From Zarathustra to Khomeini: Populism and Dissent in Iran 9781685853136

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From Zarathustra to Khomeini

From Zarathustra to Khomeini Populism and Dissent in Iran Manochehr Dorraj

Lynne Rienner Publishers

•

Boulder and London

To the memory of my brother Mehr an And for Katayun May her world be a better one

Published in the United States of America in 1990 by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 1800 30ih Street, Boulder, Colorado 80301 and in the United Kingdom by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 3 Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, London WC2E 8LU © 1990 by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved

Library of Congress Cataloglng-ln-Pubiication Data Dorraj, Manochehr. From Zarathustra to Khomeini: populism and dissent in Iran / Manochehr Dorraj. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 1-55587-181-X (alk. paper) 1. Iran—History. 2. Populism—Iran. 3. Islam and politics— Iran. I. Title. DS272.D67 1990 89-10973 955—dc20 CIP British Cataloguing in Publication Data A Cataloguing in Publication record for this book is available from the British Library.

Printed and bound in the United States of America The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48-1984.

CONTENTS

Preface

vii

Acknowledgments

xi

1

Introduction

2

Islamic Populism

14

3

The Primordial Significance of Pre-Islamic Iranian Religiopolitical Traditions

28

The Legacy of Populist Origins, I: The Prophecy of Muhammad and Spirit of Quranic Precepts

35

The Legacy of Populist Origins, II: The Caliphate of Ali

44

4 5 6

1

The Historical Roots of Irano-Islamic Populism: The Pre-Islamic Period to the Eighteenth Century

67

7

The Ulama in Political Opposition

89

8

Neo-Islamic Populism

109

9

Populism of the Secular Intelligentsia

124

10

Populism of the Religious Intelligentsia

140

11

Clerical Populism

151

12

Conclusion

165

Notes

180

Bibliography

210

Index

216

About the Book and the Author

220 V

PREFACE

A decade after the eruption of one of the most significant social upheavals of the Middle East in modern history, the political characterization of the Iranian Revolution, its genesis and roots, still remain very much a topic of debate among scholars, experts, and politicians. As the revolution runs its course, and it becomes institutionalized, Iran is no longer occupying the center stage in world events. But the revolution will undoubtedly occupy a central position in intellectual discourse among academicians and policymakers for years to come. Scholars concerned with such issues as development, modernization, and revolution, as well as religion and politics, must interpret these aspects of the revolution of 1979 and its causes and conscquences. A decade later, the revolution has revealed much, enabling observers to speculate on its character and sources. Although the bulk of this book was written between 1981 and 1984, when the revolution was still in flux, the ensuing political events have reinforced my theoretical proposition: The sociological features and the subsequent policies of the Islamic republic since 1979 have confirmed the populist identity of the revolution and the regime perched on top of it. The Iranian Revolution of 1979 must be understood not as a call for change but, as both Arendt and Benjamin have suggested, as an act of restoration—a halt to the rapid pace of development, and a revival of traditional cultural symbols. This definition of revolution supports the validity of the populist paradigm introduced in this study. The new leaders have wielded their power through the traditional communal channels of mosques and neighborhood committees. Mass mobilization is used not only to broaden and consolidate the base of support for the regime but also to intimidate and silence the opponents. A l l these features partially characterize populist regimes.1 Because of the controversial nature of any sociological characterization of the Iranian Revolution of 1979, it seems appropriate to state that the populist analytical framework introduced here is only an exploratory theoretical device, used to comprehend a complex phenomenon. It is not intended to be an ideological statement. Neither is this a dogmatic tunnel vision by which one can read history backward, that is, seeking only those events that confirm one's political outlook or disposition. There is much in

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Iranian history that cannot be explained through the theory of populism. Moreover, the role of the clergy in Iranian politics has been too diverse and contradictory to fit in a single depiction of political reality—any such attempt would lead to sweeping overgeneralizations and overlook historical specificity. Yet, to study events without any theoretical framework would result in mere description and storytelling. There are aspects of the Iranian revolutionary experience for which one can find historical precedence in other cultures. Other societies that were caught in the uneven process of industrialization and urbanization evinced the same general syndromes. What must be explained in the Iranian case is how these broad sociological dislocations found their specific expression in that political culture. What historical and politicai factors were responsible for this cultural specificity? A decade has passed since the tumultuous events of 1978-1979 brought Iran to the forefront of world politics. Unlike studies that characterize the revolution as a diversion from the main contours of Iranian history, this study concludes that it was indeed an explosion that revealed the lava of the Iranian social volcano hitherto masked by the shah's "modernization" program. The revolution, its symbols, and its leaders emerged from the very depth of Iranian society. They were embedded in sacred political traditions and sanctioned cultural norms. The ulama represent a part of non-Western Iranian identity—what may be called "genuinely Iranian," insofar as Shi'ism has been the main source of cultural identification for the overwhelming majority since 1722. Only those who are able to comprehend the present reality in its broadest theoretical and historical dimensions can fully appreciate the meaning of what has transpired in the past decade. Iranian society is now experiencing the fifth major sociocultural metamorphosis in its history.2 Although the full impact of Islamization on the Iranian psyche is yet to be fully studied and grasped, the political impact has already taken effect, and its profound implications are the subject of numerous theoretical speculations. The Iranian Revolution of 1979 is regarded by some observers to be the second-most important political upheaval of the twentieth century—second only to the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 in terms of introducing into world politics new ideologies capable of mobilizing millions to change the balance of power. The emergence of Islam as the third power in a bipolar world divided into capitalist and communist camps has farreaching, long-term effects. As a total ideology, Islam has proven to be a potent instrument for political mobilization of the downtrodden and the urban underclass. This politicized religion, with intense emotional appeal (as the events in Iran and Lebanon have demonstrated) can become a formidable force in world politics. Iran once again has emerged as one of the major powers in the Middle East, and Lebanese Shi'ites, until now suppressed, have become major contenders for political power in that country.

Preface

ix

A decade after the revolution of 1979, the populist regime had survived several coup d'état attempts, internal armed insurgency in Kurdistan, the loss of half of its original leadership, and a major war of attrition, spurring economic devastation and political discontent. It is increasingly clear that the Islamic republic of Iran has consolidated its power, now and for the foreseeable future. The U.S. and Soviet rapprochement with Iran and the attempt of these countries to improve diplomatic relations with the regime is partially due to the realization of this fact. The key to resilience and the appeal of the Islamic republic must be sought in its popular roots among the lower classes. Since 1979 several scholars have made valuable contributions to our understanding of the origins and development of Shi'ite militancy in Iran, others have made references to the concept of populism, and yet others have contributed to the debate on populism;3 however, the scholarly investigation of the subject matter is still in the stage of infancy, and more systematic research is needed. The present study is a small step in this direction. Populism as a field of inquiry is an underdeveloped one within the lexicon of comparative politics. No serious study of the concept appeared in academic circles until the 1960s.4 This underdevelopment also explains the lack of any comprehensive study of Irano-Islamic populism. The present study expounds on the historical genealogy and traces the evolution of IranoIslamic populism, providing a theoretical framework for understanding the revolution of 1979. Such clarification on sociological roots of the Iranian Revolution may also prove to be helpful in suggesting certain insights into the political dynamics of Islamic revival in the Middle East. As the renowned German sociologist Max Weber has observed, politics is a passionate game. There are people on both ends of the political spectrum who are willing to die for their political causes—and nowhere in the world do political passions run higher than in the Middle East Yet political analysis requires a cool head, an objective and impartial mind. To be true to my profession as a social scientist, I have attempted to represent all sides of political controversies as fairly as my knowledge of events and facts permits. I hope that my sense of prudence and judiciousness has not failed me.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

In the process of writing this book I have incurred many intellectual debts. I am grateful to my former mentors at the University of Texas at Austin, James Bill, Gordon Bennett, Henry Dietz, Robert Hardgrave, Herbert Hirsch, and Antony Orum, for reading the first draft of the manuscript and sharing their ideas and critical observations with me. John Esposito from the College of the Holy Cross, Hamid Dabashi from New York University, Ahmad Karimi Hakak from the University of Washington, and Hooshang Amir Ahmadi from Rutgers University were kind enough to read parts of the manuscript and made many incisive comments. These colleagues should share the credit for any merit this study may have, and they are by no means responsible for its shortcomings or errors. Special thanks are due to Bryan Jones for providing a supportive environment here at Texas A&M University, which enabled me to complete revisions to the manuscript. I am grateful to Michael Foley, who read several chapters and offered helpful criticism. I must also express my gratitude to my friends and colleagues Clifford Dome, James Greene, Jr., Robert Clinton, Mohsen Milani, Valeri Moghaddam, Robert Harmel, John Robertson, Gretchen Casper, Frank Baumgartner, Edward Portis, Roberto Vichot, Arthur DiQuattro, Chi Huang, Woosang Kim, William West, Jim DeVeaux, Bruce Dixon, Norman Luttbeg, Robert Bernstein, George Edwards, Alex Mintz, Johnathan Nagler, Hassan Tajali Tehrani, Abass Manafy, Mehdi Noorbakhsh, and Farzin Sarabi for their kindness and moral support. Thanks are also due to the anonymous reader whose commentary made me reconsider and redefine some of my ideas, and to Michael Hillman for lending me several of his unpublished monographs on Al-e Ahmad. I would like to acknowledge the critical assistance of Abazar Sepehri, the head librarian at the Middle Eastern Collection of the University of Texas, and the library staff at Stanford University, for their help in providing me with invaluable sources and manuscripts in Persian. I must also express my appreciation to Scott Harrison and Philip Samson for their technical and computer assistance, and Carolyn Sawyer, Sandra Rush, and Gia Hamilton for their editorial work. I am most grateful to Marcia Bastian for her patience and diligence as she cheerfully typed the different versions of this manuscript. Last but not least, I thank my parents, my wife, and my daughter, whose love helped me to keep my sanity throughout this project.

M. D. xi

INTRODUCTION Theory, my friend, is the evergreen tree of life. —Goethe The entire Middle East experienced a revival of Islamic militancy in the late 1970s and throughout the 1980s. The increasing tensions in the Persian Gulf brought Iran and the United States to the brink of war in the summer of 1988. The killing of hundreds of Iranian pilgrims in Mecca by Saudi security forces in the summer of 1987 severely damaged the fragile relationship existing between the two countries. Lebanon is torn by religious and factional strife in which the revival of Islam plays a significant role. Kuwait—a relatively prosperous and stable country in the Gulf region—has been the target of occasional bombing since 1983, and in 1985 there was an assassination attempt against its leader, the Emir Sheikh Jaber Al-Sabah. Bahrain barely escaped an attempted coup d'état that threatened to create an Iranian type of Islamic republic in December of 1981. That same year President Anwar Sadat of Egypt was assassinated by a Muslim fundamentalist group. Saudi Arabia, which was purported to be "monotonously stable," has experienced occasional demonstrations by the Shi'ite population in its eastern province. The highlight of the growing opposition to the Saudi regime culminated in an armed rebellion and the seizure of the Grand Mosque of Mecca by a group of Sunni Muslim fundamentalists in the autumn of 1979. The late General Zia Al-Haq of Pakistan deemed it necessary to implement Islamic law, the Shari'a, and to revive the Islamic code of justice in the face of the rising tide of Islamic fundamentalism. Afghan Muslim rebels are continuously challenging the Soviet-backed regime in Kabul. The new Islamic challenge has not been confined to the Middle East alone. From the Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia, and Thailand to Morocco and Tunisia to Yugoslavia and Bulgaria, the Muslim minorities are becoming more assertive in opposition to their respective secular regimes. Although significant in themselves, these events are only a partial manifestation of a broader Islamic Revival for which the Iranian Revolution was a major catalyst. The emergence of this Islamic Revival has been the source of much theoretical debate and has induced numerous political

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conclusions. Démythification of the ideological composition of the Islamic movement in Iran is the key to the comprehension of this revival.

This is

especially true when seen in light of the fact that the two major sects of Islam, Sunnism and Shi'ism, have converged in recent times.1 Before the key question of why the Iranian Revolution in 1978-1979 took an Islamic form can be answered, a host of other questions must be investigated: What is the historical role o f religion in Iranian political culture? What are the origins of Shi'ite populism? Shi'ite populism have today? Shi'ism and dissent?

What significance does

What is the historical relationship between

W h y do the majority o f the devoted f o l l o w e r s o f

populist Islam come from the ranks of the lower classes?

What were the

social and political reasons behind the emergence of neo-Islamic populism in Iran during the 1960s and 1970s? W h o were the major populist intellectual leaders o f this period and what was their impact? dynamics of neo-Islamic populism?

What are the social

Finally, what is the link between the

populist culture of the 1960s and the character of the 1979 revolution? To offer viable answers to these questions and delineate the contribution of this study, w e must first critically appraise the various theoretical approaches to the study of the Iranian Revolution. T h e Iranian R e v o l u t i o n o f 1979 not only changed the prevalent perceptions of Islam, but also challenged many existing theories that have been used to study revolutions.

T o understand the revolution, many

observers resorted to old theories, but those theories lagged behind the new, unfolding political reality and could not capture its essence. It is instructive to review some o f those theories and discuss their weaknesses. The prevailing approaches to the study of the Iranian Revolution can be classified into the modernization, conspiratorial, reductionist, and doctrinal theories.

The conventional wisdom of modernization theory, by assuming

that modernization engenders increasing secularization, led even some of the better scholars of the Middle East in the 1960s to conclude that the power of the ulama and religious institutions was declining and that Islam would probably not play a crucial role in the future of Iranian politics.

The

methodological weakness of this approach stems from a linear concept of history that l e a v e s no room f o r the possibility o f twists, turns, and regressions in the process of historical development. understanding

of

historical

Without such an

c h a n g e and an a p p r e c i a t i o n

for

the

interrelationships between external stimuli and internal dynamics, the question of why the Iranian Revolution took on an Islamic character cannot be accurately answered. In fact, many modernization theorists have downplayed the impact of Western encroachment on developing countries.2 By studying the domestic scene in isolation rather than in relation to external stimuli, these theorists have fallen short o f capturing the total picture of political development. Moreover, the pervasive Islamic character of the Iranian Revolution and the

Introduction

3

breadth of the power of the ulama in the society raises serious questions regarding the accuracy and the viability of the term "modernization." To describe the contradictory process of industrialization and urbanization in the Third World that puts the "old" and the "new" social forces in motion, and to explain the implementation of reforms on the decrepit social infrastructure as "modernization" has proved to be inadequate in depicting the uneven process of development. The conspiratorial view of the Iranian Revolution that is common on both ends of the political spectrum is, to say the least, superfluous and naive. 3 If, as the proponents of this view would have us believe, the Iranian Revolution of 1979 was the work of a few grand conspirators, then why should one bother with the study of history and political events and take on the task of social analysis at all? What this view implies is that the course of history is determined by discreet intrigues of omnipotent individuals capable of defying political and social forces and imposing their will on history, rather than by open clashes of contending social forces in which human consciousness and activity play a decisive role. Of course, this attitude has been nurtured by the legacy of a long history of direct and indirect foreign domination in which the significant decisions that determined the faith of the nation often originated behind closed doors and beyond the seas. At times, conspiracies and coups d'état did indeed b e c a m e necessary to implement these decisions. To paraphrase the renowned historian Hofstadter, it is naive to think that conspiracies do not occur in history, but it is insane to think that history itself is a conspiracy. The conspiratorial view is unscientific, ahistorical, and ultimately stems from an attitude that is accustomed to seeking answers to social problems in supernatural forces rather than in society. To look for a conspirator behind each social event predisposes the individual to look for scapegoats when faced with the arduous task of social analysis. The reductionist theory that abounds in the many versions of orthodox Marxism reduces all social phenomena to their socioeconomic base. By overlooking the roles of culture in general, and religion in particular, this approach fails to explain why two countries with the same socioeconomic base produce different political cultures. For example, the general conditions of economic dependency, underdevelopment, and poverty have led to a relatively democratic tradition in India or Costa Rica, whereas the same conditions have given rise to authoritarian regimes in other parts of the world. The doctrinal explanation of the revolution, which interprets social change in primarily cultural terms and, more specifically, in terms of innate religious doctrine, at best provides a timeless analysis that does not explain why the Iranian Revolution of 1979 did not occur in 1969 or 1989. Such an approach disregards the entire spectrum of interaction and conflict between the social groups in state and civil society that were responsible for change in

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a given historical juncture. 4 Social forces once in motion follow their own course and logic. Thus, the seemingly innate doctrines that are supposed to be the source of change are reinterpreted and modified in the process. For example, throughout much of the Middle Ages, the doctrine of occultation of the twelfth imam inspired quietism. In the twentieth century, Ayatollah Khomeini and Ali Shariati deduced an activist conclusion from this occultation. Similarly, at the turn of the century, the pro-constitutionalist cleric Nai'ni rationalized the need for a constitutional government in Islamic terms by referring to the example of the Caliphate of Ali; seven decades later, Ayatollah Khomeini, using the same example, derived the necessity for a theocracy.5 The common underlying methodological weakness of these approaches lies in the manner in which they treat the relationship between culture and social structure. The modernization approach is ambivalent in its treatment of culture—some modernization theorists adapt a "political culture" approach and seem to view culture as an autonomous factor, whereas others opt for a "functionalist" analysis and downplay the impact of culture. The conspiratorial approach discards a relationship between culture and social structure altogether and seems to suggest that the power of the conspirator is above social and historical forces. The reductionist approach minimizes the significance of culture altogether, and the doctrinal explanation regards culture as an autonomous force. The role of culture in the social structure of society is subtle and complex. As Barrington Moore, Jr., has noted: "Culture or tradition is not something that exists outside of or independently of individual human beings living together in society." He contends: "To explain behavior in terms of cultural values is to engage in circular reasoning. . . . To take values as the starting point of sociological explanation makes it very difficult to understand the obvious fact that values change in response to circumstances." 6 In other words, culture, shared values, and human experiences evolve with social change. To treat culture independently as an autonomous entity is to engage in an idealistic paradox of explaining the change of ideas in terms of change of ideas, rather than the social environment that produces and modifies these ideas. This does not mean that the study of culture is something irrelevant and insignificant and should be abandoned. On the contrary: "We cannot do without some conception of how people perceive the world and what they do or do not want to do about what they see. To detach this conception from the way people reach it, to take it out of its historical context and raise it to the status of an independent causal factor in its own right" is methodologically wrong and leads to erroneous political conclusions.7 Political events do not occur in a vacuum; they take place in a cultural context by which they are sanctioned, and in turn these political events modify cultural norms and sacred symbols. Without a proper understanding

Introduction

5

of these dialectics and the nature of cultural context, a thorough comprehension of symbolic and substantial politics is impossible. Although Iran is not alone among ancient civilizations that possessed a rich religious tradition, the pervasiveness of religion in Iranian social life is definitely a peculiarity of that culture. The study of Iranian history demonstrates that Iranian culture originates, evolves, and changes within a primarily religious framework. The facts that no independent Islamic political theory developed in Iran until the twentieth century and that throughout the Middle Ages politics was studied within "the confines of the unassailable walls of the Shari'a" are indications of this primordial role of religious traditions.8 This explains the continued existence of religious groups that were politicized as well as political groups that were highly religious. The history of this religious predisposition goes back to the preIslamic teachings of Zarathustra and Mani, the two major prophets of the ancient Persian Empire. After the Arab conquest and Islamization of Iranian culture, the all-encompassing nature of Islamic faith strengthened the religious character of Iranian society. Historically, revolutions have occurred because an old social order no longer is perceived to be tolerable, either materially or morally. Most revolutions in human societies have called for an end to the "decadence" and "corruption" of the old regimes. Hence, revolutionaries often set out to lead a moral regeneration of the society. Insofar as revolutions call for moral revival of the society, they are ultimately millenarian in character. Thomas Paine, for example, perceived the American Revolution as an attempt to break away from the decadence and corruption that plagued Europe and to restructure American society on a new moral foundation.9 The Puritans who played a prominent role in the English Revolution also called for the moral regeneration of the society and sought to rebuild England on the basis of "the righteous path." Walzer's description of Puritanism as "the earliest form of political radicalism" 10 captures the essence of the inseparable link between religion and politics even in revolutions that ushered in the dawn of the modem age. Viewed in this light, a deep underlying religious element can be discerned in all social revolutions. Even the French Revolution, which marked the beginning of the secular era in human history, is perceived by some scholars as a primarily religious revolution. Alexis de Tocqueville, for example, argued that beneath the laity's attack on the church as representative of the rich aristocracy lay a profound religious instinct. The French Revolution provided the common people with a faith that the old order no longer represented. Thus, it initiated a religious revival and embarked on the crusade of creating a new man. 11 It is for this reason that de Tocqueville seems to be justified in his contention that the French Revolution can be properly understood if it is compared with other great religious movements. Viewed historically, the very secularization of human societies and the

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emergence of secular political movements even in the most developed Western cultures is a very new phenomenon. In our "secular age" it is often easy to lose sight o f the fact that prior to the Enlightenment and the "scientific revolution" in Europe, separation of church and state, religion and philosophy did not e x i s t as such. In the a b s e n c e o f popular secular ideologies, the kings needed the church to legitimize their rule and philosophers pursued divine spirit and absolute truth. Therefore, it is not surprising that prior to the eighteenth century, social movements in human history took primarily a millenarian form. Insofar as human history has had a long tradition of millenarian movements, the Islamic Revolution in Iran is nothing new. Seen in the context of our secular age, however, the revival of Islamic fundamentalism and the establishment of the first theocracy in the twentieth century makes the Iranian Revolution certainly novel. To trace the roots of this anomaly, we must study the activist inclination of Shi'ite precepts and analyze its origins, development, and legends. We must evaluate the role of Shi'ism as a banner of political dissent in history. We should also propound the metamorphosis of Shi'ism in modern times and delineate the facets of the post-World War II politicization of the Iranian society.

THEORETICAL PERSPECTIVE T h e c o m p l e x i n t e r a c t i o n s between human b e i n g s and their s o c i a l environments lead to the emergence of certain ideological formations at different historical junctures. Scholars of politics have developed various methodologies to study these phenomena, and from these methodologies two distinct approaches have emerged. The first studies a given ideology in its own t e r m s — i t s s e l f - i m a g e , d e f i n i t i o n s , p r o c l a m a t i o n s , and o f f i c i a l interpretations. The second approach studies such exogenous factors as the sociological environment responsible for evolving content and form of the ideology. This approach studies the ideological formations in terms o f properties and characteristics that are not immediately recognizable as a component part of the ideology but, in essence, form the broader content within which the ideology itself evolves. This becomes apparent only by proper abstractions, deductions, and the juxtaposition of different relevant social entities. It is only with the second approach that we can go beyond the state of s e l f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s o f Muslims and bring the different facets o f the subconscious process of political socialization to consciousness. Such a methodological approach, which views Islamic history as a part of Muslims' collective consciousness, can reveal the evolution of complex issues that lie behind their present political behavior. As Edward Mortimer has noted, "Islam is a political culture: it often provides the form and the vocabulary of

Introduction

1

political action. It can greatly strengthen personal commitment to the cause. But it is not itself a sufficient explanation for the commitment, or a sufficient content for the cause." 12 The disadvantage of such an approach is that it may neglect the actor's definitions of self and reality. The way in which the individual defines oneself as a Muslim determines what one will do and refrain from doing. We cannot, as some positivists do, ignore the actor's subjective concept of reality by arbitrarily imposing our own interpretation on social reality. Although confined by objective social conditions, it is human subjectivity that determines the way in which the actor changes the world. A methodology that presents the relationship between the subjectivity of the political actor and the objectivity of the world as a dynamic interaction averts the error of reductive determinism, in which the political actor is reduced to a mere stimulus-response system (for example, economic determinism), or a purely subjective explanation, which divorces the individual from the social environment and sees that person as a mere agent of divine will (for example, metaphysical explanation). Acknowledging the actor's concept of reality does not imply acceptance of the actor's definition of truth. Only through such a distinction can the biases of the normative approach and the one-sidedness of reductionism be avoided. Therefore, the phenomenological approach, which intends "to accept that which appears, that which the religious tradition presents, on its own terms," 13 seems the most appropriate for the purpose of this study. In order to be able to go from appearance to essence, one must be concerned with the broad sociological factors and social relations that determine human consciousness, as well as religion as a particular form of that consciousness. Thus our phenomenological approach must be synthesized with the Weberian idea of "elective affinity"—the way in which certain ideas and certain social processes "seek each other out in history." 14 Such an approach not only goes beyond reductive "materialism" and monocausal "spiritualism," but also has the practical benefit of eliminating dubious political conclusions that may arise from these methodological weaknesses. The legitimate criticism may arise, however, that a phenomenological approach, which deals with evolution of religious ideas on their own terms, leaves no room for discussion of discrepancies between appearance and essence, myth and fact. Our answer to such criticism is to repeat Hegel's contention that it is not the history that is significant: it is myth. Popular belief is often the public's internalization of "the myth," and it is through the myth that people are socialized. Therefore, to explain human behavior, the myth must be properly understood. The popular perception of history is to a large extent dependent on the methodology and the ideology of the historian, and often the victors rather than the vanquished write history. Historical facts are therefore dependent on

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the social environment that helps determine them. Facts are not absolute entities, as many subjectivists hold; neither are they the locomotive of history, as some determinists propose. Facts are what hold to be true at a certain juncture under specific social constraint, and this truth is relative. As Pascal has observed, what may be truth today in a certain part of the world may turn out to be falsehood at another juncture. An appreciation of the plasticity of historical "facts," and a comprehension of the myth in the perception of the laity, as well as an understanding of the broader sociological factors that mold this consciousness, are the goals of this study. Thus, the study of history is pursued here to examine continuity as well as discontinuity in political movements. Although the Hegelian temptation to deal with totality is difficult to resist, especially given the broad perspective such a total picture provides, there has been a conscious effort to avoid such temptation. This work is limited by the scope of its methodological and theoretical framework. This is not a history of clergy and state confrontation in Iran's Islamic period—such an ambitious project must be left to historians. Neither is this a study of Shi'ism in Iran nor an account of state and clergy confrontation in the twentieth century. 15 The present research expounds on the historical roots and development of Iranian populism as it culminated in the post-1950 populist metamorphosis of Iranian society and the rise of ulama to political power. Iranian populism is deeply ingrained in Shi'i-inspired millenarian and messianic movements of the past. Therefore, we shall take issue with the problematics of Shi'i doctrine and political thought only to the extent that it is relevant to the subject of the present study. The study of Irano-Islamic populism also requires emphasizing certain movements while disregarding others. Historians might find me guilty of leaping over many historical p e r i o d s — I do so only when they are not crucial to my theoretical propositions. Such an important period as Mossadeq's era and the movement for the nationalization of Iranian oil, for example, will not be discussed here as it does not fit the category of populist movements. 16

THE DOMAIN OF THIS STUDY

The underlying egalitarian and communal spirit of Islamic precepts has been the focus of many controversies and debates among Muslim theoreticians and scholars of late. In the Quran are verses that discourage accumulation of wealth, emphasize social solidarity, and call on Muslims to help the deprived and the oppressed. Similarly, the Prophet Muhammad and Imam Ali, the first Shi'ite imam, have been portrayed by Muslims as compassionate and just rulers who lived ascetic lives, purified themselves through noble suffering, and proved their sincerity and devotion to the faith by a willingness to die for it.

Introduction

9

Prior to the Iranian Revolution, however, this populist streak in Islam was either ignored or misunderstood. Such classical thinkers as Weber came to believe that Islam accepts a purely hedonistic spirit, especially toward women, luxuries, and property.17 To be sure, as Turner has noted, the harsh life of the desert predisposed Arabs to a compensating hedonistic morality that was influential in the further development of Muslim values and character. But it is also true that Islam is a religion of suffering, sorrow, and stoicism. In fact, purposeful suffering is conceived to be man's struggle on the path of God. 18 The cult of martyrdom in the Shi'ite sect of Islam is the most dramatic expression of this intrinsic ascetic character of Islam. But Islam is by no means the originator of this stoic culture; the ancient religion of Manichaeanism had a rich tradition of noble suffering that had a profound impact on Islam and other religions. Although the majority of Iranians remained Sunnis until the end of Safavid rule in the eighteenth century, a minority remained devotedly loyal to Shi'ism throughout Iran's Islamic history. The present study will focus on this minority. Whether or not one agrees with the notion that Shi'ism represents a "Persianization of Islam," the impact of pre-Islamic teachings of Iranian culture on Shi'ism cannot be denied. One of the distinct peculiarities of the teachings of Zoroastrianism and Manichaeanism, the two major preIslamic religions in Iran, was the primacy of social justice. In fact, there is a line of historical continuity in the pre-Islamic teachings of Zarathustra and Mani on the centrality of justice and the later emphasis of Persian statesmen on the necessity of just government. At the end of the eleventh century, Nizam Al-Mulk regarded justice to be the central theme of his theory of kingship. According to Nizam Al-Mulk, the main object of temporal rule was to fill the earth with justice.19 This preoccupation with justice was not a mark of Persian statecraft alone; it was also an issue of persistent concern and interest to Muslims throughout history, perceiving themselves predisposed to justice and infidels to injustice. Hence, in the late nineteenth century the laity considered the tyranny and injustice of the shah as a threat to Islam and the Islamic way of life. 20 The plight of Shi'ism as the religion of an embittered minority, subjugated and persecuted throughout much of the Middle Ages, accentuated the Shi'ite emphasis on social justice. The second element of the pre-Islamic Iranian tradition that persisted in Shi'ite tradition was the idea of charismatic kingship. Iranians in ancient times looked up to a divinely ordained king for salvation. The resurrection of this tradition in the doctrine of imamat (belief in the charismatic rule of twelve male descendants of the Prophet) attached an elitist element to the Shi'ite concept of leadership. The amalgamation of the populist bent of Shi'ism, discussed earlier, with this elitist concept of leadership became an unresolved tension within the Shi'i ideological structure. The third common theme is the parallel to be found between Zoroastrian eschatology and that of Shi'ism. For example, the Zoroastrian belief in

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Saoshyant (prophet savior), who would emerge and lead the community of the faithful to final victory against the forces of lies and darkness, has a striking resemblance with the Twelver Shi'ites' belief in the return of the twelfth imam, whose dispensation would resurrect the believers to rise in the final struggle against the forces of oppression, thus ushering in the reign of justice and righteousness. The only way that a persecuted sect with a small number of followers can survive the constant pressure and overwhelming power of the majority is to refine its ideology and outlook in order to differentiate itself further from the majority. This distinction justifies the existence of the sect as a separate entity and psychologically enables it to withstand the pressure of the majority. Shi'ism is no exception to this rule. M u c h of the historic preoccupation of Shi'ite scholars with philosophy and rationalism in the Middle Ages, the emergence of the transformative theology of Mullah Sadra in the seventeenth century, and the heavy emphasis on ideological refinement and indoctrination in modern times can be explained in this light. Thus, the Shi'ites' addition of the principles of adl (necessity of justice) and imamat reflected their pre-Islamic traditions of the centrality of social justice and charismatic kingship as much as it fulfilled their need for survival as a separate faith. The peculiarity of the development of Shi'ism as a persecuted minority bestowed upon it an ideological ductility that partially reflects the plasticity of the Iranian "national character." Throughout history, Iranians have had to adapt to the cultures of invading conquerors (Greeks, Arabs, Mongols, Turks, Afghans, and others) in order to survive. Yet, this is only one aspect of the development of Iranian cultural identity. The other dimension of this development is a persistent attempt to forge an identity that is distinctly Iranian. 21 Although the ideological content of this new identity was heavily influenced by the culture of the conquerors, by choosing Shi'ism as opposed to Sunnism, a minority of Iranians opted for a distinct Islamic identity. After a forceful proselytizing process that began in 1501, accentuated by the rise of nationalist consciousness in the late nineteenth century, Shi'ism further solidified its position in Iranian cultural life and became an integral part of Iranian national identity. After the Arab conquest, when Iranians became convinced that they could no longer resist the military might of the invaders and preserve their non-Islamic cultural identity, they hoped, by adopting Islam as their religion, to achieve two related objectives: first, to create a legitimate political banner for their opposition to the coercive forces of the Arab caliphs; and second, to become immune to the deadly charge of blasphemy or heresy. Therefore, before Iranians were spiritually conquered by Islam, in the initial stages of Islamization of their culture, Islam was used as a banner to combat the repressive "divine" power of the Arab caliphs. A distinct feature of the Islamic opposition movements in the Middle Ages was their eschatological form. These movements were often launched

Introduction

11

in the name of returning to the orthodoxy of early Islam and the example of the rule of the Prophet, especially Imam Ali. As in Europe, where the opposition to the Catholicism of the ruling church called for a return to the egalitarianism of early Christianity, many Shi'ite movements of the medieval period also called for a return to the egalitarianism of early Islam, which was identified with the rule of the Prophet and of Ali, the first Shi'ite imam. The image of the egalitarian rule of Imam Ali became a continuous source of inspiration for Shi'ites to strive for social justice throughout history. 22 From this particular perspective, it can be argued that historically the overarching character of Islamic oppositionist movements has been fundamentalist, insofar as "fundamental" denotes a return to the basic teachings of the Prophet and the imams. Overall, the struggle of Iranians against Arab domination from the seventh to the sixteenth centuries took three general forms: first, intellectual rebellion against ruling institutions, values, and culture, which appeared in the form of poetry and literature of protest; second, in armed rebellion that was begun by Abu Muslim in 747 and reached its zenith in the rebellions of Babak and Mazyar (816-838); 2 3 and third, in struggle against the Islam of the Arab caliphs. Interpretations of Islam appeared that were in essence opposed to the Sunni caliphs and their rule. Various sects adhering to some version of Shi'ism were in the forefront of political opposition. The most prominent among them were the Isma'ilis, Qarmatian, Sarbidaran, and Hurufayyah. Although prior to 1772 the majority of Iranians were Sunnis, Shi'ism was the banner of dissent during much of the Middle Ages. Ironically, the militant Shi'ism of that time manifested itself in the Islam of the ghullat (extremists). The Twelver or Imami branch of Shi'ism was the "moderate" sect and held a relatively quietist attitude toward temporal rulers and politics. In fact, the sixth imam, Ja'far Al-Sadiq, discouraged involvement in politics and considered politics to be a profane arena from which the pious ulama must remain aloof. As Arjomand has noted, the concept of imamat became depoliticized after the fifth imam. He contends: "The fact that Imam-i Zaman is the living Imam of the age and is performing functions of Imamate, and at the same time is not the temporal ruler of the world, simply means that temporal rule is not—as it was not with Muhammad Al-Baqir (the fifth Imam) and Ja'far Al-Sadiq (the sixth) and the subsequent Imams—one of his necessary functions." 2 4 This observation effectively challenges the depiction of the imamat as a historically monolithic political doctrine and the subsequent inference of the root of illegitimacy of the temporal ruler due to the occultation of the twelfth imam. Arjomand's conclusion that "the other-worldly soteriology of orthodox Shi'ism does not foster religiously motivated political action in pursuit of theocracy (as do Salafism and Wahhabism) and does not impinge upon politics by posing a this-worldly ideal," 25 is basically one-sided. He ignores the ideological tensions built into the structure of Shi'ite theology, which

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under the pressures of social events can be interpreted to promote political action. Moreover, he overlooks the concerted attempt of Shi'ites to revive the perceived egalitarian traditions of early Islam and return to the perceived religious piety and social justice of the Islamic "Golden Age," the rule of the Prophet and Imam Ali. In other words, for Shi'ites, the political lives and actions of the Prophet, Imam Ali, and his martyred son Husain, the three paradigmatic figures of authority in Shi'ite Islam (sadr-i Islam), are the source of inspiration. It is not what Imams Muhammad Al-Baqir and Ja'far Al-Sadiq did not do, but what Prophet Muhammad and Imams Ali and Husain did, that has been politically inspiring throughout history and is now relevant to today's perceived urgent need for political action. In fact, as will be shown in Chapters 4 and 10, there was a persistent effort on the part of Shi'ite scholars and theologians to revive the memory of Ali and his just rule during the 1960s and 1970s. This revival of the image of Ali provided the Utopian element (this-worldly ideal) necessary for revolutionary action. The use of the term "Islamic populism" does not connote a continuous line of historical opposition on the part of the Shi'ite clergy. It was in "North Africa, Egypt and Arabia that Shi'ism won its earliest and most resounding political success." 26 The majority of Iranians who did believe in Shi'ism belonged to the Twelver branch, better known as the Imami branch. The quietism of the Imami Shi'ites continued after the occultation of the twelfth imam in A.D. 874. The majority of Imami ulama were either a part of the power structure and wielded their power through the kings or they stayed aloof from the political arena.27 As it was stated earlier, throughout much of the Middle Ages, the banner of Shi'ite militancy belonged to the sectarian extremists wing better known as the Ghullat. After 1501 and the conversion of Iran to Shi'ism, the early Safavid monarchs effectively used Shi'i messianism and claimed to be either the incarnation of the twelfth imam or his vice-regent. However, as Keddie has noted, after the ascendence of weaker kings, such as Shah Tahmasp, to the throne, some of the ulama began challenging the kings as vice-regents of Imam and sources of religious authority. With the predominance of the Usuli school of jurisprudence in the eighteenth century, the ulama effectively established itself as the vice-regent of the imam and the sole source of Islamic jurisprudence and, subsequently, religious authority. By making taqlid (the following of a mujtahid) incumbent upon believers, the ulama extended and strengthened their power in the Shi'ite community. These developments helped the ulama to institutionalize their charisma and establish themselves as a hierarchy.28 Although they did not yet intend to assume temporal power, neither did they challenge the rule of the kings. They only wished to secure their position as the custodians of the Shi'ite faith. It was only after the weakening of the central government in the Qajar period caused by repeated defeats inflicted by tsarist Russia that a political vacuum was created and the clergy stepped in to fill it.

Introduction

13

Contrary to the prevalent assumption, the ulama's role in modem Iranian history did not change from a quietist to a revolutionary one with the tobacco boycott movement of 1890-1891. As will be discussed in Chapter 7, the ulama's role in the tobacco and constitutional movements was decidedly too complex to fit the straitjacket of revolutionary and counterrevolutionary terminologies. The ulama were neither a united political group, nor did they represent a homogeneous political interpretation of Shi'ite faith. The study of the ulama's role in the tobacco boycott movement and the constitutional movement enhances the comprehension of the political evolution of the ulama in modern times. Comparison of the political culture of the constitutional era and the ulama's behavior in this period with the political culture of the 1960s and 1970s and the ulama's consequent political response reveals the metamorphosis that Shi'ism and the ulama experienced in the latter period. The politicization of Shi'ism in the 1960s and 1970s and the rise of neoIslamic populism were primarily due to the emergence of new international and domestic political events, rather than to some innate doctrinal facet of Shi'ism per se. The study of conflict and concord between the secular populist culture of the 1960s and neo-Islamic populism provides a few clues to the nature of the metamorphosis of Shi'ism in this period. Finally, the analysis of cultural and political links between the populist culture of the 1960s and the revolution of 1979 reveals the peculiarities of neo-Islamic populism both as a movement and as an ideology. To understand the sociological content and political dynamics of Islamic Revival and militancy, we must define and characterize the concept of populism, elucidate its theoretical significance, analyze its causes, and study it in a comparative perspective.

ISLAMIC POPULISM If true Christianity consists in carrying out in our daily lives the teachings of Christ, who will say that we are commanded to civilize with dynamite and proselyte with the sword? Imperalism finds no warweapon of the Nazarene; sacrificing for others, not the exploitation of them, was his method of reaching the human heart. — W i l l i a m Jennings Bryan To serve God is to serve God's creatures, the people. — A l i Shariati Before attempting to present a theoretical justification for the use of the term "Islamic populism" w e must try to bring the blurred concept of populism into focus and shed some light on the different definitions and conceptualizations of this word. There is no general consensus among scholars on a single definition of populism. Depending on the ideological perspective or the theoretical framework of the social scientist involved, w e are presented with differing conceptions of populism. Some scholars define populism in a very broad way as "a theory advocating the hegemony of the masses over the educated elite." 1 Viewed in this perspective, only the power that stems from the people as a whole, especially the most archaic part of the people, is the basis of legitimate authority. Democratic representation of the people, however, is not necessarily an attribute or a function o f populist movements. 2 T h e popular mobilization and rule by the majority vote that is a characteristic of populist regimes is no guarantee of the implementation of democratic principles. Consequently, democracy is not one of the necessary components of populism. In a slightly different definition, Peter Wiles argues that the populist movement is based on the premise that "virtue resides in the simple people, w h o are the overwhelming majority, and in their collective traditions." 3 W i l e s contends that populism is a syndrome rather than a doctrine. He m a i n t a i n s that p o p u l i s t s y n d r o m e s are m a d e up o f the f o l l o w i n g characteristics:

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Populists stress a moral outlook rather than a definite program; they need leaders in mystical contact with the people, and expect the leaders to share the people's way of life. Populism is a movement rather than a party, anti-intellectual and with little precise ideology. It is anti-establishment, and arises among people who feel themselves outside the center of power.4

According to Wiles, the most common populist syndrome is what he calls the populism of the little man. This is the outlook of the small proprietor (peasant, farmer, small businessman, etc.) who believes in private property and looks with favor upon cooperation in some form, but fears big business, big unions, and big government. Not enthusiastic about "progress" and urbanization (especially the moral and artistic permissiveness they foster), and inclined to look back to" the good old days, this kind of populist distrusts intellectuals and politicians, and is drawn either to direct popular democracy or to a strong leader who seems to understand the small proprietor's problems.5

More specific definitions of populism have emerged among scholars who develop a systemic approach relating populism to structural changes in the economic and social order. Many scholars of Latin American politics are among this group. Paul Drake, for example, contends that in Latin America "the failures and dislocations of tardy and dependent capitalist development, rather than its absence, tended to p r o d u c e p o p u l i s m . . . . W h e n raw material-producing economies were jolted by market forces beyond local control, openings appeared for mass mobilization against traditional upper class, laissez-faire policies." 6 In other words, "populism constituted a protest by countries on the periphery of the global economy and by marginal groups within those countries." 7 The routinization and centralization that accompany the process of modernization and dependent development began generating the necessary social crisis and mobilizable m a s s that nourish populism. Drake warns that "because these movements arose out of reactions against capitalist dislocations and abuses, however, does not mean that they were coherently anticapitalist . . . , populism only promised modifications to cushion the shocks of capitalist growth." 8 Other scholars of Latin America, such as Michael Conniff, conceive of populism as a byproduct of urbanization. The metropolitan revolution led to c i t y w a r d m i g r a t i o n a n d a d v a n c e s in m e d i c i n e , e d u c a t i o n , a n d communication. By concentrating a large population in one area and bringing people closer together, the global metropolitan revolution brought the hope of more political participation in public life and a reduction of social i n e q u i t i e s . W i t h t h e g r o w t h of e d u c a t i o n a n d t h e p o p u l a r i t y of enlightenment, ideals of government by the consent of the governed, social mobility, and economic equity now seemed within the grasp of millions living in the urban centers. Urbanization, however, also brought increasingly

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centralized governments, decreased community-based power, and exacerbated social and economic inequities.9 As Conniff puts it: "These two developments—relative decline in political and economic power of the masses plus the promise of improved conditions due to the metropolitan revolution—formed the immediate antecedents of twentieth century populism.' 10 In other words, the central dilemma of the metropolitan revolution lies in the fact that it "projected outward the ideals of an ordered civilization, such as existed in Paris, London, Vienna, and Amsterdam. That ideal had no room for the illiterate, unwashed, nonwhite, malnourished people who made up the majority of the world's population." 11 Henceforth, the erosion of public power that went hand in hand with the wide disparities between the rich and the poor brought with it a sense of powerlessness and desperation for which populism seemed to provide a remedy. Urbanization meant that fewer political decisions were made by the local authorities, that is, those of the village, town, or state. The decline of autonomous local authority and the rise of feelings of powerlessness welcomed a movement that advocated "power to the people" and promised to restore their sense of national pride, integrity, and self-confidence. Populist propaganda has historically been directed against foreign domination, economic underdevelopment, exploitation, and social injustice. To resolve the identity crisis generated by the domination of "alien" culture and values, populists tend to extol the virtues of "the common people as the essence of national identity while denouncing the 'antinational' cultural and economic elites as well as foreign imperialists."12 Therefore, populist leaders have a nationalist and a class orientation and use deeply grounded traditional political symbols to mobilize the masses. Cultural revival of the past becomes a political weapon to mobilize the people under a common banner. In the case of Latin American populism, for example, Conniff observes: "Populism everywhere forged a new cultural awareness among the masses, which has been one of its enduring legacies. It encouraged study of folkways and popular art forms, rescuing them from the disdain of elite European taste." 13 The cultural revival of the past and glorification of the national traditions, norms, and values is an integral part of the populist movement. In fact, "the search for a popular culture answered an existential need to define the 'people' whose role in national life was expanding, and in whose name the populists campaigned." 14 This inward search for folk identity and the sanctification of traditional values ground populism in history and legitimize it as a movement. Coupled with this idealization of the past was the romanticization of the more traditional social sector. For example, the Russian populists, the Narodniks, developed a romanticized image of the peasantry. Similarly, U.S. populists glorified the farmers and their traditions, and Mexican populists took a strong interest in Indian culture. This feature of populism often went hand in hand with another characteristic—antielitism. This reflects itself in populist

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imagery, which is full of "the rhetoric of the underdog, the pathos of the 'little man,' his struggles, and his virtues. Populist movements are often accompanied by fictional representations of the common man which stress the quiet heroism, the unexpected resourcefulness, the solid common sense and gallant cheerfulness of ordinary people."15 Populist movements are multiclass in two senses: first, their appeal cuts across class lines and they recruit from different social strata, and second, there is no clear single class hegemony after the seizure of power. This does not mean, however, that populism is a classless movement. Its primary supporters come from the lower and lower-middle classes, and, in turn, populism attempts to implement reforms to benefit these classes. Drake argues that the populist appeal among the masses is "associated with the desire for a charitable state to replicate the authoritarian, condescending relations historically prevailing between the upper and lower social orders."16 Insofar as populist leaders substitute controlled mobilization from above for genuine democratic participation from below, they tend to be authoritarian, but gifted with personal charisma. Insofar as their charisma is dependent on a renewal of a mandate from the masses, they must allow formal public participation, even if it is devoid of democratic content. In a patrimonial political culture, where formal political institutions are weak and the impact of individuals is strong, charismatic leaders play the most significant role in the process of political mobilization. However, in times of deep social crisis, the personal charisma of the leaders assumes an even more significant role. Whether we consider populist leaders as charismatic individuals who "generate the cohesive force to weld together a polyclass coalition that compromises on eclectic policies to spread the costs and benefits of development," or "magnetic, paternalistic leaders who emphasize dramatic, emotional appeals and promise immediate psychic and material gratification of the needs of society's underdog,"17 the tremendous mobilizing effect of a populist program led by a charismatic leader remains indisputable. Ideologically, populism tends to be eclectic and programmatically contradictory. Its "backward" antiintellectualism on the cultural level and "progressive" reformism on the economic level are examples of this contradictory character. The fact that populism is both "backward- and forward-looking, a bridge between tradition and progress,"18 imbues it with the elements of a regressive, as well as a progressive, ideology. This broad, all-encompassing, raw egalitarianism and primitive pragmatism is the key to the appeal of populist ideologies. With this short overview of the general definitions, causes, and characteristics of populism, we can now turn our attention to the more specific features of populism and briefly examine the populist movements in Russia, the United States, and Latin America, as well as draw some theoretical conclusions from them.

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POPULISM IN COMPARATIVE PERSPECTIVE Populism is by no means a movement confined to a single geographical or political region in the world. Such diverse countries as Russia, the United States, Mexico, Argentina, and Peru have had long histories of populist movements. Russian and U.S. populism emerged in the latter half of the nineteenth century as a byproduct of industrialization and urbanization. In Latin America, where the process of industrial development occurred later, populist movements did not appear until the twentieth century. In Russia, the term "populism" referred to the movement of the Narodniks in the 1870s. Populism in Russia was closely related to an idealized vision of the peasantry in general, and of the peasant commune in particular. 1 ' In the latter part of the nineteenth century, the Russian intelligentsia sought a noncapitalistic development for the country through the revival of the peasant commune. The commune was perceived to be uniquely Russian and unspoiled by the modernization of the society. Likewise, the Russian peasantry was perceived as a repository of unique moral virtues whose liberation from the dehumanizing exploitation of tsarism would put Russia on a new path—that of peasant socialism. This peasant socialism would in turn open up a third way of development distinct from capitalism and classical socialism. It would bring Russia out of its backwardness, yet it would not be contaminated by the corruption, individualism, and materialism of Western countries. The commune would give rise to social harmony and spiritual wholeness. On becoming aware that their leisure and education had been made possible by the toil of the millions of impoverished people in their society, many Russian intellectuals were overwhelmed by feelings of guilt that led to social responsibility. Many students, for example, left their schools and moved into the villages to join the masses in order to share their sufferings and, if possible, to help them. By going to the people and arousing a revolutionary consciousness, Russian populists hoped to fulfill their moral obligation. By arousing the masses to political action, they also aspired to overthrow tsarism, to liberate society from the stifling grip of absolutism, thus freeing themselves as a persecuted minority. The essential paradox of Russian populism, however, was that "it was in no sense a movement of 'the people,' that is of the peasantry who made up the overwhelming majority of Russia's vast population. Russian populism was the movement of a small group of radical intellectuals, alienated from the regime, but also from the people onto whom they projected their hopes and dreams." 20 Indeed, given the romanticized image of social change and the populist sense of duty toward the oppressed, one can only conclude that although Russian populism was in a formal sense a secular movement, behind the socialist humanism of Russian Narodniks lay the image of Christ. 21 The fact that Russian populists, in their political orientation and

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social rituals, strikingly resembled the Christian sectarians reinforces this contention. Populism in the nineteenth- and early twentieth-century United States was the ideological banner of a declining peasantry whose supremacy and livelihood as a class were threatened by the insurgent forces of industrial capitalism. 22 Grant McConnell argues that U.S. populism was the ideology and banner of farmers and small producers. 23 Lawrence Goodwyne, in his study of U.S. populism, concludes that on the economic level populist movements in the South and Midwest were partiaHy responses to two different phenomena: first, the domination of the South by the Northern industrialists, and second, the rapid pace of the centralization of power in the commercial and political centers of the Northeast. On the cultural level, the appearance of populism in the 1890s was a response to the "disappearance of a visible public ethic and a sense of commonweal." 24 The old values were disappearing, but the new ones were still alien. U.S. populism expressed the agrarian sentiment for a return to social wholeness, self-government, and public authority. Industrialization and the centralization of power in the Northeast meant that the agrarians, who were extolled as the backbone of the United States by its founding fathers, romanticized by Jefferson, and glorified by Jackson, now faced the danger of economic ruin and political decline. George McKenna contends that the roots of U.S. populism go back to some of the earliest thinkers. For example, Thomas Jefferson saw a "wisdom in the common people" and their folkway of life; Thomas Paine represented the democratic aspiration of the masses; Richard Henry presented a populist critique of the U.S. Constitution; and Andrew Jackson called for voting out "the bank of the rich and the powerful." 2 5 Although Russian and U.S. populism were two entirely different movements—the one a populism of the intelligentsia and primarily an urban movement, the other an agrarian movement—both can be regarded as agrarian populism because Russian populism was inspired by the image of the peasantry, and the majority of recruits to U.S. populism were farmers. One major difference between these two diverse forms of agrarian populism was that the U.S. populists, unlike their Russian counterparts, were not socialistic in their view of private property. Moreover, the religious nature of populism in the United States was far stronger than its Russian counterpart. William Jennings Bryan, the most distinguished leader of the populist movement in the United States, was deeply religious. Ferenc Szasz contends that in addition to "raw egalitarianism, Bryan's message was always highly moral and his followers were largely Bible people. Biblical metaphors abounded in everything he wrote or said." 26 Bryan, who ran as a third-party candidate (People's party) twice and lost both times, often accused his opponents of being sinners. But beyond this religious forum, U.S. populism combined agrarian radicalism, a tradition of Jeffersonian democracy, and a

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Jacksonian faith in the common man. With the rise of industrialization and the advent of the philosophy of individualism, many of the populist ideas lost their appeal. Although U.S. populism as an organized movement did not last more than fifteen years, many scholars consider the legacy of U.S. populism to be the source of many reforms enacted later by the Progressives during the period 1901-1914. Hence, the quick death of the People's party (1892-1900), the major populist party in the United States, did not hinder the assimilation of most of its goals and campaign techniques as permanent fixtures of U.S. politics. Neither did it prevent the emergence of such a local strong man as Huey Long, the populist senator and governor of Louisiana who emerged as a powerful leader of the South in the 1930s. Long attacked big corporations and promised to redistribute wealth to the poor. He was intolerant of criticism and had a strong contempt for the constitutional and judicial processes.27 Some scholars trace Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal back to this populist tradition. During the 1960s, populists were viewed as the main source of U.S. radicalism.28 Others consider U.S. populists to be "backwoods neurotics with dangerously Fascist tendencies."29 Whatever the verdict may be, the fact remains that populist thinking has survived in the U.S. political scene "partly as an undercurrent of provincial resentments, popular and 'democratic' rebelliousness and suspiciousness and nativism."30 In fact, much of the "provincial resentments, popular and 'democratic' rebelliousness" are outgrowths of a feeling of powerlessness on the part of the public. The antecedents of present-day populism in the United States can be seen in a widespread sentiment that the government has grown too big and out of popular control, special-interest groups and lobbies have become too powerful, and the executive body has increased its authority at the expense of the judiciary and legislative branches. These are the objective realities that have kept populist sentiment alive in the United States. President Carter's "religiosity" and "simplicity" and his contention that he spoke on behalf of small farmers and small businessmen, and President Reagan's attack on "big government" and his promise of returning to some of the old "folkways" have drawn upon this populist sentiment Hence, the increasing appeal of the rhetoric of the 1988 Democratic party's presidential primary candidate, Jesse Jackson, among the lower classes and the minority groups signifies the revival of a new breed of U.S. populism. Latin America also has its share of populist tradition. Latin American politics from the 1920s to the 1960s has been deeply influenced by populistinclined ideologies and movements. Among the most renowned populist leaders of Latin America are Perón from Argentina, Vargas from Brazil, Echeverría from Mexico, Haya de la Tonre from Peru, Ibarra from Ecuador, and Estenssoro from Bolivia. This list is but a small indication of the rich populist tradition of the region. Latin American populism was triggered by the economic prosperity of the 1920s, which led to the acceleration of the metropolitan revolution

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throughout the region from the end of the nineteenth century onward. U r b a n i z a t i o n , coupled with education and a higher level of social articulation, generated a new interest in politics throughout urban centers. Michael Conniff divides Latin American populism into two distinct periods: first, the period between the two world wars, and second, the post-World War II period. In the first period, populist movements were concerned with legitimate representation. This period is characterized as reformist or consensual. The early populist movements made minor reforms and took a step toward mass politics. Next came the period after the Second World War when the movements were concerned with more fundamental questions such as the distribution of wealth. During this time, the major task for populists was to solve the enigmatic relationships that existed between economic growth and political development. The development of their respective countries became a major political goal for the populist leaders of Latin America, and mass political mobilization was a means to achieve it. This period was characterized as the national developmentalist era. 31 Aid for the poor, social integration in response to the alienation of modern life, and the creation of an organic society as opposed to the individualistic and atomized existence of the modern society became the major issues of Latin American populism. As in Russia and the United States, populists in Latin America exploited the public aspirations for equality, social justice, and democracy. Vargas, the populist ruler of Brazil from 1930 to 1945, launched a campaign that encouraged mobilization of workers and peasants and i n t r o d u c e d a w e l f a r e p r o g r a m to b e n e f i t them. Vargas w a s highly authoritarian and vehemently opposed the Bolsheviks as well as the Western economic and political influence. He revived the traditional values and emphasized patriotism. Having suppressed his liberal and left-wing domestic foes successfully, he developed an elaborate network of patron-based relationships on the local and state levels. The beneficiaries of this new system guaranteed his regime a solid base of support and consequently the consolidation of power rendered the use of force less necessary. 32 Peron, the president of Argentina from 1946 to 1955, drew his base of support primarily from the workers and rural masses; his opponents were from the upper and middle classes. He enacted several reforms that benefited the urban and rural lower classes and campaigned against foreign i m p e r i a l i s t s and local b i g b u s i n e s s . P e r o n t e r m e d his p h i l o s o p h y justicialismo, or the "third position" between capitalism and communism, favoring neither Yankees nor Soviets. The justicialismo not only grounded Peronism in Argentine nationalism but also distinguished it from fascism. 33 Gino Germani calls Peronism "national populism" in contrast to the "liberal populism" of the early twentieth century and the "oligarchic populism" of the nineteenth century in Latin America. Germani asserts that populist movements are multiclass affairs and do not fit into a right-left spectrum. He contends that where rapid social change has produced a

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working class that has not had sufficient time to acquire a "working class consciousness," this sector of society is apt to adopt populism rather than socialism. He asserts that the newly uprooted migrant peasants are particularly prominent in populist movements.34 Russian populism was inspired by socialist ideas, and was revolutionary in character. Latin American and U.S. populist movements, on the other hand, were primarily reformist in their political orientation and programs. They did not seek the destruction of the old order; rather, they sought to reform it. But despite their differences, the various populist movements and ideologies mentioned thus far have some features in common. They were all responses to some of the dislocations caused by industrialization and urbanization: the widening of the gap between the rich and the poor, the emergence of an urban political elite at the expense of the declining power of the community and the lay people, the erosion of public authority, and the subsequent political alienation of the masses. This alienation manifests itself in the loss of social integration and well-defined and authentic values that bring to life a sense of cohesion and meaning. Conniff summarizes the underlying common characteristics of populism in six different categories. First, with the exception of the United States, populism is overwhelmingly urban in the dual sense of being a reaction to metropolitan revolution and nearly always occurring in large cities. Second, populism is "poly-class" and attempts to reintegrate society into a coherent whole. It draws supporters from all social strata, although its main appeal is to the working and middle classes. Third, populism in its revolutionary or reformist form strives to be electoral and representative. Fourth, it is expansive, pursuing universal consensus and continually renewing its mandate from the people. Fifth, populism seeks its roots in popular culture, traditions, and a sense of justice. In fact, it stimulates interest in indigenous cultural revival. Finally, populist leaders are often gifted with charisma and they tend to be authoritarian. However, when their charisma requires frequent validation by their followers, the populist leaders tend to allow formal participation. 35 These characteristics describe an ideology that is clearly different from conservatism, fascism, liberalism, and Marxism. This study will adopt Conniff s broad sociological definition of populism to analyze Islamic militancy. It must be stated, however, that the concept of populism is used here not as an ideology or a social movement per se, but rather as an analytical tool available to social scientists to go beyond Islam's self-definition and understand the sources and character of the Iranian Revolution and its leadership's policies in the broadest sociological terms. Now that the general characteristics of populism have been briefly discussed, the utility and the relevance of this concept for the comprehension of the Islamic Revival in Iran and the rest of the Muslim world can be evaluated more accurately.

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POPULISM IN THE ISLAMIC CONTEXT Confronted with a new politicized Islam, some scholars of the Middle East and Islam since the 1960s have labeled it either "Islamic Marxism" or "Islamic radicalism." After the Iranian Revolution of 1979, the term "Islamic fascism" also became widely used. Examination of these concepts is necessary for a more objective analysis of the Iranian Revolution of 1979 and of the Islamic Revivalism. The concept of Islamic Marxism is a contradiction in terms because Marxism considers religion to be the "opiate of the masses," and Islam considers the belief in materialism to be kofr (blasphemy). As the course of modern history has repeatedly demonstrated, the immense philosophical and political differences also render the two irreconcilable and at times deadly enemies. A few Muslim thinkers or leaders might have borrowed or adopted some aspects of Marxist philosophy; however, this does not justify the use of the term Islamic Marxism. Just as Marx's use of the works of Adam Smith—in order to negate Adam Smith's theories on economics—does not make him a Smithian-Marxist, so the Muslim theoretician's use of Marxism, ultimately geared to ideological preparation for the competition against Marxism and its hegemony, does not legitimize the use of the term Islamic Marxism. In fact, it demonstrates a gross misunderstanding and misuse of both the terms "Islam" and "Marxism." This is not a mere matter of semantics or petty squabbling—confusion on this matter carries direct political consequences as it can lead to incorrect theoretical as well as political conclusions. 36 Neither does the term Islamic radicalism provide a satisfactory conceptual device. The word "radical" indicates "going to the roots," both on the level of social analysis and in the presentation of alternative social programs. The use of the word "radicalism" to express Islamic extremism is ill advised and hinders the understanding of resurgent Islam. Islamic solutions to economic and social problems do not go to the roots insofar as the word "root" denotes fundamental changes in the class composition of a society. Islamic programs and solutions are, rather, primarily moral, cultural, symbolic, and reformist in character. Hence, a government with a primarily reformist economic and social program may choose extremist tactics in the implementation of its domestic and international policies, as has been the case with the Islamic republic of Iran. This inconsistency between programmatic reformism and political extremism has led to many political cesareans that have produced yet another common theoretical mistake. Confused by its popular base, charismatic leadership, mass mobilization tactics, excessive use of force, lack of tolerance, and all-encompassing and messianic ideological features, many have referred to Islamic revolution in Iran as Islamic fascism. Certainly there are a few similarities between the two. But these similarities remain

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only on the level of appearances, rather than in essence. Because the concept of Islamic fascism has been repeatedly used by scholars, journalists, and opposition groups alike, 37 it is worthwhile to examine this argument in more detail. In an article entitled "Fascism without Swastikas: Misreading the Iranian Revolution," Fergus Bordewich writes: "The radical right-wing movement that holds sway in Iran speaks in the idiom of Islam, but it represents the interests of the same classes and springs from the same social and economic conflicts that produced fascism in Europe half a century ago." 38 Given this claim, it is appropriate here to compare the Iranian Revolution with the fascist movements in Germany and Italy, in order to examine the fascist charge. 39 Fascism usually has arisen at times of crisis, when attempts at revolution or mass rebellion have been crushed. This was the case in both Germany and Italy. Therefore, fascism is the child of counterrevolution. In contrast, Islamic forces in Iran seized power by riding on the waves of a successful mass revolution. One of the main sources of fascist doctrine was late nineteenth-century elitism. 40 In fact, fascist movements have come to power (Italy in 1922, Germany in 1933) by support from the highest strata of their societies, the financial and political elite. 41 Shi'ism, in contrast, has historically possessed a streak of populism and, as some scholars suggest, has an illustrious history of confrontation with the elitist state in the twentieth century. 42 The Islamic movement in Iran also seized power in a bloody confrontation with the elite. Fascist movements tend to be geographically expansionist, with "imperialist" foreign policies, and are often blatantly racist. As Benito Mussolini declared: "Fascism sees in the imperialistic spirit—i.e., in the tendency of nations to expand—a manifestation of their vitality. In the opposite tendency, which would limit their interests to the home country, it sees a symptom of decadence." 43 According to Adolf Hitler, fascism "by no means believes in equality of the races, but along with their differences it recognizes their higher or lesser value. . . . Thus, in principle, it serves the aristocratic ideas of nature." 44 In contrast, the Islamic movement, which came to power on the basis of mass antiimperialist sentiment with its slogans of "Neither East, nor West," tends to be more isolationist and not racist. Religious persecution, such as the execution of the Baha'is, although an unjustified act, is nevertheless different from persecution on the basis of race, such as the extermination of six million Jews by German fascists during the Second World War. Whereas the fascists seized power by crushing the left, the Islamic movement seized power in collaboration with the left. Then, after the seizure of power, the Islamic movement turned against its left wing and purged it. This has been the trend of revolutionary movements in France, Russia, China, and Algeria. By the same token, just as the Reign of Terror in the

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French Revolution does not qualify it as a fascist movement, the Iranian Revolution cannot be confused with a fascist movement in these terms either. Additionally, whereas the Islamic movement became increasingly appealing to the impoverished masses for its "egalitarian" principles and the promise of jam'a-ye betabaq'a-ye tauhidi (classless unitarian society), in the different shadings of fascism, "the purpose of an egalitarian reshaping of society p l a y e d very little p a r t in the i d e o l o g y and p r o p a g a n d a of t h e s e movements." 45 Consequently, there is neither theoretical nor political justification for the term Islamic fascism. To confuse the Iranian Revolution with a fascist movement is to misunderstand what has transpired in Iranian society since the 1960s and the changes that the Muslim world has undergone since the Iranian Revolution of 1979. If the concepts Islamic Marxism, Islamic radicalism, and Islamic fascism cannot reveal the nature of the Islamic Revival in Iran, how can we explain the militancy of the Islamic Revival? Its popularity and integrative power? Its millenarianism? Its effective use of mass mobilization? Its nostalgia for past traditions? Its anti-Westernism? Its rhetorical defense of underdogs (Mostaza'feen) in the society and its actual implementation of several reforms on behalf of the lower classes? In other words, what is the ideological content and social composition of militant Islam as expressed in Iran? In light of the definitions and discussions of populism presented thus far, the term populism seems to be a more accurate and useful conceptual device for understanding the ideological content of militant Islam and its broad sociological features as a movement. 46 Use of the term populism allows for advancement beyond the limitations imposed by Islam's self-definition. In addition, it enhances the evaluation of the Islamic movement in a systematic theoretical framework for which there is historical precedence crossculturally and comparatively. Moreover, this concept will demythologize the Iranian Revolution, illuminating its unique cultural form as well as delineating its resemblance to other populist movements around the world. The emergence of the neo-Islamic populism 47 of the 1960s politicized Iranians for nearly two decades and prepared them for the revolution of 1979. The emergence of this neo-Islamic populism was a response to urbanization, accelerated industrialization, social differentiation, the increasing gap between the rich and the poor, and the political and cultural alienation stemming from the domination of Western culture. Urbanization had eroded the Islamic ideal of an organic society. The social solidarity of the Muslim community—unity on the basis of faith and conviction—was now replaced by social D a r w i n i s m , i n d i v i d u a l i s m , and the intense competition of industrial society. With the increasing centralization and bureaucratization of power and the decline of community-based power under the shah's regime, the local

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people came to be governed by outsiders. A majority of these leaders shared neither the concerns nor the interests of the local population. Lack of sensitivity of government bureaucrats to many just grievances and demands for meaningful reforms complicated the problems even further. The feelings of powerlessness and frustration began to mount, waiting for the right moment to explode. Neo-Islamic populism provided the religious articulation, political outlet, and the necessary leadership for this explosion. On the economic level, import-substituting industrialization, the growth of agribusiness, and the neglect of domestic agriculture led to urban migration. The proliferation of urban dwellers, squatters, and unemployed supplied neo-Islamic populism with the army of followers it needed. As an ideology, neo-Islamic populism promised to restore power to the common man and to bring the perceived social solidarity of the umma (Muslim community) of early Islam back to urban life. Neo-Islamic populism aspired to revive the indigenous Islamic values and restore national pride by putting an end to foreign economic and cultural domination. Indeed, the Westernization of Iranian culture that counterposed the elite Western culture to the Islamic culture of the masses legitimized a return to past traditions. Driven by their nationalist sentiment, even the secular nationalists supported this measure in its initial stages. On the cultural level, the emergence of neo-Islamic populism can be regarded as a response to the desire for an organic society and social integration. Just as in the United States, where southern populism was partially a response to the "Yankee colonialism of the South,"48 the Iranian economy had a "semi-colonial" status. The rise of antiimperialistic sentiment in Iran throughout the revolution can be explained in light of this characteristic of populism. In comparison with populist movements discussed earlier, the distinction of neo-Islamic populism lies in its pervasive religious character, its authoritarian, messianic, millenarian, and monistic nature, as well as its revolutionary fervor and zeal (as compared to the electoral and reformist politics in Latin America, for example). These qualities lend it an appeal unmatched by any secular populist ideology. Because Islam is a total faith and dominates all aspects of social, political, and cultural life, its grip and power over the individual believer is much stronger than that of a secular populist ideology.49 It is this emotional appeal that deeply penetrates the human psyche, combined with a political message that touches on issues of concern to the many underdogs of the society, that renders Islamic populism such a powerful ideological weapon. Finally, because Islam adheres to principles that are universal, the appeal of neo-Islamic populism goes beyond Iranian borders.50 Thus, the demands and aspirations that were aroused by the Iranian Revolution are resounding elsewhere in the Muslim world. We shall return to the discussion of genealogy and roots of neo-Islamic populism in Chapters 8 through 12.

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Although populism in the modern sense of the word did not appear until the advent of urbanization and industrialization in the late nineteenth century, the history of populist trends of thought and ideas is as old as the history of organized religion. The populist tradition of Iran is no exception to this rule. Therefore, this study will focus on the populist predisposition of Islam as an ideology and its legends, as well as on the historical roots of Irano-Islamic populism, which includes the pre-Islamic as well as Islamic religious traditions. These millenarian ideological and political movements provide historical precedents that stress the continuity of a political tradition. 51 This historical picture links events and enhances the comprehension of the origins and development of neo-Islamic populism. If the roots of Russian populism can be found in Christianity and slavophilism (the "national philosophy" of tsarist Russia), and the roots of U.S. populism can be traced back to early Christian humanitarianism, communalism, and the later Puritan ethics, then the roots of Iranian populism can be traced back to the pre-Islamic religious traditions that helped shape the development of Shi'ite Islam in Iran.

THE PRIMORDIAL SIGNIFICANCE OF PRE-ISLAMIC IRANIAN RELIGIO POLITICAL TRADITIONS Mighty God, annihilate the oppressors and the evildoers. —Zarathustra Ancient Iranians were among the founders of religious culture in human history. The sacral principle of kingship rendered monarchy and religion as the two major institutions of power. The kings legitimized their rule by divine dispensation; they were perceived to be the symbolic manifestations of God's will. Although Iranian society had separate secular and religious leaders during the reign of the Sassanid (A.D. 224-651), the king claimed to possess farr-e izadi (divine glory) and to be the representative of God on earth. This charismatic legitimacy was in fact dependent on the "goodness" and "righteousness" of the king: the good king was considered to be the symbol of divine sovereignty (light) on earth; the unjust tyrant represented Ahriman (the evil spirit of darkness). The mu'bad (religious leader), on the other hand, claimed to be the embodiment of God's will. It was commonly believed that those who disobeyed God's will would bum in hell. Hence, unquestionable obedience to the clergy would ensure salvation on Judgment Day. The most popular religious texts of the pre-Islamic period, such as Sad Dar and Dinkard, admonished the believers to obey their religious leaders unhesitatingly. The clergy controlled the judiciary and higher education, and opposition to official religion was punishable by persecution. 1 Zoroastrianism, which emerged in Persia about one thousand years before Islam, "played a basic part in the development of both the content and perhaps especially the form of traditions that have more luxuriantly survived and grown into dominant communities—particularly the Jewish, the Christian, the Islamic, and in our day the Marxist movement." 2 Such concepts as cosmic conflict-dualism (rehabilitated by Marx), heaven and h e l l , the d e v i l , a n g e l o l o g y , a n d , in part, m e s s i a n i s m g o b a c k to Zoroastrianism and its vision of the world as a scene of conflict between good and evil. 3 Zarathustra saw man as a "free moral agent, whose life is given cosmic significance by his active participation in this conflict." 4 In other words, human beings link themselves to their God through this active participation. Only then can God intervene on behalf of the forces of goodness to repel the forces of evil. Consequently, humans are only capable of 28

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defeating the forces of evil in reunion with God or in their existence according to His will. Zoroastrianism modified Iranian political culture in two significant ways. First, Zarathustra changed the religion of Iranians from polytheism to monotheism. He integrated all the effective elements of Aryan gods in one God, Ahura Mazda (the Wise Lord). By doing so, he aspired to end the tribal life of hunting and food gathering and unite the people around agriculture to build an urban civilization. 5 Moreover, by imposing God's moral will on human conduct, Zarathustra increased Ahura Mazda's power and strengthened the religious character of Iranian culture. 6 Second, Zoroastrianism became a distinct source of identity of Iranian culture in two different senses. It distinguished Iranians from their fellow Aryans, the Indians, and from their religions. Furthermore, monotheism made Zoroastrianism the religion of the entire Persian Empire and united the empire under a common banner. 7 Although there is no consensus among scholars of Zoroastrianism, most place Zarathustra's birth about 1000 b.c. 8 He was a priest who claimed divine revelation and took it upon himself to guide mankind. The fortunes of his new religion improved drastically when, at the age of forty, he managed to convert Vishtaspa, the King of Kings. Zarathustra's preachings subordinated private and social life to religious concerns and convictions. Hence, the only legitimate existence for man was to be on the side of the forces of ahuraie (goodness) and God. In this sense, man is never at the center of the stage insofar as human affairs are concerned: he is a part of a cadre to implement the will of Ahura Mazda, which is only revealed by secret revelations and commandments to Zarathustra. However, Zarathustra was not a determinist, nor was he a fatalist. He held human beings responsible for their actions and their consequences. Zarathustra's emphasis on man's free will and freedom to choose between good and evil posed an unresolved dilemma in his theology. Zarathustra considered man to be a creature of God, and because God is just and would not create evil creatures, man is good by nature. 9 Man is free and responsible for his actions—he can either side with Ahura Mazda through his good deeds or help Ahriman through his evildoing. The battle between good and evil is not abstract, but takes place in the real world. 10 Zarathustra is quoted as saying, "Whoever eats something that is not the result of his labor, it is as if he has taken someone else's head in his hand and is eating his brains." 11 In Zarathustra's pronouncements, as he prays for an end to drought and north wind, he also prays for the annihilation of the oppressor and the evildoer. 12 This can be attributed to the fact that Zarathustra lived in an ordered pastorialist community that was constantly under attack from nomadic barbarians from the North. Within the religious framework of Zarathustra's thought, all social events, as well as individual conduct, fell into the category of the dual struggle of good and evil, light and darkness, right and wrong. In uncom-

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promising Zoroastrian moral dualism, gradually this came to mean that only those schools of thought and ideas were sanctioned that were "good," "right," and "divine" (ahuradie). Hence, all of the nonreligious ideas and values that were against the teachings of Ahura Mazda or not drawn from divine revelations were seen as evil and, consequently, false. This partially explains what some scholars consider to be the intolerant nature of the Zoroastrian faith. 13 The other great social thinkers who followed Zarathustra inherited the limitations of this circular reasoning. There are four distinct elements in the thoughts of Zarathustra. First, there is an activist element in which human beings are urged to participate on the side of the forces of goodness (nikki) and to struggle against evil (ahrimari) and evildoers. This activist element is intrinsic to his belief in free will. For Zarathustra, "evil is always a product of free will, never of nature."14 Second is the element of centrality of social justice. The battle between nikki and ahriman, truth and lie, and the triumph of the forces of goodness over evil would restore justice to society. The third element of Zoroastrianism that had a profound impact on other religious traditions, namely Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, was eschatology. Zarathustra preached that when the world is filled with injustice and lies, the Saoshyant (the prophet savior) will emerge to guide the faithful to their ultimate victory over the forces of impiety and wickedness. 15 The fourth and overriding element is the strong religious character of his thought. In other words, the social content of Zarathustra's teachings was never separate from its pervasive religious character. The second great prophet of pre-Islamic Iran is Mani. Mani was born in a.d. 216, and his father, Patik, an Arsacid prince, was active in a Gnostic movement known as Baptists. Mani claimed to be the last apostle superseding Zarathustra, Buddha, and Jesus. But, in fact, his teachings were borrowed from the religions of all three. 16 His religion was called "justice" and he preached social justice, peace, and harmony in the world. Some historians contend that Mani's eclectic borrowing from other religions was intended to bring West and East closer together. 17 Mani dreamed of a universal system that would embrace all mankind. His appeal went beyond the Persian Empire, reaching millions of followers from Europe, Africa, and China. He set up an administrative organization to implement his spiritual principles and created a religious community on the basis of these principles. Manichaeanism possessed elements of the philosophy of gnosis, Hindu stoicism, and Christian unworldliness. Unlike the optimistic world of Zoroastrianism, in which happiness was the goal in life, in the dualistic world of Manichaeanism, "darkness" would prevail over the forces of "light," and the primordial man was attacked by evil powers and finally defeated. This fatalism and unworldliness of Manichaeanism gave it a disengaging and noncompromising attitude toward life that rulers everywhere perceived as a threat and for which Manichaeans were often severely persecuted.

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Among the dichotomies of Mani's thought were the separation of body and soul, heart and mind, the sensual and the spiritual. Mani preached against worldly pleasures and material wealth. A pious man must stay away from women and dedicate himself to his religion. To preserve their spiritual purity, some followers of Mani refused to marry, and others went so far as to castrate themselves in order to devote their lives completely to spiritual enrichment. Fasting was another ritual prevalent among Manichaeans. They believed that imposition of hunger and the bearing of pain cleansed body and soul and weakened the forces of darkness. Manichaeans believed that only such a spiritual piety could free the light deep within the human soul that was imprisoned by the darkness of this world. Only then would God appear and reveal Himself to the pious.18 The main paradigm in Mani's religious thought was the Zoroastrian concept of sanaviyat (dualism). Yet, Mani's concept of sanaviyat had a different connotation than that of Zarathustra and had direct bearing on the ascetic and stoic nature of Mani's theology. Whereas for Zarathustra, the duality meant struggle between good and evil spirits in which counterposition of matter and spirit, body and soul was not a necessary component of this duality, for Mani, there was no unity between the spiritual (soul) and the material (body). In Mani's religious thought the spirit was the source of goodness, and the material world, in general, was the source of evil. In other words, Mani's concept of dualism had two components— individual and social. On the individual level this duality manifested itself in the conflict between the physical and the spiritual part of man. On the social level this duality reflected itself in the conflict between "divine" spiritualism and "satanic" materialism—that is to say, the world of light and the world of darkness that were in a constant life and death struggle. Mani portrayed the triumph of light over darkness as an existential reality. At the end of this struggle, the world would vanish and God would emerge victorious. In the depth of Mani's thought there was a deterministic fatalism, the notion that human beings lived a predestined life designed by a divine scheme. The only path to salvation was to live an ascetic and pious life. One cannot help being impressed by the fact that much of the religious framework of Zarathustra's and Mani's thought has survived as the main structure of the lay Iranian's outlook on the world. In such a predominantly religious culture, intellectual creativity takes place in a predetermined setting and is confined by its protective walls. This stems, in part, from the deep respect of Iranians for their traditions, which is the byproduct of a long historical search for identity—an identity separate from the one imposed by the various foreign invaders throughout history. In Iran, as in many other parts of the Eastern world, traditions are treated as divine commandments. As the German orientalist Hans Heinrich Schaeder has perspicuously noted: "In the East, traditions mean preserving what is ancient. Intellectual and spiritual progress is confined to interpreting

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these traditions and adapting one's ideas to them, rather than fundamentally altering them or creating new structures and frameworks. The main reason for this is the religious lingering of the Eastern mind. Tradition in the East enjoys unquestionable sanctity, and is treated as God's revelation. The future generations are neither capable nor have the audacity to mingle in something that has been passed to them as truth." 19 Given the sanctity of tradition, and the strict sacral structure of Aryan intellectual thought, it is not surprising that even the most radical social thought of this period should appear in a religious garb. Indeed, a close scrutiny of pre-lslamic Persian traditions gives more weight to the contention of some scholars who attempt to establish a direct link between Islam, Zoroastrianism, and Manichaeanism, or between Islam and Mazdakism. 20 One such assessment of Zoroastrianism concludes that "our mental and spiritual obedience to our religious training and convictions; our total surrender to the divine spirit, were simply replaced with Islamic religious commitments. Muhammad and his God (Allah) replaced Zarathustra and Ahura Mazda." 21 In other words, the appeal of Islam among Iranians was due to wellestablished religious presuppositions of Zoroastrianism: that God had sent Muhammad into a world that was full of evil and injustice in order to combat the forces of evil and restore justice. Although this task was a difficult one and r e q u i r e d h u m a n i n v o l v e m e n t and s a c r i f i c e , God is j u s t and compassionate, and therefore the forces of goodness (Islam) would overcome the forces of evil (the enemies of Islam). One of the implications of this similarity is that throughout the transition from Zoroastrianism to Islam, the essence and the religious character of Iranian identity remained remarkably intact. 22 Using as an analogy the Nietzschian contention that Christianity is a metamorphosis of Judaism, Bamdadan concludes that Shi'ism and Sufism ("Persianized Islam") represent a metamorphosis of Zoroastrianism into Islam. 23 Of course, Bamdadan is not alone in his contention that Shi'ism adopted major principles of pre-lslamic Iranian religious culture. James Darmesteter, for example, argues that the Shi'i doctrine of Mahdism is an Islamic adaptation of the pre-lslamic Iranian belief in farrih-e izadi (divine grace). 24 Henri Corbin draws a parallel between the ancient Iranian affinity toward mysticism and esotericism and the later development of Shi'ism along these lines. 25 Other scholars see a direct link between Mazdakism and Sufism. According to this view, the strong spirit of Gnostic philosophy present in much of the Iranian literature of the Middle Ages finds its roots in Mazdakism. 26 There are still others who consider the Shi'ite extremist movement of the Middle Ages, the Ghullat, as a metamorphosis of Mazdakism. 27 Drawing on the lesson of their compatriots' defeats in the past, the Mazdakis accepted the Islamic faith and appealed to the religious consciousness of the laity, hoping to use the appeal of Islam and overthrow the Sassanid dynasty. To support

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their contention, these writers point out the presence of Salman Farsi in Arabia as an associate of Muhammad at the time that the Prophet received his revelations, and to a hadith from the Prophet acknowledging Farsi's name. 23 According to this view, Salman Farsi was one of the hundreds of Mazdaki learned men who, after their historical defeat by Anushirvan, had escaped to Arabia and collaborated with the Prophet in the hope of convincing him to overthrow the Sassanid dynasty. There are also speculations that Salman Farsi's close friendship with the P r o p h e t M u h a m m a d and his f a m i l y , and his r e p u t a t i o n as o n e of Muhammad's associates and advisors, could have been instrumental in introducing Muhammad to the egalitarian spirit of Mazdakism and inducing him to integrate some of the ideas of Mazdak into Islam. Another point that the proponents of this view present as evidence is the Zoqar War. According to historian Muhammad Ibn Jarir Tabari, a few years before the Arab conquest of Iran, Arab armies were prepared and organized by Iranians in exile to overthrow the Sassanid dynasty. A third point adduced is the similarities between the pre-Islamic Persian religious traditions and Islam: the common belief in monotheism; the fear of Satan, who is the source of all evil; the innocence of the families of Zarathustra and Muhammad; the similarities between the Zoroastrian and Muslim traditions of praying five times a day; belief in resurrection and the Judgment Day; belief in heaven and hell; belief that on Judgment Day everyone will have to pass over a narrow bridge, and those who have committed sin will fall into the fire below; 29 belief in Eastern angels; and belief in the resurrection of Mahdi. There are observations in the Quran and Nahj Al-Balagheh that have a striking resemblance to some passages in the Zoroastrian sacred books. The claims of Bamdadan, Darmesteter, Corbin, and Haghiqat, however, can be considered accurate only insofar as the metamorphosis is understood not as a mere carbon copy of the original, but as a process that involves negation as well as adaptation and synthesis of the original. Perhaps the most significant philosophical impact of Zoroastrianism and Manichaeanism on Islam has its source in the underlying dialectical logic of the religious thought of Zarathustra and Mani. If the world is indeed the sccne of a cosmic battle between the forces of good and evil, then it follows that the world contains a unity of opposites and is in a perpetual state of flux, pregnant with seeds of change. The cycle of transformation from being to becoming, from life to death, is dialectical, but the form of its expression manifests itself through a cloud of mysticism. 3 0 In the dual world of Zarathustra and Mani, one is either actively involved on the side of the forces of goodness to bring about the realization of divine justice or devoted to an adamant defiance of the material world and to an ascetic life for spiritual enrichment. There is a line of continuity between the pre-Islamic Iranian religious tradition and the historical development of Shi'ism. In Shi'ism one can trace

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the activism and optimism of Zoroastrianism—the hopes for the return of the Mahdi who would restore justice on earth. One can also find in Shi'i faith the unworldliness and stoicism of Manichaeanism—the cult of martyrdom, self-flagellation, and an ascetic philosophy of life. It is in this religious setting that Iranian political culture evolved. This political culture, however, became deeply Islamicized after the Arab conquest of Iran. It is not an exaggeration to state that without understanding the spirit of Islamic precepts, comprehension of Iranian political culture is impossible. Therefore, a brief analysis of the populist inclination of the teachings of Prophet Muhammad and its impact on the development of Islam is indispensable to the study of the genealogy of Irano-Islamic populism.

THE LEGACY OF POPULIST ORIGINS, I: THE PROPHECY OF MUHAMMAD AND THE SPIRIT OF QURANIC PRECEPTS And we were minded to show favor to those who were brought low in the land, and to make them spiritual chiefs /imams/, and to make them Pharoah's heirs. —Quran, 28:5 My servants, the righteous shall inherit the earth. —Quran, 21:105 Whether or not one agrees with a recent scholarly assertion that Islam fulfilled the ideological need for the formation of a state that would unify the Arabs in the trading centers of Mecca and Medina or that it fulfilled the need for a legal and a welfare system,1 one thing is clear—the ideological content of this newly bom "welfare system" possessed populist predisposition. To comprehend the populist predisposition of Islam and the teachings of Muhammad, it is necessary to discuss the world into which he was born. A brief comparison with Christianity and the social environment that Jesus confronted is particularly instructive here in establishing a relationship between the rise of events and ideas and the social context from which they emerged. Early Christianity took root in the "civilized" society of the Roman Empire. The Christian church gradually formed a mighty bureaucracy with which the barbarian kings were compelled to compromise. The church legitimized kingship among the barbarians, and the kings recognized the jurisdiction of the church. Therefore, from the very beginning, Christianity accepted the idea of state and church as two separate entities. Moreover, early Christianity did not seek to destroy or replace the empire; it merely sought to convert it. Muhammad, in contrast to Jesus, entered a different world—the world of nomadic Bedouins and Arab Jahalia society. Unlike Jesus, Muhammad entered a world in which there was no clear authority, no distinct state, and no civilization per se. In Arab society, each tribe was a sovereign nation, and tribal conflict was highly prevalent. Indeed, tribalism was so strong among Arabs that kingdoms survived only on the periphery, as in Syria and Iraq. 35

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The prototype of the pre-Islamic pagan Arab society was called a Jahal. The Jahal refused to accept any authority. He was a worldly hedonist who lacked self-mastery and exercised very little control over his emotions. The prime concern of the Jahal was his tribe. His horizon and perception of life did not go beyond the tribal loyalties and values. Hence, definitions of good and evil were understood in terms of tribal loyalties; what was good for the tribe was good and what was bad for it was evil. Likewise, blood ties were very significant in Arab Jahalia society. There was a common understanding among the members of the community that shared blood meant shared life, food, shelter, and feelings. Anyone who shed the blood of a member of a household was considered to have killed a part of the collective body. Consequently, the feeling of revenge was a supreme driving force; tribal or family feuds that led to bloodshed created a chain of violence and revenge. 2 These values, norms, and customs were the real religion of the Arab Jahalia society, not the idols they worshipped. 3 Islamic principles and values were based on adaptation as well as on negation of the dominant customs of Arab paganism. As Toshihiko Izutsu has observed: "Islam took the major concepts of tribal humanism— generosity, courage, loyalty and veracity—and gave them a new religious content."4 It is also the case that Muhammad's din (religion) negated the muruwwa (virtue) of Arab Jahalia society. Whereas the harshness of desert nomadic life gave rise to a hedonistic philosophy of life among the pagan Arabs, the disciplined urban piety of Islam strictly forbade such a hedonism and imposed harsh punishment to discourage it.5 Moreover, it was in response to the worldliness, unbridled materialism, hedonism, and corruption of Jahalia society that Prophet Muhammad introduced the idea of a Judgment Day and the virtuousness of noble suffering and deprivation. The harsh life of the desert, accentuated by scarcity of water, insufficient pasturage, and constant migration, as well as the incessant danger from raiding bandits, necessitated tribal cooperation. 6 These ecological and political factors had a profound impact on nomadic morality and character. The nomadic Arab society was marked by the dual character of tribal solidarity and individualism. Each tribe was an autonomous political entity unto itself, but tribe members could not have hoped to survive without tribal protection. Thus, an individual's display of courage, fortitude, and generosity—characteristics highly valued in the nomadic moral code—brought fame to the tribe and elevated one's stature within it. The prevalence of tribal loyalty and solidarity must be understood against this social context. This tribal solidarity has been described by some scholars as "tribal humanism,"7 which had a definite impact on further development of "Islamic humanism." There are several distinct elements responsible for the further development of Islamic humanism. First, Mecca was in the process of transformation from a pastoral and nomadic economy to a mercantile and

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commercial one. Second, the traditional tribal solidarity was being replaced by individualism, breakdown of kinship groups, moral decay, and decline of religious life.8 Sharp social inequality, rampant corruption, and normlessness (anomie) were also prevalent in the urban centers of Mecca and Medina when Prophet Muhammad proclaimed his dispensation. Describing the general conditions of this period, Maxime Rodinson writes, "The rich and powerful oppressed the poor. The immemorial laws of tribal solidarity were broken daily. The weak and the orphan were sold into slavery. The old unwritten code of decency and morality was trampled underfoot. The people no longer even knew which Gods to worship."9 Muhammad's egalitarian ideas were partially in reaction to the distinct state of social and cultural malaise that characterized the political life in Mecca. Third, there was a shared desire on the part of the Arabs to assert their identity and to bolster their sense of pride and dignity. Christians and Jews considered Arabs to be uncivilized pagan savages. The Arabs' emphasis that Muhammad was an Arab prophet, that an Arabic Quran was revealed to him, and that he was the last of the prophets served to strengthen their sense of identity and to overcome their fear of inferiority.10 Indeed, this Arab sense of identity—what in modern terms is sometimes called Arab nationalism—was instrumental in transforming some of the features of pre-Islamic tribal humanism, such as tribal solidarity and generosity, into Islamic humanism. THE PROPHECY OF MUHAMMAD

Muhammad was born in Mecca, a center of trade and commerce in 570 A.D. Threatened by the insecurity and instability stemming from tribal feuds, the people of Mecca and Medina, the two major commercial centers amidst the desert, desired collective security and political stability. The citizens of Mecca and Medina disliked the crude mannerisms of the tribal Jahals as opposed to those men who were urban, civilized, and self-possessed, better known as men of hilm (wisdom). The Meccan aristocracy, however, felt threatened by Muhammad's egalitarian principles and organized against him. Knowing that his new religion could not succeed without a base of support, Muhammad created a new polity called the umma (charismatic community) when he moved to Medina. He soldered the relationship between Jews and Arabs and created a single community. The idea of tribal individualism was undercut in favor of loyalty to the faith and the umma. It was incumbent upon believers to safeguard the sanctity of the umma. If any member of the umma was killed, the entire community would avenge the death. Preserving justice was considered to be a collective endeavor. The creation of the umma presupposed the creation of an authority. Muhammad claimed divine authority and had final word on all social, ethical, judicial, and political matters. He was the supreme judge, and the

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political and military commander as well as the spiritual leader of his community. To enhance the political solidarity of the community and to prevent a wide rift between the ruler and the ruled, Muhammad developed a delicate definition of political power. Authority of the ruler stems from the umma through ijma (consensus) and must be accountable to them through shura (consultation).11 Unlike Jesus, who declared, "Render unto Caesar the things which be Caesar's and unto God the things which be God's," Muhammad was the religious as well as political leader of his community. In fact, as Edward Mortimer has aptly argued, "In most Muslim societies there is not and never has been such a thing as a church. The community of believers founded by Muhammad was virtually from the beginning what we should call a state."12 The fact that the Islamic calendar is not based on the birth of Muhammad, but rather on his hejrah (departure) from Mecca to create a state in the oasis of Medina, is another example cited by Mortimer in support of the above statement. Similarly, it can be argued that Islam, from its inception, strove for political power and integration of society on the basis of its egalitarian principles. Muhammad appeared with a call for brotherhood: O mankind! Lo! We have created you male and female and have made you nations and tribes that ye may know one another [and be friends], Lo! The noblest of you in the sight of Allah is the best in conduct.13

Muhammad insisted that "believers are in relation to one another as [part of] a structure, one part of which strengthens the other."14 To prevent a great gap between the rich and the poor, Muhammad introduced nafaqah and saddaqah (contributions) which later evolved into zakat (legal alms).15 To avoid political unrest, Muhammad prohibited ribah (usury) and established guidelines against excessive accumulation of wealth at the expense of others: "Nothing shall be reckoned to a man but that for which he has made efforts." 16 The Quranic concept of yakruh discourages concentration of property in the hands of a few. The Quran states that "those who hoard up gold and silver and do not spend it in the way of Allah, unto them give tidings of a painful doom, on the day when it will all be heated in the fire of hell, their foreheads and back will be branded therewith."17 Moreover, in Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh), property and natural rights are subordinated to the collective interests of umma. In fact, it is not too farfetched to conclude that the preservation of unity, sanctity, and social solidarity of the umma is one of the most pivotal elements in the social structure of Islamic ideology. As Enayat has noted, four of the five pillars of Islam (prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and pilgrimage) are suited to promote group solidarity among Muslims. The most militant form of this solidarity manifests itself in jihad (holy war against the enemies of Islam), considered to be the sixth pillar of Islam by some Muslims.18

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Another important attribute of Islam that adds to its politicized nature is the fact that "Islam is never content with the mere exposition of its ideals, but constantly seeks the means to implement them." 1 9 Hence, it follows that Muslims must try to follow the paradigmatic example of the Islamic state established by the prophet and constantly strive toward its realization. Only then can the true reign of justice and righteousness be realized and the gates of heaven be open to the faithful. M u h a m m a d ' s moral attributes, his charisma, his compassion for the poor, and his ability as a leader to bring different tribes together were definitely all important factors in preserving the unity of the umma.20 However, the prophecy of Muhammad cannot be completely explained by Karl Kautsky's assertion that prophets were the revolutionary leaders of an oppressed class, nor by Max Weber's contention that prophets' motives were p u r e l y r e l i g i o u s a n d t h a t t h e y c o n s t i t u t e d a s t r a t u m of " g e n t e e l intellectuals." 2 1 Perhaps a synthesis of the two characterizations would provide a more accurate picture: Muhammad was an intelligent plebeian whose message found the most receptive ears among the oppressed and dispossessed. 2 2 Muhammad considered the oppression of the poor to be immoral. Without caring for its needy, a society could not achieve piety and moral excellence. Hence, the efforts toward realization of a community of God and the people of paradise would be rendered fruitless. Muhammad's desire to end tribal feuds and bring about social integration and unity convinced him that the community as a whole must care for its deprived. 23 The term birr (beneficence), which appears repeatedly throughout the Quran, encourages Mus-lims to help the less fortunate members of their community. The Prophet Muhammad is known to have appropriated land to create hima, an institution to help the poor and put them under the protection of the state. Equally important to Muhammad's populist appeal was the fact that he did not know how to read or write. He had no formal schooling and spoke the language of the common people. Even after reaching political and financial prominence, the Prophet's childhood experience as an orphan and his humble origins 24 never ceased to influence him. This plebeian character of Muhammad reflected itself in his policies. Under the rule of the Prophet, many legal reforms were implemented. Inheritance laws were changed to allow for a more egalitarian distribution of wealth. A public fund (bait al-mal) was created to finance the need of the community at large, and, in particular, to aid the deprived members of the community. A man's worth was no longer his wealth or tribal origins, but his piety, because God favored only those who were more virtuous and more devoted to the cause of Islam. On the basis of these egalitarian ideals and the principles of Islam, the Prophet tried to end tribal feuds and unite the Arab community. He replaced the tribal loyalty of the pre-Islamic Arab society with loyalty to a charismatic community united on the basis of common faith. 25

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There were several social considerations for the primacy of solidarity in Muhammad's political thoughts. First, the imposing figures of neighboring Byzantine and Persian empires loomed large in the consciousness of Arab leaders, including Muhammad. Arabia prior to the birth of Muhammad had suffered several defeats in the hands of the armies of its neighbors. Second, the scarcity of resources and the need for security necessitated creation of a united community. The third reason for the emphasis on social solidarity was to create a sense of obligation and responsibility that would enhance the implementation of reforms. Moreover, strong social bonds would unify the community on the basis of the Shari'a (the Islamic law) and would control the rebellious individuals within the umma by bringing public pressure to bear on them. This was done under the guise of the sanctity of the Shari'a and preservation of public honor. Historically, the Shari'a has been used as an instrument to preserve law and order, as well as to promote change. Over the years, the Shari'a, as an ideal religious and political guide, has remained the embodiment of sacred traditions and religious orthodoxy. Although many members of the ulama have interpreted the Shari'a at various historical junctures to accommodate and support the temporal rulers, its content has always urged social solidarity and integration. In fact, as Marshall Hodgson has noted, in its evolution, the "Shari'a incorporated values which were populist and which spoke to the common people of the cities rather than court."26 With the failure of Abbasid reforms, the "Shari'a '(still essentially oppositional) became the expression of the autonomy of society at large over against the absolute monarchy.'"27 Muslims believe that the Shari'a is the sharpest weapon to be found for combating social problems. Hence, social ills are considered to stem from the fact that the Shari'a is not implemented by political leaders. The social necessity for obeying the Shari'a is that the unity of the umma can be based only on a monolithic ethical and cultural training that it alone is capable of inspiring. Creation of a unified and righteous community is impossible without constant preaching to and persuasion of the individual members of the community. This activist concept of social involvement is derived from the Quran, which states: "Allah does not change the condition of a people until they change that which is in their heart."28 Muslims believe that God sent the Prophet to guide man to the righteous path. If the Prophet's followers went astray after his death, then they are to blame. The human inability to live a virtuous life is due to their weakness in succumbing to worldly temptations. Thus, there is a constant challenge in the Muslim's psyche to uphold the Islamic principles and to live according to them. Islam is a total religion, encompassing private as well as social life; therefore, the realms of personal morality, social presentation of self, and one's political commitments do not constitute separate entities. There is a relationship between one's personal moral challenge and the necessity for

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championing the honor and solidarity of the unvna. Therefore, the continuum from personal to social and political follows a logical course in the Muslim's consciousness. Thus, the study of authority, power, and social solidarity must be treated in its entirety, with one concept flowing from another. On the one hand, for example, the leader must consult with the umma and have its consensus on significant political or religious issues; on the other hand, leadership is based on authority, and if the leader lends himself to checks and balances he loses his authority. The orthodox Islamic concept of leadership is clearly different from its Western c o u n t e r p a r t on this point. T h e more recent and politicized interpretations of Islam heavily draw from the paradigmatic example of Muhammad and emphasize the mutual responsibility between the individual and the umma. As Sayyid Qutb states: "Every individual is charged with the care of society, as if he were the watchman over it, responsible for its safety. Life is like a ship at sea, whose crew are all concerned for her safety; none of them may make a hole even in his own part of her, in the name of his i n d i v i d u a l f r e e d o m . " 2 ' Each i n d i v i d u a l must a l s o put an end to any wrongdoing witnessed. In fact, the principle of al-amr bi-ma'ruf va al-nahi al-munkar (rejoicing the good and forbidding the evil) makes it incumbent upon Muslims to watch over public morality and insure that members of the umma do not deviate from the righteous path of Islam. A democratically inclined thinker may find this an intrusion into an individual's right to privacy; however, for a Muslim, this is a duty in defense of the honor of the community. The justification for the severity of punishment for "crimes of moral turpitude" such as adultery and fornication follows the same logic. The p u n i s h m e n t for social and political rebellion against the security and harmony of the community is the most severe. As the Quran states: "The punishment for those who war on Allah and his messenger and who strive to cause revolt in the land is to be put to death, to be crucified, to have their hands and feet cut off on opposite sides, or to be banished from the land." 30 The unity of the umma, its sanctity and honor, are the highest priorities of its members. The umma must constantly purify itself by purging the elements considered outlaw, outcast, and hypocritical. With the rise of nationalism in modern times, a close identification of nation and umma has developed among Muslim states. In fact, the panIslamic movement takes its roots from this close identification of community and nationhood—that is, one unified Islamic umma to the exclusion of all non-Muslims. Loyalty to collectivity is among the f o r e m o s t duties of Muslims. Thus, whoever willfully abandons the collectivity dies the death of the Jahalia. Because Muhammad's community and the Islamic values he introduced were universal, the concept of umma in Islam attaches the same universal appeal to an ethnic group, a nation, or a collectivity of Muslim nations.

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There is an apparent contradiction in the Islamic concepts of shura (consultation), the infallibility of the umma, the necessity of the umma's input in the process of decisionmaking, and the absolute power of the theocratic ruler. The resolution of this contradiction has often ended in abandoning meaningful shura and ijma in favor of an authoritarian personal rule. This tradition of personal rule goes back to Arab Jahalia nomadic tribes in which the individual could not take political action independent of his clan. It was imperative to act through the leader. Concern for individual autonomy was always subordinate to the authority of the leader, who spoke on behalf of the community. Because the example that was set by Muhammad was that of a personal ruler, the Islamic government that followed after him took the same form. If Muhammad had chosen a junta or a council of leaders, for instance, the form of Islamic government might have taken a republican form. The question of leadership and authority is geared to the central concern for the unity of the umma. With few exceptions, Sunni theorists believe that the collective wisdom of umma renders it immune to error; therefore, it is infallible. Under the reign of Muhammad, personal rule was sanctified on the basis that the will of the umma could not be implemented without power. There is no community without a leader through whom the will of the umma is expressed. The community may depose its leader insofar as it does not engage in fitnah (schism). However, in the case of fitnah, obedience to an evil leader is preferable to anarchy.3' Considered in this light, it is evident that there is a populist as well as an elitist element in the Islamic theory of government. It can be argued that Islam possesses a populist string to the extent that it emphasizes social solidarity, sanctity of umma, brotherhood, justice, and a limited distribution of wealth. But as there is an inherently elitist element in populism—the ascendance of charismatic leaders and the prevalent patron-client relationship between the leaders and the masses—Islam is also elitist. Islam, like many other organized religions, considers human beings to be evil and misled unless they are guided by religious values and ethics. Hence, individuals are regarded as saqir (minor, needing a guardian). Sometimes the masses are compared to sheep, and prophets and imams are deemed the "shepherds of their people." Indeed, many aspects of Islamic theology can be explained in terms of synthesis of such opposites as charismatic community with the absolutist rule of a divine or a semidivine ruler; the elitist concept of leadership (allegiance to Caliph—bi'ya) of Sunnis and the charismatic rule of imams of Shi'ites with the collectivist dispositions of the umma; the necessity of social solidarity and creation of an organic society. As is the case with most movements that are built around personal charisma, after the death of the Prophet in A.D. 632, the Islamic movement lost its unity. Since Muhammad's followers did not claim divine revelations, and they lacked his prestige and initiative, the contradictions inherent in the

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theoretical structure of Islamic ideology began to unfold. The community became divided over the question of leadership: new leaders, sects, and doctrines arose, adding to the tensions already present in Islamic theology. However, because the focus of this study is on Shi'ite Islam and the case study of Iran, the focus here will be only on individuals, institutions, and theological developments that were instrumental in the further evolution of Shi'ism. It suffices to say that no study of Shi'ite populism is complete without studying the rule of Ali and his impact on Shi'ite consciousness. It is to this task that we now turn our attention.

THE LEGACY OF POPULIST ORIGINS, II: THE CALIPHATE OF ALI It is the laymen who are the backbone

of

religion.

—Imam Ali The reasons that led to the appointment of Ali to the Imamat are still valid: The person has changed, but not the function; the Islamic government of today must embody Ali's will. —Ayatollah Khomeini The freedom loving spirit of Ali and the system of Ali's rule, has been left behind for this country; a country that is honored to be the follower of Ali's path and is recognized around the world as the only Shi'ite state. —Ayatollah Sayyed Mahmud Taleqani We shall pursue the goals of the Islamic Republic of Iran until we create a government like that of Imam Ali. —Ayatollah Sayyed Ali Khamen e'i

THEORETICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF IMAM ALI'S RULE It has become something of a cliché among some scholars of Islam to suggest that after the occultation o f the twelfth imam, a shadow o f illegitimacy was cast over all temporal rulers. The explanation for the confrontation between the clergy and the state is primarily seen in this perspective.^ It is the contention here, however, that in order to trace the roots of illegitimacy of the temporal ruler, one must go back in history to the rule of the first imam, Ali. This contention is based on the structural character of the millenarian and chiliastic ideologies, which can be a potent weapon for mass mobilization. All revolutionary ideologies, including Islam—when under certain historical circumstances it may assume such a character—possess pragmatic 44

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and Utopian elements. Insofar as a revolutionary ideology bases itself on the criticism and negation of the status quo, it is pragmatic. Insofar as it projects an image of the ideal future to come—that is, an image of how things must be, an image from which revolutionary legitimacy is drawn and through which an alternative system is presented—it is Utopian. Hence, to trace the roots of illegitimacy of the temporal ruler, it does not suffice to point out the interruption in the rule of the twelve charismatic imams, or as in the case of the twelfth imam, who is said to be in occultation, the absence of such a rule.2 With this shift in focus, the paramount importance of the image of Ali in the Shi'ite psyche has been either totally forgotten or received only cursory attention. The emphasis here on the political significance of Imam Ali's image and his rule does not preclude the significance of Mahdism and its chiliastic impact responsible for the emergence of many millenarian movements to restore the reign of justice. On the contrary, the crucial point is that the chiliastic ex-pectations that are aroused in the minds of the pious by the image of the return of the Mahdi historically has led to both quietism and rebellion. Although the image of the Mahdi was used to legitimize such movements as the Isma'ili, Qarmatian, and Sarbidaran, during much of the Middle Ages the occultation of the twelfth imam was also interpreted to foster disengagement from political activity. The political world and temporal rule were considered to be profane, impure, and corrupt. Politics was conceived to be an unsacred arena in which the ulama should not meddle.3 The just and egalitarian image of Ali, on the other hand, either explicitly or implicitly, consciously or sub-consciously, has consistently inspired political dissent and rebellion throughout the various ages in Shi'i history. Therefore, we must expound on the significance of the ever-present and glorified example of the charismatic rule of the first imam in the consciousness of lay Muslims and its forceful impact that encourages them to take political action against venal and unjust secular rulers and construct an Islamic government modeled after that of Imam Ali. In the example of the Caliphate of Ali, the charismatic rule of the first imam, the Shi'ites saw the manifestation of a divine authority, which, in their eyes, constituted the rule of virtue and justice.4 This combination is a unique attribute that the majority of secular leaders in Shi'ite perception have lacked throughout history, being neither particularly just nor virtuous. Ali's rule lasted only four years (A.D. 656-661) and was associated with many problems and divisions in the Muslim community; yet in the perception of pious Shi'ites, the exemplary figure of Ali towers over the temporal leaders in history, who have often succumbed to the corrupting temptations of wealth and power. Ali's perceived virtues—simplicity, compassion for the poor, resoluteness, fortitude, and, above all, his just rule—have been extolled by the laity and Muslim intellectuals alike. This idealized perception of Ali and his rule has been passed down with great continuity from one generation to

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the next, either through religious ceremonies, mosque gatherings, or popular folklore, and has become a part of Iranian consciousness. Indeed, the lives and actions of the popular religiopolitical folk heroes of the past, such as Ali and his son Husain, can become a source of inspiration in times of crisis, as was demonstrated throughout the Iranian Revolution.5 Since its inception, Shi'ite Islam has had a string of populist heritage, which has made it the focus of many rebellions and dynastic changes in Iran.6 The individual who personifies this populist heritage is Imam Ali. The appearance of a wide variety of literature on Ali and the rediscovery of his populist traits and attributes in the 1960s attests to this fact. Hence, a favored approach among some Muslim intellectuals in the 1960s and 1970s was to counterpose Alid Shi'ism (Islam of Ali, religion of the masses, popular Islam) to Safavid Shi'ism (Islam of the monarchy, religion of the elite, establishment Islam).7 In addition, the more traditional members of the ulama used the image of Ali to rally their followers. For example, Ayatollah Khomeini's Valayat-e Faqih (Islamic government), first delivered as a series of lectures to his disciples in the 1960s, is filled with repeated references to the model of the Caliphate of Ali, clearly an attempt to legitimize the concepts of Islamic government and seizure of executive power by the ulama. In this same period, Nahj Al-Balagheh, a collection of Ali's speeches, writings, and pronouncements, was rediscovered, reinterpreted, and popularized both by Muslim scholars and by political activists.8 Next to the Quran, Nahj Al-Balagheh became the most popular religious book in Iran. It was no arbitrary coincidence that in the 1960s and 1970s Muslim religious figures, such as Shariati, Bazargan, Khomeini, and Taleqani, tried to revive the memory of Ali's rule in order to draw attention to the illegitimacy of the shah's regime and to inspire Muslims politically. Nor was it a coincidence that after the revolution, the Mojahedin-e Khalq's challenge to the Islamic republic was based on the example of the Caliphate of Ali, and Ayatollah Khomeini's perceived deviation from Ali's principles. Concomitantly, the Islamic republic's bloody confrontation with the Mojahedin-e Khalq was legitimized on the grounds that Imam Ali also severely persecuted Kharijites (his primary internal enemies) when they refrained from obeying his commands.9 Therefore, the key link in understanding revolutionary change in Shi'ite Islam is not the absence of the twelfth imam. Such an occultation fails to provide the alternative Utopian element crucial to revolutionary action. It is, rather, the legendary living memory of Ali and his just rule that provides that element. Hence, to construct a comprehensive ideology of revolution and to find the missing link in the chain of events, we must focus our analysis on the Caliphate of Ali, the rule of the folk hero of Shi'ism. This approach has several advantages: the rule of Ali provides precisely the paradigm for political conduct that the occultation of the twelfth imam does not. As we shall see later, there are illustrious examples of political, social, and moral tenets left behind by Ali that are pursued most de-

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votedly by practicing believers. Moreover, the applicability of this theory is not confined only to the Twelver branch (Ithna'shari) of Shi'ism, but is also applicable to the entire range of Shi'ite sects beyond the borders of Iran insofar as the image of Ali is their common source of inspiration. Therefore, the main focus here is to answer three questions: What are the roots of illegitimacy of the temporal ruler in Shi'ite Islam? Who personifies Shi'ite populism? Who is the Volksgeist (popular spirit, folk hero) of Irano-Islamic culture?

THE RULE OF IMAM ALI

Although the period in which Ali was actually the ruler of the umma was no longer than five years, and his caliphate was associated with many conflicts and divisions in the polity, this period has a special place in the hearts and minds of Shi'ite Muslims. After the rule of the Prophet Muhammad, the Caliphate of Ali is considered to be the most venerated model of government on earth. The events that followed the Prophet's death and led to the Caliphate of Ali are perhaps as significant for understanding the emergence of Shi'ite Islam as is the Caliphate of Ali itself. This is especially true when we consider the further development of Shi'ism that, in large part, developed in reaction to Sunnism. After the death of the Prophet, Abu Bakr, the close associate and fatherin-law of the Prophet and a respected leader and statesman, was chosen to lead the Muslim community. He was the senior advisor of the Prophet, and in the clan-oriented society of the day his election to leadership followed the traditional pattern. Ali and his supporters quietly protested this decision. During Abu Bakr's brief rule (A.D. 632-634), Abu Sufyan offered Ali military support to fight for his claim over the caliphate, but Ali declined this offer. According to Shi'ite sources, Ali came to this decision because of his concern over the unity of the Muslim community.10 Therefore, he decided to cooperate with Abu Bakr and took a seat in the council of caliphs. In this capacity, Ali occasionally advised the caliph, and spent much of his time teaching his disciples and collecting an authoritative edition of the Quran. Shi'ites take Abu Bakr's refusal to honor the claim of Fatima (the Prophet's daughter and Ali's wife) to the estate of Fadak, which she inherited from her father, as a sign of his disloyalty to the household of the Prophet and of his consequent deviation from the righteous path. But Abu Bakr had his own political reasons for doing so. Jafri, for example, suggests that Abu Bakr felt that "to accept the rights of the family of Ah to the inheritance of Fadak, might be regarded as equal to admitting their rights to the succession of the Prophet in all spheres, spiritual as well as material." 11 Although Shi'ites sometimes consider Abu Bakr as an incompetent and misguided ruler, they do not view him with the same intense hatred that they feel for Mu'awiya or his son Yazid—the main enemies of Ali and his son Husain.

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To prevent any dispute, before his death Abu Bakr designated as his successor Umar, who was a capable administrator from the Bani Umayyad clan. Once again, Ali was left out of power. Under the reign of Umar (A.D. 634-644), Ali continued his apprehensive quietism, but in contrast to his previous position as Abu Bakr's advisor, he refused to hold any office and was primarily involved in teaching his disciples, who were growing in number. From among these disciples, there later arose a religious intelligentsia called the Qurra. The Qurra were learned scholars of the Quran, Sunna, and Hadith, and they played an instrumental role in the affairs of Kufa. Under orders from Umar, the Bani Hashim (members of the Prophet's family and clan) were not allowed to leave the capital city of Medina. In this period, Ali was noticeably absent from all the great wars that Umar waged, including the conquest of the Persian Empire. He frequently disagreed with Umar on handling divan (distribution of stipends). Ali favored distribution of the entire revenue, a policy that Umar did not accept. But Umar's administrative skills, his relative egalitarianism, and numerous military victories, which brought new wealth and territory to the newly born Islamic Empire, prevented any eruption of mass discontent. However, Umar's powerful caliphate did not last more than ten years; he was killed by a Persian slave in A.D. 644. Not having reached a decision on who would succeed him, Umar had appointed a committee of six that was to select a leader from among themselves. This committee consisted of Abd al-Rahman b. Awf, Uthman, Said b. Abi Waqqas, Zubayr, Talhah, and Ali. Shi'ite sources present two facts to demonstrate Umar's anti-Ali bias and his aim to prevent any member of the Bani Hashim clan from taking the seat of the caliphate. First, they point to the fact that no representation was granted to the Ansar of Medina, among whom there was strong pro-Ali sentiment. Second, they contend that Umar had laid out a procedural arrangement to the committee ensuring that Ali would not be chosen as the new caliph. 12 Umar's orders were: (1) in case of a tie, Abd al-Rahman b. Awf (Uthman's brother-in-law), who also favored Uthman, had the power to decide the outcome; (2) anyone who refused to participate in this shura (committee) must be slain; and (3) anyone who would not accept the new ruler after his selection would also be slain. Thus, Umar, the masterful tactician, guaranteed the formal presence of Ali in the shura to silence any criticism of his not including the Ahl Al-Bayt (members of the Prophet's household) in his list of candidates for leadership, while ensuring that Ali would not be elected as the new caliph. Umar's tactics proved successful. Uthman was chosen to succeed him. Uthman, unlike Umar, was a weak man. He lacked administrative skills and initiative. Under his rule (A.D. 644-656), corruption was rampant, and the rising aristocracy became more powerful and wealthy; his government in general, and his officials in particular, became further detached from the people they ruled. Uthman and his associates amassed tremendous wealth

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and spent lavishly, contrary to the example set by the Prophet. 13 According to some accounts, at the time of his death Uthman owned 100,000 dinars, and the value of his estate exceeded this amount considerably. He also possessed many herds of horses and camels. Similarly, other members of the ruling clique, Talhah, Abd al-Rahman, Zubayr, and Said b. Abi Waqqas, owned fortunes worth many millions. 14 Ali's simple lifestyle was a distinct contrast to that of the ruling caliph and his companions. As Uthman's Caliphate became more repressive and the wealth acquired from Islamic conquests became increasingly concentrated in the hands of the aristocracy, cleavages began to appear along class, tribal, and religious lines in the community. The more prosperous members of the Bani Umayyad leaned toward Uthman, whereas the nomads, the Ansar of Medina, and the Bani Hashim gathered around Ali, looking to him for leadership. Protesting the brutal rule of the governors of Kufa and Egypt, a group of the Qurra, who were respected leaders in their communities, appealed to Uthman to replace the governors. But Uthman chose to punish the protestors by sending them into exile in Syria to be persecuted by Mu'awiya. One of the outstanding leaders of the opposition who emerged in this period was Abu Dharr Ghifari, a companion of the prophet, a close friend of Ali, and the first Muslim "socialist." He violently objected to the accumulation of wealth in the hands of a few, and favored frugality and distribution of land among the community members. 15 In response to the agitation of Abu Dharr in the mosque of Medina, Uthman exiled him to Syria. Complaining about Abu Dharr's activities, Mu'awiya sent him back to Medina; from there he was exiled to Al-Raddha, where he died. Such events, along with the excesses of Uthman's officials in Egypt, Iraq, and other provinces, intensified the feeling of resentment toward Uthman and solidified Ali's position as the main alternative ruler. Soon Ali found himself surrounded by groups of protesters coming from the provinces to ask for his support. Uthman appealed to Ali for arbitration. Although Ali had strong sympathies with the rebels, his attempt at arbitration proved unsuccessful. Finally, in A.D. 656, rebel contingents from Kufa, Basra, and Egypt led by the Qurra marched on Medina. Ali was in favor of deposing Uthman, but not of killing him. He appointed his own two sons as Uthman's bodyguards, but the crowd overpowered them and killed Uthman. After the death of Uthman, his aids and some members of the Umayyad tribe managed to escape to Syria. Mu'awiya, brother-in-law of the Prophet, governor of Syria, and a close ally of Uthman, perceived this as a good opportunity to establish his claim to the caliphate. Blaming Ali for the death of Uthman and vowing vengence, Mu'awiya carried out an intense anti-Ali campaign. A'ishah, one of the Prophet's widows; Zubayr; and Talhah, who had all been among the critics of Uthman, now dissociated themselves from

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Ali. They joined forces and mobilized an army against him as avengers of Uthman's death, hoping that with Ali's defeat they would seal their grip on the caliphate. The two armies fought the Battle of Al-Jamal, and Ali's forces were victorious. Zubayr and Talhah were slain and A'ishah was taken prisoner.16 As Ali consolidated his rule in Iraq, he turned his attention to the more serious source of opposition to his caliphate—the powerful governor of Syria, Mu'awiya. Despite pressure from the Qurra that he should deal with Mu'awiya decisively, Ali first tried to settle the differences with Mu'awiya through negotiation. But peaceful means failed to resolve the conflict, and in 657 A.D. in the Battle of Siffin, the first civil war of Islam, the two armies fought on the banks of the Euphrates. This battle, fought over religious and political differences as well as over the conflicting territorial interests of Iraq and Syria, did not result in a decisive victory for either side. Mu'awiya's forces tied copies of the Quran to their lances. By using the sanctity of the Quran, they protected themselves from further attack by Ali's forces and indicated their willingness for arbitration. Ali accepted arbitration, but by doing so, split his own base of support. A splinter group named Kharijites or Khavarej (seceders, outsiders) left Ali's army, arguing that in this matter there could be no arbitration except by God. Later, Ali fought the Kharijites in the Battle of Nahravan and killed many of them, thus increasing the number of his internal enemies. Arbitration with Mu'awiya proved to be futile. As he was mobilizing his forces for a final confrontation with Mu'awiya in 661, Ali was murdered by Abd al-Rahman Ibn-i Muljam, a Kharijite, in the mosque of Kufa. Ali's recommendations to Malek Ashtar, one of his closest associates and the appointed governor of Egypt, is perhaps one of the best indicators of his attitude toward government—the ruler and the ruled. It is appropriate to give the last word on this subject to Ali himself with a short synopsis of his letter to Malek Ashtar. Ali advised Malek as follows: You must be just, and the serving of the common man must be one of your prime objectives; the gratification of the aristocracy is insignificant and can be ignored in the face of the happiness of the masses. No other people are like the aristocracy: they are a heavy burden on the ruler during the easy times, and are nowhere to be found when hardship strikes. They do not appreciate your gifts and never forgive you when you do not deliver. It is the laymen who are the backbone of religion: hardworking and always ready to fight the enemy. Look after the deprived (mahrum) and dispossessed (mostazaf) who need food and shelter. They deserve your help. Give to them generously from bait al-mal (public fund). It is your duty to protect them and their families. Be kind to those you rule. The people will obey their ruler if they are immune from his abuse. Avoid nepotism and do not give land to your relatives. They may force others to

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work on it as slaves, and may harm them and accumulate wealth in their expense. Do not base your rule on bloodshed, because this will weaken you and will turn the tide of events against you. 17

IMAM ALI AND THE PERSIANS

The Arab conquests of Mada'in, A1 Qadisiya, and Nahavand under the rule of Umar led to the migration of a great number of Persians as prisoners of war, as peasants in search of jobs in cities, or as craftsmen and traders who had lost their means of livelihood under the Sassanid dynasty. These Persians migrated primarily to Kufa, where the supporters of Ali were numerous and his influence strongest.18 Most of these Persians soon embraced Islam and were granted their freedom. Nevertheless, they were still referred to as Mawali—a term taken from the singular mawla (client), describing freed slaves, but which later came to refer to a great number of the non-Arab population. 19 Not only were Persians treated as a defeated people, but also as racially inferior. This second-class status disposed Persians favorably toward Ali, who apparently favored equality on the basis of faith rather than ethnicity or race. The more important link by which Shi'ism passed from the Arabs to the Persians was provided by Aramaean elements in Arab society. William M. Watt contends that Iraq "had seen a considerable fusion of Persian and Aramaean elements in the previous century or two. If it may be assumed, however, that there was a large number of Aramaean Mawali, this makes it possible to explain how Shi'ism passed from the Arabs to the Mawali and especially to the Persians."20 But the tradition of divine kingship was not confined to the Persians and Yemenese. The Aramaeans of Iraq "were also the heirs of a tradition, even older than that of South Arabia, in which large populations had looked for salvation to the activity of a divinely appointed king on their behalf."21 Thus, Aramaeans, Yemenese, and Persians, who later developed a pro-Shi'ite sentiment, had a common tradition of divine and charismatic kingship. The social divisions in the Persian community are of some interest because of their impact on the future development of Shi'ism. Jafri divides the Persians of Kufa, the center of the caliphate under Ali's rule, into five different groups. First were the soldiers who embraced Islam and joined Arab armies such as the Hamsa or the Saylamites. They were used by the Kufan governor to police the city. But in order to be recognized as legitimate citizens, they had to associate themselves with an Arab tribe and choose a tribal chief as their patron. Second were the peasants whose land had been devastated in the war and who had moved to Kufa in search of jobs. They were not associated with any tribes and were under the direct jurisdiction of

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the governor of Kufa, who exercised great power over them. The third group consisted of traders and craftsmen who had lost their land, but who were not formally given slave status. They were independent members of the tribe with which they were associated. The prisoners of war who were freed slaves made up the fourth group, but they were to continue to be associated with the families that had been their masters. These were the true Mawali. The fifth category was composed of those Persians who belonged to notable families and who were treated better by the Arabs. They were exempted from the degrading poll-tax (jizya), but they had to pay tax on their own land 0kharaj). They were free to change their tribal association; nevertheless, their social status remained as Mawali. 22 Jafri makes three additional observations that are significant for the purpose of this analysis. First, from the beginning, Kufa was not a purely Arabian city, as were Medina, Mecca, and Damascus. Second, the majority of the first settlers in Kufa, whether Arabs or Persians, came without their families and for quite some time lived like a standing army ready for action. Finally, Kufa had no tradition of its own that could have been absorbed by or that could have influenced the people. As a newly founded city, it had to develop its own character. 23 From these observations we can deduce the following conclusions: Ali's slogan that all men are created equal and that only those who are more virtuous are more dear to God was welcomed by Persians. In addition, Ali's call for the revival of the egalitarianism of early Islam must have found many receptive ears among the Mawali. Through Ali's egalitarianism, they hoped to gain equal rights and the dignity that they deserved as Muslims. 24 The non-Arab character of Kufa referred to earlier by Jafri, its lack of a long tradition of its own, and its vulnerability to penetration by new cultures played a crucial role in the further development of Shi'ism. The Shi'ite addition of imamat (the charismatic rule of the descendants of the Prophet) and edalat (justice) to the main body of orthodox Islamic theology reflected as much the need and influences of the community as it did the differences in interpretations of the Quran, Sunna, and Hadith. Moreover, the existence of a standing army ready for action is perhaps suggestive in terms of the militant character of the followers of Ali and their zeal in fighting for their cause 25 Mawali support of Ali undermined his base among the more traditional elements of Arab society, for whom tribal loyalities and the privileged Arab ethnic status were very important. Ali's base of support among the less fortunate and non-Arabs frightened not only the newly formed Umayyad aristocracy in Damascus and Kufa, but also elements of the Quraish aristocracy at Mecca. With the rise of a new Islamic aristocracy, an alliance appeared between the Mawali, the Qurra, and the Ansar of Medina, who had lost much of the influence they had possessed under Umar. Consequently, the socioeconomic discontent of the people of Kufa found its ideological articulation in Ali's leadership. The Ansar of Medina, in their support of Ali,

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hoped that he would shift the balance of power to their favor by reducing the power of Mecca and the Quraish. Nevertheless, the main bulk of Ali's support came from Kufa. When Ali rose to power through the vote of the Ansar and the rebels of the provinces, Kufa was the first city to pay homage to him. When Ali departed from Medina with 1,000 men to fight A'ishah, 12,000 additional men from Kufa joined his army immediately. After Ali defeated the alliance of Mecca and Basra in the Battle of AlJamal, he turned his attention to implementing social reforms to consolidate his base of support. The tribal aristocracies reacted with dismay. Consequently, in the Battle of Siffin between Ali and Mu'awiya, the nobility remained "half-hearted and lukewarm." But perhaps the most significant threat to the tribal aristocracy was Ali's egalitarianism: "In the distribution of stipends, he abolished the distinction made between early and latecomers to Kufa and instead made his criterion not only Islamic priority, but also adherence to Islamic values and standards."26 This was another factor that lured the Mawali toward Ali. However, the association of the Mawali with tribal leaders and their patron-client relationships actually hindered a resolute action on the part of the Mawali in support of Ali. This support was further weakened when the Mawali saw Ali's chances for victory diminishing. In their position as second-class citi-zens, they lacked the necessary confidence to take great risks. But politically and emotionally they had great pro-Alid sympathies—sympathies that were passed on to future generations.

THE GENESIS OF IMAM ALI'S APPEAL

Having traced the crucial events leading up to the Caliphate of Ali and his encounter with Persians, we can turn our attention to a few sociological observations that will further clarify the historical significance of his rule and the populist aura surrounding his persona. The sociological roots of Imam Ali's popular appeal as reported by Shi'ite historians can be summarized as the following: 1. Ali's continuation of the Prophet's legacy of humility and simple life 2. The legitimation of Ali's claim to the caliphate on the basis of his blood ties to the Prophet Muhammad 3. Ali's overriding concern with upholding Islamic principles, and his perceived contempt for political power for its own sake 4. The image of Ali among his followers as the champion of the egalitarianism of pristine Islam 5. The deep psychological appeal of his personal attributes, such as selfsacrifice, religious zeal, fortitude in battle, modesty, knowledge, and wisdom, and his passion for justice

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Drawing on Muhammad's legacy as the protector of the poor and the oppressed, and prophet of the have-nots of Mecca and Medina; grounding himself in such appealing Islamic concepts as brotherhood (baradari), equality ( b a r a b a r i ) , and j u s t i c e ( e d a l a t ) ; and p o s s e s s i n g impeccable credentials as the first person to join the Prophet's new religion, Ali became the most distinguished defender of this populist heritage after the Prophet's death. A parable relates that Harun Ibn Antar, seeing Ali shivering in shabby clothing during the winter, asked him why did he not take some money from bait al-mal and buy himself some new clothes. Ali answered, "I swear to God I will never use bait al-mal; the Prophet wore clothes shabbier than mine." 27 At the beginning of Uthman's rule, Shi'ites were called Shi'i Ali, supporters of Ali's faction. Ali's supporters believed that the office of caliphate must remain in the Prophet's household, and that only those of his clan, the Hashimites, had the right to leadership, as they were the sole inheritors of the knowledge and wisdom of the Prophet. Ali's superior personal qualifications and his close relation to the Prophet made him the worthiest candidate for the office. They relied on a statement, attributed to the Prophet Muhammad when speaking in Qadir Khom, that "whoever I am a mulaw [a friend, a leader] of must regard Ali his Mulaw as well." 28 Shi'ites consider this statement by the Prophet as his formal declaration that Ali was his designated successor. But Sunnis argued that the word mulaw means a friend, and the Prophet was simply referring to his friendship and positive feelings toward Ali. However, Abdallah Ibn Saba and Abu Dharr, who were close associates and supporters of Ali, believed that because all the former prophets had left a representative behind to continue their mission, the Prophet Muhammad could not have deviated from this course; his true representative must be Ali. Comparison to Christian eschatology was also used to strengthen Ali's claim to the caliphate. Abdallah Ibn Saba, for example, argued that as Jesus would return one day, so also would the Prophet Muhammad, but the spirit of Muhammad has reappeared through the life of Ali, and Ali's spirit will be resurrected through his descendants. 29 It is significant to note that Shi'ites asserted that the caliphate must be confined to the household of the Prophet (Bani Hashim), Sunnis believed that this right must be extended to the entire Meccan aristocracy (Quraish), and Kharijites held that everyone in the community regardless of blood, tribal, or class ties must have the right to be the ruler of the Muslim community. 30 The Kharijites extended the egalitarian principles of early Islam to their logical conclusions when they insisted on the eligibility of all qualified members of the umma to become leaders. Whereas Shi'ites put emphasis on the necessity of a charismatic leader, Kharijites charged that no leader was immune to giving an erroneous command, and the community could commit sin by following such a leader. Shi'ites, on the other hand, argued that an elected imam would have no charisma and, consequently, no infallibility or

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divine mandate, and he would be liable to lead his followers astray. For Kharijites the danger lay in having an imam who was elevated above the law; for Shi'ites, on the other hand, an imam without charisma was viewed as incompetent to safeguard the Shari'a and the umma. In other words, this dispute counterposed the impersonality of the law (Shari'a) and the personal nature of the imam's rule. Turner sees the difference between the Shi'ite principle of charismatic kingship and the Kharijites belief in the charismatic community as reflections of the Yemenite monarchies and of the desert traditions of protection, social solidarity, and tribal "democracy." He writes, "Just as the nomadic Bedouin depended on the tribe for his life and security, so the Kharijites believed that the individual depended on the group for his salvation." 31 Although Sunnis assimilated a dilute version of the Kharijite communalism, they never wholly incorporated the Shi'ite theory of imamat in their doctrine. 3 2 The reason is clearly political. The Shi'ite theological dispute immediately took on political characteristics, because it was a dispute over political power. In their view, imams were the only legitimate heirs to the office of caliphate. It is clear that Shi'ites were more elitist in their concept of leadership than the proponents of the two other sects present in early Islam. Before discussing this point any further, it is instructive to go back to the roots of the Shi'i-Sunni dispute and to study the expressed theoretical justifications and their political ramifications that have left a profound impact on the evolution of political thought in each of these two sects. Sunnis argue that the Prophet did not explicitly choose anyone to succeed him, because being the just and fair person he was, he believed that after his death the umma would be wiser than he in conducting their own affairs. Therefore, the decision on his part not to name a successor was a conscious one, made to avoid imposing his will on the community. Shi'ites, on the other hand, argue that because salvation can be reached only through the accurate comprehension and implementation of the Quran, which possesses exoteric (zaheri) as well as esoteric (bateni) meanings unintelligible to ordinary members of the community, the ruler must be knowledgeable about the Quran (alem). And such knowledge could have been possessed only by those who were closest to the Prophet; that is to say, Ali and his male descendants. Moreover, a leader should also be pure (pak, ma'sum) and possess innocence (isma); a leader should be infallible and impeccable. God would choose only such individuals for the revelation of the esoteric meaning and message of the Quran. The laity could therefore not be entrusted with the important tasks of preserving the true essence of the teachings of the Quran and the traditions of the Prophet and guiding the community toward the righteous path. In considering Shi'i support of Ali, one must also bear in mind the influence of the pre-Islamic traditions of the Arab-Jahalia society, such as the primacy of blood and tribal ties. These sentiments were still very much alive

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in the newly founded Muslim community. Many Shi'ites not only were convinced of the superior human qualities of Ali, but also had positive affection for him as the devotee of the Prophet, his cousin; as the husband of his daughter, Fatima; and as the father of his two grandsons, Hassan and Husain. Despite the Shi'ites' use of elaborate theological rationalizations, in practice they acted on the principle that divine authority could be embodied only in certain privileged members of the community. Their theoretical justification revolved around the idea of sanctity of certain individuals and the necessity of following those individuals exclusively. Sunnis, on the other hand, as their name implies, followed the Sunna (tradition). As Enayat has suggested, "This may be taken as an appellation to symbolize their adherence to principles rather than personalities."33 According to some Shi'ite publicists, such an argument is invalid. Shams Langrudi, for example, argues against Mirfatrus's and Adamiyat's charge of Shi'i elitism, that in designating Ali as his successor, Prophet Muhammad knew that Ali was the most qualified man to rule over the Muslims. Langrudi states that if Ali had succeeded the Prophet immediately following his death, the degeneration of Islamic theology could have been prevented and Muslims would not have had to suffer for centuries through the corrupt rule of the Sunnis.34 There are certain tensions between elitism, adherence to the doctrine of imamat and the underlying populism, primacy of justice, and sanctity of umma in Shi'ite political philosophy. This contradiction is seldom discussed among Shi'ite theologians. One possible reason for this apparent oversight is, perhaps, the deeply rooted political tradition of sacral kingship and the primacy of social justice in the theology of the pre-Islamic prophets and statesmen of Iran. This tenuous synthesis of the elitist principle of divine kingship with primacy of social justice embodied in Persian statecraft has been the theoretical source of tension and political upheaval in much of preIslamic Iranian history. Shi'ism introduced a different version of that same tradition in the form of the doctrine of imamat and edalat. For Shi'ites, the central issue of government is not the political structure of the office of the caliphate, but the righteousness and the personal qualities of the individual who occupies the office. In other words, the primary subject of dispute in Shi'ite political thought, historically, has not been the nature of political institutions or their structural flaws or merits. These are considered matters of secondary significance. The crucial point is the character and the symbolic legitimacy of the individual political actor. According to Shi'ite sources, when Ali seized power he forced the resignation of all of the incompetent officials of the Uthman period and began the sociopolitical transformations that brought him many foes, both among the privileged strata and among tribal rivals.35 Although some of the rich nobility of the Quraish supported Ali for political as well as personal reasons,

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others were alienated by his unyielding insistence on equality and social justice. Thus, the majority of his constituency came from the impoverished Arabs and Mawali. In the minds of the impoverished members of the community, the cause of justice and social equality became associated with the claims of the household of the Prophet to leadership. Similarly, opposition to the Umayyad aristocracy became closely associated with support for Ali.36 In contrast to the rules of Abu Bakr, Umar, and Uthman, whose governance was possible through peaceful means and a combination of appointment and selection, Ali's rule had its inception in a mass rebellion. Therefore, he had to react and respond to this rebellion and, ultimately, he broke his silence and became its spokesman and leader. Ali's base of support came primarily from those who benefited least from the Islamic conquests. Moreover, his followers perpetuated Ali's images as cousin and associate of the Prophet as the first Muslim, and as the only person who had remained faithful to his teachings and who had implemented his egalitarian traditions. Some scholars of Islam argue that Ali's preoccupation with moral and religious issues deprived him of the maneuverability and flexibility required of a politician, whose craft necessitates manipulating different powers and mediating between contending forces rather than upholding absolute moral and religious principles.37 Shi'ite scholars, such as Tabataba'i and Jafri, admit that Ali's government was based more on righteousness than real politic or efficacy. They both assert that the very basis of Ali's rule was to fight for Islamic principles, rather than to compromise these principles for the mere sake of preserving political power. Tabataba'i warns the critics of Ali that "what people who hold this view forget is that the movement of Ali was not based on political opportunism. It was a radical revolutionary religious movement (in the true sense of Revolution as a spiritual movement to establish the real order of things and not in its current political and social sense); therefore, it could not have been accomplished through compromise or flattery and forgery."38 In other words, if the opportunistic methods of flattery and forgery are used, the movement loses its sanctity and legitimacy and becomes like other secular movements with no divine authority, purpose, meaning, or power. Such movements are doomed to succumb to the temptations of wealth and power and be diverted from their original righteous goal. It is precisely these latter qualities of sanctity and purity that, in the eyes of the pious, safeguard Ali's government from corruption and lend it a special lure. Of course, Tabataba'i's rationale behind his defense of Ali is that the "Islamic message never allows a right and just cause to be abandoned for the sake of strengthening another good cause."39 Consequently, unlike the Bolshevik political morality, for example, the end does not justify the means. The means that are used to reach the sanctified end must meet the Islamic moral codes and standards as well. In the case of Ali, opportunism, flattery, and forgery went against his Islamic moral principles.

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If the Caliphate of Uthman represented the ebb and degeneration of the social revolution that Prophet Muhammad had begun, Shi'ites assert Ali's government, in contrast, represented an attempt to restore the early Islamic ideals of equality, brotherhood, and justice that were so instrumental in winning over new territories and recruits for Islam. During the Caliphate of Ali no Islamic conquest and expansion took place. Consequently, the Islamic treasury, which had been full due to the continuous Islamic conquests of the former caliphs, began to shrink, and Ali's power to mitigate social discontent shrank with it. Because no Islamic conquest took place under Ali's rule, some modern interpreters suggest that Ali was, in principle, against any imperial rule and imperialist expansionism. 40 Others contend that Ali was opposed to gaining support through reward and punishment. 4 1 He was more interested in winning the hearts and minds of his followers through religious conviction. There is something to be said in favor of the latter contention, because Ali's staunchest supporters were not the Mawali, but his own Arab religious devotees. Some Shi'ite publicists, for example, attribute Ali's defeat to the waning of piety and religious commitment among many Muslims who had succumbed to the rule of "sword and money." Mu'awiya bought the loyalty of many. Those he could not buy, he either deceived or destroyed. 42 More crucial than the general decline of religious belief was the fact that the younger generation, which had been converted to Islam under the imperial reign of Uthman and Mu'awiya, had lost memory of the humble life of the Prophet and the egalitarian message of early Islam. Consequently, they joined Mu'awiya. Yet, the most articulate and devoted members of the old guard, such as Abu Dharr, Malek Ashlar, Meghdad, and Abbas, remained faithful to Ali. T h r o u g h o u t history, n u m e r o u s religious and political sects h a v e appeared and vanished. Only those sects manage to survive that develop an ideology and a program that addresses itself to the economic, religious, political, and psychological issues that are germane to the concerns of the populace. Shi'ism is a major case in point. Although Ali, and later his son Husain, were martyred and defeated, in their defeat they were victorious. After their deaths, their legend and the mythology surrounding it grew larger than life, capable of inspiring and mobilizing millions for centuries. The example set by Ali and Husain of self-sacrifice, heroism, religious zeal, devotion, and strict adherence to the Islamic principles they left behind, changed Shi'ism from a loosely gathered group of devotees (jnoreed) of Ali to a determined sect with a messianic vision and a religiopolitical doctrine. In the tragic lives of Ali and Husain, who were perceived to have fought selflessly against extreme odds and stood firm for their cause, the oppressed and dispossessed found examples to follow.

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THE CONTEMPORARY SHI'ITE PERCEPTION OF IMAM ALI

Deep in the consciousness of Shi'ite Muslims lies the notion that after the Prophet Muhammad, Imam Ali was the most knowledgeable, virtuous, conscious, courageous, and just human being who ever lived. It is a commonly held belief among the Shi'ites that he was the supreme representative of God on earth. Therefore, Ali's life is eminently worthy of emulation. To draw legitimacy for their adoration of Ali, Shi'ites quote the Prophet: "If we like to observe Adam's deeds, Noah's will, Abraham's patience, Moses' intelligence and Jesus' virtuousness, we must look at Ali Ibn Abi Taleb."43 And the Prophet continues in addressing his son-in-law, "Ali, looking at you is like praying. You are the master of this world and the world after. Your friend is my friend and your enemy is my enemy."44 To demonstrate that this love was mutual between the Prophet and Ali, Shi'ites are fond of relating that "when the infidels of Mecca decided to kill the Prophet, and surrounded his house, the holy Prophet decided to emigrate to Medina; he said to Ali, 'Will you sleep in my bed at night so that they will think that I am asleep and I will be secure from being pursued by them.' Ali accepted this dangerous assignment with open arms."45 To the Sunni saying that "There is no God but Allah, and Muhammad is his prophet," Shi'ites add the phrase "and Ali is his vice-regent." In Ali, the Shi'ite community found a strong warrior, yet a kind man; a knowledgeable, yet a modest man; a poet, yet a man of action; a resolute, yet a compassionate and just leader.46 Many Shi'ites have seen Ali's superior traits as a sign of God's greatness. They contend that if Ali is an example of God's creation, then God is great. The idealization and exaltation of Ali's legend and the worship of his characteristics go so deep in the Iranian consciousness that there is a group of Sufis who are called Ahl-i Hagh or AliAllahi; i.e., those who regard Ali as their God. Of course, such a notion has always been rejected by the leading Mujtahids as sherk (polytheism) and is contrary to the teachings of orthodox Islam. Nevertheless, the Ali-Allahis persist. The popularity of Ali's character in Iranian culture is demonstrated not only by the commonality of the very name of Ali, but also by the titles that are given to him, such as Amir al-Moemenin (the commander of the pious) or Mola'i-ye Motaghian (the leader of the virtuous). These titles are signs of the tremendous veneration that the image of Ali commands. Such popular maxims in daily life as "Ya Ali" ("Ali help me"), "Ali yarat" ("May Ali be your friend"), or "Dast-e Ali negahdarat" ("May Ali's hand protect you") are widely used in casual conversation and even as popular stickers on cars. Ali's alleged human, and sometimes even superhuman, traits have become so much a part and parcel of Iranian popular culture that Ali's

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character remains an immortal symbol of a Nietzschian type of Übermensch (superman). This image has penetrated the Iranian psyche and national consciousness. To become fully human, one must become like Ali and live the example of his life. As Ali Shariati puts it: "The prime responsibility of each Shi'ite Muslim is not to blindly believe in Ali as an idol, but to become like Ali, to live like him and to die like him." 4 7 Therefore, in the consciousness, or perhaps more accurately, in the subconsciousness, of Shi'ites, there is a constant challenge to purify oneself of the grime of this world and its temptations and to reach kamal (perfection) as Ali did. Although reaching kamal in worldly life is conceived by many Shi'ites to be the Godgiven destiny of only a few, emulating Ali's exemplary moral virtues is well within the realm of possibility, and is one's duty as a Muslim. It is only thus that one can hope to maintain touch with God. Hence, to gain any social respect o n e must p o s s e s s s o m e of Ali's characteristics and qualities. Considered in this light, it is plausible that the subconscious self-image that shapes and influences the character and behavior of many Iranians, religious and secular alike, is the idealized figure of Ali that is taught through the process of socialization by family, peers, mosque, school, and society at large. 48 In Hegelian terms, Ali is the single most influential human being behind the Iranian Geist. He is the Volksgeist (popular spirit) in IranoIslamic culture. When Ayatollah Khomeini, for instance, repeatedly referred to the example of Hezrat-e Ali, he used the most revered symbol of authority in Iranian political culture and the intense devotional attachment that his image commanded in order to challenge, motivate, and arouse Shi'ites to be as selfless as Ali for the cause of Islam. This is reflected in an inspirational speech delivered to the revolutionary guards and the air force cadets: "In virtue and knowledge, in kindness to the dispossessed and the needy, and in bravery in war, in all dimensions, we must follow the example of Hezrat-e Ali." 49 Iranian archetypal figures such as Luti, the tough of the community who watches over public morality and stands in defense of the weak and dispossessed, 5 0 or the Dervish, a spiritual man who lives an ascetic life and spends his time in pursuit of spiritual enrichment, are influenced by the legends of Ali. The ritual of fasting during the entire month of Ramadan, the month in which Ali was murdered, is designated as commemorating Ali's sufferings and tragic death by inflicting hunger on oneself for long hours every day. In fact, certain observers have suggested that some Iranians are so preoccupied with Ali that "they forget about God and Muhammad." 5 1 The ramifications of Ali's popularity in Irano-Islamic culture are not confined to the realm of folk culture, rituals, and popular social beliefs, but extend to social and legal institutions and processes as well. For instance, much of Shi'ite legal procedure and civil rights are inspired by the example

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of Imam Ali and the different interpretations of his words and deeds. Grounding such institutions and procedures on an example of Ali's rule lends them a great deal of legitimacy. Furthermore, the significance of understanding Ali's human traits is not restricted to an appreciation of his impact on the Iranian psyche or Geist. It bears political significance as well. In the eyes of Shi'ites, Ali's personal and moral virtues are related to his politics—the values and principles that he stood for and the rules by which he conducted the affairs of the community. Hence, the idealization of Ali's personal traits is unquestionably linked to idealization of his politics as well as to his passion for justice. The perception and idealization of Ali has not, however, been the same throughout recent Iranian history. Looking through popular literature on Ali, one can distinguish two different and distinct interpretations: one traditional and one modem. The traditional account, associated with the more archaic sectors of the clergy, has portrayed Ali primarily as a pious, unworldly, and self-effacing man. The modern account, in contrast, especially the one that appeared after the 1960s and was associated with Shariati and his cothinkers in the Hosainieh Ershad, put the emphasis on Ali as "a man of action," "a man of the sword," and "a freedom lover" who fought relentlessly for social justice. 52 The traditional account sees Ali's fight against Mu'awiya in terms of a struggle between good and evil, truth and falsehood, virtue and impiety, Islam and blasphemy. But the modern account sees it in terms of the conflict between the representative of the oppressed masses and the oppressive, privileged aristocracy. The politicization of concepts and the shift from the religious to the political realm in the modern interpretation is distinct. After the 1960s and the radicalization of the Iranian political culture, the traditional account took on a more political cast, and the gap between the two interpretations narrowed. The image of Ali that persisted in both interpretations was not only that of an exemplary human being but also of a ruler whose moral conduct and populist policies were the subject of folklore throughout Iranian Islamic history. Shi'ites contend that Ali's traits ultimately stem from qualities of God, but with human limitations. Ali is depicted to be adel (just), ma'sum (innocent), bataghva (virtuous), sadeq (honest), dalier (courageous), fazel (knowledgeable), motefakker (thoughtful), amiq (deep), dur andish (farsighted), ra'uf (compassionate), qa'te'h (resolute), and yet ba manteq (a man of reason). Allamah Tabataba'i, for example, summarizes Ali's characteristics and achievements as follows: "He lived in simplicity and poverty like the poorest of people. He never favored his friends or relatives above others. Nor did he ever prefer wealth to poverty or brute force to weakness. Despite the cumbersome and strenuous difficulties which absorbed him, he left to the Islamic community a valuable treasure of the truly divine sciences and

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Islamic intellectual disciplines. He trained the best minds of his time." 53 There are legends in Iranian popular culture of how Ali could confront an entire army of enemies of Islam single-handedly without any fear, and of how he could kill the enemies of Islam resolutely, yet would weep at the sight of a hungry child. 54 Ali's fairness, generosity, and forgiveness are the subjects of many popular stories in Iranian folk culture. One such popular story relates what happened after the arrest of Ali's assassin, Ibn Muljam: "Ali ordered him detained but comforted him that if he, Ali, survived, Ibn Muljam would be set free. Each time Ali's sons brought him food or drink, Ali insisted that Ibn Muljam be served first. When it became clear that he would die, 'Ali remarked that it was a shame that for the sake of Islam Ibn Muljam would have to be killed'; otherwise he would like to release him. As he died, Ali ordered that Ibn Muljam be executed with one blow only, for he had struck only one blow, and that Ibn Muljam's family not be molested." 55 If one wanted to single out the most important characteristic of Ali, it would be justice. One hadith about Ali tells the story that Talhah and Zubayr, two of Ali's former associates and cousins of the Prophet, came to Ali during his rule to ask for the governorships of two towns. Ali's immediate response was to turn off the light that belonged to the public fund (bait al-mal) and then to tell them, "Since your concern is personal, we can speak in the dark." This symbolic act convinced Talhah and Zubayr that Ali was firm on his egalitarian principles and, unlike Uthman, would not favor his own friends or relatives. 56 The first two caliphs, Abu Bakr and Umar, are perceived by Shi'ites to have been fundamentally unqualified and incompetent rulers; Uthman is accused of venality, and Mu'awiya of evil, injustice, and oppression. The latter two are always referred to as slaves to the temptations of wealth, power, and worldly pleasures, having no regard for Islamic principles or the plight of the deprived and the dispossessed. Ali, on the other hand, is portrayed as a competent egalitarian ruler who scorned the luxurious lifestyle of the rich and was compassionate toward the destitute and dispossessed. Shi'ites present several ravayat (stories) to support this contention. According to one such ravayat, the Prophet Muhammad sent Ali to Yemen as the commander of Muslim armies, and when Ali rushed back to Medina to give Muhammad the word of his most recent victory, in his absence, the other army leaders distributed the spoils of war among the soldiers so that they could purchase new clothes. Upon his return, Ali immediately ordered the soldiers to take off their new clothes and give them to the destitute. Another ravayat tells us that Ali could not sleep at night if he knew his neighbors were going to bed hungry. 57 A c c o r d i n g to Mehdi Bazargan, the first p r i m e minister of the provisioned revolutionary government of Iran, Ali's personality and talents were multifaceted. He was not only a great thinker and a man of words, but, above all, he was "a man of action, he was a heroic fighter, he was a man of

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the sword." Ali put his "intellectual and physical powers into the service of mostamandan (the needy) and mahroman (the deprived). He became the mouth of those who could not speak and the weapon of those who were defenseless." 58 But Ali, the man of the sword, was also considered extremely forgiving and kind. Ali was not merely a pious Muslim, a man of unique virtues, he was also a social man concerned with society and its problems.59 According to Shi'ite scholars, for Imam Ali, Islamic ideals took precedence over materialist worldly gains at all times and under adverse conditions. As Ayatollah Khomeini, for example, stated: "Once someone asked Imam Ali a question concerning the divine unity just as a battle was about to begin, and he proceeded to answer it. When another person objected, 'Is now the time for such things?' he replied, 'This is the reason that we are fighting Mu'awiya, not for worldly gain. It is not our true aim to capture Syria; of what value is Syria?'"60 Perhaps the best account of Ali's attitude toward material gain, as opposed to Islamic spiritualism and devotion to the Islamic cause, is given in his farewell to his close associate and friend Abu Dharr, who was on his way to exile: You were annoyed for the sake of God, so entertain hope from him for whom you were angry. These people were afraid of you for the sake of their world, and you feared them for the sake of your religion. So leave in their hands that by reason of which they were afraid of you, and flee away with that by reason of which you feared them; for how badly do they need what you have denied them, and how little do you need what they have denied you. If you had accepted their world they would have loved you; and if you had appropriated to yourself some part of it, they would have felt more secure in your presence.61

Ali's egalitarianism and his compassion for social justice are subjects of numerous stories. Ali Shariati tells us that Ali once confronted a date seller who had sorted his dates into good and bad varieties and was selling them for different prices. Becoming angry, Ali mixed up all the dates and asked the seller to sell them for a fair price so that everyone could share the benefits and disadvantages.62 Shi'ite writings on Ali portray him as a man who had contempt for political power for its own sake and despised those who possessed a lust for power. Political power for Ali was, above all, a means— a means to implement God's will through the reign of Islamic principles, virtues, and justice. Ali is quoted as saying: "As you might have noticed, my reign over you is of less significance to me than a cow's sneeze." Hence, he saw the office of caliphate as nothing more than an instrument "to punish the oppressor and restore the right of the oppressed."63 In both his judgments and his actions, Ali was unyielding and stubborn in his convictions and in his adherence to Islamic principles. According to one story, the shura (council) that was appointed by Umar to select his successor first offered the caliphate to Ali on two conditions: first, that he

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must follow the precedents established by the two former caliphs. Ali accepted the first condition, but refused to comply with the second, declaring that whenever he could find no clear guidance from the Quran and Sunna, he would rely only on his own judgment. Uthman, however, accepted both of these conditions without any disagreement and, consequently, became the new caliph.64 Another example of Ali's rigid adherence to Islamic tenets is that when Walid b. Uqba was found guilty of drunkenness, and all others refused to carry out the required hadd (punishment)—in this case, flogging—"Ali took this task on himself."65 Ali's strict adherence to principles did not end when he became the ruler of his community. As Shariati claims, Ali, unlike many present-day politicians, did not stop being a revolutionary after he assumed the position of rulership. Ali is quoted as saying after seizing power, "I swear to God I shall seize the wealth that was given to the rich and will redistribute it again—even if this wealth has gone to women's cabinets or slaves have been bought by it. Progress is only possible through justice. Although there is hardship in this path, the path of injustice is by far narrower and more arduous."66 On another occasion he declared: "If bait al-mal belonged to me personally, I would have divided it equally. How could I have acted otherwise, since the wealth belongs to God." In a different passage, he pledges his political allegiance to the mazlum [oppressed] when he says: "I swear to God that I will defend the right of the mazlum before the malemin [oppressor], I will take the oppressors by their hair and bring them to the path of God."6? There are legends in Shi'ite theology about Ali's humility, modesty, and compassion, one being that "even after Ali became the ruler of his community, he would take time to deliver food to the hungry and the needy."68 This populist sentiment in Ali's thoughts was expressed repeatedly and overtly in his life. Ali was once asked why he wore shabby clothes and ate so little food. He responded that if there was anyone sleeping hungry or wearing torn clothes in Yemen, he wanted them to know that he felt their hunger and that his clothes were no better than theirs.69 Ali Shariati contends that Ali was polite and logical, and that he respected other people's ideas and rights. He did not even deprive his enemies of public funds and gave them their rights and freedom. 70 But other accounts of Ali, including that of Shariati's father, do not depict Ali as the democrat that Shariati himself depicts. Shariati's account was perhaps more in tune with the political expediency of the 1960s, in order to draw attention to the undemocratic nature of the shah's regime, rather than to historical authenticity. The picture presented by Taqi Shariati is that of a man who is more resolute and unyielding in his confrontation with his opponents. He quotes Nahj Al-Balagheh, a collection of Ali's words, pronouncements, and letters: "He who does not obey me has no right to vote." 71 In another instance, Ali warned his opponents: "Be aware those of you who are misled and have taken the wrong path. We are the chosen people of God. And from

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now on, it is because of us and our presence that God is kind to you people." 72 Ali continues: "It is by us and through us that the people ask God to shine the light of his guidance on them and save them from the darkness of ignorance and wickedness."73 This seems to be more in line with historical evidence on Ali's massive persecution of the Kharijites, his main internal opponents, than with the democratic depiction of Ali. As was mentioned earlier, the conflicting accounts of Ali are due to the political necessities of the time to bring different aspects of Ali's perceived personal attributes to public attention in order to emphasize a political point. If the need is to draw attention to economic exploitation and political oppression under the shah's regime, one emphasizes Ali's justice. If the burning issue of the day requires staying firm on Islamic principles, one emphasizes Ali's resoluteness. Now that the Shi'ites perception of Ali has been briefly delineated, we must ask the question: To what extent has Ali become Persianized and to what extent is Iranian culture "Ali-ized"? Perhaps a fair statement of this delicate question is to suggest that Iranians have definitely projected some of their own ideal self-image onto Ali's alleged character. One cannot help thinking that behind the idealization and glorification of Ali also lies the nation's psychological need for self-assertion and self-esteem. Throughout history this nation has been repeatedly overrun and dominated by foreign armies. Its cultural identity has been subjugated to the cultures of invaders and, at times, was forcefully changed, causing Iranians to conceal their true identity and feelings in order to survive. If we add to this picture conditions of general poverty, economic scarcity, and a long history of arbitrary repressive rule by tyrants, then the social ground in which idealization of Ali is rooted becomes clear. In extolling Ali's fortitude and fighting spirit, for example, one also symbolically projects the idea that Iranian "cowardice" was not responsible for the defeats of the past, but rather that the overwhelming military might of the foe or the corruption of the monarchy is to be blamed. Similarly, in Ali's alleged insistence on Islamic principles, such as his unyielding attitude toward favoritism, one can see the psychological need of a nation for a positive self-image in a coirupt society where nepotism is rampant. This does not preclude Ali's immense impact in molding Iranian morality, values, and character. Drawn by their nationalist sentiment, Iranians have made Ali one of their own. In Iranian culture, Ali's Arab origins are never discussed. Paintings and portraits of Ali that appear in Iran are those of a handsome Iranian. By projecting their idealized self-image onto Ali's character, Iranians have made Ali a symbol of the positive aspects of their national character. In other words, Ali stands for what a good Iranian must be. There are two dimensions to the Iranian image of Ali: one national, the other universal. Over the long years of Shi'ite tradition in Iran, Ali has become not only an Irano-Islamic legend, but also an abar mard (Übermensch, superman) of celebrated noble virtues who reflects the bright

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side of human nature and mankind in general. This is why Shi'ites often refer to Ali as abar mard-e tarikh (the superman of history) and consider his impact to be transhistorical. Insofar as Islam is a universal religion and advocates universal values, Shi'ites believe that the appeal of knowledge, courage, compassion, justice, and other outstanding qualities of Ali go far beyond Islamic nations. They move every sensitive heart and soul on earth. Ali was a special gift of God to humanity. Imam Ali's passion for social justice was passed on to his second son, Imam Husain. The struggle against injustice was also the focal point in Imam Husain's deliberate martyrdom. When he was warned of the extreme odds against him in fighting Mu'awiya, Imam Husain answered: O people, the Apostle of God said during his life, "He who sees an oppressive ruler violating the sanctions [halal] of God, revoking the covenant of God, opposing the Sunna of the Apostle of God, dealing with the servant of God sinfully and cruelly; [If a man sees such a rule] and does not show zeal against him in word or deed, God would surely cause him to enter his abode in the fire."74

Imam Husain depicted Umayyad rule not only as unjust, but also as blasphemous. He proclaimed: These men have verily abided by obedience to Satan and abandoned obedience to the Merciful. They have displayed all corruption: annulling the limits of God, usurping the people's wealth, allowing what God had prohibited, and prohibiting what he had sanctioned.75

The anniversary of Imam Husain's martyrdom is ceremoniously commemorated in Iran in the month of Moharram. Self-flagellation and weeping are common rituals during the highly emotional ceremonies. In the eyes of many Shi'ites, Imam Husain's martyrdom represents a deliberate decision to uphold a principle—that Shi'ites must struggle against oppression no matter how adverse the circumstances or what the cost. Imam Husain is an outstanding symbol of struggle against unjust rules and an exemplary revolutionary in Shi'ite culture. In a particular sense, Shi'ism is a religion of legends and rituals. It is the legend of Prophet Muhammad, Imam Ali, and Imam Husain and the myth surrounding them that is most influential in molding the Shi'ites' psyche and in determining their behavior. Legends inspire movements and movements revitalize and reinterpret the words and deeds of the legends to suit their ends. Historically, the legend of Imam Ali and Shi'ism, in general, has been the banner of many political rebellions. The roots of Irano-Islamic populism, however, go back to the movement of Mazdak and to the legacy of the pre-Islamic Iranian tradition of dissent. To detect the historical roots and evolution of Shi'ite populism, we must delineate the impact of this tradition.

THE HISTORICAL ROOTS OF IRANO-ISLAMIC POPULISM: THE PRE-ISLAMIC PERIOD TO THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY He who does not learn from history, will never learn anything from any mentor. —Rudaki This chapter is a brief survey of some of the major popular movements from the pre-Islamic period until the eighteenth century. These movements are not presented in great depth; a more detailed account is left to historians. The emphasis here is to elicit some of the common underlying millenarian, eschatological, messianic, and egalitarian tendencies prevalent in these movements and to assay their impact on further development of Iranian populism.

THE PRE-ISLAMIC MAZDAK MOVEMENT

Any serious attempt at a historical overview of Irano-Islamic populism must refer back to the social thought of Mazdak, the son of Bamdad. Mazdak is the founding father of the Iranian intellectual tradition of communalism and populism. His movement lasted about thirty years (A.D. 494-524), and his ideas were instrumental in inspiring many future movements that challenged the Arab rule in Iran and called for equality and justice. It has been said that the creation of new ideas usually occurs at times of deep social and historical crisis. This is certainly true of the emergence of Mazdak's theology. The prevailing conditions prior to the emergence of Mazdak were marked by the Sassanid closed society of the caste system; by deep social inequities; by famine, wars, and defeats; and by Piruz's (the Sassanid king, A.D. 459-484) high taxation of the poor. 1 Mazdakism, a Gnostic religious movement, originated as an offshoot of Manichaeanism, and there are lines of continuity in Mazdak's dualistic perception of the world that can be traced to Zarathustra. In its later evolution, however, Mazdakism became an independent movement. 2 In contrast to the unworldly and fatalistic character of Mani's religion, Mazdak's theology was more worldly and optimistic. Unlike Mani, Mazdak did not

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believe in predestination, and he sought social solutions in overcoming "the forces of darkness." Mazdak asserted that the world consisted of three material elements—soil, water, and fire. Goodness and evil resulted from the mixture of these elements. Like Mani, he valued spiritual enrichment over material wealth. Yet, Mazdak, unlike Mani, preached enjoyment of the pleasures of life without harming others. He forbade a meat diet because he did not believe in bloodshed and the slaughtering of animals. He preached removal of suffering, called for peace and cooperation, and opposed war because he valued human life supremely.3 What was most novel in Mazdak's idea was the fact that he raised radically new social issues that had not been addressed before. Mazdak asserted that since most communal conflicts are either over property or over women, both of these must become public property to prevent unnecessary bloodshed. The Mazdakis believed that God created all mankind as equals to share the wealth and products of nature equally. Those who were driven by their greed to accumulate wealth at the expense of others resisted God's will and destroyed the natural order. Inequality was created through force and violence. Property and women, like soil, water, and fire, must be distributed equally among the members of the community. Yarshater contends that Mazdak's call for the distribution of women was in response to the harems of the aristocracy and their acquisition of the wives and daughters of others.4 The Mazdakis, therefore, saw it as their duty to take from the rich and give to the poor in order to implement "God's will."5 The authenticity of this belief of the Mazdakis is further confirmed when we refer to such hostile sources as the historian al-Tabari. He writes: "Mazdak's followers believed God has left natural wealth to mankind to be divided equally among them. People took these commands seriously and separated the wealthy from their riches and women and gave them to the poor. The disreputable members of society liked this and joined Mazdak."6 Given the deep gap between the aristocracy and the impoverished peasants and the lack of mobility in the social system, Mazdak's base of support came primarily from the poor peasants and slaves.7 But after his movement grew stronger, even Kavad (A.D. 488-531), the Sassanid king, in his fight against the aristocracy and established clergy, appealed to him and joined his religion.8 Under the influence of Mazdak, Kavad passed new laws easing the tax on the poor and distributing the wheat among them. It can be argued that Mazdak's movement was unique in the sense that it began a "revolution from below" and a "revolution from above" simultaneously. However, the clergy (mobedan) and the aristocracy (ashrafiyat) soon mobilized themselves against Kavad, dethroning him and putting his brother, Jamasb, in power. Kavad managed to escape from prison and mustered enough patronage to seize the crown again. This time, frightened by the increasing independent power of the Mazdakis, he sided with the mobedan against the Mazdakis. When drought brought scarcity of wheat and

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a threat o f new famine was imminent, Mazdak encouraged his followers to loot the storage houses of the aristocracy. The nobility appealed to Kavad's son, Khosrou Anushirvan, who was known for his anti-Mazdaki sentiment, for help. Under the pretext of arranging a debate, Anushirvan gathered Mazdak and his followers in the royal garden and buried them alive. But Mazdakism did not die with Mazdak—it lasted for years after his death and inspired other movements for social equality and justice. For example, Ahmad Amin, in his book Fajar al-Islam, contends that the rebellion of the Syrian people under the leadership of Abu Dharr during the rule of Uthman was inspired by the ideas of Mazdak. 9 Yet others attribute the movement of extremist Shi'ites such as Qarmatian, Ismai'ilis, and Ghullat to Mazdaki influences. 1 0 Among other significant movements that were more immediately inspired by Mazdakism are the movements of Ostadsis, Almoqaneh, and Babak Khoramdin. We will be concerned with the most significant of these, which is Babakism. But we must first briefly analyze the significance of the plebeian movement of Abu Muslim Khorasani that appeared after the Arab conquest of Iran and was a prelude to the rise of Babak.

THE ISLAMIC PERIOD The movements that appeared after the Arab conquest of Iran were, on the one hand, motivated by defiance of Arab domination and a sense of restoring Iranian cultural identity and pride. On the other hand, as will be shown later, these movements were often popular rebellions against excessive state taxation and arbitrary repressive rule. Thus, ideologically, these movements were inspired either by the pre-Islamic tradition of Persian communal thought and egalitarianism, as in Mazdakism, or by the Shi'ite millenarianism alluded to earlier. One of the earliest movements that was the focus of Shi'ite extremism and emerged against the Umayyad dynasty after the death of Iman Husain was led by A1 Mukhtar, an Arab leader in Kufa with pro-Alid sympathy. A1 Mukhtar's followers were primarily drawn from the ranks o f Mawalis, among whom Iranians figured prominently. 11 A1 Mukhtar called for the vengeance of the death of Imam Husain and defense of the weak. Increasing numbers of Mawalis joined him. The number of Mawalis grew so large in Mukhtar armies that many regarded the movement as an anti-Arab one. The leaders of Kufa were also unhappy with Mukhtar's concern and sympathy for the plight of Mawalis. Although Mukhtar ruled Kufa for eighteen months, he only gradually emerged as the leader of the Mawalis. The Arabs began to withdraw their support and joined forces with Mus'ab b. Zubair, who ultimately killed Mukhtar and as many as 70,000 of his Mawali supporters. 12 Mukhtar's uprising was followed by those led by a few other avengers of Imam Husain, the most notable of whom was Zaid b. Ali, Husain b. Ali's

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grandson, in A.D. 740, and the Hashimi'ite revolts, but they were all defeated. These movements left a clear legacy—the emerging alliance be-tween Mawalis and Shi'ites or Kharijites. The Abu Muslim Khorasani

Movement

At the beginning of the eighth century, the supporters of the Abbasids throughout the Arab Empire emerged to challenge the Umayyads' rule (A.D. 661-750). Humiliated by long years of repressive Umayyad reign, which treated Iranians (ajams) as second-class citizens and imposed a special poll tax (jizya) on non-Muslims, including Zoroastrians, the Iranians welcomed the challenge of the Abbasids, who promised ajams and Mawalis equal treatment and some measure of autonomy. The Abbasids were aware of the Iranians' anti-Umayyad sentiment and manipulated it to their advantage. In fact, the majority of proto-Shi'ites who supported the Abbasids and joined their forces did so thinking the Abbasids' order would be an Alid order. 13 The Abbasids continued to exploit Shi'ite sentiment by asserting that Prophet Muhammad had delegated the Mantle of Imamate to his uncle, Al-Abbas, w h o had h a n d e d it on to his d e s c e n d a n t s , the A b b a s i d s . 1 4 T h i s eschatological character of the Abbasid movement and its Shi'ite base is confirmed by other scholars as well. Mottahedeh, for example, contends: The Abbasids had come to power in the middle of the second/eighth century as the leaders of an eschatological movement. Their party or shi'ah was an expression of al-firqah an-najiyah, "the group of the saved," which according to common belief would rally to true Islamic rule at the end of time. . . . Soon, however, it was apparent that the Abbasids were not figures of messianic purity. . . . The Abbasids no longer claimed that they could save their subjects in a direct way, but they did claim a large role in guiding Islamic society to save itself. They attempted by patronage and by decree to guide the development of Islamic law and theology; and they attempted to make obedience to the Abbasids an integral part of Islamic belief. 15

The supporters of the Abbasids established a large underground organization under the leadership of an Iranian named Bekirben Mahan. Mahan was arrested and imprisoned for his anti-Umayyad activities. While in prison, he met Abu Muslim, an Iranian Mawali, and recommended him to Ibrahim Ibn Muhammad (Imam Ibrahim), the leader of the Abbasid clan. Abu Muslim was instructed to go to Khorasan and to prepare the Abbasid rebellion. By championing equal rights for the Mawalis and putting an end to the repressive rule of the Umayyads, Abu Muslim organized an army whose membership predominantly consisted of peasants, landowners, craftsmen, and shopkeepers. Due to the farmers' objection that if slaves fought, they might demand their freedom after victory, Abu Muslim did not allow the slaves to enlist. Religious persuasion was not a criterion. Zoroastrians,

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Khoramdins (neo-Mazdakis), Sunnis, and Shi'ites were all represented in Abu Muslim's army. 16 After the defeat of the Umayyads and the seizure of power by the Abbasids in A.D. 750, Abu Muslim established a government in Khorasan, which enjoyed a great deal of popularity for two reasons: first, his image as a heroic fighter who defeated the Umayyads, and second, his sympathy toward the peasantry and his appeal to al-Saffah and al-Mansur, the Abbasid caliphs, to reduce taxes. 17 Neither al-Saffah (the brother of I m a m Ibrahim, the first Abbasid caliph), nor his successor, al-Mansur, was particularly fond of Abu Muslim. They isolated him from the center of power, Baghdad, and sent him from one warfront to another to fight the enemies of the caliphate. After witnessing the persecution of Shi'ites, many Iranians became disillusioned with the Abbasid promise of reform and equality. They organized themselves behind Sharik Ibn Shaikh al-Mahdi w h o led the rebellion against the Abbasids. Abu Muslim, who was deeply loyal to the Abbasids and anti-Shi'ites, fought Sharik's followers vehemently and killed many of them. This undercut Abu M u s l i m ' s b a s e of s u p p o r t . L a t e r , h o w e v e r , A b u M u s l i m b e g a n a rapprochement with the Shi'ites. The Abbasid caliphs, who were becoming increasingly uneasy about the extent of Abu Muslim's popularity and wary of his relationship with the Shi'ites, planned his death. 18 In 755, while Abu Muslim was on a pilgrimage to Mecca, al-Mansur, who had become fearful of Abu Muslim's ambition for the independence of Iran, ordered his death. 19 After his death, Abu Muslim, who had enjoyed the status of a highly revered religious leader and for some (Khoramdins) was the incarnation of the divine spirit, became a legend of Iranian "nationalism." As Feshahi notes, "none of the political leaders of the early Middle Ages achieved as lasting an impact on Iranian folklore as Abu Muslim." 2 0 Likewise, Ravandi concludes that after his death Abu Muslim became a heroic symbol of the Iranian national movement for independence. 21 The popular movements that followed Abu Muslim's were formed to avenge his death and to follow his path. The Khoramdin

Movement

Khoramdin is the name that neo-Mazdakis adopted for themselves after the Khusrow Anushirvan persecution of their ranks. After the death of Abu Muslim, to whom they looked for leadership, many Khoramdins joined the ranks of opposition to the rule of the Abbasid caliphs. The Khoramdins were especially active in the west and northwest provinces, such as Azerbaijan. Some historians contend that the word "Khoramdin" refers only to followers of Babak; others hold that the word refers to the surviving followers of Mazdak. The Khoramdins who followed Javidan, the son of Shahrak, came to be known as Javidanian, and another group who followed Babak became

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known as Babakian. After Javidan's death in 861, Babak, a shepherd, was chosen to succeed him. He strove to revive Mazdak's ideas and rally the supporters of Abu Muslim Khorasani around a new version of Mazdakism.22 The Khoramdins, like the Mazdakis, believed in sanaviyat (dualism) in which the forces of good and evil, light and darkness are in constant conflict. They sought the source of tariki (darkness) and ahriman (evil) in inequality, injustice, and oppression. They organized the populace against the Arab caliphs considered to be the guardians of ahriman. They found the roots of social inequality in the unequal distribution of land and raised the slogan of communal property.23 Although the followers of Mazdak supposedly did not believe in bloodshed, and preached humility and kindness toward their fellow men, Babak organized them and changed them into militant warriors against the Arab caliphs. This metamorphosis of the peaceful Mazdakis into relentless soldiers was induced by a change in sociopolitical conditions and the nature of Islam. Describing the prevailing social conditions of this period, Bryan Turner writes: "By the end of the ninth century, Sunni Islam had become a dry and legalistic religion, offering little to the emotional needs and messianic aspirations of its exploited masses. Its official exponents, the ulama, were assimilated into the administrative staff of the centralized, patrimonial empire. While the rural peasantry was squeezed by taxation, the merchants and artisans in the towns suffered from the close, often arbitrary, surveillance of state officials. The glaring contrast between court luxury and privileges of the ruling elite with the exploitation of the caliph's subjects reinforced basic dissatisfactions."24 The Khoramdin movement was inspired by a desire to drive out the Arab invaders and establish an Iranian government that would implement reforms on behalf of the impoverished people of town and country. Many supporters of Abu Muslim Khorasani also joined the Khoramdins. The Khoramdin movement was one of the largest of its kind after the Arab conquest of Iran. Babak managed to rule over Talesh, Ardabil, Muqan, and the shores of the Aras River for 20 years. The nature of his reforms, however, are not yet clear to historians. Because the Khoramdins believed in God's reincarnation in Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, Muhammad, Abu Muslim Khorasani, Javidan, and, finally, Babak, Babak had a semidivine status among his followers and was widely popular and charismatic. He repeatedly fought the armies of al-Ma'mun and al-Mu'tasim (the Abbasid caliphs) and defeated them. The Persian commander, Afshin, who was the prince of Ashrosaneh and a recent convert to Islam and had fought in Egypt and Baghdad against the opponents of the Abbasid, was delegated with the responsibility of destroying the Khoramdins. After three years of fighting, Afshin at last defeated Babak, put him under arrest, and sent him to alMu'tasim. Babak was hanged, but his movement survived and was perpetuated by the rebellion of Mazyar, the prince of Tabarestan (now Mazandaran), who was a Khoramdin follower himself.25

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Mazyar's followers were called Sorkh Alaman (red banners). Mazyar refused to pay the collected tax of Tabarestan to al-Mu'tasim, and he urged the peasants to rebel against their Muslim masters and expropriate their property. He destroyed all the mosques in the cities of Tabarestan and imprisoned many Muslims. 26 Mazyar's movement did not last long. AlMu'tasim and Abdollah Taher, the governor of Khorasan, sent armies to fight him in 811. Before the battle, Mazyar was handed over to his enemies by his own brother and taken to al-Mu'tasim, who hanged him next to Babak. Afshin, the flamboyant Persian commander who played an instrumental role in the military rule of the Abbasids, was suspected of conspiring and collaborating with Mazyar and so was also killed. Although Babak's and Mazyar's movements did not overthrow the Abbasid caliphate, they helped to weaken it and prepare its final downfall. As the political polarization between Shi'ism and Sunnism sharpened during the Abbasid caliphate, the two dominant sects of Islam began to attract different social groupings. The Zoroastrian "landed gentry gradually adopted Sunnism and sided with the state, the Mazdakits embraced the revolutionary posture of the Kaisani Shi'is and helped shape its doctrine. The Kaisani sect and its many derivative factions embody practically the same doctrinal views and represent the same outlook and attitudes that we find among the Khurramis on the one hand, and reveals the early Batinis and Qarmatis on the other."27 A closer scrutiny reveals that although there were similarities, and a clear line of continuity can be established between these movements and that of Mazdakis and Khurramis, there were significant differences among them as well. Shi'ite Militancy During the Middle Ages The Islamic movements of the Middle Ages that will be discussed here are known as Ghullat (originates from the singular ghuluww, which means "exaggeration"). They were known to exaggerate the mantle of Imam Ali. They represented the extremist wing of Shi'ism, whereas the Imamis constituted the more moderate and represented the "mainstream" thought during the Middle Ages. As was previously mentioned, the Imamis regarded political power as profane and maintained a quietist attitude toward terrestrial power. Because these movements emerged in the milieu of Shi'ite extremism and Sufism, they synthesized the chiliastic militancy of the extremists and the plebeian unworldliness of Sufis. Among common characteristics of these movements were their messianism, a raw sense of egalitarianism and adventism. Iranian Twelver Shi'ite ulama, however, vehemently opposed the Ghullat. In fact, they were "as much opposed to extremist movements—the Ghullat and the Isma'ilies—as Sunnism. Similarly, most Imamis in this period appear to have been even more antiSufi than were the Sunnis; they seem to have objected to Sufism from the standpoint of strict monotheistic 'rationalism' condemning the Sufis for their

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p a n t h e i s m , o r g i a s t i c i s m , a n t i o m i a n i s m , and for their denial of the transcendence of God." 28 The study of the Ghullat movements is indispensable for the appreciation of the legacy of the chiliastic and messianic tradition in Shi'ite history and its impact on further development of Imami Shi'ism. Moreover, the impact of Ghullat on the Persian gnosis and intellectual development of the Middle Ages was immense. Social movements are potent producers of new i d e o l o g i e s and trends; c o n s e q u e n t l y , the Ghullat m o v e m e n t s were responsible for the dynamism and vitality of Shi'ite thought in this period. The Shi'ism of the Middle Ages can be divided into two different categories: that of the "moderate" Shi'ites—the Zaidis and Imamis—and that of the Ghullat, who were generally called Batenis (for their call to return to baten, the essence and esoteric meaning of the Quran), including the Isma'ilis, Qarmatians, Sarbidarans, and Hurufyya. It was the Batenis who upheld the banner of Shi'ite militancy and led the rebellions against Sunni rulers during the Middle Ages. The roots of the Ghullat extend far back in history. One of the best known sects of the Ghullat was Khattabiyeh derived from Abu al-Khattab Mohammad al-Asadi, who was an associate of Imam Ja'far al-Sadiq (d. 765), the sixth Shi'ite imam. Because Abu al-Khattab elevated Imam Ja'far alSadiq to divinity, al-Sadiq denounced him as a renegade. Abu al-Khattab created a sect in Kufa in 754. His followers attacked Kufa with rocks and sticks to kill its rulers, but they were defeated, and Abu al-Khattab was beheaded. The Ghullat believed in incarnation (hulul), metapsychosis (,tanasokh), and the unity of existence (yahdat-e vujoud). They elevated the mantle of imams to divinity; consequently, they were often denounced by the imams themselves. Nevertheless, Ghullat leaders were charismatic and some of them claimed to be the vice-regent of the lord of the age—the twelfth imam who was said to be in occultation. 29 Nasser Khosrou, the Isma'ili propagandist and poet who visited the city of Lahra, the Qarmatian capital in 1049, tells us that the city was ruled by a council of six members "in a spirit of equity and justice. The citizens did not pay taxes. If anyone became impoverished or incurred debt, he was helped until he became solvent." 30 The Isma'ili and Qarmatian

Movements

The Isma'ilis are the followers of Isma'il, the oldest son of the sixth Shi'ite imam, Ja'far al-Sadiq. The Twelver Shi'ites, who do not recognize Isma'il as an imam, hold that because Isma'il drank wine, Imam Ja'far al-Sadiq deprived his son of the imamate. Instead, Imam Ja'far al-Sadiq designated his fourth son, Musa al-Kazem, to succeed him. The Twelver Shi'ites recognize Musa as their seventh imam. The Isma'ilis, however, consider Isma'il to be the seventh imam. Isma'il died three years before his father in 762. His oldest son, Muhammad, was chosen to succeed him. Soon, the Isma'ilis

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were split into two sects: those who continued to recognize the descendants of Muhammad Ibn Isma'il as imams, and those who believed that the number of imams, like the number of prophets, did not exceed seven. It was said that Isma'il was the last of the imams, and with him the cycle of imamate ended. The only imam who would appear was the Mahdi (seventh imam); he would reappear on resurrection day to restore justice and equality. In the second half of the ninth century, this latter faction of Seveners came to be known as Qarmatians. This sect was named after their leader Hamdan Qarmat, who set up a communal government near Kufa based on slave labor. Later, the Qarmatians also conquered Bahrain and set up a government there that lasted more than two hundred years. In this period, Khorasan was also the scene of repeated rebellions by the Qarmatians, until they were crushed by Sultan M a h m u d Qaznavi in 998. Although the Qarmatians' government near Kufa established a bait al-mal (public fund) to w h i c h M u s l i m s w e r e o b l i g a t e d to pay khoms ( I s l a m i c t a x f o r the government's support), the Qarmatian government in Bahrain exempted its citizens from paying such taxes. 31 The Qarmatians gave large feasts, sofraye okhovatt (brotherhood luncheons), which were designed to feed the needy and to strengthen the social solidarity of the community. Hamdan Qarmat, after converting some Iraqi villagers, reportedly imposed on them the ulfa (union) and made the ownership of property a communal affair. 32 The mass support of the Qarmatians came primarily from the peasantry and the lower social strata. 33 They preached equality, but their concept of equality, like that of the Khoramdins, did not include the slaves. In fact, their egalitarianism was based on slavery; that is, everyone benefited equally from slavery. In Bahrain, for example, the Sultan possessed 30,000 slaves and would lend them freely to farmers to help them on their lands. 34 The Qarmatian rebellions were not confined to Kufa, Bahrain, and K h o r a s a n ; the Q a r m a t i a n s o p p o s e d the Sunni c a l i p h s w h e r e v e r they appeared. There were Qarmatian rebellions in Syria, Yemen, Palestine, and India. The Qarmatian government in India was overthrown by Sultan Mahmud Qaznavi in his conquest of India in the tenth century. By the end of the tenth century, in an a t t e m p t to uproot the Q a r m a t i a n s , M a h m u d repeatedly massacred them everywhere in his empire. An equally important factor in the demise of the Qarmatians was the fact that toward the end of their rule the Qarmatian terrorizing of Sunni rulers was extended to whoever refused to accept their teachings and join them. They also began a campaign of vandalism that led to their further isolation from the populace. 35 A n o t h e r b r a n c h of I s m a ' i l i s m w a s t h e F a t i m i d sect f o r m e d by descendants of Fatima and Ali through the line of the "seventh imam," Isma'il. This particular branch had the widest following in Iran, Egypt, and North Africa. In 909 the "hidden imam" (al-Mahdi) declared himself caliph in North Africa. By 969 the Fatimid armies conquered Egypt and made

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Cairo their capital. By the start of the tenth century, half of the Muslim world paid allegiance to the Fatimids. Their power reached its zenith in 1058 during the reign of the eighth Fatimid caliph, Mostansir, when one of his generals conquered Baghdad, the capital of the Abbasid dynasty. The Abbasid caliph, al-Malek al-Rahim, escaped, and Mostansir was declared the new caliph.36 In 1094 the final rupture of Isma'ilism occurred when Hassan-e Sabbah (d. 1124), an agent of the Isma'ilis in the Dailam region of North Iran, refused to recognize the new caliph, al-Musta'li, and his son, al-Amir. Instead, he supported al-Musta'li's brother, Nizar, and he and his followers came to be known as Nizaris. Hassan-e Sabbah declared the peaceful tactics of education and persuasion that he had adopted earlier to be fruitless. He cut his relations with Egypt and declared a "new preaching" in which terrorism was sanctioned as the only effective weapon to fight the repression and injustice of Sunni Seljuq rulers. The political fortune of Hassan-e Sabbah and his followers escalated when they were able to capture the strategically significant fortress of Alamut. From this fortress Hassan-e Sabbah organized his forces and managed to seize other Sunni strongholds, where they presented a tough challenge to Abbasid caliphs and the Seljuq monarchs.37 Some scholars trace the roots of Hassan-e Sabbah's ideas to Mani.38 He preached asceticism and chiliastic militancy. On the basis of these teachings, he organized a secret group of members who were passionately devoted to their cause and willing to sacrifice their lives on assassination missions. Through their assassination campaign, the Nizaris managed to kill two Abbasid caliphs, al-Mostar Shed Bi'llah and al-Rashed Bi'llah, and one Seljuq king, Malek Shah. They also managed to assassinate their staunch enemy, Khajeh Nizam al-Mulk Tusi, a theologian and statesman loyal to the Seljuq dynasty in 902. The Nizaris, like many other Shi'ite sects, won the loyalty of their followers through their emotional appeal to the sacred traditions of messianism and martyrdom. Another source of appeal of the Isma'ilis was their raw egalitarianism. Within the Isma'ili fortresses there was relative equality. Some scholars even suggest that in these fortresses communal property was the norm, with the spoils of the raids on caravans distributed equally among the Isma'ili fighters.39 Despite their differences, the Isma'ili sects tended to agree on three central issues. First, they believed that the esoteric meaning of the Quran was the only path to the true meaning of the secret revelations of the Prophet. Only the individuals who had grasped this true meaning could deduce the appropriate lessons of the Quran and the Shari'a. Hence, in the absence of Muhammad Ibn Isma'il, the Mahdi, only the followers of the sect have access to the truth and salvation. Others can only venture in deceptive and shallow appearances. Second, Isma'ilis were influenced by the teachings of

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Christianity and Zoroastrianism, and borrowed from the rationalism of the Greek neo-Platonistic philosophy. They believed that philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle were similar to prophets, and that lay politics were in the realm of prophets whereas specific knowledge was the privilege of the philosopher. The Isma'ilis attempted to synthesize reason and intuition in their theology, and indoctrinated their followers in both aspects of their teachings. Therefore, they came to be known as ta'limian (educators). Third, the common Isma'ili belief in Mahdism lend them a chiliastic, militant, and egalitarian image. In the name of the absent imam and the necessity for the realization of the realm of justice, they made the ownership of the goods of general consumption collective and, with the exception of slaves, brought general equality and welfare to their followers. These features of the Isma'ili theology and social philosophy had several political consequences. Although their belief in Mahdism was appealing to the populace, esotericism and Greek rationalism rescued Islam from the stagnant formalism of Sunni orthodoxy. It allowed the Isma'ilis to further vitalize Shi'ism and to present this alternative religiopolitical ideology to Muslim intellectuals. The Iranian notables who either joined the ranks of the Isma'ilis or were sympathetic toward them included Abu Ali Mohammad Bal'ami, Abu Abd-Allah Jaihani, Rudaki (d. 940), Shahid Balkhi (d. 936), Ferdausi (d. 1020 or 1025), Abu Raihar. Biruni (973-1051), Abu Ali Sina (Avicenna) (980-1037), and the most distinguished and politicized of them—Nasser Khosrou (1004-1088). In his travelogue Safar-Nameh, Nasser Khosrou openly criticized the hypocritical piety of those rulers who had plunged into materialism. 40 He attacked the repressiveness of the Sunni rulers, and appeared as an exponent of liberty. Imam Muhammad al-Ghazali (d. 1111), the renowned Sunni theologian and jurisprudent of the eleventh century also came under the influence of the Isma'ilis for a short period of time. But he soon changed his mind, arguing that the Isma'ilis were wrong in using reason to grasp religious truth because human reason is incapable of such comprehension. Later, in a formal pronouncement, he declared all Isma'ilis to be blasphemous and therefore deserving of death. Despite the political savvy of its leaders and individual devotion of its followers, the Isma'ili movement in Iran enjoyed only a limited success during its four hundred years of existence. Although Hassan-e Sabbah was a charismatic leader with great ambitions, his successor, Buzurgomidis (d. 1138), lacked his desire for conquest and power. Therefore, the fortunes of the Nizari state began to decline under Buzurgomidis's rule.41 Other factors, such as Sultan Mahmud's massacre of Isma'ilis and the havoc of the Mongol invasion of Iran in the middle of the thirteenth century, destroyed much of the base of the sect. Finally, the revival of orthodox Sunnism and the institutionalization of Sufism in tariqas (schools) allowed Sufism to adopt elements of Isma'ili ideas within the framework of new institutions, which in

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turn weakened the Isma'ili movement. Therefore, the Nizari government, after nearly two centuries of rule in Iran, was demolished by the onslaught of Mongol forces led by Hulegu Khan in 1256. As history has repeatedly shown, repression does not eliminate political struggle; it merely changes its form. It was no coincidence that during the next notable movement of this period, the movement of the Sarbidaran, Sufi shaikhs emerged as the new leaders and their khanqahs (monasteries) and mosques became the sanctuaries for the oppressed. The Sarbidaran

Movement

Prior to the widespread popularity of Shi'ism in Iran, Persian protest against Arab invaders was ideologically based on innovations in Zoroastrianism and Manichaeanism—for example, the Mazdak and Khoramdin movements, in direct defiance of the culture of the Arab conquerors. Later, with the increase in popularity of Islam, and the realization that not enough forces could be mobilized to defeat the enemy through utilization of pre-Islamic cultural symbols and traditions, the Iranians Persianized Islam (Shi'ism and Sufism) and used it as their ideological banner against such non-Arab invaders as the Seljuq Turks, Uthmani Turks, Mongols, and Timurids. The Mongol invasion of Iran altered the social fabric of Iranian society and the religious life of the country. Until the conversion of Ghazan Khan to Islam in 1295, the M o n g o l rulers were n o n - M u s l i m s . B u d d h i s m , Christianity, and Shamanism were prevalent in their domains. Without state patronage, the power of the ulama declined and religious life, including mosques and madrassahs, came under the control of local Sufi shaikhs over whom the ulama had no influence. In this period, the spread of Sufism went hand in hand with the decline in the power of the ulama. Although the more learned members of the ulama considered Sufi shaikhs to be opportunist charlatans who exploited the gullibility of the masses, the plebeians venerated these shaikhs and attributed numerous miracles (karamat) to them. 4 2 Moreover, Sufism, "by admitting the possibility of immediate contact with God, provided a fertile ground for the growth of undisciplined religiosity and heightened the receptivity to apocalyptic and exaggerated claims to Mahdihood and hulul (incarnation), which Twelver Shi'ism anathematized as ghuluww (exaggeration) . . . [Hence,] Sufism and certain notions associated with ghuluww penetrated into folk religion. The veneration of Ali as Godhead became widespread, and Shi'ite elements were superimposed on the veneer of Sunni Islam." 43 This metamorphosis of Sufism rendered it more appealing, and it assumed a vigorous image it had lacked before. It was this popular appeal that made some Sufi monasteries the sanctuary of the oppressed. Describing the general social conditions that led to the downfall of Mongol leader Hulegu Khan at the end of the thirteenth century, Ravandi writes: "Due to the increasing exploitation of the peasantry, after the death of

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Il-Khan Abu Sayyed, civil war erupted and the plunder and harassment of urban craftsmen and the rural population increased. Thus, the urban poor, craftsmen, traders, shaikhs, dervishes, and runaway slaves, side-by-side with landowners, who all despised the arrogance and repressiveness of the Mongols and Turks united for a common goal, to overthrow the yoke of the Mongols' domination."44 In the fourteenth century, Khorasan, a province in northeastern Iran, was constantly attacked by the tribal and local Mongols led by Prince Yasa'u Chaghatai. He burned the grain and crops of the farmers, and took many people as slaves. The result was the devastation of the local economy and the massive destruction of human life and property. This, coupled with general public resentment of the repressive Mongol dynasty, made the incompetent local leaders and the royal Sunni clergy the targets of public outrage and revolt. The original leader of the Sarbidaran was a Sufi Dervish named Shaikh Khalifa (d. 1335). As a young man, Shaikh Khalifa learned logic and memorized the entire Quran. His knowledge put him in constant opposition to his senior Sufi peers. Khalifa's unorthodox religious views, which encouraged uprising against oppression and injustice, ultimately cost him his life. The Sunni clergy indicted him for preaching "worldly matters" to incite rebellion. He was hanged in the Sabzevar mosque, where he had gathered a large number of disciples.45 After Khalifa's death, Hassan-e Jori, a peasant's son and one of Khalifa's disciples, succeeded him. Jori traveled for years, encouraging people to rise against the Mongols. He organized the Sufi Dervishes and built a following in Mashhad, Nishapor, Herat, and Balkh. Jori was soon imprisoned by Amir Arqavan Shah of the Mongol dynasty. However, the many years of Jori's propaganda against the Mongols turned out to be fruitful, and despite his absence an organized struggle against the Mongols began. The Sarbidaran movement found a new impetus in 1337 in the village of Bashtin in Khorasan, when five Mongol soldiers harassed a local family, and the men of the family retaliated by killing the Mongols and declaring that from then on they were ready to lose their heads (sar bi dar midahim), but refused to bear the shame of the Mongols' domination. After this incident, many joined the Sarbidaran, and Abd al-Razzaq became the first Sarbidar to successfully defeat the local Mongol leaders to create a Shi'ite state in 1338. Abd al-Razzaq was killed by his brother, Amir Ma'sud, who was known for his egalitarianism. It is said that he distributed the spoils of war equally among his soldiers while he heavily taxed the landlords and eased the taxation on the poor. 46 Ma'sud also freed the popular leader of the Sarbidaran movement, Shaikh Hassan-e Jori, from prison. After Jori's release, the Sarbidaran movement had two leaders—one the religious leader, Hassan-e Jori, and the other the political leader, Amir Ma'sud. This dual power did not last long; a split occurred and the Sarbidaran were divided into two distinct groups: the Shaikhis, known for

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their political extremism, were led by Shaikh Jori, and a more moderate wing that was led by Ma'sud. Shaikh Jori's response to Timur Khan (the last Mongol leader to rule Iran) on his offer to surrender, captures the spirit of moral puritanism prevalent among Sarbidaran leaders: "Both of us must live and conduct ourselves according to the Quran. Whoever acts otherwise has rebelled against the will of God, and it is the duty of others to annihilate him. If the King acts according to the will of God and his Prophet, we shall obey him. If he acts otherwise, then the sword will be between us."47 Shaikh Jori and his successor, Khajeh Shams Al-Din Ali, aspired to model their government after that of the Prophet Muhammad and Imam Ali. According to Arjomand, Khajeh Shams Al-Din Ali "ruled Sabzevar as an egalitarian Islamic theocracy, rigorously observing rule of morality and justice in anticipation of the appearance of the hidden imam, the lord of time. In matters of the law he deferred to the Ulama of true religion.' Shams Al-Din Ali was intent upon enjoining the good and forbidding the evil. He banned prostitution, smoking, and drinking and apparently fell victim to his severity in the enforcement of morality."48 On Shams Al-Din's preoccupation with moral purity of the Muslim community, the historian Ibn Batobeh testifies that he once ordered five hundred prostitutes thrown into a well and buried alive.49 The general ideological sources of the Sarbidaran movement can be found in Sufism, in the epics and nationalist spirit of Ferdausi's Shahnameh, and in Shi'ism. Each of these ideological features fulfilled a distinct political purpose. Sufism, in its unworldliness and ascetism, became an ideological and religious reaction to the material wealth and the political power of the Mongol elite. The khanqah (monestary) became the center of refuge for the oppressed of villages and towns. Ferdausi's Shahnameh became a symbol of Iranian cultural identity and it inspired the Sarbidaran to take a stand against foreign domination in Iran. Shi'ism, in its call for a return to Alavi'ism and the egalitarianism of early Islam, became the banner of protest against Sunnism, the adopted religion of the Mongol elite.50 After the death of Amir Ma'sud, ten other Sarbidaran shahryar (monarchs) ruled over the people of Khorasan and Kerman. For a short period of time, Shaikh Sayyed Izz al-din Mar'ashi, a disciple of Jori, and his son, Shaikh Qavam Al-Din Mar'ashi, ruled over the neighboring territories of Mazandaran and Gilan. The Sarbidaran made their capital, Sabzevar, one of the strongholds of the Shi'ite lower classes and a center of Iranian traditions.51 The twelve Sarbidaran shahryars, who were all Shi'ites, were known for their egalitarian policies and their fair treatment of the peasantry. Even Ibn Batobeh, the historian who was hostile toward the Sarbidaran, admits that all the slaves from the different regions escaped from their masters and joined them. Whoever joined the Sarbidaran immediately received a horse and some belongings. In fact, "justice became so prevalent where they [Sarbidaran] ruled that people would leave gold and silver coins

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laying on the ground untouched until their owner was found." 52 Another feature of the Sarbidaran movement was its chiliastic messianism. Throughout the life span of the Sarbidaran republic (1338-1381), the people of Sabzevar expected the zuhur (appearance) of the hidden imam (the Mahdi), taking a horse to the gates of the city twice a day for his service when he should appear. 53 Although a few of the Safavid leaders were, in some cases, perceived by their followers to be the incarnation of the Mahdi himself, in contrast the Sarbidaran shahryars never laid claim on Mahdihood. They were content with the expectation of the return of the Mahdi. In fact, this expectation of the imminent appearance of the Mahdi promoted "the reign of justice" and implementation of the moral codes of the Shari'a, so that if the lord of the age did appear he would be pleased. Despite their popularity and success, the Sarbidaran were plagued by severe internal conflicts. Of the twelve Sarbidar shahryars, nine were murdered either by one another or by disciples or relatives. Sectarianism and in-fighting, coupled with the repeated attacks on the Sarbidaran by Timur Khan and his son, Shahrokh, finally weakened them internally and ended their rule. The Hurufiyya Movement Another important movement of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries was that of the Hurufiyya in Azerbaijan. This movement was founded by Fadl Allah Astarabadi (1340-1394), who was an indigent craftsman. His travels around the world exposed him to new ideas and novel ways of thinking. Finally he settled in Baku, making it the center of his political activities. Fadl Allah laid claim to Mahdihood. This gave the Hurufiyya movement a strong chiliastic character. Petroshevsky relates the Hurufiyya name to their preoccupation with the "secret" of words Qiuruf) for comprehension of the true essence of the Quran. The Hurufiyya, more than any other movement of the fourteenth century, were influenced by Mazdak's teachings. Whereas the ideology of the Sarbidaran synthesized the Persian epic of the ninth and tenth centuries with Sufism and Shi'ism, the Hurufiyya movement synthesized Sufism and many tenets of Mazdakism as well as the Shi'ite extremist tradition. Like Mazdak, who established close relationships with Qubad, the Hurufiyya managed to establish close ties with Miranshah, the third son of Timur Khan. Miranshah's support for the Hurufiyya was intended to weaken the power of the ulama. But again, as in Mazdak's period, the ulama accused the Hurufiyya of atheism and declared a fatva (injunction) for their death. Under pressure from the ulama, Miranshah ordered the death of the Hurufiyya leaders and their followers. Astarabadi was murdered in 1394. In 1417 Emad Al-Din Nesimi, a renowned poet of the period and an ideologue of

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Hurufiyya, was also labeled an atheist and killed by Miranshah. 54 To avenge Astarabadi's death, the Hurufiyya killed Miranshah in 1410, and in 1437 Ahmad Lur, a follower of Astarabadi, assassinated Shahrokh, Miranshah's successor, in the mosque of Herat. The death of Miranshah and Shahrokh induced the rise of apocalyptic expectations among many supporters of the Hurufiyya movement that since the "oppressors" were dead, the Mahdi would appear to restore justice back to earth. In fact, the Hurufiyya, who like the Sufis believed in divine incarnation, asserted that God revealed himself through Astarabadi and that he was a saint who had come to save humanity. A corollary to this belief was that because man is a manifestation of divine incarnation, human life was sacred and had to be treated with respect and dignity. The Hurufiyya explicitly advocated social equality and struggle against the bi edalati (injustice) and zolm (oppression). Hurufiyya's sacred book, Mahram Nameh (Secret Letters), promised the immediate return of the Mahdi, ushering in the reign of justice and equality. There appear to be similarities among the Hurufiyya's ideas and those of the Bateni, Isma'ili, and Ahl-i Hagh sects, who believed in the veiled nature of reality, the cyclical development of history, the appearance of divine revelation in each particular epoch, and the divinity of Imam Ali's character. There are also links between the Hurufiyya movement and that of the Bektashi sect in Turkey, the Noqtavi movement in Iran during the reign of Shah Abbas Safavid, and the Babi movement under the Qajar dynasty. The Hurufiyya movement reemerged during the Safavid period under the name of the Pesikhanian, or Noqtavian movement, but it was brutally crushed and never reached its earlier prominence.

MESSIANIC SHI ISM OF THE SAFAVIDS

The movement that gave rise to the Safavid dynasty (1501-1722) was a millenarian movement in the tradition of extremist Shi'ite messianism and militancy. Safavid emerged in the milieu of Sufism and the Ghullat. The movement began as a Sufi order with modest claims in Ardabil, but soon developed into Shi'ite extremism and established itself in Azerbaijan and then expanded to the rest of Iran. The founder of the Safavid Sufi order was Shaikh Safi Al-Din Ardabili (d. 1334). Junayd (1447-1460), a descendant of Shaikh Safi, transformed the Turkoman tribesmen who had migrated from central Asia to Anatolia into a militant warrior group. Haydar (1460-1488), the young son and successor of Junayd, consolidated the organization of his Turkoman nomad followers, who came to be known as Qizilbash (redturbaned ones). Junayd was regarded by many of his followers as divine incarnation, and Haydar as the son of God. 55 Isma'il, the son of Haydar, was the founder of the Safavid dynasty, and his reign was considered to be the

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prelude to that of the Mahdi. The Safavid rulers were simultaneously the spiritual leaders and the political and military c o m m a n d e r s of their communities. 56 The Safavids, like the Ghullat, used messianism, millenarianism, and folk religion to arouse their supporters and mobilize them in warrior groups, and soon after establishing their power, especially after Shah Isma'il I (1501-1524), Qizilbash extremism was effectively suppressed under Shah Tahmasp (1524-1576). Thus, the Safavids actively suppressed Shi'ite extremism, Sunism, and popular Sufism while propagating Twelver Shi'ism. With the exception of Shah Tahmasp, whose fortune in the middle of the sixteenth century is reported to have been five million gold coins, other Safavid kings are said to have lived simple lives. Shah Isma'il I, for example, despite his notoriously repressive and violent rule—including the killing of 20,000 in Tabriz and blinding of 30,000 in Kirman—never accumulated much wealth. He distributed the spoils of war among his soldiers, paid them generously, and lived a simple life among them. 57 Shah Abbas often wore simple clothing resembling that of the poor peasants. He is known to have exempted several cities from taxes, to have cooked for his army during war, and to have mingled with the crowd in coffee houses. 58 This simplicity and raw egalitarianism combined with their religious claim to be the descendants of Shi'ite imams—through descent from Imam-i Musa Kazem, the seventh imam—rendered the Safavid kings popular with their followers. For example, a Venetian merchant who had witnessed the Safavid rulers for eight years and was puzzled by the devotion and zeal of Shah Isma'il's supporters wrote: "This Sufi is so adored by his followers, as if he is God on earth. His followers enter the battle fields against his enemies barehanded. All over Iran, the name of God has been forgotten, and everywhere the name of Isma'il has replaced it." 59 The exaltation of Hezrat-i Ali and the public cursing of the first three caliphs (Abu Bakr, Umar, and Uthman) became prevalent rituals during the reign of the Safavids. Shah Tahmasp, for example, was regarded by his followers to be the incarnation of God because of his professed descent from Ali. Shah Abbas "the Great" officially called himself Kalb-i Austun-i Ali (the dog of the threshold of Ali). 60 These alleged Alavi'ite roots, combined with the claim to the vice-regency of the Mahdi, bestowed upon Safavid kings a powerful messianic image. Thus, their followers were known for their blind obedience and unwavering loyalty. Although the doctrine of unity of God (tauhid) in Sunni as well as Shi'ite Islam strictly forbids the idea of divinity or reincarnation, through the effective use of the doctrine of Mahdism and imamat, the early Safavid kings managed to claim divinity and incarnation without any considerable doctrinal challenge from the clergy or from practicing Muslims at large. To seek a resolution to this dilemma and apparent anomaly of Safavid Shi'ism, one is better advised to look toward sociological factors, rather than any

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innate and intrinsic characteristic of Islamic doctrine. As has been noted, throughout the history of social movements in Iran, the pivotal doctrinal point of legitimacy and the inspiration for many of these millenarian movements was the idea of Alavi'ism and Mahdism, rather than the Islamic orthodoxy that was often identified with the Sunni rule. As the professed descendants of Imam-e Ali and the vice-regents of the Mahdi, Safavid rulers possessed a messianic and religious aura that prior Iranian dynasties had lacked. Despite the widespread pro-Alid sentiment among Iranians, prior to 1501, when Shah Isma'il I declared Ithna' Ashari Shi'ism to be the state religion, the majority of the people were still Sunnis. The Safavid Shi'ization of Iran was carried out through the "carrot and stick" policy, with the use of the stick often being the dominant means. Those who joined the Shi'ite sect were rewarded, and those who resisted it were ruthlessly persecuted. Under Shah Isma'il I, for example, the process of Shi'ization took place principally either through brute force or threat of persecution. Tabriz is reported to have been the site of massive and bloody resistance to Shah Isma'il's rule of force. In response to advice that, by declaring Shi'ism as the state religion, in Tabriz, where two-thirds of the 300,000 people are Sunnis, the young king would create enormous problems for himself, Isma'il replied: "If the people utter one word of protest, I will draw the sword and leave not one of them alive."61 The Shi'ism of the Safavids, especially in its initial stage of development, was much more extremist than that of other earlier Shi'ite dynasties, such as the Buyids (945-1055). Although the Buyids conquered the Abbasid capital of Baghdad, they were never able to abolish the caliphate or to establish Twelver Shi'ism as the state religion as successfully as the Safavid did. Safavid rule passed through the stages of the extremism of Shah Isma'il I and Shah Tahmasp and the moderation of Shah Isma'il II and Shah Abbas "the Great" (1587-1629). In the period of moderation, messianism, fanaticism, and the claim of divine incarnation of the extremist period gave way to more modest religious proclamations and pragmatic politics.62 To legitimize their rule by sanction of the ulama, the Safavids imported Twelver Shi'ite theologians primarily from Ottoman Baghdad and Syria. Needless to say, such theologians "who were paid directly or indirectly by the government and had few ties with the local population were a firm pillar of political support."63 Because the king implemented the Shari'a, upheld Shi'ite orthodoxy, and protected their vested interests, the ulama considered their support of Safavid kings justified. As Savory has observed, "the mujtahids, by and large, were content with their lot under the Safavid Shahs because, although the Shah had usurped their prerogative to act as the general agency of the hidden Imam, they still wielded much power without this prerogative in the Shi'ite state established by the Safavids, than they had wielded when they still possessed this prerogative under the Sunni regime."64

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A s y m b i o t i c r e l a t i o n s h i p e m e r g e d b e t w e e n the t w o such that the u l a m a gradually b e c a m e so near and dear to the royal court that the Safavid kings t u r n e d a g a i n s t t h e i r e a r l i e r b a s e of s u p p o r t , t h e S u f i s , w h o n o w h a d developed s o m e ideological ties with the long-standing e n e m y of the court, the Ghullat. As stated earlier, the suppression of the Ghullat also continued under the Safavids, and the "extremists" of the Noqtavin order, an offshoot of H u r u f i y y a , w e r e m a s s a c r e d b y d i f f e r e n t S a f a v i d k i n g s . A c c o r d i n g to A r j o m a n d , although the Shi'ite ulama encouraged this massacre, the Safavid kings had two reasons of their own for disposing of the Ghullat. T h e first w a s their n e e d "to r a t i o n a l i z e the f o r m of political d o m i n a t i o n i n t o a n enduring and stable structure suitable for the administration of a centralized empire which was incompatible with intense and therefore volatile millenarian expectations associated with extremism." A n d the second reason was "the need for institutionalized domestication of the sedentary as well as the n o m a d i c tribal m a s s e s , w h i c h in turn required a m o r e d o g m a t i c a n d o t h e r - w o r l d l y t y p e o f r e l i g i o n t h a n t h i s - w o r l d l y m i l l e n a r i a n i s m of Ghuluww." 6 5 T h e ulama's control over the collection of ¡chums (one-fifth) and zakat (alms, religious taxes), and the Safavid encouragement of the spirit of piety a m o n g the population at large, caused the increase of vagf ( e n d o w m e n t ) properties. This gradually led to expansion of mosques and madrassahs and, c o n s e q u e n t l y , an i n c r e a s e in the p o w e r of the u l a m a . By o n e of t h o s e dialectical twists in history, however, the Safavid patronage of the turbaned class ultimately turned against the institution of monarchy and the absolute p o w e r of the shah. To impress the masses with their piety, Safavid kings paid the ulama generously and, by doing so, further strengthened the financial base and p o w e r of the ulama. This provided the ulama with an inalienable i n c o m e "from which s o m e m e m b e r s could, if so inclined, bite the hand that f e d them." 6 6 Peculiarities of the f u r t h e r d e v e l o p m e n t of Shi'ism f r o m 1501 to the 1 8 7 0 s are p a r t i c u l a r l y s i g n i f i c a n t f o r an a c c u r a t e c o m p r e h e n s i o n of its e v o l u t i o n o v e r the y e a r s a n d of the u n d e r l y i n g t h e o r e t i c a l i m p l i c a t i o n s . A r j o m a n d asserts that there are three "concurrent" and "interrelated" trends in the r e l i g i o u s e v o l u t i o n of the s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r y that a r e c r u c i a l to comprehension of the Shi'ite propensity to action in the political realm. First, t h e f o u n d a t i o n of t h e A k h b a r i s c h o o l b y M u l l a h M o h a m m a d A m i n Astarabadi (d. 1624) led to attacks on the M u j t a h i d s for applying reason in jurisprudence like the Sunnis. Akhbaris sought to reestablish traditionalism through exclusive reliance on the statements of the i m a m s . Consequently, the lives, d e e d s , and w o r d s of the t w e l v e i m a m s as d i v i n e historical f i g u r e s b e c a m e the center of attention in religious discussions. L e g e n d s grew around the figures of the i m a m s , and the cult of the i m a m s intensified the devotional attachment of the pious. This meant a considerable shift of e m p h a s i s a w a y f r o m the bulk of law of G o d and Shari'a. This increasing popularity of the

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imams enhanced the Safavids' legitimacy in claiming descent from the seventh imam, Musa AI-Kazem. S e c o n d , with the gradual e m e r g e n c e of indigenous u l a m a , the propagation of Twelver Shi'ism was enhanced. The writings of Mohammad Baqir Majlisi (d. 1699) for example, represent one of the most authoritative expositions of Shi'ite orthodoxy in this period, and are responsible for a good number of the Shi'ite rituals that have endured to the present time. One of the pivotal points in Majlisi's theology is his emphasis on God's adl (justice). Majlisi contended that God's reign of justice on earth is compatible with the free will of man. It is the duty of Muslims to struggle against evil and see to it that God's will is implemented. Hence, eschatology assumed a new significance as the main pillar of religious orthodoxy. We are told that after physical resurrection on "the judgement day and the crossing of pol-i sarat (a bridge finer than hair, sharper than a sword, and hotter than fire which must be crossed to reach paradise)," the Prophet and the imams will choose those who will be saved and those who must be condemned to bum in the fires of hell. Because imams are the mediators between man and God, it is impossible to avoid the punishment of God without knowing and following a particular imam. An imam's power of intercession could be obtained by visiting his shrine and reciting a special prayer, ziyarat-nameh. This role of the imams as intercessors gave them a primary role as other-worldly saviors. Therefore, in the popular perception, the imams became apolitical figures, and the "Imamat lost all connotations of political leadership." 67 Third, concurrent with the development of Shi'ite orthodoxy, theosophy, and gnosis (irfan) a small group of learned men emerged under the reign of Shah Abbas I in the madrassahs of Isfahan. This philosophical school owed its existence to the contributions of Mirdamad (d. 1630), Mullah Sadra Shirazi (d. 1640) and his pupils, Mullah Muhsin Fayd Kashani (d. 1680), Mullah Abd Al-Razzaq Lahiji, and Qadi Sa'id Qumi (1639-1691). The new innovations in Shi'ite theology encountered a hostile reaction from the more orthodox ulama. The use of reason and gnosis became prevalent among these theosophists. Because gnosis differentiates between the body and soul, between the physical and spiritual, there emerged a differentiation between the spiritual and the political world and that rendered the concept of the imamate more unworldly and denoted spiritual sovereignty. According to Qadi Sa'id, the imamate is "a religious caliphate {khilafate doniyya) and represents spiritual sovereignty (saltanat ma'nawiyya). The inner-worldly connotation of the word ma'nawiyya implies that Qadi Sa'ids position entails not the rejection of temporal sovereignty in favor of this-worldly theocracy, but the radical devaluation of all earthly sovereignty." In other words, it implies an attitude not of "antipolitical activism, but of apolitical indifference." Consequently, the attitude of pious antipathy toward temporal power, "the implicit vilification of political power, and the avoidance of contracts with government remained typical behavior for many eminent

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members of the ulama. Although many of the ulama condoned the Safavid hierocratic legitimation and claim of vice-regency of the hidden imam, their cooperation with the temporal ruler, in so far as it was justified, remained circumspect and cautious." 68 After the second half of the seventeenth century, some of the ulama questioned the legitimacy of the temporal ruler by asking the question: How can the "impious wine-bibbers and lustful" kings be vice-regents of God? Others might even have reached the conclusion that the ulama were better qualified to rule over the community. By taking advantage of flaws in the Safavid system of religious legitimacy, the ulama were merely strengthening their own position. 69 Keddie delineates three major developments of this period that are worth noting. First, the development of two kinds of ulama: one appointed and supported by the state who filled official religious posts, such as the Imam Jom'eh (leader of Friday prayer), and the other the unofficial kind who had no governmental function, lived on endowments, taught, preached, and acted as a judiciary in religious institutions. Mujtahids emerged from the latter group, who numbered very few in the Safavid period. Second, the influence of Greek philosophy (Platonistic, Aristotelian, and neo-Platonistic philosophy) and the Mu'tazilite rationalist school of law rendered Shi'ism more open to philosophy than Sunnism. Natural law rationalism became popular among Shi'ite philosophers, and such great philosophers of the Safavid period as Mirdamad and Mullah Sadra attempted to reconstruct Shi'ite theology on a rationalist basis. One of the implications of this openness to rationalism and the Mu'tazilite school of law was belief in free will as opposed to predestination. Thus, the concepts of adl (justice) and zulm (oppression) as byproducts of human conditions became increasingly significant to Shi'ites. The consensus emerged that because God was just, those rulers who were oppressive acted contrary to God's will and had to be opposed. Third, under the impact of ensuing political events, Shi'ism assumed a more militant character. The internal weakness of the last Safavid king, Shah Sultan Husain, made him susceptible to Sunni Afghan tribes who conquered the Safavid capital, Isfahan, in 1722 and ruled until 1730. To seek refuge from religious persecution, the leaders of the Shi'ite ulama moved to the cities of Najaf and Karbala in Ottoman Iraq, where tombs of Imam Ali and Husain were located. These cities remained the center of Shi'ite ulama until the 1940s. By putting themselves out of the reach of the Iranian state, the ulama were not subject to the financial and political pressures of the shahs and could afford to take indépendant and militant positions. This became another advantage of Shi'ite ulama over their Sunni counterparts. Fourth, in the late eighteenth century, the triumph of the Usuli, or Mujtahidi, school of Shi'ism over the Akhbari school further increased the power of the Shi'ite ulama. Whereas the Akhbari believed that each Shi'ite could independently interpret the tradition (akhbar) of the Prophet and the imams without reliance on the ulama, the Usulis

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argued that without the expert knowledge of the ulama in jurisprudence, deduction of the true essence and foundation of the faith was impossible. Similarly, the Mujtahids argued that each Shi'ite Muslim must choose one Mujtahid as marja'i taghlid (source of emulation). They adduced that such important matters as deduction of law from fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence), judgments on moral duty of Muslims in a changing world, accurate interpretation of the statements and actions of the Prophet, and discernment of the essential meanings of the divine will of the absent imam could not be left to the laity. Thus, the power of the ulama remained untouched, and there was now a doctrinal basis for an appeal to the ulama over the head of a temporal ruler. Moreover, the ulama were now put in a position to make political injunctions ifatwa) based on Islamic principles that true believers were obligated to follow. 70 In the first half of the eighteenth century, under the Sunni Afghans and later Nader Shah (1736-1747), the Shi'ite ulama lost much of the power they had enjoyed under the Safavids. Many Shi'ite leaders were persecuted, and others fled to sanctuaries of Najaf and Karbala in Iraq. Under Nader Shah's rule, Shi'ism was demoted to the status of a fifth orthodox school alongside the four Sunni schools. In his attempt to deinstitutionalize Shi'ism, Nader Shah confiscated Shi'ite endowment properties and further weakened the power of the ulama. The ulama's position was strengthened when, during the rule of the Qajars (1796-1925), the kingdom became secularized. Although some of the Qajar rulers formally carried the title of "the shadow of God," they no longer claimed to be representatives of the hidden imam. With the donning of this mantle, the Mujtahids inherited the charisma and authority of the imams, which had in Safavid times devolved to the kings. This shift in devolution of religious power, the decentralization of the Qajar central power, and the semiindependent organization of the Shi'ite ulama put them in a social position unparalleled in Islamic history. 71 The ulama, however, were not yet established as a powerful political group. They were still recovering from Afghan's and Nader Shah's assault on their privileges. By the end of the eighteenth century, the clergy were in the process of regrouping and reorganizing themselves. Their interest remained focused on scholarly matters and teaching their disciples the Quran, the Shari'a, and the fiqh. The fact that the language in which the imported Shi'ite ulama taught and wrote was Arabic is indicative of their social isolation from the bulk of the Persian-speaking population. It was not until the nineteenth century that the ulama began extensive writing in Persian, and it was under the Qajar dynasty that they enhanced their political power and amassed new political capital.

7 THE ULAMA IN POLITICAL OPPOSITION If the muslims, in their current state of weakness and misery, did not believe in miracles and hell-fire, and considered the prophet to be like Gladstone, they undoubtedly would soon abandon their own weak and conquered camp, and attach themselves to the powerful conquerors. —Jamal al-Din Afghani The Westerners have conquered the world, not because of their belief in Jesus or Mary, but because of their capacity to build railroads; to create the telegram system. We have lost, because we have become the prisoners of our own superstitions and ignorance. —Jamal al-Din Afghani

THE MODERN PERIOD

By the second half of the nineteenth century, with the repeated defeat of the Qajar rulers (1796-1925) by tsarist Russia and the subsequent weakening of the central power, the clergy stepped forward to fill the power vacuum. Only then did the ulama reach economic and political prominence and gain considerable political power. Subsequently, some members of the ulama assumed important executive and judicial roles and ruled local governments.1 In the first half of the nineteenth century, the number of ulama began to grow. By the 1870s, the oqaf (religious endowments) and land owned by the ulama and the number of religious schools and madrassahs drastically increased. The ulama were well positioned to intervene in the political sphere and enhance their power and prestige as the custodians of the Shi'ite faith and Iranian cultural identity. In the absence of any legal code, the Shari'a was implemented with only minor changes and adaptations. The shah was considered to be zel Allah fi'l arz (the shadow of God on earth). However, with the increasing separation of religious institutions from the state, a group of ulama who did not depend on the state for their livelihood could afford to oppose it. 2 Whereas the government officials' contact with the people was primarily through the 89

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collection of taxes and the levy of soldiers, the ulama, on the other hand, due to their multifarious religious, judicial, educational, and cultural functions, were in constant touch with the people of their respective communities. Therefore, it was not accidental that the ordinary people would go to them for advice and protection.3 With the increasing repressiveness of autocratic Qajar rulers, the hopes and aspirations of the people once again manifested itself in anticipation of the return of the savior who would restore justice on earth. The Zoroastrian community, in anticipation of the return of the son of Zarathustra, sent a delegation to Afghanistan. In Khorasan, a group under the influence of Hinduism was waiting for the return of a man named "Khair Adin" who supposedly evaporated in a pot as an old man and was to return as a young messiah to lead his followers from the darkness to the light of the promised land. In Azerbaijan, people were waiting for their Mahdi to come from Russian Georgia. Others, such as the residents of Sabzevar, believed that the real Mahdi was a farangi (Westerner) and that he would probably reappear as Jesus. It was in this social context that the Shaikhi and the Babi sects emerged.4 The increasing power of the clergy over the judicial process and their private army of Lutis, which virtually lent them executive power as well, convinced the merchants to accommodate the ulama, and establish a closer alliance with them. It was during the annual gatherings of ulama and merchants that the amount of khoms and zakat and sahm-e Imam (imam's share) was decided. The merchants also had to obtain the consent of the ulama in regard to the halal va haram (concern for Islamic purity) of the commodities that they imported from abroad. In return for this consent, the ulama would receive some money from the merchants. The annual fetriah, qadirieh, sadaqeh, and eidi, which were de facto endowments from the merchants to the needy, were distributed by the ulama. Gradually, a partnership developed between the two groups. As the merchants invested in manufacture and industry, the ulama turned to investment in land. The relationship between these two social strata, which had found their coexistence beneficial to their vested interests, developed to a degree that alongside each successful merchant a powerful mullah could be found. 5 It was this partnership that played an instrumental role during the first major social movement of this period, the tobacco boycott movement.

FROM THE TOBACCO BOYCOTT MOVEMENT TO THE CONSTITUTIONAL REVOLUTION In 1872, Baron Julius de Reuter, a British citizen, obtained a seventy-year concession right to "all Persian mines" and "all uncultivated lands," as well

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as the rights for a "national bank, all roads, telegraphs, mills, factories, workshops, public works, and the entire customs of the empire" for twentyfive years.6 The combination of outside pressure from the rival tsarist Russia and domestic pressure from the ulama, the bazaaris, and the emerging intelligentsia put an end to Reuter's concession. By 1889, Reuter retained two of the original concessions, namely the right to mine Iran's mineral resources and the right to operate a bank, which came to be known as Imperial Bank of Persia. These concessions set a precedent. In March of 1890, Nasser al-Din Shah (1848-1896) sold the permit of tobacco export for fifty years to Major Talbot, a British citizen. Talbot was to pay Iran 1500 pounds a year plus one-fourth of the net profits, with the stipulation that his company alone would buy and sell tobacco in Iran. 7 This left Iranian merchants and landholders effectively out of an important source of income and diminished their control over a portion of the domestic market. Despite its name, the political issues that inspired the tobacco boycott movement were by no means confined to the tobacco concession alone. General discontent with the decrepit absolutism of the monarchy was a major concern. One of the widely distributed flyers at the time warned Nasser alDin Shah, "All the subjects are fed up with the ineptitude of this government. Even if you hide in a hole we will force you out and shed your blood."8 The popular pan-Islamist leader, Sayyed Jamal al-Din Afghani (1839-1897), 9 opposed the tobacco concession, believing it would give the British an open hand to continue the colonization of Iran. Afghani initiated the campaign against the tobacco concession from Istanbul, and it culminated in a religious dictum from Haji Mirza Hassan Shirazi, one of Iran's leading religious leaders.10 In April of 1891, the first movement against the tobacco concession began in Shiraz, a central tobacco market. The ulama called on planters not to sell their tobacco to the British and asked the people to boycott the use of tobacco. The bazaaris of that city closed their shops, and the bazaar communities in Tehran, Tabriz, Isfahan, Qazvin, Kermanshah, and Yazd followed suit. The people of Shiraz gathered in the post office and sent a telegram of protest to the shah asking for an end to the Talbot concession. In response, the local militia opened fire on protestors and a number of people were killed. In May, the movement spread to Tabriz. The ulama there agitated against the concession in the mosques and instigated rebellion. After Tabriz, Mashhad and Isfahan also arose in rebellion. In Isfahan, the ulama declared that because tobacco was touched by infidels, it was impure from the standpoint of Islam, and the people pledged not to touch it. The movement enjoyed such widespread popularity that even in the royal court people refrained from smoking tobacco.11 The shah's wife herself refused to take

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him his qalian (narghile). In most of the centers of rebellion, the clergy joined forces with the bazaaris, and the combination of religious authority and economical power proved to be an effective political force for mobilizing the masses and paralyzing the monarchy. Finally, after two years and three months of political protest and confrontation, Nasser al-Din Shah softened his hard line and declared an annulment of the concession. Instrumental in the shah's decision was pressure from the Russian government, which was in competition with Great Britain over Iran's market and natural resources. Further influences were the British fear of full-scale violent revolution, and recommendations from Mirza Malkum Khan (1833-1908), a Western-educated Armenian and Iran's minister to Great Britain from 1873 to 1889. The people did not trust the shah's words, and demanded that until the British company involved in the concession formally declared cancellation, they would continue the protest. Finally, the British government pressured the company to cancel the concession, under the condition that Nasser al-Din Shah pay £500,000 to the company in compensation. The tobacco boycott movement was in many ways a dress rehearsal for the constitutional movement. The impact of the tobacco boycott movement can be summarized as follows: 1. Prior to this period there had been two different types of ulama: those who participated in the political affairs of the state, held religious court, and sought wealth and power (riyasatmadari)\ and those who had no relations with the functionaries of the state, did not administer sacred law, and avoided luxuries. Among the former were the Imam Jom'as (Friday prayer leaders) and Shaikh al-Islams, who were the appointees of the state. This group was part of the nobility, had extensive landholdings, and controlled vaqf (religious endowment) properties. 12 One of the consequences of the movement against the tobacco concession was that the "unworldly" and "pious" ulama of the Atabat were drawn into the political arena, and the political power of worldly ulama on "whose political brokerage the weak central government became increasingly reliant" was enhanced. Lacking the charismatic authority and messianic appeal of the Safavids, the Qajar became much more dependent on ulama to lend legitimacy to their political actions. Fazel-e Sharabiyani (d. 1904) and Shaikh Mohammad Hassan Mamqani (d. 1906), who emerged as the leaders of Atabat after the death of Mirza Hassan Shirazi, acquired advisory and veto power regarding high state appointments.13 Hence, as the group of ulama that separated itself from the state grew in popularity and number, they came to be known as protectors or guardians of the people against the courts' abuse of power.14 2. The tobacco boycott movement marked the beginnings of nationalist consciousness in Iran. For the first time, the concept of mellat (people) was

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counterpoised to duwlat (government). The regional rebellions culminated into a national strike with demands focused on national autonomy and independence. Some of these demands were raised by Mirza Mohammad Hassan Ashtiani, the leader of the movement in Tehran. He sought (a) monetary compensation for those who were killed (khon baha), (b) amnesty for those who participated in the movement, and (c) nullification of all foreign concessions. The shah accepted the first two demands but refused to accommodate the third. 15 3. As the monarchy became closely associated with foreign domination, exploitation of the country's resources, and national humiliation, a sector of ulama emerged as the guardians of cultural authenticity. Thus, the idea emerged that the struggle against foreign domination and the struggle against the monarchy were one and the same. Afghani's repeated calls for overthrow of the shah stemmed precisely from such perceptions. 16 4. The alliance of a sector of the ulama and the bazaari, backed by the patronage of the populace, demonstrated for the first time its potential political power and revealed the vulnerability of the monarchy. This alliance set a precedent for ensuing political movements. 5. Although some members of the ulama, such as Ayatollah Behbahani, supported the tobacco concession, 1 7 many of the ulama supported the tobacco boycott movement and emerged as its leaders. The victory of the tobacco boycott movement increased the ulama's political confidence and enhanced their prestige and popularity among lay Muslims. They were wellpositioned to amass political capital in the ensuing political upheaval.

THE CONSTITUTIONAL REVOLUTION

The Constitutional Revolution, like many other mass social rebellions of the modern era, was preceded by a cultural renaissance. The modernization of Iran, which began with the policies of the Qajar crown prince, Abbas Mirza (1788-1833), put the country on a new path. A modern army was created through conscription, the first students were sent abroad in 1811 and 1815, the first modern printing press was established in Tabriz in 1812, and Dar al Fonoon, the first secular school, was established in 1848 by Amir Kabir, the reformist premier. In the second half of the nineteenth century, Iran's commercial and cultural contacts with the West increased. Inspired by the technological advances and liberty they had witnessed in Europe, and struck by the backwardness of their own political system, the returning students became apostles of change. Iranian modern intellectual thought originated in cultural contact with and in reaction to the West, which had experienced democratic revolution and "the rule of reason" a century earlier. For the first time, a

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large numer of Iranians looked at themselves through the mirror of the West and in contrast to the achievements of Western civilization. Appalled by the image that they were unable to see before, many leading thinkers of the time rebelled intellectually against their national norms, values, and institutions. It was these individuals who became the first proponents of constitutionalism in Iran. The following analysis of the constitutional movement will be divided into three parts: first, a brief study of the social thought of some of the prominent thinkers of the late nineteenth century; second, a recounting of the events of the Constitutional Revolution; and third, an examination of the role of the ulama throughout the constitutional period. This would enable us to elicit the roots of modern Iranian populism and elucidate the different facets of populism of the intelligentsia as well as clerical populism. Intellectual

Origins of the Constitutional

Revolution

In the second half of the nineteenth century, a new stratum of learned individuals distinct from the clergy appeared for the first time in the political and cultural life of Iran. Influenced by such Western ideological trends as liberalism and social democracy, and considering themselves the awakened conscience of the nation, the newborn roshanfekran (the enlightened) saw it as their duty to lead the people out of the darkness of ignorance and backwardness and into the luminous light of reason. These intellectuals were critical of the unreasonable and arbitrary system of one-man rule, under which neither an individual's liberty nor property was secure against the onslaught of state repression. They were convinced that public ignorance was as responsible for the backwardness of Iranian society as the tyranny of the Qajar dynasty. Therefore, to enhance mass education and mobilization, these reformists published books and newspapers and established secret societies and organizations that were intellectually inspired by such diverse ideological trends as liberalism, secular nationalism, social democracy, communism, and pan-Islamism. The past now came under close scrutiny and criticism. Everything had to justify its existence against human reason. Rationalism and enlightenment philosophy became widely popular among the newly born intelligentsia. Hence, the example of the French Revolution and the critical ideas of its intellectual leaders—Voltaire, Montesquieu, and Rousseau—became a great source of inspiration. Due to a long and rich literary tradition, the primary form of political expression in Iran has historically been through literature. Therefore, it is not surprising that the first signs of politicization of the society outside the religious circle of Afghani appeared in the form of literary social criticism. The social critics of this era were nationalist iconoclasts. Akhundzadeh

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(1812-1878), a secular nationalist who is regarded to be the founder of modern social criticism in Iran, warned the Iranian writers of his generation that literary criticism must not be indirect and diplomatic. It had to abandon the language of advice and preaching and become frank and bold; it had to critique and challenge the status quo. According to Akhundzadeh, if "advice and preaching was effective, then Sa'adi's Golestan should have changed Iran into a heaven. Sa'adi's days are behind us. This is anew Age."18 Haji Zain al Abdin-e Maragheh-e (1839-1910), a liberal merchant and leading writer of the period, criticized the "learned stratum" for their preoccupation with such banalities as "chasing the rainbow" (mohomat), "love of birds, butterflies and candles," and "praise for the rulers." He complained, "No one bothers to write about the country anymore." 19 To broaden the appeal of this politicized literature, he proposed the use of simple prose that both the educated and the laity could understand. Criticism was not confined to the literary realm alone—it increasingly found overt political expression. In 1863, Akhundzadeh attempted to arouse his Iranian audience with the following words: "Oh, Iranians! If you could realize the advantage of liberty and human rights, you would never have tolerated slavery and humility: you would have studied the sciences, set up societies, united your powers, and decided to save yourself from the tyranny of the despot."20 He considered social action to be the only effective means through which freedom can be gained: "In the past, all prophets, philosophers, and poets have asked the oppressor not to oppress, but modern thinkers such as Voltaire, Rousseau, Montesquieu, and Mirabeau realized that the oppressor should not be addressed anymore. Rather, the oppressed should be encouraged to rebel and put an end to oppression."21 Admiration for and somewhat naive emulation of the West was accompanied by self-indignation and harsh self-criticism among the intelligentsia. Akhundzadeh, for example, was one of the first thinkers of the constitutional era to question the compatability of the Islamic traditionalism with democratic constitutionalism.22 Akhundzadeh's admiration for Western civilization was combined with his contempt for Arabs and Muslim rulers. He stated that "Muslim sultans have brought to Iran nothing but ruin, nothing but promotion of their own self-interests."23 He was equally critical of the attempts by Mustashar Aduleh and other intellectuals to reconcile constitutionalism with Islam. His anti-Islamic sentiment was combined with an intense anti-Arab bias in his thought that led him to attempt to purge the Arabic alphabet from the Persian language. He insisted that efforts must be made to save Zoroastrianism as a true Iranian religion and prevent conversion of Zoroastrians to Islam.24 Mirza Aqa Khan Kermani (1853-1896) was an agnostic and collaborated with both Afghani and Malkum Khan. In step with the secular intellectuals of his age, he was critical of traditional ulama and their

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interpretation of Islam, and expressed his intellectual allegiance to "reason and science." He once remarked: "Science is more honorable than faith, and . . . it is better to understand than to believe." 25 Kermani's treatment of religion was quite utilitarian. He considered those religions "that cause the nation's ruin and misfortune" to be false and useless. 26 Like Akhundzadeh, he was a nationalist who scorned Arabs and traditional Islam. He symbolized the profound alienation of the Westernized intellectuals of his generation from the traditional teachings and rituals of Shi'ism when he asked: "What do I gain—I am an Iranian—from knowing about early Arab Muslim rulers such as Khalid Ibn Walid or Yazid Ibn Mu'awiya? What do I gain from reading all about Ali and his sons, or the love and hate of Abbas?" Similarly, he ridiculed such rituals as the commemoration of the death of Imam Husain during Moharram, believing that they distracted the believers from their real problems in this world. 27 The Islamic law also came under fiery attack. He argued that Quranic law was written by the Arabs and for the Arabs, and "did not and could not meet the needs of the Iranians, who already had a highly sophisticated civilization and an elaborate political system of their own." 28 Malkum Khan (1833-1908) was an Armenian by birth who converted to Islam. Although a secularist by intellectual training, he was a pragmatic politician with close ties to the court who avoided the fiery method of Akhundzadeh and Kermani's intellectual confrontation with Islam. Instead, he favored Islamization of the concept of constitutionalism in order to gain the critical support of the ulama for a mashruteh (constitution). Through his long stay in Europe, first as a student and later as ambassador to various E u r o p e a n nations, M a l k u m d e v e l o p e d an appreciation f o r Western c i v i l i z a t i o n , b e c o m i n g a c o n v i n c e d m o d e r n i s t and a c o m m i t t e d constitutionalist. As part of an effort to familiarize Iranians with Western democratic thought, he translated parts of John Stuart Mill's On Liberty into Persian. As Malkum lost hope in royal-initiated reform, he published a paper in London called Qanun (The Law) that was critical of the tyranny and despotism of the Qajar court. He was a pioneer in introducing Western ideas of law and constitutionalism to Iran on a systematic basis. Malkum was an advocate of science and secular education. He proclaimed: "The present age is the age of fast traveling, of science and technology, and no longer of Arabic expressions and Arabic poetry." 29 He refuted the romantic idea of political isolationism, and warned that Iran must either go forward with the advanced nations of the West, or perish in the darkness of ignorance and backwardness. This sentiment was also present in the political thought of another intellectual leader of this period, Talabov or Talibzadeh (1834-1911). He viewed the Islamic past in negative terms, and his evaluation of Europe was

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overwhelmingly positive. If, in the past, Iranians "had become Arabized by force," he asserted, "they were now becoming Europeanized by choice."30 Although a practicing Muslim, Talibzadeh favored separation of church and state, and development of secular schools and secular law. He was an advocate of democracy and repeatedly hailed freedom of thought "as the first cause of progress and knowledge."31 He opposed religious intolerance, and favored secular law as the penal code to run civil affairs. A staunch nationalist, he put strong emphasis on a distinct Iranian national identity, and considered a constitutional monarchy with a bicameral legislature to be the form of government best suited for Iran. A more misunderstood and controversial intellectual leader of this period is the religious reformist and pan-Islamist Sayyed Jamal al-Din Afghani (1839-1897), better known in Iran as Asadabadi. Quoting a Quranic verse saying that God does not change the state of a people unless they change themselves inwardly, Afghani called on Muslims to take their faith into their own hands and rise against injustice, oppression, and domination of Muslims by Muslim and non-Muslim tyrants alike. Afghani's advocacy of reform in Islamic theology was deeply influenced by his conviction that a sector of archaic ulama, who would not allow innovations in Islam, were as much responsible for the backwardness of Islamic nations as were the Western colonialists. Some Muslim scholars of Afghani's thought, in pursuing his pan-Islamic ideology, have disregarded another distinct mark of his thought—his modernism. In fact, Afghani's dedication to reform was so great that, at times, the influence of Western enlightenment seemed to dominate his religious convictions. He is quoted as saying, "So long as humanity exists, the struggle will not cease between dogma and free investigation; between religion and philosophy—a desperate struggle in which, I fear, the triumph will not be for the free thought, because the masses dislike reason, and its teachings are only understood by some intelligences of the elite."32 He was strongly critical of some members of the ulama for their hostility toward modern sciences: "The strangest thing of all is that our ulama these days have divided science into two parts—one they call Muslim science, and one European science. Because of this they forbid others to teach some of the useful sciences. They have not understood that science is that noble thing that has no connection with any nation, and is not distinguished by anything but itself. Rather, everything that is known is known by science, and every nation that becomes renowned becomes renowned through science. Men must be related to science, not science to men." 33 On another occasion he proclaimed the farangis (the Westerners) "have conquered the world, not because of their belief in Jesus or Mary, but because of their capacity to build railroads; to create the telegram system. We have lost, because we have become the prisoners of our own superstitions and ignorance."34 He concluded that Islam must therefore be

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r e f o r m e d to integrate Western principles of reason and science in its structure. It was the expression of such unorthodox ideas and his association with the Babis that led to Afghani's exile from Iran as a youth. In this brief overview of the political thought of the intellectual leaders of the constitutional era several important themes can be distinguished. First, the general trend of thought in the cultural renaissance that preceded the Constitutional Revolution was that of secular nationalism. In other words, the salient feature of Iranian constitutionalists' social thought in this period was its secular character. 35 Ironically, this secular nationalism based on revival and glorification of pre-Islamic traditions of Iran as espoused by Akhundzadeh, Kermani, and others became the banner of formal nationalism of the Pahlavi dynasty. The idea of constitutionalism was first introduced and popularized by the intelligentsia; however, a sector of u l a m a actively participated in it and mobilized the public in its support. The second pervasive feature of political thought of the constitutional era is its social reformist character. The constitutionalist intellectuals were committed reformists and modernists. They perceived themselves as new apostles whose duty was to enlighten the masses and guide them toward knowledge, progress, and freedom. Inspired by the example of Western civilization and its achievements, they perceived science and rationalism as t o o l s of h u m a n l i b e r a t i o n f r o m f o r c e s of i g n o r a n c e , p o v e r t y , a n d backwardness. In the end, however, none of these intellectuals called for the total overthrow of the monarchy as a political institution. On the contrary, their ideal government was to have a "benevolent" monarch, such as Peter the Great of Russia or Frederick the Great of Prussia. 36 Hence, some, such as Malkum Khan, advised the shah to accept European advisors in all ministries and exhorted the British government to exercise as much influence over Persia as it thought fit. Such naivete toward the British colonial schemes was not uncommon among some members of the intelligentisia. The third tendency of intellectual thought of this period, which is closely related to its nationalist and modernist character, is its anti-Arab and antiIslamic sentiment. This is especially true of the thought of Akhundzadeh and Kermani, and to a lesser degree of Malkum Khan and Talibzadeh. The former sought to revive the pre-Islamic past traditions and held traditional Islam responsible for the backwardness of Iranian society. They perceived Islam as an "alien religion" that had been forced upon Iranians by Arab n o m a d i c tribes. U n d e r the p r e s s u r e s of p o p u l a r piety, two d i s t i n c t a p p r o a c h e s e m e r g e d a m o n g these intellectuals. T h e f i r s t a p p r o a c h , supported by Akhundzadeh and Kermani, sought to confront the ascendence of Islam in the cultural life of Iran. They thought such confrontation would challenge the tight grip of Shi'ism on Iranian cultural and social life, and would permeate secular ideas. The second approach, favored by Afghani, Talibzadeh, and Malkum Khan, sought to reconcile the idea of constitu-

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tionalism and social reform with Islam. They argued that without concessions to the religious inclinations of the masses and ulama, these reforms would have no chance of acceptance and success. 37 The fourth characteristic of the intellectual thought of the constitutional era is its anticlericalism. The clergy were concerned that they were witnessing the emergence of a group that, for the first time in modern Iranian history, attempted to unite and mobilize the diverse sectors of Iranian society around ideas and reforms that would reduce their political and social influence. With the validity of the Shari'a called into question, the rule of Islamic jurisprudence would be challenged by a constitution that was inspired by alien and secular ideas. To guard their Islamic heritage from the penetration of Western ideas, the ulama labeled A k h u n d z a d e h and Talibzadeh infidels and banned their books. Neither were Kermani and Malkum spared, and Afghani was suspected of heresy for his association with the Babis. Thus, the anticlerical character of social thought of this period was due, in part, to the hostile attitude of a sector of ulama toward Westernization and s e c u l a r i z a t i o n e f f o r t s and partially to the legacy of the E u r o p e a n enlightenment ideas that developed in opposition to orthodox church and religion. The rift that existed between the modernist intellectuals and the clergy was deepened by the social and cultural polarization that characterized the revolutionary process throughout the constitutional era. One of the paradoxes of the Constitutional Revolution was that under the pressures of the popular piety and the ulama, the secular leaders of the revolution who assembled in Majlis gave a council of five Mujtahids the right to supervise all legislation in the parliament. As Bayat states: "Ironically, modern forces and modern political concepts achieved for official Shi'a Islam what the traditional Imami leadership had continually frowned upon—that is, direct participation in temporal affairs." 38 Events

The historians trace the beginning of the constitutional movement back to December 1905 when the governor of Tehran "beat the feet of several sugar merchants for not lowering their raised sugar prices as ordered, which they insisted were beyond their control owing to high imported prices." 39 The significance of this event must be put in perspective, because the conflict between Western economic interests and that of domestic merchants was only one of many political and social problems that faced the country at the tum of the nineteenth century. After Nasser al-Din Shah, whose rule was marked by severe repression, the mild-mannered and timid Muzaffar al-Din Shah came to power. He increased tariffs on native merchants and promised to decrease court

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pensions to the ulama and tighten controls over vaqf holdings. He sold to an Englishman named d'Arcy a monopoly to exploit oil in the central and southern provinces of Iran, granted new road tolls to the Imperial Bank of Britain, and put the country in deeper debt by obtaining several more large loans from the British, the Russians, and the French. 40 The presence of Western financial military advisors in the royal court, especially Belgian customs officials, gave rise to the idea that the country was run by foreigners. The ulama declared that the nation of Islam must not be run by infidels (koffar). But perhaps more significant was the widely shared belief that autocratic rule and absolutism had led to the creation of a corrupt and incompetent monarchy that was the main source of defeat, humiliation, dependence, backwardness, and repression. The mounting frustrations of the people caused by the long reign of the inept and venal Qajar rulers now had reached their peak and were ready to explode. The ulama, led by Ayatollah Tabataba'i, Behbahani, and Shaikh Fazlollah Nuri capitalized on the incident of the flogging of the merchants and raised the slogan of edalat khaneh (house of justice), staging a sit-down strike while taking sanctuary (bast) in the shrine of Shah Abdul Azim. In response to this protest, the shah at first offered an "Islamic assembly," which was less democratic and offered a nominal voice for the clergy in the process of decisionmaking. But the supporters of the constitution, especially the merchants, insisted on their demand for a national assembly (Majlis-e Melli). Under increasing public pressure, Muzaffar al-Din Shah ( 1 8 9 6 - 1 9 0 7 ) consented to the establishment of Majlis-e Melli, and the ulama returned to Tehran triumphantly. The depth of the movement and the breadth of politicization of the masses was revealed when Muzaffar al-Din Shah, facing public protest, had to change his original declaration, which did not include either national sovereignty or a representative body in Majlis. 41 After it became evident that the government would not honor its word to grant an edalat khaneh, in order to register their protest, the ulama left Tehran for Qom. The merchants, however, did not follow. Instead, they mobilized a crowd of 13,000 people and staged a sit-down strike in front of the British embassy, demanding a royal decree to grant a constitution. These protests proved fruitful, and in 1906 a constitution was drafted, which received Muzaffar al-Din Shah's approval. The shah inaugurated a national consultative assembly to implement some social and political reforms. He died soon after, and his son, Mohammad Ali Shah (1907-1909), attempted to restore despotism by counterpoising Mashru'eh (the rule of Shari'a) to the constitution. The British, who at the outset supported the constitution in order to organize an inefficient monarchy and weaken Russian influence, now realized that the internal dynamics of the revolution could take it beyond their intended reforms, and no longer actively supported the constitution. Instead, they made a deal with the Russians over the division of Iran. 42 Instrumental in the shah's anticonstitutional campaign was the winning

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over of Shaikh Fazlollah Nuri and his followers. As early as February 1907, when the newly conceived Majlis-e Melli was discussing implementation of secular reforms, Nuri began organizing a traditionalist constituency "by capitalizing on the issue of the differential rights of the Muslims and the religious minorities while at the same time seeking rapprochement with the Shah." 43 While Shaikh Nuri and the royalists were mobilizing their forces against the constitution, the Society of Guilds organized a general strike in the bazaar in support of the constitution, drawing as many as 100,000 citizens, including 7,000 armed volunteers from Tabriz. 4 4 Faced with popular support for the constitution, the shah temporarily retreated, regrouping his forces to wait for an opportune time to strike back. Encouraged by the Russians, the shah was now becoming more aggressive and attempted a coup against the constitutional government. In 1908, he asked Liakhov, the commander of the Russian Cossack brigade, to bombard the national assembly. Two hundred and fifty people were killed, the Majlis was looted by the supporters of Nuri and the shah, and in the ensuing period many constitutionalist leaders were either arrested, murdered, or sent into exile. T h e two prominent pro-Mashruteh M u j t a h i d s , Tabataba'i and Behbahani, were put under house arrest. The royalists seized Tehran, but the rest of the country, encouraged by the fatva (injunction) declared by the three leading marja'-e taqlid (supreme sources of religious emulation) from Najaf, 4 5 rose in defense of the constitution. The armed detachments from Tabriz, Rasht, and Isfahan, led by Sattar Khan and Baqir Khan, Yeprem Khan, and Samsam al-Saltaneh, respectively, converged on Tehran. The royalist forces disintegrated swiftly: the shah fled to the Russian embassy, and the leading opponents of the constitutional movement, including Shaikh Fazlollah Nuri, were executed. The newly formed grand assembly deposed Mohammad Ali Shah and nominated his twelve-year-old son, Ahmad, to succeed him. Azad al-Mulk, the liberal Oxford-educated Qajar statesman, became the royal regent. On August 5, 1909, the second national assembly of the Majlis convened and, for the time being, the constitutionalists won the day. The new Majlis began implementing some reforms, including hiring Morgan Shuster of the United States to manage Iran's finances. The Russians thoroughly disapproved of the entrance of the United States into the Russo-British rivalry and threatened to attack the Majlis. Under the Russian threats, as early as 1911, the Majlis was dissolved. A constitutional revolution without a parliament was a farce; constitutionalism, for all practical purposes, was defeated in Iran. The Ulama There is no general consensus among historians on the role of the ulama during the constitutional movement. Whereas some consider the role of the

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ulama to be thoroughly revolutionary, 46 others depict them as completely counterrevolutionary. 47 There are yet other scholars who propose to divide the ulama's participation along class lines, arguing that only the lowerranking clerics participated in the movement, whereas the upper stratum of the clergy were tied to the court and status quo and did not welcome a revolution. 48 The scholars who depict the ulama as a monolithic revolutionary force close their eyes to a lengthy history that testifies to the hostility of a sector of the ulama toward the principle of constitutionalism. Those who consider the ulama counterrevolutionary, similarly, look only at that part of history that fulfills the needs of their ideological commitment. Hence, those who reduce the complexities involved in the participation of the ulama to its class basis alone do so by overlooking many specific facts that nullify a rigid and categorical division of the ulama. The first outlook ignores the anticonstitutional role played by Shaikh Nuri and his supporters. The second overlooks the role of Na'ini and his cothinkers, and the third is unable to explain the anomaly of Tabataba'i and Behbahani, who both came from the higher echelons of society and had ties to the court, but supported the constitution for their own reasons. A closer look at the history of the constitutional movement reveals that the ulama did not display a unified reaction toward the revolution and constitutionalism. Populism of ulama in this period can be divided into traditionalist (anticonstitutional) and reformist (proconstitutional) categories. Clearly, there were groups of ulama who felt threatened by a Western-inspired secular law and lent their patronage to the monarchy and resisted any social reform that might jeopardize their vested ideological and material interests. Another sector of ulama to a certain extent advocated social reforms that would curb the power of Qajar kings and make their arbitrary rule accountable to public consent. They supported the constitutional revolution insofar as it did not pose a threat to the Islamic law. In contrast to the revolutionary populism of the clergy in the 1970s, the salient feature of proconstitutionalist ulama's populism during the revolution was its reformism. Those members of the ulama who supported the Constitutional Revolution did not call for overthrowing the monarchy. They aspired only to reform it. The anticonstitutionalist ulama (Mashru'eh Khahan) opposed freedom of the press, on the grounds that it would lead to "degradation of the state and nation . . . and give rise to numerous religions." 49 They asserted that a constitution separate from the Shari'a, insofar as it challenged the validity of the Shari'a as a complete guide for life, is a weapon in the hands of infidels. Freedom and equity also came under attack because of their alleged negation of the divine will. Shaikh Nuri, for example, argued, "The Islamic faith owes its persistence to obedience rather than freedom. Islamic principles are based on discrimination against non-believers, rather than equality for all.

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The spirit of Islamic precepts is based on the assumption that human beings are unequal. Therefore, I and all other Muslims demand a parliament that is not contrary to Muhammad's Shari'a and Ja'far's religion. This is the basic difference between us and the infidels, be they Babi, Mazdaki, or the Westernized naturalist [materialist]." 50 Ali Akbar-e Tabrizi, another pro-Mashru'eh cleric, proclaimed, "The Iranian people believed that mashruteyat [constitutionalism] would lead to dissemination of the Shari'a and Muslim brotherhood would replace hostilities." 51 Disillusioned by the secular reforms implemented under the new constitution, he questioned whether the Majlis (parliament) was the envisioned edalat khaneh (house of justice). He asserted that the corrupt elements had changed the content of the constitution: "Instead of worshipping God, they encourage the people to worship the Majlis. They told people the Majlis would give them justice. Whatever farangi [Westerners] and infidels said about Islam and Muslims, they regurgitated it. They abandoned Islamic laws and adopted farangi laws. They even advocated freedom of women." 52 Threatened by the secularizing impact of a Western-inspired constitution, a sector of the traditionalist ulama supported the monarchy as the guardian of the status quo. This sector of ulama also opposed social reforms, which they perceived to be anti-Islamic. Shaikh Nuri and his cothinkers opposed the opening of schools for women and the building of factories and "European" industries. They proposed that, instead, the funds be used for rauza-khani.tt Shaikh Nuri's major objection to constitutionalism and parliamentarianism centered around the following issues: "the inauguration of the customs and practices of the realms of infidelity, . . . the intention to tamper with the sacred law which is said to belong 1300 years ago and not to be in accordance with the requirements of the modern age, the ridiculing of the Muslims and insults directed at the ulama, the equal rights of nationalities and religions, the spread of prostitution, and freedom of the press which is 'contrary to our sacred law.'"54 To strike a blow at the legitimacy of the constitutionalists, Shaikh Nuri stressed the "alien" and "Europeanness" of the parliament and the fundamental law. He made this explicit when he asserted, "Fireworks, receptions of the ambassadors, those foreign habits, the crying of 'Hurrah!', all those inscriptions of 'Long live, long live! Long live equality, fraternity!'—why not write on one of them: "Long live the sacred law, long live the Quran, long live Islam!'?" 55 As the perceived guardians of cultural authenticity and religious sanctity, Sheikh Nuri and his followers felt threatened by the intelligentsia's adoption of Western secular values. Convinced that constitutionalism and Islamic traditionalism were not compatible, they vehemently attacked the constituionalists as the agents of Western influence in Iran. Theirs was an effort to uphold the defensive position of Islam before a dynamic, self-

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confident West intent upon economic domination and universalization of its values and culture. In c o n t r a s t to the a n t i c o n s t i t u t i o n a l i s t u l a m a , m a n y of the proconstitutionalist ulama were supportive of the constitutionalism insofar as it curbed the arbitrary rule of the monarch. Among these clerics were Mirza Mohammad Na'ini and Mullah Abdul Rasul Kashani. In his political tract in support of constitutionalism, Na'ini used Shi'ite jurisprudential methodology to illustrate the desirability of constitutionalism over tyranny. In Tanbih alUmma va Tanzih al-Mella (The Admonition and Refinement of the People) 56 published first in Iraq in 1909 and in Tehran in 1910, Na'ini argued that since the realization of the ideal government, which was the government of the imam, was not possible, Shi'ites had to choose between the two alternatives of tyranny and constitutionalism. He refuted tyranny on these grounds: First, because God was just, a reign of oppression was contrary to God's will. Second, such a reign was a usurpation of the imam's authority. Third, it was oppressive to people. After enumerating the evils of tyranny in an attempt to discredit the supporters of Mashru'eh, he drew a parallel between political despotism and religious tyranny, arguing that, as subservience to the oppressive rule of a despot kept the nation in bondage, so does the obedience to the arbitrary and repressive commands of the religious leaders who do not have the interest of the people at heart. Na'ini attacked the guardians of religious despotism and concluded that there was a direct relationship between political and religious despotism. He contended that whereas the first was based on brute force and repression, the second was based on deception and misguidance. 57 Na'ini defended freedom and equity, arguing that these were God-given gifts to humankind and that, without them, the rights of the people could not be protected. To protect national sovereignty and people's rights, he called for a national parliament to implement reforms, including educational reform to enlighten the people and save them from darkness and ignorance. 58 Another prominent proconstitution clergyman of this period was Mullah Abdul Rasul Kashani. 59 In his Resali-ye Insafeyyeh Dar Osul Omdeyeh Mashruteh (Some Considerations on General Principles of Constitutionalism) he advocated human rights, higher education, industrialization, and the struggle against poverty. He praised modern civilization and its legal code, tracing the roots of Iranian backwardness to lawlessness and arbitrary rule. Kashani defended freedom of the press, stating that a newspaper was the best instrument to guide the public to the right path. No nation, he said, could achieve progress without a press to pinpoint the "wrongdoings," "fight oppression," and "defend the rights of the neglected ones." He warned the public against Western economic domination of Iran, arguing that without economic independence, political progress was not possible. According to Kashani, the greatest obstacle before constitutionalism was poverty. He

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concluded that Iran must first end foreign control of its wealth, build the economy, create jobs, and then constitutionalism would follow. Otherwise, the nation would be doomed. 6 0 Among the better-known clerical supporters of the constitution were Ayatollah Sayyed Mohammad Tabataba'i and Sayyed Abdollah Behbahani. 61 Whereas Behbahani was known to have participated in the constitutional m o v e m e n t for personal reasons, and perhaps to redeem himself for his reputation as a venal mullah, Tabataba'i was considered to be a genuine constitutionalist with some genuine sympathy toward the idea of public sovereignty. Tabataba'i was a disciple of Shirazi and a friend of Afghani. He had traveled to Russia, Turkey, and the Arab world and had contacts with the F r e e m a s o n s and Persian secret societies. T h e s e c o n t a c t s m a d e him sympathetic to modernism and constitutionalism. 62 Tabataba'i's primary concern, like that of many other constitutionalists, was to make the repressive arbitrary rule of the monarchy accountable to some sort of legal code, preferably one derived from the Shari'a. However, the constitutionalist ulama were not quite clear about the political meaning of c o n s t i t u t i o n a l i s m a n d did n o t r e p r e s e n t a u n i f i e d p e r c e p t i o n of it. Tabataba'i's statement in defense of constitutionalism reveals this point: We have not demanded anything from the government but justice. Our aim is to establish an assembly by which we may find out how much our helpless people suffer from the oppressive provincial governments. We want justice, the execution of Islamic law, and an assembly in which the king and the poor may be treated according to the law. We do not talk about constitutionalism and republicanism.63

It is evident that there was no opposition to the institution of monarchy, either on a doctrinal basis or some prorepublican sentiment. In fact, Tabataba'i dispelled such an illusion when he said: People should choose a person as a king to protect their rights and defend their interests; the king is the people's representative. He should remain king as long as he gives his service to the people. If the king turns careless and lascivious, the people should remove him from the throne and appoint another one. 64

The key question here, as in earlier periods of Iranian history, concerned the justice of the king and not kingship per se. Hence, the ulama's opposition to the shah's tyranny did not necessarily imply their support of Westem-style democracy. On the contrary, the ulama who opposed the monarchy did so f r o m an Islamic perspective, and overwhelmingly supported the rule of Islamic law over a secular constitution. Those who were sympathetic to the idea of constitutionalism favored it because they thought it was more just and would reinforce the rule of the Shari'a.

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In regard to the ulama's role in the constitutional movement, the following points must be emphasized. 1. The ulama were not the initiators of the constitutional movement in Iran. The idea of constitutionalism, whether it is conceived of as the creation of a Rousseauian social contract or a government by popular sovereignty based on secular law, is opposed to the traditional interpretation of the Shari'a or the rule of Islamic law. The idea of constitutionalism was introduced and popularized by the modernist intellectuals. However, the blessing and support of the sector of ulama who were sympathetic to constitutionalism was decisive for the initial success of the movement. 2. In Iran, unlike in Egypt or India, no Islamic reformist movement succeeded in achieving a long-lasting impact on the society. With the exception of Afghani, Na'ini, Kashani, and Tabataba'i, to name a few, the majority of ulama were hostile to cultural penetration of the West and its secularizing impact. Therefore, the ascendency of Islamic traditionalism in Iranian culture and religious life for the most part remained unchallenged. 3. Although an alliance developed between the merchants and the intelligentsia throughout the Constitutional Revolution, such an alliance never materialized between the intelligentsia and the clergy. 65 A sector of the clergy looked upon the political development of monavvar al-fekran (the intellectuals) with dismay and was apprehensive about the dissemination of their non-Islamic ideas. Until the second half of the nineteenth century, the ulama, as their name indicates, were considered to be the only "learned men" in the society. They had the last word on philosophical, ethical, social, judicial, and cultural matters. The judicial, educational, cultural, and welfare systems of the country were virtually in their hands. Now for the first time in Iranian history, the ulama witnessed the proliferation of a rival group in the society, which proposed the creation of a legal code separate from the Shari'a; it encouraged the creation of schools different from the ulamacontrolled madrassahs and propagated ideas that negated Islamic orthodoxy. Therefore, the active existence of the intelligentsia as a distinct social stratum posed certain threats to the continuation of the ulama's viability as a social g r o u p . This c o n f l i c t of interest b e t w e e n the u l a m a and the intelligentsia partially explains the inability of the constitutionalists to mobilize the masses effectively in defense of constitutionalism and to secure the rule of law in face of the onslaught of monarchial absolutism. The differences between these two political groups was fundamental and centered around their opposite views of man and society. As Edward Browne observed: The democrats desired to make all Persian subjects equal in the eye of the law, but the clericals strongly opposed any surrender of the privileges at present enjoyed by Muslims over the adherents of other religions and demanded that no

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law agreed upon by the Assembly should become valid until it had been ratified by a clerical committee as being in conformity with the Shari'a. . . . Nor did the opposition of the clerical leaders confine itself to great questions of principle: they have in some cases objected to words and expressions savouring of theology or suggesting foreign ideas. 66

The proconstitutionalist ulama supported the movement to the extent that the Shi'i hierarchy would participate in the process of legislation, and the laws passed by the parliamentary legislative body would be in conformity with the Shari'a. Otherwise, a committee of Mujtahids had the right to veto legislations that were deemed non-Islamic. In other words, the ulama's primary devotion was to Islam rather than to constitutionalism. 4. Insofar as the ulama opposed the monarchy, their opposition remained circumscribed and cautious. In fact, the ulama "never acted alone, nor did they press for unfettered political power on the basis of a religious theory of political legitimacy. Not only were there many ulama who declared it sinful to disobey the Shah. . . . Those who disobeyed demanded no more than that he rule in accordance with Islam and seek the welfare of the Muslim community."67 5. Even when some of the proconstitutionalist ulama supported constitutionalism, they seemed to have had Mashru'eh in mind. Tabataba'i, Behbahani, and many other notable clerics, for example, gathered in a "secret organization" in 1905 to pass a resolution declaring that "all the rights of ministers must be confined to the laws of Shari'a."68 Mojed al-Islam, one of the clerics present, gave the following explanation for the above resolution: "Mashruteh government means a Mashru'eh government. All the people in the land, from the king to the beggar, are equally subject to obeying the Shari'a. When Muslims speak of Mashruteh, they are actually referring to the reign of the Shari'a."69 Or when some of the ulama spoke of Majlis, they spoke of Majlis-e Shoura-ye Island (Islamic parliament). Their opposition to "tyranny and injustice" did not mean they aspired to a secular democracy. Some of the proconstitutionalist ulama were unclear about the nature of constitutionalism and supported it out of certain illusions. The attempt of intellectuals such as Malkum Khan and Talibzadeh to reconcile constitutionalism and Islam was partially responsible for this confusion. However, after 1909, when it appeared that constitutionalism had led to a secular government and the shah's arbitrary rule had remained intact, even the staunchest clerical supporters of the constitution, Na'ini and Tabataba'i, withdrew their support for constitutionalism. Na'ini gathered his books in support of the constitution and threw them into the Tigris River.70 Similarly, Ayatollah Tabataba'i expressed regret for having supported the constitution.71 Ayatollah Behbahani became the target of assassination by the constitutionalist Fedayan group for his collaboration with the monarchy, and the rest of the ulama remained aloof from the political arena.

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In light of what has been discussed so far, a legitimate question arises: Why did the clergy of the constitutional era turn into the militant leaders of the 1979 revolution? The next five chapters constitute an attempt to deal with this question.

8 NEO-ISLAMIC POPULISM Let them torture me, let them sacrifice my flesh and blood on behalf of the masses. As long as there is oppression, there will be struggle; as long as there is struggle, there will be defeats and victories with the final victory going to the masses. I don't make this claim, history does. —Mehdi Reza'i Mother, I belong to the deprived masses to whom I owe my livelihood and comfort. I must pay back my debt. —Saeed Saffar, a young Muslim militant The people became a kind of divine will active in history, in the service of which lay social regeneration and personal fulfillment. —James Billington With the exception of the Jangali movement led by lay Muslim nationalist Mirza Kuchik Khan-e Jangali (d. 1921) and the Khiabani movement in Tabriz led by learned cleric and "democrat" Shaikh Mohammad Khiabani (d. 1920), no major religiously oriented political movements occurred between the constitutional movement and the 1963 rebellion. When Reza Shah overthrew the Qajar dynasty and assumed power in 1926, Ayatollah Hassan Modarres was the only major cleric in the Majlis who opposed him. 1 Some scholars contend that Modarres's opposition to Reza Shah was not based on antimonarchical sentiment per se. Rather, he primarily opposed the monarch's secularizing policies. 2 With the exception of Modarres, no major cleric emerged as a national figure until Ayatollah Sayyed Mostafa Kashani. Kashani abstained from political activity during the reign of Reza Shah. Then in 1948 he began to

The term neo-Islamic populism refers to politicization and popular reinterpretation of Islamic theology in the 1960s and 1970s mostly associated with the pedagogic writings and lectures of Ali Shariati, Ayatollah Khomeini, Ayatollah Taleqani, and Motahhari. 109

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collaborate with the clandestine organization of Fedayan-e Islam. Ayatollah Kashani's opposition to the absolutism of Mohammad Reza Shah never went beyond "certain proposed modifications of the constitution."3 In the coup d'état of 1953, Kashani supported the royalist position. After the coup d'état, he resigned from political activity altogether.4 Ayatollah Hosain Borujerdi ranked higher than Ayatollah Kashani in religious learning and was considered to be the sole Marja'-e taqlid (source of emulation) of all Shi'ites until his death in 1961. Fearing a communist takeover, he welcomed the shah's return to power in 1953 and maintained friendly relations with the court. In fact, Borujerdi "communicated an attitude of quietism to his vast following," and "royal visits to his residence were not repelled."5 How, then, can one explain the relative acquiescence of the ulama and Muslim scholars in the 1940s and 1950s and their subsequent activism in the 1960s and 1970s? By the 1960s, Iranian society, under the impact of international and domestic events, was undergoing fundamental political and cultural transformations that politicized the ulama and gave rise to a new interpretation of Islam. It is against this background and under the impact of new political and ideological forces that neo-Islamic populism developed. The politicization of Iranian culture in the 1960s remained unnoticed for the most part until the revolution of 1979. The reason for the negligence of such a profound metamorphosis must be sought in the fact that the intellectual and cultural life under the monarchical repression of this period had a semiunderground character. Comparison of the political culture of the constitutional era with that of the decades of the 1960s and 1970s will emphasize the qualitative changes of this period.

CULTURAL RENAISSANCE: COMPARISON WITH THE CONSTITUTIONAL ERA

Iranian society underwent a cultural renaissance in the 1960s and 1970s similar to the changes in political atmosphere that preceded the Constitutional Revolution. New literary and political trends began to appear. Numerous papers critical of the monarchy were published and smuggled into Iran. Beneath the apparent calm, Iranian society was undergoing a profound upheaval. As it is often the case in authoritarian societies, however, these changes in their initial stages found their articulation among a small circle of intellectuals who lived a semiunderground ideological life. But the social symptoms were everywhere to be seen. There were qualitative political differences between the cultural renaissance of the 1960s and the constitutional era. Whereas the pervading character of the intellectual renaissance of 1890-1910 was constitutionalist in form and liberal reformist in content, the overriding element of intellectual thought in 1960-1979 was its tendency to go beyond constitutionalism and

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reformism per se, and it was profoundly populist.6 Whereas the leading secular oppositionist intellectuals of the constitutional movement, such as Akhundzadeh and Kermani, were anti-Islamic and anti-Arab and overtly advocated Western values, the most influential intellectual members of the 1960s, such as Al-e Ahmad and Shariati, were protagonists of Islamic values, pro-Arab, and anti-Western. During the constitutional period, the rebellion in thought and action had led to a break with the Islamic identity on the part of many intellectuals who perceived this identity to be irreconcilable with their democratic aspirations. In the 1960s, however, there was a concerted effort to revive the Islamic identity. Although Kermani ridiculed the pilgrimage as a superstitious habit in which "people go around a black stone several times like crazy persons," 7 Al-e Ahmad, one of the foremost intellectuals of the 1960s, felt reborn while performing the ritual of pilgrimage. In Mecca, he found a sense of peace, serenity, cohesion, and unity in life—a feeling of closeness to his fellow men he had never found before. 8 Whereas Kermani wondered why an Iranian should be concerned with the life of Imam Ali or Husain, Shariati found in the example of these two an inspiring and legitimate source for political inspiration. The constitutional era intellectuals sought a model in the West to emulate; the political taboo of the intellectual generation of the 1960s was "Westoxication." At the turn of the century a proconstitutionalist intellectual, such as Malkum Khan, could publicly advocate Western investment in Iran, but by the 1970s no oppositionist intellectual concerned for his public image could afford to take such a chance on his political fortune.9 In the constitutional period, Malkum Khan and Talibzadeh attempted to reconcile Islam with constitutionalism for reasons of political expediency, without attempting to forge a new Islamic ideology. In the 1960s there was a deliberate effort on the part of Shariati and his cothinkers to politicize Islam and to present an alternative Islamic ideology to combat the hegemony of Western-inspired secular ideologies in political life. The rapid expansion of Western economic and cultural influence in Iran played a decisive role in this turn of events. Devoid of indigenous cultural context, the penetration of Western culture designed to Westernize Iranians ultimately produced the opposite effect. In pursuit of self-assertion, many Iranians reached deep within and revived their cultural identity, Shi'ism. Summarizing her evaluation of the nineteenth-century intellectual reformers of Iran, Mangol Bayat writes: "At the dawn of the nationalist era, the founders of nationalist thought were absolutely free of the existential and national anxiety that characterizes twentieth-century thinkers. Free of the need to reject 'the other' (the West) in order to assert the 'self and free of the morbid love-hate passion that consumes the minds o f contemporary traditionalists." 10 In other words, for the nineteenth-century intellectuals "who had not experienced 'the dislocation of the self which modernized

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contemporary thinkers have been living through, the root of the sociocultural problem was not Europe, but the prevailing religious and intellectual conditions that they deplored."11 In fact, the "dislocated self," in defiance of "the other," romanticized the "self' to the extent that it became incapable of critical self-examination. This romanticization of the self was partially the product of historical recreation of self and reinterpretation of the past. For instance, Al-e Ahmad, in his réévaluation of the Constitutional Revolution, hails the role of Shaikh Fazlollah Nuri as a tower of resistance against "Westoxication." He asserts that it was after the "martyrdom" of Shaikh Nuri that "they sealed our foreheads with Westoxication. I see his honorable hung head hanging over this nation as a banner of Western domination ever since."12 Al-e Ahmad praised the clergy as the bulwark of resistance to Westoxication, and condemned the intellectuals of the constitutional era as "traitors" who paved the way for the subjugation of Iran to the West. Al-e Ahmad's conclusion must be seen in the light of the fact that many of the leading intellectuals of the post-World War n period had gone through the experience of disillusionment with the pro-Moscow Tudeh party. They had also witnessed what they perceived to be the ineffectiveness of Mossadeq's liberal politics in demolishing the monarchy.13 Both Shariati and Al-e Ahmad looked for a third path beyond Soviet communism and Westerninspired liberalism. As Keddie has observed, there is another paradox to be discerned in comparing the constitutional era and the 1960s. During the Constitutional Revolution, when Iran was not yet modernized, many members of the ulama supported a revolution that made a Western-style constitution the fundamental law of the society. In 1979, when the Iranian society was far more Westernized, the ulama led by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini rejected a Western-style constitution and opted for an Islamic constitution and social order.14 There are several explanations for this apparent paradox. First, with the blow to national pride after the 1953 coup d'état, nationalist sentiment intensified. The reaction to Western encroachment took on a more extreme character and, at this crossroads of history, the preoccupation with the question of cultural and national identity once again became the primary political issue of concern. Second, during the constitutional era, the backward absolutism of the decrepit Qajar state was considered to be the source of poverty, underdevelopment, and social injustice. It was hoped that creation of a constitution would modernize the state and curb the arbitrary, repressive rule of the king. During the Pahlavi dynasty, however, coercion was exerted through a "modern" state that had very little respect for Islamic culture of the country, adopting a hollow version of Western culture and counterpoising it to Islamic culture.15 Therefore, a return to Islam became, on the one hand, a symbolic gesture to refute the culture of the Westernized elite and, on the other, it projected the hopes of reviving the perceived egalitarianism, virtuous piety,

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and social harmony of the pristine Islamic community. The third and perhaps most important factor was the radicalization of Iranian society after the 1960s. This radicalized culture was as yet embryonic and lived a semiunderground existence, but, due to its articulation of the deeply felt frustrations and national aspirations of many Iranians, its emotional appeal and impact was immense. The recruits of this radicalized political culture came from a new generation and were in pursuit of new ideas. The study of the genealogy and characteristics of this generation illuminates the course of subsequent political events.

THE GENERATION OF THE 1960s

To have a revolution, there must be a revolutionary generation. The modern history of Iran has seen the rise and fall of three distinct political generations. The first generation, stepping into the political scene in the 1890s, participated in the constitutional movement and vanished during Reza Shah's suppression of his opponents in the 1920s. The generation of the nationalist revolution emerged in the 1940s and then resigned from politics with the waves of political demoralization that characterized the aftermath of the 1953 coup d'état. The third generation entered the political arena in the 1960s and became the proponents or leaders of the 1979 revolution. There has been a cyclical pattern in the rise and demise of political generations in modern Iranian politics. After each revolutionary period and the subsequent defeat of the movement, demoralization has set in, causing the revolutionary generation to tum passive until new, volatile political events gave rise to a new revolutionary generation. The generation of the 1960s inherited a legacy of failures and tragedies. Yet it did not directly experience the bitter defeats of the past and, consequently, was not demoralized by them. This new generation was deeply inspired by the examples of the revolutionary tides that swept the colonial world in Asia after the Second World War. The recent Chinese, Cuban, Algerian, and Vietnamese revolutions were the subjects of heated debates among this generation. This was the period when China went through the Cultural Revolution and Mao espoused the idea of world revolution with strong "Third Worldist" rhetoric. In Cuba, Che Guevara, the revolutionary hero of radicalized youth throughout the world, took his crusade to Bolivia in an attempt to repeat the Cuban revolution there. The Algerian revolution gained prestige by creating a prosperous economy and a stable government. The Vietnamese revolution was at its height, and the Palestinian movement became the focus of attention due to the renewal of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Worldwide radicalization of youth in the decade of the sixties, partly inspired by U.S. involvement in Vietnam and the existence of a worldwide antiwar movement, had its important impact on Iranian youth as well. Advances in communications and emergence of satellite television had

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shrunk the political arena by bringing distant events into the home. The impact of events in other parts of the globe had, therefore, become more immediate and relevant. Because political life inside the country was stifled, political trends abroad were followed with eagerness, and relevant inferences were made for the domestic social scene. As in the constitutional era, the growing flow of traffic between Iran and the West played a significant role in molding the intellectual development of Iranian youth. In 1970, half of the population of Iran was under twenty years of age. One-third was between the ages of fifteen and thirty, 16 and there was consequently a large proliferation of students in the decades of the sixties and seventies. In 1922 the number of students enrolled in institutions of higher education was only 91; in 1963-1964 this number was 24,456; and by 1970 it had climbed to 67,268. Between 1956 and 1966 the intelligentsia's numbers went from 332,000 to 513,400. 17 Therefore, by the 1970s Iranian society had witnessed a heretofore unparalleled proliferation of large numbers of educated youth. The fact that one out of every four of these students lived abroad only adds to the significance of these statistics. A study of Iranian students concluded that: "Iran, wilh a population of six million less than that of Turkey and Egypt, has about three times as many students in the United States as either of these two countries." 18 In retrospect, the political ramifications of this large student migration were very significant. By leaving their country to study abroad, many of these young and ambitious students realized for the first time the full extent of their country's backwardness. Although they were products of the present society, their vision was focused on the future. To build a better future, however, they needed to grapple with unsettling questions about the present reality. Among these questions were: What is the source of the poverty and repression in Iranian society? Why had the West advanced while Iran stagnated, struggling with illiteracy, superstition, and poverty? The educated youth, increasing in n u m b e r s , b e c a m e c o n v i n c e d that the r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r Iran's underdevelopment and misfortune lay with the despotic and corrupt monarchical system supported by the West. Monarchy, and especially the person of the shah, were now perceived to be the source of evil and responsible for the social ills of the society. The students abroad also subserved as a transition group, introducing Iranians to the latest philosophical and political trends in the West. Once introduced, ideas live their own lives. The radical and liberal Western ideologies that could have been subjects of "harmless" intellectual discourse in London, Paris, and New York were now transformed through an urgently felt need for political action into weapons for intellectual as well as for political struggle. Certain scholars have linked the overproduction of educated strata to intellectual radicalism and participation in revolutionary activities. 1 9

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A l t h o u g h an o v e r s u p p l y of i n t e l l e c t u a l s in itself m a y n o t l e a d to revolutionary participation, the rapid expansion of education among the lower classes, w h o s e upward mobility is threatened by rampant social corruption, definitely predisposes them favorably toward changing the status quo. Whereas at the turn of the century education was an exclusive privilege of the upper classes, by the 1960s the number of middle and lower classes enrolled in institutions of higher education increased drastically. These new entrants into educational institutions brought with them their particular class sympathies and attempted to enlighten their fellow students about the sufferings and deprivation of the oppressed. The rebellion of 1963 also had a great impact on the youth, and many considered it a turning point in the oppositional attitude toward the government. After the bloody crushing of the 1963 rebellion by the shah's troops, a sector of the opposition became convinced that peaceful means of struggle were futile. The only effective means to confront the government's repressive policies was through force. The concept of armed struggle was thus developed, and the first organized guerrilla assault on government forces was launched in early 1971. It was in this atmosphere that guns took precedence over politics, and opposition politics as a whole took a leftward swing. The generation of the 1960s also inherited a legacy of clandestine politics. This added a sense of adventure and drama to the politics of this period. Since open political dialogue and debate were not possible, the real political life was driven underground. Because students were not allowed to have free political associations and discussion clubs, they joined clandestine organizations. Such organizations provided an outlet for political discussion and participation. Because the intelligentsia was not granted freedom of speech and assembly, it became increasingly convinced that monarchical absolutism was incompatible with democratic freedom. T h e more the monarchy turned a deaf ear to demands for meaningful change, the more youth became alienated. Now political rebellion seemed the only channel available for political expression. The significance of youth unrest derived from the fragile social structure of I r a n i a n s o c i e t y and f r o m the e x p l o s i v e n a t u r e of p o l i t i c s in an undemocratic setting. Commenting on the alienation of Iranian youth, James Bill writes: "Since the system is composed of interrelated and interwoven webs with maneuverers and uprooters active in many webs, frustration and alienation in one web is swiftly channeled into other webs as well. Student unrest in the university, for example, feeds directly into the national political system." 2 0 Indeed, in this transitional role of student unrest lay another factor contributing to the political significance of this social group. F i n a l l y , t h e y o u n g g e n e r a t i o n of the 1 9 6 0 s had n o m e m o r y of Mossadeq's liberal era and was appalled by Moscow's support of the shah's regime. 21 The preoccupations of the liberal generation of the Mossadeq era

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with parliamentary and liberal democratic politics were alien to these youth. Many of them identified the Central Intelligence Agency's successful coup d'état of 1953 and the toppling of M o s s a d e q ' s g o v e r n m e n t with the ineffectiveness of liberalism as a political ideology and futility of reformism as a political strategy. 22 Consequently, this new generation looked beyond the Tudeh party's c o m m u n i s m and the National Front's liberalism for political inspiration. There was very little room for a centrist or liberal ideology to emerge. Therefore, the political atmosphere was ripe for the emergence of a new holistic idea or for reinterpretations of the old ones to satisfy the insatiable thirst of the Iranian psyche for faith—a need that was now intensified by the anomie and alienation of modern life. Populism

of the

Intelligentsia

In the developing countries, due to the relative economic and political impotence of the ruling elite and the high rate of illiteracy, the intelligentsia plays an especially important role in the political life. The significance of the intelligentsia has its origins in two related factors. First, because the division of labor is not as refined in the Third World as in the West, intellectuals perform multiple social roles. A playwright might also be a school teacher or a doctor. This diversity of social functions adds to the significance of their already rare skills. Second, due to the closed nature of the political system and prevalence of political repression in most of the Third World countries, intellectuals become the eyes, ears, and voices of the public. Hence, it follows that the weaker the social institutions, especially those c o n d u c i v e to political participation, the more crucial becomes the role of intellectuals, and the Iranian case is no exception. T h r o u g h o u t m o d e r n Iranian history, the m a j o r i t y of the Iranian intelligentsia have been either tacitly or openly critical of the arbitrary, repressive rule of kings. As forebears of critical thought, the intelligentsia have been among the main proponents of social change in Iran, and in the past century have paid a heavy price for voicing their opinions. The majority of political prisoners in the Pahlavi prisons were members of this social stratum, which decisively turned the Iranian literary culture of the 1960s into a "counterculture." T h e main reason for the intelligentsia's repeated c o n f r o n t a t i o n s with the absolutist state was that their need for active intellectual involvement in the political and cultural life of the country c o n s t a n t l y c a m e into c o n f l i c t with the d e m a n d of the m o n a r c h y f o r submission and blind obedience. In order to be able to exercise their profession—to exist as intellectuals—the intelligentsia had to negate the monarchy. From the students in Tehran University who left their schools and went to the factories and villages in order to "link themselves with the masses," to the sons and daughters of the Iranian upper and middle classes abroad who carried sandbags on the hills of Berkeley in an attempt to feel the suffering of

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the masses, it is obvious that the "committed intelligentsia" of the 1960s was intensely populist. Outraged by monarchical absolutism and repression and aware of its own social i s o l a t i o n , the c o m m i t t e d s e c t o r of the i n t e l l i g e n t s i a (,raushanfekran-e motahed) sought its political salvation in inspiring the revolutionary participation of the lower classes. By championing their demands and by setting examples of individual heroism in the struggle against the monarchy, the intelligentsia hoped to arouse the lower classes into political action against the regime. To do this, the intelligentsia required an ideological bridge, which they found in populism. This populism, when combined with revolutionary romanticism, as seen in the poetic and allegorical language often used, was a dominant feature of the political culture of the 1960s. The intelligentsia played a decisive role in the creation and consumption of this new political culture. The appeal of the egalitarian ideas of Islam, on the one hand, and of Marxism, on the other—the two most popular ideologies among the politicized youth of the 1960s—is due to their common underlying populist imagery, rhetoric, and symbols. It was no historical coincidence that the Islamic idea of martyrdom for the cause of social justice was glorified by the Fedayan-e Khalq in Marxist terms. This brings this study to the crucial and relevant characteristics of the Iranian Marxists. The Iranian Marxists of the 1960s and 1970s, especially those groups that took up armed struggle, were heavily influenced by populist thoughts. In fact, reading through Russian populist literature, one finds a striking resemblance between Russian populism and Iranian Marxism. In Iran, however, no Plekhanov or Lenin emerged to draw the fine lines separating Marxism from populism. Russian Marxism grew out of the populist movement of the 1870s, but its later theoretical development was in polemics against populism. The main characteristic of Iranian Marxism, in contrast, was that it never outgrew its populist origin. Iranian Marxists were psychologically so absorbed in the populist precepts that they were never able to graduate from that school of thought. This absorption was manifested in their self-humiliation, messianism, self-righteousness, political absolutism, and—like their Russian counterparts—their elevation of individual terrorism to the level of both strategy and tactics. 23 Hence, Marxism was not a methodology or an analytical tool for understanding and changing the world, as Marx held. It was perceived rather as a total faith to b e followed reverently and unquestionably to the last word. Whereas the Bolsheviks, for example, spoke of the masses as backward toilers who must be raised to the level of Marxist consciousness, 24 Iranian Marxists, like Russian populists, romanticized the masses and glorified their poverty and suffering. 25 Since its inception in the nineteenth century, Marxism has gone through tremendous changes. In most countries where Marxism triumphed, it did so

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either on the impetus of a national and a class revolution or out of the ruins of war, and in many places it evolved into national communism. In fact, Marxism adapted so much to the peculiarities of local developments that at times it changed beyond recognition. Thus Leninism and Maoism reflect Russian and Chinese historical heritage as much as the ideas of Karl Marx. The growth of Marxism in Iran similarly reflects the history of an indigenous culture. Whereas internationally Iranian Marxism was deeply influenced by Stalinism, domestically its development evolved in a Shi'ite environment and its further evolution came under the immediate impact of Shi'ite culture and its conscious and unconscious presuppositions. Iranians who accepted the teachings of Marx did not necessarily negate the Shi'ite self. Being products of Shi'ite upbringing, they could never overcome its powerful psychological grip- 26 Because one of the concerns of all Marxists is the growth of their movement, Iranian Marxists had to adjust their theories to the psychological and historical predispositions and lingerings in the domestic mass culture. The ascendence of Shi'ism in cultural and social life and the populist longing to be close to the people made even more irresistible the capitulation to the pressures of popular piety and to the populist leanings of Shi'ism. 27 This ascendence provides yet another clue to the primary populist character of Iranian Marxists. 28 The words of Khosrow Golsorkhi, a literary figure and one of the foremost secular populist revolutionaries in the decades of the sixties and seventies, are revealing. In his well-known televised last defense while in prison, he stated: "I am a Marxist-Leninist, but I deeply respect the teachings of Islam. In a court whose legality and jurisdiction I do not recognize, I do not defend myself. As a Marxist, I speak to the masses and to history. The more you persecute me, the more proud of myself I become; the more distant I am from you, the closer I am to the people. The more you hate me and my ideas, the more I am loved and adored by the masses. Even if you bury me, as I am sure you will, my corpse will inspire banners and songs." 29 It is in this close interaction and admixture of secular and religious ideas that the populism of the intelligentsia evolved. One of the distinct features of the populist intelligentsia was its religious reverence. This reverence deserves a closer look.

THE RELIGIOUS AURA OF THE POPULIST INTELLIGENTSIA

The term "secular" is a rather misleading concept to describe the sector of the Iranian intelligentsia of the 1960s that understood or analyzed the world around them in nonreligious terms. In a society whose education, judicial, and welfare systems were in the hands of the clergy until the twentieth century, a clear division between the profane and the sacred, the secular and

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the religious worlds never appeared as it did in the West. The uneven economic growth and the prevalence of monarchial absolutism during much of the Pahlavi era helped to reinforce, rather than fundamentally alter, this tenor of Iranian social and intellectual development. The appeal of spiritualism and religion to the intelligentsia of the 1960s and 1970s strengthened the populist character of the political thought in this period. In identifying with the oppressed, the populist intelligentsia found a redemptive psychological compensation for feelings of guilt and social responsibility. Analyzing Russian populists' similar feelings of humility and identification with the poor, Fedotov characterizes this sentiment as a "downward movement of love, a descending self-humiliating love, which finds its joy in being with the rejected." 30 Socialized as children in the Shi'ite culture, the populist intelligentsia was captive to a feeling of reverent attachment to and idealization of the deprived and oppressed. The psyche that has witnessed the intensely emotional ceremonies of Moharram and Ashora in which the tragic suffering, defeat, and martyrdom of Imam Husain and his companions are commemorated through public self-flagellation and weeping, identifies with the downtrodden and the defeated. This sentiment can only b e altered through a successful resocialization process—an experience that many members of the intelligentsia never underwent. Thus, in this period love was interpreted to be a quintessential part of Iranian Eastern heritage and the last refuge from the impersonality, corruption, and benign indifference of modern life. The words of one of the intellectuals of this period express this sentiment: "We should not give up our last eastern stronghold, love. Man has not yet lost his soul. Despite the fear of the machine, brute force, militarism, corrupt technocracy, and the manipulation of public opinion by a commercialized culture, man is still driven toward love." 31 This perception of love is, of course, different from D. H. Lawrence's preoccupation with sensual love that emerged in response to declining human bonds at the zenith of the industrialization of British society. In the atmosphere of the political culture of the 1960s, love increasingly assumed a nonsensual connotation. When the intelligentsia spoke of love, they spoke of love of the people, love of God, or intense devotion to an ideal or an ideology. Those of the intelligentsia who still wrote about sensual love or personal feelings were frowned upon by the populists. The social mission of the intelligentsia was not to pursue wealth and comfort, but to serve the people's cause. 32 Thus the love of the people took on a religious as well as a political cast, finding its sources in Shi'ite gnosis and Iranian No'a doosti (love of human kind) in the popular culture. The populists of this period held that individual emancipation was inconceivable without liberation of the society and especially liberation of the deprived masses. Fyodor Dostoevsky, the renowned Russian writer, could well have been describing the Iranian intelligentsia of the 1960s and 1970s when he wrote: "For the tortured radical of the period love of the

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people was but an outlet of his personal sorrow about himself." 33 Deprived of democratic rights, persecuted by the regime, and alienated from society, the populist intelligentsia identified with the rejected, the deprived, and the oppressed. The people (khalq or tudeh'ha) became the last hope of the intelligentsia for social reconstruction and moral regeneration of the society. In his assessment of Russian populists, Billington writes: "Although 'the people' was thus defined as the laboring class of society, it became more than any mere conglomeration of workers; it became for Mikhailovsky a kind of divine will active in history, in the service of which lay social regeneration and personal fulfillment." 34 This reverent romanticization of the people as "the divine will of history" and their mythologization as the symbol of innocence and purity elevated khalq to a sanctified entity. Seen in this light, populists had an essential trait in common with the Western romantic tradition of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The writings of Western romanticists abound with insights and images that deplore the contamination of the beauty and purity of an earlier life and their replacement with the "dross and filth" of modern life. In the face of the uncertainties and social pressures of modern life when the need for cohesion, meaning, and security cannot be fulfilled in the real world, one may seek its realization internally and take refuge in religion. Religion, however, is not an immutable phenomenon. As a form of consciousness it interacts and is influenced by objective social conditions and in turn modifies these conditions. The impact of Islam on the religious sector of the intelligentsia and its unconscious grip on the psyche of the "secular" intelligentsia helped to raise the people to sainthood so that devoting one's life to serving them could attach meaning to an otherwise "absurd" life. Whereas the religious sector of the intelligentsia held that the only way to serve God is to serve his creatures, the secular populists extolled the khalq as the force of historical transformation. While the secular populists saw the rule of the oppressed as a matter of historical necessity, the Muslim populists perceived of it as a matter of Islamic duty and moral obligation. In the eyes of the populists, the best school of political learning was "the school of the people." They went to the people envisioning themselves not only as enlighteners to raise their consciousness but also as humble and eager students who yearned to learn from the masses and purify their decadent bourgeois values. 35 In their moral idealism and political messianism the religious and secular populists were alike. The absence of any real mass movement and open political participation that would display the real political and social characteristics and possible weaknesses of the people reinforced this romanticized image of the masses. The populist intelligentsia lived a life of self-denial, often put on shabby clothes, took psychological gratification in sharing the pain and suffering of

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the masses, and developed their own language, morality, and rituals. The moralism of the populists was based on paying homage to those principles that were in the interest of the masses. What was perceived to be in service of the people was good and what was not was labeled evil. Likewise, those who were khalqi or mardomi (pro-people) deserved support and those who were zed khalqi (anti-people) must be suppressed. Thus, the social classes were also divided into good and evil. The lower classes were the repository of noble virtues and they were good in nature, whereas the upper classes were venal and evil. Therefore, it is not too farfetched to conclude that the populists attached to the Zoroastrian metaphor of war between good and evil a class content. Commenting on Russian populists, Billington writes: "The narodniks were most deeply influenced by the schismatic belief that all spiritual truth can and must be realized on earth. A messianic belief in the coming kingdom of righteousness was, indeed, the most important single doctrine that the radicals took from the religious dissidents." 36 In such a mindset politics is no longer an instrument of power, possibilities, and progress in which compromise is permissible—it is rather an arena for the realization of noble ideas and the preservation of sacred principles. It is a means to display one's sincerity, purity, fortitude, and faith. The tension between the pragmatic political considerations and the populists' preoccupation with upholding the absolutist principles of faith gave rise to another common characteristic of the populism of this period: sectarianism. The populist sects of the 1960s and 1970s were characterized by dogmatic and scriptural imitation and application of political texts and models, overwhelming concern with principles at the expense of the development of a viable political program, primacy of rituals and ceremonies over theory, replacement of volunteerism for a genuine understanding of the limitations of politics, and, finally, recruitment around the cult of personality of the leader rather than sound political ideas. It is not accidental, then, that many Iranian populists belonged to political sects that resembled a community of saints. Billington notes that there were similarities between Russian populism and sectarian religious tradition. Mikhailovsky, one of the more articulate leaders of Russian populism, described the radical thinkers of the 1870s in Russia as a sect, because they possessed all characteristic signs of sectarianism: "sincerity, formalism, fanaticism, reticence, and a strict but narrow logic." The religious schismatic tradition in Russia was characterized by periodic bursts of apocalyptical expectation. Each sect remained separate from the others in order "to keep alive the essence of 'true Christianity' undefiled by compromise with the ways of the world." 37 This image of preserving the essence of true Christianity uncompromised with temporal authority became the banner of struggle for many Christian sects throughout Russia. 38 The prevalence of sectarian strife and splits among both Muslim and Marxist

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groups in the decades of the 1960s and 1970s purporting to represent "true Islam" or "true Marxism" must be sought in the light of these characteristics of sects common among populists of this period. Reverence, moralism, and sectarianism were, respectively, responses to the perceived loss of "soul" and faith, prevalence of "moral laxity," and a psychological need to prove devotion to the cause, to feel connected and important. In the atmosphere of humiliated national pride that marked the period after the 1953 restoration coup d'état, populism was raised to the level of a national ideology of protest. As the populist metamorphosis of Iranian political culture became more complete, by the 1970s the populist intelligentsia (raushanfekran-e mardomi or khalqi) found a new social prestige and political clout. Even for the uncommitted sector of intelligentsia who were concerned with maintaining a progressive orientation, it was necessary to appear sympathetic to the populist inclination of the committed intelligentsia. For an entire generation of Iranian youth, populism was also the source of political enlightenment. Many were first introduced to social analysis and political thought through secular and Islamic populist ideologies. Billington could have been describing Iranian society in the 1960s when he wrote: Viewed in the context of a society that had known no Renaissance or reformation and was indeed just emerging from the social and religious world of the Middle Ages, populism can be said to represent for Russia a unique form of protesting, if not protestant Christianity.39

Indeed, the Christian moral and historical outlook on the Narodniks had a deep impact, to the extent that Billington suggests Russian populism was a "new Christianity" based on Christian morality without metaphysics. 40 As Western culture came to be increasingly identified with elite culture, many intellectuals, driven by feelings of nationalism and a need for selfassertion, returned to Islam by the late 1960s. Reza Shah's secularizing program was now perceived by many to be a ploy of imperialists to undermine Iranian national culture, Shi'ism. Witnessing the widening gap between the rich and the poor, intensification of political repression, and increasing social anomie, many members of the intelligentsia longed for a revival of spiritual and religious values. Hassan Sadr-e Haj Sayyed Javadi expressed a widely shared sentiment among Muslim intellectuals when he stated: "Piety and spirituality have left our society. Instead our hearts have been filled with fear and darkness. We must struggle for justice and attempt to build a society that is modelled after madinah-ye fazeleh [the prelude to the ideal unitarian classless Islamic society]." 41 Whereas Sayyed Javadi saw the solution to the problems of Iranian society in the creation of an Islamic society, Ali Akbar-e Kasma'i, a secular intellectual, believed the way out of the cultural malaise of the

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Iranian society was in revival of spiritualism. He stated, "As human beings, never before in history were we in such dire need of a spiritual refuge." 42 Beset by the social forces that altered their lives so drastically and so suddenly, the spiritual appeal of Shi'ism to the captive Iranian religious psyche began to grow. It seemed that only a conviction as deeply rooted and as powerful as religion could fill the perceived emptiness and overcome the fear and insecurity of an uprooted intelligentsia who longed for meaning, direction, freedom, and a sense of cohesion in life. As Fedotov has aptly stated: "Politics and culture do not exhaust the meaning of life, even of national life. There are depths of life inaccessible to a too reasonable consciousness." 43 This is definitely true of Iranians as one of the founders of religious tradition in human history and the heirs of the spiritual philosophy of Persian gnosis. Awareness of the legacy of this historical "collective unconscious" and recognition of the intuitive bent of the Iranian intellectual thought is crucial not only for a general appreciation of how history asserts itself at present, but more importantly for an understanding of the background against which populism of the intelligentsia developed. The populism of the intelligentsia can be divided into two distinct categories, populism of the secular intelligentsia and the populism of the religious intelligentsia. Although they were inspired by different ideological sources, there was an underlying similarity between them. It is to the study of these vicissitudes of secular and religious populism that we must now turn our attention.

POPULISM OF THE SECULAR INTELLIGENTSIA The writer is a teacher of the people. —Alexander Herzen Today, poetry is the people's weapon, because the poets are a branch of people's wood. —Ahmad Shamlu The secular populism of the politically committed intelligentsia in the 1960s was a dual phenomenon: ideologically it was inspired by various Western trends of thought, and politically it was a response to Western encroachment. This contradictory character of secular populism stemmed from the nature of the secular committed intelligentsia itself. Although they had their roots in the past, and the majority of them were socialized through a Shi'ite upbringing, their vision was focused toward a future that was inspired by the West but could only come into existence through the negation of the present Westernized regime. The intelligentsia had to confront yet another paradox. They were fascinated by the democratic and scientific aspects of many Western schools of thought, aware of their social isolation, and under the pressures of the nationalist sentiment, yet they always had to ground their new ideas in national culture. The most articulate and competent members of this stratum were found among the literary figures. This chapter, after delineating the social background crucial to the development of Iranian populist intelligentsia, as a case study, will briefly focus on the works of the two populist writers of post-World War II—Behrangi and Al-e Ahmad. Iranian literature of the 1960s was deeply influenced by the populist culture of this period, and also effected a reciprocal impact on that culture. Because there were no alternative political publications to satisfy the thirst of the youth for social knowledge, an entire generation found its first introduction to politics through folk tales, short stories, poetry, social essays, and satire, both from Iran itself and in translations from the West.1 The imaginative literature of the 1960s was perhaps among the richest of its kind in the Third World. The primary reason for the richness of the 124

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Iranian literature of this period must be sought in the fascinating chemistry that occurs when two cultures meet. This chemistry has been the catalytic force for some of the most innovative manifestations of human thought throughout history. The contrast and comparison, juxtaposition and synthesis, bring the conventional and subconscious elements of the cultural identity to light. For the critically minded intelligentsia, the constant réévaluation of self and society elevates self-consciousness to collective consciousness, that is, to history. Therefore, what ultimately comes under scrutiny is history itself. To articulate what is wrong with the present, one must explain, justify, or negate the past. The generation that inherited the philosophy of Persian gnosis and the historical consciousness of such Iranian literary giants as Nasser Khosrou, Hafez, Sa'adi, Mowlavi, and Khayyam, was now discovering Rousseau, Hegel, Freud, Marx, Sartre, and Brecht. They were indeed the recipients of the best tradition of Eastern gnosis and Western rationalism. Appalled by the perceived shallowness of the formal culture of the Pahlavi dynasty, the committed intelligentsia of this period were in the forefront of a tireless attempt to forge a new cultural identity that was rooted in the past, yet was compatible with the most advanced intellectual traditions of the West. Impressed by the power and dynamism of the post-Renaissance Western enlightenment ideas, and yet socialized through a society whose books and ideas are revered as scriptures and revelations, the intelligentsia followed the Western trends of thought with immense interest and intensity. Aware of the underdevelopment of their own society, they sought to struggle forward and bring that society out of the trenches of backwardness by arming it with progressive and scientific Western intellectual traditions. To legitimize their attempts, however, they tried to find precedence for Western ideas in Iranian history. Once introduced, ideas may produce results quite different from what was intended by their originators. Through a dialectical twist, the democratic Western ideas of enlightenment became highly explosive when introduced to Iran in the face of ascending monarchial despotism. These ideas became the subject of heated debates that would ultimately influence many Iranian youth in their leftward swing to revolution. The intelligentsia of the 1960s inherited a legacy of contradictions and conflicts between the Persian gnosis on the one hand and a commercialized version of Western lifestyle (i.e., materialism and consumerism) on the other hand. The ascendence of Western norms devoid of cultural context induced large-scale psychological crises and social anomie. The loss of faith and conviction in a society that until yesterday held steadfastly to Islamic moral values led to dislocation of self and found its expression in social nihilism and intellectual rebellion. Thus, the works of Camus, Sartre, Beckett, Ionesco, and Genet, among the nihilist and existentialist writers of the West,

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became widely popular in Iranian literary circles. The prevalence of this nihilistic spirit among a portion of the Iranian intelligentsia is eloquently captured in the poetry of Forugh Farrokhzad (1935-1967), one of Iran's finest poets of the 1960s: No one thought of love any more No one thought of conquest any more No one thought of anything any more In the caves of loneliness futility was bom The blood smelled of bhang and opium Pregnant women gave birth to headless infants and the cradles, out of shame, took refuge in the graves What black and bitter days! Bread had triumphed over the wondrous strength of prophecy The prophets, hungry and impoverished, fled from the promised lands of God. 2

Although the spirit of nihilist rejectionism and rebelliousness appealed to a segment of intelligentsia, its ultimate passivity held no answer for the c o m m i t t e d m a j o r i t y w h o were predisposed toward political action. Therefore, just as in Russia, nihilism among the populist intelligentsia of Iran proved to be a bridge toward more politicized ideologies. One of the most notable literary developments of the 1960s was the emergence of the idea of an "engaged literature," which was designed to raise social consciousness and to be the voice of the voiceless people. It reminded fellow intellectuals of their social responsibility ( T a ' a h o d - i Ijtema'i) toward the oppressed. As espoused by its proponents, it was intended to express the suppressed aspirations and feelings of the people and to arouse them politically against repression and injustice. Despite their different ideological persuasions, the producers of the engaged literature ((adabiyat-e motahed) of the 1960s had one common characteristic: their literary products possessed a strong populistic streak. The resistance to commercialization of Iranian culture, the constant challenge not to allow the need for bread to "defeat one's social mission in life," became a common theme in many literary works of this period. The words of Ahmad Shamlu, Iran's premier living poet, captures this spirit. In a poem entitled Poetry Which Is Life (1954) he sets the tone for the committed literati of the future. Today poetry is the weapon of the people Because poets are themselves a branch from the forest of the people not jasmines, hyacinths in someone's flower garden. Today's poet is not a stranger

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to the common pains of the people. He smiles with the lips of the people. He grafts people's pains and hopes to his own bones. 3

From Bozorg Alavi's (b. 1904) depiction of the poet as "the guide of the people" to Khosrow Golsorkhi's (d. 1974) portrayal of the poet as "the martyr of the people's cause" we witness the continuity of this populist streak among the Iranian committed modern literati. Behind the populism of the more articulate portion of literati lay a deep awareness of the problem of Third World development. Knowing that they did not possess the necessary techniques and industry to break out of the cycle of underdevelopment prevalent in the East, the intelligentsia sought to utilize the superior manpower of the East for progress. This task, however, required mobilization of the masses. In populism, the engaged intelligentsia sought an ideology that would awaken the masses to their social significance and potential power, and, once in motion, could liberate the entire society. As Haj Sayyed Javadi states: "When in our age a poor nation which lacks knowledge and technique goes through an upheaval and realizes that it cannot change everything over night, it has no other choice but to count on human beings as the main materials to spark the revolution." 4 The altruistic concern for the oppressed was expressed both overtly and implicitly. One of the most heated literary debates of the 1960s revolved around the issue of art for art's sake versus art for the people. Underneath this apparently artistic debate there were profound political implications for the intelligentsia. The pivotal question was: Should intellectuals view art and literature merely from an aesthetic point of view, or regard it as an i n s t r u m e n t w i t h w h i c h to e x p r e s s the p a i n a n d f r u s t r a t i o n s of the downtrodden and expose social oppression? The choice of the engaged intelligentsia was the latter. They pursued two distinct paths toward raising the social consciousness and inculcating a sense of political commitment in their audience. First, they sought to politicize art and change it into an instrument of social criticism and protest. This was called "art for the people." The purpose of this art, in turn, was "to move the listener or the reader to take a step toward restoration of the rights of the voiceless and deprived masses in history."5 Second, they sought to counterpoise the culture of the elite, which they considered to be primarily concerned with the aesthetic concept of art, to the culture of the masses, concerned with social and political issues. Manochehr Hezarkhani, a member of The Writers' Association of Iran, elucidated the crux of the argument: We have two sorts of art. One is that of "unskilled people," as simple as their primitive daily life. It has no right to live and has an underground existence. It is an art that is ridiculed, rejected, manhandled, and labelled as "structured" and

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"anti-artistic." It is slandered as "sloganeering." Since it stems from the real life of the masses, this art is condemned and has been under scrutiny for twenty-five hundred years. There is another kind of art, the dominant and perfumed art of the privileged aristocracy. This art is formal, looks clean, puts on white gloves and satin vest, it is the art of the elite. This art has a "wide circulation." All instruments of communication and brainwashing are in its service. It is intensely co-opted and obedient, with a history of generations of service.6

Stark contrasts like this helped to consolidate the ranks of populist intelligentsia and strengthen their sense of political commitment. In the later part of the decade of the sixties, while a few literary figures began a movement toward qahveh khaneh (teahouses) in order to be in touch with the masses, other more committed members of the literati went to the villages to educate the children of "the oppressed" and to feel and share their suffering.7

SAMAD BEHRANGI

Foremost among the latter group was Samad Behrangi (1939-1968), who became a legend among the populist youth after his drowning in the Aras River. Behrangi, the prototype of the raushanfekr-i mardomi (populist intellectual), was born in Tabriz, and in 1957 began to teach in the rural villages of Azerbaijan. His personal experience with the poverty of peasant life had a lasting impression on him that was reflected in all of his literary works. A dedicated teacher, he extensively traveled throughout Azerbaijani villages, educating and raising the social consciousness of the youth.8 His modest appearance, his image as the selfless teacher of peasant children, his frontal assault against social inequities, and the plain simplicity of his prose rendered him as a prototype folk hero—a populist par excellence. Most of Behrangi's stories capture the life experience of the children of the lower classes and their encounters with the pervading poverty and frustration in their lives. His stories graphically depict social antagonism caused by the inequities, repression, powerlessness, and struggle against such conditions.9 In Pesarak-i Labuforush (The Little Sugar Beet Vendor), for example, we encounter a village boy selling sugar beets to support his mother. Despite his abject poverty, the boy refuses to compromise himself for monetary rewards. In this story, like many others, Behrangi clearly considers the poor to be the repository of superior moral virtues. Unspoiled by bourgeois decadence, they always fight on the side of the forces of good against the evil ruling class in order to cure the societal ills and liberate mankind. In Kachal-i Kaftar Baz (The Bald Pigeon Keeper) the humble bald boy (Tarvardi) with the help of his animals successfully fights a mighty tyranny. In the process of struggle the boy realizes that the key to success is aware-

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ness and unwavering commitment to the cause. Bist-o Chahar sa'at Khab va Bidari (Twenty-Four Restless Hours) is a window to the poverty-stricken lives of migrant peasants trying to make a living in Tehran. Yak Holou va Hezar Holou (One Peach—A Thousand Peaches) paints a picture of the poverty and vast inequalities in Iranian villages.10 Behrangi's best-known work, "The Little Black Fish" brought him fame and popularity not only among children but also among adults. "The Little Black Fish" is a story about a defiant little fish that despite the advice of his mother and other older and wiser creatures of the sea, decides to leave home and find the end of the stream. Encountering friends and foes on the way and accumulating experience and wisdom, finally the little black fish reaches the end of the stream, the open sea. There he learns that, united with other little fish, they can escape the net of the fisherman and gain their freedom. To avenge the death of many fellow fish by the heron and to rescue a small fish caught by it, the little black fish kills the heron but dies himself in the process of struggle, leaving behind a heroic example for millions of little fish to emulate. "The Little Black Fish" in some ways is a telling story about the life of Samad Behrangi himself, who boldly criticized the societal ills, exposing corruption and social injustice. After his sudden death he became a martyr and a folk legend for the politicized Iranian youth. Behrangi was also a collector of Azerbaijani folklore, and he wrote on a variety of subjects, from essays on Iran's educational system and the Constitutional Revolution to stories with strong social and political content. In contrast to the formal prose of mainstream writers, Behrangi adopted a style that reflected the everyday speech of the common people.11 This was consistent with the dominant characters in his stories who were among the poor and powerless in the society. In his introduction to "Olduz and the Talking Doll," Behrangi makes explicit for whom he wrote: Every pampered and selfish child has no right to read Olduz and my story, particularly the wealthy children who ride in big cars, look cocky, and think they are heads taller than the vagabond and raggedy children in the street, never passing through the working class districts. Mr. Behrangi himself said he writes principally for the vagabond, raggedy working class children. Of course, misguided and self-indulgent children can read Mr. Behrangi's stories but only after correcting their thoughts and actions.12

Behrangi's political ideas are more clearly and forcefully expressed in his essays and social criticism. Behrangi's position on the relationship between the artist and his art is indicative of his perception of commitment in art. Commenting on poetry and society, Behrangi asserts: The time has passed when poetry was for amusement and was something like a glass of vodka or like music or programs of "eternal flowers." We do not want a poet who wishes to be "the red fish in the wine bottle!" or who stops right there.

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closing his eyes to all corruption and other events (around him). Neither do we need a poet who today superficially speaks of "injustice or despair" and when it comes to action, he acts as though nothing has happened. Actually, good poetry has never been corrupted in this way. If a poet wants to serve society alongside the engineer, doctor, activist and teacher, he must learn the innuendos of politics and the delicacies of his own art in order to measure up to them and carry out his task.13

In other words, for Behrangi it is a priori that art must address itself to political and social issues. It must r e f l e c t the p e r v a d i n g s u f f e r i n g , oppression, and social injustice. Not only should it be politically awakening, but it must also be informed by the social and cultural experiences of the majority, that is, the lower classes. Criticizing the alienation of some of the literary figures of his generation from the laity, he writes: "They never take the trouble to mingle with the people, to tour villages and the provinces or to see who these people are for whom they write poems and stories." 14 Later in his career as a writer, he explained the reason behind his going to the villages in the following words: "Unless we see and live in the same environment, mix with them and hear their demands and concerns, it is pointless to sympathize with the people. We cannot even write novels for them as some Iranians residing in the West do and, on top of that, consider themselves to be the best writers of Iran." 15 Although Behrangi was a teacher, he considered himself a pupil in the "school of the people," incessantly learning from them and reeducating himself. He primarily wrote for children, so he had to see things from their vantage point. Thus, his didactic style and the simplicity of his prose partially reflected the milieu and the audience he was hoping to reach. He perceived of children's literature as a tool for social engineering. By politicizing children, one ensures social transformation. As he puts it: It is time that we told the children about hunger, poverty and their causes. While we call on children to be honest, we must also explain to them the roots of theft and dishonesty. While we teach them to be benevolent toward the poor, we never teach them how one person ends up destitute and the other becomes rich and powerful. 16

According to Behrangi, two central themes must be introduced in literature for children. First, the literature for children must function as a bridge between "the colorful and the sweet dream world" of childhood and "the bitter and dark" world of adults. Only then can the child pass this bridge, and enter the darkness fully conscious and armed with a guiding light. The second central theme is to impart a certain world vision that would enable the children to evaluate their social surroundings. The literature for children must not only suffice to teach such values as love, humanitarianism, modesty, and prudence in a "Christian manner"; it must also

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teach them to hate everything that is detrimental to human welfare and progress. This hatred must have a place in literature for children. 17 Behrangi's investigation into the educational problems of Iranian society brought him face to face with a phenomenon he called Amrikazadegi (America-mania)—a term describing the multifarious U.S. cultural influence on the Iranian educational system. 1 8 Behrangi criticized the educational system for its Western vision. As he came to observe, most textbooks adopted were translations from U.S. texts, reflecting the life experience of students in an advanced Western society. Such unwarranted adaptations, he argued, contributed to alienation of the village youth from education. Although Behrangi did not use this term as broadly as Al-e Ahmad did his s o c i o c u l t u r a l c o n c e p t of gharbzadegi ( W e s t o x i c a t i o n ) , the social implications of his message are clear. Amrikazadegi cannot be confined only to the educational system; it pervades all aspects of sociocultural life. His conclusion was that to solve the root social ills one must struggle against Amrikazadegi in all facets of social life. It was not accidental that Al-e Ahmad became an admirer of Samad Behrangi and found some of the issues he had raised earlier in his book School Principle reflected in Behrangi's Investigation into Educational Problems in Iran. Thus, on the occasion of commemoration of Behrangi's death, Al-e Ahmad wrote Samad va Afsanehye Avam (Samad and the Folk Legend), which raised certain suspicions in regard to Behrangi's sudden death at the age of twenty-nine. This eulogy and those of Saedi, Hezarkhani, and other dissident writers elevated Behrangi to the status of a martyr and a folk legend. Seen against the background of martyrology in Iranian culture, this further popularized Samad Behrangi and perhaps it is not unjustified to state that he enjoyed a level of popularity not in proportion to his relatively meager literary skills. What was responsible for Behrangi's legend was the populist essence of his message—something he shared with the leading social critic and novelist of the 1960s, namely Al-e Ahmad. Jalal Al-e

Ahmad

Although the unmitigated scorn of a small sector of secular intelligentsia for Iranian culture induced a search for a Western substitute, an overwhelming n u m b e r of educated Iranians, driven by a sense of national pride and engrossed in a quest for identity, opted for some fusion of Shi'ism and Iranian n a t i o n a l i s m . T h e reason b e h i n d this f u s i o n lay in the very paradoxical nature of the committed intelligentsia as a social group. The committed intelligentsia was forward-looking in its "progressive vision," but as a voice of the people it always had to take a step backward to keep its link with the masses. Caught between fear of isolation from the masses, in whose name and f o r w h o s e s a k e they c a r r i e d their c a m p a i g n , a n d the p o s s i b i l i t y of succumbing to the pressures of the most backward elements of society, many

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members of the committed intelligentsia sought a compromise. Al-e Ahmad's social philosophy, epitomizing these vicissitudes of the Iranian intellectual community, provided this transitional ideology and made such a compromise possible. Behrangi was the hero of secular populist youth, and Shariati was the intellectual leader of religious populists; Al-e Ahmad's role, however, was a transitional one between the secular and religious poles. His ideas bridged the gap between the progressive aspirations of the educated Iranians, who hoped to bring the country out of its backwardness by liberating it from Western economic and political domination, and the cultural nationalism of the masses, whose identity was shaped by Shi'ite Islam. It is this duality of Al-e Ahmad's thought, its capacity to articulate widely shared and deeply felt national sentiments, that made him a trendsetter and a leader in the Iranian intellectual community. Al-e Ahmad was the single most influential living literary figure of the 1960s. There were very few intellectuals, including Samad Behrangi, who did not come directly or indirectly under his influence.19 He was highly respected among nationalists and leftists as well as many religious groups, and gharbzadegi became the central theme dominating political discussions in the 1960s and 1970s. Al-e Ahmad and Behrangi both considered the bureaucratic middle class and the technocrats as a pillar of support for the status quo: culturally Westernized, politically conservative, and not to be counted on for effective social change. Throughout their writings, both writers glorify the genuine Iranian character of the suffering masses, their virtues and sincerity, and their vibrant revolutionary potential. But, whereas Behrangi did not concern himself with Shi'ism or the ulama, and his appeal was mainly confined to the revolutionary populist youth, Al-e Ahmad's literary and political appeal was broader and cut across class lines. This was due in part to another characteristic of Al-e Ahmad's political ideology—his eclecticism. His ideas were a synthesis of Iranian nationalism, insights into Shi'ism, Marxism, existentialism, and a general antimonarchical democratism. Born into a religious family, Al-e Ahmad joined the Tudeh party at the age of twenty. After his subsequent disillusionment with Stalinism, and in search of a new identity, he returned to Islam, hoping that by reviving cultural nationalism he could arouse the masses against a repressive and "Westoxicated" monarchy. Al-e Ahmad's sincere effort to be the voice and the awakened conscience of his society, his longing to be close to the people, the simplicity of the characters in his novels, and the prevalence of lay language in his prose all attest to the pervasive populist character of his social thought.20 Just as Herzen, one of the central intellectual leaders of Russian populism, had to draw upon conservative Slavophilism, the national philosophy of Russia, to be in harmony with the nationalist sentiment of the

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masses, A l - e A h m a d and his cothinkers had to ground themselves in Shi'ism to create an alternative ideology to that of the elite Westernized culture o f the monarchy.

The call for a return to past intellectual traditions began with a

critical reexamination o f the present.

A c c o r d i n g to A l - e A h m a d , Iranian

society since the encroachment of Western powers had been plagued by the "disease" called gharbzadegi. 2 1 Westoxication, according to A l - e A h m a d , is like a cancer that gradually d e s t r o y s the b o d y in w h i c h it g r o w s .

T h e W e s t e r n military-industrial

complex is conceived o f as an uncontrollable Frankenstein that threatens the survival of the human race.

The automated life of the West is portrayed as

absurd and directionless; the decline o f morality and prevalence o f anomie depicted in so many Western literary w o r k s is g i v e n as e v i d e n c e .

This

W e s t o x i c a t i o n in its initial stages is a Christian c o n s p i r a c y against the M u s l i m world. Later, h o w e v e r , c o m m e r c i a l interests b e c o m e the central motive for Western encroachment on the East. 2 2 Westoxication breeds its own type of creatures. A Westoxicated man is rootless, culturally bastardized, and politically passive. In the words of A l - e Ahmad: The Westoxicated man has no convictions. He does not believe in anything. He does not negate anything either. He is indifferent about everything. His only concern is himself. He has no faith, no belief, no ideology, no faith in God or humanity. He neither cares about changing society nor concerns himself with religion or atheism. He is not even an atheist. He is a faddist. Sometimes he even goes to the mosque as he goes to a club or movies. But everywhere he is only a spectator as if he is watching a soccer game. He never gets involved; he is always a bystander.23 This portrayal of a Westoxicated man as a self-seeking individual, w h o has b e c o m e pacified by material rewards and has lost all social conscience and sense o f responsibility toward his fellow men, is designed to arouse Iranians politically by appealing to their sense o f cultural nationalism. C l o s e l y linked to his critique of Westoxication of Iranian society is A l - e Ahmad's critical a p p r a i s a l o f the Iranian e d u c a t i o n a l s y s t e m that he p e r c e i v e d to b e instrumental in the Westernization of Iranian society.

Thus, he w a s highly

critical o f "commodification" o f the education that merely serves the purpose o f "creating documents for employment."

Instead o f producing enlightened

individuals with a "fire and enthusiasm," they create "spiritual midgets." T h i s new "governmental dead w o o d " — b u r e a u c r a t s with no social c o n s c i o u s n e s s and c o n s c i e n c e — b e c o m e s the c h i e f instrument o f implementation of Western colonial schemes in the country.

Because there is no

place for traditions and the culture o f the past in the curriculum o f these schools, "no relationship between home and school, between society as a w h o l e and the i n d i v i d u a l s is established:

D e v o i d o f faith, i n d i v i d u a l s

b e c o m e a prey, an instrument of governmental manipulation.

It is precisely

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because of this that the theological schools have flourished in the past decade." 24 Gradually, with popularization of the concept of Westoxication, a new consciousness emerged among the politically committed intelligentsia: the consciousness of self as an "Easterner" as opposed to a Westernized person. Now the perceived spirituality, depth, and richness of the Iranian Eastern cultural heritage was counterposed to the commercialization of Western culture. The human element in Iranian culture was pitted against the Western preoccupation with materialism and technology. 25 Whereas the faceless reign of Western science and technology and the abuse of the same was portrayed as a machine, which in its forward surge destroys human values, individuality, and spirit, the Eastern reliance on man was depicted to be the bulwark of defense of genuinely human values, feelings, and integrity. In the depths of Iranian Eastern cultural heritage lay Shi'ism. In the face of the increasing intellectual appeal of secular ideologies, Iranian history and Islam itself were reinterpreted to present Shi'ism as a viable ideological alternative. Al-e Ahmad remarks: "Arabs did not conquer our country—we invited them to come in." 26 And, in dealing with the modern history of Iran, Al-e A h m a d a t t a c k s the i n t e l l e c t u a l s of the c o n s t i t u t i o n a l era as Westoxicated, while regarding Shaikh Fazlollah Nuri, who was hanged by the constitutionalists for his anticonstitutional political activities, as an effective bulwark against Westoxication and a true defender of Islam. In 0 « Services and Treasons of Intellectuals, Al-e Ahmad defends Nun's stance by arguing that his opposition to the constitution was based on the knowledge that constitutionalism, instead of putting an end to the despotic Qajar rule, would terminate the ulama's power and pave the way for the ascendence of Western culture. 27 According to Al-e Ahmad, only a full-scale Islamic revival could combat the "disease" of Westoxication that appeared to contaminate the entire Muslim world: "As Islam became Islam by conquering Baghdad, Ray, Damascus, Alexandria, Bukhara, and Andalusia, now from all these places it must begin an offensive and put an end to this automated savagery." 28 Inspired by the critical observations of Western humanists like Sartre, Camus, and Gide, Al-e Ahmad envisaged such Islamic precepts as Muslim brotherhood, social solidarity of umma, and social justice as the Islamic alternative to the individualism, social Darwinism, and "moral decay" of the West. Humanism, however, was not the only motive that convinced Al-e Ahmad of the necessity for a revival of Islam. He asserted that the historical defeats of the past revolutions were due to the intelligentsia's alienation from the culture of the laity: Shi'ism. According to Al-e Ahmad, the common people do not trust the intellectuals, and the Westernized intellectual, alienated from his own roots, is incapable of relating to the people. The clergy, on the other hand, has deep roots among the masses. To prevent the

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repetition o f p r e v i o u s tragic d e f e a t s , the d e e p d i v i s i o n b e t w e e n the intellectuals and the clergy must be bridged. The key to any successful uprising against monarchy is the unity of these two groups. A s Al-e Ahmad stated: Intellectuals should either compromise with the clergy and collaborate with them, so that in decisive moments they can control the possible misconduct or oppressive behavior on their part, or they should replace the clergy as soon as possible. If they should choose neither path, then they would comply with the status quo, that is, they become a dual instrument to weaken themselves and the clergy and benefit the government. 29 It was in pursuit o f this political goal that A l - e Ahmad, after the 1963 uprising against the shah, proclaimed an allegiance of support to Ayatollah Khomeini, the leader of that mutiny. 30 S o m e critics, such as R e z a Baraheni, s e e A l - e A h m a d ' s political evolution primarily in terms of his personal dilemmas. Baraheni contends that Al-e Ahmad could never resolve the issue of his religious identity. He was caught between the atheism of Ernest Junger and Nietzsche on the one hand and a semblance of belief in Shi'ite Islam on the other. Thus, Al-e Ahmad's call for unity of intellectuals and the clergy is seen primarily in light of this personal dilemma. 3 1 Whereas in his earlier writings A l - e Ahmad looked at the world of religion with the critical eye of a secularist skeptic, in his later works there is a clear change of attitude toward religion. 3 2 To Al-e Ahmad, Shi'ite Islam is an i n d i g e n o u s , non-Western part o f Iranian culture and d e f i n i t e l y an inseparable part of Iranian national identity. The more he was convinced of the "evilness" of Western civilization, the more he turned toward Islam. A s early as 1962, traces of this religiosity are already apparent in Gharbzadegi. The book ends in the following apocalyptic warning: And now, not as an Easterner, but just like a Muslim of the first generation, who believed in divine revelation and who believed that before his or her own death he or she would be a spectator of the resurrection of the human race on the plains of judgment, I see that Albert Camus, Eugene Ionesco, Ingmar Bergman, and many other artists, all of them from that very world of the West, are the harbingers of this very insurrection. All of them have washed their hands of the outcome of human activity. Sartre's Erostrate draws a gun with eyes closed on people in the streets. And Nabokov's hero drives a car right at people. And Meursault, the stranger, kills a man merely because of the intensity of the sun's heat. These fictional outcomes, all of them, are reflections of the actual eventuality of the human race. Humanity that must surely put on rhinoceros skins if it doesn't want to be crushed under machines. And I see these fictional endings as a warning about humanity's final hour: The hydrogen bomb in the hand of the machine demon (if we do not capture it and put its spirit back into the bottle). 33

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Simin Daneshvar, Al-e Ahmad's wife and companion, has stated that toward the end of his life her husband turned to religion . . . [as] the result of his wisdom and insight because he had previously experimented with Marxism, socialism, and, to some extent, existentialism. . . . His relative return to religion and the hidden Imam was a way toward deliverance from the evil of imperialism and toward preservation of national identity, a way toward human dignity, compassion, justice, reason, and virtue. Jalal had need of such a religion. 34

Al-e Ahmad was a man of commitment. His actions spoke of a restless soul charged with compassion and honesty. He was sincere. His mistakes and shortcomings were those of a kindred spirit with genuine humanitarian concern for the plight of his fellow man. This is why the ideas of responsibility and commitment prevalent among such French existentialists as Camus and Sartre, their passionate engagement in social events of their time, touched a responsive chord in him. As one of the many alienated and uprooted intellectuals of post-World War II who had experienced disillusionment with the Tudeh party's brand of Marxism and Western materialism and consumerism, Al-e Ahmad was in dire need of planting himself in the soil of his indigenous culture. Having left traditional Islam and Marxism to escape the perceived emptiness and absurdity of modern life, Al-e Ahmad was in need of a religion that would enable him to find himself. Such religion tied him to here and beyond. In ordinary people and commitment to their social welfare, Al-e Ahmad found his new creed. As he once admitted: Since the outset I have been searching for something innocent. This innocence was the only thing lacking in my life. Since 1953 I have learned that you can find everything in the world of politics. But you will be a fool to look for innocence in politics. This was why I left it. 35

If in politics there is dishonesty and individuals are treated as pawns of history rather than its masters or its sacred end, then for Al-e Ahmad there is only one genuine source of innocence—the people. In serving the people, Al-e Ahmad found meaning and purpose for his life. To serve the people one had to be close to them, to be a part of their lives and sufferings. Al-e Ahmad's status as an alienated member of the intelligentsia exacerbated his psychological need to be connected and attached to the collectivity. This becomes patently clear in his account of a pilgrimage to Mecca. Recalling that he had not performed the compulsory prayer since his first year at the university, he utters, "I feel like a hypocrite. It just isn't right. It isn't hypocrisy, neither is it faith. You just do it to blend with the crowd." 36 In his ambivalence and contradictory feelings toward the rituals performed in Mecca, Al-e Ahmad reveals he is there mainly to find himself, to abandon

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himself in the mass of the people, to feel "attached, and not released." But "the people" is not an abstract entity. When Al-e Ahmad spoke of the people he referred to ordinary folks, peasants, workers, teachers, and the like. Al-e Ahmad, however, had a special affinity for the Iranian peasantry. With the peasantry constituting more than half of the population, it represented the people, especially the poverty-stricken people. Thus, in the tradition of his Russian populist predecessor, Al-e Ahmad idealized the peasantry as the repository of moral virtue and innocence unspoiled by the Westernization of society. This is most vividly revealed in his critique of the shah's land reform program. As he saw it, land reform had destroyed the traditional cooperative life of the village. It linked Iranian villages to Western industrial and cultural products. Thus, the peasantry, the last bastion of genuine Iranian traditions, had been contaminated by Westoxication. Moreover, land reform not only had not solved the problem of inequity in villages, it also exacerbated it. As the land reform polarized class relations in the villages, many poor peasants migrated to the cities in pursuit of jobs. Such massive migrations further eroded the viability of an agricultural system, creating new obstacles to diversification of the Iranian economy.37 Another indicator of Al-e Ahmad's affinity toward the peasantry is his frequent travel to provinces and villages to familiarize himself with the actual conditions of peasant life so that he could address himself to their concerns and problems. The result of these trips was a series of ethnographic articles describing social life in different provinces.38 Al-e Ahmad's concern for the peasantry, however, unlike that of Russian populists, was not based on their glorification as leaders of social liberation. He deplored the conditions of poverty and illiteracy prevalent in Iranian villages and the inadequate governmental policies to respond to peasant needs. Al-e Ahmad's criticism of the Iranian educational system was also partially based on the premise that it neglected the villages: According to Al-e Ahmad, out of 50,000 villages, 43,000 had no schools at all. 3 ' Like Behrangi, Al-e Ahmad lived a simple life. In fact, in several of his writings, he boasts about not having much material wealth in a self-mocking fashion. As one social critic has observed, "Al-e Ahmad had an almost paranoic fear of material comfort and aversion to people of wealth, as if wealth might somehow corrupt him or render him useless."40 This "aversion to people of wealth" and identification with the oppressed has deep roots not only in Shi'ite religion as the religion of a persecuted minority throughout history, but also in the present social dynamics of Iranian society and its impact on the intelligentsia. This constant moral dilemma before the intelligentsia, never ceasing to beget its oscillating loyalty, renders its orientation toward the past and the present a problematic one. The identity of the intelligentsia was rooted in the past, yet its vision was focused on a future that was inspired by Western technological and intellectual achievements. The intelligentsia sought the resolution of this dilemma in a

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historical leap. As Daniel Bell has aptly noted, disenchantment with traditional values evokes five alternative responses: rationalism, aestheticism, existentialism, civil religion, and political religion. "The foundation of a political religion," wrote Bell, "is a messianism which makes the eschatological promise of the leap to the kingdom of f r e e d o m — t h e release from all necessity—on earth." 4 1 Thus, as the Russian populists perceived of the peasant c o m m u n e as the ultimate vehicle of Russian noncapitalist development that would make the leap from backwardness to progress possible, their Iranian counterparts saw such a leap possible if Marxism provided "the economic base" and Islam the "superstructure," as Al-e Ahmad argued, to what loosely may be referred to as Islamic socialism, or more accurately Islamic populism. Such a leap not only has its social and economic costs on the social and institutional arrangements, but also imposes a burden on the tormented soul of the intelligentsia. As one of Al-e Ahmad's former disciples and followers has remarked: "Al-e Ahmad reached for the twenty-first century, but had to leap from the sixteenth century or earlier without the benefit of time and gradual stages in between. As he fell in to the abyss, he at least screamed with articulate despair to let those who follow know what lay in front of them." 4 2 It may well be the case, as Baraheni suggests, that Al-e Ahmad attempted to find political and historical justification for his personal dilemmas in life. This, however, does not alter the fact that he was an engaged intellectual who lived the contradictions of his times to the fullest and was not afraid to go out on a limb to experience the forbidden and still have the moral courage and honesty to share with his readers his most intimate personal and social problems and misgivings. 4 3 For this reason alone, Al-e Ahmad stood like a towering figure above the intellectuals of his generation and enjoyed a certain charisma and following unmatched by any other literary figure of his time. Gifted with an imaginative mind, but consumed by a feeling of contempt toward the West, Al-e Ahmad romanticized the self and consequently was unable to penetrate it critically. The irony of Al-e Ahmad's predicament was that at the bottom of blaming all the misfortunes of Iranian society on some monolithic entity that he called the West, lay the fear of facing the self. B e c a u s e the i n t e l l i g e n t s i a w a s i n f l u e n c e d and m o l d e d by the West, abhorrence of the West ultimately reflected the subconscious fear of facing the self. Al-e Ahmad does not divide the West into East-West, communistcapitalist categories. Having witnessed Stalin's attempt to gain the oil concession in the northern part of Iran, and becoming aware of the political repression in the Soviet Union, Al-e Ahmad asserted that the failure of the Soviet experience indicated the failure of Marxism to provide answers to human problems in the twentieth century. Therefore, the intellectual roots of such prevalent slogans as "Neither Eastern nor Western, but an Islamic

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Republic" that became popular throughout the Iranian Revolution were already embedded in Al-e Ahmad's political thought. The political evolution of Al-e Ahmad and the basic trends of his social thought—inspired by the West, yet opposed to some of the dehumanizing aspects of Western neocolonial policies in the Third World—is replicated by another influential intellectual figure of this period: Ali Shariati.

10 POPULISM OF THE RELIGIOUS INTELLIGENTSIA True Islam is the Islam of the people, of the exploited, and the poor. —Ali Shariati The intellectual roots of populism of the religious intelligentsia of the 1960s goes back to the contributions of Ali Shariati (1933-1977). His attempt to popularize Islam was essential in swaying large numbers of Iranian youth away from secular left-wing ideologies. Shariati was the most influential political character of Iranian society in the 1960s and 1970s. He was the foremost intellectual leader of the Islamic Revival, and his books and pamphlets have been translated and read throughout the Muslim world. The key to Shariati's popularity is his attempt to politicize and modernize Islam. Shariati's innovations in Islamic theology stand on par with a long tradition of distinguished Muslim reformists, such as Al-Farabi (d. 950), who used Western philosophy (Plato and Aristotle) to reconstruct Islamic theology on a rationalist basis; 1 Mullah Sadra (d. 1640), who merged the divine truth with philosophical truth; and Jamal al-Din Afghani (d. 1897), whose pan-Islamism was designed to be a banner of struggle against Western domination of Muslim lands. What distinguishes Shariati from these other Muslim reformists is not so much the originality or novelty of his ideas, but his ability to synthesize and implant the ideas he borrowed from Western thinkers such as Hegel, Marx, Weber, Durkheim, Sartre, and others deep into Shi'ite culture. His capacity to link the past to the present and to juxtapose seemingly distant and irrelevant events was one of the major contributions of Shariati to the Islamic Revival. The immense popularity and widespread appeal of Shariati's ideas in Iranian society can be explained in terms of the intrinsic sociological features that they have in common with all mass-based ideologies of protest. In his study of ideology and popular protest, George Rude has observed: Popular ideology is most often a mixture, a fusion of two elements, of which only one is the peculiar property of the "popular" classes and the other is superimposed by a process of transmission and adoption from outside. The first

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is "inherent traditional element," based on direct experience, oral tradition or folk-memory and not learned. The second element is "the stock of ideas and beliefs that are derived, or borrowed from others, often taking the form of a more structured system of ideas, political or religious." There is no wall dividing the two types of ideology. They interact and influence each other. The degree of the dominance of the first as opposed to the second is dependent a great deal on the state of literacy among the common people. 2

Shariati's eclectic borrowing from various schools of Western social thought rendered Shi'ism more up to date and, consequently, more attractive to the inquiring minds of the educated youth who composed the majority of his audience in the 1960s. Whereas some advocates of religious reform in the 1930s and 1940s, such as Kasravi and Sangelaji, were labeled antiShi'ite, Shariati was a true believer. He applied an innovative approach to Quranic exegesis, which enabled him to deduce activist sociological conclusions from them. Such current and polemicized interpretations of the Quran rendered his teaching relevant and touched a responsive chord in the collective psyche of the Iranian youth. Hence, Shariati's modernism did not repudiate any cardinal tenets of Shi'ism, although he was repeatedly labeled by some of the members of the ulama as having done so. 3 Shariati's acceptance of the basic principles of the Shi'ite creed and confinement of his religious reformation within the sanctified boundaries of the Shi'ite faith hindered a concerted opposition by more traditionally oriented ulama and enhanced the popularity of his ideas. The fact that Shi'ism has been historically open to ijtihad (interpretation of the holy law) and fiqh (use of reason in jurisprudence) was also instrumental in raising Shariati to political prominence. One of the clues to the continuous vitality of Islam as a religiopolitical ideology is its ability to accommodate itself to change. This attribute has shielded the Islamic faith against Western cultural domination. Hence, Western encroachment has been a catalyst for Islamic revival throughout history.4 The emergence of Shariati in the 1960s as the "Luther of Iran" and the leader of Islamic Protestantism should be studied in this context. Ali Shariati, like Al-e Ahmad, was raised in a clerical family with a tradition of anti-Pahlavi political struggle. His father, Mohammad Taqi Shariati, was a nonturbaned preacher who sought to attract the portion of youth that was alienated from the traditional clergy. He was also active in what remained of the National Front in the 1950s. Shariati's father had a profound impact on his son's intellectual development during the formative years of his life.5 After graduating from the teachers' college in Mashhad in 1953, Ali Shariati began a teaching career. In 1960, he went to France and studied sociology at the Sorbonne. While in France, Shariati enriched his intellectual training by familiarizing himself with various Western schools of

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thought, such as Marxism, existentialism, and the positivist school of sociology. Such events as the Algerian and Cuban revolutions and such individual Third World scholars and activists as Franz Fanon also had a great impact on him. Upon his return to Iran in 1965 he was arrested and imprisoned for political activities against the regime. After six months of imprisonment he began to lecture at Mashhad University. In 1967, he moved to Tehran, where he began lecturing at Hosainieh Ershad, a center for nontraditional religious learning, and where his fame and following of educated youth began to increase. In 1972, Hosainieh Ershad was closed by the government. Shariati was arrested once again and imprisoned until 1975. He died in London in 1977 from a massive heart attack, but his followers widely suspected he was "martyred" by the shah's secret police (S AVAK).6 There are three recurring central themes in Shariati's writings. First, there is an attempt to revive the "revolutionary essence" of early Islam in order to politicize Muslims. The second theme is the reconstruction of the Islamic theology on the basis of unitarianism (tauhid) and its elevation to the level of an ideology with a world view (Jahan bini). Shariati hoped such a reconstruction would put Islam in a better position to effectively challenge the intellectual ascendence of modern secular ideologies such as Marxism. Third, Shariati developed a concept of political leadership as an Islamic alternative to the monarchy. The introduction of these three major ideas, however, required a sociological reinterpretation of Islam as opposed to the traditional clerical interpretation based on jurisprudence. Shariati's sociological interpretation allowed for a social reconstruction of Islam in general and Shi'ism in particular. He redefined Islamic doctrines, principles, and precepts, often in direct defiance of the traditional Islam of the clergy that he regarded obsolete. In orthodox Shi'ite thought, the savior is an individual and not the class or the community. It is the imam, the Mahdi, or a just caliph who must guide and protect his subjects; the duty of Muslims is simply to follow the commands of the pious leader. One of Shariati's major contributions is the introduction of the social element to Muslim consciousness. In his lectures and writings he constantly strives to impart to his audience an awareness of their social roots and common ties. Behind this tireless effort lies Shariati's conviction: "It is only through a social struggle that human beings can really grow. In isolation one can become a philosopher, a poet, a virtuous and pious man, but one cannot become a 'Muslim.'" 7 Borrowing the concepts of primacy of praxis from Marx and responsibility from Sartre, Shariati redefined a Muslim as a person who has a sense of social responsibility and carries out a mission in society. To be a believer, he asserted, "one must act; believing without acting is synonymous to atheism." 8 Confronted with the institutional reign of repression, exploitation, and corruption in Iranian society, Shariati concluded that emancipation of

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individuals without the liberation of society as a whole is impossible. As he states: "He who tries to escape from the prison he shares with relatives, cothinkers and other freedom lovers might have gained his release by abandoning the others, but he is never a liberated man. He is a low selfish individual who has no right to be proud of liberty. He can never claim to be a freedom lover; he has not saved, but dishonored himself." 9 In another instance, he quotes Abu Dharr Ghifari, a companion of the prophet and considered by some to be the first Muslim socialist: "He who has no bread is hungry and must pick up the sword and rebel against all, since everyone is responsible for his hungers."10 This persistent resocialization of Muslims is intended to politicize and arouse them to action. Political involvement, according to Shariati, is not a luxury in the Third World, but an urgent problem. As he writes: "A European can afford to say 'I am a philosopher, a writer, an artist, an engineer, or an economist, but I am not a political man. I do not think about politics; I have left it to the politicians.'"11 In the Third World, people cannot say the same, because "here politics is an objective and urgent necessity. It is a life and death struggle. It is as urgent as saving a drowning person, putting out a blazing fire, resisting a massive violent assault. It is as immediate as a struggle to free an enchained nation which is injured and lies on the verge of death."12 Shariati regarded Luther and Calvin as great reformers who saved Christianity from the danger of internal rot. Hence, he deemed Protestantism to be the compelling force behind Western social awakening and progress.13 Shariati believed that Islamic Protestantism, of which he most definitely considered himself the living leader,14 is not based on negation of the past. Rather, its central goal is to revive the orthodoxy of Islam's Golden Age (sadr-e Islam), the Islam of the Prophet Muhammad, Imam Ali, and his martyred son, Imam Husain, and his companion, Abu Dharr. Only through the revival of the memory of early Islam, termed Alavi'ite Shi'ism by Shariati, could people rediscover its revolutionary essence and raise it as their banner of struggle. Alavi'ite Shi'ism was heir to thousands of years of struggle and martyrdom and was the true banner of the oppressed against the oppressors until the Safavids institutionalized it by co-opting the ulama and thereby devoiding it of its revolutionary essence. 15 Unless people first understand that establishment Islam and the obsolete Islam of the clergy are not the true Islam, they cannot change the society along revolutionary lines.16 As a sociologist, Shariati found nothing worth saving in the status quo. The social institutions of the monarchy did not command the people's affection. Corruption rendered them instruments of social injustice and moral decadence, and they were unreformable. On top of these institutions perched the monarchy, which existed by force alone. Once enough force could be mustered to confront it, the monarchy would fall like a rotten fruit on a tree that awaits a good shaking. The only thing worth saving was the people, who could not be saved unless they became aware of the revolutionary

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essence of Alavi'ite Islam. Another central theme that is repeated in Shariati's writings is the idea that Western economic exploitation and political subjugation of the East cannot be successful without cultural and ideological domination. According to him, throughout history Western powers have deliberately sought to distort and destroy Islamic culture in order to solidify their colonial control over the Muslim world. Therefore, to combat colonialism, it is the duty of Muslims to revive "true Islam"—Alavi'ism. 1 7 Shariati, more than any other individual in the modem history of Iran, is responsible for the political revival of the Shi'ite folk legends concerning Imam Ali and his martyred son, Husain. According to Shariati, Islam originated by saying "no" to the status quo. Such was especially the case of Shi'ism. From the moment Imam A l i said no to the unjust government of Mu'awiya, he chose a path of rebellion against repressive government at the expense of his own life and the lives of his son and his followers. W h y did A l i choose this path? Because he intended to set a precedent:

"If you think of truth and justice and want to follow in my

footsteps, then you must be prepared to say no to falsehood and injustice at all times." 18 Ali sacrificed himself, his followers, and the benefit of his rule in order to uphold these principles. 19 Shariati divides Ali's life into three periods. First, for twenty-three years he tirelessly struggled for Islam alongside the Prophet Muhammad.

This

signifies his struggle for the Islamic ideology. Second, for twenty-five years after the death of the Prophet he kept silent against his adversaries to preserve the internal unity of the Muslim community in the face o f the outside enemies of Islam. This period represents his relentless struggle for the unity o f the umma.

Third, he ruled for f i v e years "to punish the

oppressors and restore the right of the oppressed." 20 This period symbolizes Ali's actual struggle for justice.

From this analysis of Ali's life, Shariati

concludes the necessity of consciousness-raising, ideological struggle, and unity of different Muslim groups. He contends that only then can Muslims struggle effectively against social oppression. Hence, the martyrdom of Imam Husain on the plains of Karbala was not death. It was a deliberate act of self-sacrifice to uphold a principle and pass on a message to future generations.

The message of Husain is that all

Shi'ites in any position or under any circumstances must struggle against injustice and oppression because life is "faith and struggle" (aqidah va jihad).

By reviving the memory of Imam Husain, Shariati popularized the

idea of martyrdom. Therefore, he elevated the level of political commitment by training motivated individuals who were willing to die in order to prove their devotion to the cause.

Martyrs are exalted not only as the "heart of

history," but also as individuals who have consciously earned the honor of following the exemplary model of Imam Husain. Through martyrdom the Islamic community cleanses itself and preserves the vitality of the faith and solidarity of the umma.21

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The two central principles of Shi'ism, adl and imamat, were also reinterpreted and given a new social content by Shariati. "When we say God is just," he writes, "it means justice is one of the inseparable components of being. Therefore, its realization must be one of the fundamental goals of human society." 22 Thus, imamat means belief in the necessity of a revolutionary leadership, a leadership for which realization of social justice constitutes a major prerogative.23 The pivotal concept in Shariati's sociology of Islam is tauhid. The term understood in a strict religious sense means belief in the oneness of God. Shariati, however, broadened the meaning, politicized it, and attached sociological content to it. The belief in the oneness of God is interpreted as the belief in the oneness of the world—a world in which no class or race dominates over another. Human understanding of God begins with awareness of his creation. Self-consciousness can only be attained through awareness of the world, and it is through this knowledge that man can find the path of God.24 Man is the representative of God on earth and God reveals himself through man.25 From this hypothesis two conclusions follow: First, if man is God's representative on earth, then he must act like God. God is just, so man must implement his will and restore justice on earth. Otherwise, men will be punished by God in the hereafter for not shouldering their responsibilities. Second, the love of God can be demonstrated only through the love of his vice-regents on earth, that is, mankind. Therefore, looking after the well-being of the umma is not a prerogative, it is the duty of each member of the Muslim community. Shariati asserted that all Islamic nations today suffer from three catastrophes. The first is the poverty of ideology among its intellectuals. The intelligentsia in the Muslim world is either stagnating in the obsolete ideas of the past or totally absorbed by alien Western ideologies, which are blindly imitated. Second, the enemies of Islam have been able to dominate and exploit Muslims because there are sectarian differences and hostilities among them. It is important that all Muslims put aside their differences and unite against the common enemy. Third, class conflicts have also divided the Muslim communities and have brought inequality, injustice, poverty, and misery for the many, and wealth and power for the few. 26 Shariati's tauhidi society is a classless one; he especially criticizes class differences as inhuman and alien to a true and pious Islamic community. Whereas a society based on a tauhidi world outlook strives for social justice, equality, and eradication of class differences, the reign of oppression, social inequality, and a class-based society constitute the basis of sherk (polytheism). 27 Shariati traces the roots of class conflict in human history back to the conflict between Abel and Cain. Abel was selfless and a man of faith, whereas Cain was worldly and committed fratricide out of greed. The conflict between the two brothers was not confined to their attributes, but took on a class character, Abel being a shepherd and Cain a landowner.

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Consequently, the origin of fratricide is in economic inequity. 28 Critique o f capitalism constitutes an integral part of Shariati's world perspective. He proclaims, Economics is not the base, it is becoming the base. It is under the industrial capitalist economy that economics is the base for culture, art, faith, and morality. Man himself has created this situation. It does not have to be like this, and with the destruction of capitalism, it would not be like this. In our eyes, the bourgeoisie is rotten. Not only would it vanish, but the conditions for its annihilation must be prepared. The primary evil of bourgeois order does not lie in its opposition to the "collective system of production," but rather in its intrinsic dehumanizing vicissitudes that subordinate all human values to the profit motive and money. Capitalism is not and should not be the base. The base is God and his vice-regents on earth, human beings. 2 9

A n y fundamental social transformation is impossible without a people for w h o m economic interests are no longer the primary motive—that is, a people motivated by higher ideological values and convictions than mere economic gains.

A society that encourages men to pursue their economic interests,

w h e t h e r c a p i t a l i s t or s o c i a l i s t , i n d u c e s e x p l o i t a t i o n , c o r r u p t i o n , and o p p r e s s i o n . O n l y an i d e o l o g y that instructs m e n to " a w a k e n G o d in t h e m s e l v e s " can hasten the d e v e l o p m e n t o f a classless society and end oppression. 3 0 Shariati warned: "We are at a critical stage o f decision making. W e must c h o o s e w h e t h e r w e w a n t to be v i c t i m s o f c a p i t a l i s m and c o m m o d i t y fetishism or b e c o m e pawns of an alienating scientific ideology that negates the very foundation of the Islamic creed or choose the path of true Islam." 3 1 He asserted that the w a r between socialism and capitalism is not based on a desire to create a new society that is more humane. One argues that the state must control the means of production, and the other purports that it must be controlled b y the private sector. Because man has both material and spiritual needs, o n l y an Islamic i d e o l o g y is c a p a b l e o f synthesizing politics and morality and satisfying these needs. 3 2 Shariati counterposes his Islamic e c o n o m i c s to both capitalism and socialism. T h e principles of his tauhidi

e c o n o m i c s can be delineated as

f o l l o w s . Natural resources are gifts that G o d has created for all mankind. A l t h o u g h I s l a m f o r b i d s "the i m p r i s o n m e n t o f p r o p e r t y a n d n a t u r a l resources," an individual can own property as a vice-regent of G o d on earth. Each person has a right over his o w n product and what he has worked for. 33 T h i s e c o n o m i c order is the stepping stone to a tauhidi

society.

Such a

society is in perpetual progressive evolution toward perfection (kamal) and ultimate unity with G o d . The goal o f tauhidi society is to establish the reign of social justice and religious piety in order to facilitate the creation o f a new Muslim man.

In a tauhidi classless society, which resembles the Marxist

communist Utopia, class divisions wither away and contradictions between

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man and nature are resolved by man's mastery over nature. Thus, class antagonism is replaced by man living in harmony with nature, his fellow man, and according to the will of God. 34 The third distinct theme in Shariati's political thought is an attempt to present an alternative Islamic concept of leadership. According to Shariati, the responsibility of sparking and leading an Islamic revolution that would begin the construction of a tauhidi society lies with the intellectuals. The upper classes have become so corrupted by wealth and comfort that they have lost all genuinely human values and revolutionary sensitivity. The lower classes are so overwhelmed by poverty, misery, and ignorance that they have to spend all of their time and energy just to survive. Therefore, it is the middle class that gives us our intellectuals. But intellectuals are susceptible to becoming lost in their subjectivity. It is only by linking themselves to the masses, laboring with them, living like them, and feeling their misery and deprivation that intellectuals can fulfill their revolutionary responsibility. 35 This is by no means the only responsibility of the intellectuals. They must also struggle against the influence of the Western culture that has depoliticized the youth. A society that has no firm ideology and faith can be manipulated easily and exploited by the powers that be. Therefore, the r e v i v a l of i n d i g e n o u s I s l a m i c c u l t u r e is an i n d i s p e n s a b l e duty of intellectuals. 36 The intellectuals, however, must recognize that the Islam of the oppressor is different from the Islam of the oppressed. In Shariati's words, "You cannot tell someone whose whole life has been filled with deprivation and suffering to share the same belief and faith with someone who is the source of his/her pain and misery. He/She must be told that your friends are those who are hungry, labor hard, and suffer like you." 37 But class consciousness and class solidarity are not enough. There are individuals within a deprived ciass who tolerate and even collaborate with the oppressors, and there are individuals who struggle against the oppressors. The link that divides two persons who are members of the same class and have the same economic interests is their ideas. Only those who share the same faith can form a true nation. The most significant link among individuals is not race, blood, country, kinship, or class, but idea and ideology. Only when armed with revolutionary Alavi Shi'ism does the Islamic umma as a whole become an organ of class solidarity of the oppressed against the oppressors. 38 The primary task of the intellectuals of the Muslim world is, first, to start "a war of liberation of Islam." If the Muslims are freed, but Islam is in prison, once again Muslims will be the captives of the forces of reaction. 39 Shariati warned his readers to be aware of clerical despotism, because "it is the worst kind of tyranny in human history." 40 This warning, however, does not connote that intellectuals must struggle against religion. In a remarkable warning to secular intellectuals, Shariati asserted:

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The struggle of intellectuals against religion in Islamic societies does the best service to the criminal agents of reaction and egregious enemies of the people. Because with their propagation against religion, people will not abandon it. But those who prop themselves up as the guardians of religion and piety, solidify their power and use this newly acquired position to attack the intellectual movement and the movements for justice and freedom.41

The intellectuals, according to Shariati, should not only refrain from pedagogical activities that have antireligious implications, but also attempt to popularize the true Islam. The realization of this task can be facilitated if they expel the ruhaniyat-e rasmi (the official clergy) and the ruhaniyat-e vabasteh (the co-opted clergy) from their positions of authority and assume their power. Only then can they launch an effective campaign of mass education and mobilization. G i v e n the nature of the political duties that Shariati assigns the enlightened thinkers ( r u s h a n f e k r a n ) , it may seem that at the outset the intellectual leaders of the community must assume the actual leadership of the umma. This image is reinforced by Shariati's populist interpretation of community, espousing the rule of the laity. Since the twelfth imam is in occultation, the mission of the Prophet and the imams—interpretation and implementation of Islamic law—has been charged to the people. The people must choose the best from among themselves to lead the community. 4 2 However, Shariati the synthesizer, who constantly attempts to deduce the new from the old, and Shariati the leader of Islamic Protestantism, who sets out to revive the memory of early Islam, had to ground his theory of leadership in the doctrine of imamat. It is not surprising then when he tells us that in the absence of the twelfth imam the real leader of the community is the vice-regent of the imam. S h a r i a t i ' s c o n c e p t of l e a d e r s h i p should not be c o n f u s e d with a democratic theory of government. As he clearly proclaimed: "Imamat is not dependent on choice, but recognition. For example, in a democracy the people are the source of power and they are the deciding factor. The government mediates between the leader and the people. In Islam, however, the relation of the people to the Imam is mediated by 'the truth.' People are not the deciding element, they are the recognizing element." 43 Recognizing one's imam is of paramount value. Imam Ja'far al-Sadiq, the sixth imam, avowed that he who does not know his imam is like a sheep who has lost his shepherd. If such a sheep does not find and follow his imam, sooner or later he will become bait for the wolves. 4 4 Even the piety of a devout is useless if he does not know and follow his imam. He can be easily misled. The need for the leadership of imams did not end after the occultation of the twelfth imam. On the contrary, the prevalence of alienation and confusion in modern life has reinforced the urgency for the guidance and direction that only the political leadership of an imam can provide. 45

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Imams are not chosen either through election or appointment. Just as a genius is not chosen or appointed to be a genius but he is still a genius, similarly, an imam is an imam because of his intrinsic human qualities. In other words, it is these unique characteristics of an imam that qualify him for the imamate and not the external stimuli of election or appointment. An imam is imam whether he is elected by the people or not, whether he is followed by the entire community or only a handful recognize his leadership.46 According to Shariati, the necessity for an imam's leadership is threefold. First, each community must have a ruler, whether he is virtuous or unvirtuous, because Islam does not accept total anarchy.47 Second, after a successful revolution, although the political victory is often achieved quickly, the reeducation and revolutionary reconstruction of the society is a long and laborious task. It is often the case that after a victorious revolution, when the revolutionary generation and its leadership die, the opportunistic elements within the revolutionary camp revive the old reactionary values by disguising them in a new cloak. Therefore, the new revolutionary leadership after seizure of power should never leave the fate of the revolution to the shaky hands of democracy or to the majority that is still reactionary.48 Third, the path to the first stage of the ideal Muslim tauhidi society is impossible without the guidance of an imam.49 As to the duty of the community, Shariati clearly states: "The members of the umma, despite their race or color, think alike and believe in a single leadership to guide them toward progress and perfection. The goal of society must be progress and not necessarily happiness. It is the duty of the umma to choose the former over the latter." 50 To dispel any illusions that some members of the community may have entertained about the nature of the imam's leadership, he proclaims: "The Imam need not be democratic in the formal sense of the word. He is not obliged to act according to the wishes of the members of the community. Neither must he consider the well-being and happiness of the masses as his primary goal. The most important duty of the Imam is to guide the umma in the most direct and efficient way toward perfection, even if it would mean great suffering for the community." 51 Borrowing the Marxist definition of freedom as the realization of necessity, he argues that only a Muslim's comprehension of this necessity will render him/her a free spirit and will prepare him/her for martyrdom to unite with God, the ultimate goal of human perfection.52 Shariati's inability to reconcile the concept of imamat with a genuinely democratic theory of leadership is not accidental. It is, on the one hand, the byproduct of his methodological and philosophical eclecticism and the inconsistent nature of his social thought. On the other hand, it is the ultimate expression of the inherent friction between Shariati the sociologist and Shariati the devout Muslim. As a devout Muslim, Shariati inherited the intrinsic tension between populism and elitism in Shi'ite political thought alluded to earlier. Due to this friction, Shariati the sociologist, at times,

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lapses into Shariati the lay preacher. And his enlightened Islamic humanism at times becomes inseparable from the Islamic absolutism of the dogmatic interpreters of the faith. Shariati's intellectual dilemma, however, is something he shares in common with all Muslim reformists. As William Millward has observed, "It is improper, conceptually, to speak of reform in religion. There is no reform in r e l i g i o n or r e l i g i o u s d o g m a ; t h e r e is p u r i f i c a t i o n , a d a p t a t i o n or reformulation, but not reform. The basic principles are permanently valid and immutable. Through ijtihad they can be re-interpreted and re-applied, but they cannot be changed." 5 3 It is in the context of this constraint that Shariati's Islamic Protestantism evolved and developed. Therefore, the strengths and weaknesses of Shariati's political thought must be ultimately j u d g e d against the limitations involved in p r e s e n t i n g a s o c i o l o g i c a l interpretation of Islam without any fundamental modification of the major principles of the faith. If, indeed, the basic essence and spirit of religion remain the same despite attempts to reinterpret or change its form or formulations, then it follows that the guardians of the orthodoxy and tradition and not the advocates of reform represent the folk religion of the masses and have the strongest appeal to their hearts and minds. Therefore, we must now turn our attention to the study of the emergence of clerical populism.

11 CLERICAL POPULISM The dispossessed must rebel. The dispossessed of all lands and nations must take their rights and hold their destiny in their firm fist. They will wait in vain for their right to be restored by the rich and the oppressor. —Ayatollah Khomeini The people are our protectors and the backbones of our power. Without them the revolution is doomed. —Ayatollah Taleqani Historically, the emergence of Islamic reformism and fundamentalism in the Muslim world has often been triggered by the pressures of competing Western thoughts. For example, the Mu'tazilite school of speculative philosophy in the ninth century, which partially adopted rationalism, was designed to safeguard Islamic thought from intellectual penetration by Greek philosophy. The prominence of Al-Ghazali (d. 1111), fundamentalist Islamic philosopher of the Middle Ages, was also directly linked to the threat of Greek philosophy to orthodox Islamic theology. In more recent times the appearance of Abduh (1849-1905) and Hassan Al-Banna (1906-1949) in Egypt and Shariati (1933-1977) and Khomeini (1902-1989) in Iran can be understood in terms of Western economic and cultural domination of Muslim lands. To explain the emergence of Muslim fundamentalists as the leaders of the Iranian Revolution of 1979, many scholars point to the conflict between the modernization process that is often accompanied by increasing secularization of the society and the vested interests of the clergy.1 Keddie, however, raises an interesting question in regard to this hypothesis. She asks, If the Iranian Revolution was partially a byproduct of Mohammad Reza Shah's secularizing policies, then why was there no similar revolution or large-scale protest under Reza Shah, whose anticlerical measures went deeper and were of a more fundamental nature? Keddie looks for the answer in the organizational weakness of the ulama under Reza Shah and its strength and capabilities under Mohammad Reza Shah.2 One can add a host of other

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issues to illuminate the roots of this discrepancy, the most significant among them being the following: First, the repeated humiliating defeats that Iran suffered at the hands of more modernized Russian armies evoked a widely shared feeling that the corruption, absolutism, and backwardness of the Qajar dynasty were responsible for these defeats. Under the influence of this mass sentiment, the ulama were somewhat sympathetic to a limited modernization of the state apparatus to the extent that it would not threaten the vitality of Shi'ite institutions and their status in society. Second, under Reza Shah the clergy had not yet recovered from the internal divisions of the constitutional era. Due to the wide popularity of the constitutional movement, a large sector of the ulama was basically defensive about its anticonstitutionalism. Third, the rise of the neopopulist culture of the 1960s and 1970s had a great political impact on the ulama. As custodians of the Shi'ite faith, they not only had a part in molding this culture, but also came under its influence and frequently borrowed from it. Therefore, much of the leftward swing of the ulama in this period can also be explained in terms of ideological rivalry between the Islamic and the secular opposition groups to win over the hearts and minds of a politicized public. Finally, while among Russian populist leaders there were conscious Westernizers, such as Chernyshevsky, in the Iranian neopopulism of the 1960s and 1970s such an intellectual tendency never asserted itself as an effective political force. The nationalist appeal of Shi'ism and the close identification of Westernization with imperialist domination both hindered the development of such an intellectual trend. The absence of such an intellectual movement left the clergy's rise to political leadership uncontested. Consequently, many intellectuals who did not necessarily share the clergy's vision of the world, but who were driven by their nationalist sentiment, joined their ranks. It is in the context of this overall political atmosphere and the pervasive populist metamorphosis of Iranian political culture discussed previously that the emergence of clerical populism and Ayatollah Khomeini as its most outspoken leader must be understood. In fact, it was the emergence of clerical populism during and after the Iranian Revolution that disarmed the nationalists and the secular leftists, on the one hand, and the modernist Muslim groups, on the other, of their populist program and took the political initiative from them. But before we discuss this point any further, we must first expound on the evolution of clerical populism of the 1960s and 1970s. The development of Iranian social thought in the 1960s had two distinct facets: The coup of 1953 and reimposition of the shah to power, culminating in increasing economic, political, and cultural influence of the West, intensified the nationalist character of the political thought of this period. The search for a national ideology around which people could be mobilized against the arbitrary rule of the monarchy took on a new urgency. The shock of the coup of 1953 and its easy success led to the conclusion that the politics

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of the Tudeh party and the National Front were as much to blame as the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency. Since neither the communist Tudeh party nor the liberal National Front put up any extensive resistance to the coup d'état, their popularity declined. The subsequent crackdown by the shah in the ensuing years rendered them even more ineffective. The political and religious organizations of the clergy, in contrast, remained untouched and became the only effective tribune of political dissent. Ayatollahs Khomeini and Taleqani were active in Qom and Tehran; Milani from his pulpit in Mashhad criticized the reign of oppression; Dastghaib and Mahallati called on the people to rise in Tabriz. The clergy's major confrontation with the regime, however, did not come until the rebellion of 1963. Before propounding on the political impact of this rebellion, we must analyze the political thoughts of the two most popular representatives of the clerical populism of this period—Ayatollahs Sayyed Mahmud Taleqani and Ruhollah Khomeini.

AYATOLLAH SAYYED MAHMUD TALEQANI

Ayatollah Sayyed Mahmud Taleqani (1910-1979) was among the more enlightened members of the ulama of Iran. Born in 1911 as a son of a mullah, he received a traditional training in the Fayziyah School of Qom. In 1946 he accompanied the Iranian army to Azerbaijan to put down the communist-inspired Kurdish government of Pishehvari. He had ties with Navvab Safavi, the founder of the extremist Muslim group, Fedayen-e Islam. But, by the 1950s he was a supporter of the nationalist leader Mossadeq, and when the rift between Mossadeq and Ayatollah Kashani, the leading Shi'ite cleric, appeared, he sided with Mossadeq against royalists. 3 Whereas Ayatollah Khomeini's appeal in the 1960s was primarily confined to the traditional base of support for the clergy, the bazaar, the urban and rural lower middle class, and the urban lower class, Taleqani not only enjoyed the support of the latter groups, but was also popular with the educated middle class, the secular liberals, and even the leftist groups. His wide popularity was due to the long years of political activism against the regime as well as to his attempt to reconcile Islam with some of the democratic aspirations of the upwardly mobile groups in the society. He was the link between the traditional clergy and liberal groups, such as the National Front and Iran's F r e e d o m M o v e m e n t , on the o n e hand, and Islamic groups such as Mojahedin-e Khalq, on the other. His volumes of interpretation of the Quran and Nahj Al-Balagheh contributed to the revival of Islamic populism. 4 Taleqani was a cofounder with lay Muslim thinker Mehdi Bazargan of Iran's Freedom Movement. Because the rift between Mossadeq and Kashani was perceived to be partly responsible for the success of the 1953 restoration coup d'état, Iran's Freedom Movement was designed to provide a bridge

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between the religious circles and secular nationalists. In 1955, Taleqani republished Ayatollah M o h a m m e d Na'ini's 1909 treatise, which criticizes tyranny and repressive rule. He added an introduction to the book, reminding Muslims of their political responsibilities. 5 His major contribution, however, was in presenting politicized renditions of the Quran and reviving the paradigmatic i m a g e of Imam Ali. In his interpretation of Nahj Al-Balagheh, a book of pronouncements attributed to I m a m Ali, for e x a m p l e , Taleqani warns that Imam Ali considered all Muslims to be responsible for their fellow man. He quotes Imam Ali: "Seek the truth and the righteous path. Rise up against oppressors and those who oppose the truth. Defend your rights, fight the oppressors and those who violate your rights and integrity." 6 In another passage he interprets Ali to have said: "He who rebels wholeheartedly is blessed and victorious. He who surrenders is like waste water and rotten food which blocks the throat and suffocates." 7 In many ways, Taleqani's reinterpretation of the Quran complemented Shariati's a t t e m p t to revive the revolutionary essence of early Islam. Whereas Shariati did this through a sociological interpretation of Islamic history and philosophy, Taleqani revived interest in Islamic classical texts by utilizing his knowledge of Quranic exegesis and fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence). Although Taleqani's politicized interpretation of the Quran remained in the basic premise of Shi'ite belief and was written in the traditional style and language of the clergy, it was nevertheless innovative. For instance, he interprets the principle of al-amr bi-ma'ruf va al-nahi al-munkar, which traditionally encourages Muslims to keep an eye on the deeds of others, to mean "the right to criticism." Ayatollah Taleqani contends it is "the duty of each Muslim to take a stand against oppression of any individual or class. This is the secret of democracy and civil rights. The Quran considers this to be the only privilege of Muslims over others." 8 Thus, the meaning of the concept was elevated from individual moral obligation to the level of a principle, the implementation of which involved mass participation and could be utilized for political mobilization as well as for the transformation of society. The contribution of Ayatollah Taleqani to the populist culture of the 1960s was not confined to a politicized revival of Islamic exegesis and legends alone. He also wrote a major work on Islam and property, which demonstrates a certain familiarity with and an appreciation for historical and contemporary social problems. Like many other social thinkers of this period, Taleqani is critical of both capitalism and communism. He criticizes capitalism for its exploitation and social inequality and refutes communist atheism and its disregard for human spiritual needs. In contrast, he contends that the principles of Islamic economics neither allow exploitation of man by man, nor reduce human beings to their material needs. Islam is the only ideology that does not dehumanize man and is concerned with fulfillment of

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both material and spiritual needs of mankind, not only in this world, but also in the hereafter. Islam is the only religion that guides man toward perfection and unity with God.9 Although private property in Islam is respected, it is nevertheless restricted. Islam forbids the accumulation of wealth.10 The implementation of this principle can be seen in Taleqani's treatment of land ownership. After dividing the land into categories of waste land and cultivated land, he concludes that the former belongs to God, Prophet, and imam. While imam is in occultation, it is the duty of his vice-regent to see to it that the land is properly used for the people's benefit. The cultivated land belongs to the person who works it.11 Taleqani discards the Hobbesian notion that social inequality and class difference stem from human nature, and also challenges Marxist determinism, which perceives of human thought and behavior as mere byproducts of the mode of production. He asserts: Islamic economics are based on truth and justice rather than on a group or class. From an Islamic perspective, the existence of class privileges is not an inherent part of human nature or an inevitable social necessity. The emergence of classes is induced by the deviation of mankind from the path of truth and justice and his succumbing to the temptation to exploit and colonize. The social structure represents human relationships, and human relations are a manifestation of perceptions, thoughts, and morality. The manner in which human perceptions and thoughts are changed determines social relationships and structure.12

This apparent "idealism" in Taleqani's social thought—ideas determine human condition rather than human condition determining ideas—has an activist implication. If human thought determines the social structure, then man's consciousness must be altered in order to change society. The prevalence of volunteerism and activism among the Muslim youth in this period was deeply rooted in this idealist perception of social reality. Such interpretations were designed to revitalize Islam and counterpose it to Marxism and capitalism as a viable alternative system. By the 1960s, partially under the influence of the fiery frontal assault of Ayatollah Khomeini on the monarchy and the overall radicalization of Iranian political culture, Ayatollah Taleqani abandoned his earlier tactics of mild criticism and gradual constitutionalism and chose a more direct antimonarchial rhetoric. Thus, in his volume on jihad (holy war) and shahadat (martyrdom), he exhorts his readers that jihad against taghut (the idol) is the duty of all true Muslims.13 By the 1970s Taleqani's interpretation of Islam had assumed a more radical character, expounding on some of the same themes as Shariati's rendition. However, unlike Shariati and other Muslim thinkers who were alarmist about the influence of Marxism, Taleqani, in an attempt to maintain the unity of the antishah forces, in his later writings emphasized some of the commonalities of the two. Taleqani was also among

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the more tolerant m e m b e r s of ulama. A f t e r the revolution of 1979 he became the chief protagonist of popular rule, warning against "clerical despotism." He was an advocate of shuras, consultative assemblies that would allow mass participation in the process of decisionmaking. 1 4

AYATOLLAH RUHOLLAH KHOMEINI The major cleric to distinguish himself as the leader of the oppositionist ulama in 1963 was Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini (1902-1989). At the age of seventeen he became a disciple of Ayatollah Abdul Karim Ha'eri Yazdi, whom he followed to Qom two years later in 1921. In 1936 he entered the ranks of the Mujtahids and then published his first book, Kashf al-Asrar (Secrets Revealed), in 1944. In this book Khomeini attacked Kasravi's anticlerical assertions. He also criticized Reza Shah's anti-Islamic and anticlerical policies. Although Khomeini held the shah and the foreign colonialists responsible for corruption and moral decadence in the society, his criticism, in the tradition of his predecessors, remained in the realm of constitutionalism—that the shah must rule according to the constitution of 1906. Yet, the institution of monarchy is not criticized as such. He counterposed the Shari'a to the secular European laws and asserted that an assembly of experts composed of Mujtahids must choose a king who would obey the Shari'a. 15 It is only with the further politicization of his thought after the 1963 episode and his disillusionment with the shah's Westernization of Iranian culture that Ayatollah Khomeini adduced the idea of velayat-e faqih (the rule of jurisprudence) and the direct assumption of power by the ulama. The catalysts in the radicalization of Ayatollah Khomeini's thought were the events of 1963 and the granting of capitulatory rights to U.S. nationals and advisors in Iran in the ensuing year. Capitulation was identified with the n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y E u r o p e a n colonialization of Iran, w h i c h had b e e n canceled under Reza Shah. Therefore, its revival symbolized direct political subjugation of Iran to a Western power. The death of the relatively conservative Ayatollah Hosain Borujerdi in 1961 created a vacuum to b e filled by a younger and more politicized generation of ulama. Although Ayatollahs Shariatmadari and Golpaigani were regarded as more learned than Ayatollah Khomeini, he emerged as the main leader of the ulama after 1963 largely because of his political courage and outspokenness. His credentials as former student, confidante, and aide of Ayatollah Borujerdi enhanced his rise to prominence, but the main factor contributing to the emergence of Khomeini's charisma was the important political upheaval of 1963. The first major confrontation of the post-1953 era between the clergy and the state occurred in 1959, when the government introduced a land

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reform bill and a proposal to enfranchise women. Although Ayatollah Borujerdi wrote a letter to Ja'far-e Behbahani, his nephew and a member of the parliament, to complain that the land reform bill was contrary to the Shari'a, there is no record or document to prove that Ayatollah Khomeini opposed the bill. He did, however, oppose equal rights for women in the belief that such a bill would undermine the basic tenets of Islam. The local election bill that induced the first open protest in October of 1962 was objectionable because it would give voting rights to women as well as recognize the holy books of other religious minorities used in the swearingin ceremonies.16 Due to massive public protest following a call of the clergy on the people to defend the integrity of Islam, the local election bill was annulled. Considering this a victory, Ayatollah Khomeini was hopeful that the government would concede to the demands of the clergy. Thus, he proclaimed: "Alas the government cannot comprehend these facts; it refuses to understand that without the clergy the country has no backbone. . . . I advise the Shah not to lose this force! . . . To give such advice is incumbent [wajib]. . . . It is the duty of the ulama and the clergy to give advice and to show the way to everyone, from the Shah down to the most minor officials."17 The shah, however, chose to assert his own power and authority and not grant any more concessions to the clergy. Therefore, on January 16,1963, he put his six-point reform program to a referendum. Khomeini opposed the referendum on the grounds that it was un-Islamic and detrimental to the interests of the Iranian people. Having lost hope in influencing the government, Ayatollah Khomeini publicly denounced the shah on June 3, 1963, and called on the people to protest. The shah responded by sending in the army, which killed thousands. Ayatollah Khomeini together with Ayatollahs Qomi and Mahallati were arrested, but soon released. The fiery denunciation of the shah for granting capitulatory rights to U.S. nationals in Iran caused Khomeini's subsequent exile to Turkey in 1964 and then to Iraq.18 The rebellion of 1963 had several significant political consequences. First, it restored the political prestige of the clergy that was damaged by Ayatollah Kashani's opposition to Mossadeq in the latter part of Mossadeq's short rule and by Ayatollah Borujerdi's political acquiescence.19 Second, in the face of the political inactivity and ineffectiveness of the Tudeh party and the National Front, the show of political force by the clergy extended their political influence and base of support beyond the traditional constituencies (i.e., the bazaar and madrassahs).20 Third, with the death of Ayatollah Borujerdi in 1961, supreme Islamic authority was transferred from Qom to Najaf. Ayatollah Khomeini's exile to Najaf placed him out of reach of the Iranian government. Therefore, as one of the three Marja'-e taqlid (sources of emulation), he was able to take more

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militant political positions on different issues. 21 This militancy in turn enhanced his popularity. Fourth, the events of 1963 revived Islamic fundamentalism. Some of the old Islamic organizations, such as Fedayan-e Islam—an Islamic fundamentalist group based in the bazaar—reappeared on the political scene. With the granting of capitulatory rights to the U.S. nationals in Iran, the Fedayan-e Islam assassinated Prime Minister Hassan Ali Mansur. Among other Islamic fundamentalist groups of this period was the Party of the Islamic Nations, which taught its members guerrilla warfare and set out to assassinate associates of the regime.22 Finally, in the late 1960s and early 1970s, the militant sector of the ulama began a systematic reassessment of their ideas and a reorganization of their forces. Realizing the need to mobilize larger forces in order to confront the monarchy successfully, the ulama transformed the institutions under their control into organs for counterculture grass roots political education and mobilization. Fischer's observation captures the essence of this transformation: "The pedagogical ideal of madrassah is posed by its members as criticism of the secular education system which is spreading at the expense of the madrassah system."23 The protagonists of the madrassah system hold that "mass education is concerned with training a labor force, with institutionalizing scientific innovation. However, in madrassah there is active concern with society and citizenship, social collectivity and God, justice and welfare."24 Gradually other newly founded institutions such as the Mahdiyeh financial, charitable, and religious organizations established by the bazaar merchants and the clergy began to spread as independent organizations from the government. These organizations established Islamic banks, which provided small businessmen with interest-free loans while the governmentbacked commercial banks provided loans mainly to big industrialists. The Mahdiyeh institutions established hospitals, built mosques, and held public religious sermons.25 This period also witnessed the flourishing of Islamic societies, Islamic libraries, and Muslim student associations, which all function as organs of cultural propaganda and political recruitment. These institutions were functioning as a nucleus of dual power in the society. From them the clergy attempted to reach out to the entire society and convert more institutions into organs of "people-clergy power"—something that materialized only with the outbreak of spontaneous mass movement in 1977. As the tsar's killing of the unarmed Russian worker in 1905 sounded the beginning of the end for tsarism, the killing of unarmed Iranians in the rebellion of 1963 sounded the death knell for the Pahlavi monarchy. In fact, the events of 1963 signified the end of one era and the beginning of a new one. The killings in Qom, Mashhad, and Tehran on June 5 - 7 , 1963, convinced some opposition leaders that the monarchy was unreformable and must be overthrown by force. Thus, in 1971 Ayatollah Khomeini

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commented on the events of 1963: "The monarchy in Iran, from its inception to this day—God be my witness—has inflicted miseries and perpetrated enormous crimes. The crimes of Persian shahs have blackened the pages of history. Who but these very shahs of Iran ordered massacres of people and piled their severed heads into pyramids? The very best of these shahs were ruthless ruffians." 26 After the defeat of the second National Front and liquidation of the Tudeh party in 1966, the old opposition parties were politically dead. The time was ripe for the birth of new opposition forces with novel ideas, strategies, and tactics. The new organizations that were born out of the political events of this period, notably the Fedayan-e Khalq and the Mojahedin-e Khalq, adopted guerrilla warfare and individual terrorism as their method of political struggle. This tactic put them effectively out of touch with the masses. Their influence was primarily confined to radicalized students at the urban centers. The clergy, however, had deep social roots among the people. By distributing some of the endowment money among the needy, ulama functioned as agents of social welfare and remained popular among the lower classes. Their economic and political ties to their traditional ally, the bazaars, were strengthened by a common feeling of resentment against the regime. Through the extensive network of mosques and madrassahs, they not only kept close contact with the laity, but also, due to long years of experience, they acquired an instinct for popular psyche and mood. Although they were designed to be a warning to the regime concerning the clergy's dissatisfaction with government policies, the pulpit speeches of notable clerics reflected public sentiment as well. After the events of 1963-1964 and the further politicization of the clergy and radicalization of Iranian political culture, Ayatollah Khomeini sharpened his former populist rhetoric. As early as 1967, in a letter to Prime Minister Hoveyda, he declared: "The poverty and wretchedness of our people increase every day, as does the bankruptcy of the bazaar and its respected merchants. The only result of all this hullabaloo and bombastic propaganda has been to create a black market for the foreigners and to keep the people in a state of poverty and backwardness while you make claims of progress."27 As events rendered his views more politicized and self-conscious, he sharpened his polemics. In his 1971 treatise on Islamic government, Khomeini denounced the monarchial system as incompatible with Islam. Monarchy is a system against which Islam has fought since its inception. The overthrow of the monarchies in Iran, Eastern Rome, Egypt, and Yemen by Islamic armies is testimony to this fact. The Prophet in his correspondence with the king of Iran and the emperor of Rome repeatedly encouraged them to abandon the absolutist monarchial and imperial rule and allow the people to instead obey God, the true ruler. Hereditary monarchy is the type of system that

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Imam Husain rebelled against. Since he did not want to live under the reign of Yazid, and did not recognize it as a legitimate form of government, he called on other Muslims to rise against it as well. M

According to Ayatollah Khomeini, the slogan that politics and religion must become separate and that the ulama should remain aloof from political and social matters was an idea disseminated by the colonialists. But were politics and religion separate under the Prophet or during the rule of Imam Ali? he asked. This slogan was raised to separate the ulama from the people and render their struggle for freedom and independence ineffective. 29 Ayatollah Khomeini, like Shariati, propounds that the occultation of the twelfth imam does not imply that Muslims must await his return passively. On the contrary, they must do what the imam would want them to do, that is, implement the reign of justice. Therefore, it is the duty of Muslims to participate actively in politics and to establish an Islamic government modeled after the rule of the Prophet and Imam Ali. In the absence of the twelfth imam such a government must be ruled by a jurisprudent chosen by the Muslim community. Only then can the government become an instrument for triumph of truth over falsehood and freedom of the oppressed from the yoke of the oppressors.30 Prior to the 1970s, the ulama's protest was confined to curbing the shah's power. The clergy demanded that the shah rule according to the constitution of 1906, allow the clergy to oversee the implementation of Shari'a in cultural life, and consult with them on important policy issues concerning their interpretation of the Shari'a. For the most part the ulama were in agreement with the National Front in that the shah must rule rather than reign. The oppositionist ulama basically held Na'ini's view that in the absence of the hidden imam a constitutional government was desirable over an absolutist one.31 What was bold and novel on the part of Ayatollah Khomeini was his elevation of the role of the ulama from mere interpreters of sacred law to executors of the law. In other words, Ayatollah Khomeini, for the first time in recent history, raised the issue of direct seizure of power by the clergy and establishment of an Islamic government led by the ulama. There is no proof that Ayatollah Khomeini's innovation has violated the spirit of Shari'a. On the contrary, it can be argued that he took the political meaning of Islamic precepts to its logical conclusions. If it is the duty of Muslims to enjoin good and forbid evil and to oversee the reign of Islamic moral code in their respective societies, then it follows that the vanguard members of the Muslim community, the ulama, must seize power and establish an Islamic government. Only then can the true implementation of the Shari'a and the salvation of the umma be ensured, and the creation of a new Muslim man and unity with God be realized. Shariati's call for the revival of the memory of early Islam and the necessity of an Islamic government modeled after that of the Prophet and Imam Ali enhanced Ayatollah Khomeini's campaign for a theocracy, because the government of

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the Prophet and Imam Ali was nothing but a theocracy. The shah's further assault on the clergy's vested interests sharpened the antimonarchial edge of Ayatollah Khomeini's political thought. In his attempt to secularize the state, to centralize power, and to institutionalize the society further, the shah continued to undercut the social basis of the clergy's power and replace it with his own. Thus, he distributed the land that belonged to the clergy among the peasants and assigned the clergy's educational function in the villages to the literacy corps. He placed the e n d o w m e n t foundation ( o q a f ) and shrines, institutions traditionally controlled by the clergy, under civilian management. He even went so far as to create a religious body (sepah-e din) to undermine the ulama and its madrassahs. Perhaps even more significant was the shah's attempt to substitute Western values for the traditional Iranian culture. As Akhavi notes: "The process of declassing the clergy as a political stratum led to attempts to appropriate the clergy's last resource: the cultural symbols which in the past have been so vital in inculcating among Iranians a sense of self, an explanation of the cosmos and of social reality." 32 This provided the catalyst for the clergy's total assault on the Pahlavi dynasty's monarchical rule that was now pronounced to be incompatible with Islam. Ayatollah Khomeini's uncompromising attitude toward the monarchy played no small role in the downfall of the shah. This attribute of Ayatollah Khomeini's thought not only signifies an existential reality insofar as the roots of his education are concerned, but also a political reality as the social conditions in Iran made him a symbol of the common will. Whereas Ayatollah Taleqani's political thought is marked by a certain willingness to consider an open dialog with other schools of thought and even to borrow from them, Ayatollah Khomeini's thought in contrast lacks such a dimension. Ayatollah Taleqani's long years of imprisonment exposed him to such secular trends as liberalism and Marxism, and he learned to develop an appreciation for ideas opposed to his own. Ayatollah Khomeini's intellectual training, on the other hand, primarily remained within the confines of traditional madrassahs and clerical jurisprudence. His subsequent exile to Najaf did more to reinforce this vicissitude of his thought than to modify it. The sternness of Ayatollah Khomeini's outlook on the world and on social, cultural, and political issues must be understood against this background. In 1979, however, this inexorable outlook expressed the political aspirations of millions of Iranians. At the outset, this phenomenon may seem strange, especially when viewed in light of the "plasticity of the Iranian national character," which has been the key to its survival over the long years of foreign domination. Culturally, Iran has been the land of such iconoclastic hedonists as Hafez and Khayyam as well as the home of such preachers of Islamic piety as Al-Ghazali and Al-Farabi. The explanation for this phenomenon must be sought in the antecedents of Iranian populism. Iranian populism of the 1960s was a byproduct of the pressures of Western encroachment and domestic sociocultural malaise.

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These pressures were so immense and polarized Iranian society to a point that any liberal or centrist ideology was squeezed out of the political scene. The resolute and implacable nature of Ayatollah Khomeini's political thought gave expression to a sense of common will and a single-minded purpose to overthrow a monarchy that Iranians perceived to be responsible for all the social ills and misfortunes of their society. The swift and widespread appeal of Ayatollah Khomeini was not only partially due to a lack of a liberal-democratic tradition in Iranian society, but a l s o to his e f f e c t i v e u s e of p o p u l i s t r h e t o r i c in his g a l v a n i z i n g pronouncements. As early as 1971, he declared, "What is the excuse for a bunch of irresponsible profiteers to suck the blood of the workers and peasants and rob them of their livelihood?" 33 Tliroughout the revolution of 1979 Ayatollah Khomeini's repeated allusions to the Mostaza'feen (the dispossessed) as the new masters of the society and as the guardians of the Islamic faith in history enhanced his popularity among the Muslim lower classes. 3 4 Another f a c t o r r e s p o n s i b l e for the popularity of Ayatollah Khomeini was the charismatic aura surrounding his personality. The shah also attempted to build his own charisma by recalling the glory of the past Iranian empires. His charisma, however, in the face of publicly perceived humiliation and degradation associated with foreign domination, was devoid of genuine appeal and popularity. Ayatollah Khomeini, in contrast, drew his c h a r i s m a f r o m a s s o c i a t i o n with the t h o u s a n d - y e a r - o l d tradition and mythology of Shi'ism and its emotional and psychological appeal. 35 "Myth, according to Lévi-Strauss," writes Ann Ruth Willner, "has an operational value in that its pattern is timeless, explaining the present and future as well as the past." 36 In contrasting the two mythologies surrounding the charisma of the shah and Khomeini, Willner concludes: "The royal myth was presented in school book and story and in celebrations such as that at Persepolis. But these could not have given the royal myth the vitality, emotional depth, and timeless reality of the yearly rituals reenacting the myth of Husain, rituals in which people participated and thus felt the myth in the present." 37 Whereas identification with the myth, which was made increasingly m e a n i n g f u l a n d r e l e v a n t by v o l a t i l e political e v e n t s , lent Ayatollah Khomeini's charisma its emotional power, the myth of the monarch as the " s h a d o w of G o d " was q u i c k l y l o s i n g c r e d i b i l i t y d u e to t h e s h a h ' s confrontation with the custodians of the divine will. Willner contends that o n e of the m a i n r e a s o n s f o r A y a t o l l a h K h o m e i n i ' s r i s e to p o l i t i c a l prominence in 1963 was his identification with the myth of Imam Husain's fight against the tyranny of Yazid and of his subsequent martyrdom for the cause of social justice. A series of decisions on the part of the shah's security forces reinforced the power of the myth. For example, the attack on Qom's theological school, where Ayatollah Khomeini was a teacher, coincided with the anniversary of the martyrdom of the sixth imam, Ja'far al-Sadiq, the most

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revered imam after Ali and Husain. Just after Ashura, the anniversary of the Karbala massacre and the martyrdom of Imam Husain and his companion, Khomeini was arrested and many of his students and followers were killed. Therefore, "the catalytic link between Khomeini and Husain was forged."38 With Khomeini exiled to Turkey and then Najaf, he was linked to another sacred myth of Shi'ism, that of Imam Zaman or the hidden imam. According to this myth, the twelfth imam disappeared in A.D. 872 and went into occultation from which he will return when the world is rife with injustice and oppression in order to fill it with justice. The emergence of Ayatollah Khomeini's charisma was also linked to the increasing popularity of religion in this period. With the intensification of political repression after the emergence of urban guerrilla organizations in the 1970s, individuals became overwhelmed by a feeling of powerlessness and turned inward to take refuge in their religion. This refuge was not a passive one because Islam itself had become increasingly politicized. In religion many people sought not only psychological relief from the pressures of a repressive and cruel life, but also ideas and organization that would change the status quo. Because "organization and ideology are the weapons of the weak," 39 the urban lower classes, city dwellers, shopkeepers, and small businessmen turned to Islam. With the creation of the one-party system in 1975, political repression was intensified. The oil boom of 1972 and the consequent flow of petrodollars into the country not only failed to solve the problems of poverty and powerlessness, but actually increased the gap between the rich and the poor, the powerful and the powerless.40 The increasing influx of petrodollars also increased corruption, consumerism, and materialism, engendering a sense of moral decay and cultural malaise. It was under these circumstances that religion became the "heart of a heartless world" and the "sigh of the oppressed." The poor began to crowd the mosques and looked to the clergy for leadership and guidance. Economic and social deprivation were not the only significant factors in swaying the masses toward religion. Ethical and psychological deprivation, in which individuals felt that they were not living up to their own standards, also played a significant role. Ethical deprivation occurs when "the individual comes to feel that the dominant values of the society no longer provide him with a meaningful way of organizing his life and that it is necessary for him to find an alternative." 41 The alienation of the lower classes from the elite Westernized culture and the rampant social corruption and commercialization of Iranian culture played no small role in evoking these feelings of psychological and ethical deprivation. Religious resolution is more likely to occur when those experiencing deprivation are not in a position to work directly at eliminating the causes. Consequently, the perceived powerlessness on the part of the deprived leads to a drive for power in the form of organized religious protest.42 The appeal of religion lies in its capacity to compensate for this feeling of deprivation.

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What Glock has noted about sects holds true about its institutional form, and religion as well: "Sects," writes Glock, "provide a channel through which their members come to transcend their feelings of deprivation by replacing them with feelings of religious privilege. Sect members no longer compare themselves to others in terms of their relatively lower economic position but in terms of their superior religious status." 43 Although the state religion of Iran, Shi'ism as a persecuted minority throughout much of the history of Islam has maintained many vicissitudes of a sect. The eruption of a powerful mass movement during 1977-1979 became the biggest proselytizing force that politically socialized the people in the millions. Thus the irresistible lure and the awesome intimidating power of mass movement itself as the symbol of "people-clergy power" bccame the single most potent instrument for dissemination of neo-Islamic revolutionary populism.

CONCLUSION I am bound, in the faith of my fathers, to the thread, for the cord of culture—and religion—is memory. —Daniel Bell Throughout this study there has been an attempt to adduce the idea that by looking at Irano-Islamic history—the collective memory of Iranian people—one can detect a populist inclination and trace a history of dissent for which Shi'ism provided the ideological banner. The roots of IranoIslamic populism must be sought in the lingering communal motifs and inclinations in the Iranian political culture as well as the legacy of messianism, millenarianism, and egalitarianism present in many of the movements of the past. We can summarize them in the following: (1) the activist spirit of Zoroastrianism and the unworldliness and stoic nature of Manichaeanism; (2) the impact of communalism and egalitarianism of Mazdak's thought in the fifth and sixth centuries; (3) the primacy of justice in the medieval Persian theory of kingship; (4) the egalitarian principles of early Islam, the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad, and, especially, the legacy and idealization of paradigmatic rule of Imam Ali; (5) the social thought of the Khoramdins in the eighth and ninth centuries; (6) the Utopian aspiration of the Isma'ilis and Qarmatians from the tenth to thirteenth centuries; (7) the plebeian example of the Sarbidaran and Hurufiyya movements in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; (8) the lingering messianic aspiration of the Shi'ites for the reappearance of the Mahdi, the twelfth imam, to end oppression and restore equality and social justice; (9) the self-effacement and unworldliness of Persian gnosis, Sufism, and Shi'ism that discourage accumulation of wealth and luxuries and glorify simplicity, noble suffering, and an ascetic lifestyle; (10) the nationalist aspirations for autonomy and independence throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries that manifested themselves through the tobacco boycott movement and the constitutional movement; and (11) the secular and religious "neopopulist" political culture of the 1960s and 1970s that found its ultimate expression in the revolution of 1979. Seen in this historical context, clerical populism is not an anomaly in Iranian history. In fact, Ayatollah Khomeini thrived on this strong populist 165

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streak in the Iranian political culture and seized power on the basis of a popular mandate. 1 After the revolution, Iranian secular populists found themselves disarmed politically. Islamic populism was by far more attractive to the laity, not only in its appeal to their religious consciousness, but also in its response to deeply rooted feelings of cultural nationalism and a sense of loyalty and authenticity. The extent of the popularity and power of the clergy displayed during the Iranian Revolution, however, raises some additional questions on the social roots of the clergy's base of support and the sociological characterization of its ideology, as well as on the sources and the character of the Iranian Revolution. Without answering these questions the dynamics and complexities of clerical populism cannot be properly understood. The triumph of Islamic fundamentalism in Iran is a paradox in many ways. First, historically, Shi'ite theology has been open to rationalism and Greek philosophy. This philosophical tradition of rationalism and an openness to ijtihad (new interpretations of Shari'a) evokes in Shi'ism a malleable quality and allows for adaptation to changing circumstances. The Shi'ite tradition of rationalism and ijtihad is potentially conducive to Islamic modernism, rather than to Islamic fundamentalism. Second, the intellectual leaders of neo-Islamic populism were among the ranks of modern thinkers such as Shariati, whereas the most traditionalist sector of Iranian society, the Muslim fundamentalists, seized power in the revolution of 1979. The organizational and financial strength of fundamentalists, their control of mosques, madrassahs, oqaf (endowments), and their close ties with the bazaar and the traditional sectors of the Iranian economy are among the important political factors responsible for the victory of the fundamentalists. The broader sociological explanation of this dilemma, however, must be sought in the peculiarities of Iranian society as reflected in the development of neo-Islamic populism. Revolutionary authoritarian neo-Islamic populism possesses both elements of classical (rural) and modern (urban) populism. As an ideology, Islamic fundamentalism has many features of a "peasant ideology," whereas revolutionary authoritarian neo-Islamic populism is an urban movement. This contradictory nature of neo-Islamic populism stems from the uneven development of Iranian society in the twentieth century. This paradoxical nature of Iranian populism is by no means a unique phenomenon. Russian populism, which was primarily a movement of intellectuals in urban centers, was ideologically inspired by peasant socialism. This dual character of revolutionary neo-Islamic populism deserves closer examination. Influenced by the large peasant participation in the Chinese, Vietnamese, and, to a lesser extent, the Algerian and Cuban revolutions in the 1960s and 1970s, new scholarly studies have appeared on peasantry and peasant revolutions. Among these studies, the works of Eric Wolf, Barrington Moore, Jr., and Theda Skocpol stand out as pathbreaking contributions to theories of

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revolution in general, and to the relation of the peasantry to revolution, in particular. Eric Wolf compares six peasant revolutions—the Mexican Revolution of 1910, the Russian Revolution of 1905-1917, the Chinese Revolution of 1921-1944, the Algerian Revolution of 1954, the Vietnamese Revolution of 1946-1975, and the Cuban Revolution of 1958-1959—in an attempt to discern common elements in them. According to Wolf, peasant revolutions are products of three great crises of the twentieth century: the demographic crisis (the drastic increase of population); the ecological crisis (the turning of land and natural resources into commodities, which became irrelevant to the needs of the peasant communities); and the crisis in power and authority (the development of the market economy, which in turn produced a rapid circulation of elites). Labor bosses, merchants, and industrial entrepreneurs challenged the inherited power of the controllers of fixed social resources—the tribal chief, the mandarin, and the landed nobleman. 2 For Wolf, as for Moore and Skocpol, the causes of peasant unrest are structural, and they are ultimately linked to the disruptive penetration of commercialism and the market economy in the villages. As Wolf puts it: The advent of the market thus produced not merely a crisis in peasant ecology; it deranged the numerous middle level ties between center and hinterland, urban and the rural sectors. Commercialization disrupted the hinterland; at the very same time it also lessened the ability of powerholders to perceive and predict changes in the rural area. The result was an ever widening gap between the rulers and the ruled.3

Unlike Moore and Skocpol, however, Wolf argues that the middle peasant plays the decisive role in revolutionary transformation. The middle peasant's independent economic base and political dispositions (i.e., pressures by middlemen, banks, and tax collectors) renders him more apt to participate in revolutionary activity than landless or poor peasants whose dependence on the landlord leaves them powerless.4 Barrington Moore, Jr., contends that revolutions are a consequence of the very systems they destroy. In this sense, limitations by which revolutions are bound are dictated by the social structure of the old system. Moore regards the period from the French Revolution to the Chinese Revolution as the "age of revolution." Revolutions are worldwide phenomena, beginning with peasant revolutions that fail and ending with those that succeed.5 A shift in the occupation of rural landowners toward commercial agriculture, which allows peasants to pursue specialized production for the market, is beneficial for liberal democracy. If commercialization is weak, however, and a great number of peasants are not affected by it, then this mass of peasants forms a reserve army for a communist or populist type of revolution. On the other hand, if a "labor repressive agricultural method" (i.e., commercialization

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backed by state force to keep peasantry on the land) is pursued, then conservative or fascist regimes are more likely to emerge. In both cases, the key to revolutionary turmoil is the behavior of the upper crust of the peasantry. As Moore contends: "The greatest danger for an ancien regime during the earlier phase of transition to the world of commerce and industry is to lose the support of the upper crust of the peasantry."6 On the basis of her study of the French, Russian, and Chinese Revolutions, Skocpol concludes that these three states were "imperial states," predominantly agrarian. All three possessed a resistant landed upper class caught in a "cycle of interdependence" on a monarchial state that was bent on military aggrandizement and increased appropriations for military or industrializing purposes. The revolutionary crisis developed when the old regime's state became unable to meet the challenges of evolving international conditions. When caught in cross-pressures between domestic class structures and international exigencies, the aristocracies and their centralized administrations and armies broke down, opening the way for social revolutionary transformations spearheaded by revolt from below. The key to revolutionary transformation is the "challenge of adapting to the exigencies of international uneven development," which created the conditions for the landed, economically dominant class already entrenched in the state apparatus to abolish the old regime.7 The source of this conflict between the bureaucratic state and the landed upper class was over the appropriation of agricultural surplus. As long as agriculture remains traditional and limited in its capacity to increase productivity in the face of external political pressures, this conflict has the potential to engender political struggle for power. Despite their theoretical strength, the arguments of Wolf, Moore, and Skocpol, 8 prove inadequate when we apply them to the Iranian Revolution. In Iran it was not a peasant revolt that led to the overthrow of the ancien regime. It was, rather, a primarily spontaneous urban revolt in which the migrant peasantry participated alongside workers, city dwellers, students, intellectuals, bazaar merchants, technocrats, and the unemployed that managed to topple the Pahlavi dynasty. So far as the peasantry is concerned, the challenge to the shah's regime did not come so much from a landed upper class or from middle peasants as it did from landless and poor peasants who migrated to the cities and joined the urban underclass.9 The landed upper class was tied to the regime with common economic and political interests and remained its supporter until the very end of the shah's rule. To prevent expensive technological changes from undermining its financial position, and to protect its huge underemployed labor force from the lure of higher wages in more efficient enterprises, the Iranian landed upper class needed the support of the regime to protect itself against competition from small holders and planters. Thus, the economic weakness of the landed upper class forced it to rely on political means to attain economic objectives. 10 Such weak-

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nesses also rendered it exceedingly dependent on the political apparatus of the regime and consequently one of its staunch supporters. Indeed, most of the revolutions occurring in the last two decades negate the thesis of peasant revolution. Since the decade of the 1960s, most of the revolutions in Third World countries have occurred either in urban centers (Algeria and Iran), or have been a combination of peasant revolt and urban rebellion (Cuba, Ethiopia, and Nicaragua). Although in most of the developing countries the peasantry forms the majority of the population, cities acquire greater political significance and have a higher propensity to become centers of political turmoil as the process of industrialization and integration of the Third World economies into the world economy deepens. The period that followed the Chinese and Vietnamese revolutions signaled the beginning of a new era in which the course of Third World revolution took a turn from the countryside to the cities. Insofar as it occurred primarily in urban centers, the Iranian Revolution was a return to the classical norm of revolution, i.e., that of the French and Russian revolutions. This turn from countryside to the cities is due partially to the following sociopolitical reasons. 1. Cities are the centers of commercial, political, cultural and educational activities. Therefore, the residents of urban areas usually have a higher level of political awareness and are more inclined to respond to political stimuli than the people in the countryside. 2. The relative social mobility that is associated with rapid economic growth and city life generates the rise of expectations. The availability of more goods and services in the cities increases the citizen's awareness and quest for a better life. Consequently, demands on the government escalate. Inability on the part of the government to meet these demands, especially when citizens assume that their demands are legitimate, can lead to political turmoil.11 3. The rapid pace of industrialization, the automation of everyday life, the breakdown of old values and traditions creates identity crises and alienation. These dislocations are conducive to involvement in rebellious activities against the established political order.12 4. The invasion of foreign culture is more vivid in the cities. Consequently, it is more likely that reaction to it in the urban centers can be stronger than in the countryside. The development of two cultures— hostile coexistence of Westernized urban upper and middle class culture and that of traditional strata, such as the bazaari, ulama, and the lower classes—is strictly a city phenomenon, whereas in the countryside the conflict between the two cultures is not nearly as intense. 5. One of the features of the peasantry in Iran and many other parts of the Middle East is their widely scattered and disorganized nature, as

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opposed to the densely populated and more organized peasantry of the Far East, rendering it more apt to participate in revolutionary activity.13 The lack of an organizationally autonomous peasantry in the recent history of Iran has meant that the peasantry took a secondary position in the three revolutionary upheavals in the twentieth century. The peasantry was led either by the urban intelligentsia, the clergy, the middle class, or working class political organizations. The peasantry's rearguard position in the twentiethcentury political movements in Iran has another ramification—the countryside, by itself, cannot produce a serious challenge to the regime.14 6. When peasants migrate to the cities, however, they sometimes develop a propensity toward revolutionary activities. As Eric Wolf observes: "It is probably not so much the growth of an industrial proletariat as such that produces revolutionary activity as it is the development of an industrial work force still closely geared to life in villages."15 A distinct feature of the Iranian working class is its relative youth and its close ties with the villages through constant migration, class, personal, and cultural identification.16 Moreover, given their socioeconomic status, Iranian workers and city dwellers are ideologically closer to the peasantry than to the middle or upper classes of the cities. Thus they share the peasantry's dualistic vision, which is characterized by an "understanding of how the world ought to be properly ordered and the realities of a mundane existence, beset by disorder. Against this disorder, the peasant has always set his dreams of deliverance—the vision of a Mahdi who would deliver the world from tyranny, of a son of heaven who would truly embody the mandate of Heaven." 17 This partially explains why the majority of the Iranian lower classes recognized and continued to perceive Ayatollah Khomeini as their savior and leader. The Iranian Revolution of 1978-1979 was a spontaneous, urban mass revolt that was inspired and led by a highly politicized Shi'ite Islamic ideology. From a sociological standpoint, this ideology possesses many facets of a peasant ideology. This paradox of the revolution, an uban revolt led by a peasant ideology, reflects the dual nature of Iranian social developments in the twentieth century. Iran, like many other developing countries, has had an uneven development in the past century.18 Uneven, because the development of industrialization and urbanization was not uniform throughout Iranian society. Industrial development went hand in hand with the bankruptcy of agriculture, and the creation of new middle and upper classes led to further pauperization of the lower classes. This uneven development combined elements of advanced Western technology, industry, and culture with domestic economy and traditional norms and values deeply

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rooted in Islamic culture. The modernization programs of the Pahlavi monarchs did not go hand in hand with Western democracy. They were linked with despotism in all aspects of political, social, and cultural life. This uneven development created an uneasy synthesis of old and new, modernity and tradition, Westernization and Asiatic despotism that was marked by a hostile coexistence of the two. Such variations and syntheses of multiple formations in history provide the basis for the emergence of exceptional phenomena in which features of a lower stage of social development are merged with those of a superior stage. Such combined formations, by their inherent nature, are highly contradictory. Therefore, it is possible that under certain circumstances, an ideology—the domination of which was a mark of an earlier stage of development—can recapture the position of hegemony at a later stage of social evolution. The prerequisite for such a development is an interplay of external stimuli—foreign domination with internal dynamics—social, historical, and cultural heritage of the given nation state. In his study of archaic forms of social movements in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Hobsbawm concludes that "the historical or individual step from village to town or from peasant to worker has in general led to a sharp reduction in the influence of traditional religions and churches." 19 Although this observation is generally true about European societies in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, it does not hold true in the case of Iran and the majority of Muslim nation-states. The division of labor between the city and countryside in Iran was not as well defined as in the West. Therefore, close political, social, economic, cultural, and religious ties developed between the city and the countryside. These ties, in turn, prevented the growth of European-type autonomous cities. The bazaar merchants, unlike European manufacturers, could not develop their own independent guilds and associations to participate in the political process. They were either under the power of an absolute state or in need of the political leverage of a powerful clergy. 20 The economic backwardness and lack of popular institutions conducive to democratic debates, decisionmaking, and participation retarded and repressed the intellectual development of the society in the realm of social scientific thought. Later, the support of Great Britain, Russia, and the United States for the repressive monarchs reinforced this process of stagnation. These developments left the supremacy of the religious leaders in legal, educational, and moral domains more or less intact Religion continued to develop along traditional lines. Reformist movements that questioned the validity of traditionalism, such as Shaikhism, were suppressed, either by the traditionalists or by government forces. 21 With the exception of Sayyed Jamal al-Din Afghani, whose antiimperialist pronouncements the traditionalists found hard to oppose, no other major popular Muslim reformist distinguished himself as an alternative to the more traditional

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ulama until the 1960s. Therefore, a truly Islamic "Protestantism" never successfully established itself until the emergence of Shariati. Although they were primarily located in the urban centers and built with modern technology, the powerful mosques took their inspiration from the beliefs, ideas, and traditions of the past. Hostile to the increasing secularization of society that induced the decline of their power and influence, the clergy sought a base of support among the underprivileged and those who were culturally opposed to the Westernization of Iranian social life. This base of support had a heterogeneous class character. The only class that universally remains the carrier of traditions, the guardian of authentic national culture, and is the least influenced by the Westernization of Iranian society is the peasantry. Seen in this light, Islamic fundamentalism, is most closely associated with the ideological traits of the Iranian peasantry. Dictated by the need of global expansion of Western economies, the industrialization of Iranian society, which was more persistently encouraged by Pahlavi monarchs than by their Qajar predecessors, generated polarities of class and cultural groupings and exacerbated tensions within the society. As industrialization progressed and the gap between the rich and poor deepened, 22 the cultural identification between the old—bazaaris, city dwellers, workers, peasantry—and the new—the new middle and upper classes—also became more polarized. The traditional bazaaris, whose livelihood depended on the domestic market and traditional economic activities, such as trade, barter, and usury, were now threatened by industrialists and the bankers, who enjoyed the support of the regime. To regain their diminishing financial and political power, the bazaaris came into closer confrontation with the Pahlavi regime. Throughout Iranian history, the bazaar has played the most effective political role when it has allied itself with religionationalist forces. In the revolution of 1978-1979, Shi'ism became the bazaars' ideological weapon for several reasons: first, to maintain their important historical ties with the clergy that had proved to be so effective in the Constitutional and the Nationalist Revolution of the Mossadeq era; second, to preserve their prestige among the more religious sectors of the city and rural population, to whom they were linked through loans, imports, exports, and trade; 23 and third, to use the influence of the clergy and the political muscle of the popular masses against the regime, putting themselves in a better position for political bargaining. The young working class, which was still to some degree under the influence of the village culture, developed two ideological characteristics in direct defiance of the Westernized cultural values of the upper and middle classes. A large sector chose religion as an ideological self-defense mechanism against those groups who identified with the Western culture. To the extent that a small segment of the working class identified with Western

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culture, it desired the material well-being that accompanied it. The lack of such economic reward and the ascendency of a Westernized culture that relegated their Islamic values to an inferior position became a source of social frustration for many of the workers. They returned to their authentic Islamic culture, with a feeling of resentment toward alien symbols of Western culture and its advocates. Moreover, the workers identified with the promise of a return to the egalitarianism, virtuous ethos, and social wholeness of the pristine Islamic community in which, hypothetically, the executive power implements the collective will of the community. In contrast, the unfamiliar utopias of the Westernized intelligentsia were perceived to be pipe dreams. The migrant peasants tended to be even more religiously inclined. As Max Weber aptly notes, the lot of peasants is so strongly tied to nature, so dependent on organic processes and natural events, and economically so little oriented to rational systematization that in general the peasantry will become a carrier of religion only when it is threatened by enslavement or proletarization, either by domestic forces (financial, agrarian, or seignorial) or by some external political power.24

The pauperization of the petit-propertied peasants, their concomitant migration to the cities, and their subsequent proletarianization throughout the 1960s and 1970s—a process called "villagization of the cities"—has been noted by several scholars. 25 In addition, neither the land reform, nor the shah's modernization programs fundamentally altered what was essentially an agrarian sociocultural relation in Iran. In other words, growth of industrialization and expansion of a market economy and capitalist economic relations were superimposed on an agrarian social and cultural structure. As Weber observed: "The more agrarian the essential social pattern of a culture, e.g., Rome, India, or Egypt, the more likely it is that the agrarian element of the population will fall into a pattern of traditionalism."26 This Weberian insight fully captures the essence of peasantry's propensity toward fundamentalism. In our epoch, the process of modernization—that is, the creation of a bureaucratic state, the penetration of a market economy, and the replacement of custom by law—creates a painful and uncertain world for the peasantry. To take refuge from the anxieties of these transformations, the peasantry creates an alternative symbolic world built around religion.2? Seen in this context, a peasant's rediscovery of religion is the expression of his/her ideological protest against such a distress. James Scott rejects the conventional wisdom that peasants are inherently conservative. He contends that the peasantry holds a Utopian radical vision that "invokes a religious profanation of the existing secular order—a reversal of things as they are."28 This Utopian vision, "the reversal of things as they are, the realization of the

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kingdom of heaven on earth," finds its roots in the real world. Those "who find themselves at the bottom of the social heap, develop cultural forms that promise them the dignity, respect, and economic comfort they lack in the world as it is."29 Devastated by the shah's agrarian policies and alienated from the Western culture, the poor peasants turned more and more toward the familiar world of traditional folk religion.30 In contrast to the peasantry, the new upper and middle classes, who owed their very existence as modern classes to the growth of modern Western industry, institutions, bureaucracy, and education, remained the primary consumers of different aspects of Western culture, ideologies, and values. Consequently, the development of Western industries, institutions, and culture in the urban centers did not solve the problem of identity crisis and clash of interests among the different groups and classes; it only exacerbated them. Considered in terms of the dynamic social relationships in Iranian society, it is plausible to suggest that Islamic fundamentalism has certain traits in common with a peasant ideology. Such characterization seems to be more pertinent in light of the postrevolutionary political and ideological polarization within the society at large and the revolutionary camp itself.31 This becomes clear when we contrast the fundamentalist concept of Islam with the modernist interpretations of Islam, which up to now have attracted primarily a small portion of the educated urban middle classes. As Barrington Moore, Jr., perceptively notes: "In general, the existence of an undercurrent of belief distinct from that of the educated strata, often in direct opposition to it, characterizes peasant societies." 3 2 With peasantry comprising more than fifty percent of its population, Iran is no exception to this general rule. The structural reasons for the discord between fundamentalist Islam and modernist Islam must be sought in these terms. The contention that Islamic fundamentalism in its sociological roots mostly resembles a peasant ideology is based on the following observations. First, the overwhelming majority of ulama come from peasant origins. 33 Second, the present mass support of the fundamentalists is drawn, primarily, from the remnants of the old society—the Shi'ite peasants and people with immediate peasant origins—either as migrant workers, urban dwellers, small shopkeepers, and unemployed youth or clerical students. Third, in its traditional vision, moralist outlook, and populist bent, Islamic fundamentalism ultimately reflects the development of the Iranian peasant community, which is culturally marked by sanctity of traditions and the preeminence of religious values. 34 Insofar as the victory of the Islamic Revolution engendered the revival of the past traditions, it was also a return to the ideological supremacy of the dispossessed elements of traditional classes among whom the peasantry takes the position of prominence. In light of this sociological characterization of the Iranian Revolution

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and its Islamic ideology, the following observation can be made on the genesis and ideological nature of populism of the modern era. Populism of the modem era has its roots in two distinct stages: the populism of the early twentieth century and the neo-Islamic populism of the 1960s. In contrast to the Islamic populism of the first half of the twentieth century (discussed in Chapter 7), neo-Islamic populism was the result of diverse ideological and social forces. The post-World War II revolutionary upsurge that swept much of Asia and Latin America and domestic political developments (discussed in Chapter 8) had a definite impact on the leftward thrust of neo-Islamic populism. In comparing and contrasting the two forms of populism of the 1960s, i.e., populism of the intelligentsia and clerical populism, the following points can be highlighted: The committed secular and religious intelligentsia sought in populism an ideological bridge by which to reach the masses. For the clergy, which arose from the ranks of the laity, populism provided a means for dealing with the realities of a radicalized political culture in order to update its ideology and sharpen its political program. The populism of the intelligentsia was, in essence, the attempt of an alienated social stratum to link itself to the lower classes. Clerical populism, in contrast, was not the projection of the hopes and dreams of an isolated group that envisioned the salvation of self and society in the movement of the masses. Nor was it merely the result of a longing to be close to the masses. Rather, it was an instinctual gesture of an archaic social sector whose livelihood and existence was threatened. In self-defense against the monarchial onslaught on its vested interests and existence, the clergy sought to protect itself with a thick layer of mass support by mobilizing the masses to an extent unprecedented in Iranian history. This was not a coincidence. In its campaign against the monarchy, the clergy, as the legitimate leader of the plebeian masses, responded to the material and psychological demands of millions of Iranians. In a sense, clerical populism was the most genuine populism, not only because of the clergy's close ties to the masses, but also due to strong cultural identification of the laity with Shi'ite Islam. Although the populist intelligentsia, due to their avant-garde role in the society, could have provided the spark, they were unable to muster the necessary social force to topple the monarchy. In contrast, the appeal of the clerics as guardians of religious sanctity and cultural authenticity cut across class lines and reached many different sectors of Iranian society. This perhaps explains why the Iranian Revolution of 1979 began with poetry readings by the members of the Association of Iranian Writers and the writing of protest letters by intellectuals such as Ali Asghar Haj Sayyed Javadi, but culminated in seizure of power by the fundamentalist clergy. This also partially explains why the populist intelligentsia lost the postrevolutionary battle to win over the hearts and minds of the Iranian

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masses. Protected by the sanctity of tradition, the clergy, by using its position as custodian of the Shi'ite faith and cultural nationalism, politically disarmed the intelligentsia of its populist program and then crushed it with political force. Russian Marxism materialized out of the populism of the 1870s. North American democracy outgrew its infantile populist origins in the 1890s. The present Latin American bureaucratic, authoritarian, and democratic regimes emerged out of the populist shell of the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s. The Islamic republic of Iran has its roots in a long history of Irano-Islamic populism, but more specifically, its immediate origins can be traced back to the neo-Islamic populism of the 1960s and the radicalization of Iranian political culture in the decades of the 1960s and 1970s. The revolutionary authoritarian neo-Islamic populism possesses the dual character of not being novel (as other nations, namely, Russia, the United States, and many Latin American countries have their own illustrious histories of populist movements) yet being novel in its pervasive religious character, which culminated in the establishment of a theocracy in a secular age. The overarching Islamic ideology of the Iranian Revolution is particularly significant with respect to the universal character of Islam as an all-encompassing and a proselytizing religion that espouses the ultimate goal of creation of a single Islamic community on earth. 35 Thanks to the emotional appeal of Islam, its deep cultural and historical roots, its domination of private and public realms of life, and its tight grip over its followers, the impact of revolutionary authoritarian neo-Islamic populism is deeper and broader than its secular counterparts. These attributes of revolutionary authoritarian neo-Islamic populism, combined with its recent revolutionary origins, render its appeal far-reaching and resilient. In a broader sense, the implicit political ramification of the present Islamic revival is the projection of ideals and dreams of a people who feel oppressed and humiliated by their own elites and by the superpowers. In returning to Islam, they subconsciously envision the return of the mighty Islamic empire and the glory of bygone yesteryears, as well as the revival of the pious community of the Prophet and the imams in the face of the rampant corruption, social injustice, and "moral laxity" of modern society. Thus, the reasons behind the Islamic revival must be sought in the intrinsic character of Islam as a political religion and the social conditions that change its content and form. We can name three different, but related, factors responsible for the Islamic Revival in the Muslim world: • Economic. The Western modernization scheme has been accompanied by a widening gap between the rich and the poor. It polarizes various social forces and exacerbates the uneasy balance of tension in society. Industrialization, which often develops at the expense of agriculture, leads to massive migration of the peasantry, the most traditional layer

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of society. These uprooted peasants are one of the most vulnerable groups to Islamic fundamentalism and provide the ulama with the army of followers they need. • Sociological. The confrontation between the traditional and Western cultures creates identity crises. Nationalist sentiment arises and a return to the past becomes a means for self-assertion. Often a new politicized interpretation of Islam appears to fulfill the needs of the changing times. This politicized Islam, in turn, provides an ideology for the already alienated youth and the traditional social forces who have lost their former positions of prominence due to industrialization. • Political. T h e i d e o l o g i c a l and o r g a n i z a t i o n a l i n c a p a c i t y of communism and formal nationalism to attract the common people has o p e n e d d o o r s for the Islamic "third way." T h e p e r c e p t i o n of c o m m u n i s t parties among Muslims as "Eastern atheists" and the formal nationalist parties as "Western puppets" has hampered their drive for power. If these forces seize power as they have done in Afghanistan and Jordan, their legitimacy would be constantly under dispute and their rule would be politically unstable. It can be argued, however, that Islamic militancy is nothing new. From Muslim resistance to British colonialism in India to Algerian resistance against French colonialism, from the Mahdist movement in the Sudan to the Egyptian struggle against British occupation, and from Sanusi resistance to Italian o c c u p a t i o n of L i b y a to r e l i g i o u s o p p o s i t i o n a g a i n s t B r i t i s h colonialism and Zionism in Palestine, one can detect a continuous history of Muslim resistance to Western encroachment. 3 6 What is new in the revival of Islamic militancy is the depth and scope of the movement. The social and political forces that have given rise to the new Islamic Revival in the Middle East are by far broader and deeper than those of the Islamically inspired anticolonialism of the past. As history has proved, these social forces outlived the leader of the Islamic Revival, Ayatollah Khomeini, as a faith outlives its interpreters. It is a great historical irony that the country that was once conquered by Arabs and for centuries resisted the culture of its conquerors, in the second half of the twentieth century is now ideologically conquering Arab lands with its own brand of Islam. By exporting populist Islam, Iran has managed to discredit the established Islam of the ruling elite in the Arab world and win the hearts and minds of many impoverished people of the Muslim world. The turn of political events in Iran since the revolution of 1979 is of secondary significance. The masses throughout the Muslim world can conclude that they would avoid the mistakes of the Islamic republic of Iran. What remains crucial and continues to be appealing to these Muslims is the example of the Iranian Revolution, the ability of an unarmed people brought together by a sense of conviction, determination, national pride, and power

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of faith to paralyze a highly trained and sophisticated army and overthrow a powerful monarchy with 2,500 years of continuity. The awesome display of mass power, the rediscovery of potential power in the midst of powerlessness, and the Islamic republic's policies of defiance of superpowers, selfreliance, and nonalignment are the main antecedents of the Iranian Revolution responsible for its continuous appeal. Populist governments have often been described as transitional regimes. They usually give rise to Bonapartist governments that elevate themselves above the social classes and rule authoritatively over their subjects. Examples of such regimes are those that emerged in Brazil, Argentina, and Mexico since the 1930s. A populist government may also function as a bridge to a more radically inclined regime. An example of the latter can be seen in Bolivia in the 1970s. However, until the recent trend toward democratization in some countries of Latin America, the dominant tendency in the continent has been replacement of populist regimes with military dictatorships. The revolutionary authoritarian neo-Islamic populism of Iran is different from Russian and U.S. populism. Whereas the Russian and U.S. populists did not seize power, both Latin American and Iranian populists ascended to state power. Iranian populism is also different from its Latin American counterpart in many ways. First, whereas Latin American populist regimes primarily seized power through electoral victories, the Iranian populist leaders seized power through one of the most popular revolutions of the twentieth century. Therefore, the revival of Islam on the cultural level was combined with the revolutionary upsurge of the impoverished masses. This combination of religious zeal and revolutionary fervor predisposes Muslims to become political creatures of the most assertive and dedicated type. Second, the overarching Islamic ideology of the Iranian regime lends it a deep national and emotional appeal unmatched by secular populism. Third, the perceived legitimacy of the Islamic republic of Iran as a pious and divinely ordained government adds to its resilience, appeal, and power despite its mistakes or wrongdoings. This perception is due to the fact that a Muslim's primary allegiance is to God, the Prophet, and the imams and their vice-regents. The doctrine of taqlid (emulation) makes it incumbent on lay Shi'ites as muqalid (emulators) to obey Mujtahids as "holy learned men." In the case of the Islamic republic, the concentration of executive power in the hands of the Mujtahids reinforces the long-held ideal of protecting an Islamic government. Moreover, because Islam adheres to principles that are universal, the appeal of neo-Islamic populism goes beyond Iranian borders. Thus, the demands and aspirations that were aroused by the Iranian Revolution are resounding elsewhere in the Muslim world. In the United States, the Soviet Union, and, to a certain extent, Latin America, the epoch of populist movements is now in the past, and scholars write requiems and deliver eulogies on the subject of populism. 37 The

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M u s l i m w o r l d , late novitiate to the p r o c e s s of industrialization and urbanization, is now being haunted by the spectre of Islamic populism. The era of Mossadeq's liberalism and Nasser's nationalism has passed and the Ba'ath party's secular Arab socialism, increasingly on the defensive, is losing ground to Islamic fundamentalism. A new era has begun, an era in which Western-inspired classical liberalism and nationalism are no longer viable long-term vehicles of political expression for the Muslim masses. This new era is the reign of neo-Islamic populism.

NOTES

PREFACE 1. For the definition and characteristics of populism, see Chapter 2. 2. T h e first m e t a m o r p h o s i s o c c u r r e d w h e n ancient P e r s i a n s e m b r a c e d Zoroastrianism as their religion. The second major change in the Iranian cultural identity took place after the seventh-century Arab invasion and the concomitant Islamization of the country. The third major modification was incurred under Safavid in 1501 when Shi'ism was adopted as the state religion. The fourth major stage in evolution of Iranian identity began with Westernization of Iran in the 1870s, a process that came to an abrupt halt in 1979. 3. This includes contributions by Richard Cottam (1986), Fred Halliday (1988), Val Moghadam (1988), and Kaveh Afrasiabi (1987). 4. Although Russian populism has been a subject of debate among Marxists and n o n - M a r x i s t s since the 1870s, and U.S. p o p u l i s m generated much political controversy since the 1890s, and the Latin American populism has been widely discussed since the 1930s, the systematic study of populism by academicians did not begin until the 1960s.

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

1. Hamid Enayat, Modern Islamic Political Thought (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1982), pp. 18-51. See also Emmanuel Sivan, "Sunni Radicalism in the Middle East and the Iranian Revolution," International Journal of Middle East Studies 21, No. 1 (February 1989):l-30. 2. See, for example, Samuel P. Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968). For an application of modernization theory to a study of the Iranian Revolution, see Sepehr Zabih, Iran's Revolutionary Upheaval: An Interpretive Essay (San Francisco: Alchemy Books, 1979). 3. The conspiratorial view is popular with some leftist groups as well as with many former officials of the Shah's regime. They basically conclude that the revolution of 1979 was the result of a conspiracy between General Huyser and Ayatollah Beheshti. 4. For a doctrinal explanation of Shi'ite militancy, see Hamid Algar, Religion and State in Iran, 1785-1905 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969). For a discussion of Algar's theory, see Chapter 5 of this volume.

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5. See Abdul-Hadi Hairi, Shi'ism and Constitutionalism in Iran (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1977), p. 196; and Ruhollah Khomeini, Hokumat-e Islami (Islamic Government) (Tehran, n.p., 1978), p. 49. 6. Barrington Moore, Jr., Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy (Boston: Beacon Press, 1966), pp. 486-487. 7. Ibid., p. 487. 8. See Chapter 4. 9. Thomas Paine, Common Sense, in Political Thought in America, Michael B. Levy, ed. (Homewood, IL: Dorsey Press, 1982), pp. 43-49. 10. Michael Walzer, The Revolution of the Saints (New York: Atheneum Publishers, 1974). 11. Alexis de Tocqueville, The Old Regime and the French Revolution (Garden City, NY: Anchor Books, 1955), pp. 4-13,19-21,148-157. 12. Edward Mortimer, Faith and Power, the Politics of Islam (New York: Vintage Books, 1982), p. 407. 13. James E. Royster, "The Study of Mohammad: A Survey of Approaches from the Perspective of the History and Phenomenology of Religion," Muslim World 62 (1972):62, as cited by B. S. Turner, Weber and Islam, a Critical Study (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978), p. 37. 14. Turner, Weber and Islam, p. 11. 15. For such studies see Mohsen Millani, The Making of Iran's Islamic Revolution (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1988); Shahrough Akhavi, Religion and Politics in Contemporary Iran: Clergy-State Relations in the Pahlavi Period (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1980); Michael Fischer, Iran: From Religious Dispute to Revolution (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980); and Nikki R. Keddie, Roots of Revolution (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981). 16. See Chapter 2 for definitions and characteristics of populism. It is important here to make a distinction between the concepts "popular" and "populist." Although Mossadeq was definitely a popular leader, he was not a populist one. Populist leaders tend to revive past traditions and symbols. They discard liberalism and have contempt for parliamentary methods of political struggle. While in power, they use extensive mass mobilization to build a broad base of support for their regimes. Mossadeq's movement was inspired by nationalism and liberalism. He did not use extensive mass mobilization tactics, he did not campaign on behalf of the lower classes, and his movement lacked a populist mandate. 17. For Weber's argument see Max Weber, "Religious Rejections of the World and Their Directions," in Max Weber Essays in Sociology, ed. H. Gerth and C. Wright Mills (New York: Oxford University Press, 1979), p. 325. 18. Mahmoud Ayoub, Redemptive Suffering in Islam: A Study of the Devotional Aspects of Ashura in Twelver Shi'ism (New York: Mouton Publishers, 1978), pp. 15-52. 19. Ann K. S. Lambton, "Justice in the Medieval Persian Theory of Kingship," Studia Islamica 17 (1962):101-102. 20. Ann K. S. Lambton, Qajar Persia (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1988), p. 93. 21. Iranians, unlike Egyptians and Syrians, did not lose their language and identity after the Arab conquest of their country. They remained "Iranian" and their language remained Persian, although heavily influenced by Arabic. Iranian affinity

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toward Shi'ism rather than to Sunnism reflects loyalty to pre-Islamic traditions as much as defiance of the religion of the Arab caliphs. 22. See Chapter 5. 23. R. N. Frye, The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 4 (London: Cambridge University Press, 1975), pp. 490-509. 24. Said Amir Arjomand, "Religion, Political Action and Legitimate Domination in Shi'ite Iran: Fourteenth to Eighteenth Centuries A . D . , " European Journal of Sociology 20 (1979):59-109. 25. Ibid., p. 96. 26. Bernard Lewis, Islam in History: Ideas, Men and Events in the Middle East (London: Alcove Press, 1973), p. 219. 27. Numerous recent studies suggest that the Shi'ite religion evolved from a quietist creed to an active and politicized one. See, for example, S. A. Arjomand, The Shadow of God and the Hidden Imam (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984); N. Keddie and J. Cole, eds., Shi'ism and Social Protest (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986); or A. R. Sheikholeslami, "From Religious Accommodation To Religious Revolution: The Transformation of Shi'ism in Iran," in The State, Religion, and Ethnic Politics, ed. A. Banuazizi and M. Weiner (New York: Syracuse University Press, 1986), pp. 227-255. 28. Keddie, Roots of Revolution, pp. 11-22.

CHAPTER 2.

ISLAMIC POPULISM

1. Richard Pipes, "Narodnichestvo: A Semantic Inquiry," Slavic Review 23 (September 1964):458. 2. Margaret Canovan, Populism (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1981), p. 141. 3. Peter Wiles, "A Syndrome, Not a Doctrine: Some Elementary Theses on Populism," in Populism: Its Meanings and National Characteristics, ed. Ghita Ionescu and Ernest Gellner (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1969), p. 166, as cited in Canovan, Populism, p. 290. 4. Ibid., p. 171. 5. Ibid., p. 172. 6. Paul W. Drake, "Requiem for Populism," in Latin American Populism in Comparative Perspective, ed. Michael L. Conniff (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1982), p. 236. 7. Ibid., p. 237. 8. Ibid. 9. Conniff, Latin American Populism, p. 4. 10. Ibid., p. 5. 11. Ibid., p. 20. 12. Drake, "Requiem for Populism," p. 232. 13. Conniff, Latin American Populism, p. 20. 14. Ibid. 15. Canovan, Populism, p. 297. 16. Drake, "Requiem for Populism," p. 221. 17. Ibid., p. 218.

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18. Conniff, Latin American Populism, p. 13. 19. Andrzcj Walicki, Controversy Over Capitalism: Studies in the Social Philosophy of the Russian Populists (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), p. 9. 20. Canovan, Populism, p. 60. 21. Pipes, "Narodnichestvo," p. 468. 22. George McKenna, ed., American Populism (New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1974), pp. xi-xxv. 23. Grant McConnell, Decline of Agrarian Democracy (New York: Atheneum, 1968), pp. 1-6. 24. Lawrence Goodwyne, The Populist Movement: Short History of the Agrarian Revolt in America (New York: Oxford University Press, 1978), p. xiv. 25. McKenna, American Populism, pp. 3-73. McKenna also considers the Shay and Whiskey Rebellions basically populist movements inspired by lower-class revolt. 26. Ferenc Szasz, "United States Populism," in Conniff, Latin American Populism, p. 197. 27. T. Harry Williams, Huey Long (New York: Vintage Books, 1969). 28. Szasz, "United States Populism," p. 203. 29. Canovan, Populism, p. 11. 30. Richard Hofstadter, The Age of Reform (New York: A. Knopf, 1955), pp. 4-5. 31. Conniff, Latin American Populism, pp. 6-11. 32. Robert M. Levine, The Vargas Regime: The Critical Years, 1934-1938, (New York: Columbia University Press, 1970). 33. See George I. Blanksten, Peron's Argentina (New York: Russell and Russell, 1953). 34. Gino Germani, Authoritarianism, Fascism and National Populism (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Books, 1978), p. 88. 35. Conniff, Latin American Populism, p. 23. 36. The term "Islamic Marxism" was also used by the shah's officials for political purposes, namely to discredit Muslim opposition groups. See, for example, An Alliance of Reaction and Terror (Tehran: Focus Publications, February 1977). 37. See, for example, Khalil Allah Moqaddam, Mobarezeh 'Alih-e Fashism-e Mazhabi (Struggle Against Religious Fascism) (n.p., n.d.). 38. Fergus M. Bordewich, "Fascism without Swastikas: Misreading the Iranian Revolution," Harper's Magazine 261 (July 1980):66. For a similar argument, see also Sharif Arani, "Iran, From Shah's Dictatorship to Khomeini's Demagogic Theocracy," Dissent 27 (Winter 1980):9-25. 39. See S. A. Arjomand, From Nationalism to Revolutionary Islam (Stony Brook: State University of New York Press, 1984), introduction; and S. A. Arjomand, The Turban for the Crown (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), ch. 10. In both of his contributions, Arjomand discusses the similarities between Islamic and fascistic movements, such as the lower-class composition of the leadership, messianic ideology, millenarianism, and their integrative social thrust; he does not, however, identify the Islamic revolution as a fascist one. His discussions of fascism in Balkan states and Eastern Europe is more subtle. He differentiates between German and Italian fascism, which primarily glorified the race and the nation, and the fascism of the Romanians (Iron Guards), who in their cult of suffering and martyrdom as well as their pronounced goal of resurrection of Christ have certain resemblances with the

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Islamic revolutionaries in Iran. But it must also be mentioned that both Mussolini and Hitler were anticlerical and had confrontations with the church. Although Arjomand's characterization of both Islamic and "fascist revolutions" (a term he uses to describe fascist reaction) as movements of the "declassed and dispossessed" caused by social dislocation of modernization may be accurate, the fact remains that there are a number of significant and distinct differences between the two movements that set them apart. Therefore, for the purpose of theorizing, the populist paradigm seems to be a more useful conceptual device for comprehension of the Islamic revolution. 40. Canovan, Populism, p. 149. 41. Alexander J. Groth, Major Ideologies (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1971), p. 107. See also Daniel Guerin, Fascism and Big Business (New York: Pioneer Publishers, 1939). 42. See, for example, Shahrough Akhavi, Religion and Politics in Contemporary Iran: Clergy-State Relations in the Pahlavi Period (Albany: State University of New York, 1980), p. 107. 43. As quoted in S. William Halperin, Mussolini and Italian Fascism (Princeton: VanNostrand, 1964), p. 152. 44. Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1943), pp. 134-157. 45. Groth, Major Ideologies, p. 104. 46. An objection to the use of the term "Islamic populism" may arise on the grounds that populism as an ideology seems to be vague and eclectic, whereas Islam possesses clear principles and guidelines with political ramifications. The answer to this objection is that the ideological eclecticism of populism does not preclude the idea of strict ideological commitment. "Many versions of populism carry definite ideological commitments, such as Narodnichestvo, U.S. populism, or populist democracy" (Canovan, Populism, p. 341). Islam as a form of ideology demands such a commitment. But insofar as its content and structure are concerned (as will be demonstrated in the following pages), in its present militant phase it has strong populist traits. 47. The term "neo-Islamic populism" is used in reference to the politicized Islam of Shariati and Ayatollahs Taleqani and Khomeini that became popular in the 1960s and 1970s. For a more elaborate theoretical exposition of the different shades of Iranian populism of the 1960s and 1970s, see Chapters 7-11. 48. Goodwyne, The Populist Movement, p. 43. 49. Even in comparison with other religions, the role of Islam as an agent of political socialization is more intense and its grip over its followers is tighter. A practicing Christian in the West is usually encouraged to go to church once each week, whereas a pious Muslim must pray five times a day, preferably in union with other Muslims in a mosque, and be divorced from the material world in order to totally "surrender" to God. 50. Islam is a proselytizing religion that seeks to create a single Islamic nation {umma) and ultimately a single world government. Even such moderate Muslim leaders as Mehdi Bazargan have sought the solution to the problems of humanity in the creation of a world governed by the principles of Islam. See Mehdi Bazargan, Hokumat-e Vahed-e Jahani (A Single World Government) (Houston, TX: Book Distribution Center, n.d.). 51. Clearly, the intent of this study has been to establish this link of continuity. To be sure, there are numerous historical examples that will demonstrate discontinuity in this process as well.

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CHAPTER 3. THE PRIMORDIAL SIGNIFICANCE OF PRE-ISLAMIC IRANIAN RELIGIOPOLITICAL TRADITIONS 1. Robert C. Zaehner, The Dawn and Twilight of Zoroastrianism (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1961), pp. 19-29. See also William Montgomery Watt, Islam and the Integration of Society (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1961), p. 117. 2. Wilfred Cantwell Smith, The Meaning and End of Religion (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1978), p. 89. 3. Ibid. 4. Ibid., p. 88. For additional sources, see T. R. Sethna, The Teachings of Zarathustra (Karachi: Parsi Colony, 1975); and Mary Boyce, Zoroastrians: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1979). 5. Zaehner, The Dawn and Twilight, p. 40. In fact, R. C. Zaehner in another contribution contends that the Sassanian period has a resemblance with the Safavid in that an empire that was united neither in race nor in language managed to unite under a new state religion. See R. C. Zaehner, Zurvan: A Zoroastrian Dilemma (New York: Biblo and Tannen, 1972), p. 3. 6. Zaehner, The Dawn and Twilight, p. 53. 7. Ahmad Tajanbakhsh, Tarikh-i Mukhtasar-i Tammadon va Far hang-i Iran Qabl as Islam, (A Brief History of Iranian Civilization and Culture in the Pre-Islamic Period) (Tehran: Melli University, 1973), p. 268. 8. For example, Boyce (1979) contends that Zarathustra was a stone age man living among nomadic tribes of northern central Asia between 1700 and 1500 B.c., and Hensring (1951) traces his origin to the sixth century B.c., just before the formation of the Persian Empire under Cyrus the Great (559-529 B . C . ) . See William W. Malandra, An Introduction to Ancient Iranian Religion (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1983). 9. Zaehner, The Dawn and Twilight, p. 270. 10. Abdol Hosain Zarinkub, Tarikh-e Iran Bad az Islam (History of Iran in the Islamic Period), vol. 1 (Tehran: Amir Kabir Book Publishing, 1976), pp. 183-184. 11. Morteza Ravandi, Tarikh-e Ejtema-ye Iran (The Social History of Iran), vol. 1 (Tehran: Amir Kabir Book Publishing, 1978), p. 491. 12. Ibid., pp. 490-491. 13. Zaehner, Zurvan: A Zoroastrian Dilemma, pp. 3-79. 14. Malandra, An Introduction to Ancient Iranian Religion, p. 21. 15. For a discussion of Zoroastrian eschatology, see ibid., p. 22. See also M. N. Dhalla, ZoroastrianTheology (New York: AMS Press, 1972), pp. 60-63. 16. Luigi Pareti, History of Mankind, vol. 2 (New York: Harper and Row, 1965), pp. 834-836. 17. Zarinkub, Tarikh-e Iran Ba'd az Islam, p. 172. 18. Ibid., p. 177. See also Naseh Nateq, Bahsi Dar Bareh-e Zendegy-e Mani va Payam-e ou (A Discussion of Mani's Life and His Message) (Tehran: Kavian Publishers, 1978), p. 39. 19. Hans Heinrich Schaeder, Der Mensch in Orient und Okzident (Munich: R. Piper, 1962), as quoted by Bamdadan, in Alefba (Winter 1982):17. 20. Mazdakism refers to the movement of Mazdak (A.D. 494-524), founding father of Iranian communal and populist thought and tradition. See Chapter 6. 21. Bamdadan, in Alefba, p. 12. 22. Ibid.

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23. Ibid. 24. James Darmesteter, Le Mahdi (Paris, n.p., n.d.), pp. 15ff., as cited b y Bernard Lewis, The Origins of Ismailism (Cambridge: W. Heffner & Sons, 1940), p. 24. 25. Henri Corbin, En Islam harden, vol. 1 (Paris, n.p., 1971), pp. 12ff., as cited in Hamid Enayat, Modern Islamic Political Thought (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1981), p. 18. 26. See Jacques Duchesne-Guillemin, Zoroastrianism, Symbols and Values (New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1966), pp. 157-162. 27. Ehsan Yarshater, The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 3 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), pp. 1022-1023. 28. Abdol Rafi'i Haghiqat, Tarikh-e Nehzatha-ye Fekri-ye Iranian (The History of Intellectual Trends of Thought in Iran) (Tehran: Writers and Translators of Iran, 1957), pp. 95-98. For a more detailed account of the Arab conquest of Iran, see the seminal work by Dr. Abdol Hosain Zarinkub, Dou Qarn Sokut (Two Centuries of Silence) (Tehran: Ahmad Ali Publications, 1957), pp. 44—67. 29. This is pol-e sarat to Muslims and chinudpohel to Zoroastrians. 30. If this is true, then the contention that ancient Persian thinkers were among the first to influence the Greek dialecticians, such as Heraclitus, has serious implications both for the historical origins of dialectical thinking and for the seeds of the logic of change and negation that are deeply imbedded in Iranian intellectual history. Whether this is understood consciously by Iranians themselves is subject to dispute, but the underlying logic is vivid throughout the history of Iranian social movements. CHAPTER 4. THE LEGACY OF POPULIST ORIGINS, I: THE PROPHECY OF MUHAMMAD AND THE SPIRIT OF QURANIC PRECEPTS 1. Nikki R. Keddie, Roots of Revolution (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981), p. 5. 2. Toshihiko Izutsu, Ethico-Religious Concepts in the Qur'an (Montreal: McGill University Press, 1966), pp. 45-104. 3. W. Montgomery Watt, Islamic Political Thought: The Basic Concepts (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1968), pp. 3-30, 67-77, 90-99. 4. Toshihiko Izutsu, The Structure of the Ethical Terms in the Qur'an (Tokyo, 1959), as cited by Bryan S. Turner, Weber and Islam, a Critical Study (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978), p. 35. 5. Ibid. 6. W. Montgomery Watt, Muhammad at Mecca (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1953), pp. l ^ t . 7. Ibid., pp. 16-25. 8. W. Montgomery Watt, Muhammad: The Prophet and the Statesman (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1964), pp. 48-50. 9. Maxime Rodinson, Mohammad (New York: Vintage Books, 1974), p. 66. 10. Ibid. 11. For a discussion of the differences between Sunni and Shi'i interpretations of ijma, see A. A. Sachedina, Islamic Messianism (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1981).

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12. Edward Mortimer, Faith and Power, the Politics of Islam (New York: Vintage Books, 1982), p. 33. 13. Quran, 94:13. 14. Quran, 93. The overriding concern of Islam with social solidarity and the unity of collectivity is noted by many other scholars. See, for example, Gustav von Grunebaum, Classical Islam (Chicago: Aldine, Inc., 1970), p. 62. 15. W. Montgomery Watt, Muhammad at Medina (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962), pp. 252-253. 16. Quran, 53:39. 17. Quran, 9:34-35. 18. Hamid Enayat, Modern Islamic Political Thought (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1982), p. 2. 19.Ibid. 20. Fazlur Rahman, "The message and the Messenger," in Islam, The Religious Marjorie Kelly, ed. (New York: Praeger and Political Life of a Community, Publishers, 1984), p. 34. 21. See Max Weber, The Sociology of Religion, trans. Epharim Fischoff (Boston: Beacon Press, 1963); and Karl Kautsky, The Foundations of Christianity, 2nd ed. (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1972). 22. D. S. Margoliouth, Mohammad and the Rise of Islam, 3rd ed. (New York: G. P. Putnam & Sons, 1923), p. 155. 23. W. Montgomery Watt's accounts of Muhammad also assert that Muhammad attempted to convince his followers of incompatibility between the worships of God and the worships of wealth and power. Watt, Muhammad: The Prophet and the Statesman, p. 52. 24. Margoliouth cites examples in the Quran in which the tribe of Quraish wonders why God should send them a prophet who was not from noble origins. Muhammad also rejected the title of master given to him by some of his devotees. See Margoliouth, Mohammad and the Rise of Islam. 25. Ruben Levy, The Social Structure of Islam (Cambridge: C a m b r i d g e University Press, 1965), p. 54. 26. Marshall G. S. Hodgson, "Islam and Image," in History of Religions, vol. 3, (1964), p. 234, as cited by Turner, Weber and Islam, pp. 116-117. 27. Turner, Weber and Islam, p. 117. 28. Quran, 13:11. 29. Sayyid Qutb, "Social Justice in Islam," in Themes of Islamic Civilization, ed. John Alden Williams (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971), p. 49. 30. Quran, 5:37. 31. T h i s a r g u m e n t is a t t r i b u t e d to A l - G h a z a l i , t h e r e n o w n e d S u n n i fundamentalist theoretician, and is accepted in Sunni jurisprudence. The more politicized versions of Shi'ite jurisprudence refute the validity of Al-Ghazali's assertion.

CHAPTER 5. THE LEGACY OF POPULIST ORIGINS, II: THE CALIPHATE OF ALI 1. See, for example, Hamid Algar, Religion and State in Iran, 1785-1906 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969), p. 5. Until recently, this point of

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view was the prevalent consensus among the overwhelming majority of scholars of Islam and Shi'ism. However, some recent scholarship has effectively refuted this view. See, for example. Said Amir Arjomand, "Religion, Political Action and Legitimate Domination in Shi'ite Iran: Fourteenth to Eighteenth Centuries A . D . , " European Journal of Sociology 20 (1979):59—109, or Said Amir Arjomand, Shadow of God and the Hidden Imam (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984). 2. One of the problems with the prevalent theory of the occultation of the twelfth imam as the source of the illegitimacy of temporal rulers, is that it skewed the scholarly investigation toward a one-sided view of the significance of Mahdism and of the Shi'ite Messiah. See, for example, A. A. Sachedina, Islamic Messianism: (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1981). 3. See Arjomand, "Religion, Political Action and Legitimate Domination." 4. After the revolution of 1978-1979 there was a widely shared belief among lay Iranian Shi'ites that Ayatollah Khomeini was going to model his government after the Caliphate of Ali and combine the reign of virtue and justice. It can be argued that one of the reasons that led to the overwhelming vote in favor of an Islamic republic was precisely due to this widely shared notion. 5. Some scholars may argue that the martyrdom of Imam Husain (Ali's second son) and the example of his life have also had a great impact on the Iranian psyche. In fact, the entire "Karbala paradigm" (Michael M. J. Fischer, Iran: From Religious Dispute to Revolution [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980]) is centered around Husain's martyrdom. He is a symbol of heroic struggle against zolm (oppression). Then, a legitimate question arises: Why not use Husain as the point of departure, or for that matter any other imam? My theoretical justification for focusing on Imam Ali rather than on Husain is partially limited by my framework of theories of revolution and its two structural components—pragmatic and Utopian elements—with the rule of Ali providing the latter. My second reason for departure from Ali is grounded in history itself. Ali ruled and set an example of political conduct and attempted to construct an ideal Islamic government and society. But Imam Husain never had such a privilege. He merely exercised what he learned from his father—selfless devotion to the Islamic cause and defense of Islamic principles against extreme odds and adverse circumstances. 6. See Chapter 6. 7. See, for example, Ali Shariati, Shi'i Alavi va Shi'i Safavi (Alid Shi'ism and Safavid Shi'ism), Persian ed. (Tehran, n.p., 1973), pp. 12-25. 8. See, for example, Sayyed Mahmud Taleqani, Tarjumah va Sharh-e Nahj AlBalagheh (Translation and Illustration of Nahj Al-Balagheh) (Tehran: Kitab Frushiye Binish, 1979); Murtada Motahhari, Sairyi dar Nahj Al-Balagheh (A Venture Through Nahj Al-Balagheh), 2nd ed. (Qom: Dar A1 Tabligh Islami, 1975); and Mohammad Taqi Shariati, Imamat dar Nahj Al-Balagheh (Imamat in Nahj AlBalagheh) (Tehran: Mu'assasah-e Entesharat-e Ba'that, 1978). For other sources, see Yadnamah-e Kungrah-e Hizarah-e Nahj Al-Balagheh, 1369-1401 (A Memorial Issue From the Conference on the 1000 Birthday of Nahj Albalaqeh) (Tehran: Bunyad-e Nahj Al-Balagheh, 1981); and the works of the first imam of Shi'ites, Ali Ibn Abi Taleb, Divan Amir Al-Moemenin (Collection of Poetry from the Commander of the Pious), trans, by Javad Najafi (Tehran, n.p., 1964); and Ali Ibn Abi Taleb, Andarzhaye Ali ibn Abi Taleb (Advice of Ali, the Son of Abi Taleb) (Tehran: Amin Mir Hadi, 1972).

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9. Payam-e Enqelab, "The Message of the Revolution," no. 85 (May 1983):42—44. 10. S. Hosain M. Jafri, Origins and Early Development of Shi'a Islam (London: Longman Group, 1979), p. 59. Because the focus here is to elicit the Shi'ite perception of Ali, the sources used in this chapter are primarily Shi'ite sources. 11. Ibid., p. 63. 12. Ibid., pp. 68-69. 13. Moojan Momen, An Introduction to Shi'i Islam (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985), p. 21. 14. Bernard Lewis, "On the Revolutions in Early Islam," Studia Islamica 32 (1970):221. 15. Hamid Enayat, Modern Islamic Political Thought (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1982), p. 33. 16. Dwight M. Donaldson, The Shi'ite Religion (London: Luzac & Company, 1933), p. 28. 17. Imam Ali, Ali Ibn Abi Taleb: Dou Nameh az Imam Ali Befarzand-e vala Tabarash Imam Hassan va Beyar Jan Nesarash Malek-e Ashtar (Two Letters from Imam Ali to his Honorable Son, Imam Hassan and his Selfless Comrade, Malek-e Ashtar), trans. Asadallah Mobasherri (n.p., n.d.), pp. 83-115. 18. There were as many as 20,000 Iranians in Kufa, the capital of Arab caliphate under Ali's rule, who overwhelmingly supported Ali. See, for example, A. R. Haghiqat, Tarikh-i Nehzathay-i Fekry-i Iranian (The History of Intellectual Thought in Iran) (Tehran: Mo'alefan Publishers, 1967), p. 115. 19. Jafri, Origins and Early Development, p. 114. 20. William Montgomery Watt, Islam and Integration of Society (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1961), p. 109. 21. F. H. Frankfort, Kingship and the Gods, 1948, as quoted by Watt, Islam and Integration of Society, p. 109. 22. Jafri, Origins and Early Development, pp. 115-116. 23. Ibid., pp. 116-117. 24. R. N. Frye, The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 4 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), p. 34. 25. From a broader sociological perspective, Mawali support for Ali can be attributed not only to the tradition of charismatic kingship among Persians but also to the fact that the dislocated and degraded Persians found a sympathetic ruler or even perhaps a savior in Ali. This becomes clearer when we learn that the majority of the Arab supporters of Ali were not the urban traders of Mecca and Medina, but rather the nomadic tribesmen from the periphery. Watt, for example, attributes this to the "reactions to the abrupt change from nomadism to life as the superior military caste of a large empire. In this situation those who first began to treat Ali as a charismatic leader were looking for a man whom they could trust utterly to have the wisdom to guide them through their difficulties." See Montgomery Watt, The Formative Period of Islamic Thought (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1973), p. 42. 26. Ibid., pp. 122-123. 27. Ja'far Shams Langrudi, Gamha-ye Chand ba Tarikhi Islam (A Few Steps in Islamic History) (Tehran: Daftar-e Nashr-e Farhang-e Islami, n.d.), p. 49. 28. Jafri, Origins and Early Development, p. 19. 29. I. P. Petroshevsky, Islam dar Iran (Islam in Iran) (Tehran: Payam

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Publications, 1931), p. 49. 30. Enayat, Modern Islamic Political Thought, pp. 6-7. 31. Bryan S. Turner, Weber and Islam, a Critical Study (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1974), p. 91. 32. Ibid. 33. Enayat, Modern Islamic Political Thought, p. 5. 34. Langrudi, Gamha-ye Chand, pp. 89-95. 35. Allamah Sayyed Mohammad Hosain Tabataba'i, Shi'ite Islam (Karachi: Shi'a Institution of Pakistan, n.d.), p. 50. 36. Frye, Cambridge History of Iran, p. 34. 37. Petroshevsky, Islam dar Iran, p. 50. 38. Tabataba'i, Shi'ite Islam, p. 54. 39. Ibid. 40. Ahmad Reza'i, Nehzat-e Hosaini (The Hosaini Movement) (n.p., n.d.), pp. 25-27. 41. Tabataba'i, Shi'ite Islam, p. 54. 42. Reza'i, Nehzat-e Hosaini, p. 54. 43. Mohammad Taqi Shariati, Imamat dar Nahj Al-Balagheh, p. 81. 44. Ibid., p. 82. 45. Tabataba'i, Shi'ite Islam, p. 40. 46. Imam Ali, Dou Nameh, p. 19. 47. Ali Shariati, Masuliyat-e Shia Budan (The Responsibility of Being a Shi'ite) (Tehran: Hosainieh Ershad, 1971), p. 44. 48. Even some secular nationalists throughout Iranian history have identified their cause with Ali talabi (yearning for Ali). For example, Fathali Akhundzadeh, the anticlerical thinker of the constitutional era, hails honesty, loyalty, self-sacrifice, fairness, and fortitude as Ali talabi. Both reformers and revolutionaries have also legitimized their call for struggle against injustice by reference to Imam Ali. Mirza Aga Khan Kirmani, another intellectual of the constitutional era, for example, drawing on Imam Ali's paradigmatic conduct, concluded that "the oppressor should no longer be addressed, it is the duty of the oppressed to rebel and put an end to his oppression." See Abdul-Hadi Hairi, Shi'ism and Constitutionalism in Iran (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1977), p. 26. 49. Ruhollah Khomeini, Islamic Republic, Persian ed., (March 19, 1983), p. 1. 50. Many plebeian legendary figures in the political history of Iran have been Lutis. For example, Sattar Khan and Baqer Khan, the leaders of the constitutional movement in Azerbaijan who later gained national prominence, were both Lutis. 51. Fischer, Iran, p. 144. 52. See Chapter 10. 53. Tabataba'i, Shi'ite Islam, p. 55. 54. Imam Ali, DouNameh, pp. 10-19. 55. Fischer, Iran, p. 19. 56. Ali Shariati, Ali: Maktab, Vahdat, Edalat (Ali: Man of Belief, Unity, and Justice) (Houston, TX: Markaz-e Pakhsh-e Ketab, 1976), pp. 18-19. 57. Hokumat-e Nemonai-ye Hezrat-e Amir Al Moamenin Ali Alieh Salam (The Exemplary Government of Imam Ali, the Commander of the Pious) (Qom: Osul Din Publications, n.d.), p. 5. 58. Mehdi Bazargan, Del va Damagh (Heart and Intelligence) (Tehran: Etahad Publications, 1964), pp. 40-42.

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59. Ibid., pp. 43-44. 60. Ruhollah Khomeini, Islam and Revolution: Writings and Declarations of Imam Khomeini, trans. Hamid Algar (Berkeley: Mizan Press, 1981), pp. 400-401. 61. Jafri, Origins and Early Development, pp. 84-85. 62. Shariati, Ali: Maktab, pp. 24-25. 63. Ali dar Negah Fatima (Ali in the Eyes of Fatima) (Islamic Students Association of the U.S. and Canada, n.d.), pp. 26-35. 64. Jafri, Origins and Early Development, p. 72. 65. Baladhuri V, p. 33, Mas'udi Muraj IE, p. 225, as quoted in Jafri, Origins and Early Development, p. 72. 66. Nahj Al-Balagheh (a collection of Ali's words, pronouncements, and letters), 273/1. 67.Ibid. 68. Gholamali Sobhani, llokrn va Hokumat dar Islam (Rule and Government in Islam) (Tehran: Daneslimand Bookstore, 1979), p. 47. 69.Ibid. 70. Ali Shariati, Qasetin, Mareqin, Nakesin (Oppressors, Deceivers, and Betrayers) (London: League of Muslim Students in Europe, 1972), pp. 220-221. 71. Nahj Al-Balagheh, Khotbieh 4, p. 44, as quoted by Taqi Shariati, Imamat dar Nahj Al-Balagheh, p. 62. 72. Ibid. 73. Ibid., p. 94, quote from Nahj Al-Balagheh, Khotbieh 144, p. 281. 74. Mahmoud Ayoub, Redemptive Suffering in Islam (New York: Mouton Publishers, 1978), p. 107. 75. Ibid.

CHAPTER 6. THE HISTORICAL ROOTS OF IRANO-ISLAMIC POPULISM: THE PRE-ISLAMIC PERIOD TO THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 1. Morteza Ravandi, Tarikh-e Ejtema-ye Iran (The Social History of Iran), vol. 1 (Tehran: Amir Kabir Book Publishing, 1978), p. 647. 2. For a discussion of distinction between the early and second stages of Mazdakism, see Ehsan Yarshater, The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 3 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969), pp. 995-1006. 3. Ibid., pp. 998-999,1011-1012. 4. Ibid. 5. Ravandi, Tarikh-e Ejtema-ye Iran, pp. 649-650. 6. Abu Ja'far Muhammad Ibn Jarir Tabari, Tarikh al-Rasul va al-Muluk (The Celestial and Terrestrial History), trans. Abol Qasim, vol. 3 (Tehran: Payandeh Press, 1973), p. 144. 7. E. A. Belydev, Arabs, Islam and the Arab Caliphate in the Early Middle Ages (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1969), p. 17. 8. Abdol Hosain Zarinkub, Tarikh-e Iran (History of Iran), part 1 (Tehran, n.p., 1979), p. 179. 9. M. Tabari, Tarikh al-Rasul, p. 123. 10. Yarshater, The Cambridge History of Iran, pp. 991-1002.

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11. The number of Iranians in Mukhtar's army is estimated to be 20,000 strong. See R. N. Frye, The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 4 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), p. 36. 12. Ibid., p. 37. 13. W. Montgomery Watt, "The Significance of the Early Stages of Imami Shi'ism," in Religion and Politics in Iran: Shi'ism from Quietism to Revolution, ed. Nikki R. Keddie (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983), pp. 24-25. 14. Ibid., p. 25. 15. Roy P. Mottahedeh, Loyalty and Leadership in an Early Islamic Society (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1980), p. 180. See also Enno Franzius, History of the Order of Assassins (New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1969), pp. 24—30; and Henri Corbin, Cyclical Time and Ismai'ili Gnosis (London: Kegan Paul International, 1983), pp. 59-193. 16. Mohammad Reza Feshahi, Az Gal ha ta Mashruteyat (From the Gathas to Constitutionalism) (Tehran: Gotanberg Publications, 1975), p. 75. 17. Ibid., p. 76. 18. Ravandi contends that after witnessing the Abbasids' systematic persecution of Shi'ites, Abu Muslim developed pro-Shi'ite sympathies and asked the sixth Shi'ite imam, Ja'far al-Sadiq, to become caliph. But al-Sadiq refused and prohibited any of his followers to become involved in politics. See Ravandi, Tarikh-e Ejtema-ye Iran, p. 130. 19. Ibid., p. 131. 20. Feshahi, Az Gotha ta Mashruteyat, p. 79. 21. Ravandi, Tarikh-e Ejtema-ye Iran, p. 133. 22. Zarinkub, Tarikh-e Iran, p. 459. 23. Azizollah Biyat, Tarikh-e Iran az Zohor-Islam ta Dialamah (The History of Iran from the Inception of Islam to Dialamah) (Tehran: National University of Iran, 1977), p. 75. 24. Bryan S. Turner, Weber and Islam (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978), p. 87. 25. Nafisi Sa'id, Babak Khorramdin (Tehran: Forugh Publisher, 1973), pp. 19-21, 156-161. 26. Zarinkub, Tarikh-e Iran, p. 461. 27. Yarshater, The Cambridge History of Iran, p. 1022. See also Bernard Lewis, The Origins of Isma'ilism (Cambridge: W. Heffer & Sons Ltd., 1975), pp. 90-100. 28. S. A. Arjomand, The Shadow of God and the Hidden Imam (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), p. 57. 29. Lewis, The Origins of Isma'ilism, pp. 31-75. 30. Yarshater, The Cambridge History of Iran, p. 1024. 31. Arjomand, The Shadow of God, p. 57. 32. Lewis, The Origins of Isma'ilism, p. 97. 33. Farhad Daftary, Tahqiqat Ismai'li va Isma'ilian-i Nakhostin (Research on Isma'ili's and the early Isma'ilis), in Ketab-i Agah 1362 (Tehran: Agah Publishing Co., 1983), p. 129. 34. I. P. Petroshevsky, Islam dar Iran (Islam in Iran) (Tehran: Payam Publications, 1931), p. 302. 35. Abbas Eqbal-e Ashtiani, Tarikh-e Moqol (The History of Mongols), 4th ed.

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(Tehran: Amir Kabir Book Publishing, 1967), p. 171. 36. Bernard Lewis, The Assassins: A Radical Sect in Islam (New York: Basic Books, 1968), pp. 20-37. 37. Ibid., pp. 38-96. 38. Rahmatallah Mehraz, Armanhay-i Insani Dar Farhang va Honar-i Iran (The Humanitarian Ideals in Iranian Culture and Art) (Tehran: Melli University Publication, 1973), p. 106. 39. Ibid., p. 137. 40. Marshall G. S. Hodgson, The Order of Assassins: The Struggle of the Early Nizari Islamic World (The Hague: Mouton & Co., 1955), pp. 13-20, 50-60, 160-180. See also Corbin, Cyclical Time, pp. 59-193. 41. Ibid., pp. 99-104. 42. Said Amir Arjomand, "Religion, Political Action and Legitimate Domination in Shi'ite Iran: Fourteenth to Eighteenth Centuries A.D.," European Journal of Sociology 20 (1979):76. 43. Ibid. 44. Ravandi, Tarikh-e Ejtema-ye Iran, pp. 331-332. 45. Peter Jackson, The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 6 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), p. 23. 46. Ibid., pp. 23-27. See also Ravandi, Tarikh-e Ejtema-ye Iran, pp. 335-336. 47. Ravandi, Tarikh-e Ejtema-ye Iran, vol. 2, p. 336. 48. Arjomand, The Shadow of God, p. 69. 49. Ibn Batobeh, trans, by Ali Movahed, vol. 3 (n.p., n.d.), p. 390. 50. This phenomenon of Shi'i-Sufi militancy that became a mark of the Sarbidaran episode was repeated later under Junaid, Haidar, and Isma'il of the Safavids. 51. As an example, Sabzevar was known to be the place in which Rostam and Sohrab, two famous legends of Ferdausi's Shahnameh, fought each other. See Jackson, The Cambridge History of Iran, p. 31. 52. Batobeh, p. 390. 53. John Masson Smith, Jr., The History of the Sarbidaran Dynasty, 1338-1381 A.D., and Its Sources (Paris, 1970), pp. 55-56, as cited in Arjomand, The Shadow of God, p. 70. 54. Jackson, Cambridge History of Iran, pp. 42-145. 55. Ibid., pp. 190-209. 56. Roger Savory, Iran Under the Safavids (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980), pp. 2 7 ^ 9 . 57. Ravandi, Tarikh-e Ejtema-ye Iran, pp. 309—406. 58. Ibid., pp. 405-409. 59. Ibid., pp. 309-406. 60. Arjomand, "Religion, Political Action . . .," pp. 96-100. 61. Savory, Iran Under the Safavids, p. 29. 62. Ibid., pp. 1-103. For a detailed account of the Safavid state, see Vladimir Minorsky, Tadkhirat Al-Muluk (A Manual of Safavid Administration) (London: Luzac and Company, 1943). 63. Nikki R. Keddie, Roots of Revolution: An Interpretive History of Modern Iran (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981), p. 11.

194

Notes 64. Savory, Iran Under the Safavids, p. 217. 65. Arjomand, "Religion, Political Action . . .," p. 34. 66. Keddie, Roots of Revolution, p. 17. 67. Arjomand, "Religion, Political Action . . .," pp. 92-96. 68. Ibid., pp. 92-99. 69. Ibid., pp. 99-102. 70. Keddie, Roots of Revolution, pp. 17-22. 71. Ibid.

CHAPTER 7. THE ULAMA IN POLITICAL OPPOSITION 1. Hamid Algar, "Iran and Shi'ism," in The Islamic Revolution in Iran, ed. Kalim Siddiqui (London: Open Press, 1980), p. 5. 2. Ann K. S. Lambton, Qajar Persia (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1988), p. 280. 3. Ibid., p. 281. 4. Homa Nateq, "Saraghaz-e Eqtedar-e Eqtesadi-ye va Siasi-ye Mollayan" (The Origins of the Economic and Political Prominence of the Mullahs), Aleßa 2 (Spring 1983):42. 5. Ibid., pp. 46-47. 6. George Nathaniel Curzon, Persia and the Persian Question, vol. 2 (London: Longmans, Green and Co., 1892), pp. 480-481. 7. Nikki R. Keddie, Religion and Rebellion in Iran: The Tobacco Protest of 1891-1892 (London: Frank Cass and Co., 1966), p. 35. 8. Fereidun Adamiyat, Ideolozhi-ye Nehzat-e Mashruteh-e Iran (The Ideology of the Constitutional Movement of Iran) (Tehran: Payam Publications, 1978), pp. 39-40. 9. Afghani, better known in Iran as Asadabadi, the religious reformist, was not on good terms with the traditional clergy, whom he considered to be backward and out of touch with the realities of the modem world. Similarly, the ulama found his attempt to incorporate "science" and western philosophy into Islamic doctrine an unwarranted innovation. Consequently, Asadabadi did not have a large following among Iranian ulama. His base of support came primarily from the more progressively minded bazaar community (bazaaris). 10. Adamiyat contends that the/a/va (pronouncement) for the boycott of tobacco as it is commonly held was not initiated by Mirza Hassan Shirazi—it was Mirza Kazem-e Mulk al-Tojjar, a merchant who by recommendation of the Russians forged the pronouncement. The leading Mujtahids in Najaf and Karbala, thinking it was originated from Shirazi, approved it. (See Adamiyat, Ideolozhi-ye, p. 38.) 11. Keddie, Religion and Rebellion, p. 97. 12. Said Amir Arjomand, "The Ulama's Traditionalist Opposition to Parliamentarianism, 1907-1909," Middle Eastern Studies 17 (April 1983): 175-176. 13. Ibid., p. 176. 14. Lambton, Qajar Persia, p. 278. 15. Mahmud Sairafizadeh, Melliyat va Enqelab dar Iran (Nationality and Revolution in Iran), 2nd ed. (Tehran: Fanusa Publishers, 1979), p. 18.

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16. Nikki R. Keddie, An Islamic Response to Imperialism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1968), pp. 126-129. 17. Ervand Abrahamian, Iran Between Two Revolutions (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982), p. 80. 18. Baqer Momeni, Adabiyat-e Mashruteh (The Literature of the Constitutional Period), 2nd ed. (Tehran: Golsha-ye Publications, 1975), pp. 48-49. 19. Ibid., pp. 45-47. 20. Abdul-Hadi Hairi, Shi'ism and Constitutionalism in Iran (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1977), p. 26. 21.Ibid. 22. Mangol Bayat, Mysticism and Dissent: Socioreligious Thought in Qajar Iran (New York: Syracuse University Press, 1982), p. 155. 23. Ibid., p. 163. 24. Hairi, Shi'ism and Constitutionalism, pp. 25-27. 25. Bayat, Mysticism and Dissent, p. 158. 26. Ibid., p. 159. 27. Ibid. 28. Ibid., p. 160. 29. Ibid., p. 151. 30. Hairi, Shi'ism and Constitutionalism, p. 44. 31. Bayat, Mysticism and Dissent, p. 164. 32. Keddie, An Islamic Response, p. 187. 33. Ibid., p. 62. 34. Ibid., p. 52. 35. Bayat, Mysticism and Dissent, p. 190. 36. Ibid., p. 163. 37. It must be mentioned here that whereas Afghani and Talibzadeh were both practicing Muslims, Malkum Khan considered Islamization of constitutionalism a matter of political expediency. 38. Bayat, Mysticism and Dissent, p. 191. 39. Nikki R. Keddie, Roots of Revolution (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981), p. 72. 40. Abrahamian, Iran Between Two Revolutions, p. 74. 41. The original declaration stated that "the court, the prince, the clergy, the nobility (Ayan va Ashraf), the land owners and merchants shall reside in Majlis to consult with one another and make political decisions." In the revised edition, the emphasis was shifted to "all elected representatives of the nation." See Ahmad Kasravi, Tarikh-e Mashruteh-ye Iran (The History of Iranian Constitutionalism) (Tehran: Amir Kabir Book Publishing, 1975), pp. 119-120. The supplementary laws of 1907 had to emphasize this point even further by stating that "the powers of the realm are all derived from the people." See Edward Granville Browne, The Per sian Revolution of1905-09 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962), p. 375. 42. The 1907 convention between the British and the Russians divided Iran into northern and southern spheres of influence, controlled by Russia and Great Britain, respectively, with an Iranian buffer zone in the middle. 43. Arjomand, "The Ulama's Traditional Opposition," p. 178. 44. Abrahamian, Iran Between Two Revolutions, p. 95. In regard to the

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conventional wisdom that holds the unity of the bazaar ana the ulama as self-evident, a closer study of the history of the constitutional movement demonstrates that such unity was not always the norm and, in fact, there were several political conflicts between the two at times. See Homa Nateq, "Saraghaz-e Eqtedar-e." 45. These were Haj Mirza Hosain Tehrani, Akhund Mullah Mohammad-Kazem Khorasani, and Shaikh Abdollah Mazandarani. A fourth, Sayyed Mohammad-Kazem Yazdi, was a royalist and supported Nuri's Mashru'eh. 46. M. Nazim al-Islam Kermani, Tarikh-e Bidari-ye Iranian (The History of the Awakening of the Iranians) (Tehran: Bonyad-e Farhang-e Iran, 1970). 47. Homa Nateq, "Jang-e Ferqeha dar Enqelab-e Mashruteh" (The Battle of Factions in the Constitutional Revolution), Alejba 3 (Winter 1983):30-52. 48. Baqer Momeni, Iran dar Astanaieh Enqelab-e Mashruteyat (Iran on the Threshold of the Constitutional Revolution), 3rd ed. (Tehran: Haydari Publishers, 1971), pp. 52-53. 49. Adamiyat, Ideolozhi-ye, pp. 260-267. 50. Kasravi, Tarikh-e Mashruteh-ye Iran, p. 317. 51. Ali Akbar-e Tabrizi, "Kashf al-Morad Men al-Mashruteh va al-Istebdad" (The Meaning of Constitutionalism and Despotism), a handwritten manuscript from the Melli Library, 1960, as quoted by Nateq, "Saraghaz-e Eqtedar-e," p. 33. 52. Ibid., p. 34. 53. Rauza-khani is the commemoration of the martyrdom of the Shi'ite imam by dramatic performances and the recitation of the Quran. 54. M. E. Rezvani, Ruznameh-ye Shaikh Fazlollah Nuri (1977), pp. 159-209, as cited by Arjomand, "The Ulama's Traditional Opposition," p. 179. 55. Ibid., p. 180. 56. This book was revived by Ayatollah Sayyed Mahmud Taleqani in 1955. The book rapidly became popular among the oppositionist ulama due to its antityrannical character, which was identified with the dictatorship of the shah's regime. 57. Hairi, Shi'ism and Constitutionalism, pp. 6-196. 58. Adamiyat, Ideolozhi-ye, pp. 237-247. 59. Mullah Abdol Rasul Kashani is not to be confused with Ayatollah Abdol Qasim Kashani, who became prominent in the 1950s. 60. Adamiyat, Ideolozhi-ye, pp. 249-258. 61. Other prominent members of the ulama who supported the constitution were Khorasani, Mazandarani, Najmabadi, Isfahani, and many others; but due to the limited scope of this study, we will focus on only the two named in the text. 62. Hairi, Shi'ism and Constitutionalism, p. 81. 63. Ibid., p. 84. 64. Ibid., p. 86. 65. Adamiyat, Ideolozhi-ye, p. 149, and Nateq, "Saraghaz-e Eqtedar-e," pp. 30-52. 66. Browne, The Persian Revolution, p. 114. 67. Leonard Binder, Iran: Political Development in a Changing Society (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1962), p. 4. 68. Kermani, Tarikh-e Bidari-ye Iranian, pp. 39-40. 69. Ibid. 70. Hairi, Shi'ism and Constitutionalism, p. 240.

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71. Nateq, "Saraghaz-e Eqtedar-e," p. 52.

CHAPTER 8.

NEO-ISLAMIC POPULISM

1. Mohammad H. Faghfoory, "The Ulama-State Relations in Iran: 1921-1941," International Journal of Middle East Studies 19, no. 4 (November 1987). 2. Ervand Abrahamian, Iran: Between Two Revolutions (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982), pp. 133-134. For a didactic history of political events in this period, see Jami, Gozashteh Cheraq-i Rah Ayandeh Ast (The Past is the Guiding Light of the Future) (Tehran, n.p., 1980). 3. Hamid Algar, "The Oppositional Role of the Ulama in Twentieth Century Iran," in Scholars, Saints and Sufis: Muslim Religious Institutions Since 1500, ed. Nikki R. Keddie (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972), p. 241. 4. Ibid., p. 242. 5. Ibid., p. 244. 6. In an underground political pamphlet, in an article entitled "Haq-i Dafa-i Sharr va Qayam Barzed-i Zolm" (The Right To Resist Evil and To Rebel Against Oppression) (n.p., n.d., pp. 4—11) written against Mohammad Ali Shah's opposition to the Majlis in 1906, the author writes: "If a ruler disregards the constitution, i.e., the law of justice, and violates human rights that all men must see as their duty to protect, then the ruler loses all respect and sanctity. He becomes worse than criminals and disobedience to his commands are recommended and, if necessary, his annihilation becomes an urgent duty of each individual." The legitimacy for this action derives from the fact that "all civilized European nations guaranteed civil and human rights to their citizens a hundred and twenty years ago. It is time now that we are entitled to the same rights." In stark contrast to the libertarian and democratic nature of intellectual thought in the constitutional era, the radicalism of the 1960s was, principally, antidemocratic and deeply suspicious of legalistic and gradual methods of political struggle. After a group of Iranian writers drafted a letter in 1977 to Prime Minister Hoveida, demanding that the shah's regime put an end to violation of democratic rights, a group of Iranian students abroad declared that "rights cannot be granted, they must be taken." They objected to the writers' method as reformist and misguided. (See Shanzdeh Azar, "Azadi Qalam ba Bar Andakhtan-e in Regim-e Khod Kameh Bedast Miayad" [Freedom of the Press Can Only be Gained by Overthrowing This Barbarous Regime], June, 1977.) 7. Mangol Bayat, Mysticism and Dissent (New York: Syracuse University Press, 1982), p. 159. 8. Jalal Al-e Ahmad, "First Day in Mecca," in Iranian Society, an Anthology of Writings by Jalal Al-e Ahmad, ed. Michael C. Hillmann (Lexington, KY: Mazda Publishers, 1982), pp. 122-133. 9. It must be noted that there were many intellectuals who remained proWestern and advocated Western values and investment in Iran. 10. Bayat, Mysticism and Dissent, p. 172. 11. Ibid., p. 172. 12. Jalal Al-e Ahmad, Gharbzadegi (Westoxication) (Tehran: Ravagh Publications, 1962), p. 44.

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13. It is ironic that much of the intellectual thought of the constitutional era became the source of inspiration for Royalist intellectuals and the backbone of ideological structure of Pahlavi's formal nationalism. The oppositionist ideological development evolved in direct defiance of the Royalist intellectuals and their ideas. 14. N. Keddie, Roots of Revolution (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981). 15. Homa Katouzian, The Political Economy of Modern Iran, 1926-1979 (New York: New York University Press, 1981), pp. 356-359. 16. James A. Bill, The Politics of Iran (Columbus, OH: Charles F,. Merrill, 1972), p. 88. 17. Ibid., pp. 58-65. 18. Mohammad Borhanmanesh, "A Study of Iranian Students in Southern California" (unpublished Ed.D. diss., University of California at Los Angeles, 1965), p. 47, as cited by Bill, Politics of Iran, p. 58. 19. Robert J. Brym, Intellectuals and Politics (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1980), p. 15. 20. Bill, Politics of Iran, p. 101. 21. The Tudeh party was basically perceived to be an instrument of Soviet diplomacy in Iran. A popular phrase among the youth of the 1960s about the role of the Tudeh in Iranian politics was: "When it rains in Moscow, the Tudeh members in Tehran open their umbrellas." 22. The fact that a sector of Iranian liberals evolved into social democrats and had to reorganize themselves after the revolution of 1979 in the National Democratic Front attests to the preoccupation of political thought in the 1960s and 1970s with fundamental structural questions and their satisfactory resolution. 23. See Mas'ud Ahmad Zadeh, Jang-e Cheriki Ham Stratezhi Ham Tactique (Guerrilla Warfare as Both Strategy and Tactics) (Organization of Fedayan-e Khalq-e Iran, n.d.). 24. V. I. Lenin, What Is To Be Done? (New York: International Publishers, 1973), pp. 39-42. 25. See, for example, Ashraf-e Dehqani, Hamasey-e Moqavemat (The Epic of Resistance) (Fedayan-e Khalq, n.d.), pp. 22-23. 26. It was no coincidence that some of the leading members of the Fedayan-e Khalq, such as Ahmad Zadeh and Meftahi, were formerly devout Muslims and that Paikar, another Marxist-Leninist group, split off from the Islamic Mojahedin-e Khalq. 27. Another point to be emphasized here is that the appeal of Marxism for the m a j o r i t y of Iranians lay in its antiimperialism and its p r o m i s e of p o l i t i c a l independence, economic growth, and egalitarianism, and not necessarily in its materialism. The former are qualities of populism as well. 28. It is significant to note that many Russian populists also claimed to be Marxists. They read Marxist literature and were socialist in their view of private property, and their main bulk j o i n e d the party of social revolutionaries and participated in the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917. Western and Russian scholars, however, know and study them as populists. 29. Ilm va Jam'aeh (Science and Society), no. 15, 1981, p. 36. The parallel with Russian populism is striking. For example, Zhelyabov, director of Alexander It's assassination, declared: "I deny orthodoxy, although I affirm the essence of the teachings of Jesus Christ. The essence of his teachings was my primary moral

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incentive. . . . All true Christians must fight for truth, for the rights of the humiliated and weak, and, if necessary, even suffer for them: this is my faith." See James H. Billington, Mikhailovsky and the Russian Populists (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1958), p. 133. 30. G .P. Fedotov, "Religious Sources of Russian Populism," The Russian Review 1 (April 1942):37. 31. Reza Baraheni, Ferdausi, April 7, 1970, no. 956. 32. In this article, Andrea Maraleau's philosophy, which defines the meaning of life to be the pursuit of happiness, is criticized, and the purpose of life is espoused to be serving the people. 33. F. M. Dostoevsky, The Diary of a Writer (New York: Brasol, 1954), p. 946, as cited by Billington, Mikhailovsky, p. 186. 34. Billington, Mikhailovsky, p. 91. 35. The movement to the people in Iran was not as extensive as it was among the Russian Narodniks. Some populists went to villages as members of the literacy corps (sepah-e danesh)\ others, who were members of political organizations, went to the factories in an attempt to join the masses. 36. Billington, Mikhailovsky, p. 125. 37. Ibid., p. 121. 38. Ibid. 39. Ibid., p. 120. 40. Ibid. 41. Ferdausi, July 15, 1968, no. 868. 42. Ferdausi, December 9, 1968, no. 889. 43. Fedotov, "Religious Sources," p. 38. CHAPTER 9. POPULISM OF THE SECULAR INTELLIGENTSIA 1. Such individuals as Amir Parviz Poyan and Said Soltanpur, who later became leaders of Fedayan-e Khalq, received their initial political education in the association of Iranian writers. 2. Forugh Farrokhzad, "The Earthly Verses," in The Poetry of Forugh Farrokhzad, ed. Michael C. Hillmann (unpublished manuscript, n.d.), p. 19. 3. M. R. Ghanonparvar, Prophets of Doom (New York: University Press of America, 1984), p. 78. 4. Ali Asghar Haj Sayyed Javadi, "Insan Dar Barabar-e Ilm" (Man Confronts Science), Aresh, 1968, no. 15:8. 5. Mohammed Reza Zamani, "Honar Bera-ye Tahruk-e Jam'ah Na Taqbol-e Am" (Art as an Instrument for the Movement of Society Not Bending to the Laity), Nam-e Parsi 3 (1972):64-65. This theme is more forcefully adduced by Said Soltanpur in "No'ayi Honar No'ayi Andisheh" (A Kind of Art, a Kind of Thought), Nam-e Parsi 3 (1972):41-60. 6. Manuchehr Hezarkhani, "Jahan Bini-ye Mahi-ye Siah-i Kuchulu" (The World Outlook of the Little Black Fish), Aresh 5, no. 18 (1968):18. 7. For an interesting discussion of the movement to the qahveh khaneh, see Ferdausi 22, no. 1044 (1971):27. 8. Virtually the entire Iranian committed intelligentsia applauded Behrangi's effort to "link himself with the masses." See, for example, Aresh 5, no. 18 (1968).

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Many politicized youth were also inspired to follow Behrangi's example and go to the villages to raise the consciousness of the masses. For example, the life of Nezhat A1 Sadat Roh-e Ahangran, a member of Fedayan-e Khalq, illustrates this point. Ahangran grew up in a middle-class family. As a young girl she read progressive Western novels in translation; as a teenager she attended lectures and sermons by Mehdi Bazargan and Ayatollah Taleqani. Later, she enrolled in the university, where she found herself increasingly dissatisfied with purely intellectual discussions. Inspired by Samad Behrangi's pedagogical work in the villages, she left the university a few months after his death and enrolled as a volunteer in the literary corps, so that she could share in the sufferings of the villagers of Azerbaijan and also raise their political consciousness. Later, she moved to Tehran and was recruited to the organization of Fedayan-e Khalq by Ashraf-i Dehqani, one of its leaders. See "Farzandan Rastin-e Khalq" (The True Children of the Masses), in Nabard-e Khalq (The Struggle of the Masses), a publication of Fedayan-e Khalq, no. 7, May 1976, pp. 121-125. 9. See Abass Aram, Kand va Kavi daar Asar-i Samad Behrangi (An Appraisal of Samad Behrangi's Writings) (Tehran: Atai Publishers, n.d.), p. 40. 10. Samad Behrangi, Qissah' ha-yi Bihrang (Behrangi's Stories), 3rd ed. (Tehran, Donya Publishers, 1977). See also Samad Behrangi, The Little Black Fish and Other Modern Persian Stories, trans. Eric and Mary Hooglund (Washington, DC: Three Continents Press, 1976). 11. This style, largely popularized by Al-e Ahmad, was now regarded to be a potent arsenal in the weaponry of "the art for the people," in order to reach out to the less-educated masses. The formal style was now scorned as elitist, distasteful, and dry. 12. See Thomas Ricks, "Samad Behrangi and Contemporary Iran: The Artist in Revolutionary Struggle," in Behrangi, The Little Black Fish, p. 123. 13. Thomas M. Ricks, ed.. Critical Perspectives on Modern Persian Literature (Washington, DC: Three Continents Press, 1984), p. 241. 14. Ibid., p. 350. 15. Samad Behrangi, Kand o Kav dar Masa'el-e Tarbiati-ye Iran (An Investigation into Educational Problems of Iran) (Tehran: Sazman-e Entesharat-e Bamdadan, 1965), p. 43, as cited by Brad Hanson, "The Westoxication of Iran: Depictions and Reactions of Behrangi, Al-e Ahmad, and Shariati," International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 15 (February 1983):21. 16. Behrangi, Qissah'ha-yi Behrangi, p. 6. 17. Ibid., pp. 7-8. 18. Behrangi, Kand o Kav, p. 40. 19. Samad Behrangi on several occasions participated in literary and political gatherings held in Al-e Ahmad's house. 20. For example, in his Our Sufferings, Al-e Ahmad criticizes the morality and values of the self-seeking intellectuals while considering the lay people as the source of social wisdom and genuine human values. See Jalal Al-e Ahmad, Az Ranji Keh Mibarim (Our Sufferings) (Tehran: Jangal Publications, 1978). For studies of Al-e Ahmad's political and literary thoughts, see Robert Wells, Jalal Al-e Ahmad, Writer and Political Activist (Ph.D. diss., Edinburgh University, 1982); Michael C. Hillmann, Iranian Society: An Anthology of Writings, (Lexington, KY: Mazda Press, 1982); and Roy Mottahedeh, The Mantle of the Prophet: Religion and Politics in Iran (New York: Simon and Shuster, 1985), pp. 287-336.

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21. Hanson, in his study of the Westoxication of Iran, contends that Al-e Ahmad was not the first person to coin the term "gharbzadegi." As Al-e Ahmad acknowledges, the term was borrowed from Ahmad Fardid. See Jalal Al-e Ahmad, Gharbzadegi (Tehran: Azad Publishers, 1962), p. 5; and Brad Hanson, "The Westoxication of Iran: Depictions and Reactions of Behrangi, Al-e Ahmad, and Shariati," International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 15 (February 1983):21. Reza Baraheni also attributes the origin of the concept of gharbzadegi to Ahmad Fardid. Fardid used the term in a more philosophical context, whereas Al-e Ahmad politicized the concept and gave it a sharp anti-Western edge. See also Reza Baraheni, Dar Enqelab-e Iran Che Shodeh va Che Khahad Shod (What Has Transpired in the Iranian Revolution and What Is Likely To Occur) (Tehran: Ketab-e Zaman, 1979), p. 217. 22. Although there is an attempt to present gharbzadegi as a problem in its social and cultural context, Al-e Ahmad's treatment of Westoxication is nevertheless problematic and marred by factual and historical errors. Because modern technology has been used for destructive as well as constructive purposes, Al-e Ahmad concludes that technology—the "machine"—is the source of evil. His depiction of India as mother of Iran is historically inaccurate, and his proposal to send students to Japan and India instead of Europe and North America as a way to combat Westoxication seems naive. Moreover, Al-e Ahmad does not offer a socioeconomic alternative to his total rejection of Western civilization and culture. For a didactic critique of Al-e Ahmad's Westomania and historical thought, see Freydon Adamayyat, "Confusion in Historical Thought," in Yad nameh-i Jalal Al-e Ahmad (In Commemoration of Jalal Al-e Ahmad), compiled by Ali Dehbashi (Tehran: Pasargad Publishers, 1985), pp. 538-550. 23. Adamayyat, "Confusion in Historical Thought," pp. 144-145. 24. Jalal Al-e Ahmad, "What are Education and the University Accomplishing?" trans. Michael C. Hillmann, in Literature East and West: Major Voices in Contemporary Persian Literature, ed. M. Hillmann, vol. 20, nos. 1-4 (Austin: Literature East-West Inc., 1976), pp. 174—177. For further reading on Al-e Ahmad's critique of the educational system, see his novel The School Principle (Tehran: Ravaq Publishers, 1977). See also Jalal Al-e Ahmad, Three Other Essays (Tehran: Ravaq Publishers, 1977). 25. For example, Ali Asghar Haj Sayyed Javadi, a colleague of Al-e Ahmad, states: The West intends to build the world with science and the East has chosen human beings as the pillars of the world. The West, which trails behind the East in terms of population, but is hundreds of years ahead of the East in science and technology, has to deprive the East of the constructive edge of science and use its destructive aspects against the East. And the East which is overpopulated, but underdeveloped in science, is forced to rely on human beings. See Ali Asghar-i Haj Sayyed Javadi, "Insan Dar Barabar-i Ilm" (Man Confronts Science), Aresh, no. 15 (1968):7-9. 26. Al-e Ahmad, Gharbzadegi, p. 48. 27. Jalal Al-e Ahmad, Dar Khedmat va Khianat-e Raushanfekran (On Services and Treasons of Intellectuals) (Tehran: Ravaq Publishers, 1978), p. 271. Al-e Ahmad reprinted Ayatollah Khomeini's speech against capitulations in October of 1964 in this book.

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28. Jalal Al-e Ahmad, Khasi dar Miqat (Lost in the Crowd) (Tehran: Niel Publications, 1966), p. 122. 29. Al-e Ahmad, Dar Khedmat, p. 271. 30. Baraheni, Dar Enqelab-e Iran, p. 22. 31. Mehrzad Jahani, comp., Mi'ad ba Jalal (A Communion with Jalal) (Tehran: Ravaq Publishers, 1983), p. 98. 32. This is not an account of all literaiy works of Al-e Ahmad. In my research I have concerned myself only with his political writings that reveal the populist character of his social thought. For an appraisal of Al-e Ahmad's literary works, the reader will be better served to refer to many articles written by literary critics. 33. Al-e Ahmad, Gharbzadegi, as translated in Michael C. Hillmann, Iranian Society (Lexington, KY: Mazda Publishers, 1982), p. 146. 34. See Michael Hillmann, "Cultural Dilemmas of an Iranian Intellectural," a monograph paper, p. xxiv. 35. Al-e Ahmad, On Services and Treasons of Intellectuals, p. 397. 36. Jalal Al-e Ahmad, Lost in the Crowd, trans. John Green with Ahmad Ali Zadeh and Farzin Yazdanfar (Washington, DC: Three Continents Press, 1985), p. 6. 37. Jalal Al-e Ahmad, Nefrin-i Zamin (The Cursing of the Land) (Tehran: Ravaq Publishers, 1967). 38. See, for example, his three travelogues, Tat Neshin hay-i Blok Zahra, Owrazan, and Jazayrey -i Khark. 39. Al-e Ahmad, "What are Education," p. 174. 40. Hillmann, "Cultural Dilemmas," pp. xvii-xviii. 41. See 'The Return of the Sacred," in Daniel Bell, The Winding Passage (New York: Basic Books, 1980), p. 340. 42. Hillmann, "Cultural Dilemmas," p. xxii. 43. Al-e Ahmad's trip to Mecca in 1964 to perform pilgrimage, for example, was regarded by many secular writers as foolish, and his revelations in his novel A Stone in a Grave, posthumously published and banned, pertaining to his romantic affairs while visiting Europe, was considered by many as shameful and distasteful confessions. See Hillmann, "Cultural Dilemmas."

CHAPTER 10.

POPULISM OF THE RELIGIOUS INTELLIGENTSIA

1. Al-Farabi held that belief begins with doubt and that "reason was superior to faith, that Greek philosophy provided satisfactory answers to all important Islamic questions, and that religion was a symbolic presentation of the truths of philosophy for the masses." See John Alden Williams, Themes of Islamic Civilization (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971), p. 114. In the same rationalist vein, to base faith on reason rather than on blind obedience, Mullah Sadra negated the concept of taqlid (emulation). 2. George Rude, Ideology and Popular Protest (New York: Pantheon Books, 1980), p. 28. 3. Yann Richard contends that a series o f f a t v a s (religious injunctions) appeared in Qom after the revolution that prove some leading Ayatollahs, such as Shariatmadari, Mar'ashi-Najafi, Kho'i, Qomi, Milani, Isfahani, and Abdollah Shirazi, condemned Shariati's views. See Nikki R. Keddie, Roots of Revolution (New Haven:

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Yale University Press, 1981), p. 295. 4. G. H. Jansen, Militant Islam (New York: Harper and Row, 1979). 5. Mohammad Taqi Shariati, lmamat dar Nahj Al-Balagheh (Imamat in Nahj Al-Balagheh) (Tehran: Bathat Publications, n.d.), p. 8. 6. For a complete autobiography of Shariati, see Ali Shariati, Kavir (Salt Desert) (Mashhad, n.p., 1970). 7. Ali Shariati, Eqbal, Ma'mar Tajdid Bana-ye Tafakkor-e Islami (Eqbal, the Architect of the Renewal of Islamic Thought) (Tehran: Forugh Publications, 1973), p. 28. 8. Ali Shariati, Mas'uliyat-e Shi a Budan (The Responsibility of Being a Shi'ite) (Tehran: Hosainieh Ershad, 1971), pp. 2-3. 9. Shariati, Eqbal, p. 29. Abu Dharr Ghifari was one of the associates of Prophet M u h a m m a d and a supporter of Imam Ali. He was an advocate of egalitarianism and revolutionary action. Shariati is responsible for the revival of his legend in the 1960s. 10. Shariati, Eqbal, p. 83. 11. Ibid., p. 89. 12. Ibid., p. 90. 13. Ibid., p. 88. 14. In reading Eqbal, which is about the Indian Muslim reformist leader who laid the foundation of Islamic Pakistan, it is clear that Shariati is, in fact, writing about himself. 15. Ali Shariati, Barrasi-ye Tarikh (Evaluation of History) (Association of Islamic Students in the United States, 1979), p. 5. 16. Shariati's attack, however, is focused on that portion of the traditional clergy that is preoccupied with rituals and has depoliticized Islam and rendered it obsolete. In fact, Shariati calls on people to support the militant clerics. In his criticism of the traditional clergy, he writes: "We must set aside such figures as Sayyed Jamal [Afghani], Mirza Shirazi, Tabataba'i, Behbahani, Sighat al-Islam, Modarres, Mirza Kochak Khan, Khiabani, and today Taleqani and even Ayatollah Khomeini who is the great mar ja'-e taqlid [source of emulation] in our epoch." (Ibid., p. 17.) 17. Ali Shariati, Insan va Islam (Humanity and Islam) (n.p., n.d.), p. 4. See also Ali Shariati, Ummat va Imamat (Community and Leadership) (Association of Muslim Students in the United States and Canada, n.d.), pp. 50-51. 18. Shariati, Mas'uliyat-e, pp. 33-35. 19. Ibid. 20. Ali Shariati, Ali: Maktab, Vahdat, Edalat (Ali: Man of Belief, Unity, and Justice) (Houston, TX: Book Distribution Center, 1976), pp. 13-19. 21. Ali Shariati, Shahadat (Martyrdom) (Tehran: Hosainieh Ershad, 1971), pp. 67-68. 22. Ali Shariati, Ali Insan Tamam (Ali, a Perfect Man) (Houston, TX: Book Distribution Center, 1969), pp. 4 - 5 . 23. Ibid., p. 5. 24. Ali Shariati, Khud Sazi-ye Enqelabi (Revolutionary Self-Making) (Tehran: Hosainieh Ershad, 1977), p. 6. 25. Ali Shariati, Qasetin, Mareqin, Nakesin (Oppressors, Deceivers, and Betrayers) (London: League of Muslim Students in Europe, 1972), p. 103. 26. Ibid., pp. 46-55.

204

Notes

27. Ali Shariati, Darsha-ye Islam Shinasi (Lessons on Islamology) (Islamic Student Associations of Europe, the United States, and Canada, n.d.), pp. 48-50, as cited in Hamid Enayat, Modern Islamic Political Thought (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1982), p. 156. 28. Ibid., pp. 77-78. 29. Ali Shariati, Jahat Giri-ye Tabaqati-ye Islam (The Class Orientation of Islam) (n.p., 1980), pp. 78-80. 30. Ibid., p. 79. 31. Shariati, Khud Sazi-ye Enqelabi, pp. 29-31. 32. Ali Shariati, Dialektik-e Tauhidi: Zirbana va Robana (Unitarian Dialectics: Base and Superstructure) (Tehran: Hosainieh Ershad, 1980), p. 172. 33. Ibid., pp. 103-104. 34. Ali Shariati, Chashm Andaz-e Oumanism-e Islami (The Prospects for Islamic Humanism) (n.p., n.d.), pp. 41-84. 35. Shariati, Dialektik-e Tauhidi, pp. 163-177. To dramatize this point and create a role model, Shariati tells us that the fourth imam frequently took on the role of a servant during the pilgrimage. He was denigrated and mistreated, yet he enjoyed it because it was an indispensable revolutionary experience for him. 36. Ali Shariati, Ideolozhi (Ideology) (Houston, TX: Book Distribution Center, n.d.), p. 32. 37. Shariati, (Jmmat va Imamat, pp. 58-61. 38. Ibid. 39. Shariati, Jahat Giri-ye, p. 133. 40. Ibid., p. 263. 41. Shariati, Eqbal, p. 81. 42. Ali Shariati, Alavi' Shi'ism vs. Safavi Shi'ism (Alid Shi'ism vs. Safavid Shi'ism) (Tehran: n.p., 1973), p. 274. 43. Shariati, Ummat va Imamat, p. 127. 44. Ibid., pp. 72-73. 45. Ibid., p. 108. 46. Ibid., p. 125. 47. Ibid., p. 141. 48. Ibid., pp. 182-190. 49. Ibid., p. 101. 50. Ibid., p. 62. 51. Ibid., p. 63. 52. Ibid. 53. William G. Millward, "Aspects of Modernism in Shi'a Islam," Studia Islamica 37 (1973):113. CHAPTER 11.

CLERICAL POPULISM

1. See, for example, Sepehr Zabih, Iran's Revolutionary Upheaval: An Interpretive Essay (San Francisco: Alchemy Books, 1979); and Robert Graham, Iran, the Illusion of Power (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1979). 2. Nikki R. Keddie, "Comments on Skocpol," Journal of Theory and Society 11 (May 1982):288-290.

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3. Mangol Bayat "Mahmud Taleqani and the Iranian Revolution," in Shi'ism, Resistance and Revolution, ed. Martin Kramer, pp. 69-72 (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1987). 4. See Sayyed Mahmud Taleqani, Tarjomeh va Sharh-e Nahj Al-Balagheh (Translation and Interpretation of Nahj Al-Balagheh) (Tehran: Binesh Bookstore, n.d.); and Sayyed Mahmud Taleqani, Partovi az Qur'an (Reflections on the Quran), 4 vol. (reproduced by the League of Muslim Student Associations in Europe, America, and Canada, 1979). Insofar as the popularity of Ayatollah Taleqani among the politicized youth of this period is concerned, we must note that out of the six founding members of Mojahedin-e Khalq, for example, three were reportedly regular attendants at his lectures on the interpretation of the Quran. 5. For a complete autobiography of Ayatollah Taleqani see Taleqani dar Aenayi Qoftar va Kerdar (Taleqani in the Mirror of Words and Deeds) (Tehran: Nehzat Azadi Iran, 1983); and Bahram Afarasiabi, ed., Taleqani va Tarikh (Taleqani and History) (Tehran: Nilofar Publishers, 1981). 6. Taleqani, Tarjomeh va Sharh-e, pp. 117-119. 7. Ibid., p. 67. 8. Sayyed Mahmud Taleqani, Pedar Taleqani dar Zindan (Father Taleqani in Prison), compiled by Bahram Afarasiabi (Tehran: Jonbish Publications, 1980), p. 40. 9. Sayyed Mahmud Taleqani, Islam va Malekiyat (Islam and Property) (Houston, TX: Book Distribution Center, 1976), pp. 38-142. 10. Ibid., pp. 185-218. 11. Ibid., pp. 152-169. 12. Ibid., p. 261. 13. Mahmud Taleqani, Jihad va Shahdat (Holy War and Martyrdom) (Tehran, n.d.). 14. Eskandar Deldam, Zendegy Va Mobarezat-i Padar Taleqani (The Life and Struggles of Father Taleqani) (Tehran: Behroz Publishers, 1980), p. 34. For a summary of Ayatollah Taleqani's postrevolutionary political activities, see Bayat, "Mahmud Taleqani," pp. 79-91. 15. Ruhollah Khomeini, Kashf al-Asrar (Secrets Revealed) (Tehran: Zafar Publishers, 1944), p. 189. 16. Azar Tabari, "The Role of Clergy in Modem Iranian Politics," in Religion and Politics in Iran, ed. Nikki R. Keddie (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983), p. 67. 17. Ibid., p. 68. 18. For an account of exile of Ayatollah Khomeini, see Marvin Zonis, The Political Elite of Iran (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971 ), pp. 44—47. 19. Shahrough Akhavi, Religion and Politics in Contemporary Iran (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1980), pp. 65-128. 20. For example, during the 1963 rebellion, the students of Tehran University and the National Front also came out openly for the first time in support of the clergy. 21. Nikki R. Keddie, Roots of Revolution (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981), p. 160. 22. Hossein Bashiriyeh, The State and Revolution in Iran (1962-1982) (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1984), p. 68. 23. Michael M. J. Fischer, Iran: From Religious Dispute to Revolution

206

Notes

(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980), p. 61. 24. Ibid., p. 33. 25. Bashiriyeh, The State and Revolution, p. 67. 26. Ruhollah Khomeini, "A Religious Leader Speaks Out," Iran Report (Autumn 1971), as cited by Thomas Ricks, "Samad Behrangi and Contemporary Iran: The Artist in Revolutionary Struggle," in Samad Behrangi, The Little Black Fish and Other Modern Persian Stories, trans. Eric and Mary Hooglund (Washington, DC: Three Continents Press, 1976), p. 15. 27. Islam and Revolution: Writings and Declarations of Imam Khomeini, translated and annotated by Hamid Algar (Berkeley: Mizan Press, 1981), p. 189. 28. Ruhollah Khomeini, Velayat-e Faqih (The Rule of Jurisprudence) (Tehran: Amir KabirBook Publishing, 1978), pp. 12-13. 29. Ibid., p. 23. 30. Ibid., pp. 62-71. 31. This view was, in fact, held by Ayatollah Shariatmadari and many other moderate clerics until 1977. Only after witnessing the power and immensity of the antishah movement and being faced with Ayatollah Khomeini's uncompromising stand against the monarchy did they modify their position and opt for total overthrow of the monarchy. 32. Akhavi, Religion and Politics, p. 183. 33. Ruhollah Khomeini, Velayat-e Faqih, pp. 56-57. 34. This populist essence of Ayatollah Khomeini's message became much more pronounced after the revolution of 1979. His public statements are riddled with allusions to the meek and dispossessed as the true guardians of the revolution. See va Ruhollah Khomeini, Dar Jostejoy Rah, Az Kalam-i Imam: Mostazafeen Mostakbareen (In Search of the Path, From Imam's Words: The Dispossessed and the Nefarious Oppressors) (Tehran: Amir Kabir Book Publishing, 1982); and Ruhollah Khomeini, Dar Jost-ojay Rah Az Klam-i Imam: Mellat va Ommat (In Search of the Path through Imam's Words: The Nation and the Muslim Community) (Tehran: Amir Kabir Publishing House, 1983). 35. Ann Ruth Willner, The Spellbinders: Charismatic Political Leadership (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984), p. 78. 36. Ibid., p. 85. 37. Ibid., p. 88. 38. Ibid., pp. 85-88. 39. Sidney Verba, et al., Participation and Political Equality (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), p. 15. 40. Robert Graham, Iran: Illusion of Power (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1979), pp. 18-21. 41. Charles Y. Glock, "The Role of Deprivation in the Origin and Evolution of Religious Groups," Religion and Social Conflict, ed. Robert Lee and Martin E. Marty (New York: Oxford University Press, 1964), p. 24. 42. Ibid., p. 29. 43. Ibid., p. 25. CHAPTER 12. CONCLUSION 1. In his political campaign throughout and after the Iranian Revolution, Ayatollah Khomeini repeatedly spoke on behalf of mostazafin and mazlumian (the

Notes

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dispossessed and the oppressed). He promised to defend their rights and to improve their social conditions. 2. Eric R. Wolf, "Peasant Rebellion and Revolution," in National Liberation: Revolution in the Third World, ed. Norman Miller and Frederick Aya (New York: Free Press, 1971), pp. 48-67. 3. Ibid., p. 53. 4. See Eric R. Wolf, Peasant Wars of the 20th Century (New York: Harper & Row, 1969). 5. Barrington Moore, Jr., Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy: Lord and Peasant in the Making of the Modern World (Boston: Beacon Press, 1966), p. 453. 6. Ibid., p. 474. This theme is further developed by Skocpol. 7. Theda Skocpol, States and Social Revolutions (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), pp. 50-93. 8. Skocpol, in an article entitled, "Rentier State and Shi'a Islam in the Iranian Revolution," has shown an appreciation of the unique peculiarities of the Iranian Revolution that negate some of the generalizations she has developed in States and Social Revolutions. See Theda Skocpol, "Rentier State and Shi'a Islam in the Iranian Revolution," Journal of Theory and Society 11 (May 1982):265-283. 9. Farhad Kazemi, Poverty and Revolution in Iran (New York: New York University Press, 1980), pp. 32-60. 10. Jeffrey M. Paige, Agrarian Revolution: Social Movements and Export Agriculture in the Underdeveloped World (New York: Free Press, 1975), p. 17. 11. Mancur Olson, Jr., "Rapid Economic Growth as a Destabilizing Force," The Journal of Economic History 23 (December 1963):529-552. 12. Leonard Binder et al., Crises and Sequences in Political Development (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971), pp. 119-121. 13. Nikki R. Keddie, Roots of Revolution (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981), p. 42. 14. Unlike Russian populists who thought their socialism could be realized in peasant communes, Iranian populists were convinced that their appeal must be directed toward the urban poor, the intelligentsia, and the middle classes, as well as the peasantry. Similarly, when the Iranian populists referred to khalq (the people) they were not referring to the peasantry alone, but to the toiling and deprived masses in general. 15. Wolf, "Peasant Rebellion," p. 57. 16. Farhad Kazemi reports: "Migrants keep close ties with their villages—91 per cent of migrants had relatives living in the village and 23% had some sort of property in the villages." See Kazemi, Poverty and Revolution in Iran, p. 64. 17. Wolf, "Peasant Rebellion," p. 60. 18. Javad Sadiq, Melliyat va Enqelab dar Iran (Nationalities and Revolution in Iran) (Tehran, n.p., 1980), pp. 1 3 - 1 4 . See also Skocpol, States and Social Revolutions, p. 19. Among U.S. scholars, Walter Dean Burnham also uses this analogy to describe abrupt changes in the history of the United States and shifts in voting behavior. See Walter Dean Bumham, Critical Elections and the Mainsprings of American Politics (New York: Norton, 1970), p. 176. 19. Eric J. Hobsbawm, Primitive Rebels: Studies in the Archaic Forms of Social Movement in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries (New York: Norton,

208

Notes

1965), p. 126. 20. Ahmad Ashraf, Mavane-ye Tarikhi Roshde Sarma-ye Dari dar Iran: Doraye Qajariyeh (Historical Obstacles to the Growth of Capitalism in Iran: The Qajar Period) (Tehran: Entesharat-e Zamineh, 1980), pp. 126-127. See also Max Weber, The City (New York: Free Press, 1968), pp. 80-81. 21. Michael E. Bonine and Nikki R. Keddie, eds., Continuity and Change in Modern Iran (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1981), pp. 40-48. 22. James A. Bill and Carl Leiden, Politics in the Middle East (Boston: Little, Brown, 1979), pp. 16-18. 23. In Iran, like many other regions in the world, a pious Muslim businessman is considered to be trustworthy and prestigious. If he has performed the pilgrimage to Mecca, he is referred to as Hajji Agha, and most of the people seek to do business with him. 24. Max Weber, The Sociology of Religion (Boston: Beacon Press, 1963), p. 80. 25. See for example, Kazemi, Poverty and Revolution. 26. Weber, Sociology of Religion, p. 81. Likewise, some scholars, including Werner Stark, have identified fundamentalism with raw emotional religiosity of the lower classes. Werner Stark, The Sociology of Religion, vol. 2 (Fordham: New York University Press, 1967). 27. James Scott, "Protest and Profanation," Journal of Theory and Society 4 (Summer 1977):241. 28. Ibid., p. 225. 29. James Scott, "Hegemony and the Peasantry," Journal of Politics and Society 7 (1977):284. 30. See Keddie, Roots of Revolution, pp. 164-170. 31. This is in reference to the conflict with the Mojahedin-e Khalq and other opposition groups. 32. Moore, Social Origins, p. 456. 33. Ali Shariati, Jahat Gera-ye Tabaghati-ye Islam. (The Class Orientation of Islam) (n.p., n.d.), pp. 125-126. 34. It is important to remember that throughout the Iranian Revolution and before, Khomeini was given the title of "imam"; the lower classes referred to Khomeini as aqa (Sir, Lord). This term has its origins in Iranian feudal-peasant relationships. The peasants frequently called the landlord aqa. The middle classes felt more comfortable with the religious title of Ayatollah. 35. The Mojahedin-e Enqelab-e Islami (Crusaders of the Islamic Revolution), a pro-Khomeini Islamic political organization formed after the revolution, has stated: "The ultimate goal of the Islamic Revolution is to spread the reign of Islam all over the world. Islam knows no geographical boundaries." See Sazeman-e Mojahedin-e Enqelab-e Islami, Barrasi-ye Amalkard-e Organha-ye Ejra-ye Enqelab va Ara-ye Rah Hal Moshkelat Mojud (Evaluations of the Executive Branches of the Revolution and Some Suggestions to Solve the Existing Problems) (n.p., 1979), p. 68. Even such moderate Muslim leaders as Mehdi Bazargan have sought the solution to the problem of humanity in the creation of a world governed by the principles of Islam. See Mehdi Bazargan, Hokumat-e Vahed-e Jahani (A Single World Government) (Houston, TX: Book Distribution Center, 1976), pp. 5^12.

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36. Rudolph Peters, Islam and Colonialism: The Doctrine of Jihad, in Modern History (New York: Mouton Publishers, 1979), p. 44. See also G. H. Jansen, Militant Islam (New York: Harper & Row, 1979), especially pp. 87-172. 37. Michael L. Conniff, ed., Latin American Populism in Comparative Perspective (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1982), pp. 217-245.

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INDEX

Bazaigan, Mehdi, 46, 62, 153 Behbaheni, Sayyed Abdollah, 100-102, 105, 107-108 Behrangi, Samad, 124, 130, 132; Pesarak-i Labuforush, 128; Kachel t KaflarBaz, 128; Bisl-o Chahar sa'at Khab va Bidari, 129; Yak Holou va Hezar Holou, 129; "The Little Black Fish," 129; "Olduz and the Talking Doll," 129; Investigation into Educational Problems in Iran, 131 Bell, Daniel, 138 Bill, James, 115 Billington, James H., 120-122 Bordewich, Fergus M., 24 Borujerdi, Hosain, 110, 156-157 Browne, Edward G., 107 Buyid dynasty, 84

Abbasid dynasty, 40, 70-73,76 Abu Bakr, 47-48, 57, 62, 83 Abu Dharr Ghifari, 49, 54, 58, 63, 69, 143 Abu al-Khattab Mohammad al-Asadi, 74 Abu Muslim Khorasani, 69-72 Abu Sufyan, 47 Adamiyat, F., 56 Afghani, Sayyed Jamal al-Din, 91,93-95, 97, 99, 140, 171 Ahura Mazda, 29-30,32 Akhbari school, 85, 87 Akhundzadeh, 94-96,98-99, 111 Alavi, Bozorg, 127 Alavi'ite Islam. See Shariati, Ali Al-e Ahmad, Jalal, 111-112, 124, 132-133, 136-139; School Principle, 131; Samad va Afsaneh-ye Avant, 131; On Services and Treasons of Intellectuals, 134; Gharbzadegi, 135 Ali (Imam), 8, 11-12,43.S1-, Nahj AlBalagheh, 33. 46, 64, 153-154; rule of, 4450; Persian Muslims and, 51-53; popular appeal of, 53-60; traditional and modern idealization of, 61 -65. See also Shariati, Ali

Caliphate. See Ali (Imam); Leadership Chiliasm, 44-45. See also Ghullat; Hurufiyya; Isma'ilis; Sarbidarans Clergy, 28, 79, 83. See also Clerical populism; Ulama Clerical populism, emergence of, 152-153, 165-166. See also Khomeini, Ruhollah; Taleqani, Sayyed Mahmud Conniff, Michael L., 15-16,21-22 Constitutional movement, 13, 93, 97-99; events of, 99-101; role of ulama in, 101108. See also Literature Corbin, Henri, 32-33 Culture, 4-5. See also Jahalia society; National character, Shi'ism; Village culture

Alid Shi'ism. See Ali (Imam) America-mania, 131 Amin, Ahmad, Fajar al-Islam, 69 Amrikazadegi. See America-mania Anomie, 36, 125 Arab conquests of Persians, 51 Arab culture. See Jahalia society Aijomand, Said A., 11, 85 Asadabadi. See Afghani, Sayyed Jamal al-Din Babak, 69,71-73 Babakism, 69,72 Al-Baqir, Muhammad, 11-12 Baraheni, Reza, 135, 138 Bayat, Mangol, 99, 111 Bazaar, 91, 93, 159, 172. See also Merchants

Daneshvar, Simin, 136 Darmesteter, James, 32-33 Divinity of kings, 83. See also Kingship; Monarchy Dostoevsky, Feodor, 119 Drake, Paul, 15, 17 216

Index

Education. See Al-e Ahmad, Jalal; Behrangi, Samad; Students Enayat, Hamid, 38, 56 Extremist sects. See Ghullat Fanon, Franz, 142 Farrokhzad, Forugh, 126 Farsi, Salman, 33 Fascism, 24. See also Islamic fascism Fatima, 47, 56 Fatamids, 75-76 Fedayan-e Islam, 109, 153, 158 Fedayan-e Khalq, 117, 159 Fedotov, G. P., 119, 123 Ferdausi, Shahnameh, 80 Feshahi, Mohammad Reza, 71 Fischer, Michael J., 158 Fundamentalism, 11, 151, 166, 174. See also Clerical populism Germani, Gino, 21 -22 Ghaibzadegi. See Westoxication Al-Ghazali, Muhammad, 77, 151 Ghullat, 11-12, 32, 69, 73-74, 82, 85 Glock, Charles Y., 163-164 Gnosticism. See Ghullat; Mazdakism; Persian gnosis Golsorkhi, Khosrow, 118, 127 Goodwyne, Lawrence, 19 Haghiqat, A. R., 33 Hassan (son of Imam Ali), 56 Hezarkhani, Manochehr, 127-128 Hobsbawm, Eric J., 171 Hodgson, Marshal], 40 Hofstadter, Richard, 3 Hurufiyya, 81-82, 85 Husain (son of Imam Ali), 12, 46-47, 56, 58, 69, 87; martyrdom of, 66. See also Shariati, Ali Ibn Batobeh, 80 Ibn Antar, Harun, 54 Ibn Muljam, 61-62 Ibn Saba, Abdallah, 54 Ideology, study of, 6-8. See also Chiliasm; Millenarianism; Neo-Islamic populism; Revolution Imamat, 9-11, 52, 55-56, 86. See also Ali (Imam); Shi'ism Intellectuals: social roles of, 116-123; religion and, 118-123. See also Literature Iranian Marxism, 117-118. See also Islamic

111

Marxism Islam, 32-34; populism in, 9, 35, 42; Golden Age of, 143. See also Leadership; Muhammad (Prophet); Neo-Islamic populism; Religion; Shi'ism Islamic fascism, 23-25 Islamic humanism, 36-37 Islamic Marxism, 23. See also Iranian Marxism Islamic Protestantism. See Shariati, Ali Islamic radicalism, 23 Islamic Revival, 1-2, 25, 134; factors in, 176177. See also Shariati, Ali Isma'ilis, 74-78 Izutsu, Toshihiko, 36 Jafri, S. Hosain M., 47, 51-52, 57 Jahalia society, 35-36, 41-42, 55 Al-Jamal, Battle of, 49, 53 Jori, Hassan-e. See Saibidarans Kashani, Abdol Rasul, 105; Resali-ye Insafeyyeh Dar Osul Omdeyeh, 104 Kashani, Sayyed Mostafa, 109-110 Kasma'i, Ali Akbar-e, 122 Kautsky, Karl, 39 Keddie, NikkiR., 12, 87, 112, 151 Kermani, Mirza Aqa Khan, 95-96, 98-99, 111 Kharijites, 46,50, 54-55, 64, 70 Khavarej. See Kharijites Khomeini, RuhoUah, 4, 6 0 , 6 2 , 112, 165-166; Valayat-e Faqih, 46; Kasbf al-Asrar, 156; catalysts to radicalization of, 156 159; position of the ulama and, 160-161; appeal of, to Iranians, 161-163. See also Clerical populism Khoramdin, 71-72. See also Babakism Khosrou, Nasser, 74, 125; Safar-Nameh, 77 Kingship, 28, 51, 56. See also Divinity of kings; Monarchy Langrudi, J. Shams, 56 Latin American populism, 20-22 Lawrence, D. H., 119 Leadership, 41-43. See also Ali (Imam); Imamat; Shariati, Ali Literature: social reform and, 94-99; secular populism in, 124-128. See also Al-e Ahmad, Jalal; Behrangi, Samad McConnell, Grant, 19 McKenna, George, 19 Mahan, Bekiiben, 70

218

Index

Mahdi, 33,75, 81-82, 8 4 , 9 0 Mahdism, 32, 45, 77, 84 Mahram Nameh, 82 Majlisi, Mohammad Baqir, 86 Malek Ashtar, 50, 58 Malkum Khan, 95, 98-99, 107, \\\,Qanun, 96 Mani, 5, 9, 3 0 - 3 1 , 3 3 , 6 7 - 6 8 , 7 6 Manichaeanism, 9,30-34, 67, 78 Martyrdom, 9, 34, 117,144. See also Ali (Imam); Husain Marxism. See Iranian Marxism; Islamic Marxism Mawali, 51-53, 56, 58, 69-70 Mazdak, 66-69, 72, 81 Mazdakism, 32-33, 67-69, 72. See also Khoramdin Mazyar, 72-73 Merchants, 90; constitutional movement and, 99-100. See also Bazaar Militancy, 1. See also Fundamentalism; Islamic Revival Mill, John Stuart: On Liberty, 96 Millenarianism, 44-45, 84. See also Revolution Millward, William G„ 150 Mirfatrus, A., 56 Mojahedin-e Khalq, 46, 153, 159 Monarchy, 40, 114, 158-159, 161. See also Divinity of kings; Kingship Mongol dynasty, 78-80 Moore, Bamngton, Jr., 4,166-168, 174 Mortimer, Edward, 6, 38 Mottahedeh, Roy P., 70 Mu'awiya, 47, 49-50, 53, 58, 61-63 Muhammad (Prophet), 8, 12, 32-34, 54, 59, 62,70; early life of, 35-37; creates umma, 37-39; death of, 42, 47. See also Imamat; Leadership Mujtahidi. See Usuli school Al Mukhtar, 69 Al-Mulk, Nizam, 9 Mu'tazilite school, 87, 151 Myth, surrounding Khomeini, 162-163 Nahj Al-Dalagheh. See Ali (Imam) Nahravan, Battle of, 50 Nai'ni, Mirza Mohammad, 4, 102, 107-108, 154; Tanbih al-Umma va Tanzih al-Mella, 104 Narodniks, 16, 18, 122. See also Russian populism National character, 10, 65. See also Culture

Nationalism, 92, 96-98, 152. See also Al-e Ahmad, Jalal; Constitutional movement; Neo-Islamic populism Neo-Islamic populism, 25-27, 166; defined, 109n; compared to constitutional era, 110113; generation of the 1960s and, 113-123; impact on ulama, 152. See also Clerical populism; Populism; Shariati, Ali Nizaris, 76-78 Nuri, Fazlollah, 100-104, 112, 134 Occupation, 4, 12, 44-46, 74, 160 Opposition to Arab rule, 10-12. See also Nationalism Pahlavi dynasty, 98, 109, 112, 125, 158 Peasants. See Village culture Persia, conquest of, by Arabs, 51 Persian gnosis, 30, 32, 86, 123, 125. See also Mazdakism Petroshevsky, I. P., 81 Populism: defined, 14-17,22; compared, 1822; Imam Ali and, 53-54; genesis and ideological nature of, 175-176. See also Ali (Imam); Clerical populism; NeoIslamic populism Populist government, 178-179 Qajar dynasty, 12, 88-90, 92-94, 96, 100, 109, 112,152 Qarmatians, 75 Quran, 33, 37-39. See also Imamat; Leadership Qutb, Sayyid, 41 Ravandi, Morteza, 71,78-79 Reform. See Constitutional movement; Social development Religion, as refuge, 163-164 Revolution: theories of, 2-4; millenarian character of, 5-6; in the Third World, 113, 142; by peasants, 166-168; urban-based, 168-170. See also Chiliasm; Millenarianism; Social development; Village culture Rodinson, Maxime, 37 Rude, Geoige, 140 Russian populism, 18-19, 117-118, 121-122 Al-Sadiq, Ja'far, 11-12,74,148 Sadra (Mullah), 10, 87, 140 Safavid dynasty, 12, 81-88, 92 Safavid Shi'ism, 46

Index

Sarbidarans, 78-81 Sassanid dynasty, 18,32-33, 51, 67-68 SAVAK (secret police), 142 Savory, Roger, 84 Sayyed Javadi, Hassan Sadr-e Haj, 122, 127, 175 Schaeder, Hans Heinrich, 31 Scott, James, 173 Seljuq dynasty, 76 Shamlu, Ahmad, Poetry Which Is Life, 126127 Shariati, Ali, 4, 46, 59, 61, 63-64, 111, 132, 139-142, 172; central themes of, 142-145; concept of tauhid in sociology of, 145-147; concept of leadership in thought of, 147150 Shariati, Mohammad Taqi, 64, 141 Sharik Ibn Shaikh al-Mahdi, 71 Shi'ism, 2, 6, 8-13, 24, 32-34, 43; Persian social divisions and, 51-52; political philosophy of, 56; as national culture, 122123; as a bannerfor populism, 165. See also Ali (Imam); Imamat; Islam Siffin, Battle of, 50, 53 Skocpol, Theda, 166-168 Social development, 170-172 Students, 93, 114-116 Szasz, Ferenc, 19

Talibzadeh, 96, 98-99, 107, 111 Tobacco boycott, 13, 90-93 Tocqueville, Alexis de, 5 Turner, Bryan S., 9, 5 5 , 7 2 Twelfth imam. See Occultation

Tabari, Muhammad Ibn Jarir, 3 3 , 6 8 Tabataba'i, Sayyed Mohammad, 57, 100-101, 105,107-108 Talabov. See Talibzadeh Taleqani, Sayyed Mahmud, 46, 153-156. See also Clerical populism

Yarshater, Ehsan, 68

219

Ulama, 12-13, 72, 78, 81, 84-88; rise to power of, 89-90; tobacco boycott and, 9093; constitutional movement and, 94-101; divisions among, 101-108. See also Clergy; Clerical populism Umar, 47-48, 52, 57, 62-63, 83 Umma, 37-39. See also Ali (Imam); Imamat; Leadership; Sharia Ummayad dynasty, 69-71 U.S. populism, 19-20 Usuli school, 12, 87-88 Uthman, 48-49, 54, 56-68, 62-63, 69, 83 Village culture, 172-174 Walzer, Michael, 5 Watt, William Montgomery, 51 Weber, Max, 9, 39, 173 Westoxication, 111-112, 131-135, 137 Wiles, Peter, 14-15 WiUner, Ann Ruth, 162 Wolf, Eric, 166-168, 170

Zarathustra, 5, 9,28-33, 67, 90 Zoqar War, 33 Zoroastrianism, 9, 28-34, 7 0 , 7 3 , 7 8 , 9 0 , 9 5 , 121

ABOUT THE BOOK AND THE AUTHOR

Shedding new light on the sources and character of Iran's 1979 revolution, Manochehr Dorraj explores the genesis and development of popular movements and dissent in Iranian history. Dorraj draws on Iran's pre-Islamic religious culture and on its legacy of Islamic folk heros and the millenarian movements, as well as on more recent history, to illuminate current events. He concludes that the ascendence of the ulama in 1979 was neither aberration nor historical accident. Rather, as custodians of traditional values and promoters of popular culture, with a century-long history of political activism, the ulama are an integral and genuine part of Iranian populism, and their rise to political power was based on a populist mandate. His investigation of the peculiarities of Islam, of populism, and of Iranian social development is a major contribution to the ongoing debate regarding the essence of the Iranian Revolution and, more generally, the political dynamics underlying social change in the Middle East.

Manochehr Dorraj is visiting assistant professor of political science at Texas A&M Univeristy. He is coauthor of the forthcoming book, Political Culture in the Middle East.

220