. A definitive identification of the multiple factors that helped shape this genre of traditions, however, lies beyond our analytic focus. In the second half of this chapter, I analyzed the ways in which jurists utilized the prayer leadership tradition in the course of legal polemics over the recitation of the basmata. In its earliest appearances (in the work ofal-Shafi‘i), this account played a role in ascertaining the necessity for repeating a prayer in which the dasmala was not recited. While this remains its primary usage among most Shafi‘i jurists, al-Nawawi transformed it into an attack on the Maliki notion of the pristine, unaltered living tradition (amal) of Medina. Some centuries later, it was utilized by the Zaydi jurist al-Sharafi to criticize both the Maliki omission of the basmala and the Shafi'l practice of reciting the silent basmala in silent prayer cycles. In a number of respects, this chapter raises more issues than it resolves. We are

left to wonder why the prayer leadership tradition was not used more generally to dispute the normative status of Medinan ‘mal. After all, such an argument would have fit well with al-Shafi'’s general critique of Malik’s legal methodology. In actuality, the prayer leadership tradition was only employed in this manner by two (relatively) late jurists from differing schools of law. Was it an ineffective critique in the seventh/thirteenth century because the focus of Maliki discourse had shifted to a text-based approach? And why did subsequent Zaydi and Imami jurists not cite such a powerful piece of evidence in their discussions of the basmala? At the very least, we would expect the Zaydis to draw on this tradition in their persistent

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legal debates with both the Shafi‘is and the Malikis. Ultimately, however, this line of argumentation remained at the margins of juristic discourse over the basmala’s Quranic status and its recitation in the prayer. -

.

.

.

.

.

Notes . The uttering of the phrase, “In the name of God, the Beneficient, the Merciful.” . The uttering of the phrase, “God is great.” . Al-Shafi'i, a/-Umm, 9 vols., ed. Mahmiid Mataraji (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 1993), 1:212—13. Additional variants of the same episode can be found in ‘Abd al-Razzaq, Musannaf, 12 vols., ed. Ayman Nasr al-Din al-Azhari (Beirut; Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 2000), 2:60, and al-Bayhaqi, a/-Sunan al-kubra, 11 vols., ed. Muhammad ‘Abd al-Qadir

to

‘Ata’ (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 1994), 2:71, 72.

. For a general biography of Mu‘awiya, see R. Stephen Humphreys, Mu‘awiya ibn Abi Sufyan (Oxford: Oneworld, 2006).

. A hadith (pl. ahadith) is a text that purports to describe the actions or statements of the Prophet. A khabar (pl. akhbar) is similar to a hadith but encompasses a broader set of

authority figures, including the Companions of the Prophet and their successors. In the course of this chapter, I use the term “tradition” to refer to both of these categories of texts. . Al-Tabari, 7arikh al-Tabari, 11 vols., ed. Muhammad Abi al-Fadl Ibrahim (Cairo: Dar al-Ma‘arif, 1960), 5:215; al-Ya‘qubi, 7arikh al-Ya‘qubi, 2 vols., ed. ‘Abd al-Amir Muhanna

(Beirut: Mu’assasat al-‘Alami, 1980?), 2:131. The lack of such reports does

not necessarily mean that he was warmly welcomed into the region. As will be discussed later, there is an air of hostility that permeates his dealing with the Medinans and Meccans.

. Al-Tabari, Tarikh, 5:241; al-Ya‘qabi, Tarikh, 2:138; and Ibn Sa'd, Kitab al-Tabagat al-kabir, 11 vols., ed. ‘Ali Muhammad ‘Umar (Cairo: Maktabat al-Khanji, 2001), 6:27. All three place the visit in 50/670 although al-Tabari notes that there is disagreement as to whether Mu‘awiya led the Hajj or came to the Hijaz at all. . This visit is universally attested to and differentiated from the pilgrimage of that year. See al-Tabari, 7arikh, 5:301-304; al-Ya‘qubi, Tarikh, 2:150; Ibn Sa'd, Tabagat, 6:27. Al-Dhahabi dates these tactics to 51/671 (Mu‘awiya’s first trip) but al-Tabari and Ibn

Sa‘d place them in 56/676 (Mu'‘awiya’s second trip). The latter is more likely as the visit was intended to secure the oath of allegiance for Yazid from a reluctant population. He was not in the cities to perform the Hajj; in fact he left before the start ofthe pilgrimage. See al-Dhahabi,

7arikh al-islam, 70 vols., ed. ‘Umar ‘Abd al-Salam Tadmuri (Beirut:

Dar al-Kitab al-‘Arabi, 1987—), yrs 41—60:147. 10. Al-Dhahabi, Tarikh, yrs 41-60:149, and Ibn Sa‘d, Jabaqat, 6:27. Hdl Al-Husayn was the grandson of the Prophet and the third Imam according to the Imami Shi‘a. He was killed in the southern Iraqi town of Karbala’ in 61/680-81. There is extensive literature on al-Husayn. See, for example, the biographical entries in Ibn Sa‘d (Zabagqat, 6:399-460) and al-Shaykh al-Mufid (a/-Irshad, 2 vols., ed. Mu’assasat Al al-Bayt [Qum: al-Mu'tamar al-‘Alami, 1992], 2:27-135). See also EP,

s.v. “al-Husayn b. ‘Ali” (L. Veccia Vaglieri). ep Ibn al-Zubayr was the first male child born in Medina after the Prophet's migration. He claimed the caliphate during the second civil war (fina) and exercised independent sovereignty from 61/681 to 73/692. At his peak, Ibn al-Zubayr controlled most

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of the Muslim world outside of Syria. See al-Mizzi, Tahdhib al-kamal, 35 vols., ed.

Bashshar ‘Awwad Ma‘raf (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-Risala, 1992), 14:508-11, and EP, s.v. “Abd Allah b. al-Zubayr” (H. A. R. Gibb).

the first caliph and a prominent Companion in his own right, he converted Be The son of

to Islam between the battle of Badr (2/624) and the conquest of Mecca (8/630). His

refusal to take the oath of allegiance to Yazid is explicitly dated to Mu‘awiya’s second visit to Medina in either 50/670 or 51/671. See al-Mizzi, Tahdhib, 16:555—61. . He was the son of the second caliph, an early Companion, and a prominent hadith transmitter. See al-Mizzi, (L. Veccia Vaglieri).

Tahdhib,

15:332-41;

EP, s.v. “‘Abd Allah b. “Umar”

. For these conversations, see al-Tabari, Tarikh, 5:303-304; al-Ya'qabi, Tarikh, 2:138; al-Dhahabi, Tarikh, yrs 41-60:148—49. . It is not lost on any reader familiar with early Islamic history that three of these men were sons of previous caliphs and that each considered himself a worthy candidate for the position. . This appears to have taken place during one of his early trips to Medina (Ibn Sa‘d, Tabagat, 6:18). . Al-Tabari, Tarikh, 5:238-39. . Al-Tabari, Tarikh, 5:238-39. . For more on ‘Uthman b. ‘Affan’s murder (35/656), see Martin Hinds, “Kafan Political

Alignments and Their Background in the Mid-Seventh Century,” Jnternational Journal of Middle East Studies 2 (1971): 346-67, and his “The Murder of the Caliph

‘Uthman,” /nternational Journal ofMiddle East Studies 3 (1972): 450-69. Ak Jabir b. ‘Abd Allah b. ‘Amr (d. 68/688) was a prominent Companion of the Prophet and one ofthe leading voices for the Ansar (Medinan residents, called “Helpers”). For

more on the term “Ansar,” see note 43 below. For more on Jabir b. ‘Abd Allah, see Ibn Sa‘d, Tabagat, 4:382—92, and al-Mizzi, Tahdhib, 4:443—-54. D2. Sa‘d b. Malik b. Sinan al-Khudari (d. 74/693) was a Companion of the Prophet and a prominent Ansari hadith transmitter. For more on Sa‘d b. Malik, see al-Mizzi, Tahdhib, 10:294-300. Zo) Ibn Asakir, Tarikh madinat Dimashq, 70 vols., ed. ‘Ali Shiri (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr, 1997), 59:155—58. 24. Here I am differentiating between early historical works (e.g., al-Tabari’s Tarikh or

al-Baladhuri’s Ansa al-ashraf), which provide general information about Mu‘awiya’s political machinations, and early collections of traditions (e.g., Ibn Hanbal’s Musnad or al-Nasa’i’s al-Sunan), which offer specific details about his encounters in the Hijaz. The latter are of particular interest in the remainder of this chapter as they convey two quite contradictory portrayals of the caliph’s relationship with the Companions. SY. Patricia Crone and Martin Hinds argue that the caliphate was initially envisioned in a manner akin to the Shii view of the imamate. While their conclusion (based

largely on panegyric court poetry) may not represent the attitude of the general Muslim population in the first/seventh century, it does suggest that the Umayyads viewed themselves as the ultimate authorities in both religious and political matters. This sentiment is prominent in the assertive Mu‘awiya traditions. See Crone and Hinds, God’s Caliph (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 97-105.

Muhammad Qasim Zaman, by contrast, depicts the Umayyads (and early ‘Abbasids) as fostering a collaborative relationship with proto-Sunni scholars. Their interventions in the religious affairs of the community were minimal and almost invariably sided with the predominant scholarly sentiment. See Zaman, Religion and Politics under the Early Abbasids (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 137-38.

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- Qussa is defined as hair of the forefront of the head or forelocks in al-Turki’s footnotes to al-Nasa’i, Kitab al-sunan al-kubra, 12 vols., ed. ‘Abd Allah b. ‘Abd al-Muhsin al-Turki (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-Risala, 2001), 8:333. ,

. Al-Bayhaqi, a/-Sunan, 2:479; al-Nasa’i, al-Sunan, 8:333. . Al-Nasa’i, al-Sunan, 8:333-35. Variants are also found in Ibn Hanbal, Musnad al-imam Ahmad b. Hanbal, 8 vols., ed. Samir Taha al-Majdhab (Beirut: al-Maktab al-Islami, 1993), 4:129, 131, 133, 136-37, and 140-41.

. The accounts suggest that hair extensions were widely available in the region, and Mu'awiya seems to have had little trouble in acquiring one to serve as a prop in his sermon, . ‘Abd Allah b. ‘Amir b, Rabi‘a al-‘Anzi was a Companion of the Prophet, who died around the year 80/699. See al-Mizzi, Tahdhib, 15:140-—41. For ‘Abd Allah b. al-Zubayr, see note 12 above. . Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 4:129 and 131. . Although it is possible to interpret this text as simply emphasizing Mu‘awiya’s personal modesty or his desire to clarify protocol for dealing with a caliph, the overall tenor of the traditions cited in this section suggests a conscious attempt to claim a degree of authority over the Companions. . Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 4:133-34. . Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 4:129-30, 135, 138-39. . Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 4:134-35, 140, 141. . Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 4:139, and al-Nasaii, a/-Sunan, 1:310-11. While the location is not explicitly specified in the two variants of this account, the primary narrator (and eyewitness) is Muhammad b. Yasuf al-Qurashi (d. mid first/seventh century), a client of ‘Uthman who spent his entire life in Medina (al-Mizzi, Tahdhib, 27:61—63).

ay

I use “confrontational” in the sense of willing to engage and even refute the views of important Companions. These encounters rarely escalated to the level of outright argument, but bear in mind that Mu‘awiya was accompanied by a group of soldiers (see note 9), an intimidating tactic that hardly encouraged the free exchange ofideas.

38. The issue of Umayyad contributions to the law remains controversial. Crone and Hinds argue that the Umayyads and their supporters saw themselves as wielding a degree of religious authority (God’s Caliph, 43-57). Dutton devotes an entire chapter in his The Origins of Islamic Law (Surrey: Curzon, 1999) to legal controversies in which Umayyads played an important role (130-53). Sip The assertive and deferential accounts appear side by side in the same collections. While there does not appear to be a correlation between the depiction ofthe caliph and the subject matter of an account, the potential influence of geographical rivalries and tribal loyalties cannot be discounted. An adequate discussion ofthis topic requires considerable additional research into individual transmitters and chains of transmission that lies outside the limited scope of the current chapter. 40. The term literally means uttering the formulaic greeting “Peace unto you” directed in this context toward God via the Ka'ba. 41. Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 4:137 with a similar variant on 4:133. 42. It is certainly possible that Ibn ‘Abbas’s view was based on prophetic practice and that he could have defended his position by either citing a text or articulating a parallel type of argument. Mu‘awiya did not, however, ask him for proof of any kind. The caliph’s deference in this instance contrasts sharply with his assertiveness in the previous section. 43, This term (lit. Helpers) refers to those Medinans who adopted Islam at an early stage and provided critical aid to the Prophet after he emigrated from Mecca. They were

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not members of the Prophet’s tribe of Quraysh and often constituted a distinct and independent center of power. . Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 4:139-40.

. Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 4:139-40. legal author_ See Crone and Hinds, God’s Caliph, 43-57 (on Umayyad assertions of

ity); Dutton, Origins, 130-53 (on Umayyad influence in certain areas of the law);

Zaman, Religion, 212-13 (on the veneration of Mu‘awiya as a legal authority among proto-Sunnis). See also notes 25 and 38 above. . Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 4:132-33. ? . The opening chapter of the Qur'an. . In the course of this chapter, I translate the term sara (pl. suwar) as “chapter. Although this is not an exact translation of the Arabic word, it rightly conveys the

sense ofa distinct and internally coherent unit of text within a larger work. . The Qur’anic recitation in the prayer comprises two readings for each of the first two cycles of prayer. The first of these is the Fatiha, while the second is left to the supplicant’s discretion. In this account, the phrase “(second) sara” refers to the sec-

ond reading, which may consist of a few verses from a long Quranic chapter or the entirety ofashorter one. Bile Al-Shafi‘i, a/-Umm, 1:212. 2s We might, for example, correlate portrayals of the assertive and deferential Mu‘awiya

to the differing political circumstances surrounding his three visits to the region. Recall that the first visit occurred in 44/665 immediately after his ascension to the caliphate and in the midst of considerable opposition to his claims outside of Syria. The assertive Mu‘awiya traditions reflect the strained relationship between the caliph and the Hijazis at this time. In these traditions, he flaunts his authority over them and publicly criticizes their religious practices. A change in the broader political climate preceded Mu‘awiya’s second (50/670) and third (56/676) trips to the region as he struggled to secure support for his son’s succession. In some cases, Mu‘awiya forced individuals to take the oath of allegiance to Yazid under duress. More often, however, he seems to have favored a policy of appeasement as reflected in the deferential Mu‘awiya traditions where he flatters the Helpers or acquiesces to the legal authority of Hijazi Companions. These conclusions about the dating of assertive and deferential traditions are conjectural and should be treated as such. A number of scholars continue to question the veracity of any text ascribed to authorities in the first two Islamic centuries, while others have made compelling arguments for the dating of some accounts to as early as the late first/seventh century. For a representative example ofthe former (skeptical) position with respect to historical texts, see Patricia Crone’s Meccan Trade and the Rise of Islam (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1987). For the view that texts can be dated to the second/eighth and (in some cases) the first/seventh century, see Harald Motzki, The Origins of Islamic Jurisprudence, trans. Marion Katz (Leiden: Brill, 2002), and Hossein Modarressi, Tradition and Survival (Oxford: Oneworld, 2003), vol. 1.

Mh For more on the placement of the hands in prayer, see Yasin Dutton, “‘Amal v Hadith

in Islamic Law: The Case of the Sadl al-Yadayn (Holding One’s Hand by One’s Sides) When Doing the Prayer,” Islamic Law and Society 3 (1996): 13-40. Dutton also addresses the placement and raising of the hands in Origins, 45—47. 54, For a typical juristic treatment of the Quranic recitation, see Ibn Qudama, al-Mughni, 8 vols., ed. Muhammad ‘Abd al-Qadir ‘Ata’ (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘IImiyya, 2008), 1:381-93. Bear in mind that discussions of the issue differ slightly from jurist to jurist.

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DD. The Islamic legal tradition has generated a vast literature dealing with the recitation of the basmala in the context of prayer. In this chapter, the term “issue of the basmala” will refer to the recitation of the basmala at the start of the Fatiha in each cycle of the five daily prayers. Other matters discussed by jurists involving the basmala include: the recitation of the basmala before the second Quranic selection in each of the first two prayer cycles, the recitation of the basmala if the worshipper’s second selection spans two siras, and the recitation of the basmala in the second and subsequent prayer cycles (where applicable). 56. All the law schools agree that the basmala appears in a nonintroductory capacity in Q27:30 (“It is from Sulayman, and it is ‘In the name of God, the Beneficent, the Merciful”). Their disagreements concern whether the introductory basmala is an integral part of each Quranic chapter at its start. The one exception is Q9 (strat al-bard'a) ftom which every law school excludes the introductory basmala.

VW, For a comprehensive discussion of the origins, development, and critique of Medinan ‘amal as a source of law, see Ahmed El Shamsy’s unpublished doctoral dissertation entitled “From Tradition to Law” (Harvard, 2009), particularly 10-14 and 33-46, See also Dutton, “Sunna, Hadith, and Madinan ‘Amal,” Journal of Islamic Studies 4 (1993): 1-31 and specifically 5-14. 58. The textual argument is “first” in the sense that it was the first view explicitly articulated by Maliki jurists in their legal works. As El] Shamsy shows, however, the “second” argument based on ‘amal was the dominant line of reasoning in Maliki legal discourse (“Tradition,” 42—43).

a

Malik b. Anas, a/-Muwatta’ (riwayat Suwayd b. Said), ed. ‘Abd al-Majid Turki (Beirut: Dar al-Gharb al-Islami, 1994), 85-86. Suwayd’s recension of Malik’s work

is unique in its use of these traditions to establish the school’s position. The recensions of Yahya b. Yahya al-Laythi and Muhammad al-Shaybani utilize similar evidence but do so in discussing the audibility or silence of a supplicant’s recitation in a group prayer. See Malik b. Anas, a/-Muwatta’ (riwayat Yahya b. Yahya al-Laythi), 2 vols., ed. Bashshar ‘Awwad Ma'rif (Beirut: Dar al-Gharb al-Islami, 1996), 1:136; Malik b. Anas, al-Muwatta’ (riwayat Muhammad al-Shaybani), ed. ‘Abd al-Wahhab

‘Abd al-Latif (Beirut: al-Maktaba al-‘Ilmiyya, 2003), 60. 60. I am using the Kafan numbering system, standard today in most of the Islamic world. The Medinan numbering system, which is preserved by North and West African Malikis, would consider this verse Q1I:1 rather than Q1:2. 6l. A majority of both Sunni and Shi‘ exegetes hold that the phrase “seven oft-repeated” from Q15:87 (“And We have bestowed upon you the seven oft-repeated [sab‘an min al-mathani] and the Glorious Qur'an”) refers to the Fatiha. Al-Tabari (d. 311/923) offers three interpretive possibilities: (1) the verse refers to the seven longest chapters

of the Qur’an, which are “oft repeated” because they contain parables and narra-

tive warnings, (2) the verse refers to the Fatiha, and (3) the verse refers to seven

of the positive qualities of the Qur'an. Al-Tabari accepts the second as the correct interpretation. See al-Tabari, Tafsir, 7 vols., ed. Salah ‘Abd al-Fattah al-Khalidi (Beirut: al-Dar al-Shamiyya, 1997), 4:646—48. Al-Qurtubi (d. 671/1272) proposes a fourth possibility (i.e., the verse refers to the entirety of the Qur'an given that it may be divided into seven sections) before settling on the standard interpretation. See al-Qurtubi, al-Jami‘li-abkam al-Qur an, 20 vols. (Cairo: Dar al-Katib al-‘Arabi, 1967), 10:54. For another Sunni example, see Fakhr al-Din al-Razi (d. 606/1209), al-Tafsir al-kabir, 32 vols. (Tehran: n.p., 198—), 19:206-10. For Shi‘i examples, see Fadl b. al-Hasan al-Tabrisi (d. 548/1153), Jawdmi* al-jami‘, 2 vols. (Beirut: Dar al-Adwa’, 1985), 1:801—803; idem, Majma‘ al-bayan, 10 vols. (Cairo: Dar al-Taqrib

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62.

. . . .

.

.

Bayn al-Madhahib al-Islamiyya, 1997), 6:146-48. Most scholars simply take for granted the fact that Q15:87 refers to the seven verses of the Fatiha. Sahnan, al-Mudawwana al-kubra, ed. Hamdi al-Damirdash Muhammad, 9 vols. (Sidon: al-Maktaba al-‘Asriyya, 1999), 1:186. Sahniin was a jurist from Qayrawan who played an important role in the spread of Malikism in North Africa and Spain in the third/ninth century. For more on Sahnin, see E/’, s.v. “Sahniin” (M. Talbi). See Ibn Majah, al-Sunan (Karachi: n.p., 1952-53), 1:267; al-Bayhaqi, al-Sunan, 2:75. In the second tradition, the first three caliphs are cited alongside the Prophet. See Malik, al-Muwatta’ (riwayat Suwayd b. Said), 85. Sahnin, al-Mudawwana, 1:186. Yasuf b. ‘Abd Allah b. ‘Abd al-Barr (d. 462/1070), al-Insaf fi ma bayna al-‘ulama’ fi giraat bismillah al-rahman al-rabim min al-ikhtilaf, ed. ‘Abd al-Latif b. Muhammad (Riyadh: Adwa’ al-Salaf, 1997); idem, al-Istidhkdr, ed. ‘Ali al-Najdi Nasif (Cairo: Matabi‘ al-Ahram al-Tijariyya, 1971-73). Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr, al-Istidhkar, 2:154. Muslim b. al-Hajjaj al-Qushayri’s Jami‘ al-sahib, 5 vols., ed. Muhammad Fu’ad ‘Abd al-Baqi (Cairo: Dar Ihya al-Kutub al-‘Arabiyya, 1955-56), 1:296—97. As mentioned above (see note 59) Malik cites this tradition in the versions of the Muwatta’ transmitted by

Yahya b. Yahya al-Laythi and Muhammad al-Shaybani but does so when discussing the audibility/silence of recitation in a group prayer. 69. For a description of the Syrian text, see Anton Spitaler, Die Verszahlung des Koran (Munich: Verlag der Bayerischen Akademie

der Wissenschaften,

1935), 31 (table

1). For a comprehensive discussion of variant noncanonical readings (including the Syrian text), see Intisar Rabb, “Non-Canonical Readings of the Qur'an,” Journal of Quranic Studies 8 (2006): 84-127.

70. The Kufan/Meccan reading counted the basmala as the first verse of the Fatiha and did not place a break between alayhim and ghayr. For a succinct summary of com-

peting views with regard to the Fatiha, see al-Dani’s al-Baydnfi ‘add ay al-Qur ‘an, ed. Ghanim Qaddtri al-Hamad (Kuwait: Markaz al-Makhtatat wa-l-Turath wa-l-Watha’iq, 1994), 231. The difference in the counting ofverses is also mentioned by al-Qurtubi (Jami, 1:91-107) and al-Tabrisit (Jawami‘ al-jami‘, 1:15—-16). TA Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr, al-Istidhkar, 2:172-73. 72. For Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr’s preference for the dialogue tradition, see al-Istidhkar, 2:154.

73% 74.

Te

76.

For examples of other arguments and traditions, both in favor of and against the Maliki view, see Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr, al-Istidhkar, 2:173-74, 179-82. al-Qurtubi, Jami‘, 1:93-94. The basmala is quoted in Q27:30 (see note 56). In his a/-Baydn wa-l-tabsil, Ibn Rushd al-Jadd (d. 520/1126) (20 vols., ed. Ahmad al-Hababi (Beirut: Dar al-Gharb al-Islami, 1984-], 1:365) presents an argument similar to that of Malik, Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr, and (to a lesser extent) al-Qurtubi. A number of modern scholars emphasize Malik’s reliance on ‘amal even in cases where he does not state it outright. El Shamsy, for example, asserts that the establishment of the normative authority of ‘amal was the primary driving force in the composition of the Muwatta’. See El Shamsy, “Tradition,” 31-32 and 42—43. Dutton details two categories of ‘amal including ‘amal naqli (passed down generationally from the Prophet with no differences) and ‘mal ijtihadi (practices for which there were differences of opinion within Medina, dating from a time after the Prophet’s death). The former was the more authoritative of the two and the underlying rationale for omitting the basmala from the ritual prayer. See Dutton, Origins, 7-8. Dutton, Origins, 197-98, note 82. He makes the identical point in “Sunna,” 19 5) note 68,

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ihe. Dutton insists that there were no Medinan traditions on the issue. Specifically, he writes that the basmala was one of anumber of practices: that were not recorded initially in the form of hadith but were nevertheless known generally amongst the people and understood to have originated in the time of the Prophet. Other practices, however, although recorded in authentic hadiths... were not acted upon by their transmitters because they did not represent the swnna. In other words, they were either exceptional instances or earlier judgmentsn that had later been changed, or otherwise minority opinions that held little weight, and which, even though they derived from the Prophet, were nevertheless outweighed by other judgments also deriving from the Prophet (Dutton, Origins, 45). Dutton offers a similar argument in “Sunna,” 19. 78. For some examples of Medinan traditions that support an audible basmala, see ‘Abd al-Razzaq, Musannaf, 2:59, and Ibn Abi Shayba, Musannaf, 9 vols., ed. Sa‘id al-Lahham (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr, 1989), 1:361. For Medinan accounts of the prayer leadership tradition that favor the audible basmala, see al-Shafi‘i, al-Umm, 1:212-13,

and al-Bayhaqi, a/-Sunan, 2:72. Most other variants of the prayer leadership tradition are primarily transmitted by Meccans. 79. EI Shamsy, “Tradition,” 42—43. 80. El Shamsy points out that this avenue for criticizing Malik was pioneered by his students, Muhammad al-Shaybani and al-Shafi‘l (“Tradition,” 48-54). 81. A prominent traditionist Maliki jurist from Qayrawan, pivotal in the spread of Malikism in North Africa. For a detailed study of his life, see Sayeed Rahman’s unpublished doctoral dissertation entitled “The Legal and Theological Thought of Ibn Abi Zayd al-Qayrawani” (Yale, 2009).

82. Ibn Abi Zayd, Kitab al-Nawddir wa-l-ziyadat, 15 vols., ed. ‘Abd al-Fattah Muhammad al-Hulw (Beirut: Dar al-Gharb al-Islami, 1999), 1:172-73. Although Ibn Abi Zayd refers to the opinions of legal authorities and implies a familiarity with the textual tradition, he does not quote them in their entirety. 83. Ibn Abi Zayd, Kitab al-Nawédir, 1:172. 84. Ibn Abi Zayd, Kitab al-Nawadir, 1:173. 85. Ibn al-‘Arabi, Abkam al-Qur dn, 4 vols., ed. Muhammad Bakr Ismail (Cairo: Dar al-Manar, 2002), 1:18—-19.

86. Ibn al-‘Arabi, Abkam, 1:18-19. 87. See El Shamsy, “Tradition,” 37-46, especially 42-43. Dutton argues that ‘amal was always more authoritative than textual evidence (“Sunna,” 8). See also note 75. 88. Al-Shafi‘i, a/-Umm, 1:210-13. 89. AlL-Shafi‘i, a/-Umm, 1:210. 90. Al-Nasai, al-Sunan, 1:469-70. Although this account seems to support the omission

of the basmala, al-Shafi‘i interprets it as an indication that “they [the Prophet and the dn |the Fatiha) ... not that they omitted caliphs] began recitation with the Umm al-Qur (the basmala)” (al-Shafi‘i, al-Umm,

1:210). In other words, al-Shafi‘i argues that the

Fatiba was initially identified by the phrase, “Praise be to God, Master of the Worlds.” ills This last grouping includes the three variants of the prayer leadership tradition quoted at the start of this chapter (al-Shafi‘i, a/-Umm, 1:212). 92; This point is made explicit by Aba Ishaq al-Shirazi (d. 474/1083) in his a/-Muhadhdhab fifigh al-imam al-Shafii (6 vols., ed. Muhammad al-Zuhayli (Beirut: al-Dar al-Shamiyya, 1992-96], 1:242), where he forcefully argues for a uniform treatment of all Qur’anic verses. Al-Shirazi’s argumentative framework is similar to that of his contemporary al-Mawardi detailed below.

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93 . The overall Shafi approach is centered on preserving the integrity of the Qur’anic

text, This is evident at the end of al-Shafi‘i’s discussion of the basmala where he emphasizes that the Fatiha (along with every other stra) must be recited in its entirety with every letter in the place in which it was originally revealed by God. The order of the verses cannot be changed, a forgotten verse cannot be recited out of order, and no

verses from different s#ras may be arbitrarily inserted on the basis of personal discretion (al-Shafi‘i, a/-Umm, 1:213-14).

94. ‘Ali b. Muhammad al-Mawardi, al-Hawi al-kabir, 24 vols., ed. ‘Adil Ahmad ‘Abd al-Mawjad and ‘Ali Muhammad Mu‘awwad (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr, 1994), 2:104-109. Al-Mawardi was a prominent Shafi‘i jurist who spent most of his life in Iraq and maintained close links with the ‘Abbasids (E/, s.v. “al-Mawardi” [C. Brockelmann]).

OB. 96. Oi: 98.

39); 100. 101.

The Hawi is a commentary on Isma‘il b. Yahya al-Muzani's (d. 264/878) Mukhtasar. Al-Muzani, a pupil of Shafi‘i, spent most ofhis life in Egypt and is regarded as one of the most important early Shafi‘i jurists (E/’, s.v. “al-Shafi'” [W. Heffening]). Al-Mawardi, al-Hawi, 2:105. Al-Mawardi, a/-Hawi, 2:105-106. Al-Mawardi, al-Hawi, 2:105-106. Al-Mawardi acknowledges the counterargument that the basmala was only used in the early mushafs to mark the start of each s#ra, but responds that if the verse was written within the text, then it must have been considered a part ofthe text (al-Mawardi, al-Hawi, 2:106—107). For the presence of the basmala in two early (dated) mushafs, see Behnam Sadeghi, “The Codex of aCompanion of the Prophet and the Qur'an of the Prophet,” Arabica 57 (2010): 343-436, and Yasin Dutton, “Some Notes on the British Library’s “Oldest Qur’an Manuscript,” Journal of Qur’nic Studies 6 (2004): 43-71 and, particularly, 50 and 64. See also Arthur Jeffery, Materials for the History of the Text of the Quran (New York: AMS Press, 1975), 49, and Rabb, “NonCanonical,” 93, where the presence of the basmala in the earliest variant codices is taken for granted. Al-Mawardi, al-Hawi, 2:108-109. Al-Mawardi, al-Hawi, 2:109. Al-Ghazali, al-Wajizfi al-figh madhhab al-imam al-Shafii, 2 vols. (Egypt: n.p.,

1899?), 1:42. 102, Yahya b. Sharif al-Nawawi, Majmia‘ sharh al-Muhadhdhab,

18 vols., ed. Zakariyya ‘Ali Yusuf (Cairo: Matba‘at al-Imam bi-Misr, 1966-69), 3:290-313 and particularly 290-302. Al-Nawawi was born in Syria and is regarded as one of the highest-ranking

Shafi‘l juristic authorities of his time. See E/’, s.v. “al-Nawawi” (W. Heffening). 103. The final argument articulated by al-Nawawi that centers on the validity of Medinan

amal is discussed herein. 104. ‘Abd al-Wahhab b. ‘Ali al-Subki, Raf al-hajib ‘an Mukhtasar Ibn al-Hajib, 4 vols.,

ed. ‘Adil Ahmad ‘Abd al-Mawjiid er a/. (Beirut: ‘Alam al-Kutub, 1999), 2:83—91. to Egypt in 198/814) pointedly criticized Malik’s assertion ofasingular Medinan ‘mal by highlighting its internal discrepancies and exposing instances where it contradicted views ascribed to Companions. The result was an amorphous and vague ‘amal that “contains multiple contradictory voices” without “any systematic method for adjudicating between them”

105. El Shamsy argues that al-Shafi‘i (especially after his move

(“Tradition,” 51). For the entirety of El Shamsy’s discussion of al-Shafi‘is critique of

amal, see “Tradition,” 47-55, summarizes the following argument—ascribed to al-Layth (d. 175/791)—against Maliki claims for the superiority of Medina:

106. Dutton

b. Sa‘d

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The Companions had spread out throughout the new lands of Islam, taking with them their knowledge of the Book and the swnna, and exercising their best judgement...when they knew of no specific guidance on a matter. Furthermore the first three caliphs had been concerned to avoid dispute among the Muslim troops and had sent directives to them on even relatively unimportant matters... but they had never told anyone to go against the practice of any of the Companions, whether in Egypt, Syria or Iraq, if this had been the constant practice of these Companions up until their death. In other words, the Companions had come to different decisions on various matters but they had had a right to do so, and if the first three caliphs had not forced people to follow the Companions ofaparticular place, why should anyone else? (Dutton, “Sunna,” 12). This argument does not attack Medinan ‘amal as much as it attempts to elevate the living traditions of other cities. 107. Al-Shafi‘i, al/-Umm, 1:212-13. 108. Al-Shafi‘i, al/-Umm, 1:212. 109. This contestation would not have been surprising given the numerous instances where al-Shafi‘i criticized both the normative authority and integrity of ‘amal (El Shamsy, “Tradition,” 47-55). 110. Al-Shafii, a/-Umm, 1:213. Le See, for example, Ahmad Yasuf al-Daqqaq’s commentary in Musnad al-imam Muhammad 6. Idris al-Shafii, ed. Ayyab Abi Khashrif (Beirut: Dar al-Thaqafa PP Se 114. RIB,

al-‘Arabiyya, 2002), 65-66. Al-Nawawi, Majma‘, 3:299-302. Al-Nawawi, Majmi‘, 3:302. Al-Nawawi, Majma‘, 3:302. The Imamis consider the basmala a special verse of the Fatiha that merits the distinction of audible recitation in every prayer cycle. For the Imami position, see al-Tusi, al-Nihaya, 3 vols. (Qum: Mu’assasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1991), 1:302—303. The Imami and Zaydi (minority and majority) views are summarized in Haider, The Origins of the Shi'a (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 71-74 (on the Imamis) and

74-77 (on the Zaydis). I intend to explore the links between Medina and Imami jurisprudence in a future article. 116. Al-Sharafi, al-Masabih al-sati‘a al-anwar, 3 vols., ed. Muhammad Qasim al-Hashimi and ‘Abd al-Salam ‘Abbas al-Wajih (Sa‘da: Maktabat al-Turath al-Islami, 1998), 1:155, 156. A similar interpretation of Q17:46 is also found in Furat b. Ibrahim al-Kafi, Tafsir Furat al-Kafi, ed. Muhammad al-Kazim (Tehran: Murassasat al-Tab° wa-lNashr, 1990), 41-42. Q17:46—“And We place upon their hearts veils lest they should

understand it, and in their ears a deafness; and when you mention your Lord alone in the Qur’an, they turn their backs in aversion.” Ny Al-Sharafi, a/-Masabih, 1:147—48. Q17:110—“And be not loud-voiced in your worship nor silent therein, but follow a way between.” 118. Al-Sharafi, a/-Masabih, 1:157. Q2:200—“And when you have completed your devotions, then remember God as you remember your fathers or with a more lively remembrance.” UNS) Al-Sharafi, al-Masabih, 1:155. Q48:26—“When those who disbelieve had set up in their hearts zealotry, the zealotry of the Age of Ignorance, then God sent down His reassurance upon His messenger and upon the believers and imposed on them self it. And God is Aware of all things.” restraint, for they were entitled to it and worthy of in other Zaydi exegetical works covered is AL-Sharafi does not mention Q15:87, which

64

NajAM HaIpER

such as Abd al-Fath al-Nasir b. al-Husayn al-Daylami’s Kitab Burhan fi tafsir al-Quran (MS dating from 1046/1637), fols. 4b—5a. For Q15:87, see also note 61 above.

120. These include (a) three versions of a tradition (included in Ahmad b. ‘Isa b. Zayd’s Amaii, preserved in ‘Ali b. Isma‘il b. ‘Abd Allah al-Mu’ayyad al-San‘ani’s Ra’b al-sad’, 3 vols. [Beirut: Dar al-Nafa’is, 1990], 1:242 and 245) that attributes the disappearance of the basmala to Satan (al-Sharafi, a/-Masabih, 1:146, 1:147, and 1:149), and (b) a

tradition in which the Zaydi position is directly ascribed al-Masabih,\:147). For variants of the former traditions, al-imam Zayd (Beirut: Mansharat Dar Maktabat al-Hayat, Ra’b, 1:247. For a variant of the latter account invoking the the Prophet, see al-San‘ani, Ra’b, 1:242. 121, Al-Sharafi, al-Masabih, 1:157-59. 122. Al-Sharafi, al-Masabih, 1:158—60.

to the Prophet (al-Sharafi, see Zayd b. ‘Ali, Musnad 1966), 104, and al-San‘ani, authority of ‘Ali rather than

parut

Shit Tradition

Chapter 4

The Kitab al-wasiyya of Isa b. al-Mustafad: The History of a Text! Hassan F. Ansari

From the early days of Shit thought on the issue of the Imamate, there have been writings on the subject often bearing the title of Kitab al-imama,* alongside writings on the concept of the sacred bequest, bearing titles such as Kitab al-wasiyya or Kitab al-awsiya (“Book of the heirs”, ive., the Imams). Wasiyya is an old Shi‘i concept, broader than the evolutionary notions of Imamate and Caliphate, but gradually becoming synonymous with the Imamate and the doctrine ofinvestiture (nas3). These concepts originate in the belief that the Prophet had designated ‘Ali as his “heir” for a variety of tasks. The concept, then, simultaneously encompassed the responsibility of the Prophet in the naming ofhis heir, the status of ‘Ali as the object

of this nomination, and the question ofthe succession of the Prophet and the sacred heritage of the prophecy.° The writings devoted to these issues were collections of hadiths or theological discussions about the fact that ‘Ali and the other Imams who descended from him are the heirs of Muhammad and, after him, responsible for the prophetic legacy at the head of their community. The extension ofthe “legacy” of‘Ali—to which some writings are exclusively dedicated—to other Imams seems to show a change in the original sense of the term. Thus was developed the theory according to which every lawmaking prophet had legatees who had as their task the custody of the prophetic legacy until the appearance ofthe next lawgiver. The “last prophet,” being no exception, also has legatees of this kind, who have thus never been absent from history.’ One consequence of this theory was the predestined nature of the status of the Imams, each duly appointed by his predecessor in a line going back to the Prophet (indeed, according to some currents of Shiism, to God’). Under this doctrine, pre-

sented as part of the concept of the pact of the Imamate (‘ahd al-imama), each Imam has a duty to explicitly designate as his successor an Imam predestined for this task.°

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While the most significant example of this literature is the [thbat al-wasiyya, a

work attributed to the historian al-Mas‘adi (d. 346/957-58), one of the oldest writ-

ings of the genre is the Kitab al-wasiyya attributed to ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad, a Shi‘ traditionalist. This latter work can be reconstructed on the basis of quotations pre-

served in later writing and which we shall examine in this chapter. In this text, ‘Ali is described as being the object of the investiture by the Prophet and in charge of the latter's bequest. Before we turn to this work, it is useful to offer a list of Shit writings, particularly Imami, which were dedicated to this subject and held in particularly high esteem in Shi‘ circles:’ Ife

Kitab al-imama and Ithbat al-wasiyya® by Aba Jafar Muhammad b. ‘Ali b. al-Nu‘man al-Bajali al-Ahwal al-Kafi al-Sayrafi, known as “Mu'min / Sahib al-Taq,” disciple of the Imam Jafar al-Sadiq (d. 148/765) and Shii theologian.? AL-Tisi identifies him as Muhammad b. al-Nu‘man al-Ahwal and says

that he is called Shaytan al-Tag (“the devil of the Taq quarter”) by his adversaries and Mu’min al-Taq by the Shi‘a. It is clear that al-Tasi got his informa-

tion from Ibn al-Nadim’s famous Fihrist.'° . Kitab al-wasiyya wa-l-imama by Abi |-Hasan ‘Ali b. Ri’ab al-Kafi, disciple of the Imams Ja‘far al-Sadiq and Masa al-Kazim (d. 183/799).”

Kitab al-wasiyya wa-l-radd ‘ala munkiriha (or ‘ala man ankaraha) by Abi Muhammad Hisham b. al-Hakam (d. 179/795), one of the greatest Shii theologians ofthe time of the Imams in Kifa and Baghdad." He reports traditions from the Imams Ja‘far al-Sadiq and Misa al-Kazim.'* Ibn al-Nadim stresses his expertise in Shi theology and insists on his mastery of rational speculation (xagar).'4 In addition, different sources’ allude to one or more works of

Hisham on the subject of the Imamate without offering any specific work titles.'° These may refer to the above mentioned work or to other writings of his on this subject. . Kitab al-wasaya by Abi Ja'far Muhammad b. ‘Isa b. ‘Ubayd b. Yaqtin, narrator living in Baghdad, who transmitted from the Imam Muhammad al-Jawad (d. 220/835). This book may be a juridical compendium on the question of the will (wasiyya) and inheritance or on wasiyya in the sense that concerns us. To be certain of this would require a more detailed study of the work. Al-Tisi considers the author “weak,” and adds that he has been accused of extremism (ghuluww).” . Kitab al-awsiya’ wa-dhikr al-wasaya by ‘Ali b. Muhammad b. Ziyad al-Saymari (d. probably 280/893—94 or 281/894—-95). This work is quoted twice by Ibn

Tawis (d. 664/1266) in Muhaj al-daawat and Faraj al-mahmam. The manuscript he possessed would have been copied in the time of al-Saymari himself.'* This work was one of the sources of the Ithbat al-wasiyya attributed to al-Mas‘idi.!

. Kitab al-wasiyya of Ibrahim b. Muhammad b. Sa‘id al-Thagafi (d. 283/896—

7), a famous Shi‘ historian and author of the Kitab al-gharat. Originally from Kiifa and living in Isfahan, he converted from Zaydism to Imamism.?° Ibn Shahrashab cites two books by him entitled K. al-wasiyya ft l-imama saghir and K. al-wasiyya fi l-imama kabir, evidently mixing up the information given

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by al-Tiisi who lists three work titles, namely, K. al-wasiyya, K. fi L-imama kabir and K. fi l-imama saghir. The confusion must be due to Ibn Shahrashab; it seems that al-Thaqafi only authored one K. al-wasiyya.”! . Kitab al-awsiy@ by Abi |-Nadr Muhammad b. Mas‘tid b. Muhammad b. ‘Ayyash al-Sulami al-Samarqandi, known as al-‘Ayyashi (fl. end third/ninth, early fourth/tenth century).?? The work title is mentioned by al-Najashi, Ibn al-Nadim, and al-Tisi.> The latter two add a Kitab al-wasaya that was probably in the juridical domain rather than on the question of suc-

cession.** Al-Tisi,” following Ibn al-Nadim, lists among the works of

al“Ayyashi Kitab al-anbiya wa-l-aimma and Kitab makhabbat al-awsiy@ (in another version makhabba reads as mahabba; this may also be mina, as appears in Ibn al-Nadim).*° . Kitab al-awsiya@ of Abi Ja‘far Muhammad b. ‘Ali al-Shalmaghani, known

as Ibn Abi al-‘Azagir (executed in 322/934), Imami scholar and leader of

an esoteric current of thought at the end of the third/ninth and beginning of the fourth/tenth centuries.’ According to al-Najashi, he enjoyed a high

position among the Imamis, but as the result of serious disagreements with Aba |-Qasim al-Husayn b. Rth al-Nawbakhti, third “representative” of the Hidden Imam, he was isolated within the community of the faithful and finally executed in Baghdad.** The conflict of al-Shalmaghani with al-Nawbakhti, at least from the year 312/924—95 onward, was centered on the question of the representation (wikdla) of the Hidden Imam and the

problems to which it was prone at the political, social, and religious level. These tensions caused division in several influential Shi‘i families and produced splits in Shi‘i intellectual circles in Baghdad. It is in this context that al-Shalmaghani, accused of antinomianism (76aha), of believing in reincar-

nation (Au/a/), and of pretending to divinity (iddi@ al-ulihiyya), was condemned to death by the caliphal authorities.” Al-Mas‘idi mentions four of his works, among them a Kitab al-ghayba and a book on wasiyya (kitabuhu fi L-wasiyya), adding that he had included some quotes from the latter work

in his book, now lost, a/-Maqalatfi usnl al-diyandat.°° Quotes from the Kitab al-awsiyad of al-Shalmaghani are found in other sources, and it seems highly probable that the /thédt al-wasiyya that is attributed to al-Mas tdi is nothing more than a paraphrase of this book, augmented with numerous additions. What is certain is that this work of al-Shalmaghani has had a long-lasting influence on the literature devoted to the Imamate and the Occulration.*! It is likewise possible that the Kitab al-anbiya wa-l-awsiya min Adam ila Mahdi, mentioned by Ibn Tawiss in his Faraj al-mahmuam, whose author is called Muhammad b. ‘Ali, may be none other than the Kitab al-awsiyd’ of al-Shalmaghani.*” . Risalat ithbat al-wasiyya li-Ali b. Abi Talib by Abii al-Hasan ‘Alt b. al-Husayn b. ‘Ali al-Mas‘adi al-Hudhali, a famous historian and author of al-Tanbih wa-l-ishrafaswell as Muriij al-dhahab. There are debates about whether he was a member ofthe Shi‘ or, specifically, Imami community;*? for example, al-Najashi includes him among the Shii scholars.*4 In any case, it is almost certain that he is not the author ofthe famous /thbat al-wasiyya, which has

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been attributed to him and published numerous times.” The Risdlat ithbat al-wasiyya, cited by al-Najashi, appears to differ from the Ithbat al-wasiyya, to the extent that they are probably independent works.*° 10. Kitab al-awsiy@ and Kitab al-anbiya’, attributed to Aba |-Qasim ‘Ali b. Ahmad al-Kafi (d. 352/963), a prolific Imami scholar and author of al-Istighatha, a published work devoted to the refutation of the first three caliphs.*” Al-Najashi notes that he became an extremist at the end of his life, that his faith was “corrupted” (fasid), and that many of his writings were productions of this deviant thinking.** Al-Tasi writes that at first he was a faithful Imami and authored many useful books, including the Kitab al-awsiyd’. He was later contaminated by “mixing” (takhlit, i.e., the mixing of good and bad doctrines),*? converted to the doctrine of the extremist Shi‘i group, the Mukhammisa,©

and wrote books tainted with both extremism

(ghuluww)

and mixing (takA/i#).*' Ibn al-Ghad@iri directs the same severe criticisms at al-Kufi.** By contrast, Ibn al-Nadim praises the proficiency and knowledge of this figure and also mentions his Kitab al-awsiya.*° 11. Kitab ithbat al-wasiyya li-Ali by the renowned al-Shaykh al-Sadiiq, Abi Ja‘far Muhammad b. ‘Ali b. al-Husayn b. Masa Ibn Babawayh al-Qummi

(d. 381/991-92).“4

The Kitab al-wasiyya of ‘Isa b. alMustafad In the Kaji of al-Kulayni,® a narration in the form of a hadith is transmitted by a Shiii traditionist called Abii Musa ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad al-Darir, on the subject of the bequest left to ‘Ali. It is a will (ahd) that contains numerous predictions about the events that followed the death of the Prophet. The isndd of the account contains unidentifiable transmitters alongside others known to belong to esoteric and extremist currents. ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad narrates this rather lengthy hadith from the Imam Misa al-Kazim. The report contains a dialogue he had with his father,

the Imam Ja'far al-Sadig. In it, al-Sadiq relates a story about a testament of divine origin, revealed in the form of a “written document” (kitdban musajjalan) to the Prophet and transmitted to ‘Ali. This testament was therefore in the hands of the first Imam and contained an account of events that would take place from the death of Muhammad until the Imamate of ‘Ali. The document is said to be a sealed sheet (sahifa makhtima), miraculously transmitted to the latter as a sacred bequest, and ‘Ali, from whom, according to this account, the Prophet asked for loyalty, was to respect the content of this testament. The testament thus show similarities with other secret “books” of the Imams that Shi7 literature identifies as a/-Jami'a, al-Jafr, al-Sabifa, or again Kitab ‘Ali. In addition, other Shi'ite sources also mention a “sealed sheet” (sahifa makhtama) containing a will.” Thus the story of ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad appears to belong to a living tradition. The Kafi does not tell us whether the text formed part of a longer document, but some time after al-Kulayni (d. 329/941) another text was attributed to ‘Isa b.

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al-Mustafad in the Imami community that was recorded by the famous Imami

transmitter Hariin b. Misa al-Talla‘ukbari (d, 385/995). Quotations of two large

fragments of this text are preserved in al-Sharif al-Radi’s Khasa@is al-adimma.® Isa

b. al-Mustafad is again presented as a transmitter of Imam Misa b. Jafar, and he

reports a dialogue between the latter and his father, Imam Ja‘far al-Sadiq, on a similar topic. But here ‘Isa is not only a simple transmitter; at some point the disciple enters into a discussion with his master, the seventh Imam, Masa al-Ka zim. In this report,

in addition to the question of the testament of the Prophet given to ‘Ali shortly

before the death of the former, the final episodes in the life of Muhammad in rela-

tion to the issue of the Imamate and his own succession, as well as his relationship with other Companions, are narrated in the form of a factual chronicle. It should be noted that the two versions reported in al-Kafi and Khasd@is al-aimma are completely distinct and do not seem to have a common source. In the version of al-Sharif al-Radi, the name of ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad is not directly mentioned. Instead, the name of the transmitter occurs in two forms: ‘Isa al-Darir

and Aba Masa al-Darir al-Bajali. Both must be identical with ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad, who is mentioned in al-Kulayni’s work. It is interesting to note that Haran b. Misa al-Talla'ukbari is separated from ‘Isa by a single link, whereas al-Kulayni, the teacher of al-Talla‘ukbari, transmits from ‘Isa through five links. In any case, al-Tallaukbari’s chain of transmission is otherwise not attested. On the other hand, al-Kulayni reports elsewhere in his a/-Kafia juridical hadith of a certain ‘Isa al-Darir (could he be ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad?), separated from him by four links and transmitting from the Imam Ja'far al-Sadiq.” In the fifth/eleventh century, shortly after the death of al-Sharif al-Radi and during the lifetime of al-Najashi (d. 450/1058) and of Ahmad b. al-Husayn Ibn al-Ghadairi (d. early fifth/eleventh century), there is talk of a“Kitab al-wasiyya” by ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad. Al-Najashi calls him “‘Isa b. al-Mustafad Aba Masa al-Bajali al-Darir.”*° This name is thus a combination of the two names put forward in al-Kafi and Khasais al-aimma. Strangely enough, al-Najashi presents our man not as a disciple of al-Kazim, but of the latter’s grandson, the Imam Muhammad b. ‘Ali al-Jawad. In addition, he undermines the reliability of this transmitter by remarking “it was not so” (wa-lam yakun bi-dhaka). Did al-Najashi know him as a historical figure, or is he judging him only on the basis of the account of the wasiyya? We cannot be sure, but the fact that, apart from the two sources mentioned, the

name ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad does not appear in any other old Shi‘ source seems a valid reason to doubt his historical reality. In other words, the existence of this person is based solely on two accounts whose origins are more than vague. In any case, al-Najashi also attributed to him a book entitled Kitab al-wasiyya. He specifies two chains of transmitters for this book; the first is said to be Egyptian

and “shaky” (mudtarib) while the second is, for the most part, identical to the first.

What is confusing is that while the two chains have much in common, their divergent elements have no connection to Egypt. It is the parts that are common to both chains that are in fact Egyptian.’! Since the majority of the two chains is identical, it seems likely that the text was reported in a single version, at least in al-Najashi’s

transmission. However, it is unknown whether the latter knew the text itself, or only its routes of transmission.

We

HassAN F. ANSARI

Still, none of these isndds have links with the chains of the reports mentioned by al-Kulayni and al-Sharif al-Radi. In the two isndds given by al-Najashi, there are five intermediaries between al-Najashi and ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad. Thus, illogically, the number of intermediaries varies depending on the sources, which is more than problematic according to the rules of the “generations of transmitters” (tabagat al-rijal). On the other hand, one wonders whether the Kitab al-wasiyya cited by al-Najashi is identical to the accounts, apparently taken from a work with the same title, reported by al-Kulayni and al-Sharif al-Radi. The text of al-Najashi does not

provide any clue to answer this question, especially as his ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad reports from al-Jawad, while that of our two other authors reports from al-Kazim.

According to his Kitab al-rijal (also known as al-Dvafa’), Ibn al-Ghadairi also knew a Kitab al-wasiyya.’ From his presentation, however, one may conclude that he doubted the veracity of the transmission from Imam Misa al-Kazim, as he notes that these reports differ considerably from the Kitab al-wasiyya. Perhaps he had noticed the discrepancy between the story narrated by al-Kulayni and the version of the Kitab al-wasiyya in question. On the basis of his statements, it is questionable whether he had seen the book and whether he was thus able to distinguish it from the earlier accounts in terms of contents and scope or not. Ibn al-Ghadairi further writes that the isndd of the book is not solid, probably referring to the isndd recorded by his friend and colleague al-Najashi. In addition, the reliability of ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad, according to Ibn al-Ghadairi, seems to be based on the legendary

nature ofthe story as narrated by al-Kulayni. Ibn al-Ghadairi therefore probably did not hear of him through other independent sources. A contemporary of al-Najashi and Ibn al-Ghadairi, al-Shaykh al-Tasi (d. 460/1068), also mentions one ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad in his Fihrist* His record seems to be the most accurate existing on our subject. According to al-Tasi, ‘Isa had a book, apparently devoted to juridical matters, which was transmitted by ‘Ubaydallah b.

‘Abdallah al-Dihqan. Given the generation ofthe latter, it is plausible to accept that ‘Isa’s account went back to Imam al-Jawad, as mentioned by al-Najashi. These two independent pieces of information taken together suggest that perhaps Ibn al-Mustafad as a historical person was indeed a transmitter from the ninth Imam, Muhammad al-Jawad. However, it does not seem that al-Tiisi is talking here of the Kitab al-wasiyya of Ibn al-Mustafad. The fact remains that these legal traditions that al-Shaykh al-Tiisi refers to left no trace in the Shi‘ literature of hadith, and that

al-Tasi did not include our character among the followers of Imam Muhammad al-Jawad in his Kitab al-rijal. Comparing the case of‘Isa b. al-Mustafad with other similar cases, it is conceivable that he was a rare and obscure transmitter of al-Jawad, whose traditions were

reported by al-Dihqan, and who was more or less forgotten by later traditionists. It is

also interesting to note that in the Kitab al-rijal attributed to Ahmad b. Muhammad

b. Khalid al-Bargi (d. 274/887—888 or 280/893—894)—which contains, according to Hossein Modarressi, a list of transmitters of hadiths in al-Bargqi’s (authentic) Kitab

al-mahasin—the name ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad is not mentioned while in his Kitab mahasin, al-Barqi cites the reports of al-Dihqan, the disciple of ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad, through the intermediary of the renowned Muhammad b. ‘Isa b. ‘Ubayd and others.°°

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Thus, one could accept the historical existence of ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad, at least through al-Dihqan’s book. However, the description of him in al-Kafi and later in Khas@is al-aimma could not have reflected reality. Recall that al-Kulayni’s account in the K@f7 is of obscure origin, dates back to Imam Misa al-Kazim and not Muhammad al-Jawad, and includes a highly suspect isndad (which was the reason for Ibn al-Ghadaiiri’s doubts). Nevertheless, this account was apparently the foundation for the later appearance of a Kitab al-wasiyya attributed to Ibn al-Mustafad, which is perhaps first attested in the Khasd’is ofal-Sharif al-Radi. The account, which was available to al-Sharif through the intermediary of al-Talla‘ukbari, probably did not include the version of al-Kafi; but it was the latter that apparently served as the

foundation for most ofthe later fabrications. At the same time, based on the narrative of al-Sharif, one can in no way conclude that the Kitab al-wasiyya he had at his disposal was the same as the one al-Najashi and Ibn al-Ghada@iri were to mention later, especially given the differences in their isndds. Yet, the fact remains that there was some similarity between all these accounts. What makes this puzzle even more fascinating is that long after the time of al-Najashi and Ibn al-Ghadairi, another version of the Kitab al-wasiyya attributed to ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad became famous in the Imami community. This version, substantially different from those of al-Kulayni and al-Sharif al-Radi, is

quoted by Ibn Tawis in his Kitab al-Turaf, possibly in its entirety.” Ibn Tawi does not indicate the isnad of this work. However, the latter’s recension is cited,

this time with isndd, in the Misbah al-anwar fi fada@il imam al-abrar attributed to a certain Hashim b. Muhammad,” proving that the recension of the Turaf is identical to that known by al-Najashi and Ibn al-Ghadairi. In this isnad, Ibn ‘Ayyash al-Jawhari (d. 401/1010-1011) transmits from Ibn Qilawayh al-Qummi (d. 368/978-979 or 369/979—980). Ibn ‘Ayyash was one ofal-Najashi’s teachers, although the latter, knowing his master’s reputation for “weakness,” preferred

not to transmit anything from him.” In one of al-Najashi’s two chains for the Kitab al-wasiyya of ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad, there is mention of Ibn Qilawayh, who is quoted with only one intermediary. This intermediary may have been Ibn ‘Ayyash, whom al-Najashi would have avoided naming, due to his apparent “extremist” tendencies and accusations that he trans-

mitted many forged hadiths and narratives. It is therefore possible that he played a significant role in the transmission and expansion of the Kitab al-wasiyya of‘Isa b. al-Mustafad. On the other hand, Ibn Tawiis, when quoting ‘Isa, does not allude to the title of the latter’s work nor does he disclose his own source. By contrast,

al-Bayadi (d. 877/1472-1473), when adducing quotations from ‘Isa’s work through the intermediary of the TurafofIbn Tawi in his al-Sirat al-mustagim, explicitly names the Kitab al-wasiyya of ‘1sa.°° What is more, as we have just seen, Misbah al-anwar includes the same quotations with the same isndd as that of the Kitab al-wasiyya in al-Najashi’s text. We may thus conclude that the source referred to by Ibn Tawi was the Kitab al-wasiyya attributed to ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad or an intermediate work. [bn Tawiis, apart from a few short sections, devotes his entire work to the narratives of ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad: sayings reported from the Imam al-Kazim, who in turn reports from his father al-Sadiq, or

else from the dialogues between ‘Isa and al-Kazim. These traditions, which are also

74

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found in al-Turaf, thus come, directly or indirectly, from a version identified as the Kitab al-wasiyya of ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad that was also known to al-Najashi. Ibn Tawi (or his source) was fully aware that the Vorlage he had of the work

was missing a certain number of the sayings of ‘Isa on this topic, and that is why he set himself the task of filling the gaps in his source. It is to this end that he uses the work of al-Sharif al-Radi, identifying his source explicitly on two occasions®! and utilizing it elsewhere without mentioning his source.” It is possible that he had copied this latter part from the Kitab al-wasiyya itself, which would then suggest that al-Sharif also included quotations from the Kitab al-wasiyya in his work. The same phenomenon can be encountered with respect to al-Kulayni's version. However, the differences between the versions of Ibn Tawiss and al-Kulayni's Kafi suggest that Ibn Tawiis’s source cannot have been the Kai, but instead was the Kitab al-wasiyya. In any case, the fact that Ibn Tawiis was obliged to complete his text with the versions of al-Sharif (and perhaps of al-Kulayni) clearly shows that the latest version that Ibn Tawis possessed did not contain the older versions in their entirety. At the same time, the parts common to the different versions prove that the Kitab al-wasiyya, as it was available to Ibn Tawi, constituted an extended version of the earlier sayings. Thus the history of the text used by Ibn Tawi can be traced back as far as al-Najashi. Since Ibn Tawiis’s version does not contain the essential part of al-Sharif’s version, we may conclude that the latter was an intermediary stage between the versions of al-Kulayni and Ibn Tawas. In other words, the text of the Kitab al-wasiyya attributed by al-Najashi to ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad and quoted in a/-Turafis a text that has undergone a progressive development—with some parts also omitted—going from al-Kafi and Khasais al-aimma up to al-Najashi and finally to Ibn Tawis. To summarize, at a first stage a text most probably attributed to ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad was transmitted by al-Kulayni. Another similar though not identical text was transmitted some time later by al-Sharif al-Radi. A little later still, during the time of al-Najashi and Ibn al-Ghadairi, another larger book, different from the two earlier versions but still attributed to ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad on a similar subject, came to be known in Imami circles. This book, preserved by different transmitters, was known under the title of the Kitab al-wasiyya. Al-Najashi, Ibn al-Ghad@iiri and al-Tasi seem to have transmitted exclusively the isndd of this book, while it was only with Ibn Tawis and the Misbah al-anwar that the isndd and the matn of the work were adduced. It is therefore not known how the book as it was available to Ibn Tawis was composed on the basis of an old narrative attributed to ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad that was dedicated to the notion of wasiyya and had become in its final stage an enthralling account of the events marking the end of the life, death, and succession of the Prophet. But we can say in conclusion that a short narrative on a mysterious “sealed sheet” containing the testament of the Prophet to ‘Ali, reported by al-Kulayni in his Kafi, led to the appearance of a sizeable Kitab al-wasiyya attributed to ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad as reported in the Turaf of Ibn Tawiis. Some additions seem to originate with (a) earlier Shiii texts dealing with early notions prevalent in Kiifa at periods predating the Imams Jafar al-Sadiq and Misa al-Kazim (e.g., the injustice suffered by ‘Ali from other Companions, and particularly the first three caliphs), or (b) other

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beliefs that apparently originated with later doctrinal and juridical notions that were foreign to early Shi‘ism. It is therefore evident that the text has many different sources. The text of the Kitab al-wasiyya as reported by Ibn Tawiis is remote from the original nucleus of the testament (a/-wasiyya) reported by al-Kulayni. The book in its last and most developed stage is in fact a religious account of the death ofthe Prophet and his succession and of the Prophet's testament to ‘Ali in the presence of the archangel Gabriel and other angels. Its central core is the Imamate of ‘Ali, along with predictions about him and his descendants.

Notes 1. This chapter is dedicated to an early Imami text that is lost, and I drew inspiration to further develop the methodology set forth by my ustadh Hossein Modarressi in Tradition and Survival: A Bibliographical Survey of Early Shiite Literature (Oxford: Oneworld, 2003). Thanks are also due to my colleague Sabine Schmidtke for having helped me in finalizing this article. This publication was prepared within the framework of the European Research Council’s FP 7 project “Rediscovering Theological Rationalism in the Medieval World of Islam.” 2. See Agha Buzurg al-Tihrani, al-Dharia ila tasanif al-shi‘a (Beirut: Dar al-Adwa, 1403/1983), 2:320—43. For a list of works devoted to the Imamate or to the proofs (dala@il) or miracles (mujizdt) of the Imams, see Hashim b. Sulayman al-Bahrani,

Madinat mdajiz al-aimma al-ithnay ‘ashar wa-dala@il al-hujaj ‘ala |-bashar (Qum: Muassasat al-Ma‘arif al-Islamiyya,

1413-16/[1992

or 1993-1995

or 1996]), 1:31-41

(list of 104 old titles), See also M. A. Amir-Moezzi, La religion discrete: Croyances et pratiques spirituelles dans Vislam shiite (Paris: Vrin, 2006), chapter 6. 3. See M. A. Amir-Moezzi, Le guide divin dans le shi'isme originel: Aux sources de |’ésotérisme en Islam (Paris: Verdier, 1992), index, s.v. wasiyya. On questions of wasiyya, nass, and their relationship to inheritance (wirdtha), see Hossein Modarressi, Crisis and Consolidation in the Formative Period of Shi'ite Islam: Aba Jafar ibn Qiba al-Razi and His Contribution to Imamite Shi'ite Thought (Princeton, NJ: Darwin, 1993), 122, note 93. For a detailed

study of the history of the notion of the Imamate and wasiyya, see the introduction to my L’imamat et l’Occultation selon l’imamisme: Etude bibliographique et histoire des textes (Leiden: Brill [forthcoming]). On the juridical notion of wasiyya, see R. Peters, EP’, sw. wastyya.

4. On the long history of this idea, see, for example, al-Qasim b. [brahim al-Rassi, “al-Radd ‘ala al-rafida,” in Majmu‘ kutub wa-rasail, ed. ‘Abd al-Karim Jadban (Sanaa: Dar al-Hikma al-Yamaniyya, 1422/2001), 1:515-16, 522 et seq.; al-Masudi, Muraj al-dhahab wa-ma‘adin al-jawhar, ed. Yasuf Asad Daghir (Beirut: Dar al-Andalus, 1385/1965), 1:49-50, where the question ofthe succession of the prophets is approached from the Shi point of view. In Ithbat al-wasiyya, attributed to al-Masiidi (the work is not his, as explained below), this succession is presented in all the sacred history of humanity (/thbat al-wasiyya li-Ali b. Abi Talib (Beirut, 1409/1988], particularly 99 et seq.). On the expression “legatee of the legatees” (wasi al-awsiyd’), naming the Shi Imams and most particularly ‘Ali, see Kitab Sulaym b. Qays, ed. Muhammad Bagir Ansari Zanjani (Qum, n.d.), 156; Yaqibi, Za’rikh (Beirut: Dar Sait, t.d.), 21179: Muhammad b. Ya‘qab al-Kulayni, a/-Usal min al-Kafi, ed. ‘Ali Akbar Ghaffari (Tehran:

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Dar al-Kutub al-Islamiyya, 1377—81/(1957—61)), 1:173; Qadi Numan, Dadim al-Islam wa-dhikr al-halal wa-l-haram wa-l-qadaya wa-l-abkam ‘an abl bayt Rusal Allah, ed. Asaf

A. A, Fyzee (Cairo: Dar al-Maarif, 1383/1963), 1:63. It is said that the Kifan tradition-

ist, Jabir b. Yazid al-Ju'fi, called his master, Imam Muhammad al-Baqir, by the title of “legatee of the legatees”; see Abii Jafar Muhammad b. ‘Amr al-‘Ugayli, Kitab al-Duafa al-kabir, ed. ‘Abd al-Mutti Amin Qal'aji (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-Ilmiyya, 1418/1984), 1:194. For a historical view of the concept in Islamic history and particularly its literature, see ‘Askari, Madalim al-madrasatayn (Beirut: Mu‘assasat al-A‘lami, 1410/1990), 1;212-31.

For example, Sad b. ‘Abdallah al-Ash‘ari al-Qummi,

al-Maqalat wa-lfiraq, ed.

Muhammad Jawad Mashkir (Tehran: Mu’assasat Matbiati ‘Ata, 1963), 104-105. . See, for example, al-Saffar al-Qummi [attributed to], Bas@ir al-darajat fi fadail

Al Muhammad, ed. Muhsin Kicebaghi (Tabriz: Shirkat-i Chap-i Kitab, 1960), 488— 95 passim; Ibn Babawayh (“The Father’), al-Imama wa-l-tabsira (Qum, 1404/1984),

21-24 passim; Kulayni, Kafi, 1:279-96; Ibn Babawayh, Kamal al-din wa-tamam al-ni‘ma, ed. ‘Ali Akbar Ghaffari (Tehran: Maktabat al-Sadigq, 1390/(1970]), 21-23;

Muhammad

b. Ibrahim al-Nu‘mani, a/-Ghayba, ed. ‘Ali Akbar Ghaffari (Tehran,

1397/1977), 51-57.

See also Hashim b. Sulayman al-Bahrani, Hilyat al-abrar fi ahwal Muhammad wa-alihi l-athar, ed. Ghulam Rida Mawlana al-Burijirdi (Qum: Muvassasat al-Maarif al-Islamiyya, 1411-15/[1990 or 1991-1994 or 1995]), 2:448-49; also Hashim b. Sulayman al-Bahrani, al-Tuhfa al-bahiyya fi ithbat al-wasiyya, ed. Mahmid al-Argani al-Bihbahani al-Hairi (Mashhad: Maktabat Amir al-Mu'minin, 1428/2004).

. Muhammad b. al-Hasan al-Tusi, Fihrist kutub al-shi'a wa-usilibim wa-asma almusannifin wa-ashab al-usul, ed. ‘Abd al-Aziz al-Tabatabai (Qum: Maktabat alMuhaqgqigq al-Tabatabai, 1420/[1999 or 2000]), 388-89, No. 595. . Najashi, Rija/, ed. Misa al-Shubayri al-Zanjani (Qum: Mu’ssasat al-Nashr al-Islami al-Tabi‘a li-Jamaat al-Mudarrisin, 1407/1987), 325-26, No. 886; see also Josef van Ess, Theologie und Gesellschaft im 2. und 3. Jahrhundert Hidschra: Eine Geschichte des religidsen Denkens im friihen Islam (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1991-97), 1:336—42; Hossein Modarrtessi, Tradition and Survival: A Bibliographical Survey of Early Shi‘ite Literature (Oxford: Oneworld, 2003), 338-39. 10. Ibn al-Nadim, Fihrist, ed. Rida Tajaddud (Tehran: Maktabat al-Asadi, 1350/1971), 224. 1 Najashi, Ria/, 250, No. 657; for a number of historical narrations related to this docu-

ment, see Modarressi, Tradition, 199. 12 See W. Madelung, E/’, s.n.; van Ess, Theologie, 1:349-79; T. Bayhom-Daou, “Hisham b.

al-Hakam (d. 179/795) and His Doctrine of the Imam’s Knowledge,” Journal of Semitic Studies 48 (2003), 71-108. NB}. Najashi, Rija/, 433-34, No. 1164; Tisi, Fihrist, 493-95, No. 783. 14. Ibn al-Nadim, Fihrist, 223-24. IBY, For example, Ibn al-Haytham, a/-Mundzarat, ed. and trans. Wilferd Madelung and Paul E. Walker as The Advent ofthe Fatimids: AContemporary Shii Witness (London, 2000), 62;

‘Abd al-Jabbar, al-Mughni fi abwab al-tawhid wa-l-adl, ed. Taha Husayn [et al.] (Cairo:

Wizarat al-Thaqafa wa-l-Irshad al-Qawmi, al-Idara al-Amma li-l-Thaqafa 1961-), vol. 20, part 1, 273; Aba Talib al-Harani, a-Diama fi tathbit al-imama, ed. Naji Hasan [as a/-

Zaydiyya of al-Sahib b. ‘Abbad] (Beirut: al-Dar al-‘Arabiyya li-l-Mawsiiat, 1986), 27,

16. Modarressi, Tradition, 262-63, Nos. 3 and 4, listing citations of Hisham in later sources. Le Najashi, Rijal, 333-34, No. 896; Tusi, Fihrist, 402, No. 612. We should also men-

tion that ‘Ali b. al-Hasan b. ‘Ali b. Faddal al-Kafi, Shi‘i traditionist, was the author of a Kitab al-wasdya, according to al-Najashi and al-Tusi, and ofawork called al-Awsiya ,

Tue Krras AL-wasiyya

77

according to Ibn Shahrashiib. From the list of his works in bibliographies, it seems clear that the latter has made a mistake and that this book must have been a juridical compendium. See Najashi, Rija/, 258; Tasi, Fihrist, 273, No. 392; Ibn Shahrashab, Maalim al-‘ulam@, ed. Muhammad Sadig Bahr al-“Ulam (Najaf, 1961), 65. 18. Etan Kohlberg, A Medieval Muslim Scholar at Work: Ibn Tawis and His Library (Leiden: EB. JeBrill, 1992)9- 132, Nov82. 19: See Hasan Ansari, “Mu‘'amma-yi chand kitab: Az Kitab al-awsiya-yi Shalmaghani ta Ithbat al-wasiyya-yi Mas‘adi,” in hetp://ansari.kateban.com/entry1196.html [consulted

August 4, 2011],

20. Najashi, Rija/, 16-17, No. 19; Tusi, Fihrist, 12-13, No. 7. 21 Ibn Shahrashab, Madalim, 4. 22 On him and his famous Koranic commentary, see M. M. Bar-Asher, Scripture and

Exegesis in Early Imami Shiism (Leiden/Jerusalem: Brill/Magnes, 1999), parts 1-6. 23% Najashi, Rijal, 350-53, No. 944; Ibn al-Nadim, Fihrist, 245; Tasi, Fihrist, 397, No. 605. 24, Ibn al-Nadim, Fihrist, 245; Tusi, Fihrist, 398, No. 605. Da. Tusi, Fihrist, 396-99, No. 605.

26: Mihna also appears in the Madlim of Ibn Shahrashib, 100. Dif For more on him, see, for example, al-Mas‘idi, al-Tanbih wa-Lishraf, ed. de Goeje (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1893-94), 343; al-Masidi, Muraj al-dhahab, 2:108; Ibn al-Nadim, Fihrist, 164,

425; Muhammad b. Muhammad al-Mufid, a-Mas@il al-Saghaniyya (= Musannafat alShaykh al-Mufid Abi ‘Abd Allah Muhammad b. Muhammad b. al-Nu'man b. al-Mu‘allim al-“Ukbari al-Baghdadi, Volume 3), ed. M. al-Qadi (Qum: al-Mu'tamar al-Alami li-Alfiyyat al-Shaykh al-Mufid, 1413/[1993)), 58; Muhammad b. al-Hasan al-Tusi, a/-Ghayba, ed. ‘Abbad Allah al-Tihrani and ‘Ali Ahmad Nasih (Qum, 1411/1990-91), 307-308, 324, 373, 391-92, 405-12; Yaqut Hamawi, The Irshad al-arib ila mdrifat al-adib; or, Dictionary of Learned Men of Yaqut, ed. D. S. Margoliouth (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1907-27), 1:298-307;

Yaqut Hamawi, Mujam al-buldan (Beirut, 1399/1979), 3:359; Ibn Athir, a/-Kamilfi Lta'rikh (Beirut: Dar Sadir, 1385—1387/[1965—-1967]), 8:290-94; Muhammad b. Ahmad al-Dhahabi, Siyar alam al-nubala’, ed. Shu'ayb Arnaat (Beirut: Muassasat al-Risala, 1981— 88), 14:566—69 and 15:102, 222-23. See also Louis Massignon, La passion d al-Hallaj (Paris: P. Geuthner, 1975), 1:362—68.

28. Najashi, Rijal, 378-79, No. 1029. On the parallels of his fate with that of the mystic

al-Hallaj, see Amir-Moezzi, Religion discréte, 173, note 120. PHS) See Hossein Modarressi, “Khanidanha-yi hokamat gar-i Shii dar Baghdad dar avakhir-i

ghaybat-i sughra,” appendix to the Persian translation of Crisis and Consolidation: Maktab dar farayand-i takamul (trans. Hashim Izadpanah, Tehran: Kavir, 1386/2007), 325-27, 337-38; cf. also Louis Massignon, “Les origines shiites de la famille vizirale de Banu | Furat,” in Mélanges Gaudefroy-Demombynes: Mélanges offerts a Gaudefroy-Demombynes par ses amis et anciens éleves (Cairo: Impr. de l'Institut francais d’archéologie orientale, 1935— 45), 25-29; Vera Klemm, “Die vier Sufarad des Zwolften Imams: Zur formativen Periode der Zwilferschia,” Die Welt des Orients 15 (1984), 126-43 (English translation in Etan Kohlberg, ed., Shiism |Aldershot: Variorum, 2003], article 6); Jassim M. Hussain, The

Occultation of the Twelfth Imam, A Historical Background (London: Muhammadi Trust,

30) Bile ape. 3)3h

1982), 79-134; Ansari, L’imamat et l’Occultation, chapter 2, part 13. Al-Masiidi, Tanbih, 343. See Hasan Ansari, “Mu'amma-yi chand kitab.” Kohlberg, Medieval Muslim Scholar, 113, No. 33; Ansari, “Mu‘amma-yi chand kitab.” See Ch. Pellat, “Mas‘idi et l’imamisme,” in Le shi‘isme imamite, Actes du colloque de Strasbourg (6—9 May 1968) (Paris: Vrin, 1970), 69-90; Muhammad Jawad Shubayri,

“Ithbat al-wasiyya va Masiidi sahib-i Murij al-dhahab,” Intezar-i mawnd, No. 4, hetp://

HassANn F. ANSARI

78

www.entizar.ir/page.php?page=showarticles8cid=60 [last consulted August 4, 2011]. See also T. Khalidi, Islamic Historiography: The Histories of Masudi (Albany: SUNY Press, 1975), 138 and 163ff. f . Najashi, Rija/, 254, No. 665. Al Mu'assasat (Qum: _ See the discussion of Mirza Husayn Nari, Khatimat al-Mustadrak al-Bayt, 1408—/1987-), 1:115—27. . Shubayri, “/thbat al-wasiyya”; Ansari, “Mu‘amma-yi chand kitab.” . Tehran, 1373/(1994]. See L. Giffen, “Abu’l-Qasem Kafi,” Encyclopedia Iranica, 1:364.

. Najashi, Rija/, 265-66, No. 691. . For this term and its technical meaning, see Modarressi, Crisis, 23 and note 28. . On the Mukhammisa, see Sad al-Ash‘ari, Magalat, 56-60, 63; Aba Hatim al-Razi, al-Zina fi |-kalimat al-Islamiyya al-Arabiyya, ed. ‘Abd Allah Sallam Samarra’ in a/Ghuluww wa-l-firaq al-ghaliya fi l-Hadarat al-islimiyya (Baghdad: Dar Wasit, 1392/1972):

307; see also Massignon,

Passion,

1:518; Massignon,

“Salman

Pak et

les prémices spirituelles de |’Islam iranien,” Opera minora: Textes recueillis, classés et présentés avec une bibliographie, par Y. Moubarac (Beirut: Dar al-Maaref, 1963), 1:471; Heinz Halm, Die islamische Gnosis: Die extreme Schia und die Alawiten (Ziirich: Artemis, 1982), 218-23. On supporters of this sect more or less at the time of Aba |-Qasim al-Kafi, see al-Tisi, al-Ghayba (Najaf, 1965-66), 256; al-Muhassin b. ‘Ali al-Tanakhi, Nishwar al-muhadara wa-akhbar al-mudhdakara, ed. ‘Abbid al-Shalji (Beirut: Dar Sadir, 1971-73), 4:354; Yaqut, Mujam al-buldan, 4:447; Aba Bakr al-Khwarazmi, Ras@il (Beirut, 1970), 172.

41. Tusi, Fihrist, 271-72, No. 390. 42. Ibn al-Ghadairi, Rija/, ed. Muhammad Rida al-Husayni al-Jalali (Qum, 1422/2001), 82, No. 104. 43, Ibn al-Nadim, Fihrist, 243. 44, Najashi, Rija/, 389, No. 1049. 45. Kulayni, Kaft, 1:281-83. 46, Modarressi, Tradition, 4-7, 17-20; Amir-Moezzi, Guide divin, 185-89; Etan Kohlberg,

“Authoritative Scriptures in Early Imami Shfism,” in Les retours aux Ecritures: Fondamentalismes présents et passés, ed. E. Patlagean and A. Le Boulluec (Louvain-Paris, 1993), 295-312. 47, For example, Basd@ir al-darajat, 197, 199-200, 206; Kulayni, Kafi, 1:235-36, 27981; Ibn Babawayh (“The Father”), a/-Jmama wa-l-tabsira, 12, 38-39; Ibn Babawayh al-Sadtiq, Kamal al-Din, 231-32, 268; cf. Tasi, Ghayba, 150-51; see also Najam Haider, “The Wasiyya of Abii Hashim: The Impact of Polemic in Premodern Muslim Historiography,” in The Islamic Scholarly Tradition: Studies in History, Law, and Thought in Honor of Professor Michael Allan Cook, ed. A. Ahmed, M. Bonner, and B. Sadeghi (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 49-84.

48, Sharif al-Radi,

Khas@is

al-aimma,

ed.

Muhammad

Hadi

1406/1985-6), 72-75. 49, Kulayni, Kaft, 7:276. 50. Sle BVI, 3h 54, Dae 56.

al-Amini

(Mashhad,

Najashi, Rijal, 297-98. Cf. Tusi, Rijal, ed. Jawad al-Qayyami (Qum, 1415/1994), 431, No. 6185. Or even six, see Najashi, Rija/, 232, No. 616; cf. Najashi, Rijal, 374-75, No. 1022. Ibn al-Ghadairi, Rijal, 81. Tusi, Fihrist, 188.

See Modartressi, Tradition, xvii. Al-Barqi, a/-Mahdasin, ed. Jalal al-Din Muhaddith

HENS ARS PI

(Urmawi)

(Tehran,

1370/1950),

Tue KiraB AL-WASIYYA

79

ae Kohlberg, Medieval Muslim Scholar, 382, No. 646; see also Kohlberg, 62-63, No. 57. 58. See Muhammad Bagir al-Majlisi, Bihar al-anwar (Beirut, 1403/1983), 78:304. The

chain of transmission given in Misbah al-anwar is highly problematic (as is the case with the chain provided by al-Najashi); see now my recent study “Dushwara-yi bazsazi-yi mutin: Naminayi Kitab al-Wasiyya-yi ‘Isa b. al-Mustafad,” available at heep://ansari -kateban.com/entry1833.html {last accessed March 30, 2012). Nothing is known about

Hashim b. Muhammad, the alleged author of the Kitab al-Misbah. It cannot be excluded at this stage that the author of the Misbah had used Ibn Tawiis’s Turaf'as one of his sources. The Kitab al-Misbah is extant in several manuscripts. For the Mar‘ashi manuscript (# 3691), see al-Sayyid Ahmad al-Husayni, a/-Turdath al-‘arabi al-makhtatfi maktabat Iran al-a4mma (Qum: Manshirat Dalil-i Ma, 2010), vol. 11, 426-28. Another

manuscript is preserved in the collection of the library of the Kharsan family; cf. http:// totfim.com/fa/default.aspx?modulename=viewbooks& ItemID=IRQ-001-1885—00 [consulted August 16, 2011]. aa See Najashi, Rial, 86. 60. Al-Bayadi al-Nubati al-Amili, a/-Sirat al-mustagim ila mustahaggi l-tagdim (Tehran, 1384/1964-5), 2:89-95; see also Majlisi, Bihar, 22:476. 6l. Ibn Tawas, a/-Turaf, ed. Muhammad Rida Ansari Qummi, in Mirdth-i islami-yi Iran, ed. Rasul Ja‘fariyan, vol. 3 (1375/1416/1996), 179-80. 62. Ibid., 182-84. 63. Furthermore, elsewhere Ibn Tawis reports a saying that is nearly identical to that related by Kulayni in a/-Kafi, without naming the latter as his source. It differs in style from other traditions that go back to the Kitab al-wasiyya of ‘Isa. See Ibn Tawis, Turaf, 177-79. 64. Ibn Tawus, Turaf, 181, turfa No. 18. a. The preserved fragments of the work have now been collected and edited in an uncritical manner as Kitab al-Wasiyya: Min al-usil al-riwd@iyya al-mutabara, riwdyat ‘Isa 6. al-Mustafad, Abi Misa al-Bajali al-Darir al-mutawaffa sanat 220 |sic| ‘an al-imam Masa b. Jafar, ed. Qays Bahjat al‘Artar (Mashhad: al-Maktaba al-Mutakhassisa bi-Amir al-Mu'minin ‘Ali ‘alayhi al-salam, 1429—/[2008 or 2009)). A translation of this was published as Tarjuma-yi Kitab al-Wasiyya: Az usul riwayi-yi mu tabar-i shia, trans. ‘Abd alHusayn Tali‘i (Mashhad: al-Maktaba al-Mutakhassisa bi-Amir al-Mu'minin ‘Ali ‘alayhi al-salam, 2011).

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Chapter 6

Why Incline to the Left in Prayer? Sectarianism, Dialectic, and Archaeology

in Imami Shi‘ism! Michael Cook

1. The Traditions In a chapter of miscellaneous traditions (nawddir) near the end of the “book of

prayer” (kitab al-salat) of his celebrated collection of Imami Shi‘ite traditions, Kulayni (d. 329/941) has the following tradition:

Ali 6. Muhammad rafaahu qala: gila li-Abi Abdi ‘Mah ‘alayhi ’l-salam: lima sara ‘Lrajul yanharifu fi ’l-salat ila ’l-yasar? fa-qala: li-anna lil-Kaba sittat hudiid, arbaa

minha ‘an? yasarika, wa-'thnan minha ala yaminika, fa-min ajl dhalika waqaa ’1-tabrif ‘ ila ’l-yasar. ‘Ali b. Muhammad,° without a (full) chain of transmission,’ said: Aba ‘Abdallah [Jafar al-Sadiq (d. 148/765)] was asked: “How does it come about that a man inclines to the left in prayer?” He answered: “Because the Ka’ba has six boundaries, four of

them on your left, and two of them on your right; it is on account of this that the inclination is to the left.”

What are we to make ofthis tradition? First, the chain of transmission as given is

very incomplete, which led Muhammad b. ‘Ali al-“Amili (d. 1009/1600) to describe it as very weak.® So for Amili, the tradition is not necessarily to be taken as the word

of an infallible imam, and we can follow him in this. Second, the question is interesting: it implies that there was a well-known practice of turning somewhat to the left in prayer,” but that those who did this might not know why they were doing it.

100

MICHAEL Cook

This presumably means that they inclined to the left of the gib/a, if we understand

it to be the direction of the Ka‘ba. Third, the answer is a bit obscure. It seems the

inclination to the left is being linked to the fact that there are more “boundaries” of the Ka‘ba to one’s left than there are to one’s right, but what are we to understand here by a “boundary” of the Ka’ba? It is almost as if we are being asked to think of the building as having six sides.'° The idea becomes much clearer if we turn to a similar but longer tradition that is not found in Kulayni. Here it is as it appears in a work of Aba Jafar al-Tasi (d. 460/1067):"! wa-sd ala ’l-Mufaddal b.‘Umar Aba ‘Abdi ‘lah ‘alayhi ’l-salam‘an al-tabrif’* li-ashabina dhat al-yasar ‘an al-qibla, wa-‘an al-sabab fihi, fa-qala: inna ’l-hajar al-aswad, lamma unzila bihi min al-janna wa-wudia fi mawdiihi, juila ansab al-haram min haythu yalhaquhu'> ’l-nitr, nur al-hajar; fa-hiya'* ‘an yamin al-Kaba arbdat amyal, wa-an yasariha thamaniyat amyal, kulluhu ‘thna ‘ashar milan; fa-idha ‘nharafa ’l-insan dha al-yamin, kharaja‘an hadd al-qibla li-gillat? ansab al-haram, wa-idha ‘nharafa dhat al-yasar, lam yakun kharijan ‘an hadd al-qibla. Mufaddal b. ‘Umar'® asked Ja‘far al-Sadig about the inclination of our companions to the left of the gibla and about the reason for it. He answered: “When the black stone was brought down from paradise and set in its place, the boundary-stones ofthe sanctuary were placed where the light—the light of the stone—reached. So they extend four miles to the right of the Ka‘ba and eight miles to the left of it, twelve miles in all. Thus when a person inclines to the right, he goes beyond the limit of the gib/a owing to the paucity of the boundary stones of the sanctuary, and when he inclines to the left, he does not go beyond the limit of the gibla.” The chain of transmission, of course, is no better than it was before,'” but it is

now explicit that the question is about the gib/a. Above all, the answer is considerably clearer.'* The “boundaries” of the Ka‘ba are now the boundary stones of the sanctuary.” The point is obviously that if we face the Ka‘ba, presumably from Iraq,*° or more specifically Kifa,?! then the sanctuary extends twice as far to the left of the Ka‘ba as it does to the right of it. So ifwewant to maximize our chances of facing toward some part of the sanctuary,” then we do better to aim to the left of the Ka‘ba than to its right—in other words, we aim for the middle of the sanctuary.”° This explanation is grounded in an unusual conception of the gib/a. In the context of these traditions, the gib/a is not the Ka‘ba itself but rather the sanctuary as a whole. This idea too appears in Imami traditions from Ja‘far al-Sadigq, for example: “God made the Kaba the gib/a for the people of the mosque, He made the mosque the qib/a for the people of the sanctuary, and He made the sanctuary the qibla for the people of the world.”** Here the mosque is al-Masjid al-Haram, the space in the middle of which the Ka‘ba sits, and the sanctuary is the wider consecrated region around Mecca. So if we are outside this region, the entire sanctuary is our qibla. We can call this the doctrine of the nested giblas, or simply “nesting.” It contrasts with the standard view that the gibla is either the Ka‘ba itself or—for those at a distance—the direction of the Ka‘ba (jihat al-Ka‘ba); we can call this the “Kabatist” view. The nesting doctrine is mainly an Imami conception, though not exclusively so0.2>

Wuy INCLINE TO THE LEFT IN PRAYER?

101

2. The Jurists We should now turn from the traditions to the legal literature of the Imamis. To begin with the nesting view, we find it regularly discussed by the jurists. Many early authorities supported it, including Abi Ja‘far al-Tiisi,?° though by no means all of them adopted it.?” With the passing of the centuries, however, it tended to fall out of

favor; it has little support among the later jurists, whether those of the pre-Safawid

era,”® those of the Safawid period,” or their successors,*° and would seem to have

been forgotten outside scholarly circles.*!

As might be expected, the practice of inclining to the left has a similar trajectory among the [mami jurists (Sunni parallels are again very rare).** They consistently refer to it as rayasur,*? “inclining to the left”—a word that does not appear in our traditions. Again, early jurists often support it,*4 though there are exceptions.” Later jurists, by contrast, tend to be half-hearted in their endorsement of it,*° or to

reject it altogether,*” and today it would seem no longer to be practiced.** (As might be expected, the most vigorous defense of the doctrine comes from an Akhbari scholar who is concerned to rescue our traditions.) The dependence of taydsur on the nesting doctrine is often mentioned;*° and taydsur is naturally linked to our traditions, implicitly or explicitly.*’ The jurists also bear out two assumptions we made in our understanding of the longer tradition. One is that taydsur is not something to be practiced by Imamis wherever they are found, but rather by those of Iraq, or of lands lying beyond it in the same direction such as the Jazira, Fars, the Jibal, and Khurasan.*? The other assumption is that the practice is in the nature of aprecaution (istizhdr) intended to minimize the risk of missing the gibla.**

3. Geography The basic idea of the tradition thus makes some sense. But does it make good sense?

Here there are two questions we should ask. The first is whether the topography of the sanctuary is in fact as described in these traditions, and the second is whether, if

it were so, it could explain the practice of inclining to the left. The historians of Mecca detail the boundaries of the sanctuary on each of the

roads leading to Mecca, and give the distance of each from Mecca itself. Leaving

aside the place-names, we can tabulate the information as in Table 6.1.44 Here the

Table 6.1 Chart of Distances from the Boundary of the Sanctuary to Mecca on Various Roads On the road from...

Miles to Mecca

Medina

3

Yemen

Z

Judda

10

Taif

ll

Iraq

y,

Jirana

9

—————— ee__

a

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shortest distance to the boundary of the sanctuary is the three miles on the road to Medina, and the longest the 11 miles on the road to Taif. Thus, as we look toward

Mecca from the northeast, in other words from the direction of Iraq, we might be tempted to think of these as the key distances determining the virtual silhouette of the sanctuary for us. This, it seems, would more or less explain the tradition, and perhaps whoever put it into circulation was thinking in this way. But if we look carefully at a map, we see that while the road to Taif is indeed the relevant one on

the left, what should concern us on the right is the road to Judda. Now the effect is ruined: the silhouette extends ten miles on the road to Judda as against 11 on the road to Taif, a difference so small that the basic idea of the tradition does not work. The same point is made in a different way in Figure 6.1. Here the boundaries of the sanctuary are copied from the map published by ‘Abd al-Malik b. ‘Abdallah b. Duhaysh;® of the two broken lines, one indicates the direction of Kifa, the other that of Qatar. For a person facing the Ka‘ba from some point on the gently sloping line, the silhouette of the sanctuary is indeed asymmetrical: the Ka‘ba is well toward his right, just as the tradition describes. But this is the view from Qatar, not

Kafa. The direction of Kafa is marked by the steeply sloping line, and for a person standing at some point along this line, the Kaba appears roughly in the center of N reoO

4 /

“FS/

;

KO/ /

0 |

5 te Approximate scale in miles

Figure 6.1

10

The Boundaries of the Meccan Sanctuary with Directions to Qatar and Kufa.

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N

0) 5 10 SS ee ee Approximate scale in miles

Figure 6.2

The Kaba and the Center of the Sanctuary from a Point about 8 Miles from the

Boundary in the Direction of Qatar.

the sanctuary.*° So the tradition does not in fact hold up when confronted with the local topography. Even if it did make topographical sense, could the tradition satisfactorily explain the practice of inclining to the left in prayer among Imamis in Kifa? Here we fall foul of trigonometry, as can be seen from Figure 6.2. Let us suppose that a person

happens to be located seven or eight miles from the boundary of the sanctuary in the direction of Qatar (for convenience let these be English miles). From his point of view, the silhouette of the sanctuary extends about five miles to the right of the Ka‘ba and about nine miles to the left, and the center of the sanctuary is thus some two miles to the left of the Ka’ba. In the spirit of the tradition, he therefore inclines slightly to the left, seeking to face in the direction in which he believes that the center of the sanctuary lies, and thus maximizing his chances of facing at least some part of it in his prayer. The amount by which he turns to the left—the angle between the two broken lines—is about 8°, not a lot, but enough that a normal person could be aware of the difference. But the further he moves from the sanctuary, the smaller the angle. What then if he is located not seven or eight miles from

the boundary of the sanctuary, but rather seven or eight hundred miles away in Qatar? Then the appropriate inclination to the left would be less than a fifth of one degree*’/—far too little for a normal person without scientific instruments to

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be aware of “8 Kiifa is about the same distance from Mecca as Qatar, and thus the

tradition does not work in these terms either. Unlike the topographical objection, the trigonometrical objection was not lost on the Imami jurists, though it seems to appear only in Safawid times.”

4. Astronomy inclining to the left given in the tradition does If the explanation of the practice of not work—and we have seen that it fails on two grounds—then what alternative explanation could we suggest? The tradition tells us that the source of the problem is in the Hijaz, but that got us nowhere; so instead let us entertain the hypothesis that the problem could lie in Iraq. If we confine ourselves for the moment to the works of the scholars who endorsed taydsur, we see that the topic often finds its place next to the accounts of the astronomical signs (alamat, amarat)”° that the Imami jurists list region by region as providing simple rules for finding the gib/a—for example, that in Iraq one should have the polestar (a/-jady) behind one’s right shoulder.*! Thus, in most of these works, taydsur appears immediately before, immediately after,’ or even in the middle™* of the discussion of these signs. In none of the works in question is any explicit connection made between taydsur and the signs; where a reason is given for tayasur, it is always the asymmetry of the sanctuary. But there is no difficulty in assuming the intention of the texts to be that an Imami observing taydsur might first orient

himself toward the Kaba by means of these signs, and then turn slightly to the left to compensate for the asymmetry. In other words, the direction given by the signs would be that with reference to which one inclines to the left.°* On this understanding, the point of taydsur remains as stated in the traditions; we have simply answered the question how one knows how to face the Kaba in the first place. There is, however, a more drastic way in which one might imagine the relationship between taydsur and the signs. One might think of them as rules of thumb that could be relied on to give an approximate orientation toward the Ka‘ba, but no more.® We could then suppose that, in the particular case of Iraq and the lands associated with it, the signs were known to yield a direction a bit too far to the right,

so that it would be appropriate to instruct anyone using them to incline a bit to the left. Here, we would have an explanation of taydsur that has nothing to do with the asymmetry of the sanctuary. Two questions would now arise. The first, and entirely beyond my competence to answer, would be whether it was in fact the case that the signs for Iraq and associated lands were such as to orient the believer too far to the right. The second would be whether the Imami jurists who supported taydsur were thinking along these lines, and I see no evidence in the texts that they were. Nevertheless, if we cast our net more widely, we can find indications of such an understanding among scholars who did not themselves support taydsur. In an encounter that took place between two learned and intelligent scholars of the seventh/ thirteenth century, Nasir al-Din Tiisi (d. 672/1274) challenged al-Muhaqgig al-Hilli (d. 676/1277) with a dilemma (ishkal) regarding taydsur to which we will come

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shortly.” In the epistle he wrote in reply, the Muhagqgig stated at one point that if you do not know the direction of the Ka‘ba you have to go by the signs, but that doing so does not guarantee that you will be facing exactly in the direction of the gibla.® A later ae al-Fadil al-Hindi (d. 1137/1725), likewise speaks of the signs as approximate,” as does Najafi (d. 1266/1850);°° this goes back to the Muhaqgqiq’s epistle. But neither the Muhaqgqiq nor those who echoed his argument said that tayasur was simply a correction of an erroneous direction of the Ka‘ba derived from the signs. The Muhaqqiq was making a good-faith effort to make sense of a doctrine he did not himself believe in—not at least in this epistle or in most of his other works. In this context, his point was that, given the fact that one can go slightly wrong with the signs, and assuming the view that the entire sanctuary is the gibla, it would be in place to incline a little to the left of the direction in which the signs point one, and thereby to maximize one’s chances of facing the sanctuary. In other words, the problem with the signs was not that they systematically oriented one too far to the right, but simply that they were not foolproof. This encounter between Nasir al-Din Tasi and the Muhaqqiq provides the occasion for a general comment on the manner in which the medieval scholars

approached the problem of taydsur. The dilemma posed by Tiisi when he attended a class given by the Muhaqqigq was as follows. The idea ofinclining to the left is indeterminate unless one first specifies the direction relative to which the turn is being made. If that direction is the gib/a, then to incline to the left of it is wrong; whereas if the direction remains unspecified, then the notion of turning to the left has no meaning.®* The Muhaqqiq replied at the time, but may not have been entirely satisfied with his reply, since he later composed a short epistle to Tasi on the subject; this epistle is preserved in a law book written by a later scholar.°? We do not need to go into the details of the Muhaqqiq’s argument; the point here is that the approach of both sides is entirely dialectical and juristic, and not in any way historical. As Majlisi (d. 1110/1699) was later to remark, the Muhagqgig, for all his dialectical acuteness, did not solve the basic problem.

5. The Kafan Mosque If the fault was not in the stars, could it lie in something more mundane? Kifa in the early centuries of Islam was the center of Imami life, and the religious focus of the city was the Kifan mosque. Now we know from a couple of eschatological traditions that the early Imamis had a problem with the orientation of this mosque. In one of these traditions, ‘Ali (d. 40/661) condemns the person (or persons) who

will demolish and rebuild the Kifan mosque, changing the gibla of Noah (almughayyir giblat Nip), and looks forward to a further demolition of the mosque at the hands of the ga’im®—the Imami redeemer identified with the Twelfth Imam. The rebuilding condemned here is presumably that of Ziyad b. Abih in the time of Mu‘awiya.°¢ In the other tradition, ‘Ali says that the ga’im will correct the orientation of the Kifan mosque (sawwa giblatahu).°’ Unfortunately, these traditions do

not tell us whether the Imamis considered the gibla of the mosque to deviate to

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the right or to the left. But if there was reason to believe that the Kafan mosque was oriented too far to the right, this would provide a plausible explanation for the practice ofinclining to the left. This was not the kind of idea that the medieval scholars could be expected to come up with, but by the Safawid period things had changed. As noted above, the trigonometric problem arising from the explanation of taydsur given in the traditions had become familiar, and a new kind of thinking now appeared. As Majlisi puts it, what comes to mind on the question (alladhi yakhtiru fi dhalika bi'l-bal) is the idea that the reason for the practice of inclining to the left could be the deviant orientation of most of the mosques in Kafa and other parts of Iraq.°* Thus, he continues, the gibla of the mosque of Kifa is about 20° too far to the right.” Since most of these mosques were built in the time of “Umar (ruled 13-23/634—44)

and other such usurpers (&Aulafa’ al-jawr), it would have been dangerous for the imams to object to them; so they ordered their followers to incline to the left, the

reason they gave them for this being in the nature of asmoke screen.”° At this point, however, Majlisi had to resolve a doctrinal problem. There was a well-established principle that one could know the true gib/a through the orientation of a mosque that an infallible person (ma‘sum) had built or prayed in.’’ Majlisi describes the view that the orientation of the Kafan mosque was a case in point as that of most Imami scholars,” and it is not hard to find examples of this persuasion.”° Majlisi now goes on to refute this view. ‘Ali (ruled 35—40/656-—61) did not build the mosque, nor do

we know that he prayed in it without inclination; in fact, says Majlisi, there is the evidence of archaeological remains (al-athar al-gadima) to the contrary,” and at this point he gives a cross-reference that we will soon follow up.”° He adds that it would appear from the sources that the present mosque of Kifa is not the one that was there in the time of ‘Ali,’”” and supports this with a reference to two eschatological traditions.’® It is clear from all this that Majlisi was thinking historically, although

to allow himselfto do so he had to free himself from any doctrinal compulsion to see the qibla of the Kiafan mosque as necessarily correct.”? What is not clear is just how he sees the chronology of the Kifan gibla, for as he indicates, the current mosque may not be the original one. But the fact that no less a figure than Majlisi championed these views ensured that they had some attention from posterity, although their impact on later juristic writing was limited.°° Let us now follow up Majlisi’s cross-reference. It takes us to a short epistle by one of his teachers, the Amir Sharaf al-Din ‘Ali al-Shilistani, a sayyid from Fars who lived in Najaf, just a few miles from Kifa, and is said to have died there

around 1060/1650.8! We can summarize what he has to say insofar as it concerns

us as follows.** His starting point is the idea that one can ascertain the direction of the Ka'ba from the orientation of a mosque going back to an infallible imam. He comments that one can only do this if one really does know that the infallible imam in question had it built—or alternatively, if it was built before him, that he did at least pray in it without inclining to the right or left. The question of the mosque of Kiifa is accordingly a difficult one, since it was built before the time of

‘Ali,*? and its gibla wall and the niche (mihrab) known as the niche of‘Ali (mihrab

amir al-mu’minin) are inclined to the right (fihimd tayémun). This was something that Shiilistani found puzzling, and his puzzlement was increased by the contrast

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with the tomb of ‘Ali in Najaf, which was oriented far to the left. He put it down

to the tomb having been built by someone other than an infallible imam, but who

believed in inclining to the left.84 So Shalistani would incline to the right at the

tomb of‘Ali, and to the left in Kiifa, since it was related that ‘Ali had prayed there in the mosque, but not that he prayed straight ahead without inclining either to the

right or to the left. Now in the middle of the qibla wall there was a large abandoned niche at which people no longer prayed,® and this was not known as a niche of

‘Ali or of any of the prophets or imams. In the course of time the mosque had gone

to ruin, its columns had fallen over, and its original paving (farshuhu ‘l-asli)®° had

been hidden by stones and dirt. Then the Vizier Mirza Taqi al-Din Muhammad

decided to free the mosque of the debris (kathafat), to restore the southern side

of the mosque, and to clear the dirt and stones that had accumulated in its court

(sahn) down to the level of the original paving (ila 'L-farsh al-asli).8’ When the work was undertaken, it was revealed that the niche and door that had been known as the niche and door of ‘Ali were not in fact linked to the original paving; instead,

there was a gap of nearly two cubits (gariban min dhird'ayn)—about a meter—in elevation between them.*® By contrast, the abandoned niche in the middle of the gibla wall turned out to be fully joined to the original paving. Moreover, a large

door came to light close by that was likewise joined to the original paving. All along the qibla wall were columns and bays (ustuwandat wa-suffat); but around the niche was a bay double the normal size, with no trace of acolumn in the middle.

The vizier ordered the surface of the niche to be removed the better to whitewash it (li-yubayyidahu); when this was done, it could be seen that it had been whitewashed (bayyadahu) three times, and likewise painted red (hammarithu);?° each time, it had been oriented to the left (amalahu ila ’l-yasar).?' The vizier was amazed at this discovery, so he summoned Shilistani and showed it to him in the presence of a distinguished company, who were just as surprised. It occurred to Shilistani that

this niche was in fact the niche of ‘Ali, first because it was joined to the original paving, and second because it was located in an outsize bay in which the scholars

and other members of the elite could gather behind the imam. In the same way he took the door to be ‘Ali’s door through which he would come to the mosque from his residence, again because it was joined to the original paving. Since the wall was already there before ‘Ali came to Kifa, with the niche as part ofit, and its orientation was false, what ‘Ali did was to incline to the left (taydsara) in prayer there,

as did the Muslims after him, orienting the “white and red” to the left (harrafa

wa-amala

’l-bayad wa’l-humra ila ’l-yasar)’ so that people should know that

‘Ali inclined to the left there, and using the red to indicate that he was killed there. The repeated application of these coats was the consequence of their repeated erosion and the roughness of the surface (kathafa). When the mosque went to ruin, the columns and bays disappeared, the original paving was covered over, and a new paving took its place. At this time someone constructed the small niche and opened

up a small door nearby at the new floor-level (ala ’l-sath al-jadid), and these then came to be known as the niche and door of ‘Ali. Shilistani explained his theory to the vizier and the rest of the company, and they all thought he was right. They then prayed there, inclining to the left in accordance with what they had seen in the niche. The vizier ordered the niche to be specially decorated. However,

the

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architect was negligent, the work was overtaken by the events that took place in Iraq,” and the niche remained as it was, like any other niche.” But do we in fact have reason to believe that in early Islamic times the Kafan mosque was oriented too far to the right, as Shilistani tells us of the niche he identified as ‘Alt’s? There is little literary evidence regarding the orientation of the mosque in the early centuries of Islam,” and unlike that of Wasit it has scarcely been excavated.° In the absence of such direct evidence, two indirect arguments might be advanced to fill the gap. The first would be that we could presume the layout of the mosque today to preserve that of the mosque built by Ziyad b. Abih in the time of Mu‘awiya”’ (though hardly that of the original mosque).”* But this presumption of continuity is in itself less than compelling. The second and more serious argument is that the mosque is closely connected to the residence of the governor (dar al-imdra), which fortunately has been extensively excavated. The presumption is thus that the mosque of Ziyad must have had more or less the same orientation as the governor's residence.”” Ifwe accept it, we can infer that since the time of Ziyad the orientation of the mosque has been around 9° to the right of the meridian—or in other words, that it has deviated some 13° to the /eft of Mecca, not to the right.!°° This would shed no light on the practice ofinclining to the left in prayer in the time of Jafar al-Sadiq, or at any time thereafter. It would seem, then, that Shilistani, for all his archaeological acuteness, did not solve the basic

problem. But this is a difficult conclusion to maintain. It is one thing to reject the archaeological inferences of the Safawid scholars, and another to suppose them mistaken about the orientation of the Kafan mosque in their own time. Both are very clear on the point. While Shilistani makes no attempt to quantify the orientation of the existing mosque, the ancient niche, or the repaintings that reoriented

it to the left, his account of the orientation of the southern wall with reference to the polestar implies a major deviation.'®' Majlisi, as we have seen, speaks of a deviation of about 20°.'°? Moreover, their testimony is confirmed by that of their contemporary, the Ottoman traveler Evliya Celebi, who describes the gibla of the mosque of Kifa as oriented to the west, toward Jerusalem.'°? To reconcile the discordant evidence, one would have to suppose that the Kafan mosque of early Islamic times as known to us through the indirect evidence of archaeology and the Kiifan mosque ofSafawid times as it was visible to Shilistani and Majlisi were different buildings.

6. The Intellectual Significance of Safawid Archaeology Whatever we make of this conundrum, Shilistani’s explanation is in a significant way a very modern one. It is not that he is unconcerned with the rights and wrongs of legal doctrine—the problem ofinclining to the left obviously matters to him as a matter of ricual correctness. But the way in which he approaches the question is thoroughly historical. Moreover, he does so by invoking concrete evidence from outside the closed universe of texts, the testimony of archaeology.!™4

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Can we begin to put this in a wider intellectual context? The originality of Imami thought in the Safawid period is surely relevant.!°5 One aspect ofthis is the onset of the Akhbari controversy—a debate that, as Kohlberg has put it, “greatly increased the sophistication of Shii thought.”!°° More specifically, there had been a major row about the gib/a in the early Safawid period;!”” though the details are of no direct

concern to us, the result was no doubt to render the gibla a “hot topic,”!°8 Thus we can surely hope to link Shilistani to other aspects of Safawid thought in his time. But at this point let me digress to make some remarks about an even larger topic, the emergence of modern thought. We tend to associate it with the rise of rationalism, and this is by no means wrong, but it is not the whole story. By temperament, rationalists are most at home at the level of rarified abstraction. They are not good with history and archaeology, which are a mass of messy particulars; in other words, these are pursuits that might arguably fit better with an Akhbari than an Usa intellectual culture. Modern writing in these disciplines owes far more to antiquarians than it does to rationalists; it was antiquarians who developed the methods of historical philology and archaeology with which we now reconstruct the past. This rise of antiquarianism is a development of the last few centuries. It had not happened before, and when it did happen, in the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries, it happened independently in two widely separated parts of the world, Europe and East Asia. No major cultural movement of this kind took place in the civilizations located in between: those of the Orthodox Christian societies of eastern Europe, of the Islamic world, and of Hindu India. As Trigger writes in his history of archaeological thought,

antiquarianism “failed to develop in the Middle East, even where Islamic peoples lived amid impressive monuments ofantiquity.”!” The generalization is correct, but

as this chapter shows, we can still hope to make a few dents in it here and there.'"°

Notes 1, An earlier draft of this chapter with the title “A Puzzling Tradition about the gibla in the Kafi of Kulayni” formed the basis of a short talk I gave at the International Symposium on Kulayni held at the shrine of Hadrat-i ‘Abd al-Azim in Shahr-i Ray on May 7, 2009, at which time the unchecked draft was translated into Persian and published (M. Cook, “Hadithi mu‘ammayi dar bab-i qibla dar al-Kafi-yi Kulayni,” trans. H. Islami, ‘Ulim-i hadith 14, no. 1 (1388 shamsi\).

2.

3.

4. 5.

| am much indebted to Hossein

Modarressi for his extensive comments on the draft. Kulayni, Kafi, ed. ‘A. A. al-Ghaffari (Tehran: Dar al-Kutub al-Islamiyya, 1362-63 shamsi), 3:487-8, no. 6. For this sense of nawadir, see Mamaqani, Migbds al-hidaya, ed. M. R. al-Mamaqani (Qum: Dalil-i Ma, 1428), 2:152.6, 153.7 and note 4; Kulayni has no chapter on the gibla. Here the text of the tradition as quoted in Tusi, Tahdhib al-abkam, ed. H. al-Musawi al-Kharsan (Najaf: Dar al-Kutub al-Islamiyya, 1958-62), 2:44, no. 141 has ‘ald for ‘an. Tusi has the tradition from Muhammad b. Yaqab, that is, Kulayni. We would expect inhiraf, or perhaps taharruf, rather than tabrif The Tahdhib has ‘ald for ild.

6. Kulayni transmits from two scholars of this name (see Burtjirdi, Asdnid kitab al-Kafi

(Qum: Muvassasat Ayat Allah al-"Uzma Burijirdi, 1385 shamsi), 1:48 nos. 21, 22). It

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would appear that the one in question here is likely to be the first, namely, his maternal uncle ‘Ali b. Muhammad b. Ibrahim al-Razi al-Kulayni (see 3:319.14). For alist of the isnads of the form Ali b. Muhammad rafa‘ahu appearing in the K4@fi, see 3:430.3. the verb rafa'‘a here, see al-Shahid al-Thani, Sharh al-bidaya, ed. M. R. For the sense of al-Husayni al-Jalali (Qum: Manshirat al-Fayrazabadi, 1414), 32.22: wa-yakhtassu ’L-marfi' [in contrast to the muttasil| bi-ma udifa ila ’l-md sim bi-isnad mungati. _ He says of this and another tradition that we will come to: al-riwayatan ddifata ‘l-sanad jiddan (Amili, Madarik al-abkam (Qum: Mu/ssasat Al al-Bayt, 1410], 3:120.10). This judgment is quoted by Majlisi in one of his works (Mir’at al-‘ugal, ed. H. al-Rasili et al. (Tehran: Dar al-Kutub al-Islamiyya, 1404-11], 15:481.20) and adopted without

attribution in another (Maladh al-akhyar, ed. M. al-Raj@i [Qum: Maktabat Ayat Allah al-Mar‘ashi, 1406-7], 3:437.1). Such is in fact the consensus of the Imami scholars;

as will be seen, even Yusuf al-Bahrani, who is well disposed toward these traditions, accepts the weakness of their transmission (a/-Hada’ig al-nddira (Najaf: Dar al-Kutub al-Islamiyya; Qum: Muvassasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1377-1409], 6:384.19). . Sunni sources preserve a long Kifan tradition in which Shabi sets out a series of parallels between the Rafida and the Jews, one of them being that both turn a bit away from the gibla: al-Yahid yuwallina ‘an al-qibla shayan, wa-kadhalika ’l-Rafida (Lalaka’i, Sharh usil i‘tigad abl al-sunna wa’l-jamaa, ed. A. S. H. al-Ghamidi [Riyadh: Dar Tayba, 1994], 1550.19 [no. 2823]); and Ibn al-Jawzi, Mawdiat (Beirut: Dar al-

Kutub al-Ilmiyya, 1995], 1:253.9); for ywwallina other versions read tazilu (Aba Bakr al-Khallal, Sunna, ed. ‘A. ‘A. al-Zahrani [Riyadh: Dar al-Raya, 1994], 1-3:498.3

[no. 791]; Ibn Taymiyya, Minhdaj al-sunna, ed. M. R. Salim [Cairo: Maktabat Dar al-‘Uriba, 1962], 1:15.7) or za/a (19.12). This suggests that the early Sunnis of Kafa

were aware of the Imami practice. 10, What appears to be a representation of a six-sided Ka'ba is found in a miniature in a

mid-sixteenth-century Safawid Fa/ndma from the Pozzi collection now in the Musée d’Art et d'Histoire, Geneva (Inv. 1971—107/37, see B. Robinson et al., L’Orient d’un collectionneur (Geneva, 1992], 65, 96, 124 no. 92, 256; I owe this information to Oleg

Grabar), Conceivably our tradition could be behind this representation. A similar approach would be to think ofthe Ka‘ba as including part or the whole of the Hijr, an idea well known to the early sources (see, e.g., Azraqi, Akhbar Makka, ed. R. S. Malhas [Madrid:

Dar al-Andalus,

n.d.J, 1:312.7, 312.10,

313.10, 315.10,

315.16,

315.22),

and not forgotten by later scholars (see, e.g., Ibn Qudama, Mughni, ed. ‘A. ‘A. al-Turki and ‘A. M. al-Hulw [Cairo: Hajar, 1986-90], 5:229,.12, and the commentary that follows, 229-30; al-Shahid al-Awwal, Dhikra al-Shiia (Qum: Muvssasat Al al-Bayt,

1419], 3:169.15). If we then take three sides of the Ka‘ba proper and replace the fourth with the Hijr, taking it rather arbitrarily to have three external sides, that would yield six sides. The Hijr is to one’s right as one looks from Iraq. ; . Tisi, Zahdhib, 2:44—45, no. 142; it is also found in Ibn Babawayh, Man la yahduruhu al-fagih, ed, 1. al-Misawi al-Kharsan (Najaf: Dar al-Kutub al-Islamiyya, 1957-59), 1:178, no. 842, with minor variants, and with an extended chain of transmission but substantially the same text in Ibn Babawayh, Y/al al-shara’i‘ (Najaf: al-Maktaba al-

Haydariyya, 1963), 318, bab 3, no. 1. The chain of transmission of this latter version is not encouraging: it includes ‘Abd al-Rahman b. Kathir (kana da‘ifan, kana yada‘u ‘Lhadith, laysa bi-shay’, see Ardabili, Jami‘ al-ruwat {Qum: Maktabat AyatAllahal-“Uzma al-Marashi al-Najafi, 1403], 1:453a.4), and his nephew ‘Ali b. Hassan (ghali da‘if, daif

jiddan, fasid al-i'tigad, see 566b.19).

on

12 Again, we would expect inbiraf or tabarruf rather than tabrif, Muhammad Taqi Majlisi

in a Persian translation of the tradition renders tahrifas inhirafi (Lawami-i sahibqirani {Qum: Dar al-Tafsir (Ismailiyan), 1414-19], 3:474.11).

Wauy INCLINE TO THE LEFT IN PRAYER?

13. 14. 15. 16.

(ili

The Fagih and the ‘Ilal alike have lahigahu for yalhaquhu. The Faqih, but not the ‘Val, has fa-huwa for fa-hiya. The Yal reads fi-‘illat for li-gillat, an obvious corruption, For Mufaddal b. ‘Umar al-Ju'fi, the leader of the heterodox Mufawwida and by mainstream [mami standards a notorious heretic, see Hossein Modarressi, Tradition and Survival: A Bibliographical Survey ofEarly Shi'ite Literature (Oxford: Oneworld, 2003), 1:333-37, no. 146. He was the author of a lost Kitab ‘ilal al-shara’i‘ in which the tradition would have been in place (see 335, no. 6).

I,

For the negative judgment of Majlisi, following ‘Amili, with regard to the isnad of this tradition, see above, note 8. In a responsum on taydsur the Muhaqgqiq agrees that the traditions on the subject are weak, and after quoting Mufaddal’s tradition as the wajh al-hikma, he singles out his low standing as the reason for its weakness (Muhaqqiq, al-Masa’il al-Kamaliyya, apud Muhaqgiq, al-Rasd’il al-tis, ed. R. al-Ustadi [(Qum: Maktabat Ayat Allah al-Uzma al-Mar‘ashi, 1413], 295.6, 295.13, 296.1: li-anna ‘L-Mufaddal b. ‘Umar matin fihi; and see Miqdad, Kanz al-‘irfan, ed. M. B. al-Bihbadi

(Tehran, 1384-85], 1:85.17). 18. Murtada al-Ansari nevertheless remarks on the obscurity of the explanation given

in both this and the preceding tradition (ma dhukira fiha sc. fthima] min al-tdlil min al-mutashabihat, Kitab al-salat (Qum, 1415-20], 1:191.8).

19, This equation is made by Muhsin al-Fayd in his comment on the shorter tradition (Waft (Isfahan: Maktabat al-Imam Amir al-Mu'minin ‘Ali, 1406-16], 5:1:542.14). 20. Muhsin al-Fayd in his comment on the longer tradition equates the “companions” to whom Mufaddal refers with “the people ofIraq” (Wafi, 5:1:543.8). 2M, As al-Shahid al-Awwal points out, Mufaddal was a Kafan, and most of the transmitters

from the imams were Iraqi (D/ikrda, 3:185.11). 22; I put this in probabilistic terms, but to my knowledge the first to do so explicitly is

Kashif al-Ghita (fa’l-mayl ila ’l-yasar ab‘ad ‘an ibtimal al-khurnj ‘an al-hudid, Kashf al-ghita’, ed. ‘A. Tabriziyan et al. [Qum: Bustan-i Kitab-i Qum, 1422], 3:104.8). 2D I take this to be the point the scholars are making when they refer to tawassut in this context (Ibn Fahd, al-Muhadhdhab al-bari’, ed. M. al-Araqi [Qum: Muassasat al-Nashr

al-Islami, 1407-13], 1:317.13; Fayd, Waf?, 5:1:543.10; Najafi, Jawahir al-kalam, ed. ‘A. al-Qiachani et al. (Beirut, 1981], 7:377.5; and cf. al-Shahid al-Thani, Masalik al-afham

[Qum: Muassasat al-Marif al-Islamiyya, 1413-19], 1:155.16: /i-yatawassatu ‘l-haram). In Muhaqqiq, epistle on tayasur, apud Ibn Fahd, Muhadhdhab, 315.19, we find the wording in urida bi'l-tayasur wasat al-haram; Ustadi’s edition of the Muhaqqiq’s epistles prefers the reading tawassut at this point (Muhaqqiq, Rasd’il, 330.17). Ahmad al-Naraqi speaks of tawsit (Mustanad al-Shi'a (Mashhad: Muissasat Al al-Bayt, 1415— 20], 4:193.19). 24. Tasi, Tahdhib, 2:44, no. 139; Ibn Babawayh, Fagih, 1:177-78, no. 841. For similar traditions from Ja‘far al-Sadiq, see Tusi, Tahdhib, 2:44, no. 140; Ibn Babawayh, ‘al, 318, bab 3, no. 2. The latter runs: “The house [i.e., the Ka‘ba] is the gib/a of the mosque, the

mosque is the gibla of Mecca, Mecca is the gibla of the sanctuary, and the sanctuary is the gibla of the world.” Di For a Sunni form of the nesting traditions ascribed to the Prophet, see Bayhaqi, alSunan al-kubra (Hyderabad, 1344-55), 2:10.1 (Bayhaqi regards the tradition as unreliable); see also Azraqi, Akhbar Makka, 2:19.5; D. A. King, World-Maps for Finding the Direction and Distance to Mecca (London: Al-Furqan and Leiden: Brill, 1999), 47; and Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed. (Leiden: E. J. Brill; London: Luzac, 1960-2009),

art. “Makka,” 181la (D. A. King). The fact that this is transmitted by the Sunnis is used by Buriijirdi to reject the Imami nesting tradition he quotes (“Risala fi ’l-qibla,”

Figh-i Ahl-i Bayt 6, no. 23 [1379 shamsi], 15.11, cf. 14.6; for the rationale behind such

MIcHAEL Cook

OPE

rejection, see 15, note 41; this article was drawn to my attention by Intisar Rabb). The doctrine is sometimes ascribed to Malik (see, e.g., Hattab, Mawahib al-jalil (Cairo,

1328-9], 1:510.12, with the comment hadha ’l-naql ‘anhu gharib, and cf. Burajirdi,

“Risala fi ’l-gibla,” 13, note 31); but I have not seen it in an early Maliki source. The

idea is also found among the Ibadis (Shaqsi, Manhaj al-talibin [Cairo and Muscat,

1979-84], 4:72.3, 72.8). 26. Mufid, Mugni‘a (Qum: Muvassasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1410), 96.5; Sallar, Mardsim, ed. M. al-Bustani (Beirut: Dar al-Zahra’, 1980), 60.13, 61.1; Tasi, a/-Jumal wa’l-

‘uqud, ed, M. Wa‘izzada Khurasani (Mashhad, 1347 shamsi), 61.16; Tusi, Khilaf

(Qum:

Mu’assasat

al-Nashr

al-Islami,

1407-17),

1:295.6,

295.12

(invoking ijma

al-firga, sc. the attitudes of the early Imami community), 296.4; Tasi, Mabsar (Qum: Muvassasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1422-5), 1:119.10, 120.12; Tasi, Nihdya (n.p., 1342-3 shamsi), 1:73.15; Ibn al-Barraj, Muhadhdhab (Qum: Muiassasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1406), 1:84.12; Kaydari, Isbah al-Shia, ed. 1. al-Bahaduri (Qum: Muiassasat al-Imam al-Sadiq, 1416), 61.19, 62.4; Ibn Abi ’l-Majd, Isharat al-sabq, ed. 1. Bahaduri (Qum: Muvassasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1414), 86.1 (where the editor’s emendation of the text

is to be rejected; from the manuscripts as quoted in his note 2, it seems clear that some words have dropped out before fa-tawajjuhuhu ila ’l-haram); Shadhan b. Jabrail, Izahat al-illa fi ma‘rifat al-gibla, apud Maijlisi, Bihar al-anwar (Tehran; Qum, 1376-92), 84:75.11, 75.18 (mentioning only the nesting view); Ibn Hamza, Wasila, ed. M. al-Hassin (Qum: Maktabat Ayat Allah al-‘Uzma al-Marashi al-Najafi, 1408), 85.6; Muhaqqigq, Sharai‘ al-Islam, ed. ‘A. M. ‘Ali (Najaf, 1969), 1:65.8 (here he seems to endorse this

view, describing it as ‘ala ’/-azhar); and Muhaqqigq, epistle on taydsur, apud Ibn Fahd, Muhadhdhab, 1:313.15 (al-bahth al-awwal, in which he refuses to allow the doctrine of the nested giblas to be dismissed, partly on the ground that it is a premise of the doctrine of taydsur, see 314.8—but this is for the sake of argument, see 317.4); and see his responsum on taydsur, apud Muhaqgqiq, Rasd’il, 296.2 (endorsing a Kabatist view). See also Aba ‘l-Futith-i Razi, Rawd al-janan, ed. ‘A. A. Ghaffari (Tehran: Kitabfurishi-yi Islamiyya, 1382-87), 1:359.8. Dis See Murtada, Jumal al-‘ilm wa’l-amal, ed. R. al-Saffar (Najaf, 1967), 62.21 (specifying the gibla as the Kaba or its direction, jiha); Aba ‘l-Salah al-Halabi, a/-Kafi fi ’l-figh (Isfahan, 1403), 138.14, 139.1 (speaking only of the Ka’ba or its direction); Ibn Idris, Sara’ir (Qum: Muvssasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1410-11), 1:204.5 (doing likewise, but

also quoting a tradition from Jafar al-Sadiq without naming him—wa-gad ruwiya— and without comment; cf. Yahya b. Said, al-Jami' lil-shar@’i‘ (Qum: Mu’assasat Sayyid al-Shuhada’ al-‘Ilmiyya, 1405}, 63.1, offering no general statement—has something

dropped out?—and quoting a similar tradition without further discussion of the question); Muhaqgqiq, a/-Mukhtasar al-nafi' (Qum: Muassasat al-Ba‘tha, 1413), 70.2 (identifying the gib/a with the Ka‘ba or its direction, and going on to mention the doctrine of the nested qib/as with the remark that it is weak, fbi da'f); Muhaqgqiq, Mu'tabar (Qum: Mu'assasat Sayyid al-Shuhada’, 1364 shamsi), 2:65.3 (likewise citing the doctrine in second place, and proceeding to take a stand against Tisi’s views on the subject); al-Fadil al-Abi, Kashfal-rumaiaz, ed. ‘A. al-Ishtihardi and H. al-Yazdi (Qum: Muassasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1408-10), 1:131.6, 131.10 (concluding a discussion of the two positions by endorsing the view that identifies the gib/a with the direction of the Kaba—wa-huwa ashbah—and opining that the dispute is in fact largely without substance, ghayr muthmir). The ‘Allama states that the view identifying the qibla as the Ka'ba or its direction was that preferred (ikAtiydr) by the early Imami jurist Ibn

al-Junayd (Mukhtalaf al-Shi‘a (Qum: Mu’assasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1412-19], 2:61.1). 28. ‘Allama, [rshad al-adbhan, ed. F. al-Hasstin (Qum: Mussasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1410),

1:244.13 (simply specifying the gibla as the Kaba or its direction); Allama, Mukhtalaf,

Why INCLINE To THE LEFT IN PRAYER?

113

2:61.4 (endorsing the Ka'batist view as the stronger in his view, al-aqwa ‘indi); ‘Allama, Muntaha E-matlab (Mashhad: Majma‘ al-Buhith al-Islamiyya, 1412-26), 4:162.3 (giving the Ka‘batist view pride of place; his use of land makes it clear that it is his, 162.8);

Allama, Qawd‘id al-abkam (Qum: Muiassasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1413-19), 1:250,12 (stating only the Kabatist view); Allama, Tabsirat al-mutdallimin, ed. M. H. al-Yusufi (Tehran, 1990), 39.5 (likewise stating only the Kalbatist view); ‘Allama, Tadhkirat

al-fugaha@ (Qum: Muassasat Al al-Bayt, 1414-27), 3:6.1, 6.9, 8.9 (stating the Kabatist

view and rejecting the nesting view); ‘Allama, Tahrir al-abkam, ed. |. al-Bahaduri

(Qum: Muvssasat al-[mam al-Sadig, 1420-24), 1:185.5 (endorsing the Ka‘batist view

as agrab); ‘Allama, Talkhis al-maram, ed. H. al-Qubaysi (Qum: Markaz-i Intisharat-i Daftar-i Tablighat-i Islami, 1421), 19.6, 19.10 (stating the Kabatist view, and mention-

ing nesting with wa-qila); al-Shahid al-Awwal, Dhikra, 3:158.15, 160.10 (implying the Kabatist view), 159.12 (suggesting a reconciliation of the two views, and saying that traditions that have become widely known among the Imamis, ishtaharat bayn al-ashab, are not to be rejected), 160.12 (saying that the disagreement is of little consequence, galil al-jadwa); al-Shahid al-Awwal, al-Duris al-shar‘iyya (Qum: Mu‘assasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1412-14), 1:158.13 (endorsing the Kabatist view against the nesting view ‘ala ‘L-aqwa); al-Shahid al-Awwal, al-Luma al-Dimashqiyya (Tehran: Markaz Buhith al-Hajj wal-Umra, 1406), 10.6 (stating only the Kabatist view); Miqdad, al-Tangih al-ra@’i,, ed. ‘A. al-Kahkamari (Qum: Maktabat Ayat Allah al-“Uzma al-Mar'‘ashi, 1404), 1:173.10 (saying that practice in accordance with the Kabatist view is better, aw/d, but cf. 176.15); Ibn

Fahd, Muhadhdhab, 1:308.9 (rejecting the arguments for the nesting view). Note that the ‘Allama, unlike the Muhagqgiq, appears consistently on one side of the issue. 29: Karaki, Jami‘ al-maqasid (Qum: Muassasat Al al-Bayt, 1408-15), 2:48.4 (preferring the Kabatist view as the more sound, asabh al-qawlayn); al-Shahid al-Thani, Masdalik, 1:151.11 (explaining that the view preferred by the later scholars—al-muta’akhkhiriin—is the Kabatist one); al-Shahid al-Thani, Rawd al-jandn (Qum: Bistan-i Kitab-i Qum, 1422), 512.8, 513.6 (pronouncing the Kabatist position the more correct, asabh al-qawlayn, and referring to it as the view of most if not all of the later scholars); al-Shahid al-Thani, al-Rawda al-bahiyya, ed. ‘A. and ‘A. ‘Aqiqi Bakhshayishi (Qum: Maktab-i Navid-i Islam, 1380 shamsi), 1:89.12 (pronouncing the Kabatist view the more sound,

asabh al-qgawlayn); Mugaddas, Majma‘ al-fa’ida wa’l-burhan, ed. M. al-Araqi et al. (Qum: Jami‘at al-Mudarrisin fi ‘l-Hawza al-‘Ilmiyya and Muiassasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1402-16), 2:57.11, 58.4 (adopting the Kabatist position and seeking to interpret the nesting traditions in accordance with it); Muqaddas, Zwbdat al-bayan (Qum: Mutamar al-Muqaddas al-Ardabili, 1375 shams?), 102.6, 103.6, 104.7, 104.9 (taking the Kabatist view and scarcely giving a hearing to the nesting view); ‘Amili, Madarik, 3:118.16 (statthe later scholars), 119.6 (endorsing this as ing that the Ka‘batist view is held by most of the view that one goes by, a/-mu'tamad), 120.12 (noting the reconciliation of the two

views suggested by al-Shahid al-Awwal, and remarking that there is no problem with it, la ba’s bihi); Bah al-Din al-Amili, a/-Habl al-matin, ed. B. al-Misawi al-Husayni (Mashhad: Majma‘ al-Buhath al-Islamiyya, 1424), 2:230.10 (stating the Ka’batist view), 231.14 (describing it as the view of jumhar al-muta’akhkhirin), 232.11 (reporting the nesting view), 233.8 (seeing no harm in reconciliation of the two views as pro-

posed by al-Shahid al-Awwal); Muhammad Taqi Majlisi, Lawami’, 3:475.13 (describing the nesting view as that of the early Imami scholars, mutagaddimin-i ‘ulama’-i Shi‘a),

475.17 (describing the Kabatist view as that of the later scholars, muta’akhkhirin-i

‘ulama’); Muhammad Taqi al-Majlisi, Rawdar al-muttagin (Qum: Bunyad-i Farhang-i

Islami, 1393-99), 2:191.6 (drawing a similar contrast), 192.11 (showing a reluctance

to dismiss the view of the earlier scholars); Sabzawari, Kifayat al-figh, ed. M. al-Waizi al-Araki (Qum: Muvassasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1423), 1:79.5 (stating only the Kabatist

114

MICHAEL Cook

view); Muhsin al-Fayd, Mafatih al-shara’i‘, ed. M. Rajai (Qum: Majma al-Dhakhair al-Islamiyya, 1401), 1:112.3 (giving the Ka’batist view pride of place, and noting the nesting view with wa-qila); Fayd, Wafi, 5:1:542.7 (favoring the Kabatist view in the context of the reconciliation of al-Shahid al-Awwal); Majlisi, Bihar, 84:51.6 (presenting the Kabatist view as that of most of the later scholars), 52.6 (suggesting the possibility that the Imami traditions supporting the Ka‘batist view might reflect tagiyya, given the prevalence of the doctrine among the Sunnis), 52.12 (concluding the discussion with the observation that the issue is a problematic one, /a takhlu min ishkal); al-Fadil al-Hindi, Kashf al-litham (Qum: Mu’assasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1416-24), 3:133.12 (reconciling the positions in a manner that denies substance to the nesting view). 30. Bahrani, Hadd’ig, 6:374.8, 375.1, 375.9 (showing unusual sympathy for the traditions, and strongly endorsing the reconciliation of the two views); Kashif al-Ghita, Kashf, 3:100.5 (stating only a Ka‘batist view); Najafi, Jawahir, 7:322.9 (declaring the Ka‘batist view the stronger, a/-aqwd, in agreement with the prevailing view among the later scholars); Yazdi, al-“Urwa al-wuthga (Qum: Manshirat Mitham al-Tammar,

1427), 2:43.5 (explicitly rejecting the nesting view); Khwansari, Jami al-madarik (Tehran: Maktabat al-Sadiiq, 1405), 1:260.5 (a long and technical discussion the

bottom line of which is not clear to me); Hakim, Mustamsak al-Urwa al-wuthqa (Qum, 1406), 5:176—-78, note 2 to 176.1 (setting out both views but coming down strongly against nesting); Muhammad Amin Zayn al-Din, Kalimat al-taqwa (n.p., 1413), 1:308, mas’ala 58 (this Akhbari scholar adopts the Ka’batist view and explicitly rejects nesting); Muhammad al-Husayni al-Shirazi, al-Figh: Kitab al-salat (Qum: Dar al-Quran al-Hakim, n.d.), 1:242.18 (tending to favor a third view, namely, that the Ka’ba is the gib/a for those within the Meccan mosque, while the latter is the gibla for everyone else, see 240.10). For further discussions of the nesting view, see Bihbahani, Masabih al-zalam (n.p.: Muassasat al-Allama al-Mujaddid al-Wahid al-Bihbahani, 1424), 6:386—89; Jawad al-Amili, Miftah al-karama, ed. M. B. al-Khalist (Qum: Muvassasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1419-27), 5:266-72; ‘Ali al-Tabataba’i al-Karbala’'i, Riydd al-masa’il (Mashhad: Muassasat Al al-Bayt, 1418— 23), 2:255-58; Ahmad al-Naraqi, Mustanad (Mashhad: Muiassasat Al al-Bayt, 1415-20), 4:152-55; Murtada al-Ansari, Kitab al-salat, 1:130—5; Rida al-Hamadani, Misbah al-faqih, ed. M. al-Bagiri et al. (Qum: al-Muassasa al-Ja‘fariyya li-Ihya’ al-Turath; Mu’assasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1417-25), 10:8—25. ail, Those collections of rulings published by senior clerics for their lay followers that I examined make no mention of nesting in their treatments of the gibla (Burijirdi, Risala-i tawdih al-masd’il |n.p.: Sazman-i Intisharat-i Javidan, n.d.J, 178-80; Hakim, Muntakhab al-rasa@’il (Tehran: Kitabfurashi-yi Hafiz, 1380], 43-44; Khai, a/-Masa@’il al-muntakhaba (Beirut: Dar al-Andalus, 1970], 70-71; Khai, a/-Mas@’il al-muyassara

(Beirut: Dar al-Mwarrikh al-Gharbi, 1994], 78, no. 2; Khumayni, Tawdih al-masa’il [n.p., n.d.J, 111-12; Mar‘ashi, Risdla-i tawdih al-mas@il-i jadid (Qum: Kitabkhana-i ‘Umiimi-yi Hadrat-i Ayat Allah al-Uzma Mar'ashi Najafi, 1409], 128-30; Muhammad Husayni Shirazi, Risdla-i tawdih al-masa’il [n.p., n.d.J, 142-44; Sistani, Tawdih al-masa'il {Qum 1413], 173-75; Muntaziri, Risdla-i tawdih al-masa’il (Qum: Markaz-i Intisharat-i Daftar-i Tablighat-i Islami, 1362 shamsi], 139-41; Nasir Makarim Shirazi, Risala-i tawdih al-masa’il(Qum: Madrasat al-Imam ‘Ali b. Abi Talib, 1422], 132-34: also the comparative surveys of such works of Khumayni and others, Risdla-i tawdih al-masa il-i muhashsha-yi imam Khumayni (shish marji‘) (Mashhad: Hatif, 1382 shamsil,

293-96, and Muhammad Hasan Bani Hashimi Khumayni, ed., Zawdih al-masa@’il-i maraji* (Qum: Daftar-i Intisharat-i Islami, 1376-77 shamsi], 409-14). The same ‘is true

of Khumayni, Tahrir al-Wasila (Najaf, 1387), 137-38.

Wy

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115

a2 According to Tasi, the Basran scholar Hammad b. Zayd (d. 179/795) used to say that one had to incline to the left in Basra (yanbaghi an yutaydsara ‘indana bi'l-Basra); Tasi has thisfroma

Kitab al-zawal of Aba Yusuf (Khilaf, 1:297.3; the information is repeated

in Aba ‘l-Futih-i Razi, Rawd, 1:360.1, and Fadl b. al-Hasan al-Tabrisi, a/-Mw talaf min al-mukhtalaf, ed. M. al-Raja’i [Mashhad: Majma‘ al-Buhath al-Islamiyya, 1410], 1:96,

no. 41). Tirmidhi informs us that ‘Abdallah b,. al-Mubarak (d. 181/797) thought that

inclining to the left was appropriate for the people of Marw (ikhtara... ‘L-taydsur li-

ahl Marw, al-Jami‘ al-sahib, ed. A. M. Shakir (Cairo: Dar al-Hadith, n.d.J, 2:175.2 [no. 344]; see also al-Shahid al-Awwal, Dhikra, 3:168.4, whence Sabzawari, Dhakhirat al-ma‘ad |n.p., 1274], 219.31).

0. Outside the specific context of our practice, the terms taydmun and taydsur are often used by the Imami jurists for inclining to the right or left in prayer (see, e.g., ‘Allama, Tahrir, 1:187.11; al-Shahid al-Awwal, Dhikra, 3:166.21, 167.2, 167.20, 168.3, 174.18, 177.12, 177.18; Karaki, Jami‘, 2:52.5, 52.20, 55.15; al-Shahid al-Thani, Rawda, 1:92.1,

93.13; Sabzawari, Kifaya, 1:80.6; Fayd, Mafatih, 1:114.6). The terms are similarly used by Sunni jurists (see, e.g., Sarakhsi, Mabsit (Cairo, 1324-31], 10:192.24, 193.2, 193.3, 193.14, 193.17). Taqi al-Din al-Subki has a Masalafi ’l-tayamun wa’l-tayasurfi’l-gibla in which the terms appear repeatedly (Fatawa [Cairo: Maktabat al-Qudsi, 1355-56], 1:159—65); for example, he remarks that the gib/a of the mosque of Ibn Tilan in Cairo deviates to the west, and that one should accordingly incline to the left when praying in it (al-sawab al-tayasur fiha, 164.3). 34, Mufid, Muqni‘a, 96.6; Sallar, Mardsim, 61.2; Tasi, Jumal, 62.6; Tasi, Khilaf 1:297.6 (again invoking ijmd‘ al-firqa); Tasi, Mabsét, 1:119.15; Tasi, Nibaya, 1:74.15; Kaydari, Isbah, 62.6; Shadhan b. Jabra il,/zaha, apud Maijlisi, Bihar, 84:77.19; lbn Hamza, Wasila, 85.11; Muhaqqiq, Shard’i*, 1:66.3; Yahya b. Said, Jami‘, 63.12; see also ‘Ali al-Rida

(attrib.), Figh al-Rida (Mashhad: al-Mu'tamar al-Alami lil-Imam al-Rida, 1406), 98.7 (clearly an endorsement of tayasur, but with a wording that is unclear to me, cf. Majlisi’s comment, Bihar, 84:50, note 3). These jurists often specify that the inclination should

be slight (thus Tasi in all the works cited uses the wording al-taydsur qalilan or an yatayasara qalilan; similarly Kaydari, Shadhan b. Jabra’il, Ibn Hamza, the Muhaqgqiq, and Yahya b. Said).

SDI Murtada does not mention the doctrine (Jumal, 62—63), nor do Abi ’I-Salah al-Halabi (Kafi, 138-39), Ibn al-Barraj (Muhadhdhab, 1:84—86), or Ibn Abi ’l-Majd (/shara, 86).

Abi mentions it once as Tusi’s view (Kashf, 1:131.10) and once with wa-gila (132.6), but does not endorse it. Ibn Idris rejects it as part of the nesting view (Sard’ir, 1:204.15),

as in effect does the Muhaqqiq (Mukhtasar, 70.12; Muhaqqiq, Mu‘tabar, 2:69.14; Muhagqig, epistle on tayasur, apud Ibn Fahd, Muhadhdhab, 1:317.4). In his responsum on taydsur the Muhaqqiq explains that in his Shard’i‘ (sc. 1:66.3) he had followed Tiisi in deference to the claim ofthe latter that there was consensus on the question (/i-makan

da‘wahu ’l-ijma‘, Muhaqgqiq, Rasail, 295.9), and he later observes that in the light of the weakness of Mufaddal’s tradition the view to be relied on is that one should face the direction of the Katba (fa-idhan al-mu‘awwal ‘ala anna ’l-istigbal ila jihat al-Ka‘ba, 296.2).

36. ‘Allama, Irshad, 1:245.7 (wa-yustahabbu lahum al-tayasur qalilan ila yasar al-musalli, referring to the Iraqis); ‘Allama, Qawda‘id, 1:251.11 (the same); Allama, Mukhtalaf, 2:64.12 (endorsing the view that tayasur is recommended rather than obligatory, wa’lagrab annahu ‘ala sabil al-istihbab); ‘Allama, Muntahd, 4:171.3 (endorsing the same view, wa’l-ashbah al-istibbab); ‘Allama, Tabrir, 1:187.5 (yustahabbu); ‘Allama, Talkhis, 19.9 (yustahabbu); al-Shahid al-Awwal, Dhikra, 3:184.1 (ishtahara bayn al-ashab istihbab al-tayasur), 184.14 (setting some store by the fact that the view is widely known among

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Imami jurists, a/-‘umda al-shuhra bayn al-ashab, but giving the impression that he is nevertheless uncomfortable with it), 185.7 (declaring it a matter of ijtihad); al-Shahid

al-Awwal, Duriis, 1:159.9 (categorizing it asa widely known doctrine, al-mashhar istibbab

al-tayasur, though he makes no mention of it in his Lwm‘a, 10). The point of note in the position taken by the ‘Allama in the /rshad and Qawd‘id (and by implication in the Talkhis) is that he combines rejection of nesting with adoption of taydsur—how, he does not tell us; al-Shahid al-Awwal does the same in the Duras. By contrast, in the Tadhkira the ‘Allama states that Tiisi’s position is based on his view that one faces toward the sanctuary (huwa bina’an ‘ala madhhabihi min anna ’l-tawajjuh ila ’l-haram, 3:9.7), and in the Muntahd he tells us that taydsur presupposes that one faces toward the sanctuary (innamd yakinu ‘ala taqdir an yakina ’'l-tawajjuh ila ’l-haram, 4:171.4), whereas, he continues, if we take the Ka‘batist view, which he prefers, then taydsur falls by the wayside (fa-la yatamashsha fihi dhalika). The discussion of taydsur in the Tadbkira has no clear bottom line; the same is true of those of Ibn Fahd, Muhadhdhab,

1:310.18; Miqdad, Tangih, 1:175.12; Fayd, Mafatih, 1:113.17; and al-Fadil al-Hindi, Kashf al-litham, 3:145.4. Kashif al-Ghita’ remarks of taydsur that al-qawl bihi bind‘an ‘ala ’l-musamaha qawi (Kashf, 3:104.9); here musdmaha, indulgence, is the opposite of muddgqga, strictness (see 104.1). Mic Karaki, Jami‘, 2:57.5 (kana ’l-i‘rad ‘an hadha ’l-tayasur istihbaban wa-jawdzan aqrab ila ’l-sawab); al-Shahid al-Thani, Masdalik, 1:155.17 (saying that it rests on weak traditions and is based on a view that is not put into practice, mabni ‘ala qawl la ‘amal ‘alayhi); al-Shahid al-Thani, Rawd, 535.4 (kana ’Li‘rdad ‘anhu awla); Muqaddas, Majma‘, 2:73.19 (expressing amazement at the doctrine as presented by the ‘Allama and others; he does not mention taydsur in his Zubda, 102-110); ‘Amili, Madarik, 3:131.16 (kana ’l-i‘rad ‘an hadha ’l-hukm wa-tahririhi aqrab ila ’l-sawab). Baha al-Din al-Amili makes no mention of the issue (cf. Hab/, 2:237.12), nor do Sabzawari (Kifaya, 1:79— 80), Yazdi (cf. ‘Urwa, 2:46—47), or Zayn al-Din (cf. Kalima, 1:309). Jawad al-Amili gives a remarkably full list of the authorities on both sides of the question (Miftah, 5:311.14). For further discussions of taydsur, see Bihbahani, Masabih, 6:409-12; ‘Ali al-Tabataba’i al-Karbala’i, Riydd, 2:269-72; Ahmad al-Naraqi, Mustanad, 4:191-95; Murtada al-Ansari, Kitab al-salat, 1:190—93; Rida al-Hamadani, Misbah, 10:58-62. 38. It finds no mention in Burtjirdi, Risdla-i tawdih al-masa’il, 178-80, and the other works of this genre cited above in connection with the nesting doctrine. Burijirdi likewise makes no reference to it in his “Risala fi ’|-qibla.” 319), Yusuf al-Bahrani argues that unopposed Imami practice in accordance with the traditions redeems them—they are majbaratan bi-‘amal al-ashab (Had@’ ig, 6:384.19, jabara being to set a broken bone in splints so that it can mend). He goes on to quote the view advanced by ‘Amili in relation to a different issue that since certain traditions with weak chains of transmission are observed unopposed in the practice of the community, it is obligatory to follow them (hadhihi ’l-riwayat wa-in da‘ufa sanaduha, illa anna ‘amal al-ta’ifa ‘alayha, wa-la mu‘arid laha, fa-yanbaghi ’l-‘amal ‘alayha, 385.4, quoting Amili, Madarik, 3:93.7, and cf. 82.14; Bahrani considers ‘Amili to use this argument opportunistically). This approach has a measure of precedent in the deference we have seen to be shown by al-Shahid al-Awwal toward traditions that are well known among the Imami scholars (Dhikra, 3:159.13, 184.14), and in Tist’s invocation of ijma* al-firqa (Khilaf, 1:297.6). At the same time Bahrani dismisses ‘Amili’s view (Madarik, 3:130.15) that taydsur risks gross deviation from the qibla (al-inhiraf al-fabish) as a

misguided attempt to pit ijtihdd against revealed texts (ijtihadfimugabalat al-nustis, Hada’ig, 6:385.7). A later scholar remarks that the rule making taydsur a recommended practice is not without merit (/d yakhla min quwwa, Najafi, Jawahir, 7:377.1).

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40. Tusi, Nihdya, 1:74.155 Kaydari, /sbah, 62.6; Abi, Kashf, 1:132.6; Muhaqqiq, Mukhtasar,

70.12 (wa-huwa bina an ‘ala anna tawajjuhahum ila ’l-haram); Muhaqqiq, Mu‘tabar, 2:69.14; Muhaqqiq, epistle on taydsur, apud Ibn Fahd, Muhadhdhab, 1:317.4, and cf. 314.8; ‘Allama, Muntahd, 4:171.4; ‘Allama, Tadhkira, 3:9.7; Karaki, Jami‘, 2:56.15;

al-Shahid al-Thani, Masdlik, 1:155.14; al-Shahid al-Thani, Rawd, 533.19 (and see 534.9, where he says that Ka‘batism precludes taydsur); ‘Amili, Madarik, 3:130.17; al-Hurr al-‘Amili, Wasa’il al-Shi‘a (Qum: Muassasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1426-27), 4:308.15

(and cf. Fayd, Wai, 5:1:543.8); Majlisi, Bihar, 84:53.1; Majlisi, Maladh, 3:437.3; Majlisi, Mir’dt, 15:482.11. But as we have seen, there are occasional instances of scholars who combine a Katbatist position on the gib/a with acceptance of tayasur, a subtle point emphasized by Ahmad al-Naraqi (Mustanad, 4:193.1) and Najafi (Jawahir, PaPRIS): 41. Implicitly in, for example, ‘Ali al-Rida (attrib.), Figh, 98.7; Mufid, Mugni‘a, 96.5; Sallar, Mardsim, 61.1; Kaydari, Isbah, 62.6; explicitly in, for example, Tasi, Nihaya, 1:74.16; Shadhan b. Jabra’il, Jza@ha, apud Majlisi, Bihar, 84:77.20; Muhaqqiq, Mu ‘tabar, 2:69.16; Yahya b. Sa‘id, Jami‘, 63.12; ‘Allama, Mukhtalaf, 2:64.15; ‘Allama, Muntaha,

4:171.7. 42. So, for example, Mufid, Muqni‘a, 96.6 (limiting tayasur to the people of Iraq, the Jazira, Fars, the Jibal, and Khurasan); Sallar, Mardsim, 61.2 (naming the same regions); Tasi, Jumal, 62.6 (speaking only of the Iraqis); Tasi, Khilaf 1:297.3 (speaking of those who pray to the gibla of the people of Iraq); Tasi, Mabsat, 1:119.15 (speaking of the people of Iraq); Tusi, Nihdya, 1:74.15 (speaking of Iraq and the east); Kaydari, Isbah, 62.6 (speaking of the people of Iraq); Shadhan b. Jabrail, /ea@ha, apud Majlisi, Bihar, 84:77.19 (speaking of the people of Iraq and those people of the east who pray to

their gibla); Ibn Hamza, Wasila, 85.11 (speaking of the people of Iraq alone); Muhaqqiq, Shar@#i‘, 1:65.18 (speaking of the people of Iraq and those near to them); Yahya b. Said, Jami‘, 63.12 (speaking ofthe Iraqis and easterners alone); al-Shahid al-Awwal, Dhikra, 3:184.1 (speaking ofthe people ofthe east), 185.11 (speaking of the Iraqis). 43, Mufid, Muqni‘a, 96.8 (li-yastazhira bi-dhalika fi *l-tawajjuh ila giblatihim); Kaydari, Isbah, 62.6 (istizharan). The wording ofIbn Idris in presenting the doctrine (which he rejects) is helpful: the point of the practice is to guard against missing the direction of the sanctuary (/i-yakiina dhalika ashadd fi ’l-istizhar wa’l-taharruz min al-khurij min jihat al-haram, Sard@ir, 1:204.12).

44, Azraqi, Akhbar Makka, 2:130.10, in the chapter entitled dhikr hudid al-haram al-sharif, Fakihi, AkAbar Makka, ed. ‘A. ‘A. Ibn Duhaysh (Beirut: Dar Khadir, 1994), 5:89.3, in

the chapter entitled dhikr sifat hudid al-haram min jawanibihi. Some of the figures in Yaqut, Mu§am al-buldan (Beirut: Dar Sadir; Dar Bayrit, ca. 1957), 2:244a.30 differ, especially that relating to the road from Ta’if, and I have left them aside; likewise I have not attempted to use the data cited from the Hanafi jurist Abi Ja'far al-Hinduwani in Sarakhsi, Mabsat, 10:191.12. 45, ‘Abd al-Malik b. ‘Abdallah Ibn Duhaysh, a/-Haram al-Makki al-Sharif wa’l-a'lam al-muhita bihi: Dirasa ta’rikhiyya wa-maydaniyya (Mecca: Maktabat wa-Matbaat alNahda al-Haditha, 1995), 356, map 45. Ibn Duhaysh is the learned editor of Fakihi's Akhbar Makka. } cannot claim to have worked over the detailed scholarship behind this map, but I find it much more convincing than the schematic representations ofthe shape of the sanctuary that I have seen elsewhere (H. H. Bindagji, Atlas of Saudi Arabia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978], 51; Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd edition, art.

“Makka,” 165, figure 5).

46. Thar is to say, the center of the silhouette of the sanctuary as seen from his point of view; given its irregular shape, the sanctuary has, of course, no unique center.

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47. If we call the angle of inclination 9, and take the distance as 800 miles, then tan 9 is

2/800 = 0.0025, which according to my mathematical tables puts 0 between a fifth and a tenth ofadegree. Better, 0 is to 360° as 2 is to 2x X 800, giving a value of about

Oblsey 48, Nevertheless al-Fadil al-Hindi seems ready to contemplate even more microscopic shifts in orientation (Kashf al-litham, 3:141.20).

49, Karaki, Jami‘, 2:57.4 (al-bud al-kathir la yu’manu ma‘ahu ’l-inhiraf al-fabish bi’l-mayl al-yasir); similarly al-Shahid al-Thani, Rawd, 534.13, 535.3; ‘Amili, Madarik, 3:130.15;

Fayd, Mafatih, 1:113.18; Majlisi, Maladh, 3:437.1, 437.9; Ahmad al-Naraqi, Mustanad, 4:193.19, and cf, 191.4; Khwansari, Jami‘, 1:260.4. In another work, Majlisi makes the point in a less laconic fashion (Majlisi, Bihar, 84:53.4). 50. Of the two terms, the first is Koranic (Q16:16, a verse mentioning stellar guidance). Dill See, for example, Tasi, Jumal, 62.8. There are already traditions from the imams on this role of the polestar (see, e.g., al-Hurr al-Amili, Wasa’il, 4:310-11, chapter 5). D2 So Mufid, Mugni‘a; Sallar, Mardsim; Tasi, Jumal; Tasi, Mabsiir; Kaydari, Isbah. The order is the same but the continuity broken in Ibn Hamza, Wasila. Page references for the discussion of taydsur in the various sources have been given above. D3. So Shadhan b. Jabra’'il, Iza@ha; Muhaqgiq, Shara’i‘; ‘Allama, Muntahd; ‘Allama, Tahrir; al-Shahid al-Awwal, Duris; Fayd, Mafatib. The same arrangement is found in Muhaqqigq, Mukhtasar, and Muhaqgiq, Mu‘tabar, though I take him to be rejecting taydsur in these works. The order is the same but the continuity broken in Tasi, Nihdya, and Yahya b. Said, Jami. 54. ‘Allama, /rshad; ‘Allama, Qawdid; ‘Allama, Talkhis. OD: This understanding is explicit in the Muhaqqiq’s epistle (apud Ibn Fahd, Muhadhdhab, 1;315.4), as in the paraphrase in Miqdad, 7angqih, 1:176.12, and in Sabzawari, Dhakhira, 220.34, It is presupposed in Karaki, Jami‘, 2:56.15; al-Shahid al-Thani, Rawd, 534.11; Mugaddas, Majma’, 2:73.19; al-Fadil al-Hindi, Kashf al-lithim, 3:146.13; Najafi, Jawahir, 7:374.10. 56. Contrast the observation of al-Shahid al-Awwal that the signs (amdrdat) derive from astronomical laws (‘i/m al-hay’a) and yield certainty regarding the direction of the gibla (al-gat' bi’l-jiha, Dhikra, 3:162.10; the paraphrase in Fayd, Mafatih, 1:112.16, speaks of gawanin al-haya). Sis Ibn Fahd, Muhadhdhab, 1:312.6. 58. Muhaqgigq, epistle on tayasur, apud Ibn Fahd, Muhadhdhab, 1:314.15: lakin muhadhat kull ‘alama min al-‘alamat bi'l-udw al-mukhtass biha min al-musalli laysa yiijibu

muhadhat al-gibla bi-wajhihi tahqiqan, idh gad yatawahhamu ’|-mubadhat wa-yakinu munharifan ‘an al-samt inhirafan khafiyyan (the text in Muhaqgqiq, Rasa’il, 329.12 reads khafifan tor khafiyyan; cf. also 315.9, 316.11). As this quotation shows, the fault need not lie in the signs, as opposed to the humans who have recourse to them. SW) See al-Fadil al-Hindi, Kashfal-litham, 3:146.14 (fa'l-ma‘nd anna ’I-‘alama taqribiyya, la tabqiqiyya, fa-idha urida ’l-tahqig, lazima ’l-tayasur aw ustuhibba), 60. Najafi, Jawahir, 7:374.10 (al-‘alamat al-taqribiyya), 377.13 (tagribiyyat al-‘alamat). 6l. Muhaqqiq, epistle on taydsur, apud Ibn Fahd, Muhadhdhab, 1:315.10 (fa’l-tayasur hina idhin istizhar fi mugabalat al-haram), and see 315.13. For a better text of this passage as a whole, see Muhaqqiq, Rasa’il, 330.6. 62. The text is as follows: al-amr bi’l-tayasur li-ahl al-‘Iraq la yatahaqqag ma‘nahu li-anna ‘Ltayasur amr idafi la yatahagqag illa bi’l-idafa ila sahib yasar mutawajjih ila jiha; wahina idhin imma an takan al-jiha muhasala wa-imma an la takin; wa-yalzam min alawwal al-tayasur ‘amma wajaba ’l-tayasur ilayhi, wa-huwa khilafmadlal al-adya, wa-min

al-thani ‘adam imkan al-tayasur, idh tahaqququhu mawgif ‘ala tahaqqug al-jiha’ lati

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Jyurayasar anha (Muhaqqiq, epistle on taydsur, apud Ibn Fahd, Muhadhdhab, 1:312.16: Ustadi’s edition has the reading bi-idafatihi for bi'l-idafa (Muhaqaqiq, Rasd’il, 327.7). The verse in question is either Q2:144 or Q2:150. For a rather different version of the dilemma, see ‘Abdallah Afandi al-Isbahani, Riydd al-‘ulama’, ed. A. al-Husayni (Qum, 1401), 1:103.14.

63. Muhagqgiq, epistle on tayasur, apud Ibn Fahd, Muhadhdhab, 1:312-17. The epistle was printed long ago by the editor of the lithograph of al-Shahid al-Thani, Rawd al-janan (n.p., 1303), to which I have access in a modern reprint (using the pagination of the reprint, the epistle occupies a leaf between pages 199 and 200, at a point corresponding to al-Shahid al-Thani, Rawd al-jandn, 536.18, in the modern edition; and see the editorial note at the foot of the last page of the lithograph, on the right). It has more recently been edited by Ustadi (Muhaqgqiq, Rasd’il, 327-32), and also printed separately with a fa’ida by ‘Ali al“Aliyari (al-Muhaqgqiq al-Hilli, Risdlat tayasur al-gibla {n.p., n.d.]).

64. Majlisi, Bihar, 84:53.12 (wa-huwa rahbimahu ‘lah, wa-in balagha fi ’l-mujadala wa-itmam ma hawalahu, lakin lam yanfafi hall ‘umdat al-ishkal). 65. Tasi, Ghayba (Najaf: Maktabat al-Sadiq, 1385), 283.4, from Fadl b. Shadhan; quoted in Majlisi, Bihar, 52:332-33, no. 60. 66. For this rebuilding see K. A. C. Creswell, Early Muslim Architecture, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), 1:46—48. 67. Numani, Ghayba, ed. ‘A. A. al-Ghaffari (Tehran: Maktabat al-Sadigq, n.d.) 317-18, no. 3; quoted in Majlisi, Bisdr, 52:394, no. 139. 68. Majlisi, Bihar, 84:53.14 (note that the whole passage, 53.4-54.1, appears in Majlisi, Maladh, 3:437.6—438.10, with minor differences that I note only when significant); also Majlisi, Bihar, 100:433.12. Majlisi makes explicit mention of two local mosques (the Masjid al-Sahla and the Masjid Yunus, 84:53.17, but for the former contrast

100:433.10). We could add the cases of Wasit (described in this note), Basra (as suggested by the view of Hammad b. Zayd, see note 32), and Marw (as suggested by the view of Ibn al-Mubarak, see note 32); and see P. Crone, Meccan

Trade and the

Rise of Islam (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1987), 198, note 131, and D. A. King, “Al-Bazdawi on the Qibla in Early Islamic Transoxania,” Journal for the History of Arabic Science 7 (1983). Reporting on the excavations carried out at Wasit, Creswell gives plans of the mosque in successive incarnations (Creswell, Early Muslim

Architecture, 2nd ed., 1:135, figure 72, and figure 73 facing 136). These show the orientation of the oldest mosque as about 54° to the right of the meridian, or about 24° to the right of Mecca (from Wasit, Mecca is about 30° to the right of the meridian);

the second mosque, by contrast, is oriented only about 14° to the right of the meridian, or about 16° to the left of Mecca. For anyone praying in the oldest mosque, it would thus be appropriate to incline to the left; 24° is a difference large enough for people to be readily aware ofit. Unfortunately, these mosques are undated, but Creswell reports Fuad Safar’s plausible view that the first mosque is that of Hajjaj (134). This archaeoJahiz, in a list of the misdeeds logical record invites comparison with the statement of of the rulers ‘Abd al-Malik and his son Walid, together with Hajjaj and his client Yazid b. Abi Muslim (for whom see Encyclopaedia ofIslam, 2nd ed., s.n. [P. Crone]), that they changed the qibla of Wasit (hawwala giblar Wasit, Jahiz, Rasa’il, ed. H. al-Sandubi [Cairo, 1933], 296.16, and see Crone, Meccan Trade, 198, note 131)—a change that Jahiz considers to have been an error (ghalat, see Rasa’il, 297.1). 69. Majlisi, Bihar, 84:53.16 (inhiraf giblatihi ila ’l-yamin azyad mimma taqtadihi ‘L-qawdid bi-ishrin daraja tagriban; the gawdidinquestion are mathematical methods, al-qawdid al-riyadiyya). In another passage, however, he remarks that the mihrab of the Kafan

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mosque is oriented about 40° to the right of the meridian (an yamin nisf al-nahar),

id al-riyadiyya) the deviwhereas according to mathematical methods (bi-hash al-qawd ation of Kifa (inhiraf al-Kifa) from the meridian is only 12° (100:433.5); for this latter he also gives 12° 31’ (84:87.8, citing astronomical works, kutub al-hay'a). Consulting my atlas, however, I make the Kafan gibla about 22°, not 12°, to the right of the merid-

ian, and this would fit the figures quoted in ‘Ali Zamani Qumshai, “Qibla-i ‘Iraq az didgah-i Muqaddas-i Ardabili,” in Magalat-i Kungri-yi Muqaddas-i Ardabili (Farsi) (Qum: Daftar-i Kungri-yi Muhaqqiq-i Ardabili, 1375 shamsi), 365-66. For the mathematical methods to which Majlisi refers, cf. the account of the various astronomical methods (al-gawd‘id al-hayawiyya) given by Naraqi, Mustanad, 4:169-86. 70. Majlisi, Bihar, 84:53.18, and cf. Bihar, 100:433.12; both passages use the term tagiyya. The same idea recurs in ‘Abdallah Afandi al-Isbahani, Riydd, 1:104.1. ‘Ali al-Tabatabai al-Karbala’i remarks that this idea does not make sense, since recourse to tagiyya on the part of the imams would rather have meant ordering the Shiites to conform to the false orientations of the mosques built by these evildoers in order to avoid standing out and being killed (Riydd, 2:272.12).

TAN, For statements to this effect, see Kaydari, [sbah, 62.13; Shadhan b. Jabrail, /zaha, apud Majlisi, Bihar, 84:82.1; Ibn Hamza, Wasila, 85.15; Yahya b. Said, Jami’, 63.9; Karaki, Jami‘ al-maqasid (Qum: Mu’assasat Al al-Bayt, 1408-15), 2:52.15, and cf. 49.13; al-Shahid al-Thani, Rawda, 1:89.14; Kashif al-Ghita’, Kashf 3:102.12; Yazdi,

‘Urwa, 2:47.5, spelling out that it makes a difference whether or not one knows the infallible person to have prayed at the mihrab without taydmun or taydsur; Zayn al-Din, Kalima, 1:309.19, making the same point, and adding knowledge that the mihrab was not changed in the course of subsequent rebuilding; Shirazi, Figh: Kitab al-salat, 1:259.12. Pre Majlisi speaks of akthar ashabinad (Maladh, 3:438.6); but a parallel passage lacks akthar (Bihar, 84:53.21).

18% Shadhan b, Jabrail, [zaha, apud Maijlisi, Bihar, 84:82.6; al-Shahid al-Awwal, Dhikra, 3:167.8; Karaki, Jami’, 2:52.16; Mahmiad al-Husayni al-Shilistani, Risdla dar tahqiq-i

qibla (British Library, Or. 11,000), f. 15b.13; ‘Ali al-‘Aliyari, fa’ida, apud Muhaqgqiq, Risalat taydsur al-qibla (n.p., n.d.), 18.13; Shirazi, Figh: Kitab al-salat, 1:259.16. Note also the authorities listed in Jawad al-Amili, Miftah, 5:287.16. Mahmid al-Husayni al-Shalistani wrote in 999/1591 (Risdla dar tahgiq-i qibla, f. 18a.8); for the manuscript, see G. M. Meredith-Owens, Handlist of Persian Manuscripts 1895-1966 (n.p.: The Trustees of the British Museum, 1968), 25 (where the author’s name is wrongly given as Muhammad). The work has no formal title, and the one I use is derived from the author's description of his work (in risdla-ist dar tahgiq-i qibla, f. 1b.11). . For another dismissal of the orientation of the Kifan mosque, see Kashif al-Ghir2, Kashf, 3:102.14. . The parallel passage specifies that this is evidence he has seen and heard about (Majlisi,

Maladh, 3:438.9), - Majlisi, Bihar, 84:53.23. The editor helpfully supplies the volume and page numbers. . Majlisi, Bihdr, 84:54.3; and see Majlisi, Maladh, 3:438.15. . Majlisi, Maladh, 3:438.17. For the first ofthese traditions, see above, note 65, . For comparison, among the Sunnis we find the view that the orientation of the Kafan mosque was validated by the agreement of the Companions (ittifag al-sahaba, Ibn Muflih, Mubdi [Damascus: al-Maktab al-Islami, 1974-79], 1:404.7; ima al-sahaba, Subki, Fatdwd, 1:161.26, with special reference to the presence of‘Ali). The omnipresence of the Companions thus made it harder for Sunnis to disinvest from the deviant orientations of early mosques than it was for an Imami like Majlisi,

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80. They were, however, paraphrased at some length by Bahrani (Hada’ig, 6:385.15); see also Najafi, Jawahir, 7:375.13; Naraqi, Mustanad, 4:194.23; Murtada al-Ansari, Kitab al-salat, 1:161.13; Rida al-Hamadani, Misbah, 10:61.8, and the quotation taken indi-

rectly from the Bihar that follows (61.16).

81. Majlisi, Bihdr, 100:431—32. For Shilistani, see ‘Abdullah Afandi al-Isbahani, Riydd,

3:388-92 (for the approximate death date, see 389.21). He was already active in 996/1588 (392.6, mentioning three works dating from that year written in his hand); at the same time, Aga Buzurg al-Tihrani states that Shalistani has ijdzas dated 1063/1652f (al-Dharia ila tasanif al-Shia (Najaf; Tehran, 1936-78], 17:45, no. 242, in the entry on our epistle, to which he gives the title Fi giblat masjid al-Kufa). He would therefore seem to have died at an advanced age. ‘Abdullah Afandi mentions our epistle among Shilistani’s works, describing it as a risdla mukhtasara fi abwal giblat masjid al-Kiifa wa-ma yundsibuha wa-fi qiblat al-Iraq, and noting that a complete text is to be found in the Bihar (Riydd, 3:391.20). This Shulistani is to be distinguished from the Mahmid al-Husayni al-Shalistani who wrote a short work on the determination of the gibla cited above, note 73. Both epistles are listed in King, World-Maps, 135, 136. For Shilistan, the district north of Kazariin where our Shilistani was born, see Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., art. “Shalistan” (V. Minorsky). 82. Majlisi, Bihar, 100:431.5. Elsewhere Majlisi gives a very brief summary of the epistle, without naming its author (Ma/dadh, 3:438.11).

83. That is to say, before ‘Ali’s reign as Caliph in Iraq (35—40/656-61). 84. He says: wa-hamaltuhu ‘ala annahu kana banahu ghayr al-ma'stiim min al-q@ ilin bi’ltayasur (Majlisi, Bihar, 100:431.13). I take it that min al-q@ilin bi’l-tayasur qualifies ghayr al-masim, not al-masim. 85. Majlisi says in his summary: zahara mihrab qadim fi wasat al-masjid munharifan

‘an bind al-masjid ila ’l-yasar (Maladh, 3:438.11). In describing it as inclined to the left, Majlisi must be anticipating the information on the decoration of the niche that Shalistani gives later in the epistle; nevertheless Shulistani does not indicate that the actual walls of the niche had been built with an orientation different from that of the rest of the mosque (as I understand is not uncommon in Iran).

86. Lane renders farrasha ’I-dar as “He paved the house,” or “he spread in the house baked

bricks, or broad and thin stones” (E. W. Lane, An Arabic-English Lexicon {London; Edinburgh: Williams and Norgate, 1863-93], 2370a). I take my cue from this. 87. The reference is to the restoration of the mosque of Kifa in the reign of the Safawid Shah Safi I (ruled 1038-52/1629—42), at a time when the Safawids held Iraq for a few years from 1033/1623 until they lost it back to the Ottomans in 1048/1638. Mirza Taqi al-Din Muhammad, better known as Sari Taqi, had been vizier since 1044/1634 (G. Rettelbach, Der Iran unter Schah Safi (1629-1642) (Munich: Dr. Dr. Rudolf Trofenik, 1978], 172 and 346, note 346), and was murdered in 1055/1645 (H. R.

Roemer, “The Safavid Period,” in The Cambridge History of Iran (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968-91], 6:293). 88. I follow Creswell in taking a cubit as 51.8 centimeters (Early Muslim Architecture, 2nd ed., 1:48), Compare Creswell’s report that an excavation at the side of the present mosque found that “the half-round buttresses of the present mosque went down some 2 m. into the ground, at which point there was a break in the brickwork where they rested on the half-round buttresses, slightly differing in size, of an earlier mosque, which I take to be that of Ziyad” (Early Muslim Architecture, 2nd ed., 1:48). suffat as “bays” to Oleg Grabar. 89. I owe the rendering of 90. Majlisi paraphrases this as tuliya bi’l-humra, and says that the number of repaintings was in the teens (Maladh, 3:438.12).

MICHAEL CooK

_ Iam not sure how we are to visualize what Shilistani is telling us here. . Reading al-yasar for al-taydsur. . A reference to the Ottoman reconquest ofIraq in 1048/1638. . The whole epistle, together with the comments of Majlisi that follow the text, is reproduced in local writings on the antiquities of Kifa (Buraqi, Ta’rikh al-Kifa, ed. M. A. al-‘Atiyya [[Qum|: al-Maktaba al-Haydariyya, 1424], 41-43; Kamil Salman al-Jubari, Masdjid al-Kiifa (Najaf; Maktabat Ayat Allah al-Hakim al-Amma, 1977], 57-60). 3D). See the survey of the sources in Salih Ahmad al-‘Ali, al-Kifa wa-ahluha fi sadr al-Islam (Beirut: Sharikat al-Matba‘at lil-Tawzi‘ wa'l-Nashr, 2003), 65-77; for a bibliography of the mosque, see M.-O. Rousset, LArchéologie islamique en Iraq: Bilan et perspectives (Damascus, 1992), 135-36, no. 190. Baladhuri in his version of the story of the

role of an archer in the layout of the mosque (for which see Creswell, Early Muslim Architecture, 2nd ed., 1:24) implies that the gibla lay to the west (the other three directions being referred to as al-shimal, al-janub, and al-saba; Baladhuri, Futih al-buldan, ed. M. J. de Goeje [Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1866], 276.6). Creswell risks a plan of the first Kifan mosque showing it oriented about 35° to the right of the meridian (Early Muslim Architecture, 2nd ed., 1:23, figure 14), or about 13° to the right of Mecca; this is a much smaller disparity than in the case of the first mosque of Wasit, but still palpable. However, he does not give any authority for this orientation. Unfortunately, no histories of Kafa survive to match those of Mecca. 96. For the soundings made in 1938, see Kazim al-Janabi, 7akhtit madinat al-Kufa (Baghdad, 1967), 114. Janabi stresses the limited character of this work (107).

OT This is the view of Salih al-‘Ali (a/-Kafa, 77) and the assumption of Creswell (Early Muslim Architecture, 2nd ed., 1:48). We read that in the time of Mu‘awiya the mosque was built by Ziyad in the form it has “today” (buniya azman Mudwiya b. Abi Sufyan

bunyanahu ‘l-yawm ‘ala yaday Ziyad), but it is not clear whose day is intended (Tabari, Ta’ rikh al-rusul wa’l-mulak, ed. M. J. de Goeje and others (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 18791901], series 1, 2492.7; trans. The History of al-Tabari (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1985-2007), 13:73). For a sobering survey of the little we know ofthe his-

tory of the mosque over the centuries, see Janabi, 7zkhrit, 120-24. 98. It would seem that unlike Majlisi, Shilistani was not aware of the rebuilding of the mosque by Ziyad (compare Majlisi, Bihar, 84:54.3 and 100:431.7). 92: Note particularly the archaeological finding that “the wall of the mosque and the outer wall of the Dar al-Imara were one piece of work” (Creswell, Early Muslim Architecture, 2nd ed., 1:48). Cf. also H. Djait, AL-Kafa: naissance de la ville islamique (Paris: Editions G.-P, Maisonneuve et Larose, 1986), 102-103. 100. Creswell in the second edition of his work has a plan of the mosque as rebuilt by

Ziyad b. Abih showing it oriented about 9° to the right of the meridian (Early Muslim Architecture, 2nd ed., 1:47, figure 16), or about 13° to the /eft of Mecca; the orientation

would seem to be based on that of the present mosque (see his postscript, 48). Kazim al-Janabi has a plan of the mosque based on archaeological research, but he does not indicate the orientation (Takhtit, 114, figure 4). Later, however, he provides a plan showing the mosque together with the governor’s residence, and marks the orientation (140, figure 9); from this plan, the mosque is oriented about 8° to the right of the meridian, much as in Creswell’s plan. A detailed plan of the governor’s residence shows its orientation, and by implication that of the mosque, as about 12° to the right of the

meridian, or about 10° to the left of Mecca (M. A. Mustafa, “Preliminary Report on the

Excavations in Kufa during the Third Season,” Sumer 19 (1963), first of the plans facing page 44; this plan is reproduced in Creswell, Early Muslim Architecture, 2nd ed., figure 18, facing page 54). Janabi himself speaks of asmall deviation of 17° from the gibla

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(inhiraf qalil‘an zawiyat al-qibla bi-miqdasab‘ r ‘ashrat daraja, Takhtit, 114), and refers to the plan (on the same page); but as mentioned above, the orientation is not shown on this plan. Assuming he means a deviation of 17° to the left, this would still leave the mosque oriented about 5° to the right of the meridian. Djait’s sketch-plans show an orientation ranging from about 12° to about 16° to the right of the meridian (Djait, Al-Kiifa, 98, 101, 112). All this is reasonably consistent. However, in the first edition of his work, Creswell had given a plan of the mosque of Ziyad with the same orientation as the original mosque, that is to say about 35° to the right of the meridian, or about 13° to the right of Mecca (Creswell, Early Muslim Architecture: Umayyads, Early Abbasids & Talanids, \st ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 193240], part 1, 37, figure 8; for the plan of the original mosque, see 16, figure 6, reproduced in Early Muslim Architecture, 2nd ed., 1:23, figure 14). This was presumably an error, tacitly corrected by the changed orientation of the mosque of Ziyad shown in the plan included in Creswell’s second edition. This error has, however, led to considerable confusion. Thus Janabi gives plans of the mosque in the time of Ziyad according to the views of Creswell (Zakhtit, 126, figure 6) and Ahmad Fikri (128, figure 7), and here the orientation is shown as about

33° to 35° to the right of the meridian, or some 11° or 13° to the right of Mecca; this fits with the fact that, as can be seen from Janabi’s bibliography, he knew only the first edition of Creswell (7zkhtit, 190; he also reproduces Creswell’s plan ofthe first Kafan mosque, 112, figure 3). Likewise Kuban took his plan of the mosque of Ziyad from Creswell’s first edition (D. Kuban, Muslim Religious Architecture (Leiden: E. J. Brill,

1974-85], part 1, 13, figure 2; he does know Creswell’s second edition, see the “Select bibliography,” ix), and Johns in turn took his from Kuban (J. Johns, “The ‘House of the

Prophet’ and the Concept of the Mosque,” in J. Johns, ed., Bayt al-Magdis: Jerusalem and Early Islam (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999], 65, figure 10). 101. Majlisi, Bihar, 100:431.8. He writes that the southern wall and the niche known as that of ‘Ali do not conform with putting the polestar behind one’s right shoulder, but are oriented so far to the right that the polestar is “in front of” (guddam) one’s right

shoulder. 102. See note 69. 103. He writes: Ve bu cdmi‘in kiblesi dogar giin batis: tarafinadir (Evliya Celebi, Evliya Celebi Seyahatndmesi, ed. R. Dankoff et al. [Istanbul: YKY, 1999-2006], 4:267a.15), and

again Ve bu cami’ kadim olmagile kiblesi giin batis tarafina, Kudtis-i serife dogrudur (283b.12; the mosque is “ancient” in that its first builder was Adam, 283b.5). Evliya Celebi’s visit took place in 1065/1655 (see 9a.9 and 283b.33). The text is that of the

manuscript recognised as the archetype, and very likely an autograph (Seydhatndme, MS Istanbul, Saray, Bagdat Késkii 305, f. 161b.5, f. 171a.2; for this manuscript, see M. van Bruinessen and H. Boeschoten, Evliya Celebi in Diyarbekir (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1988], 5—6). Niebuhr visited the mosque in 1765 and gives a small plan of it, but without indicating the orientation (C. Niebuhr, Reisebeschreibung nach Arabien und andern umliegenden Lindern (Copenhagen; Hamburg], 1774-1837, 2:261-64 and tab. xlii, item B).

104. In this respect Shilistani contrasts strikingly with a contemporary Imami resident in

Mecca, Zayn al-Abidin b. Nar al-Din al-Kashani (for whom see ‘Abdullah Afandi alIsbahani, Riyad, 2:399-400). This Kashani was present in Mecca at the time when the Ka‘ba partially collapsed as a result of a flood in 1039/1630, and wrote a little work describing its subsequent restoration of which we possess both Arabic and Persian versions (for the Arabic see Zayn al-Abidin b. Nir al-Din al-Kashani, Mufarrihat al-anam fi ta’sis Bayt Allah al-haram, ed. ‘A. ‘A. Nassar and H. L. Mal Allah (Tehran: Dar Mash‘ar,

1428], which supersedes Kashani, “Mufarrihat al-anam fi ta’sis Bayt Allah

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al-Haram,” ed. M. R. al-Ansari, Migat al-hajj 5, no. 10 (1419): 312-35; for the Persian, see Kashani, “Risala-i Mufarrihat al-anam fi ta’sis Bayt Allah al-Haram,” ed. R. Jafariyan, in Mirath-i Islami-yi Iran, ed., R. Jafariyan [Qum: Kitabkhana-i Hadrat-i Ayat Allah al-Uzma Mar'ashi Najafi, 1373-78 shamsi]; the Persian version gives the date of composition of the work as 1040/1631, see 392.4). Like Shilistani, Kashani gives a vivid account of his role in the reconstruction of an ancient monument against a background of sectarian tension; but at the point at which he sees the foundations of the Ka‘ba exposed, he betrays no interest whatever in archaeology (see Kashani, Mufarriha, ed. Nassar and Mal Allah, 44.2; the passage does not appear in the Persian version, cf. Kashani, “Risala-yi Mufarrihat al-anam,” ed. Jafariyan, 376.14). I owe my knowledge of this work to ‘Ammar Nassar, who kindly gave me a copy of the new edition of the Arabic text. 105. Elsewhere I have tried to characterize this with regard to one limited aspect of Imami thought (M. Cook, Commanding Right and Forbidding Wrong in Islamic Thought [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000], 282-83).

106. E. Kohlberg,

107.

108. 109.

110.

“Aspects of Akhbari Thought in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries,” in Eighteenth-Century Renewal and Reform in Islam, ed. N. Levtzion and J. O. Voll (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1987), 153; and see 147 on the “renaissance of the old Imami literature” brought about by the Akhbaris. This is not, of course, to say that an Akhbari training is any guarantee of interest in archaeology; Zayn al-Abidin al-Kashani was a pupil of the Akhbari scholar Muhammad Amin al-Astarabadi in hadith (‘Abdullah Afandi al-Isbahani, Riydd, 2:399.8). A. J. Newman, “Towards a Reconsideration of the ‘Isfahan School of Philosophy’: Shaykh Bahai and the Role of the Safawid ‘Ulama,” Studia Iranica 15 (1986): 18085; A. J. Newman, “The Myth of the Clerical Migration to Safawid Iran,” Die Welt des Islams 33 (1993): 99-101, 105; King, World-Maps, 134-38. Note that the Kifan mosque seems to have been involved. The phrase is King’s (World-Maps, 134). B. G, Trigger, A History of Archaeological Thought, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 77. The implication that premodern Muslim scholars might have developed a genuinely antiquarian interest in the monuments of the ancient Near East is perhaps asking too much: East Asian antiquarianism showed no interest in culturally alien civilizations. I would like to thank Patricia Crone and Oleg Grabar for helpful comments on a draft of this chapter. I owe some of my references to Eli Alshech, for whom I set a Generals paper on faydsur a good many years ago.

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Islamic Legal Traditions

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Chapter 7 Dissent and Uncertainty in the Process of Legal Norm Construction in Muslim Sunni Law Baber Johansen

The first time I started to think on the subject of this contribution to the Festschrift for Professor Modarressi was in a workshop on “Comparing Legal Traditions: Rigid and Flexible Legal Systems in the History of Mediterranean Societies” organized in Venice in April 1999 by the Center for Mediterranean Studies. I still remember the brilliant paper that Professor Modarressi gave, and a long and very pleasant discussion we had that afternoon on the workshop’s subject. I never published my text. I feel honored to be invited to participate in the Festschrift for Professor Modarressi and I think it might be appropriate to submit one aspect of my present thoughts on this subject to his critical attention.

1. Divine Norms and Their

Human Interpretation The history of Islamic Law is characterized by a constant debate about the appropriate relationship between the revealed texts of the Quran, the inspired acts and sayings of the Prophet (swnna), and their human interpretation by jurists and judges. The tension between the sacred texts and their human interpretation unfolds in the jurists’ debates about the methods that scholars can licitly use to construct legal norms. The forms and foci of these debates differ according to the historical periods in which they take place. The terminology used by the jurists of different periods is a useful instrument for deciphering different approaches to the role of human

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reasoning in the law. My chapter will present a hitherto neglected category of legal reasoning that was meant to ease the tension between rational thought and divine norms and that played a major role in Muslim legal thought since the fifth/eleventh century. My contribution does not aim to present a comprehensive study ofthis concept, but rather to sketch out some ofits functions for the legitimization of human reasoning in the understanding ofdivine law.

2. Reason and Revelation in Legal Debates of the Second/Eighth Century In the second/eighth century, Muslim legal thought was, on the one hand, very much focused on the practical side of religious obligations, such as rituals (sbadat),

religious punishments (/udad), caliphal authority, relations with non-Muslim political entities, contract law, family, and succession.’ In two of the Sunni law schools whose roots reach back into that period, the Hanafis and the Malikis, “legal opinion” (ra’y) of the individual jurist remains, until deep in the third/ninth century, one of the most important tools of norm construction.” A “legal opinion” does not have to be based on cogent proofs. The judicial chronicles of al-Kindi and al-Waki‘ show how, in the second/eighth century, judges in the garrison towns of Egypt and Iraq decided cases in the light of their own reasoning. The collection of cases, mas@il, that these judges decided became foundations of local learned traditions, which in turn shaped the understanding and the function of law in these towns.’ Joseph Schacht has stressed the role of the judges for the formation of early doctrine in his Origins ofMuhammadan Jurisprudence. This early doctrine is the point of departure for the slow formation, between the second/ eighth and the fourth/tenth centuries, of Sunni law schools, focused on their particular doctrines as well as a school-transcending classical legal theory. The development of the law schools has been favored but cannot be explained by the Abbasid caliphs’ creation of an empire-wide administration of the judiciary.” The growing importance of systematic doctrines with clear and hierarchical authority structures characterizes the development of the third/ninth and fourth/tenth centuries. When regional schools of law began to form in the Hejaz, Iraq, and Syria, and later developed into personal schools of law, the jurists of these schools engaged in debates about the criteria for including norms and cases in their doctrines or excluding them from it. In his Origins, Schacht adduced an impressive number of examples for this process of setting aside norms and cases as well as methods of norm construction.® But certainly the most important evidence for this selective rejection and acceptance of circulating norms is the way in which Shafi‘T succeeds, in the third/ninth century, in establishing the reports from the Prophet (Azdith) as authoritative texts with divine authority. He thus creates a hierarchy of sources of legal norms, consisting of (1) the Qur'an, (2) reports on the normative praxis of the Prophet (sua), (3) consensus (ijma‘), and (4) analogical reasoning (giyds) that

applies conclusions drawn from sources 1—3 to new cases and problems in order to

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produce new norms. The first rank is taken by God’s revelation, the second by the Prophet's inspired actions and decisions, the third by consensus, and the fourth by analogical reasoning, often identified with a fifth source of licit norm production, “the individual effort of legal reasoning” (ijtihad).’ The four sources together constitute “knowledge” (‘“/m). In other words, no procedure of legal norm production that is not based on at least one of these four or five sources of legal norms is part of

legal knowledge or even licit.® Schacht comments on this success as follows:

It went parallel with the further elaboration of doctrine within the living tradition of the ancient schools, but partly also represented the means by which definite changes in the accepted doctrine of aschool were proposed and supported. These efforts were sometimes successful in bringing about a change of doctrine, but often not, and we find whole groups of “unsuccessful” Medinese and Iraqian doctrines expressed in

traditions.

3. The Prophet’s Norms as Revealed Texts and the Legitimacy of Dissent among Jurists Shafi‘i’s insistence on the overriding force of transmissions from the Prophet presented a new outlook on the law that disqualified the doctrines of the older law at least one of the four sources of the law (usa). Anybody who does so, said Shafi‘, would “make the legal opinion (ra’y) of every human being, the ignoramus and the scholar among them, a source of law (aslan).” As far as a question or a case is con-

cerned for which no text in the Qur'an or the normative praxis of the Prophet exists, such a person would put himselfin the place of the lawgiver, and he would, in such cases, claim to be equal to the scholars of God’s book and His Prophet's normative praxis (swnna). He would claim that others would have to follow his opinion and

thereby “would put people in a horrendous situation.” Shafi‘ii holds that the political authorities ought to interfere to prevent any claim to ijtihdd that is not based on revealed or inspired texts and analogical conclusions from them. He states that anyone who exerts his individual legal reasoning and follows his legal preference (yastahsin) without [basing his opinion on] any [of the four legal sources] [thus] orders [people]

to follow someone who may err and he puts him in the place of God’s Prophet whom God has ordered us to obey. If the person who does so belongs to the people who enjoy their reasoning capacity and gives such a talk after he knows what he is saying, I hold (ara) that the political authority should prevent him from doing so.”

In other words, Shafi‘i denounces those who do not follow his legal reasoning concerning the cogent character of the transmissions from the Prophet as heretics and invites the political authorities to forbid them from expressing their legal opinions in public.

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Even though his hope in this respect was disappointed, his attacks on the doctrines of the jurists from the Hejaz and Iraq discredited their methods of norm construction. The method of giving legal preference (istifsdn) to a norm because of its practical or moral superiority over a norm derived from analogical reasoning was widely used by Hanafi and Maliki authorities. Shafi‘i declares it to be forbidden by God, Aarém.'' The method continued to be used but increasingly had to be justified by declaring it to be a sort of hidden analogy. Shafi‘i’s refusal to accept Maliki istislah'? is another case in point. Shafi‘ justifies his attacks on older techniques of norm construction through his insistence on the importance of the Prophet’s normative practice (swnna) as explanation (baydn) of the Qur'an, a doctrine that assigns to the Prophet's sayings an authority that gives him the status of a lawgiver.'? The Prophet’s orders and decisions, if recognized as authentic, have to be treated as cogent norms of the sharia. Iitihad, at least in Shafi‘’s view, should be restricted as much as possible to analogical reasoning, and such analogies ought to, whenever possible, use revealed texts as their point of departure. It is evident that during the third/ninth century doctrines that based figh on the norms of the prophetic lawgiver were growing in importance. Not only did the Shafi‘ and Hanbali schools of Sunni law exemplify this tendency, but the collections of authentic Aadith in the second half of the third/ninth century testify to the importance ofthis development as well. From the fourth/tenth century on, Hanafis and Malikis adapted their theoretical arguments about the hierarchies of legal norms to the special ranking of the Prophet’s norms within sharia and figh. At the same time, it is evident that the schools of law whose doctrines were based on legal

reasoning (ra’y) as the dominant method of norm construction could never fully adapt a concept oflaw that was to base the law on the overriding authority of Aadith. Such complete adaptation of Shafi‘l’s hierarchy of norms would have destroyed the coherence of their own teaching. Efforts to create a normative pluralism that would harmonize the coexistence of different schools of thought and legitimize dissent between them date from the second half of the second/eighth century. Particularly successful was the doctrine developed in Basra during the second half of that century, that is, during the first decades of the Abbasid empire, during which time regional law schools began to be formed and increasingly gained influence on the centralized administration created by the Caliphs. The judge ‘Ubaydallah b. al-Hasan al-‘Anbari (d. 167/784), focusing on judges and jurists who applied their “effort of legal reasoning” (éjtihdd) to new cases and new problems, coined the maxim “every (qualified) mujtahid does the right thing” (kullu mujtahid musib). This notion was widely accepted by the jurists. Shafi applied it systematically in his writings to mujtahids as long as they base their reasoning on one of the four sources that he classifies as “knowledge.”! ‘Anbari claimed that this formula should apply to each field of knowledge, but it came to be acknowledged only for the legal debate on disputed norms and cases, the ijtihadiyyat. Within the field of debated cases and norms, such a doctrine rendered possible a normative pluralism legitimizing the point of view of all schools of law while at the same time allowing them to apply a policy of selective refusal concerning the norms and methods ofother schools. It is in this way, constructing new legal

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doctrine and deconstructing old ones, that the law schools develop their important legal differences that constituted an ever-growing field of dissent to which ijtihad applies. It is probably one of Schacht’s main weaknesses that he constantly underestimates these differences.'° Coulson suggests, in a more justifiable approach, that the doctrines of the different schools of law “appear as essentially distinct systems.”!7 The classical doctrine as developed in the fourth/tenth and fifth/eleventh centuries supported and protected the dissent among the schools oflaw. It transformed the notion that all mujtahids do the right thing into a technical legal norm based on consensus. According to this norm, which I quote from the fourth/eleventh-century

Transoxanian Hanafi jurist Aba Bakr b. Muhammad b. Abi Sahl al-Sarakhsi (d. 409/1090) and the sixth/twelfth-century Hanafi jurist Kasani (d. 587/1191), all

judicial decisions by all judges who are mujtahids have to be implemented by all judges, if they concern cases on which judges and jurists can licitly disagree. This holds true even if the judge who implements the first judge’s verdict disagrees, on doctrinal grounds, with the judgment in question. If the second judge were to cancel the first judge’s verdict, he would act against the consensus of the jurists, that is,

against the final authority on all legal interpretation.'® This legal norm implies, of course, doctrinal differences between the two judges concerned. It suggests that, as far as doctrine is concerned, they are entitled to reject for themselves the other's ijtihad. But they are not entitled to question the other’s right to express his decision or his ijtihad, and they are not entitled to replace it with their own judgment when it comes to judicial decisions. Whereas a judge’s verdict that concerns the field of dissent has to be executed by other judges, the mufti who has doctrinal differences with another mufti is, accord-

ing to the doctrine of the famous seventh/thirteenth-century Egyptian Maliki, Qarafi (632—682/1228-1285), under no obligation to accept the other mufti’s fatwa.’ Equally, an arbiter’s decision, even if based on ijtihdd, can, according to

Kasani, be canceled by the judge without further ado.” The principle that the judge’s decision ofacase according to his own individual reasoning has to be executed by other judges is not always followed. Qarafi states that certain Hanafi and Shafii norms so bluntly contradict the basic principles of Maliki law that a Maliki judge may cancel them.”! But the general legal principle according to which all judgments in the field of dissent and ijtihad have to be implemented by other judges is upheld. The judiciary decisions thus feed into the field of dissenting opinions and enlarge the scope of ijtihad.

4, Dissent, Uncertainty, and Contemplation (Taammul) of the Law dissent, judges are to follow their own norm construcWithin this protected field of tions. I will focus, in the rest of this chapter, on the way in which two major jurists of the late fifth/eleventh and the early sixth/twelfth centuries discuss the theoretical basis for the validation of the dissent among jurists and judges. These discussions, in my view, show an innovative justification of analogy and “the individual effort of

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legal reasoning” (ijtihdd) based on a complex concept of the relation between divine norms and their human interpretation. The concept in question is “contemplation” (ta’ammul). To the best of my knowledge this concept has not been studied in detail. It allows jurists not to rely solely on rational thought in human interpretation and construction of norms. They use the concept as a nonrational justification of analogy and individual legal reasoning in order to gain a greater margin of action in their norm construction. The concept has clearly psychological undertones. The first scholar whose work I refer to is the famous theologian, mystic, and jurist of the Shafi school of law, Aba Hamid Muhammad

al-Ghazali (450-505/1058—

1111), who has left us, apart from his pathbreaking contributions to ethical, philosophical, theological, and mystical debates, a two-volume book on the usil al-figh, the Mustasfa,* which I will use for this chapter. The second one is al-Sarakhsi, a Hanafi jurist from Transoxania whose works have exerted an important influence on the Hanafi discussions in the Middle East of later periods and continue to be discussed and published until today in the Arab world, Turkey, and Central Asia.

His monumental 30-volume commentary, called a/-Mabsit, is an outstanding contribution to the doctrine of the Hanafi school. He too has left us a two-volume

text on usil al-figh.”> It is on these two texts that I base my remarks on his doctrine. For comparative reasons I will refer to Ibn ‘Aqil (431-513/1040-1119), a major Hanbali scholar from Baghdad, and the Egyptian Maliki jurist Qarafi. Ibn ‘Aqil’s al-Wadih fi usul al-figh** discusses many of the questions and terms treated by Sarakhsi and Ghazali in a slightly different light and Qarafi’s al-lhkam fi tamyiz

al-fatawa ‘an al-abkam wa-tasarrufat al-gadi wa l-imam* is an important contribution to the notion and the limits of the concept of normative pluralism in Islamic law. I am interested in the challenges to which these jurists react when they defend the notion of ijtihdd within the framework of a legal doctrine that sees Islamic law as based on Qur'an, Sunna, and consensus (¢jmd‘). Such a concept seems to leave little room for a norm-construction process based on judges’ and jurists’ effort of defining norms in the light of their individual legal reasoning. What margin of action does such a theoretical framework leave for the individual judges and jurists for the innovative interpretation of the revealed norms? What is, finally, the status of the legal norms produced in the judiciary process and in the legal literature? Sarakhsi explains that judges are entitled to use their own legal reasoning in the production of legal norms because they are the “successors of the Prophet” as far as dispensation ofjustice is concerned.”° If they change their legal opinion it is an act analogous to the abrogation (maskh) of the revelation. Both interpretations

justify legal norms resulting from ijtihdd through putting the judge in the shoes of the Prophet. As far as the legal validity of a mujtahid’s judgment is concerned, says Kasani, it represents God's decision.*’ As we will see, that is the answer given by Sarakhsi, Ghazali, and Qarafi as well. But how can the judge take the place of God or the Prophet? What entitles him to reinterpret the law? Sarakhst is the first, according to my present knowledge, to adduce in a detailed and extensive way the concept of contemplation (ta@ammuI) to answer this question. The use of the concept is, of course, not restricted to the law. The eighth/fourteenth-century dictionary Lisdn al-Arab defines the word as follows: “Contemplation: to carefully consider something (al-tathabbut). I contemplated

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something [means]: I examined it (nazartu ilayhi) in order to ascertain [its character] (mustathbitan lahu). The man contemplated [means]: he ascertained carefully and without haste the thing and looked into [it] (tathabbatafi l-amr wa l-nazar).’* 8

To carefully ascertain (tathabbata) is explained as “ascertaining the thing and the opinion (ray) about it.” And the second form of the verb, thabbata and tathbit, refers to the tranquility of the heart that stems from the satisfaction with proofs after their careful consideration.”” The eleventh/seventeenth-century Dictionary of Technical Terms and Distinctions by al-Kaffawi identifies “contemplation” with “the use of thought (isti‘mal al-fikr).” And much as the Lisdn al-Arab, this dictionary refers to the psychological dimension of the term. In defining “reflection, meditation” (tadabbur), the dictionary identifies this term with “contemplation” when it states

that “reflection” is “the heart’s unrestricted activity of looking into the indicants il) (for the solution of aproblem] .... The same holds true of “contemplation” (dala (taammul).”*®

This concept is to be found in the works of most major jurists of the fifth/eleventh and sixth/twelfth centuries. Ghazali and Ibn ‘Aqil use the word to indicate a nonrational foundation of Muslim jurists’ capacity and prerogative to produce new legal norms without transgressing their competencies and without endangering the predominance of revealed norms. I start with a presentation of Ghazali’s approach to ijtihdd and his use of the contemplation concept, refer briefly to Ibn ‘Aqil’s use of

it, and then return to Sarakhsi’s effort to use reflection on the new concept as a way of freeing the law from a stifling reduction to cogent proof texts.

5. Ghazali on Jjtihad, Disputable Proofs, and Contemplation Ghazali divides the field that is open for speculative reasoning (nazariyydt) into two

subsections: those based on assumptions (zanniyydt) and those based on categorical and cogent proofs (gatiyyat).*' The fields for whose norms categorical, demonstrative, and indisputable proofs exist constitute dangerous minefields for the jurist who applies his own reasoning to them in order to develop new norms or doctrines. They are, in fact, totally controlled by the lawgiver and leave no space for the judge’s or the

jurist’s ambition to construct innovative interpretations of the law or related fields of religious knowledge. These indisputable fields are divided into three parts: the theological field (kalamiyya), the foundations of the law (wsiliyya), and the norms of the applied law (fighiyya). The doctrines of the theological field are “entirely rational” (agliyya mahda). There is only one correct solution for each controversial question. Not to find it will turn the scholar who applies his reasoning to this field into a sinner.?” The problems of usil al-figh are enumerated by Ghazali as follows: consensus (ijma’) has to be recognized as a cogent argument. The same holds true for analogical reasoning and even for the reports from the Prophet reported by few transmitters or even by a single one (khabar al-wahid). It is equally held that there is only one correct answer for each question because the proofs for the norms of this field are

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categorical, demonstrative, and cogent (qatiyya). Those who err about the correct answers commit faults and sins. Even an important part of the norms of the applied law (fighiyyat) constitutes risky terrain. All jurists have to respect the obligatory prayers, the alms tax, the pilgrimage, fasting, the prescribed punishments of the law (hudid), and

all the things from God’s religion that are definitely and categorically (gatan) known.

The right [solution] in them is one and it is known and whoever acts contrary to them is a sinner. [Once this is known] one looks [deeper into the matter] and if [the jurist] denies

the purpose of what is necessarily known [and accepted] of the purpose (magsid) of the sacred law, such as denying the prohibition of wine or of theft, or the obligatory character of the praying and fasting, then he is an unbeliever. Such a denial is brought forward only by someone who attributes lies to the sharia. He is not an unbeliever, but he commits a mistake and is a sinner, if he [denies the norms] that are not known

by necessity but by examination through speculative reasoning (azar), such as consensus being a cogent argument (/ujja), much as the conclusion by analogy and the reports from the Prophet transmitted by a small number of transmitters, and also [if he denies] those figh norms that are known through consensus, because they too are

categorical and indisputable (gatiyya).**

But those parts of figh-related norms and doctrines that are not based on cogent norms and proofs are not protected in the same way: What lies beyond are the figh norms based on assumptions (al-fighiyyat al-zanniyya) for no categorical, cogent proof (dalil qari) is available [for them]. [Such] igh norms

constitute a [licit] object of ijtihdd. In these norms, according to our judgment, there is no specific correct solution and no sin is committed by the mujtahid, as long as he perfects his effort of norm-production through individual legal reasoning and as long

as he is qualified for it.*4

In other words, theology, usal al-figh, and figh norms based on revealed texts are protected by a doctrine that makes any mistake in them not only a mistake, but also a sin and, in extreme cases, transforms the bold scholar into an unbeliever. Concerning these cases, the scholar uses his reason at his own risk, as they are clearly massively protected against ijtihad. Those parts of figh, on the other hand, that are not based on revealed texts or categorical and indisputable proofs constitute the objects to which individual legal reasoning, conjectures, and assumptions licitly apply. In dealing with them, jurists and judges deal with signs and are obliged to interpret them according to their assumptions and conjectures.*? There are no cogent proofs in this field.3° Therefore, figh’s analogical conclusions cannot be confounded with the philosophical or rational syllogism.*” The qualified scholars’ opinions and their individual legal reasoning may licitly be used in the construction of norms and proofs in this field. Ghazali insists that the Companions of the Prophet have already used this procedure whenever they were facing an event that called for a new rule and for which they had no prophetic or Qur’anic precedent.*8 He points out that an intelligible meaning that can be discovered in a Quranic verse can be treated as if this meaning were in itself a part of the Quranic text.

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Analogical reasoning in this field of the figh ought to be based on the rationally intelligible meaning of texts.*° One has to accept, as the Companions of the Prophet already did, that in this form of reasoning assumptions and conjectures have to be treated as if they were knowledge.*! Consequently, every qualified jurist or judge who applies his legal reasoning to an appropriate object in order to construct legal

norms for its regulations does the right thing in this field.4? As there is no categoria - cogent proofin this field, the jurist or judge is under no obligation to look or it.

The proofs based on assumptions and conjectures (dalil zanni), as used in this

area offigh, do not stand on their own. They depend on the mentality, context, or social or political setting of the person who finds them convincing: They are not proofs in themselves. They differ through the relation (idafa) [to which they are put]. Many a proof convinces the thought (gann) of Zayd and the very same proof does not convince the mind (zanm) of ‘Amr, though he is well acquainted with it. Yes, often [it happens] that the proof produces persuasion (zanm) in one person at one moment but not in the next moment. Even more (ba/), it may happen that in one person in one moment and concerning the same problem you find two proofs that contradict each other, though each of them if it were standing alone would provide persuasion (zanm). In categorical and indisputable proofs one cannot even imagine [such] contradiction.**

Ghazali concludes:

Ergo, there is no proofin the field of assumptions and conjectures according to [this] investigation (ald l-tahqiq). What is called proofis [called so] in a permissive way (‘ala

-tajawwuz) and in relating it to the inclination of his [the jurist’s or judge’s] soul. In fact, the root mistake in the debate on this problem is that jurists give weight to the conjectural proofs to the degree that they persuade themselves that these are proofs by themselves, not relational proofs. This is a clear mistake whose nullity is pointed out

by the categorical and indisputable proofs.

This does not prevent these nonproofs from establishing valid ijtihdd. In the field of assumptions and conjectures there is no rule set by God. Rather, in this field, God’s norm is established through the individual legal reasoning of the mujtahid. It does not exist before the mujtahid professes it, and it becomes visible only through the mujtahid’s uttering of it.4° This implies that many equally valid norms of God exist in the field of the law that consists of conjectures and assumptions,*”

because all the norms produced by valid ijtihdd are God’s norms, as God has left the field open for the production of norms by qualified mujtahids. The same reasoning is defended by the Hanafi jurist Kasani and, with great legal skill and in the context ofadebate about the relationship between general and individual legal norms, in the seventh/thirteenth century by the Egyptian Maliki jurist Qarafi.*® As a necessary consequence of the licit use of individual ijtihad,”” Ghazali defends dissent among jurists and judges and states that the Prophet's Companions already practiced it? He holds that God himself approves of such dissent as long as it does not put into jeopardy the beliefinGod’s oneness and unicity.! He insists

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that the lay people, the nonscholars, should be excluded from the debates about this dissent? But he admits, against Shafi‘’s teaching, that the mugallid should be admitted as judge, because in this field of figh everything is based on conjecture and assumptions, and therefore mugallids could perform the same tasks as mujtahids.? He argues that one conjecture cannot annul another conjecture because they differ according to their relations to persons, and such a norm cannot be superior to another norm based on the same type ofproofs that depend on mentalities, context, and political, social, or economic setting. Ghazali clearly justifies the normative pluralism of that part of the applied law (furu‘ al-figh) that is not based on revealed texts or on foundational elements of the structures ofthe law. He does so in pointing out that this part of the law is open for ijtihad and dissent because it knows no valid proof. From an intellectual point of view, he seems to say that there is nothing valuable in these legal discussions about ijtihad. But their practical results, the resulting legal pluralism, are irreplaceable

and it is finally God who through these debates creates norms through individual legal reasoning. But one cannot help but see that, for Ghazali, the sphere of the indisputable proofs (gat‘iyyat) is intellectually and from a religious point of view incomparably superior to everything that happens in the field of conjecture and assumptions (zanniyydt).

Ghazali refers to contemplation (taammul) mainly in epistemological debates about forms of knowledge. In his introduction to the Mustasfa, a short introduction

into Greek logic, he discusses “contemplation” first in the context of his treatment of axioms, when he stresses that axioms are independent of speculative knowledge,

proofs, and “contemplation.”** When he discusses contemplation in the main part of his book he stresses that the self-evident form of knowledge (badihi) provided by necessary knowledge is in no need of contemplation.” He assigns to “contemplation” a limited but important task in the field of ethical and moral examination of one’s obligations. He states that reason and rational comprehension do not create in and by themselves normative obligations. If they were to do that, then all reasonable human beings would recognize their obligations (wuj#é). But in fact they need speculative knowledge (nazar) and contemplation (taammu1) to do so. Without the

contemplation issuing from reason they would be unable to understand God’s signs and the Prophet’s miracles and the ties of these signs and miracles to their own persons.”° This epistemological treatment of the concept of contemplation resembles the approach that is characteristic also for the Hanbali Ibn ‘Aqil, who treats “contemplation” (taammul) as part of acquired knowledge that depends on reasoning based on indicants (istid/ali) in order to understand what is absent or hidden from the senses

and from speech.”’ For Ibn ‘Aqil, “speculative knowledge, which is the contempla-

tion” (wa-kadhalika al-‘ilm al-nazari alladhi huwa l-taammul),® has the capacity to

distinguish between the true and the null and void (a-Aaqgq wa I-batil) and to separate the indisputable from the doubtful argument (a/-fas! bayna L-hujja wa L-shubha): “Through the thought of the heart and its contemplation and its gaze, the heart seeks the knowledge of these things.”*? These activities can result in achieving the goal and in failing it; in other words, much as ijtihad, they are licit forms of legal reasoning, but they don’t guarantee the truth of the results at which they arrive.

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Ibn ‘Aqil shares with Ghazali the notion that the sharia norms lack a rational basis. None of the norms of the shari‘a, he writes, “can be proved in a rational way.” They can only be recognized by the contemplation of reason (bi-taammuli L‘agl).© Much as Ghazali, Ibn ‘Aqil thus assigns to contemplation a distinctive capacity for moral and ethical judgment that is not to be found in purely rational proofs. Contemplation also has special qualities in strengthening metaphorical interpretations of texts at the expense of the literal sense of the text.°! This nonliteral text interpretation (t@awwul) may be used fruitfully in finding new aspects of texts that can be used for analogical reasoning and for ijtihad constructions.

6. Sarakhsi: Contemplation (Ta’ammul) as Emancipation from Rigid Text Fetters In a close interpretation of the famous letter in which the Caliph ‘Umar advises Abi

Misa al-Ash‘ari on the procedure ofjudging and on the judge’s capacity to understand the cases before him and the legal means to decide them, Sarakhsi evokes the need for contemplation (ta’ammul): Even the most learned jurist will be tested the Quran or the Sunna. The revealed events are innumerable. The jurist will, (taammul). The way [of practicing] his

by events that he does not find mentioned in texts exist in determined numbers but the therefore, be bound to use contemplation contemplation has been alluded to in the

hadith {quoted by Caliph ‘Umar]. [The Caliph] said: know the things that are like those [you have to decide] and know what is similar [to them] and measure the things

accordingly. This is the proof adduced by most of the jurists... [for the recognition of] analogical reasoning as a cogent argument. All things cannot be found in the Qur'an and the Sunna contrary to what the Zahiris assume. Contemplation, in this context, seems to refer to the reflection of similarities in meaning between things and situations that would allow analogical reasoning to produce new norms. The means of such reflection are mostly to be found in the contemplation of the way in which language expresses meaning. This reflection helps the jurist to decipher the true meaning of polysemous utterances (mushtarak)°?

or of those with many different meanings (mujmal).* In both cases, contemplation gives access to elements that will help to discover the true meaning of a term, utterance, or sentence. Also, the distinction between

metaphorical and literal meaning of a text depends largely on contemplation. The

use of ta’ wil, according to Sarakhsi, is the field of textual interpretation, in which the Companions of the Prophet have no greater authority than the scholars who live centuries after them. It is different from ijtihdd, for which contemplation concerns texts that are the source (as/) of the rules of the sacred law. The understanding of these texts depends on the difference in the conditions (a/wa/) under which they

were revealed: “Therefore, they have obviously the privilege to have witnessed the

situations (a/wal) [in which] God’s speech was addressed [to humans]. [To have witnessed these situations] gives the Companions an advantage compared to all

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those who did not witness [these situations].”© In the nonliteral interpretation of the

aspects of language and the meaning of speech, on the other hand, the Companions have no advantage over all those who know the meanings of language well as the Companions did: One should not say—continues Sarakhsi—that these are internal and hidden things (umar batina) and that we have only been ordered to construct the rule (6i-bing al-hukm) according to the external, literal sense (ald ma huwa l-zahir), because the

construction of the rule according to its external, literal sense is correct according

to our doctrine, but [only] if it is impossible to take the two [i.e., the literal and the

nonliteral sense] together. But if one compares [the two approaches] it is not difficult to see that to take into consideration the literal and the nonliteral sense together is

preferable to the sole use of the literal sense.°°

To interpret language with the tool of legal analogies, according to Sarakhsi, is most of the time fruitless if compared to the results that contemplation brings to light, “because the way of knowing the name is the speculative approach of the conventions (mawdiat) produced by philologists, not by the legal analogies.” In this context, Sarakhsi points out the legal consequences of this approach by referring to Abi Hanifa’s debate concerning the question whether same-sex relations should be understood as fornication in the legal sense or as a different type ofaction altogether, whether all intoxicating drinks should be punished under the prohibition of drinking wine, etc.® He stresses the merits of the study of language that enables humans to contemplate (taammu/) the meanings of language and the information on past

and present that language contains in order to understand the purpose (maqsid) of this information. He goes on to separate this study from religion: “This has nothing to do with the sharia rule. The comprehension of the meanings oflanguage existed in the period ofignorance before Islam. It remains today among non-Muslims who do not know the rules of sharia.”°* Contemplation of the meanings of language, then, is a human, not a specifically religious, practice.

Contemplation allows a better understanding of dogmatic differences within the law. The use of tawil and metaphorical textual interpretation also allows a better understanding of historical reports. But the discussion of legal institutions, such as marriage, would be helped by contemplation. It is important, says Sarakhsi, to understand that, in discussions of the marriage contract, the terms of property transfer do not keep their literal sense; they are only comprehensible through contemplation on the use of metaphors in legal speech. The analogical reasoning offigh is of no use in this context. Contemplation also helps, according to Sarakhsi, to distinguish between mutawatir transmissions from the Prophet, which are transmitted by a number of transmitters sufficiently important to exclude the notion that they could have conspired to spread nonauthentic transmissions, and mashhar transmissions, which are transmitted originally by a small number oftransmitters but that have been received positively by the scholars and used to regulate the practice of Muslims. In the first generation, a mashhur report had the status ofareport transmitted by one person; in the following generations it ought to be treated as mutawatir. But mutawatir reports have a higher status than mashhar transmissions. Whoever denies the authority of

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the first is a heretic, because tawatur, according to the scholars, produces necessary knowledge (and the authenticity of the Quran is partly based on this form of transmission), but nobody who denies the authenticity of a mashhar transmission risks the same designation. Mashhir reports produce, as Sarakhsi says, “the knowledge that brings about the tranquility of the heart” (ilm tama’ninat al-qalb), but not certain knowledge (‘lm yagin). A doubt concerning the authenticity of the mashhur remains and makes it impossible to treat it as a source of certain knowledge. Contemplation about the knowledge transmitted by these two categories of reports weakens the mashhar and strengthens the mutawatir. But because in the second and third generation of Muslims the mashhar transmission had been backed by the consensus of the scholars, it ought to be considered as a norm that obliges believers to obey but does not oblige them to believe in its truth.”° In the same way, contemplation serves to understand the difference between fard and wajib, between religious obligation to believe in the truth of acommand and to act accordingly, and a purely legal obligation to act according to the norm even ifthe actor is free not to believe in the truth of the transmission or of the cause of the obligation.’! In a way that reminds of Ghazali and Ibn ‘Aqil, Sarakhsi sees contemplation as the most efficient way to understand one’s moral and ethical obligations to God. In a chapter on “The Clarification of the Cogent Legal Argument and Its Legal Effects” (bab baydn al-hujja al-shariyya wa-ahkamiha), he cites the Quranic verse, “in it there are clear verses” (thi aydtun bayyindtun), and says: The unconditional sense [of this verse] in the sacred law is to be understood as some-

thing that brings about knowledge in an indisputable form. Therefore, the miracles of the Prophets have been called signs (ayat). God has said: “We have given Moses nine clear signs.” He also said: “So go with our signs.” It may be objected to this interpretation that there are people who reject the message of the messengers after having seen the miracles and after having understood them [the signs]. If these [miracles] were to bring about knowledge in an obligatory way and indisputably, nobody would surely have denied them after having been an eyewitness to them. To this objection, we reply: these signs do not produce the knowl-

edge by constraint.” If they did that, there would be no reward and no punishment for [their recognition and obedience to them]. by taking into consideration the contemplation an arbitrary way. With such contemplation, the established in an indisputable way and those who away from contemplation.”

They only produce the knowledge of these signs in a just and not in knowledge concerning the signs is deny it only do so because they turn

Sarakhsi explains the refusal to recognize analogical reasoning as a source of law by the Muttazili theologian Nazzam, as well as by Dawid b. Sulayman and the Zahiris,”“ through their denial of contemplation. On the other hand, Sarakhsi sees the privileged position of the Prophet's Companions in matters of ijtihad based on the fact that they were more careful in their contemplation than were later generations of Muslims.”

Contemplation is seen by Sarakhsi as a major clement in the development of (giyds). He turns against the thesis_ that norm construction by analogical reasoning : te has to be based exclusively on Qur'an or licit, be to order in reasoning, analogical

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Sunna. If no revealed text (nass) can serve as solution to a legal problem, Sarakhsi the case holds that the “legal opinions” (ra’y) of the jurists determine the analogy of Sarakhsi’s in , Contemplation scripture.’* the in found be can that meanings to the view, has the task to single out, among the attributes of anorm, the one that enables the jurists to apply the rule of the norm of the text to other cases (wasf muaththir, “lla muaththira). The jurist acquires the capacity to perform this task if he contemplates on the meaning of the text (ma'nd /-mansus) so as to find in it the attribute

that will enable him to apply it to other cases.’’ If this meaning is hidden, it is acces-

sible only to contemplation.”

Even if a legal norm has to be derived from the Quran, the meaning of the revealed text has to be established through one’s reasoned opinion (ray) in order to base the analogical reasoning on it. Such analogical reasoning may have two aims: either to expand the rule of the revealed rule to similar cases or to arrive at the state in which tranquility fills the heart (tama’ninat al-qalb) of the scholar.

This state is reached if one understands the meaning which underlies the rule in the revealed text. This hidden meaning is accessible only through contemplation: “The heart sees the absent through contemplating him, much as the eye sees the one who is present through looking at him. Don’t you see that God said, in explaining the status of the person who neglects (taraka) contemplation: “The hearts in their bosoms are blind, not their eyes’?” Sarakhsi concludes: In fact, if he contemplates the meaning of the revealed text until he understands it fully, his chest will widen and tranquility will fill his heart. That is the result of the

light that God has put into the heart of every Muslim. To deprive [a Muslim] of this contemplation and to order him to stay on the site of the text without seeking the meaning in it is a sort of incapacitation (Aajr) and renders him inept to realize the meaning of the widening of the chest and the tranquility of the heart that are established by God’s word, “those who could draw conclusions from it would know it.””°

The meaning underlying the revealed texts is the object of contemplation. To find it is either a legal task, because it enables the jurist to establish norms through analogical reasoning, or it is a religious and psychological emancipation that provides the Muslim with the tranquility of the heart to which he aspires. In both cases it does assign a wide field of action to those who choose to contemplate the meaning of legal norms. It allows them to multiply the analogies on which analogical reasoning can be based and to develop new norms where no texts exist on which to base them: It thus becomes clear that the contemplation of the meaning of the revealed text that is established through the allusions provided by the master of the sacred law (sahib al-shar’) is analogous to the contemplation on the meaning of the language that is established through the convention brought about by the one who has laid down this convention. For those who are deeply rooted in knowledge, it is licit to contemplate such topics in order to reach a better comprehension of the way in which metaphorical speech is used so that the [same] expression will be considered a metaphor in another context in the same way. The same holds true for the [contemplation ofthe] meanings of the revealed text for the purpose of establishing the rule of the text in all places that

we know to be like the one in the revealed text.°°

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New events also require new rules: It is well known that there is no revealed text for each new event (haditha). The revealed

texts are restricted in numbers (mddida mutanahiya) and there isno end for the events that are going to happen until the end of time (giyam al-sa‘a). Calling them “events”

[originating in time] (Additha) is an indication that there is no revealed text for them

because [an act] for which there is a revealed text is an established precedent. The Companions of the Prophet relied on a revealed text for each event [they had to cope with]. Within the limits of our capacity, we are under the obligation to know the rule of each event through a [cogent] argument.*!

Conclusion Contemplation, whether it provides access to the meanings of language, distinguishes between forms of transmission from the Prophet, helps to understand the many ways in which analogies can be constructed in the absence of cogent arguments, or clarifies the categories of obligations and duties, renders the believers capable of reflecting on and accepting their moral and religious obligations. I qualifies them for the interpretation of revealed texts according to their underlying meanings and for the construction of norms for new events that have not yet been regulated by a divine text or an appropriate analogical ruling. As such, contemplation is an indispensable element ofthe law’s unfolding. Without contemplation, not even the miracles of the prophets would create belief, comprehension, and obedience, many distinctions of the law would remain incomprehensible, and metaphors

used in legal speech would be taken in their literal sense. In other words, it is not just the miracles, the clear signs, the revealed texts that matter. There must be a human response to them, based on the readiness to contemplate these signs, events,

and texts. The lawgiver must be understood and one must react to his norms and rules; this comprehension and reaction is based on contemplation. Within the limits indicated by Ghazali, that is, in the field of conjecture and assumptions that govern the claims of human beings (Auqaq al-ibad), the capacity of judges and jurists to interpret revealed texts and to construct new rules grows steadily by expanding the ways in which analogies can be built on the meanings that contemplation discovers in revealed texts or in analogies. The growing importance of the concept of contemplation indicates that major jurists do not restrict Islamic law to a hierarchy of divine norms but are clearly aware of the fact that human beings need to give them meaning for their own life. The reflexive way in which, through the concept of “contemplation,” such claims are reintegrated into the body oflegal doctrine is a fascinating trace of the learning process of the jurists. Not only did they understand the importance of the jurists’

acquired knowledge of society and culture for their interpretation of the law, but they also gave it a theoretical status, beyond case law, through integrating “contemplation” into the legal doctrine as an important element of doctrine and norm formation, something that belongs to the law as one ofits constituent factors.

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Whereas in Ghazali’s view the relational character of the proofs of ijtihad is mainly seen as an intellectual weakness, in Sarakhsi’s approach it acquires a positive, law in history. It enabling significance, important for the unfolding of new forms of ion” alive “contemplat of notion the held has approach in may be that this difference to be an continued it century, nineteenth the into deep until where, in Hanafi figh, important part oflegal reasoning.**

Notes 1. For the Umayyad period, see Steven C. Judd, “Al-Awza‘i and Sufyan al-Thawri: The Umayyad Madhhab,” in The Islamic School ofLaw: Evolution, Devolution, and Progress, ed. Peri Bearman, Rudolph Peters, and Frank E. Vogel (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2005), 10-25. See in particular p. 17 on the paucity of Aadith in legal discussions of the period, pp. 15-16 on the importance of the legal practice of the Muslim community as a source of norms, and p. 16 on caliphal authority. 2. On the application of“legal opinion” (ra’y) as a licit source of norm production in third/ ninth-century Maliki texts, see Sahnin b. Said al-Tanakhi, a/-Mudawwana al-kubra (Cairo: Matba‘at al-Sa‘ada, 1323AH), 7:7-10, 12-25, 27-30, 53-54, 62, 101, 103, 119— 122; 5:11-64 passim. For a historical analysis of the importance of ra’y for Andalusian Malikis during the third/ninth century, see Maribel Fierro, “Proto-Malikis, Malikis, and Reformed Malikis in Al-Andalus,” in The Islamic School of Law, ed. Bearman, Peters, and Vogel, 57-76. 3. Baber Johansen, “Wahrheit und Geltungsanspruch: Zur Begriindung und Begrenzung der Autoritat des Qadi-Urteils im islamischen Recht,” in La Giustizia nell Alto Medioevo (Secoli IX—XT), ed. Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo (Spoleto: Presso la Sede del Centro, 1997), 975-1065. For information on the qédi’s casuistry in the chronicles,

see Johansen, “Wahrheit und Geltungsanspruch,” 985-86, note 16. 4, Joseph Schacht, The Origins ofMuhammadan Jurisprudence (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1950) [corrected reprint, 1967], 98-104.

. Johansen, “Wahrheit und Geltungsanspruch,” 975-1015. 6. Schacht, Origins, 67: riba rules abandoned by the Medinese; p. 100: on abandoned doctrines of early Egyptian jurists; pp. 141-42: on abandoned Iraqi doctrines; p. 234: on doctrines ascribed to Aba Bakr and ‘Umar abandoned in favor of the teaching of Ibrahim al-Nakhaii; p. 241: on unsuccessful attempts to introduce new doctrines through ascribing them to ‘Ali. 7. Muhammad b, Idris al-Shafi‘'i, a/-Risdla, ed. Ahmad Muhammad Shakir (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-Ilmiyya, n.d.) [clearly a copy of the Cairo edition of 1940], 39, no. 120; 40, no, 122; 22, no. 58; 88, nos. 291, 292; 212, no. 570; 322, no. 881; 343, nos. 927, 928, 929; 404-405, no. 1109; 406, no. 1111; 424, no. 1165; 425, no. 1171; 426, no. 1172; 427, no. 1174; 429, no. 1180; see also 430-35, 448, no. 1232 and 452, no. 1234. 8. Shafi‘, a/-Risdla, 39, no. 120; 41, no. 131; 357, no. 963; 359, nos. 966, 967; 363, no. 980; 599, nos. 1815-17. A

9. Schacht, Origins, 66. Cf. pp. 54-55. On unsuccessful doctrines, see pp. 69, 101; on tra-

ditions as a threat to continuity and uniformity of doctrine, see p. 96; and on dissent as a necessary result of ijtihdd, see p. 97, all in Schacht, Origins.

10. Muhammad b. Idris al-Shafi'i, Umm (Beirut: Dar al-Ma'rifa, n.d.), 6:201-202.

11. Shafi, Risdla, 504; see also Shafii, Umm, 7:93-94, 300-301, and cf. Schacht, Origins, 120

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12. wae Coulson, A History ofIshamic Law (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1964),

13: Shafi, Risdla, 86, no. 284; see also 73, no. 236; 33, no. 102; 79, no. 258; 104, no. 308; 108-109, no. 326; 82, no. 269; 88, no. 292. 14, Josef van Ess, Theologie und Gesellschaft im 2. und 3. Jahrhundert Hidschra: Eine

Geschichte des religidsen Denkens im friihen Islam (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1992), 2:161— 64. See also Aba Hamid Muhammad al-Ghazali, a/-Mustasfa min ‘ilm al-usiil (Cairo: Maktaba Tijariyya, 1365/1937), part 2, 106-107. IIB, Shafii, Risdla, 488-98, nos. 1381-1426; Shafi‘, Umm, 7:106-107. 16. Schacht, Origins, 7. Even Schacht’s effort, in Introduction, 29, to admit “an increasing differentiation between the schools” hardly does justice to the doctrinal differences between schools. See Joseph Schacht, An Jntroduction to Islamic Law (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964).

We Coulson, History, 97-101. 18. Aba Bakr Muhammad b. Abi Sahl al-Sarakhsi, Kitab al-Mabsiit, 2nd ed. (Beirut: Dar al-Marifa, n.d.), 16:108; see also Aba Bakr b. Mas‘aid al-Kasani, Kitab al-Bada’ii'fitartib al-sharai (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, n.d.), 7:6, 14. See also Sherman Jackson, Islamic Law and the State: The Constitutional Jurisprudence of Shihab al-Din al-Qarafi (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 171.

19} Aba al-Abbas Ahmad b. Idris al-Qarafi, al-Ihkam fi tamyiz al-fatawa ‘an al-abkam wa-tasarrufat al-gadi wa l-imam, ed. ‘Abd al-Fattah Abt’ Ghudda (Aleppo: Maktab al-Matbaat al-Islamiyya, 1378/1967), 70, 84, 122, 144—45; see also Jackson, /slamic

Law and the State, 145-52, 171-77. On the difference between muftis who can refuse and criticize each other’s fatdwd and the gadis who cannot cancel each other’s decisions, see Qarafi, Jhkdm, 182, and Jackson, /slamic Law and the State, 171. . Kasani, Bada@i,, 7:3. . Qarafi, Ihkam, 114, 130-31, 142-43, 222-23, 225-26; see also Jackson, Islamic Law and the State, 186, 213, 229.

. See note 14. . Sarakhsi, Usii/, ed. Aba al-Wafa’ al-Afghani (Beirut: Dar al-Marrifa, n.d.) [the original edition was published at Hyderabad at the Lajnat Ihya’ al-Maarifal-Nu'maniyya, 2 vols]. . Aba al-Wafa’ Ibn ‘Aqil, al-Wadihfi usual al-figh, ed. George Makdisi (Stuttgart and Beirut: Franz Steiner Verlag and Orient-Institut der DMG, 1996), 4 parts, part 1: Kitab

al-Madhahib. . See note 19. . Sarakhsi, Mabsat, 16:65, 108, 111.

. Kasani, Bada’, 7:4.

. Ibn Manziir, Lisdn al-Arab, 3rd ed. (Beirut: Dar Sadir, 1414/1994), 11:27.

. Ibn Manzir, Lisan al-Arab, 2:19.

_ Al-Kulliyyat: Mujam fi |-mustalabat wa-l-furag al-lughawiyya, ed. ‘Adnan Darwish and Muhammad al-Misri (Beirut: Mu/assasat al-Risala, 1413/1993), 287. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 105. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 105. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 106. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 106. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 55-59, 63, 66, 81, 109-110, 112. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 56-57, 62, 66, 81, 109. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 1, 60; part 2, 54, 57-58, 62, 74. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 56, 58, 61-64, 69, 71, 74, 78, 108. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 69.

BABER JOHANSEN . Ghazali, . Ghazali, . Ghazali, . Ghazali, . Ghazali,

Mustasfa, Mustasfa, Mustasfa, Mustasfa, Mustasfa,

part part part part part

2, 2, 2, 2, 2,

67. 69, 74. 56-57, 66, 109, 112, 115, 117. 110. 110.

. Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 110.

. Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 104, 109, 111, 117, 121. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 103, 109, 110, 111. . Qarafi, Ihkam, 28, 30, 65-66, 85, 122; Kasani, Bada’, 7:4. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 56, 81. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 65, 66, 67. . Ghazali, Mustafa, part 2, 66. . Ghazali, Mustafa, part 1, 116, 138; part 2, 59. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 121. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 1, 33, 44. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 2, 86, 126. . Ghazali, Mustasfa, part 1, 40. . Ibn ‘Agil, Wadih, 1:7. . Ibn ‘Agil, Wadih, 1:8. . Ibn ‘Agil, Wadih, 1:21.

. Ibn ‘Ail, . Ibn ‘Agil, . Sarakhsi, . Sarakhsi, . Sarakhsi, . Sarakhsi,

Wadih, 1:45—46. Wadif, 1:39. Mabsit, 16:62—63. Usa/, 1:162. Usa, 1:168-69. Usa, 2:109. For the discussion of metaphorical and literary meanings see also

1:196, 199, and 2:156, 158.

. Sarakhsi, Usa, 2:109. . Sarakhsi, Usal, 2:156; cf. 2:158. . Sarakhsi, Usa/, 2:124. . Sarakhsi, Usa, 1:179. . Sarakhsi, Usa, 1:292—93. . Sarakhsi, Usd, 1:112. . The printed text gives khabar, information, seem to make sense. To learn from khabar rewards and to refuse it would still bring knowledge, because anything done under bring reward or punishment to the actor. . Sarakhsi, Usd, 1:278, cf. 1:291. . Sarakhsi, Usa, 2:119. . Sarakhsi, Usa/, 2:111. . Sarakhsi, Usa, 2:92, 95, 96, 106. . Sarakhsi, Usa/, 2:128, 129, 138-39. . Sarakhsi, Usa, 2:139. . Sarakhsi, Usa/, 2:128-29. . Sarakhsi, Usil, 2:139. . Sarakhsi, Usa, 2:139—40.

transmission. In this context, that does not and to act according to it would still bring punishment. I therefore read jabr, enforced the influence of superior force would not

. Ibn ‘Abidin, Radd al-muhtar ‘ala al-durr al-mukhtar (Cairo, 1307/1890), 1:15—16, Wh Dey

Chapter 8 Islamic Legal Minimalism: Legal Maxims and Lawmaking When Jurists Disappear Intisar A. Rabb*

1. Introduction The crisis about which Hossein Modarressi wrote so trenchantly in Crisis and Consolidation never quite disappeared.' Major questions plaguing the third/ninth century Shii community were recurring ones for the entire Muslim community. After Prophet Muhammad’s death—and in the absence of anyone who could claim his level of divinely sanctioned lawmaking, infallibility, and charismatic religious leadership—who had the authority to lead the community of Muslims, the wherewithal to guide on matters of belief and law? Such questions of the imamate (with a little “i’—because not specific to Imami Shi‘ leadership) were central to ideals

of Islamic political authority and religious leadership. They also touched closely on questions oflaw. An early community answered this question by developing a notion that would become the Shi‘ doctrine of the Imamate. The mainstream segment of that community looked to ‘Ali and a series of subsequent Imams for guidance initially as “simply virtuous learned men (‘ulamd’ abrar)”; the Imami Shi'a later came to posit that these leaders necessarily possessed a measure of divinely designated authority and infallibility to provide sure guidance as to law and life.” Another early community that would develop into mainstream Sunnis settled on the first four caliphs and then scholar-jurists (mujtahids) as the locus for religious authority.’ The Prophet had said that his “community would never agree upon error” and that “scholars are the heirs of the prophets.” For Sunnis, these pronouncements meant that the scholarly collective—through consensus—had inherited both the authority and the infallibility that the Prophet himself possessed.‘

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But what if the Imams or scholars disappeared? Indeed, it was the death of the eleventh Imam in the third/ninth century and the disappearance of the twelfth and final Imam soon after that threw the Imami Shi‘i community into deep crisis.’ It took the community until the fifth/eleventh century to fully consolidate and resolve it. For legal matters, the community needed an entirely new theory of law and leadership to handle the total absence of the Imam and of direct access to his guidance.’ Likewise, contemplating the disappearance of scholars rankled the Sunni scholars who knew its significant implications. They too vigorously debated the question in the fifth/eleventh century, as they consolidated matters of belief and jurisprudence in renowned legal circles. They too would need a new theory of law and morality should scholars ever disappear. Without scholars, who would exercise the interpretive legal authority and provide the moral-legal guidance on which Muslim communities had come to rely after the Prophet? Imam al-Haramayn al-Juwayni (d. 478/1085), the renowned and influential Seljuk jurist writing during this pivotal moment in Islamic legal history, contemplated this very question.® He proffered an extremely interesting proposal—for what may be called a type of “Islamic legal minimalism.”? In contemporary constitutional legal theory, Cass Sunstein uses “legal minimalism” to refer to a system of interpreting law

tightly with respect to fundamental values and principled legal processes in a way that honors a legal polity’s ideals and avoids judicial overreach.'° In significant measure,

minimalism can be called a form ofjudicial high-mindedness and judicial restraint." It describes judges who interpret the law with respect to a particular issue at hand within the rubric of the legal system’s basic values, and who leave open questions not immediately presented for another day.'? Sunstein’s minimalism refers to American law and modern ideals of democratic deliberation. But it has surprising resonance with Juwayni’s proposal and ideals of the medieval Islamic context, as we will see. Before raising the curtain on Juwayni's proposal, it is worth setting the stage for it in order to explore what consequence and meaning minimalism might have in an Islamic legal context. To that end, I first examine the debates among Muslim jurists about whether there is a single right answer for every occasion for which humans would be held liable on questions of law, and if so, how they might arrive at that answer. To preview: The typical answers were “yes” and “through jurists.” This discussion will serve as the backdrop for the next section, examining debates over whether it was possible then for jurists to ever disappear. Finally, bringing these two discussions together, we will contemplate—with Juwayni—what becomes of

Islamic law when jurists disappear and what the accompanying idea ofIslamic legal minimalism would require. We will see in the process that these considerations invoked the core questions of law and theology with which we started: questions of leadership and the moral substance of the law in an age where Muslim scholars were moving to consolidate around cogent answers. Those answers manifest here through an intriguingly rich idea of Islamic legal minimalism.

2. One Right Answer One manifestation of the problem of leadership had to do with the scope of the law and of interpretive authority to “say what the law is.”!3 Did law cover everything,

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in that God—as sole Lawgiver—had a rule in mind for every occasion? If so, were scholars, standing in lieu of the Prophet and/or the Imams, authorized to determine the legal rules? Indeed, were they required to do so? And what about when—as was the case even in Islam’s first century—these scholars arrived at different conclusions of law? Which answer was correct? These questions implicated an old and much-debated issue in major legal traditions—civil and common, ancient and modern, East and West: as legal scholars contemplate thorny and novel questions, is there a discoverable, correct conclusion of law? In short, is there a single right answer?!4 Juwayni frames it this way: “Are mujtahids, when it comes to matters of Islamic legal interpretation and rulings, always correct [even when arriving at multiple conclusions of law], or is there [only] one right answer?” He carefully notes that

his question applied neither to matters of belief nor to clear legal texts. Both were proverbial sacred cows that, once settled, permitted no interpretation.'® Rather, the central question is one of egal ambiguity and doubt. When the text is not clear, requiring a jurist to undergo some interpretive process to arrive at a conclusion of

law, how should one evaluate the soundness of that conclusion? Predictably, even this question was a matter of debate, yielding a “no right answer” camp, a “one right answer” contingent, and Juwayni’s compromise between

the two. To illustrate the problem, Juwayni invites us to consider the following scenario: Suppose a pair ofjurists is a husband and wife team that falls into a marital dispute. The husband informs the wife that she is “irrevocably divorced,” but does not believe that he has thereby cut off his opportunity for revoking the divorce because he made the absolutist statement figuratively. Meanwhile, in her capacity as a jurist, the wife maintains that even figurative statements have legal effect, and that

her husband’s declaration thus cut off the possibility of divorce revocation. There is a direct conflict then over whether the couple is divorced, and whether the possibil-

ity for revoking the divorce—as the husband tries to assert—is at all available. What

is the right answer here?!”

2.1. The Debates: No Right Answer vs. One Right Answer Juwayni complains that those who maintained that there was no right answer

could not claim a coherent and principled vision oflaw.'* This camp latched onto a saying attributed to the early Iraqi figure ‘Ubayd Allah al-Anbari (d. 168/785) that “every jurist is correct.”!? For them, any occasion for which a ruling is not clearly stated in the foundational texts or designated by consensus in fact has no particular legal ruling before God. After the jurist undergoes the process of interpretation (;jtihdd), whatever outcome emerges as the most preponderant conclusion becomes subject to the general legal ruling in the mind of God, which is an obligation to follow the dictates of that interpretation.’” It is only an extreme version of the no-right-answer position to suppose that there is no answer at all, allowing a jurist to freely choose between any of a range of options presented in . cases of ambiguity or doubt.” at arrive to aiming in that, maintained camp nswer one-right-a the By contrast, or mark the hit either could jurist a God, of mind the in answer right single the

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miss it in the interpretive process.”* They drew on a famous /adith for support in which Muhammad reportedly announced that “a judge who issues a decision, having executed the interpretive process and arrived at the correct answer, will receive a double reward; if he arrived at the wrong answer, [he] will [still] receive a reward.””>

In other words, rather than be liable for an incorrect conclusion, the mistaken jurist

will receive a reward for the exhaustive effort.”* Juwayni positions himself midway between the no-right-answer and one-rightanswer camps. While stressing that every real world scenario has a legal ruling and that there is indeed one right answer,” he also maintains that the saying on which the no-right-answer camp relied was also correct. In fact, the two statements came to be combined into one: “every mujtahid is correct; [the jurist] who executes the interpretive process and arrives at the correct answer will receive a double reward, and [the one] who interprets and arrives at the wrong answer will [still] receive a

reward.” Juwayni’s gloss on the latter saying is to assert that it applies to the interpretive process rather than the outcome. The jurist is “right” provided he or she conducts a thorough investigation of the sources, uses every interpretive tool at his or her disposal, and operates according to the conclusions reached by that exhaustive interpretive process.” That is, the jurist is “right” in being responsive to God’s command to execute the proper process, and “wrong” only if he or she fails to pursue the interpretive process to its end.’

The point is illustrated with the following vividly clear example: Imagine that two people are traveling and confused about the direction to face for prayer, that is, the Ka'ba in Mecca. This is a clear example because the prayer direction is singular— there is unequivocally one right answer, one known latitude and longitude. If one jurist goes through the interpretive process and generally concludes that a particular direction is correct, then faces that direction to pray (and it indeed aligns accurately along the correct map coordinates), he is “right” in both senses of the term—procedurally, through following the interpretive process generally and following the dictates of his ijtihdd specifically, and substantively, in getting it right. If asecond jurist undergoes a similar interpretive process and concludes that the direction is elsewhere, he is obligated to face that direction, and also would be correct to do so because he is keeping with the dictates of his interpretation. But the second jurist would only be procedurally correct; substantively, he would be mistaken in that he would not actually be facing the Ka'ba.*® Somewhat surprisingly, both conclusions, at the end of the day, were equally acceptable. Juwayni’s solution, then, is a middle ground. Juwayni sees the other two positions as either absolutist or deficient. If there is no right answer that a jurist should be seeking, why undergo the interpretive process at all? For God to have no right answer but then require people to seek it would be to impose liability in impossible circumstances, that is, liability without capacity for performance (taklif ma la yutdaq)—which was rationally and universally condemned.”” Moreover, Juwayni intimates that, for no-right-answer proponents, there can be no right answer for the conflicting husband-wife jurists in the above scenario; if both are right, there would be no principled way to resolve the dispute.2° Yet, it would be absurd to suggest that the inability to reach the right answer means that there is no duty to undergo the interpretive process, instead allowing for personal preference to prevail.*! This would require jurists to be willing always to equate the

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legal with the illegal, even in cases where they clearly are not equal. Such a stance would cut against the whole point of Islamic law and indeed, law generally. As for the one-right-answer camp, Juwayni contends, serious difficulties arise if their stance requires a jurist to arrive at the right answer with certainty.°? It begs the questions: What is the object of the interpretive enterprise; how would a jurist know the right answer when she saw it? For Juwayni, rather than an objectively “correct” answer, the jurist is seeking the answer that best aligns with existing precedents and major legal precepts (ashbah).** Thus, Juwayni is explicit in noting that jurists are always seeking the best answer, with the idea that it should align with the right answer. But if it does not, it is by no sin of the jurist who has engaged the interpretive process fully. So long as the jurist exhausted the process, she is assured that she can and should follow the rule that occurs to her by a preponderance of the evidence considered.*° That is all one can be fairly held responsible for.*” Accordingly, for Juwayni, the proper resolution to the disputing mujtahid couple would happen through some (unnamed) interpretive process; there was a right answer in principle, but because humans could not determine it with certainty as they could the coordinates of the Kaba on a map, functionally the correct answer was the product of

legal process.*8 In sum, Juwayni’s claim is not that the jurist’s conclusion has to be absolutely correct substantively; it is the process rather than the outcome by which Juwayni and others hold that “every mujtahidiscorrect.” In this way, importantly, Juwayni is able to claim both that there is a single right answer and that whatever conclusion the interpretive process yields becomes the right answer from the perspective of humanconstructed law.

2.2.

Rationalism vs. Traditionalism

To be sure, even when the Imams and expert mujtahids were indisputably alive and present, members of the scholarly communities in both the Sunni and Shiii contexts vigorously debated and vehemently disagreed on how best to follow religio-legal directives from the leadership.*? The debates resulted in splits into rationalist and traditionalist camps, one side appealing to reason to extract legal norms from foundational texts, the other aiming to restrict law to the text itself. In the Shi'i community, as Modarressi has pointed out, early rationalists insisted that the Imams encouraged rational deliberation on general precepts of law to lead to its particular details. Early traditionalists, by contrast, were adamant that adherence to religious law meant complete subservience to revelatory texts, as contained in the Qur’an and traditions recording instructions from the Prophet and the Imams.*° the Imam, these tendencies continued. Rationalist jurists After the disappearance of sought to resolve ambiguity through the interpretive process.*! Textualists however cautioned that people should avoid committing prohibited acts by avoiding all acts that the law potentially circumscribes, even though the actual laws may be unknown because of the lack of access to them through the Imam.** This was a conservative brand of textualism, where jurists subscribing to that brand of law opted to avoid . ch Meee “ 43, potential prohibitions, as the “safer path.”

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In the Sunni community, we see stark parallels. The extensive literature about the historical development of Sunni law reveals that it too contained strands of rationalist jurisprudence and traditionalist textualism. Strongly textualist Sunni jurists, found in the Hanbali and Zahiri schools, required text-based arguments for authenticity and certain arrival at the right answer.** Whereas the other Sunni schools aimed to resolve doubt through the interpretive process, textualists sought to preempt it by appealing to the authority of text.” These rationalist-traditionalist debates were largely disagreements about the scope of interpretive authority. In point of fact, both camps on each battlefield —Shii and Sunni alike—exercised significant discretion in interpretation. Both rationalists and traditionalists looked to expert mujtahids to explicate the law. The fifth/eleventh century saw the systematization ofjurisprudence and related theological matters. This was the age of the mujtahid. It was clear-cut and universally agreed upon that expert jurists could best provide guidance about the law. But what if the mujtahids disappeared? By most accounts, this would be a crisis of epic proportions. Without mujtahids, who then would guide the community on matters of law—whether acting on behalf of the Imams in the Shii context or otherwise in the Sunni context? For that reason, there was intense debate over whether a scenario contemplating the disappearance of all mujtahids was even possible.

3. Islamic Law without Jurists 3.1. Can Jurists Disappear? The foregoing discussion illustrates the centrality of jurists historically—at least to the Muslim jurisprudential mind—to providing community guidance. Within that mindset, the legal interpretative process appears of paramount importance within the community ofjurists. But then what if both the process and the jurists disappeared? The high stakes involved with this concern should be evident: for most jurists, it could mean the end oflaw itself.*° It was against the backdrop ofthis high-stakes debate that Juwayni took up this subject of longtime controversy: whether it was possible for God to ever leave the earth without jurists as guides. Ordinarily, the majority of Sunni jurists would have no objections, based on Ash‘ari tenets that declared that whatever God did was just and beyond evaluation by human rational criticism. By contrast, Mu'tazili doctrine—to which Juwayni subscribed—maintained that God’s justice was absolute, and could be understood according to rational ideals.” Accordingly, his premise when approaching this question stood on a rational basis: to leave people without guidance to know the law but require them to adhere to it would be to impose liability where there was no legal capacity to perform (taklif ma la yutag).*® This would be an injustice that many Muslims theologians had come to agree was per se against God’s nature.*” On that score, textualist jurists—who tended to be atheological if not Ash‘ari, and for whom the law was embodied in the text but required jurists to navigate its

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conflicts and explicate its meaning—rejected the possibility altogether. For them, an absence of jurists would mean the lack of any guide and would surely augur the end of times. Hanbalis, in particular, vigorously denied the possibility of an age without mujtahids,” backed—they asserted—by textual as well as rational arguments against the notion.”’ One of the main bases they called on for support was the prophetic pronouncement that “scholars are the heirs of the prophets,” meaning that they are to provide sure guidance after Muhammad.” Hanbalis read this as proof of the constant presence of scholars after the Prophet. Moreover, the “consensus on consensus” in the Sunni world is that conclusions reached through it give unassailable certainty. After all, the Prophet had assured the community that it “would never agree upon an error.” An absence of scholars to come to consensus on rulings would leave the community without an infallible guide, contrary to the Prophet’s assurances otherwise.

The very possibility of the jurists’ disappearance was therefore to be rejected. Rationally, too, Hanbalis argued that several factors suggested the constant presence of expert jurists. First, simply put, they held that, if ijrihdd is the means of determining the law, the absence of mujtahids would close off options for determining the appropriate laws for each new case.” (It would only be possible to comfortably imagine their absence if no new case would arise (an unlikely proposition in the extreme), meaning any case on which jurists had not already come to a consensus, such that Muslims could legitimately rely on the judgment of jurists past.) Second, they held it to be well settled that maintaining the law is a collective duty (fard kifaya); to aban-

don that duty would be the end of the community of Muslims.” Third, without legal guidance from jurists, people could not know, and thus observe, the most basic and fundamental duties and obligations that the law imposes. In short, the disappearance of mujtahids or their abandonment oftheir interpretive duties would leave laypeople to simply gwess at the correct rulings, which is no way to determine law.?° Without definitive legal rules, people would be free to do as they pleased; and, so far as Hanbalis were concerned, this meant that the people would surely compromise sharia and the rule of law completely.’ In some measure, Hanbalis were concerned with the same issue that faced the Shi‘a and every other Muslim group: the question ofleadership and interpretive authority. They settled on the notion that God would not leave any age without a guide on the crucial issue of how to conduct one’s daily affairs.”* That is, God himself would never make jurists disappear. In spite of all the Hanbali arguments to the contrary, Juwayni and his Shafi colleagues insisted not only that such a disappearance was possible, but that in some measure, it had already happened and, moreover, the world had not ended. Juwayni popularized the notion, and he was joined by his student Ghazali (d. 505/1111) as well as al-Qaffal al-Shashi (d. 507/11 13).? This line contin-

ued into the next century with prominent Shafi jurists Fakhr al-Din al-Razi (d. 606/1209), Sayf al-Din al-Amidi (d. 631/1233), and Rafi‘i (d. 623/1226). All

maintained the same point that jurists had a/ready disappeared,°? with some even

claiming consensus on the point.*! Yet, Juwayni insisted that jurists could certainly disappear, and arguably already had. Perhaps it was precisely because he and his colleagues could look to the systematization of the law and diffusion ofits

framework values by his time that Juwayni could declare his own obsolescence in the larger scheme of things.

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Against Hanbali objections, Shafi‘is asserted that the possibility and actuality of jurists found support in the texts. Several hadiths contemplated the disappearance of a time when Islam would become opaque, when people generally would be ignorant of religious matters, and when matters of religion would be easily forgotten. Moreover, the Prophet had portended that each successive age—the farther it got from him—would become farther from having a grasp of religious knowledge. The argument is not that these texts alone prove the point, but that the textual evidence to the contrary cancels out the Hanbalis’ attempt to make their argument against the possibility of jurists’ disappearance conclusive. For the other side to “win,” they would have the burden of proof of backing their position with some certain and clear statement.© On rational grounds, too, the talk about a collective duty to do lawmaking is merely that: duty, not performance. So long as the collective duty to develop legal knowledge was once performed—as it was—subsequent generations could take advantage of their predecessor mujtahids.°° And jurists could otherwise disappear.

3.2. When Jurists Disappear The two sides then are at an impasse, unable to agree on whether it is possible for mujtahids to disappear. In some ways, the question would seem to be moot. For Shafi‘is, the real debate was about the adept, perhaps all-knowing, ideal jurist—like

the Dworkinian Hercules.’ They presumed this type of expert jurist to have existed in the days of old, when the founders of the surviving schools lived, but maintained that the likes of those jurists existed no more.°’ Zarkashi intimated as much, when he suggested that the problem of disappearance was a nonissue so long as the reasonably competent, if not adept, jurist was available. One scholar made the point thus: even if the number of expert or even mid-level competent jurists had dwindled, the proper thing for the community to do would be to follow those who could at least transmit legal norms from the major schools of law.°? This made sense to Zarkashi, though he was of the opinion that he did not even need to concede that much. His way of approaching the matter of whether a disappearance was possible or had occurred was to sidestep it. If we grant that the late medieval period (the eighth/fourteenth century in which he wrote) had no more expert jurists, he would insist that there were still jurists who were experts within the four Sunni schools.” And Sunnis had come to consensus that these schools properly embodied the law and served as universal guides to action, such that any jtihdd must occur within the frameworks of these schools. In other words, as the precepts of the major schools had been laid down, jurists of limited capacity were enough to provide interpretive guidance as to the law. Thus, the absence of a jurist to exercise ijtihad outside the four walls of those four schools really had little functional impact.’! But to think the question moot, inconsequential, or meaningless would be a mistake. It still begged the question of what would be done if and when jurists— adept or limited—disappeared. In some ways, much of the debate and apology over the question of whether jurists would disappear precluded conversation about what would happen if and when they did.”

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For the important argument that considers matters beyond the threshold debates, we look to Juwayni, who does not disappoint. He carries the argument forward from the safe area (whether expert jurists would disappear) to one on extremely rocky ground (when expert and other jurists disappeared). In short, Juwayni maintained—with an elaborate hypothetical to prove it—that the complete disappearance ofjurists need not be the lead-in to Armageddon, and that the question was one worth asking to tackle deeper questions of law and interpretation. How was that possible? In answering this question, Juwayni forces the reader to contemplate just what, at a minimum, lies at the core of Islamic law and how far one may push its boundaries. Quite innovative then was his hypothetical in Ghiyathi, asking the tough question: What if a// jurists disappeared, expert and nonexpert? What would Islamic law look like then?

4. Legal Minimalism Recall that Cass Sunstein defined minimalist courts as tribunals that take small rather than large steps in deciding cases, bracketing the hardest questions and most divisive issues.’? But why should that be useful, and how is it of relevance to

Juwayni's treatment of the disappearance of mujtahids? A theory of minimalism is useful for its explanatory power of how decision making occurs in arenas where the emphasis, as in Islamic legal contexts (alongside modern democratic ones), is on process and the goal is to accommodate a plurality of views within a particular system framed by a known set of fundamental values. Minimalism has both procedural and substantive components.” Procedurally, for the American context about which Sunstein wrote, a minimalist court settles the case before it, but it leaves many things undecided, attentive to the “existence of reasonable disagreement in a heterogeneous society.”” This allows it to promote values of participation,

democratic deliberation, and institutional responsiveness, while providing space to accommodate new judgments about facts and values.’ Substantively, minimalists operate against an agreed-upon framework of fundamental values—accepting a “core’ of agreement about constitutional essentials.”’” For example, all American minimalists accept fundamental values laid out in the constitution, including protection of “broad rights to engage in political dissent; to be free from discrimination or mistreatment because of one’s religious convictions...to be ruled by laws that have a degree of clarity”; and the like.’* For Sunstein, the benefits of minimalism are primarily in the promotion of deliberation in a society that holds as its highest ideal a deliberative democracy infused with a certain set of substantive, agreed-upon values. In other words, ruling narrowly is the best way to promote the interests of rightsprotection and democratic deliberation, that is, allowing the community facing the

laws as wide a latitude as possible to resolve new issues as they arise.” Drawing on this general theory of minimalism (but leaving the type of gover-

nance open), we can see Juwayni take up the outlines of a type of minimalism in Islamic law as well as the question of the scope and method of interpretive or lawjurists. While he addressed making authority in considering the disappearance of

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the basic legal question in his jurisprudential works as other jurists did (after him), elsewhere he explored and developed the concept to its logical conclusion as other jurists had not. Specifically, Juwayni’s Ghiyath al-umam fi iltiyath al-zulam—or Ghiyathi, as the book was popularly known—contains a surprising and deeply probing thought experiment on minimalism. Broadly intended as a work on the imamate or political theory in the Sunni tradition, Juwayni penned the book for his Seljuk vizier and patron, Nizam al-Mulk. In the final third of the work, he contemplates the famous question of the disappearance ofjurists.*? This question is an enormously thoughtprovoking exercise in moral imagination. It is an extremely interesting question

precisely because, as we have been discussing, it implicates the themes relevant to core questions in the Islamic legal tradition: namely the scope of human lawmaking authority and whether there is one right answer. It also draws us back full circle to the question of what a Sunstein-type minimalist legal system may look like, which Juwayni contemplates by supposing that jurists are absent—leaving us to wonder whether and how the remaining system that excludes the jurists normally so central to Islamic legal process can nevertheless be Islamic in character. That is, what does Islamic legal minimalism look like?

4.1 Substantive Minimalism Juwayni contemplates not only the loss of mujtahids, who have the ability to do incremental lawmaking—that is, to derive or discover legal rules through interpretation—but also legal scholars of more limited capacity who merely have the ability to access rules enunciated in the main schools of law (i.e., ndgila al-madhahib).®' In other words, in his hypothetical, Islamic law as we know it is gone, and all that

remains are the general principles oflaw (gawd id al-shar )— reflecting core and fundamental values. These values, Juwayni tells us, can surely be known. They are “precise, limited, enumerable, and bounded,” and contained in well-known Quranic

and Sunnaic texts.*? Just what are the fundamental values? One would expect them to include Islamic law’s five “universal” values or legal maxims (qawdid kulliyya), of which Juwayni is well aware. These had been articulated and employed regularly throughout the earlier legal literature.*? Four of them—to which the fifth was later added—had also been gathered into a single volume by a contemporary fellow Shafi‘ jurist, Qadi Husayn (d. 462/1069):84

. Harm is to be removed: al-darar yuzal, . Customs determines the legal disposition [ofacase]: al-ada muhakkima,

. Hardship brings about facilitation: a/-mashaqqa tajlibu al-taysir, . Certainty is not superseded by doubt: al-yaqin la yazilu bil-shakk, and hb- Acts are to be judged according to their intended purposes: al-umir bi-maqaOG BR WM sidiha.® Indeed, in Ghiyathi, Juwayni implicitly or explicitly refers to these and other maxims quite often.*° But Juwayni does not believe them to fully cover the set of Islamic

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law’s fundamental values, seeing them as more extensive than this short list. He also refers to Islam’s “five pillars” (declaring belief in God and the prophethood of Muhammad, praying, paying zakat, fasting, and performing the Aajj pilgrimage) as practices that he expects to be retained in the general collective memory of Muslims as fundamental.*” And yet, he means something more than this short list of maxims

combined with the five pillars. This much is clear from the examples Juwayni cites of instances where Islamic law would operate with the type of minimalism he espouses without jurists. Such cases propose how one might draw on those core principles to

produce a legal rule (and the “right answer”), the absence of jurists notwithstanding. One of the most interesting scenarios he raises concerns the permissibility of eating carrion—normally prohibited—when a Muslim finds him- or herselfin dire straits.** Not so interesting is that it is permitted out of necessity if the choice is

between that and death.*? For jurists have long maintained and repeated the maxim that carrion is only permitted “out of necessity,” where necessity is clearly defined as the risk of death.” The more interesting question becomes, how much may such a person eat in such circumstances? Should that person eat only enough to satiate his most extreme hunger and no more, or have his fill? Some commentators on the question suppose that a specific Quranic prohibition, such as “don’t eat carrion,”' requires narrow construction in every instance, such

that a starving person may eat only so much as is necessary to curb the most extreme hunger.” But there are other balancing interests here, Juwayni asserts: food and

satiation beyond near-death gives sustenance and ability to uphold other [societal] responsibilities, such as production of goods, agriculture, earning a living, building, protecting against enemy armies, etc.’ Thus, rather than eating only enough to avoid death, which would apply an expanded notion of the general prohibition on carrion, the law should be more minimalist than that. When taking stock of the substantive fundamental values that the law promotes, a law even without jurists

should make clear that a person in dire straits should feel free to eat as much carrion as needed to live the good life in the society in which he finds himself. Necessity in this sense applies to an entire people with societal well-being in mind (bi-haqq al-nas kaffatan), rather than broadly imposing its more limited meaning supposed in the starving man hypothetical as individual dire need (fi hagq al-wahid al-mudtarr).”* f the individual were to fail to address the necessity and eat the carrion, he would die; likewise, if people (in a community) were not to address their needs and reasonably

count them as necessities communally, society itself would die.” Granted, Juwayni admits, “necessity” can then seem to become somewhat of an unwieldy and highly ambiguous term.”° But the fundamentals of it are known and the common sense notion should pass on in the general community even in the absence of amujtahid. That is, even common sense would reveal that necessity does not mean desire; rather, it refers to whatever it takes for people as a society to avoid

communal harm and live the good life with robustness.”’ For a technical definition,

Juwayni offers this: necessity includes the things that if people were to abandon would lead to harm in their personal or material well-being, harm meaning some plain corrupting force (fasdd) or weakness that impedes basic living.”® One might object that this sort of thinking, on the one hand, would generalize the illegal as a way oflife—thereby taking a community outside of any Islamic character.” On the other hand, one might object that something necessary is not

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illegal inasmuch as necessity offers a dispensation for ordinarily illegal acts.\0" In response, Juwayni would say that both of these are false problems. His hypothetical contemplates the rare situation where one principle should be sacrificed (prohibition

on eating carrion) for more fundamental ones (the sanctity of individual and com-

munity life). He does so as a way of making a point about what Islam's core values are and what they require, not to suggest that all values need be abandoned.'”! In other words, there is no Islamic legal ruling of blanket prohibition that requires limitation on how much carrion a person may eat when forced by circumstance. To the contrary, the permission to eat liberally is validated by Islamic legal principles of necessity governing the community level. Those are the better principles to adopt than restrictive rules on individuals, because the more permissive communal rules better uphold fundamental Islamic values when looking at issues of Islamic law and society in big-picture terms. Such views end up rendering law’s prohibitions more minimalist than expansive. In short, the fundamental values are the core principles—outside of the belief in the oneness of God and the prophethood of Muhammad—that make a community Muslim. These are the substantive values ofIslamic legal minimalism.

4.2. Procedural Minimalism The Islamic legal framework includes procedural minimalism

as well. All of

Juwayni’s points about whether there was a single right answer expressed the theoretical basis underlying Islam’s distinctive system of legal pluralism: the multiple, but equally authoritative opinions that had characterized Islamic law for some

time.’ Early judges in dispersed regions, or those simply applying varied methodologies within the same region, frequently arrived at different but equally valid

conclusions.'° Regional and confessional groups came to have distinct interpretive traditions.'°* And varied interpretive communities represented by Aba Hanifa,

Shafi, and other so-called founders gradually coalesced into four main Sunni schools and one principal Shii school of law.’ This heterogeneous society of jurists required its members, as one scholar expressed it, to possess “the ability to countenance the plurality of equally authoritative legal interpretations.”!°° Expanding on this, jurists of the period immediately following Juwayni explained

that Islamic law falls into two categories—clearly established rules and debatable ones.'"” “Clearly established rules” are norms so widespread that they can be presumed to be a matter of common knowledge in a given society or legal regime.!°8 In his jurisprudential writings, Juwayni referred to a small amount of very clear texts that required no interpretation.’ In the Ghiyathi, he may also have had a societal clarity requirement (in the collective knowledge of the community) as a criterion for his mention of core values discussed under the rubric of substantive minimalism. “Debatable rules” refer to the detailed technical rules that have been the subject of juristic debate and which comprise most of Islamic law. “Only astute jurists can discern these rules,” one jurist explains; and even then, they often disagree.'!? As Juwayni intimates,''’ Sunni Muslim jurists have always acknowledged the probabilistic nature of their interpretive endeavor and tried to account for it in various

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ways.''” Thus, in criminal law, for example, they used the doctrine of legal doubt (shubha) to impose a high burden of clarity before attaching criminal liability.!" When faced with a novel criminal case, where jurists disagreed on the legal rulings, they had to acknowledge that each school’s rules were only probably correct; divergent opinions—though not necessarily incorrect—should not be used to give rise to harsh criminal liability. After all, Qarafi asked, should not jurists conclude that a matter is unclear when their own colleagues find difficulty in interpreting (and agreeing on) the law?!"* In other words, if even jurists could reasonably disagree about the substance of the law, then “ignorance is an excuse (for the layperson)” that will remove liability.' Even small measures of doubt or ambiguity to jurists, including their valid interpretations, imposed a rule of nonliability for the average person.!"° Thus, when it came to debatable rules, which made up the lion’s share of Islamic law, Juwayni’s students and most other Sunni jurists followed what we might call a type of procedural minimalism.

5. Conclusion: On Maximalism Despite declaring Islamic law’s fundamental values “precise, limited, enumerable,

and bounded,” Juwayni does not actually identify or provide a general theory of them.'”” Instead, he proceeds to explicate them by way of examples like the carrion scenario, mentioning general maxims and principles along the way. Yet, it is clear that he does not have a maximalist vision of law in mind—one that would presume to do lawmaking only through appeal to some set of substantive values or else without respect to any such values, instead paying attention only to the text. In trying to get at his definition of core substantive values and minimalist procedure that exemplify what his version of minimalism is, it may be well worth it

to identify some of the caveats of what minimalism is vot. Minimalism is not maslaha-based reasoning with respect to the five universal

maxims or other unwieldy principles, as some modernists have proposed based on Ghazili’s elaborations of the objectives of Islamic law (magasid al-shari‘a)— which they typically explore in the context of the famous Maliki jurist Shacibi's (d. 790/1388) writings. Here, we must recall Juwayni’s emphasis on interpretive process

as a sine qua non for arriving at the right answer. This seems to suggest that, for him, citing broad rules is not to engage in legal interpretation at all, for it leaves little rational or conventional basis on which one outcome can in principle be distinguished from another. That is, anyone can cite the universal maxim “no harm,” assert that “harm” has occurred, then use that as a trump card to do as they please. As such, a veritable lack of procedure would maximize the extent to which one party could claim certain entitlements, leaving no recourse to the other party. It would also preclude any sort of process by which the interpretive community—albeit without jurists—could come to agree on the proper rule in certain instances.'" Minimalism is also not the type of textualist jurisprudence that says that there is a rule for everything and it is located in the text. Were it so, the absence of mujtahids and the texts to which they have access would functionally mean the end of Islamic

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law, given the paucity of clear statement rules. Moreover, locating a rule for every occasion in the text—as textualist jurists would urge—results in being procedurally maximatlist. Rather than substantive value-informed default rules like the one constraining jurists from enforcing punishment in cases of doubt, jurists would have to search for

and apply a clear textual rule for every occasion.'? In other words, on a textualist view of the law, jurists would have to still engage in some process of interpretation in full view of the texts. They would advise refraining from action altogether in cases of doubt, or else presume liability and prohibition, rather than the opposite. Making such assumptions global, with the absence of jurists, would result in universal constraints on a very wide range of action—a maximalist view of law as text. Finally, despite the absence ofjurists, minimalism in Juwayni’s hypothetical is not completely unhinged from its Islamic roots. On his conception, minimalist values and procedures alike should appeal to at least some echo of the rich Islamic tradition to claim some sort of distinctive Islamic identity. Juawayni compares this scenario to an island community that has received the basic message of Islam, but none of its details of law; in that case, there would be decreased moral responsibility, commensurate with the extent to which they understood the law (not necessarily the extent to which they could reason their way through it).!*° Juwayni deferred liberally to reason, but insisted that not all values or laws could be known through reason alone.’”! In this way, Juwayni is able still to maintain that there is a single right answer, even when jurists disappear. Consonant with his idea of jurisprudence in their presence, the right answer is the best legal rule with appeal to core values (substantive minimalism), and it is the answer that privileges common-sense and tradition-informed values over excessive or detailed textualism (procedural mini-

malism). All that said, the question he leaves open still is what precisely makes the minimalist list. It also raises the question as to the role of culture in the community’s memory and whether that list thus changes over time and place. In some ways, Juwayni has proposed that to construct such a scenario might be a crisis for some jurists, but an opportunity for others to explore.!?”

Notes * Sincere and abiding appreciation to Professor Hossein Modarressi for his stellar teaching and mentorship, and for sparking the idea for this project, among many others, during conversations while I was his graduate student at Princeton, and for generously helping in its development over the years. Kind thanks also to Professor Roy Mottahedeh for the opportunity to present a version of this paper at the 2011 conference on Good Governance at Harvard University, and for his rich commentary and encouragement, which have been of enormous benefit.

1. Hossein Modarressi, Crisis and Consolidation in the Formative Period of Shi'ite Islam (Princeton, NJ: Darwin Press, 1993), to

. See Modarressi, Crisis, 29.

3. For the early development of this doctrine, see Muhammad Qasim Zaman, Religion and Politics under the Early ‘Abbasids: The Emergence of the Proto-Sunni Elite (Leiden: Brill, 1997).

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4, For an example of the use of these Aadiths, which Sunnis regularly cited to bolster the legitimacy and authority of scholarly consensus as a locus of certainty and guidance for the community, see below, notes 52-53. - See Modarressi, Crisis, 92-98, 101-102 (discussing the four agents of the eleventh and twelfth Imam—the last one having died in 329/941 without naming a successor), esp. 97—98 (on the effects of the continuing absence), 101-102. (“It was, possibly, not until after 295/908, when the community started to realize that the situation was more unusual than they had originally thought and that possibly there would not be a manifest Imam for the foreseeable future, that the question of the number of Imams came under serious consideration.”).

- As Modarressi notes, Kulayni and other traditionists initiated the consolidation through locating Aadiths to support the doctrines related to the twelfth Imam. Modarressi, Crisis, 102 (citing Kulayni, Aa@ff and other monographs on the Imamate and occultation [ghayba]). It was not until al-Shaykh al-Mufid (d. 413/1022), al-Sharif al-Murtada (d. 436/1044), and al-Shaykh al-Tasi (d. 460/1067), that the Shi7 community laid the

groundwork for the rationalist jurisprudence and theology that would come to provide the firmer jurisprudential and theological moorings for and characterize Shi‘ism over the long term. See Hossein Modarressi, Jntroduction to Shit Law, 7: A Bibliographical Study (London: Ithaca Press, 1984). See Wilferd Madelung, Authority in Twelver Shiism in the Absence of the Imam, in La notion d‘authorité au Moyen Age: Islam, Byzance, Occident, ed. G. Makdisi et al., Colloques internationaux de la Napoule, 1978 (Paris, 1982), 163-73, 168; Wilferd Madelung, “A Treatise of the Sharif al-Murtada on the Legality of Working for the Government (Masala fi *l‘amal mda ’l-sultan),” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 43 (1980), 18-31.

. Juwayni was the leading Shafii of his time, and toward the end of his life of teaching and travels in Baghdad and Mecca, he returned to his hometown of Nishapir, where the powerful vizier Nizam al-Mulk built the Madrasa Nizamiyya and appointed him its head. See Khayr al-Din al-Zirikli, A‘/ém (Beirut: Dar al-Tlm li’ |-Malayin, 1986),

4:160. . See Imam al-Haramayn al-Juwayni (d. 478/1085), Ghiyath al-umam fi iltiyath alzulam, ed. Khalil al-Mansir (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 1997). . Cass Sunstein, One Case at a Time: Judicial Minimalism at the Supreme Court (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999). . Ibid., ix.

. Ibid. (“Anglo-American courts often take small rather than large steps, bracketing the hardest questions and the most divisive issues.”). . This recalls Supreme Court language familiar in the American context from the Supreme Court case, Marbury v. Madison, 5 U.S. (1 Cranch) 137, 177 (1803), describ-

ing the Judicial Power of federal courts. For further parallels and discussions authority, see Chibli Mallat, The Renewal of Islamic Law (Cambridge, MA: University Press, 1993); and my “We the Jurists: Islamic Constitutionalism University of Pennsylvania Journal of Constitutional Law 10 (2008), 527, 542. 14. For contemporary discussions and opposing points of view in common law systems, compare Ronald Dworkin, Law's Empire (Cambridge, MA:

of juristic Harvard in Iraq,”

and civil Harvard

University Press, 1986) [right answer thesis] with Mirjan Damaska, “A Comparative

Lawyer in an American Law School: Trials and Tribulations of Adjustment,” University of Pennsylvania Law Review 116 (1968), 1363 {no right answer}. For insightful reflections on this theme, see James Q. Whitman, “No Right Answer,” in Crime, Procedure and Evidence in a Comparative and International Context: Essays in Honour of Professor

160

InTIsAR A. RABB Mirjan Damaska, ed. John Jackson, Maximo Langer, and Peter Tillers (Oxford: Hart, 2008), 371-92.

15; Juwayni, al-Burhan fi usiil al-figh, ed. ‘Abd al-‘Azim Mahmiad al-Dib, 4th ed. (Mansara: Dar al-Wafa’, 1997), 2:859 ([Hal] al-mujtahid[uJn fi ’l-magninat wa-abkam al-sharia musib[in ‘ala ’l-itlag am al-musib minhum wabid?). 16. Juwayni distinguishes “matters of interpretation (mazgnindt)” as the proper scope of

the question at hand from matters that do not permit interpretation, that is, categorical truths and matters of belief (‘agliyyat, qawd‘id al-‘aq@id), by which he and other scholars distinguish Muslims from non-Muslims. Juwayni, Burhan, 2:860. Specifically, he was contesting the views of ‘Ubayd Allah al-“Anbari (d. 168/785)—and, later, the great litterateur-theologian Jahiz (d. 255/869)—who infamously maintained that there was no right answer (that is, that every mujtahid is correct) even on matters of belief. See Fakhr al-Din al-Razi, al-Mahsil fi ilm usul al-figh, ed. Taha Jabir Fayyad al-Alwani (Riyadh: Jami ‘at al-Imam Muhammad b. Sa’iis al-Islamiyya, 1979-1981), 3:41-42. 1 Juwayni, Burhan, 2:870. 18. Paradoxically, the “no right answer” camp (alladhina gala bi'l-taswib), were called the musawwiba, from “correct,” to signal that every mujtahid is correct. Their opponents were the mukhattia, from “mistaken,” to refer to those who admitted the possibility of mistakes (though they, too, believe in a single right answer). See, for example, Aba Hamid al-Ghazali (d. 505/111), al-Mustasfa min ‘ilm al-usil, ed. Ibrahim Muhammad

Ramadan (Beirut: Dar al-Arqam, n.d.), 2:250. ug) Juwayni, Burhan, 2:860 (kull mujtahid musib). AY), Ibid. Zi See ibid. (calling adherents of this position extremists [ghu/at] and close to disbelief [zandaqa)). Dok Ibid. Mok For Sunni Aadith compilations, see, inter alia, Bukhari, Sahih, chapter on itisém: nos.

31, 30; Muslim, Sahih, chapter on agdiya: no, 15. For the discussions in the legal literature, see, for example Juwayni, Waraqdt, in Ibn Hasan Al Salman, al-Tahgigat wa'ltanqihat al-salafiyyat ‘ala matn al-Waragat ma‘a ‘l-tanbihat ‘ala masailal-muhimmat (Abu Dhabi: Dar al-Imam Malik, 2005), 671; Ghazali, Mustasfa, 2:250-51;

2:581,

579-85 (quoting, alongside this hadith, Quranic verses 21:78, 4:83, and 35:3, and consensus, for further support of his position). 24, Juwayni, Burhan, 2:860. In this context, the “extremists” are those who maintain that the mistaken jurist has sinned in getting the answer wrong and is therefore morally liable and subject to punishment. P5y See ibid., 2:865 (maintaining that every contingency has an Islamic legal ruling: /é takhli wagia‘an hukm Allah). 26. In this context, the proper process means that, where the jurist faces a novel legal question, he or she is to search the foundational texts (Qur'an and Sunna first, then matters of consensus), and if unable to find a clear answer there, is to look to the general prin-

ciples embodied by the foundational legal texts and norms (gawd‘id al-shara) in efforts to find and extract an answer from similar cases and precedents (yarlub shibhan). The jurist is to proceed with the premise that there are in fact similar cases or precedents and engage the interpretive process in search of them. Ibid., 2:864.

Lil Ibid. 28 . Ibid. PAS), Ibid., 2:870. This was a matter of intense debate in early Mu'tazili circles, and taken up

as central in Shii law, though other jurists took it up as well. For a discussion, see Josef van Ess, Theologie und Gesellschaft im 2. und 3. Jahrhundert Hidschra: Eine Geschichte

des Religiésen Denkens im Friihen Islam (Berlin; New York: de Gruyter, 1991-1997),

IsLAMIc LEGAL MINIMALISM 30. ol S2. 33:

34,

35. 36, on.

38.

161

Ibid. Ibid. (ithbat al-khira).

Ibid. (yunagid wad‘ al-shari‘a ‘ala ’l-qat'). This is, incidentally, the ShiT position—backed, however, by the promise of infallibility of the Imams and/or a more rationalist jurisprudence. See Roy Mottahedeh, trans., Lessons in Islamic Jurisprudence of Duris fi ‘ilm al-usil by Muhammad Baqir al-Sadr (Oxford: Oneworld, 2003), 58-62 (on /ujjiyyar al-qat ox ‘ilm). Hallaq defines this as “a fairly non-technical term indicating something like ‘more or most likely.” Wael Hallaq, Authority, Continuity, and Change in Islamic Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 155. Juwayni, Burhan, 2:870. Ibid., 2:864. Cf. Aron Zysow, The Economy of Certainty:AnIntroduction to the Typology of Islamic Legal Theory (unpublished PhD dissertation: Harvard, 1984), 90-91, 459-462. Juwayni, Burhan, 2:870 (suggesting that if the goal of the interpretive process were an unknown and unknowable ideal, as the no-right-answer camp maintains, the requirement to perform it would be meaningless; it would itself amount to liability without the capacity for performance). In this context, the question about law’s scope and the meaning of minimalism is different from the issues Jonathan Brown raises in his article, “Is the Devil in the Details?:

Tension between Minimalism and Comprehensiveness in Shariah,” Journal of Religious Ethics 39, 3 (2011), 458-72, which contrasts minimalism with comprehensiveness in

the context of modernist scholars’ challenges to the notion that Islamic law has a rule for every occasion. Be That is, prior to the third/ninth century, at which point the Minor and Major Occultations began in the Shi context, and after the fifth/eleventh century, at which

time Sunni jurists like Juwayni would claim that the expert jurists had all disappeared (i.e., after the founding and consolidation of the major schools oflaw, also around the

third/ninth—fourth/tenth centuries). See below notes 59—61 and accompanying text. 40. On rationalist, traditionalist, and intermediate tendencies from the second/eighth through early fourth/tenth centuries, see Hossein Modarressi, [ntroduction to Shii Law

(London:

Ithaca Press,

1984), 26-35.

See also Modarressi,

“Rationalism

and

Traditionalism in Shi‘i Jurisprudence: A Preliminary Survey,” Studia Islamica 59 (1984), 141-58. 41. See, for example, Bihbahani (d. 1206/1791-2), al-Rasd@'il al-ustiliyya (Qum: Muassasat al-‘Allama al-Mujaddid al-Wahid al-Bihbahani,

1416/[1996]), 349-50, 353-54, and

Murtada al-Ansari (d. 1281/1864), al-Rasd@’il al-jadida wa’lfaraid al-haditha, ed. ‘Ali al-Mishkini al-Ardabili (Qum: n.p., 1390/[1971]), 151-69. 42. See, for example, Muhammad Amin al-Astarabadi (d. 1036/1626-7), al-Fawdid alMadaniyya (Qum: Muassasat al-Nashr al-Islami, 1424/{2003]), 326. jurists in 43. James Whitman uses this phrase to refer to conclusions of a community of out precaution of measures similar took who time, same the around Europe, Christian of fear of getting the “wrong” answer and thereby putting their souls—unsafely—at risk. See James Q. Whitman, The Origins of Reasonable Doubt: Theological Roots of the Criminal Trial (New Haven; London: Yale University Press, 2008), 116-17, 180,

189-202. 44, On Hanbalis, see generally George Makdisi, “Hanbalite Islam,” in Studies on Islam, ed. M. L. Swarz (New York & Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981), 215-73; Wahba al-Zuhayli, al-Figh al-Hanbali al-muyassar (Damascus; Beirut: Dar al-Qalam; al-Dar al-Shamiyya, 1997). On Zahiris, see Devin Stewart, “Muhammad b. Dawad al-Zahiri’s Manual of Jurisprudence,” in Studies in Islamic Legal Theory, ed. Bernard

Weiss (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 99-160; ‘Arif Khalil Muhammad Aba ‘Id, /mam Dawid

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al-Zahiri wa-atharuh fi'l-figh al-Islami (Kuwait: Dar al-Arqam, 1984). For an overview of the rationalist schools, see generally Subhi Mahmasani, Falsafat al-tashri‘ fi ‘l-Islam, 5th ed. (Beirut; Dar al-‘Ilm li’l-Malayin, 1980) (Orig. ed. 1946].

45, For an example in the Islamic criminal law context, see my “Legal Maxims as Substantive Canons of Construction,” Jslamic Law and Society 17 (2010), 63-125.

46, Bernard Weiss notes the implications of the debate, which is of “great theoretical importance,” in the context of our question of disappearance ofjurists and as it applies to multiple, conflicting opinions at which jurists might arrive. See Weiss, The Search for God’s Law (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1992), 698, 723. 47. For an outline of the five tenets of the mainstream (Basran) Muttazili tradition, see Mankdim Shashdiw (d. 425/1034), Tdliq (ala) sharh al-Usul al-khamsa, ed. ‘Abd al-Karim ‘Uthman (Cairo: Maktabat Wahba, 1965) (published as ‘Abd al-Jabbar b.

Ahmad [d. 415/1025], Sharh al-Usil al-khamsa, as clarified by D. Gimaret in “Les usiil al-hamsa du Qadi ‘Abd al-Gabbar et leurs commentaires,” Annales Islamologiques 15 [1979], 47-96, 49). For standard treatments of Islamic theology, contrasting Mutazili with Ash‘ari and other views, see generally Tilman Nagel, Geschichte der islamischen Theologie (Eng. trans.: The History of Islamic Theology, trans. Thomas Thornton (Princeton, NJ: Markus Wiener Publishers, 2000]); van Ess, Theologie und Gesellschaft. . See Juwayni, Burhan, 2:863.

. Ibid. . See, e.g., Ibn ‘Ail (d. 513/1119), al-Wadihfi usal al-figh, ed. George Makdisi (Beirut; Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag Berlin, 1996-2002), 2:453. . Ibid., 2:453-56. . Ibid., 4:453 (quoting the hadith that “al-ulama@ warithat al-anbiya”). For additional arguments attributed to Hanbalis to support this position, see Sayf al-Din al-Amidi (d. 631/1233), al-Ibkamfi usil al-abkam, ed. Ibrahim al-Ajuz (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 1985).

. . . . .

Ibn ‘Agil, Wadih, 4:453 (ummati la tajtami ‘ala dalala). Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. See Badr al-Din al-Zarkashi (d. 794/1392), al-Bahr al-muhitfi usal al-figh, ed. ‘Abd al-Qadir ‘Abd Allah al‘Ani (Kuwait: Wizarat al-Awqaf wa’l-Shu’in al-Islamiyya, 1992), 6:208 (summarizing the Hanbali argument as follows: if God removed jurists, “that would obliterate legal liability (aw akhla zamanan min qd@im bi-hujja zdla ‘Ltaklif), which can only be established by clear statements of law; [that would amount to] removing legal liability and rendering shar7a a nullity.”). 58. Ibid. (gam bi'l bujjat amr ‘azim). One expects that Zahiris would have fully agreed though the issue did not arise for them with as much consequence. Ibn Hazm was, after all, against the entire notion of following a mujtahid (taglid) in the first place. See ‘Ali b. Ahmad Ibn Hazm, al-Ibkamfi usiil al-ahkam (Egypt: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 1968), 8:588. Moreover, he held that there was one right answer contained in the texts of revelation and that a legal agent could only act when he or she knew that answer with certainty. Ibid., 8:588, 589-90 (defining certainty as the agent being absolutely convinced of his opinion through appropriate textual indicants). Ds On Qaffal, see Zarkashi, a/-Babr al-muhit, 6:208 (quoting his Hilyat al-‘ulama’). See also the commentary in Fawatih al-rahamat bi-sharh Musallam al-thubut, in Ghazali, Mustasfa 2:641—-43. 60. See Zarkashi, al-Bahr al-muhit, 6:207 (noting that Rafi'i had perhaps adopted that position from Razi or Ghazali). Later scholars, such as Zarkashi, Taj al-Din al-Subki,

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and Jalal al-Din al-Mahalli adopt the basic stance that disappearance is certainly possible, but prefer to maintain that it has not yet occurred. See Zarkashi, al-Babr almuhit, 6:207; see also Jalal al-Din Muhammad b. Ahmad al-Mahalli (d. 864/1459),

al-Badr al-tali‘ fi hall Jam‘ al-jawami‘ by Taj al-Din al-Subki (d, 71/1370) (Beirut: Murassasat al-Risala, 2005), 2:403—404,

6l. The Hanbali position of course contradicts the claim of consensus, as does a Shafi‘

position identifying known mujtahids at the time their absence was claimed. See Zarkashi, al-Babr al-muhit, 6:207 (naming, inter alia, Ibn ‘Abd al-Salam and Ibn Dagqiq al-‘Id).

62. For a list of five such hadiths, see al-Amidi, Jhkam, 4:456. . Ibid. 64. Ibid. That is, whenever texts conflict in this way it means that the textual tradition writ large tolerates the perspectives on both sides, and neither side has a conclusive proof. Cf. Weiss, The Search for God’s Law, 724. . Amidi, /pkam, 4:455. Interestingly, he uses an evidentiary maxim to assert this point— that the claimant asserting anything other than the status quo (assuming his position to be that of the status quo) has the burden of proof and persuasion (wa-‘ala mudda‘ih bayanuh). For a similar position (without the maxim), see commentary in Fawatih alrabamuat, in Ghazali, Mustasfa, 2:643. . Amidi, Ihkam, 4:455. . See Dworkin, Law’s Empire, 337-50. . Zarkashi, al-Bahr al-muhit, 6:207. . Ibid., 6:208 (quoting Ibn Dagigq al-‘Id [the second], ‘Ali b. Wahb b. Muti’, in Talgih al-afham). . Ibid. Jurists generally required the expert jurist (mujtahid mutlag) to embody qualities of knowing intimate familiarity with the legal verses of the Qur'an and the legal content of the Sunna, alongside knowledge of hadith and hadith criticism, mastery of the Arabic language, skill at rule-derivation through interpretive processes (for example, analogical reasoning), theological precepts, and in some cases, personal piety. For Juwayni’s list of six requirements for expert mujtahids, contrasted with the definition of a limited mujtahid as a jurist within a particular school (mujtahid fi 'l-madhhab or naqalat al-madhhab) who was merely adept at the rules and interpretive processes of a particular school, see Juwayni, Ghiyathi, 177-78. For other lists of mujtahid qualifications, see Ghazali, Mustasfa, 2:510; Razi, Mahsul, 3:30-36; Amidi, Jhkam, 445; Zarkashi, al-Babr al-muhit, 6:199-204; Subki, Jam’ al-jawami’, in Mahalli, al-Badr al-tali’, 2:384. Cf. Wael Hallaq, A History of Islamic Legal Theories: An Introduction to Sunni usul-al-figh (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 117-18; Hallaq, Authority, 1-23, 82. Zarkashi, al-Bahr al-muhit, 6:209. 7, 2. That is, beyond declaring it the mere end oftimes, as Hanbalis did. Some Shafi'is were of this opinion as well, such as Ibn Dagiq al-Id. See ibid., 6:208. tee Sunstein, Judicial Minimalism, x; for examples, see 3-23. 74, Ibid. Wey Ibid., ix; see also 3-23 (on procedure), 61-72 (on substance). 76. Ibid., x. He notes that courts of this description admit of characterizations as “judicial restraint” and non-“activist” in the sense that they do not seek to impose broad rules that would draw much democratically enacted legislation into question; but that they nevertheless do not shy away from invalidating legislation where clearly against fundamental texts. We Ibid. (i.e., accepting a “‘core’ of agreement about constitutional essentials”). 78. Ibid. 7 Ibid., x, xiv, 24—45.

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Ghiyathi, 39766. (fi khuluww al-zaman ‘an al-mujtahidin wa-naqalat al-madhahib). The book is divided into three parts. In the first part (on the imamate: fi’L-imama), he discusses the imamate and qualities and duties of the imam; in the second part (on the disappearance of political leaders: fi khuluww al-zaman an al-dimma wa’l-wulat) he contemplates the disappearance of rulers and governors. 81. Ibid., 429ff. 82. Ibid., 240 (calling them mazbiata, mahsira, maduda, mahduda). 83. For the general argument that core legal maxims were articulated early on—as early as the first/seventh and second/eighth centuries—and thus well settled by the time they were “codified” or named maxims in later legal literature, see my “Islamic Legal 80. Juwayni,

Maxims,” 63-125.

84. See Jalal al-Din al-Suyati, a/-Ashbah wa’l-nazd@ir, ed. Muhammad al-Mutasim bi’llah al-Baghdadi (Beirut: Dar al-Kitab al-“Arabi, 1998), 7. Qadi Husayn’s compilation sig-

nals the diffusion of those four maxims during Juwayni’s time and before. 85. These five maxims were well known in both Sunni and Shiii contexts, in all schools.

See, for example, Maqgqari (d. 758/1357), al-Qawdiid, ed. Ahmad b. ‘Abd Allah b. Hamid (Mecca: Jami‘at Umm

al-Qura, 198-) 212; Miqdad al-Suyari (d. 826/1423),

Nadad-Qawa‘id al-fighiyya, ed. ‘Abd al-Latif al-Kahkamari et al. (Qum: Maktabat Ayat Allah al-‘Uzma al-Mar‘ashi, 1403/1982-3), 90-114; Suyati (d. 911/1505), Ashdah, 35, 201, 299, 337; Ibn Nujaym (d. 970/1563), al-Ashbah wa’l-naza@ir,ed. Muhammad Muti al-Hafiz (Damascus: Dar al-Fikr, 1983), 1:17-19. 86. For instance, see Juwayni, Ghiydthi, 438, 439, 442, passim (frequent reference to the “doubt” maxim); 446 (for the “facilitation” maxim); 447, 454 (for the principle that

.

. .

. .

.

imposing rules of obligation or worship requires explicit texts), 443 (generally: nazaran ila ’l-qawdid al-kulliyya). Ibid., 240 (usil al-sharia). Ibid., Ghiyathi, 218. He discusses this scenario elsewhere in the one-right-answer debates. See Juwayni, Burhan, 2:861 (noting the agreed-upon rule that carrion is prohibited bur it can be legal when a person in dire straits must eat it to survive; he thus claims the entitlement to do so out ofa claim of necessity). Juwayni, Ghiyathi, 218. See Quran, 5:3 (burrimat‘alaykum al-mayta...). Juwayni, Burhan, 2:861 (gadar al-hdja).

. Juwayni, Ghiyathi, 218. . Ibid., 218. . Ibid., 219.

. Ibid. (mubhama la yazbut fiha qawl). . Ibid. - Ibid., 219-20. Specific examples include food, medicine (even if technically illegal), and the like.

- Ibid., 220 (noting that this would be the end of the principle to perform obligations, indeed of upholding Islamic law itself).

. Ibid. . Ibid., 219,

. See notes 28 and 106 and accompanying text. - For examples, see Waki‘ (d. 306/917), Akhbar al-qudat, ed. Said Muhammad al-Lahham

(Beirut: ‘Alam al-Kutub, 2001), 357-415 (interpretive differences between Shurayh and other judges), 575-82 (Ibn Abi Layla’s differences with Ibn Shubruma, Aba Hanifa),

586-601 (Sharik), 650-57 (Aba Yusuf).

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104. See, for example, Harald Motzki, Die Anfinge der Islamischen Jurisprudeng (Stuttgart;

Leiden: Brill, 1997); trans. (Eng.), Marion Katz, The Origins of Islamic Jurisprudence:

Meccan Figh Before the Classical Schools (Leiden: Brill, 2001) (on the Meccan School);

Yasin Dutton, Original Islam: Malik and the Madhhab ofMadina (London; New York: Routledge, 2007); see also generally Hossein Modarressi, Tradition and Survival

(Oxford: Oneworld, 2003), 25-32 (on the ‘Alid community in, Qum, and the Hijaz

during the first three centuries of Shii tradition). 105. I do not aim here to reproduce the history of the formation of the legal schools, which is the subject of considerable well-studied literature; for an excellent introduction, see Roy Mottahedeh’s introduction to his translation of Muhammad Bagir al-Sadr, Lessons in Islamic Jurisprudence (see above, note 33). 106. See Sherman Jackson, Js/amic Law and the State (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1996), 142 (quoting Egyptian Maliki jurist Shihab al-Din al-Qarafi, who lived during the Mamlik sultanate, which gave official state recognition in the judicial-bureaucratic structure to multiple legal schools). 107. See, for example, Shihab al-Din al-Qarafi (d. 684/1285), Anwar al-burigfi anwa' al-furig (Beirut: Dar al-Marrifa, 197—?), 4:1409. 108. Qarafi, Furig, 4:1409. 109. See, for example, Juwayni, Waraqat, in al-Tahqigat wa’l-tangihat al-salafiyyat ‘ala matn al-Waraqat maa al-tanbihat ‘ala masailal-muhimmat (Abu Dhabi: Dar al-Imam Malik,

110. ie We Ss

2005), 656. Qarafi, Furtiq, 4:1409. See above, note 36 and accompanying text. See above, notes 16, 34—38, and accompanying text. See my dissertation, Doubt’s Benefit: Legal Maxims in Islamic Law: 7th-16th Centuries (unpublished PhD dissertation: Princeton, 2009).

114. Qarafi, Furtgq, 4:1309. 115. Ibid., 4:1409 (emphasis mine). 116. See my Doubt’s Benefit, chapter 4, 263ff (discussing “interpretive doubt”: shubhat

al-khilaf). For further discussion, see my “The Islamic Rule of Lenity,” Vanderbilt Journal of Transnational Law 44, 5 (2011), 1299-1351.

Wie See above, note 82. The closest he comes is to enumerate the limited places where

those certainties of law may be found, which is really to say the texts that are agreed upon as foundational. See Juwayni, Ghiyathi, 46-47, noting that the “legal certainties (qgawati‘ al-shar')” are: (1) clear scriptural text that needs no interpretation, (2) widespread single-source reports (khabar mutawatir) [so widespread] that they preclude questions of authenticity, and (3) well-established consensus (ijma’ munaqad). 118. Similarly, Sunstein complained about courts eager to state and apply broad rules; doing

so usurps the determination of deliberative democracy, imposing top-down values in ways that may or may not accord with the community’s ideals. See Sunstein, Judicial Minimalism, 28-32.

119. Cf. ibid., xiii (“{Those who do not believe in minimalism] think that it is important

for the Court to lay down clear, bright-line rules, producing stability and clarity in the

law.”) (citing Justices Scalia, Thomas, and Rehnquist as examples of such textualist

jurists). Compare the arguments of Muslim textualists jurists Ibn Hanbal, Ibn Hazm, Astarabadi, and others. See above, note 42. 120. Juwayni, Burhan, 2:883 (imagining a person who finds himself on such an island, having received the message of Islam without the details, and concluding that there would be no moral legal responsibility to follow the law as it had never been clarified to him).

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This is related to, though distinct from, the famous problem in Islamic philosophy of Hayy b. Yaqzan, the boy who finds himself alone on an island, presenting a puzzle for Muslim philosophers as to the limits of reason and the extent of moral responsibility individuals owe with and without revelation. PAN, Juwayni, Ghiyathi, 192 (“For how many matters that reason has determined to be valid has the shar‘ revealed a rule of prohibition?”). WA In this vein, Jeremy Waldron draws on the insight from Gaius in the second century CE (which seems to forecast Juwayni’s minimalist idea of law as a combination of com-

mon or conventional values together with internally specific and justified norms) to formulate a modern theory ofius gentium. See Jeremy Waldron, “Partly Laws Common to All Mankind” (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2012). In attempt to establish a normative basis for acknowledging at least some of these values as law, the modern theory “represents a sort of overlap between the positive laws of particular states, something they have in common. And the idea is that it has a claim on us by virtue of that commonality.” Id., 28. If we read Waldron’s proposal as taking up the opportunity to reflect on the values underlying legal minimalism with which Juwayni was so concerned, the reflection makes an important addendum—offering reasons that align with and may help explain Juwayni’s practice of not detailing the content of his minimalist list. For Waldron, the important point in the reflective enterprise is not in writing “universal” norms down, but in identifying that they exist, are or can be justifiably put to good use in local and comparative contexts, and are thus worth continuously reflecting about.

Chapter 9

Cultivating Human Rights: Islamic Law and the Humanist Imperative Khaled Abou El Fadl

My chapter will focus on the interface, interaction, and tensions between the human rights tradition and the Islamic tradition. Both of these traditions—human rights and Islam—make normative demands upon all rational beings, and these demands are articulations of expectations regarding what counts as appropriate or inappropriate conduct in an endless range of contexts and social, economic, and political set-

tings. Both traditions attempt to create normative cultures that define standards of ethics, morality, and even legality. In addition, both traditions make their claims in

the name of humanity—in other words, both claim that their normative demands ought to be believed and adopted, ought to earn deference and compliance, and ought to be accepted and acted upon for the good of humanity; both claim that, overall, human beings will prosper and be better off if they accept the legitimacy and the binding nature of the respective traditions. The question that interests me here is whether these two systems ofbeliefare mutually exclusive. I do not intend to hold the response to this question in suspense; the answer is that it entirely depends on the substantive natures of the particular systems of religious and human rights beliefs, that is, on how extensive, expansive, or even intrusive each is.

Islamic law stands in the most unique and perhaps even idiosyncratic position vis-a-vis the human rights tradition. A considerable number of Western scholars have argued that the ideological roots of the human rights tradition are to be found in Judeo-Christian natural law and, more specifically, in the natural rights tradition.' But to the extent that there has been a religious contribution to contemporary notions of human rights other than post-Enlightenment Christian thought, it is the Islamic legal tradition that has contributed the most. Yet, despite its historical contributions, in the contemporary age, Islamic law is often invoked in the context of challenging the universality of human rights standards, and in fact, many Muslims

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and non-Muslims believe that Islamic law is fundamentally and inherently at odds with modern human rights commitments. To claim that Islamic law is fundamentally inconsistent with modern human rights commitments is to contend that the two systems of thought, by their very philosophical constitutions, their ideological and epistemological foundations, and even in their various possible permutations, cannot possibly be reconciled without doing such reconstructive violence to one or both of these systems that they will lose their integrity and coherence and no longer be recognized either as Islamic or law, or be about humans or rights. The fact that this point is not and cannot be known by objective means, and that it entirely depends on how one subjectively understands Islamic law or human rights only underscores the critical importance of clarifying the assumptions and concepts being utilized when discussing the possibility of reconciliation between the two. The challenging issue that we confront when we deal with the possibility of reconciliation or the search for the optimum point of reconciliation is whether there is an unspoken assumption that the nature of one of these systems is static, unchanging, or even immutable. If we believe that both systems are subjective constructs or subjectively recognized, is it inevitable or imperative that both of these systems must change and evolve in one and only one direction? Is it inevitable that both of these systems become more expansive, more encompassing, and more liberal? We are well aware of the criticism of many commentators about the crisis of legitimacy caused by the proliferation or inflation of human rights claims.” If Islamic law is expected to keep up with or even tolerate what might be referred to figuratively as ever-increasing aggressive territorial and jurisdictional claims by human rights regimes, does this mean that Islamic law will inevitably lose more of its integrity?

But alternatively, if the jurisdictional claims of Islamic law are sweeping—if the space in human life that Islamic law regulates is vast and all-encompassing, does this necessarily mean that Islamic law crowds out human rights from the realm of significance, and that human rights commitments are rendered marginal and irrelevant? Indeed, all too often discourses on the relationship of Islamic law to

the human rights tradition are plagued by superficiality because of the failure to address the nature, scope, and function of each of those traditions. Unfortunately, as | explain later, the failure to do so is not a methodological oversight, but at times is an intended omission driven by political motives. At other times, it is the direct result of woefully ill-informed conceptions of the Islamic legal tradition. Lack of clarity in discourses on human rights is often the result not of an intellectual but an ethical failure. Meanwhile, lack ofclarity in discourses on Islamic law is at times a result of obfuscation, but more often the result of self-serving states of ignorance about the Islamic legal tradition.

Human Rights as a Moral Commitment Human rights, as I use it here, is a rationally based intuitive or intellectual conviction, supported by an ethical and moral commitment, that is firmly, consistently, and systematically held to the extent that it leaves a deep emotional and psychological

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orientation that gravitates toward honoring, protecting, and serving the well-being, dignity, and autonomy of human beings simply because they are human beings. In this construct, the origins of human rights could be intuition, reason, nature or a state of nature (i.e., a hypothetical assumption about what people will do or not do in a natural state), or God. Human rights could be based on a firmly held conviction as to the entitlements or immunities owed to the citizens ofanational or international polity. I do not believe that any of these convictions as to the origins of human rights, in and of themselves, are sufficient grounds for disqualifying any particular vision of human rights. Critically, however, there are some important caveats. It is important to distinguish civil rights from human rights. Human rights visions recognize the rights of human beings as human beings. This means that visions that recognize the rights of people only because they are citizens of ademocracy, or because the recognition of such rights is necessary for the proper functioning of one political system or another (most commonly a democracy), could be considered a form of civil rights commitment, but they are not human rights commitments. Similarly, theories that recognize only the rights of particular groups of people, distinguished by race, ethnicity, religion, civilizational identity, or national affiliation, properly speaking are not theories of human rights. They are theories of rights for some people in some places living under certain conditions, but they are not theories about the rights due to all human beings. Moreover, rights claims that make the existence of particular

human rights contingent on the will of a majority are highly suspect as human rights commitments. | think that a rather subtle distinction is needed here. As I

already noted, a human rights commitment recognizes that humans have rights simply because they are humans. There are various ways or methodologies that lead to this conclusion, and one of those ways is to speculate as to what people will do in a state of nature or to believe in a hypothetical social contract. These philosophical investigations could lead to the realization that all humans ought not or ought to be treated in particular ways. Once this realization is reached, what must follow is an ethical and moral commitment to the principle of human rights—a firm and unwavering conviction that there is a core set of rights that are fundamental and necessary for the well-being of human beings. In my view, the well-being of human beings includes not only the protection of the life and dignity of people, but also safeguarding the ability of individuals to pursue, develop, and fulfill their potential for ethical and moral growth.’ But in all cases, if the recognition of rights is made contingent on the will of the majority ofacitizenry, then the commitment to human rights is rendered meaningless. Put differently, if the will of the majority, regardless of how large it might be, could void or abrogate these core rights, then it becomes

practically meaningless to speak of a serious human rights commitment. A human rights commitment necessarily means a commitment to respect the rights of human beings wherever and whoever they might be. The commitment ought not be affected one way or another by the desire of a majority of the people to honor these rights. From the perspective of the one making the commitment to human rights, if the majority decides to honor the rights of human beings, then the majority is considered to have acted properly and morally, and if the majority decides to do otherwise, then such a majority is acting improperly and immorally.

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For the sake of convenience, I will refer to the position that I defended here as an antimajoritarian thesis. The antimajoritarian thesis has clear implications upon the issues of the universality, invariability, or relativity of rights. A human rights commitment, if it is to make any sense at all, does necessarily entail a belief in the universality of rights. The critical distinction, however, is that believing in the universality of rights is very different from believing in the universality of values. It warrants emphasis that a human rights commitment is a commitment in favor of the idea that all human beings by the very nature of things enjoy certain basic and fundamental rights. The belief in the existence of these rights is not in any way contingent upon or conditioned by, or affected in one way or another by the system of values that a particular group of people adhere to in any part of the world. Consequently, those who make a human rights commitment are duty bound, as per their own belief system, to treat all human beings in a fashion consistent with fundamental rights standards. Moreover, reciprocity of conduct or treatment has no bearing on the binding nature of human rights commitments. For instance, a person who has made a human rights commitment will not resort to the use of torture even if he or she is maltreated or tortured. One further clarification is ofcritical importance: the very logic of human rights ought to preclude the possibility of attempting to coerce people into either making a commitment in favor of human rights or into adjusting their habits, customs, and social practices to meet the standards set by those who have committed themselves to human rights. For one, social practices cannot be compelled or coerced without resulting in numerous cultural deformities such as traumatic social upheaval, tension-inducing inconsistencies, and embedded hypocrisies. But far more importantly,

the use of coercion against the sociocultural convictions of people is inconsistent with the individual and collective right to self-determination and autonomy.

The Culture of Human Rights: The Dialectics of Doctrine and Practice The effective plane of human rights commitments—the level at which they manifest and produce recognizable results—is not law, but culture. There are numerous laws that honor human rights in the grandest of terms, and yet they are nothing but rhetoric on paper. Political systems, particularly constitutional democracies, might be necessary for the effective implementation of human rights commitments, but political institutions give effect to preexisting humanitarian commitments; they may even encourage and augment them, but they do not invent such commitments. It is at the sociocultural level that individual commitments turn into collective wills, which embody normative priorities, aesthetic consciousness, and epistemological justifications—the collective sense of right and wrong and the ought and the ought not. It is also at the sociocultural level that one finds the collective sense of entitlement, denial, or outrage. Before becoming effective laws, human rights are embedded in individual consciences and collective wills expressed as cultural practices, habits, and attitudes that embody fundamental values such as the following: people

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ought to be able to speak their minds; people should not be tortured; there should be gender equality; no person ought to starve or be homeless; or parents ought to be respected and honored. Importantly, it is also at this level that people feel a sense of shock, outrage, or revulsion at the perceived mistreatment or humiliation of human

beings. Quite aside from official declarations and state-sanctioned rhetoric, prevalent sociocultural attitudes are the most truthful and genuine measure of the extent to which human rights exists as a dominant moral paradigm, and also of the extent to which a particular human rights scheme or another dominates. By emphasizing the role of culture as a foundation for human rights practices, | am not deemphasizing or marginalizing the role of doctrine. Theories of universal human rights are in perpetual dialectic discourse with cultural practices. Although doctrine and practice influence and revise each other, this does not mean that the two should be limitlessly malleable—there are many reasons why neither doctrine nor culture can be sweepingly deconstructed and reconstructed without losing all semblances of coherence and integrity. But for the purposes of this presentation, the most important reason is that human rights paradigms are not endlessly negotiable. Having set out what I believe is the necessary foundation for analyzing the dynamic interaction between human rights doctrine and culture, we are in a position to address the Islamic context.

Islamic Law and Muslim Cultures It would be erroneous to speak of a single Islamic sociocultural practice. Not only are Muslim cultures very diverse, but even the culturally based attitudes of various

Muslim societies toward human rights differ from one country to another. Human rights practices and commitments among the various Muslim populations in countries such as Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Iran, Pakistan, Malaysia, Indonesia, Uzbekistan, China, England, Germany, and the United States are extremely diverse and cover a

very wide range of convictions, customs, and trends. Islamic law is not a code of law or a codified system of law. There is no set of specific legal determinations that authoritatively represent the Islamic legal system. Rather, what is referred to as Islamic law is a cumulative system of juristic

explorations by a variety of interpretive communities into both the Divine Will and the public good. Islamic law is represented by a neverending, fallible, and nonimmutable search into the right and wrong, and good and bad—in other words, it is an ethical search that seeks to resolve conflicts and establish justice within parameters set by God. Importantly, Islamic law is represented by several extinct and extant, but historically rooted, competing schools of jurisprudential thought. These schools diverge on matters related to legal methodology and hermeneutical approaches as well as to the ultimate jurisprudential determinations but are considered equally legitimate and authoritative. Therefore, when we speak of Islamic law, we are describing a tradition that bears the intellectual and psychological imprint of many different juristic orientations and a broad array of legal arguments—a vast microhistory that presents a rich and complex picture.

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I emphasize the organic character of Islamic law, and the fact that with all its difjurisprudence, it is a perpetual work in progress— ferent and competing schools of fulfillment of its moral objectives—to counter the perfect more a for striving ever stereotypical portrayals of Islamic law as a rigid, inflexible, immutable, and codebased system of law. Nevertheless, I do not want to overstate my case by giving the impression that Islamic law is an entirely fluid system without any concrete form. There is a specialized linguistic and methodological practice that does give the legal system a uniform structure, and that does unite the various jurisprudential schools of thought even with their often-conflicting determinations, under a single systematic tradition. It is somewhat ironic that with all the diversity and disagreement, the fact remains that the most uniform determinations in the Islamic legal tradition are the ones that are the most inconsistent with contemporary doctrines of human rights. These determinations, known as the laws of /udad, deal mostly with the punishment ofcriminal offenses, and because they are adopted by the vast majority of the different schools of jurisprudential thought, they pose the most formidable moral and philosophical challenge to Muslims who wish to make a commitment to human rights—at least human rights as conceived and understood within today’s prevailing paradigms. For instance, I suspect that most human rights advocates would consider the severing of the left hand of thieves or the stoning of adulterers to death to be serious human rights violations—at a minimum as serious a violation as the use of torture whether for investigatory or punitive purposes. Paradoxically, these Islamic laws, which are the most inconsistent with human

rights schemes and commitments, are also the most difficult to apply in practice. The Islamic legal system itself sets up practically insurmountable obstacles to the enforcement of /uddd penalties. From the time of the Prophet onwards, Audad penalties have been seriously obstructed by strict procedural requirements and demanding evidentiary standards that are intended to limit the application of these punitive measures to truly exceptional cases where the guilt of a defendant can be proven with absolute certainty, or where the criminal conduct in question is notoriously egregious. But even beyond innocence or guilt, the text of the Qur’an sets up what could be described as ethical barriers to hudd penalties by persistently exhorting Muslims to be merciful and forgiving—mercy and forgiveness, the Qur'an asserts, is morally superior to vengeance or entrapment.’ Furthermore, the practice of the Prophet Muhammad and his disciples affirmed the principle, especially in the case of hudad, that the existence of any doubt must act to suspend the enforcement of serious penalties with irrevocable consequences.° The historical legal practice of Muslims, in numerous contexts and time periods and up to the colonial era, is consistent with the doctrinal limitations placed on the enforcement of huddd penalties in that there are very few recorded instances in which /udid crimes were successfully prosecuted and the penalties applied. Indeed for most of Islamic history, the Audid penalties have had a very limited impact upon the sociocultural practices and commitments of Muslims. I cited the case of /udiid penalties only as an illustrative example of the kind of subtleties that guide the dynamic interrelationship of Islamic legal doctrine, Muslim cultures, and the ability or willingness to make a commitment in favor

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of human rights. Of course, this example is not exhaustive; there are many legal doctrines—the products and the legacies of medieval jurisprudential dynamics— that are inconsistent with most modern human rights schemes. But the example of /udid penalties is illustrative at an entirely different level—it poignantly demonstrates the unfortunate fact that practically all assertions and manifestations, and even most of the discourses about the role of Islamic law in the modern age are highly politicized, and this level of politicization has had a near-devastating effect on the equanimity, integrity, and effectiveness ofthe various efforts that have sought to discover the proper balance between the two formidable normative systems of Islamic law and human rights.

Establishing, Promoting, and Undermining Cultures of Human Rights As a religious tradition, Islam does share with the human rights tradition its heavy emphasis on the sanctity of human life. The Qur’an, as a revealed divine text, and the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad, known as the Sunna, as well as the cumu-

lative interpretive theological and juristic communities of Islam have placed a great deal of emphasis on the value oflife, especially human life, which is endowed with an irrevocable degree of divinity. Human beings are considered to be viceroys or deputies (khulafa’ f1’l-ard) who have entered into a symbolic covenant with God (amana) according to which creation, including the heavens and earth, has been

entrusted to their care. But under the morally obligatory terms of this covenant, Muslims are entrusted with duties toward both the physical and the metaphysical, the tangible and the intangible, and the material and the abstract. While all human

beings, and not just Muslims, are bearers of the Divine trust and therefore viceroys or deputies of God, Muslims, in particular, have the added duty of having to bear witness for God (shahdda’ li-’llah). This means that Muslims are expected to safeguard not just the material well-being of God’s creation but, as a critical part of the

process of bearing witness on God’s behalf, Muslims must defend the very moral and ethical principles that ought to guide human conduct. This does not mean

that only Muslims, and not all human beings, are charged with ethical and moral obligations. It only means that Muslims, in particular, are expected to stand as the vanguards of moral and ethical principles, guarding them against the risk of being compromised by maximal utilitarian considerations, and also against paradigms of

dilution and deconstructionism. The covenantal obligation with God is not discharged through unfettered or undirected moral reflection. Indeed, the law (the set of Divine directives)® is treated as a sacred trust that is at the heart and core of the covenantal obligation. As part

of this sacred law, human beings, especially Muslims, are charged with the obliga-

tion of establishing justice (ad/), which includes the upholding of particular virtues,

such as equity (iAsan), compassion (rahma), and fairness and equality (musawa), and innocence (bard at al-dhimma) and precepts or principles such as the presumption of

the prohibition against the use of coercion or compulsion (man al-ikrah) whether by

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private parties or the state. Significantly, as early as the first to second century AH/ eighth century CE and onward, diverse but cumulative interpretive communities maintained that the all-encompassing moral obligation of any Muslim state, and indeed the very objective of the Shari'a, or the sacred law, is to promote the people's well-being and welfare. But by their very natures, concepts such as the people’s well-being or welfare are vague and highly negotiable. The interpretive communities of the Muslim classical age,’ however, did give these negotiable concepts a degree of determinacy by concluding that the well-being or welfare of people must necessarily include divinely ordained or reason-based values. Whether divinely ordained or rationally mandated, these values are not intended to be all-exhaustive and all-encompassing; they provide the minimal and most fundamental basis for a virtuous social existence. During the Islamic classical age, cumulative interpretive communities have emphasized particular fundamental values as constitutive of the basic well-being and welfare of human beings. Notably, other than the protection oflife and property, the various juristic interpretive communities agreed on the protection of dignity (a/-karama), rationality (a/-‘aq/), personality (reputation) (giwama), and privacy (al-satr) as being

among the core values necessary for human welfare and well-being. Basing themselves on the Qur’an and Sunna, Muslim jurists argued that values such as life, property, dignity, or reputation enjoyed a level of sanctity (‘ima) not just acceptable to, but ordained by God. Moreover, through complex sociohistorical processes,

classical jurists developed legal doctrines that expressed a strong sense of aversion to particular practices deemed to be offensive, such as mutilation of corpses, torture (al-ta‘dhib, al-mithla, al-musabara), character assassinations or defamation of

a person’s honor (al-gadhf), collective punishments, excessive and exceptional taxes (mukus), or killing of noncombatants during rebellions or conventional wars.

Although these legal doctrines had clear humanitarian overtones, they did not constitute material or significant contributions to the formation of ahuman rights culture. Contextually, within their time and place, and compared to other (nonMuslim) legal cultures, these legal determinations clearly exhibited an advancement in the degree of regard and respect afforded to human beings. But as proclaimed legal conclusions, these determinations lacked a developed system of ethical reasoning, or a coherently communicable set of ideological convictions.® It would be absurdly anachronistic to fault Muslim jurists of the fourth/tenth or sixth/twelfth centuries for failing to articulate coherent and systematic humanitarian ideologies. One can, however, legitimately wonder as to why later generations of Muslims did not coopt, reclaim, and ultimately develop these humane legal orientations into doctrines that could support a cultural commitment to human rights. This question becomes all the more pertinent and even compelling, when one considers the range of promising discourses and doctrines generated by Muslim jurists in the premodern, and especially pre-colonial, period. The Arabic word for a moral or legal right is Aagq. As early as the second to third/ ninth century, Muslim jurists, in principle, recognized the idea or concept ofa right. And they divided all rights as (1) belonging to God; (2) belonging to human beings; or (3) shared by God and human beings. Rights were recognized as protected spheres, and most jurists agreed that the pertinent spheres protected by law are life, intellect,

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lineage, honor, and property. There is a fairly complex jurisprudential discourse on what rightfully belongs to God as opposed to human beings, and what is shared between them, and what ought to take precedence in case of a conflict of rights. Importantly, classical Muslim jurists recognized that there is a significant bifurcation between the moral consequences of actions in the Hereafter and the legal consequences of actions on this earth. In most cases, the rights of God are vindicated by God in the Hereafter, while the rights of people are to be vindicated by the legal system on this earth.!° Furthermore, according to the classical juristic tradition, rights

belonging to human beings cannot be forgiven, waived, or dismissed by the state or even God. Depending on the circumstances and the kind of right involved, human beings must either consent to, or be justly compensated for, having their rights dismissed or compromised in any fashion whether by the state or God. The classic juristic discourses on Augnq (rights) and Islam’s emphasis on the inherent worth and sanctity of human life are promising orientations that could have contributed to the formation of a cultural commitment to human rights. Indeed, some Muslim commentators citing the classical discourses on fuga have been quick to proclaim that the Islamic civilization had developed a natural rights tradition not different from that developed by the West. However, whatever the merits of this claim, I believe that contending that the

huqug tradition in Islam is equivalent or even similar to the Western natural rights tradition is problematic at many levels. The /ugaq tradition, unlike that of natural

rights, was not focused primarily on investigating or exploring inherent and inalienable immunities or entitlements owed to every human being or Muslim living within socially organized entities. Nevertheless, the Islamic classical discourses on /uquq were indeed very similar to the early European debates on natural law (as opposed

to natural rights), where references to rights effectively meant legal jurisdiction and competence to adjudicate. Similarly, /uqaq primarily, but not exclusively, referred

to what properly belongs to God and what God has taken jurisdiction ofasopposed to what is left to the competence and jurisdiction of persons. I am not denying the theoretical, and even at times historical, nexus between /ugagq and rights; | am only

pointing out the obvious similarities between jurisprudential classical discourses on /ugig and early debates on natural law in the West. I ought to note another important classical jurisprudential discourse in Islam that bore a close affinity to Greek Stoicism, even before Thomas Aquinas in the

West, and in some respects, to the natural rights tradition. As early as the second/ eighth to third/ninth century, Muslim theologians and jurists developed a field of ethics that focused on investigating the nature of good and evil (al-/usn wa’l-qubh), and the source of the obligation to do good and to refrain from committing evil (al-ilzam). Although much of this discourse correlates to the natural law tradition,

it is in this field that one finds the most promising insights into the natural entitlements of human beings. The classical discourses on /usn and qubh investigated the critical question of the extent to which right and wrong are rationally derived from or defined by revelation or creation as well as the moral imperatives borne out of ethical or aesthetic values such as beauty, justice, mercy, and compassion. For instance, one illustrative example of this discourse is particularly pertinent to the field of human rights: there is a very well-known tradition in which “Umar b.

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al-Khattab, a close companion of the Prophet and the second Caliph of Islam, was reported to have proclaimed, as he protested the inequitable conduct of one of his appointed governors, “By what right do you enslave people (through oppression and injustice), and they were born free!” This remarkable statement remained without any significant moral, ethical, or even legal consequence except in the writings of the rationalist jurists. In the context of investigating the foundations and implicathis statement, Qadi ‘Abd al-Jabbar, a fourth/tenth-century Mu'tazili scholar tions of

who has written a remarkable multivolume work titled a/-Mughni,'' which truly rivals Aquinas’s Summa in size, sophistication, and insight, reached the conclusion that slavery is inherently immoral (huwa qubhun li-dhatih wa-laysat min makarim al-akhlaq) even when it is done as a method of reciprocal retaliation in response to the enslavement of Muslims by non-Muslims during a state of war. But ‘Abd al-Jabbar was not an outlier to the Islamic tradition. Both Islamic jurisprudence and theology place a great deal of emphasis on the desirability of manumitting slaves either as an act of charity, or in repentance and absolution from sin.'* However, it is the rationalists, such as Ibn Rushd (Averroes) or, much later, Muhammad bek

Shafigq, who were able to go beyond investigating legalistic rules of manumission, or issuing general exhortations against owning slaves, and in many ways to go beyond

the literal words of the religious text in condemning the very institution of slavery

as inherently immoral and, therefore, un-Islamic (tundafi makarim al-akhlag wa-hiya ithm wa-fasad fa-laysat min al-Islam). The ethical and moral philosophical investigations of the rationalist orientations of Islam, whether Mu'tazili or otherwise, made substantial and significant contri-

butions to human thought—to the shared ethical legacy of humanity, and not just to Islam or to Muslim culture. Instead of allowing the religious text to become an authoritarian force that constrains, or even suffocates, reason, the rationalist schools of thought transformed the religious text into a stabilizing force, acting to serve as a firm moral foundation that propels ethical investigations into greater levels of philosophical insights. In doing so, the rationalist orientations contributed to the idea ofa universal truth that is accessible, accountable, and binding upon all human beings. Not only did the rationalist orientations contribute to the idea of universal ethical values, they also made the Islamic civilization serve as part of a natural historical progression from particular orientations within Greek philosophy to the thought that gave birth to the European Renaissance, Reformation, and then the age of Enlightenment.’ It is not common knowledge that it was Ibn Rushd, not Thomas Aquinas, who was the first to argue systematically that the a priori and primary principle of moral obligation is the duty to enjoin the good and avoid wrong. We know that this was also Aquinas's famous First Principle, which is often credited for opening the door to the development of a matured natural rights tradition. But it is not a secret that Aquinas was quite familiar not just with Averroes’s thought, but

also with the philosophy of other prominent Muslim rationalist thinkers such as Ibn Sina (Avicenna), Ibn Baja (Avempace), and al-Ghazali.!* In his Summa, Aquinas

often engaged the debates of Muslim thinkers, and he frequently took sides in favor of one Muslim philosopher over the other, which is a rather clear indication of the level of familiarity and engagement that Aquinas enjoyed with even the microdiscourses ofthe rationalist scholars of Islam.

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My point is not to make the typically apologetic, and also historically inaccurate, claim: Muslims did it first! Quite the opposite, my point is this: although the Islamic classical tradition was rich with ideas and concepts that appeared well-suited for the development ofan intellectual trajectory that would support a cultural commitment to human rights, this did not happen. In the West, in part by transplanting and coopting Islamic intellectual achievements, the natural law tradition eventually gave birth to the natural rights tradition, which in turn was instrumental in the development of the revolutionary idea of universal human rights.'> Moreover, though many Western historians tend to ignore it, the fact is that human rights, as natural rights, emerged from perspectives that were deeply religious, especially Christian.'® The most prominent jurists of the natural rights tradition from as early as to or to

William of Ockham and Jean Gerson to Pufendorf, Vitoria, Suarez, and Grotius Locke and Rousseau, and then to the contemporary Karl Barth, Germain Grisez, John Finnis were (or are) all deeply religious people, and whether they sought liberate natural rights theory from philosophical dependency on an authorita-

tive divine being or not, no doubt religious, particularly Christian, ethics colored

their worldviews and deeply influenced their own commitments, normative choices, and priorities.’ Post-thirteenth/nineteenth-century natural rights theorists, most prominently Grisez, Barth, and Finnis, were compelled to justify and defend their theories in the face of powerful onslaughts by a variety of inhospitable movements and orientations including positivism, scientific skepticism, and atheism, and even more importantly, within the context of cultures undergoing a process ofrabid secu-

larization. For our purposes, however, it is necessary to underscore that up to and through the twelfth/eighteenth and thirteenth/nineteenth centuries, natural rights

theorists invoked the Divine as the ultimate the source of obligation, so that even if rights are said to exist in nature, it is the Divine that is the source of obligation, or the duty to do right. In what might be called the classical natural rights thesis, even if nature can be said to be the source ofrights (and nature does not necessarily have to be the exclusive source of rights, or even a source of rights at all), it is the divine command that is the ultimate source of obligation to do right by others or, put dif ferently, to be duty bound to observe the rights of others. In the Islamic civilization, the classical natural rights thesis was philosophically developed by rationalist jurists such as the Andalusians: Ibn Baja (d. 533/1139), Ibn ‘Aqil (d. 581/1185), Ibn Rushd (d. 595/1198), and Ibn Tufayl (d. 581/1185).'® The

same thesis was debated or philosophically treated by rationalists from diverse geographic locations and theological and philosophical orientations, such as Abi Bakr al-Razi (d. 313/925), Ibn al-Hasan al-Tasi (d. 459/1067), Ibn ‘Aqil (d. 513/1119), al-Suhrawardi (d. 587/1191, founder of the School of Illumination), Fakhr al-Din al-Razi (d. 606/1209), Nasir al-Din al-Taisi (d. 672/1274), and Sadr al-Din al-Shirazi (a.k.a. Mulla Sadra) (d. 1051/1641). However, the reality is that although the ratio-

nalists had a profound impact upon the foundations and methodologies of Islamic jurisprudence, their intellectual influence upon the Islamic civilization as a whole consistently waned and weakened after the seventh/thirteenth century. The seventh/thirteenth century was a pivotal point; the Islamic civilization, which had already been under siege by the Christian West, from that time onward defended itself against renewed waves of Crusaders, suffered the loss of Andalusia,’? and most

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importantly, witnessed the fall and sacking of Baghdad, the capital of the Abbasid Caliphate, by the Mongols in 656/1258. Defensive and conservative intellectual orientations, in general, tended to thrive during times of socioeconomic and political unrest, but from the seventh/thirteenth century onward, a fateful and ironic exchange seems to have taken place—as rationalist forces retreated in the Islamic civilization, these same intellectual orientations started on their laborious, and often tortuous, progress in the West. Rationalist scholars who made genuinely original contributions to the classical natural rights thesis did exist during both the Ottoman and Safavid periods, in Sunni and Shi‘ Islam, respectively. But for the most part, the works of these scholars were isolated achievements in an otherwise arid and inhospitable intellectual environment. The growth of conservatism and even antirationalist theological orientations eventually culminating in the ultraconservative and uncompromisingly antirationalist Wahhabi movement in contemporary Islam was due to a variety of historical reasons that cannot be adequately summarized in this chapter. In the contemporary age, the West had gone through its own massive transformations and political and social upheavals that renegotiated the place and role of the Church, canon law, and religion in general. But many Muslims contended that while the renegotiated status of religion in the West was the product of genuine and natural historical processes, that is, the outcome of voluntary responses to demands that grew out of actual historical needs, conversely, in the Muslim world, the debates as well as their outcomes took place within the coercive contexts of colonialism and a Western-defined modernity. These debates raised numerous questions as to the historical sources, cultural identity, universality, and coercive nature of modernity,”° and most of all, the possible interdependence between modernization and Westernization. At the heart of all these issues was a basic anxiety as to whether surrendering to the demands of modernity in effect meant the end of the Muslim tradition and the Islamic civilization, or the destruction of the most sanctified aspects of Muslim culture. What greatly aggravated this concern was the growing, and eventually dominant, role of Western-educated elites in Muslim societies. According to this influential and powerful group, all the changes that took place in Muslim societies, whether related to the status of the Caliphate, the wmma, or Sharia, were acts of somber recognition of the twin imperatives of modernity: nationalism and secularism. Whether nationalism and secularism are inevitable, and whether the Islamic civilization is dead and what, if any, are the chances of a revival are exceedingly complex issues, and luckily, we need not resolve them. But these ideas and the anxieties that persistently accompany their existence continue to have serious consequences

on human rights discourses. One of the most profound and lasting changes that took place with the rise of Western colonialism and imperialism was the systematic and gradual displacement of Islamic law. This was achieved through a long process of forced commercial concessions, special status privileges for foreign nationals, right of intervention on behalf of non-Muslim minorities, courts of special subjectmatter jurisdiction, mixed courts such as the Anglo-Muhammadan courts in India, scholarship programs for members of the ruling class and intellectual elite to study in European law schools, the construction of secular law schools that increasingly

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monopolized the legal market, and the implementation of numerous legal reforms, whether initiated by native powers or decreed by foreign powers. The end result of this process was the replacement of Islamic law, in most cases, with the civil legal system, and in a few syncretistic exceptions, with the common law system. Not only was Islamic law formally abolished in the overwhelming majority of Muslim countries, but the very institutions that once supported the study and scholarly development ofIslamic jurisprudence deteriorated to the point of becoming entirely marginal. Most of the educational institutions of Islamic law were closed down primarily due to the shortage of clientele”—lawyers trained in the secular legal schools squeezed out the less qualified and also increasingly irrelevant lawyers trained in the Islamic law schools. Perhaps the final act signing the death warrant ofIslamic law in the modern age was the cooptation by the state of the private endowments that used to fund the largest and oldest institutions supporting the study ofIslamic law. After their cooptation, the same institutions that centuries ago produced the great jurists of Islam had become a mere shell of their past forms. Consequently, a paradoxical duality developed in Muslim cultures: on the one

hand, from the age of colonialism to this day, in practice, Muslims were governed by, in most cases, the French legal system, but at the same time, a custom developed according to which the very practitioners and experts who implemented foreign legal systems would write books exalting the numerous virtues and the basic superiority of the Islamic legal system. Essentially, this was an apologetic practice—as if plagued by guilt about applying foreign legal systems and abandoning Islamic law, Muslim legal experts compensated by constantly singing the praises of Islamic law as a system of total justice. In effect, modern Muslims transformed Islamic jurisprudence from a dynamic living system into a mummified piece of antiquity to be valued, admired, and praised, but not engaged, used, or deferred to as an authoritative process of problem solving and conflict resolution. But even worse, the idolized and sanctified image of Islamic law was static, unreal, and entirely disconnected

from history. The fact that Muslims have become disconnected from their own legal tradition and have failed to develop the natural rights potentialities existing in the rationalist orientation does not adequately explain why human rights cultures have not developed at any case. With the waning of colonialism, arguably, the 1368/1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights represented a truly transitional moment in history. For one, the Universal Declaration was a fascinating combination

of

natural rights ideas as well as the emerging and eventually dominant model of human rights within the international law context of positivist consensual ideas. Purportedly, Muslim states could have developed commitments leading to cultures that respect human rights on the basis of either (1) the natural rights tradition rep-

resented by the Universal Declaration or (2) the consensual model that governed all human rights conventions and treaties. By consensual model, | mean the idea that human rights are obligatory because sovereign states consent to them, and agree to be bound thereby. In the Muslim experience, the truth of human rights has asserted itselforregressed

with constantly shifting political interests. More fundamentally, the paradigm of

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human rights has been delivered and persistently advocated by first colonial powers, and then superpowers. But while these powers preached human rights, what they in fact practiced were civil rights. In other words, while the dominant world powers might have respected the basic rights of their own citizens, there was an unmistakable duality in practice. They acted on the assumption that observing civil rights means the upholding of human rights, but then being anchored in this assumption provided the necessary legitimacy to engage in the pretence of teaching or preaching human rights to the Muslim world. Of course, at odds with the ideals of human rights were the discriminatory laws and special concessions giving preferential treatment to the citizens of colonial powers. This practice has left a memory on the Muslim psychology that demanded a considerable amount of good will to erase, and in fact, the sense of humiliation felt over the practice of colonial concessions was a consistent theme inspiring the rise of selfdetermination and nationalism movements in the 1370s/1950s and 1380s/1960s. But the problem goes much deeper than the issue of concessions or even exploitation.

Conclusion Human rights as an idea and concept is a truly unique and profoundly remarkable development in human history, as an institution and practice. Too many theorists overlook the fact that by definition, human rights are universal—they describe a truth about human beings; they are not variable—they cannot be observed as to some people but ignored as to others; and they cannot be coercively transplanted— it is not moral to teach people dignity by ignoring their autonomy. The West, through a robust humanism that inspired its civilization, was the first to systematically and coherently express the idea, but since its articulation and to this day, the three categories of human rights, civil rights, and international human rights have

been used interchangeably, or the observing of one has been erroneously taken to mean observing the other categories. The West has enjoyed many successes with civil and international treaty-based rights, burt it has been far less successful with the category that by definition cannot tolerate the corruptions and ailments of political realism or Realpolitik—double standards, institutionalized hypocrisies, occupation, and domination. It is very difficult to nurture and develop the moral values that lead to the type of principled commitments necessary for the growth of human rights cultures under intensified political conditions. Nevertheless, there is no alternative to developing human rights cultures through a cumulative process of education and internally generated pressure that brings about an intellectual and moral conviction in human rights as a moral imperative. Every society has its own internally persuasive epistemological and ontological sources, and in the case of Muslim societies the most socially impactful and persuasive sources are those of the Islamic religion. It is therefore very reasonable to expect that Muslims would mine, explore, and interrogate their own tradition for the instruments that would enable them to launch their own process of search and discovery into the mandates and imperatives of human rights.

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Human rights commitments cannot be commanded into existence and cannot be transplanted or borrowed from alien sources so that the borrowed may play the role of the natural-born child of Muslim societies, Therefore, it is difficult to think ofan alternative source to Islam that could have helped human rights commitments take root in Muslim societies, especially because, as explained earlier, Islam has a very tich humanistic and rationalistic tradition that could have been fruitfully developed by modern Muslims. Especially in light of the challenging political conditions confronting Muslims, humanistic religious convictions could have proven to be inspirational and motivational in empowering Muslims with the resolve to overcome the adversity of their circumstances. Muslims must track their own way to human rights, but in doing so, they must firmly anchor themselves in the elements in Islamic intellectual history that could have led to and possibly could now lead to the formation of firm commitments in favor of human rights, and to the eventual construction of cultures that respect and give effect to these commitments.

Notes 1. See, for example, C. Fred Alford, Narrative, Nature, and the Natural Law: From Aquinas to International Human Rights (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), and John Finnis,

Human Rights and Common Good: Collected Essays, Volume II] (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011). 2. Carl Wellman, The Proliferation of Rights: Moral Progress or Empty Rhetoric? (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1999),

3. Some have argued that the well-being of human beings means their happiness regardless of the sources of this happiness. It is not that I cherish being unhappy, but in my view, happiness is an inadequate measure of the well-being of human beings. This is not the place to offer a philosophical justification of this view, but in my opinion the well-being of humans is inseparable from virtue. 4, Khaled Abou El Fadl, “The Death Penalty, Mercy, and Islam: A Call for Retrospection,”

in Religion and the Death Penalty: A Call for Reckoning, ed. Erik C. Owens, John D. Carlson, and Eric P. Elshtain (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2004).

5. See Intisar Rabb, “Islamic Legal Maxims as Substantive Canons of Construction: Hudid Avoidance in Cases of Doubt,” Jslamic Law and Society 17 (2010): 63-125. More generally, see her Doubt'’s Benefit: Legal Maxims in Islamic Law, 7th-16th Centuries (unpublished PhD dissertation, Princeton 2009).

6. The term “law” here does not necessarily mean a detailed set of positive commandments; the law means the fundamental and basic Divine directives to human beings that are not subject to the vagaries of time and place. The Covenantal Law is absolute, immutable, eternal, and inherently good (Shari‘a). What is derived from the Covenantal Law is contingent, contextual, revisable, and experimental (figh). On the distinction between Shari'a and figh, see Khaled Abou El Fadl, The Great Theft: Wrestling Islam from the Extremists (San Francisco, CA: Harper San Francisco, 2005), 150-51, 261, 263; Abou El Fadl, “The Islamic Legal Tradition: A Comparative Law Perspective,” in The Cambridge Companion to Comparative Law, ed. Mauro Bussani and Ugo Mattei (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming).

182

KHALED ABOou EL FADL

wh There are various definitions of the Islamic classical age, but in this context, I use the expression to refer to the period from the time of the death of the Prophet to the ninth/ fifteenth century—a period lasting around nine hundred years of intellectual activities. . Modern Islamists retort that the Qur’an provides a coherent ethical framework for a humanitarian ideology. This often-heard argument ignores what might be the objective reality of the Qur'an, and the subjective understanding or cultural realization of the Qur'an. The Qur’an could embody the most perfected ethical and humanitarian message, but this does not mean that Muslims today, leave alone those of the tenth century AD, have managed to understand or meaningfully commit to this message. . On humanistic orientations in medieval Islam and on their likely impact on the development of European humanism, see George Makdisi, The Rise ofHumanism in Classical Islam and the Christian West (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1990); Mehdi K. Nakosteen, History of Islamic Origins of Western Education (Boulder, CO: University of Colorado Press, 1964); Joel Kraemer, Humanism in the Renaissance of Islam: The Cultural Revival During the Buyid Age (Leiden: Brill, 1986). 10. The important exception to this rule is known as the /uddd penalties. As discussed

earlier, these are also the penalties that pose the greatest conflict with the human rights tradition. But even in the case of these penalties, any doubt must be interpreted in the light most favorable to human beings. il He also wrote a much shorter set of works known as the five epistles that in many ways are even more significant for the fields of natural law, natural rights, and ethics than al-Mughni, which is an encyclopaedic opus that documented in great detail the arguments of his (‘Abd al-Jabbar’s) own opponents. 1D The Qur'an itself repeatedly urges Muslims to manumit slaves. Interestingly, in their

writings, classical Muslim jurists would always dedicate a chapter to discussing the legal issues pertinent to the manumission of slaves such as the rules concerning the possible right of a slave to buy back his freedom from his owner and the rights of a slave to own money or property (otherwise, it is not very meaningful to discuss the possible right of a slave to buy back his or her freedom). The classical sources almost never dedicated a chapter to the topic of purchasing or acquiring slaves. U3) Most Western (and even Muslim) scholars writing on the European heritage of faith and reason will with all due diligence march through the purported Hebrew origins, then to the Greek tradition, the Greco-Roman world, Christian Scholasticism, Humanism, Thomism, Renaissance, the so-called Cartesian revolution, and the Protestant Reformation, including the Lutheran revolt and Calvinism, then, if they are fair-minded, to the Catholic Reformation, then to the birth of the Enlightenment, and then to the reason-based progression to the age of modernity and secularism. Somewhat inconsistently, this is often called the Judeo-Christian heritage. This historical progression would not make sense without the Muslim intervention, and yet what might be described as the Muslim link is most often ignored. The rationalist orientations within Islam did not only influence numerous Christian theologians and philosophers, but they also exercised a considerable impact upon Jewish thinkers such as Maimonides. 14. Although al-Ghazali was associated with the Ash‘ari theological school of thought, and he also wrote a very well-known refutation of the philosophical methods of speculative theology, substantively, in the later phases of his life his thought was marked by a distinctive blend of aesthetic rationalism or perhaps rational aestheticism. Al-Ghazali influenced a considerable number of Western thinkers—other than Thomas Aquinas, his thought influenced writers from Raymond Martini, author of Pugio Fidei, all the way to Pascal. 15. There are a number of scholars who contend that the Western civilization and all its ethical achievements, including human rights, originated from a uniquely Christian or

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183

Judeo-Christian foundation. For instance, see Thomas Woods, How the Catholic Church

Built Western Civilization (Washington, DC: Regnery Publishing, 2005), 197-215.

16. I am aware that this is a controversial claim and that there are scholars (typically of the positivist orientation) who believe that universal human rights developed only when

rights theorists freed themselves of the shackles of religion. In fact, some have argued that in an effort to make their theories accessible, accountable, and legitimately universal, natural nights theorists, in effect, got rid of God, and attempted to base their theories on reason alone or rationally justified basic goods. But in doing so, it is argued that natural rights theorists entirely undermined their own coherence or plausibility. This is frequently dismissively referred to as “the crisis of natural rights theory,” but criticisms of modern natural rights theories one way or another invariably seem to go back to the so-called Naturalistic Fallacy. For instance, see Pauline Westerman, The Disintegration of Natural Law Theory: Aquinas to Finnis (Leiden: Brill, 1998), esp. 231-85. This is a controversy that I am not eager to engage, but would note that the argument that rights theory made sense only after it discounted the divine as an authoritative frame of reference obviously is a normative, and not a historical, claim. Ez See Elizabeth Bucar and Barbra Barnett, eds., Does Human Rights Need God? (Grand

18.

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20. oA

Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2005); especially the article by Max Stackhouse, “Why Human Rights Needs God: A Christian Perspective,” 25-40. The author of Hayy 6. Yagzan, a book that became widely influential in both the Islamic and Latin-speaking worlds. Eventually, this tale was plagiarized into the famous Robinson Crusoe story. The loss of Muslim Spain was incremental and protracted; not until the mid-eighth/midfourteenth century was all of Muslim Spain, except for Granada, lost to the Christian Kingdoms from the North. Granada was conquered in 897/1492. This is why, initially, some Muslim jurists tried to ban the use of printing presses or the taping of Qur’anic recitations on records. On the history of the colleges of law in Islamic history and their role, see George Makdisi, The Rise of Colleges: Institutions ofLearning in Islam and the West (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1981).

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Part IV

Philosophical Traditions

Chapter 10

Yahya b. ‘Adi’s Discussion of the Prolegomena to the Study of a Philosophical Text Robert Wisnousky

In a recent chapter for another Festschrift, ] announced that the codex Madrasa-yi Marwi 19—a philosophical anthology copied in Rabi’ al-Awwal 1073/October 1662—contains 24 treatises and letters that are attributed to the Jacobite Christian

philosopher and theologian Yahya b. ‘Adi (d. 363/974) and that were thought to have been lost.” The present chapter is a transcription and translation ofone ofthese “lost” treatises, Yahya’s Essay on Five Inquiries into the Eight Headings (Magqala fi mabahith al-khamsa ‘an al-rviss al-thaméaniya).’ Yahya’s eight “headings” (the Arabic term ras corresponds to the Greek kepha-

laia and the Latin capita) collectively constituted one of the basic elements oflateantique introductions to philosophy, and to the study of Aristotle in particular. Building on earlier work by classicists and historians of philosophy—especially Plezia, Westerink, and (Ilsetraut) Hadot—Jaap Mansfeld has provided an extensive

and detailed analysis of these basic elements oflate-antique prolegomena literature, which in fact crossed between disciplines, such as Bible commentary, grammar, rhetoric, mathematics, and philosophy. Mansfeld describes them in his index as the “general” isagogical (i.e., introductory) questions—usually ten in number—which need to be settled before commencing the study of a particular discipline, such as philosophy or mathematics, or author, such as Aristotle or Euclid.’

In late-antique philosophy, the general isagogical questions were normally found in the first section of commentaries on Aristotle’s Categories or on Porphyry’s /sagoge, and they usually included:

1. anexplanation of the names ofthe different philosophical schools (e.g., Stoics, Cynics, Peripatetics, etc.);

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2. a division of Aristotle’s works (e.g., into particular, intermediate, and univer-

sal works; of universal works, into notebooks and treatises; of treatises, into dialogues and nondialogical works; and of nondialogical works, into theoretical philosophy and practical philosophy); 3. an explanation of how the student should commence the study of philosophy (e.g., with logic);

4. an explanation of the ultimate aim of studying philosophy (¢.g., knowledge of God);

5. the means to attain that end (e.g., studying ethics, physics, mathematics, and theology);

6. the qualifications needed to study philosophy (varying opinions on these); 7. the qualifications needed to interpret a philosophical work (e.g., a critical attitude and familiarity with the whole corpus); 8. Aristotle’s style of composition (e.g., in accordance with the type of work);

9. the reason why Aristotle sometimes wrote obscurely (e.g., to exclude the unworthy);

10. the “capital” questions (or “headings”) to be settled before one starts studying each individual work. These introductory discussions were taken up by Yahya’s teacher and senior colleague al-Farabi (d. 339/950), in his Essay on What Should Precede the Study of

Philosophy (Risala fi ma yanbaghi an yuqaddama gabla taallum al-falsafa).° The final “general” isagogical question thus comprises the set of “particular” isagogical questions (usually eight), which need to be settled before commencing the study of a particular text. It is al-Farabi’s two articulations of this final prolegomenon—one in the Essay on What Should Precede the Study of Philosophy, the other (in more abbreviated form) in his Utterances Used in Logic (al-Alfaz al-musta mala

fi al-mantig)—that probably provided the immediate Arabic background to the eight “headings” listed in Yahya’s Essay.’ As for Yahya’s Greek sources, the Jsagoge commentaries of Ammonius, David, and/or Elias are more likely candidates than the Categories commentaries of Philoponus, Olympiodorus, Simplicius, or Elias, since the /sagoge commentaries tended to list eight particular isagogical questions,

whereas the Categories commentaries tended to list only six. However, a comparison of Yahya’s sequence with the 36 different sequences supplied by Plezia reveals that not a single Greek author listed a set of eight kephalaia in exactly the same order that Yahya listed his eight rwas.’ If Yahya’s order differs from those of his Greek forebears, how then does it compare with a selection of the “headings” lists compiled by other medieval Arabic philosophers? This selection includes the lists contained in al-Farabi’s two works mentioned just above (given that al-Farabi was one of Yahya’s two teachers, the other being Aba Bishr Marta b. Yanus, d. 328/940); the lists contained in Aba ’|-Faraj b.

al-Tayyib’s (d. 435/1043) commentaries on the Lagoge and the Categories (given that Ibn al-Tayyib was a student of Yahya’s students Abii ‘Ali b. Zur'a [d. 398/1008], and Ibn Suwar [d. 4112/1020]);'° and the lists contained in Averroes’s (d. 595/1198) “long”

commentary on Aristotle’s PAysics—in its surviving medieval-Latin (“ancient”) and

YAHYA B. ‘ApI’s Discussion

189

medieval-Hebrew translations—and his treatise on grammatical principles, a/-Darari fi sindat al-nahw (given that Averroes saw himself as following al-Farabi on some questions of Aristotelian exegesis).'!' Following the order of the list in Yahya’s Essay on Five Inquiries into the Eight Headings, we find the following variations: Key: FR = al-Farabi, Risdlafima yanbaghi, #8, 54,21-55,1; FA = al-Farabi, al-Alfaz al-musta mala, #51, 94,15—95,16; ITI = Ibn al-Tayyib, Taftir Kitab lsaghiji, #54, 7 ie 13; ITM = Ibn al-Tayyib, Tafsir Kitab al-Maqilat, 1-IV, 26,9-32,4; AVP = Averroes, Proemium to Long Commentary on the Physics, 1b,ult—C,4 (Latin) and 65,7—8 (Hebrew); AVN = Averroes, al-Daririfisindat al-nahw, 3,3-10,8 Li aim li.e., the book’s scope, the author's project in the book] (Gr: skopos or

prothesis): gharad al-kitab FR(1): al-gharad fi kitab al-mantig; FA(1): gharad al-kitab; YT1(1): al-gharad; ITM(1): al-gharad; AVP(1): intentionem/kavanat hasefer; AVN(1): gharad hadhihi al-sind‘a . benefit [i-e., why studying the book is useful] (Gr: kArésimon): manfdatuhu FR(2): al-manfda fi hadha al-ilm; FA(2): manfaatuhu; YT1(2): al-manfda; ITM(2) al-manfada; AVP(2): utilitatem/to'alto; AVN(2): manfdatuha . reason for the title [i.e., of the particular book] (Gr: aition tés epigrapheés):

simatuhu

‘

FR(3): sabab tasmiyat kutubihi; FA(6): ‘unwanuhu; YTI(3): al-sima; ITM(3): al-sima; AVP(7): nomen libri/ma seyore ‘alav samo; AVN(7): ma yadullu ‘alayhi ismuha . division [i.e., the book’s arrangement into sections] (Gr: didiresis eis meré or eis kephalaia): agsamuhu FR(7): al-ajza@ allati yangasimu ilayha kull wahid min kutubihi; PA(3): gismatuhu; \TI(5): gismatuhu; ITM(7): gismatuhu; AV P(A): divisionem/haluqato; AVN(3): agsamuha . authenticity [i.e., the correctness of the book’s attribution to its author] (Gr:

gnésion): wadi uhu

;

FR(4): sthhatuha; FA(7): ism wadithi; YT1(6): wadi‘uhu; YTM(5): nisbatuhu; AVP(8): nomen authoris/mi hamaniah ‘oto; AVN(8): ma'rifat man waddaha

. to which part of philosophy [i.e., the book belongs] (Gr: hupo potion meros tes philosophias anagetai): min ayy al-ulim huwa FR(absent); FA(4): nisbatuhu; ITI(8): min ayy al-ulim huwa; YTM(): min

ayy al-ulitm huwa; AVP(5): proportionemlyahaso; AVN(6): nisbatuha min sair al-ulim manner ofinstruction [i.e., used in the book] (Gr: tropos tés didaskalias): nahw

$8 al-talim ER(G6): ma‘rifat al-kalam alladhi istd'malahu fi kutubihi; FA(8): nabw al-talim ustumila fihi; YTU(7): al-nabw alladhi yustu'malu fihi min anha al-taalim;

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ITM(8): al-nahw alladhi yuslaku fihi min anha’ al-tdalim; AVP(6): viam doc-

trinae/ofen halimud handase bo; AV N(4): al-nahw al-musta'mal fi ta limiha, etc. 8. rank or place [i.e., of the book, in the author’s corpus, or in the order ofphilo-

sophical study] (Gr: taxis tes anagnoseds): rutbatuhu FR(5): tartib maratibiha; FA(5): martabatuhu; \T1(4): martabat al-kitab; ITM(4): al-martaba; AVP (3): ordinem/madregato; AV N(5): martabatuha min

al-“ulam fi al-tdallum In terms of establishing a filiation between these texts, it seems that little importance can be attached to the variations in ordering that occur between the Arabic lists of the eight “headings.” Although all seven lists are united in ranking “aim” and “benefit” first and second, respectively, they diverge radically when it comes to the order of the remaining six headings. Indeed, the two lists of al-Farabi put the same heading in the same place only three out of eight times. Westerink also showed that the lists of Philoponus, Olympiodorus, Elias, and Simplicius all vary somewhat, and that there is even variation between the first time each of these authors orders the kephalaia and subsequent times within the same text. And although Plezia collated the 36 different sequences that he discovered into a single underlying order, his own survey of those sequences showed little commonality in ordering, apart from the precedence enjoyed by the first two kephalaia.’* It is unclear, therefore, if the variations in order between the seven Arabic lists given above arose because of multiple sources used, or because each author wished to coin a new order. Nevertheless, the similarities in wording between the seven Arabic lists cer-

tainly show that each of our Arabic authors was using a traditional set of terms. Upon examination of the content of the discussions of individual headings, the link between Yahya and Ibn al-Tayyib seems stronger, since Ibn al-Tayyib’s discussions show signs of familiarity with Yahya’s Five Inquiries. For example, in his Commentary on the Isagoge, \bn al-Tayyib, in abbreviated form, cites and resolves an objection also cited and resolved by Yahya, namely, to the aim’s (a/-gharad) coming first: since the aim or purpose is the final cause, and since final causes follow their effects, the aim should instead go last (ITT #55, 2715-20:

V fol,

5al6—22). And Ibn al-Tayyib’s terse discussion of why there are eight of these headings, no more and no less (Ja z@ida wa-la naqisa = #60, 29,20-30,7), is effectively a synopsis of Yahya’s fifth inquiry into why there are eight headings, no more and no less (/d akthar wa-la agall = fol. 5b19-25).'° As is evident from the title, Yahya’s own aim in his little treatise is broader than simply listing and describing the eight headings. In fact, Yahya poses and responds to five “inquiries” (mababith; buhith) into the very practice of posing and then addressing the eight headings. Yahya’s five inquiries are as follows: 1. Question: Why are they are called “headings” (ru’as)? Answer: On the basis of an analogy with animals’ heads, which serve as their source of motion and sensation and hence as an expression of their essence gua animals.

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191

2. Question: What is each heading? Answer: The book’s aim, its benefit, its title, its divisions, its author, which science it is part of, the manner of instruction, and its rank.

3. Question: What is the use in investigating them? Answer: There are one or more benefits specific to each heading. 4. Question: Why and in what context was this arrangement prescribed for them? Answer: Because the headings correspond to types of causes, and the causes are arranged in terms ofpriority and posteriority.

5. Question: Why did their number come to be eight, neither more nor less? Answer: Because a book is an artifact, and like all beings, both natural and artificial, it is subject to standard causal analysis, which in this case is completed by addressing the eight headings.

What is most striking about this little treatise is how Yahya identifies the eight headings with several then-current metaphysical categories in order to show how one can provide a full causal account of a particular philosophical book or any text for that matter. Examples include Yahya’s appeals, in the second, fourth, and fifth inquiries, to Aristotle’s distinctions (at least, as understood by the Neoplatonists) between the

way in which a final cause is prior to its effect and the way in which it is posterior; between first and second perfections; between intrinsic and extrinsic causes; and between the final cause understood as to hou (“that in view of which”) and as to hoi (“that for the benefit of which”)."

Needless to say, this brief introduction is meant to be suggestive rather than exhaustive. On the basis of the information presented here, we can speculate that

in composing his little “metaprolegomenon,” which as far as I can tell is unprecedented in Greek and Arabic philosophical literature, Yahya hopes not simply to translate, but to explain and justify, the late-antique Greek isagogical tradition to a new, Arabic-reading audience. Yahya’s audience was composed primarily of philosophers, it is true. But the newly established sciences of the third/ninth- and fourth/tenth-century Muslim world—Arabic grammar and philology, Quranic exegesis and hadith criticism, and Islamic jurisprudence and theology—increasingly sought to set out and justify their own hermeneutical practices. What made falsafa different from the other “new” sciences of classical Islamic civilization is not so much that it came with a long and well-established isagogical tradition, but that it openly embraced this tradition. In the context of the competitions over ways of knowing that were engaging Muslim and non-Muslim intellectuals at this time (third/ninth and fourth/tenth centuries) and in this place (Iraq and

Syria), it may have seemed to Yahya that falsafa’s particular isagogical questions required fuller explanation and justification than could be found in al-Farabi’s two terse discussions. The need for a cogent defense of this Greco-Arabic propaedeutic practice would have been acutely felt by Yahya, given the famously ill-fated debate over the merits of logic and grammar in which one of his own teachers, Aba Bishr Matta b. Yanus, had been entangled, and given the evident confusion

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exhibited by late-antique Greek and Arabic philosophers concerning the proper ordering of the kephalaia/rwus. TEXT

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Chapter 11 Two Commentaries on Najm al-Din al-Katibi’s al-Shamsiyya, Copied in the Hand of David b. Joshua Maimonides (fl. ca. 1335-1410 CE)! Sabine Schmidtke

In the medieval, late medieval, and premodern world of Islam, Muslims and Jews (as well as Christians, for that matter) constituted a unique cultural and intellectual commonality. They shared Arabic (at times also Persian) as their common language

and often read the same books, so that a continuous, multidimensional exchange of ideas, texts, and forms ofdiscourse, particularly in the rational sciences, was the

norm rather than the exception. This has been amply demonstrated for the ninth through twelfth centuries CE.* By contrast, Jewish-Muslim intellectual commonalities of later periods have so far barely been explored in either Judaic or Islamic Studies. In both fields and for a variety of reasons, the scholarly investigation of philosophy and related disciplines during the post-Avicennan period is still in the beginning phase. For Jewish intellectual history in Arabic, the rich, though only partly explored, holdings of the various Geniza collections around the world still

hold many surprises. This chapter focuses on such a case. The Abraham

Firkovitch

Collection

(Russian

National

Library [RNL],

St.

Petersburg) holds five items that were written by the same hand in Hebrew characters and that show the same codicological features. The original paper size was

13-14 X 17.5-18.5 cm, with 19, 20, or 21 lines to a page:* ¢ RNL Firk. YA II 1214 (= Institute of Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts at the Israel National Library, Jerusalem [= IMHM], microfilm no. 60787), 168

ff, ca. 17.5 X 13 cm. The manuscript has undergone restoration and has been rebound, on one occasion not in accordance with the order of folios prior to

SABINE SCHMIDTKE

204

their restoration: ff. 157-158-165-166-159-160, and therefore these leaves are now bound out of order. The restoration proves detrimental to research on the text as it is no longer possible to determine the physical units of the manuscript, such as quires, bifolios, isolated leaves, etc., and some of the text has become blurred as a result of the restoration. Fortunately, the remaining four fragments did not undergo the same process of restoration.

* RNL Firk. YA II 812, f. 3 (= IMHM, microfilm no. 59860). The leaf is heavily damaged and the first four lines are only partly preserved. There are also considerable damages in the margins and the lower part of the folio. F. 3b precedes f. 3a.

* RNL Firk. YA II 835, ff. 72-73 (= IMHM, microfilm nos. 59232 and 44947),

ca. 14 X 18.5 cm. Bifolio; the text is interrupted following f. 72. ¢ RNL Firk. YA II 846, £ 46 (= IMHM,

microfilm no. 59235). The leaf is

damaged on the lower margin and the last four lines of each page are mostly destroyed. ¢ RNL Firk. YA II 2396, 2 ff (= IMHM, microfilm no. 60625). Bifolio, heavily damaged on the upper margin (1-2 lines not preserved). F. 2 precedes f. 1, and

the text is interrupted between f. 2 and f. 1. Although the manuscripts include neither title page nor colophon, and have no other indication as to the identity of the work(s) they contain, they evidently constitute

portions of two commentaries on Najm al-Din al-Dabiran al-Katibi al-Qazwini's (d. 675/1277) widely studied handbook of logic, al-Shamsiyya fi l-qawdid al-mantigiyya. Along with Athir al-Din al-Abhari’s (d. 663/1264) /saghuji® and particularly Siraj al-Din al-Urmawi’s (d. 682/1283) Matali‘ al-anwar,’ the Shamsiyya was the most

popular handbook on logic from the early fourteenth century onward, and it formed the point of departure for a rich literary tradition of commentaries, supercommentaries, and glosses. Most of these works are preserved in manuscript only, while few

have been published (none in critical edition), and the study of this literary tradition as well as the later development oflogic in the Islamic world in general is still a major desideratum.’ Comparison with the numerous extant autographs of the outstanding Jewish scholar David ben Joshua Maimonides (b. ca. 1335, d. 1415), the last Maimonidean

nagid (“head”) of the Jewish Egyptian community, shows that the five items are written in his hand.'® Born in Egypt, David succeeded his father Joshua Maimonides as nagid following the latter’s death in 1355. For reasons that remain unclear, he left his homeland to take up residence in Syria (Aleppo and Damascus) from ca. 1375 to 1386. He resumed his office as magid after his return to Egypt and retained it

until his death,"! Before and during the lifetime of David ben Joshua, the following commentaries

are known to have been written on al-Katibi’s Shamsiyya. The earliest commentary was composed by the ‘Allama al-Hilli (d. 726/1325), al-Qawa‘id al-jaliyyafisharh al-risala al-shamsiyya. Al-Hilli had been a student of al-Katibi, and he reports to have studied with his teacher the latter’s commentary on Afdal al-Din al-Khinaji’s (d. 646/1249) Kashf al-asrar ‘an ghawamid al-afkar fi l-mantig, a highly innovative comprehensive summa of formal logic that set the agenda for most other

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thirteenth- and fourteenth-century works in logic.!2 The earliest extant copy of the Qawd'id was completed in Rabi‘ II 679/August 1280, the terminus ante quem

for al-Hilli’s commentary.'> Al-Hilli’s student, Qutb al-Din al-Razi (d. 766/1364), composed another commentary on al-Katibi’s Shamsiyya, entitled Tabrir al-qawa‘id al-mantigiyya fi sharh al-risala al-shamsiyya.’ This commentary, completed in Jumada II 729/April 1329,'° very soon outstripped al-Hilli’s Qawa‘id in popularity and served most later commentators as a point of departure. Ali b. Muhammad al-Jurjani’s (“Mir Sayyid Sharif.” d. 816/1414) superglosses on it further popularized Qutb al-Din’s commentary.'® Some few years after Qutb al-Din al-Razi’s Tabrir al-qawda id,another commentary was written by Mahmii b. ‘Ali b. Mahmad al-Himsi al-Razi (“al-Taj al-Razi,” fl. 749-50/1348—49), entitled a-Matalib alqudsiyya fi sharp al-risala al-shamsiyya (completed in 733/1333). An apparently unique manuscript is preserved in the Majlis Library (Tehran).'’ Al-Taj al-Razi’s contemporary Shams al-Din Muhammad b. Mubarakshah al-Bukhari (d. after 760/1359) had

likewise commented upon the Shamsiyya. The few extant manuscripts of the text suggest that it did not circulate widely.'* Qutb al-Din’s commentary was heavily used by Sad al-Din Masiid b. ‘Umar al-Taftazani (d. 793/1390) in his commentary on the

Shamsiyya, completed in Jumada I 752/July—August 1351, despite the latter’s critical attitude toward Qutb al-Din. Al-Taftazani’s commentary soon became the second most popular sharh on the Shamsiyya."” As is characteristic of most Geniza material, the leaves of the five Firkovitch manuscripts are in complete disorder, and the original order of the text(s) can only be restored tentatively (see later, Appendix I). RNL Firk. YA II 1214, ff. 1b-2-140-

151-152-141-3-4-167-168 (= fragment i) is a copy of the beginning of the ‘Allama al-Hilli’s commentary on the Shamsiyya (= Qawdiid 179-196:14), containing the preface (khutba), the introduction (mugaddima), and the beginning of chapter 1

(al-maqala al-ald). The text is interrupted at the end of fragment i (i.e., following f. 168, the second leaf of a new quire of either eight or ten leaves) and it is unclear how much more of al-Hilli’s text David ben Joshua had transcribed. The occasional marginal corrections and additions in the same hand suggest that David had collated his copy of the text with his Vorlage.*® David was evidently a critical reader of al-Hilli’s Quwd‘id, as is suggested by at least two critical comments added in the margin.”! Apart from being a prolific author himself, David is well known as

a book collector and an accomplished scribe, and some of his copies of works by disciplines have survived. It was earlier Jewish and Muslim authors in a variety of particularly during his time in Aleppo that David assembled an impressive library containing numerous copies of works that he had either commissioned or copied himself. Considerable parts of the library remained in Aleppo even after he had returned to Egypt.” It is therefore perfectly plausible that he embarked on transcribing al-Hilli’s Qawd‘id, or at least parts ofit. The following fragments ii-xxxiv constitute a commentary on the Shamsiyya in its own right. Al-Katibi’s text is regularly introduced as gala [rahimahu Llah| followed only by a few words that are concluded with the formula #/a akhirihi.* The commentary sections are introduced by aqulu [mutawakkilan ‘ala rabbi \al-karim| | mutawakkilan ‘ala Wah \al-karim\ / mutawakkilan ‘ala l-karim / mutawakkilan ‘ala

mufattih al-abwab / mu‘tasiman bi-habl al-tawfiq / mustainan bi-wahib al-aql| and

206

SABINE SCHMIDTKE

are often concluded with the formula wa-llah alam [bi-l-sawab). The copy of this

commentary was evidently never completed. This is indicated by several blank spaces throughout YA II 1214, where the author intended to add charts.?> Codicological differences suggest that David’s copies of the two commentaries originally formed separate codices. All recto pages belonging to the copy of al-Hilli's Qawdid are marked in the upper outer corner,”° while this is not the case for any of the leaves belonging to the second commentary. Comparison with other commentaries written before or during the lifetime of David ben Joshua on the Shamsiyya shows that the second commentary is an independent original work. The major source for the anonymous commentator is Qutb al-Din al-Razi’s Tahir al-qawd‘id al-mantiqiyya fi sharh al-risala al-shamsiyya, whose author is usually referred to as “one of the commentators” (bad al-sharibin) and at times as “the noble commentator” (al-sharih al-fadil).*” The Tahrir’s date of completion (729/1329) is thus the terminus post quem for the present commentary. Apart from the verbatim quotations, there are many other portions of the text that are clearly based on Qutb al-Din’s commentary although no indication of this is given.”® The anonymous author had additional sources at his disposal. This is suggested by his frequent critical comments following quotations from Qutb al-Din al-Razi,”? as well as by the many lengthy elaborations that are independent of Qutb al-Din’s commentary. Throughout the text, references are given to al-Farabi (d. 339/950)*° and to Ibn Sina (d. 428/1037), particularly his K. al-Shif@ and his al-Isharat wa-l-tanbihat©' Among the later scholars, our author refers regularly to Fakhr al-Din al-Razi (d. 606/1209),* particularly to his K. al-Mulakhkhas,** and on one occasion to his commentary on Ibn Sina’s ‘Uyain al-hikma.** Once, he adduces a definition by “al-Imam Zayn al-Din” (YA II 1214, f. 85b:16), clearly referring to Zayn al-Din ‘Abd al-Rahman b. Muhammad al-Kashshi, Fakhr al-Din al-Razi’s most important student in logic. From al-Kashshi’s pen, we have Had@’ig al-haqa@ iq, a tripartite summa oflogic, physics, and metaphysics, and al-Mugqaddima on logic, a work often used in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, before al-Katibi’s Shamsiyya became firmly established as the most popular textbook on logic, together with the commentary of Ibn al-Badi‘ al-Bandahi (d. 655/1258).* Our author refers twice to Athir al-Din al-Abhari.*° On various occasions, he refers to al-Katibi’s commentary on Afdal al-Din al-Khinaji’s Kashf al-asrar (“Sharh alKashf”),*’ and to his Jami‘ al-daga@ig fi kashf al-haq@ig.** One of the latest authors explicitly mentioned is Shams al-Din al-Isfahani (d. 749/1348) and his commentary

on Siraj al-Din al-Urmawi’s Marali‘ al-anwér. In addition, there are many general references to various unspecified groups.*® The works and authors referred to throughout the commentary, often followed by critical discussions, constituted the established canon of literature in Arabic on logic during the second half of the eighth/fourteenth century.*! It is plausible to assume that our author had consulted them directly. Yet it would be equally possible to assume that he had gleaned most of his material from a later intermediary source. The critical assessment of our author of many of the views and quotations adduced from the sources that are clearly identified and the numerous lengthy elaborations that are independent of any of the explicitly identified sources and of Qutb al-Din al-Razi’s Tahrir strongly suggest that he had additional sources at his disposal. This

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is also indicated by a number of references that do not refer to any of the established sources of the text and that still need to be identified.42 Moreover, some of the sections of the work are strikingly similar to those one finds in Jamal al-Din

Muhammad b. Salim b. Wasil al-Hamawi’s (d. 697/1298) Nukhbat al-fikar, Our author may have had this work at his disposal or possibly the work ofa later author who had used Ibn Wasil’s Nukhba.*? Assuming that the commentary was composed shortly before or during David ben Joshua’s lifetime would leave a conspicuous gap of two to three generations between Qutb al-Din al-Razi and Shams al-Din al-Isfahani—the latest scholars our author refers to—and the anonymous author. From David b. Joshua’s pen, a number of works have been preserved (some partly, some completely) among the various Geniza collections that testify to his scholarly abilities and his learning in both the Jewish and Muslim literary traditions.44 Apart from his commentary on Maimonides’s Mishneh Torah,* mention should be made of his Tajrid al-haq@ig al-nazariyya wa-talkhis al-maqasid al-nafsaniyya, an ethicalphilosophical work in which the author displays his intimate familiarity with the relevant Jewish and Muslim traditions up to his time,*° and of a-Murshid ila l-tafarrud, a comprehensive handbook of Sufism.*” In addition to his proficiency in the Jewish literary traditions, these works testify to David’s deep immersion into a variety of Muslim rational sciences. In philosophy, he is not only familiar with the peripatetic thought of Ibn Sina (he included in his Tajrid al-haqd@ig quotations from the

latter’s al-Isharat wa-l-tanbihat**), but also acquainted with numerous writings of

the shaykh al-ishrag, Shihab al-Din al-Suhrawardi (executed 587/1191). Quotations from the latter’s Kalimat al-tasawwuf and his Hikmat al-ishrag are adduced in David’s K. al-Murshid,® and he may have possessed a copy of‘Izz al-Dawla Ibn Kammiina’s (d. 684/1283) commentary on Suhrawardi’s K. al-Talwihat° On the

basis of lengthy quotations in his commentary on Maimonides’s Mishneh Torah, it is further known that David had a copy of Ibn Kammina’s al-JadidfiL-hikma at his disposal.*! David was likewise familiar with Abt Hamid al-Ghazzali’s (d. 555/1111) Thy@ ‘uliim al-din® and with Fakhr al-Din al-Razi’s K. al-Muhassal.”° In addition to these, he quotes extensively from the earlier Muslim literature on mysticism,”4

and he was evidently well versed in the Muslim astronomical tradition.” Given the outstanding scholarly profile of David ben Joshua, it is possible that he is the actual author of the second commentary on al-Katibi’s Shamsiyya that is preserved in the Geniza fragments described here. One indication supporting this possibility may be the fact that the commentary is conspicuously free from marginal comments or critical remarks>®° whereas in other cases, such as David’s copy ofal-Hilli’s Qawa‘id,”’ he was in the habit of adding glosses (hawashi) and some criticism in the margins. The absence ofthese is a kind of“silent” proof that David may indeed be the author who, quite naturally, would not be adding critical glosses to his own work. Whether or not David ben Joshua was the author of this commentary, which has so far largely escaped the attention of those (few) scholars who have studied David,°® cannot be decided on the basis of the material described in this contribu-

tion. However, this commentary, which clearly goes beyond the other fourteenthcentury commentaries on the Shamsiyya in many respects, is without a doubt a noteworthy document for a future study of the commentary tradition on al-Katibi’s popular handbook.”

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208

Notes . This publication was finalized within the framework of the European Research Council’s EP 7 project “Rediscovering Theological Rationalism in the Medieval World of Islam.” Thanks are due to Camilla Adang, Khaled El-Rouayheb, Reza Pourjavady, and Gregor Schwarb for their help during the research on this chapter. I also wish to express my gratitude to the Gerda Henkel Foundation for financial support of an extended visit to the Russian National Library in St. Petersburg in June 2008, which allowed me to consult the original manuscripts described in this paper. Otherwise, I have consulted the microfilm copies held at the Institute for Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts at the Israel National Library in Jerusalem. . See Sarah Stroumsa, “The Muslim Context in Medieval Jewish Philosophy,” in The Cambridge History ofJewish Philosophy: From Antiquity through the Seventeenth Century, ed. S. Nadler and T. Rudavsky (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 39-59; Sidney H. Griffith, The Church in the Shadow of the Mosque: Christians and Muslims in the World of Islam (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003). . On the Firkovitch Collection, see my “Mu'tazili Manuscripts in the Abraham Firkovitch Collection, St. Petersburg: A Descriptive Catalogue,” in A Common Rationality: Mu tazilism in Islam and Judaism, ed. Camilla Adang, Sabine Schmidtke, and David Sklare (Wiirzburg: Ergon, 2007), 377-462, esp. 378, note 6, with further references. . The following leaves have 20 lines to a page: RNL Firk. YA II 1214, ff. 21, 27, 76 (?), 90, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103a, 105, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 119, 120,

121, 122b, 125b, 126, 127a, 128, 161b, 162a. The following leaves have 21 lines to a page: 117, 118. All other leaves have 19 lines to a page (except those with blank space reserved for charts; see below).

. See Plates i and ii below for reproductions of this fragment. I wish to thank the Russian National Library for permission to include images of the fragment in this publication.

. See Carl Brockelmann, Geschichte der arabischen Litteratur, Zweite den Supplementbanden angepasste

Auflage,

2 vols.

(Leiden:

E. J. Brill,

1943-49)

[=

GAL],

1:464—65;

Brockelmann, Geschichte der Arabischen Litteratur: Supplementbande, 3 vols. (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1937-42) [= GALS], 1:841.

See GAL 1:467; GALS 1:848. The Matali‘ al-anwar consists of two parts—logic and philosophy. While the first part on logic was very popular and is extant in many manuscripts, only few copies survive that comprise both parts. On the work and its transmission, see Heidrun Eichner, “The Post-Avicennan Philosophical Tradition and Islamic Orthodoxy: Philosophical and Theological summae in Context” (Habilitationsschrift eingereicht an der Philosophischen Fakultat I der Martin-Luther-Universitat Halle-Wittenberg, 2009), 102-14,

. See GAL 1:466; GALS 1:845—47; Muhsin Kadivar and Muhammad Nari, Ma’khizshinasi-yi ‘uliim-i ‘agli: Manabi‘-yi chapi-i ‘ulum-i ‘agli az ibtida’ ta 1375, 3 vols. (Tehran,

1378-79/[1999-—2000]),

2:1833-34;

Nicholas

Rescher,

The Development of

Arabic Logic ({Pittsburgh]: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1964), 203-204.—Some ofthe most popular works within this tradition are included in Shurah al-Shamsiyya: Majmi‘a hawashin wa-tdligat, 2 vols. [written by Qutb al-Din Mahmiid b. Muhammad al-Razi, al-Sayyid al-Sharif ‘Ali b. Muhammad al-Jurjani, al-~Allama ‘Abd al-Hakim al-Siyalkati (d. 1067/1657), Jalal al-Din al-Dawani (d. 907/1501), al-» 9 ale la

«>» al

Jail «Ke» ail4gle Gre lat ‘Sal, \ Os Js! eal 5

KS) oul ala l «t=» oul «Ko»

Cai lk Gard

i gllaall 905 43jas UwSall Grad olgail gio gy Tails dey «Qo» Guile Goad

69. *,..** This passage

iba 5m sill a

is identical with Qutb al-Din al-Razi, Tahrir, 136:3—4:

YI eal Ayyg pucally qual! Kash Ai gl GY «Sait Nb ASL AY jal lis gall Ll,

OUsSall Y Largylislell,

70. *..."* This passage is identical with Qutb al-Din al-Razi, Tahrir, 136:6-7:

IS padacoalGadi omy GASanLal Y gaitllCay haus cualgaalll inesGaney abl Bog petals pod Garde JS GY calall

Tae *...** This passage is closely related to Qutb al-Din al-Razi, Tzhrir, 136:19-28:

«py Antony Cush gl KG KEY Oe egg Y Laila gl By 5pally Gace 18) SY dilles dine Glicolall LSet AUYal 52 ga50& peapallGIS GY KO» Gal 9 Gas Kem Ko» Gal b Gan Garauli Laila Y «Ez» ala

Two COMMENTARIES

Be ae aes

217

ehhh ppl to sd

Eaares ©: ee Bl Ad}Kay gle Gare lly Key Ad58 CSglarom 8 MO Gal GISAY 1s 9 AGS (g8 beJ eel 989 Kooy Gal 98 Gas Me KO» Gal LeGreed KO Gal 44,58

seals Ker Cal ail day (gle Garey 415 algaDN} Lally (i83Labs Aaa Lol atta Y Alles yas pjluSei

G2

lal, —

\Ae cLatls Y OG a, aiall alsu elll Gls algal als oy cal Osh ae

«em» oss Yi,

@)g92U) 0sede 98 9Sally Key Gul Ko» Gal Le Gnas Gare lei Ke» asl ily co» Gul ail, «ay Gle

72. *...** This passage is closely related to Qutb al-Din al-Razi, Tahrir, 136:28-29:

gdab (Q» Aves Cul «Oo» KE) Cs ett Y Gare Id) 43 dle dill, eee tig. golly LLGgl Lil,

ell GUBYL «ey KO» Gal

Goes Gree: Go) Gey Giga oda

;

73. The quotation is taken from Qutb al-Din al-Razi, Tzhrir, 136:31-33:

Val @> Gre «od Ls «ey Os ol Slyal GSall gl By weds olgadU! ad ant al Lally 35 aly Y Glas} GilsN Ginay OSS we yy wall Y iS DG GLY Gare Cal LU gS GIL «or

Bag paschal) GAS Js GY

74. *...** This passage is clearly related to Qutb al-Din al-Razi, Tahrir, 137:4-5:

egg Y Gases U3) ASS Lge SaLball GulSailLal clyde pally BLN CallgallGolSadl CM Cand Cpe Qulill (ye

Laila Ke» Ky

Und Les eg EY gabel BSYL «Key KO» Lal bbKaas alll DUYL «2 Ke»

CBILYL Ko» KEY

Oe eek Y IS aby Laila Ky Ke» DS deSly Lata KO Gull KO C4 eit

Cals |e

75. *...** This passage is closely related to Qutb al-Din al-Razi, Tahrir, 137:5-7: RYE Ke» yoy Gayl Gerd Goll GUYL KO» pew Ge eget Y Ul V3)A518 (ysKiScall(plait Lalg yen JS 425s 855 mall Ko» Gal den Ge eget Bg mall. Ke» pcm Ctl Les eget EY gcall

ee! gly 989 39 mall «op» 76. *...** This passage is closely related to Qutb al-Din al-Razi, Tahrir, 137:7-13:

O98 BY

5 Ky «hy TS «a» KE OS al 15) SN) Gl «Kes KY Aly GIS LUIS Gare 1A] a0

la. 43]5Ka» KEYS Ky KE OS al IS) GS 8 ety See ee 8 9 Ky ay GIS KD KO” OG al 1)

LagjheKom» «hy GSB Km» KEM OS Al Ko» «ly TIS NS) Og 9 US CY Gsgeal GSall UsSey SI al IS) 9S 288 Kay End Kod ely US NS) AGM Coad LE 1S) ASD Aa Ae tlh Gals! Lally, Gyrznutill al «ep «ly IS 13! OS Y 288 KO» «Id Ky KEM OG a 15) Atal Gal Vy KO» «Id KY KEY OG sic SYall oda aii al Lally dee) Gaal 9 5, «2» Kend Ko» «by CIS NA! G9 de Shy KH» KEY OG

Aare 9usa! gb Cidghya) slay ily aly hol!

Appendix | The tentative order ofthe texts is given in the following table. The following abbreviations have been used: “||” signifies interruptions oftext; “-” signifies that the text

continues from one leafto the next; and references in square brackets introduced by “K” identify quotations from al-Katibi’s a/-Shamsiyya in the commentary according

to the edition by Mahdi Fadl Allah (Beirut: al-Markaz al-Thaqafi al“Arabi, 1998). The respective units of the original text are indicated using the following abbrevia-

tions: “M1” = al-magéala al-iila, “M2” = al-magala al-thaniya, “M3” = al-magala

al-thalitha; “F” = fasl; and “B” = bahth. \f no specific manuscript is mentioned, the folio number refers to YA II 1214. For the remaining four manuscripts, the

respective shelfmark is given. As far as preserved and legible, the first word of each fragment will be indicated, as well as the custodian indicated on the lower margin

of the last verso page ofa fragment.

SABINE SCHMIDTKE

218

Fragmenti (khutba, mugaddima, M1) (= al-Hilli, Qawdiid, 179-196:14): 1b (la is blank) [= K 203:1-12]-2 [= K 203:12—204:3]-140 [— K 204:4-7]-151 [— K 204:8—9]-152 [— K 204:10, K 204:10-13, K 204:14]-141 [— K 204:14,

K 204:14-16]-3 [> K 204:17-24]-4 [> K 204:25-205:3]-167 [= K 205:4-11 (= M1)]-168 (O8)|| RK

Fragment ii (muqaddima):

(Ll) 153-154 [> K 204:6] (Lai)| Fragment iii (muqaddima): (US) 155-156 [— K 204:7]-157 [> K 204:8]-158-YA II 812:3b/a [— K 204:9;

K 204:10] (a8)|| Fragment iv (mugaddima):

(8) 132 (043)|| Fragment v (mugaddima): (M/S) 133 [— K 204:17 (= mugaddima, B2)]|| Fragment vi (M1, F2): 159 [> K 207:5]|| Fragment vii (M1, F2):

160 [> K 207:21] (0)

Fragment viii (M1, F2):

(£58 5) 129 [> K 207:26] (4>5)|| Fragment ix (M1, F2/F3): (ul) 130 [— K 208:12 (= M1, F3)]-131 [> K 208:18; K 208:21]-46 (GaU)))|

Fragment x (M1, F3):

(US) 134 [> K 209:4] (O)|| Fragment xi (M1, F3):

(st!) 5 [> K 209:11-12]-6 [+ K 209:15] (Gi=8)|| Fragment xii (M1, F3):

((4i8509/438505) 135 [> K 209:20-21]-136 [> K 209:24]-45 (a) Fragment xiii (M1, F3/F4): (4S) YA IT 835:72 [= K 210:4]-139 [> K 210:8; K 210:11}-11 [> K 210:16]25 [— K 210:19-20]-26 [— K 210:22 (= M1, F4)]-47-142 [—> K 210:24]-YA II

835:73 (s\4Y))||

Fragment xiv (M1, F4 / M2):

(Gxlaiall) 55 [— K 211:4]-56-57 [> K 211:12 (= M2) (o4)|| Fragment xv (M2):

:

(= A) 58-59 [> K 211:17-19]-60 (Utual)|| Fragment xvi (M2 / M2, Fl / M2, F1, Bl): (eS=4) 43 [— K 211:22 (= M2, Fl)]-49-67-68 [— K 212:4—5; K 212:9] (?)]|

Two COMMENTARIES

219

Fragment xvii (M2, Fl, B1/B2): (o5415) 61 [— K 212:18]-62-48

(o)||

[— K 212:21]-44 [—> K 212:23 (M2, Fl, B2)]

Fragment xviii (M2, F1, B2):

(*) 24 (4B5)}| Fragment xix (M2, F1, B2):

(e944) 52-53 [> K 213:1] (o8)]| Fragment xx (M2, F1, B2):

(Alpaxe) 23 [— K 213:10]-22 [> K 213:13] (saeah)]|

Fragment xxi (M2, F1, B4): () YA II 2396:2 [— K 213:21 (= M2, F1, B4)]-97-[one folio missing ]-42 [> K

214:2]-41-30 [— K 214:6-8]-98 [> K 214:9]-YAII2396:1 [— K 214:13] (.4)||

Fragment xxii (M2, Fl, B4):

(tealga 5!) 35 [> K 214:18]-36 [> K 214:21]-165 [> K 215:1]-31-32 [> K 215:5]-33 [> K 215:10]-34 [— K 215:13] (c3»)|| Fragment xxiii (M2, Fl, B4 / M2, F2): (& 9-2gall) 37 [— K 215:20]-38 [— K 215:26]-39 [> K 216:3-ila akhir al-fasl (= M2, end ofF1)} (8344!!)|| Fragment xxiv (M2, F2):

(u 3!) 143 (s89))]]

Fragment xxv (M2, F2):

(4c) 161 [— K 216:12]-162-163-164 (44))]| Fragment xxvi (M2, F2):

(Ads) 40 [> K 216:26]-149 (W555)

Fragment xxvii (M2, F2): (OS)5)144-147 [— K 217:10]-148-145 [— K 217:12]-146 [—> K 217:19] (ol / 3)| Fragment xxviii (M2, F3, Bl):

(An285)150-29 [— K 218:5] (a2!)]| Fragment xxix (M2, F3, Bl):

(eS) Gy le WSsis [sil] 7 [4 K 218:10]-8 [— K 218:12]-9-10-YA II 846:46 (§)]|

Fragment xxx (M2, F3, B1/B2):

(44 jal!) 12-13-14 [> K 219:3]-15 [> K 219:5 (= M2, F3, B2)]-16-17 [> K 219:7]-18-19 [— K 219:14]-20-21 [— K 219:19] (Lsi!s)|| Fragment xxxi (M2, F3, B2/B3/B4/M3, F1):

(cuivalal Ge) 77 [> K 220:2]-78 [> K 220:9]-79 [> K 220:14; K 220:20]-80 [> K 221:2]-81 [> K 221:5-6]-82 [— K 221:7]-83 [— K 221:11]-84-85 [> K 221:16 (= M2, F3, B3)|-86 [> K 221:19]-87 [— K 221:21; K 221:26]-88 [> K 222-4; K 222:10]-89 [> K 222:21]-90 [> K 222:22]-91 [> K 222:27; K 223:4]92-93 [— K 223:6 (= M2, F3, B4)|-94-95 [> K 223:13 (= M3)]-96 (oH!))||

220

SABINE SCHMIDTKE Fragment xxxii (M3, F1): (e«) 69 [— K 223:17; K 223:22]-70-71

[— K 224:6]-72-73 [> K 224:16]-74

[— K 224:18]-75-76 (e4)|| Fragment xxxiii (M3, F1/F2):

(c) 25!) 50-137-27 [> K 225:22]-63-64 [— K 225:24]-65-66-28 [— K 226:13]138 [— K 226:17]-51 [— K 226:21 (= M3, F2)]-(?)99-100 [— K 226:26]-101102 [—> K 227:2]-103-104-(?)105 [— K 227:4-5]-106]|

Fragment xxxiv (M3, F2/F3): (Cx eget V5) 119 [— K 227:10; K 227:10]-120 [— K 227:11]-121 [— K 227:13]122 [— 277.15]-125-124 [—» K 227:16 (2); K 227:18; K 227:19]-125 [> K 227:19; K 227:21 (= M3, F3)]-126-127-128 [— K 228:11] (j4))]|

Fragment xxxv (M3, F3/F4/F5/Khatima, B1/B2): (c+) 107-108 [— K 229:11 (= M3, F4)]-109 [— K 229:16]-110 [— K 229:23 (= M3 F5)]-111 [> K230:10; K 230:14]-112 [— K 230:14 (= Khatima)]-113-114

[> K 231:13]-115-116-117-118 [> K 233:2 (= Khatima, B2)] (14))||

Fragment xxxvii (M3):

(») dic Aaslive OS al Lal 5 Sdall Gus! pulls edie IS 5 «ay «EA «>» «hy GIS Le SSE KY «Ip jeRivvsl BIS Ge SYaioyy!Gilb chile’ 676% *Asde 3 (ulSatyl re. a

al Calas ales als ar trsedal|

Ol gual ali ail (Ol) grand aul Y OYY satay! oda S35 3_) Sal! Ops | pall Juay

one oe 3 a

ihgia ob

Sg A :

oA vbrnn yo” 1K irey igesyreore =

Dorma fess Canby mes coy23 ay1 (ea7 reper 420" pbori3 WTS (2 NIKDAIT

WP aineyessin oy (bo sien

f pny’wred ccanpynrds tans eltevyr, (OSD 7(NoaaEleini D)y 2418

5H we

2 (rh

ee

det

vo oe reske (1):—

ni Rei wos

ae YSpat ven wire icky

» (ys 110 wembley ob i on wt thtbind DO? ke om ye vov oby vedo, 27 99 Sic obynni ol isle Var

spabs bere sity puss My 7 ane > wyy.

Figure 11.1

Plate I: MS Firkovitch Yevr.-Arab. II 812, f. 7b.

4B

a

eis? 4

‘ f

é

peek y? “jae?rad nt) grind) DASA HN roach

: 3

miptampin MSS oi

—opyly KS

Sage soak'saps ben aise sapiesk py bore HIkeD Hons ask v6y7)

_ Patho vn be. xinithes Sinito fepcal

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park coord -S1)

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eries

eerck Sui mh

gee (> yor

“poeansle yesh (dri y2 OU Spek fn sx

yor rains rato vyprls pusk sk naps

«

Figure 11.2

ee: vers Kay whorl (ADI righ.

Plate I]: MS Firkovitch Yevr.-Arab. II 812, £ 7a.

%

= Hae So oe eee

»?

-

se -

Chapter 12 Logic in the Khayrabadi School of India: A Preliminary Exploration Asad Q. Ahmed

taqdim be ostdd-e ‘aziz —Hossein Modartessi

This chapter presents, in an exploratory fashion, the history of Arabo-Islamic logic in India’ between the tenth/sixteenth and fourteenth/twentieth centuries, with special focus on the formation of the Khayrabadi School in this discipline. Given its exploratory nature, the chapter does not promote any thesis that elaborates on the causes behind historical developments; however, it does point out that the study of logic passed through India in four distinct stages via Multan, Delhi, Lahore, the Awadh (generally), and Tonk. The aim of the chapter is simply to chart the trajec-

tory of the scholars and works associated with logical studies in the specified period and region, so as to lay the groundwork for further technical research in Arabo-

Islamic logical texts of the subcontinent.

From Ghiyath al-Din Mansur (d. 949/1542) to Muhammad A‘lam Sandilawi (d. 1197/1783):

Writing and Teaching Logic in India Our sources are generally silent about the place of logic in any formal or semiformal curriculum of India before the end of the ninth/fifteenth century. It appears that, until that period, the elementary stage of studies included the Qur'an, and generally some short works on grammar and Islamic law (figh). This was followed in the second stage with reinforcements in figh and training in principles of jurisprudence

228

AsabD Q. AHMED

(usiil al-figh) and Quranic exegesis (tafsir). There was some exposure to rhetoric and literary works as well. At the end of these studies, the scholar was granted the title

fadil?

Stage One It was very likely with the educational reforms introduced in the reign of the Lodhis (r. 855/1451-932/1526),

in particular during the period of Sikandar

Lodhi (r. 894/1489-923/1517), that logic came to assume an increasingly important place in scholarly training.* We are told by Badayiini that just before this period the Sharh al-shamsiyya of Tahtani was the only logic work read in the region. But these reports pertain to a semiformal or formal curriculum and are certainly not meant to imply that additional logical works were not studied in informal settings. In fact Badayini and other sources inform us that leading logicians had come to settle in different parts of India, often under elite patron-

age, and were known to teach logic there; it is, however, unclear what exactly they taught.* Within the formal curriculum, it appears that the study of logic spread at the

hands of two scholars from Multan,’ one ofthe leading cultural centers of the Indian subcontinent in the tenth/sixteenth century. These two, ‘Abdallah al-Tulanbi® (d. 922/1516-17) and ‘Azizallah al-Tulanbi (d. 976/1568),’ had fled Multan to escape

political unrest; the former settled in Delhi under the patronage of Sikandar Lodhi and the latter in Sanbhal.’ And it is in these two regions and under the aegis of these two scholars that logical works found a new position in the curriculum. ‘Abdallah al-Tulanbi is reported as a student of ‘Abdallah al-Yazdi (d. 982/1574 or 1015/1606), a scholar in the line of Dawani and best known in India as a commentator on Taftazani’s (d. 791/1389) Tahdhib al-mantig.’ It is also claimed that

the intellectual lineage of these scholars can be traced to al-Sayyid Sharif al-Jurjani (d. 816/1413), a rival of Taftaézani in Timiar’s court.'° The lineage to Jurjani is traced via a certain Sama’ al-Din (d. 901/1496), another rationalist scholar of

Multan, who had left the region at around the same time and who also spent the last years of his life in Delhi.'’ In view of these details, it can be speculated that at least the Marali‘ of Urmawi'? (d. 682 or 691/1283 or 1293) and perhaps also Tahtani’s Sharh Matali‘ and Taftazani’s Tahdhib were introduced in the curriculum at this time. In addition, during this same period, students of the logician Dawani, such as ‘Imad al-Din al-Tarimi (d. 941/1534), Aba al-Fadl Gadhrawni,

and Abi al-Fadl al-Astarabadi, were also spreading the rationalist sciences in India; it is fair to assume that they brought some of their master’s works to the notice of Indian scholars.’ Thus, already at the beginning of the tenth/sixteenth century, three logical traditions, incorporated increasingly in the emerging formal curriculum, were very likely accessible to scholars in India, especially in Multan and then in Delhi: that of Katibi’s Shamsiyya, Urmawi’s Matali‘, and Taftazani’s Tahdhib. It is worth stressing that the first two were delivered through the commentatorial line of

Loeic IN THE KHAYRABADI SCHOOL OF INDIA

229

Tahtani, Jurjani, and the latter’s intellectual grandchild Dawani, and that the tradition of Taftazani was represented by the commentary of Yazdi. Later, both

the Katibi and Taftazani traditions were also perpetuated in India via the massive commentatorial weight of Mir Zahid al-Harawi!4 (d. 1100/1689), a student

of Mirza Jan al-Shirazi (d. 993/1585); but within the curricula, Harawi’s influ-

ence seems to have remained rather limited. As I will note here, much of the history of logical training and output in India—both in terms of commentaries and otherwise original works—falls in line with these two main divisions of Tahtani/Jurjani/Dawani and Yazdi/Harawi. In the eleventh/seventeenth century, a major scholar associated with Farangi Mahall (to be discussed later), Muhibballah al-Bihari (d. 1119/1707), who also traced his lineage to the Shirazi

tradition, wrote a logical work called Sudlam al-‘ulam. This heavily commentedupon work was incorporated into some Indian curricula as well.

Stage Two The foundation for the study and development of logic was firmly in place by the time Lédhi rule came to an end, and it is on this base that the scholars of the Mughal period built with accelerated speed. Though the scholars of this first flowering in the Lédhi era had certainly created a rationalist scholarly milieu, they had failed to leave behind either a viable legacy of scholarly networks or a standard curriculum in India. Thus, the long history oflogic in India that culminates with the Khayrabadis actually traces its origins not to the Multani scholars mentioned earlier, but to the direct influence of Shiraz and, more specifically, to the Shirazi scholar Ghiyath al-Din Mansir (d. 949/1542).'° It is through his disciples that the work of the earlier period was carried further.’” Ghiyath al-Din'® was the son of Sadr al-Din Shirazi (d. 903/1498),!? who was

a known opponent of Dawani in logical and philosophical matters. As a representative of his father’s tradition, Ghiyath al-Din had posthumously acquired great scholarly renown during the reign of the emperor Akbar (r. 963/1556-1014/1605). It is reported that when the latter heard that Ghiyath al-Din’s celebrated student Fathallah Shirazi (d. 997/1589) was in Bijapir, he dispatched requests for the latter’s arrival at his court; and thus began the first phase of formal incorporation

of the rationalist scholarly tradition in India.*° From this point on and until the end of the thirteenth/nineteenth century, most ofthe leading rationalist scholars in the line of Ghiyath al-Din received substantial institutional backing, often in the form of political appointments, private grants, and charitable endowments. And this allowed them to carry on their scholarly work and to subsidize large

numbers of students.”!

We are told that Fathallah Shirazi taught the works of later scholars of Iran

and Khurasan

(e.g., Dawani) to his students and that the rationalist tradition

came to dominate at his time.?? It was perhaps through his efforts also that the gloss of the aforementioned Mirza Jan Shirazi on the Kitab al-muhakama bayna Imam wa-’l-Nasir of Tahtani, a commentary on the celebrated dispute tradition

230

AsaD Q. AHMED

of Isharat of Avicenna,”? and Dawani’s Mulla Jalal, a commentary on Taftazani’s Tahdhib, also began to be studied.” In the field of logic, Fathallah Shirazi had authored the Takmila-yi hashiya-yi Dawani bar Tahdhib al-Mantig and a supergloss on this gloss of Dawani on Taftazani.” Perhaps this work was also included informally in his teaching circle, though we have no report to this effect; since the work does not survive, it is also impossible to say whether it promoted the position of Dawani or of his Shirazi rivals. It appears that within the next hundred years, the logic sections of the Shifa’ and Ishdrat of Avicenna were also being studied in some circles.2° But this is no guarantee that these were included in any emerging formal curricula. In fact the evidence suggests that, despite these transformations and the enviable institutional backing these scholars received, logic had not yet become part of apedagogical canon.

Stage Three The impetus to canonize seems to have come from the emergence of a center of rationalism in Lahore. Our sources inform us that a number oflogicians who traced their intellectual lineage to Shiraz had begun to spread the study of rationalist sciences in the former city even before this period.*’ Indeed, some of these scholars had studied in the tradition associated with Fathallah Shirazi. Direct descendants of the latter and of Dawani and students of Mirza Jan Shirazi, such as Mir Zahid Harawi, also began to migrate in large numbers to this region during Akbar’s reign

(r. 963/1556-1014/1605); by the time of Jahangir (r. 1014—36/1605-27), a firm cultural and political contiguity of Lahore and Kabul resulted in an even greater influx of such scholars into Lahore.*® One of the leading students of Fathallah, who had already promoted logical learning among the elite and whose legacy was then officially sustained by the later Shi‘ite establishment of Awadh, was ‘Abd al-Salam Lahtri (d. 1037/1628). And one of his students, ‘Abd al-Salam Déwi of Awadh (d.

1040/1630),” should rightly be considered the fountainhead of the heavy institutionalized learning oflogic in India that began in earnest in this period. The rationalist line proceeded to his students ‘Abd al-Qadir Farigi Lakhnawi (d. 1077/1666),*°

Shaykh Daniyal of Chawrasa,*! and Mulla ‘Abd al-Halim,* all of whom taught Mulla Qutb al-Din Sihalawi (d. 1102/1691). This latter was the figurehead of the

famous rationalist Farangi Mahalli family and the father and teacher of Mulla

Nizam al-Din Sihalawi (d. 1153/1740), the founder of the longstanding South Asian curriculum, the Dars-i Nizami. Mulla Nizam al-Din also studied with the ma quli students ofhis father, Hafiz Amanallah Banarasi (d. 1132/1720) and Mulla Qutb al-Din Shams Abadi (d. 1121/1709)°°; the latter and Qutb al-Din Sihalawi were both also the teachers of the famous Muhibballah Bihari (mentioned above),

whose heavily commented-upon logic work Sullam al-‘ulim was considered the most advanced logical text in the Dars-i Nizami curriculum. At the climax of a longstanding rationalist trend in India, Mulla Nizam al-Din Sihalawi canonized a curriculum that had a relatively high dose of logic. And given that the cultivation of this curriculum remained in many ways a family affair for

Locic In THE KHAYRABADI SCHOOL oF INDIA

7B)

almost two hundred years, a rather large number of scholars within his genealogy produced commentaries and glosses on curricular logical works in their teaching circles. In addition, after the setting down and propagation of a standardized system, even those scholars who did not belong to the family line produced their own commentaries on the same logical works along the way. Often, in the course of their own teaching, they glossed the commentaries of their direct teachers on these logical works. It is in this fashion that, beginning in the first half of the twelfth/ eighteenth century, one notices two rather interesting phenomena: an explosion of logical works in the form of commentaries and glosses in Awadh and Bihar and the emergence of logical schools shaped by the curricular commentary lines. In the eleventh/seventeenth century, the study of logic had firmly moved from Delhi and Lahore to Awadh and Bihar. It was now also standardized.*4

Summary Observations | At this stage of the presentation, the first stemma of logicians and works that is

found below should be helpful as a summary and the reader should consult it (Figure 12.1, Tree I). It shows that it was the Ghiyath al-Din branch of the philosophers and logicians of Shiraz that ultimately propagated logic in an institutional setting starting in the early twelfth/eighteenth century. It also demonstrates that,

though they produced the later interpreters of the tradition—and this we will see

more clearly in what is to follow of the case of Khayrabadi scholars—their few works on logic were not being studied from the tenth/sixteenth to the twelfth/ eighteenth centuries. Finally, the stemma shows that the works of the two branches of Taftazani and Dawani (together with those of their line) were in vogue, even

among the members of the Ghiyath al-Din line. Whether or not the Ghiyath al-Din line taught the works of rival branches between the tenth/sixteenth and twelfth/eighteenth centuries is moot; but it is certainly the case that, starting in

the twelfth/eighteenth century, the works of the disciples of both Dawani and Taftazani were primarily canonized by the efforts of the rival Ghiyath al-Din disciples. These works were made part of the pedagogical canon, studied, and commented through the efforts ofthis rival branch, whose major representative in

India was the Farangi Mahalli family. These developments are displayed in summary form in the second stemma, which should now be consulted.»

Summary Observations I] This second stemma

(Figure 12.2, Tree II) gives a sample of scholars of Farangi

Mahall and their logical works. It is not an exhaustive presentation of all the members of this family writing in the field of logic; for this one would have to mine through

the massive bio-bibliographical source material (which certainly is a desideratum at this stage). Rather it lists the logical works that were com mented and glossed most

Asap Q. AHMED

232 1200s

Tast (Tajrid, Hall mushkilat al-Isharat)

1300s

Tahtant (Sh. Shams, Risala Qutbiyya, Lawami', Muhakama)

1400s

Jurjani (gl./Kati/Abhari, Sharh Qu,

i

i

Taftazani (Sh. Isagh., Sh. Shams,

gl./Lawami‘, Sughra, Kubra

Tahdhib al-mantiq,

ee H

Dabit intaj al-ashkal) = toe

Sadr al-Din Shirazt RATTAN Dawant (gl./Jur/Tah/Shams, gl./Jur/Lawami ’, (gl./Jur/Tah/Shams) “ Sh. Tahd., Sh. Muhakamat Tah.) gl./Lawami ‘) A Pa sie 1

Abii ‘I-Fadl;

‘Imad al-Din

Ghadrawnt

Tarimi

1500s

Sama’ al-Din

Jamal al-Din Mahmid

|

vp H

‘Abdallah Yazdi

Ghiyath al-Din Shirazi;

Mirza Jan Shirazi

(gl./Jur/Tah/Shams, as ae gl./Dawant/Tahdhr i Ta ‘dil al-mizan) -

(Sh. Shams, gl/Jur/Lawami*, gl./Tahd.)

‘AbdaNah

/ (gl./Jur/Tah/Shams, Sh, Tahd.)

Tulanbi —_(gl./Badi'/VRzan on Shanfs) if

Fathallah Shirazi

(gl./Dawani/Tahd.)

*Azizallgh Tulanbr~

1600s

A ‘Abd al-Salam

Mulla Muhammad Yisuf

Lahiri

a

(Sh. Tahd.)

‘Abd al-Salam Déwi

Mir Zahid Harawi (gl/Dawani/Tahd., gl./Tah/Shams Sh. Qutbiyya)

‘Abd al-Qadir Fariigi Lakhnawi oe

Shaykh Daniyal Chawrasa /

‘Abd al-Hakim Siyalkow? (gl./Jur/Tah/Shams, gl./Jur/Lawami', gl./Tah/Shams.)

Qutb al-Din Sihalawi

Muhibballah Bihar? Sullam al-‘uliim

* Tn the following stemmata, dotted lines indicate indirect master-disciple links, dashed lines indicate father-son kinship links and solid lines indicate direct master-disciple links. The Arabic numerals next to the lines represent degree distance between two nodes. The thick horizontal lines indicate scholarly rivalry. Shams is short for Katibi’s Shamsiyya, Qutbiyya for Tahtani’s original work on Tayawwur wa-tasdig (i.e., it is not his commentary on the Shamsiyya). Lawami' is Tahtani’s commentary on Urmawi’s Matali* Sh. is short for Sharh, Tahd. for Taftazani’s Hii ah *gl./x/y” means gloss on x on y”, Jur is for Jurjani, and Tah is for Tahtani. a), "A gloss on Dawant’s Hashiya qadima was written by him; but this is on QishjP on Tilst’s Tajrid al-‘aga'id. See Nucha, 4:70. *Nuzha, 4:182. *Nuzha, 5:229-30. Robinson, ‘Ulama, 43, Malik, Gelehrtenkultur, 98.

Figure 12.1 Mahallis.*

Tree I: Sample of Relevant Logicians and Logical Works from al-Tusi to the Farangi

regularly and are most often cross-referenced in various logical texts in the Indian context. Despite the limitations of the sample size, the stemma does suggest some

patterns: 1. Though the curriculum of Mulla Nizam al-Din Sihalawi had included 113° logic books, the Farangi Mahalli scholars with very rare exceptions commented on only the Qutbiyya, Mulla Jalal, and the Sullam al-‘ulam.

Loic IN THE KHAYRABADT SCHOOL OF INDIA Qutb al-Din

1700s

1333}

Sihalaw7 (d. 1691)"

MOP, (ERIS Mulla Nizam al-Din (d. 1740)

Mulla Sa‘id

Mulla Astad

Sera

Hamdallah (d. 1747)°

Mulla Hasan (d. 1794)’

Sh. Sullam (Hamdallah)

Sh. Sullam (Mulla Hasan)

1 Ghulam Yahya al-Bihari (d. 1766)" Liwa’ al-huda ft |-layl wa-l--duja” Sharh Sullam bi-(sic) Hamdillah

1800s

diss aig) arh

Ragen”

Sullam,

,7”

ad ‘Abd al-Hagia ( 1778)'°

utbivyvardarawi,

‘Abd al-‘Ali Bahr al-‘Ulim(d. 1810)'> — Mulla Mubin r Brose Sharh Sullam Bahr al-‘Ulim ma'a Munh. Sharh tasawwurat Sullam, gh /on

ae

Sharh tasawwurat al-Sullam (Mulla Mubin), Ma ‘arij al- ‘ulin?

gl. /Outbiyyat Harawi \gl./Mulla Jalal Har.

a

Sharh Qutbiyyat Harawi,"* gl./on Harawi/ Dawani/Taftazani, g\./Dabit al-Tahdhib, Sharh Dabit

ee

.

gl.Me i

1 1

.

|

'

Mulla Haydgr- “Alt Sandilawi (d. 1840$'°

'Zuhirallah (d.1840)'°

H

Hashiygt tlamdallah, Risala fi ‘l-mantiq

L—

x

HW}

Waliallah (d. 1853)!”

1 ! : 1

A

Abd al-Hakim (d. 1871)"

ee

gl./Qutbiyyat Harawi,

Jalal Harawi

'

Takmilat Mulla Hasan,

Muhammad Yisuf (d. 1870)'* ‘Abd al-Halim (d. 1868)"

Takmilat Sharh Sullam ‘Abd al-Hagqq, 3 gl./on Qutbiyyat Harawi, gi./Mulla

Hashiyat Sharh Sullam QOadi, Hashiyat Mulla Hasan

g\./Mulla@ Hasan, Ta ‘ligat Kashf al-maktim, gl. Mulla Jalal Harawt"* :

Jalal Harawi

|i

3

Sharh Sullam Hamdallah,

‘Abd al-Hayy Lakhnawi (d. 1886)"

gl./Mulla Jalal Harawit

Hidayat al-huda, Misbah al-duja fi liwa' al-huda, ‘Im al-huda,? al-Ta ‘lig al-‘ajib bi-hall Hashiyat Jalal, Hashiyat Badt‘ al-Zaman*™*

altiis reported that most of his works were consumed in the fire following his murder. 5 Son of Muhammad Dawlat Sihalawi and not in the Farangi Mahall family, but the brother of Nizam al-Din Sihalawi’s nephew’s (Qadi Ghulam oe s) wife.

*Established a madrasa in Sandila, for which he received a madad-i ma‘ash from the emperor. "Son of Qadi Ghulam Mustafa b. Mulla As‘ad b. Qutb al-Din Sihalawi. *Hamdallah had started a madrasa in Sandila, very likely called the Mansiiriyya.

It is here that Ghulam Mustafa studied. Nuzha, 6:223.

*Gloss on Mir Zahid Risala (i.e., on Zahid on Tahtani on Shamsiyya). ° Nuzha, 6:32. Ahmad ‘Abd al-Haqq b. Muhammad Sa‘id b. Qutb al-Din Sihalawi. a Nuzha, 6:372. He may in fact be the grandfather of Zuhirallah, whose own father may be Nirallah, mentioned in Nuzha as his father.

'? Son of Mulla Nizam al-Din. Nuzha, 7:312ff.

8 Son of Muhibballah b. Ahmad ‘Abd al-Haqq b. Mulla Sa‘id b. Qutb al-Din Sihalawi. 4 Called Kashf al-maktiim. See Catalogue of Arabic Books in the British Museum, 307.

'S Son of Mulla Mubin. He established the Dars-i Nizami in Hyderabad. See Nuzha, 7: 169-70. 1 Nuzha, 7:253: Zuhirallah b. Muhammad Wali b. Ghulam Mustafa b. Mulla As‘ad b. Qutb al-Din Sihalawi.

said to have studied with ‘Abd al-Wajid Khayrabadi, on whom see below. but these are not listed. Nuzha, 7:567. "Nuzha, 7:578-9.

Zuhirallah’s brother Nirallah is

It is also reported that he wrote glosses on the books ofthe curricula,

Waliallah b. Habiballah b. Muhibballah b. Ahmad ‘Abd al-Haqq b. Mulla Sa‘id b. Qutb al-Din Sihalawi.

Waliallah’s father,

Habiballah, had studied with his brother Mulla Mubin and with the latter's teacher Mulla Hasan. See Nuzha, 7:144-5. '’Nuzha, 7:586-7. Muhammad Yiisufb. al-Mufti Asghar b. Abi al-Rahim b. al-Mufti Ya‘qib b. ‘Abd al-‘Aziz b. Mulla Sa‘id b. Qutb al-Din Sihalawi. Muhammad Yisuf also studied with his father. eabd al-Halim b. Aminallah b. Muhammad Akbar b, ‘Abd al-Rahim b. Muhammad Ya‘qib b. ‘Abd al-‘ Aziz b, Mulla Sa‘id b, Qutb al-Din Sibalawi.

2 See Wisnovsky, “Scope,” 166.

7! Nuzha, 7:562 (on his teacher), 5:273.

” Son of ‘Abd al-Halim b. Aminallah above. Nuzha, 7:250ff. 3 All these three are glosses on the gloss of Ghulam Yahya on Harawi on Tahtani on Shamsiyya.

24 This work was mentioned above as a commentary on a compendium on the Shamsiyya.

Figure 12.2

Tree II: Sample of Relevant Farangi Mahalli Logicians and Logical Works.

2. In the case of the first two, one mostly sees first-order glosses on Harawi’s commentaries on these works, but in the case of the third, most glosses followed either the supergloss of Hamdallah or Mulla Hasan. Whether these two works had come to represent distinct interpretive schools of the Sullam can only be determined by means of concentrated studies of their contents

234

Asap Q. AHMED

and of their related commentaries and glosses. Certainly, for the Khayrabadi tradition that I shall mention below, the Sud/lam was subjected to major commentatorial disputes. It is also unclear in which cases, when writing glosses on the works of another line, scholars tended to challenge interpretations to

advance those of their own line.*” 3. This suggests that the other books were very likely either considered too introductory to comment upon or not read at all. This latter possibility is further supported by popular reports that Nizam al-Din Sihalawi had not intended his curriculum to be so rigid as to require students to read every single text. In fact, he is said to have preferred teaching only the most difficult text or two, so that the students could then master the others by themselves. 4, And this means that the two commentaries of Harawi and, more so, the Sullam were part of a living logical tradition. 5 It is worth noting that pre-seventh/thirteenth century logicians were neither part of the curriculum nor commented upon. It is unclear whether they were being read as extracurricular works.*® 6. In addition, we notice that very few Farangi Mahallis seem to have produced noncommentatorial texts. 7. And finally, though this is not displayed in the stemma, it becomes increasingly difficult after the thirteenth/nineteenth century to find Farangi Mahallis commenting on logic works at all.

Stage Four: From A‘lam Sandilawi (d. 1197/1783) to Mu‘tn al-Din Ajmiri (d. 1359/1940) So what happened to the teaching and writing nineteenth century and onward? It appears that rationalist school—the Khayrabadiyya—which system in the mid-twelfth/eighteenth century. Muhammad Shakir Sandilawi, had studied with

of logic in India in the thirteenth/ the legacy was taken up by another had begun to emerge as a distinct Its founder, Muhammad A‘lam b. both Mulla Nizam al-Din Sihalawi

and Mulla Kamal al-Din Sihalawi (d. 1175/1761). He in turn taught his maternal

nephew ‘Abd al-Wajid Khayrabadi (d. 1218/1803), who seems to have established a circle of study in Khayrabad that began to flourish as an independent regional system.” After the revolution of 1857, many of the leading scholars associated with it emigrated to Tonk in Rajasthan, where they benefited from royal patronage and continued to propagate the rationalist tradition. Below, I supply a stemma of some of the leading scholars of this tradition, along with a listing of some of their logical writings (Figure 12.3, Tree III). This stemma should be consulted at this stage.

From the stemma it seems that the study oflogic had been transformed for the Khayrabadis in many ways:

1. In contrast to the scholars of Farangi Mahall, for example, the first known author of the Khayrabadi tradition, Fadl-i Imam Khayrabadi, not only epitomized the Shifa’ of Avicenna, but also wrote an original work on logic, the

Locic IN THE KHAYRABADI SCHOOL OF INDIA

W3)9)

utb al-Din Sihalawi '

1700s

Shihab al-Din Gopamawi (d. ca. 1713)

Qutb al-Din Shamsabadi (d. 1709) ' '

Sifatallah Khayrabadi (d. 1744)

1

1 ' ' ' 1

Qadi Mubarak Gdpamawi (d. 1749) ' Muhibballah Bihari(d. 1707) ' Sharh Sullam, ’ Sullam al-‘uliim gl./on Hashiyat Mir Zahid Nizam al-Din Sihalawi (d. 1740) ete

Muhammad i Sandilawi (d. 1783)

“Abd al-Wajid Khayrabadt (d. 1803)

1800s

Fadl-i Imam Khayrabadi (d. 1828)"> al-Mirgdt, Talkhis al-Shifa’, g)./Qutbiyvat Harawi, gl. Mulla Jalal Harawi '

‘ 1

Fadl-i Haqq Khayrabadi (d. 1861)°° gl./Talkhts Shifa’ Fadl-i Imam, g\./Sullam Qadt Mubarak, Risdla fi tahqig al-‘ilm wa-l-ma ‘lim, Kafi li-hall Isaghiji27

‘Abd al-Haqq Khayrabadt (d. 1898)"

Muhammad Ahsan Gilani (d. 1884)

Tashil al-kafiyya mu‘arrab min sharh al-kafiyya jurjani,~ Risdla-yi wujiid-i rabiti, gl./on Ghulam Yahya on Qutbiyyat Harawi, g|. on Hamdallah, Hashiya bar hashiya-yi Bahr al- ‘Ulam? gl./Sullam Qadi Mubarak, Sharh Mirgat, g\. Mulla Jalal Harawi, Zubdat al-hikma Abii ‘]-Barakat Mir Da’im “Ali (d. 1908)31 Asad al-Haqq (d. 1900)

Hadiya-yi hamidiyya*™ 1900s

Fadl-i Haqq Rampart (d. 1939)

Sayyid Barakat Ahmad (d. 1928)"

“Abdallah Tonki (d. 1920)**

gl. on Gloss of Jurjani on Isaghajt gl. Sullam Hondlth

al-Qaw! al-dabit fi tahqiq wujiid/ma ‘na al-rabit, Risdla-yi wujiid-i rabift, Takmila miftah al-hujja

gl. Sullam Hamdallah

Mu ‘in al-Din Ajmiri (d. 1940)? Hagigat-i mundzara-yi Rampiir, Khuli chiththtka khula jawab, Mu‘in al-mantiq, Risdla-yi'ilm o ma'‘lim, Risalayi wujttd-i rabiti, Risala-yi bahth-i muta‘allig-i tasdiq, Tasawwur-o tasdig, Muta‘allig-i-tasdiq, g)./Qutbi wa-Mir, Risdla-yi kulli-yi tabi'T Mir, Risdla-yi kulli-yi tabi'T = Nuzha, 7:412. It is also reported that Fadl-i Im&m was a disciple of Muhammad Wali Farangi Mahalli, who was mentioned above.

+. Nuzha, 7:412ff., where his disputes with the Salafiyya are also mentioned. 3¢ Gloss on Jurjani on Abhari, i.e. Mir Tsaghaji? Or this may well be a work by FadI-i Haqq Rampiiri, mentioned below. ** Nuzha, 8:238. His Zubdat al-hikma was one ofthe first philosophical writings in Urdu. It contains logic, physics, and metaphysics (Barakati Ahmad, 81). This may be on Ibn Hajib’s Kafi on grammar. Bahr al-‘Ulfim (mentioned above) wrote two glosses: Qutbiyyat Harawi and Taftazani Harawi. Though it is unclear which one this is, it is more likely that the Quthiyyat Harawi7 is in question. , Reported to be a student of Fadl-i Hagqq by Barakati, though I have not been able to verify this in other sources. ~ Barakatt, 81, Nuzha, 8: 61. This is a work on logic, presumably in Urdu. a Nuzha, 8:100f. Barakati, passim.

“" Nuzha, 8:304-305, where the death date corresponds to 1920, though it is given as 1928 in Barakati, 30n. = Nuzha, 8:507-508, where it is mentioned that he did not write much. But compare Barakati, 98-99, and Mahmid A. Barakat Ahmad,

Mawlana Mu ‘in al-Din Ajmiri: kirdar o afkar, Barakat Academy: Karachi, 1993, passim and especially page 82, where it is mentioned that, unlike the works of earlier scholars, his works were not meant for teaching. Instead, they were for scholars who had already finished their studies and were presumably concentrating on specific technical issues.

Figure 12.3

Tree III: Sample of Relevant Khayrabadi Logicians and Logical Works.

Mirgat, which was incorporated into the Khayrabadi curriculum. His son,

Fadl-i Haqq Khayrabadi, wrote a gloss on the epitome, while his grandson, ‘Abd al-Haqq Khayrabadi, wrote a commentary on the Mirgat. This was an exciting moment in the history of logical studies in India, as it appears to suggest that, after a rather long hiatus, the works of ancients were being read directly.4° Moreover, a survey of the Mirgat indicates that the discursive

236

AsaAD Q. AHMED

tradition of commentaries and glosses was being supplemented by independent works. 2. Then, in addition to the Mirqat, logical training came to focus on the interpretive tradition of the Sullam al-‘ulim as represented by Qadi Mubarak G6épamawi (d. 1162/1749) to the extent that the two most celebrated logicians

of the thirteenth/nineteenth century, Fadl-i Haqq and his son ‘Abd al-Haqq, both produced glosses on it.“ 3. I do not mean to suggest that the production of traditional glosses on the Qutbiyyat Harawi and Mulla Jalal Harawi was wholly lacking until the late thirteenth/nineteenth century. This much is obvious from the stemma. 4, Next, in sharp contrast to the Farangi Mahallis, the Khayrabadis came to be known for their short treatises on selected topics in the history of logic. It is likely that two forces drove their production: first, certain subject matters had remained diachronically central to the dialogic commentaries; these were now treated in short independent works. And second, a certain scholarly factionalism in the field of logic tended to bring the Khayrabadis to heavily publicized and well-attended debates against their rivals. In some cases, the shorter works treated the subject matter of such debates and, at times and in the interest of claiming victory for themselves, the Khayrabadis presented simplified versions of their arguments in accessible journals.*? 5. And this brings us to my final observation: by the late nineteenth century, heightened scholarly factionalism, a decline in the knowledge of Arabic and Persian (linked with the failing systems of patronage),*? and the consequent benefits of having the upper hand over one’s rivals in the public eye led to the production of logic in the vernacular Urdu. The switch to Urdu may already have begun in the first half of the thirteenth/nineteenth century. For we are told by our sources that Fadl-i Imam Khayrabadi and ‘Abd al-‘Ali Bahr al-‘Ulaim used to give their lessons in Urdu, and their students, who would settle in Urdu-speaking areas, would do the same. By the late thirteenth/ nineteenth century, Urdu works like ‘Abd al-Haqq Khayrabadi’s Zubdat al-hikma were in fact used in certain curricula.**

Logic in the Khayrabadi Curriculum It is rather difficult to speak about the intellectual formation of the Khayrabadis in the absence of targeted studies of the technical discussions found in their logical works. It is useful, however, to make a few observations regarding the study oflogic in the course of the training of the student. And here we fortunately possess the biography of Barakat Ahmad, rich in the sort of details that could only have been accessible to the author, the scholar’s grandson Mahmiid Ahmad Barakati. Hakim Sayyid Barakat Ahmad b. Da’im ‘Ali, who is mentioned in the last stemma above, was born in Tonk, Rajasthan, in 1281/1864. After reading the Qur’an and learning Persian, he studied elementary books in Arabic, figh, logic, and philosophy with his father. By age 12, he had studied the Hidaya, a Hanafi figh text by Marghinani (d.

Locic IN THE KHAYRABADI SCHOOL OF INDIA

Ui

593/1197), along with an unidentified gloss on its commentary, the Wigdyat al-riwaya by Mahmiid b. Sadr al-Shari‘a al-Mahbiabi (d. ca. 680/1281). This was followed by Sharh Bahr al-Ulim ‘ala musallam al-thubut, a Farangi Mahalli commentary on the usul al-figh work of Muhibballah Bihari. At around age 14, he left his hometown and began his studies with ‘Abd al-Haqq Khayrabadi in Rampur and Khayrabad. It is during this time that he read Sharh Qadi Mubarak ‘ala Sullam al-‘ulam and very likely finished Sharh sullam Hamdallah, a text he had already started reading at home. In the 15 years that he spent under the mentorship of ‘Abd al-Haqq, Barakat Ahmad read the entire Dars-i Nizami and various additional philosophical and logical works, including the following books on logic: Sharh Mirgat ‘Abd al-Haqg,® Sharh Isharat al-Tisi, al-Shifa’, Hashiya bar mubakamat-i Tabtani az Qushji, and Hashiya bar Muhakamat-i Tabtani az Mirza Jan Shirazi. Barakat Ahmad also gives one a sense of the sequence oflogical works in his training, stating that, in the middle period of his studies, when he was reading Mir Zahid (perhaps the Qutbiyyat Mir Zahid), he had

already been assigned the task of teaching the Sharh Tahdhib (presumably Mulla Jalal or Mulla Jalal Harawi) by ‘Abd al-Haqq. Having finished his training in the rational sciences at age 28, Barakat Ahmad went on to study the six canonical hadith works, which he finished in two years. The reports conflict, but it seems Barakat Ahmad also studied medicine either much earlier with his father or during a scholarly hiatus with ‘Abd al-Haqg from 1293/1876 to 1295/1878 or after the completion ofall his studies, focusing on the Qaniin of Avicenna, Sharh-i Nafisi, al-Mughni of Sadidi, and others.*°

He finished his studies by age 30 and returned to Tonk the following year.*’ The Khayrabadi curriculum incorporated the Dars-i Nizami into a larger set of books in the rationalist tradition. Those studying in this system would proceed through the disciplines in the following stages: Qur'an, Persian, Arabic, figh, logic, and philosophy. And in the field oflogic, they would study works in the following

order: elementary works (Sughra, Kubra, Isaghuji), Tahdhib and its Dars-i Nizami commentaries, Shamsiyya and its Dars-i Nizami commentaries, Qurbiyya and its Dars-i Nizami commentaries, and Sudlam al-‘ulim. One lasting and novel contribu-

tion of the Khayrabadiyya in the study oflogic seems to be its inclusion of the works of Avicenna and the commentaries and dispute-commentaries surrounding them. These were read toward the end ofa scholar’s training in the other logical works.** It is also clear that Farangi Mahalli commentaries on the Su/lam were part of the

Khayrabadiyya teaching circuit. When Barakat Ahmad finally established his own madrasa and started to attract students, he added the following logic works to the Dars-i Nizami as part of the cur-

ricular offerings of the establishment: Sullam Hamdallah, Sullam Qadi Mubarak, Sharh Sullam Bahr al-Ulum, Hashiyat Sharh Tahdhib Bahr al-‘Ulim, Sharh Sullam Ghulam Yahya, Mirgat, and Sharh Mirgat. It is worth noting that all these works were produced in India by scholars directly or indirectly associated with the Farangi Mahall. That the Swd/am had now become a living tradition for the Khayrabadiyya is also quite obvious. Barakat Ahmad may well have read all these works with ‘Abd al-Haqq Khayrabadi, though it is not clear whether they were part of standard Khayrabadi training before the former set down his system. And as I mentioned

above, the works of Avicenna and their commentaries were already part of the

Khayrabadiyya standard training. They were now added as the final stage of the

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Asap Q. AHMED

training in the rationalist sciences: Barakat Ahmad would only authorize a sanad-i ma qalat to students who read these works as well.

Conclusions The study of logic in India seems to have gained steady ground in the tenth/sixteenth century during the reign of the Lédhis. During this period, a stream of scholars connected with the logical tradition in Shiraz came to India and propagated a loose curriculum that had a moderate dose of the commentary tradition of Tahtani. At least until the late tenth/sixteenth century, this commentary tradition was cultivated in Multan, Lahore, and Delhi by the direct heirs of the writers of the famous commentaries. Thereafter, in the late tenth/sixteenth century, a rival branch of Shirazi scholars came to sustain a scholarly network that ultimately dominated the landscape. Indian heirs to this tradition in and around Awadh absorbed and canonized the heavy study of logic in the Dars-i Nizami by the mid-twelfth/eighteenth century. Throughout this period, the study of logic concentrated on the postclassical commentaries; practically no direct attention seems to have gone to classical authors, such as Avicenna. It was with the Khayrabadis, who emerged in the late twelfth/eighteenth century, that the study of Avicenna was once again slowly and briefly revived. This system also incorporated additional logical commentaries from India, raised the status of the Indian logical work Sullam al-‘ulim and its commentaries to incomparable repute, fostered the study of logical works that had survived only in the Safavid curriculum, produced short,

independent works on logic, contributed to major national debates in journals, and encouraged the use of Urdu in logical discourse.*? The last leading proponent ofthe tradition died in 1988.

Notes 1. I would like to acknowledge my debt to Robert Wisnovsky’s article, “The Nature and Scope of Arabic Philosophical Commentary in Post-Classical (1100-1900 A.D.) Islamic Intellectual History: Some Preliminary Observations,” in Philosophy, Science, and Exegesis in Greek, Arabic, and Latin Commentaries, ed. Peter Adamson, H. Baltussen, and M. W. F. Stone (London: Institute of Classical Studies, 2004). For the purposes of this article, I delimit India as that geographical space that fell under the direct control of the Mughals (r, 932/1526-1275/1858) at some time. Otherwise, given the complexity of linguistic and cultural continuity across political borders, the denotation is hardly useful. 2. For details, see Sayyid Manazir Ahsan Gilani, Pak 0 hind mein musalmanon ka nizam-i ta‘lim o tarbiyat (Lahore: Maktaba-yi Rahmaniyya, n.d.), 141-50 and the sources cited there. In its basic form, this curriculum is very similar to the elementary-intermediate levels until the fifth/eleventh century, as described by George Makdisi, Jon Agil: Religion and Culture in Classical Islam (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1997) ’

Looic IN THE KHAYRABADI SCHOOL oF INDIA

239

20-21. Hadith is conspicuously missing from the details of the Indian curriculum at this stage. - Malik attributes this and other reforms ultimately to administrative exigencies. Jamal Malik, Jslamische Gelehrtenkultur in Nordindien (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 78ff.

. Gilani, Nizam, 151ff. gives several examples of the cultivation of the rationalist disciplines even before the coming of the Lédhis, including references to Muhammad b. Tughluq’s training in relevant fields, the arrival of Jalal al-Din

al-Dawaint (d.

906/1501) in India, and his reception by Firaz b. Tughluq. The latter claim is very problematic because the famous commentator Dawani, also mentioned here as a beloved student of Tahtani, died in 906/1501; Tahtani died around 766/1365 and Firuz in 790/1388. In these same pages, Gilani also asserts that a number of direct students of Tahtani, the author of the famed logic work Sharh al-shamsiyya; at least one student of Sa‘d al-Din al-Taftazani

(d. 791/1389), the author of Tahdhib

al-mantiq; and the grandson of the commentator Sayyid Sharif Jurjani (d. 816/1413) had come to settle in India. Both of the aforementioned works came to assume pride of place among logic works in various madrasa curricula. See Francis Robinson, The ‘Ulama of Farangi Mahall and Islamic Culture in South Asia (London: C. Hurst, 2001), 240-51, for a tabulation of works read in various madrasa curricula. . A city in the Punjab province in present-day Pakistan, some 600 miles northeast of Karachi.

. ‘Abdallah al-Tulanbi is known as the author ofal-Hashiya ‘ala badi‘ al-mizan, reported in the manuscript collection of Punjab University and the catalog of the British Museum. The Bad‘ is itself a commentary on a compendium called Mizdn al-mantiq, an anonymous abridgment from the Shamsiyya. See also EP, s.v. “Abdallah Tulanbi” (Renate Wiirsch). . These two scholars are reported by Gilani as brothers and he also mentions their nisba as Tulabni, referring to a gasba—a collection ofvillages, usually containing more than five thousand residents—by the name of Tulabn in the region of Multan. Wiirsch states that the nisha refers to Tulanba or Talamba, a town in the northeast of Multan. See Malik, Islamische Gelehrtenkultur, 78-79; Gilani, Nizam, 192; EP, sv. “Abdallah Tulanbi” (Renate Wiirsch). On gasha, see Malik, Islamische Gelehrtenkultur, 23ff.

. Gilani, Nizam, 192, implies that ‘Azizallah was dispatched to Sanbhal, an administrative center at this time (now in Uttar Pradesh, India), by Sikandar (“Shaykh Abdallah ko to Sikandar né Dilli hi mein rakh liya aur Mawlana ‘Azizallah Sanbhal [Muradabad]

rawdna kar diyé gaé’). . Malik, Islamische Gelehrtenkultur, 78-79. This may be a problematic claim, as Yazdi died more than half a century after ‘Abdallah al-Tulanbi. Perhaps he taught ‘Azizallah Tulanbi. Yazdi’s death date is also reported as 1050/1640 (See Akhtar Rahi, Tadhkira-yi

musannifin-i dars-i nizami (Lahore: Maktaba-yi Rahmaniyya, 1978], 160). Yazdi is also the author of asupergloss on Jurjani’s gloss on Tahtani’s commentary on the Shamsiyya.

See also EP, s.v. “Abdallah Tulanbi” (Renate Wiirsch).

_ Timur or Tamerlane was the founder of the Timurid empire. He was an ancestor of Babur, the founder of the Mughal dynasty of India, and reigned from 1370/771 to 1405/807. ile ‘Abd al-Haqq b. Sayf al-Din al-Dihlavi, Akhbar al-akhyar (Khayrpur: n.p., ned) 201, jurispruip Mahmad b. Abi Bakr Siraj al-Din al-Urmawi was a Shafi‘i and a scholar of dence, philosophy, and logic. He studied in Mosul and lived in Damascus and his Matali‘ al-anwar is widely studied and much commented upon. According to Rescher, he was either a pupil or an associate of the logician Khtinaji. He died in 682/1283 or 692/1293. See Khayr al-Din Zirikli, a/-A ‘lam (Beirut: Dar al-Ilm li-‘I-Malayin, 1980),

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7:166. Nicholas Rescher, The Development ofArabic Logic (Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh, 1964), 195.

79. Reza Pourjavady, “A Shi‘i Theologian and Philosopher of Early Safavid Iran: Najm al-Din Hajji Mahmiad al-Nayrizi and His

13%, Malik, Islamische Gelehrtenkultur,

Writings” (PhD thesis, Free University of Berlin, 2008), 13, does not mention these

scholars as DawAni’s students.

14. Mir Muhammad Zahid Harawi’s father and he both had longstanding connections in

Lahore. He is the author of a gloss on Dawani on the Tahdhib of Taftazani, a gloss on the Qutbiyya of Tahtani, and a gloss on Tahtani on the Shamsiyya. 15: See Rahi, Tadhkira, 234-35, where this source also seems to suggest that Harawi was mainly taught by Mirza Jan Shirazi’s student Mulla Yasuf. Mirza Jan Shirazi was in the line of Dawani and a colleague of ‘Abdallah Yazdi. In addition to the works noted in Figure 12.1, he also wrote a gloss on the Muhdkama of Tahtani on the dispute between Nasir al-Din al-Tiist and Fakhr al-Din al-Razi on the /shdrat of Avicenna. It is unclear whether this work survives. 16. On Ghiyath al-Din, see Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Islamic Philosophy from Its Origin to the Present (New York: State University of New York Press, 2006), 199ff; and Pourjavady,

“Shi‘i Theologian,” 19ff. iW On Ghiyath al-Din’s legacy of disciples in India, see Figure 12.1. 18. Among other things, he wrote a supergloss on Jurjani’s gloss on Tahtani’s commen-

tary on the Shamsiyya, a gloss on Tahtani’s commentary on Urmawi's Matali’, and a refutation of Dawani on Taftazani’s Tahdhib. He also wrote a short work on logic, called TYa‘dil al-mizan. See Ghiyath al-Din al-Dashtaki, Musannafat-i Ghiyath al-Din Mansir-i Husayni-yi Dashtakhi-yi Shirazi, ed. ‘Abdallah Narari (Tehran: n.p., 2007), vol. 1, See now Pourjavady, “Shi‘i Theologian,” 25ff. 19) Among other things, he wrote a supergloss on Jurjani’s gloss on Tahtani’s commentary on the Shamsiyya and two glosses on Tahtani’s commentary on the Matali‘ of Urmawi. The latter gloss is very likely a response to the critique of Dawani, who was a known rival of Sadr al-Din. See Dashtaki, Musannafat, 2:984. And now see a comprehensive list of his works in Pourjavady, “Shi‘i Theologian,” 18. 20. For details and circumstances of his appointments in Bijapur and then at Akbar’s court and of his social and intellectual links, see Gilani, Nizdm, 197ff, and Saiyid Athar Abbas Rizvi, A Socio-Intellectual History of the Isna ‘Ashari Shi’is [sic] in India (Canberra:

Marrifat [sic] Publishing House, 1986), 1:222ff. Fathallah is said to have included the works of Dawani, Ghiyath al-Din Mansir, and Mirza Jan into his teaching circle. See ‘Abd al-Hayy b. Fakhr al-Din al-Hasani al-Lakhnawi, Nuzhat al-khawatir (Multan: Idarat-i Ta’lifat-i Ashrafiyya, 1991), 4:226. Malik, Jslamische Gelehrtenkultur, 86-95. Pourjavady, “Shi Theologian,” 19 note 144, mentions him as a member of Ghiyath al-Din’s family. Here he also mentions that a manuscript of the Shifa’ of Avicenna, once possessed by Sadr al-Din, was eventually inherited by Fathallah, who brought it to India. It is now found in the Reza library of Rampur. Zils See Malik, Jslamische Gelehrtenkultur, 86ff., where he mentions one of Fathallah’s masters as an intellectual heir of Dawani. Malik also reports that Fathallah is said to have completed Dawani’s commentary on Taftazani’s Tahdhib. To the best of my knowledge, this work has not survived. PED. Gilani, Nigam, 199, 202, That Fathallah promoted the study of Dawani is generally accepted, but the claim that he also introduced the works of Mulla Sadra is problematic. The latter was a philosopher of the next generation. Likewise, at least as far as the study of logic is concerned, Robinson’s idea that the study of Dawani led to an interest in Mir Baqir Damad and Mulla Sadra also needs reconsideration. The Khayrabadis, who owe quite a

Loaic IN THE KHAYRABADI SCHOOL OF INDIA

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bit to the Fathallah lineage, are extremely critical of both Mir Baqir and Mulla Sadra on matters logical and are often in line with Dawani’s thinking, as represented by commentators. In fact the only work of Mulla Sadra that came to be included in the curricula and was heavily commented upon in India was his commentary on Abhari’s philosophical work Hiddyat al-hikma. Here Rahman’s observation that Dawani is often the target of Mulla Sadra in his Asfar may be worthy of attention. The question of the influence of Mulla Sadra on the rationalist tradition of South Asia requires serious study. See Robinson, ‘Ulama, 13-14, 42-43; Fazlur Rahman, The Philosophy of Mulla Sadra (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1975), 8. DS Mirza Jan Shirazi also wrote a first-order commentary on the Shamsiyya, a supergloss on Jurjani’s gloss on Tahtani’s commentary on the Matai‘ of Urmawi, and a gloss on an anonymous commentary on Taftazani’s Zahdhib al-mantigq. 24. The Muhakama, which was not included in the later Dars-i Nizami (to be discussed later), continued to be studied among the Khayrabadis. Dawani had also written a com-

mentary on this work. See Wisnoysky, “Scope,” 173; Gilani, Nizam, 203. 2s His teacher, Ghiyath al-Din, was the author of a supergloss on Tahtani’s commen-

tary on Katibi’s Shamsiyya, of a commentary on lji’s Risdlafiadab al-bahth, and on various philosophical and theological works. To the best of my knowledge, none of his works were glossed by the tradition that followed him. See Gilani, Nizdm, 201; Wisnovsky, “Scope,” 164, 170, 177. For more on Fathallah’s career and his other works in other rationalist fields, see Malik, /slamische Gelehrtenkultur, 86-95, Rizvi, Socio-Intellectual History, 222ff. It is also possible that the Takmila is a work by another Fathallah. 26. Gilani, Nizam, 205, 206 note 2. A number of disciples and descendants of leading logicians, such as Fathallah Shirazi and Dawani, are also said to have settled in India during the tenth/sixteenth and eleventh/seventeenth centuries. Some of these had spent some time studying with Mir Bagir Damad and also the scholarly circles of Shiraz. I do not mention them here because they are generally connected with a robust tradition of metaphysics and little about their logical studies is known. However, it is worth noting that quite a few of these scholars settled in Lahore, and it is from there that the next phase oflogical teaching and writing explodes as I will explain later. See Gilani, Nizam, 207ff. Di. Two examples are (a) a scholar named as Dustir (which is very likely an indication that he was a Zoroastrian priest) and (b) a Lahori scholar from Shiraz identified as Hir Bad.

The former was born in Balkh and had studied with a student of Mirza Jan Shirazi (himself an influence on Fathallah Shirazi). He was also known to have been in the

company of Mir Baqir Damad and Baha’ al-Din ‘Amili. However, these reports seem to be legendary. See Gilani, Nizam, 207. 28. See examples in Gilani, Nizam, 207-208. 29; Like many other ma‘qali scholars of this period, ‘Abd al-Salam Déwi had the patronage of Shah Jahan. He is also said to have written a commentary on Taftazani’s Tahdhib. Gilani, Nizdm, 235; Nuzha, 5:243. 30. He had studied in Lahore as well. See Nuzha, 5:254—55. lip Shaykh Daniyal of Chawrasa was also the teacher of the celebrated ‘Abd al-Hakim Siyalkéti (d. 1066/1656),

the author of well-known

commentaries

on logical works,

such as a supergloss on Jurjani’s gloss on Tahtani’s commentary on the Shamsiyya and a supergloss on Jurjani’s gloss on Tahtani’s commentary on the Matali‘of Urmawi. Nuzha (5:230) also seems to suggest that he had a gloss on Tahtani on the Shamsiyya. None of these, however, were absorbed into the Indian curricula; Siyalk6ti deserves a detailed study, especially in light of the curious fact that he appears to be more popular in the Ottoman world than in the Indian.

AsAD Q. AHMED

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32. It is not clear to me who this scholar is, but perhaps he is the same ‘Abd al-Halim who is reported by Wisnovsky as the author of some commentaries and glosses on logical works: a commentary on Shamsiyya, a supergloss on Harawi’s gloss on Dawani’s commentary on Taftazani’s Tahdhib, and a gloss on Muhammad Hasan Lakhnawi'’s commentary on Bihari’s Sullam. But this is unlikely, seeing how Bihari seems to be a scholar of the next generation. ‘Abd al-Halim may simply be the father of Qutb al-Din Sihalawi or perhaps there are two ‘Abd al-Halims. 33, Gilani, Nizam, 236-37.

34. Luse the word “standardized” to mean that there had developed a clear sense of the logical texts to be included in the curriculum. This is not to say that all these works were in fact read in all scholarly settings or that they were always read in a certain order. The curriculum should be understood to refer to a loose reading list, not a rigid program of study. 35. In the second stemma, I only list those representative scholars of the line who are known to have written on logic. The list is by no means exhaustive. 36. Depending on whether one counts the commentaries separately, the actual number can be 14: Shamsiyya (actually, Shamsiyyat Tahtani and Mir Qutbi, i.e., Jurjani on Tahtani on Shamsiyya), Shamsiyyat Taftazani, Sullam al-‘ulim, Qutbiyya (actually, Qutbiyyat Harawi), Mulla Jalal Harawi, Sughra Jurjani, Kubra Jurjani, lsaghaji Abhari, Taftazani (actually Yazdi’s commentary on Taftazani’s Zahdhib). See Robinson, ‘Ulama, 250-51.

37. In the case of the Khayrabadis, for example, short glosses on sections on Hamdallah appear to be challenges to the interpretations of particular Farangi Mahalli lines. See for example, the short treatise by Mu‘in al-Din Ajmiri entitled Wujiad-i rabiti on ‘Abdallah Tonki’s gloss on Hamdallah. The treatise pertains to the issue of the nature of the dependent existence of secondary intelligibles (ma‘qalat thaniya) as the subject matter of logic. A unique exemplar of this work is in the Barakat Ahmad collection in Karachi, Pakistan. Iam currently preparing a study, edition, and translation of this work for publication. 38. To determine this, one needs to consult the provenance and ownership of the massive bulk of manuscripts in the private and public libraries of India and Pakistan. This should be considered a necessary first step toward the reconstruction of the history of logic in the subcontinent. 39. Nuzha, 6:284, 7:345. 40. Malik, Islamische Gelehrtenkultur, 93, reports that after Fathallah Shirazi the Sharh al-Isharat (of Tusi?) and the I/lahiyyat al-Shifa’ were both being read in India. Given that one hears so little about these works in the commentaries that were part of the curriculum, it is likely that their influence was limited. In contrast, one finds in the works of the Khayrabadis extended engagement and criticism of Avicenna. See, for example, Fadl-i Haqq Khayrabadi’s Hashiyat sharh Sullam Qaddi Mubarak (Lahore: Evergreen

Press, n.d.), 107. For preliminary comments on the career of the Shifa’ in India see my forthcoming “The Shifa’ in India I: Reflections on the Evidence of the Manuscripts,” Oriens, vol. 40.2/3, 2012. Manuscript evidence suggests that, in the context of India and before the Khayrabadis, this work was of concentrated interest mainly in the late eleventh/seventeenth century; this observation needs explanation in view of the limited references to the work in ma‘gaii literature from this period. 41. It is worth noting that the private library of Muntakhab al-Haqq, the last major representative of the Khayrabadi tradition, has three copies of the Sullam Mubarak and not a single other first-order commentary on this text of Muhibballah al-Bihari, 42. As attested by the stemma, the major topics included discussions of the nature of knowledge, the tasawwur—tasdig division (both part of the long commentary tradition of Tahtani ’s Qurbiyya), the natural universal (man as a rational animal, as opposed to

Loic IN THE KHAYRABADI SCHOOL OF INDIA

43,

.

45.

46.

47. 48.

49,

243

that which may be said of many), and the nature of the copula—whether it exists or is a conceptual construct. On patronage and language, see Malik and Robinson. Similarly, Muhammad Sharif A’zam Garhi’s Rumiaz al-hikma, an Urdu pedagogical work on philosophy, was included in the Allahabad Board Exams. A report also mentions that Barakat Ahmad (to be mentioned later) developed a technical Urdu philosophical terminology in his teaching circles. This claim is dismissed by Mahmad Barakati, who says that the effort should be attributed instead to ‘Abd al-Haqq and that, after him, the Khayrabadi scholars did not make advances in this direction. See Mahmid A. Barakati, Mawlana Sayyid Barakat Ahmad: Sirat aur ‘ultim (Karachi: Barakat Academy, 1993), 80-83. Barakat Ahmad also established an institution called the Anjuman-i ‘Ulam, whose function was to encourage students and scholars to write in Urdu. Here one would read one’s articles in a conference setting and give younger scholars the chance to publish for the first time. Thus, a collection ofarticles was published in 1321/1903 bearing the title Nata’ ij al-majalis, all written by Sayyid ‘Ali Asghar, one of Barakat’s leading students. Of the seven pieces, four are on logic and three on metaphysics. There is also a gloss on this work, called a/-Mirat, by Muhammad ‘Imad al-Din Shérkiti. The Mirgat was also translated into Urdu by Sayyid Haydar Husayni Qadiri Awrangabadi. The Sharh-i Nafisi and the Mughni were both commentaries on the Majaz of ‘Ala al-Din ‘Ali b. Abi al-Hazm (seventh/thirteenth century), itselfa summary on the Qanan fi al-tibb of Avicenna. Barakati, Barakat Ahmad, 49ff. Barakati, Barakat Ahmad, 118, for example, reports that a student from the frontier regions had come to Barakat Ahmad to study the Shifa’ and Ishdrat with him after completing his studies. At 145, he reports in another context that Barakat Ahmad had finished the Dars-i Nizami and was reading the books of the ancients when such and such a thing happened. With reference to the procedure adopted by Barakat in granting his sanad to his students, Barakati, at 171, states that he would first teach the noncurricular books of the ancients. On the basis of manuscript analysis, it appears that interest in the Shifa’ of Avicenna, especially the Physics and Logic, had also briefly emerged in late seventeenth century India. But indications are that the work was studied not for its own synthesis, but as a supplement to adyance arguments in other texts. See my “Shifa’ in India I,” Oriens 40,2/3 (2012) (forthcoming).

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